My Friend Kenny

Has a year-round sweater. Or at least he DID...

Bob Moawad

“The best day of your life is the one on which you decide your life is your own. No apologies or excuses. No one to lean on, rely on, or blame. The gift is yours - it is an amazing journey - and you alone are responsible for the quality of it. This is the day your life really begins.”

My New Template

In recent months I've been exploring my creative eye through photography. Which has led me to flickr.com. I not only upload my own photos, but I check the site daily for new and inspiring photos from my contacts. One such person is jlmieza. If you have the time, I'd recommend taking a look at his pages.
But in the meantime please enjoy my new template, his Dahlia.

Lolo to Barack

"Sometimes you can't worry about hurt. Sometimes you worry only about getting where you have to go."

~page 59 of "Dreams from My Father"

Five Years Already

Five years ago today, I woke up early and went for a walk on the beach with my dad. And that was pretty much the only thing about my wedding day that went according to plan. But I didn't mind. The hairdresser was rude to Logic's mom, the flowers were all wrong - once they were finally delivered, the cake melted to the side upon delivery (although I'm sure it was still good - never got a piece), my parents got lost on the way to the ceremony and a co-worker actually hit on my new husband at the reception. But as I look back on that day, I am also reminded of the good things. Being pampered, wearing a beautiful dress, watching all our friends and family sing around the piano as a friend played "Piano Man". Oh yeah, and marrying my amazing husband.
It's funny how brief five years can feel. And yet, how much knowledge can be crammed into such a short amount of time. I've learned a lot about Logic and about marraige in general but I also know I have a long way to go.
I look forward to those years.
I love you baby!

X

During my walk last night, I realized that my anxiety and panic attacks are a lot like the two ecstasy trips I've had. I tried ecstasy when I was in Florida and the whole experience was awful. Since it was my first time I figured a half tab would do the trick but it turned out to be too much. I was high for four days and felt like I was possessed. At one point I even looked in the mirror and saw someone else. It scared the shit out of me.
And yet, I chose to try it again. The second time was at an outdoor concert with Logic, some friends and my sister. I hoped that surrounding myself with people I loved would change the high for me but it didn't. It wasn't as bad as the first, but let's just say there was nothing ecstatic about it. I had a major panic attack in the middle of the concert and my sister had to walk me around for an hour. When I finally did come down, I swore never to do it again. Or any drug for that matter. Because strangely enough, I'd had similar reactions to smoking marijuana. Full on panic attacks, jitters, and extreme paranoia.
Kind of ironic that a few years later I would start having panic attacks and anxiety without the help of any drug. Granted, with anxiety I don't hallucinate but I do feel possessed sometimes. It's like an out of body experience. I feel like I float outside of myself and leave the cavity of my body open for an invasion. Invasions of thoughts that I can't control, feelings I can't suppress and and unlimited cyclone of fear.
The first panic attack was so scary that I had to go to the emergency room. I thought I was going crazy. Everything felt like it was caving in and I was suffocating. The room was spinning and I felt helpless. I spent the next four hours seeing a general practitioner, a social worker and a psychiatrist. At two in the morning, I was released with a prescription for celexa and a list of referred psychologists.
When it hit me last night that my panic attacks were reminiscent of those X trips, my first thought was that I did damage to my brain. Irreversible damage that instigated the anxiety. But as I was explaining that to Logic, he had a different take on it which made more sense; he said that maybe the X opened my mind up to something that it wasn't aware of before.
I guess I'll never know, but I feel like I've reached a new level of understanding. When someone is high it's all in their mind and I need to remember that it's also the case with anxiety. Never is anything as desperate and scary as it seems at the time.

