Author: Becky Sarwate

Dancing with Bitches (March 2, 2010)

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dancing-with-the-stars

I know many of you will be working to hold back your snorts of derision when I claim the following: the last two outings of Dancing with the Stars sucked (the withheld snorts are obviously from those who think every run is crap). Two seasons ago I had to watch Shaun Johnson walk away with Gilles Marini’s trophy. Last season there were just too many (lame) contestants.

Like my former American Idol habit, I was ready to quit DWTS cold turkey. My DVR is clogged up quite enough, thank you, and I need to prioritize. I am working on finding a job, coordinating a move, training for a race. I have enough to do without watching another trainwreck like Tom Delay bumble his way to two stress fractures.

But just as I was ready to delete my series recording, the cast list for the coming season was released and boy is it a doozy! Not only do we get the infamous and much maligned reality mom, Kate Gosselin (arguably the most name recognized contestant DWTS has ever hired), but there’s also skanktastic 90s icon Pamela Anderson, as well as a special treat for myself and the gay community. Wait for it….Shannen Doherty! Gary, if you are reading this right now, grab a paper bag and breathe slowly.

Last season’s competitors were hardly worthy of the “celebrity” title which hung about their necks, Kelly Osbourne and Mya notwithstanding. But now we’re talking.

I own it. I will be back. And I pray, I pray hard, that when the inevitable catfight ensues (none of the rumors you have heard about Gosselin, Anderson and Doherty being total slags are false), cameras will be there to capture it.

Team June/Jesika (February 27, 2010)

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Jesika T

I have been uncharacteristically quiet about this so far, but not because of a lack of interest. Quite the opposite actually. As we roll toward the first anniversary of Jesika’s death (April 25th), I think of her as much as ever. Sometimes, I have to admit, it’s still too painful to talk about, even from the safe comfort of my keyboard. I miss her easy laugh, her teasing, her commentary on pop culture. I would love to hear her reaction to some of the events of my life that have taken place in the last twelvemonth, though it is easy enough to conjure some of those responses (“Girl! What the hell are you doing walking around in Englewood? $10 an hours isn’t even enough to pay the doctor to remove the caps from your little white ass! Are you tired of living?”).

I loved my Grandmother too, the formidable June Rose Crowley. I was there at her home in rural Wisconsin in June 0f 1991 as she died after a long battle with ovarian cancer, the same disease that struck down Jesika in a mere 17 days. As a 12 year-old girl watching a woman who had raised six children alone on a waitressing salary, a person who had the strength to endure two divorces during a period in American history when even one ws a scandal, a lady who had the courage to sign her alcoholic first husband to a lifetime of VA care when it was clear that his demons would be the end of him without constant monitoring – to watch this tiny dynamo shrink and disappear was one of the most scarring experiences of my girlhood.

So in honor of these two inspirational figures, Jen and I, with a team of nine friends and family members, are walking. We are walking three miles to raise awareness and funds for ovarian cancer research. Because I never want to see another strong woman lowered into the ground due to this awful disease. But we still need your help. We are one person short of the squad of ten we need to fill out Team June/Jesika. For $20 bucks, you can take a relaxing spring stroll with a team of wonderful people, and earn some good karma points too.

If you can’t join us in person, we’d be honored if you’d consider a donation. I know these are tough economic times and disposable cash is a vanishing resource, but any amount is appreciated.

http://nocc.kintera.org/faf/search/searchTeamPart.asp?ievent=343744&lis=0&kntae343744=EB3781FB4CDE4D5CB959D34CAC4E8947&supId=0&team=3667050&cj=Y

Jen and I are not done talking about this. We still have two months until May 1, and a lot to do before then. I heard a rumor that Jen and KK are planning a cupcake sale. Stay tuned!

Square One (February 25, 2010)

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square-1

I am done with the CNTP (Chicago Neighborhood Tourism Project) at the City. If this seems rather abrupt, well it kind of was, but like with any decision I make in life, the seeds of certainty that this is the right move were sown awhile ago.

When the project began, it was all about the fun of exploring the City and sharing my research and findings in ways that would enrich the tourism experience, for locals as well as visitors. But as all City funded projects seem to do, this one started to derail. Between 1/29 and Monday morning, I worked with, and lost, three research partners (including the first and greatest, my Sammy Boy). I injured my hand on the job in mid-January. The fieldwork part of the position became less important over time as data entry and other bureaucratic initiatives began to trump hard research. In the early weeks of this month, I found myself continually getting up at 5 AM and trudging through the cold to reach the office in order to catch up on busy paperwork.

Bah! The very situation I had determinedly abandoned when I left the corporate world last May. At the risk of sounding like a totally delusional hippie, this is not life man.

