The Intermittent Blogger

Inevitable Entropy

2011-11-01T18:41:00.002-04:00

I am by no means a tech blogger, or particularly tech-savy, but I am disappoint with the new reader integration in G+.
I use Reader almost daily. I use G+ almost daily. I use Buzz almost daily as well, but that's another discussion entirely.

The new integration between Reader and G+ was judged and has been found lacking.

Google Reader was an amazing piece of social technology without even knowing it. The social features in Reader created individual feeds from each of my friends that could be read, in a block, like the rest of the feeds I followed. The feeds my friends share were filled with interesting, off-beat articles; nerdy internet memes; foodie recipes; tech, science, and political news that I might have otherwise missed in my Reader filled with crafty, design-oriented, cycling feeds. My friends' feeds were the first thing I read any time I signed into Reader.

Of course, Reader had its faults... the commenting feature on each post was fine, except there was no way to set it to notify you when someone commented, or responded to one of your comments (Sharing posts to Buzz remedied this but, again, we're not talking about Google's soon-to-be-retired, just the already dead). I'd also love to see a 'Sort- Oldest Unread Item First' functionality, but I'm really nit-picking now.

G+ just throws everything into a single stream, with no way to parse out what people were sharing from Reader which, in most cases, has a different quality and character from what they just throw into their stream for a quick 'look at this!'. The 'integrated' sharing in G+ also requires you to not only publicly +1 something before actually sharing it (so much for G+ allowing you to control your information), but then decide with whom you want to share it. Gone are the days of 1-click Reader sharing...

More importantly though all the articles are shared rather than reciprocally followed- making a huge difference in the dynamic flow of information. Before, I choose whose information I consumed indicating my interest, but now, no matter how interested I am in their shares, I feel like everyone's standing on their individual soap boxes yelling over one another.

So now, not only do I feel like I'm spamming my friends' G+ stream with articles, but there is no way to ensure that I'm reading all the articles shared by my friends that were previously, and so conviently, listed as 'unread'. Even after just a few hours posts end up buried under one another, requiring unnecessary scrolling (assuming you were preciously using headline view). And while G+'s habit of rearranging conversations by most recent comment works great for Facebook style posts, it causes what might be otherwise interesting articles to disappear to the abyss of my G+ stream. While that might be fine for people in the G+ ghost towns, it creates a lot of frustration when you have an active group of people participating in the service.

On top of all of that, the new reader integration doesn't allow me to read anything in G+. I need to go to the original website, which only serves to take me away from Google's properties more often. So now, to read any single individual's posts I would have to go to each profile individually- if I can remember everyone who I was previously following- click through each share individually and leave G+ to read each article. Some of my friends are habitual 15+ shares-a-day posters, so, quite frankly, this new system sucks.

I'm disappointed that they gutted an amazing social service in an attempt to bolster a relatively stagnant one- and, more importantly- they did it in the most ham-handed way possible. I'm also disappointed that Google made changes without taking into account the essence of the services they were revamping. Reader's purpose is to create a repository for information I'm interested in, things I'm seeking out. Previously I sought out the people whose feeds I found interesting. G+ is for social updates that I wanted to share with others, lighter, community and relational information. If I wanted Facebook-style sharing for articles in Reader, I'd be using Facebook.

Like I said- if it wasn't abundantly clear- I am really disappointed in the changes, and I hope (though I don't hold out much) that Google might come to their senses and reverse the changes until better integration can be devised.

Unsurprising Revelation

2011-08-19T18:11:00.001-04:00

A good day cycling will never compare to a good day fencing.
A day working on my bike will never be as relaxing as a day armoring epees.

The satisfaction I get from a ride, no matter how good, will never match the satisfaction from a well executed toe touch.

And a bad day fencing never landed me in the hospital with 6 stitches in my chin.

I think that probably means something...

AIDS Ride for Life

2011-07-26T22:13:00.000-04:00

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” - Margaret Mead

North County Trailway

Taughannock State Park

In 6 1/2 weeks, on 9/10/11 my Partner in Crime and I will be taking on a 100 mile bike ride around Cayuga Lake in Ithaca, NY. I have never done anything before even remotely resembling the task I've decided to take on, but it is both a challenge and a good cause, one that supports my adopted hometown. Donations collected through the ride go to support STAP, the Southern Tier Aids Program and the work that they do.

Founded in 1984 as a local response to the HIV epidemic, the Southern Tier AIDS program provides HIV and Hepatitis C prevention, education, and outreach services to individuals and communities as well as comprehensive care services to people living with HIV/AIDS. They serve eight counties from nine office locations and all their services are free and confidential.Their services focus on the health and well being of HIV+ persons with programs ranging from Support Groups, Transportation services, Crisis Management, Housing services and Secondary Prevention.

Last year, the 12th Annual Ithaca AIDS Ride for Life had 330+ riders who raised over $225,000. the Southern Tier AIDS Program relies on the money raised from special events, like the Ride, to provide unrestricted funds that enable flexibility in programming and services for clients in need. This year, facing major state cuts in STAP's funding, donations are more important than ever in supporting the programs STAP provides.

Every little bit helps towards my, and ultimately STAP's, fundraising goals. Even if all you can donate is $5 or $10, that 5 or 10 dollars makes all the difference in the world.

Donations to team Llama Llama Duck can be made on my FirstGiving Page at:
http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/meghanphair/aidsrideforlife2011

2011-06-20T19:37:00.005-04:00

Just about a month after my accident I'm all but recovered. My stitches are out, my bruises have mostly healed, my bike is back in one rideable piece.

After

I've been out on the road 4 or 5 times since, but I have yet to ride down to the beach.

Honestly, I'm a still little nervous. I was very fortunate to have not only my Partner in Crime with me, but a wealth of other good samaritans who jumped right in to help. At 3 in the afternoon on a Tuesday that's not usually the case; the bike paths can be pretty desolate at off-hours.

So, I guess the question is...

Wanna go ride bikes?

And...

Wanna see what it looked like before?

Patient 3463583 - Part 2

2011-05-24T16:45:00.000-04:00

And now the (not-so) thrilling conclusion!

Being in an ambulance when you're still fully capable of being mobile is not fun. Answering the same questions for the 4th or 5th time not withstanding, I was not particularly happy to be strapped into a gurney on the ride to the hospital. From about the time I first sat up until the time I got home from the hospital I felt pretty good. Adrenaline and endorphins are a wonderful thing. I didn't feel like a candidate to be brought to the ER in an ambulance. If the EMT from South Merrick hadn't said that I needed stitches, I'd have been tempted to finish the ride, or at least ride home. (Granted that would have been a terrible decision, but that's how I felt after standing up for a while.)

They took me to NUMC which is the hospital I always thought you wanted to go to if you were ever shot or stabbed, but not where you want to go if you aren't actually bleeding to death. Granted I was bleeding, if not critically, so I didn't have too much to say on the issue. At the hospital I was wheeled in on the aforementioned gurney into the ER. An intake nurse came and yet again asked me my name, date of birth, age, address, allergies, medications, history of illness, whether I was an alcoholic, if someone at home was beating me or taking advantage of my money/food/housing... She shooed away the hospital administrator who was there to get the same information- for billing purposes- at least until she was done with me.

It didn't take too long for them to get me onto a triage bed in the ER. They even let me climb from the gurney to the bed all by myself, since I was so antsy not to be strapped in anymore; I'm not quite ready for the nut-house. My Partner in Crime hadn't made it to the hospital yet, and neither had my parents, who he had called when he got home. Everyone in the ER was incredibly nice, which was not what I was expecting at all. I guess I assumed that everyone would be a bit more gruff than social and chatty.

In the ER I was seen by a PA named Laura, who was possibly the most adorable thing ever. She checked out my chin and gave my neck a once-over; I needed stitches (of course) and a CT scan as a precaution, making sure my jaw didn't have any micro-fractures from the impact. I was left alone for a while, waiting for a slot for the CT scan and the sutures, and for my parents and Partner in Crime to get there.

Up until this point, I hadn't had any opportunity to see what exactly I had done to my chin. The South Merrick EMT, who had gotten a good look at it said 'It isn't that bad. Just needs a couple stitches'. I believed him. The mirror over the sink in the ER was too much of a temptation to pass up though. I slipped my sandals on (I had brought them to the beach with me to keep sand out of my road shoes) and made my way across the room. I pulled the gauze away and it stuck a little where the blood had started to dry. I craned my neck-it had already started to tighten up- to see the gaping wound on my chin.

It was certainly worse than I expected- deeper, and longer, and much redder- despite the bleeding subsiding.

Shortly after, my parents and Partner in Crime arrived. My parents were worried about me, but finding me in unnaturally high spirits they calmed down. My mother, filled with love and morbid curiosity, asked to see my chin, grimaced at the open wound, and then proceeded to laugh at me for doing that to myself. It took my Partner in Crime far longer to get to the hospital than I expected. He took the long way and then got turned around in the bowels of NUMC. He had gotten a ride back to my house for himself and our bikes from another Wantagh EMT in an SUV. One of my biggest worries about the whole incident was having him drive my car. No one drives my car- so much so that at the end of this whole ordeal, I drove myself home from the hospital.

After everyone arrived two things happened at once. I needed to go for a CT scan and I needed to get a tetanus shot. In walks a nurse with the tetanus shot just after Laura, the PA walked in with a specimen bag for all my jewelry. For anyone who knows me, or can see from my profile photo, I have quite a few piercings, most of which I have never removed. They are all the original captive bead rings that I had them pierced with. So there I am, struggling to take out all my jewelry- sans pliers- as a nurse stands there with a needle in her hand ready to stick me.

It was a little surreal.

Then, for a few moments my mother had the syringe as the nurse- a slightly alternative-looking girl- tried to help me get one of my cartilage piercings out. After struggling with it for a bit, I finally managed to get all the piercings out of my head and I braced myself for the tetanus shot. Guess what! A tetanus shot doesn't hurt... until the next day.

