What's A Girl To Do...

when she realizes her shirtdress is more of a shirt than a dress after she's arrived at work? Such is my dilemma today. You live and learn.

Spirited Away

My friend Daniel dressed as a young Elton John but as the night wore on, he went around with my beard as Komangi from Spirited Away.
Pretty funny if I must say so myself.

Pay It Forward - Fark

"Owner of local gas station wins lottery and cuts the price of gas by over 50% at his gas pumps so local residents can share in the happiness"

A Tale of What Might Have Been, Had My Conscience Not Gotten In The Way

Let it be said that Logic and I hate Halloween. From the parties and costumes to the snotty nosed kids. But when we found out our friend, Don was having a costume party at his house we were excited. His parties are always fun and we hadn't seen that group of friends in a while so we agreed to go.
I'm not even sure how it transpired, but Logic and I decided that he'd dress up as a priest and I would be an altar boy (wig, freckles and all). We both got a real kick out of the idea and immediately started shopping for our costumes.
But something happened between then and now and we're starting to feel guilty. (Damn that Catholic guilt!) Sure, the plan was to shock but we certainly don't want to offend any of our friends and we're suddenly afraid that we're taking it too far.
What do you think? Would you be offended? And if so, do you have any suggestions as to how my costume can still compliment Logic's priest getup?

*Update:
I think I've come up with another costume. How about this:
Logic is still a priest and I'll be a rabbi. We'll be a literal joke: A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar...
Any takers?

"Human Pin Cushion"

The length that people will go to in an effort to have a boy in China. This woman believes her grandparents inserted over 25 pins into her in an attempt to change her sex. Years later, the late grandparents missed seeing her be rushed into surgery after finding blood in her urine.
"[The needles] had penetrated vital organs such as the lungs, kidney and liver, while a needle in her brain had broken into three pieces.
Others in her chest were lodged near major arteries."
No word on why the grandparents thought poking their granddaughter with 26 pins would turn her into a boy.

I Carry Your Heart (I Carry It In My Heart)

I watched the movie In Her Shoes yesterday. I went into it with some trepidation because Cameron Diaz can make or break a film. But Toni Collette and Shirley MacLaine prompted me to watch it anyway.
It starts out with a younger sister and an older sister in their same old rut. The younger, Cameron, is irresponsible and the older, Toni, takes care of her. But Cameron's character finally goes too far and Toni forces her out. It's a story of what it's like to be a sister. Loving, hating, fighting, hating some more, growing apart and then growing up.
There is one scene in particular that stood out for me and made me think of my sister, Paige. She and I have had our ups and downs. Lots of loving, hating, fighting, hating.... and I think we've finally reached a plateau. A place where we have accepted each other for who we are and also loved each other for that. I'm sure our relationship will continue to change but this poem will always sum it up:

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

by E.E. Cummings

I love you Sister!

Lush

While in B.C., I stumbled upon a bath shop called Lush. I'd never heard of it but later realized there was a location a mile from my office in Seattle. Anyway, in the shop there are buckets and buckets of bath bombs, soaps, lotions, shower jellies and more. I couldn't help myself - I scoured every bucket until deciding on the perfect six bombs to get.
I'm a girl who loves her bath time so this store was like heaven to me. I picked out a variety of bombs for every occasion (sex bomb to waving, not drowning) and rushed to the register, hoping to bring them home and enjoy them all before waking up from the dream.
I held onto that bag for dear life and stashed it in a safe place as soon as we returned home. And last night, after an intense yoga session I had a chance to use my first bomb. For the life of me, I can't remember it's name now but let me tell you - it was amazing. After twenty minutes in the bath, I began to worry that I couldn't get out. Literally, I couldn't move. But when the effervescing stopped and the water began to cool off, I mustered up the strength to pull myself out. Nearly 18 hours later, I may be out of the tub, but I am still feeling the relaxing effects of that bomb.

