Nervous!

Matt is having trouble building endurance. So I offered to run with him tomorrow in order to get a better idea as to what exactly could be going on. Is it a form issue? A pace issue? I'll know more tomorrow.

I plan to run to Matt's (2.75 miles), then do three miles with him at a 3-min run/1-min walk interval. Hopefully he will agree to give me a lift home, otherwise I'll hoof the 2.75 miles back to my neighborhood.

Even with the ride, I'm looking at almost six miles to run tomorrow... the most significant distance I've attempted since getting my feet back under me. And from what I understand, Matt's route contains some pretty significant hills...

Thankfully, I'll be able to soothe my aching muscles and possibly bruised ego over dinner at Dukem with two good friends later that evening.

Shakin' Things Up

After an unscheduled day off this week I decided to shake things up and make sure I wasn't losing strength. I hate taking unscheduled days off; it's a very dangerous habit to get into. So I chose a little longer route with significant elevation changes. See below.


The hardest part of running is the mental part. It always blows my mind. I don't get fatigued running up a hill until I can see the top. I can feel at my strongest until I can actually see my apartment building, and then I can't. run. another. step.

I don't really like the way my shins are feeling these days. I think I'm due for a few pair of shoes. And a massage. Not necessarily in that order.

False Alarm!

I was this close to travelling with Stephanie to Colombia this Saturday, but her family doesn't think it would be safe to take a foreigner into the smaller villages where they would be going to spend time with aunts and uncles. So, in the interest of not being kidnapped by guerillas, I will concede their judgment.

However, her law firm will be putting her up in a swanky London flat for six weeks this summer, my father is contemplating a brief assignment in either Eastern Europe or China, and my mom is still trying to arrange a trip to Ireland in the fall. So all my highly active travel bug will be let out of it's cage this year... stay tuned!

Should i practice swallowing really big grapes?

All will become clear... hopefully by tomorrow afternoon!

Finally

A much needed morning to myself. It's my own fault for working late on Friday and early on Saturday, but the overtime will be worth it. The other result, however, is that I feel totally burned out between that and all the hectic weekends I've had so far.

I mysteriously injured my shin yeserday. My routine 4-miler felt great, but when I got home I developed a dull ache in the lower part of my right shin. Doesn't feel like shin splints. But I almost cried walking down to the Metro last night to meet the gang at Sonoma where we were able, somehow, tragically and only by possessing hearts like champion race horses, to kill the $800 open bar tab created for her fiance's birthday. Steph was worried it wouldn't happen. My naive little Stephanie.

This morning I am slightly hungover - but my shin feels a lot better.

I'm fighting the urge to run off to yoga because I really, really want to stay home and have an unstructured half day. I only want to want to go to the 10:30 class so I don't disappoint Keith, and having realized that that the motivation appears to center around pleasing the instructor and not the yoga practice itself, I decided to chill out and go to the 4pm Open class instead. Keith would understand a need to rest. I'll pick up the pace at Mysore on Tuesday.

Ungh

I'm tired. I've been busy. Good things, mind you - a fantastic trip to Manhattan, my mom and John visiting for a long weekend, lots of running and yoga and long walks during my lunch break.

But I haven't really had much unstructured time to just rest. This weekend I'll be working, which makes three in a row with little opportunity for rejuvenation. And while dawn is breaking significantly earlier (I see rays of light by the time my bus drops me off at work!) I still feel generally run down and slow.

In better news, I've added one mile to my weekday running route, for a total of four miles Monday and four Thursday; five at minimum on Saturday. Here is a map of the four-miler:


It's a decent route, hilly enough to be interesting and populated enough to be distracting.

I just want warm weather. I want light feminine clothing and lemonade. I want to do yoga on the roof and break a sweat while running. I want to throw the windows open and walk outside without tensing against the cold. Soon??

Afternoon Pix

This is a snowplow out on patrol. Note the mostly dry pavement. Note no flurries in the air. I'm all for readiness and all... but this is just silly.





Creepy: two dead birds.

Stuff

I'm delinquent on the blog, which is nothing new.

Last night my mom and her husband, my brother, his fiancee, his future in-laws, and I went over to the ::drumroll::.... H ST NORTHEAST CORRIDOR for dinner and a show.

I only give the drumroll because twelve months ago I severely admonished a friend of mine for venturing to that part of town to visit a bar. It wasn't safe. At all.

It still isn't, really, but there's safety in numbers and one block seems to be gentrifying at a pretty decent rate. There's a cool theater there (The Atlas) and a restaurant that, with some more time under it's belt, will be impossible to get in to. But right now, due to the prix fixe menu and the fact that that it's probably difficult to attract experienced servers to a fledgling restaurant in a fledgling neighborhood, the dining experience was only average.

I've been at a steady four miles per day and feeling good about it. No matter how hard I tried, various impediments have precluded me from going to the yoga studio recently. I'm starved. I'll go Tuesday.

In other news, the powers that be tell me that "ballet" will be in for spring. I can't wait. I think I pull off soft and pretty fairly well, despite my dirty mouth! It would help if I could add another two inches to my hair length...

Unintended Consequences

So it seems that my running days, which are becoming longer and more frequent, provide great opportunities to do good deeds! It seems like every other time I'm out there I'm either able to give directions or help someone cross the street. Yay!

On the other hand, it also makes me the unwitting target of leering strangers. Now, I can see it happening in the summer months when I'm flashing my gazelle-like legs around town, but in the winter? Really? When I look like a blob wearing a sack? Is it really necessary to call me "baby?"

Everyone's got their paraphilia, I guess.

