This is a whole post about hair related thoughts.

I went to get my hair cut and colored today. I struggle mightily with being someone who gets my hair cut and colored regularly. Firstly, the whole endeavor is pretty expensive. Secondly, I have a shitload of hair, so getting it highlighted blonde takes upwards of two hours. And those seats at the salon are always so sweaty.

A couple of months ago, I briefly contemplated just letting my natural color grow out. For a while, I had this kind of heinous unintentional ombre thing going on. Then I realized that I’m actually going grey at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, so that was the end of that. I’m not ready for that kind of thing.

So I spent some quality time in the sweaty salon chair today. I could give a shit less about what happens to my hair (except the grey, apparently), and I’m constantly bored with it, so whenever I go to the salon, I’m ready for a big change. Today, I went for strawberry blonde. I’m kind of a ginge, you guys! A very subtle ginge, but kind of a ginge nonetheless.

I was thinking while I was there that being a hair stylist must be a really stressful career. I’m putting it on the list of careers that are too stressful for me. Can you imagine the fallout if you made someone’s hair the wrong color, or cut someone’s hair crooked? I MEAN. People are serious about that shit. It seems like the kind of profession where people yell at you an awful lot. NO THANKS. It’s like being an airplane pilot or a doctor or a school bus driver. Way too much pressure.

Also, when I was there, there was a kid who was getting his hair cut and dyed into a blue and red mohawk. He was so happy. I was happy for him. That is some awesome shit.

I’ve been pretty annoying lately.

I’ve been in a really odd headspace lately. I’d go so far as to call it a bad headspace, actually. Ever since I got sick in the fall, I’ve felt unsettled. Because I’ve felt so unsettled, I haven’t been taking very good care of myself. Because I haven’t been taking very good care of myself, I’ve been in a bad mood. I imagine I’ve been very unpleasant to the people around me. I’ve let myself go mentally and physically. I’m just not even trying anymore. I’ve been whining on this blog for months about my lack of motivation to do most things, and I have done exactly zero about it.

So I woke up this morning and decided that something HAS to change. I promised myself that, at least for today, I would deal with things with a smile and with some humor, instead of getting pissed off, irritable, and impatient. I packed a big salad for lunch and made sure I drank as much water as humanly possible during the day. I spent forty minutes cleaning up the kitchen and making sure the dishes were washed after dinner instead of just leaving them to sit there.

I realize this all sounds like basic idiot stuff that everyone else manages to do on a daily basis, but like I said, I’ve REALLY let myself go in the past six months. I’ve put myself in a position where I have absolutely no expectations for myself – I just loaf around, skip most of my morning runs, and act like a cranky child. While that’s all good and well when a person is sick or having a really bad day, I have to stop acting like this all day every day. I have plenty to be grateful for in my life. I have many people who love me and whom I really love. I live in a decent apartment with ample food and clothes. I have a really super cool job. I’m pretty lucky.

I’m hoping that things will start looking up, and I have to apologize for my bad attitude the last few months. I can only hope that people won’t hold it against me.

On blogging.

I love writing. I genuinely love having a blog. Yet, from the inception of this blog in particular, I’ve struggled. I’ve struggled with a commitment to regular posting. I’ve struggled with the theme of the blog. I’ve struggled with questions of what I can and cannot write in this public forum.

When I think about it, I can really narrow my issues down to two larger issues. The first is time. When I was in law school, I had a flexible schedule, and could devote time to my previous blog almost daily. Now that I’ve been working full-time as a trial lawyer for almost two years, my free time is limited. When I come home from work, frankly, all I want to do is cook dinner and then sit on my ass for an hour or two before bed and shut off my mind. I don’t know how people with full-time jobs manage to blog every day and still do things like run or spend time with their loved ones or make dinner and clean. I can usually fit in ONE of those other things per day. Maybe I ought to drink more coffee.

My second issue is my limitations in writing this blog. I would love to blog candidly about my job and the work I do, but I can’t. I’d go so far as to say that sometimes I over-censor my work talk. I’d rather do that than risk my reputation in some way. And, because this is a public blog, and I don’t work all that hard at maintaining my anonymity, I also prefer not to talk too deeply about my personal life. I don’t want THAT to affect my career in any way. I’ve tried to be as honest about things as I feel comfortable being, but there are a bunch of things I sometimes wish I could discuss that I just can’t or won’t.

