My Own Planet

Clare's Dance Party USA
I have created my own workout, which is called, as you may have guessed, Clare's Dance Party USA. Clare's Dance Party USA involves me putting all of my mildly cheesy mp3s on Winamp, hitting the "shuffle" button and madly dancing around my room in the manner of every stupid-dancing character you've ever seen on TV or the movies, including, but not limited to, Blossom, Ally McBeal, Elaine from Seinfeld and Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. Sometimes I lip sync, using the free back scratcher I got from Pier 1 as a microphone. I just wished I lived by myself so I could sing at the top of my lungs. I guess I could, but Eric would probably wonder what was the matter with me.

Anyway, this is the funnest workout ever. I highly suggest you try it in the privacy of your own room. You can, of course, select your own music, as I realize that not everyone likes Wham (although I can't imagine why not).

Too sexy for this blog
I have spent far too many hours over the course of the past two days watching TV. Among the things I have watched are Friends (new and syndicated), Will and Grace (new and syndicated), Good Morning Miami (why, why?), ER, this year's Video Music Awards, The Real World: Las Vegas (again), Dismissed, the finest cinematic masterpiece ever created (Dude, Where's My Car?) and about four hours' worth of VH1's 100 Sexiest Artists countdown. In honor of that last one, I give you the following lists:

People who are sexy
-Chris Isaak
-J. Lo
-Shirley Manson
-Ashton Kutcher
-Eric McCormack
-Maura Tierney
-Noah Wyle (previously just cute, but Maura Tierney somehow makes him sexy)
-Madonna
-Usher
-Justin Timberlake
-Tori Amos
-LL Cool J
-old David Bowie

People who are not sexy
-Rod Stewart (despite what he says)
-Annie Lennox
-Duran Duran
-Christina Aguilera
-The cast of Friends
-P. Diddy
-The cast of The Real World: Las Vegas
-Harry Connick Jr.
-Mick Jagger (sorry, Diana)
-Steven Tyler (what is it with these big-lipped guys?)
-young David Bowie

People who I am conflicted about whether they are sexy or not
-Britney Spears
-Prince
-Will Smith

People who are sexy but weren't on any of these shows
-Frank Sinatra (particularly mid- to late 50s Frank Sinatra)
-George Clooney
-Ryan Adams

How pathetic am I?
I have spent the entire day counting down the hours until the premiere of Must-See TV. (There's an hour and a half left, in case you were wondering, which you probably aren't because, unlike me, you probably have a life.) I'm not really sure why I'm anticipating this so much especially considering that a) I generally think all season premieres are crap because they resolve the issues from last season in five minutes and then have nowhere to go, or else they try to string it out for three episodes, which is just annoying, and b) I really think Friends has just disintegrated into a big soap opera, I can tell that Will and Grace is on its way there with this whole baby plot line, and most of the good people from ER are now gone.

However, the promise of another Carter-Abby hookup is enough to silence all of those concerns. Like I said, I am so pathetic.

My life, as defined by my CD collection
A couple of years ago, all I wanted to do was make out while listening to Portishead, Garbage and Erykah Badu. I did eventually achieve this goal, and now all I want to do is cuddle while listening to David Gray, Carole King and Norah Jones. Also, I've recently decided that I would like to have a baby so I can rock it to sleep while listening to James Taylor. I think this definitely means I am old.

However, I would still like to make out while listening to Chris Isaak, so maybe there's hope for me yet.

Incidentally, when I was 12, all I wanted was to walk around the zoo with my crush while that song that goes, "Shine sweet freedom, shine your light on me," was playing in the background. Yes, I envisioned my life as an episode of "Kids, Incorporated." No, I don't do that anymore.

Let's see what happens when they don't even start by being polite and instead just whore all over each other...
No. of times rolled my eyes during first two episodes of The Real World: Las Vegas: many
No. of times laughed out loud at utter stupidity of Real World roomies: several
No. of times had to make sarcastic comment to self because no one else was watching with me: countless
No. of minutes spent discussing Real World with co-workers when should have been working: lots
No. of episodes of The Real World: Las Vegas I will be watching this year: every single one
Watching trashy twentysomethings hook up with each other on MTV: priceless.

