Ode to Working the Health Care

As I've done a solid run through my coverage the other day, and will continue to do so through the end of May, I have a few thoughts.

First off, how does anyone ever find a doctor they like? I've been bouncing around within the Group Health system because I find that really... unless I'm due for someone to poke and prod me, the email and phone networks they have set up work really well for me, especially being on the road. I like that I can fire off email questions, but I've never liked the doctors in my visits that much. The nurses are definitely more interesting to talk to and a lot warmer in personality.

Secondly, I'm not too keen on the fact that I went in to mainly talk about a nagging on/off problem with my anxiety, and the doctor suggested anti-depressants right away. SSRI's are not a laughing matter, and I'm not depressed. After the little 10 point "questionnaire" she said she might say I have "very mild depression," but really, I just get mini panic attacks when I can't sleep for a week straight and have to deal with craziness from my presenter at the same time... which is definitely not the same thing. I've done everything I can to deal with them, but diet and exercise can go right out the window on a BER week. I've had these in the past, and Xanex dealt with them really well... so well that I never even finished the bottle before they expired. So, instead of giving me something that would solve the problem I have (okay, so Xanex pills are potentially habit-forming, but I explained that I knew that and was very careful with them), she wanted to put me on a regimen of drugs for the next 6-10 months! Let's try something that costs less than $10, and monitor that progress before we throw the baby out with the bathwater!!

Lastly, honestly, I knew what I wanted when I went in. There is so much information out there, that I can make an informed decision without going in to the doctor, yet I have to waste most of the half-hour trying to talk her out of putting me on SSRI's and then being referred to someone else for another appointment for the other half of my questions.

At least the dentist and the eye doctor were more straight forward appointments.

I really would like to go to a doctor that was more holistic... but at the same time I hardly need a doctor. The annual tests and bloodwork are fine, but they take all of 15 minutes. And maybe I would like it for someone else to inform me of what tests I should have done at what times, but since I am mostly well, what do I need it for if all they are going to do is try to put me on meds that I probably do not need? I know what diet and exercise means, and I guess I'd love to have someone who is more of a psychologist and nutritionist than a pharmacist, but then again, I have the luxury of not being sick.

What exactly is preventative medicine other than eating a good diet and exercising?

Connections

Natural disasters happen every year, and while some are larger than others, they all impact people's lives. The 7.0 earthquake that happened yesterday in Haiti hit a bit close to home for me... One of my friends was in Haiti on a humanitarian vacation, working with children of the impoverished country. She was on the top floor of her building when the earthquake hit, and was luckily pulled out of the rubble after the building collapsed, suffering only broken bones and bruises (thank god for Facebook that I can know all of this only a day later!). Yet, there are thousands more that need rescuing and emergency health care, thousands more who have died or are dying, and once the immediate triage has been completed, there is still the matter of rebuilding a desperately poor country.

This tragedy has hit me as something that I both can and must help with. I encourage anyone who can to donate to the American Red Cross or any other organization to help with the cause(here is a list of 7 reputable charities), because, as another friend has pointed out, prayers do not set up relief centers, provide drinking water, or rebuild homes and hospitals.

A Christmas Carol

Ho Ho Ho...

Okay, screw it. I'll tell it to you straight: I hate have a fairly negative history with Christmas.

From being the adorable 2-year-old given a tiny-sized softball mitt and squishy ball, only to burst into tears and exclaim, "I don't even know what it is!" to the young adult dressing up as a goth for a practical joke/spiteful statement for my dad's side of the family (in particular my grandmother), I've often been a bit of a brat on this particular day. Every year I am a huge grinch... but I realize that being a spoilsport isn't much fun. So I've been working on my attitude and those reflex reactions that come out of nowhere to make the social constructs of Christmas more fun for myself and those around me.

I feel like putting some of this together as a way to explain why I probably will never have a collection of Christmas music or your typical giddiness as the day approaches.

Christmas Past:

Not to complain (as I realize that my attitude is mostly my reaction to situations, not from any particular person or cause), but rather to explain I'll ask the question: "Where did all of this grinching come from?"
After reflection I've decided it probably something to do with the pressure of being one of the oldest kids out of both sides of my family, the first girl (on both sides), and the total attention of waaay to many adults after being dragged around without a nap for days on end. While I've been an attention whore my whole life, something about those preliminary years definitely affected me:

As I grew up, I (young, sugar-charged, and sleep deprived) was asked to babysit and organize my younger, equally sugar-charged, sleep-deprived cousins into family Christmas pageants every year upon our arrival at grandma's, which my perfectionist nature made into much more traumatic experiences than necessary. Add in many many years worth of this constant self-inflicted pressure, my grandmother's eternal need to create drama out of nowhere, complicated relationships between my parents and other relatives, one year's explosive expletive-filled expulsion from the Hughes-family festivities, and a growing sarcastic nature and this is what you get:
Christmas Present:

A smile on my face? Me, wearing a red Christmas sweater dress? Is this really even possible?
Evidently it is. If...

