Blessed

For all of the...

Moments lived

Exquisite people I've had the pleasure of connecting with

Naps

Yoga poses

Pages written

Pages read

Dreams begun

Gifts of time, trinkets, and love

Yes's and No's

People who've come in and out like tides

Clarity

Times I've spoken freely and felt the resounding 'yes' in my chest and through my toes

Beautiful places I've seen

Beautiful people I've loved

Wounds I've nursed

Lessons I've learned, even the ugly ones that had to knock me on my ass

Growing, the painful and the pixie-like

My fairy godmothers and Auntie Mames

Mirrors

Music

Jumping into fires and of cliffs

Walks

Dances

Smiles and tears

I thank this year and the people (myself included) and things who showed up.

Flourish

All of the end of the year hoopla and nonsense grates upon me. Best of, worst of, a year in pictures, celebrity x, y, or z of 2013. Exhausting and unnecessary. We don't need yearbooks of other people's lives. We don't need to measure our metrics of success up against someone else's. I'm having a pretty irritating weekend. Someone in my presence is posting myriads of motivational drivel about the importance of seizing the moment and then playing games on the phone. I'm not throwing stones. I'm just tired of messes from the poorly prepared or unable/ unwilling to follow through. I don't want to play semantics with reasons why they aren't moving forward in the 'direction of their dreams'. I don't want an ontological debate or to get into culturalist, universalist, essentialist, or constructivist conversations on the dialogic nature of human behaviors and positioning in society and self-concept. I just want a breather. I want to work on my stuff and not be force fed the fluffy bullshit of canned motivation with 0 heart, gonads or brains behind it. I believe the chicos would paraphrase this post as STFU. 

13 & change weeks of grace...

There are 95 days between me and 33. Just over 13 weeks to go.

Here's the check in: weight is higher than it was at the outset. I have a lead on a new studio for Bellyfit and I'm scheduling my first 2-3 practicum classes for the downtime between Christmas and New Year's at another location. I have yet to  learn how to sew & start my dissertation. I am further along on my proposal than ever and have simplified my data collection incredibly. I'm thrilled with the way some things are moving and realize that I can change the rest. Baby steps. Cleaning up the eating and the thinking, and preparing myself for the best of what's to come.

Tangibles this week: stay within calories for eating. Sleep on a schedule- yes it is 2:13 in the morning right now... Hot cocoa is not an evening drink. Move on the proposal. Check into the most pertinent resources and write. 2 hours a day. Practice and close on a studio for the rest of my practicum & to teach. Do something just for fun everyday. Deep breaths. It is all a gift. All of it.

Dragons and dinosaurs

I think we need to believe in dangerous things. In nearly infallible beings... In beings so strong and so threatening that their own demise is something to write legends and poetry about.

I think we need to have guardians of our treasures: something to guard that which makes us rich from the rest of the world. So we build our towers and invite our dragons to come and stand watch. We create our own victim hood when we realize we've become prisoners of our own design.

It's exhausting. My dragon is more like a bucolic bouncer, standing at velvet ropes and breathing out bile and disapproval when he isn't bouncing worthless young men out of the club. He mitigates my fears... He thinks he's protecting me from the world and myself, but he can't... And I don't think my inner princess needs to wait to come out from behind him until someone has proven himself both beautiful and bold... She isn't waiting for someone valiant who will be her soft place to land... She's working on her sword fighting and teaching the dragon how to dance.

Honesty

I think there should be a dating book called Brotherhood of the Traveling Balls. A comedy of errors of sorts warning women to the dangers of guys who haven't yet learned how to be men. The title comes from my firm belief that all of the men I've dated in the past decade have in fact shared a pair of testicles.  My scientific proof comes from the continual observation that they cannot be brave or honest. One couldn't tell me that he wanted to see me more and didn't like taking a backseat to grad school. He acted out with other women and accusations instead. One couldn't tell me that he has deep seated issues with commitment and behaved stunningly when I told him that I didn't want anything to do with him if he's not working on that. Several have called and texted inappropriate things- blocking numbers isn't a resume skill. One wanted an interior decorator and someone to carry his shit in her purse (my name isn't mom, douche). One tested my willingness to stand by him through some tough stuff by ignoring me, calling me needy, and talking to barely legals... Because nothing says stand by me like eff off.

I'm not saying I'm faultless. I am a pain in the ass. I am messy. I am demanding. I am random and have a laundry list of idiosyncracies. I am ambitious and some times self-doubting. When things in my own life get difficult, I want a calm and compassionate man by me. When I have amazing things to celebrate, I want someone who can be happy for me. Any time, I want someone who won't mind emptying the dishwasher, talking about Campbell, internal combustion engines, or potty humor and taking meandering walks... and there you have it, I'm a pain in the ass who won't settle for anything less than a man.

 I have plenty of work to do and don't need any distractions :)

Jumping over tigers

We had a little visitor this week. A wild child, whose crazy, curly blonde locks seemed to be alive with her constant motion. Brave and uninhibited, she ran around the house chanting, singing, and hollering. Why? Because she's 3 and visiting family... A new house with a pet, different toys and a whole new audience to entertain/ envolve in her merrymaking. It was a blast. I let the stress of the stuck proposal get to me more than I wanted to, but I still thoroughly enjoyed watching Wonder Pets, seeing the Disney princesses at work on the little people farm and driving a jeep made out of building blocks. That's the great thing about creativity, it knows no bounds. If you don't have something, you make it out of something else. Mind = blown.

One particularly poignant moment came mid trip. She had gotten a stuffed pig from the zoo and had him playing with the little people pigs- he looked more like a mastodon than a member of the family next to his porcine brethren. There was a wind up tiger- maybe Shere Khan from an old happy meal- who was threatening the three little pigs (well, two little, one gigantic pigs). She separated from the story, moving the tiger slightly and then began running circles around the tiger and jumping over it, back and forth, round and round. Laughing and shouting incoherently.

