Where's My Piece of Cake?

Getting back to myself

2011-08-13T11:40:00.001-07:00

Yikes!! It's been almost a year since I've blogged!! There are two things that can be discerned from my lack of attention here: one, I've started school - I never write for enjoyment when I'm in school (even my journal has been cast aside and neglected for months on end - and it, quite literally, takes me HOURS to write one post) - and two, I clearly do not blog for a living. Okay, now that my excuses to the blog-gods have dutifully been given, I present to you ... a new post!! Yes, thank you, thank you (I'm clearly imagining claps, cheers and tears on your part here)! I'm glad to be back and regale you with my stories of triumph, woe and ordinariness to perhaps - just perhaps - make you feel a little better about yourself when mine is held up as a mirror. Let's begin.

I am a very ... ... opinionated individual. I like to think I'm right most of the time and can be stubbornly married to my versions of "right" and "wrong." It's a characteristic that I freely admit and share with my siblings. My mother often wonders - aloud, mind you - where we all got it, and then proceeds to lament for our respective partners. In the best of times, this manifests itself fierce devotion (to myself, family and friends, the whole of humanity), and at the worst of times it means some pretty loud arguments with my brother. (**I would like to temper the pervious statements with this: I am also a very nice person and do not like to get into arguments. The end). This characteristic has caused me a bit of trouble, however. Case in point: my senior art show in college. I'm not going to get into the gory details here, but suffice it to say that I went to a small, conservative, religious college and my art show had nudity. While I knew this might be a problem, I also VERY much believed in the message of the show. In the end the show was cancelled. If you want more details, google my name; go ahead, I'll wait ... ... ... see that? In between learning every town I have lived in (creepy!!) and getting my race times (also creepy), you will find the newspaper articles (which, sadly, don't come with the picture that accompanied them: it was me, in a pink sweater, looking super cute but utterly distraught, holding a camera in front of one of my images ... very effective!!) The ensuing battle resulted in three things: one, I sold three pieces when I finally DID have my show at a local business (yay); two, I completely lost any connection to my mentors, friends and community of artists; and three, I stopped doing photography. This was the uncategorically the worst experience of my life; it shuck the very foundation of who I was as an artists, which was the main descriptor I gave to myself at the time. I didn't even want to pick up a camera for years, and when I finally did, I was stuck - no inspiration, no creativity, nothing ... good ... flowed from my soul. Okay, stop laughing, I know it sounds really clique and dorky, but that is where "good" used to come from - I always thought that you could see more of who I was in my photography than you could see anything about the subjects I was shooting, and if not, what was the point?

Okay, fast forward 6 years: summer 2011. For the first time since the black-death of my senior show I have both wanted to do photography AND have been relatively happy with the results! This is a huge break through for me, and very exciting (hence the breaking of my year-long silence in the blog-o-world). I have had several mini-sessions with myself ... but that gets boring pretty quickly, so I finally decided to bring someone else into the mix, and asked a good friend to be my model. I'm fairly certain that she had no idea how truly important this experience was for me, and how many times I almost canceled on her, but in the end it happened - a day long photo shoot. I loved it. It felt good. I'm excited to do more.

And now I will share some of my favorites from this summer with you here! Yay!! Aren't you thrilled?! Jubilent?! Blown away with enthusiasm and glee?! I figured as much! A couple of things to remember when viewing the photos below: 1) I apparently live in the stone-age and still shoot with film, so 2) all of these photos where taken with a little point-and-shoot digital where I have no control over aperture or shutter speed.

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I went to the Antique Faire in town the other day and wore this great straw hat I have, so I took some pictures in that. I also found this crazy cool mirror which I've used a lot already. It has old, discolored glass and is really fun to shoot with!

Um ... I love this house. The end.

My very beautiful and talented model, Misty Freeman. Many, many thanks to her!!

Running ... yup, the entire post is about running!

2010-09-09T14:25:00.001-07:00

(M congratulating me at the end of the race)

Life goal #2 is well on it’s way to being completed thanks to a Herculean effort this weekend that resulted in the completion of my first half marathon (that’s 13.1 miles who have always wondered but didn’t want to have to ask)!!! Well, “Herculean” may be a little overstated considering I hobbled to the finish line more than 9 minutes after I had dared to dream I would, but I finished it – damnit – and that is surely something to be proud of!

It’s been a long, frustrating road to get to this place. I first started training for a marathon 3 years ago when Ashley and I started running together; overuse and not having medical insurance resulted in 2 years off due to major knee pain that made it difficult to walk, stand, sit … you know, all those simple things we take for granted. Running was completely out of the question during this time. When I finally got medical insurance again I went through 3 months of physical therapy and chiropractic work, and I was finally able to run again … for about 4 months when I developed ANOTHER overuse injury which was not – thank god! – a stress fracture like my doctor originally thought, but was still a hugely painful muscle strain in my groin. I missed my first ½ marathon in May due to this injury and have been running again since July (so, all things considered, I guess a time o 2.09 isn’t horrible, and I didn’t injure myself during the run, so … yay!). While I haven’t technically registered for the race yet, I plan to run the full marathon May 1, 2011 in Eugene and am bound and determined to make it there injury free!!

While you might imagine that I questioned the intelligence of continue to run during the last 3 years, my dedication to running only increased during this time. I had a lot of down time to consider my body and healthy and how running fits into my life; this was especially true during my last injury, and while I couldn’t actually run I read, A LOT, about running: running injuries, running stories, running plans and theories, physiology of running, history and evolution of running, running for beginners, running for elite athletes, running greats and giants … I spent more time reading about running than I usually did actually RUNNING, and it all lead me to one conclusion … it’s wonderfully insightful and unexpected … wait for it … waaaaait foooor iiiiit … I’m a runner!! Whoa! Earth shattering revelation, no?! Stop rolling your eyes, accept that this is an entire blog post about running, be happy that most of the whining is over and let me explain.

I have been running for a good chunk of my life – I started my freshman year in high school on the cross country team and we’ve had an on-again, off-again relationship since then, but even during the “off-again” stages – purposeful or accidental – I’ve always known I would go back to it; I’ve always known that running would be, in one way or another, apart of my life. We all choose attributes to define ourselves – to others, to ourselves: scholar, parent, artist, teacher, humanitarian, etc., etc. Through this self reflection, I finally consciously named what I’ve always felt: I am a runner; this is part of how I define myself, this is part of who I am and what makes me me; I not particularly GOOD, mind you – I’ve never made claims to the contrary – but I love it, I always come back to it regardless of the length of time I’ve been away, I talk about it – always trying to convince people they should take it up (I believe that virtually everyone can and should run), I read about it, I plan my life around it to some degree (I do already have my running schedule figured out – more or less – until next May!) … hell, I even dream about running! Running is something I have in common with the vast majority of my friends. I take an enormous amount of pride in knowing that I can go out and run 10+ miles whenever the mood strikes me, and that the mood strikes me often! I feel beautiful, strong and graceful when I’m running in a way that I don’t at any other time – the sweatier the better. I’ve even decided that the best way to die would be when I’m really old, on a long run, at that point when my body relaxes into the run and I know I could go on forever and ever … and then I simply drop dead … sounds great, no?!

So, that’s that – an entire, self-indulgent (what blog isn’t?) blog post about running! Thanks for reading my revelation, and remember – everyone not only can, but should run!!
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Okay, specs of the race, for those of you interested (and, really, who isn’t?!). I had PLANNED to go out at 10 minute pace, drop it down to 9.30 until mile 4, 9.15 until mile 9 and sub-9s to the finish. Yep, that was the plan – beautiful, well thought out … in reality my splits were: 10.12, 9.29, 9.37, 9.41, 9.22, 9.34, 9.43, 10.05, 10.04, 31.50*, and 9.26, with an overall time of 2 hours, 9 minutes and 53 seconds.

*I was apparently very tired at this point and forgot to mark miles 11 and 12, so 10, 11, and 12 were completed in 31.50, which is approximately 10.50 pace for each – oy!

On splinters, refridgerators and life's persistent questions ...

2010-08-18T11:28:00.000-07:00

Okay - yes, it's been awhile, but it's not my fault - truly! Well, okay, it's mostly my fault, but I DID write a blog about a month ago about the profusion of splinters in my feet, but something happened and 2 hours of work later it wouldn't post and didn't get saved ... yup, a barrel of laughs that one was, but I guess you'll have to trust me on that! Suffice it to say that running barefoot on chip trails is not the best idea ... I'm not sure what it says about me that I tried it three times before I finally decided to give my poor feet a break and bought Vibram Fivefingers, or that I probably would have continued trying if it wasn't interfering with my training!

This post is not, however, about my irrational masochism or my tendency towards redundant adjectives - is it truly possible to be rationally masochistic after all? - but rather about reaching adulthood and the decisions that this necessarily demands. Wow - that makes it sound like this is a crazy serious blog post - don't worry, it's not to anyone else but me - it is my life we're discussing here, after all.

