Friendship

It feels like only a few days ago that I realized Christmas was a month away. And...now it's gone? I can't even distinguish individual events from that past month: only frames, cut from the film on auto-play. I've had the pleasure of hanging out with friends every weekend and some during the week. Sometimes I forget how fun (not to mention healthy and stimulating) that can be. My friends have really gotten me through a roller coaster of a year. It's easy to forget how important they are, but when you need them, and they come running, it reminds you just how much you need them. And I happen to have the most incredible group of friends that I've picked up over the years.

I have my other half, my go to for everything, without whom I'd not be me. She's mad for me when I can't be, always tells me what she really thinks, is the mother of my beautiful goddaughter, and wife to someone I consider family. I can tell her absolutely anything, no matter how horrid.

There's my ever-optimistic, practical dreamer, who could have the worst day and still come home smiling. She knows how to enjoy life, how to listen, and how to be there for a friend in need.

My melancholy kindred spirit I miss dearly. The most understanding and quiet character, but with a temper that rivals the Furies.

I have another breed of kindred spirit who seems to see me for who I am. He has a relaxed confidence and the enviable quality of not caring what people think, but in a way that isn't egotistical or selfish.

My yearning artist, head in the clouds, feet on the ground. He is always up for a though-provoking discussion and has a whip of a sense of humor. 

There's the quizzical intellect, more determined that anyone I've met, but yet, will drop it all to help a friend in need. He never asks for anything from anyone, but will give without hesitation.

If there ever were still waters that run deep, then she swims them daily. She has more brains and talent than she knows what to do with and is both perceptive and thoughtful. 

I also have a newer friend, growing moreso a friend as the days pass. She is a balance of artistic and grounded, introspective and extroverted, and more importantly is a complete delight to converse with.

And then there are my latest additions, new and still developing, but what a lot they are. Different backgrounds, different goals, but shared interest. These I hope to foster and keep.

I'm lucky to have each one of these people in my life, not to mention all of those who come with them and many more I've encountered. Never before have I felt so welcome amongst groups of people.

I don't know where I'd be without my friends. I can't quite express how much they each mean to me, but I can offer my thanks and hope to be as good a friend to them as they are to me.

It's that time of year again?

Holy crapping reindeer! Christmas is once again, just a few weeks away. I missed Thanksgiving...not really sure what went on there, but it just slipped right by me. As has much these past few weeks, well months really. I feel like I'm in the middle of a hurricane personified. My to-do list is growing, but I can't seem to get things checked off fast enough.

I did finally start my Christmas shopping (now I say finally because last year I was done at the beginning of November...and by done I mean I didn't have to shop anymore...but that never stops me). A lot of things just fell into place on that particular list this year, but I'm still debating over some other stuff. I wandered through the mall, and let me tell you how much it sucked to see stuff to get for someone who is no longer in my life. Dammit! It make me convulse in anger. I am still so, so angry. I guess that's why when a friend wanted me to meet one of his friends, I said no. Have anger, will not travel.

Despite that, I'm making lists of things I want to cook and marking my calendar for dates when my family will visit and when I'll get together with some old friends. This is the only time of year when a city is appealing to me because the lights outline the buildings and wreathes are on every streetlamp and the smell of fires and cinnamon and ginger is in the air. And snow dusts the ground...right? Hear that Colorado? I said SNOW dusts the ground? Where are we on that?

Now that I've said that it will probably blizzard...or else go back to the 70s out of spite. Oh well. I'll take what I can get.

I have not decorated yet. This was my first weekend in six weeks that I was not only off of work, but alone. Not that I didn't adore having company (I did!!!), but that combined with weeks of working 6 or 7 days while trying to keep up with rest and such really did me in. I haven't had time lately to be alone and in my own thought. It's been a great distraction, but I feel like I've forgotten how to be alone and comfortable in my own thoughts, and I really need to get back to enjoying listening to myself think (in the least narcissistic way possible). I've worn myself out for the past few months to keep from thinking too much, but it's time to get back to it. Even reading my blogs from earlier in the year or last year, I can hear the difference in my thought pattern. My thoughts then were freer, more contemplative, whereas currently they are scattered and existing in the now, as I scramble to hang onto it all.

See? Here I was talking about Christmas and then I'm just rambling about my internal diatribe...which has been oddly colorful lately (I usually think/dream in black and white)...
...back to Christmas...

I read the most wonderful quote about Christmas:

Christmas Eve was the time when everybody was unselfish. On that one night, Santa Claus was everywhere, because everybody, all together, stopped being selfish and wanted other people to be happy. And in the morning you saw what that had done.

To me, that's what Christmas is about...what great big things can happen when people come together. If I ever have a child, I will surely read them this bit (and a beer or cupcake to anyone who can tell me what that quote is from).

image from warwickwa.com

Get ready for some more Christmasy posts to follow, and please enjoy the season! It's just not worth being crabby about it.

Erin-truths

So I got bored and took some online quizzes. Sue me. But these are rather true. Happy Turkey Day!

Your Brain is Conceptual

You can't help but look at the big picture. You're good at putting things together. You think long term. You always have a vision for the future and an idea of how you want things to be. You are a very intuitive person. Even though you are constantly thinking, it feels like answers just appear for you. You enjoy a challenge, especially an intellectual one. You are constantly taking the initiative and pushing yourself.

What's Your Brain Like?

Blogthings: A Fine Line Between Insight and Stupidity

       

Your Home is Healthy

You believe it's important to take good care of yourself, and your home probably reflects your healthy lifestyle. You are likely to have a refrigerator full of fresh food and bookcase full of engaging books. You have a lot of fun in life, but your idea of fun is pretty unique. Working out and learning are fun for you. You could never feel at home in a sloppy or neglected house. You like to keep things upbeat and tidy.

The Homebody Test

Blogthings: We Have a Quiz for Almost Everything

       

You Are A Thoughtful Idealist

You are a bit tentative when it comes to new experiences. You have to push yourself to try new things, but once you do, you love the adventure. You like to think that people see you as intellectual and wise. You consider yourself to be very smart. You are a very romantic person. You can't help but see the world as it should be. Right now, you feel very trapped in your life. You often feel like there is no way out of your rut. Overall, your life is very peaceful - if not a little solitary. Much of what goes on goes on in your head. You feel like the fate of the future partially rests in your hands. You believe you need to help make the world a better place.

The Castle Personality Test

Blogthings: Waste Time at Work!

       

You Have a Melancholic Temperament

Introspective and reflective, you think about everything and anything. You are a soft-hearted daydreamer. You long for your ideal life. You love silence and solitude. Everyday life is usually too chaotic for you. Given enough time alone, it's easy for you to find inner peace. You tend to be spiritual, having found your own meaning of life. Wise and patient, you can help people through difficult times. At your worst, you brood and sulk. Your negative thoughts can trap you. You are reserved and withdrawn. This makes it hard to connect to others. You tend to over think small things, making decisions difficult.

What Temperament Are You?

Blogthings: Discover the Parts of Your Personality that Have Been Hiding

       

So that's what it's like...

Tonight was the first time I've felt true gratitude from a job.

I've enjoyed my new job from day one, from the people to the purpose, but it wasn't until today that I truly felt like this is what I should be doing.  No, it's not glamorous, and yes, there are plenty of seemingly trivial or annoying duties I have to take care of. Yes, there are people who frustrate me and situations that make me cringe or make me angry and sad.