I just do all my shopping online a few weeks ahead except for a few projects I can knit up on planes and a couple of little things to pick up in the last week. And then I avoid all Christmas things, even on the road where decorations and constant music are ubiquitous. Perhaps I get sick with an intense cold, and spend a couple of days on the couch, knitting and avoiding food prep (especially the exhausting cookie making). Then, on Christmas Eve, I regain my strength, finish my shopping, wrap everything, and help with the prep for dinner. Christmas day, I manage to nap a bit, work on the set up for the second party in two days, and focus on the constant clean-up and moving along of the festivities while my house is besieged by 20 other people. I make sure that the white elephant gift exchange has written rules and take control so that it moves along as quickly as possible, making it possible for everyone to leave by 9:30pm. Then I give up and escape at around 10:30pm, when a few of my cousins start clunking out "heart and soul" on the piano over, and over, and over... directly above my bedroom, and then continue for another hour.If I can still have a smile on my face after all that... I can manage Christmas.

Christmas Future:

I can remember one time in my 25 Christmases where I understood the Christmas spirit and enjoyed my family and everything about the holiday. That was the year where my immediate family was traveling in the Southwest--touring about about in an RV from Phoenix to Santa Fe (where we spent Christmas itself) and onwards to Monument Valley, Chaco Canyon, and the Grand Canyon.

So my ideal Chirstmas wish is to eventually re-create this holiday escape... I'd love to spend the holiday in a snowy place like New England, or in a German or French town with Christmas markets, somewhere warm for a tropical Christmas in sundresses, or even just escaping to a cabin by the Washington Coast or in the San Jauns. Somewhere new every other year... away from all of the traditions that make me feel the triggers of the past.But we always have to have a Big Freakin Tree.

The Definition of Silence

I was just driving back from getting a nice Panera lunch in Rockford, IL and I found NPR on the radio. In general, NPR is pretty reliably liberal but evidently when you get out into farm country, all bets are off. I was listening to a segment of Point of View in which a fairly non-radical christian was discussing the idea of gay marriage and the usage of "sexual orientation" in protective laws.

When I first tuned in, they had a weak but almost understandable point that the term "sexual orientation" might be too vague. One of the guy's points was that "there are a lot of really horrible things that people do sexually, and do you want to protect everyone who perpetrates such acts?" which ended up being a rather vague point. Then he went on to discuss how the Boy Scouts are facing the brunt of this law--they are being forced to allow homosexual members or are being forced out of parks since they have a religious mandate that is inherently prejudiced against gays (although to be fair, I have not checked that fact...is that actually true?). Then he went on to say that the media involvement and various laws allowing gay marriage were in fact "silencing those christians who believe in Biblical and traditional values."

He also brought up the recent stupid answer by Miss California USA in the Miss USA pageant (stupid mainly because she never actually answered the question) and even stupider response by Perez Hilton (stupid mainly because the guy is incendiary and not particularly rational in his arguments) as a way to show how any "good girl with values" is turned into a national pariah because of her religious values (I don't think she even mentioned religion in her answer which, included the phrase "Americans can choose between a traditional marriage and an opposite marriage"--both completely false and wtf?! worthy).

Hold the phone... remember this is NPR. NPR!! Oh Illinois... you make me sad today.

Here's why I was bothered by this argument:

#1: Who are you to say what kind of sexual relations are "horrible?" I agree that there are a lot of people out there who take part in various "kink" activities, but who am I to judge when it has no effect on me? Does our constitution and bill of rights not protect our individual rights in our own homes? I'm going to assume that you think that homosexuality is a disgusting, horrible sexual kink, but where do you draw the legal line? Is oral sex a horrible kink that should be considered in job application and other legal circumstances? (Sodomy is outlawed in many states in laws that I think even most "biblical christians" would agree are far past due for repeal.)

#2: To go one step further than your argument against protections for "sexual orientation"... If homosexuality is a part of you from birth, then would you ask for "race" to be repealed from the same laws? If (and in my mind it's just an if to appease those who insist) homosexuality isn't a facet of your innate personality and is in fact a choice, would you also request that "religion/creed" be struck from these laws? Maybe the language is too broad, but then again "race" covers everything from african, asian, jew, norweign, and german and "religion/creed" covers satanists and cultists.