I have officially - in my reasoning, which I'm sure makes sense but other people tend to question - reached adulthood. This topic could certainly be a blog post all on its own, but it basically comes down to being the "proud" owner of a large appliance (the fact that the symbol of my transition into adulthood broke within a week and cost more to fix than it did to buy does not bode well for this period of my life ... but, again, another post perhaps). It was right about this time that I fell into my old-childish pattern of questioning everything I am, do, care about, etc. etc. (something from the past was bound to follow me to the new and exciting world of broken refrigerators). I do apologize to my family and friends who are forced to listen to me lament, complain and bitch about every 6 months; I'm sure they will all die happy if they never have to hear, "I don't know what I'M DOING," or "How do I know this is the right path for me?!" ever again! The reality is, however, that this has been a major point of personal contention ever since my last year of college and the infamous senior-show debacle. I had my life planned out at that point - I HAD a path, and I was walking on my merry way listening to the birds singing and watching the baby animals, not noticing the dark forest in front of me until it was too late and the vultures of life were circling my dead dreams ... (ha! I think that's the sappy-ist thing I've ever written!) For the last 5 years, though, I've been without a strong direction - flitting from job to job, going to school because I know I need more of it, but not entirely sure what it's going to lead to. I am overwhelmingly happy to announce, however, that there is finally light filtering through the leaves of the forest, the underbrush is thinning and I'm determined to take this analogy as far as possible! Don't worry, though - you get to wade through more explanation, commentary, inappropriate dashes, and - if you're really lucky - hideous analogies before I finally reveal the plan that has spurred such a long, rambling blog post!!

After I left CARDV and was applying for jobs literally all over the country, I read a lot of books about finding the "right" career. I've long known the area that I want to work in: human rights generally and women's rights/issues specifically, as well as a variety of other things that I want (or don't) out of a job: I want to be able to use my public speaking skills, I don't want to do crisis intervention, direct service work, I would like to opportunity to work internationally if possible and I'm interested in working for a non-profit. All this is not, however, a clear road-map towards a career, to say the least. I was recently lamenting - once again - that I don't have a clear direction - that I'm going to grad school hoping that I'll develop a stronger sense of what I want to do while there (perhaps not the best use of all my student loan money!); I can't really say what sparked - or re-sparked, I should say - this idea for a career; it just came to me, made a lot of sense and - best of all - made me super excited ... my future wasn't a nebulous, black, smokey haze anymore - it seemed obvious and clear. Okay - ready for it?! Here it is!!

I'm going to be a lawyer for an international non-profit that works on human rights issues (specifically women's rights issues)!!!

I'm super excited!!! I've thought about being a lawyer off and on for years - but I've never necessarily wanted to be a trial lawyer. I had thought about doing international law in the past but let myself be talked out of it by someone who I love very much (and who did not, by the way, intend to talk me out of it - I don't believe - but who doesn't particularly like the "soft law" aspect of international law). This fits perfectly the various things that I'm looking for in a career, and I believe that it fits my personality fairly well to boot! I'm excited - I'm nervous - I'm excited again and mostly I'm relieved! I was beginning to think that I would have to settle for "one of many 'right' choices" - as people were beginning to tell me - and that's simply not what I wanted for my life; I wouldn't be happy looking back and knowing that I gave up the pursuit to find "that" career that fit me perfectly - that I choose one thing out of many options, all of which were okay but none of which I was in love with.

So, maybe I'm building this up a bit - I know that no career is going to perfect and that they are all hard work, but there are times in our lives that we decide on something without deliberation because we simply know that it's right - it's the right fit, the right choice, and it will make us happy. I did that with my husband - the night I met him I knew that I was going to marry him - no deliberation, it was simply the right choice, the right fit; sure it's not been perfect, nothing is, but I'm still happy and it was still the best decision for me, and I knew it right away - this is the same thing: I simply know.

So there you have it - my decision revealed! I'm looking forward to the future in a way I haven't for some time - I'm excited and content; I know where I'm headed and everything I'm doing now will help me get there - yay for me! :o) I start school again at the end of September - until then I will continue saying encouraging words to my refrigerator every morning (yes, I do this, and then I pat it's door lovingly ... we all need encouragement to run another day from time to time), being thankful for my Vibrams and trust that the same ... tenacity - yeah, that's what we'll call it ... that made me try running barefoot on chip trails multiple times will be more of a benefit to my career as a lawyer than it was to my training schedule!

War of the World; or, Just Another Exploration of My Insanity.

2010-04-07T11:24:00.000-07:00

Wow - it's been quite some time, no?! I, of course, have no good excuses for my long absence ... REALLY no excuse - I only work 3 days a week, Monday-Wednesday ... yes, that's right all you observant ones - this means I have Thursday-Sunday off every week; like I said, no excuses. So I've been sitting here for quite some time trying to decide what to write about: being accepted to my top choice for grad school, interviewing my grandmother about her life and her mother, signing up for a 1/2 marathon and the training process ... there is a lot that I could write about, updates and information, but I have finally landed on what I really want to discuss: aliens. Yes, that's right, I've been silent for months and my first post back is going to be about aliens - the little-green-"people"-running-around-sucking-our-brains-out kind.

Let me just say upfront that I believe aliens exist. I think it's ridiculous to think that we could be the only form of "intelligent" life in the entire universe/galaxy/alpha quadrant/etc. I am, of course, using "intelligent" very loosely here; after all, how intelligent can a species be if they resolve most disputes by killing each other, stockpile enough weapons to destroy their entire world, and continually rape and destroy their planet when they don't yet have the ability to move to and survive on another "M-class" planet once their home-world can no longer support life ... the moral failings of the human species aside, however, I simply can't imagine a cosmic mistake that would allow life to form on this planet alone and no where else ... NO WHERE ELSE ... and when "where else" is so vast that most of us can't even begin to comprehend it's size, you have to admit that the likelihood of Earth being the only home of complex life is, well, distinctly UNlikely.

So why, oh why, am I writing about aliens ... I'm sure it would make perfect sense if you could be inside my head and listen to the rambling train of thought that eventually brought me to the subject of aliens, but seeing as how anyone transporting into my mind would not only involve a wonder of science but likely scar that poor schmo for life, let's just say that it started with my happiness that the sun is out today and leave it at that.

But let's come to the real purpose of this post - exposing my insanity once again but admitting to my "unexplainable" events that I have, of course, decided to blame on aliens. Let's begin.

Last summer M and I went hiking/camping at Indigo Lake - it's a really short hike, a couple of miles in, with several great camping sites that remains pretty empty all summer. So we got there around mid-day, set up camp, hiked around, had HOURS to rest ... and then it started getting dark. I know that every few people have had the ... um ... pleasure of camping with me, but I am a horrible camper! I really dislike the great outdoors when it's completely dark and anything could be lurking past the campfire light ready to eat your face off; I would much rather hike a great distance, be so tired I can barely set up camp and don't even bother with a fire, and fall - completely exhausted - into my sleeping bag shortly after eating my freeze-dried hiking dinner. I don't understand people who LIKE to sit around the campfire until all hours of the night, drinking, being loud and NOT worrying about the animals ready to make them a mid-night snack! Okay, I'm a slightly better camper if there are more than just 2 people out there (and I'm speaking specifically to the people I'm planning to camp with this summer!!) So shortly after M made the campfire, I decided it was time for bed; it was 8:00!! Needless to say, I couldn't sleep - not only was I not tired AT ALL, but since I wasn't utterly exhausted my mind raced through all the possible ends that could meet us up in the mountains with no one else around ... after forcing M to get out of bed and come pee with me several times, he finally fell asleep; I, however, did not. 4 hours later I was still wide awake, starting to feel a little safer (due to the full moon shining down on the lake beside our campsite), and I heard it; my heart stopped, I held my breath and hoped to god that I was actually asleep and dreaming ... but there it was again ... a ping. It sounded much like a homing beacon and it was DIRECTLY in our camp! There were no other sounds at all, no footfalls, rustling ... nothing but the pinging, and it was moving through our camp. I could hear it move from one side of the camp to the other, then it went a little way from the camp, then it came back - a little while later I heard it very far away - a slight "ping" in the far distance. The next morning I truly expected to see our campsite utterly destroyed and ripped to shreds, but it was fine - nothing out of place, no animal marks or footsteps ... I had made up my mind the night before, as I was cowering in the tent, afraid to breath in case the pinging heard me and decided my breathing sounded tasty, that the ping had to be one of two things: a crazy, man-eating bear that the forest service (or whoever handles these things) had decided not to kill but wanted to warn unwary hikers/campers that the bear was coming and they should say their final prayers, or it was aliens. Obviously those were the only two reasonable explanations.

Us at M's hard-earned camp fire.

Sun-set, and about time for bed!

Fast forward about a month: M and I are at the coast for our anniversary. We found this great little hotel fully equipped with a kitchen, fireplace and nearly private beach and decorated in an "old west" theme ... it was actually a great place right south of Yachats called the See Vue, and if you don't mind staying so close to aliens you really should check it out (look, I've made it easy for you! See Vue). We spent a fabulous and unnaturally warm day at the coast playing on the beach and walking around Yachats. We made a great dinner that night (garlic curry salmon with steamed broccoli, in case you wanted to know), and afterward decided to sit out on the chairs overlooking the cliff down to the beach ... it was remarkably beautiful. We had been out for about an hour (and, complete disclosure here, we had been drinking, but only a glass or two of wine and neither of us was close to being drunk), when 4 bright globes of light appeared in the sky slightly to right of us; they hung there for awhile and one by one they faded away. The only things I know for certain is that it couldn't be car lights (the angle of the road was wrong and there were no clouds for lights to reflect off of), or boat lights (up too far from the water) or airplane/helicopter lights (there were too close for us not to hear the engine), and we both saw exactly the same thing. We both tried to pretend it didn't bother us for awhile, but quickly decided to go back inside. It wasn't necessarily scary, just completely unexplainable! This experience, much more than the first one, made me think of aliens ... there simply doesn't seem to be any other explanation.

