My hamstrings are sore because I accomplished 54 Sun Salutations for the Solstice but hadn’t done yoga in weeks. This combined with the hole in my foot makes for a funny walking Annelies.
I’ve decided I need better fitting pants for work. That will make me feel less foppish and childish.
I am just ACHING for a hot dog today. It will happen, I promise.
I have the 29th off so I can spend time with Florida L and Indiana L.
I am in the best mood ever right now – I am about to go eat a hot dog off a street vender and take a walk in the STUPENDOUS sunlight.
I am planning a party. When should it be? Everyone should come. I am going to dye my curtains this weekend … maybe today?! Blood red. Also I will paint.
for days that seem like dreams are often the sweetest reality...
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
After the snow
So Monday was
a) A snow day off work
b) The Solstice
c) Frustrating
I had all these gigantic plans because I woke up early and had nothing to do all day – I haven’t run in weeks, so a long run was on the charts. It was the solstice, so 108 Sun Salutations were planned, cooking, decorating, cleaning, etc. I got 54 Sun Sal’s in, and caught my foot on a nail in the kitchen, pulling with it a gigantic wad of skin to the point where three days later I still can’t put all my weight on it. I perhaps needed stitches. Too late now!
So runs for another week are out, my Mom caught swine flu, the Boy is sick. I have all these friends coming up for New Years, which makes me SUPER happy. Problem is: the girls are chill, they know their plans, they make them themselves, etc. But I don’t know them. The male friend is needy, and even though the plans have stayed the same on my end for MONTHS and I have communicated them to him FOR MONTHS he still demands down to the minute details. It’s driving me a little insane. PS – Girls, you know who you are – when are you coming? Call me. L I think your phone is out. Whateves neither of you will read this in time.
Anyhoodle. Great breakthrough today. A real Eureka moment.
I have been upsetish with the apartment for a month or so, and I keep trying to figure out exactly why. I complain to the Boy (I’m sorry!) and think I come up with some reason or another that explains the whole thing every week or so. But I think I really have it figured out this time – the roommate put it into perfect words (as she is want to do). The problem is THIS IS NOT MY HOME. I keep putting energy into making it that way, into convincing myself it is, and it frustrates me. And then I get frustrated at the dishes, or the trash, or the mail, and the truth is, my home is wherever the Boy is. I can’t change that. I don’t want to. SO I have to stop thinking that this period of my life is just a stopover until the read adventure of Colorado, or Bellingham Washington, or wherever the Boy decides to move us come September is the real adventure. Because THIS RIGHT HERE is an adventure TOO!
I sort of feel like I’m a spy, or something (I’ve been watching the show the Dollhouse, obviously), and that this is just one persona I am trying out – that during the week I am the singleish young paralegal that meets her friends for drinks and works out all the time, except I don’t meet friends for drinks and I don’t work out all the time and I’m not single. But, you know, that idea. And that after this job I’ll be the less singleish resort worker living in the cold saving money riding her bike living in a hipster apartment type. Hopefully with a dog.
Everything smells like happy and home today – maybe it’s this shirt that I’ve been wearing since high school, it is so lived in that it has come to have the consistent smell of wherever I am that I am satisfied with my life place. The songs are all perfect on Pandora, even this shitty coffee tastes good. The DC WATER even tastes perfect. I wish my roommate was not leaving today for FOREVER to have a family adventure in FUCKING JAMAICA so we could make snowmen and bake cookies and play Van Morrison on my record player. Braines you are a MASTER cook and I wish I could have been there to play.
I’m tired of being self-pitying in a lonely state. I love my Boy and never feel as much as myself and safe and happy and powerful as when I am with him. But you guys, my friends, you are fun too. LOTS of fun. You make me SUPER happy too. Wanna hang out some time?
a) A snow day off work
b) The Solstice
c) Frustrating
I had all these gigantic plans because I woke up early and had nothing to do all day – I haven’t run in weeks, so a long run was on the charts. It was the solstice, so 108 Sun Salutations were planned, cooking, decorating, cleaning, etc. I got 54 Sun Sal’s in, and caught my foot on a nail in the kitchen, pulling with it a gigantic wad of skin to the point where three days later I still can’t put all my weight on it. I perhaps needed stitches. Too late now!
So runs for another week are out, my Mom caught swine flu, the Boy is sick. I have all these friends coming up for New Years, which makes me SUPER happy. Problem is: the girls are chill, they know their plans, they make them themselves, etc. But I don’t know them. The male friend is needy, and even though the plans have stayed the same on my end for MONTHS and I have communicated them to him FOR MONTHS he still demands down to the minute details. It’s driving me a little insane. PS – Girls, you know who you are – when are you coming? Call me. L I think your phone is out. Whateves neither of you will read this in time.
Anyhoodle. Great breakthrough today. A real Eureka moment.
I have been upsetish with the apartment for a month or so, and I keep trying to figure out exactly why. I complain to the Boy (I’m sorry!) and think I come up with some reason or another that explains the whole thing every week or so. But I think I really have it figured out this time – the roommate put it into perfect words (as she is want to do). The problem is THIS IS NOT MY HOME. I keep putting energy into making it that way, into convincing myself it is, and it frustrates me. And then I get frustrated at the dishes, or the trash, or the mail, and the truth is, my home is wherever the Boy is. I can’t change that. I don’t want to. SO I have to stop thinking that this period of my life is just a stopover until the read adventure of Colorado, or Bellingham Washington, or wherever the Boy decides to move us come September is the real adventure. Because THIS RIGHT HERE is an adventure TOO!
I sort of feel like I’m a spy, or something (I’ve been watching the show the Dollhouse, obviously), and that this is just one persona I am trying out – that during the week I am the singleish young paralegal that meets her friends for drinks and works out all the time, except I don’t meet friends for drinks and I don’t work out all the time and I’m not single. But, you know, that idea. And that after this job I’ll be the less singleish resort worker living in the cold saving money riding her bike living in a hipster apartment type. Hopefully with a dog.
Everything smells like happy and home today – maybe it’s this shirt that I’ve been wearing since high school, it is so lived in that it has come to have the consistent smell of wherever I am that I am satisfied with my life place. The songs are all perfect on Pandora, even this shitty coffee tastes good. The DC WATER even tastes perfect. I wish my roommate was not leaving today for FOREVER to have a family adventure in FUCKING JAMAICA so we could make snowmen and bake cookies and play Van Morrison on my record player. Braines you are a MASTER cook and I wish I could have been there to play.
I’m tired of being self-pitying in a lonely state. I love my Boy and never feel as much as myself and safe and happy and powerful as when I am with him. But you guys, my friends, you are fun too. LOTS of fun. You make me SUPER happy too. Wanna hang out some time?
Snowstorm Recap
There was snow this weekend. Lots and Lots of Snow.
I spent Friday not believing the snow would come, as it was predicted to, because, well, it never does. Snow does not happen here. Ice does, but snow does not. I have glorious fond memories of the two snow storms we have had here in my lifetime. In 1996 we lived in Georgetown and I played in igloos made against cars from the snow plows and Mom lost her Christmas cards on our walk to the grocery store with our wagon, but someone found them and got them back to her. And Seal’s Kissed By a Rose played in every car. And our orange cat Bob would sled with us – no joke. In 2003 I walked the seven miles up River Road with my friend Cait to our friend Roxy’s house by walking in the tread left open from some SUV, and Alec drove in the snow with his Jeep, and that’s about all I remember, other than they didn’t open the public schools FOREVER because they couldn’t get their act together enough to shovel all the sidewalks. They being the government.
Well, in light of the predicted 2 feet-slash-blizzard-slash-seven-bazillion-feet-that-will-keep-us-locked-in-forever-and-ever that was predicted, I decided it would be best if I drove up to Annapolis on Friday, before the snow was supposed to start, in order to not be stuck in Takoma Park with just m television for entertainment. Also I am terrified of ice – it’s how I first hurt my back – and I believed my property manager would not have the gumption to actually shovel and salt our steps. And I would need food. And I would be iced in. not fun.
So it took me two and a half hours of slow slow driving to get the forty miles up to Naptown, and only fishtailed when I pulled into the second-to-last street before The Boy’s house. I listened to St. Matthew’s Passion the whole way. It was pretty neat.
And we woke up the next morning and the ENTIRE WORLD was white. And STILL SNOWING. The Boy woke early so he could shovel the snow off his boat, and when I woke we made eggs and coffee and bacon and sat around for a while, until the rest of the siblings woke up and we got in the Boy’s car – He was a lifty in Colorado for a while and not only LOVES SNOW but knows how to handle it like, well, like he lived in Colorado. We towed the boy, the brother and the sister on their snowboards behing the Explorer for a while. I’ve never snowboarded so it was mute for me to try. I handled the media element that ended up on facebook. We drove to pick up the sister’s best friend, and tried to get Chipotle (it was closed) so we drove to downtown Annapolis, ate Moe’s, and threw poorly sticky snowballs at each other until our fingers froze.
Back at the ranch we made gingerbread dough, and began a contest amongst the sister and her best friend vs. me and the boy vs. the parents. The brother’s friend was over, the Christmas tree was decorated, beers were had, lots of chatting, the brother is a stiltwalker so he taught his friend how to walk on stilts. At some point we went out to RE-Unbury the boat from the 500 plus pounds of snow laying on top of it. That was an adventure.
We opened the gin, we chatted, more friends came over and brought bourbon, cards came out, we played a few drinking games and headed out into the snow at 1 AM to bury the minivan that had gotten stuck in the middle of the culdesac.
The next day there was more coffee and waffles, friends were still there, and when they left we started shoveling out the cars. The Boy is a genuine 100% Good neighbor. He’s the kind that walks door to door asking if you need help shoveling out your car, offering to pick up some TP and Milk at the store because he’s the only one who can drive an SUV in the snow. So he shoveled out the minivan we buried earlier, plus my car, plus several other cars. The brother and sister and friend shoveled all the snow off the balcony and jumped into it, and by that point I was so dehydrated I opted to stay inside and chat with the mother. Which of course made me feel like the lame girlfriend who won’t try to surf and won’t jump off the balcony for no good point other than being tired and embarrassed.
The sister had many more friends come over at that point and I Fell asleep watching the Raven’s game. The mother was roasting a chicken in rosemary and I decided to stay for dinner, and then I stayed the night and drove home in the morning.
I spent Friday not believing the snow would come, as it was predicted to, because, well, it never does. Snow does not happen here. Ice does, but snow does not. I have glorious fond memories of the two snow storms we have had here in my lifetime. In 1996 we lived in Georgetown and I played in igloos made against cars from the snow plows and Mom lost her Christmas cards on our walk to the grocery store with our wagon, but someone found them and got them back to her. And Seal’s Kissed By a Rose played in every car. And our orange cat Bob would sled with us – no joke. In 2003 I walked the seven miles up River Road with my friend Cait to our friend Roxy’s house by walking in the tread left open from some SUV, and Alec drove in the snow with his Jeep, and that’s about all I remember, other than they didn’t open the public schools FOREVER because they couldn’t get their act together enough to shovel all the sidewalks. They being the government.
Well, in light of the predicted 2 feet-slash-blizzard-slash-seven-bazillion-feet-that-will-keep-us-locked-in-forever-and-ever that was predicted, I decided it would be best if I drove up to Annapolis on Friday, before the snow was supposed to start, in order to not be stuck in Takoma Park with just m television for entertainment. Also I am terrified of ice – it’s how I first hurt my back – and I believed my property manager would not have the gumption to actually shovel and salt our steps. And I would need food. And I would be iced in. not fun.
So it took me two and a half hours of slow slow driving to get the forty miles up to Naptown, and only fishtailed when I pulled into the second-to-last street before The Boy’s house. I listened to St. Matthew’s Passion the whole way. It was pretty neat.
And we woke up the next morning and the ENTIRE WORLD was white. And STILL SNOWING. The Boy woke early so he could shovel the snow off his boat, and when I woke we made eggs and coffee and bacon and sat around for a while, until the rest of the siblings woke up and we got in the Boy’s car – He was a lifty in Colorado for a while and not only LOVES SNOW but knows how to handle it like, well, like he lived in Colorado. We towed the boy, the brother and the sister on their snowboards behing the Explorer for a while. I’ve never snowboarded so it was mute for me to try. I handled the media element that ended up on facebook. We drove to pick up the sister’s best friend, and tried to get Chipotle (it was closed) so we drove to downtown Annapolis, ate Moe’s, and threw poorly sticky snowballs at each other until our fingers froze.
Back at the ranch we made gingerbread dough, and began a contest amongst the sister and her best friend vs. me and the boy vs. the parents. The brother’s friend was over, the Christmas tree was decorated, beers were had, lots of chatting, the brother is a stiltwalker so he taught his friend how to walk on stilts. At some point we went out to RE-Unbury the boat from the 500 plus pounds of snow laying on top of it. That was an adventure.
We opened the gin, we chatted, more friends came over and brought bourbon, cards came out, we played a few drinking games and headed out into the snow at 1 AM to bury the minivan that had gotten stuck in the middle of the culdesac.
The next day there was more coffee and waffles, friends were still there, and when they left we started shoveling out the cars. The Boy is a genuine 100% Good neighbor. He’s the kind that walks door to door asking if you need help shoveling out your car, offering to pick up some TP and Milk at the store because he’s the only one who can drive an SUV in the snow. So he shoveled out the minivan we buried earlier, plus my car, plus several other cars. The brother and sister and friend shoveled all the snow off the balcony and jumped into it, and by that point I was so dehydrated I opted to stay inside and chat with the mother. Which of course made me feel like the lame girlfriend who won’t try to surf and won’t jump off the balcony for no good point other than being tired and embarrassed.
The sister had many more friends come over at that point and I Fell asleep watching the Raven’s game. The mother was roasting a chicken in rosemary and I decided to stay for dinner, and then I stayed the night and drove home in the morning.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Complete Record Collection
one name per copy
Ali Di Meola Elegant Gypsy
Andre Previn Plays Fats Waller
Arlo Guthrie Alice's Restaurant
Arlo Guthrie Washington County
Astor Piazzolla Tango: Zero Hour
Atlantic Group Super Hits
Bach Alairs playing
Bach Walter Carlos performing on the Moog Synthesizer
Beatles Magical Mystery Tour
Beatles Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Beatles Let it Be
Bee Gees The Best Of
Beethoven Symphony #6
Beethoven Sonatas by Walter Klein
Beethoven Eroica by Sudwest Funk Orchestra
Beethoven Choral by Horenstein
Berlioz' Symphonie Fantastique by Marc Antoine Charpentier
Billy Joel Turnstile
Blood Sweat & Tears Blood Sweat & Tears
Bloomfield, Kooper & Stills Super Session
Bob Dylan Desire
Bob Dylan Greatest Hits Vol. II
Bob Dylan Self Portrait
Bob Dylan Greatest Hits
Bob Dylan New Morning
Bob Dylan John Wesley Harding
Bob Dylan Bob Dylan
Bob James Sign of the Times
Bob James Touchdown
Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band Night Moves
Bonnie Raitt Homeplate
Brahms Piano Trios by Odeon Trio
Bruce Springsteen The River
Bruce Springsteen Born to Run
Bruce Springsteen The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle
Bruce Springsteen Nebraska
Bruce Springsteen Greetings from Asbury Park NJ
Bruce Springsteen Born to Run
Bruce Springsteen Greetings from Asbury Park NJ
Butterfield Blues Band Sometimes I just Feel Like Smilin'
Carole King Writer
Carole King Music
Carole King Tapestry
Charlie Parker Parker
Chase Chase
Chicago Transit Authority
Chicago III
Chicago Transit Authority
Chuck Berry Golden Decade
Chuck Berry Wild Berry
Copland & Crusell de Peyer & London Mozart Players
Cream Disraeli Gears
Cream Disraeli Gears
Creedence Clearwater Revival Cosmos Factory
Cricklewood Green Ten years After
Crosby Stills Nash & Young déjà vu
Diamanda Galas Diamanda Galas
Diana Ross and the Supremes Greatest Hits
Diana Ross and the Supremes Where Did Our Love Go
Diana Ross and the Supremes Where Did Our Love Go
Doco Deliverin'
Donovan Sunshine Superman in Concert
Donovan Essence to Essence
Doug Sahm & Band Doug Sahm & Band
Dvorak New World Symphony Carnival Overture by Philharmonia
Eagles Hotel California
Easy Rider Soundtrack
Elliott Carter Sonata for Flute, Oboe, Cello & Sonata for Cello, Piano
Eric Clapton Slowhand
Eric Clapton Backless
Eric Clapton At His Best
Eric Dolphy Dolphy
Erik Satie "through a looking glass" by the camarata contemporary chamber orchestra
Everly brothers The Best Of
Farrell Music from Royal Weddings from 1923-1973
George Carlin Occupation: Fool
George Harrison All Things Must Pass
Grand Funk Pheonix
Gregorian Chants
Hair Soundtrack
Hausmann, Ayrton & Shaun Classical Oboe & Horn
Haydn Chamber Music by Die Instrumentisten
Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass Band The Beat of the Brass
Herbert von Karajan Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra
Hilde Somer Plays Seriabin
International Award Series Children's Songs
Iron Butterfly Live
Jackson Browne Lawyer's in Love
Jackson Browne Running on Empty
Jackson Browne The Pretenders
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
James Taylor Mud Slide Slim
James Taylor James Taylor
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
James Taylor Mud Slide Slim & the Blue Horizon
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
James Taylor and the Flying Machine
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
Jean-Paul Rampal & Robert Veyran Lacroix
Jim Croce You Don't Mess Around With Jim
Jimmi Hendrix Band of Gypsies
Jimmy Smith Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Joan Baez Blowin' Away
Joan Baez Joan Baez
Joan Baez Diamonds & Rust
Joan Baez Farewell, Angelina
Joe Cocker With a Little Help From My Friends
Joe Cocker Joe Cocker!