Fact of the matter is, at first blush, I’m not that exciting (and I’m not that exciting at second blush, either). My job is probably the most exciting thing about me, and I can’t talk too much about that. I’m a below-average runner whose other hobbies include watching a lot of TV, eating, and sometimes reading. I don’t travel to exciting places or cook amazing meals or wear great clothes.

I don’t particularly know where I’m going with this. I’ll probably continue to blog intermittently about the same old shit and hope that people still continue to read every once in a while. It’s the best I can do, you know?

I managed to cover at least one current event.

I was going to make some effort to do a coherent narrative post, but I just have way too many scattered thoughts right now. LIST IT IS.

- After a week-and-a-half hiatus from running, due to travel, sickness, and general laziness, I’m back, bitches. Butttt, I have a problem, which is perhaps somewhat TMI for some of you, but I promise I won’t get graphic. Skip this section if you’re really uninterested.

So, I’ve always been a morning runner. I hate hate hate running after work. I can’t do it. I’m too tired, too lazy, and just too…everything. Unfortunately, running in the morning isn’t working out so great for me these days because of stomach issues. I can’t do any significant distance running without having to turn around and head home. The farthest I’ve been able to make it so far is five miles. And that was a good day.

I don’t know what to do about all this. I’ve tried drinking coffee, not drinking coffee, having a little juice before I go out, not having anything…please help. I can’t run after work. I really cannot.

-My whole office hauled ass to the bar across the street this afternoon so we could watch the Jodi Arias verdict on the big screen. No surprises there. Even I, the eternal optimist, and hoper beyond hope, especially when it comes to reasonable doubt, was like OH GURL I THINK WE GOT SOME ISSUES.

At least she has that incredibly flattering booking photo.

So now, we’re all going to wait with bated breath while those jurors decide whether or not the state of Arizona gets to execute her. Because that shit totally makes sense. There is absolutely no logical problem with saying hey, you killed someone, and that was wrong, so now, to make it better, we’re going to kill you! Great. Way to go, death penalty!

-On a MUCH lighter note (but seemingly not that unrelated), I and the man-friend have been making our way through The Sopranos in its entirety. I never watched it when it was on, but I’m enjoying it greatly. Carmela is the OG.

-I’ve been really bad in the past about responding to comments on this blog, and also commenting in a timely fashion on your blogs. I usually read blogs on my phone or tablet, so I have a tendency to star posts, with every intention of going back and commenting on them, and then I forget and don’t do it. So, in short, I am sorry, and I will be better about that.

-Listening to the 2Pac Pandora Station on my commute was the best decision I made all day long.

Slightly congested, but spirits are improving.

I’m currently going back and fixing all the typos in my last post. Uhm…awkward. That’s what I get for posting from an iPad and being at the mercy of auto-correct.

In other news, I’ve been home sick from work for the past…well, the better part of the past week. I went home early on Monday. I went home early on Tuesday and rescheduled my trials for the rest of the week. I am staunchly against trying cases when I’m sick. It’s too important, and I feel like if I’m not on my A-game mentally and physically, I’m really doing my client a disservice. There’s nothing heroic about walking your client into a guilty verdict because you’re not firing on all cylinders.

Luckily, I was able to get people to cover my cases and call the relevant DAs and clerks in advance, so I stayed home both all day yesterday and all day today. I’m feeling demonstrably better this evening – I’ve managed to kick most of the low-grade fever feeling and a better part of the awful congestion – but I’m still not quite myself. Not to mention, I have not yet met my sick day goal, which was to beat Level 65 of Candy Crush. Very disappointing.

Clearly, this has put a big ole damper on any running that I might have been planning on doing this week. Last week was kind of a wash because I was being lazy and getting ready to travel. I very ambitiously packed my running shoes on my trip to Florida, and I’m not sure why, because CLEARLY that wasn’t going to happen. Now I’m in this unfortunate place where I haven’t run in a week, and I’m not sure if I’ll be ready to go again tomorrow. I’m annoyed with my sickness, and with myself, because two weeks ago, I was actually starting to get back into the groove of this whole running routine, and now the whole thing has gone to shit, and it’s no one’s fault but my own. So much for getting more serious about running.