The view from our room ... it really was amazing!

Our tasty meal ... yup, we took a picture!

Now, I'm sure that "believing" in aliens makes it easier to jump to that conclusion when strange things happen, but come on we've all had those experiences that lack explanation and our minds wonder if, just maybe, we've somehow come into contact with something not of this world ... and now you get to share that experience here!! I know you're thrilled to expose your "insanity" with me (and I KNOW some of you have those stories because I've heard them before), and look on the bright side, maybe we'll all be abducted at the same time and spend the summer being interrogated by the government or probed by little green men together ... a new twist on the idea of summer camp, sure, but as long as the aliens don't force me to play "buck/buck" with them, I'll be happy.

(Thanks to RoadSideAmerica.com for their alien picture ... I didn't ask to use it, I just am, so you should thank them as well by visiting their website here!

The 5 (warning: illiteration and liberal use of hyphens ahead)

2009-12-06T18:13:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season for lists: gift lists, "he's making a list and checking it twice" lists, thank-you lists, New-Year's-Resolutions lists, food-to-eat-and-deliver-the-death-blow-to-your-already-hopelessly-shattered-last-
New-Year's-Resolution list ... you get the picture. Well - and this really should come as no surprise to you if you actually read the previous, poorly constructed sentence - I have a list of my own! It's one that I have been formulating for years - altering, cutting and adding as necessary - that has finally settled down in 4-solid tasks and one big question mark; oh, that's right my faithful followers, fair-weather friends and fearless foes, I am speaking of none other than the fun-to-write-but-rarely-actualized Life-Goals Lists (dum-da-da-dum)!! Don't be fooled - this isn't just another life-goals lists; it is long-pondered, hard-thought and realistic ... "Wait! What's that?!" you say, "a realistic life-goals lists?" That's right - no curing AIDS, winning the Nobel Peace Prize, owning the world's largest private library fantasies on this list ... anymore ...! Another difference: it's short. Condensed from approximately 100-I've-already-done-them-so-they-might-as-well-go-on-my-list tasks to 5. The idea behind this list was that I wanted to only include things that were:
1) important to me personally without the need for explanation or apology
2) quantifiable with an end-point (meaning no subjective and ongoing, "be a good person/partner/kitty mom/etc.")
3) achievable by my will, strength, motivation, etc. alone, completely independent of outside source (meaning, no prizes or "world's largest/best/biggest" allowed) but also things I have to work hard for (emotionally, physically, mentally)
4) already apart of who I am (meaning I'm not trying to become someone I'm not, but rather play to my strength and the things I already enjoy)
Additionally, I didn't want too many things on the list; if there is a limit to the number, then you really have to decide what is the most important goals for your life. So, what have I come up with? Like I said, there are 4 solid goals, and one is still up in the air - I don't want to pick life-goals willy-nilly, after all! The goals I have so far have been years in the making; I figure that the last one will come when it's time. Okay, okay! I'll end the suspense that is driving you all mad.

EMILY'S LIFE GOALS!!!!!
#1) Take a walking journey. I'm not entirely sure where this one came from - maybe my time backpacking through Eastern and Central Europe when I spent WAY more time on a bus than was really necessary or healthy! I had really wanted to walk from town to town - when they were close enough - and the few times that this did happen were some of the greatest times on the trip. You have to slow down when you walk, take in your environment, be in tune with your body, and - of course - you have lots of time to think. I also love backpacking; the strength necessary to carry 40 lbs. over 50 miles, the self-sufficiency of carrying all your necessities on your back, and the ultimate feeling of accomplishment when you're done. It's the idea of a pilgrimage without the religious fervor. This definitely plays on the "solitude" part of my life; I'm a fairly reserved person ... most of the time ... I very much like my alone time and quite, open space to think. I also love being outside; I feel the most connected to and at peace with myself, the earth and some sort of potential "other world" when I'm alone or quietly with someone in nature.

#2) Run a marathon. This is the goal that has been on my list the longest - since high school. I was on my way once, but bad knees and early mornings foiled my plans, and here I am - 3 years later and 10 pounds heavier - still dreaming the dream, eating too much junk food and drinking too much wine. Good news on this front, however: finally having medical insurance has allowed me to get my knees checked and go through physical therapy so I can run again ... $4000 for doctor's appointments, MRIs and physical therapy appointments is great motivation (and people say we don't need health care reform, like $3000 for an MRI on your knees is normal and anyone can do it - please - imagine my eye-rolling here)! So why stick with this goal through so much hardship and misplaced motivation? Bragging rights! Come on! Also, and only slightly more seriously, I just want to prove to myself that I can do it! It requires dedication, motivation, and perseverance - all things that I'm afraid I lack; I want to do it because it will be hard for me, and that seems like a good enough reason. That said, however, this goal plays on my determined - some call it hard-headedness - character. If someone, even myself, says I can't do something, or doubts that I can/will, I want nothing more than to prove them wrong, and won't stop until I do. Also, I really do like running; I don't necessarily like the preliminaries to running - shuffling, huffing and gasping really - but once I'm in shape, I love picking a country road and getting into a rhythm ... bliss.

#3) Earn a doctoral degree: this one almost didn't make the cut - I just wasn't sure if I wanted it enough to make it an honest life goal, and I simply wasn't sure what I wanted to get it in - nothing seemed particularly practical if I wasn't planning to teach university. What finally made up my mind with this one, however, was my interest in geology ... hang in there, I promise this relates ... So, I recently decided/discovered that I'm interested in geology - chemical geology and paleontology specifically - and, if I had it all to do again, I would have gone to school for that rather than art (ha! yes, yours truly was truly an art major in college ... weren't my parents supposed to dissuade me from art school?!). Then I decided that, after I'm done getting my masters in Public Policy, I'll just start over and get a B.S. in Geology ... which in the end really just reminded me how much I love school. I really, really love going to school; it doesn't matter to me if getting a doctorate makes me a better job candidate or not, I want the degree because I want the degree - because I'm going to be in school anyway, so why not have the highest degree to show for it. I guess this plays to my super-clique thirst for knowledge. I love learning new things, I love the process of it and the outcome; I love talking about new things I've learned and getting different perspectives to help draw my own conclusions. I just really enjoy school, and once I sat down and really thought about it, this goal was a no-brainer.

#4) Complete a genealogical chart of my matriarchal line. My dad does genealogy, so I have grown up with the stories of my family, but - because the women got married and changed their names, essentially dropping off the family tree at that point - they were almost always the stories of men. I generally believe in the idea of a "family unconsciousness" - think collective unconscious combined with "the sins of the father" kind of idea, but not necessarily only sins. I like to think that we all carry the experiences/ideas/understandings of our ancestors, and have come to some interesting conclusions based on the stories of the men in my family, but half of my familial unconscious is missing because I don't know the stories of my maternal ancestors. I need to know those stories; I need to know where that part of me comes from and how it affects who I am; I need to give voice to their stories to help me understand my own. This goal is best described as my "spiritual" goal. The connection through time and exploring ideas of who you are and what has made you that way seems to me to fit into the "spiritual" category; also, that's just the way I feel about it when I think of this goal ... it feels spiritual to me, and that is that.

#5) Unknown. As I said, I'm not sure what this goal will be yet, but I feel strongly there needs to be five, and the other goals took some time to come to, so I'm not rushing the process. I will let it come as it will.

So - where to go from here. I've taken little steps towards several of them - well, all of them really. I'm not entirely sure how it will play out, but the reason I have decided to blog about it is because it's time I stop thinking about them and actually start realizing them. I have ideas of where I'm going to start - need to look at some logistical things before I reveal my next step - but never-fear, I will blog about them all the way!!

Okay, now it's your turn. Given the 4 guidelines I've set out for myself (review: important to you personally, quantitative (no, "I want to be a good person/parent/partner" allowed, as nice of a goal as that is), achievable by your own strength (independent of outside sources), and part of who you already are), what are your top-five life goals?

To Procreate or Not to Procreate: The Great Child Debate

2009-10-19T20:01:00.000-07:00

Most people who know me in a real-world, not-voodoo-magical-internet context know that I have long declared my desire to remain childless, but - perhaps inevitably - I have been thinking about babies quite a bit the last couple of years ... okay, let's be honest - it's not been "quite a bit" but something more along the lines of A FREAKING BLOODY TON!! I say inevitably for several reasons: I'm getting older and know that the amount time I to actually make this choice is quickly dwindling, my family has accepted my childless state and therefore no longer gives me anything to rebel against by remaining so, practically every woman I know is or was recently or is actively trying to be pregnant, I'm making major life choices right now and need to decide if having children is indeed a desire ... you get the picture. Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm pining away on the couch hoping for the pregnancy fairies to fly through the window, it's not even that most of the time I think about the possibility of having children I actually want it to happen; I haven't made any kind of decision here, but rather I'm just thinking about the decision a lot. Do I or don't I want to have children? Honestly, most of the time I don't see it happening - not that I don't necessarily want it happen, but I just don't think it will. There are those times, however, that I seriously want nothing more than to get pregnant right this instant dammit! Luckily those are few and far between, and after several days of moping, crying in the shower and imagining how beautiful my child could be while she sleeps, I'm infinitely grateful that I'm a really consistent birth-control taker! There are simply so many reasons not to have kids (in no particular order):

1) Financial: children are really bloody expensive! And once you have 'em, you're in it for the long haul! I would want some sort of financial security if I were to have children, and let's face it - that isn't happening anytime soon! The hubs has at least 4 more years of school, and I have at least 2 more starting next year. Being two full-time students doesn't equate well to making/having/saving money! Nor does it leave much time to be a parent, which is my second point.

