col’s blog

i am dying to tell you what i’m being for halloween but don’t want to give it all away. some hints: it’s timely. it’s related to the global economic crisis. it’s kinda esoteric but not THAT esoteric.

coincidentally, i am violating my “no sexy costumes” rule for the second year straight, though i would argue that i am upholding the spirit of the rule.

it is a rule designed to criticize women who favor slutty halloween costumes over clever or funny ones. they use halloween as an excuse to parade around in very revealing outfits. i call it the “variation of the whore” motif — slutty nurse, cop, devil, native american … you name it. it’s just lame and unimaginative.

last year as miss south carolina, i wore a slightly racy dress but any sexy import was canceled out by my ridiculous wig. this year it just so happens that the main piece of my costume is one size only and it’s snug and short. but there are so many props involved, i don’t think i’ll look like a hoochie mamma.

I’ve been focused on lately:

Value ─ how it’s changing, the relativity, the tumult, the opportunity.

Life ─ How to be happy. How to be good. How long it takes to die. How long it takes to live.

Love ─ How to accept and not project. How to give and forgive. How to be patient … with oneself and others.

What does existence become when all your material and physical needs are more than taken care of? Emotional needs, intellectual needs? Is that the path to overcoming fear and tapping our true potential as a species?

The good we can do in the world … human potential and when we’ll see some of the more amazing developments developing on a bigger scale.

Speaking of amazing …

Last night I went with work pals to this thing called Celebrity Autobiography. Comedians read aloud in front of an audience from other celebrities’ autobiographies. They focus on lame and/or inadvertently comical celebrity autobiographies like those of Tommy Lee, Neil Sedaka, Mary Lou Henner, Burt Reynolds, Loni Anderson, and Ivana Trump (to name a few). Last night the readers included Matthew Broderick, Susie Essman, Kristen Johnston and Alan Zweibel. It was hilarious – and was more cringeworthy for certain than my worst high school journals. It’s unbelievable and yet so delicious what some of these people think is worth sharing.

i haven’t been saying or doing much in the blogosphere of late. not for lack of ideas. the reticence is coming from a confluence of exhaustion, stage fright and just lack of time. exhaustion from the outside world and any of many very impactful recent personal events.  stage fright because i’ve learned that lots of people read this blog … people i know well and or/only peripherally know and i wonder about how much to expose and/or share. and lack of time because, well you know: interests, friends, work, things to do.

also, i just don’t want to be boring.

for the past two weeks, the new highlight of my weekend has been soccer (is that boring? bear in mind, i am a 33 year old woman living in manhattan). there’s a casual pickup game on field down the street. co-ed, whoever shows up. 9 pm on saturday nights.

figure it’s a better way to meet guys and spend a weekend night than doing the same old predictable dinner/drinks with girlfriends and or married folks. spill brought me for the first time last week. i ran around like a madwoman and loved every minute of it, harkening back to the days in fifth grade when i dominated the field as the only girl on the boy’s traveling team (they didn’t have a girl’s traveling team back then). there was this kid george colon blanco whose dad was colombian and psycho about soccer. he used to scream, “kick the ball georgie! we’re not here to pick coffee beans!” (N.B.: “kick the ball georgie” kinda sounds like the name of a band, doesn’t it?)

but i digress.

i love soccer. it lets me be athletic, strategic and aggressive, while – corny as it may sound — being a total team player at the same time. i hadn’t played in years, but it all came back to me right away. so so fun – i felt like a fifth grader again. but i was a hurtin’ unit after that first game − very very sore. got over it after a few yoga sessions and some rest.

well this week i pulled muscles in my groin and upper abs within 10 minutes of starting, probably because it was 40 degrees out and i didn’t warm up. bonehead move … i was gimping around the field all night. spill also had a tough time walking and running due to an injury of her own. but we both powered through being the stubborn kind of chicks who play when we’re hurt.

when we were done, we limped back to her apartment and stretched, remarking at how younger versions of us would not have suffered these injuries. our choices were: 1) go to a party in brooklyn 2) join the other players for beers or 3) stretch and drink a beer while watching the opening of snl, before calling it a night.

you will be shocked to learn we chose 3, and i was home in bed by midnight. sometimes boring is so so good.

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