John Adams Harmonium
John Coltrane Coltrane
John Lennon Plastic Ono Band
Johnny Rivers Golden Hits
Joni Mitchell The Hissing of Summer Lawns
Joni Mitchell Ladies of the Canyon
Jose Feliciano Feliciano!
Joy of Cooking Closer to the Ground
Joy of Cooking Joy of Cooking
Judy Collins In My Life
Judy Collins Wildflowers
Judy Collins Judy Collins
Kate & Anna McGarrigle Kate & Anna McGarrigle
Kate & Anna McGarrigle Love over & Over
Kate & Anna McGarrigle Kate & Anna McGarrigle
Kris & Rita Breakaway
Kris Kristofferson Border Lord
Kris Kristofferson Who's to Bless
Kris Kristofferson Easter Island
Kris Kristofferson Jesus was a Capricorn
Kris Kristofferson Spooky Lady's Sideshow
Kris Kristofferson Songs of Kristofferson
Kris Kristofferson Kristofferson
Kris Kristofferson The Silver Tongued Devil & I
Larry Coryell Spaces
Led Zeppelin Zoso
Leo Kottke Dreams & All That Stuff
Leo Kottke 6 & 12 String Guitars
Leonard Cohen Songs Of Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen The Best of
Lightnin' Sam Hopkins Lightnin's In Town!
Linda Rondstadt Livin' in the USA
Linda Rondstadt Lush Life
Linda Rondstadt Heart Like a Wheel
Linda Rondstadt Hasten Down the Wind
Loggins & Messina So Fine
Lou Reed Rock & Roll Animal
Lou Reed Transformer
Mamas & the Papas Deliver
Marianne Faithfull Faithfull Forever
Marshall Tucker Band Greatest Hits
Martha Argerich Piano, Maurice Ravel
Mary Poppins Soundtrack
Mendelssohn Piano Concerti by Royal Philharmonic
Michael Hedges Breakfast in the Field
Miles Davis Davis
Mose Allison I Don't Worry About A Thing
Mozart Time Life Collection
Neil Diamond Beautiful Noise
Neil Young Harvest
New England Trios Piano Trios
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band Stars & Stripes Forever
Ornette Coleman Crisis
Ornette Coleman Twins
Pachelbell's Chanon Paillard Chamber Orchestra
Patti Smith Horses
Paul Simon Still Crazy After All These Years
Paul Simon Greatest Hits
Paul Simon There Goes Rhymin' Simon
Paul Simon One Trick Pony
Paul Simon Graceland
Paul Simon Still Crazy After All These Years
Paul Simon Paul Simon
Peter Paul & Mary Peter Paul & Mary
Peter Paul & Mary Moving
Peter Paul & Mary See What Tomorrow Brings
Pink Floyd Atom heart Mother
Poco From the Inside
Procol Harem Salty Dog
Purcell Songs from Taverns & Chapels by Deller Consort
Raffi Rise & Shine
Ravel Manboro Music Festival
REO Speedwagon A Decade of Rock 7 Roll - 70-80
Rick Wakeman Myths & Legends of King Arthur
Rick Wakeman Journey to the Center of the Earth
Rod Stewart Sing it Again Rod
Rod Stewart Every Picture Tells a Story
Rod Stewart Greatest Hits
Rod Stewart Never a Dull Moment
Rod Stewart A Shot of Rhythm and Blues
Rolling Stones Hot Rocks
Rolling Stones Hot Rocks 64-71
Rolling Stones Big Hits (High Tide & Green Grass)
Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers
Rolling Stones Emotional Rescue
Rolling Stones Some Girls
Rolling Stones Tattoo You
Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet
Rolling Stones Let It Bleed
Rolling Stones Aftermath
Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet
Rolling Stones Out of Our Heads
Roy Orbison Greatest Hits
Roy Orbison The Very Best Of
Ry Cooder Chicken Skin Music
Ry Cooder Chicken Skin Revue
Ry Cooder Borderline
Ry Cooder Jazz
Ry Cooder Into the Purple Valley
Ry Cooder Bop Till You Drop
Santana Abraxas
Santana Santana
Schubert Quintet in C by Guarneroi Quartet
Scriabin John Ogden
Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66 Fool on the Hill
Shades of Deep Purple
Simon & Garfunkle Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme
Simon & Garfunkle Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme
Simon & Garfunkle Sounds of Silence
Simon & Garfunkle Greatest Hits
Simon & Garfunkle Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme
Simon & Garfunkle Bridge Over Troubled Water
Simon & Garfunkle Wednesday Morning, 3AM
Soft Machine Third
Songs from the Mr. Roger TV Show
Sonny Rollins Rollins
Southern Journey 2 Georgia Sea Islands V.2
St. Matthew's Passion
Steve Miller Band Fly Like An Eagle
Steve Miller Band Bok of Dreams
Stevie Wonder Greatest Hits
Strauss Waltzes by the London Philharmonic
Strauss Czechoslovakian Orchestra
Stravinsky Le Sacre du Printemps by the London Symphony Orchestra
Stravinsky played by Berliner PHilarmoniker
Tchaikovsky Nutcracker by Bolshoi Theater
Telemann Chamber Music by Baroque Ensemble of Paris
Tex Rubinowitz Tex Rubinowitz
The Allman Brothers Band Brothers & Sisters
The Animals Animalization
The Band The Band
The Band In Concert, Rock of Ages
The Band Northern Lights, Southern Cross
The Beach Boys Smiley Smile
The Byrds Greatest Hits
The Byrds Younger Than yesterday
The Doors The Doors
The Doors Strange Days
The Graduate Soundtrack
The Moody Blues In Search of the Lost Chord
The Original Delaney & Bonnie Accept No Substitute
The Rose Soundtrack
The Who Live at Leeds
The Who Tommy
Thelonius Monk Monk
Tony Scott Tony Scott
Tracy Nelson Mother Earth
Traffic The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys
Urban Verbs Early Damage
Van Morrison Wavelength
Van Morrison The Very Best Of
Van Morrison Into the Music
Velveteen Rabbit
Vivaldi The Four Seasons
Vivaldi Opera Overtures by Isolisti Veneti
Vivaldi Concertos
Wagner Carlos Paita New Philharmonia
Waylon Jennings Ladies Love Outlaws
Wayne Horvitz This New Generation
We Are the World
Weather Report Night Passage
Wes Montgomery The Small Group Recordings
West Meets East Yehudi Menuhin & Ravi Shankar
Whiskey River
William McEwen Will the Circle Be Unbroken
Willie Nelson Phases & Stages
Willie Nelson Stardust
Willie Nelson Shotgun Willie
Willie Nelson The Best Of
Willie Nelson Red Headed Stranger
Willie Nelson The Best Of
Willie Nelson Country Willie
Wry Straw From Earth to Heaven
Young Rascals Including Good Lovin'
Yusef Lateef The Best Of
Ali Di Meola Elegant Gypsy
Andre Previn Plays Fats Waller
Arlo Guthrie Alice's Restaurant
Arlo Guthrie Washington County
Astor Piazzolla Tango: Zero Hour
Atlantic Group Super Hits
Bach Alairs playing
Bach Walter Carlos performing on the Moog Synthesizer
Beatles Magical Mystery Tour
Beatles Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Beatles Let it Be
Bee Gees The Best Of
Beethoven Symphony #6
Beethoven Sonatas by Walter Klein
Beethoven Eroica by Sudwest Funk Orchestra
Beethoven Choral by Horenstein
Berlioz' Symphonie Fantastique by Marc Antoine Charpentier
Billy Joel Turnstile
Blood Sweat & Tears Blood Sweat & Tears
Bloomfield, Kooper & Stills Super Session
Bob Dylan Desire
Bob Dylan Greatest Hits Vol. II
Bob Dylan Self Portrait
Bob Dylan Greatest Hits
Bob Dylan New Morning
Bob Dylan John Wesley Harding
Bob Dylan Bob Dylan
Bob James Sign of the Times
Bob James Touchdown
Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band Night Moves
Bonnie Raitt Homeplate
Brahms Piano Trios by Odeon Trio
Bruce Springsteen The River
Bruce Springsteen Born to Run
Bruce Springsteen The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle
Bruce Springsteen Nebraska
Bruce Springsteen Greetings from Asbury Park NJ
Bruce Springsteen Born to Run
Bruce Springsteen Greetings from Asbury Park NJ
Butterfield Blues Band Sometimes I just Feel Like Smilin'
Carole King Writer
Carole King Music
Carole King Tapestry
Charlie Parker Parker
Chase Chase
Chicago Transit Authority
Chicago III
Chicago Transit Authority
Chuck Berry Golden Decade
Chuck Berry Wild Berry
Copland & Crusell de Peyer & London Mozart Players
Cream Disraeli Gears
Cream Disraeli Gears
Creedence Clearwater Revival Cosmos Factory
Cricklewood Green Ten years After
Crosby Stills Nash & Young déjà vu
Diamanda Galas Diamanda Galas
Diana Ross and the Supremes Greatest Hits
Diana Ross and the Supremes Where Did Our Love Go
Diana Ross and the Supremes Where Did Our Love Go
Doco Deliverin'
Donovan Sunshine Superman in Concert
Donovan Essence to Essence
Doug Sahm & Band Doug Sahm & Band
Dvorak New World Symphony Carnival Overture by Philharmonia
Eagles Hotel California
Easy Rider Soundtrack
Elliott Carter Sonata for Flute, Oboe, Cello & Sonata for Cello, Piano
Eric Clapton Slowhand
Eric Clapton Backless
Eric Clapton At His Best
Eric Dolphy Dolphy
Erik Satie "through a looking glass" by the camarata contemporary chamber orchestra
Everly brothers The Best Of
Farrell Music from Royal Weddings from 1923-1973
George Carlin Occupation: Fool
George Harrison All Things Must Pass
Grand Funk Pheonix
Gregorian Chants
Hair Soundtrack
Hausmann, Ayrton & Shaun Classical Oboe & Horn
Haydn Chamber Music by Die Instrumentisten
Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass Band The Beat of the Brass
Herbert von Karajan Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra
Hilde Somer Plays Seriabin
International Award Series Children's Songs
Iron Butterfly Live
Jackson Browne Lawyer's in Love
Jackson Browne Running on Empty
Jackson Browne The Pretenders
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
James Taylor Mud Slide Slim
James Taylor James Taylor
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
James Taylor Mud Slide Slim & the Blue Horizon
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
James Taylor and the Flying Machine
James Taylor Sweet Baby James
Jean-Paul Rampal & Robert Veyran Lacroix
Jim Croce You Don't Mess Around With Jim
Jimmi Hendrix Band of Gypsies
Jimmy Smith Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Joan Baez Blowin' Away
Joan Baez Joan Baez
Joan Baez Diamonds & Rust
Joan Baez Farewell, Angelina
Joe Cocker With a Little Help From My Friends
Joe Cocker Joe Cocker!
John Adams Harmonium
John Coltrane Coltrane
John Lennon Plastic Ono Band
Johnny Rivers Golden Hits
Joni Mitchell The Hissing of Summer Lawns
Joni Mitchell Ladies of the Canyon
Jose Feliciano Feliciano!
Joy of Cooking Closer to the Ground
Joy of Cooking Joy of Cooking
Judy Collins In My Life
Judy Collins Wildflowers
Judy Collins Judy Collins
Kate & Anna McGarrigle Kate & Anna McGarrigle
Kate & Anna McGarrigle Love over & Over
Kate & Anna McGarrigle Kate & Anna McGarrigle
Kris & Rita Breakaway
Kris Kristofferson Border Lord
Kris Kristofferson Who's to Bless
Kris Kristofferson Easter Island
Kris Kristofferson Jesus was a Capricorn
Kris Kristofferson Spooky Lady's Sideshow
Kris Kristofferson Songs of Kristofferson
Kris Kristofferson Kristofferson
Kris Kristofferson The Silver Tongued Devil & I
Larry Coryell Spaces
Led Zeppelin Zoso
Leo Kottke Dreams & All That Stuff
Leo Kottke 6 & 12 String Guitars
Leonard Cohen Songs Of Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen The Best of
Lightnin' Sam Hopkins Lightnin's In Town!