Missing the MKT
In accordance with yesterday's goal ("Begin exercise program and actually stick with it"), I decided to go for a walk after work on a walking trail that runs by my office. Walking on the MKT used to be one of my favorite things to do at college, so naturally, I thought this trail would provide a similar uplifting workout situation.

I was wrong.

A list of reasons why the new (un-named, to my knowledge) trail is far inferior to the MKT:
1. There are no benches along the trail for one to rest and/or stretch. There does, however, appear to be some sort of military-looking obstacle course down a muddy path out in the woods.

2. At certain points, the trail just mysteriously ends in, say, a parking lot or construction zone, forcing one to either turn around or risk being hit by moving vehicles (totally defeating the purpose of the walking trail, which is to be able to walk without fear of being hit by moving vehicles).

3. There are no mile-markers; or, I should say, there are no official mile markers. There are spray-painted numbers on the trail, but I do not trust these, as about a quarter of a mile after I saw a "1," I saw "25." (On second thought, perhaps this was supposed to be .25, but this makes no sense, as rest of trail was marked in fractionals. Still do not trust spray-painted numbers.)

4. There are no emergency phones. On the other hand, there are not as many scary people on the new trail as on the MKT, so maybe lack of emergency phones is not a problem.

Office utopia
I have grown tired of thinking up possible magazines I could start, and have instead moved on to designing the ideal office I will create when I start one of the magazines I have already thought up.

Features of ideal office:
1. Will not have offices or cubicles, but instead just be one big room, similar to Vox. I feel that this arrangement created a friendly atmosphere at Vox, where everyone can talk to one another freely, no one harbors resentment because they have a cubicle but think they should have an office, etc. Unlike Vox, my office will actually have a working computer for every member of the staff, and they will be whole computers that are supposed to go together, not just parts of computers that have been put together at random.

2. All employees will be salaried and will be able to come and go as they please. When they have work to do, they should show up. If not, there's really no point.

3. Will offer paid internships, as is barbaric to make someone work and not pay them for it, all in the name of "experience." Also, will not tell groups of students touring office that the best way to break into the magazine business is to work for free. And, while on the subject, when asked how I became so successful in magazine business, will not say, "I was really just lucky."

4. Everyone will be required to wear slippers in the office, protesting uncomfortable, blister-causing footwear designed by men who do not understand the pain women go through to wear their damn cute shoes. (Also, I read once that Sofia Coppola used to have the staff at her clothing company wear velvet slippers from Chinatown, and I want to be her.)

Does this sound like a working environment you would like to be a part of? Apply here.

A scary story
It was a dark and stormy night...

Actually, it was at dinner, but anyway. You know how professors, etc. always tell you that the number one rule for sending out your cover letter and resume is that it be free of errors? Right. So tonight my roommate tells me that he was looking over resumes for potential interns at work, and he couldn't believe how many cover letters had spelling and punctuation errors. I was curious, so I asked what spelling errors he had seen.

"There was this one girl," he said, "that spelled 'adviser' with an 'e'."

I wonder how many times my resume has been tossed in the trash because the person reading it on the other end DOESN'T FREAKING KNOW AP STYLE.

Anyway. I hope you kids can still sleep at night after hearing this terrifying tale.

To do
-Begin exercise program and actually stick with it
-Stop obsessing over things that are out of my control, such as potential job at Northern Home magazine, and realize that things will work out as they are supposed to
-Tidy apartment to get rid of negative chi; also, put something (nightstand; flowers, maybe?) in love corner of bedroom to promote romance
-Stop thinking that key to happiness can be found through feng shui
-Stop wanting things that I cannot afford, i.e. furniture from Pottery Barn or sweaters from Anthropologie
-Stop (immediately) having dreams/thinking about past loves that I no longer speak to
-Stop being depressed over fact that nearly everyone I know is in serious, meaningful relationship; also, try not to think about fact that last relationship (which wasn't even meaningful) was so long ago can barely remember it
-Try not to base entire day's schedule around episodes of "Friends"
-Stop spilling things on self and floor
-Stop dreaming up alternate scenarios for rest of life, as cannot possibly know how rest of life will turn out, but am fairly certain it will not even closely resemble various scenarios I have dreamed up
-Get life together in general

How come John Corbett is the only man who always knows exactly what to say?