This whole time, I was still wearing my work-out clothes from earlier in the day- thankfully they were black, otherwise I would have looked like Jack the Ripper. Apparently Under Armour doesn't look enough like a hospital gown so before heading over to radiology (in a wheelchair- Did I tell you how antsy I was in the gurney? Yeah, same feeling with the wheelchair) Laura put one over my clothes.

I don't think I have ever been so uncomfortable in a piece of clothing before. I'm convinced that hospital gowns are made not just for sick people but to make you feel like a sick person. A hospital gown makes you want to shuffle your feet and hunch your shoulders and eat pureed food. It isn't the kind of garment that makes you want to get better, wearing one makes you feel like you're going to die (possibly of embarrassment). I spent the rest of the time I was in the ER trying to rearrange it so it wasn't quite so uncomfortable/unflattering/annoying.

Radiology was a ball of laughs. No not really. The CT scan was uneventful. I got a garbled correction directed my way once for fidgeting. By this point my knees had swollen pretty bad and were starting to ache. Same goes for the back of my neck and my chin. I had already been at the hospital for a couple of hours at this point and I really just wanted to get my stitches and go home.

While I was in radiology the PA told my supporters that only one could stay while she sewed me up. While my mom would have been the natural choice, if she had stayed my father would have stayed, and my Partner in Crime never would have left the hospital without me. I'm sure both my parents were disappointed that I didn't pick them to stay with me, but then again, I don't think either of them would have been willing to videotape Laura as she sewed up my chin.

This lovely video, shot by my Partner in Crime is what happened next. (Set to the overly dramatic techno sounds of Mona Lisa Overdrive.)

I honestly can't say that there was really a 'bad part' about the stitches themselves. Laura had me convinced that injecting the lidocaine would be some sort of horrible ordeal of stinging and burning. It barely hurt except for the one shot right in the middle of the wound. Immediately after she finished I started bleeding like a stuck pig- good for my healing, bad for trying to stitch up the wound. The lidocaine did it's job though and I could barely feel the stitches until the end. For the last two stitches the anesthetic had begun to wear off but I was so anxious to get home I didn't feel like having her bother with any more lidocaine. I've paid enough people to stab me with needles that I can sit through a couple more for a good reason.

Stitched up, tired and very ready to go home, all that was left was discharge papers. I signed my life away and was off through the bowels of NUMC back to the car. Our gorgeous beach day had turned dreary and rainy and made me not feel too bad about spending my afternoon in the ER. After a quick stop at Panera for soup- since the sandwich we had planned to eat at the beach was now out of the question- I made it home, tired, still covered in blood, sweat and hospital stench.

I'm proud of myself that I made it through the whole ordeal calm, cool and collected. I was amazed that so many people were so helpful and amazing throughout the whole thing. I'm lucky that I wasn't hurt worse, considering how I fell I was asking for a broken jaw, a concussion, or worse. I'm also lucky that my father's freaking out was confined to driving like a madman to the hospital and pacing once he got there and that my Partner in Crime kept his wits about him after watching me go face first into the concrete.

I'm alright.

That's the long and the short of it. 6 stitches, bumps and bruises, but I'm alright.

Patient 3463583 - Part 1

2011-05-21T21:29:00.000-04:00

I had my first bike accident today. It was partly due to too many people and partly due to my own carelessness. I honestly can't blame anyone else. I wasn't paying as much attention to the road as I should have been.

Riding down the Jones Beach bike path there are 3 bridges, the last of which is a drawbridge so that larger boats can pass along the waterways between Long Island and Jones Beach. Because the bridge opens- and on this particular occasion had just closed- the bike path along it's edge is not one straight shot of asphalt. The edges where the bridge comes together are serrated and covered in green-painted steel plates, with panels for different mechanics on either side. Around these panels are 3/4 inch gaps- precarious for anyone on a road bike.

I normally do my best to avoid these spots, considering how dangerous they can be. Today, with so many people on the path, and so many people barreling forward after the gates opening up- groups riding side-by-side, serious road riders passing recreational cyclists, children wobbling on unfamiliar bikes- I was forced to stick closer to the right side- and the dangerous panels- that I'm normally comfortable with.

And for good reason.

I don't remember what happened right before, if I was looking back, or just thought my wheel was somewhere it wasn't, but all of a sudden my front wheel was in the channel. It wasn't so much the wheel falling into the channel, as the channel coming to an abrupt end that caused my problems.

It couldn't have been more than a split second before I hit the ground, but I remember thinking that whatever happened next was going to hurt. Because it all happened so fast, I didn't even get my hands out to brace my fall, nor did I have time to unclip from my pedals.

I stopped the ground with my chin, and shortly after, my knees.

Immediately after that, despite his best efforts, my Partner in Crime, who was riding right behind me, ran over my left leg, and bailed out of his own bike in the process. Luckily for both of us he was on his City bike, and not riding his Tri bike- in which case he would also have been clipped in. It might have been two of us taking trips to the hospital for stitches, or worse.

By some miracle, both my shoes came unclipped from my pedals in the crash and I didn't lose consciousness. I remember coming up on my hands and knees and having blood pouring from my face onto my hand. I hadn't yet established where exactly the blood was coming from but, the crash quite literally knocked the snot out of me, but it wasn't bloody and well, my nose didn't hurt so I assumed it wasn't the source of the blood.

I rolled onto my back, helmet still on, and was for a moment, just blood and pain.

I curled my knees into my chest, my hand to my chin- which, being the first part of my body to contact the ground, was split open and bleeding profusely. My Partner in Crime (and in Bike Crashes) rushed over and grabbed me. I remember looking up at him and telling him to let me lie there and leave my helmet on. He was panic stricken; I can only imagine how bad it must have been to see me go ass-over-teakettle face first into a steel plate on the ground.

As I lay there I started a 'self-diagnostic', seeing what was in pain, and what, if anything was broken. By this point a couple of people had already stopped. One asked if we were OK and if he should call an ambulance. I said yes, if only because I hadn't even had time to establish the extent of my injuries. The second person to stop was a Bellmore EMT, asking if I wanted ice. Again, I assented, knowing my chin was definitely bleeding and my knees had taken a beating.

I have to admit that I'm amazed and very grateful that people stopped, not to mention that the people who did stop were amazingly helpful. I lay there on the ground for quite some time, getting my bearings, establishing that nothing was broken. The EMT who stopped asked the typical head-injury questions.

"What's your name?" Meghan
"What day is it?" Saturday... May 21st... Oh, wait, it's the Rapture!
"Who's the President?" Obama... thank god it's not Bush.

I could push my feet down and pull them up, I could feel all my toes and all my fingers.

The next person to stop was a driver, who was also an EMT, this time from South Merrick. He saw the commotion and stopped to see if he could help, which was fortuitous because at this point I was still lying on my back, bleeding profusely. The first gentleman to stop, who had called the ambulance, had continued on his way, so though I knew there was someone coming, I wasn't sure when.

The South Merrick EMT pulled out a large medical kit, and more importantly gloves and clean gauze for my chin. Feeling somewhat steady, I sat up at this point, I had taken off my helmet and run my hand through my hair. It came up covered in blood.

Though looking back I realize I had been laying on my back with my chin bleeding heavily- blood was bound to have dripped into my hair and down my arm- this was probably one of the scariest moments of the entire experience- seeing blood and not knowing where it had come from. The South Merrick EMT couldn't find a cut or anything on the back of my head, and I didn't feel dizzy, nauseated, or faint, so he, and I, didn't worry about it.

After sitting for a bit, I felt much better, though the bleeding hadn't stopped. I took off my road shoes, since I have a hard enough time walking in them when I haven't just been thrown from my bike and stood up. At this point I felt OK enough to joke with my rescuers, and try to put a plan together for getting me to the hospital and the bikes home.

Then the drama started. I had already told both EMT's my name, I'm assuming as part of their head-injury checklist. Then the State Troopers- 2 of them- showed up asking the same information all over again. One of them was the first to make the joke about stopping the road with my face. Then came a Wantagh EMT, solo, who eventually took my Partner in Crime and both bikes back to my house. I'm pretty sure he asked me the same questions- name, birthday, age- all over again as well. Then the ambulance from Harbor House, with 3 more EMTs (or EMT's in training, I'm not sure about one of them).

I was scurried off into the ambulance before I knew what was happening. I had the foresight to grab my cell phone and license, but not much else. I left my Partner in Crime to handle the details of getting home, getting the bikes home, and getting himself to the hospital. Thanking everyone as I left with a wave doesn't even come close to the gratitude that they deserve.

Stay tuned for the (not-so) thrilling conclusion of Meghan's Accidental Adventure.

Ride

2011-05-16T21:30:00.001-04:00

I know I'm a little late in posting it, but May is National Bike Month (Bike League).

But I'm right on time to say that this week, May 16-20th, is Bike to Work Week. Too bad Mother Nature's not cooperating here in New York. Granted, even if she was, I have to admit I wouldn't be biking to work this week- 9 miles is a bit ambitious for me, especially without some form of all-over industrial strength anti-perspirant.

Either way, it's Bike Month and gas is 4.25/gallon. You should be riding somewhere. Transporation Alternatives (TA) has a great listing of the Bike Month events (Calendar) going on in NYC.

The Hunt

2011-05-04T20:50:00.001-04:00

Isn't there someone with an open position for a bibliophile-yogi-crafter-cyclist-foodie-geek?

I find jobs to apply to, jobs that I'm qualified for, that I just can't see myself ever being passionate about. I will always find it difficult to be passionate about a job that requires button-down shirts and high heels. I will always find it difficult to be passionate about a job that involves regularly ringing phones and cubicles. I will always find it difficult to be passionate about a job that keeps me at a desk, staring at a computer screen for 40 hours a week.