In my favorite stories, tiger represents fear. Tiger stories are about blood, pain, death and terror. Anansi Boys and The Jungle Books have plenty to say on the subject of tigers feeding on fear and flesh...

I'm taking a page out of Em's book. I'm relearning how to laugh at fear. How to run dizzy circles around it and leap it... How to dance around it and mock it instead of hoping in vain for it's absence.

Superlatives

I'm sick of living a life of too _____.

Too loud.

Too fat.

Too lazy.

Right now it feels like I'm running in place... Too stuck. Too stupid. Too tired. Too ridiculous. Too idealistic. Too simple. Too stringent in schedule. Too sensitive. So over it.

Suspension of belief

Some times you let things go to hell in a hand basket. Some times you don't realize you can stop its trajectory and bring it back home or right its path. Some times you have to admit when you feel stuck or lost. Some times you wind up on your knees.

I'm at one of those junctures. Realizing I need to do 3 things: pray, breathe, and move. 

A prayer of thanks and a prayer of assistance. Move into an open space to give & receive blessings because you aren't alone in this... And some times your fountain of self belief needs to be fed by the well and wealth of those who have come before you, know you and believe in you. 

Breathe life into your work. Breathe in the love and encouragement you are receiving. Breathe in the pain and consternation of those you see and breathe out empathy and love. Hard comes in all shapes and sizes, but stop believing it comes in degrees. Heel digging on perspective only leads to a divide. When you breathe you aren't thinking of the breaths you will take tomorrow or how many breaths you will require over the next week to stay alive. You just breathe. Now write that way.

Move. To open yourself, as mentioned above, and to free yourself of your own stories. Moving stirs the ghosts of the past and the haunting of self limiting beliefs. "I am _ because I always have been" needs to be escorted to the door by evidence to the contrary. The fight is only over when you finish... Because impossible and stopping are not an option this time.

Calling BS

I was once told, whilst saying something self-deprecating, that I wouldn't talk to a friend like that... That I wouldn't allow someone else to talk to me or my friends like that, so why was it ok for me to be nasty.

I have students who go through the whole can't becomes won't and turn into terrors or withdrawal instead of ever asking for help. These are the kids who monopolize my preps and lunches as I have to call home and chase them down for extra help... I don't let them quit on themselves, so how could I ever conceivably think that it would be ok for me to do everything I advise them against.

I can't means I refuse to try.

I quit means I refuse to see the opportunity I've been presented with.

It's too hard means I'm not willing to orchestrate a concerted effort to sustain baby steps for the duration.

I don't care means I refuse to see the gifts and lessons that have presented themselves to me.

We do difficult things. The world that we choose can be rife with challenges and opportunities calling themselves hard work.

So I'm calling BS on my self limitations and behavior as of late. I have miles to go and standing still any longer is not an option.

22 weeks of grace: welcome

I have a lot of stuff visiting right now and I want to throw a tantrum. I want to run away or build up walls to block them out. I want to find something to placate this awful feeling burning at the exact center of me or tear it out.

Instead, I'm being gentle. I'm breathing. I'm taking time when I need it and where I can get it so as not to fall into destructive patterns. I'm asking for help where I'm stuck.

I'm not shooing away the ghosts. I'm welcoming them and asking what they need to teach me.

23 weeks of grace: shhh.

I'm working on my level of comfort with things that I've told myself I would do this week (read: fears).

There are so many bogus and bs things that I absorbed and perpetuated for far too long. Feeling wrapped up into a tiny package and shooed away and needing to be bigger, louder, and heard. Losing my own desires and my own compass in all the racket. Quieting down and tuning into the voice that I most need to be listening to.

Working on edits... Practicing Bellyfit... Tracking every bite and every penny... One foot in front of the other.

La biblioteca... Una pagina

I'm in the library right now. The president's reading room, my usual spot on campus to do work.

The good: I just had a past student visit me. Catching up with the dolls is always delightful. My grad school sounding board was also available for a chat an really supportive/ reassuring about the meeting I just had and what I need to do.

The meh: presentation didn't go nearly as well as I wanted it to. I have edits to do- some of which I mentioned needing to take care of months ago and was told not to bother with them. I wanted to be further along... But I'm taking a deep breath and doing what I need to.

One page at a time. Line by line. Moving forward.

24 weeks of grace: just breathe & keep swimming

Fingers, toes and anything else imaginable are all crossed right now. Oxford commas are eluding me... So is focus this afternoon. It's been a great weekend: productive plus chill time. I'm thrilled with what I've gotten done around the house this week. Baby steps are definitely working for me.

Tomorrow is the defense & I'm trying to visualize everything I need to take care of for it. I'm not nervous-nervous. I'm just ready to go in, do what I have to and move forward. I'm looking forward to getting input on questions that I have on methodology that have come up in the past two weeks. One of my friends sent me edits. I'm looking at them after a little garden therapy. My dress for tomorrow is out. I'm ready to roll.

I'm also ready to call the hairdresser. My haircut is a style-ish amalgamation and I know what I want changed on it now. Yay.

Other than grad school and work, this week is practicing bf, heading to a lecture weds night, choosing a furnace and getting back to pumpkin clause with everything else I have going on.

Breathing. I've got this.

Week 25: baby steps

I'm super tired this evening. I've been spending these last two weeks sowing and tending the metaphorical garden. 

My proposal hearing (defense) is on Monday. I've spent hours since last Friday putting together my presentation and fencing with the what ifs.

I have until January to finish my BellyFit Practicum and have a regular class set up. I've spent the week looking at pieces of a class and memorizing them bit by bit.

I've been cleaning up and out the casa.

I've been making changes in lots of different areas of my life- it's scary, but bit by bit I'm moving towards what I want. Knowing that I actually want some things is pretty big for me.