I have vague memories of a cap and gown...
Received the following e-mail from Mizzou (twice) last week:

Congratulations, you’re half way there! You have successfully completed half of the necessary requirements to graduate with your degree from Mizzou.

Good to know.

The Joy of Doug
Glad I have been able to play a small part in the sexual education of Doug. Memo to Doug: Pick up a copy of Cosmo. Study. Better yet, borrow some back issues from Adrian. And be sure to share with your dad.

My sorority life, part 2
Annoying Sorority Girl Day/Official Day of Stupidity continued today with the following events:

1. Went to ice cream party at work with Annoying Sorority Girls, during which I scarfed down an entire chocolate-chip-cookie ice cream sandwich in a Cara-like manner, then had to hear Annoying Sorority Girls calculate how many calories were in the half of the ice cream sandwiches they each ate, and how they would have to work out for an extra hour, not eat for the rest of the week, etc.

2. Got a call from phone company saying they had not received our checks and our service was about to be turned off. Found out that my wonderful roommate had mailed our checks without the correct postage AND without a return address.

My sorority life
I have officially pronounced today Annoying Sorority Girl Day/Official Day of Stupidity. Here's what I did to celebrate:

1. Had lunch with the rest of my SPC "intern class" (anyone else think that sounds suspiciously like "pledge class"?), during which I heard most of the girls introduce themselves in this manner, "I'm a [fill in Greek letters here]."

2. Also at lunch, witnessed one of the other interns from my building have to explain to the other girls what an enchilada is. This brings an interesting new depth to my dad's trademark phrase, "They're a few enchiladas short of the Mexican dinner."

3. Proofread a story that included the word "themself." I'm sure I don't have to point out to you fine people that "themself" is not and can never be an actual word. I should, however, point out that several of our other editors had already read this story.

4. Watched two full hours of MTV's "Sorority Life," figuring the day had already been shot to hell by stupid sorority girls; why not continue in the same vein. Witnessed one girl yelling at another, "That is not sincere sisterhood!"

5. Fully participated in day of stupidity by managing to spill boiling water on entire hand and yell obscenities.

6. Read a job posting on Ed2010 that contained the following enticement: "C'mon, how often can you have "bj" in your email address?" Wondered who would be stupid enough to apply for a job that included a sexual innuendo in the job posting.

For better or worse?
Have just stumbled upon horrifying realization that when/if I get married and take the other person's name I will no longer be able to use my signature. This has completely devastated me for the past 45 minutes or so, as I have what some may consider an unnatural attachment to my signature. The thing is, I first started using it in the 4th grade, and so the signature I now have is a result of an evolution over more than a decade. If I had to start over with a new last name, it would take just as long for my signature to evolve. I would obviously have to start out just writing my new name in cursive, which I realize is what many people's signatures are anyway, but that has never appealed much to me. I think a signature should have some flair, something that makes it uniquely your own. But obviously I just cannot make up flair on the spot (although, come to think of it, that's what I did in 4th grade by drawing a loop from the "n" in my last name over the "i" and then filling it in with a smiley face, which has evolved into an intricate scribble). Also, I am accustomed to being able to jot off my signature in a second or two...during the evolution process of a new signature, it might take me upwards of 5 seconds to sign something. I know I'm not a famous star or anything, but please, that could add up to a lot of wasted time! I simply cannot change my signature. So I have devised the following options:

a) Do not get married
b) Get married, but do not take husband's name
c) Get married to someone with same last name

Obviously a) is not my favorite choice, and I'm not too crazy about c) either...even though Martin is the 6th most common American surname, I already have to deal with enough incest jokes being from Kentucky and don't need to add more. Option b) wouldn't be too bad, but I always thought that it would be fun to get a new last name...but obviously never thought of this signature debacle before.