I kind of feel like my job hunt is more like Duck Hunt. Every time I send out a resume without getting a hit (whether or not I was really interested in the position) that obnoxious dog pops up and starts laughing at me.

How can you turn your passions into your profession? How can you monetize an interest without it becoming a job? Where does one even find the opportunity to make the attempt?

I guess I just want to know how to find that perfect job and once I've found it how to land it. Is that so much to ask?

Steel is Real

2011-04-27T17:27:00.000-04:00

2 weeks of rain hasn't left me with much time to spend outside working on Akemi. I've managed a few hours here and there but no major leaps forward. This is in part because my attitude towards this project has changed.

Initially, I was looking for a 'beater' city bike. Something functional, inexpensive (nee cheap), and sturdy, to be left locked up outside the Old Beer Garden or the Brooklyn Brewery. I laid out my plan- tires/tubes, grip tape, quick tune-up, u-lock, done. After a few hours working on her though, and noting considerable potential for cosmetic improvements, I realized that I didn't have a beater bike on my hands, I've got a gorgeous vintage bicycle.

So my quick fix has turned into a labor of love.

Akemi's Pedals- straight off the bike

Old. Good as new.

It took me an hour and a half of chrome polish, degreaser, soap, water, and a toothbrush to get both pedals to something resembling clean. There's still some grit trapped in the right pedal, which will probably require a bit more time to clear out. It's amazing how well the grease held up over 35 years- despite the grit and dirt it trapped between the bearings. The plastic reflectors- on the bike as a whole- are surprisingly in perfect condition.

I'm at the point now that I need a nice day, several hours, and the buffing head on my Dremel tool to tackle the rust on the wheels. This weekend is already spoken for though since I'll be spending Saturday at the New Amsterdam Bike Show. Hopefully it won't give me too many 'good' ideas.

2011-04-13T22:37:00.000-04:00

This year for me, is about experiences, about doing something worthwhile. Finding what drives me, where I'm going, and enjoying myself along the way.

Lately cycling has taken on a bigger role in my life. From training for a century ride, to an ever-widening circle of 2-wheel-devoted friends, to gas prices hovering at 4 dollars a gallon, bikes matter more now than ever before.

I love my Specialized road bike. She's pretty. light, and fast, everything I want her to be. With the edition of Light Action Speedplay Pedals and cycling shoes, she's all I could ask for in an entry-level road bike. She's great for starting at Point A and riding a loop (whether it be 5 miles or 40, or more) and coming right back to A again. She's not exactly suited to going from Point A to Point B and being locked up to a pole for a few hours.

This is where my pack-rat family, a bit of elbow grease, the very helpful people at the bike store, and the internet come in.

In my house we almost never throw anything out. We're not dirty, nor are we by nature messy, but we keep stuff. Every set of Legos I ever owned? In their original boxes in the basement. Father's Day cards I gave my Dad when I was 6? In his nightstand. China from both my grandmothers? In the basement. You get the idea. If it a.) Might be worth something (we plan to sell it), or b.) Might be needed some day or c.) Has sentimental value, we keep it.

Well, sometimes we do find a use for some of the stuff we hold on to. In this case, a 35 year old Panasonic Sport Deluxe road bike.

Meet Akemi:

She's a little rough around the edges right now but with a little elbow grease and some TLC she'll be perfect.

By Brute Force, if necessary.

2011-04-10T20:38:00.000-04:00

In 2010 I set 10 goals for myself. I failed -miserably- on most of them. Which is understandable since most of them were wildly unrealistic. This year, I'm keeping my ambitions more reasonable- job search, workout, find life/work/love balance.

I want a new job, a fast century ride, and free time filled new experiences.

So far, so good.

Winter 2011

2011-03-07T19:09:00.001-05:00

Glitter and Glue

2010-12-18T17:57:00.001-05:00

Skipping over Thanksgiving and moving right onto Christmas-

I'm not religious. Big surprise there, but I enjoy holidays that combine eating, drinking, and crafting with friends and [my very small] family. I especially enjoy what happens when I combine my friends, a room full of craft supplies and spiked cider.

I want to thank everyone who came out, made ornaments, drank cider and watched movies full of glitter and Tom Cruise thighs. Sure, I could have a 'normal' Christmas tree, but I much prefer mine, decorated with zombie santas, flying spaghetti monster homages, DNA, and enough glitter for a beauty pageant.

pdn PHOTOPLUS

2010-10-31T10:59:00.000-04:00

This weekend was pdn's expo at the Jacob Javitz Center. There were a couple hundred exhibitor booths, spanning the range of photo products from Canon and Nikon to Lowepro, Epson, Ilford, and Zeiss.

Leica was there. Theirs were the only spokespeople in suits. And the only cameras behind glass. Of course.

Sony set up a half-pipe in the convention center and had 3 or 4 BMX riders doing (small) tricks all day.

Nikon's models were the only ones who managed not to look bored all day long. Even the BMX riders seemed particularly apathetic to being in the spotlight.

Hoodman had a giant inflatable Hoodloupe that took up their entire exhibition space. It had to be 15 feet high.

I have never seen so many amateur camera nerds in one place. I have also never bumped into so many cameras and lenses. Tight spaces plus expensive lenses equals a bad idea.

Even though I was mesmerized by it, I don't need or even have use for a 4k Steadicam mount, I did see a few products I'm really interested in actually picking up in the near future.

Spider Holster - Possibly the most ingenious new idea for carrying an SLR. They're coming out with a lighter weight plastic model they've dubbed the 'Black Widow' for smaller- think Canon Rebel- DSLR's and point-and-shoots. They also get bonus points for being Ithacans.
Another 'why didn't anyone think of that before' was the SteadePod. It helps turn you into your own tripod. Very minimalist, and certainly small enough to fit in any camera bag, it was a very cool little invention. I'm not sure how durable it'd be, but it's cheap enough that it wouldn't break the bank to replace.
Lensbaby. Want. I don't think there's much more that needs to be said about this product. It's amazing and wonderful and has a lens and optic combination for every personality type. (I'd love to have The Composer myself)
Digital Silver Gelatin Prints! Amazing, beautiful, archival digital prints.
Wacom's Intuos 4. I spent a while watching demos of the Intuos 4. It' a really powerful little (or not so little) tablet. Plus, more importantly, You can rotate the tablet 180° for either right- or left-hand use of the hotkeys!

All-in-all it was a really interesting day. Definitely worth the time spent there. I'm excited to make use of my new G12 and start taking some photos again.

Halloween

2010-10-31T00:01:00.005-04:00

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Bandit

2010-10-21T22:09:00.003-04:00

October 2007

As of Tuesday, I've had Bandit for three Years. Couldn't imagine a better dog. A lot's happened in those three years. I couldn't imagine them without him.

TenTenTen

2010-10-10T22:10:00.000-04:00

Happy Ten/Ten/Ten

Merriam and Webster - Foment

2010-09-29T17:00:00.004-04:00

Foment

: to promote the growth or development of : rouse, incite <foment a rebellion>

“foment a Rebellion and will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice or Representation”.>

Thanks Gabriel Garcia Marquez for getting this word stuck in my head.

Merriam and Webster - Vacillate

2010-09-27T17:00:00.003-04:00

Vacillate
1: to sway through lack of equilibrium b : fluctuate, oscillate

2: to waver in mind, will, or feeling : hesitate in choice of opinions or courses

I credit my parents - especially my mother- with my unwavering love of language. Because of my love affair with words, sometimes I get stuck on one or another.

Lately, vacillate keeps trying to beat me up and steal my lunch money.

Make:

2010-09-26T17:24:00.005-04:00

Guerilla Crochet in the Rocket Park

I was lucky enough to be able to spend the day at Maker Faire yesterday. I can't even begin to say how amazing and inspiring it was, not to mention a little overwhelming.

There was a lot of stuff that I'm really excited about:

TechShop opening a location in Brooklyn
The possibility of getting my own Makerbot.
Everything about Shapeways.
Make Magazine for $20 for a year.
The realization that a laser cutter isn't completely out of my price range.
ShopBot. 'Nuff said.
The Tom Kha Gai recipe from Instructables.

Maker Faire did get my wheels turning though. It made me realize that maybe, just maybe, art can actually be something I do for love and for money without it necessarily being something I do for someone else.


Added to my stash- I talked yarn, Mike talked computers.

Hello Perverts!

2010-09-18T10:32:00.002-04:00

Summer

2010-09-07T21:19:00.007-04:00

8/26/2010 - Number 3

2010-08-27T15:12:00.005-04:00

Job Search

2010-08-12T19:42:00.003-04:00

This is what I see when I look at my own resume.

10 FOR 10 Update

2010-07-25T11:44:00.003-04:00

It's more than halfway through 2010, so it's probably a good time to take an inventory of where I stand with this year's goals.

1. Get reacquainted with old friends.

I've been better, but there's still a long way to go. Alumni Banquet helped, but I have definitely slipped agian. I am planning a trip to North Carolina in September for just this purpose.

2. Get Certified.

Still not there. But working on it. Well thinking about working on it. I'm trying to figure out exactly which direction to go, which program to do, and how it all will work with my schedule.

3. Get into Shape.

Status Quo, although I'm signing up for a new gym this week and will be trying to get there at least 3 days a week before work. I've also been doing yoga, but it's a vicious cycle. I'm frustrated that I'm not in the shape I used to be in, and I'm afraid of pushing too hard and getting hurt. I'm shotting for halloween now- and a LeeLoo costume that will leave little to the imagination.

4.Get Organized.

Status Quo, sadly.

5.Get a Motorcycle.

Status Quo. Although now that I will shortly be off Sundays, I'm going to try to find time to sit at the DMV for my permit test again, and the money for the weekend class for my license.

6.Put Money in the Bank.

