Eric is under the impression that I have an upper respiratory infection. I’m still not sure because I didn’t have a runny nose this whole time. It’s ironic because Eric apparently caught this “upper respiratory infection” from another source (thankfully not from yours truly) and also is only hacking up phlegm.

There were years that I was sick and I thought: maybe I’ll take a lot of vitamins. This year I decided mostly that I would just drink a lot of water and hope to pee out my colds. I still felt sick, but now I had the bladder of a 70-year-old man.

One thing that truly made me feel better was any form of humor. Whether it being Kathy Griffin dressing up as Kate Gosselin, that video of the stuttering football player on CollegeHumor, or pictures of true Fail, I didn’t care if I was hacking up phlegm as I was watching. The laughter made me feel better about my situation. It didn’t matter that when I laughed (or even smirked) it hurt my jaw for a little bit. Or I laughed so hard it made me want to pee.

My head isn’t hurting as much, my muscles don’t feel as bad, but I’m still hacking up phlegm. I thank my slightly faster recovery due to the fact that I was laughing hysterically at silly cats that hate water.

Products seen on television for me are hit and miss. First, a kind of miss. I purchased a Snuggie for Eric (I am disappointed that leopard print didn’t exist at that point, because that would have been funnier) and although the Snuggie kind of worked, it was mostly a gag gift. In all truths the Snuggie was a robe you put on backwards. And it had the worst static electricity associated with it. It could have been the fact that it hasn’t been washed yet, but fear kicked in that the item would shrink.

(Don’t even get me started on that Dog Snuggie thing.)

Going to the hit side, I recently helped Eric’s cousin move from one apartment to another. She had to clean or else she would have been fined some obscure amount just for a chink on the wall or a messy carpet. She pulled out the OxyClean. She scooped some of the powder, mixed it with a little bit of water and started scrubbing the walls and carpet. In a few minutes the “gross” went from the walls to the paper towel. I was almost shocked that the thing worked. I have placed OxyClean on my list of things to buy the next time I’m at the supermarket. I’m now convinced that it may actually brighten my whites without bleach.

I guess in the end Billy Mayes would only put his stamp of approval on anything that he himself believed in. It makes me less nervous about the products that Billy and Sully put their stamp of approval on, but it makes me more nervous about that other guy. You know: the one who beat up prostitutes. (Wiki Vince Shlomi if you’re ever bored.)

Personally, I’ve seen the images of writers, radio people, and podcasters and was taken aback. Maybe it’s true. Maybe a lot of these people are the bastard ugly children of successful television and film stars. Even the people on YouTube have good looks and usually only the good looking (or just insanely funny) YouTube videos become the most popular.

...

I’ve seen pictures of several writers on the back of their book (while wandering through Barnes & Noble, mind you) and thought: maybe the ugly ones write. I mean look at Stephen King: great writer, kinda ugly. Then again, one of my favorite writers, Augusten Burroughs, is good looking. Well, was… I’m not that into 40-somethings. I’ve wandered his website and saw pictures of him in the 90s with his drug sheik.

I’ve mused before about a year ago about being self conscious about my neck, but I don’t consider myself ugly. With my low self esteem, let me at least think that I’m good looking. I often think in defeatist mentality, but that doesn’t make me ugly either. Sometimes, I practice taking that stereotypical black and white author photo. I laugh thinking that a) I would end up writing a how to book or b) I wouldn’t write a book. Granted, I still need a new headshot-esque picture. I have to go call Eric and hire him as my photographer. Maybe I could pay him in Applebees and Hot Wings.

Does that mean I picked the wrong outlet? Granted maybe I’m looking at extremes. I mean look at Ryan Seacrest. If someone that weird looking can succeed, I guess anyone can.

It’s a little sad. Since Eric lost his job, he’s been in this weird rut that I can’t help with. I don’t really have anything positive left to say; that and I tend to have a degree of indifference to things. (It’s called being slightly narcissistic) The big problem with it is the fact that he’s starting to depress me. I don’t think he’s gone out of the area of my house for the past week. He’s gained bad sleeping hours, he’s too tired and lazy to go outside. Yesterday I went shopping (I bought Animal Crossing for the Wii), the day before I had to go to the bank and run errands and with both cases Eric was a no show. Today I went on my morning walk. I don’t exactly know why Eric was awake (bad sleeping habits), but he didn’t want to go. I will admit that the weather was beautiful, albeit the snow hasn’t fully melted and it was mostly ice when I was walking.