In the end, I guess compromise is the essence of marriage, so I might be willing to take on a new signature if I really loved the person. But I would have to really, REALLY love them.

Ooh...digital cable
Am becoming increasingly enamored with digital cable, esp. since favorite "Boy Meets World" where Eric sings the "Good-Looking Guy" song was on tonight. Also, have figured out how to hook up VCR to digital cable so can tape all of my favorite programs so will not have to stay up all night watching digital cable. Am television/digital cable genius.

Yesssss!
Nuclear war did not destroy cockroaches, but bottom of shoe can! This is the second one I have found in my room this week...ewww. Must call for pest control.

Is this heaven?
No, just digital cable. Finally get cable after weeks and weeks of haggling with cable people, and guess which episode of "Lois and Clark" is coming on TNT in the morning? The perfume episode, my all-time absolute favorite (and the all-time absolute favorite of Kate, Cara and just about everyone else.) Am going to tape all episodes of "Lois and Clark" in manner of Holly, except will stop with the second season because they get bad after that (contrary to what Doug says).

Must go watch "Sex and the City" now. Love the lovely digital cable.

And my conclusion is...
After re-reading "The Long Fall of One-Eleven Heavy" a year later, I stand by my previous conviction that it is the best piece of journalism I have ever read, for more reasons than that it made me cry (which it did again, although not the loud, choking variety). It is tirelessly reported, beautifully written and, in my estimation, worth the honor just for these two sentences:

“All of these people, it was as if they were all turning to gold, all marked with an invisible X on their foreheads, as of course we are, too, the place and time yet to be determined. Yes, we are burning down; time is disintegrating.”

In addition, upon re-reading my thoughts about the story (which I soon discovered were written on Oct. 3 instead of Sept. 11 as I had previously thought), I found that I had pretty much written the exact same thing in my post yesterday. So it appears that I have plagiarized myself, to the extent that such a thing is possible (probably is not, given definition of plagiarism).

And I'm still alive, which is good news. So, I'm assuming, are cockroaches, which is not good news.

As if!
I was reading the advice column in the latest issue of Health (love getting SPC magazines in my mailbox at work each month), in which a woman was asking how she could help a friend with depression without "getting sucked into her sadness." The columnist led her reply with the following remark: "Marriage is for better or for worse, but friendships don't have the same rules. Your friend is lucky that you're sticking by her when she's not much fun to be around."

Excuse me?! It was my understanding that close friendship, at least between women, is about being there for each other, and not just in fair weather. Sure, we don't wear poufy white dresses and take vows when we become friends with someone (though sounds like a good idea, as wedding-obsessed as my friends and I are), but we do at least have an unspoken understanding that we're not going to bail when things get a little tough. This is, after all, the test of true friendship. If my friends and I subscribed to this "advice," we would certainly have gotten rid of one another long ago. And our lives would be so much emptier because of it.

In conclusion, I can only say that the "psychologist" who writes this column must have gotten her degree from a) the Internet or b) Hitler, or else she might be on drugs. At any rate, Health should fire her.

At last, there's a name for it
We always knew Adrian had a problem, we just didn't know what it was. But fortunately Health magazine (again) has given a name to his affliction: OAD, or Obsessive Acronym Disorder. The magazine, which totally made up this disease in order to be sarcastic in an article, did not say whether any treatment centers for OAD existed. My guess is, they're TC.