More than halfway there, although with yoga and a motorcycle license on my 'To Do' list, I don't think I'm going to make it.
In the same thread, all my credit cards are paid off, so I no longer have that debt looming over my head.

7. Get Enlightened.

Status Quo. I feel like I've barely thought about this one, much less addressed it.

8. Have more Patience.

Again, Status Quo. I thought I was doing well, but the last few weeks have been kind of frustrating. I've been very short with everyone and everything. Work has reached a tipping point, and I'm just feeling frustrated and a little out of control. I know my time management has been really horrible lately as well, which as caused me no small amount of stress.

9. Get Working.

Work has been rather frustrating lately, and I've reached the point that I do seriously need to start my job search again. I feel a bit stunted by the fact that I'm trying to do so much. I have, occasionally, been working on things in Illustrator and Photoshop (as well as some knitting), some of which I'm rather proud of. So at least I have a start.

10. ?

Still up for grabs, I haven't found something else that I want to focus on this year. With everything else I set out to do languishing half-finished or barely started, I'm not sure I've even have time to add something else to this list.

Big Brother- Fin

2010-06-22T20:14:00.004-04:00

It's taken me a while to actually bring myself to sit down at write this post. I was so ~~happy~~ relieved to be done with the Accutane that I just didn't want to sit down and relive the exerience, even to sum-up it up.

I am done though; after however many months, I'm done - for now.

I didn't get the results I wanted, but it did some good. My skin is definitely clearer, it just not clear enough. It doesn't seem like it was worth the cost, the stress, all the hoops to jump through for mediocre results.

Will I do it again, if needs be? Maybe. I don't relish the though, but I knew going into this that it was a last resort. It might just take a couple of tries to get the results I want.

Transitions

2010-06-22T20:02:00.006-04:00

Today is the 22nd of June. Yesterday, the Summer Solstice, I did yoga in Times Square.

I am blessed to have this body, and to be able to celebrate it, to celebrate life, and to find a moment of peace with hundreds of other yogis in the always-beating heart of New York.

Big Brother Continues

2010-04-19T20:36:00.003-04:00

I sat in my car today outside my dermatologist's office and cried.

Yes, I'm pmsing. Yes, I haven't gotten much sleep lately. But still, I walked out of the office, sat down in my car, locked the door and cried.

I can't even put into words how frustrated and disappointed I am right now. I wanted to do some silly Mastercard commercial-esque quantitative list of what this medication has cost me in time, and energy, and money; how many countless hours spent waiting in the dermatologist's office, or how many ridiculous questions I've answered online just to pick up my prescription, but I don't have the energy.

After 8 months on Accutane I've still got acne. Or rather more appropriately, I've got acne again. 8 months of medication whose only purpose is to clear up my skin and I'm still breaking out. It seems pretty reasonable right now to feel like I've wasted my time. My skin is better, I will certainly admit that, but it's anything but clear.

According to my dermatologist some people just have 'stubborn' acne. Apparently Accutane is really only effective for 2/3 of people. There's that other 1/3 of us whose bad skin is just more resilient. Lovely. Leave it to me to have recursive acne. That's just want I want to hear after spending hundreds of dollars on this escapade.

I'm so frustrated and disappointed right now I don't even know... I don't blame the nurses at the dermatologist for being so optimistic at the beginning. It helped me feel like maybe there was something to be optimistic about. I mean it's their job to make people feel like everything's going to be ok. I mean they had a 2 out of three chance of being right, right? (I do really like the nurses at my dermatologist, much more than like my dermatologist actually. She's too awkwardly cold and clinical. It's a stark contrast from the bubbly nurses).

So now, yet again, I'm down to 'just one more month', which puts me in the middle of May. 9 (or is it only 8? I honestly don't remember) months after I started this whole ordeal. Either way it's been too long. I acquiesced to another month, despite my frustration, in part, I think, because I'm so afraid that as soon as I go off the medication my acne will come back in force, just as bad, if not worse, than it was before.

I can't be on it much longer though. My skin just won't heal anymore. cuts and scrapes take months to close over. And even then they do, they leave discolored splotches. It's funny to re-read what I'm writing now and compare it to how optimistic I was even just a month ago. I feel like all the advances I made have all fallen by the wayside.

Maybe the depression symptoms they've associated with Accutane were in that 1/3. Maybe it's not a side-effect of the medication, but a side-effect of it's ineffectiveness. Either way, I'll be glad to be done with it, whenever the end is.

Big Brother Part 5

2010-04-02T10:35:00.003-04:00

So I'm nearing the end of this whole business. Maybe, I think. Supposedly I'll only be on the Accutane for another few weeks. I'm looking forward to not having to deal with my painfully dry skin, cracked lips or the monthly sties that keep popping up (I just got a new one yesterday, my eye is pretty badly swollen this morning. Thankfully I still have medication from the last two times).

I'm at the point that I see the light at the end of the tunnel in terms of no longer needing to take the medication or deal with the side effects, but I'm not really happy. My skin's not as clear as I want it to be. It's not just that it hasn't healed yet... that comes and goes, but more that I'm still getting breakouts.

I was always under the impression that Accutane was some sort of miracle drug. You'd think that too if you heard the way my dermatologist and the nurses in her office talk about it. From the beginning they ooh'ed and ahh'ed about how wonderful the results are and how beautiful my skin would look. 8 months in I just don't see it. I don't see the smooth, glowing complexion that everyone swore this drug would give me. Don't get me wrong, there is a world of difference between the way my skin looked when I started and they way it looks now. It's a long way off from permanent breakouts of cystic acne; it's way less painful, even with the dry skin, chapped lips and eczema. It's just not perfect.

I'm disappointed.

I know I have to make the best of this, but I don't want to have to keep up with creams and lotions and medications after I'm done with this. I also really don't want to have to do another round of Accutane, jumping through all the hoops just to get a prescription in the first place, dealing with the onslaught of side-effects, and the vampire-ness that it requires.

I have at least another few weeks on the medication (my next appointment is on the 19th) and I'm sure quite a bit of time using all sorts of stuff to make me skin heal-

-Just as an aside, the last prescription she gave me was for Bionect, which, when filled generically comes in a large plastic bottle that looks more like it should be in a laboratory than on the shelves of a pharmacy. No money was wasted on package degsign here. It's just a plain clear bottle, filled with a clear gel, proudly proclaiming Sodium Hyaluronate .02 %.-

I guess I just need to keep waiting, like I have been. Maybe, in the end it'll all wok out.

Winter

2010-03-23T20:06:00.007-04:00

Big Brother Part. 4

2010-01-28T12:57:00.005-05:00

5 months in. Or is it 4? Or 6?

It feels like it's been forever and generally, I'm just sick of being on this medication. Otherwise though, there isn't anythnig epic to write about. My skin's still dry, my lips are still dry, the soap in the bathroom at work irritates my hands to a ridiculous degree. I've got prescription moisturizer, prescription steroid cream, and a deep regret I didn't buy stock in baby oil when I went on this medication.

I've gotten over the whiny "why isn't it working yet?" phase I went through last month and have kind of resigned myself to just taking the pills every day, regardless of the result.

Tuesday though, for the first time, I could actually look in the mirror and almost convince myself that my skin was healing. There is a glimmer of hope in this whole mess. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be done with this whole process by May. Just in time for a trip to Ithaca.

10 for 10

2010-01-27T20:26:00.007-05:00

Inspired by Stef I've decided to do my own mini version of 25 goals for my 25th year. Really I'm shamelessly stealing her idea, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I don't much intend to blog about it, save this once, but I feel like making a public announcement of my intentions will help to hold me accountable.

I'm already well into my 25th year, so it seems silly to me to try to cram 25 things into 3/4 of a year. So I've shortened things a bit, trying to focus on the things that are a the top of my 'To Do' list, and in many cases, have been for quite some time. Really, I'd make one of my goals 'Stop Procrastinating' if it didn't already encompass all of them.

So here's my list- 10 things to do in 2010.

1. Get reacquainted with old friends.

No more putting off writing an e-mail, sending a text or making a phone call. My friends are scattered across the country (and the world) and I've lost touch with many of them who helped shape my life up until this point. Part of the goal is resolving to be more proactive in my friendships, instead of feeling guilty that I didn't say 'hello'.

2. Get Certified.

By the end of the year I will be a Certified Yoga Instructor. Period. I think this is the most non-negotiable of my goals.

3. Get into Shape.

My goal isn't to lose weight, fit into a smaller dress, look like Natalie Portman. I want to feel strong, and powerful. I want to feel like I did when I was fencing. I want to kick ass and take names. Mostly, I want to feel comfortable in my own body again, and secure in the knowledge that I can do what I ask of it.

4.Get Organized.

My space is in a perpetual state of chaos. It's time to change this.

5.Get a Motorcycle.

Or at least a license. I might not be able to afford a motorcycle, but I can treat myself to lessons and the license, for when I have less time to sit at the DMV for hours on end during the middle of the week.

6.Put Money in the Bank.

10,000 is the goal, which is kind of lofty considering I make only slightly above minimum wage.

7. Get Enlightened.

Or at least sit on it. That means getting my butt on the cushion, consistently, consciously, and sincerely. Making it to a DPX meeting once a month, no ifs, ands, or buts. And making it to any East Coast Silent that happens- within my budget. This also ties into number one and means connecting- and reconnecting- with my sangha, far-flung as it may be.

8. Have more Patience.

With my parents, with my friends, with my boyfriend, with the dog, with the cat, with myself. Don't let work get to me so much.

9. Get Working.

Right now this is kind of an amorphous work goal. Get Inspired. Get something I enjoy. Get something that pays better. Get something that makes me Happy. Get something that lets me be creative, and active and thoughtful. Get something where I can advance, and grow and imagine. Get something that makes me better.

10. ?

