Ain't too proud

Friday. It holds such power, promise and respite. Secure in the knowledge I will not be awoken by a vile alarm for the next two mornings, my life carries the promise of a newborn child.

OK, a bit much. But I'm just so psyched.

Let me start off by saying I owe some of you phone calls and e-mails. I'll get there, I promise. I've never understood why correspondence with those you hold most dear can be so difficult to initiate. I think it's the pressure of feeling like you owe the person on the other side of that phone call or e-mail your A-game, and I'm just too beat to bring that lately. I do have to thank everyone for being so supportive over the past week or so. I had no idea random words written in a blog would carry so much weight with my circle. I have received more phone calls and e-mails of encouragement in the past 7 days than some might receive in a lifetime. I am humbled and grateful. I plan to archive every last one of them. I just wish you were all closer, and not spread all over the country, so we could drink countless bottles of wine together and laugh until it hurt. I miss you so much!

So how did I start my weekend? You mean, when I wasn't being a good friend and calling and writing back my extraordinary friends? Well, I played American Idol Karaoke Revolution.. by myself.. for two hours.

In case you haven't familiarized yourself with Karaoke Revolution, it, alone, makes purchasing a PlayStation 2 worth the investment. And, what, they've got to be like $5 now that PS3 is out, right? Katy introduced me to the wonder of this game and when Jen and I found out about an American Idol version, our squeals shook the foundation of my 12-story high-rise apartment building. We made haste to Best Buy and haven't looked back.

So, yah, 2 hours. See, it turns out, despite being relatively tone deaf, I'm actually pretty good at this game. Some of my good friends who actually have singing voices are humbled by the power I bring to this competition. See, it doesn't matter if you can sing. What matters is if you can get a certain note-like sound out of your throat that is psuedo-similar to what the bouncing green arrow is pointing to on the screen. Honestly, it has nothing to do with singing ability. I've racked up mad crazy points with a version of "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" because I can reach an octave from which dogs should be spared. Who knew Freddy Mercury could be sung opera style?

Of course, the game screws with your head. Because you start to believe that just because you emit a sound similar to what they want, and because you can do it a few times in a row and get a "crowd boost" so high it makes your microphone glow... well, you start to believe you can actually belt it. If this game is to be believed, my versions of Alone (Heart), Saving All My Love (Whitney Houston) and Heaven (Los Lonely Boys.. whatever) would bring grown men to their knees and resolve world hunger all on their own. Simply put, this game literally makes me feel like a rock star. So, upon discovery that I could play an 18 round version.. well, I couldn't resist. Jen came home around round 12.. just in time for me to serenade her with "Just the Way You Are".

I have no doubt this makes me sound like a first class dorkus. Well, that's always been the case, I'm just embracing it now. After karaoke, I got caught up on 24 and simply can't sleep now knowing that Jack Bauer can't singlehandedly stop nuclear bombs from going off in our fair country. Guess two years in a Chinese prison can mess with your finesse.

As a random note, I must share with you the utter oddity of having an assistant. I have an assistant now. And two days into the job, she's already reading me. It's very odd to see your habits through other people's eyes who, let's be honest, really don't know you all that well. I've finally gotten over the fact that it's OK to ask her to make copies and travel reservations. At first I couldn't get my head around it, and even asked her to bear with me, as I didn't understand asking someone to do what I was perfectly capable of doing myself. Seriously, I have a hard time handing someone something to photocopy. Just seems, silly.

Anyway, she came to me today with my mail (again, I pass by the mailbox at least twice a day but she assures me she'll bring it up.. sorted) and a stack of four over sized Post-It Note Pads. "What are these for?" I asked. "You write too much on your Post-Its," she replied,"You need the biggest ones." I mean, this is true. I start off with the best of intentions, but why say in 10 words what you can say in 60. I usually have to re-write Post-It messages to get them on one square. So, the woman had a point. It was just funny to me to think of someone spending their time on finding a solution to that issue.

Another highlight of my day was the print my mom purchased me for Christmas arrived at my office. Christmas morning I ripped open an absolutely lovely framed black and white print of a steel bridge in Paris. My mom knows I love black and white photography, particularly when it captures European architecture. It's a gorgeous image, and as I admired it she reminded me of the second most repeated mom-ism in my world. (The first, in case you're curious, is "What you're feeling is only temporary" - her standard response when I'm having a difficult time.) "Remember," she said, "to never burn bridges."

My mother and I have had some rough patches over the years, and sometimes it's infuriating when someone who has, at times, shown a complete lack of understanding about who you are and why you're feeling the way you do, can pin you down to a dot. She knew I needed to hear that again, and it now hangs proudly on my office wall. As you enter my office, it's essentially the first thing you see if you're looking for me, and I hope it's a message I can impart to others who see it.