I did, however, just sign up for the Jamestown Half which promises to be…hot. And I’ve still got my sights set on the Smuttynose Marathon for the fall. Let’s just hope I can stay committed enough to actually do the things I need to do, for once.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

I just returned from a really fabulous bachelorette party in Naples, Florida. It was pretty perfect – we spent most of the time at the pool, at the beach, eating cheese, and drinking champagne. We even had champagne in a can!

I had never seen champagne in a can before, but apparently, it exists.

We also managed to find our way into a couple of lovely restaurants and a bar full of cougars and old men, where we were promptly escorted to the VIP section and plied with champagne and free shots.

So now I’m exhausted, because I’m an old person and staying up until 2:30 and imbibing is beyond me these days. I feel slightly fluish today, but I’m hoping it’s just travel tiredness and not my stupid weak immune system rearing its ugly head.

This post is turning out much more boring than I had anticipated. Apologies friends. I had a trial scheduled today and have two more coming up this week so in addition to being tired from the weekend, my brain is straight mush.

Okay. Enough. Let me know what you think about champagne in a can.

I promise I’ll go back to posting about inane shit after this.

I felt no relief when they found the two people who allegedly bombed the Boston Marathon. I felt no relief when one of them was killed in a shootout with police early Friday morning. And I especially felt no relief watching SWAT teams descend upon a nineteen-year-old kid bleeding and trapped in a landlocked boat.

You can send me whatever hate mail you want, but that’s how I feel.

I’m not saying I don’t appreciate what law enforcement did to keep people safe. I do. Monday through Friday in Boston was a high tension time, to put it mildly, and I trust that good judgment and prudence was used throughout that time to protect the city.

I feel sick for everyone involved in this. I feel sick for the people who were injured or killed at the race on Monday and their families. I feel sick for the runners who were there. I feel sick for the people living in Boston who spent twenty-four hours paralyzed by fear and locked in their homes. And yes, I feel sick for the two young men who, for whatever reason, had so much hate in their hearts that they felt the need to maim and kill people who had done nothing to them.

Hate begets hate. Violence begets violence. We all ought to know that. But still, instead of quietly accepting the capture of an alleged criminal with dignity and the hope that justice will prevail, we have to take to the streets and drunkenly chant “U-S-A, U-S-A,” and call for torture and execution. We have to post status updates on Facebook about “real” Americans and about convenient disregard for the Constitution.

All of this just makes us a part of that ugly cycle. You know what would be really amazing? Forgiveness. No one is saying that what happened was right. No one is saying that it should ever happen again. No one is saying that the losses weren’t immense. No one is saying that forgiveness is easy. I just think it would be world-changing if we took the time to say, “I know you have hate and anger in your heart. Even though what you’ve done has hurt me and so many others, I’m going to try to understand what happened that made you the way you are, and I’m going to do my best to forgive you for what you’ve done.”

Thoughts on Boston: Epilogue

I wrote my post yesterday before any of the explosions at the finish line had occurred. I was actually sitting at my computer, watching Twitter, when they happened. I follow a number of Boston current events and news/police type Twitters, so I watched my feed fill up first with reports of shots fired at Boylston Street, then with frantic requests for ambulances to Boylston Street, and then, finally, information that there had been explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.

At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I thought maybe everything was okay – maybe a fuse blew, or some sound equipment was malfunctioning. And then it turned out that nothing was okay.

I’m not sure what else to say. Yesterday morning, I was tearing up over the happy memories I have of the marathon over the years. Now it feels like someone took a big shit all over those happy memories.

I don’t recall ever being hurt in this way. I don’t recall ever being this angry about something. I know I wasn’t there, and my family wasn’t there, and that I’ll never fully understand the tragedy that those running and spectating experienced. Especially those who were hurt or had loved ones who were hurt or killed.

At the same time, this feels very…personal, as cliche as that is right now.

I’m not sure, you guys. Just take care of each other, and love each other, and keep running.

Thoughts on Boston

I spent the morning watching the live feed of the Boston Marathon and chugging coffee. Watching those people run makes me TIRED, yo. I also find it mildly offensive that I couldn’t watch the damn thing on TV. I know I live in the western part of the state, but I still live in Massachusetts!

Boston is a race that is very, very close to my heart. When I was little, my mom, my sister, and my aunt and I would always set up shop in Wellesley or Newton and watch the race. I remember watching Uta Pippig run by in 1996 with diarrhea running down her legs, and I remember thinking what a badass thing that was. I’m sorry, but it is.