Linda Rondstadt Livin' in the USA
Linda Rondstadt Lush Life
Linda Rondstadt Heart Like a Wheel
Linda Rondstadt Hasten Down the Wind
Loggins & Messina So Fine
Lou Reed Rock & Roll Animal
Lou Reed Transformer
Mamas & the Papas Deliver
Marianne Faithfull Faithfull Forever
Marshall Tucker Band Greatest Hits
Martha Argerich Piano, Maurice Ravel
Mary Poppins Soundtrack
Mendelssohn Piano Concerti by Royal Philharmonic
Michael Hedges Breakfast in the Field
Miles Davis Davis
Mose Allison I Don't Worry About A Thing
Mozart Time Life Collection
Neil Diamond Beautiful Noise
Neil Young Harvest
New England Trios Piano Trios
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band Stars & Stripes Forever
Ornette Coleman Crisis
Ornette Coleman Twins
Pachelbell's Chanon Paillard Chamber Orchestra
Patti Smith Horses
Paul Simon Still Crazy After All These Years
Paul Simon Greatest Hits
Paul Simon There Goes Rhymin' Simon
Paul Simon One Trick Pony
Paul Simon Graceland
Paul Simon Still Crazy After All These Years
Paul Simon Paul Simon
Peter Paul & Mary Peter Paul & Mary
Peter Paul & Mary Moving
Peter Paul & Mary See What Tomorrow Brings
Pink Floyd Atom heart Mother
Poco From the Inside
Procol Harem Salty Dog
Purcell Songs from Taverns & Chapels by Deller Consort
Raffi Rise & Shine
Ravel Manboro Music Festival
REO Speedwagon A Decade of Rock 7 Roll - 70-80
Rick Wakeman Myths & Legends of King Arthur
Rick Wakeman Journey to the Center of the Earth
Rod Stewart Sing it Again Rod
Rod Stewart Every Picture Tells a Story
Rod Stewart Greatest Hits
Rod Stewart Never a Dull Moment
Rod Stewart A Shot of Rhythm and Blues
Rolling Stones Hot Rocks
Rolling Stones Hot Rocks 64-71
Rolling Stones Big Hits (High Tide & Green Grass)
Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers
Rolling Stones Emotional Rescue
Rolling Stones Some Girls
Rolling Stones Tattoo You
Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet
Rolling Stones Let It Bleed
Rolling Stones Aftermath
Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet
Rolling Stones Out of Our Heads
Roy Orbison Greatest Hits
Roy Orbison The Very Best Of
Ry Cooder Chicken Skin Music
Ry Cooder Chicken Skin Revue
Ry Cooder Borderline
Ry Cooder Jazz
Ry Cooder Into the Purple Valley
Ry Cooder Bop Till You Drop
Santana Abraxas
Santana Santana
Schubert Quintet in C by Guarneroi Quartet
Scriabin John Ogden
Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66 Fool on the Hill
Shades of Deep Purple
Simon & Garfunkle Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme
Simon & Garfunkle Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme
Simon & Garfunkle Sounds of Silence
Simon & Garfunkle Greatest Hits
Simon & Garfunkle Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme
Simon & Garfunkle Bridge Over Troubled Water
Simon & Garfunkle Wednesday Morning, 3AM
Soft Machine Third
Songs from the Mr. Roger TV Show
Sonny Rollins Rollins
Southern Journey 2 Georgia Sea Islands V.2
St. Matthew's Passion
Steve Miller Band Fly Like An Eagle
Steve Miller Band Bok of Dreams
Stevie Wonder Greatest Hits
Strauss Waltzes by the London Philharmonic
Strauss Czechoslovakian Orchestra
Stravinsky Le Sacre du Printemps by the London Symphony Orchestra
Stravinsky played by Berliner PHilarmoniker
Tchaikovsky Nutcracker by Bolshoi Theater
Telemann Chamber Music by Baroque Ensemble of Paris
Tex Rubinowitz Tex Rubinowitz
The Allman Brothers Band Brothers & Sisters
The Animals Animalization
The Band The Band
The Band In Concert, Rock of Ages
The Band Northern Lights, Southern Cross
The Beach Boys Smiley Smile
The Byrds Greatest Hits
The Byrds Younger Than yesterday
The Doors The Doors
The Doors Strange Days
The Graduate Soundtrack
The Moody Blues In Search of the Lost Chord
The Original Delaney & Bonnie Accept No Substitute
The Rose Soundtrack
The Who Live at Leeds
The Who Tommy
Thelonius Monk Monk
Tony Scott Tony Scott
Tracy Nelson Mother Earth
Traffic The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys
Urban Verbs Early Damage
Van Morrison Wavelength
Van Morrison The Very Best Of
Van Morrison Into the Music
Velveteen Rabbit
Vivaldi The Four Seasons
Vivaldi Opera Overtures by Isolisti Veneti
Vivaldi Concertos
Wagner Carlos Paita New Philharmonia
Waylon Jennings Ladies Love Outlaws
Wayne Horvitz This New Generation
We Are the World
Weather Report Night Passage
Wes Montgomery The Small Group Recordings
West Meets East Yehudi Menuhin & Ravi Shankar
Whiskey River
William McEwen Will the Circle Be Unbroken
Willie Nelson Phases & Stages
Willie Nelson Stardust
Willie Nelson Shotgun Willie
Willie Nelson The Best Of
Willie Nelson Red Headed Stranger
Willie Nelson The Best Of
Willie Nelson Country Willie
Wry Straw From Earth to Heaven
Young Rascals Including Good Lovin'
Yusef Lateef The Best Of
Props for Review , or, a Brave Little Annelies
Props to me for finally asking the boss for a formal review. This is about as scary as to me as ASKING all of your tutors for a Don Rag when you know there are seven points you can improve on, ten you’ve done well in, and hoping that because there are three more you’ve done well with you can ask for a better grade when it’s all over. I’ve been procrastinating on this for a few weeks now, but it turns out it was in his schedule anyway. So… props for me for bravery, and props for me for appearing above the curve and asking for one instead of waiting for him to come out with it. Great way to begin the day!
Lawyer's Holiday Party and a Glass in the Toe
Yesterday was the holiday party for the other law firm that we share a floor with. Never has a large group of people celebrating been so unappealing to me. I wanted to cry when, at 5:40, after stalling as long as possible, I was told to join the festivities. They were loud, and old, and spoke only of boring lawyer things. I knew nobody, but was hungry and indebted for the invitation, so I snuck in, was fondled from behind by some lousy older male lawyer who thought he was getting away with it (he was) while walking through the crowd to get my name tag, and snagged a few shrimp and a roast beef sandwich. I found a seat in the corner to sit on, politely smiled at my neighbor, ate, and hightailed it out of that horrid situation. My boss, who happened to be celebrating his birthday as well, sang a cheery farewell as I waited for the elevator.
My plan was to get in a run, or at least some yoga, but when I got home I realized I was famished. I had hoped I would have greater opportunity to eat at the party. There was also quite a lot of work for me to do at home. So I ate, and finished cleaning my records, and trimmed my plants, and when I got down on my bedroom floor in down-dog, I promptly set my big toe straight down on a several centimeter long piece of glass. This brought blood, and more blood, and I can’t put pressure on the toe even still. I brought in an enormous amount of stuff to work today hoping that by the end of the work day it will have reduced the swelling enough to hobble through a few miles.
And my boss was later getting in – I somehow feel like I’ve won something when I get in before he does – and punctually set to work taking down the signs the crew left on all the closed office doors last night, highlighting the privacy of the offices.
My plan was to get in a run, or at least some yoga, but when I got home I realized I was famished. I had hoped I would have greater opportunity to eat at the party. There was also quite a lot of work for me to do at home. So I ate, and finished cleaning my records, and trimmed my plants, and when I got down on my bedroom floor in down-dog, I promptly set my big toe straight down on a several centimeter long piece of glass. This brought blood, and more blood, and I can’t put pressure on the toe even still. I brought in an enormous amount of stuff to work today hoping that by the end of the work day it will have reduced the swelling enough to hobble through a few miles.
And my boss was later getting in – I somehow feel like I’ve won something when I get in before he does – and punctually set to work taking down the signs the crew left on all the closed office doors last night, highlighting the privacy of the offices.
Monday, December 14, 2009
A bazillion WINS, Part 2
c) Yeah, three weeks into it I can look in the mirror and not scream “I AM NOT HILARY CLINTON!! NOR AM I A LESBIAN!! GROW OUT DAMN HAIR GROW!” because, well, it has grown enough that I don’t feel like that anymore. I am not sure whether it has actually grown, or whether I have just made friends with it. Doesn’t matter. I’m not mad anymore.
d) So, as some of you know, I have been reading many many design blogs lately and getting really anxious to be creative. Having thought long and hard about what my passion is, I still cannot come up with any possible single answer. So, in true Johnnie fashion, I have derived the common element: beauty.
Beauty is the one thing I admire in all of the following: the human body, motion, math, physics, visual art, dance, music, the environment, literature, poetry, food, friendships, anything else I have ever loved. I love it because it is beautiful, and through its qualities I am more in connection with the common beauty of the world.
So what? Well, I have been trying to figure out my life, as always, and been inclined to consider a design degree (only some-what seriously) recently. But the problem with a design degree is that it does not incorporate the geeky sciency chemistry and biology that I love so much and look forward to in an environmental science focus. So, I poked around a bit and found these:
http://www.uvm.edu/~fntrlst/?Page=directorschair.html
http://www.uvm.edu/~gundiee/?Page=certificate-program/ecologicaldesign/index.html&SM=certificate-program/certificate-program_menu.html
That’s right, it’s Johnnie Naturalist and Johnnie Naturalist-Artist come to the rescue!!! The field naturalist program is focused on real experience, and requires a lot of life experience, which is awesome because I can’t imagine going back to school for another little while now. I really want to work on a farm first. And then there’s the ecological design certificate, for when I’m done with the two year Field Naturalist program, that would let me be all creative AND earthly AT THE SAME TIME! Perfect. That’s all.
e) Just in time to request a formal review, I get confirmation that I am, indeed, good at my job. All this worry may be either paying off, or good for nothing.
f) I paid my bills. I can buy groceries. I will not be carted off to debtors prison yet. YAY!
g) 12 miles. Through cold, lit-up Washington DC. I am strangely thrilled by this idea, because I get to think about ECOLOGICAL DESIGN and FIELD NATURALIST future, and REORGANIZING HOUSES and GROCERY SHOPPING, all while listening to sad music. I LOVE IT!!!
d) So, as some of you know, I have been reading many many design blogs lately and getting really anxious to be creative. Having thought long and hard about what my passion is, I still cannot come up with any possible single answer. So, in true Johnnie fashion, I have derived the common element: beauty.
Beauty is the one thing I admire in all of the following: the human body, motion, math, physics, visual art, dance, music, the environment, literature, poetry, food, friendships, anything else I have ever loved. I love it because it is beautiful, and through its qualities I am more in connection with the common beauty of the world.
So what? Well, I have been trying to figure out my life, as always, and been inclined to consider a design degree (only some-what seriously) recently. But the problem with a design degree is that it does not incorporate the geeky sciency chemistry and biology that I love so much and look forward to in an environmental science focus. So, I poked around a bit and found these:
http://www.uvm.edu/~fntrlst/?Page=directorschair.html
http://www.uvm.edu/~gundiee/?Page=certificate-program/ecologicaldesign/index.html&SM=certificate-program/certificate-program_menu.html
That’s right, it’s Johnnie Naturalist and Johnnie Naturalist-Artist come to the rescue!!! The field naturalist program is focused on real experience, and requires a lot of life experience, which is awesome because I can’t imagine going back to school for another little while now. I really want to work on a farm first. And then there’s the ecological design certificate, for when I’m done with the two year Field Naturalist program, that would let me be all creative AND earthly AT THE SAME TIME! Perfect. That’s all.
e) Just in time to request a formal review, I get confirmation that I am, indeed, good at my job. All this worry may be either paying off, or good for nothing.
f) I paid my bills. I can buy groceries. I will not be carted off to debtors prison yet. YAY!
g) 12 miles. Through cold, lit-up Washington DC. I am strangely thrilled by this idea, because I get to think about ECOLOGICAL DESIGN and FIELD NATURALIST future, and REORGANIZING HOUSES and GROCERY SHOPPING, all while listening to sad music. I LOVE IT!!!
A bazillion WINS, Part 1
My friends
Today is a day of success, and fear not, I will tell you why:
a) This past weekend RULED. I have to come out and say it – Fallingwater, Frank Lloyd Wright’s PA house, is SEXY. More to come
b) Nothing this weekend went as planned, and I DID NOT FREAK OUT! I know, right? SO NOT ME. I think this boy is good for me.
c) I finally don’t hate my haircut. Actually, it may be kind of cute.
d) I found my future in two U Vermont programs: the field naturalist program, which is kind of like St. John’s for non-scientist eco-freaks, and their ecological design certificate
e) I was told by my boss’ wife that I am doing my job “very very well”. SCORE!
f) Money, if not looking up, is at least not sinking me into a hole. I feel fine about it now.
g) I am pretty freaking excited about my 12 mile run tonight.
h) Etc.
Details:
a) and b) I took the boy to Pittsburgh as a surprise, keeping him in the dark about where we were going for three weeks. The reason we went THERE is the exhibits that were shown. Well, we got a late start on Sat. so we did not get in to Pittsburgh until 3:45, and the first museum closed at 5. So we perused the Carnegie Museum of Art and saw an exhibit on people in photographs throughout photography history, a super cool engineer that made me drool, and lots of modern works. I ate a really old potato the night before and had an embarrassing digestive reaction, demanding we get off the metro so I could use the loo on our way to the venison party (that’s right, a friend shot a buck and cooked us its meat), and continued to have terrible stomach pain the entire weekend. I drank Pepto like water. So I was exhausted after the driving, and the museum, and we found a super cute, simple bar right next to our parking spot and had some simple good food. The hotel was hard to find, but pretty nice, and I slumped into bed with my pepto and ginger ale and watched “blades of glory” before getting the definitely not enough 9 hours of sleep.
We figured we would try to catch the Warhol museum, which we were both most excited about of the two museums, in the AM on Sunday because we would have more time then than on Saturday, and then scoot over to see Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater. I gave the attendant my credit card, instead of my debit, and feared my paycheck hadn’t gone through when it declined, so I made the boy pay for his Christmas hotel room. I was embarrassed, to say the least. And of course, even though we know better, we figured we would get breakfast and coffee in town instead of bother the busy attendants at the front desk to walk over and use their starbucks carafe’s to fuel us. Well, the universe thought it would give us a good joke because it decided that it too would celebrate Fallingwater and RAINED ICE. Seriously, we passed forty cars ruined on the side of the road. It was a battleground. This, of course, going at under 40 mph on the highway for 20 minutes before we came to a dead standstill and had to park for, yes, two hours, while a car was cleared away and the road de-thawed because it was iced over. Nope, no time for the Warhol dammit. Though, it gives us a great excuse to come back.
So we headed out and stopped at a Bob Evans along the way to enjoy pretty much our favorite meal of diner breakfast. Trotted into the tour right on time, and proceeded to spend the next hour with our jaws dropped and our little design-inclined minds going WILD. The place is seriously cooler than you can imagine. We daydreamed about architecture and planning for the ride home in, yes, clear weather.
Today is a day of success, and fear not, I will tell you why:
a) This past weekend RULED. I have to come out and say it – Fallingwater, Frank Lloyd Wright’s PA house, is SEXY. More to come
b) Nothing this weekend went as planned, and I DID NOT FREAK OUT! I know, right? SO NOT ME. I think this boy is good for me.
c) I finally don’t hate my haircut. Actually, it may be kind of cute.
d) I found my future in two U Vermont programs: the field naturalist program, which is kind of like St. John’s for non-scientist eco-freaks, and their ecological design certificate
e) I was told by my boss’ wife that I am doing my job “very very well”. SCORE!
f) Money, if not looking up, is at least not sinking me into a hole. I feel fine about it now.
g) I am pretty freaking excited about my 12 mile run tonight.
h) Etc.
Details:
a) and b) I took the boy to Pittsburgh as a surprise, keeping him in the dark about where we were going for three weeks. The reason we went THERE is the exhibits that were shown. Well, we got a late start on Sat. so we did not get in to Pittsburgh until 3:45, and the first museum closed at 5. So we perused the Carnegie Museum of Art and saw an exhibit on people in photographs throughout photography history, a super cool engineer that made me drool, and lots of modern works. I ate a really old potato the night before and had an embarrassing digestive reaction, demanding we get off the metro so I could use the loo on our way to the venison party (that’s right, a friend shot a buck and cooked us its meat), and continued to have terrible stomach pain the entire weekend. I drank Pepto like water. So I was exhausted after the driving, and the museum, and we found a super cute, simple bar right next to our parking spot and had some simple good food. The hotel was hard to find, but pretty nice, and I slumped into bed with my pepto and ginger ale and watched “blades of glory” before getting the definitely not enough 9 hours of sleep.
We figured we would try to catch the Warhol museum, which we were both most excited about of the two museums, in the AM on Sunday because we would have more time then than on Saturday, and then scoot over to see Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater. I gave the attendant my credit card, instead of my debit, and feared my paycheck hadn’t gone through when it declined, so I made the boy pay for his Christmas hotel room. I was embarrassed, to say the least. And of course, even though we know better, we figured we would get breakfast and coffee in town instead of bother the busy attendants at the front desk to walk over and use their starbucks carafe’s to fuel us. Well, the universe thought it would give us a good joke because it decided that it too would celebrate Fallingwater and RAINED ICE. Seriously, we passed forty cars ruined on the side of the road. It was a battleground. This, of course, going at under 40 mph on the highway for 20 minutes before we came to a dead standstill and had to park for, yes, two hours, while a car was cleared away and the road de-thawed because it was iced over. Nope, no time for the Warhol dammit. Though, it gives us a great excuse to come back.
So we headed out and stopped at a Bob Evans along the way to enjoy pretty much our favorite meal of diner breakfast. Trotted into the tour right on time, and proceeded to spend the next hour with our jaws dropped and our little design-inclined minds going WILD. The place is seriously cooler than you can imagine. We daydreamed about architecture and planning for the ride home in, yes, clear weather.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Little Known Fact
Friends
Singing is in my family - not American Idol singing, but certainly not Please SHUTUP singing. My mother claims she can't keep a tune, but we know that her good friend taught her, if perhaps not to keep harmony than certainly to claim her voice, on that long roadtrip in college many years ago. And of course, the Genius Brother can be recorded and paid much money for his golden voice. And I, true fact, used to sing the choir and get more than my fair share of solos. I know, you turn the radio up when I start singing to the songs, which is most of the time, but at one point I wasn't half bad. PROOF: I was a soloist in the choir that won TWICE in middle school for singing Danny Boy. At the time I also had this memorized on the piano.