But this week I've been conversing with a client who has been trying everything imaginable to get his dog healthy again. He's seen specialists, spent quite a bit of money, and thought of the possibility that none of it would help his dog. I decided to give him a call tonight to check in and see how his dog was doing, and after a few updates, he thanked me profusely for calling and said "you guys are the best." I know the comment was not directed specifically at me, but it made my day to know that I helped someone feel a little bit better about his tough pet situation. I guess it really hit me because my pets are so important to me, and I know how I'd feel in his situation. I literally hung up the phone and burst into tears, partially out of gratefulness, partially out of sympathy, and partially out of feeling like I made a tiny difference.

It's amazing that something as simple as that makes my job completely worthwhile and fulfilling. I'm going to remember this when days get rough...or rather, ruff :-)

Wet little feet now cross my threshold

It wouldn’t have been true if she didn’t think it were. But she did, and so it was.

It was as true as a first snow, softly blanketing her mind and coating it in coldness. There is something so final about a first snow, perhaps because it signals the officiality of winter. No matter what time of year, when it snows, the season defaults to winter.

So when he told her, she believed him.

It was snowing that day.

Thank you snow...the anticipation is now at rest.

my mountains: my home

I don't know what my obsession with a home is lately. Things have been so foggy lately, and I keep bumping into metaphorical shapes in this density. Every time one thing gets settled, another is lost. I suppose this is just how it goes, but I'm almost desperate for something solid. I feel like I'm missing a place that I can feel completely at ease and removed from the outside world, and I need this to counteract the burning of all candles on all ends. It's what I do. I don't understand how to live any other way: I've tried, but with little success. I'll rest when I'm dead I guess.

When I'm bumping around into shapes in the fog, I can always tell when I run into the mountains. They're too big to mistake for anything else, and it's comforting to have a boundary.

The mountains make me feel small and remind me how unimportant a lot of the things I worry about are. On the reverse, the mountains also make me think of the little things that do matter. It only takes one small pebble to start a rock slide, or one little shift in ground to cause an avalanche. It's a reminder that one act on my part (good or bad) could have a much greater impact than anticipated on anyone in the vicinity of the action.

One of my favorite spots in the Flatirons overlooking Boulder

I never get tired of looking at the mountains. They're like a moving stream, always changing, but always the same. That consistency reminds me to breathe. In our busy lives, it's easy to forget to open your eyes and enjoy life. I know I race around all week and then spend the weekend recovering. One of my goals for next year (starting now) is to take time out to enjoy life a little more. I do love my busy life, but I often forget to enjoy my surroundings, my friends, my mountains. 

Any time I leave this state and my mountains, I itch to return. When I drive home, west towards the mountains, I can breathe out and feel as though I have a place that is mine, where I fit in. It's inexplicable, but somehow there is a contented sigh that runs through me when I take the time to lift my head and stare out into the mountains. Perhaps it has something to do with the people I've met here, how I've grown here, and what I've become. But it feels as if it all has to do with this thin air and towering rocks I know are there, regardless of whether or not I can see them. It's the same feeling of knowing your closest friends are there for you, no matter what.

The mountains remind me of this, my wonderful family and friends, both here and there.

<3

I see my mountains, and I know I'm home.

falling leaves, hide the path, so quietly

haiku by John Bailey

I'm hesitant to say it, but I think Autumn is here! It's about time. I don't know about anyone else, but the 90 degree days were getting old!


Some consider fall to be a season of endings, where foliage dies and begins to decay in piles on the street. Where wind rustles the bare branches and frost pinches the edges of the leaves each morning. But I look at fall as the season of new beginnings, or of rejuvenation and a chance to start over.

It's a time of sensory delights: both smell and taste. There's something about morning air in the fall that refreshes and relaxes me in one breath. The chill makes me feel alive and want to run around and enjoy life. It's also a time of delicious food (enter all things pumpkin!).

Introducing...

Here we have an assortment of mini cheesecakes (with a delightful red velvet cupcake in the center). There's a chocolate lobotomy cheesecake, an Oreo cheesecake, a pumpkin cheesecake, and a chocolate cake cheesecake. Based on my incredibly fine-tuned taste-buds, I dub the Oreo cheesecake the best. It was creamy and super light. The red velvet cupcake was quite good as well: both dense and rich.

Stay tuned for a taste test between Cheesecake Therapy, Tee & Cakes, and Boulder Baked. I think a red velvet, pumpkin, and chocolate cupcake variety would be the best test group.

I did take a cooking leap and made potato soup...tasted just like Outback's soup (and for those of you who don't know...that's the ultimate potato soup in my book). I even attempted to make it look fancy.

I am sad that seasonal fruit will soon be out of reach...goodbye delicious cantaloupes and watermelons and strawberries and plums. Farewell kiwis and blueberries and plums and nectarines. I'll miss you.

I think I'll attempt to make a savory pumpkin soup next. This is a great season for experimentation!

Passion Pit and Muse concert

Last Saturday I went to the Muse concert at the Pepsi Center. This concert was supposed to happen back in April, but the snow kept their buses from getting over Vail Pass. I was excited to hear that they rescheduled, bummed that it was moved to the Pepsi Center, and stoked to find out that Passion Pit would open instead of the Silversun Pickups. I've recently become a Passion Pit fan, so this was just a bonus.


I started the evening with some Cheeky Monk and the company of another awesome Erin. I had a Lucifer to start, and I think it's replaced my other favorite, the Tripel Karmeliet. 

Then we set off for the show. Since the show was supposed to be at the 1st Bank Center originally, my seats got moved around and we ended up on the top level at the Pepsi Center, but we could see pretty well and the acoustics were still good. I'm glad we were out of the floor area though. Passion Pit came on at 7:30 to kick things off.

     Passion Pit Set List 

1. Moth's Wings

2. The Reeling

3. Make Light

4. Let Your Love Grow Tall

5. Folds in Your Hands

6. Live to Tell the Tale

7. Better Things

8. Little Secrets

9. Sleepyhead


I didn't know what to expect from Passion Pit, but I warmed right up to them onstage. They were very upbeat and fun. I think I actually prefer them live over their cds, which is pretty cool. In other words, they were awesome! I'd see them again for sure.

Then there was about a twenty minute break before Muse hit the stage. For those who saw other parts of this tour, you know about the towers and such. I think everyone there knew that the band was going to appear in the towers, but it was still really cool to watch. The lighting and use of the platforms on the stage was really well done. The last time I saw Muse was on the Black Holes and Revelations tour at Red Rocks Amphitheater. I wish they would have come back to Red Rocks, but the show at the Pepsi Center was still fantastic to watch. I always forget how good they are live until I see them again. Concerts aren't really my scene since people get rowdy and it's loud and crowded, etc...but if it's a band I love, it's worth it. The Muse crowd was more or less pretty mellow, except for a small group on the floor who felt the need to mosh and crowd surf...yeah...

It was also really nice to be at a concert with someone who was equally exuberant in a quiet fashion (yay!). 


    Muse Set List

1. & 2. Exogenesis: Symphony, Part 1: Overture and Map of the Problematique
3. Knights of Cydonia
4. Uprising
5. Supermassive Black Hole
6. Hysteria
7. Nishe
8. United States of Eurasia
9. Feeling Good
10. MK Jam
11. Undisclosed Desires
12. Resistance
13. Starlight
14. Time is Running Out
15. Unnatural Selection

    Encore

16. Plug In Baby
17. Stockholm Syndrome

    Encore 2

18. Take A Bow

Overall...what a wonderful show. I can't believe I considered not going. Any time I can see Muse live, it's worth it.

BLOG CARNIVAL: Life Expectations: Art from a non-artist

I am not an artist. So when we decided to do this artistic blog, I was excited to create something despite the fact that I'm not hands on artistic. However, I ran into trouble as soon as I felt like I had to create something, hence the delay here.