Yoga Journal

"Every now and then I notice there's a part of me that just watches all this, a witness, and seems to be very steady. It's a definite presence, and it feels loving. It's the part of me that wants everything to work out for the best for all of us, and somehow knows that it will."

courtesy of "Give Me Strenth"

A Glimpse

I love adventure. I love learning. I love travel.
But a few years ago, something in me switched and the easy-going, free-spirited me shut down and bolted the doors. I can still see out from where I am today, but I am a shriveled lump in the center of my soul. Something scared me and I've been on sick-leave ever since.
So in the meantime, my replacement has taken office. This faux-me still loves all the same things only she has newly formed obstacles that prevent her from doing them without fear and anxiety. A new voice occupies her head. And this voice is menacing. Instructing this faux-me to see things differently. To find fault and aggression where it doesn't exist. And to create tremendous upheaval where there used to be peace.
This last weekend was a perfect example. A trip to Canada would have been a pleasant adventure three years ago but to faux-me it was a relentless tornado of insecurity and fear. Irrational thoughts popped into her head and buried themselves deep into her psyche. Overtaking any trace of contentment, they poked and prodded until hitting the right nerve.
The negative thoughts swirled throughout her entire body; causing turmoil in every inch until finally- finally her body rejected them in the form of vomit. As soon as the venomous words hit the pavement she felt immediate relief. Her head cleared simultaneously with her stomach and she allowed the real me to get a glimpse. A glimpse of the mess she's allowed to control her.
The faux-me will do that occasionally. Tease me with the reality of what life used to be and could still be, had I not tripped that switch. A life of curiosity equaling excitement and a zest for endless opportunities. A strong, witty, defiant me that wouldn't take shit from anyone and mowed past those minuscule antagonizers with a grace that butterflies would envy.

I See Both

How about you?

The Cycle of Life - No Longer Living at Home

They swept into town last Friday and immediately cocooned me with comfort, familiarity, faith and unconditional love. There were many walks, home cooked meals, hugs, back-scratches and teasing. We watched movies (Freedom Writers, Becoming Jane), did some shopping (Dwell in Possibilities Calendar, Panasonic Linex FZ18- from Logic), indulged in dessert (cream puffs, confetti cake, apple pie) and framed some of my pictures for their house.
They will leave tomorrow and I will not see them again for months.
I miss them already.

Which Candidate Agrees With You?

Here's a quiz to show which presidential candidate's views are most like your own:

Select a Canditate

I was surprised to find Kucinich and Richardson at the top of my list. Very interesting.

The Check Up

My stomach hurts, my mind is going a thousand miles a minute and I find myself staring out the window at the (rare) blue sky. I recognize all those signs as anxiety but spend the day trying to place it.
My birthday is tomorrow. That's a GOOD thing. My parents are here to celebrate with me. That's a GREAT thing. I'm taking the day off. Another GOOD thing. My mom is making my favorite cake and cooking a meal that reminds me of home. Another GREAT thing. So what is it that has my stomach in knots? Then it hits me. Logic is at the doctor for his check up.
Eight years ago, late at night, at a hospital in Portland he was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Disease. It felt like this. And every time I am reminded of his struggle and eventual conquering of the disease I am stabbed in the gut with the fear of a recurrence.
I won't hear about the appointment until tonight and neither of us will have results for a week so my anxiety today won't do any good. (When does it ever?) And yet, here I am. Anxious.

Amazing Picture Of The Day Award:

The Wall (A Self Portrait)

Do you see him?

Morale

In a rare attempt to cheer us up before the busy holiday season, my office is taking everyone out to The Garage this afternoon. My team will play pool, bowl, drink beer and eat a lot of crap. Should be fun.

The Acorn: Another Excerpt From "Eat, Pray, Love"

"My thoughts turn to something I read once, something the Zen Buddhists believe. They say that an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously, there is the acorn from which it all begins, the seed which holds all the promise and potential, which growns into the tree. Everybody can see that. But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well - the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void, guiding the evolution from nothingness to maturity. In this respect, say the Zens, it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it was born.
I think about the woman I have become lately, about the life that I am now living, and about how much I always wanted to be this person and live this life, liberated from the farce of pretending to be anyone other than myself. I think of everything I endured before getting here and wonder if it was me- I mean, this happy and balanced me, who is now dozing on the deck of the small Indonesian fishing boat-who pulled the other, younger, more confused and more struggling me forward during all those hard years. The younger me was the acorn full of potential, but it was the older me, the already-existent oak, who was saying the whole time-'Yes-grow! Change! Evolve!Come and meet me here, where I already exist in wholeness and maturity! I need you to grow into me!' And maybe it was this present and fully actualized me who was hovering four years ago over that young married sobbing girl on the bathroom floor, and maybe it was this me who whispered lovingly into that desperate girl's ear, 'Go back to bed, Liz...' Knowing already that everything would be OK, that everything would eventually bring us together here. Right here, right to this moment. Where I was always waiting in peace and contentment, always waiting for her to arrive and join me."