Moving forward.

Moving on.

Yes

I just received the email from IRB saying that the final stamp of approval is going on my consent forms and they will be sent out tomorrow. This is big.

They had sent me a clarification question on one section of my protocol last weekend. I clarified and then they needed two lines changed on two forms. We had a volley of emails... And now, it's done.

Handed in the final pre-hearing draft of my proposal. Was told that I would have some edits following the meeting... That there are a few things we'll have to hash out face to face, but we're moving forward.

So excited.

26 weeks of grace: the baby & the bath water

I sent in the last or second to last set of edits Friday night and explained something IRB needed clarified yesterday morning... That of course led into two days of complete panic. I nearly hyperventilated think about probable data analysis issues on my drive today.

This is not fun.

There are far too many not fun things going on in my life right now and I realized something about the not fun that I can own. I live in disposable relationships that I can be pretty careless with. I need to start reading the labels for use and care... And maybe be a little more cautious with using and tossing because it's getting pretty old.

That's this week's goal- paying attention.

29-27 weeks of grace. Patience

I am not a patient person. I don't like toiling, pining or doing anything else that seems like a shitload of effort especially if the reward is hidden or nebulous. The fact of the matter is that I think putting up with discomfort is ridiculous unless there is one hell of a pay off. 

The past few weeks have been an exercise in patience and judgement. They've pretty much been a game that I unwittingly played into and unfortunately both parties lost.

There isn't really any comfort to be found. The moral of the story is to listen when someone tells you something and move on when someone can't give you what you need.

There is a lot of letting go happening in so many areas of my life. Letting go of wants and preconceptions. Swapping one set of future ideals for something I love and want more... And realizing that I was let go of. Calling it rejected doesn't feel right. Calling myself tossed aside or cast off makes me a victim of someone else's whims and I choose to see this as a gift. I was let go of. I'm dropping the story of how or why or what specific moments felt like... releasing all of that drama and simply being with the absolute truth of the matter. And now, I can be open to something nourishing, sexy, kind and unafraid of loving me. It's an emptiness, but it's an open, calm, graceful place and I am grateful for it.

I will be patient with myself, trust my path and the world and enjoy the beauty that shows up.

300 words

I'm in my usual grad work spot this evening. It’s bustling. There’s this pulsing of nerd love and friends catching up over far too caffeinated and far too expensive hot beverages. It all feels too fast and frantic: these people are in a rush to squeeze everything possible out of their weekend. It's a fall evening. One of the best sort and if I wasn't here, I would be in my back yard, bundled up with the lap blanket from my alma mater. I'd be looking up at the stars with a cup of tea or warm cider and thinking about someone who told me that he thinks of me every time he has a beer in hand and a clear night to appreciate... or multiple someones who’ve claimed real estate in my psyche.

I'm having a week in which I don't feel particularly blessed, though I have plenty of proof to the contrary from people who have flattered me/ loved me up/ taken care of me from across continents and in all sorts of ways in all sorts of locations. The rub is I feel like I'm coming up against a lot of truths that I wasn't ready to accept and a lot of challenges that I still don't know if I can meet. I did some serious work over the past week with the two people I entrust with everything. They told me to listen. To actually find stillness. To stop the frantic and panic. To find the calm. To listen to what came out. I did. I heard it first last weekend and I didn't know what to do with it... then, it came up again later this week. It's logical, it feels amazingly true, but it scares the hell out of me. Fortunately, I've been told time and time again by people who I trust that if things aren't ok it simply means that they aren't over yet. I'm trying to have faith in that, faith in them and faith in myself.

300 words. That's approximately how much I changed one draft to another- over 7 hours of work to change about 300 words, but they made a significant difference. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s closer…I've framed my life in terms of this small, but potent idea. 300 words from others- the small gestures. The returned messages. Telling you how amazing you are or simply sharing a day. It's a simple ritual- a communion of shared desire, openness and respect. Missing it... the lack of words or misplaced or abused words... that little neglect left untended breeds contempt, distrust and disillusion.

For me right now, it's the little, the steps, the bobbles, the moving forward or at least not veering to absurdly far off path (unless the reason is too delicious to pass up) that is what adds up. Finding the quiet. Jamming out to whatever comes on the iPod. Having that cup of tea, or that drink with a best friend. 300 words-ish (maybe 508). That's what can save or break you. 

Letting go.

I hate letting things go. It feels like a failure on my part. As though I have some extraordinary super powers to tip the hands of fate or control things completely out of my influence, I feel like there must have been something I could have done.

Maybe there was... In some cases I know there was, but that time has passed. It's over and being self flagellating is doing nothing for me.

I'm moving on.

30 weeks of grace

Between a long weekend of parties and school starting again, I haven't had a moment to write. I've been too busy doing.

I'm still having huge doubts about teaching Bellyfit. I think of all of the things that could go wrong, realizing, of course, that if I don't endeavor 1, nothing will go wrong and 2, nothing will be gained. Precarious. I don't like regrets.

List for the week:

1. Pumpkin clause. Done Tuesday & Wednesday so far.

2. Yoga and Bellyfit. Done Wednesday & Thursday so far.

3. Stay within calories for the day.

4. One studio/ email.

5. Sew a seam

I'm waiting for my committee's comments. Fingers crossed.

A joyful pause

Wednesday. 

I haven't felt normal since Wednesday.

Here's how it went down:

I woke up late, scrambled to get myself together. Dad dropped off some stuff for Sunday's fiesta. I emailed my advisor and tried to call the department secretary about a form I needed signed. I bolted to work to print and fax the form. My work computer is completely disconnected and my room isn't ready yet, but I prevailed. Went to M & D's to download the comments my advisor had sent me on my chapter 2 revisions. Found out the changes I'd made that multi doc morning at Starbucks to the forms I'd just printed hadn't saved. Redid, reprinted, received the signed forms, printed and rushed off to the post office with 15 minutes to spare. Research paperwork forms should have been received today. Big sigh of relief.