I repeat, I am NOT an artist. At least not in the traditional sense of the word. I'd like to be, but I'm simply not. I am more an artist of idea, and that's fine with me even though ideas are much more difficult to express.

I had this wonderful thought to express what I want in life on a double canvass, with silver covered leaves and a combination of natural colors to write out Dwell in possibility...

I think this is better left to my upcoming tattoo instead:

Chrysanthemum embroidery and quote from Emily Dickinson

I wanted the natural colors to represent my aesthetic and the silver leaves to define an impossibility, but one that I want to always imagine could be, because I never want lose my ability to think big and to make my life what I want it to be.

However, my "art" didn't turn out anything like I imagined, much like many of my ideas. It remains unfinished, as do other paintings I started.

Not at all what I had imagined

Turns out this is a fair representative of my life now. It is unfinished, but unfinished in the sense of openness for further alteration. Nothing is complete. I think I've always had it in my head that once I reach a certain place in my life, a certain goal, that my life will be complete. I will probably always think like that, however I now know that my desire to find completeness stems from my never-ending thirst for more. It's a balancing act to find peace in what is now and what could be in eventuality.

Back to the art aspect though. I think my form of art (idea art) comes through best in writing and photography. These forms I'm able to manipulate to my liking, so they are a better representative of me.

"Lighthouse"

"Endless"

Perhaps my other art can be in food. Though I don't cook as much as I should, I enjoy making food pretty (taste is first, however). Last week I made a cheesecake. It turned out quite well :-)

Caramel Macchiato Cheesecake

I think art is different for everyone. Art is what inspires you, and I'm inspired by texture, nature, and words. All of these move and change without permission. They evolve and I am part of this evolution through observation and experience. Art for me is what makes me want to create my own.

See other blog carnival postings at:
Farin' on the West Winds of Erin
The Short Version
The Photo Maestro

There will be art

I'm currently working on an art project to depict what I want in my life. Right now it looks foggy, much like what's going on right now. I can't paint the kind of happiness I want, but I can paint the variety of things I want out of life, or rather, the possibilities I want. So that's what I'm focusing on...of course I'm running into some trouble (as I do with art) where what I see in my brain does not match what comes out on the canvass. I thought about doing another form of art, but I enjoy the hands on experience. I almost wish I could weave a basket. I definitely do not want to knit. In any case, art will appear as soon as it can.

There is no now in then

So much has changed for me in the past few months, and I really don't know how I feel about it. Outwardly, I know I look, sound, and act happy and enthusiastic. Inwardly though, it's the opposite. It's like instead of healing on all levels, I'm trying to heal, but in reality I'm further separating my selves, and I know I'm happiest when my outer and inner self are hosting a communal space, so to speak.

I don't know what to do about this. I hear myself getting bored with my own thoughts, so surely others are bore with them as well. It's not as if anything can be said to make it better, so why bother talking about it. It doesn't make me feel better or differently, and I'm sick of feeling bad. I do what I feel like I should be doing or what I have to do, but the truth is I don't feel like doing anything. It's a very good thing I have animals who depend on me to take care of them.


PUMBA


T.S. ELIOT

I feel very removed from the life I'm leading.

I find ideas floating around that seem to be just out of my reach, and I get tired of chasing them, so they end up drifting away. Maybe I'm taking on too much, but I don't know another way to be. I like having my plate full, and then when something else comes up I somehow make room. Right now though, I think I'm maxed out on change.

On the positive side, I do like my new job. I definitely needed that change, and even though it's scary, I'm just diving in and going to try my hardest to keep us afloat. I think it's a good fit for me, and I hope I can just make it my career. The next few months will be rough trying to fit in and figure everything out, but I do appreciate the support that is offered.

Even reading this now, I don't know what to think of it. I feel removed even from my own thoughts no matter how true they are. I think I'm still struggling with being me. I hate the idea that the one person I feel has truly seen me for me, doesn't want me and doesn't care. It makes me feel more like hiding myself away again.

If you really want to know...

*Don't read this if you don't want to know how I really feel. But there it is. I hope he's happy.

Dear A,

Hanging up on you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I get queasy just thinking about it, but you left me no choice.

I still don't understand what happened.

You know you could have salvaged a friendship. I still don't know why you didn't talk to me the moment you started to feel differently. That was completely unfair. Instead, I got to feel like crap for a month only to have you come out and refuse to talk to me that night. You refused even though I said I wouldn't be able to enjoy the evening knowing we had something to discuss. Then I slept in the same bed as you, just thinking of the fight we were going to have. I thought it would be a fight, maybe not a pretty one, but I had confidence we could work it out. However, the way you acted made me think it was worse. Boy was I right.You should not have come out here. Why play a good guy when you're not behaving like one?

It's not fair that you invaded my space to tell me you wanted to break up. Now I'm stuck living in the same space where you smashed my world. It sickens me to sit in the same spot. I've had to get rid of half the room to make it feel different, but I know it's not. Then you left me to go have lunch with your friend, which you had said you wouldn't do. You got to escape and leave me alone to try to figure out what happened.

First you told me that you thought you were better off alone, followed by saying I never seemed happy. I don't know where you got that idea. I'm a generally happy person. I love living here, I have great friends, and I'm busy figuring out what I want to do with my life. The thing is, I always wanted to share my happiness with you. You're the person I wanted to tell when something good happened, and you were the person I talked to when I felt angry or down or frustrated. And even though I love it here, I wanted to be with you, so I was willing to go where you needed to be. That wouldn't have been a sacrifice at all. Now I feel like I should have moved with you to Atlanta because then maybe you'd have remembered that you liked having me around.

Then you said you thought you needed time to be alone and that you wanted to move by yourself after you graduate. I wondered if you'd need to do that. I needed to do that, and when I asked you, you said no and that it didn't make a difference to you. And I believed it. Then you said you'd go on break, but you didn't plan to change anything, did you? You said as friends you'd probably call more and visit and not feel guilty so much when you talked to me. That was completely unfair. Any guilt you had you built up on your own. Instead of trying to work it out, you just let guilt pile up and maybe you began to resent me. I guess I'll never know. You said you weren't ready for the "next step" or marriage or anything like that and that you didn't believe in marriage. I never asked you for that. It was you who told me that you wanted to get engaged after you were done with school. That was when you were happy, but I believed you and I had no reason to think otherwise since you never told me otherwise. You also said you thought we were meant to be together and that you believed in fate. I don't believe in fate, but I liked that you felt that way about me. But fate is just an excuse. When things don't work out, you can blame it on "it wasn't meant to be."

You told me you refuse to end up like your dad, and I admired that. You said you wanted to have a good life and get married and have kids so you could be a good father to them. Now you've completely reversed what you wanted, and now you will be just like him. You make poor decisions based on being in one of your "funks" and hurt those who supported you in your highs and lows. How is pushing away someone who genuinely cares for your goals and interests good?

I put more trust in you than I ever have in anyone, ever. Every time you didn't visit or didn't call and talk to me, I trusted that you were busy with school. I understood that you didn't like the phone, and I didn't need to talk to you every day. It took me ten months to get you to call me once a week, and I was so happy that you had listened and made an effort to make me feel like I existed in your sphere. How am I going to ever trust someone again now? Now that the one person I trusted 100% has given up on me, what am I supposed to do with that? I feel like you've used your unhappiness against me. I thought I was something good in your life, but it turns out I was the expendable thing. And since you didn't have the courtesy to talk to me and tell me how you were feeling the moment things changed for you, you ruined our friendship too. I lost my best friend, my boyfriend, and someone I had considered to be family, someone I would have done absolutely anything for within a few minutes. How do you think I feel knowing that you would rather have me not in your life at all than have me as your girlfriend, partner, friend, family, etc? I'll tell you: I feel worthless. I feel expendable and used. I feel like a complete idiot. Here I was believing in what you said, even when your actions said otherwise. Everything I thought was true, based on what you said to me over the past two years, is not so. And I built up my faith in you based on what you said, and since you never told me anything else, I trusted that you still had the same thoughts.