Getting to the point, Eric’s mood is getting me in this weird mood. As a writer, I have the time to sit and type for several websites. I can’t focus because he’s around. I tip-toe around, run errands for him, and cook meals that I don’t normally have to. To make it worse, I haven’t gotten those damn responses from several websites and it’s making me doubt myself. Even with the smart promo work that the SimAnimals Soundtrack is having, I can't even bask in the coolness of having my name on a Wikipedia page. (Link)

I need to go back to morning walks, they help me a lot. With the weather getting better (and groundhogs biting mayors), my mood should be as well. I’m hoping the year of the Ox will help me out as well. I mean if the stars align well, I’m good with that. Eric also has to go home this week because one of his family cars has decided to have their transmission die on them.

Soon everything will iron out for me. I’ll get my weekly updates back on track. I hope…

Thanksgiving has come and gone and the season has brought me back to thinking about life. It’s weird, I’m convinced that I found myself during college, but now after, I’m trying to write for a living and it’s gotten me to think harder about my own life and personal choices. I send my resumes out and try my best to build up credibility as an entertainment journalist while waiting. Then I have my personal site and other personal projects that I’m working on.

Then I stopped and thought, “What if none of this existed?”

My mother turned to me the other day and said, “You know Mike, in some alternate world you could have been Michael Yap.” I looked at her a little confused, but she continued, “I mean, I might not have ended up with your father. We might now be here in New York. For a while I maintained a California nursing license because your father and I weren’t sure if we were going to stay in The Bronx.” She continued on saying how we’re lucky and blessed to be here. She’s told me stories of different events and situations that just seem to fall into place before. Like how since she was the second to the youngest she lucked out and got into nursing school with the help of some extra funding from her newly retiring father.

I’m a firm believer in fate and destiny; I mean I also have some Catholic beliefs and personal morals that have guided me, there’s nothing wrong with that. But during the Thanksgiving season, I’ve often asked myself questions about ‘What If?’

What if I was brought up in California?

What if I didn’t finish in Communications or Business? Would I have been a music teacher or a museum curator?

What if I was actually alone?

I have a lot of fears about my life. I’ve talked about how one of my inner fears is to die and have no one show up at my funeral. It’s an odd thing to say, but I’m afraid of being forgotten. Thanksgiving makes people think about what they are grateful for. I thank everyone I’ve known or interacted with because they’ve given me hope that there will at least one person at my funeral.

There’s a part of me that feels like I’m emotionally tearing myself up for nothing. I have someone who loves me and even though we have funny squabbles, Eric gets me. I’m always afraid he thinks that I’m insane; but he reassures me that most of his family is actually insane and I’m just paranoid.

I’m thankful. Especially thankful that my last name isn’t Yap. It doesn’t seem to fit my personality. Haha, instead of Paz, I’d be Pay.

Eric has often called me a kid, or stuck in a kid's mentality, but I really think that I'm doing one thing that he can appreciate: something I like. Sure, the pay right now is non-existant as I try to grow credibility and a stronger portfolio, but hey I get free CDs and get to watch TV.  It's weird I guess. I'm starting a little slower and behind a few steps. Damn me for not deciding to do some journalism-based classes.

I don't know, but I will review bigger (i almost typed "better" but there is nothing wrong with the albums I currently get; they may not be as mainstream, but they are good) albums for Blog Critics sooner or later. I'm still looking for other sites to write for as well, music wise.

It's a very windy and rainy day here in New York. It's quite depressing actually. The wind howls against my windows. Eric says that the rain was hitting his face sideways. Luckily he bought a new (rainproof...or resistant one of those two) jacket so he shouldn't be too soaked. But for me I was stuck inside.

I started getting cabin fever.

I sat around and felt quite useless. I had clouds in my head as well. Yesterday I got my morning walk, ran some errands, and even raked a little. Today I sat in my room blocked and devoid of any ideas. Yesterday I wrote an interesting (slightly poignant) article about Lamb Chop. Hell, it was interesting enough to make it to the front of the BlogCritics website. Today I could barely get a sentence done without ADHD.

I got up and paced my house. I cleaned the roomba. I sorted paper for recycle pick-up tomorrow. I watched Harold & Kumar. I felt so gross today.

I understand that there are just days when writers can’t write and I have a feeling that today is my day. I just want to lay around, but I know I can’t stop moving. I gotta get something typed up. One more step, one more something that could be the homerun.

I jot things down and look at them later. I looked at some today and thought that they were all stupid. I’m not throwing them out yet, because I may be in a funk today, but tomorrow the light bulb may go off and my idea will make total sense (or maybe the day after that).

Today felt like a waste to me. I’m sure right after this post, I’ll attempt to write something, but it won’t be up to par. I’ll probably post it and knowing my luck someone will Digg it or something.