Plan B

Plan B, the back up plan to Plan A. I'm realizing that most of life we spend working on a plan and only occassionally do we have a Plan B. For a lot of people (myself included) there is a huge motivator in making Plan A work--an overwhelming fear of failure. For the most part I don't usually have a back up plan. But recently, there's a dissatisfaction in the pit of my stomach that makes me think that Plan A isn't where I want to be anymore. I suck at pinpointing these gut feelings.

Maybe it's professional--I've already been burned out on Architecture twice. The first time I ended up getting a History Minor and a Japanese Minor. The second time I ended up getting an MBA and doing the dot-com thing. While historically my attention span has cycles of 18-24 months, when you actually START the company and OWN the company and ARE the boss, it's rather hard to quit and try something else. In the first place, you have obligations to your partner and your employees. In the second place, you need to have an idea of what you want to do next. I'm restless. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

Maybe it's social--I've been out of any kind of relationship for several years. My married friends are fully suburban, and my single friends have almost all moved away or are now part of the married group and dropped off the planet. Sometimes I feel really lonely so maybe I need to find a new social outlet.

Maybe it's the house--I'm ready to actually FINISH a project! I finally have the wood for the rest of the deck. Maybe if I can actually mark a renovation project off my to-do list--there will be a sense of accomplishment and the restlessness will go away?

I just hate this feeling in the pit of my stomach, and not knowing what it is or how to fix it.
....or maybe it was just bad chinese food?

You Tube

Here's my first attempt at embedding a video in my blog.
Let me start by saying I don't watch TV. But seriously... this is funny!
I like how she's so drunk she almost falls out of her chair twice--and the interview starts out "good morning Paula Abdul!"

Celebrity Playlists

I was browsing my iTunes store and happened upon the celebrity playlists.
Most of it was pretty common. I wasn't suprised by who listens to what, for the most part. Some of it was insightful. I think that Annie Lennox's list shows her influences. I was actually suprised that Liv Tyler had an Aerosmith song listed. What I did find interesting was that Bill Mayer's list was noticably gay with at least one show tune and a Barbra Streisand song while Andersen Cooper's was tactfully balanced with only a nod towards anything with his selection of a New Order song.

As any of my friends will tell you, I have very poor musical tastes and tend to listen to my satellite radio before anything else. Factoring out the Tower Records Fire Sale when they went out of business, i haven't bought a CD in 3 or 4 years. (even then, my CD purchase was classic Whoopi Goldberg stand-up from the mid-80's) This is why I'm not asked to be DJ in the office--we leave that up to Dean, the understated yet uber-hip intern.

Caught Orange Handed

After a night of much drunkeness, friend 'X' crashes with a drinking pal 'Y' (subject of another blog down the road), at another friend's 'Z' house. (Note: I am not part of this night of drunkeness--I'm an old boring guy who stayed in that night.)
X and Y end up making out and having 'happy fun times' that night EVEN THOUGH a 'pillow barrier' had been erected by X between them to keep both X and Y honest & pure. (Note: the pillow barrier's effectiveness has not proven well with either X or Y.)

I go to pick X up for church the next morning. Later, walking to brunch, I notice that his hand is VERY orange--disturbingly orange--like a rash gone REALLY bad.

Me: What's wrong with your hand?
X: I made out with Y last night when we crashed at Z's.
Me: The pillow barrier didn't work again?
X: Yup.

Me: So what did you do to your hand?
X: I borrowed some lotion from the nightstand and didn't read it well.
Me: Self-tanning lotion?
X: Yup.

A friend couple is going to brunch with us.
As we're walking to brunch, Kevin looks over at X's hands.

Kevin: It looks like you made love to a cheeto.
X: I know, it's bad, isn't it?

I'm kind of glad I stayed in that night and went to church the next day.
I wonder if Y will panic when he sees his cheeto?
I wonder what Z will do with those sheets?