Sometimes, when I think of who I have been growing up, I wonder how I have become who I am: At one time I sang, played three instruments, held a small job and was an actor and a tutor in all subjects including art and coordinated the music for an entire extracurricular group. Then came high school when I worked a whole lot and still managed to edit the lit mag, organize school activities, tutor, keep a boyfriend, write poetry, keep my grades relatively up, etc.
and then here I am. i work sometimes. i run less than i work. I see my boyfriend, sometimes my mother, rarely my brother. Sometimes I talk to my roommate. On really exciting nights i go grocery shopping.
On a lighter note, here are the lyrics to Danny Boy, which I spent a good 30 minutes singing to myself in the car on my way back from doing laundry at my mother's tonight, trying to remember how to sing without hurting the glass in the car that if god ever loved me will sell in a month:
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
Singing is in my family - not American Idol singing, but certainly not Please SHUTUP singing. My mother claims she can't keep a tune, but we know that her good friend taught her, if perhaps not to keep harmony than certainly to claim her voice, on that long roadtrip in college many years ago. And of course, the Genius Brother can be recorded and paid much money for his golden voice. And I, true fact, used to sing the choir and get more than my fair share of solos. I know, you turn the radio up when I start singing to the songs, which is most of the time, but at one point I wasn't half bad. PROOF: I was a soloist in the choir that won TWICE in middle school for singing Danny Boy. At the time I also had this memorized on the piano.
Sometimes, when I think of who I have been growing up, I wonder how I have become who I am: At one time I sang, played three instruments, held a small job and was an actor and a tutor in all subjects including art and coordinated the music for an entire extracurricular group. Then came high school when I worked a whole lot and still managed to edit the lit mag, organize school activities, tutor, keep a boyfriend, write poetry, keep my grades relatively up, etc.
and then here I am. i work sometimes. i run less than i work. I see my boyfriend, sometimes my mother, rarely my brother. Sometimes I talk to my roommate. On really exciting nights i go grocery shopping.
On a lighter note, here are the lyrics to Danny Boy, which I spent a good 30 minutes singing to myself in the car on my way back from doing laundry at my mother's tonight, trying to remember how to sing without hurting the glass in the car that if god ever loved me will sell in a month:
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
Mindfulness Struggle
Today is a day where I am struggling with Mindfulness. I keep hearing the nagging in my head of “it’s okay, because when ___ happens, you’ll feel so much better”. Fill in ____ with a) you lose some weight b) you learn to shower regularly c) you sell your car d) you get out of this job e) you have some money in the bank f) you finally get into that exercise groove you’ve been trying to manage for twelve years now g) you finish your Christmas-gift-making h) you go grocery shopping i) you land that extra job j) you live somewhere where you can hang out with a large group of friends regularly k) your hair grows out l) all the way down to z). Everything will make me feel better.
And this is not in an I-really-feel-terrible or an I-am-depressed or even an I-am-not-happy kind of way. It’s just in the way I’ve always thought about things, which is a future-minded sort of way. But the truth is, I’m still struggling to lose the weight I convinced myself would be gone by now four years ago, and I still am not in the exercise groove that I know will make me feel good, and I still have no money. And none of these things, frankly, is really bound to change all that much. Unless, of course, I CHANGE THEM. But that is for a different post.
I struggle with these things because; while I can be a terribly disciplined person when I am passionate about something, rarely is there anything I am passionate about enough to be disciplined. I only occasionally feel like I need to lose weight, and that is inevitably tied in to the grocery shopping and exercise and therefore money issues, and it’s never a need that I feel needs necessary to be actioned, it’s only really a side note. But there is always one of these thoughts that grows out of the other, until I am not only thinking “wow, my chafing sore hurts from my run, perhaps if I ate less chocolate I wouldn’t hurt for days after for no good reason”, but I am thinking “if I thought about my life more than I would be happier” because, of course, more thinking means better decisions. Apparently.
The problem I have with this kind of thinking is – if I let myself be consumed by it, I am unhappy. And the results will never change. And I can see myself therefore being infinitely unhappy. Needless to say that I really am at the time worried and upset about any number of these things which is a pain in itself. But it’s the effects of this worry, or the influence of this worry, that bother me, and less the worry itself.
I had a conversation with this morning with the boy, where I mentioned how these past few months have been pretty hard. We ended up having a long e-mail conversation about what exactly I meant, which is not the relationship-centered thought he had (‘no it hasn’t, we’ve been great!’), but the individual-centered one I had (‘we have each had our frustrations recently’). It got me thinking how these frustrations never go away. Ever.
So what makes a really happy time different from a less-than-happy time, even with the same frustrations? (Because, my car-money problems now are equivalent to my house-money problems and my recently-lost-my-job money problems and my medication-money related problems etc.) I’m not sure. Endorphins? I am inclined to say that my cure-all-might-as-well-be-CALORIC answer of Oxytocin is the difference. But maybe not. Maybe these times are just needed, because, whenever I have one of these days I go home and I am ever so much more disciplined about all these little things. And someday, maybe, they will become habit. And I will have fewer of these days.
And this is not in an I-really-feel-terrible or an I-am-depressed or even an I-am-not-happy kind of way. It’s just in the way I’ve always thought about things, which is a future-minded sort of way. But the truth is, I’m still struggling to lose the weight I convinced myself would be gone by now four years ago, and I still am not in the exercise groove that I know will make me feel good, and I still have no money. And none of these things, frankly, is really bound to change all that much. Unless, of course, I CHANGE THEM. But that is for a different post.
I struggle with these things because; while I can be a terribly disciplined person when I am passionate about something, rarely is there anything I am passionate about enough to be disciplined. I only occasionally feel like I need to lose weight, and that is inevitably tied in to the grocery shopping and exercise and therefore money issues, and it’s never a need that I feel needs necessary to be actioned, it’s only really a side note. But there is always one of these thoughts that grows out of the other, until I am not only thinking “wow, my chafing sore hurts from my run, perhaps if I ate less chocolate I wouldn’t hurt for days after for no good reason”, but I am thinking “if I thought about my life more than I would be happier” because, of course, more thinking means better decisions. Apparently.
The problem I have with this kind of thinking is – if I let myself be consumed by it, I am unhappy. And the results will never change. And I can see myself therefore being infinitely unhappy. Needless to say that I really am at the time worried and upset about any number of these things which is a pain in itself. But it’s the effects of this worry, or the influence of this worry, that bother me, and less the worry itself.
I had a conversation with this morning with the boy, where I mentioned how these past few months have been pretty hard. We ended up having a long e-mail conversation about what exactly I meant, which is not the relationship-centered thought he had (‘no it hasn’t, we’ve been great!’), but the individual-centered one I had (‘we have each had our frustrations recently’). It got me thinking how these frustrations never go away. Ever.
So what makes a really happy time different from a less-than-happy time, even with the same frustrations? (Because, my car-money problems now are equivalent to my house-money problems and my recently-lost-my-job money problems and my medication-money related problems etc.) I’m not sure. Endorphins? I am inclined to say that my cure-all-might-as-well-be-CALORIC answer of Oxytocin is the difference. But maybe not. Maybe these times are just needed, because, whenever I have one of these days I go home and I am ever so much more disciplined about all these little things. And someday, maybe, they will become habit. And I will have fewer of these days.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Links for Friends
For fear of facebook.. and all its consequences.. I am posting a bunch of articles I have found that remind me of my girlfriends here:
because i think that boredom is the First Deadly Sin: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gretchen-rubin/balanced-life----eight-ti_b_376546.html
because it's true: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mark-goulston-md/just-listen----there-are_b_385733.html
to continue this conversation: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/leora-tanenbaum/girl-bashing-its-conseque_b_383982.html
because it's true and YOU SHOULD ALL READ THIS: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-alex-benzer/why-do-the-smartest-women_b_382870.html (fortunately I absolve myself from these because a) you all are smarter than me and b) i don't need the advice right now)(and the adjacent blogs: http://ivyleagueinsecurities.com/ and this one: http://taoofdating.com/)
because it's you: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/therese-borchard/10-types-of-female-friend_b_379258.html
because i think that boredom is the First Deadly Sin: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gretchen-rubin/balanced-life----eight-ti_b_376546.html
because it's true: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mark-goulston-md/just-listen----there-are_b_385733.html
to continue this conversation: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/leora-tanenbaum/girl-bashing-its-conseque_b_383982.html
because it's true and YOU SHOULD ALL READ THIS: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-alex-benzer/why-do-the-smartest-women_b_382870.html (fortunately I absolve myself from these because a) you all are smarter than me and b) i don't need the advice right now)(and the adjacent blogs: http://ivyleagueinsecurities.com/ and this one: http://taoofdating.com/)
because it's you: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/therese-borchard/10-types-of-female-friend_b_379258.html
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
The Body Is Like Mary
The body is like Mary and each of us has a Jesus inside.
Who is not in labor, holy labor? Every creature is.
See the value of true art when the earth or a soul is in
the mood to create beauty,
for the witness might then for a moment know beyond
any doubt, God is really there within,
so innocently drawing life from us with Her umbilical
universe,
though also needing to be born, yes God also needs to be
born,
birth from a hand's loving touch, birth from a song breathing
life into this world.
The body is like Mary, and each of us, each of us, has a
Christ within.
The body is like Mary and each of us has a Jesus inside.
Who is not in labor, holy labor? Every creature is.
See the value of true art when the earth or a soul is in
the mood to create beauty,
for the witness might then for a moment know beyond
any doubt, God is really there within,
so innocently drawing life from us with Her umbilical
universe,
though also needing to be born, yes God also needs to be
born,
birth from a hand's loving touch, birth from a song breathing
life into this world.
The body is like Mary, and each of us, each of us, has a
Christ within.
Ancient Greeks + Sexuality
My friends this is interesting. More later, as it is a very ripe conversation, but right now my head is not in the game. I'll let it simmer.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Running Update: Eleven Miles
I aborted running this weekend for several weekends: a) Sophie was in town (Oh I ADORE a great excuse to eat too much bad food, drink too much, and spend infinite hours sitting around, and Sophie is one such wonderful excuse) and b) It snowed. QED no long run until Monday evening, after work. This run, my friends, was beautiful. Just cold enough to keep you running, and wicking the sweat off, but not so cold I needed a hat. And evenings running down to Georgetown and around the mall are full of light and people and the feelings that you are truly accomplishing something (because, somehow, all the accomplishment you are surrounded by rubs off, I guess). So – eleven miles. The first six were, actually, wonderful and swift and constant, in another headspace. The seventh was a bit difficult, and the last four were quite hard because I had not rehydrated or brought any snacks (I will have to figure out what to do about this in the future). Interestingly enough, I did not suffer loneliness or demotivation, and my ipod on simple music provided enough background noise to shut off thoughts. I walked a lot in the last few miles, which reminded how much harder it is to stop and start again. My muscles were sore, and I am still suffering from terrible chafing injuries. But no side effects of shin splints or sore knees, but definite hunger throughout the night. Today I am not as sore as I expected, and feel like I can continue these long runs -with modifications for fuel of course – for the course of it. For now, at least.
Monday, December 7, 2009
friends?
This one should also be rotate I think
Also - I'm beginning to be worried that I understand the TV show "Friends" so much that my 12 year old self is worried. sympathies?
Also - I'm beginning to be worried that I understand the TV show "Friends" so much that my 12 year old self is worried. sympathies?
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The purple flowers...
I tried to rotate this picture (it didn't work)
but I LOVED this flowers, they were EVERYWHERE! i am STILL considering a tattoo -
the purple is vibrant and thorough, and the presence was such a strength in those unnecessary runs...
but I LOVED this flowers, they were EVERYWHERE! i am STILL considering a tattoo -
the purple is vibrant and thorough, and the presence was such a strength in those unnecessary runs...
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Running Update: Runner FAIL
Let me note that I have learned my lesson about the importance of consistency in any practice. Let me also reveal to you the result of a more-or-less accidental week off from my running plan: a terrible no good very bad run. And less motivation. Last week there were excuses galore for skipping the required run, and every day I got closer and closer, to the point where I wore my running gear around all day, to actually getting out there. Making the lack of the run that much greater of a fail.
Anyhoodle, I got back on the saddle/pavement Sat. for a sad 3 mile, and was gung ho about a morning Monday run, like I usually am, because Mondays are easiest because of the new start and all. But, Sunday night I slept terribly and every time I woke up my mind lingered on the great heat created by- and the deep weight of- and the pretty much necessary onslaught of – SHIN SPLINTS. So I decided to run in the evening, and I did, and I did some strength training, and I took yesterday off but for the yoga (so NOT the result of a bad day and a mom-induced happy hour, or the hour or two of chatting I did with the roommate, no definitely no, it was intentional). But this morning I got up and ran a great 3.5 miles and I think I’m tricking these buggers to go away! TAKE THAT inevitable evils!!!
On another note, I have been taking stock of my diet lately, and I just want to share with you how ridiculous I am. Here is what I have been eating for, oh, weeks now:
Breakfast: oatmeal with molasses, dried apricots, flax seeds, and brown sugar OR pumpkin flax seed muffin with a one-egg cheese omelet
Snack: green smoothie of banana, spinach, and cranberry juice
Lunch: leftover dinner, examples: turnips and lentils with a miso-tahini sauce plus brussel sprouts OR barbecue baked chicken and lots of braised kale
Snack: carrot and greek yogurt with pumpkin seeds
Snack: apple and peanut butter
Dinner: see above
Dessert: warm milk, natty bo, or applesauce.
This is bizarre to me. I feel like I am single handedly debunking my own need to be reckless by all this wake-up-and-run-and-yoga-and-eat-only-vitamins-and-sleep-and-read-and-make-things-and-not-television-unless-making-things person. What, am I, like, becoming who I WANT to be, or something? Negatory. Scratch that. Still aimless in life. Still kinda pretty much bored. Still pretty Effin selfish. Whatevs.
Anyhoodle, I got back on the saddle/pavement Sat. for a sad 3 mile, and was gung ho about a morning Monday run, like I usually am, because Mondays are easiest because of the new start and all. But, Sunday night I slept terribly and every time I woke up my mind lingered on the great heat created by- and the deep weight of- and the pretty much necessary onslaught of – SHIN SPLINTS. So I decided to run in the evening, and I did, and I did some strength training, and I took yesterday off but for the yoga (so NOT the result of a bad day and a mom-induced happy hour, or the hour or two of chatting I did with the roommate, no definitely no, it was intentional). But this morning I got up and ran a great 3.5 miles and I think I’m tricking these buggers to go away! TAKE THAT inevitable evils!!!
On another note, I have been taking stock of my diet lately, and I just want to share with you how ridiculous I am. Here is what I have been eating for, oh, weeks now:
Breakfast: oatmeal with molasses, dried apricots, flax seeds, and brown sugar OR pumpkin flax seed muffin with a one-egg cheese omelet
Snack: green smoothie of banana, spinach, and cranberry juice
Lunch: leftover dinner, examples: turnips and lentils with a miso-tahini sauce plus brussel sprouts OR barbecue baked chicken and lots of braised kale
Snack: carrot and greek yogurt with pumpkin seeds
Snack: apple and peanut butter
Dinner: see above
Dessert: warm milk, natty bo, or applesauce.
This is bizarre to me. I feel like I am single handedly debunking my own need to be reckless by all this wake-up-and-run-and-yoga-and-eat-only-vitamins-and-sleep-and-read-and-make-things-and-not-television-unless-making-things person. What, am I, like, becoming who I WANT to be, or something? Negatory. Scratch that. Still aimless in life. Still kinda pretty much bored. Still pretty Effin selfish. Whatevs.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
That kind of month..