2) Time: Obviously, as mentioned above, being in school for several more years doesn't leave a lot of time for feedings, sleepless nights, changing poopy diapers ... you know, the general being-a-parent stuff. At this point neither M nor I are willing to give up school and career goals to raise children. This issue isn't settled once school is done however; this might sound selfish, but I really like my me-time and our us-time, and I simply don't know if I'm willing to give that up.

3) Environmental: A child brought up in America today will consume a disproportionate amount of the world's finite resources while at the same time creating more non-degradable trash than most people in the world. This is also tied with Overpopulation (which I'll call 3, subcategory A): America's population continues to increase, making it one of the only (the only?) "developed" country to do so. Most of Europe has reached replacement population growth (1 child per 1 adult), or negative growth! Additionally, there are SO many children in the world who need loving homes and parents - can I really justify bringing another life into the world, thereby increasing the population, when there are already so many children?

4) Biological: Everyone is born with a biological history - my child would be born with a fairly substantial history of severe depression on both sides of the family. This isn't to say, of course, that they absolutely would inherent this trait or tendency, but the chances are actually pretty good, and do I really want to be responsible for passing that down to a child? Perhaps a greater deterrent for me is the possibility of postpartum depression and my fear that my child will be raised by a depressed mother.

5) Auntie-hood: I really enjoy being an auntie - I have 3 nephews and 1 niece and feel pretty fulfilled by those children in my life. I usually don't feel like I'm missing children, because it's easy to go see them if I do, and of course I can give these children back when I'm exhausted or they have a dirty diaper.

Regardless of all these reasons to not have children though, sometimes I really want them! Chalk it up to an evolutionarily lagging biological clock, societal pressures and personal expectations, and pure damn curiosity, but regardless of how much I go over the reasons to not have kids, I usually picture my future with children in it, I catch myself saying, "when I have kids" and have to qualify it with a "I mean IF," I am occasionally torn in half, rather painfully actually, when I get my period - I'm happy because I know it's not the right time, and also mourn the loss of a child that never existed and have to consul myself with cake ...

HEY LOOK! THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU GET TO PARTICIPATE!! YAY!!

I don't expect answers, but I am curious about other people's decisions. Do you have children? Are you planning to? Why or why not? Is this is a decision made purposefully or did it just seem like the natural thing to do?

Wait, this isn't real life?!

2009-10-12T21:21:00.000-07:00

I hate to admit it – I really do, but in the interest of full disclosure to the masses of strangers that, of course, read my blog religiously, it must be done!!

Here is goes … I have been watching a lot of TV lately … I mean, A LOT! A couple of clarifying points are needed here: one – I’m technically not watching TV, seeing as how I don’t actually own one; I am, rather, watching – in rapid succession – season after season of Veronica Mars on my computer, courtesy of the network execs who realized that they could make SO much more money if they could get people to buy multiple series on DVD. Two: I have been working furiously to get an art piece done by last Saturday for my nephew’s birthday gift – the project ended up taking about 100 hours, and exactly two weeks before the party I was only about 40 hours into it; as most of this work is anally repetitive I generally do it with a show playing in the background. So … yes, a lot of TV watching!

The purpose of this post is not, however, to reveal my secret shame – no, no my friends – but rather to add my two-cents to a long-standing debate: do the things we watch affect us? You know the one I’m talking about; it goes something like:

Person one: “I think watching violent movies and playing violent video games makes kids more prone to violence.”

Person two: “I think your stupid face makes me more prone to violence!”

Oh yes, a civil debate if ever there was one. Perhaps my stance on the matter is obvious from my grossly simplified characterization of the debate itself, but let me take you through my journey of choosing sides …

Like I said, this journey involved a lot of TV watching in a very short period of time: 2.5 seasons in 1.5 weeks … yup, yup, a lot of TV! I think it is this very circumstance, however, that intensified an effect already taking place – that being that the entertainment that we choose to partake in, perhaps especially the shows/movies/games/etc. that we choose to watch very much effect our everyday lives – but one that is generally subtle enough that we often don’t make the correlation between what’s happening in our own personal lives to the effect entertainment has on us.

I don’t know how many of your are familiar with the show Veronica Mars – it’s basically about a girl detective who picked up her skills working for her private-investigator father. She tries to solve the mystery of who killed her best friend, who killed a bus of kids, who raped the girls on campus, etc., lolley-pop licking fluffy-bunny, uplifting topics all, I assure you! As with all shows aimed at the high school/college crowd, it’s full of high emotion, passion and angst … ahhhh television! I just recently, within the last couple of days, began to notice a correlation between my mood, emotions and interactions and what was happening on the show – a correlation that at first I denied, then was weirded out by, and finally knocked my on my ass because of the implications. I have always been a fence-sitter on this “effect of entertainment” debate, not because I haven’t noticed the correlation before, but because it was subtle enough I could easily pass it off as something else, but this experience was so dramatic and obvious that the connection, for me, could no longer be ignored. I began to notice that if I stopped watching the show when the main character was angry about something – which happens a lot, you have to keep the people coming back to find out what happens! – I was much more likely to be irritable and cranky; if the main character was dealing with the fallout from a particular sexual encounter (which is dealt with throughout the show), I would find myself dragging up issues from a similar, but not exactly the same, encounter that have been dealt with years ago and are really best laid to rest; if she was having problems in her relationships, I would be more irritable with my partner, and alternately if things were going well I would be more understanding and happier. All of this from a show that, although I find interesting, I barely (consciously) paid attention to – it was noise in the background, a way to keep time; how was I to know that my brain was absorbing the emotions from the show and forcing me to act them out in my own life?

Like I said earlier, I think this affect was exacerbated by the amount of time I spent watching the show, but I don’t think it was caused by the amount of time spent. I really have to conclude that all those times in the past when I thought to myself, “hmmm … I don’t understand what’s wrong! I felt fine an hour ago!” after watching a show is much more than coincidence, but rather my response to what I’m seeing. I have to believe that this is true for the greater population as well, but – again – the affects are so subtle that it can be difficult to see the relationship. I have to wonder, as well, about the specific affect on children.

At 26 I didn’t at first realize what was happening – I accepted my emotions as my own and never questioned if they might be a figment of television. Imagine, if you will, a pre-teen who has grown up in American society – watching violent television, cartoons, movies, playing violent games. How is this child supposed to separate her own emotions from the “figment” emotions? When do those “figment” emotions honestly become his own? Are our brains actually wired to separate television “reality” from actual reality? Certainly I have not experienced the violent murder of a best friend, then think her brother/my ex-boyfriend killed her, then realize – when he tries to kill me too – that it was actually the father of my best-friend’s then/my current boyfriend, then experienced the violent murder of a bus full of children which I think is my fault and that someone has a hit out on me, and then experienced multiple attempted/successful rapes all within the span of 3 years, and all the accompanying emotions associate with such experiences … I doubt many people have, but I imagine that if my best friend was going through everything I just detailed – everything that the main character of Veronica Mars, or any other television show experienced – it would affect my life in some of the same ways the show actually did. Perhaps our brains haven’t evolved to distinguish the difference between entertainment and reality yet, and if this is true, perhaps the loads of money spent on counseling and drugs for violent, troubled, “misbehaved” children is misdirected. Could it be as simple as turning off the TV?

Image courtesy of this website.

Mathematical melt down

2009-10-08T16:54:00.000-07:00

I’d like to say that busyness is the reason for my long silence, but honestly it’s been a motivation issue – as always – that and I wasn’t sure I wanted to share my feelings of being completely overwhelmed with family, friends and strangers alike. Apparently I’m over that, however, as I am writing it down now. A disclaimer for the overly offended, however: I am being honest about my feelings and views here and if you – dear reader – are afraid you might have a problem with what is said, stop reading now. Additionally, I have absolutely nothing against stay-at-home moms and the following characterization is made only of myself and in no way depicts my views of stay-at-parents in general. Lastly, I think it’s ridiculous this disclaimer is necessary, but I know it is.

Now, on with the show!!

“What,” you ask, “can you possibly be feeling overwhelmed about? You sleep in, feel guilty about not running more regularly, do some art, pet some kitties and play with puppies at the Humane Society.” I know, it sounds like a cush life, but as I live almost entirely in a head that never shuts up to give me some peace and quiet, how I feel is rarely related to what I’m doing. These feelings came when I finally broke down and took the GRE practice test to see just how much I had to cram for the test, which is at the end of October. I did as I expected – well on the verbal part, poorly on the math. What I didn’t expect, however, was two things: just HOW poorly I did on the math, and how absolutely stupid and incompetent it made me feel. Granted, I haven’t taken math for 7 years and I have NEVER understood Geometry, at the least these are the things I keep telling myself to try to bolster my fragile, cracking ego, but it doesn’t seem to keep me from spiraling into a downward dream-crushing, life-immobilizing panic. “Wow! It’s just math!!” you say, and my more sensible self would agree. The self that is firmly in control of my emotions and panic button, however, doesn’t. That self assures me every day that I’m going to get less than 1000 on my GRE, I’ll be exposed as an unintelligent fraud, no school will ever want me and I’ll never have a real job, which will just lead to me being a depressed stay-at-home mom who didn’t choose that life but utterly failed at everything else I tried and is constantly thinking about what could have been, should have been, would have been and then living out my unfulfilled dreams through my thoroughly resentful children. Oh yes, my friends, a bright future lays before me indeed!