The worst part is that I really liked who I was when I moved here and who I was with you. And now I'm not that person anymore. I'm more of a shell of that person and it's scary to think that I'll never be that person again, and I'm not sure I want to be because that person got her heart broken. I'm not better for this in any way. I'm not happier, or freer, or more tenacious, or stronger, or anything really. Just overwhelmingly sad.

And I like being alone. I understand the need and enjoyment of that. But you were the only person that I found I'd rather share space with than be alone. It sucks to be alone when you know there's someone out there you'd rather be not alone with. 

I sent you this box of things that remind me of you. I didn't have the heart to throw them out, but I can't bear having them near me. I hope you don't throw it all out. Anything I couldn't ship, I had to get rid of. I kept a few small things with the hope of one day being able to look at them and not be sad, but I really don't know if that will ever happen. I've kept that heart necklace you gave me, the one you thought I didn't like. It's not my style, but every time I wore it, I thought of you, and that made me love it. I wore it for months at a time.

I don't even know the truth. You told me so many different things and finally told me you didn't think you loved me anymore, but I don't know if you said that because you knew it would make me give up or if you said it because that's what you felt all along. I don't know anything, so I get to deal with this having no idea what you really think.

If you want to someday be friends, it will have to come from your end. I had to delete you from my email, phone, and facebook to keep myself from calling or writing to you or checking up on you. Like I told you, I know that you will one day figure yourself out and realize that you are not a miserable person and you will be the guy I know you are for someone else. I can't be the one asking you for friendship because I've already begged you enough and it's not fair for me to always hope that you will change your mind. I hope you do reach out and try to be friends with me, but I have the feeling you won't, which makes me feel even worse.

I wish I'd never met you, or at least that we'd only become friends. I think we could have been lifelong friends. You should never have trusted that your "high" in Boulder was going to stick or that another "low" wouldn't change everything you did and said. You knew how you were and still pursued me. Was it worth it? Nothing is worth the way I've felt for the past month. I don't want to be me anymore or have anything to do with the life I've created here. I can't even visit my family and friends in GA for a reprieve because I know you're nearby. It's not fair that you don't have to see me right now or hear anything about how I'm a complete mess. I don't sleep, I don't eat much, and I can't even enjoy my alone time because all I do is think about this. I am completely lost.

None of this has to do with me needing you. I never needed you. I was never dependent on you, but I could depend on you. I chose you. The fact is, I wanted you in my life.  I wanted to be there for you and have you be there for me. I wanted to give you space when you needed it and support when you needed it. I just wanted you. And now you don't want me, and I still don't understand why. I am sick just thinking of you waking up one morning and deciding you're better off alone. How can you be better off alone than with me?

One day I will hopefully be able to think about this and not get upset, but I think instead I will be trying to block it out because it will always make me sad. It will always hurt. Maybe I'll end up with someone else, but I'll always think that I'd rather it be you.

Every time someone asks about you I have to say it again. That YOU broke up with ME. That I had no say in the matter. That I don't even really know the truth because you kept changing your story. After over two years, you owed me an effort to try to work things out. At the very least you owed me the full truth. You barely said anything. You just let it happen and didn't blink an eye. And no one on your end will give you crap because you don't let anybody in. So soon I'll be a just that girl you dated for a bit, if that even. Whereas to me, you'll always be the one who made me feel worse than I ever thought imaginable. Yet, I still love you. And I miss you. I miss talking to you, watching movies with you, making fun of things with you,hugging you, cooking for you, telling you the good things that have happened and ideas I have, and everything...

Now I'm just a wreck. Not because I don't have you. Because you hurt me in the worst way possible, and I will never know what went through your head. I don't want any part of the last three years of my life now. All of it makes me sick to think about. It's all ruined. I am ruined. I hope it's not permanent, but even so, I know it will last a lifetime.

-E

Testing...1...2...3

I've been working on a short story that I've grown rather fond of, but even though I feel like there should be more (or perhaps less), I'm not sure what to do with it now. It's very internal, progressional, and a true representative of how I think. So I'm going to do something I've never done before and share it online for all to see (eek!). Please feel free to comment via the comments section or through my email. At least on here it can be illustrated. Also, there are a few footnotes that go with it...but I couldn't figure out how to do footnote in the blog yet...so we'll look at it without.

Also, I'm doing this in an effort to keep blogging, but I have little of interest to say these days. Just fighting to not be so sad.

Black and Blue

Emily slides her bag off her shoulder and hears the snores creep through the uninsulated wall. She follows the rhythm of quick inhalation, pause, two, three, four, and whistling air escaping. She imagines the air trapped in the man’s fat nostrils. He must be fat to breathe like that. Emily muses how completely unabashed one is in sleep. Making such raspy noises with no worries wafting in and out with each breath. Oblivious to the quivering walls and wide-awake neighbors. Sleep brings truth, she thinks. And perhaps the man is actually conceited, but Emily hears him, sometimes, moving about, trying to make as little noise as possible. This can’t be easy considering his size. Emily saw him most recently a month ago(?), looking uncomfortably snug in the back of a taxi. He had seen her too, she knew, because he threw his gaze to the another window when she looked his way.

Emily brews her tea and curls up with her knitting needles armed. She works on a pair of socks in burgundy. The TV next door blares. The fat man is awake and watching another game show. He always turns up the volume when he wakes up. At night he watches game shows, in the morning, cartoons. He watches movies on weekends, sometimes keeping the same one running back to back. Emily isn’t sure what he watches during the day, but thinks he’d switch to sitcoms. She never hears the news or talk shows through the walls. The man does not track the outside world.

Her hands stop purling when she hears a loud cough from upstairs. The woman upstairs, Emily knows, stays in bed most days sick with some incurable disease. Emily only sees nurses ever going up there, never the woman coming down. Emily imagines she is thin and covered in translucent skin. Late at night, she hears the woman’s moans, and Emily’s not sure if the woman moans in her sleep or moans because she can’t sleep. The socks are for her. Emily plans to leave them outside her door. One of the nurses will take them in. A woman in that condition does not want young, pretty visitors.

When Emily turns the heel, she tucks her work into her bag and heads to bed. She pauses in the kitchen, listening. Silence above, TV next door. She tilts her head towards the floor and listens for Aaron making movement. Aaron lives below her and spends more time awake at night than asleep. She hears the faint electronic gunfire from Aaron’s wartime video games. Instead of following her drowsiness to bed, she wanders downstairs to visit him. She doesn’t bother to knock since he won’t hear her. He never locks his door claiming he has nothing worth anything to anyone.

Aaron sits in the corner of the room, splayed out and almost horizontal in his chair. His eyes glow in the bobbling light from the TV. He squints at Emily, but his fingers keep darting around his video game controller. Who’s winning, Emily asks. The terrorists. Us, Aaron says. Want to play? Emily declines and watches Aaron shoot civilians to gain life points. Are you hungry, Emily wants to know. Aaron forgets to eat. She believes he subsists on soda and pizza from a shop two blocks away. They are open until 2 a.m. She remembers two times she saw Aaron shuffle out of the apartment complex and up the street. He walked with short, slow steps; hood up and hands in pockets. She doubts he does this more than once a week. So once a week she brings him part of her dinner. She’d bring more if it ever got eaten.

She spends several hours sitting with Aaron, making one-sided conversation. He doesn’t seem to mind.