I seem to be having one of those months – you know, the kind where you wake up early but decide to be unproductive and regret it, when you make a great breakfast but burn the egg and the coffee gets cold because in your desperate attempt to make the time even better and fully enjoy it, you spend too long trying to make sure the seventybajillion weird pieces of hair that are pouting out at all directions because your hair stylist was bored actually do something worthy of an office? The kind of months where your lips are permanently chapped and your finger sprout hangnails like they have been coated in miracle grow. The kind of month where all of a sudden you feel like an entirely different person. A month where you are blamed for your boss’ mistakes, and doubt your capabilities.
Who do I feel like? That’s right, a hipster. I feel THAT weird. As you know, I have been reading a lot about them on the interwubs. And basically all being a hipster is, is being twenty something and confused and a little worried about ending up a yuppy. Also, hating hipsters is a pretty hipster thing to do. Now that there is a movie coming out, and books about it, and blogs about it, and ironic blogs about it, hipsterness is relegated to yet another generational phenomenon – like being Punk, or Hippies, or Alternative. It’s certainly not just an aesthetic phenomenon, because as far as I can tell most of us look a lot like hipsters to a 50 year old. We all love vintage shopping. And the idea of tattoos. And cheap beer – although, I don’t drink PBR (I drink Natty Bo, and only because Clarke left it in my fridge). It’s about not knowing what to do with your Fing life. So, we are all basically in line with Mulesy, the Flemmings, Wiley, et. al... at least it will seem that way when we’re 35. Sorry.
Also, I made a gigantic fool of myself this past weekend with my high school girlfriends. Which is pretty much the norm. And I spent all weekend stressing about it, which is also the norm. Every time I feel I have gotten to a great space where I have left everything I need to prove to them aside, I see them again and I get all huffy with myself and try too hard and say the wrong things and get upset. I think I need more alone with them, to remind myself they are my friends and not a panel of Tutors judging me for my Life Progress. Also, tip of the week, when you come into a gigantic and happy revelation about your relationship that happens to deal with just you and only you, don’t tell the first old friend who will listen. A) She will probably take it the way you said it, which was not at all what you meant b) You are more excited that the reality needs you to be c) It might make her feel bad. But, once you do this, forget about it and stop hating your decisions. I promise it will make the weekend better.
Who do I feel like? That’s right, a hipster. I feel THAT weird. As you know, I have been reading a lot about them on the interwubs. And basically all being a hipster is, is being twenty something and confused and a little worried about ending up a yuppy. Also, hating hipsters is a pretty hipster thing to do. Now that there is a movie coming out, and books about it, and blogs about it, and ironic blogs about it, hipsterness is relegated to yet another generational phenomenon – like being Punk, or Hippies, or Alternative. It’s certainly not just an aesthetic phenomenon, because as far as I can tell most of us look a lot like hipsters to a 50 year old. We all love vintage shopping. And the idea of tattoos. And cheap beer – although, I don’t drink PBR (I drink Natty Bo, and only because Clarke left it in my fridge). It’s about not knowing what to do with your Fing life. So, we are all basically in line with Mulesy, the Flemmings, Wiley, et. al... at least it will seem that way when we’re 35. Sorry.
Also, I made a gigantic fool of myself this past weekend with my high school girlfriends. Which is pretty much the norm. And I spent all weekend stressing about it, which is also the norm. Every time I feel I have gotten to a great space where I have left everything I need to prove to them aside, I see them again and I get all huffy with myself and try too hard and say the wrong things and get upset. I think I need more alone with them, to remind myself they are my friends and not a panel of Tutors judging me for my Life Progress. Also, tip of the week, when you come into a gigantic and happy revelation about your relationship that happens to deal with just you and only you, don’t tell the first old friend who will listen. A) She will probably take it the way you said it, which was not at all what you meant b) You are more excited that the reality needs you to be c) It might make her feel bad. But, once you do this, forget about it and stop hating your decisions. I promise it will make the weekend better.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Schedules
Friends
the next few posts will be pictures of a past notebook -
I have kept a journal since I was given a leather covered sketchbook for my 15th birthday. I have bought the same notebook and kept the same cover since then. I have kept schedules, articles, comics, sketches, journal entries, notes, pictures, lists, and plans in them. Some of them are quite insightful. Some of them are crap. Some of them are important because they reveal what I have forgotten.
So.
The next few posts will be pictures of some of them.
I believe the next bunch will be from 2006-2007. I will explain what I can remember.
the next few posts will be pictures of a past notebook -
I have kept a journal since I was given a leather covered sketchbook for my 15th birthday. I have bought the same notebook and kept the same cover since then. I have kept schedules, articles, comics, sketches, journal entries, notes, pictures, lists, and plans in them. Some of them are quite insightful. Some of them are crap. Some of them are important because they reveal what I have forgotten.
So.
The next few posts will be pictures of some of them.
I believe the next bunch will be from 2006-2007. I will explain what I can remember.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Internet Surfings
Again, I have been perusing the blog-o-sphere and found several thoughts in my journey:
- There are so many artists that sell their papercrafts online and show their beautiful sketchbook photos, that I kinda want to try my hand at it. I have been making my own cards since I was 2 and have always come back to these crafts eventually. Perhaps my yearning to start some kind of online business means I should spend more time on my furniture – but it’s winter and there is no space to do it, so maybe I should just change by hobby to sketching and painting small cards and see where it goes and call it a day.
- I still feel a need to supplement my education and am trying to find an online course to take – I found one for Travel Writing at the community college, but kind of want to find one on ecology or Environmental Biology. I just found one course I would enjoy taking that runs 3 hours a week Jan through May but it costs $409!!! For ONE COURSE! Jeez!!! If you’re paying for the credits and don’t need them – can’t they give you a discount for passion??
- I JUST WANT TO GET RID OF THIS DAMN CAR!
- I’ve been harboring a bit of a Design fetish lately and can’t seem to find enough beautiful things to look at – furniture, interiors, decorations, nicknacks, patterns etc. anything. Yesterday I spent a good three hours looking at random people’s wedding photos on a wedding website because a) I just got my period and wanted to cry a little bit and b) they are just so damn beautiful and inspiring in a crafty I-want-to-go-to-the-variety-store-and-spend-my-night-making-christmas-cards-out-of-confetti type way.
- I will never have enough house plants, but I have entirely run out of room to store them.
QED. I think I’m bored.
- There are so many artists that sell their papercrafts online and show their beautiful sketchbook photos, that I kinda want to try my hand at it. I have been making my own cards since I was 2 and have always come back to these crafts eventually. Perhaps my yearning to start some kind of online business means I should spend more time on my furniture – but it’s winter and there is no space to do it, so maybe I should just change by hobby to sketching and painting small cards and see where it goes and call it a day.
- I still feel a need to supplement my education and am trying to find an online course to take – I found one for Travel Writing at the community college, but kind of want to find one on ecology or Environmental Biology. I just found one course I would enjoy taking that runs 3 hours a week Jan through May but it costs $409!!! For ONE COURSE! Jeez!!! If you’re paying for the credits and don’t need them – can’t they give you a discount for passion??
- I JUST WANT TO GET RID OF THIS DAMN CAR!
- I’ve been harboring a bit of a Design fetish lately and can’t seem to find enough beautiful things to look at – furniture, interiors, decorations, nicknacks, patterns etc. anything. Yesterday I spent a good three hours looking at random people’s wedding photos on a wedding website because a) I just got my period and wanted to cry a little bit and b) they are just so damn beautiful and inspiring in a crafty I-want-to-go-to-the-variety-store-and-spend-my-night-making-christmas-cards-out-of-confetti type way.
- I will never have enough house plants, but I have entirely run out of room to store them.
QED. I think I’m bored.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Hipsters
Today I started to do a little digging into the dreaded Hipster phenomenon, inspired by my roommates UNNECESSARY name calling the other night. First of all, no hipster self-identifies as one. Apparently, even hipsters hate hipsters.
Wikipedia gives a long entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hipster_(contemporary_subculture) that follows the Hipster lineage from the Beatniks and further to Whites Who Love Jazz. A general consensus is the “Alternative” movement that focuses on Black Culture.
Urban Dictionary gives an entry:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=hipster in its usual user-pitted argumentative style that again defines it as an Alternative lifestyle choice.
There are many other attempts to define what a Hipster is, and all of them agree on these things: the appearance of a hipster is a major component; a liberal education and a focus on the arts, philosophy, and little-known music and its roots in the origins of rock and roll; a love of PBR; their birds-of-a-feather mentality; and all agree on the ever important appearance of the male hipster, with the greatest discrepancy in the haircut and whether it should be androgynous with bangs or angular (both should be unkempt and longer) (Basically the descriptions vary from Mr. Sailor to Daddy Hanover). There are even DIVISIONS amongst the hipster milieu – Natural Hipsters, Hip-Hop Hipsters, and hipsters in Chicago, NY and San Fran. Apparently, they are all, however, “Deck” (have you even HEARD this word before? And WHERE?).
The appearance of the female hipster, however, is widely disputed. Some places claim the female must have an equally androgynous haircut with wide-swept bangs while others say just long and unkempt. Some hipster girls must wear long vintage dresses, some tight jeans and leggings, some matching big-belts-and-heels, others cutoffs and converse, etc. Tattoos aren’t even mandatory on the females!!!! WHAT?!! But yes, scarves are. According to all of these descriptions the following of our female friends are hipsters: K the Roommate, L in Florida, Braines, Thompson Girl, Aurora, Ms. L. Wright, Everyone in Santa Fe, The Flemings, Nicholson, etc. and of course, myself. We can’t ALL be hipsters?! Some of you don’t even drink PBR! I rarely wear scarves anymore! And L’s hair is NEVER messy.
Here is a funny article dedicated to finding the Most Alternative Couple: http://www.hipsterrunoff.com/2009/01/in-search-of-the-most-alternative-couple-on-earth.html
NYPD has even RENAMED hipsters: http://gothamist.com/2009/10/12/nypd_has_new_name_for_hipsters.php (Hint, the new name is Marshmallow).
A journalist must defend his love for McSweeneys against the hipster ID: http://archives.secretsofthecity.com/magazine/blogs/cracking-spine/2008/04/defense-hipster-literature
2003 saw the publishing of a Handbook: http://www.hipsterhandbook.com/clues.html
Wikipedia gives a long entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hipster_(contemporary_subculture) that follows the Hipster lineage from the Beatniks and further to Whites Who Love Jazz. A general consensus is the “Alternative” movement that focuses on Black Culture.
Urban Dictionary gives an entry:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=hipster in its usual user-pitted argumentative style that again defines it as an Alternative lifestyle choice.
There are many other attempts to define what a Hipster is, and all of them agree on these things: the appearance of a hipster is a major component; a liberal education and a focus on the arts, philosophy, and little-known music and its roots in the origins of rock and roll; a love of PBR; their birds-of-a-feather mentality; and all agree on the ever important appearance of the male hipster, with the greatest discrepancy in the haircut and whether it should be androgynous with bangs or angular (both should be unkempt and longer) (Basically the descriptions vary from Mr. Sailor to Daddy Hanover). There are even DIVISIONS amongst the hipster milieu – Natural Hipsters, Hip-Hop Hipsters, and hipsters in Chicago, NY and San Fran. Apparently, they are all, however, “Deck” (have you even HEARD this word before? And WHERE?).
The appearance of the female hipster, however, is widely disputed. Some places claim the female must have an equally androgynous haircut with wide-swept bangs while others say just long and unkempt. Some hipster girls must wear long vintage dresses, some tight jeans and leggings, some matching big-belts-and-heels, others cutoffs and converse, etc. Tattoos aren’t even mandatory on the females!!!! WHAT?!! But yes, scarves are. According to all of these descriptions the following of our female friends are hipsters: K the Roommate, L in Florida, Braines, Thompson Girl, Aurora, Ms. L. Wright, Everyone in Santa Fe, The Flemings, Nicholson, etc. and of course, myself. We can’t ALL be hipsters?! Some of you don’t even drink PBR! I rarely wear scarves anymore! And L’s hair is NEVER messy.
Here is a funny article dedicated to finding the Most Alternative Couple: http://www.hipsterrunoff.com/2009/01/in-search-of-the-most-alternative-couple-on-earth.html
NYPD has even RENAMED hipsters: http://gothamist.com/2009/10/12/nypd_has_new_name_for_hipsters.php (Hint, the new name is Marshmallow).
A journalist must defend his love for McSweeneys against the hipster ID: http://archives.secretsofthecity.com/magazine/blogs/cracking-spine/2008/04/defense-hipster-literature
2003 saw the publishing of a Handbook: http://www.hipsterhandbook.com/clues.html
Happiness Project
Have you heard of the site the Happiness Project? http://www.happiness-project.com/ This lady has made a name for herself! She has spent a year investigating and blogging about every attempt at happiness imaginable, and has inspired many many others to do the same. What a great gift – to inspire quests into happiness in a lighthearted, earnest, and open minded way!
I guess, though, what I was wondering is if this is perhaps my Happiness Project? Not the blog, per say, but all of the various experiments that I write about in it. The cooking, the love, the lifestyle design, the personal improvement, the laziness, the fitness, the friends, the goals, the ignoring of goals, the writing, the sleeping, the drinking, the waking up. My friends, I want you to tell me some of the things you do consciously to move towards happiness.
Digression:
One pet peeve I have in all these blogs I read about is the endnote question. It seems there is some unspoken rule on certain more “successful” bloggers that they write a post about their day or their trip or their thoughts or their project and then, at the end, usually in bold face with *** surrounding it and italics, a question, such as *** what pumpkin recipes do you cook with*** or ***what are your running challenges*** or ***what do you do on your birthday*** (these are referencing my own past posts so you can see how related they are). Basically, these take the place, I think, to a) make bloggers feel like they aren’t just writing an online journal b) inspire comments, which in turn pull up the blogger in the google ranks so it can be more findable and popular, thus making the blogger feel like they are writing what is NOT just a very popular online journal.
This, however, is my personal blog and reader feedback is much appreciated, but unnecessary fundamentally to the success of this blog. However, if I were working on a blog that I was attempting to profit off of, or that was in connection to a site that I was trying to profit off of, I would probably try all these various little attempts to interact with the readers that occur – endnote questions, contests and giveaways, polls, etc.
BUT again, this is a personal blog, with a goal to help keep in touch with friends. So, friends, I ask again - ***what are your personal happiness projects***
P.S. That was a joke. That last bit being an endnote question. But I do want to know. K. I know you write and read Faulkner, L. you draw anime and watch obscure movies with particular humour, S. you read Austen and watch 007, R. you ride and think and run, but is there anything else that you have found recently? What are the little things (think Amelie) that make you pleased to be around? I am intensely curious… and I don’t really have the attention to ask you all individually. Is this weird?
I guess, though, what I was wondering is if this is perhaps my Happiness Project? Not the blog, per say, but all of the various experiments that I write about in it. The cooking, the love, the lifestyle design, the personal improvement, the laziness, the fitness, the friends, the goals, the ignoring of goals, the writing, the sleeping, the drinking, the waking up. My friends, I want you to tell me some of the things you do consciously to move towards happiness.
Digression:
One pet peeve I have in all these blogs I read about is the endnote question. It seems there is some unspoken rule on certain more “successful” bloggers that they write a post about their day or their trip or their thoughts or their project and then, at the end, usually in bold face with *** surrounding it and italics, a question, such as *** what pumpkin recipes do you cook with*** or ***what are your running challenges*** or ***what do you do on your birthday*** (these are referencing my own past posts so you can see how related they are). Basically, these take the place, I think, to a) make bloggers feel like they aren’t just writing an online journal b) inspire comments, which in turn pull up the blogger in the google ranks so it can be more findable and popular, thus making the blogger feel like they are writing what is NOT just a very popular online journal.
This, however, is my personal blog and reader feedback is much appreciated, but unnecessary fundamentally to the success of this blog. However, if I were working on a blog that I was attempting to profit off of, or that was in connection to a site that I was trying to profit off of, I would probably try all these various little attempts to interact with the readers that occur – endnote questions, contests and giveaways, polls, etc.