In 2011, I ran Boston as my first marathon. I ran it with very little experience and with probably just enough training to get me through the finish line. I ran it as a charity runner, which I know some people may view as a lesser achievement than qualifying and running. I can understand that. I didn’t have to put in the time and work to train for a qualifier and battle the registration process. As I pointed out, at the time, I didn’t have the experience, training, or natural talent to get there that way. But two of my best law school buddies and I had the crazy idea that we HAD to run Boston before we graduated, and so we did.

It may not have been any feat of athletic greatness to finish the Boston Marathon in 4:40 that year, but it sure felt like something great. We spent months battling ice, snow, boredom, and stomach issues on our long runs. Our only goal was to finish in less than five hours. There was something so pure about the whole thing, as cheesy as it sounds – just three friends spending Saturdays running up and down Heartbreak Hill, wondering what the hell we were doing.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day in April 2011. It makes me tear up remembering how it felt to run by the places where I had watched the race when I was a little girl. It makes my heart feel full remembering how it felt to run up Heartbreak Hill with our family members who had volunteered to run portions of the race with us. It makes me feel indescribably proud to remember the three of us crossing the finish line together, dehydrated and exhausted, but still standing.

I promised myself that I would return to the Boston Marathon one day, as a qualifier. I hope that day will be some time in the next three years, but that remains to be seen. Though I’ve improved greatly as a runner since that first marathon, it’s taken me a long time to feel like I had the maturity and dedication to put in the work to BQ. I’m getting there, but as anyone can see from my race times, I still have a long way to go.

Boston taught me a lot. I might not be the best or the fastest runner you’ve ever met, but running makes my life feel complete. It gives my life meaning beyond just the regular day-to-day grind of work, stress, and more stress. I never would have known any of that if I hadn’t had the ill-advised notion to run Boston two years ago, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Running doubles. And Brandi’s book.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’m actually training for the Holyoke Foot Pursuit this year. It’s really a pride thing. I CANNOT let that one cop beat me again. Unfortunately, he runs 6:45 miles. Last year, I was running 7:45 miles. This year, I’m running…not that. I’m running about 8:15 miles in the 5K I’ve been doing on Tuesday nights. The Tuesday night course is a LOT harder (MOUNTAIN AT MILE 2, I’M LOOKING AT YOU), but still. I only have a month to get back into shape. And really, I should be getting into shape and THEN SOME so I can beat the cop.

So, I’m following Brad Hudson’s 5K Level 2 training plan. Brad Hudson is my boy. Following his training plans has helped me make such huge strides (HAH) in my running. I’m not the kind of gal that can just go out and run with no rhyme or reason, or make up my own training plan. I need someone to tell my dumb ass exactly what to do. I’m not going to make it through the whole training plan, because I started it last week, and it’s a ten-week plan, but I can at least make it through the first half before the race.

I had the brilliant idea that part of this plan should be doing doubles on Tuesdays, so I can do a short, easy run before work, and then race after work. I know a lot of people do stuff like this. To me it seems sort of borderline psycho, but I decided to try it because I want to get in the mileage and, like I said, I need to get in shape fast.

I did doubles today for the first time. I finished the 5K in roughly the same time as last week, but my legs felt markedly more tired. I also felt like my head was going to explode by the end of the race, but that’s probably due to lack of sleep and dehydration. I was up half the night watching the thunderstorm we had here and playing Candy Crush, so I sort of brought that one on myself. I read on the interwebs that by week 3 of this nonsense, I should be adjusted. We’ll see.

SPEAKING of nonsense, I was trolling on the Barnes and Noble website the other day. My sister sent me a link for this big Nook book (Nookbook? NOOKbook?) sale that they were having, so I decided to check it out. And oops, I bought this:

I’m not nearly as ashamed as you think I am. Or as ashamed as I probably should be.

In any event, I read the damn thing in probably…an hour total. Maybe an hour-and-a-half. I already posted about it on Twitter, but it’s really exactly everything you would expect from such a literary endeavor. And be literary endeavor, I mean a 150 page indictment of everything that LeAnn Rimes is, was, and will ever be.

No, there’s more to it than that. Sort of. I also learned that vaginal rejuvenation is really painful. Who knew? Some else read it and please get back to me.