#3: To speak to the Boy Scout point, I'm not so sure that I agree with all of the prosecution against the Boy Scouts, but there are precedents that are allowing these cases to go through. The Boy Scouts are a private organization and have nothing to do with government, but as a private institution they cannot discriminate just the same as any other. Do we allow them to prevent a black boy or a hindu boy from joining or a hispanic man or jewish man from being a troop leader? Then why can we allow them to prevent a homosexual boy from joining, or a homosexual man from leading the group? I like to think that our views of race have changed over time to find the prospect of banning a black troop leader due to his race absurd. Perhaps my argument fails in the backwoods of the country.

#4: My main confusion really boils down to one major question: how does protecting one group of people and affording them the same rights you have silence you? Simply because you allow homosexual couples to have the same rights as heterosexual couples by law and in terminology, how does that "silence" anyone? The act of allowing one group additional rights does nothing to remove your rights. You can still speak out about whatever you want, but you cannot act against a group because of one quality of that group. I pose this question: Would you not hire a Jew? Would you not serve a black person at your restaurant? Would you want the government to not allow inter-racial marriages (oop, depending on where we are, that might be a bad question to pose...)? Have you ever considered that it is your own insecurity with your sexuality and fears about other definitions of sexuality that prejudices you against those of other sexualities much as your own insecurity about your own personal power and fears about other cultures can lead you to be racist?

So yes, there are some things that need to be legislated simply because there are people who are so far off the grid, they refuse to open their minds to other human beings. Laws against racism and religious prejudice are there because there are many, many people out there who would otherwise discriminate. This is simply a law that protects a group of people who are different, whether by their natural condition (race) or their choice of lifestyle (religion), and we are adding another group that fits this law perfectly. If we are going to allow the biblical christians to have their say, we must also allow the homosexual community to have the same rights, not silencing one compells us to not silence the other, and un-silencing one has no bearing on the vocal quality of the other.

Hope and Its Burden

Okay, Vegas stories to come for all you patient chickadees, but there's other things I'd like to say first about the inauguration, if you'll allow me a rather circuitous route to it...

Life has a way of changing what I think of it constantly, especially regarding its purpose. As a child, I can remember being very moment-to-moment about my goals in life. My purpose was always some tangible thing or translatable abstraction--from being a scientist and curing cancer to having a life philosophy of tolerance, it was all very clearly defined, straightforward, and completely rationalized. At some point in my teen years, I lost all forms of faith and optimism, realizing that the forms of spirituality in my life were clogged with human failings and childish obedience rather than any real understanding of hope. I'm sure you all have undergone similar questioning periods or ambivalent stages in your life regarding what you are really here to accomplish, even if they were not so pronounced or disruptive as mine or perhaps more so. We all eventually have to realize that our state of understanding is in constant flux if we are ever to come to terms with our own failings and achieve any kind of real wisdom.

Not that I claim any kind of real wisdom; I am only just now coming to the full understanding that what I think now will eventually be usurped by another thought and that I will never achieve any final pinnacle of awareness. There is no final pinnacle after all, and no better or worse. No, what I am trying to say is that I'm just now coming to the understanding that the purpose of my life, in this moment at least, is evolution (And before you say anything... I don't mean a biological evolution, Jeff ;)). If you pay attention, you'll see a pattern of reoccurrences in your life. Every time a situation arises it provides you an opportunity to react however you want. When you refuse to change how you react, you do not evolve but only continue to perpetuate the cycle. If you break the cycle, new opportunities can arise for you to grow and evolve in new ways. The funny thing is, no one has to be conscious of this pattern and often your growth occurs in a sub-conscious state, but if you pay attention to it, you can start to control it.

I could go into my latest thoughts on life here, but without belaboring the point this last summer I started to see this pattern in a different way than I had before. Deliberately, I pulled myself away from the path that I had found myself on, and stepped outside of the cycle. Albeit, I did it in a fairly comfortable way--with a job that was relatively easy to get (due to strong connections and actual experience I had never realized I had) and that provided me with a short term guarantee of not having to figure out what else to do. My outright, conscious goal with this job was to push my limits of my self-definition, primarily socially. What happened was a strange shift. I discovered that the social definition was a piece of cake to alter, but multiple other aspects of my life shifted far more drastically than I had even dreamed. Somehow, I am now absurdly optimistic compared to the girl I was six months ago. I am happier, healthier, more stable, and so much more in control of my life that most of my anxiety about my future career has become a flimsy shadow of what it once was.