*

Emily doesn’t own a TV, so sometimes she sits close to the fat man’s wall and plays game shows alongside him. Unbeknownst to the fat man, Emily pulls her ottoman close to their shared wall and whispers answers into the wood. She won’t say them too loud, lest the man hear her and think she’s trying to outsmart him. Emily thinks a man his size might feel his mind is muddled and slow to match his body, even if it isn’t true. Perhaps it’s fear that keeps him so large. Fear freezing him in his chair. Emily would be scared to face daily activities dragging a dozen extra Emilys around with her.

She hears the night nurse and the afternoon nurse laugh with each other as they switch shifts. They are just outside, breathing the fresh air of the evening. Emily hopes the woman upstairs does not hear their laughter. She thinks a sickly woman like that, one who can’t (or perhaps won’t) come outside, might loathe hearing others enjoy their lives. If I were dying, I’d want to live it, she thinks. Not wait it out, locked away. Emily thinks fear keeps the woman in bed. Fear of enjoying life and hating to leave it. 

Aaron is not home when Emily walks in later that week. She picks up the dented pizza boxes and soda bottles and leaves Aaron a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread on his recliner.

*

She sees a doctor conversing with the evening nurse when she arrives home. Emily assumes the older woman is a doctor by her bag and matter-of-fact tone that trickles down to Emily’s ears. Never the same doctor twice, of the half dozen Emily has heard speaking to nurses in the hallway. This doctor glances at Emily in the parking lot and says nothing.

The upstairs emits slight squeaks and gurgles all night. The TV next door crackles static until four in the morning, and muted gunfire surfaces. Emily listens, wrapped in her unraveling blanket, and considers the emptiness of the noise. The mechanical sounds keep her awake until the fat man turns his TV to cartoons.

*

On Saturday, when rain sluices down the window panes, Emily wakes before sunrise, startled by the haunting thunder. She curls up with a blanket and lemon tea, waiting for day to overtake night and filter through the storm. The rain drowns out all but a tiny hissing snore from the fat man. The intermittent whistling air halts as the fat man rolls over. Emily counts the couch spring squeaks as he rolls: two to start, three more for the torso roll, and two for the legs that flop to follow.

*

Non living is a quiet thing filled with pieces of sound that mimic actual existence. Non living resides on a lower frequency with little need for activity or interaction. The way Emily sees it, a person’s frequency wavers along at an internal level until interaction causes the frequency to jump.

*

Emily can no longer be certain a fat man lives on the other side of her wall. She hears movement in slow drags. She thinks the fat man has been replaced by a walrus whose breathing rattles his nose rolls and whose body slugs along the carpet in grunts and groans. A walrus and his perpetual frown.

*

Emily hears little from below for the next three days. Upstairs the coughing grows more distressed. Next door the TV remains mute for days at a time. Emily imagines a catatonic walrus staring at the silent, blinking screen.

One evening Emily hears a loud series of thumps on her ceiling, like a stack of books hitting the floor in a domino effect. She hears the night nurse’s muffled voice speaking low the floor and two pairs of feet moving in discrete steps.

Emily can’t remember what day she last saw Aaron. Was it three days ago? Or was that when she gathered up the previous week’s rotting plates?

*

They take him out in a blue body bag. It’s such a dark blue that it is almost black and Emily wonders why it’s not black.

She sees them wheel the body down the sidewalk, to the unlit ambulance.

She wonders what its like to exhale and feel everything slip far away. She exhales on the window, blurring over the body bag.

Will she one day wake up zipped into the black space of a blue bag?

Through the glass, the ambulance lights drift silently from view.

images by sunderland book group, no second chances, and aimless direction (respectively)

My First Half Marathon

I've been a terrible blogger lately. There's been a lot of crap going on in my life, and I just haven't had the heart to write...however, let's recap a bit and I'll talk about my long-awaited first half-marathon race.

I wasn't sure I'd make it to the half-marathon I wanted to do. Lack of sleep, no appetite, and poor training wasn't the best way to get to it, but I wanted to do it just to see if I could.

I ran the Slacker Half-Marathon from Loveland, CO to Georgetown, CO on June 26th, 2010. Don't let the name fool you. You start out at about 10,000 feet and end up at 8,400 feet, so yes, there are some great downhill sections to the race. However, the first mile of the race is a gradual uphill, the last half mile is uphill, and there is a combination of flat and up/downhills in between.

Now, I've never run above about 9.5 miles at a time before, so I knew this would be pushing it. I started out slow and forced myself to keep an easy pace. The first 5 miles were on a dirt-packed trail in the shade, so that felt great. After mile 5, the path merged onto a road that ran alongside I-70. The rest of the race was on pavement, and boy did it get hot!

I felt pretty good through the 6.2 mile mark (a 10k, the longest race I'd done up to that point). Of course, I then thought, "I'm not even halfway yet...yikes!" I kept going and was able to use the steep downhill parts to my advantage and conserve energy on the uphill portions. I did stop briefly at miles 6 and 8 to grab a cup of Gatorade (which is darn near impossible to drink from a cup while running). By mile 9, I was starting to feel tired. My legs were becoming jelly-fied, but I was still breathing pretty well (another concern of mine at that elevation). I did chew on one of my Powerbar energy gummies, and I'm not sure whether or not it helped, but I felt pretty good after I hit mile 10. Then I thought, "Ok, 3 more miles, that's just a 5k." Just a 5k turned out to be pretty difficult on jelly legs. I knew if I walked at all, I would never get going again, so I pushed along and prayed my legs didn't give out.

The last 3 miles was purely a mental exercise. I just kept telling myself I could make it, only a little farther, etc. When I hit the last half mile, the uphill part, I was really struggling. My legs were not cooperating, so my breathing became ragged in an attempt to get more oxygen to my legs. Somehow, I managed to sprint the last 100 yards to the finish and am happy to say I ran the whole darn thing. That was my initial goal. I also wanted to finish in under two and a half hours. My finish time was two hours and thirteen minutes, so I was ecstatic!

After picking up my awesome tech shirt, I had to hobble (literally) a little over a mile back to my car. That's kind of mean, huh? I had to sit in my car for a good 20 minutes before my legs felt normal enough to drive. I got home and soaked in an ice bath and took it easy for the rest of the day.

The next morning, my legs reminded me how angry they were. My quads and ankles in particular were the most sore. Surprisingly, my calves, shins, and knees really didn't hurt, so that was good news! That's the first run I've been on that I actually felt pain the next day. Sure, other runs have made me a bit sore, but nothing like this. Thank goodness for ice packs, icy hot, compression socks (which I wore in the race) and ibuprofen.


Race photo by Foto Jack

I'm planning to do my next half-marathon in August, so that gives me another month to get some good training in. That will be followed by the Warrior Dash. We'll see what happens!

Estes Park 10K

...At least it wasn't hot.

That's about all I can say about the Estes Park 10K I ran on Sunday, June 13, 2010. I woke up at 5 a.m. after tossing and turning all night (but that's been about my normal sleep schedule for about a month). I had a horrible running week (probably due to lack of sleep), and when I woke up and looked outside, it was pouring. I was VERY close to just going back to bed, but I needed to get a run in that day, and I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep, so I forced myself to get moving.

The drive up to Estes Park was miserable with wind and rain. I got up there around 6:45 a.m., so I had an hour to wait til my start time. It was about 39 degrees, and the rain just wouldn't let up. I stayed in my car until about ten minutes before it was time to go, then I jogged around trying to warm up.