This does, of course, have so much more to do than getting a bad pre-test score on my math GRE; it has to do with the whole process of going to grad school – no, more than that even; it has to do with the position I am in my life currently. I am on the edge of making a major life decision, which is always stressful anyway, but made even more so when you realize that this is the first major life decision that I have actually MADE! “You’re 26, married, college educated … obviously you’ve made decisions before. You must be exaggerating you drama-queen you!” Oh, I wish I were! I have never sat myself down, looked at all my options, asked myself what I wanted most, and then made that decision. I have LET things happen to me my whole life – I have fit myself to circumstance; I haven’t directed and shaped life to fit my wants and goals – I was never quite sure what those were, and I was so worried about disappointing everyone else that I never noticed I was disappointing myself.

Take my numerous years in college, for example. College was always the next step after high school for me – it was simply what came next, without question or thought. I had always wanted to move to the East Coast and go to American University, but knew I wouldn’t because I was expected to go to a religious university – one, in particular. When I got a scholarship that could only be used in state, I kind of talked about going to a state school, but again, I knew I wouldn’t; I did what was expected of me and went to a small, conservative, Christian school; I let life happen rather than directing it. Again, when I went back to school for post-bacc work it wasn’t because that was what I really wanted to do at the time, but rather I needed something to do while my partner was working in the area. I wanted to leave, to pick up and move somewhere far away, but rather than taking steps to make that happen, I simply sat back and fit myself into the circumstance I found myself in.

I have been married for 6 years – yes, that means I was 20 when I got married. 20!!!! This part is tricky to explain well – it’s not at all that I didn’t want to be with my partner, I absolutely did – I wanted to be with him, live with him, travel with him – but I didn’t necessarily want to get married right then. I was 20!!! There were so many experiences that I’d never had, and now never will, namely living on my own. In order for us to have the relationship we wanted, however, our families absolutely expected us to get married; it wasn’t about us and our relationship, but conforming to values held by our parents but not necessarily shared by us. I did it though – I was expected to get married and I did.

I have done what is expected and let life happen to me for far too long. I want to live my dreams and stop changing them to fit into current circumstance and expectation. So here I am, about to apply for grad school with two concerns: what if I fail miserably at my first attempt to live my life according to my desires, and how do I truly know this is my desire and not living in circumstance once again? I feel like there is a lot riding on this decision to go to graduate school, a lot of pressure (mostly from myself) for this to be the right decision. How do I know the field I’m choosing is the one I want to do forever? How do I know that the schools I’m applying to are the ones I want to go to and not the ones that are most convenient to my current circumstance? Like I said, I feel overwhelmed by the entire process; I feel unsure about my decisions, but I’m not entirely sure they are the wrong ones either. I want to direct my own life, but I don’t know if I’m up to the challenge and am terrified that I’ll make the wrong choices; I don’t know if I’m actually unhappy or if I’m forcing myself to be just to give myself something to do every day.

So there it is: I failed the math section of the GRE and it paralyzed me, not because of the test itself, but because of all the choices, confusion and frustration that it ultimately represents; it isn’t the confusing mixture of numbers and letters posing as numbers that’s really the problem (although, come on, those really should be kept separate!), but the mixture of dreams and expectations, direction and circumstance, life and … well … life.

Why Can't We be Friends?; or, Refuse to be Defined by the Owl Table.

2009-09-20T15:17:00.000-07:00

I was having a normally pathetic day at home the other day … sitting alone, alternately petting my cats and yelling at them like a harassed mother of twin toddlers, “stop fighting right now you two!” as if they could understand – much less give a damn – what I was saying, and longing desperately for some sort of social interaction with actual people – you know the kind of I’m talking about, the mythical type of people who aren’t 3 inches tell and don’t live in the box in your living room, the almost-imaginary kind who actually talk back, answer questions and carry on a conversation with you – I hear they exist, although I’m not entirely sure where to find them … and I couldn’t help but wonder, “when did it become so bloody hard to make friends?!”
Believe it or not, I used to be really good at making friends. Anywhere I’d go, if there was another kid within 5 years of my age we’d be planning our first slumber party while I caught them up on my most recent imaginary world so they could join in the magical goodness before my parents even had the time to turn around and wonder where I’d gotten myself off to. “Social butterfly” was written on my progress reports from school on an abnormally frequent basis, as were the observations like, “Emily has a very gregarious personality … [nice enough] … which can be really distracting to the other students during class time [there goes the nice].”
I met my childhood best friend the first day of kindergarten. I had just moved to town and was in the afternoon class (none of this crazy full-day kindergarten for me!). I sat at the owl table, which I really disappointed about at first because I had really wanted to sit at the kitty-cat table, but it was all full – as was the bunny table and the squirrel table … actually, every table except the owl table was totally full and what 5-year-old in their right mind wants to sit at the bloody owl table?! Yes, I was definitely disappointed by the owl – I felt dorky, un-liked, nerdy. But, like I said, I made friends easily and refused to let the owl table define me, so I picked someone out and managed to "distract" her through a full day (which, as mentioned earlier, was really only a half day) of free time and nap time; by snack time I had already asked her, straight out, if she'd be my best friend and we were for the next 7 years (and -if you're wondering - she was not at the owl table at first, but the much cooler bunny table, until she switched with someone to be at the owl table with me - yeah, she was pretty much awesome like that). Why was it so easy then?!
It's not that I'm expecting adult to go up to each and ask if someone wants to be their best friend in-between commute time and coffee-break time, but seriously, there has to be a way for those of us adults who aren't working or in school and didn't stay best-friends with the kids we grew up with to make new friends in a non-sexual and non-super-creepy-I'm-going-to-stalk-you-if-you-reject-me kind of way! I've live in this place for a year already and have a grand total of 2 people that I do things with - one of whom I've known for most of my life - but even then it's only occasionally. It's not that I want someone that I can see every minute of every day - remember, I said NON-creep - but someone I can randomly call up and go to coffee with or to whom I can bitch about my day would be nice. There are so many social mores that must be followed now as an adult, rules for social conduct of which I am hyper-aware and deathly afraid of breaking, but it's more than that. Everyone is so busy, so independent and disconnected from each other, and it seems that the more of these things we are (busy, independent, disconnected) the more we're admired and thought to be 'contributing to society' ... when did having friends go out of style, and dear god, where did the social butterfly who refused to be the friendless, dorky kid at the owl table go?

Living with Teenage-Hormonal-Fluctuation-Syndrome; or, How Petting Kitties and Walking Puppies Will Help Me Overcome THFS

2009-09-14T14:40:00.000-07:00

Wow - I've actually been away for awhile; not away, away - of course, god knows I don't have the money to go "away, away" - but away from the blog-o-sphere. It's not that I didn't have anything to say - I always have something to say - or not even that I couldn't think of interesting topics. The cold, hard reality is that I didn't have the bloody motivation to turn on my damn computer and organize my thoughts into some form of coherency. You see, I live in waves - waves of total lack of motivation and therefore complete inaction and stagnation alternating with waves of hyper-motivation, overachieving and uber-giddiness due to my inability to sleep because I'm too busy saving the world and making it prettier at the same time. I know what you're thinking, I had doctors question whether or not I had bipolar as well, but after years of therapy, they discovered it was actually something much more terrifying: teenage-hormonal-fluctuation-syndrome. This is, apparently, an unfortunate misnomer, as teenage-hormonal-fluctuation-syndrome, or THFS, is not confined to the teenaged-years of life. No, oh no my illustrious friends and faithful followers, THFS has continued to haunt me well into my adult life and shows no sign of letting up.

I do believe I have found a major trigger for THFS, however: lack of purpose. Back in the good ol' days - you know, about 5 months ago, when I still had a job! - my life was filled with purpose and, therefore, my THFS was thoroughly under control. I had a reason to get out of bed and leave the house; by the end of the day I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that THFS simply didn't have the energy to rear it's ugly head. Currently my great get-out-of-bed motivators are: "the sooner you get up the sooner they will stop meowing in your face and stepping on your overly-full bladder," and "I think I'm kinda hungry." My reasons for getting dressed and leaving the house consist of needing to transfer more money from savings into checking and the book I reserved at the library is finally in; although the transferring money thing happens a hell of a lot more often than I like to think about, neither event is frequent enough to get me out of the house more than once a week. So, besides the occasional 4-hour online application that decides to not save even though I hit the save button a million and a half times and the subsequent 2 hours spent on the phone with various IT departments trying to recover the application and procure the supplemental materials needed for a 19-hour/week job that I probably won't get anyway, I have very little purpose in my life currently. Sure, I'm doing art again, which is actually really exciting, but there are only so many hours out of the day that you can individually place tiny beads before you go insane. Naturally, in my current situation, I am dealing with frustrating waves of THFS on a daily basis! I decided last week that this must be rectified, and then lost of the motivation to do anything about it until today! Yay for the hyper-motivated, overachieving, uber-giddiness wave!