My Walk

Four years ago, Logic dared me to do a backbend. We were at home, goofing off and he was trying to show me up. Not to be outdone, I lept off the couch and proceeded to do serious damage to my back. I laid on the carpet and hoisted myself up with my trembling arms and legs. I never heard a pop or snap, but the next day I could barely get out of bed. Over the next six weeks I went to physical therapy and took a variety of muscle relaxers and pain pills. I was taught how to take care of my back and which muscles to strengthen so this wouldn't happen again. I was religious about doing those stretches for about a year and then my desire, and the recollection of how painful it was, wore off and I stopped. I haven't done a backbend since, but I did make the stupid mistake of trying to one-up someone at the gym.
There was a very fit woman using an abdominal machine in a way I'd never seen before. Her legs were both to one side and she used the arm rests to crunch her oblique muscles. In between sets she would drop down and do twenty push-ups. It was amazing to watch and I felt inspired. So the next day I tried to replicate what I saw. Minus the push-ups. I sat on the bench, adjusted my legs and set the weight to fifty pounds. And as I worked through a set of fifteen, I could feel the burn shooting up my sides. I imagined myself walking around in a sports bra, as the fit woman had done the day before, showing off all of my hard work. Visualize! I told myself.
But the next morning all I could visualize was the floor. My back hurt so much that I couldn't walk up straight.
After two weeks of reiterating my previous stretches and back exercises, I was still having sciatica. So I decided to try a chiropractor. Lachlan gave me some good advice and suggested a doctor near my house. The first session was amazing! I felt a rush everytime she cracked my back and left the office in the upright position. But before I left, the doctor informed me that abdominal weight machines and high impact exercises were out of the question for the time being.
In those two weeks of pain, I was crawling up the ceiling. My body wanted to feel it's runner's high. It wanted to move. So in trying to compromise for the sake of my feet versus my back, I've been going on walks. And last night as I walked up the street, I saw this flower. I was so inspired that I rushed back home to grab my camera. I spent the next two hours walking around my neighborhood, photographing everything in sight. And I think having the distraction of the camera helped prevent my body from a revolt. There were times when I wanted to break into a sprint but then I'd see a dog waiting patiently for it's owner to take him for a walk or a unique perspective of my neighborhood from a newly found street. I have a feeling there will be many more pictures to come; at least until I can run again.
And because I like to share: here are a few shots I took. I hope you enjoy.

Photos

It Gets Me Everytime

I'm on a secret mission right now. Can't talk about it because Logic's birthday is right around the corner and I'm pursuing some gift ideas, but I made a phone call while doing some research and spoke with a man named Robin. He was fresh off the boat from the U.K. and I have to be honest, I hardly remember what he told me. I was so mesmerized by his accent that I couldn't concentrate. I don't know what it is about those Brits, but their accents get me everytime.
Current crushes like Colin Firth, Hugh Grant, Prince William, Christian Bale and Ralph Fiennes immediately come to mind.
Now I've lost my train of thought. Oh right, yummy Brits.
I think it's about time to watch Bridget Jones Diary again...

Take That Pistons!

My dad is rooting for the Pistons.
My husband is rooting for the Jazz.
They've both made it to the Semi-Finals.
If they both take this round, they'll be playing against each other.

I was telling Logic that my dad was making peach cobbler and had 'invited' us over for some (he lives in New Mexico so he was just playin') . Logic took this as an attempt to bribe me into cheering for the Pistons. But little did my dad know, Logic was doing laundry.
Take that Pistons!

My Future

I just finished watching Stranger Than Fiction. I am currently full of optimism and hope about the future. I want to seize life and start every day with vigor. I want to live my dreams.
Living my dreams.. now that's a scary thought. Scary because of how hard dreams are to achieve. I am a firm believer in making a dream a reality with hard work and determination. But that is what I find so scary. I've never worked hard for anything in my life. Not to say things have come easily, although sometimes that has been the case. It's just that I'm used to giving up because nothing has been worth all that effort. I've never felt passionately about something that was hard for me.
That is until recently. Without going into too much detail, I have come to realize how important writing is to me and, honestly, my well being. It is the core of who I am and how I operate. I love the written word. I adore creativity. I admire anyone with the capability to properly organize a sentence - especially when that sentence is put together in a fresh, new way.
I want to learn how to do that. I want to be that person who inspires others. I want to provide even the smallest moment of creative solitude for a reader. I want to comfort someone the way I have been comforted in the binding of a favorite read. This is vital to who I want to be.
The person I want to be isn't afraid of a challenge, and so I go forward in my quest to formulate the thoughts that rattle around in my head.

Another One Bites the Dust

As you may recall, a few months ago I had a little accident. I still bear the scars on my knees. Growing up a ballerina - my body is used to poise and grace, not scrapes and bruises. I chaulked that incident up to wearing high heels and thick hems. But last Friday I was brutally reminded of my new found clumsiness.
Logic and I drove to Portland Thursday after work. We stayed with Paige that night and drove to Roseburg early the next morning. As we left Paige's, I hugged and kissed Allison goodbye, knowing I would see her again in a few hours. When I turned around for one final air-kiss I miscalculated the height of the doorstep and caught the tip of my sandal on the wood base. I tried to regain my balance, but the bag resting on my back flew forward and caused me to fall knees-first onto the cobblestone entry way.
Trying to hold it together so I didn't scare Allison, I laughed it off and headed to the car. But damn, it hurt like hell. My knees and ankles were torn up pretty badly, but more than that my ego was bruised.