BUT again, this is a personal blog, with a goal to help keep in touch with friends. So, friends, I ask again - ***what are your personal happiness projects***
P.S. That was a joke. That last bit being an endnote question. But I do want to know. K. I know you write and read Faulkner, L. you draw anime and watch obscure movies with particular humour, S. you read Austen and watch 007, R. you ride and think and run, but is there anything else that you have found recently? What are the little things (think Amelie) that make you pleased to be around? I am intensely curious… and I don’t really have the attention to ask you all individually. Is this weird?
Running Update
This past weekend’s run was not at all what I thought – it was a beautiful, glorious warm Nov. morning and the nine miles were comprised of a mix-and-match of various length routes around my house. The first five miles were relatively easy, flowing and gentle, and the next mile before I paused to refuel was a bit harder than I expected, which should make the Turkey Chase 10K interesting (Note to self- pick up race packet this evening!). The next three miles were easy again, I barely remember them. The entire time I guess I just tuned out to my headphones and went one foot in front of the other. The yoga I did after was hard from being so stiff, and Sunday I rested my legs except for some yoga, which was much needed. Today my hill run was harder than the last one I did – but I did notice that I was going much, much faster than I expected on the uphills and even grades. I LOVE getting to work, seeing the clock at 10 AM, and realizing I have already run, done my yoga, ate a great breakfast, read, showered, cleaned, and worked for an hour. The day is already successful!
I have been reading a lot about designing training programs and diet associated with it. More specifically, on how NOT to gain weight during marathon training. Apparently this is a pretty big deal. All these long runs and increasing mileage also increases appetite. Go figure. Well, this appetite combined with the knowledge that you have just run all those many miles, allows for increased greasy food consumption, or GFC, such as several pieces of pizza, regularly. This, of course, leads to gained poundage, which is pretty much NOT the anticipated result of marathon training.
Now, I would like to not gain weight. In fact, I wouldn’t mind it if I shed a few pounds for the effort of 40 mile weeks. But a few pieces of pizza aren’t uncommon for a Saturday night dinner. I have taken to occasionally mapping my day’s diet and breaking it up into percentages of fats, carbs and protein to see if it meets the ideal 25-50-25 ratio (don’t worry, I’m laughing at myself too). Just to check, you know? And the result is – I don’t care that much. I think I’m fine. I don’t eat that much, and when I occasionally do eat more than my allotted calorie intake, its in booze and pizza and I’m not about to give that up because I’m worried last night’s fifteen miler won’t shave off the extra pounds I’m not even holding onto. On that note, what if I’m not eating enough and instead I produce a lot of cortisol and start gaining weight conversely? Again – whatever. People don’t die of this stuff. They just freak themselves out.
But I think I am feeling the results of the strength training – knee and ankle are almost back to 100% and apparently I am increasing in speed. Yay! Now, I just have to get through this first wave of training that focuses on building mileage, and I’ll be set to focus more on speed and strength and less on injury prevention. The goal is to remain at or around 35 mile weeks for 2/3 of training, and to build the long runs so that I run one 26 mile run, and a bout three over 20 miles (I know, a lot of training plans say never to run over 22 miles, but I believe that I will hit the wall at wherever I have stopped training, and I am afraid of the wall, and I also believe that if I keep my total week’s mileage around 35-40, then if half of this is compiled in one run, then that’s okay.)
Now, on to doing some work (yeah right…)!
UPDATE: i remember why I started writing this post: i'm hungry.sorry.
I have been reading a lot about designing training programs and diet associated with it. More specifically, on how NOT to gain weight during marathon training. Apparently this is a pretty big deal. All these long runs and increasing mileage also increases appetite. Go figure. Well, this appetite combined with the knowledge that you have just run all those many miles, allows for increased greasy food consumption, or GFC, such as several pieces of pizza, regularly. This, of course, leads to gained poundage, which is pretty much NOT the anticipated result of marathon training.
Now, I would like to not gain weight. In fact, I wouldn’t mind it if I shed a few pounds for the effort of 40 mile weeks. But a few pieces of pizza aren’t uncommon for a Saturday night dinner. I have taken to occasionally mapping my day’s diet and breaking it up into percentages of fats, carbs and protein to see if it meets the ideal 25-50-25 ratio (don’t worry, I’m laughing at myself too). Just to check, you know? And the result is – I don’t care that much. I think I’m fine. I don’t eat that much, and when I occasionally do eat more than my allotted calorie intake, its in booze and pizza and I’m not about to give that up because I’m worried last night’s fifteen miler won’t shave off the extra pounds I’m not even holding onto. On that note, what if I’m not eating enough and instead I produce a lot of cortisol and start gaining weight conversely? Again – whatever. People don’t die of this stuff. They just freak themselves out.
But I think I am feeling the results of the strength training – knee and ankle are almost back to 100% and apparently I am increasing in speed. Yay! Now, I just have to get through this first wave of training that focuses on building mileage, and I’ll be set to focus more on speed and strength and less on injury prevention. The goal is to remain at or around 35 mile weeks for 2/3 of training, and to build the long runs so that I run one 26 mile run, and a bout three over 20 miles (I know, a lot of training plans say never to run over 22 miles, but I believe that I will hit the wall at wherever I have stopped training, and I am afraid of the wall, and I also believe that if I keep my total week’s mileage around 35-40, then if half of this is compiled in one run, then that’s okay.)
Now, on to doing some work (yeah right…)!
UPDATE: i remember why I started writing this post: i'm hungry.sorry.
Birthday
Now friends, most of you know how I thoroughly dislike my birthday. It is a combination of bad birthday’s past, and the general belief that every day of my life is a cause for celebration. I do believe, however, that my dislike should be surmounted and that it is a pretty good marker for reflection and goal setting.
That being said, this past birthday was pretty close to perfect. I slept long, woke early, cleaned the way I had planned for weeks, ran a great 9 miles (more on that later), did some yoga, made great food, showered, and listened to my records, hung out with people I love, and generally exhausted myself. There were no extravagant gifts, so I did not have to get upset (I am silly) and yet there was just enough love that by the time we went out with friends I was pretty much ready to burst with happiness. I spent a good four hours dancing around my living room to the amusement of my boyfriend and my roommate, and needless to say, myself.
My mother brought me roses and a cheesecake, my godmother a comfy sweater, and my brother a great big hug. My friends were utterly thoughtful and gave me things that I had broken but loved and wouldn’t both to get again myself. A great gifts came from Danny and the records that make me feel like I am RICH beyond belief. I never thought that these things could make me feel like I had a million bucks in the bank, but great music, I guess, is riches to me!
The second great gift is my boyfriend. I am going to rant a little on him so if you aren’t into hearing gushiness then stop reading here! This weekend he proved, yet again, how much of a great man he is. And ladies, you know what I mean, we have had the discussion on what it takes to be a man, and applied to our friends, dissecting them, pulling apart pieces of what kind of strength it takes. Well, here is this man. He is attentive at every possible moment. He listens to the point of remembering details that I don’t, and past the words too (His birthday gift was a big French press- which he decided on after remembering how I disliked the small size of the last one that I broke, and how I had been lamenting the lack of early morning coffee since the coffee shop closed. Not too much, but still enough to prove something. And PRACTICAL and USABLE – not just stuff!!). Sunday I woke up weird – I was sore from the run, sore from cramps I had not expected, tired, dehydrated, I apparently had a weird dream where I yelled at him because I woke up feeling like we had fought, and was just unhappy. He wrapped me up, squeezed some of the pain away, asked if he could make me breakfast in bed, and took me for a walk. He was gentle enough so that I couldn’t tell until later how he had used his tremendous strength to a)soak up my sadness b)understand it was not personal and c)try to empathize. I am so surrounded by love in his presence that I decided it feels like being in a womb (weird comparison?). WHAT A MAN! What a lucky woman I am!!!!
Of course, I am lucky. I have you as friends to read my inane thoughts! Thanks for being around guys – I love you !
That being said, this past birthday was pretty close to perfect. I slept long, woke early, cleaned the way I had planned for weeks, ran a great 9 miles (more on that later), did some yoga, made great food, showered, and listened to my records, hung out with people I love, and generally exhausted myself. There were no extravagant gifts, so I did not have to get upset (I am silly) and yet there was just enough love that by the time we went out with friends I was pretty much ready to burst with happiness. I spent a good four hours dancing around my living room to the amusement of my boyfriend and my roommate, and needless to say, myself.
My mother brought me roses and a cheesecake, my godmother a comfy sweater, and my brother a great big hug. My friends were utterly thoughtful and gave me things that I had broken but loved and wouldn’t both to get again myself. A great gifts came from Danny and the records that make me feel like I am RICH beyond belief. I never thought that these things could make me feel like I had a million bucks in the bank, but great music, I guess, is riches to me!
The second great gift is my boyfriend. I am going to rant a little on him so if you aren’t into hearing gushiness then stop reading here! This weekend he proved, yet again, how much of a great man he is. And ladies, you know what I mean, we have had the discussion on what it takes to be a man, and applied to our friends, dissecting them, pulling apart pieces of what kind of strength it takes. Well, here is this man. He is attentive at every possible moment. He listens to the point of remembering details that I don’t, and past the words too (His birthday gift was a big French press- which he decided on after remembering how I disliked the small size of the last one that I broke, and how I had been lamenting the lack of early morning coffee since the coffee shop closed. Not too much, but still enough to prove something. And PRACTICAL and USABLE – not just stuff!!). Sunday I woke up weird – I was sore from the run, sore from cramps I had not expected, tired, dehydrated, I apparently had a weird dream where I yelled at him because I woke up feeling like we had fought, and was just unhappy. He wrapped me up, squeezed some of the pain away, asked if he could make me breakfast in bed, and took me for a walk. He was gentle enough so that I couldn’t tell until later how he had used his tremendous strength to a)soak up my sadness b)understand it was not personal and c)try to empathize. I am so surrounded by love in his presence that I decided it feels like being in a womb (weird comparison?). WHAT A MAN! What a lucky woman I am!!!!
Of course, I am lucky. I have you as friends to read my inane thoughts! Thanks for being around guys – I love you !
Friday, November 20, 2009
Cards
I did these at work. I promise they are nicer looking in person. Scans do notecards no justice.
Updates
First of all,
Which bag do I like better?
i like the pockets of the one, and the interior of the other, but they do not show the interior of the one with pockets!!!
Second of all,
Why did I not know about this before? Sophie found it on wikipedia - Matisse even spelled my NAME correctly!! (the picture is named Annelies).
It is a BLONDE girl with A BOOK with my name spelled CORRECTLY.
Clearly, Matisse knew me.
Clearly, I am artwork.
Best. Birthday Gift. Ever.
Thanks Sophie!
Which bag do I like better?
i like the pockets of the one, and the interior of the other, but they do not show the interior of the one with pockets!!!
Second of all,
Why did I not know about this before? Sophie found it on wikipedia - Matisse even spelled my NAME correctly!! (the picture is named Annelies).
It is a BLONDE girl with A BOOK with my name spelled CORRECTLY.
Clearly, Matisse knew me.
Clearly, I am artwork.
Best. Birthday Gift. Ever.
Thanks Sophie!
A growing list of resolutions
I resolve, in my 24th Year, to execute the following:
- I will not drink without the company of another individual
- I will move out of Maryland
- I will run the Paris Marathon on April 11, 2010
- I will sell my car
- I will practice yoga daily
- I will develop my furniture portfolio
- I will do more nice things for those I love
- I will send more letters and packages
- I will bake more cookies
- I will listen to more records
- I will read more and watch TV less
- I will volunteer for causes I love
- I will not drink without the company of another individual
- I will move out of Maryland
- I will run the Paris Marathon on April 11, 2010
- I will sell my car
- I will practice yoga daily
- I will develop my furniture portfolio
- I will do more nice things for those I love
- I will send more letters and packages
- I will bake more cookies
- I will listen to more records
- I will read more and watch TV less
- I will volunteer for causes I love
Thursday, November 19, 2009
november thunder
these deep thunders occur long after sleep should happen - the lightening resonates as if they were the same flood lights that last night's road restoration graced our popular corner. The growls are not soft, nor are they worth ignoring. these storms should be months too old. instead, they are remminder. these past thirty days have been too warm - so warm coats stayed dry, deep sweaters remain buried under winter pants and our fireplaces are still smelling of mold instead of fresh air and oak. this lightening reminds us that we are not expected, that we should be curled up in arguyle and wool, that short sleeves are not resplendant right now.
is this fixable?
is this fixable?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thoughts on Lifestyle Design
In the dwindling days of my 23rd year, I am adventuring. I am seeing all the great changes I have gone through in the past year, all the goals I have accomplished, and most importantly, all the new ones I have made.
Increasingly, I have found myself drawn towards the concepts involved in location independence, nomadic lifestyles, lifestyle design, etc. I read many many blogs by people who are living this lifestyle and who pertain to teach you how to do it themselves. Interestingly enough, most of them have read The Four Hour Work Week, and maintain the same principles behind their progress: create a blog, save money, travel, earn money off blog.
But I have several thoughts on this: The first is more or less summed by this article: http://www.dropofchange.com/why-lifestyle-design-is-self-indulgent/. Traveling and seeing the world is all great and good, and even necessary I believe for the utmost education of a person (as at least fifty percent of philosophers would agree, the others maintaining that we can derive all we need from home. They, I believe, were just highly introverted. And sex starved. But I digress…) and there are many other virtues that I agree with, as I am burning with the desire to do it myself. However, we cannot all do it, and we cannot all do it forever. There has to be some end to it, some other purpose, such as learning about one topic, or language, or about yourself, or finding your roots or discovering life principles, etc. Even adventure is enough of an end. But endlessly wandering off earned money from a passive site about your endless wanderings is, more or less, pretty selfish. I know, you are not using up commodities as other more sedentary lives do, and I know, you are contributing to the world through experience and positive juju and relationships etc. But there are jobs that need to get done, and good deeds to do and people to help and crises that need to be solved and living every day towards enriching your own life without further thought to what it is going towards is, I am sorry, selfish. I could go on forever.
Another thought is Hell, I could do this! I hate the idea of coming up with yet another travel blog because as many of them as I peruse, I cannot imagine that I could come up with some angle that has not already been taken. I can, however, probably come up with something else, that does not involve 35 Ways to Become a Better Minimalist or 47 Things to See in the Phillipines or 72 Reasons You Should Give Up On Regular Society, Avoid Real Work, Leave Your Family and Friends, and Selfishly Travel Forever And Ever Just Like Me. However, I can write. And I can write about things. And I can publish them to the internet to try to earn a few cents on it and I can keep up with friends, learn a language, research water management, learn to cook, meet people, see beautiful things, and develop values that will last a lifetime all in the process. I think. I hope.
This is a long process. A process of fully immersing myself in the values I have discovered in the past year in order to move forward. Such as minimalism and trying to sell my car and not buy new clothes, such as health and eating well and not drinking every night and a no-excuses training plan. But it is also about acceptance and, as this article says, real growth: http://www.illuminatedmind.net/. It doesn’t, in the end, matter if I am accomplishing anything unless I am passionate about it, as it is passion that fuels the world towards a better place. If I don’t ever get to travel the world or write a book, or whatever, it will be okay. Because there are other equally beautiful things I can experience right here. Even here, at my desk, with my great orange happy Buddha smiling at me from my cubicle wall, and the pekoe tea I can smell and the comfort of quiet productivity and endless possibility that resides in every turn around me.
Oh, also here are some more thoughts: http://www.freepursuits.com/theres-a-long-road-ahead-so-choose-a-beautiful-one#more-3097
Increasingly, I have found myself drawn towards the concepts involved in location independence, nomadic lifestyles, lifestyle design, etc. I read many many blogs by people who are living this lifestyle and who pertain to teach you how to do it themselves. Interestingly enough, most of them have read The Four Hour Work Week, and maintain the same principles behind their progress: create a blog, save money, travel, earn money off blog.