So there's a personal reason that when I sit in my hotel rooms alone with my TV, I start bawling every time I listen to Obama give a speech. It's not that I agree with everything he says, or expect that things will change overnight, it's that the rhetoric he uses meshes so completely with the experience I've had lately. He speaks about the evolution of America, with the obvious example of the gradual change from slavery to an African American president, but he carries it on into the future. While the last 8 years have been about staying the course and fighting any threat to our way of life as if America was a static nation, Obama is explicitly working at changing our way of life while retaining the principles that made us great. America is an ideal, one that may never be fully realized but one that we can strive towards, and while there is real work to be done, Obama's optimism regarding the ideology of our country is absolutely refreshing. After all, I have learned the value of being optimistic over the last few months... Less things go wrong when you optimistically know that it will all work out, if only because you automatically make space in your mind to react rather than anticipate and therefore can rectify any situation far faster.

His message is focused on sacrifice as well, with emphasis on the idea of community and hard work. I have long spent time separating myself from those around me since at one time, those around me separated themselves from me. Again, his message hits a nerve... as I have slowly begun to understand what a true community of friends I have and can have, and what a difference my "new-found" social skills have made. Acting out of Love towards everyone I meet is something I never really consciously decided to do, but I found myself doing it and started noticing it. A warm greeting and the intention of empathy in my heart makes such a difference... it's simply astounding.

So for me, every time our new president has gotten up on his podium to tell the American people that "Yes, We Can," my heart wrenches in the best way possible. I think I cry for the lost time, for the pain we all had to inflict on ourselves before we could come to this understanding and the pain that will continue to afflict us. I cry for the people who cannot fully understand the power of this kind of philosophy, including my own self-consciously simplistic understanding. I cry for the fear that the hope will fade and that the fear-mongering of the last few years will drop a pall over this light. I cry because I feel such immense joy that this world can change if we only let the power of the human spirit burst free of the chains of pessimism. I cry because I am intimately and personally wrapped around the philosophies that I am hearing our country embrace. I cry because I know that tomorrow the practical aspects of daily life will come creeping in on the celebration, and that we will all be tested as to whether we can actually live up to these ideals.

Martin Luther King Jr. was an idealist who never saw his full dream realized. The dreams of today will undoubtedly be similarly long-lasting and long-languishing before they can be fully realized. I smile because I know that there are others in the world that share the burden of hope that one day they will be realized. One day, we will evolve.

You Are My Lucky Star…

My mother constantly says I live under a lucky star, and I have to say I agree. When my cab driver picked me up in Long Island to drive us to LGA airport, I left a solid 2 hours to allow for traffic. We made it the 60 miles in about 65 minutes. Before you think anything, just know that we also left our hotel at 5pm. The driver was in as much shock as I was, probably even more!

Sometimes I am stunned at how lucky I am, but maybe I just recognize it more often. There’s plenty of unlucky things that have happened already: my flight was canceled yesterday, my tortillia soup in San Antonio was disgusting, there have been multiple issues with my faxes for work, my projector bulb died, and let’s face it… I haven’t gotten a presenter who liked to go out of the hotel. But for all those things that are bad (the flight and the bulb being by far the worst), it’s always worked out. I got put on a better flight than I was booked for yesterday. My projector problem was fixed in less than five minutes. And actually, for all the bad food and exhausted presenters, I’ve still gotten out and gone into more cities in the last few weeks than I’ve ever managed before in a similar string of time. I even maximized time in Seattle by running off to Leavenworth with some friends to eat brats and take fall photos.

Rochester was a fun city to be in actually. There was beautiful old architecture and lots of newspaper buildings and statues around town. I wandered during lunch and then picked up a sandwich at a shop on my way back to the hotel. Then today in Ronkonkama (Long Island) I met up with another PM and we found lunch in a little part of town called Sayville, which was adorable looking and had AMAZING pizza. This is the kind of life I lead now. Sometimes I just want to explode with happiness and amazement. This is an almost daily experience. How did I get here again?

I really am a lucky girl. I can hardly believe it sometimes. But the more I believe it the luckier I get. I really think it’s half grace, half attitude—half blessing, half my own openness and efforts—never all my own credit, but partly my fault. Or maybe I just like to think so.

Warm Fuzzies

We had some extra guests at today's seminar in Dallas: two ten-day-old cottontail bunnies being nursed by two participants who regularly do animal rescue work. These little guys had just opened their eyes, and were residing in a cozy basket lined with a sweater for most of the seminar. They were so absurdly adorable! It made me miss Zoe terribly though... King sized beds are definitely big enough to accommodate her nighttime sprawl and I think I could use the snuggles.