Michael Lebowitz

"I have discovered that I run now because running enables me to fight my limitations, to endure the pain, to fight the evil desire in me to hide; it teaches me every day not to give in, to keep on keepin' on, to believe."

Comparison

Back to Abnormal

I haven't taken any ibuprofen for nearly 24 hours now. And I was able to go for a long walk yesterday. It felt so great to be active again.
When I was growing up, my mom taught aerobics and I used to attend some of her classes. The pictures of tiny little me in a leotard and tights were pretty darn cute, if I must say so myself. But I digress. I remember a friend of my mom's joking that if she was sick or wasn't able to exercise for a few days people would cross the street just to get away from her because she was such a grouch. Well, that's how I've been feeling lately. I'm taking things slowly for now, but I can hardly wait for my next jog.

Mother's Day

So we'll be going to Roseburg this Friday for the funeral. After missing one really important day already (Lilikoi's wedding when Allison was born), I am so relieved to be able to help her through this. I'm preparing to put my shit-kickers on (metophorically, I promise) and do as much as I can.
As tragic as this has been, the silver lining is that I'll get to see my sister and her babies (they'll be at the funeral too) and spend Mother's Day with Logic's mom.

Unknown

"Sometimes the end is just the beginning."

Walking the Walk

I just wanted to show this article from the New York Times:

---

March 18, 2007

Op-Ed Contributor

Worms in the Apartment

By COLIN BEAVAN

FOR the year beginning last December, my wife, our 2-year-old daughter and I, while living in the middle of the city, are trying to survive without making any net impact on the environment. This means we’ll get as close as we can to creating no trash (so no takeout), emitting no carbon dioxide (so no driving or flying) and pouring no toxins in the water (so no laundry detergent), as well as mitigating impacts we can’t avoid (so planting trees). Not to mention: no elevators, subways, buying products in packaging, plastics, air-conditioning, TV or toilet paper.

Though I’m ashamed to admit it, this is the first time I’ve substantially changed my life to reflect my beliefs. I have boycotted products that contributed to the hole in the ozone layer; written letters against the Japanese for hunting whales; called for an end to the poaching of Congolese gorillas; marched against the whites who controlled South Africa in the apartheid era; detested the Israeli killing of Palestinians; and despised Palestinian killing of Israelis. But I made the mistake of believing that condemning the misdeeds of others somehow made me virtuous.

With age, I even ratcheted down my political action and veered perilously close to joining that brand of liberal who whines about the world but doesn’t actually do anything about it. If I were still a student, I’d probably march against my adult self. And, as a member of that passive group of do-nothings, I was far from alone.

Prof. Arthur Brooks of Syracuse University, in his recent book “Who Really Cares,” published data showing that, for all our liberal ideology, people like me volunteer their time no more than conservatives, and we actually donate 30 percent less to charity. We even give less blood.

“It’s not that liberals are selfish,” Professor Brooks told me on the phone. Rather, he said, they worry that individual action lets everybody else off the hook. Believing to a large degree that, as Professor Brooks put it, “societal coercion is better than individual action,” they prefer to exert their efforts on grand schemes to change the government and the laws.

So people like me work to get out the vote, but feel entitled to heat our empty homes all day because, hey, we’ve done our best. Liberals, Professor Brooks said, “are suffering from cognitive dissonance — because the way they live their lives is not in accord with their ethics.”

And anyway, with global warming, there is no time to wait around for a strategy of “societal coercion” to take effect. But can individual New Yorkers really help? Isn’t this really a problem for the sub- and ex-urbanites who guzzle gas in their S.U.V.’s? After all, 78 percent of Manhattan households don’t even have cars — can’t we content ourselves with the eco-efficiency of our crammed-together little island? Not when you consider that, together with the rest of our state, New Yorkers make nearly 1 percent of the world’s carbon dioxide, the predominant greenhouse gas.

So my family and I have started our experiment in extreme environmental living. We keep a bin full of worms that turn our organic waste into compost. We make our own yogurt, staying away from those nasty plastic tubs. We grow herbs on our windowsills.

We’ve faced a million problems — how to make a meal without creating a mountain of plastic; how to bike through the city streets without ending up with a crushed skull; what to do about diapers — but we’re reaping some unexpected benefits.

With all the stair climbing, I’ve lost 15 pounds. We produce less than half a small bag of trash in a week. My wife loves riding her foot-propelled scooter to work. Family life now centers around the kitchen and dining table, where we talk, instead of around the TV, where we didn’t. Even parts of the banks of the Hudson were, a least for a while, a little cleaner because we spent an afternoon picking up garbage (including, God save me, plastic bottles full of urine thrown from vehicles on the West Side Highway). Most of all, we feel that we are not contributing so drastically to the world problems that worry us.

