She's So Super!

My friend is a superwoman. No really she totally is. See my friend takes on all sorts of project, hobbies and disciplines. Not only does she take them on she excels at them!

A few years back she learned how to knit little squares in a workshop. And since then she has made countless beautiful items out of complicated patterns. Scarves,

bennies, even a homemade stocking that she gave to my mother, which is now proudly displayed every Christmas.

She also worked for many years in construction for Habitat for Humanity. She spent her days not only working with a bunch of rough and tumble men in construction, but she was often in a leadership position on site. Imagine a young women taking charge of a house build! It kind of blows my mind.

It’s amazing to me how eager she is to learn. It seems like every time I talk to her she has some now passion that she is pursuing full throttle. She studies plants, economics, politics… you name it. I am constantly learning something new from her.

I recently was able to visit her, and I was able to reap the benefit of her newest obsession. She has decided that she has a passion for the culinary arts. She cooked and baked things for me that where ridiculously delectable.

Now many people are into lots of stuff, but only a superwoman can conquer everything she touches. Not only that, but she is so humble about it all. She doesn't even realize that she is super.

But I have decided that when I grow up (presuming I ever grow up) I want to be like her!

No Mas Papa

One of the biggest transitions I have made to date is that of my weight. I have lost a relatively significant amount of weight in the past few years, and I am still loosing. Now to be clear, I don’t prescribe to any idea that you have to be a certain size to be beautiful. I have a lot of issues with the flawed BMI scale. And my dress size does not determine my happiness. That said there is a landslide of hereditary dieses in my family (thanks mom and dad) including diabetes and heart failure.  So I came to a point in my life where I decided I wanted to do what I could to fight genetics. It’s been good so far, though slow.

As a whole, my eating habits have changed significantly. The only meat I eat is fish, and even that is pretty rare. I also try to eat mostly whole grains and lots of fruits and veggies (ok so there is an occasional poptart… yes I know, I’m not sure if its actually food either)

But there is one major weakness for me. On enemy that I seem to rely on as a true blue ally, despite the danger that it poses to me. The enemy I speak of is indeed, the French fry! Ever since I was a child, I have loved french fries in a way that borders on obsession. The crunchy delicious outside… the fluffy soft inside… it’s a beautiful thing! Unfortunately french fries are one of the most damaging and harmful foods on planet earth.

So I have decided to go on a fry detox. Perhaps not forever, but I am planning to get off the spud for the next five weeks. Now just so you know what a big deal this is, I told my friend what I was doing at lunch today and he gasped and said “But you LOVE french fries!” If I wasn’t sure that I was making the right decision, his reaction certainly confirmed that I was!

Wish me luck!

For Leesh

On April first it will be three months. It’s hard to believe really. You see three months ago a very dear person was in a fatal car accident, and forever changed the lives of those who loved her. I was one of those people.  I wrote her this poem.  I miss her.  She was on my mind today, so I thought I would share. I know that many people have lost loved ones, and sometimes it’s nice to know that we are not alone.

For Leesh

I remember the way you use to tease your hair ,

in the bathroom after a show.

A perfect act of ingenuity,

An amazing battle against gravity ,

that you always won.

We were very different creatures,

yet there was just enough common ground,

to link us always.

Two artistic souls

Who found comfort

In each other.

You said that we created a bubble,

that protected us,

when we where together,

A safe place

That kept the negative out.

I use to live vicariously

through you,

my favorite wild child.

I always envied you’re your ability

To seize the adventure

that I was too afraid to take on .

I may have lectured you,

in that big sister way that you said I had

But deep down I admired you,

even the recklessness that frightened me.

And sitting here I wonder

What bubble will protect my broken heart?

Now that the fates have separated us,

And left a hole in my life

In the shape of you.

Technicolor Life

I know a woman who lives her life in Technicolor.

I think very few people live their life in Technicolor. In fact more often than not, I would think people live their life in black and white, or even sepia. But my friend lives in Technicolor. She takes life on in a way that I have seen few people do. Now you’re probably wondering what I mean by this. Let me explain.

