people have been jokingly wishing me a happy 22nd birthday or some other young number. as if it is something to be ashamed of. i’m not. i relish not being in my 20s anymore. i learned a lot but i prefer where i am now.
i rang in my birthday among friends at a Ledisi concert. oddly i had never heard her music before, but a friend mentioned it and since our birthdays are so close together we thought it would be a cool way to ring in the new year.
yesterday was redwoods and ocean. soemthing about the magest and granduer that is beyond me in ability but around me in abundance…is calming, humbling, inspiring.
it reminds me that i want to live life as robustly and fully as i can. this year i want to:
- go on at least one international trip this year
- create a more solid career direction
- incorporate volunteer work into my everyday life
- work out at least twice a week (bellydancing for the moment)
- read at least one book a month
- camp in the redwoods
- visit a desert
- try a new recipe once a month
- write something non-work related once a month
- dress up for dinner and wear my strappy sandals
- road trip someplace and sleep near the ocean
- spend the day at an amusement park
- take an art class
- organize my photos
- write my south african host family
- begin and complete the artist’s way
- take the ferry
- complete the australian application
- call MSF
- fly a kite on the beach
- see at least three live music events
- attend at least 4 festivals/outside events
…to be continued…
i’ve been to the gym once in the past three months.
once.
the one time was last week when i woke up from a nightmare at some unholy hour and couldn’t manage to find mare-less sleep again. so i rose and found myself cursing the treadmill.
today i thought i’d try something a little different.
the entrance is small. only a doorway really, and stairs leading up. inside, prince bathed over me in the studio and a woman smiled at me from amidst the t-shirts and glittering scarves.
“yes this is my first time.”
i wasn’t sure what to expect. i half expected something too cheesy to tolerate. instead i found something akin to the vibes from the vagina monologues – women laughing and talking and trying something they aren’t entirely comfortable with.
i got the basic shimmy down ok. the instructor looked genuinely pleased and praised my form. the 3/4 shimmy was another story.
but i could feel a little burn in my legs and a belly and i’ve been shimmying on and off since i got home so i take it as a good sign.
this will be my last month at the gym. no sense paying for what i don’t use. i’ll be converting my wellness benefit over to belly dancing instead. one day of cardio shimmy pop and one day of technique. not as much as i’d like and more than what i’m already spending…but this i think i’ll use.
who knew i’d ever return to dancing?
free oscar grant was scrawled in black spray paint across the whitewashed wall of the bart underpass.
i shook my head as i passed. irritated because this is new graffiti on the recently painted wall…irritated more that someone missed the reality that you cannot free that which has been killed. oscar grant isn’t being held, he is long gone. and in his absence there is only the anger and distrust of a city divided against its “peacekeepers”.
further down the wall were post-it notes. laments for gaza. admonitions to isreal and the us for their presence there. and it is as international as it is local…the bullets and fallen sons and daughters.
shana just got back from turkey – among other places – and she has magnificent pictures from inside the blue mosque. the ceilings are so high. the walls inlaid with blue and white tiles. and even as i recognize that a mere photograph can never relate the true beauty of that place i was still caught in a moment of reverence just short of what i feel staring out at the crashing waves of any ocean, the undulating sands of any desert, the quiet majesty of redwoods.
and for the life of me…and the death of all those that have fallen for such senseless reasons as borders and bigotry…i can’t understand how we can create such beauty even as we are so bent on destroying it.
attention forward in anticipation of what this new era might bestow…humility, responsibility, and grace are the values i hope we embrace.
Tags: bay, me-ness, socialcommentary, transition
massages can be intimate. naked skin with a stranger. dimmed lighting and rubbing.
i didn’t think anything could be more intimate between strangers than a swedish or deep tissue massage like i’ve had a few times in my life. and today’s trip into san francisco for a thai massage seemed an implausible choice for something more…after all, you’re fully clothed.
the thing is…it is a full body contact experience.
it begins so benignly.
skin to skin. palms to soles.
then up the leg. bending and stretching.
from the leg to the bum. bum to back. back to arms.
there were feet on my spine. toes working out the huge knots tucked alongside and beneath my scapula. forearms smoothing fighting the knots in my shoulders.
at some point she sat between my legs, crossing them over each other and bending me left, then right. she sat behind me and rocked my back against her knees. pulled my arms gently arching me backwards to stretch fully.
tu, her name, was amazing.
it was an hour and $65 (including tip) well spent.
the knots aren’t all gone despite her vigilance. there is only so much magic one person can do to erase the stress of scary dogs and uncertainty. but i am beginning to remember what it feels like to not hunch. to sit straighter. to not ache.
this will be my new vice. one hour with an amazing woman between my legs.
this morning, while the rain bathed a parched oakland in moisture, and before the sun was even attempting to show herself, i woke from a nightmare. sometimes i’m able to ignore them. change the channel in my head so that i dream of something else without actually waking up.
but not this morning.
i don’t recall what it was about. don’t want to. but it was enough to rouse me from my bed looking for some way to spend my time.
and so i finally managed to do what i have not done since before egypt…i worked out.
with such a busy day i found myself nodding off at around 7pm. i had to hold it together because sleeping before nine means waking up before 7am yet again.
and so i ready myself for sleep tonight. hoping against hope that whatever visited my dreams last night stays away.