Number ten is up for grabs. I figured I should leave myself some wiggle room, I also wanted to leave room for suggestions. Something I should work on? Something I should try? Let me know.

Wisdom

2010-01-26T21:25:00.002-05:00

Forgiveness means letting go of the burning ember that is anger. It doesn't mean inviting them in to hurt you again.

I am trying to remember this lesson.

And more importantly, put it into practice.

Christmas Haiku

2009-12-25T09:26:00.002-05:00

On Christmas morning,

I still get excited, Ah!

A Buddhist failing.

May everyone have a safe and happy holiday.

Google Reader

2009-12-02T13:39:00.001-05:00

The tag cloud from my Google Reader pretty neatly sums up my life.

Big Brother is Watching My Uterus - Part 3

2009-11-10T17:43:00.009-05:00

The start of month 3.

Let's play a game. It's called "Symptom or Side-Effect".

First some easy ones...

Dry Skin? Side-effect

Chapped Lips? Side-effect

Runny nose? Probably allergies, so Symptom.

Now the hard ones...

Joint pain

Muscle pain

Stomach Issues

Headaches

I've been on this medication for a full two months now. It's nothing nearly as bad as I expected, but there are so many things I didn't expect when I went on it. You can never imagine just how dry your skin can get, or how chapped your lips could possibly be, until one day you realize that a significant portion of your brain is distracted by how much your arms itch and a significant portion of your time is spent licking your lips in a painfully counterproductive attempt at keeping them from bleeding.

What I really didn't expect though, was how much I'd worry that every little ache or pain or twinge or bad mood was a side-effect of the medication. The list of side-effects on the information sheet from the pharmacy fills the better part of an 8 1/2 by 11 sheet... at 7 point type. The information sheet included with each 10-pack of pills, 2.5 x 3.5 when folded, unfolds to a daunting 34 x 19 - double-sided- 5 point monstrosity (not all of which is side-effects, much of it is the chemical information for the prescription, precautions, information about the ipledge program and birth defect information- arguably a side-effect, but not for my purposes).

The short list of side effects includes psychiatric disorders, intracranial hypertension, pancreatitis, elevated lipids, hearing impairment, hepatitis (elevated liver enzymes, not the kind caused by a virus), IBD, and vision impairment (including decreased night vision). Considering all the potential side-effects, it's no wonder that any time my head hurts, or my stomach is upset I wonder if it's the medication.

To some extent I've experienced a lot of things that could be side-effects of the medication, but I can't be sure. Of course the dry skin (which has now developed into eczema) and chapped lips are a given.

But what about the muscle pain? Or the headache?

Too much drinking? Which, of course, you're not supposed to do at all because of the increased incidence of pancreatitis.

What about the stomach issues?

Too much junk food? Not enough exercise? Not enough sleep?

Or the decreased night vision?

Am I tired? Are my eyes just dry? Did I leave my contacts in too long?

I've been lucky that my bloodwork has stayed completely normal. My triglycerides were 72 last week and my bilirubin is exactly the same as when I started on Accutane. I guess all that drinking hasn't compounded the potential side-effects of the medication. It still leaves me to wonder (and worry) though, that everything I feel is a potentially dangerous side-effect. And even scarier, potentially something that will cause me to have to stop treatment. (The fact that I think being forced to stop treatment is scarier than potentially life-threatening side-effects is even scarier still).

Right now though, it's time for me to go bathe in baby oil in the hopes that the itching will stop.

Then to pick up round three at the drug store.

Round Three!

Fight!

Big Brother is Watch My Uterus - Part 2

2009-10-14T18:32:00.006-04:00

5 weeks in.

Big Brother might try to control my uterus, but he's impotent.

Which is probably good, cause I'm trying not to get pregnant.

I spent a month on birth control. As usual I ended up gaining weight, having mood swings, and generally not feeling good. I did manage to keep from getting preggers, though. But after a month I'd had enough. I managed to make it 9 years without popping out spawn, I think I can make it another 6 months doing what I've always done. So back off birth control and on Accutane.

(It's actually Claravis, made by Barr, not Roche, who manufactures the original Accutane.)

I can't complain too much about the actual medication. Generally I've felt fine, some muscle pain in the beginning, the obligatory dry skin and cracking lips, but in general, nothing major. The depression that scared me the most before going on this medication has been nowhere to be found. In fact I'm the happiest I've been in a long time. It seems I got all worked up about the side-effects for nothing.

That's not to say the side effects are negligible. I cannot begin to describe how dry my lips are. It's always fun to go to work in the morning looking like someone punched you in the lip- swelling, bleeding and all. There is not enough Chapstick or Vaseline in the world to keep my lips hydrated. They're dry from the inside out.

Like my lips, my skin is dry, close to unbearably so at times. I expect it'll only get worse as the weather gets colder and dryer. The doctor prescribed some weird Swedish foam moisturizer for my face and a steroid cream for my lips. 150 dollars later neither seems to be doing much. Maybe I'm just not noticing it.

So far the Accutane seems to be doing it's job- which in the beginning is making my skin worse. I keep telling myself that in 5 months I'll never have to worry about acne again. There's spots of light at the end of the tunnel though. I can see it getting better, just not in the spots that have gotten tremendously worse.

The most interesting thing that the Accutane has done is changed my relationship to my own self-image. Right now my skin is too bad to hide behind make-up, it has a mind of it's own- one day it's fine the next it's a war zone. I can't cover it up-make- it tends to hurt and certainly doesn't help my skin.

I can't pretend it's not there. I can't put my life on hold for months until my skin clears up. So what that all means is that I can't worry about it. I can't control it, or rather I'm in the process of controlling it. But I'm ok with it. My skin is my skin, and I'm comfortable in it.

Who knew it would take my skin getting worse for me to stop caring what people thought of it?

Big Brother is Watching My Uterus - Part 1

2009-08-26T16:47:00.022-04:00

I don't believe in conspiracy theories.

This isn't so much a conspiracy theory as an observation- Big Brother is Watching My Uterus.

I know that makes me sound a little like a crackpot who's about to start going off about the Lone Gunman and Area 51, but bear with me for a moment.

I've always had bad skin. There's really no two ways about it. I have acne. It sucks. After about 10 years, and just about every product on the market, I am at the end of my rope. I've done Proactive, and Neutrogena, every over the counter product shilled by every celebrity out there. I've tried every prescription pill antibiotic, cream, and ointment. They have succeeded in doing little more than make me photosensitive, ruin my clothing, and deplete my bank account.

I always hoped I would just 'grow out of it'. That has yet to happen.

So now I'm at my last resort. It's something I resisted when I was younger. I tend to shy away from medication in general. I would rather try to solve health issues with diet and exercise, instead of resorting to the Big Pharma Drug Pushers. But I'm at the end of my rope.

It's not really about my appearance so much as it is about my comfort. Sure I'd be much happier with the way I look if my skin were clearer, but in the end- and anyone who has ever had severe acne will know- acne hurts. It's painful. Even when I'm not looking in a mirror, I know it's there. And that's the reason I've finally given in.

I decided to go on Accutane.

This was about three months ago. In my naivety I assumed it would be like going on any other medication. Go to the MD; Get a prescription; Fill it; End of story. I knew it had some pretty dramatic side effects- extreme photosensitivity and depression being the two primary ones, not to mention the dry skin- but I didn't think it was that big of a deal.

I don't remember the last time I was that far off base.

The book of required reading for 'Female Patients Who Can Become Pregnant' is about 50 pages long. The vast majority of it is dedicated to educating girls who failed their sex ed classes that sexually active does not mean that if you lay perfectly still you will not become pregnant. The rest of it is about the horrible birth defects your child will have if you get pregnant while on Accutane. I understand that 'knowledge is power', 'knowing is half the battle' and 'the more you know...', but this is overkill.

The other portion of this guide is dedicated to laying out the rules under which this medication will be prescribed to 'Female Patients Who Can Become Pregnant'. This is where we come to the title of my post.

Big Brother is Watching My Uterus (and Big Pharma's Back).

For a doctor to prescribe Accutane (or it's generic partners) a 'Female Patients Who Can Become Pregnant' must be on not one, but two forms of birth control, a primary form and either a second primary form or a secondary form of birth control. Acceptable 'primary' forms of birth control are-

a hysterectomy
partner's vasectomy
iud
or hormonal birth control- the pill, patch, NuvaRing, Depo, etc.

Secondary forms of birth control are the barrier methods- condoms, diaphragms, sponges, etc. Whatever method of birth control a woman chooses, she must discuss it with her gyn who then has to fill out forms- signed, sealed, delivered- the attest to the fact that this patient has not only received 'contraception counseling' but that the gyn believes the patient will consistently use at least two forms of birth control at all times.

First of all, we're going to ignore the fact that they're listing a hysterectomy as a form of birth control for 'Female Patients Who Can Become Pregnant'. We are not going to ignore the fact that they are listing both an iud and a partner's vasectomy as practical options for birth control for women and girls looking to cure acne. I don't know about you, but I don't know too many 15 year old girls with iud's (many gyn's won't even consider inserting an iud for a woman who has not had a child). I also don't know too many 17 year old boys who have decided, 'you know what, I don't ever want children, I think I'll have a vasectomy'.

So at this point we've narrowed our primary forms of birth control (for your average 13-25 year old) down to just one, the hormonals. Hormonal birth control was revolutionary. It allows women the opportunity to take much greater control over their own sex lives and the decision to have or not have children. Awesome. The Pill Rocks... except when it doesn't.

For some people birth control is the magic pill- lighter periods, less cramping, clear skin and oh, yeah, no babies. For some people birth control is a living hell- nausea, weight gain, mood swings, cramping, not to mention the risk of a stroke. I have been on birth control several times over the course of my sex life, with varying degrees of success. The first time I tolerated the nausea and weight gain (nearly 20 lbs) for well over a year. The second time, on top of the nausea and weight gain I had such violent mood swings that I started to believe I was bipolar.