The race was supposed to be fairly big, but due to weather, most people opted out and many of the half-marathoners dropped down to the 10K instead (goody). The race got started on time, and our small group headed up the first hill before aiming for the trail running around Lake Estes. The course was just paved road the entire time, so my feet were immediately soaked when I had to go through some deep puddles. I plugged on though and made it through. It wasn't my best time, but considering how I felt and the weather, I was happy enough. I did get to see some elk around the lake as I ran by (babies too!), so that was nice, but by mile four, I had a horrible side cramp, so I spent the last 2.2 miles with my hands on my waist, holding my ribs in (not ideal for running well). The race finished with 3/4 of a lap around the Estes Park High School track, and I was able to sprint that distance, though at the point my legs were frozen/jelly (if that's possible at the same time) which made it difficult to pick up the pace.

I finished, snagged my blanket (thank you TJ Maxx!) and got myself some free goodies around the track (yay hot chocolate!). I did meet a girl a little older than me who ran my race (a half-marathon drop downer). She was waiting for her husband to run the 5K, so we stood under the tent and chatted until he arrived. She was the fitness director at the Coors Factory...what a cool job! Perhaps I'll see her in upcoming races...

Anyways, the day was fairly miserable as a total. I went home and ate some real food and tried to take a nap (to no avail). The good news is that I did my icing and bath routine and was not at all sore the next day! Thank goodness for small favors. It might have been a sucky race, but at least I made it through and didn't quit. For that I am satisfied.

Next up...the half-marathon. It's about time!

The Bolder Boulder

Ahh. The Bolder Boulder 10k race. Little did I know how big of a deal this race is in Boulder, and in the country. I mean, the race has it's own office, so I guess that should be a hint. It's also a $52 entry and is individually chip timed, so there you go.

image by oregon live

I got up at 5 a.m. to eat my half a banana and bagel, gather my racing pack, walk the pups, slather on sunscreen, lace up my Nike Frees, and drive up to Boulder. I parked halfway between the start and finish, so I got to do a brief warm-up on my way to the start line (and it was chilly!). I got up the start area by about 6:30, so I had almost an hour until my start time in the EF wave at 7:24. I must say, this race was highly organized. I supposed it would have to be with 53,700 people running, but everything was clear and exactly where they said it would be (via maps online). Clearly they've done this before (31 times before, in fact).

I had planned to run with my pack and possessions, but then I thought about how nice it would be to be those two pounds lighter, so I opted to let the mobile lockers take my stuff to the finish line. The dilemma was my stupid inhaler. I needed it about 20 minutes before the start, but I didn't want to be waiting in line at the lockers at that point instead of being with my designated starting wave. I saw one other person with an inhaler wandering around. She planned on carrying it, so I decided to do the same. (I also worried that I might push myself too hard and end up needing the darn thing on the course.) Racing logistics...I still need to figure all this out.

The waves actually started on time (more or less). I'm quite grateful for the waves because of the number of people and because at least I got to start with like-speed people with less temptation to take-off. We started out heading down 30th on a slight descent, so that was a great pace-builder. I had to keep reminding myself to take it easy (you don't win by running the fastest mile first). By win I mean doing a PB, or personal best. I have zero delusions of actually placing first. I can't run a five minute mile, so that's that. I am, however, good at maintaining a pace and enduring (and getting better). It's funny how running is such a solitary sport, yet we race in giant packs, often with friends, but it really comes down doing a little better than you did last time. There are only a handful of people in each race that are competing.

It's difficult for me to accept the fact that I am not and cannot be the best. To say that I am competitive would be a ridiculous understatement. This was only my second race (unless you go back to elementary school fun runs), and my first at this distance. Also my first race alone (I had T.S. running with me the first time). I don't particularly enjoy running in big groups, but it's a challenge for me. I have to remember that this is still for ME amidst the packs sprinting by. It was easier in this race...I think due to the sheer numbers of people. There was no "front" of the pack to me, so I didn't have that space jeering at me.

Still, I found myself trucking along and had to force myself to back off a bit. From 30th we turned onto Pearl St. and headed across 28th and then up Folsom. That's where we encountered the first (and longest) hill of the race. The incline wasn't bad, but the hill continued up Folsom and then up Hawthorn as we entered the third mile. Then it flattened out a bit allowing me to re-calibrate a bit. We continued winding around the edge of North Boulder until we headed down 19th St. Yet another hill faced us as we moved along into our fourth mile. At this point I was struggling to maintain a good pace. I wasn't tired, but I was trying to hold back a bit for the last mile or so.

After some more flat spots, we hit a slight downhill at 13th St., which really helped me hit my stride. I noticed that I was on the right track to meet my goal of 62 minutes for the race, so in my head, I set a mid-race goal of finishing at 60 minutes. Entering the fifth mile, I felt pretty decent, but I kept thinking about the hill at the end of the race, so I tried to slow it up again. My legs kept wanting to stride out (in retrospect, I probably should have just trucked on). We crossed downtown Pearl St. and wove our way back to Folsom, this time headed toward the CU stadium. With a mile to go, I was starting to feel my lungs getting tight and my mind went back and forth between "Oh god, I'm going to die" and "It's less than a mile."

The final half mile was all uphill, I think the second steepest of the course (kind of cruel, eh?). I knew I was close, but I struggled up that last hill into the stadium. The path built in the stadium was metal platforms with ridges where the pieces met. I, of course, immediately thought about how horrible it would be to fall NOW, with the finish line in sight. I didn't dwell on that long though, and I am proud to say I kicked it into high gear and sprinted around the stadium over the finish. While that last hill got to me, I was still able to dig down and finish strong...something I always try to do.

I finished in 60 minutes and 20 seconds, so I met my original race goal, but didn't quite get to my mid-race goal. With the chip timing, I get to see my individual mile times, which is a great way to see my weak spots. My first mile was my fastest (oops), but not by much. In fact, my fifth mile was only a second slower than the first. My third mile was by far my slowest, so I can see that I tried to pace myself too much at that point.

Throughout the race I was able to stay fairly relaxed, which has been something I've been working on. I was also able to put to use some of my tips from running books I've been reading (such as keeping your hips under you, passing runners one at a time, and breathing evenly).

Overall, I'm happy with the way I raced. I think I prepared well and raced the best I could for me today. I still wish I could have hauled butt up that last hill to make my mid-race goal time, but that will just be my goal for my next 10k in Estes Park. I ended up placing in the top quarter of my wave, the top fifth of women, and the top quarter overall. I can't complain.

After getting home and eating some much needed fuel, the only pain I have is in my ankles, probably because I'm not used to running on pavement as much as I am trails and rocks. I recovered quickly (less the few moments of wanting to collapse at the end) too.

I will definitely do the Bolder Boulder again next year. It was really cool to run through the city and have many of its people on their lawns watching, entertaining, handing out water and popsicles. The guy I remember most was in his bathrobe, on his "stationary bike" (bike on a wooden platform thing), pedaling with a beer in his hand. Boulder.

I'll be posting links and pictures as they become available!

Visit Bolder Boulder 2010 for news on the race.

Visit the Finish Line 8:20-8:25 for the live finish. You can kind see me toward the end, but the picture quality is poor. I'm in a pink shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses. It will be like Where's Waldo.

Sleep must really hate me

Because I haven't seen any decent side of her in about a week now. I'm not sure why I'm not sleeping well, but instead of going to sleep within minutes and staying that way (or possibly waking up briefly), I just fidget and twitch and think and sigh and think about sleep and wish for sleep and roll around.

image by farm 3

Maybe it's the season. It's been hotter lately (close to 90 today, ugh!), so perhaps my body is not adjusting to the temperature change. I've been thinking quite a bit (planning, I suppose) about what I want in life (ie...career wise), and how I'm going to keep going after it (or take more drastic steps). Honestly though, I'm always thinking like that, so I don't know why this past week would keep me up like this.

