I never said my life was perfect. Only that I was happy. And now, well, just a tad bit sad. A dip into the lake of depression. Hopefully just a touch with the toes. I’m resisting the full plunge. I still have hope. Mind over matter.

I see my therapist tomorrow. The timing couldn’t be any better. I’m curious how he’ll react. To see your patient make such progress, to be so happy one week. Then tomorrow, I’m going to walk in and say, “I’m a little depressed. Help me. I don’t want to be like this.” What do therapists think? What do they feel? Like an outsider looking in, I’m wondering what will be going through his mind–this therapist I’ve been seeing for the past several months. I’m not even thinking about me. Only about him. Because I can’t stand to think of me right now.

I don’t wallow when I’m sad. I try to do something, anything. The long ass hike through Mount Tam and Muir Woods on Saturday was invigorating. It felt good. I was better. Afterwards, the In-n-Out burger tasted divine. The fries, too…even the few scraps that fell onto the counter. I scooped them up and ate them as well. I’m always relieved when my appetite is robust. It means I haven’t gone off the deep end.

Then to the gym to run and run and run. The best training I’ve done was when I was mad, angry, depressed. I can focus on the physical pain for a while and hope that it’s a good enough subsitute for now. It rarely is, but still worth the effort. Work it out. Sweat it out for the time being.

I have a morning routine on the weekends. I jostle around in bed and if I can’t go back to sleep, I pick up my cell phone and make phone calls…starting with New York, Chicago, then make my way back to the west coast.

This weekend, after my phone calls and text messages (to people I thought would still be sleeping), I stared at my phone and actually started thinking about my phone itself and the history of my cell phone.

I was one of the last converts to buying a cell phone. I didn’t have one or even consider purchasing one until I started business school. A flurry of emails came through to all of the admits. Had anyone done a comparison of the best plans? Could we get a group rate? Etc. I figured it was time to finally get one. I was 27.

I’ve had a Chicago number ever since. I get fairly annoyed when people ask me why I haven’t changed my number.
1. Why would I? Everyone’s got this number. Why would I change the number, then send out an email to every single person I know and tell them my number has changed. I’m keeping it real with the Chi-town digits.
2. Everyone has cell phones now. It shouldn’t cost anyone extra to dial a 773 area code. Deal and stop whining.

This is my second phone. Same brand. Motorola V something. I loved my first phone. When the antenna detached, I was beside myself. I wanted the same model, but it was outdated. I had to upgrade, but still, I felt like my first phone had better reception, was better quality.

I’ve stored a total of 540 numbers on my phone. Obviously, I deleted many of them. I don’t know how many are actually still on my phone. Is there a quick way to find that out without manually counting? My fax number and employee ID are also stored on my phone.

If I have two phone numbers for one person (cell number and work number), it means you’re one of my best friends. I’ve had to call you at work to get advice in a hurry. Ironically, it also means you may be a stalker. You’ve stalked me using your cell phone, then when I didn’t respond, you started using your work phone. STALKER.

If I met you at a bar or a hotel, then that is the last name I’ve given you.
Andrew Hudson (Hudson Hotel in NYC.)
Trevor Maritime (Maritime Hotel in NYC.)
Shawn Balboa (Balboa bar in SF.)

I store a little over 20 text messages with a few witty comments from friends that make me laugh: “Heading out to dinner with my girl. Pls do give a shout when things are sorted – will meet up if we still have our clothes on…”

But otherwise, it’s a roster of past romantic interests with heartfelt messages: “I miss you,” “Happy Valentine’s Day,” “I can’t stop thinking about you,”….three “I love you”s. I look through them and think that one of these days, it’ll happen again. The spark. Kind words. A meaningful relationship. Some day.

Until then, my line is open.

I need to start writing every day instead of lumping a medley of posts here every Sunday. What’s happened? I’ve become a weekly writer which wasn’t what I wanted. Daily, daily, daily. I’m going to really try from now on.

I went to the KQED studio in Potrero Hill last week to do the recording. The constantly remodeled place is filled with rooms and rooms of recording studios and sets. Very high-end. Very modern. The audio engineer was kind enough to give me a little mini tour after we were done recording. He also happened to be a hard-core marathon runner. When I told him that my piece was on the Bay to Breakers race, we chatted about our respective races, times, and marathons. We got along quite well–so well that he asked if ever I’d want to run with him sometime. Not sure I could keep up (he’s training for an ultra marathon this year), but it was still nice of him to ask.