My doctor changed my prescription and while the mood swings that had made me a terror to live with subsided, I was still unable to lose any weight or control my near constant nausea. When routine thyroid function tests started coming back abnormal I finally said enough is enough. I went off birth control and promptly lost 15 lbs. My thyroid function went back to normal. I swore I would never go back on birth control again. The only thing to recommend birth control? I had clear skin.

Now, 4 years later, at 24 years old, I am left with a difficult choice, give up the right to decide what I put in my own body, or stick with my decision and be denied medication, that, while not necessary, is my sole remaining option. Thinking I could deal with anything for 6 months, I gave up my uterus to government control. I agreed- feeling quite as though I had no other choice- to go back on birth control.

I know this appears a failing on my part. A weakness of will. In part, it is. I don't have the time, energy, or money to fight the FDA. I certainly don't have the time, energy, or money to fight Big Pharma. They have all the power at this point and I have nothing to bargain with. It is of no consequence to them whether or not I take this medication. Had I decided not to, someone else will be happy to shell out 300-600 dollars a month to a pharmaceutical company that has seized control of her reproductive rights.

Moving Day

2009-07-17T11:36:00.005-04:00

Deflated air mattress

Sitting, thinking 'man, this sucks'

The sex was really good.

I see you Mara.

2009-06-04T22:54:00.005-04:00

On paper, it seemed like a pretty terrible idea. Me in a 105 degree, 55% humidity room, doing yoga for an hour and a half.

After the fact it's still not the brightest of ideas, but that won't stop me from doing it again.

One of my co-workers talked me into it, but it didn't take much convincing; after 8 years (on and off) of yoga, I'm usually pretty open to trying something new. I'd wanted to try Bikram for a while, even if it is a distinct departure from my normal vinyasa/ashtanga/power bend. Ignoring the controversy over Bikram and his copyright issues, I figured it was something worth trying.

Heat plus exercise always equals a workout, and I'm always looking for a good workout. By the middle of the class I felt like I had already gotten exactly what I bargained for. Barring the intense nausea (which I expected) and the lightheadedness (which I also expected) I felt pretty good. I don't remember the last time I sweated like that. It felt good, it beads up and rolls down your shoulder-blades, or down your temples.

I had moments where it got to be a bit too much though. The moments where, had I been outside (say at track or softball practice), I would have just given in to the dizziness and nausea. But since I was in a yoga studio as a new student, I figured it best to pace myself and wait for the tumbling sensation to go away. The temperature was about 106 in the studio today, but the humidity much higher than the usual 55%. It's been raining for days and so that contributed to the heat,

What surprised me most was that I didn't really notice a distinct increase in flexibility. I think part of that probably owes a lot to the fact that I am more out of shape than I realize. I didn't notice a change, but I suspect my baseline is not where I expect it should be at the moment.

City Beautiful

2009-05-28T17:35:00.010-04:00

I am beginning to really appreciate time spent on the train. I've been spending a lot of time in the city as of late and so a lot of time on the train as well. Its an hour of time with 'nothing else to do, nowhere else to go'. I could catch up on any one of the books I'm reading, or listen to my ipod- both of which I do occasionally- but the past few times, I've spent a large part of the trip just staring out the window, trying to let my thoughts come and go as they please.

For the most part it's been pleasant thoughts- excitement, contentment, and a general sense of well-being. I've been generally happy for a few months now, and so I'm perfectly happy to stare out the window as my thoughts come and go like waves rolling onto the shore.

The Legend of Billie Jean

2009-05-28T17:32:00.005-04:00

A week ago I cut off nearly 2 feet of hair.

I've been doing a lot of reevaluating my life lately, a benefit of having a roof over my head, a steady income, and the luxury of making changes in my life and more importantly, in myself.

There are a lot of changes to be made.

I want to love more, without reservation; without worrying that I might get hurt. I want to have more compassion. I want to live more- to adventure, to explore. I want to experience new things and new people. I want to be more patient.

I want to fear less, to worry less. I want to be less judgmental. I want to give up on mistrust of others and doubt of myself. I want to let go of my hang-ups and be more honest with my friends and lovers.

I want to live my life without the need for guilt or regret.

This is what I want to change.

The best Defense is a good Offense

2009-05-16T21:53:00.001-04:00

#480

2009-05-10T19:51:00.006-04:00

1001 Things I want in a Lover

9 May 09

#480

Someone who is a part time lover and a full time friend.

Complaint Department

2009-05-04T17:37:00.003-04:00

I complain too much. I don't usually notice it. I kind of gloss over it in my daily life as just something I do. I bitch about the weather, or the people on the other end of the phone. I bitch about the horrible drivers or my graphic design class. I just bitch in general.

I don't think I bitch any more than the average person, and I don't put much weight in my complaints. I complain as a matter of course- everyone does it. It's how we relate to our coworkers- we often don't share the same successes, but can all commiserate about our frustrations;how we related to our families- oh no, crazy uncle Bill is at it again; how we relate to our friends- my parents are on my back again about when I'm going to visit/get married/have kids/become straight.

We as a society deal with our pain by bitching about it.

But the bitching, even for that fleeting moment makes us focus on the pain, and rather than dealing with it- acknowledging it's existence, accepting it as a part of life- all of a sudden we create suffering around it. It's aversion instead of compassion. Like Noah said at Lila 'staying pissed off out whole lives doesn't work'.

So I'm trying now to stop feeding into that compulsion to complain. I'm trying to give up that idle bitching, that unhealthy fixation with things I usually can't control.

Today was Day 1 of that journey.

It's not going well.

But I don't expect it to.

It's incredible once you're aware of it how much we do idly complain. Being aware of it is the first step in my journey, and I appreciate (if sometimes less than others) the people who have made me aware of it. I don't think that in the end I'll be any less of a pessimist. I don't think not complaining will change my view of things, but maybe after a while more of the annoying stuff will roll off my back, and maybe it won't distract from the good stuff.

Spring

2009-04-22T20:37:00.008-04:00

sitting quietly, doing nothing

spring comes

and the grass grows by itself.

-zen proverb

2009-04-09T23:20:00.005-04:00

Main Entry:
mis·an·thrope
Pronunciation:
\ˈmi-sən-ˌthrōp\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
Greek misanthrōpos hating humankind, from misein to hate + anthrōpos human being
Date:
1683

: a person who hates or distrusts humankind

I've been feeling like this quite a bit lately. It's not directed towards anyone in particular. In fact I feel like I've been connecting with my friends and coworkers more than before. It's just this general feeling of not 'getting' people as a whole.

I don't get the person tailgating me on the parkway in the morning. I don't get the impatient person in the supermarket or the person being rude to the cashier. I certainly don't get the people in the newspaper- rape, burglary, assault, gay marriage bans, ponzi schemes, million dollar bonuses to CEO's of failing companies, mass murder, and the obsession with Michelle Obama's wardrobe. I don't get the nurses I talk to every day who make it clear they don't really want to be there, or the doctors who can't be bothered to acknowledge that they received results on a patient whose INR is elevated and they're going to bleed out.

I guess it's been a good exercise in equanimity. I have to learn to let go when people do things I just don't understand. It's not like I can stop them and get them to explain to me just why they did what the did or acted the way they acted. I can't expect anyone else's behavior to conform to my standards of what it logical or make sense. And more than that, I can't spend time worrying about it. That confusion, and need to understand the method to someone else' madness has the same effect as anger- the ember you hold on to, getting burned in the process.

This Body, This Breath

2009-04-08T20:32:00.006-04:00

I've been practicing yoga on and off for over 7 years. After softball and fencing, I've stuck with yoga longer than anything else in my life. Like anything else I've had ups and downs, periods of time where I wasn't practicing, or when I was but something just wasn't right.

About 3 months ago I noticed a change. It's not that I was all of a sudden stronger or more flexible (in fact as of late it's been quite the opposite). But all of a sudden the pieces have come together.

I'm finally, after all this time, feeling connected to my breath.

It's finally clicked. I've finally gotten to the point where I don't think about it (so much) anymore. I can finally exhale and just let my muscles relax around my bones in down-dog. I can finally feel the inhale pull me into up-dog. I finally feel the rise and fall of my breath carry me through sun salutation. I think it's finally given me a piece of the peace that yoga promises.

I'm not sure how this will change my relationship to yoga in the future. I've wanted to teach for a while now, but I wanted to teach yoga without it having the hippie, new-agey, crystals and candles feel. Yoga has always made me feel powerful and I want other people to experience that same strength. I've never thought of yoga as anything more than an opportunity for a focused, dedicated workout. To me, my meditation practice complimented my yoga practice, but they weren't different means to the same end. I turned to yoga for balance, strength, flexibility, poise, and grace, but I was never really looking for peace.

Maybe it's not really peace, but that purest of focuses. That kind of single pointedness where everything has just come together. Maybe this is really what I've been striving for all along as an athlete.

It's the click.

Everything I Never Wanted

2009-04-03T17:36:00.007-04:00

The past few days I've had a chance to take a good look at my life. Things are good for the most part. I have a job, which means a steady income. I'm doing well in my graphic design class. I'm healthy(ish). I have a roof over my head and food in my belly.

But everything I have feels in some way or another everything I never wanted. I'm still sitting there saying to myself 'this isn't the way things were supposed to be', even if it doesn't have that same feeling of desperation that it did 3 months ago.

I have an office job, customer service actually. I have to dress in 'work clothes' every day. Dress pants, nice shirts, high heels. I sit in a mini-cubicle with a brand new phone and nameplate velcro-ed to the fabric covered partition that divides my desk from my boss'. I have an extension... x1125. I clock in and clock out. I grab hot water out of the coffee machine and make nearly undrinkable tea on my break. I work for a company with training manuals and headsets and sexual harassment videos.

