motormouth's bloglife 1996
getting strong now
getting strong now
03/1996
First meet of the season
For two seasons now, I've been a runner with the Sun Microsystems corporate track team. I'm the youngest person on the team and all my team members blow doors off of me. They're all at least 30, look 10 years younger than that and most have quadriceps no mere mortal should own.
Our first meet was two weekends ago. Our February weather had been surprisingly mild, at least until the Saturday of the race. When I woke up that morning I saw blue sky, which was encouraging. Unfortunately, by the time I got to the Saratoga High School track the clouds overhead threatened to pour forth great sheets of rain on our Nike-capped heads.
"Certainly the rain will wait until my first race is over," I thought.
My boyfriend arrived shortly before my race and watched me stretch and run to the women's restroom about 40 times. My race was called, and as the first runner for the team I took my space in lane 3. The minute I got into position it started to rain. Torrentially.
People who don't wear glasses don't realize what a hassle it is to be outside when it's raining. The spots get on your lenses and makes it virtually impossible to see. It's also difficult to do anything about it when you're booking around the track in an attempt to finish your 440 leg before your glasses completely fog over, clouding your vision to the point that you can barely see the teammate to whom you're to pass the baton (without dropping it, thank you very much).
To make matters worse, three of our four runners for that relay wore glasses. Despite that obstacle, we placed fourth in the race.
After excusing my boyfriend from the rainy spectacle, I sought refuge with my teammates in the equipment shed. One guy had a weather thermometer on his watch, and we took perverse glee in watching the register fall from 55 degrees to 43 degrees within a half-hour period.
You Minnesotans are probably laughing your a**es off at the above statement, but I'm a California girl and 43 degrees is COLD!
Our coach came by the shed. "Larry," we pleaded, "tell Brian to call the meet!"
He grinned. "The only way that Brian is going to call this meet is if hailstones start coming down and knocking racers unconscious."
The hail began 10 minutes later, but since it was only the size of lima beans the meet continued.
It actually warmed up in time for the women's relay, my second and final race of the day. I was the first runner again and my 440 lap felt much better than the first one had (considering I'd just gotten over bronchitis two weeks before, I was pleased that I could run at all!). The other women in my team kicked butt and we came in third for that race!
Sun took fourth place in the meet overall, and we celebrated with pizza and beer in a nice, warm pizzeria. Runners are great fun to party with!
08/14/1996
Living My Dream
Saturday night (October 12, 1996) I lived my dream. I became a rock star.
My buddies from Adobe started a band called the Monstertones many years ago, and since the first time I saw them perform I knew I had to be a part of the band.
At a party last November I was standing near Craig (the lead singer) during a band break when an Alanis song came on the radio. I knew this was my chance so I sang it to him.
Eight months later I got an e-mail from Craig. "Wanna sing at a party?" I danced a jig behind my desk before responding with an all-caps "WOO HOO!"
After learning 21 songs in three weeks I felt fairly prepared for the gig. It was Al's (the drummer) birthday so we were performing at his place. I showed up early for a barbeque beforehand, and then went into his bathroom to transform myself from an average jeans-and-a-T-shirt gal to rock star in a short, tight, polyester, simulated-snakeskin-pattern dress.
The transformation was thorough and amazing.
Before transformation (BT), I was flirted with by two people and had spoken to eight others. I'd been asked to provide "the female opinion" of Mike Cooper's cologne (Cool Water, clean yet sweet, very nice). After Transformation (AT), those who hadn't spoken to me BT did, who hadn't flirted with me BT did, and who had flirted with me BT flaunted themselves shamelessly around me (well, maybe not shamelessly, but M.C. did come up to me during the guitar jam of an Eagles song to put his arm around my waist, inhale the scent of my perfume (Sun Moon Stars) from the nape of my neck and then kissed me below my ear. I pushed him away with an exclamation of "Hey, I'm working here!").
People perceive and act differently toward you when you're fronting a band as the girl singer. It was astonishing. Even when the band messed up (Craig's motto is "we're not getting paid for this, so let's have fun" and Al's is "perfection sucks") the party members cheered.
I'd only invited three people to my debut, and during the first break I searched for them. I found my buddy John first. He greeted me with a "Wow, where have you been?"