Disconnect is a part of this job. I've walked away from everyone I know and have to forge what I can out of transitory encounters. Luckily, my friends are amazing. The number of people who I'm in touch with on a regular basis surprises me honestly, but I guess I'm making more of an effort myself as well. I feel like I can see into the future where I'll be sitting at this registration table and feeling so incredibly alone and lost in the world... unable to even remember my room number after so many room numbers have passed through my head... but what I know I can count on is that there are a lot of people back home and other places that are still there, waiting for me to call and talk about each and every crazy thing that's happened.

There's program managers that I can share the nitty-gritty complaints about hotel staff that won't bring the banquet bill unless chased up and down three long hallways; girlfriends to squeal about the cute waiter that brought my dinner and stayed around to chat since I was alone and it was long past the rush; and then there's the guy friends who insist on worrying about my safety and are there to talk to when I'm walking somewhere a little sketchy or in a strange taxi (even if the solace I get is from what I see as their unneccessary anxiety). Mom and Dad are a constant... and my lil' sis, who's getting her own place, has me all excited for her!

Really, I've got all the warm fuzzies I need and I'm discovering that I'm resourceful enough to find whatever I'm lacking while being on the road. Well, at least for the first week and a half...

Packing

Part of me agonizes about moving home. It feels like I'm just giving up on being independent. I realize how much money I can save, how much more Zoe snuggles I'll be able to get, and how much commuting I will cut out... but it's so sad to end the Wedgwood Era. Writing the Craigslist add for the apartment made me realize how great this place was, and how much I'm going to miss it and it's "Easy walking distance to grocery store, bank, post office, library, restaurants, and yoga studio!"

BL's decision to leave made everything so much more real. It suddenly didn't make sense to have an apartment empty all but maybe 6-10 nights a month, at even the cheapest rent in town. Plus, who would pick up the mail? Would we turn off the heat only to have to come home to a freezing apartment and inefficiently warm up the apartment for a day? I didn't want to not be KN's roommate, but coming home to a completely empty apartment week after week suddenly seemed hard to fathom.

Moving back in with the Parents is not really ideal in my "growing up" theory, but ideal in practice. The kitchen will be stocked (by me and my parents, I'm not getting nor expecting a free lunch) with things that I can cook--in particular, fresh items (milk, cheese, vegetables) that I could not eat in the day that I would be home for. The laundry machines are in the house, and while I don't expect Mommy to do my laundry, I can throw in a load and leave... coming back a few hours later to change it--something impossible when you're using a shared laundry facility in an apartment complex. I'll be 15 minutes from the airport, and not so far from friends that I won't be able to see them when I come home. Plus, I'll have ideal storage space for my raspberry wine as it rests.

So I've packed up my books and my blue glass into liquor store boxes and have agreed to share a u-haul with BL for the big stuff (Daddy and his SUV just won't tote the full sized bed like the pickup could). So now I just get to wait for a few days before Load #1 heads south. Piece by piece, I'll dismantle the room I've grown to love, and probably have to paint it back to the icky white it started out. I'll move to the room I'd left behind, and probably have to reshuffle quite a bit to make it function like I need it to: As a big welcome home hug.

at the end of a long, dark tunnel

Evidently, there is more going on in my life than I want to admit to myself. Yesterday, about an hour after arriving at work my vision tunneled, my right hand tingled, and my hairline felt like it would split open. Luckily (if you can call it that), this time I knew what was going on. A migraine. This time I was not alone in a foreign country, 9 hours off of the time zone of everyone I cared about, and separated from everyone around me by a language barrier (although, "migraine" is the same word in both English and French, and carries the same sympathetic weight no matter where you say it). Instead, this time I simply left work, took the bus home, and huddled under the covers of my bed with a heavy dose of Advil and caffeine until 6pm, when the pain finally subsided. Happily, I'm well rested now.

What surprises me about this episode is how rarely I get migraines. I can only specifically recall 3 instances that were distinctly migraines: after high school graduation, in Paris, and yesterday. The previous two I had attributed to the denouemont of a climax of stress. Only problem with this theory: what the heck have I been stressed about? I suppose if you really look at it, I've been stressed out ever since I graduated from UW. Finding a job, learning a new job, buying a car, christmas, getting the car tabs and ensuing processes... I've really never stepped off of a roller-coaster since last December. So no wonder really.

The question is how the heck I'm going to manage to deal with my stress, since the sources aren't actually going to go away. I still have to deal with working, having and affording my car, and day-to-day life. This summer I'm hoping to make a dent. Hopefully a few backpacking trips will ease the pain of the daily grind. Snowboarding is making a big dent in the Real World growing pains, while adding in the stress. Maybe I really need to find a source of relaxation that I'm not trying yet... like doing a short yoga practice on a more daily basis, or at least meditating. Where I'm going to find time for that, I'm not sure seeing as how I've failed to find the time to merely clean up my room for ages.