When I do get to sleep, it's fitful and uncomfortable and not at all satisfying. I wake up in jolts and my heart is racing. Maybe I should cut back the caffeine, but I only drink a cup (or less) per day in the morning, so again, I don't think this is the issue.

I've never been an easy sleeper. I wake up frequently, but I don't tend to move when I sleep well, which means I wake up rather stiff and feeling like a frozen Gumby. I wake up if I'm thirsty, hungry, hot, cold, or dreaming (so it seems). I wake up when lights are turned on or off and when constant noises stop or start.

Even worse is that I generally need to be exhausted by the time I go to sleep (especially if I want to go to bed early) in order to fall asleep. It's very difficult to exhaust myself daily in order to get good sleep. I don't particularly enjoy being exhausted. My increased running mileage over the past few weeks has helped me sleep a better, more solid eight hours each night...until now.

Maybe I'm too tired. Is that possible? I don't feel like I should be too tired. I'm not doing that much. Regardless, sleep is now this fanciful thing that I chase and can't quite catch and hold. I still have other thoughts, but they all revolve back around to sleep. I think I'll make a nest on the floor tonight and see if a change in environment helps. Wish me luck!

The Planning Monster

It's no secret that I like to plan. I can be flexible, and I can "go with the flow," but I'm a planner through and through.

It seems I have planned myself into a corner...covering each day with activities and things I must do to reach the next goal (plan). I guess I forgot that I need some semblance of a "life" too, but isn't all of this business life?

I'm getting better at enjoying the moment. Every day I do at least one thing that I'm not in a hurry to finish or where I'm not thinking ahead, but just living in the moment and enjoying it. I'm becoming less impatient in lines, more relaxed amongst crowds, etc. So all of that is good.

I still can't help but plan. Some plans are merely dreams, some are hopes, and some interminable thoughts that I can only watch unfold. I wonder how adaptable I will be to big changes ahead that I am unable to plan for completely. I don't know where I'm going to be in a year, and it's a bit scary to know that I could be leaving a place that makes me happy. However, I'm more than willing to go. Because I'll have something else that will make me even happier. A place can't replace a person, no matter which way you spin it.

I wonder why it's often easier to describe what you don't want as opposed to what you do want? It's not negative...I actually think that opens up more possibilities. If you rule out what you don't want, then what's left is a possibility of what you do want. If you know exactly what you want, then you have a single goal and everything else is the negative. Personally, I like the former ratio better.

I know what I don't want, so I'm open to seeing what will fill my want. I'm interested in so many things, so who knows how many of them I can cram into my space of fulfillment.

That must be why it's scarier to know exactly what you want, because then everything else threatens to take it away. If you want one thing, and it's gone, then what? There's one thing I want that is quite possible, probable even, but it's terrifying to think it could be lost.

I try not to think that way. Instead, I plan for a dream, hoping it will become a reality, but knowing that the plan to get to that reality may not happen. I'm content with that thought. I just need the reality, but I'm not picky as to how I get there.

The Dipsea Race

While flying home from St. John, I ran across an article in the latest Runner's World magazine about a race in Mill Valley, CA called the Dipsea Race. The pictures are what first snagged my attention, but when I started reading about the race, I fell in love and just knew I had to partake.

The race is the oldest cross-country running race in the country and has been taking place for over 100 years. Every year in June, 1500 runners are allowed to compete for the numbered t-shirts that are given to the top 35 runners, and each runner has an equal chance due to handicaps for race times and age groups. Winners include a nine year old girl and a 70 year old man.

The 7.4 mile race begins on a flat, quarter mile stretch before you have to ascend 676 stairs (ouch). Then you have to travel over areas called "Suicide" and "Cardiac Hill" with much of the trail covered in protruding roots. Some of the trail narrows so that its space only allows for one runner at a time to go through. There are some options involved as well, and shortcuts are allowed (but you have to find your way back to the trail!).

The race ends in a long stretch through windy, hilly moors to end up at the Pacific Ocean. Sound like fun? Well, it does to me!

The Trail Map.

Part of the Dipsea Race stairs:

image by Rick Rodriguez

The Ladder:

image by Jane Heber

Side of the hill coming out of the woods:

image from the "Sacramento Bee"

The last part of the trail before hitting the ocean:

image from muddybike.com

So here's the catch. The race only allows for 1500 runners each year, and they get up to 3000 applicants. The top 450 runners earn a spot in the next year's race, and then 500 are chosen from the first applications in (and you cannot hand-deliver your application). This method favors local residents (as in, they start accepting the next year's application on March 16th, and not before, and tend to receive way more than the 500 needed on that day). Then 100 entries are chosen with a silent auction, and 100 are chosen based on "bribes" (money donations over the $60 entry fee). Another 300 runners are picked through the Dipsea lottery, which is simply a random drawing. Two spots are available the night before the race at the Annual Dipsea Race Foundation Banquet where you can bid on the race numbers, starting at $500 each.

The other way you can get into the race is by sending in an essay or story that will get you noticed by the selection committee. I think that is my best bet to get in. I'm going to send my application overnight so that it gets there on the opening date, but I want to accompany it with a story based on the area where the race is held. I also want to include a significant monetary donation as well. I've got about ten months to do this, so here's hoping!

In the meantime, I can work on stairs and serious hills. The mileage is fine, but somehow I don't think "Suicide" routes will be easy. I'm also going to research shortcuts...

Wish me luck, and visit The Dipsea Race for more info.

Read this runner's account of his first Dipsea.

Blog Carnival: The Webs We Weave

Peanut Butter...

Does not make me think of jelly. Or rather, I guess it does because it makes me think how much I despise jelly...or jam...or preserves. What the heck's the difference anyways? Why not eat fruit whole and fresh? What's with grinding it up and adding sugar and syrupy crap? Or drying it out. I will never understand dried fruit. Oh good, now I chew on leathery fruit devoid of most nutrients. Excellent.

It's true that a fruit's nutrients often lie within the skin, so if you go skinless, you're not getting the full effect. Not that other things should not go skinless, like chicken, at least as a food. Skinless alive might be problematic. There are hairless things though...

Hairless dogs, rats, cats, guinea pigs...


They feel like velvet, which is NOT a flattering look on anyone unless she or he is under the age of six. Crushed velvet is reserved for those under the age of three and the early 90s trends.

Was crimped hair part of the early 90s? If not, then my father tortured me unnecessarily. Unnecessary---un meaning not, and necesse, or indispensable. Originally ne (not) plus cedere, meaning to go away or withdraw. Similar to the Spanish cerrar, to close, I guess. Or maybe I'm just connecting nonexistent threads.

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1832


The Lady of Shallot by John William Waterhouse, 1888

Oh the web she wove.

I'm hungry.
I think I'll have my fuji apple and peanut butter.

Now go check out the other Blog Carnival participants!

Farin' On The West Winds Of Erin

Instinctively Woman
The Photo Maestro 

I think, therefore I think I am.

How do you think? Odd question, perhaps. I don't mean how do you think, as in what synapses are used and how the brain functions. I mean, what do your thoughts look like? Are they musical, colorful, completely abstract, surreal, in words, etc?

I think in pictures, with words thrown in from time to time, swirling backwards down the drain like water in the southern hemisphere. The words are usually in a serif font and mirrored. I'm not sure why, but maybe it has to do with the fact that I can read mirror image text easily and write it as well. I don't know what this means other than my talents are wasting away.

My thoughts are pictures, very distinct, mobile pictures. The thoughts freeze in place, but then move on and walk out of the frame of my mind, as if I have a movie camera up there watching inside my head. Scenes take place, finish, and step offstage. Thoughts that I have a hard time recalling are backstage, lurking behind the curtains. I can feel them there, but I can't see them well enough to figure out what they are. I am almost in my own head, seeing the thoughts pan out, and moving around to find answers when my view is obstructed.