Once I was done (having sung songs that I both knew and didn't know...) and the guys were well into their Van Halen set I toddled around the party and ended up sitting on a bench in the food room. The 19-year-old at the party sat next to me and then asked if he could close the door. "Don't worry," he said. No big deal.
But then I wanted to check my pager so I went into Al's room. James from Boston was crashed out on the bed and Vince scooted over so I could sit down. I took off my shoes and he gave me a foot rub. Ahhhh, heaven.
Later, Todd (one of the guys who spoke to me BT) and I danced the swing and he ran me through some rigorous paces. I was thankful for the year of social dance I'd taken to fulfill my Phys. Ed. requirement at San Jose State. I mostly managed to follow.
We sat down and he told me how even BT he'd felt drawn to me. He was going to be in town for a couple more days and he invited me to join group in Santa Cruz/Capitola the next day but I begged off. I gave him my number and he said he'd call*.
He walked me to my car and kissed me a few times but on the first kiss he came at me with his tongue which really turned me off so I left him with a cheery "Call me," knowing he wouldn't but not minding that much.
Got home at 2:45 a.m. and after a shower and sleep made it to 10:30 church a bit early. The 70-year-old usher caught me yawning as I entered the sanctuary.
"You ought not to stay up so late Saturdays," he admonished me with a twinkle in his eye.
I stepped in, conspiratorially.
"Do you know what I did last night?" I asked him. "I sang in a rock band."
His face lit up. "I love that rock'n'roll music," he said, imitating Chubby Checker in the aisle.
Me too, brother. Me, too.
*He didn't, but I hadn't expected him to.
08/1996
Why I attend Trinity Presbyterian Church
Many people are often surprised when they learn I am a churchgoer. Actually, it isn't that surprising.
When I was in high school I was very active in the youth group for Lafayette-Orinda Presbyterian Church. I had a terrific youth pastor my last year at LOPC. His name was Tim.
My last semester of senior year was pretty rough. My parents announced their impending divorce and a week after that I got mono.
Yup. It pretty much sucked. But Tim was great. He visited me when I was ill and it really helped to know that he was looking out for me. He was a good friend, as a pastor should be.
I tried to stay in touch with him after I left for college, but shortly thereafter he left LOPC and I didn't know where he'd gone.
Meanwhile, I searched for a church home in San Jose, but to no avail. None of the congregations were what I was looking for. So I shelved that idea and put God on the back burner.
Until autumn, 1996.
My boyfriend was moving to Seattle on a Sunday morning, and I figured that afterwards I'd need some spiritual support. After seeing him off, I went to Trinity Presbyterian Church, which was just down the street and around the corner from my San Carlos (CA) apartment.
I took a program and seated myself towards the back of the sanctuary. I opened the program to find out who would be giving the sermon.
Imagine my astonishment when it read: Tim Mooney, Associate Interim Pastor.
I joined with the subsequent Newcomer's class. Now I'm also a youth group adviser for the junior high group.
Anne Lamott says that coincidences are just God working anonymously. I'm inclined to agree.
11/01/1996
It's got a good beat and you can dance to it...
My second gig with the rock band I'm in was at a house party for Halloween. I had a stellar costume. Got a hot pink ball gown, shredded the life out of it, borrowed a tiara from our guitarist's girlfriend (who was not only Miss Morgan Hill but was first runner up for Miss California, losing to Vanessa Williams), made a satin sash that said "Prom 1989" (the year I graduated high school), then made up my face with gray make-up and stuck a bullet hole in the middle of my forehead. Viola, Dead Prom Queen!
Everyone at the party asked how I died. Thus, this song was born:
Dead Prom Queen
Took some pictures with your mom
the night of Senior Prom
You wore a blue-ruffled shirt
I drank coffee to remain alertWe drove to our dinner
at the steakhouse-du-jour
I'll remember this the rest of my life, fer shure.When we got to the dance
it was already full swing
and we filled out our ballots for Prom Queen and KingThe lighting dimmed down
and a hush filled the crowd
And I crossed my fingers that my name would be called...AND IT WAS!!!
But Buffy Jenkins glared at me
And when I sat upon my throne
she vowed that soon I'd be overthrownChallenged me to a duel
20 paces in the parking lot
We loaded our sawed-off shotguns with buckshot.20 paces later we both turned and fired
My shot missed her but she got me
right between my eyesAnd now I'm just a dead prom queen
Dead prom queen
Won't need to be home by 2 a.m.
'cause now I'm a dead prom queen.