Spent the early evening addressing my advisor's chapter 2 edits, repackaged chapters 1-3 together and sent them off. I picked Char up and we had only missed  a couple of pitches in the first inning of a friend's ball game.

My committee has it. My advisor/ chair told them he hoped it would be a penultimate draft and that the methodology looked doable.

Like I said, I haven't felt normal since Wednesday. It's sunk in and it hasn't. I'm teary and not sure what to do with myself. It feels so much different than I thought getting here would... But I can't articulate what I thought this should be like... Having something major handed in, having a committee and being hopefully a draft away from my proposal hearing. Wow. My chair told the rest of the committee that he wanted to schedule the hearing early in the fall so I can collect data late this fall. I want that regalia this May. I want to dedicate my dissertation to my favorite comediennes. Sigh. Waiting and enjoying the moment's pause.

31 weeks of grace

Last week was ugly. I need to pare down and see how I can do with fewer tasks this week:

1. Lit review off to advisor. Paperwork into IRB

2. One query letter out. Thinking Penguin.

3. Yoga and Bellyfit

4. House party ready

5. Drop off info to one studio

6. Seam

7. Pumpkin clause

I also need to remind myself of why I'm doing this. I have four basic desires I mentioned my first week. I think I need to unpack them.

I want to be happy. I want to be pleased with the things I do. I want to mean what I say and do what I tell myself I'm going to do. I want to feel comfortable in my skin and enjoy it with someone who is completely sure that I am someone he never wants to live without and let's me know it every chance he gets. I want to be secure and fulfilled in my job, finances and relationships.

I want to be tiny. I want mediums to start being baggy. I'm enjoying that feeling with the larges, but I want the letter L banished and to welcome S. I want to be able to behave like a 40s movie star: leaving trails of champagne cocktails and beautiful men in my wake and curling up to someone suave who smells like heaven and dances like a dream.

I want to do things that I think are amazing. I want to swing on a trapeze. I want to do tricks on silks. I want to make my own dresses. I want to create and publish. I want to add beauty to this world and have a fabulous time doing it.

I want to be healthy. I want the weight on the scale to be a number my docs and I are comfy with. I want to eat for hunger.

I want to deal with stress and malarkey in a manor that is conducive to my well being. I want a good night's sleep.

The 'if'

I'm more of a dreamer than a planner.

I fall in love with ideas and people far too quickly without ever knowing what the next logical step looks like or exactly what moves will get me to the fairy tale ending. Granted half the time I don't necessarily know what that ending entails either. Enthusiasm infests me in the way apathy affects others.

I have to rein myself in a lot of the time and remember to take forward steps because the things that I want haunt my dreams and they are the big kinds of things. I've never been accused of being normal, but I've been accused of being nuts on occasion.

I'm trying to keep myself in check currently in three areas of my life. Professionally, I'm baby stepping into a better draft of my literature review and dotting 'i's and crossing 't's on research paperwork. It's a very difficult task for me because this is the first time the stakes have been so high and I'm super sensitive to criticism regardless of wording. It's also difficult to draft something concise and cohesive when the studies done have been divergent and the theories don't play well together.

 Healthwise, I'm keeping close tabs on everything going in my mouth and doing yoga everyday. I had a bingy blurp yesterday, but otherwise I'm keeping it in check and knowing that food isn't going to take care of any anxiety or stress I feel in any other area of my life. 

Personally is far more difficult for me. I'm trying to keep my expectations and emotions in check with someone I really really adore. This person and I did a decent job of hurting each other through a misunderstanding over a month ago, so I'm treading carefully to protect myself and keep me from becoming too attached too quickly. I don't actually have him saved as a contact. I delete all the messages we exchange everyday. I try to focus on everything else that is important in my life. I don't know how worthwhile any of these protective protocols are though. I can't erase memories. Seeing him for the first time. How nervous I was for our first kiss. The way his hands felt on my waist as I bent down to pick something up the other night. His quirks, stories and jokes. 

The first time I saw him he was standing nervously outside of the bar we were meeting at, hands in his pockets and keeping a look out for me. He looked anxious, but more than that... He was hopeful, expectant. I was in my car and when I saw him, I couldn't conceal the smile on my face. It was coming from my toes, my belly, my chest, my fingers and brain. We made eye contact and I just smiled the way you smile at someone who is becoming someone you simply want to be with. I like the way I feel in that memory. I like the way I feel when I'm near him. I like being told I'm beautiful and being doted upon while I'm sleepy.

It also scares the crap out of me. Relationships and I don't have an amiable past and I made sort of a deal with myself late this past winter that I would keep ice water in my veins and simply enjoy company without cultivating anything. It worked a little, but it wasn't counting on meeting some of the amazing men I met. The others became fantastic fodder for drinks with girlfriends or forgotten. Unfortunately, I didn't make the appropriate sacrifices to the goddesses/ gods of relationships and things fell apart.

I guess I'm ready for the big one. The one that can be it and if it isn't it is going to hurt like hell. I'm ready to put skin in. I'm ready to have the 'if' talks. We've had a couple over the past week and it's been completely telling about our differences in personalities. The planner in him is having a really hard time with my nebulous future. The comedienne in me wants to make hilariously glib comments about getting way ahead of ourselves, but is secretly thrilled that he's thinking this way. It's strange, for being such an anti planner how much I don't like the feeling of groundlessness relationships give me... I think it's because I can trust myself to take care of my own stuff and my own best interests, but it's really hard for me to trust someone else with the responsibility of keeping me safe and whole.

Scared, but not running away.