I requested the earliest recording appointment (8am) and drove into KQED. I promptly drove to work when I was finished. I met a friend for drinks after work, then made my way back home…by bus. As soon as I took my house keys out, I realized my mistake. FUCK! I drove into work and my car was still sitting there in the lot. Ugh. What’s funny was that I had a feeling I was going to forget my car when I parked it in the morning. I’m so used to my routine of taking an express bus home that I knew I was going to forget. And I did. I was so annoyed, I called a cab to take me back down to the financial district.

I called Stephen–the cab driver I mentioned in another post. He’s great. He was at my door in five minutes. “So, going into work late?”

“Noooooh!” I was clearly exasperated. “I drove into work this morning and forgot my car there. I took the bus home instead. I’m so dumb!”

“Oh, stuff like that happens all the time. I picked up this guy once. We were going round and round in circles looking for his car. 15 minutes later, we still hadn’t located it. He said he’d pay $100 to anyone who could find his car. So I got on the intercom, described his car, and within 5 minutes, one of the cab drivers found it. Instead of looking for fares, I had a bunch of cabbies driving around the city looking for this car.”

Stephen’s great. For all you city dwellers, I recommend plugging his contact information into your cell phones.

I have four weddings in a row this summer–one a month starting in May.

May: Friends from B-School, LA
June: Friends from B-School, NJ
August: Cousin, Detroit
September: Friend from B-School, LA

I logged onto a few registries and am always amazed at how much stuff people register for. At this age, I really don’t need any more stuff. $100 porcelain gravy pourer? Are you kidding me? I’d rather spend more to get the couple something that they’ll use again and again…like a toaster or a blanket. Shit like that. I think I’d like that kind of stuff. I swear when the time comes around for me, I’m going to register for useful stuff like a year’s supply of toilet paper at Target. Every time I wipe, I’ll think of you. Useful stuff, I tell you!

I co-hosted an engagement party for my friend from business school on Saturday. I supplied the food and the cake. The other co-hosts supplied the place and the alcohol. Surprisingly, it was a blast. You put a bunch of over-worked MBAs together with a fully-stocked bar and next thing you know, we’re doing a dance-off, pouring shots, and playing rochambeau until 3:30am. When the host started turning off his apartment lights one-by-one, we realized we had over-stayed our welcome. Damn, that was a lot of fun.

On that note, we are planning a Chicago GSB reunion. Viva Las Vegas! Tentatively scheduled for the first Saturday in October. We’ve got a little committee going. I’m in charge of entertainment!

Last Thursday, I went to a fundraiser in support of a Burning Man artist. I personally think his work is some of the most creative, genius art on the playa. He’s fundraising for a large-scale project which will premiere at this year’s event. He got some funding from Black Rock Arts Foundation (the organization that funds Burning Man art), but needs more–apparently a lot more. I was happy to go and donate, considering I’ve been awed by his past work.

The fundraiser took place at his friend’s loft (adjacent to his own loft) south of market and was attended by less than 50. I met some pretty interesting people, including a lot of ‘namers.’ Their job is to name things. The guy I was talking to had named Qualcomm’s ‘Snapdragon’ mobile device chip. I thought that was a cool name. I was impressed at how organized the event was. The ample supply of wine, cheese, and hors d’oeurvres were donated by local grocers and restaurants (the names escape me). There were some speeches, concluding with his friend who owned the loft. She’s not a Burner, but believes in the artist and his work and personally donated $500. She too is a namer which makes me think they probably earn a lot of money. Further, the Snapdragon namer told me that she was one of the best namers in the industry.

I knew I’d get some kind of thank you. This just in today.

Thank you all so much for your incredible generosity. I had a great time sharing my art with you.

Because of your generosity, we were able to raise almost $6000. This will go a long way in helping us bring this monster to life.

I am extremely humbled by your generosity, and i am working tirelessly to make you proud.
Stay tuned to www.hudzo.com for updates.

Much Love,
peter

Wow, huh? $6,000. I was really surprised. Please check out the above web site to see his past work and also why I’m so fanatical about Burning Man.