CNN- and Adrian-induced panic (slight)
Was innocently fact-checking at my desk today when breaking news popped up on my CNN news ticker, saying that whoever is in charge of these things had raised the state of alert for possibility of terrorist attack tomorrow. Began to have visions of nuclear obliteration of everything but cockroaches (should be the first things to go, in my opinon, esp. the ones that lurk on my front steps). Also, stared blankly at computer screen while contemplating mortality; e.g. if I die tomorrow, what would I regret? Felt alternately pleased/frustrated with myself that I couldn't seem to think of any big regrets yet was sure there had to be at least one. Finally, told myself that terrorists would have to be pretty stupid to plan attack tomorrow when they know everyone will be kind of expecting it (although wouldn't know exactly how to prepare short of building bunker or trying again to think of regrets).

While I'm on the subject, I have been thinking a lot lately (in between searching for regrets, obviously) about what I am going to do to mark the day. Obviously want to do something, but it must be something meaningful to me, not just turning on headlights, watching Peter Jennings special, etc. So I have decided to do one thing that I did last year, which was read "The Long Fall of One-Eleven Heavy," by Michael Paterniti. This is a story that ran in Esquire a couple of years ago about the crash of a Swissair flight. We were assigned to read it for Jacqui Banaszynski's intermediate writing and were supposed write a reaction to it and then discuss with the class on the 12th. The night of the 11th, I decided to switch off Tom Brokaw finally and read the story on the 1 percent chance that Jacqui wouldn't decide to scrap our entire syllabus and focus on the attacks. (She did, of course.)

I'm glad I read it, as it proved to be very therapeutic. I hadn't cried all day -- the tears were there in my throat, but I couldn't find that trigger to release them (although I do remember getting a bit misty at Tony Blair's remarks, and probably would have let go then if Cara hadn't been watching with me). In the end, it was Paterniti's story that finally did it, even though it wasn't explicitly about what was happening. Maybe that's why it worked. At any rate, I was nearly on the floor, crying in loud, choking sobby manner, and I declared it right away the best piece of journalism I'd ever read. When I'd calmed down a bit, I wrote my feelings about the piece (and 9/11) for Jacqui's class.

I haven't read the story or my thoughts about it since then. I wonder if the story will affect me in the same way -- it probably will, as I haven't had a good cry in a while. But I wonder if I'll feel the same after reading it as I did last year. I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

So this is what I'm doing to mark the 9/11 anniversary, and this is all I'm doing. I refuse to "celebrate America" in any way, am boycotting all media coverage (except will leave news ticker on to allay paranoia), will not turn headlights on, wear black, ribbons, etc., etc. Must go on with normal (albeit slightly paranoid) life as usual.

Things that are extremely frustrating
-Sitting in three-and-a-half hour planning meetings that I cannot participate in because I am an intern, not an editor
-Deciding, against my better judgment, to take busy highway home, figuring there would be no traffic, as got out of work an hour late due to excessively long planning meeting, then finding there has been an accident and traffic is backed up even more than usual
-Finding out I do not have as much cheese as previously thought and could not make easy dinner of pizza (then eating cheese and finding out -- the hard way -- that it has gone bad).
-Roommate suddenly abandoning me while helping load/unload dishwasher to call his girlfriend
-Learning about new features of US Cellular service (which I no longer have) over and over again while on hold waiting to pay my final bill
-Finding good job posting for assistant editor position at homes and gardens magazine in the Hamptons, wanting to e-mail managing editor to ask if it is OK if I'm not available until December but cannot determine gender of managing editor due to gender-neutral name Lockhart Steele; also, hearing Jody Sowell's voice in my head going, "If I get a cover letter addressed to Ms. Jody Sowell, I just throw it in the trash."

All graduate students should look like Aaron Eckhart.

Things that are really cool
-Hearing a song on the radio that I really liked at one point in my life but not enough to put on a mix tape so therefore forgot all about it but still, amazingly, knew all the words.
-Good-looking man appeared out of nowhere in advertising division at work.
-Getting mentioned in Justin Marciniak's blog for having a "Bridget Jones-esque" blog...v. nice.