32 weeks of grace

This week's goals:

1. Sew a decent seam

2. Pumpkin clause

3. Yoga and Bellyfit

4. Actually call/ contact studios

5. House and yard party ready

6. Find agents/ publishers to contact

7. Edits on chapters 1 and 2 in

8. Planning for one prep done

Below- my stack of work at Barnes and Noble today.

So far: pumpkin'ed well, did yoga and Bellyfit on Monday. Came up with house to do list and did some odds and ends. Printed out handouts on Saturday.

Tuesday: did yoga in the am, finished chapter 1 edits, worked on chapter 2 and pumpkin'ed well.

Today: worked on chapter 2, cleaned the whole house, yoga and Bellyfit, found the punch bowl. Full moons really do something wacky to me.

Trying to pull five of these documents together into a cohesive draft. Wish me luck!

Sink or Swim

I would have entitled this breathe or paper bag, but the last post was on breathing and I think I've got that down now.

I sent out chapter 1 and 2 drafts last week. 1 on Weds am and 2 on Saturday. I just got my edits back today. Chapter 1 isn't bad. It was a 10 minute fix. 

Chapter 2 is ugly. Really really ugly. It needs shaping, it needs some recalibration, it has over a dozen track changes and it's going to require me going back into the literature I based it off of for some additional information and positing a lot of things differently. I'm trying not to puke, cry or go near sharp objects.

I'm going to just keep swimming. Do what I have to and get this over with. Goal is to have a new draft in by tomorrow afternoon... And then either beach or pool time. 

Breathe

The 'how the eff are you going to do all of this' train is trying to leave the station of my mind- destination: full blown panic attack. Chapter 2 is messy. Messy is getting tiring. I'm starting to feel like a compost. I'm getting scraps from others and not the savory bits... The bits they would have thrown out, but instead they're at least mindful enough to bring them to me so that I can digest them and turn them into something nourishing. I'm beginning to get indigestion.

I want to be so dazzling and dazzled that I require sunglasses.

Breathing.

Doing more of this.

Noticing more things like this in the world.

Proud of myself for this. I'm on my way. I need to remember every step, forward or backward is still movement and unless I'm digesting, sleeping or meditating, I need to keep moving... Just keep swimming.

Pumpkins

2 nights of pumpkin clause success in a row! I think three is very feasible tonight.

My advisor has everything but chapter 2. I'm waiting on edits, but plan on chapter 2 draft being sent out tomorrow.

Yoga is 2 for 2. Did bellyfit yesterday along with 4+ miles of walking. Did a 16.5 mile bike ride today and gardened for nearly 2 hours, so I'm thinking that I may not physically do the teaching routine, but I'll watch and read through the manual. Probably work on verbal cues. Printing out the handouts tomorrow and figuring out a couple more logistical things.

'Borrowed thread last night, not realizing I already have some. Will post picks as I figure out how to thread it and make my first stitches.

It's 2 hours later. Here's what I've got so far:

Not pretty, but progress.

Keep swimming

I faxed in the form for my committee to be appointed and had a call with my advisor today. Changed around something major in the proposal to streamline and then had to change that in all of the IRB paperwork. Spent another two hours with forms today. Chapters 1 and 2 are calling my name and they're first on the agenda after cardio tomorrow.

I didn't make the pumpkin clause last night, but I think I may be in good shape for it tonight. One of the projects I took on was the open office shelves. Have to give credit where it's due- I apparently had them in some rough semblance of order so it didn't take as long as anticipated to go through and purge. I came out with a full recyclable bin, a few folders/ papers filed elsewhere, an organized binder of yoga/ wellness and three piles for grad school: need, probably won't need and nerd. The nerd pile is papers I was given that I haven't gotten to yet.

Did yoga and bellyfit today.

For teaching, I located the handouts to give potential sites- printing tomorrow.

The sewing machine and I became a little better acquainted. We did a brief anatomy lesson... And I realized I don't actually have spools of thread.

Taking care of that tomorrow too.

Today's good signs were the violet being in bloom again in the office. I think I'll have three flowers by tomorrow and ...

Not the text message, though that was nice too. Notice the NKOTB that came on to iTunes. Classic.

Progress

What I did today:

Yoga, check

Up to page 13 in sewing machine manual. Yes, that's my first completed project in the back ground (I wish).

Bellyfit manual and some kombucha by the garden.

Did you know there were this many types of thread. Wow.

I finished all of my IRB paperwork and sent it off for my advisor's perusal. I did yoga and bf, I read part of the manuals for both bf and the sewing machine, I found numbers for 4 possible places to teach and I'm on pace to hit the hay before midnight. Yay!

33 weeks of grace

This is my view this afternoon.

 The bottom one is as done as I can get it😀.

The nine pages of forms I'm working through right now have taken me about 45 mins so far and I'm just starting the tricky parts. Doesn't IRB know that I have a date with a bicycle and a crick this afternoon???

Pushing through.

That was from 1:30 ish this afternoon. I pushed through and completed the long form and sent it to my advisor. I started another two forms, one of which I have completed in my methodology and just need to tweak it to look like what their formal version looks like.

I have edits back from my advisor already and therefore have a starting place tomorrow. It's a comforting feeling seeing progress.

This was also my view this afternoon:

And this was this evening:

I biked ten miles and took a defensive measure in the garden war against furry nibblers.

I like the idea of starting points and challenges and seeing progress. My first blog was cake30 and I learned a ton from it- it wound up being a really gorgeous experience that brought me closer to co-workers, students, friends and family.

I have just under 33 weeks now until I turn 33... How am I going to end this year in my life gracefully and start the next off with a bang?

I want to be happy.

I want to be tiny.

I want to do things I think are amazing.

I want to be healthy.

Those are the goals.