So, purpose. How does one create purpose in their life when they have an entire year to kill before they go back to school? I see a couple of possibilities. One, get ready for school. I registered for my GRE. It will be in late October so I have time to study but if I suck it up I can re-take it in November before my first applications are due in December, and I have a GRE study book on reserve at the library. I've also inputed all the application procedures and dates in a spread sheet with projected "done by" dates. I haven't actually started working on any of the applications or studying for the GRE, but it's all ready to go! This "purpose" doesn't actually get me out of the house, however, which is why I've come up with purpose number two: animals. I really like animals ... a lot; I don't, however, need more animals at home. The best solution to my petting-cute-puppies-kitties-and-bunnies need while not bringing them home to live with me seems to be volunteering at an animal shelter! I've downloaded the application and signed up for the volunteer training - also in October, as that was their earliest available date. I've indicated an interest in dog-walking, kitty-petting and small-animal-socializing. I am actually ridiculously excited about this! Thirdly, I've decided that I need a solid medium-term goal for myself as school is ultimately long-term and animal volunteer will be accomplished in the short-term. Official medium-term goal and third giving-purpose-to-my-unemployed-self is: hiking the Oregon section of the Pacific Crest Trail. Now, I know I've mentioned this before, but it's a little more developed in my head. Next summer, mid-July to mid-August, I will be hiking 460-ish miles across the state of Oregon. Until that time, I will also be blogging about my training: where we hike, product reviews, difficulties and successes ... (oh yes my dear friends, for those of you who simply can't enough of reading about my life to make you feel better about yours, you will soon have a NEW outlet! I'm creating a new blog to chronicle my training! I will post the link as soon as it's created!) This last one seemed like a good mid-term goal that will also force me outside (as you can't train very well inside the house, or more specifically you can, but your neighbors will look at you funny when you go up and down the stairs to the basement 150 times with a 40 pack on your back ... I don't actually know this from experience, but I'm guessing it's probably true) and give me something to do on a semi-regular basis in the form of updating my blog. Don't worry though, this blog isn't going away; I definitely still need a place to rant, rave and expose all my embarassing social faux pas.

So there you have it: my reason for being so silent the last few weeks, and my new ambitious plan to overcome the all-but-completely-debilitating, if misnomered, condition of teenage-hormonal-fluctuation-syndrome.

Perspective.

2009-08-31T16:54:00.000-07:00

Anyone who really knows me knows that I'm generally pessimistic, and if you didn't know that, be thankful that you didn't have to learn it on your own, in the real world. The famous Woody Allen quote, "I always see the glass half full. Of poison!" sums up my outlook on life pretty well. If something could go wrong, it will - that's the only constant in life. This may explain, therefore, my tendency to focus on the negative side of "growth" and "personal development." Where's the negative in growth and personal development, you ask? Oh, it's there my friends, it's there! It's been my experience that, in order to grow and develop, we must also give up; this is what I generally focus on - what I'm giving up to achieve the growth and development rather than the positive outcome that growth will (supposedly) create. I look at the can't, won't, and shouldn't instead of the can-be and will-be. The purpose of the growth/development is almost lost in the mourning for things I've let go ...

So ... hold on to your seats boys and girls ... you're about to see something never before witnessed! I'm focusing on the good! I'm looking at it as a "reinventing" of the story of pity and pessimism. If power comes from naming, than re-naming a difficult experience can be powerful too, right?!

As previously mentioned here and here, I am unemployed and have been for going on 3 months now. Perhaps needlessly said, the last 3 months have been a continual pity party: what am I doing with my life? What should I do next? Why won't my personalities stop fighting?! I've been looking at what I gave up when I left my job - you know, small things like rent money and a sense of purpose in this world. I haven't let myself really look at the positives - the reasons for leaving in the first place and the benefits that have come from that decision. Going against years of training, I will enumerate those positives now:

-Sanity: generally a good thing, especially for one inclined to insanity, such as myself. There are a lot of scary, creepy people out in the world, and I felt like I was dealing with all of them on a daily basis. Now I only have to deal with them when I choose to! Yay for me!

-Environmental friendliness: In a really good week I was driving 600 miles a week - that could easily be closer to 750 or more in a bad week. My not working is helping to save the environment! Yay for the earth!

-Perspective: I can watch movies, watch strangers, read books ... pretty much enjoy any and all forms of entertainment without assuming that every guy I see/encounter is a totally jackass who is beating his intimate partner! Yay for men!

-Time: I now have time to focus on the other areas of my life that were being neglected: writing, art, exercise and spirituality specifically. These have always been very important to me, but it was hard to focus on anything other than not falling apart in front of clients, and these things have been too long ignored. I also have time for the important people in my life ... you know ... like my husband! I also have time for (here it is - you'll all be the first to know!) training for the Pacific Crest Trail next summer!! Okay, okay - I'm actually only doing the Oregon leg of the trail, but still 430 miles in a month - pretty damn good! Yay for hiking!

Now, don't get me wrong - I loved my job! I really, really loved my job. I felt very fulfilled there, like I was being the person I always wanted to be - I just didn't realize that "the person I always wanted to be" was maybe not the healthiest option for me - that maybe I didn't have the personality or temperament to leave my work behind, to thrive while being surrounded by pain and suffering, to maintain a good quality of life and not let other people's problems become my own ... NOW I KNOW! Yay for me again! I know that I can still do work that's important to me and that helps other people, but that my skills, personality, experience is perhaps best focused on larger societal issues rather than one-on-one direct service work. This is a good thing to know about yourself.

Don't go expecting all my posts to be so happy-go-lucky from here on out - this is seriously about as smooshy as I get, but it's important to remind yourself about the good every once in awhile! I'm regaining perspective on my life. That perspective might not be telling me what the bloody hell I should be doing! but it is helping me get back into contact with what's important, and that seems like a good place to start.

How about you all. Are there experiences you want/need to re-name and reinvent? An experience that needs a little perspective? Please ... share with the world ... or the 12ish people who read this blog anyway! ;o)

This makes me sound completely insane, but I'm 95% sure that I'm not.

2009-08-28T20:12:00.000-07:00

I've started this bloody post three times!! I'm trying to be funny, witty, humorous ... pretty much everything I don't feel right now, so I'm just going to write it the way I feel - it may lack some of the grace and charm of other posts, but - hey, I think that exists mostly in my head anyway!

I have always felt that I am two very different people forced to live inside one body. There is the sarcastic, independent feminist me who is skeptical of anything resembling religion, conservatism or traditional gender roles, and then there's the shy, calm homebody me who is deeply spiritual and wants nothing more than to have a family. Needless to say, my two "mes" don't get along. Life might be a bit easier - if not exponentially more complicated - if I had a third me, the mediator, the one who sets priorities, goals, passions and then decides what of the other two "mes" is best suited to take the lead in any given situation. This, however, is not the case. Both my mes (is this getting complicated for anyone else?!) have equally loud voices, equally strong pulls and hate the priorities of the other "me" equally as much. There is no middle ground. When I was younger these two mes ...

(okay - wait - time-out; this whole "mes" stuff is getting really confusing for me, so I'm sure it is for you, and given my inclination for naming things, it only makes sense to give my two mes different names: feminist me is now Xena, Warrior Princess and homebody me is now Laura Ingalls Wilder ... okay, time-in)

... When I was younger, Xena and Laura played nicely - they generally got along and even helped each other out; when Laura was too shy for a party, Xena would step in; when a situation required more delicacy and tact than Xena could manage, along came Laura. Now that they are both all grown up, however, with heir own dreams, goals, passion, etc. they have realized that only one of them can get their way, and they are fighting tooth-and-nail for the complete destruction of the other. Now that I'm in my mid-twenties (on my out of my mid-twenties, actually) I really need to start making some life choices - deciding which way to go, what path I want to be on, which one of the "mes" dies - Xena or Laura - because I really don't see how they will coexist happily again.

Meet my two-personalities (see - I told you you didn't want to live in my mind):

Xena has an exuberant passion for life. She's a fierce friend and companion and has unreasonably high expectations of herself and others; most people fall very short of these expectations and her disappointment is keenly felt. Xena wants to live a fast-paced, high-powered life in the big city, traveling extensively and being the absolute best in her field. She loves having people around - thrives on activity - and truly wants to help the world. She wants to get divorced just so she can live with the same person she's living with now, but not in the "conventional" way, "fuck this institution called marriage" (oh yes, and Xena swears ... A LOT). She never sees herself having children - it wouldn't fit into her lifestyle or goals, and simply isn't a priority.

Laura, on the other hand, wants desperately to have children and is feeling their absence daily; she wonders if it's maybe already too late to start. She deeply values her spirituality and wants to practice it, uninhibited by convention or space. Give Laura 5 acres with trees, water and tools and she'll be absolutely content. She wants to raise animals, spool wool, grow her own food, have a ground-cellar, and the space to create, work and live without having neighbors listen on the other side of the wall. Laura is exceedingly private. She has few friends, but those who are can expect absolute devotion and compassion. She is quick to forgive herself and others and simply wants to live in peace with her family, her farm and her thoughts.

So, here I am - the big, main, body Me, Emily - housing these two totally different set of ideals and goals, trying to figure out what the hell I actually want from life - where am I going? What am I doing? Do I want the country or the city? Friends and activity or family and peace? Xena or Laura? It has to be a choice - one or the other. There is no compromise or middle ground; neither of them would be happy with that; both would be disappointed and unfulfilled. If I make a decision, however, I think I will also mourn the loss of the life-not-chosen, the death of the other me. I know it has to happen, but how do you choose to kill half of your dreams - half of yourself? How do you decide which path to follow?