Observation:

How appropriate that I changed my template to incorporate this picture before I even read the passage below.

Forgiveness

"On my ninth day of silence, I went into meditation one evening on the beach as the sun was going down and I didn't stand up again until after midnight. I remember thinking: 'This is it, Liz.' I said to my mind, ' this is your chance. Show me everything that is causing you sorrow. Let me see all of it. Don't hold anything back.' One by one, the thoughts and memories of sadness raised their hands, stood up to identify themselves. I looked at each thought, at each unit of sorrow, and I acknowledged its existence and felt (without trying to protect myself from it) its horrible pain. And then I would tell that sorrow, ' It's OK. I love you. I accept you. Come into my heart now. It's over.' I would actually feel the sorrow (as if it were a living thing) enter my heart (as if it were an actual room). Then I would say, 'Next?' and the next bit of grief would surface. I would regard it, experience it, bless it, and invite it into my heart, too. I did this with every sorrowful thought I'd ever had-reaching back into years of memory-until nothing was left.
Then I said to my mind, 'Show me your anger now.' One by one, my life's every incident of anger rose and made itself known. Every injustice, every betrayal, every loss, every rage. I saw them all, one by one, and I acknowledged their existence. I felt each piece of anger completely, as if it were happening for the first time, and then I would say, 'Come into my heart now. You can rest there. It's safe now. It's over. I love you.' This went on for hours, and I swung between these mighty poles of opposite feelings-experiencing the anger thoroughly for one bone-rattling moment, and then experiencing a total coolness, as the anger entered my heart as if through a door, laid itself down, curled up against its brothers and gave up fighting.
Then came the most difficult part. 'Show me your shame,' I asked my mind. Dear God, the horrors that I saw then. A pitiful parade of all my failings, my lies, my selfishness, jealousy, arrogance. I didn't blink from any of it, though. 'Show me your worst,' I said. When I tried to invite these units of shame into my heart, they each hesitated at the door, saying, 'No-you don't want me in there...don't you know what I did?' And I would say, 'I do want you. Even you. I do. Even you are welcome here. It's OK. You are forgiven. You are part of me. You can rest now. It's over.'
When all this was finished, I was empty. Nothing was fighting in my mind anymore. I looked into my heart, at my own goodness, and I saw its capacity. I saw that my heart was not even nearly full, not even after having taken in and tended to all those calamitous urchins of sorrow and anger and shame; my heart could easily have received and forgiven even more. Its love was infinite.
I knew then that this is how God loves us all and receives us all, and that there is no such thing in this universe as hell, except maybe in our own terrified minds. Because if even one broken and limited human being could experience even one such episode of absolute forgiveness and acceptance of her own self, then image-just imagine!-what God, in all His eternal compassion, can forgive and accept.
I also knew somehow that this respite of peace would be temporary. I knew that I was not yet finished for good, that my anger, my sadness and my shame would all creep back eventually, escaping my heart, and occupying my head once more. I knew that I would keep dealing with these thoughts again and again until I slowly and determinedly changed my whole life. And that this would be difficult and exhausting to do. But my heart said to my mind in the dark silence of that beach: 'I love you, and I will never leave you, I will always take care of you.' That promise floated up out of my heart and I caught it in my mouth and held it there, tasting it as I left the beach and walked back to the little shack where I was staying. I found an empty notebook, opened it up to the first page-and only then did I open my mouth and speak those words into the air, letting them free. I let those words break my silence and then I allowed my pencil to document their colossal statement on the paper:
'I love you, I will never leave you, I will always take care of you.'
Those were the first words I ever wrote in that private notebook of mine, which I would carry with me from that moment forth, turning back to it many times over the next few years, always asking for help-and always finding it, even when I was most deadly sad or afraid. And that notebook, steeped through with that promise of love, was quite simply the only reason I survived the next two years of my life.

~From the book Eat, Pray, Love