For example most people eat food, not her, she slowly takes bites of things, closing her eyes so that she can give it her full attention. She see’s what flavors and ingredients she can extract and then she will discuss them in terms of their strength, subtlety and essence. If you have lunch with her, you may never look at a slice of pizza the same way. 

She also approaches every experience with the kind of zeal that would exhaust most people.  I recall spending a forth of July right after high school with a group of my friends. This was a particularly sad forth of July because we knew we where all getting split up, most of my friends had been accepted to college and where leaving. She was one of them, and I think that she decided it was extremely important to live every moment of the dwindling summer with gusto.  We all sat in the bed of my friend’s dads red pickup. Our eyes facing skyward so that we could watch our small towns excuse for a firework show. It was, indeed pathetic. However my friend, with her Technicolor sensibility, made it her mission to enjoy them. She ooooohed and awwwwed at the show as if she where looking at the Sistine Chapel. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I still think that may have been the best fireworks show of my life.

I was able to visit her this past week. She now lives in San Francisco where she has a grown up apartment, a grown up job, and fistfuls of grown up worries.  But she still, even now, is living her life with a kind of joy that would put happy the dwarf to shame. She says that living in San Francisco is like living in a giant amusement park, with so much to do at your fingertips. I love that. I love the idea of seeing your life, and where you are at as a place of fun and excitement just waiting for you to take it on.

So that is what I want to do, I want to start living my life in Technicolor. I want to stop living my life in sepia. It may not happen over night for me. It is not as intuitive for me to live with so much joy as it is for her. But I think she is a great role model. And that is definitely a start.

Bohimian vs. the Machine

I have a lot of friends. I am very lucky in that way.  I have had the good fortune of meeting many incredible people from different walks of life and different backgrounds. I learn from my friends. I grow from them. They make my life richer. Often times it is through them that I learn about myself.

The thing about having lots of friends is you end up being around individuals who are opposing ends of the proverbial spectrum. Some of my friends are extremely put together, grown up type people who work in the system, and the system is better for it. Other friends of mine are fringe culture individuals who stare straight in the eye of convention only to openly defy it. And this is a great thing. I admire their freedom, and guts.

However this admiration I feel does tend to put a magnifying glass on aspects of my own life.  It makes me question whom exactly I am, because I don’t really know where it is that I fall on the spectrum.

I would like to see myself being ambitious. I want to be someone one who has the hustle to acquire the success that would allow me to have the resources to take care everyone that I care about.  But in truth I don’t know if I have what it takes to play that role either.

I would also like to think of myself as a free spirit, one who makes up her old rules. Someone who can trust that the universe will provide what little I need to survive, and to be humbly content.  But honestly I don’t think my nerves can handle that.

So here I am wondering what I am? Where do I fit? Who will I become?  I don’t know the answer. Perhaps my path isn’t supposed to look like any of my friends. Perhaps it has its own structure that falls somewhere between the two, and that is okay. Or perhaps it wont fall anywhere near the spectrum. And that’s going to have to be okay too.

The Happiness Art

There is, I believe, a certain art to being happy. I also think that some people come by it more naturally than others.  I, unfortunately, am not one of those people. We all have a neutral gear, a default that we fall back on. My default tends to be a complicated web of self criticism and pessimism. I have a perpetually half empty glass! I think somewhere down the line I decided that if I don't get happy about anything, then there is no way I can be disappointed. This is a particularly brutal way to live, one that fears the positive, instead of embracing it. And now, as my life is in flux, and I feel as though I am on the cusp of some new chapter, I want to change.

I want to be happy.

I want to learn this art of joy that seems so effortless in others. In truth I have so many reasons to be happy, beautiful friendships, a loving family, music and laughter... these are things that make one happy. Or at least they should. And truly some days it is easier than others. Somedays the art of being happy though not effortless for me, is achievable.

In fact, just now, writing this entry, meditating on the lovely aspects in my life, has actually made me feel a sense of contentment. It may take a little more work for me to be happy. It may take a lot more work. But then again, what a worthy thing to work for.

One step at a time!

Trains, Trees and Armageddon...