At the very least, I think Saturday is going to be for me. A little cleaning, a little coffee shopping, a little farmer's market and tasty cooking. Definitely wine.

Yes, that will make the migraines stay away. Perhaps migraines aren't that bad... they give me a chance to remember, every year and a half or more, that I'm pushing myself too hard and not taking advantage of what I do actually have going for me.

progressing

Poem on the Bus
Originally uploaded by arirose

Screw starting over... I want to move forward, not backwards! After 30 days (if you count this evening) I've only missed out on brushing my teeth once, and it was because I was nearly comatose with a cold. So yah, I messed it up somewhat, but the habit has been formed far better than I expected. Time for me to move on to step two of the three-part extravaganza: flossing. After this evening, I'll cross off #12 and start counting my flossing. This may be more difficult for me, seeing as how I usually only floss once or twice a week. I bought new floss last night though, so here's to that! When that habit is in place, I'm going to treat myself to a whitening treatment, so if anyone has any reviews/suggestions as to what over the counter product is best, please let me know!

I'm also right on track with my journaling and my Project 366, although updating flickr has been a bit lax this week (but I'm not the only one! *ahem* Jeffy...). Lately, I'm feeling held back by something, perhaps my car... My tabs expire tomorrow, but since the check engine light is on and I need an emissions test, I have to actually take the car in to get it fixed. Luckily, my parents have a mechanic they trust and I have an appointment to fix the "knock engine sensor" which, unfortunately, is broken... causing the light to go on. I'll probably ask about the 4th headlight cover as well, and maybe my broken remote. Since I've got the roof rack, chains, jumper cables, and scraper/brushy thing, once the tabs are purchased I'll be able to cross off #40 as well! I should really have mailed in my automatic payment form for the insurance by now, but I keep forgetting. Maybe I'll remember tonight!

In other news, I got new jeans. They are the same cut as my favorite pair (AE boyfriend cut, turns out wide leg jeans make my legs look like toothpicks!) only really dark washed. It really makes me happy to have 3 perfect pairs of jeans: dark, light, and skinny. When I get around to culling my clothes for spring (#72, which I really want to do NOW, but again... held back by something), I really want to define my style more concretely. The 20/80 rule interests me... The idea that you wear 20% of your clothes 80% of the time. Perhaps what I want to do is really pull my wardrobe back to its bones, only containing that which I really wear and really love. I might keep some things that I don't wear regularly in the hopes that one day, when I have a job where I need to wear more than jeans and a tee-shirt, I'll want to wear some of that other 80%. After all, that's what parent's houses are for!

I'm starting to feel better about this list, and about life in general after my week of anti-social, ho-hum-ness. I can't wait for spring to come with all of its SAD-relieving sunlight and warmth. Of course, then the snow will melt, and I have to make it to the mountains 5 more times!

a feeling of floating

Whistler is a place that spoils you. After the soaring views and extended runs, a place like Steven's just doesn't seem to cut it anymore. Of course, there are downsides to everything, like long lift lines, -13 degree (Celsius) temperatures, the complications of discounted tickets, and the fact that sororities and fraternities from around the northwest happened to converge on all of the clubs this last weekend... Luckily, the Greeks were all too hung over to really over populate the mountain but looking at the long lines into every restaurant and club, I was actually glad we'd brought food to cook for ourselves.

Sadly, I'd caught a cold and started showing symptoms on Thursday. By Sunday, the exhaustion and aches and pains had caught up with me. My ears were also completely fried from the congestion. Not even Sudafed could help my ears pop after two days of rapid frequent elevation changes. The world has been a little bit on 'mute' ever since, although I'm feeling much better today.

Being sick makes me temperamental and anti-social too, which didn't help with dealing with the 11 other people on the trip with me. The smells of cooking food burned my throat rather than enticed my appetite and I wanted to spend the evenings quietly lying down or curled up in a hot tub rather than playing games or talking. I lashed out once or twice and was somewhat alienated from the rest of the group for much of the trip because I was so tired and quiet. I hate it when that happens on a weekend that's supposed to be fun, but I really value my sleep more than listening to people I don't really know argue and poke fun at each other for hours on end. So I'm antisocial when I'm sick. So sue me.