With all the hours I spent devoted to spreadsheets of late, for slightly more than minimum wage, I began to feel like maybe I had taken my eye off the prize. I left the ADA last year to be a writer, not to spend my days typing data into Mircosoft cells. The job was initally supposed to last four months, but my contract was extended, and a little voice instead my head started to whistle with increasing volume that perhaps I had been hasty in agreeing to continue.

So anyway, I sort of came to earlier this week and resigned. Low and behold, that insomnia I have been battling for the last six weeks has evaporated. I have slept like a lamb since Monday night. I understand, belatedly, that my conscience, the part that felt obligated to stick it out until the end of April, was wrestling with my will and desire, which was to catchup on freelance projects, and make the time to find actual writing employment.

But I have freed myself from that moral picadillo now, and perhaps I ought to feel more guilt and panic (I have spent a lot of my years hanging out in these twin cities), but I don’t. I have a lot to look forward to. Eddie and I are moving to a great new place in Rogers Park on March 27th and someone has to get that business underway. The Shamrock Shuffle is on March 21st, a week before the move, and I’m training harder than even I believed I would. Team June/Jesika will strut its stuff on May 1 for the three mile Ovarian Cancer Walk, in memory of two of the most awesome women I ever knew. That same day, I’ll find out if I am an Illinois Woman’s Press Association award winner.

And somewhere in all that, there’s another job for me. I know the economy and the market still suck, but I believed in myself enough to walk away from a stable corporate gig, at the worst possible time, almost a year ago. When I did, it was with the certainty that this road was going somewhere – this path I’ve been wandering with a pen and paper in hand was going to lead me to career fulfillment. Despite this minor setback, I am not giving up.

Do you want to get physical to “Physical?” (February 20, 2010)

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olivia-newton-john_in_physical-01

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/national/billboard_hot_EfKBR9Z6O0fAaNu8o4hzLK

Let me begin by saying that I am a HUGE ONJ fan (that’s Olivia Newton-John to the rest of you). The reasons for my love of the cute blonde Aussie are too numerous to delineate here. Grease! Xanadu! Ok, I’m done.

Among the many Newton John projects I have enjoyed over the years, 80s radio staple “Physical” surely rated with me. Of course I just thought it was a nice song about working out in the gym when I was in kindergarten, much like I believed wholeheartedly that “Little Red Corvette” was a ditty about a rad sports car.

“Physical” is an ear worm piece of pop candy that I personally love to consume. Be that as it may, and even despite its racy subtext, I still don’t think I find the song overtly sexy in any way.

Now when I think hot in the 80s, I picture Baby and Johnny Castle practicing intimate Latin dance moves to Eric Carmen’s “Hungry Eyes.” Now that’s sexy. A bunch of fat sweaty guys ambling around on a badly lit faux gym soundtage? Not so much. I would also argue that ONJ’s sweet singing voice sort of precludes anything she warbles about from sounding suggestive. You could have replaced the lyrics with a well chosen “Penthouse Letter” and the result would be the same.

What do you make of the results of this poll? And what songs get you in the mood for love?

Race Training – Outing 6 (February 18, 2010)

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Broken Shamrock

Wowee! My dogs (not to mention my calves) are barking. Consider this shamrock officially shuffled!

I have never been the greatest runner. My trainer Rob described my usual stride as “lethargic and heavy footed” – not a compliment by any standard. But when I commit to a challenge, I want to give it everything and do it right. My aversion to social embarassment is off the charts, but serves me well when it comes to the study and practice necessary to avoid peer mockery. So in the midst of last week’s blizzard, PMS and plenty of overtime on the day job, I have thus far stuck to my plan of running at least 4.5 miles twice a week. Starting Monday, the frequency will be upped to thrice.

Everything, and I mean everything, hurts during this adjustment period, as my body attempts to acclimate to running a lot farther and a lot faster than it ever has before. I was prepared for sore legs, but sore arms and abs too? I meet Rob on Tuesdays and Thursdays for kettle bell strength training, which is fairly intense. But it seems I don’t feel the full brunt of those efforts until I have spent an hour pumping my arms in the wind. The walk up the four flights of stairs to my apartment never feels longer than after a practice run – sweat running everywhere, winter hat stuck to my head.

But you know something? Through all the discomfort: the cramping in my left calf, the aching between my shoulder blades, the chafed skin on the left side of my torso (windburn) – I have never felt better. A month before the Shamrock Shuffle officially begins, I feel like I have already achieved so much. This old dog is learning a new trick, and the results of my efforts are showing up in my timing.

When I started training almost three weeks ago, it took me 70 minutes to run 4.5 miles. When I put the key in the lock to my front door last night, I had covered the same distance in 47 minutes. Better yet – I managed to jog briskly for the first two miles without slowing down to catch my breath. During my first drill, I couldn’t get to one. Surely, I am not where I want to be yet, but I think I see a dimly lit path to success. Yes we can!