How to get there I think needs to be tailored weekly into 5 miscible things to do. So, here are my 5 by Friday:

1. Read the sewing machine booklet and practice on fabric.

2. Pumpkin clause. I need my beauty rest.

3. Yoga and bellyfit every day

4. Contacts about teaching bellyfit

5. Chapters 1 & 2, at least 2 sets of edits, finish all IRB paperwork.

Over

I get overwhelmed. It isn't that I can't parse out the important, it's that I get to a point where it's almost like I've been shot in the forehead with elephant tranquilizers laced with LSD and I feel like I'm being pulled in by the undertow of this absurd sh#t show. I see all of the blatant banality and wonder how on earth anything could be considered reputable. This is why I take social media detoxes and this is one of the reasons why I keep small and selective company. Untrained minds given a forum without a focus feel absolutely chaotic en masse... And truth be told, I don't want/ need to know how deep or shallow my pseudo acquaintances' thought pools run or how negative or thoughtless their streams of consciousnesses (I'm sure it's a word) flow.

I'm over tired right now. It's after 4 am and my mind has yet to catch its breath from the utter melee of IRB forms and revisions that I'm feebly attempting to be positive about.

In true me fashion I've been reaching for the perfect storms to cope or try to get out from under this crushing pressure, but yet again, they've overthrown me. At some point I sincerely hope I know better for the sake of my stomach, heart and mind...

I need to get over it.

This sucks right now. I'm pissed and scared and I'm in the middle of it. I'm absolutely capable of getting through it with less harm, more joy and more rest... Deep breath. Ok, eff it, let's get a little sleep and get some forms done.

Fun with IRB

IRB is how a school regulates human subjects research. They have to approve of any and everything I do for this study... Basically alongside of my committee, they own me until I finish this degree.

I drove over an hour to Albany yesterday for what wound up being a 10 minute meeting. A very informative and helpful meeting, but two hours in the car for 10 mins of meeting and some fantastic sushi. I ran into Seema her husband and new baby out to lunch. So good to see them and be able to chat about life and grad work.

The good news: my advisor thinks my methodology is in good shape and ready for my committee as soon as I finish redoing my chapter 1 and 2.

The to do list:

Chapters 1 and 2 edits/ rewrites

IRB forms

Garden

Clean the house.

Busy afternoon. ;)

Statistics

The problem with taking so long to really get cooking on my proposal is that I can't freaking remember the couple of semesters of statistics I took back in the day. I'm trying to figure out which forms of analysis will make my data sparkle, but I'm kind of scratching my head as I retread through old textbooks. Multivariate analyses look sort of tasty and appropriate... Now let's see how they actually work...

Another draft is in with gaps in quantitative to be talked through. Fingers crossed for good feedback.

Abundance

I came from a scarcity back ground. Don't get me wrong, we weren't needy. I was just very wanty and was brought up being told that I didn't meet whatever imaginary threshold was required to get what I wanted. I didn't need an expensive prom dress, but I was told because it wasn't like I had a boyfriend to go with anyway I wasn't going to get anything special. It was flaunted in front of me the other day and still stung.

I have a situation where my needs simply are being ignored. I don't know if it's a power play, a mind game or if something is legitimately wrong and he's refusing to communicate, but I came up with a new use for the date relic rocks: throwing them at boys. And I do mean boys. Men know better. (Disclaimer: I actually found a home for the rocks and left them at said home tonight).

Here's the rub- this world is full of plenty. There are plenty of men who wouldn't do this to me. There is plenty of laughter to be shared, dancing to be done, songs to listen to and stories to be shared. What there isn't is plenty of time to put up with bull. To quote one of my dear dear friends, 'nut up or shut up.'

As for me, I feel like a little girl being put to bed with the wrong stuffed animal. I have dozens of beautiful things, but the one I draw the most comfort from is not at my disposal. I need to suck it up and enjoy what is rather than focusing on what isn't... Or more my style, trash everything and start fresh. Maybe that's why I like autumn so well, the season of demo, trusting that everything will begin afresh in the spring.

I have the second big draft of my methodology with commentary that I've been trucking along fixing. I spent two hours just with the track changes and another hour and a half relearning statistics last night. Today, I spent two hours with statistics and another two looking over case study analyses, phenomenology and generic qualitative how-to textbooks. I'm going to attempt another hour of putting things together before I send draft three out. I also have a meeting with research compliance on Wednesday. Exciting and terrifying times.

Did the qualitative work at a bar tonight. It's a cool place that I haven't been to in about two months. The bar is original 1930s with some prohibition era artifacts. I sat at the bar and was taken care of by the owner and his mom who regaled me with the stories and played me the original vinyl collection of the couple who owned the bar from the 1930s to the 1970s. You ever have those moments in the middle of chaos, in the middle of self-doubt and utter shit shows that have you wondering what you can possibly do to turn it around when suddenly a song comes on and you know that you'll make everything golden and that there is inherent good and order for those who welcome it. I had one of those at the bar. I had just ordered my second drink, the owner came over to make sure I hadn't left the drink in the stream of sunlight on the bar and an instrumental version of 'Blue Skies' came on... I remembered every word. I've sought comfort in food this week, thinking there wasn't enough energy in me to make better decisions and that there wasn't enough in the world to hold my attention... but it was as simple as that old favorite song...Bing Crosby singing along with me to remind me to leave room to be delighted.

What's in a name???

I've had this thing with dating for as long as I can remember where my friends never actually knew the name of the guy I was seeing until they were about to meet him. I never realized that I did this... I knew it was funny to have code names for them: ass (based on behavior not anatomy), the coach, the one from high school, the bartender, the Greek god, the foot guy, the marine, the Canadian, the teacher, the funny one, etc.

I do the same thing with people I run into in the world at large. My study abroad friends would know in a heart beat who peanut butter is and I regale my social media buddies with stories of mouth breathers and awkward socializers galore.

But what is in a name?

Words have power. They color the world for us, as Theodore Dreiser pointed out. What does how we talk about the people things that are important to us say about who we are and how we see ourselves relating to these people and things?