By all accounts I should hate my job.

I don't hate it though.

That's not to say I love it and want to make a career out of it, but it doesn't suck.

I never thought I would be anything but miserable in a job like that. The thought of what is ostensibly a corporate 9-5 would have made me cringe while I was in college, but now it's just a necessary not-so-evil. I have moments when I get frustrated and castigate myself for going against some loose anti-establishment ideals I feel like I'm selling out on. Most of the time though I recognize it's just practicality. I took the opportunity that was offered to me, even if it isn't what I thought I wanted.

Does that mean I'm officially an adult? Making decisions based in what's practical rather than what I want in my 'ideal' world? Is there any turning back from that? Can we go from being practical, taking the job we don't love, paying our bills, putting money in the bank, and worrying about our credit score, back to "I'm going to save/beautify/inspire/explore the world"? Are the two mutually exclusive in the first place? Is there a way to find balance between practical and ideal; a way to keep your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds and to be happy with the whole situation? Now that I have my Office Space-esque job is it possible to still keep my feel-good movie dreams?

I guess the problem is that I'm so afraid of losing my dreams. I'm not even really sure what I want out of life, but I'm worried that I'll end up settling for something less. I don't want to wake up in 25 years wishing I had done ___. I want to wake up in 25 years and think 'THAT was fun. I can't wait until tomorrow".

Down the Rabbit Hole

2009-03-15T17:01:00.003-04:00

Down the Rabbit Hole

Homework number 5. We've moved on to Illustrator. I've skipped a couple in here. Just haven't gotten around to posting them yet. This was supposed to be a simple still life with three objects. I chose to continue feeding my slightly unhealthy Alice obsession and go the Wonderland route. I'm still editing it a bit, but at this point there seems little reason to. The entire class is a clusterfuck- a professor who doesn't teach but grades everything like it's an MFA thesis studio and students who can't seem to get their heads above water. The few students who do know what they're doing, don't work as hard as they could, earning them the professor's ire. It's just a giant mess. I'm just glad to have the chance (and the impetus) to produce real work.

The Persistence of Chrome

2009-02-25T14:12:00.004-05:00

The Persistence of Chrome, originally uploaded by SuburbanDecay2.

My second homework assignment for my graphic design class- a study in surrealism in Photoshop.

Flashback- Livejournal circa 2000

2009-02-19T09:34:00.004-05:00

It's time to indulge in a bit of nostalgia. I've been avoiding the '25 Things' meme like the plague. The 'Put your iTunes on shuffle' one seems silly to me. This one was posted on Facebook by my friend Nicole. It was nice to finally see a silly internet meme that seemed worth doing.

I remember back in the 'Age of Livejournal' doing these things all the time. Filling out question after question of where you'd kissed someone- in a car, in a bar, in the rain, on a train- it was very Seuss-ian; or the seemingly never-ending list of favorites- book, movie, color, time of day, ice cream flavor, ad infinitum. Then there were all the quizzes you'd take somewhere else and post the results on LJ. It was all juvenile and silly, but it made sense at an age where we were supposed to be figuring out just who we were. I mean, it's self-reflection of the shallowest form, but reflection nonetheless.

(Really the last two paragraphs are just a good excuse to post an internet meme I really wanted to do.)

Using ONLY SONG TITLES from ONE artist, cleverly answer these questions:

Pick a band/artist: Smashing Pumpkins

1. Are you a male or female: I Am One
2. Describe yourself: Bullet with Butterfly Wings
3. How do you feel about yourself: The Sacred and Profane
4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: Let Me Give the World to You
5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: An Ode to No One
6. Describe your current location: In My Body
7. Describe where you want to be: Blissed & Gone
8. Your best friend is: Spaceboy
9. Your favorite color is: Blue
10. You know that: Aeroplane Flies High
11. What’s the weather like: Winterlong
12. If your life was a television show what would it be called? Soot & Stars
13. What is life to you: Today
14. What is the best advice you have to give: Slow Down
15. If you could change your name what would you change it to: Luna

The Belated and Truncated Obligatory Anti-Valentines Post.

2009-02-11T23:39:00.006-05:00

This is not going to be some anti-love diatribe or an anti-materialist/consumer culture rant. (I think love is pretty kick-ass and everyone already knows all about the materialistic bullshit that comes with the day). It's also not going to be about how it's a day designed entirely around making you feel inadequate- either for the fact that you are single, or that you're not romantic enough.

It will be Anti-Valentines though, as I have found something new to hate about it. The existence of this holiday alone is bad enough, but this year I find myself more than a little annoyed by it's pervasiveness. I don't remember Valentines day ever being this widespread before. Everything all of a sudden seems pinker and more heart-shaped and glittery-er. Restaurants all have their valentines specials on boards outside, and the newspaper is advertising obscenely expensive holiday messages- because nothing says "I love you" more than a spot in the classifieds. There's pages in the paper of 'special advertising' printed in black and red; I never knew there were so many lingerie stores in the immediate area.

Fuck the sentiment and the candy chariot pulled by bunches of roses it rode in on.

To be a student again...

2009-02-06T16:06:00.003-05:00

The Elephant Quilt, originally uploaded by SuburbanDecay2.

I decided this semester that it was time for me to start building a marketable skill-set; I've set my sights (for the time being) on graphic design.

The image above was my first homework assignment.

February 5th 2009

2009-02-05T19:46:00.003-05:00

'Anniversary' Flowers, originally uploaded by SuburbanDecay2.

Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory- Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Reading "Reading the OED"

2009-02-03T16:24:00.006-05:00

I have a feeling my spell checker is going to have a meltdown by the end of this entry. I can't imagine obscure words from the Oxford English Dictionary are included in your generic, everyday spell-check.

I've been reading a lot lately. It makes me feel like I've accomplished something after a day of sending out resumes that will never get a response and wasting an inordinate amount of time on Facebook and twitter. Between Stephen King short stories -'Trucks' being a new favorite- and a book on writing Haiku I sat down and read Reading the OED by Ammon Shea. My mother had just finished it and had delighted in telling my father and I some of the more amusing words as she read along -

Umbriphilious was for my father (meaning to be fond of the shade) and Keck, for the cat (to make a sound as if one were about to vomit).

When I started reading, I found some of the earliest words reminded me of other people- Aerumnous (full of trouble) and Agathokakological (made up of good and evil) in particular, as well as the word Infelicitate (to cause to be unhappy).

The rest, well, just made me happy to know.

I'm a word person to begin with, but the book was written with a lot of wit. I laughed more while reading this than I've laughed at just about anything in a while. My repeated iterations of words I found amusing, or thought-provoking, or just plain weird, tended more to annoy than enlighten my mother, who more than once had to remind me that well, she's already read the book and didn't need me repeating the whole thing back to her.

So rather than annoy her any more, I figured I'd share with those who might not have read it yet (although I highly suggest you do) a short list of the words I learned and found a great appreciation for while reading Reading the OED.

Atechy- lack of skill/or knowledge of art. This word describes pretty much the entirety of my Art 130 class.

Constult- to act stupidly together. What is the point of good friends if you can't constult?

Desiderium- a yearning, specifically for something once had, but has no more. I love how poetic this word is... and that it exists at all.

Gymnologize- to dispute naked, like an Indian philosopher.
The author's take on this one- "There are only several plausible reasons I can think of for having an argument while naked, and none of them happens to involve indian philosophers." I think that about sums it up for me as well.

Happify- to make happy. Just saying this word makes me smile.

Heterophemize- to say something different from what you mean to say. I do this every day of my life. Now I just have a more technical word for it.

Misandry- the hatred of men. The counterpart to misogyny. I wonder why this never caught on during the Feminist movement. (I have to make a note here that 'misandry' is so far the only word in this list that has not shown up as horribly wrong according to my spell checker)

Parabore- a defense against bores. I think if I ever create some steampunk-y invention for a character and need something to call it, this would be the perfect word.

Tacturiency- the desire of touching. This is something I am most certainly afflicted with. Not in any sort of sexual sense (get your mind out of the gutter) but in that I want to touch things- the marble or chrome on the outside of a Diner, that piece of clothing in the store I know I'm not going to buy anyway, the Rosetta Stone. As much as I am a visual person, that doesn't mean I want to admire things from afar. There are so many different textures out there that simply cannot be appreciated with sight alone.

Of all the words in the book there was one that I just fell in love with. According to the OED, it's never really been in use, it's only citation being from another dictionary, but I think it's one of the most beautiful words and concepts I can imagine.

Apricity- the warmth of the sun in winter

It's silly and beautiful and poetic. I have very much fallen in love with the word as a literal, and figurative- both standing out in the snow with the sun shining on your face, and the idea of the there still being warmth in the depths of the deepest 'winter'. I think I have a special affinity for it now, as I feel lost in my own winter forest without bearings.

Not so secret Hope

2009-01-20T20:28:00.002-05:00

I really HOPE he doesn't fuck this up.

Things I've learned while walking my dog.

2009-01-15T22:39:00.005-05:00

The snow really is gorgeous at night when there is just enough light to make it sparkle...

no matter how cold it is out.

And-

There are few things more beautiful than two pairs of footprints, side-by side in fresh snow.

All the time in the world

2009-01-06T15:47:00.014-05:00

I just finished Lynne Truss' 2008 American version of Eats, Shoots & Leaves. I've always been a bit picky with grammar, selectively so, most of the time, but picky nonetheless. Misuse of 'there', 'their' and 'they're' drives me up a wall. I want to rip my hair out upon reading mixed up 'your' and 'you're's (I'm actually not sure how to punctuate that). I really can't stand people with mix and match colloquialisms and phrases a la the bartender in Boondock Saints- "People in glass houses sink ships".