But I have several thoughts on this: The first is more or less summed by this article: http://www.dropofchange.com/why-lifestyle-design-is-self-indulgent/. Traveling and seeing the world is all great and good, and even necessary I believe for the utmost education of a person (as at least fifty percent of philosophers would agree, the others maintaining that we can derive all we need from home. They, I believe, were just highly introverted. And sex starved. But I digress…) and there are many other virtues that I agree with, as I am burning with the desire to do it myself. However, we cannot all do it, and we cannot all do it forever. There has to be some end to it, some other purpose, such as learning about one topic, or language, or about yourself, or finding your roots or discovering life principles, etc. Even adventure is enough of an end. But endlessly wandering off earned money from a passive site about your endless wanderings is, more or less, pretty selfish. I know, you are not using up commodities as other more sedentary lives do, and I know, you are contributing to the world through experience and positive juju and relationships etc. But there are jobs that need to get done, and good deeds to do and people to help and crises that need to be solved and living every day towards enriching your own life without further thought to what it is going towards is, I am sorry, selfish. I could go on forever.
Another thought is Hell, I could do this! I hate the idea of coming up with yet another travel blog because as many of them as I peruse, I cannot imagine that I could come up with some angle that has not already been taken. I can, however, probably come up with something else, that does not involve 35 Ways to Become a Better Minimalist or 47 Things to See in the Phillipines or 72 Reasons You Should Give Up On Regular Society, Avoid Real Work, Leave Your Family and Friends, and Selfishly Travel Forever And Ever Just Like Me. However, I can write. And I can write about things. And I can publish them to the internet to try to earn a few cents on it and I can keep up with friends, learn a language, research water management, learn to cook, meet people, see beautiful things, and develop values that will last a lifetime all in the process. I think. I hope.
This is a long process. A process of fully immersing myself in the values I have discovered in the past year in order to move forward. Such as minimalism and trying to sell my car and not buy new clothes, such as health and eating well and not drinking every night and a no-excuses training plan. But it is also about acceptance and, as this article says, real growth: http://www.illuminatedmind.net/. It doesn’t, in the end, matter if I am accomplishing anything unless I am passionate about it, as it is passion that fuels the world towards a better place. If I don’t ever get to travel the world or write a book, or whatever, it will be okay. Because there are other equally beautiful things I can experience right here. Even here, at my desk, with my great orange happy Buddha smiling at me from my cubicle wall, and the pekoe tea I can smell and the comfort of quiet productivity and endless possibility that resides in every turn around me.
Oh, also here are some more thoughts: http://www.freepursuits.com/theres-a-long-road-ahead-so-choose-a-beautiful-one#more-3097
No Rest for the Wicked
First of all, why does the world get in the way of my best laid plans? Here is a summary of last night: frustrating and anti-Annelies. I spent the afternoon salivating over several different fall weather recipes, eagerly awaiting a hot toddy, some good tunes on the record player, and a long conversation with a friend before an early bed time and an early morning hill run. What actually happened was not that. At all.
I came home, pulled the boxes of records from the car to the living room, put away my laundry, and walked out back to go to the grocery store to pick up the goods for the great evening, to promptly view our property un-manager’s friend’s car parked in a t to my very own Toyota. Blocked in. Too grumpy to try to face the man and make him move, and having decided that I was even too grumpy to walk the mile to the liquor store, I instead walked across the street to the co-op for overpriced veggies, and called my mother to complain, during which I was advised to, and quickly did, send a passive aggressive text asking whose car was blocking me in. I learn well, roommate.
So that having happened, it was okay because I still made a great dinner, albeit sans cocktail, or brussel sprouts, the grumpiness gave me a great excuse to forget to do yoga. So early to bed I went after a nice bath to try to break up this knot I have in my shoulder, and early I woke up. An hour later. To bright lights, loud shouts, and the rapid shaking of my mattress that made me feel like I was on some motel’s dirty coin-machine. There was a road crew outside of our corner house, on both sides, breaking up the pavement. At midnight the roommate called the police, finding out they had a permit to operate until 2 am. WHICH IS ABSURD!!! Because WHY IN THE WORLD DO WE NEED TO SHOUT TO BE HEARD AT ONE AM IN THE MORNING??? Sleeping should be happening, NOT SHOUTING!
So, grateful at my roommate’s inquiry, I read some, drank some warm milk, and decided it was worth the fight against sleep since the fight to see the meters failed and robbed me of it the night before. So, in and out I go until 2:01 am when roommate goes outside and asks Big Shouting Boss Guy why he is still working. He said they have a permit until 5 am. FIVE AM!!!!!! DIRECTLY OUTSIDE MY WINDOW!!!! I don’t have enough caps ability or room for exclamation points to declare just how confused and pissed off I am at this outrageous atrocity.
So, no sleep, no run in the morning, no anything I had planned. But this is why life is okay, right? Because I am not all that miffed. Not at all like after I ruined my routine after the beach this summer. And certainly not at all like younger Me. I am like water, cool and flowing with this change of NO SLEEP. At least I am lucid enough to begin the several day trip into self inquiry that my birthday always brings around.
I came home, pulled the boxes of records from the car to the living room, put away my laundry, and walked out back to go to the grocery store to pick up the goods for the great evening, to promptly view our property un-manager’s friend’s car parked in a t to my very own Toyota. Blocked in. Too grumpy to try to face the man and make him move, and having decided that I was even too grumpy to walk the mile to the liquor store, I instead walked across the street to the co-op for overpriced veggies, and called my mother to complain, during which I was advised to, and quickly did, send a passive aggressive text asking whose car was blocking me in. I learn well, roommate.
So that having happened, it was okay because I still made a great dinner, albeit sans cocktail, or brussel sprouts, the grumpiness gave me a great excuse to forget to do yoga. So early to bed I went after a nice bath to try to break up this knot I have in my shoulder, and early I woke up. An hour later. To bright lights, loud shouts, and the rapid shaking of my mattress that made me feel like I was on some motel’s dirty coin-machine. There was a road crew outside of our corner house, on both sides, breaking up the pavement. At midnight the roommate called the police, finding out they had a permit to operate until 2 am. WHICH IS ABSURD!!! Because WHY IN THE WORLD DO WE NEED TO SHOUT TO BE HEARD AT ONE AM IN THE MORNING??? Sleeping should be happening, NOT SHOUTING!
So, grateful at my roommate’s inquiry, I read some, drank some warm milk, and decided it was worth the fight against sleep since the fight to see the meters failed and robbed me of it the night before. So, in and out I go until 2:01 am when roommate goes outside and asks Big Shouting Boss Guy why he is still working. He said they have a permit until 5 am. FIVE AM!!!!!! DIRECTLY OUTSIDE MY WINDOW!!!! I don’t have enough caps ability or room for exclamation points to declare just how confused and pissed off I am at this outrageous atrocity.
So, no sleep, no run in the morning, no anything I had planned. But this is why life is okay, right? Because I am not all that miffed. Not at all like after I ruined my routine after the beach this summer. And certainly not at all like younger Me. I am like water, cool and flowing with this change of NO SLEEP. At least I am lucid enough to begin the several day trip into self inquiry that my birthday always brings around.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
My good friend Science
I love science.
I love it. Science is like an old friend that was always better at sports than you, always had the coolest stuff, and was always beautiful, but who never knew it and loved you because you made it laugh. Science is this friend that you admire purely, without even a hint of jealousy and only gratitude at your friendship.
That is why I dragged the boy out of bed at 1 am last night to see the Leonid Meteor Shower. All the blogs said that was the best time. I was SUPER stoked to stand out in the warm-for-November night and see millions of particles of dust creating fire in a way that called to mind Lion King references and total awe. But, alas, I read the blogs today and they said it was unseeable from North America. I could have told them that. All we saw were normal stars. Millions of normal stars. Nothing moving in our peripheral vision. SCREW YOU SCIENCE.
No, I don’t mean that. I still love you, my dear friend.
On another note, Guess who is the super lucky one this week? That’s right, it would be me. This weekend we went to clean out Danny’s house of valuables and old memories, and I walked away with four and a half milk crates of old records. Beatles. Rolling Stones. Cream. Bob Dylan. Think of what sounds awesome on vinyl, and it’s there. Tonight will be a party with me and myself. Some food will be cooked, some vodka distilled (maybe) (or maybe some wine) and records played. I must go through them all to see if any of them are not ruined from the heat. I doubt it. I am both terribly worried at that thought, and pretty sure it must be true. Again, it is science’s fault.
I love it. Science is like an old friend that was always better at sports than you, always had the coolest stuff, and was always beautiful, but who never knew it and loved you because you made it laugh. Science is this friend that you admire purely, without even a hint of jealousy and only gratitude at your friendship.
That is why I dragged the boy out of bed at 1 am last night to see the Leonid Meteor Shower. All the blogs said that was the best time. I was SUPER stoked to stand out in the warm-for-November night and see millions of particles of dust creating fire in a way that called to mind Lion King references and total awe. But, alas, I read the blogs today and they said it was unseeable from North America. I could have told them that. All we saw were normal stars. Millions of normal stars. Nothing moving in our peripheral vision. SCREW YOU SCIENCE.
No, I don’t mean that. I still love you, my dear friend.
On another note, Guess who is the super lucky one this week? That’s right, it would be me. This weekend we went to clean out Danny’s house of valuables and old memories, and I walked away with four and a half milk crates of old records. Beatles. Rolling Stones. Cream. Bob Dylan. Think of what sounds awesome on vinyl, and it’s there. Tonight will be a party with me and myself. Some food will be cooked, some vodka distilled (maybe) (or maybe some wine) and records played. I must go through them all to see if any of them are not ruined from the heat. I doubt it. I am both terribly worried at that thought, and pretty sure it must be true. Again, it is science’s fault.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Being and Light
I walked home yesterday with the exhausted temperament of emptiness, an existential cleanliness that is reserved mostly for the rich and bored or the worried. The purpose of all of our efforts forward meant nothing in the presence of such soft air, which rested on my skin as I plowed through life one heavy human step at a time. Where was I going, anyway?
This morning’s sun shone mustard through the emptying fog, diffuse and soft in its own sleepiness yet never resting to invite us along. Kundera’s lightness had been lifted now that I had my prized company, but still the energy of days that repeat and people that walk forward to their offices to live again the tedium of yesterday’s hours permeate my empty halls. I am alone on this floor, I sit at a desk, and I drink tea after my coffee.
I have a day off tomorrow to fill with boredom and tasks that get me no closer to any ultimate goal. I have been content to love and revel in beauty as life goes on, and yet I still am, but this contentedness is becoming more and more pointless as I wake and rise to ever more love and ever more beauty. What good does an increasing and limitless supply of life’s purpose give you? How do I go about spending my vast wealth of gratitude and my over abundant supply of joy in each minute’s revelation? Every cell is overwhelmed. Yet it is not appropriate to walk from place to place in tears because you are besieged by life and living.
This morning’s sun shone mustard through the emptying fog, diffuse and soft in its own sleepiness yet never resting to invite us along. Kundera’s lightness had been lifted now that I had my prized company, but still the energy of days that repeat and people that walk forward to their offices to live again the tedium of yesterday’s hours permeate my empty halls. I am alone on this floor, I sit at a desk, and I drink tea after my coffee.
I have a day off tomorrow to fill with boredom and tasks that get me no closer to any ultimate goal. I have been content to love and revel in beauty as life goes on, and yet I still am, but this contentedness is becoming more and more pointless as I wake and rise to ever more love and ever more beauty. What good does an increasing and limitless supply of life’s purpose give you? How do I go about spending my vast wealth of gratitude and my over abundant supply of joy in each minute’s revelation? Every cell is overwhelmed. Yet it is not appropriate to walk from place to place in tears because you are besieged by life and living.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
On Working Downtown
I have a confession: I love working in this city. There is an elegance, a grandeur, to the whole aesthetic. Hundreds of giant office buildings, some brick, some stone, some concrete, red, brown, and grey, with brass details or stone monsters or giant windows, with doormen and revolving glass doors, elevators, rooftop gardens. Each of these buildings has many, many floors and hundreds of people. Each of these people is completing a task, creating another form of revolving door for the millions of details, billions of documents, trillions of files, that have to be managed every second of every day.
We are, truly, a “No Vacation Nation”, a place where, as Thompson Girl explained, we have none of this ‘I work 35 hours a week and that is so hard’ Bullshit. We work, and we work hard. In early, lunch at the desk, leave late. Corporate lunches are the only breaks – albeit they are no longer Three Martinis Long – and Business Happy Hours are often happy only because of the plastic puckers plastered to our faces. But we like it This Way. It makes us America.
Walking down the street, on my way to one bank or another, I feel accomplished. I may not have an office, but with my Big Girl haircut and sensible shoes, I appear at least one step up from my Assistant’s position. The form of Assistant takes its shape as slightly smarter than Intern – and not readily noticeable to anyone but a female. These entities are sharply dressed in short dresses or flouncy skirts or snugly fitted dress pants, with the new bright colors, the not-so-smart high heels, the well dried hair. Lipstick maybe. They are excited to wear Lady clothes. Sometimes I wish I had their money. The rest of the time I am glad I have my independence, my street smarts, my Point of View. They will have boring children who grow up to raid their liquor cabinets.
Men walk past in suits, variants of each others’ haircuts, leather shoes, satchels, ties. They wear cologne and are just as nervous about each other as they were when they were fourteen, but now they have more money and more worries. Women walk by with sneakers over stockings, unfortunate, rumpled hair, or smart suits and pearls, all very busy. They grab lunch, they grab coffee, they grab at hours, they grab at opportunity, it is a selfish culture of Getting Things Done, efficiency, accomplishment, details and ever growing lists of lists that tell you what to do. I am not a part of this.
I take the metro in and the metro out. In the mornings you can smell everybody’s soap, see their tired eyes, their slow pace, their night at home with the family and the television that is slowly rubbing away with every station we stop at. In the evenings everyone is much busier, their tired eyes are no longer puffy but strained, they need a cookie and a nap, they need a hug, they need to take a deep breath. All you smell is the sweat of shuffled paper, the strain of shaken hands, the soap of the germicide we are all forced to pump on us for fear of communicating something substantial.
I hope one day I can work down here, during my own hours. I want to choose when I come in and when I go, when I can leave for a run around the capital building or the white house, when I can go sit in a coffee shop to watch the busy people. I want to choose when I can get things done myself, when to shake hands and when to sit down and when to turn off the telephone. I want to observe this world, not be in it. I want the aesthetics of accomplishment surrounding me, with the purpose of the individual, the success of the undeniable independent. But, honestly, I feel I can at least convince people I have grown up a little.
We are, truly, a “No Vacation Nation”, a place where, as Thompson Girl explained, we have none of this ‘I work 35 hours a week and that is so hard’ Bullshit. We work, and we work hard. In early, lunch at the desk, leave late. Corporate lunches are the only breaks – albeit they are no longer Three Martinis Long – and Business Happy Hours are often happy only because of the plastic puckers plastered to our faces. But we like it This Way. It makes us America.
Walking down the street, on my way to one bank or another, I feel accomplished. I may not have an office, but with my Big Girl haircut and sensible shoes, I appear at least one step up from my Assistant’s position. The form of Assistant takes its shape as slightly smarter than Intern – and not readily noticeable to anyone but a female. These entities are sharply dressed in short dresses or flouncy skirts or snugly fitted dress pants, with the new bright colors, the not-so-smart high heels, the well dried hair. Lipstick maybe. They are excited to wear Lady clothes. Sometimes I wish I had their money. The rest of the time I am glad I have my independence, my street smarts, my Point of View. They will have boring children who grow up to raid their liquor cabinets.
Men walk past in suits, variants of each others’ haircuts, leather shoes, satchels, ties. They wear cologne and are just as nervous about each other as they were when they were fourteen, but now they have more money and more worries. Women walk by with sneakers over stockings, unfortunate, rumpled hair, or smart suits and pearls, all very busy. They grab lunch, they grab coffee, they grab at hours, they grab at opportunity, it is a selfish culture of Getting Things Done, efficiency, accomplishment, details and ever growing lists of lists that tell you what to do. I am not a part of this.
I take the metro in and the metro out. In the mornings you can smell everybody’s soap, see their tired eyes, their slow pace, their night at home with the family and the television that is slowly rubbing away with every station we stop at. In the evenings everyone is much busier, their tired eyes are no longer puffy but strained, they need a cookie and a nap, they need a hug, they need to take a deep breath. All you smell is the sweat of shuffled paper, the strain of shaken hands, the soap of the germicide we are all forced to pump on us for fear of communicating something substantial.