I worry that my name calling could lead others to believe that I'm not compassionate or nice, that I'm a bit of a snot and that I don't give people a chance. They're probably right :) I think I'm just reaching for something funny in the strange and uncomfortable.

Hmmm. Writing this from Barnes and Noble. Avoiding awkward glances from the guy who I pretended not to hear when he asked me how vacation was because 1, I don't know him and 2, do I look like I'm here to socialize? I mean seriously.

Received revisions on my methodology yesterday afternoon and I added on an extra six pages this morning (only 2 1/2) are bibliography. Feeling decent. Realizing half of the game right now is keeping my head in it and psyching myself up, not out. Have a couple of Albany contacts to make this week and need to pop into work tomorrow. Emailing draft 2 before dinner. Woo!

PS Mumford & Sons= soundtrack of victory.

Fred Astaire

"Laughter is the sound of the soul dancing. My soul probably looks like Fred Astaire." Jarod Kintz

"You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by." J.M. Barrie

It has been two years and ten days since I started this blog shouting that I would be finished by now and I had no excuses not to be.

I am obviously not finished yet, but here is what I've got:

Drafts of chapters 1, 2 and partial 3 in for review.

People who send me to do lists like this:

And me joyously accomplishing them like this:

Dancing with fairies- great use of any evening.

While I didn't sprout them, Abby Kadabby (sorry Sesame Street- better things to do than google a name) and I worked up some magic to get them on me.

Yes, the good little witch is flying to the moon, wearing a mermaid on her dress.

And

I returned the favor with the following list:

Hug Wendy

Abs

Animal driving a car

Blow bubbles with a gnome

Sing with a starfish 

I can't wait to see what they come up with.

Goal: To dance through the rest of this process. Not saying it's going to be easy, not saying that I'm going to love every second of it. I am committed to seeing it through with as much grace, joy and laughter as possible.

Proposal completed by August 27, 2014

Dissertation submitted and defended by April 20, 2014.

Killer graduation party Memorial Day, Sunday, May 25, 2014

Ridiculously awesome trip someplace amazing or moving someplace incredible summer 2014.

Buckle in kids, this is going to be fun...

Effing frogs

I'm an archivist of relics of good times. Cards, bottles, drawings, walls of lovers, event bracelets, legally and not so legally gotten glassware- these are random artifacts that I keep in spots more treasured than the deed to my house. Some stuff, I feel no loyalty to once whatever hormones or emotions that tethered me to their co-conspirator have vanished.

That said...

Relationship relics for sale...

You know how after it's over, after the ice cream and tissues and vetching with your favorites is done... After you get used to the fact that he isn't texting and that if you didn't have a severe dislike of cats you could very well become a cat lady... And then you see them: the little cutesy reminders. The ghosts of dates past.

Date location: Oswego.

Items up for bid: two lovely pink striated rocks.

Recommended uses:

1. Gonads- incase you can't find your own, this delightful pair of rocks can fit the bill, helping you plan dates, feel comfortable enough to communicate or perhaps hang in there (pun intended) while the person you're seeing is in the middle of a week of disasters.

2. Small planets- ever wanted to be the center of your own universe? Now you actually can be. (Gravitational pull to keep rocks in orbit not included).

3. @nal beads- for when that stick falls out and you decide to start enjoying yourself. (Lubrication not included- not responsible for any personal harm inflicted by user not googling the appropriateness of sticking rocks in his/her orafices).

4. Starter kit for a meditation/ rock garden. Om your way to a zenny place.

5. A clue (or two)- some people may think if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck. Those people have never met a f#cking swan.

Date location: the big pineapple (aka. H-town)

Item up for bid: cork from a bottle of DMB wine. Quote from The Dreaming Tree inscribed on the side.

Recommended uses:

1. Putting a cork in it. If you really are that full of sh#t- do the world a favor and let this vintage of verbal incontinence age well with this fabulous stopper.

2. Crafty holiday decor... If you like making random sh#t, let the creativity flow. (Other festive parts not included- buy your own damn glitter).

3. You still haven't gotten over your college infatuation with DMB. (You know I'm looking at YOU).

4. Reenacting the Spanish Armada with your collection of rubber duckies. Easily dressed up as Lord Howard of Effingham with pipe cleaner and a sharpie.

The bidding will start at postage + one hilarious relationship story... Additional uses for items shown welcome.

Methodological

Trying not to swear has never been so difficult in my life... Well, that's not entirely true, but this is a very close second.

I have three somethings that I have to do. That I promised myself I would do... And I'm in desperate need of some divine intervention, or a strong kick in the butt to remind me to put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving. The middle is such an icky and lonely place to be and knowing I'm here by personal choice only makes it more irritating. Sucking it up. Celebration time for a friend, getting some more pages turned out and then more celebrating tomorrow. Breathing and relaxing into the world I created.

Ride

Surprises. My life is overflowing with surprises right now. I haven't really caught my breath since the first rolled out in March and they keep arriving in waves. Losing people, losing things, losing my compass and wondering exactly where this identity I've been hiding behind for so long really came from.

Welcoming new challenges and new people into my life has opened me up to identify and make keep or trash decisions on nuances of myself. My insecurities mirrored in those of others. Unintentional triggers. Misunderstandings that lead everything to fall apart and lay bare and sometimes matter so much less than the underlying issues found and simply let go of.

I asked someone on a date two weeks ago what his life plan was... It wasn't a job interview interrogation- it was the tag line in a health insurance billboard we drove past. He answered, but neglected to ask me the same and I didn't offer. I'm offering it to you: my life plan is to enjoy what I have left with the people I find fascinating and who adore me doing something that intrigues me and adds value to this world. Tall order? You betcha. I've always been accused of having expensive tastes, and I've finally learned where being discerning and uncompromising really matters.