On the whole I was kind of proud of myself after reading it. My grammar isn't half-bad, despite living in the age of the e-mail and text message. There was one section in her book that I found really poignant, though. Transcribed here from Chapter 6- "Merely Conventional Signs" is the passage I found most interesting, not because it was espousing some particular nuance of grammar being lost to T9, but because as a bit of a grammar nut and a bibliophile it struck a chord.

Having grown up as readers of the printed word (and possibly even scribblers in margins), we may take for granted the processes involved in the traditional activity of reading- so let us remind ourselves. The printed word is presented to us in a linear way, with syntax supreme in conveying the sense of the words in their order. We read privately, mentally listening to the writer's voice and translating the writer's thoughts. The book remains static and fixed; the reader journeys through it. Picking up the book in the first place entails an active pursuit of understanding. Holding the book, we are aware of posterity and continuity. knowing that the printed word is always edited, typeset and proof-read before it reaches us, we appreciate it's literary authority. Having paid money for it (often), we have a sense of investment and pride of ownership, not to mention a feeling of general virtue.

All these conditions for reading are overturned by the new technologies. Information is presented to us in a non-linear way, through an exponential series of lateral associations. The internet is a public "space" which you visit, and even inhabit; its product is inherently impersonal and disembodied. Scrolling documents is the opposite of reading: your eyes remains static, while the material flows past. Despite all the opportunities to "interact", we all read material from the internet (or CD-roms or whatever) entirely passively because all the interesting associative thinking has already been done on our behalf. Electronic media are intrinsically ephemeral, are open to perpetual revision, and work quite strenuously against any sort of historical perception. The opposite of edited, the material on the internet is unmediated, except by the technology itself. And having no price, it has questionable value. Finally, you can't write comments in the margin of your screen to be discovered by another reader fifty years down the line.

Eats, Shoots & Leaves, p. 153-54

It strikes me now, the irony of writing my own commentary on a quote such as that on a blog, or on the internet at all for that matter.

The Internet: the ultimate unmediated medium in which anyone can write anything about anything regulated by nothing.

I used to hate it when people would write in books. Maybe it was something that was drilled into me as a child. I remember carefully covering Elementary School books with brown paper bags at the beginning of every school year; the threats of the teachers of fines for books returned with doodles in the margins. Even into High School books were sacred- despite how much I might have loathed the subject. Around 11th grade things changed a little, I'd doodle inside the front cover, draw boxes around headings out of boredom; but write notes in a literary book? Never.

My World Lit. teacher in 12th grade gave us The Norton Anthology: World Masterpieces- Expanded Edition In One Volume as our text. At over 3000 pages it was a massive tome; not something your average high schooler wanted to carry around. My teacher's suggestion? Take an X-acto knife and have at it; cut it up into pieces.

Parts I, II, III, and IV were given the most unkindest cut of all. Parts V and VI, were spared the knife, left to live out their days still connected to part VI. As much as it was done for convenience, I think quite a bit of the decision to slice apart the book was rebellion as only an All-honors, A-student can do it. "Fine, you assigned me this book. I'm gonna cut it apart! How do you like it now?!" (Just fine I'd imagine- as he was the one suggesting we cut it apart in the first place, mostly to decrease the frequency of 'I forgot my book cause it's to heavy' excuses.)

I regret cutting it into so many pieces now though. Two would have sufficed, dividing it at the end of part II; but hindsight is 20/20. Despite creating Frankenstein's monster out of my World Lit book- and excepting my name on the front page- I never wrote in it.

College changed that though. Maybe it was the fact that I owned all of my books now (although that seems to go against my desire to possess books as objects of reverence), maybe it was convenience. Really, I think it was a combination of a single professor and the discovery of non-fiction I actually enjoyed. I wasn't stuck reading about how economics played a role in the election of blahbity-blah, or how statistics work (Oh, math, how I loathe thee.) I was reading about Zen Buddhism in Japan and writing papers on the architecture of tea houses. I was reading about the history of world architecture and the Vietnam war. This stuff was cool and I finally had something to say about it.

I also had a professor that took the mystique out of books. He asked what the hell books were for if you didn't write notes in them, underline the important stuff and generally interact with them. It was his opinion that books weren't just for reading, but engaging, thinking about, understanding; making mental connections and taking note of them; doing all that interesting 'associative thinking' Lynne Truss talks about.

After that professor, I can remember my own excitement in college taking books out of the library only to discover inscriptions on the title page from A.D. White, the first president of the university, or just the enjoyment I'd get from reading other peoples' insights scribbled in margins, or manifest in an underline, or a box around a quote (even if that enjoyment often came from disagreeing with the penciled-in observations). They gave the book more a life, a history, a place in a larger picture.

I guess this is my way of writing in the margins, maybe not for someone else to discover 50 years down the line, but maybe to lead someone to the library tomorrow to take out a book that might otherwise languish, unread, on the shelves, and maybe, just maybe, make a connection to an idea, a history, or another person, writing in the margins.

2009-01-03T16:31:00.003-05:00

I'm a 'nester' by nature. That's not to say I'm a homebody (although I am prone to it at times), but I am someone who wants to feel at home, no matter where I am. I am made uneasy by 'nomads'. Upon walking into a nomad's home I tend to wonder how someone can live without any 'stuff'; how can they live in such austerity?

This isn't so much a debate on materialism- although the possessing of objects comes into play- but a question of homeyness, of the physical expression of the occupant. It's also not a debate on cleanliness. My space is just as much mine when it's messy as when it's clean.

When I was a freshman in college two of my friends and I signed a lease for an apartment. The housing market in Ithaca is one of the strangest markets imaginable- we were signing a lease before Thanksgiving for an apartment we wouldn't move into until August (in ITHACA). What that did mean though is that my friends and I had nearly a year to plan our move: to claim rooms, buy furniture, dishes, and accessories. We had a year to decorate and you can be sure we used it. When we moved in, up went a new shower curtain emblazoned with sayings like 'naked and happy' and 'i'm so cute'. Up went christmas lights, dry-erase boards on the doors and even a poster of a naked chick over the toilet. We threw a Playboy Bunny blanket on the couch, liquor bottles on the mantle, and a brand new teapot on the stove.

It certainly wasn't classy, but it definitely felt like home. Before I even slept the first night in my room tapestries hung on the walls, pictures were FunTac-ed above my desk, and Keith Haring's baby crawled along next to my closet. The same scene was repeated again the following year, when my roommates moved out and two new girls moved in. Out went the hammock (stolen form the fraternity next door) and the pump bottle of Jagger on the mantle; in came new pots and pans, posters, and stuff in general.

One of my new roommates had a problem with cleaning; she never did it. One of my fondest memories from that year was waking up one morning to find my one roommate piling all of the other girl's dirty dishes into a pile on her bed. All the shit I took for it later was well worth the amusement.

But back to nesting...

When I moved into my second apartment with roommate number 6 we also started planning early. We wrote lists, made plans, divided up 'who was bringing what' so that we would have a fully stocked apartment from day one. I already had almost everything I really need from two years of apartment living (and one year in a dorm), but number 6 went all out. He showed up with everything from a flat-screen tv to a dining room table that seated 8. We repainted the apartment, sanded and waxed the floors, hung curtains, shampooed the carpet. We siliconed the rotting wood in the bathroom, re-caulked, and scrubbed. When we were all done, we couldn't help but feel like we were home.

I have been known to carry photos if I know I'm going to be away for a few weeks. I can't imagine not injecting at least some of myself in any space I inhabit. Away at camp my friends and I would got to Pen State's school store and buy push-pins, scissors and magazines, cut them up and adorn our dorm rooms for the week we'd be there.

On the other side of the coin, the nomads reign. The people who can live for a year in an apartment without hanging up a poster, who are content to claim nothing of their own. While the Buddhist side of me admires that lack of attachment I also find something unsettling about it. (It also reminds me of the idea that is it much easier to live a spiritual life apart from the world than in it.) I don't like feeling transient in my own space. The current moment is all there is, so why not own my space. I don't want to think 'I'll only be here for a week/month/year, so why bother?'.

The 'why' is precisely because I will be here for a week/month/year.

I'm here now.

Decorating for Xmas

2008-12-21T16:49:00.003-05:00

Bandit and Friends II, originally uploaded by SuburbanDecay2.

The best part of Christmas is decorating the dog.

Mike, the cat, has already tried to climb the tree, knock ornaments off of it and drink the water from the base.

Thankfully it's only 4 days to Christmas.

Food Court

2008-12-15T19:30:00.007-05:00

1203081301, originally uploaded by SuburbanDecay2.

Mall Lunch-

McDonalds' again?
I'd rather have sushi.

(and sushi was just what I got.)

Rebirth of the Blog

2008-12-15T18:12:00.006-05:00

It seems everyone in my life has started blogging all over again. It's been a long time since I've had to keep track of my friends' blogs. In High School it was all petulant teenage stuff- what this girl said, or this boy did. Now that we've grown up a bit, it's seems more like a way to reflect on our lives and to get and give support and advice without having to be asked or ask for it.

I've been blogging on and off since Livejournal was invite only. I can't even remember the name of the site that hosted my first blog. Then it was on to Livejournal, then Vox. I've blogged on OkCupid and had another blog on Blogger for a year. On top of that I've kept a paper journal for the past 12 years.

I don't want a blog as an outlet for complaining about boys anymore, or gossiping about celebrities or last night's tv plot twists or bitching about my friends. I don't see myself bragging about my Christmas presents or my new job should I ever get one.

I probably will post photos from my camera-phone, very-offbeat haiku, reflections on my Buddhist path, and frustrations about my job search among other things. There will be posts about struggling with metta and silly things people say to me at work and striving towards the perfect Vrschikasana.

With this new blog I'm hoping to avoid the pitfalls of trying to present a particular face to the world. I'm just trying to share little pieces of me in the hope that when it all comes together I'll have a better idea of who I am and where I need to go.