Otherwise, the trip was amazing. I'm now capable enough on my snowboard to do everything I want to do. Vinh and I even ended up on a black diamond run that will eventually be used for the Super G and downhill races at the 2010 Olympics. Considering I managed to carve on some of the steep slopes, I felt pretty content with my skills! Our last run of the weekend was also amazing. We'd gone over to Blackhom and caught pretty much the last lift up to the highest point open (the wind had closed 7th Heaven sadly). The start of the run went down a long, narrow corridor of gently sloped snow, with trees on both sides and the sun filtering in as it dipped below the mountain tops in the distance. The fact is, before this trip I wouldn't have even been able to make it down without catching edges or stopping constantly, probably forcing myself to have to unclip and scoot myself over the flat and uphill bits. My carving skills have developed to the point where I can not only manage this run but actually enjoy it immensely. It probably helped that the run was in the direction so that I, as a goofy-stanced rider, could be on my heel edge much of the way, but I was definitely carving and taking turns on my toe edge from time to time, something I never would have done before. I was simply floating down through the dappled sunlight... overly romantic, but amazing regardless! It feels great to finally be developing the skills to really enjoy this sport, especially in such a beautiful place.

However, while I'm halfway there on my snowboarding goal, I fell off the brushing my teeth wagon. Sunday night, after playing scategories for an hour, I barely made it into bed, much less stopping to brush my teeth. I was physically incapable of even getting up for a glass of water to take more sudafed, and my head felt boxed in my the pressure in my ears. So, 20 days in I fell short. Bah! Now to start over... I'm already at day 3! Luckily I'd scribbled something in my journal and taken lots of photos during the day so those goals didn't fall by the wayside... as long as I get around to posting the photos to flickr by the end of the week.

closed doors

Closed
Originally uploaded by arirose

Sometimes, even when the new year is beginning, I feel like I am staring down all of the possibilities that will never be. Lately, I've felt frustrated at home, in my job, and even in my creative endeavors. I haven't written much of anything beyond what I'm posting on here and what I've been scribbling in my journal over the last week, and while I feel incredibly uplifted by the activity of writing every day in my journal and by participating in Project 366, there is still a bit of me lagging. Part of the frustration comes from not being able to let go--I can't let go and just scribble, I can't let go of the daily grind of work, and I can't let go of the frustration of walking into a messy apartment that's only half (or maybe a third) my fault.

Today just felt like a million doors slammed in my face. I woke up late and missed a bus because I didn't feel good, but whining about maybe fighting off a cold doesn't get you any leeway. I fought my way through work, but since there really isn't enough work for 5 people to be occupied constantly, the lull periods caught up with me and allowed me to wallow in feeling crappy. Of course, now that I am home and have laid around watching TV and relaxing all night, I am feeling better. I feel like I'm allergic to work, yet, even when there are lull periods, I get nothing done that is actually productive, work-wise or personally. Maybe eight months in is about time to take a real vacation.

...so after a day of dreary boredom, closed doors, and frustration, it's time to start looking for the open window.

always doing everything at once

New years always mean resolutions, no matter how much I resolve to let myself go past an arbitrary milestone without declaring it important. Last year's January 1st meant a lot to me... it was a true milestone as I came out of my depression, graduated college, and gave away many things, emotional and physical, that were holding me back. I, for once, was able to start the new year with a new journal (leaving only a scant 19 pages in the previous volume unadorned) along with the hopes of writing and making beautiful pages once a day. That goal failed sometime in February, along with a lot of the hopes for a New Start. January and it's concurrent resolutions come once every 12 months, so if I fail... Well, it's a dismal prospect by August.

Enter the 101 in 1001 meme. It is true that giving oneself goals in a time frame where failure becomes an option allows one to get past the "failure equals giving up" problem that I face time and again with resolutions. Thus, here comes a list of what I think are almost too easy goals--goals that I am almost certain to complete 80% or more before 1001 days are up (Sept. 28, 2010). I am not being overly optimistic in these goals for once, although there are a few that will definitely cause me to step outside of the comfort zone (see #22-relearn French, #55-NaNoWriMo, and #85-reconnect with lost friends). The point of this list is for once to allow myself some imperfection, to fail and try again: to miss a day of photo-taking for Project 365 and start again the next day, or to snap 2 the next day and never look back. 1001 days allows multiple attempts at everything on this list (as long as I do more than one thing at a time, I'll be well on my way).

I've noticed that many of these goals are somewhat health-related. Two of my longest categories are "Health and Athletics" and "Food." The biggest category overall though, is split up--my Creative Pursuits. Everything from reading, writing, and creating actual artwork has started slipping ever since I entered a job that I'm constantly becoming more dissatisfied with. I am incredibly dual in my perspective--right brained and left brained, artistic and analytical--which often slips by the wayside when I'm working in a scientific career. It is extremely important that I keep this duality along with my healthy pursuits of physical activity and personal growth... Plus the writing and art goals make for wonderfully specific goals!