Tags: me-ness
the thing about moments is t hat they judge you…or rather you judge yourself against them.
there is no dress rehershal…only the moment that in some way defines you…even as the next one will define you again and again and again.
i hate when those moments define me as less than i want to be. prevent me from being to friends what they need me to be. and even as i seek to right where it all went wrong, i understand that in seeking i am twisting attention away from where it should be and pointing it back at myself. it isnt’ about me.
and still find myself trying to figure out a way to make amends…way to atone for being a lesser me than i know i amcapbable of.
we took the long way from the powell station by accident. unseasonably warm in the city, we were almost sweating by the time we found the entrance. a bustle of people smiling and asking for cards or email addresses. i’m not sure what i expected.
in some ways it was a throw back to the job fairs i worked as a peace corps recruiter. only now i’m on the other side of the table, waiting patiently – not for a job, but for more inforamtion on the volunteer and board opportunities bay area orgs have to offer.
the clarence foundation was my main interest. looking for board members, they were posted on volunteer match. a few other places caught my attention and they all mentioned today’s fair. so after guilting my friend SL into it, we ventured over to the city and wandered around looking at the myriad of ways we could make a difference…big and small.
national radio project and hify and a mass of others that struck or didn’t strike my immediate fancy. and they seemed interested. of course only time will tell. are we well matched, do times work out, are my skills useful? but the idea makes me feel good…focusing on life outside myself.
last month was really difficult for me. application rejections and returning from my trip with no real idea of what next…
i had similar feelings in 2007, when i was looking for a job and suffering from heartbreak…my friend and volunteer life coach told me then to think about what made me happy…what allowed me to have perspective. and then, as now, one of the answers is living beyond myself – ignoring the call of narcissism (at least the wallowing kind…not necessarily the blogging kind).
and so i hope to be volunteering and/or “boarding” by february. a new challenge and a new way to look and be beyond myself…i guess we’ll see.
“you sure did something to me when you spoke to me. i didn’t even need viagra. bam, through that brick wall back there.”
the drums drowned out the competing music from some of the other stalls and it gave the old man an excuse to lean in to my ear after he tapped my shoulder to get my attention.
it wasn’t the first thing he’d said to me today. hell…it wasn’t even the third or fourth. it was the lewdest though. escalating from, “are you 18?” to “if i had a woman like you i would quit smoking drinking and running around” and ending with implications of what he wanted to do to me.
the last time i encountered that kind of obscenity was in new orleans before 2005. i was working a job fair and was passing niceties with a an older man who seemed harmless until he passed by me smiling, reached out to shake my hand and leaned in. his comment had something to do with what the sight of my legs were doing to him and what he’d like to do to me in return.
i don’t think i wore that dress again until last year.
the thing is, i got hit on all day today. i wasn’t dressed particularly provactively. in fact i was completely covered. and even if i wasn’t it shouldn’t matter. the attempts at conversation and queries about my dating/marital status don’t bother me. and if i’m really honest with myself i know i’m an agist.
i’m pretty sure young guys have been inappropriate (although maybe not) and i just don’t take it the same way. but something about the purveyors of such ugliness being older than my dad…that destroys me in a very particular way.
when the old man first spoke to me today i thought him harmless. i could see my grandfather in the way his cheeks folded over the corners of his mouth, in the age creeping into his gait. i guess i just don’t want to think of the most important men in my life reducing me to my sexual functions.
and then there is just the gross factor.
in south africa men would often shake hands and then circle their finger in the palm of my hand. it was an innuendo – a suggestion of sex. and without fail it would make me feel as small as it did angry. without fail it would make me feel dirty and shamed despite my innocence in the matter.
i should be accustomed to it. i should be hardened against it. i should be over it. but i’m not. and even though i wasn’t wearing that dress today…i may not wear it again any time soon. just in case…
Tags: bay, me-ness, soapbox, socialcommentary
judge and jury
the thing about life is that in some ways everyone is judging. everything is a courtroom appearance and you will either be vindicated or sent away. and it isn’t always as serious as all of that. sometimes it is just the look of contempt instead of being held in contempt.
but consider…job interviews- or board. dating. evaluations. potential friends…
they all come down to a call you make or someone else makes. a yes or no. a you or someone else…someone better. someone more.
does it fit? it isn’t just about fitting, it is about being the best fit. and so even as i mock gen Y parents for attempting to shield their little angels from a harsh world of judges…providing medals for all involvements. everyone makes cheerleading. 90 boys lined up on the sidelines for a football game.
and there is no rejection.
they are saving them the sensation of being judged and found unworthy.
only there is no escaping the gavel. the eyes that peer and weigh. the elation or deflation of being chosen. of not.
and so i met this week with potential boards. offered up my resume. my background. packaged with a bow for someone to decide yes. yes i am what they need. i have something to offer them.
and i wait…
Tags: bay, me-ness, socialcommentary