So I did it! I got my nervous rear-end on a train and took a six hour train ride! I may have not been able to sleep the night prior because of the nerves… but I made it. I also took the metro in order to get to the station, so double points for that right? I think that perhaps what I am really afraid of is getting on the wrong train and getting lost. Because as I took the metro in the morning I had a brief moment of panic thinking that perhaps I was heading in a completely different direction than I was supposed to be heading. But I made it to the station, and I made it on the right train!

 Just in case anyone is wondering, six hours is a really long time to be on a train… really long. Especially when you are too nervous to use the bathroom for fear that someone will mess with your stuff (I eventually relented, bringing my baggage with me to the tiny moving bathroom, yes I am that crazy). But it was along the cost, and truly lovely. There were times when I could look out one window and see beautiful trees with branches that gnarl in on themselves growing out of rocky hills, and then I could look across the aisle out the other window and see the waves of the ocean crashing against the sand. I couldn’t help but feel a certain amount tranquility, which in turn made me feel uncomfortable because of its sheer foreignness… sigh baby steps.

One of the best things about the trip was actually the outpouring of support. Throughout the day I received countless texts messages from friends who wanted to tell me that they we’re proud of me. It really is amazing to have people who know that my confidence cup does not runeth over, so they pour some of theirs into my cup. I am a very lucky girl!

There was one rather strange conversation that occurred behind me between two older women and the train conductor. I think he was trying to flirt with the women, but somehow he ended up talking to them about dead birds, earthquakes and the need to hoard food.  I am not sure that Armageddon talk is the best thing to lead with if you are trying to impress someone, but I consider myself very fortunate to have witness a person try!

I was met by the open arms of my friend when we reached my stop, and that of course made the stress I have been feeling the past week totally worth it. By the time I got to my destination I was desperately ready to get off the train, but I did have an incredible sense of pride.

Now I’m anticipating the trip back… let the stress begin.

Girl literally in Transit

I am taking a trip. This is a big deal for me.

I have a grab bag of anxieties and fears that I carry with me all the time. I periodically pull from the bag so that I can have a great big panic attack. Why do I do this, your guess is as good as mine. My mother said I was even afraid of chucky cheese as a kid. Though to be fair, I think many would argue that giant man size rodents are indeed something to be leery of.

One of my most prevailing fears is that of mass transit, and considering I don’t have a car, this fear is one of my most inconvenient. So I decided to face this fear head on. I’m taking a six-hour train ride to see a friend of mine in a couple of days. Now I understand that taking say, a fifteen-minute bus ride to the grocery store might be a more sensible way to deal with an anxiety-provoking phobia. It would be wise to build myself up to longer trips in increments… but I have not always been sensible and I have no desire to start now.

For those of you who have not lived in illogical fear of your own shadow, then allow me to give you a peek into my world. When confronted with something that scares me i.e. speeding cars, overcrowded stores, birds (don’t ask) or yes mass transit I go into anxiety mode.  This usually involves one or multiple of the following, sweaty palms, an inability to breath, and a pounding heart.  Now granted, this may sound to some of you like the symptoms of young love. And I suppose it could be similar, except for the fact that there is none of the giddy butterflies and there is no promise of the… um… the benefits that young love usually culminates with. So basically it is an irrational freak for the sake of an irrational freak out.  Living with fear and anxiety is indeed not fun. But see the only way to really get rid of an irrational fear is to confront it. To put you in that state, and actually provoke the fear. The body can’t maintain that heightened state for a really long duration, it’s too exhausting. So that’s my plan, to wear myself out. I’m thinking that six hours will be sufficient time to deplete me of my energy to panic.

What to write about… what to write about…

Here is the thing, when approaching this blog, I assumed I would need something, a major theme, or a hook if you will.  I felt I needed a point.  I was consumed with finding some overriding factor that tied the entries together. And the more I struggled with finding the point, the more I discovered how random I am.  

This is when I realized what the one factor was... it was in fact me! Yes I am the point. So here it is, tales of my life as a graduate student, trying to make something of myself in a big scary world. I am a person whose life is in a state of change, transit if you will. In truth we're all kind of in transit, right? We're all in a state of evolution.  At least that is the hope, because the other choice is being stagnate, and well that’s not really a choice at all. So here we go! This is my blog experiment. It will probably change and grow as I write more entries, and that’s a good thing. At the end of the day this blog, like me, should be in transit too.