The one part of the list I feel compelled to address is the last 6 goals. I have given myself the goals of re-evaluating the list every 6-or-so months and determining another goal to add to the list. While this feels like a cop out, I've dubed it "Ongoing Education" because I feel that without re-evaluation from time to time, my life tends to follow a straight and narrow path that often lands me where I don't want to be. This allows me room to challenge myself further, to change my mind, and to not be so god-damned perfect all the time.

So here's to imperfection and the manifestation of my future!

filtering life seasonally

The leaves are staying on the trees much longer than they usually do this year. Typically, there is a large windstorm right around Halloween that strips all the fabulous color and resigns us to the bare branches and mucked-up storm drains of winter. This year, the "Big Blow 2007" came too early--the leaves were still firmly rooted to their branches. Even though a large, recently installed sculpture crashed to the ground, the natural artwork of fall has hung on for a few extra days, with no storm yet in the forecast. For once this means that I really have a chance to savor fall for what it really is... my favorite season.

There is no season more colorful than fall; even spring fails to compare. The colors of spring often lack the intensity and pervasiveness that fall color has. While spring is dramatic and wonderful in it's own right, Fall brings us misty mornings with late sunrises arching up and filtering through golden and ochre leaves, bathing the world one last time in a warm glow, even if it fails to make me want to loosen my scarf and hat. Fall gives us the tantalizing sounds of crunching leaves underfoot, giving even a mundane run to catch the bus a subtle soundtrack. Fall smells encompass everything from the deep musty smell of freshly piled leaves to the spicy scent of cinnamon baking in my oven. Fall tastes of soups, pumpkin pie, and all things warm. Fall is a time of pulling in, battening down, and pulling a blanket over the world. Since I am a blanket kind of girl, I welcome it whole heartedly.

I was reminded of fall by it's extension. It lasted long enough for me to post some of the photos I've taken, and between going through those photos and wandering to the grocery store in a symphony of color and crackling footsteps, I realized what a blessing it is to have this season: a prelude to the snow and cold, a moment to pause and pull in everything we hold close, a reminder of the vibrancy of life. Now to pull out those scarves, gloves, and hats and prepare for winter.

never again, blank space

Paper doesn't cut it. The prospect of a blank page and a pen gives me aches of perfectionism... no backspace, no spell-check, no fixative for the extra flourish at the end of a word that adds an old-english style "-e." There's an anonymity in this random obscure page that only the deep delvers of the internet world (or those too fond of the "random post" button) will stumble upon. Here, there is the comfort of a web page. Have I gone so far into the world of computers that opening a word document leaves me feeling cold and afraid? Perhaps it is the connection to the vast information that strikes me, or perhaps it is the brightness of the posting templates. More probable is the connection made between a web page and entertainment, rather than work. One opens a personal email in gmail, not in outlook. One writes rants and emails in text boxes on webpages, not in Word. Here I can feel free to not fret over sentence structure and paragraph formation, unless I want to. Here I can evaporate into thin air from time to time, and start over anytime it feels right. Delete is a wonderful friend that the binding of paper pages does not allow.

And I am all about the deleting. When things get hard I pull back and cut back. I remove anything and anyone that bothers me until my comfort level returns. Right now, I want to delete my job, but in order to have the things that I want to have, I must continue doing something I don't necessarily love. Right now, I'd love to delete my roommate who judges me and presents an elitist front more often than I'd like to tolerate, but the lease is signed. Right now, I could delete the empty feeling in my gut, telling me that there is something out there I'm leaving out, that I'm forgetting. But why fill in the gap with another hole?

Instead of removing the broken pieces, I want to find a way to love all the pieces. I know that writing is a path towards this love for me, much as God can be for some. It may seem odd and blasphemous to hear me call my "god-shaped hole" a "word-shaped hole" but I believe that this is an accurate way to describe how I feel. Instead of feeling the need for a personal, powerful being to make sense of the world, I need words. Words encapsulate ideas by definition, yet they allude, inspire, and release more potent ideas from this encapsulation. By defining, words allow me understanding to a depth that expands upon itself. I have found this kind of understanding through faith before, and now I find it through knowing and believing, by defining and releasing, by allowing my thoughts to run away with words until I find myself back at home.

Without my best friend, the words have dried up. She inspires the most interesting conversations and thoughts and without her input i feel blank, time-less and space-less. Instead of rushing the time past me unspoken, unwritten, unaccounted for, I'll attempt to make some account. To put into words what I need to and to let the words exist in blank space that's never blank.