I hope one day I can work down here, during my own hours. I want to choose when I come in and when I go, when I can leave for a run around the capital building or the white house, when I can go sit in a coffee shop to watch the busy people. I want to choose when I can get things done myself, when to shake hands and when to sit down and when to turn off the telephone. I want to observe this world, not be in it. I want the aesthetics of accomplishment surrounding me, with the purpose of the individual, the success of the undeniable independent. But, honestly, I feel I can at least convince people I have grown up a little.
A Note on Flirting
I have never actually “known” how to flirt. It has always just happened. I talk to a guy, pretty much any guy, and out comes witticisms and allusions and smirks and jokes and, voila, someone tells me I was flirting. Or they try to kiss me. Only then do I know. So I have thought that it was always second nature, that when I felt the heat of a blush on my cheeks, or the tell-tale knock-out-drag-down- war between the desire to stare into their eyes and the total aversion to eye contact, that then, okay, I was flirting. Even through all of the other relationships I have had, I have never been able to not flirt, it could not be helped. I spoke with a male-person, and up came the blush.
I guess flirting has to do with withholding, with temptation, with teasing. The smallest promise of sex has to be there and one, or the other, will jump into playing a cat-and-mouse game, trying to get the other person to admit attraction at the very least.
I visit at least two out of five banks daily. Four of them have young foreign male tellers. BOA has an Hispanic dude who asks me questions about what I do. EagleBank has an Indian who comments on what I wear, joking about the day I wore all black because I had a funeral to go to. HSBC has a middle easterner who knows the secrets of our firm. And Cardinal Bank has the bluest-eyed man whose grandparents must be Scandinavian, or Eastern European. On top of this, there is a new lawyer on the floor, whom I shall call Fit Lawyer, who shaves his balding head and has the face of someone who would sit next to you in a scary movie and make fun of your reactions the entire time, but also holding your hand so tight it loses feeling. I pass him in the hallway sometimes. Until today, when I had to notarize his DC Bar Application. I now have his address. And license number.
These men talk to me almost as a peer. Which is a change from many of the other men I meet around DC during my work, who talk to me like what I am, the Young Female Assistant. Some days it makes more sense than others, because some days I dress nicer, or care more, or am more or less intimidated by them.
I always expect myself to have been flirting back with these young men when they ask what I do, and what that entails, or where I am going next. I wait for the blush to appear, I find a spot on the desk to stare at so that when I feel I need to look away I have some place I am concentrating on. I expect that I button my coat so that I don’t have to worry about revealing the slob shirt I am wearing that day.
But now things are different. My interactions with men are weird. I realized that the blush doesn’t come, I have no problem making only necessary eye contact, I button my coat because I am cold. I smile to be kind, not to be coy. I avoid cleverness. I close the door of the banks behind me with the thought; “It must be hard, being them. I mean, it must be so hard existing as The Inferior, when The Perfect is out there somewhere, texting that Young Female Assistant that just walked out the door, about where they will go together this weekend. What do you do when you try your entire life to write the perfect sentence, but it has already been written, and you know you will get nowhere close?”
And it is while I am thinking these thoughts that a giant, coy smile crosses my face, and I start tapping out a message with a joke and an allusion in it, skirting the subject, avoiding eye contact, blushing.
I guess flirting has to do with withholding, with temptation, with teasing. The smallest promise of sex has to be there and one, or the other, will jump into playing a cat-and-mouse game, trying to get the other person to admit attraction at the very least.
I visit at least two out of five banks daily. Four of them have young foreign male tellers. BOA has an Hispanic dude who asks me questions about what I do. EagleBank has an Indian who comments on what I wear, joking about the day I wore all black because I had a funeral to go to. HSBC has a middle easterner who knows the secrets of our firm. And Cardinal Bank has the bluest-eyed man whose grandparents must be Scandinavian, or Eastern European. On top of this, there is a new lawyer on the floor, whom I shall call Fit Lawyer, who shaves his balding head and has the face of someone who would sit next to you in a scary movie and make fun of your reactions the entire time, but also holding your hand so tight it loses feeling. I pass him in the hallway sometimes. Until today, when I had to notarize his DC Bar Application. I now have his address. And license number.
These men talk to me almost as a peer. Which is a change from many of the other men I meet around DC during my work, who talk to me like what I am, the Young Female Assistant. Some days it makes more sense than others, because some days I dress nicer, or care more, or am more or less intimidated by them.
I always expect myself to have been flirting back with these young men when they ask what I do, and what that entails, or where I am going next. I wait for the blush to appear, I find a spot on the desk to stare at so that when I feel I need to look away I have some place I am concentrating on. I expect that I button my coat so that I don’t have to worry about revealing the slob shirt I am wearing that day.
But now things are different. My interactions with men are weird. I realized that the blush doesn’t come, I have no problem making only necessary eye contact, I button my coat because I am cold. I smile to be kind, not to be coy. I avoid cleverness. I close the door of the banks behind me with the thought; “It must be hard, being them. I mean, it must be so hard existing as The Inferior, when The Perfect is out there somewhere, texting that Young Female Assistant that just walked out the door, about where they will go together this weekend. What do you do when you try your entire life to write the perfect sentence, but it has already been written, and you know you will get nowhere close?”
And it is while I am thinking these thoughts that a giant, coy smile crosses my face, and I start tapping out a message with a joke and an allusion in it, skirting the subject, avoiding eye contact, blushing.
Another almost-post
I am struggling with a new personal concept: minimalism.
My mother informed me yesterday that we had to clean our storage unit. This unit has been a surprisingly prominent in my life in the past few years. When my family moved into a smaller apartment, I was in Seattle. The new apartment had only two bedrooms, one for my mother and one for my brother. Everything that did not fit went in to the storage unit, and when I returned to this coast I went through and sorted out all my children’s toys, my children’s books, some old lava lamps, etc.
That winter we pulled out our Christmas ornaments and carefully placed them back the month after. Every summer subsequently I have dedicated a day or two to sifting through the stuff that accumulates and re-organizing. I have since widdled down my files and my art supplies and my books to half of what was originally put in there. I have had tiny apartments for the past few years, barely larger than a dorm room, and the books and portfolios that are stored in that room is the last of what I keep at my mother’s house.
I have always applied my life to the principles of “spring cleaning”. I periodically go through my files, my clothes, my STUFF and de-clutter. My clothes find a new home in a drop-off bin, my books at my old high school’s book barn, paper get trashed, etc. But the past year or so I have felt the burden of what I do still own even more as I move from small place to small place (within a calendar year I have lived in four separate places). As my goals move towards expatriatism (for a small amount of time) I am ever attracted to the backpacker’s mentality – own only what you can carry with you.
Now, that may be a bit much, as it is unnecessary when you have a place to live to reduce your life to that resembling a Beduin’s, but the aspects of multi-use and re-usable are admirable.
(Here is the post that inspired this thought: http://zenhabits.net/2009/08/the-minimalist-principle-omit-needless-things/)
The more I read about the fundamental principles of minimalism, I admire it more. The principle of “Omit needless things”, a phrase I am borrowing from the zenhabits post, who in turn borrowed it from Strunk, resonates.
Most of my beliefs, and my anxieties (about society, about life), seem to circle around this concept of the importance of making everything count, of relieving yourself of the burdens of pointlessness. Our environmental crisis
My mother informed me yesterday that we had to clean our storage unit. This unit has been a surprisingly prominent in my life in the past few years. When my family moved into a smaller apartment, I was in Seattle. The new apartment had only two bedrooms, one for my mother and one for my brother. Everything that did not fit went in to the storage unit, and when I returned to this coast I went through and sorted out all my children’s toys, my children’s books, some old lava lamps, etc.
That winter we pulled out our Christmas ornaments and carefully placed them back the month after. Every summer subsequently I have dedicated a day or two to sifting through the stuff that accumulates and re-organizing. I have since widdled down my files and my art supplies and my books to half of what was originally put in there. I have had tiny apartments for the past few years, barely larger than a dorm room, and the books and portfolios that are stored in that room is the last of what I keep at my mother’s house.
I have always applied my life to the principles of “spring cleaning”. I periodically go through my files, my clothes, my STUFF and de-clutter. My clothes find a new home in a drop-off bin, my books at my old high school’s book barn, paper get trashed, etc. But the past year or so I have felt the burden of what I do still own even more as I move from small place to small place (within a calendar year I have lived in four separate places). As my goals move towards expatriatism (for a small amount of time) I am ever attracted to the backpacker’s mentality – own only what you can carry with you.
Now, that may be a bit much, as it is unnecessary when you have a place to live to reduce your life to that resembling a Beduin’s, but the aspects of multi-use and re-usable are admirable.
(Here is the post that inspired this thought: http://zenhabits.net/2009/08/the-minimalist-principle-omit-needless-things/)
The more I read about the fundamental principles of minimalism, I admire it more. The principle of “Omit needless things”, a phrase I am borrowing from the zenhabits post, who in turn borrowed it from Strunk, resonates.
Most of my beliefs, and my anxieties (about society, about life), seem to circle around this concept of the importance of making everything count, of relieving yourself of the burdens of pointlessness. Our environmental crisis
Old notes from an almost-post
Difficulty our generation has to specialize – how do I know what to do with my life?
Most of us who have somehow made it to twenty-something, and have not yet entered the strange worlds of graduate school, face a dilemma. We, perhaps against our wishes, or at least not without trying, have landed in a waste land with no one particular passion in life. This is not to say we are not passionate people - in fact we are a rather passionate group – it is more that we have yet to choose which passion is worth its risks. We face a future in the next few years of risks, coupled with coming to terms with whom we were raised to be, and who we are now. Our personal goals are fighting a war with our community responsibilities, and we chug onward, stymied between personal happiness and global effectiveness.
Our worldview – what we have grown up with :
- divorce
- pressure (over scheduling etc)
- rise of learning disabilities and over prescription
- wars in Afghanistan and iraq
- 911
- Financial crisis
Benefits and - trade schools, seventy billion majors, and
Costs of specialization
Benefits of liberal application - modern renaissance person
And costs
What is the issue?
We don’t know what to do with our lives
Why?
We are stuck between being responsible and doing what we love, and most
importantly figuring out what those are
I do not understand why I m having such trouble moving forward with my future. A strange thing, perhaps, because your future comes to you with you having anything to do with how quickly, and there is
Most of us who have somehow made it to twenty-something, and have not yet entered the strange worlds of graduate school, face a dilemma. We, perhaps against our wishes, or at least not without trying, have landed in a waste land with no one particular passion in life. This is not to say we are not passionate people - in fact we are a rather passionate group – it is more that we have yet to choose which passion is worth its risks. We face a future in the next few years of risks, coupled with coming to terms with whom we were raised to be, and who we are now. Our personal goals are fighting a war with our community responsibilities, and we chug onward, stymied between personal happiness and global effectiveness.
Our worldview – what we have grown up with :
- divorce
- pressure (over scheduling etc)
- rise of learning disabilities and over prescription
- wars in Afghanistan and iraq
- 911
- Financial crisis
Benefits and - trade schools, seventy billion majors, and
Costs of specialization
Benefits of liberal application - modern renaissance person
And costs
What is the issue?
We don’t know what to do with our lives
Why?
We are stuck between being responsible and doing what we love, and most
importantly figuring out what those are
I do not understand why I m having such trouble moving forward with my future. A strange thing, perhaps, because your future comes to you with you having anything to do with how quickly, and there is
Training beginnings
My running weakness is an anomaly. I have done copious research – of my own experience, and online. Nobody actually knows what causes this problem, but we all have our own theories. I am one of a group of women that experiences “extreme abdominal cramps” during what is predominantly shorter runs, either at a fast pace or going uphill, and regardless of what time of the month it is in our cycle. These cramps are ridiculously painful, they have been described as “debilitating”, “like getting shot in your pelvis” etc., and necessitate a slow walk, or more commonly, a fetal slump on the side of the trail, for its cessation.
I mention this because this occurred yesterday morning. Still a “successful” run, as I did indeed wake up at 6:15 am and get out and complete two fast miles before said slumping, it is nevertheless a brutal enemy. As the time has now changed, I have moved by weekly runs from running around the business district downtown after work to the careful navigation of leaf-piles in the neighborhood at a significantly earlier time. As of now, my schedule is comprised of shorter runs during the week (one hill run, one speed, one medium-length run, one easy run or a cross-train day), a day off before my long run on Saturday, and a short run the day after the long run. This is designed to maximize recovery after and resources during the long run that will be the crux of the training, along with the regularity of very slowly increasing daily runs. The goals are: do not overtrain, maintain the schedule, listen to your body, complete the long runs.
Paraphrased from Rory as she mentioned in relation to her previous half marathon trainings, ‘it is often the first five miles that are the hardest’. After this last Saturdays’ six mile run, I say “True Dat”. Especially in this cold, I look forward to runs that take two to three miles to warm up my body, and two more miles to locate the internal rhythm that, once synched with the subtle movements of the orbiting and gravitational earth, can slide you along for forever. Thus yoga and stretching and careful listening will become more and more primary as the temperature drops and the miles rise. Also I have to remember to eat more. Please don’t let me forget guys, I have a habit of doing that – I prefer the second beer to the second helping.
Today I opted out of my morning run for a long yoga session, as my shins and hips were noticeably as tight as a rubber band pulled around a basketball. I am terrified of developing shin splints as bad as sophomore year. Unbearable. Unwalkable. Certainly unrunnable. So I have dedicated myself to a run this evening from work, around the white house, around the capital mall, it is one of my favorite runs. Mom, I know you are worried, it being dark and dangerous things being possible, but it is precisely worrying about the possibilities of these things ALL THE TIME that has kept me from pursuing just this goal previously. It will be rush hour, there will be police around, I will not wear my ipod, and I will wear white so as to be seen. And, I will thoroughly enjoy it.
I will be posting thoughts on my training for the 2010 Paris Marathon during the next 23 weeks. I apologize if it is seemingly irrelevant, or sometimes an overshare.
I mention this because this occurred yesterday morning. Still a “successful” run, as I did indeed wake up at 6:15 am and get out and complete two fast miles before said slumping, it is nevertheless a brutal enemy. As the time has now changed, I have moved by weekly runs from running around the business district downtown after work to the careful navigation of leaf-piles in the neighborhood at a significantly earlier time. As of now, my schedule is comprised of shorter runs during the week (one hill run, one speed, one medium-length run, one easy run or a cross-train day), a day off before my long run on Saturday, and a short run the day after the long run. This is designed to maximize recovery after and resources during the long run that will be the crux of the training, along with the regularity of very slowly increasing daily runs. The goals are: do not overtrain, maintain the schedule, listen to your body, complete the long runs.
Paraphrased from Rory as she mentioned in relation to her previous half marathon trainings, ‘it is often the first five miles that are the hardest’. After this last Saturdays’ six mile run, I say “True Dat”. Especially in this cold, I look forward to runs that take two to three miles to warm up my body, and two more miles to locate the internal rhythm that, once synched with the subtle movements of the orbiting and gravitational earth, can slide you along for forever. Thus yoga and stretching and careful listening will become more and more primary as the temperature drops and the miles rise. Also I have to remember to eat more. Please don’t let me forget guys, I have a habit of doing that – I prefer the second beer to the second helping.
Today I opted out of my morning run for a long yoga session, as my shins and hips were noticeably as tight as a rubber band pulled around a basketball. I am terrified of developing shin splints as bad as sophomore year. Unbearable. Unwalkable. Certainly unrunnable. So I have dedicated myself to a run this evening from work, around the white house, around the capital mall, it is one of my favorite runs. Mom, I know you are worried, it being dark and dangerous things being possible, but it is precisely worrying about the possibilities of these things ALL THE TIME that has kept me from pursuing just this goal previously. It will be rush hour, there will be police around, I will not wear my ipod, and I will wear white so as to be seen. And, I will thoroughly enjoy it.
I will be posting thoughts on my training for the 2010 Paris Marathon during the next 23 weeks. I apologize if it is seemingly irrelevant, or sometimes an overshare.
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