Sometimes my thoughts are mixed with sound. Often I hear narration to my current thoughts while I...think. What's odd is that the voice is not mine, at least not recognizably so. I can recall voice pitch and intonation quite as well, so memories include both moving pictures and sound.

I wonder if the way we think has to do with how we learn best? I learn best by doing. Experience learning. I must wrap my own two hands around a problem in order to figure it out and fully comprehend it. Otherwise, I might only see the answer and the route to get to the answer. I'm a sponge, but I have to sit in the pan of water for a while.


image by charles lloyd

Más Pillow Book Para Vosotros

Busy weekend. I tried out rock-climbing for the first time and LOVED it. It's a rush to feel like you can't reach the next foot/handhold and then stretching that little bit extra to make it. I definitely will be going out again.



Also finished up a complex accounting problem (well, complex for my level) and managed to get it right! So hooray for that. Anyone out there doing the Canine Classic in Boulder on April 18th? Let me know, because I'd love to meet up! T.S. and I will be there with our game faces on!

Things that bring (happy) tears to my eyes:
*The Office wedding scene.
*When T.S. lays his head on me and thumps his tail.
*Random cards in the mail from friends.
*The Man in the Moon's end scenes.

Songs that I can't stop listening to:
*Sleepyhead.
*Fake Plastic Trees.
*We Only Come Out at Night.
*Disintegration.
*Robots (live version I saw @ Red Rocks).

Things that distract me:
*Math problems.
*Dust and dirt...must clean!
*Snoring.
*Intentions...what I meant to do before I previously became distracted.

I'm currently re-watching my Everwood dvds. Such a good show, and set in Colorado!

BLOG CARNIVAL: Scenic Scribbles: The Environment of Writing

Levels of Consciousness

I started a hike up Royal Arch and thought of the levels of the flatirons, the makeup of its paths. I thought about these levels and how they were like levels of consciousness or being.

Pre-dawn
Up in the morning before the sun lends its light to the ground. Up and immediately needing. Pre-dawn is a time of instant demands. Survival instincts kick in, and as I trudge up the hill, breathing out visible puffs in the dark, I think of bears. In the dark, I am both vulnerable and cloaked in cover. Sheltered, but wary. The mountain above me hides, and in the pre-dawn hours, I can only know that what's not visible, isn't there.


Awakening
Moving up beyond a man-made path, I am enveloped in tree branches, weighted by snow. The sun begins to share its light with the ground. I've left pre-dawn and arrived at awakening. My senses seek experience. They reach out, grasping onto the rough edges of consciousness. This is a place past immediacy. I can touch the base of the flatirons and feel the dripping ice slide down the rock. Here is a time of noticing and acting on stimuli rather than only needs. My boots fall through the snow, each step sinking down til compacted snow stops it. And up I go.


Curious Activity
Higher still I climb, and the branches dwindle. Light seeps into the trees and bounces right back off the snow, blinding me. The sun holds onto its power even through the haze. Here I question. Here I want answers. How is the snow here so much softer and moist than that of the lower levels? What bird made tracks the size of peanuts in the snow? And what plants besides pine and ivy last all winter? My thoughts scatter from one to another, only landing long enough to take a mental picture.


Surreal
The town below is not real. It's too far away to connect to, and therefore only exists as a picture. The landscape is merely a backdrop to this rock, like evening is for night. Changeable in a moment, but not definable at any time. It's an incoherent sigh of relief. Exhalation frozen in the air. Such silence calms me after a day of curious activity. Thoughts from the day gel and stick in my mind. These are the things to ponder in sleep. Here is where you drift, hoping to stay for good, but knowing it is impossible.


Descent
It's a long way down. Usually, down is much easier than up, but when snow's involved, down becomes literal, and I try not to fall. Descent is the time the sun disappears: when thoughts become only of sleep so that the body and mind have no choice but to obey.

"Every moment of light and dark is a miracle."

Walt Whitman

 

I often wonder about these in between moments, these discrete miracles. What is the single moment that night becomes day. Weather reports say: Sunrise 6:49 a.m, but at what moment does dark become light, light back to dark. What moment does a mountain grow? These are environmental Pinter moments. A communication passes silently, but it's up to us to notice and understand it.

Now go read the other Blog Carnival participants!

http://farinonthewestwindsoferin.blogspot.com/

http://erinbery.blogspot.com/

Babies on the brain (it's not what you think)...

Well. Maybe it's what you think. This post is not meant to offend any of my awesome friends with children or with ones on the way. It's only my view of my life in comparison.

A few nights ago, I woke up (mentally woke up, not physically) and realized I was having a dream that I was in labor. Scary, right? It wasn't. Perhaps it's because I knew I was in the middle of a dream, so it wasn't real, but who knows. So I woke up, completely calm, but feeling my insides trying to escape. Somehow I knew that I was giving birth. But then I woke up the rest of the way and the entire scenario dissipated. I'm sure more was going on, but I never remember the sleeping parts.

I think I had this dream because I know so many people right now who are pregnant. Two of my cousins (one for the 2nd time and one on her first!), my sassy roomie from KSU, my dear FOXFIRE sister, an adorable pixie from film class, and my CO conspirator's cousin. Not to mention my friends from school who already have a kid, and of course my ridiculously cute goddaughter :-).

If they aren't pregnant, they are married, and if they aren't married, they are engaged to be married. They being at least 90% of the people I associate with. And most of these people are about my age. What I find so odd is that I'm not really in that phase yet, and it's not really what I think about. Yes, I have a long-term boyfriend whom I am crazy about, and yes, it's nice to think about getting engaged or married or what-have-you (I am a sap, I admit it!), but aside from living in the same state as my significant other again, that is not my focus.

Some people just want a family, and that is their main goal in life. That is certainly an admirable goal, and I am not knocking it in the least. I just have never been the one to say that yes, I want a husband and yes I want kids and yes I want a house, etc. I didn't think like that as a kid, I didn't as a young adult, and I don't as an adult now. My goals are career-oriented. Almost everything I do is to better my future career. Right now I'm working on an accounting degree so that I can combine that with my editing and freelance writing to build a way for me to work on my own schedule, in my way and enjoy my life. Right now I know I will never be truly satisfied going to an office every day, though that could change if I were to work for a company that is in line with my own beliefs (ie a horse farm, rescue, or animal publication). But even then, I'm not sure I can throw myself into that kind of work. I'm happy to work 80 hours a week on something I love, but I'd need it to be outside or with animals, not stuck at a desk. Who knows though. If it's my own making, I might be all right with it.

And the rambling got a hold of me there...

In any case, I don't know many people who are as career-driven as I am. I want to work, and I don't mind it feeling like work, but I want it to matter. Everyone I know is still figuring things out or in a completely different mode than I am in, which is not a bad thing at all, it's simply that I know very few around me who are fighting the same fight, so to speak. I know what I want, I know that there are dozens of outlets for what I want, and I'm going to hunt these outlets down until I make my kill. There's a terrible metaphor for you.

Ooohhh...today should be terrible metaphor day!

Or possibly ADD day, since clearly I can't keep on track.

Regardless, I think my mode is so clear to me right now that it's difficult for me to answer questions about the future, family, "settling down," etc. I simply don't have the brain capacity for that right now. I have career-mode tunnel vision, and the future is comprised of me creating a career that I can happily live with, and until I get to that point, I can't see outside my tunnel (horrible metaphor number two).


image by Emma Bell-Scott

*I am currently craving a hot plate of good ol' mac and cheese. Too bad I don't have any!