12/14/1996
Media Musings
I love the media. Must be my past life as a college journalist. Interesting situations tend to find me, as do interesting reporters:
* The interview that was televised on New Media News when American Girl threatened me with trademark infringement. This was syndicated globally. I have a pen-pal in Brazil who initially wrote to me because he saw me on TV. Pretty cool!
* Office politics. I don't know why the reporter thought that I'd have anything to say about that topic, and it was tough to find something I could say on-the-record, but I managed...
* My most exciting appearance in 1998 was an article in Baylife, a special section produced for the Sunday, March 8 issue of the San Francisco Examiner. This was the second of a three-part section, and discussed present-day life in the Bay Area. Here's what reporter Brenda L. Moore had to say about me:
Motormouth, 26, grew up in the East Bay, graduated from San Jose State, lives in Redwood City and works in San Francisco.
She loves her living arrangements - a shared, three-bedroom house with a nice kitchen and garden. Her portion of the rent is $775 a month.
She loves the location - great neighbors, close to her family in Walnut Creek, and to her boyfriend in San Francisco.
She loves the weather, suitable for outdoor activities like running, biking and swimming that appeal to a triathlete like Motormouth.
She loves her job - marketing and communications director at IBIS Consulting, Inc. She got a call to interview there two hours after posting her resume on an Internet job board.
"I wake up every morning and just pinch myself," she said. She also wakes up pretty early. Her previous job was a mile from home, meaning she could sometimes roll out of bed about 8:30 a.m. and make it there by 9. Now, she said, she gets up between 6 and 7:30 a.m. for a commute that lasts 1.5 to 2 hours.
It's not that bad, though," she said, in what seems like characteristic optimism. "It doesn't seem like that long. I can work on (Caltrain). I can read... I can go for weeks without using my car."
(Pretty neat, huh? There was even a picture of me reclining on our office pool table, surrounded by Caltrain passes. :-)
12/26/1996
Another Christmas come and gone
December 26th is always such a letdown. And whomever decided that Christmas should be on a Wednesday this year ought to be shot. I had to work on both Tuesday (half day) and Thursday, which didn't leave much time to relax and reflect upon the holiday. Bummer.
The thing that sticks out most in my mind from this holiday was decorating my roommate's (Alex) parents' house.
I went to my Alex's parents' house to help them decorate for Christmas. They have a lovely country home in the mountains of Woodside. The front of their house was done up in white lights and it looked like a gingerbread house come to life. Absolutely breathtaking.
Alex's job was to put the white lights on the tree. He's quite the lightmaster -- when he's done with each strand the lights look like they grew from the fir branches. I helped by lighting the less-important backside of the tree.
Michele, Alex's stepmom, insisted that the lights stay lit. "I don't want them to blink. I want them to twinkle. Damn, I should have bought the twinkle lights."
Alex made one light strand blink. "C'mon, Michele, these twinkle."
"No," she responded. "Twinkling is random. These blink."
Our buddy Dave and his French girlfriend were supposed to join us but flaked out. "How long has she been in town?" I kidded Alex. "How long has she been French?" his father retaliated. We laughed.
Lighting the tree took hours, and many more light strands than anyone had anticipated. Alex's friend Blaine arrived and he and I worked on getting the bum light strands to light. It was much more fun than it sounds, but I think the wine Alex's dad gave me helped with that.
One strand would light, then go out, then light, then go out. Blaine and I tightened all the bulbs but to no avail. I looked at him. "They're twinkling!" We warned Alex about the bum strand, and then I moved a few feet away to the landing. The tree looked so beautiful. I could only say "ohhhhh" whenever I looked at it. Alex said he was going to smack me but Michele loved it.
Many years ago, Michele wrapped a bunch of empty boxes in festive paper and bows. The bows were flat and lifeless so I set to work fluffing them. As Blaine was unoccupied I invited him to fluff bows with me. I took to the work with great enthusiasm. Blaine looked at me.
"You'd make someone a wonderful daughter."
Time stopped. I blushed. It was the most beautiful compliment I've ever received. I wanted to ask him to call my father and tell him that.
Dave and his girlfriend never did show, so we tore into the Honeybaked ham (yummmm) and made sandwiches. When we were all sitting down with dinner Michele looked at the tree.
"Hey, one of those light strands keeps going out."
"They're twinkling," we admonished her.