Guilty Conscious

2009-08-25T16:31:00.001-07:00

There isn't a lot in my life that I regret; honestly, I can only think of two things - they are the same two that I've had for over 5 years now. I've done some stupid things, definitely some things that I really shouldn't have done, but precious little that I would actually go back and change if I had the chance. Those things, however, are not the topic of today's blog for two reasons: 1) no one would understand why that has me sobbing onto my keyboard, and 2) I'm not a fan of snot, and when I cry there is definitely snot, so it's best avoided. Today's topic IS, however, related: guilt.

Unsurprisingly, I have a lot of guilt. Perhaps it's the remnants of growing up with a religion that had a lot of rules and expectations that I not only completely didn't understand but utterly failed to live up to, or maybe I just hold on to things too long ... which I actually know is true, since I do also have a tendency to hold grudges. Whatever the reason, there are two things that have been plaguing me for years (hmmm ... I sense a pattern of 2 ... now that I think on it, there are only two people that I still hold a grudge against as well ... hmmm ... dammit, now you know I'm going to be looking for patterns of two absolutely everywhere, utterly convinced that the number 2 has some sort of meaning for my life! ) *Eh-hem* moving on ... where was I?

"Two things have been plaguing you ..."

Oh yes! So, two things have been plaguing me. This isn't the keep-you-up-at-night kind of plaguing, but more the creep-into-your-mind-at-the-oddest-moments kind, the kind that randomly pop up and 30 minutes later you realize you've just been staring into space thinking about them - no lost sleep, but bad enough. Both of them happened YEARS ago - Jr. High kind of years ago. I don't know if I've just not done anything in the last 15 years to have guilt over ... haha! Well, that's certainly not the case, so apparently my mind is starting with the early stuff and working its way up from there, and since my mind apparently only deals with issues two at a time (which we learned today), it chose these two:

1) In 6th grade, a boy in my class - we'll call him Edmond because I have never even met someone with that name - had some sort of brain surgery. I think he had water on his brain, and if he hit his head too hard there was the potential for him to die. Just imagine being a 12-year-old-ish kid, you've had brain surgery, you have to worry about not getting hit on the head too hard, you have to wear a bike helmet everywhere you go to help prevent your death if you do get hit hard on the head, and everyone in your class makes fun of you for it ... everyone, yes (here is where the guilt comes), everyone including me! We were totally brutal to Edmond!

"Hey Edmond, how was your bike ride?"

"It's lunch, Edmond, not time to ride your bike!"

"Is English a little hard, Edmond? Afraid it might hit you in the head?!"

I mean, seriously, it was absolutely ridiculous! I'm furious with 12-year-old me! It's not like he was new and we didn't know him (not that that would justify anything of course!) - we had gone to school with Edmond since kindergarden, and it's not like he could escape us - we all graduated high school together! He had to go through the rest of school with the knowledge that the kids he had grown up and gone to school with his whole life didn't seem to give a shit that he could die. I like to think we would have cared if something had happened, but you wouldn't know it to see how we behaved toward him.

2) I had a best friend growing up - how about I name her Suzie as I have only known cats with that name ... hmmm, ironically she hated cats, maybe I should name her something different .... Anyway, her mom owned a business across the street from my house, and we played together almost everyday after school for years. Jr. High rolls around, and we grow apart, inevitably. We're still nice to each other, say hi, occasionally hang out, but we're not really good friends anymore. My sister is dating her brother and for whatever reason I'm really irritated by this - something about "you spend more time with Suzie; when you have kids together you're going to want Suzie to babysit them, not me!" - seriously misguided anger! So I do what any pissed off 8th grader does - I write it down in a note, but not only that, I give it to Suzie's now-best friend. I can't even describe how bad this note was - it was horrible! I don't even know how to describe it and pretty sure I don't actually want to ... it said horribly rude and untrue things about Suzie's family - people whose house I had played at and stayed over at for years, people who had been wonderful and kind to me ... I don't remember what all it said and I hope to god it doesn't exist somewhere still! Needless to say, that ended any remnants of a friendship with Suzie right there. It's a little difficult to avoid someone in a school of around 300, but we managed it for the next 4 years. After high school I moved away - that made the avoidance much easier - and now it's 12-years post-note, and I've barely said a word to her since.

So, what brought this guilt-confession on? Well, I saw Suzie on facebook the other day (ahhh facebook!) - apparently she's going by a different version of her name now, like going from Suzie to Susan - so I facebook-stalked her for a little bit, looking at her pictures, seeing that she's engaged, etc., and I had this overwhelming urge to write to her, to tell her I'm so terribly sorry for what I said, that I wish we could have been like those people who becomes friends in 3rd grade and stay friends for life, but how do you say that to someone you've hardly spoken to in 12 years, someone that you hurt so badly? I will probably never see Edmond again - never have the chance to apologize for being such a mean little kid, but she is right there - I can email her so easily ... I can, but I'm so afraid to! Is it better to drag it all back up just for the chance to relieve my guilty consciousness, or to hope that it's not something she thinks about any more and let it go?

I'm not even close to the same person I was then - thank god! I'm not nearly as angry at the world (I swear!) and I'm much more conscious of the potential outcomes of my actions. So, the big question is: what is more selfish - bringing it up and apologizing - and I truly truly am sorry - while assuaging my guilt, or letting it go and letting her live in peace while I just deal with the guilt I feel as a not-quite-fitting-enough punishment? I'm conflicted - I simply don't know the answer to this.

The colors of social interaction

2009-08-23T15:32:00.000-07:00

I'm wearing a pink shirt today (yup, that very one over there --->). I know, I know - this doesn't seem profound or even very interesting, and you may very well be right, but bare with me and give me a moment to explain. This is actually a fairly big moment for me! You see, I don't wear pink ... no, that's not entirely correct - I don't wear colors, period! To give a little perspective on the matter, a perusal of my closet, dresser and laundry basket turns up:

- 26 white, off-white and mostly white shirts, tank-tops, sweaters and jackets

- 9 brown or khaki pants, skirts and dresses

- 22 black or grey shirts, tank-tops, sweaters and jackets

- 7 black or grey pants, skirts and dresses

- A smattering of maroon and a pinch of green thrown in to prove I can at least see colors!

As you can see, I'm not one to deviate from the tried and true fashion rule that you can't go wrong with black, white and brown or variations of those non-colors. Colors draw too much attention, require too much interaction with those around you and generally say to the world, "why yes, complete stranger, I am in fact open to your advances of social friendliness, I will have something witty to reply with and we'll both leave the interaction feeling happy and refreshed!" This is generally not the impression I want to leave with people, not because I'm not friendly or don't want to talk to the random, caffeine-starved (or overdosed, depending on the time of day) people I'm standing in line with, but because those very people will leave with their hopes of casual conversation dashed upon the rocks that is my social awkwardness.

I generally make one of two mistakes when strangers try to talk to me. Probably the most common problem is that I end up having a conversation with myself while trying to figure out how to retort their brilliant opening line, "hi!" If you live in my head - which, thank your lucky stars you don't! - the exchange sounds something like this:

Stranger, attempt 1: "Hi."

Self 1, to self 2, "say hi!"

Self 2, "She just said hi, I can't say exactly the same thing!"

Self 1, "Say 'hello' then."

Self 2, "Doesn't 'hello' sound entirely too formal? I might as well ask if she's

seen the queen lately."

Self 1, "... ... ... What?!"

Self 2, "You know, formal - queen, you have to be really formal to meet the queen."

Self 1, "How do you know that? Have you met a queen lately?"

Self 2, "No, of course I haven't meet a queen, but you can just imagine how formal

it would be to meet one! I think there are a bunch of rules you have to

follow, mostly about being really formal ..."

Self 1, "Oh, you're right, remember when Michelle Obama met the queen and broke some

sort of touching rule - the press wasn't happy about that. I guess ..."

Stranger, attempt 2, "It's a really long line for coffee this time of day, isn't it?"

Self 2, "Yeah, it really is!"

Self 1, "Don't say it to me, say it to her!"

Self 2, "But it's so obvious! I need something witty and interesting to say!"

Self 1, "No you don't! Just say something! Tell her you like her shirt."

Self 2, "What?! No, that's creepy - she didn't ask me about clothes, she asked

about the coffee line - I can't just change to subject to something so

personal!"

Self 1, "It's a shirt - she's wearing it in public, it's not that personal."

Self 2, "Yeah, but ..."

Self 1, "SAY SOMETHING, DAMNIT!"

Self, to the stranger, "Um ... yeah, it's pretty ..."

Barista, "Hey, you, with the kitty-kat cup holder, it's your turn to order!"

Of course, if you're the stranger - or anyone else caring to listen - it sounds, and looks, like:

Stranger, attempt 1, "Hi."

Crazy woman with the white shirt, black pants and kitty-kat cup holder turns around, as if to respond, but instead stares with brow slightly furrowed ...

Silence ...

Stranger, attempt 2, "It's a really long line for coffee this time of day, isn't it?"

Silence ...

Eyes move down to shirt ... silence ...

Silence ...

"Um ... yeah, it's pretty ..."

Barista, "Hey, you, with the kitty-kat cup holder, it's your turn to order!"

This exchange is probably more preferable - to everyone involved - than the seldom-used alternative of voicing the confusion in my head, which goes something like:

"Hi."

"Michelle Obama is the queen of the United States, and I think she has a shirt exactly like that one! ... Look! Kitty-kats! (maniacal grin, pointing to my cup holder)."

The problem is that spontaneous interaction is just that - spontaneous - it lacks any sort of relational definitions or boundaries. If you'd see me at work or school, you'd never guess I can't hold coherent chit-chat with those around me - I can schmooze, connect, network and function normally with the best of 'em! But the game is different - the rules are outlined and my role is specific! I can do specific roles! I can be work me, and you can be work you and there are rules for that dialog and relationship!