Things that are really unfair
-Not knowing whether good-looking man in advertising department is a) married or b) gay
-That Coastal Living staff gets to wear jeans to work on Fridays and we do not
-That Carolyn Bielfeldt has an actual job at Conde Nast and her own studio apartment w/ exposed brick on the Upper East Side

Reasons why I like Shakira
The girl has absolutely no grasp of the English language, yet she insists on writing songs in English. Who the hell says things like "lucky that my breasts are small and humble/so you don't confuse them with mountains" or "underneath your clothes/there's my territory"? Are these some Spanish idioms that just aren't translating? I suspect that after Shakira learns a bit more about our language, her songs will not be nearly as engaging.

Why today is a good day
1. Got to send back approx. $8,000 worth of Christian Louboutin shoes to Neiman Marcus, but first got to ooh, aah or ugh over every single pair and let co-workers with small feet try them on
2. Received chocolate chip cookies from parents, which were warm in just-baked manner from sitting on porch all afternoon
3. Received Esquire with Jennifer Aniston on cover
4. Was able to order cable and get cheap HBO
5. Received New Yorker Style issue (although seems odd for New Yorker to do a double Style issue the week of Sept. 11 as if they are ignoring it)
6. Received letter from grandmother with promise of brownies
7. Had birthday party at work with homeade chocolate cake and Bluebell ice cream

Have just realized that key to happiness can be found in chocolate, magazines and fabulously expensive shoes.

Somewhere over the rainbow...
Dreams really do come true. Kelly won. Now if only I can get her to buy me a bagel.

I've actually had enough of the Celine Dion wannabes. Right now, I'm listening to a real American idol, Sarah Magill Mueller, who has a better voice than most of the finalists, writes her own songs, is my friend and would probably buy me a bagel if I asked.

As for you, Kate, let me just say, I'm shocked! You'll vote for Bush but not for Kelly? I thought all you Texans were supposed to stick together.

Kelly Clarkson, friend and idol
Sign I've been watching/thinking about American Idol too much: Last night, I had a dream in which I was hanging out with the finalists on the stage at the Kodak Theater, waiting for them to announce the winner. Kelly and I were hungry, so we decided to go get something to eat. We left the theater and went to this place around the corner, where Kelly bought some kind of disgusting sundae (butterscotch and raspberry or something like that, although considering in real life she drinks olive oil, that doesn't sound too bad) and I bought a bagel with cream cheese. Unfortunately, I did not have any money, but my buddy Kelly was able to lend me some cash. We ran into Nikki McKibbin and Justin Guarini also buying a snack, and we started chatting, until Nikki and Justin suddenly spotted Simon Cowell walking toward us with a pissed-off look on his face and we all ran. He caught Nikki and Justin right away, but Kelly and I managed to escape via a dark alley. But that wily Simon was waiting for us at the end of the alley. He chastised us for leaving and then escorted us back to the theater. Right before we went in the stage door, he whispered to us that Kelly had won. We were hugging and jumping up and down, and could see everyone waiting for Kelly on the stage so she could claim her prize.

Will this dream come true tonight? Not that Kelly and I will be friends and she'll buy me a bagel and we'll run into a dark alley to get away from Simon, but will she win? I certainly hope so.

I also hope I don't have any more dreams about American Idol. I think if Dunkleman were to appear to me during sleep, I would wake up in a cold sweat.

Fun with junk mail
I've decided that when I have babies, I'm going to make them a mobile out of expired credit cards. I think I'll wait until I have good enough credit to get gold or platinum cards, though, just to make it pretty.

I might also be able to incorporate subscription-renewal notices into this project somehow. (Or, at the very least, the free-gift stickers.)

I hope when I'm 30, I get to have an affair with Jake Gyllenhaal.

Sexual healing
For $1200, you can have a seventy-two-year-old woman with rubber gloves and a vibrator have sex with you and your significant other and point out what you're doing wrong. For $18, you can get a subscription to Cosmo and figure it out yourself.

More things I like that I forgot to put on the last list
Norah Jones and Benefit (special thanks to Kate for reminding me about the latter, and props to myself for introducing her to the former)