The scope

This is an essential ontological debate because it questions my being... and it's a being I'm feeling more and more foreign in as I fight through the veritable  jungle of what's been dished out lately armed with kitchen shears and tweezers.  Maybe that's my problem- I never know how to accessorize appropriately. I have no concept of the tools required for the task at hand. I have a problem with never knowing the scope or the breadth of something. Knowing what the damage is... Knowing what I actually want as opposed to what I think I want out of the choices available to me. If you don't know what the problem is or what your goal looks like how do you equip yourself appropriately?

Apparently, you don't. You relish in the army of friends and family (and sometimes colleagues and strangers) who came before you. Allow in what seems palatable of their collective experience and you experiment... And wait and see. Experiment your a$$ off... Because honestly, what's your other option?

Accepting saying, 'yes. &?' Letting go of fear. This is how I will exist in this world.

Good volley of emails on a new draft/ new direction for the proposal. I have things to sleep on. Enjoying breathing this in.

Small and quiet

I'm still figuring out what me calm looks like. I haven't had a lot of practice. I almost feel like one of this National Geographic shows- catching an animal doing something completely random or out of character... Or perhaps a rare breed. The story is I'm disappointed on so many levels and with so many people. Promises weren't fulfilled. Rules and expectations changed and I was blindsided or stubborn or hurt or irritated or all the above and I reacted poorly. Coming from a place of fear is normal for me. Coming from a place of compassion and love is the most difficult thing I've ever attempted.

I had a phone call with one of my mentors about this. This concept of being in the world how you want to be and how you want to be treated. I get grace... I get kindness... But f#€%, when I put all of this effort in and have the carpet pulled out from under me and I'm continually expected to just breathe through it and be ok with it? This is what I'm having a huge problem with. Sitting with disappointment. The very physical heart burn that comes from being hurt.

I'm shot of it. I need to figure something else out because this absolutely sucks... But screaming and waving my hands like a lunatic or holding onto the hurt or reacting and getting into bigger and more pervasive messes isn't helping either. This is why I'm such a big fan of ending things when they start to suck. There is no gold medal given for putting up with someone else's shit or idiosyncrasies. Would I rather be right or happy? I'd rather be happy...

I keep having to remind myself that happiness is a choice. It rains. It's pouring now and I can stay inside or go outside and curse it... I can focus on something else. Analytical frameworks and research questions don't create themselves. Or I can go outside and play. My choice.

Fun and beautiful and free can be so simple. A little smile. A walk. A cup of tea.  A beautiful conversationalist. Sometimes laughter doesn't roil. Sometimes pleasure doesn't scream. There's beauty in the paradoxes, but there's also beauty in the small and quiet.

Heavy

I feel like I'm being buried alive. I know what grace and serenity are. I am accepting... but no one said that accepting wouldn't still hurt like a bitch as you watched things around you shift and waver and shape change and some, even evaporate before your very eyes. I have things that I don't want to let go of. And maybe that's a sign that I need stronger shoulders and arms to fight, to claw my way up and to hold on.

I'm trying to remember that it's a blessing. It's a blessing having people you are afraid of losing. It's a blessing knowing your worth and the worth of what amazing people add to your world. It's a blessing having the choice to forge a future of your own design and forged with your own hard work, dedication, and passion. It's all a gift. All of it.

Petulant

I feel like a cranky child having a tantrum right now. I am so attached to something that I want and so angry at myself for wanting something that I promised myself I wouldn't want that I'm refusing to see everything else around me that I have to do and want to accomplish. 

Someone once told me that time will pass no matter what and it is. Days like today I feel like a rock, stuck in a riverbed with the current ripping rapidly around me- time is moving and I am not.

How do I turn this around? How do I make time into family and accomplish all I've set out before me? Trust me, it's one hell of an obstacle course:

Boundaries. Nothing in this world is accomplished (actually done well) without focus and focus means knowing when to do something and when to knock it off. It's knowing time is a finite resource and limiting contact with the people and things that don't allow me to focus or to utilize that time to the best of my ability.

It's trusting. Letting the eff go of certain things for bits of time, knowing I have to put things down occasionally to know what to do with them when I pick them back up.

It's breathing. And taking one step at a time. Ok, onward and upward.

Too easily

I let someone off the hook. I let them go, I let it slide, I didn't make him explain himself. My big, big push right now has to do with the people in my life possessing a pair. Did I really let him off easily knowing that he's a coward and did something that was absolutely ridiculous? Or did I let myself off the hook by cutting out someone who was potentially toxic? I consider my pair in tact because I didn't chase after. I didn't beg. I stated my case a few days ago, I was placated and then ignored and now I have this open space that I'd kept for him. I'm going to fill it with things that make me feel amazing. I'm meeting with my advisor once a week now with the exception of AERA week. I'm working out my practicum for Bellyfit and I have some lovely little bachelors knocking on the door- who will give me what I need and ask for or be thrown back in.
Enjoying this gorgeous weather and breathing through the stress. ;)

Frustration

Focus is eluding me.
It sinks for hours into warm baths promising when the fingers are just pruny enough it will return, but it doesn't.
It checks in on Facebook and twitter a dozen times, looking for obscure posts, for signs. Not realizing that synchronicity doesn't just happen- it needs a first step to play partner to.
It looks at old emails and text messages and mourns a past you were never actually married to. It asks you the most ridiculous questions about chance and fate and what if.
It makes these illustrious plans. It gets you all keyed up to do something marvelous, to challenge yourself and meet the uncommon success that only the most faithful or foolish believe you capable of and then, it decides to put it all on hold and engage you in the best game of hide and seek you've ever been tagged into. My focus has been known to take long walks outside and get lost in the gorgeousness of spring and the neat old buildings she still doesn't know after all these years. Sometimes she'll go out for cocktails and lip slut with younger men. If you're out and about and you happen to bump into her, could you tell her that we have a degree to finish?
Thanks.