This is something I'm working on, however; hence, the pink shirt! It's the brightest, most come-and-talk-to-me thing I own! I'm making progress! I'm willing to try! I'm totally not planning to leave the house today!

New Intentions; or, Self Discovery and Spiritual Revelation in a Hair Salon

2009-08-19T13:48:00.000-07:00

<----- Hey look! I have followers!

Employment Stats:

Employment status: still not

Number of jobs applied for: 11

Number of interviews: 2

Number of jobs offered and declined: 1 (not a good sign when someone asks about religion and politics and if you're crazy in an interview)

Number of jobs I was really hoping I wouldn't get offered because I was going to have to accept but was ridiculously disappointed when I wasn't offered it: 1

Now for the main entertainment! (Warning: it is long, and I ramble for awhile, and don't really make my point until the end, so feel free to skip the top if you want!)

I don't spend a lot of time in hair salons. I get my hair trimmed - at best - every 6 months (although I have gone longer than a year ... they had to take a lot off at that point!) My hair is stick straight - not a hint of a wave or the beginnings of a curl in sight - and, especially now that I'm unemployed, rarely leave the house and have no one in particular to impress, I pretty much let it do whatever it bloody wants to do. This does not go over well with whatever hair stylist I've managed to get an appointment with that day:

"What do you want done today?"

"Just trim it."

"How much?"

"As little as possible but as much as necessary make it all healthy and glowy."

"Glowy?"

"Yeah, you know, that fabulous, 'I just got my hair done and now it's better than yours' look."

Looking skeptically at the ends of my hair pinched between her fingers, "Um, it's pretty damaged. I'm going to have to take at least an inch off."

"Totally fine."

"Don't you want to do something else with it? I could do layers or something," she says, starting to get excited looking at the blank canvas that is my head.

"No. Just trim it."

"With your hair so straight [read: so lifeless, limp, boring ...] some layers could really add some body."

"Would that require me to do something with it?"

"Not a lot, but it would look really nice if you did ..." - a poorly disguised admonishment.

"No."

"I could just do a few long ones in the back ..."

"No."

Big sigh as she realizes that I am every hair stylists' nightmare - someone with halfway decent hair that refuses to do anything interesting with it, "Okay then. Where do you normally part it?"

"Oh, you know, wherever it feels like it ... usually here-ish (indicated by a waving of the hand in the general direction of my head)."

Needless to say, I don't have a cosy, gossipy relationship with my hair stylists like you see in the even-on-my-worst-day-my-life-is-still-better-than-yours-could-ever-be type movies and TV shows aimed at women my age. Salons are not sacred grounds to me, they aren't ever particularly liked grounds! So it was in this frame of mind, while chanting my salon-mantra "don't let them talk you into layers; don't let them talk to you into layers," that I made the bi-yearly trek to a salon last week.

I was early - of course, a tried-and-true tactic to keep my defenses up and will strong. I was escorted to the back couches with the water that I asked for even though I what really wanted was the tea that she'd offered. My stylist-of-the-day would be Grae, an apprentice - a status that made her MUCH cheaper (score!) but also slower, which made my showing my 15 minutes early even more unnecessary. I pursued the selection of magazines and picked up a thick one that actually ended up being a book rather than a magazine and settled in for a long wait. I was a little wary about the book which is, as it ends up, produced by the salon itself and has "MUST READ!!" scrawled in black Sharpie across the bottom. "It's a salon book," I told myself, "what could it possibly tell you that you would have the least bit interest in?" I almost gave in and put it back, but looking again at the magazines didn't give much more hope in the "interest" department - hair magazines made for people who actually style their hair and popular magazines about celebrities love lives and prison sentences ... all of which I'd already read at the physical therapist's office. The salon book it is.

The book ended up being about creating harmony in your life. Pretty cool - I'm good with harmony. The first section talked about external environments and things we choose to put in our bodies: food, chemicals, etc. (I don't think that the quarter I swallowed as a kid because I didn't have pockets to put my video-game money in would've made their list of "healthy" things to put in your body ... just a guess). So I'm reading along about what my personality types says about what kind of food I should eat - it's definitely not a science as evidenced by the "cheese" and "dairy products" which is just cruelly ironic to a person who can barely be in the same room with dairy products without throwing up and getting a migraine, and I'm really not sure what eating dairy products is supposed to say about your personality anyway ... like I said, not a science - when I got to section two - rituals.

Now, let me explain a couple of things before I go on. I have been a runner most of my life. I am one of those crazy people who really enjoys a nice long run (when I'm in shape, which - let me tell ya - I'm totally not right now!). I love the connection you feel with your body, the rhythm of your stride and heart beat, the solitude. On a not-all-together-unrelated note, I'm also a fairly spiritual person. I'm not religious in any sense of word, and in fact have to try hard to not be anti-religion - a battle I seem to be loosing right now. I do, however, really enjoy ritual and the idea of spirituality much for the same reasons I enjoy running ... connection, rhythm and solitude. Both running and spiritual practice have been huge parts of my life until recently. I stopped running because of bad knees (which are getting better with physical therapy!) and stopped any sort of spiritual practice when I started my last job both because of time issues and because the introspection necessary for spiritual practice was much too difficult while doing the kind of work I was doing.

Back to the book: I turned to page to section two about ritual and what is listed as the two most important rituals for creating harmony in your life? Physical exercise and spiritual practice. So there I was, still waiting for my hair stylist, reading about the importance of exercise and spirituality ("Almost everyone, even those of us who are not religious, have some sort of spiritual belief and ritual - whatever yours is, do it!" according to the book) and it hit me - I have had one of the most difficult years of my life, first with my job and now with my lack of job, and I have spent this incredibly difficult year almost completely devoid of physical and spiritual work. Maybe that's where my harmony went. I almost started to cry - tears were welling in my eyes and about to break free - but that would have totally scared the high school boy sitting next to me waiting for his massage appointment - which, really, seems pretty creepy, right? - so I pretended to have something in my eye - pulling out my little mirror and everything. By the time I was done with the something-in-my-eye charade, it was my turn with the apprentice.

I put down the "MUST READ!!" book and ended up leaving the appointment with lots of long-ish layers and my hair two-inches shorter than it really should have been, but also (here comes the gushy part) with a new intention. If I get back to the things that are important to me and practice both physical and spiritual ritual maybe this next year can be lived with more harmony and grace than the last one was. I'm willing to try.

The beginning

2009-08-04T15:39:00.000-07:00

I'm unemployed. I left my job - on good terms - about 2 months ago. "This will be great!" I told myself, "I can write, do art, get outside and enjoy the sunshine ..." all I can manage to do, however, is worry about my future, fuss about being bored and wonder where in the hell is the manual for being a married, mid-twenties something, cat-owning, unemployed shmoe with 7 years of college under her belt?! How is it possible that I'm in the same position I was fresh from college graduation? Hell, I'm practically in the same place I was after high school graduation, expect that I've acquired a new cat, a husband and debt - not necessarily in that order.

It's not that I don't have goals and dreams, or even that I don't have ambition and drive to achieve them; the problem is I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing! I know, I know - do what you love, what you want, what makes you happy, what makes you money, whatever gets you out of the damn house and away from your cats! Cliques like, "Your options are endless" and "You can be anything you put your mind to" might sound - as intended - inspirational and satisfying when your parents are still paying the bills, but when you're supposed to be making real-life decisions, deciding what "path" to be on, all those "options" and "anythings" become terrifying creepies that haunt your insomniatic mind until the wee hours of the morning: Grad school? Fellowship? Job search? Travel? Kids?

To give some context to the terror that is making-life-decisions, here is a typical conversation with myself:

"Okay, self, I've decided! I'm going to grad school!"

"Congratulations, self! Way to be assertive and make a decision! So, which program will it be: Women's Studies? Public Policy? Conflict Resolution? Teaching?"

"Oh, umm, I hadn't really ... I'm still working that out."

"Of course, of course, no need to hurry. Where you gonna go? Are you going to find the best program that will take you? Find a professor you want to study with? Stay close to home and family? How long do you want to go? Get a masters or just get it all done and once and get your doctorate? What if you hate the program? Your professors? Your cohort? What if you can't find a job after you graduate?"

"Okay, okay, self, sheesh .... Well, I have been in school for 7 years already, maybe what I really need is to spend some more time working. Now I've really made my decision! I'm going to look for a job!"

"Oh, that's fantastic, self! That decision should make life much less complicated! So, are you going apply for jobs in this city? State? Region? Are you willing to leave your partner (catless, because they are SO coming with you) while he finishes his degree and you take a job in New York? Do you take the entry level job or hold out of the one you're really interested in and almost qualified for? Is it possible to have a garden in a New York City apartment, and do you really want to spend 50% of your income to rent a 300 sf studio with neighbors who cook with stinky-cheese at 3 AM?"

"Whoa, self! I thought you said this decision would make life less complicated!"

"It will be less complicated after you answer these simple, little questions! Remember, you can do anything you set your mind to!"

"Nope, too many questions, too many complications - skip school, skip work, go traditional and have kids!"

"Who in the hell approved you for motherhood?!"

Trust me, no one could sleep with this babble going on in their head every night for months!

And that brings me here, pouring out my deepest frustrations and fears to you - the nameless ... um ... several ... and my mom - undecided and paralyzed by options. Aren't you glad you came?!