I’m not saying that we’ll retain our most extreme adaptations when the year is over. I don’t know. And I’m certainly not saying we’re doing more about the environment than others — there are many engaged, committed people who do much more than we do.

But I like to hope that, at least, we have stopped doing so much less.

Posted by Colin Beavan aka No Impact Man at 03:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBack (0)

How Quickly Things Change

I was sitting in a queue, waiting to get on a ferry boat on Bainbridge Island. I was in a car with Logic, Melanie, Kenny and their baby Anika. We'd just finished dinner and were heading back to Seattle after a day-long adventure through part of the Olympic Peninsula.
My purse was on my lap, otherwise I would never have felt my phone vibrating. I looked to see who it was: Paige. We often talk and I figured she was just checking in. Not wanting to be rude to our guests, I sent it to voicemail. But as soon as my voicemail saved her message, Logic's phone started to ring. Paige again. Knowing that something must be up, I checked my messages. The message was marked urgent which she'd never done before."Amaya, call me as soon as you get this. It's about Lili and her parents."So I dial her number. When she picks up I learn that Lilikoi's Dad shot himself.
He'd been suffering for a long time from a number of different ailments. Mostly mental. I wasn't too surprised actually. But when Paige mentioned that Lilikoi's Mom was home at the time, my breath caught in my throat. How could he do something so final and selfish when his beautiful, loving wife was in the next room? How must it have felt to hear the shot and run through the house only to find him dead?
I thanked Paige for calling and immediately dialed Lilikoi. Hearing her cracked voice sound so timid on the other end broke my heart. I knew of the unhealthy relationship she had with her father, but I also knew of the unwavering love and closeness that she shared with her mom. Wanting to reach through the phone and offer my shoulder to cry on, I could only listen. Listen and cry.
Lili is in Roseburg right now. With her mom, brother and possibly her sister. Her husband is most definitely helping to take care of them. I wonder where I'm supposed to be in all of this? Do I stay here and give them time? Do I rush down and offer my support?
For now, I sit and wait.

My Back - The Update

So it was neither drag nor drug for me this weekend.
My regular doctor is on maternity leave right now even though I didn't know she was pregnant. Goes to show how 'regular' she is. I ended up seeing one of her colleagues who basically told me to take ibuprofen and come back in a week if I wasn't feeling better. What a waste of time.
So I spent all weekend trying to entertain our friends from out of town while popping major amounts of ibuprofen. I can't decide if my back is starting to loosen up or if I'm just numbing to the pain. But I do know this - my chair at work is NOT helping.

Drag vs. Drug

My back has been hurting since Wednesday night. We have friends coming into town this weekend with their baby.
Due to that fact, and my Friday pain I decided to make a doctor's appointment before the weekend. I choose to drug instead of drag my ass around all weekend.

Joy Behar

"Can you be a good father if you're cheating on your wife? I say you can, but only if you're Woody Allen."

Thinking of Him

I had a dream about him last night. I don't remember what the dream was about but I remember how I felt.
He was a boy I knew in grade school and junior high. Unofficially, he was my first boyfriend. The first boy I spent time alone with. The first boy I was comfortable around.
He is a stranger to me now. I only know of his hardships through his brother's obituary. Yet he is still important to me.

Bill Murray

"One of the things I like about acting is that, in a funny way, I come back to myself."

Headline

"Arctic ice cap melting 30 years ahead of forecast"

I believe that the damage we're doing to the environment will come back to affect us/our grandchildren eventually but come on! 30 years in the grand scheme of the Earth's history isn't making much of a difference.

Recap

I can't formulate any concrete thoughts right now so I'll just give a quick update as to what's been going on:

-My office is in the midst of a complete re-org. Not sure how I feel about it.
-I'm beginning to realize that when I *thought* I knew who I was 3 years ago, I really had no clue.
- Logic's best friend is coming into town this weekend. That means we'll be sleeping on an air mattress.
-One bedroom condos suck.
- Ranger and Logic are too cute. They've both started watching the other's team/sport to support the other person. Ranger has watched a Jazz game and Logic tries to catch any hockey games that might be on.
- It's been 6 months since I started going to the gym and I consistantly go at least 3 times a week, mostly 5. I still haven't dropped a dress size. What gives?
- I bought a new pair of sunglasses. The old ones made me look like a raccoon, I've decided.
- A guy in high school used to call me "coon" because he thought I looked like one.
-There's an immigration protest downtown this afternoon so Logic's office is closing at 3:00. Since we carpool, that means I will be leaving at 3:00. No gym for me today.
- I'm tired.