NYC Pics

Okay, I'm really annoyed at blogger right now. Some of these pics aren't posting as the size they should be... argh. And I can't get the line breaks to look right. But anyway, you can see them, I guess, and if you aren't happy here you can go check out the links I left in the previous post to Trent's blog, where the photos came out much nicer. Anyway, for your viewing pleasure, some photographic documentation of our fabulous weekend in Manhattan!



Trent and I after seeing Rent on Broadway. We saw that show together almost ten times back in 1997 at the Fisher Theater in Detroit!




Trent, David, and I having small plates at Tasca in the West Village.





All dressed up and someplace to go? - Siouxsie!!!






Trent's punk a nice contrast to my glam.






A goddess.






A muse.






We bask in the presence of Siouxsie Sioux!






Post-concert contentedness.

Back to my humble little life

Well, I made it home from a wild weekend in Manhattan. Details and pictures to follow tomorrow, but if you just can't wait you can check out Trent's blog for Saturday and Sunday... he posted pictures and a recap at the end of the posts passed the gossip and newslinks...

A Lazy Day in the West Village

So I arrived in Manhattan yesterday and the weekend started off big! Trent and I went for a walk around Soho and found a great little place to have lunch. Then we ended up at Diesel (surprise surprise, Trent's favorite store) where I fell in love with a cute little summer dress. It was one of Diesel's runway pieces - only eight or twelve exist in the NYC and Melrose stores. At Trent's prodding, I tried it on. It looked hot and adorable and sexy all at the same time, but unfortunately cost almost as much as my rent payment.

Well.. I am blessed with a generous friend because that dress is sitting in a bag right next to my suitcase waiting to be brought back to DC.

Then we went on to see Rent. The two of saw Rent several times in Detroit almost ten years ago as our friendship was just beginning, and I have to say that I think that cast was a little better than the cast last night. Roger in particular was a little disappointing, but we had a good time nonetheless. Then we met up with Trent's boyfriend David for some small plates at Tasca before finishing the night Vlada, a bar where few females frequent, if you get my drift. Trent got recognized everywhere we went, which was a little weird for me, seeing as how I've known him since before he even knew what a blog was.

We've just lounged around all day today. I dragged myself out for a four-mile run along the Hudson River in a cold Manhattan rain; now it's naptime so we can be awake and energized for Siouxsie's solo show in a few hours.

I'll post a few photos tomorrow night or Monday, once I get them all from Trent's camera. Stay tuned!

The universe has a way of getting what she wants

This coming Tuesday is "Chesapeake Tuesday." Maryland, Virginia, and DC will hold primary elections, and the race (at least for the Democrats) is close enough that the votes will really count.

Except mine, which will not be cast, because I'm registered No Party/Independent.

However, on Monday I will be serving jury duty. So even though I don't take part in this stage of the electoral process, I will be upholding my duty as a citizen in another realm.

I leave for Manhattan tomorrow morning. Stay tuned.

Siouxsie Sioux!

I'm Going To Manhattan Fo' Shizzle!!

Ah! God! I can't wait to see my dearest friend in the whole world! The friend I knew back before he became famous. Lordy, it's weird to go out with someone who's recognized by strangers. But it's cool, I never object to living the high life the couple weekends that we spend together per year.

Here is a shot of the two of us in LA almost exactly a year ago, enjoying a Thai feast.
















So, here's the scoop:

I leave Friday afternoon on the Hasidim bus, which is apparently much less sketchy than the Chinatown bus. I should arrive just in time to rush for front-row tickets to see Rent, which is leaving Broadway forever! This is major for Trent and I, since we solidified our friendship back in 1997 by seeing Rent in Detroit many a time (what was the final count? At least eight times for me, more for you!).

Then Saturday I plan to go on a nice run around Soho, which is where Trent's boyfriend lives and where I'll be crashing for the weekend. T will have to work (the man never takes a day off!) so I'll have the morning to myself.

The highlight of the weekend will be Saturday's concert - Siouxsie and the Banshees, for crying out loud! Trent and I saw her with her band The Creatures back in 1998 at The Shelter in Detroit. Some of you may recognize The Shelter from the movie 8-Mile; it's where Eminem competed in the rap battles that eventually made him famous. Anyway, she is amazing. She is a goddess and a muse. She is totally hot. Siouxsie Sioux... I can't believe it. I'm definitely going to channel my glam/rocker side for this event. I'm planning a hot red dress with black knee-high boots.

Then Sunday we'll just chill and probably catch up on some Simpson's viewing before I catch the bus back to DC. And Monday... jury duty.

So, I can't figure out how to embed text and the video in the same post, but the video you see is my darling Siouxsie performing one of my favorites, Swimming Horses. Enjoy! And be jealous...

A Zero Interest Day

So, it's the Super Bowl. Yipee.

I have no interest in the match, the half-time show, or the commercials. None whatsoever. But I'm going to stop by a friend's party anyway and take advantage of the amazing locale, decor, and cuisine. I'm sure I'll get at least partially caught up in the excitement of the occasion, right?

And then I'll be meeting up with a long-lost friend for an Afghan birthday dinner. So it should be a decent Sunday, and then it's back to the grind.

I leave for Manhattan on Friday!! More details coming soon.

Better Now

Wow, sorry for the alarm. I'm back on my feet. I left work a few hours early, took a nice long nap, and proceeded to have the strongest run that I can remember, in recent history.

I know myself as a runner well enough to know where my trouble spots are. I know that right around McKinley St I start to fatigue. I know that right after Military Rd, heading home, I start to get really bored and have to play a few mental games to get through it. I know how fast I need to start my run in order to have a positive split (i.e., running the second half faster than the first).

Today, none of that mattered. I started out at a clip that felt alarmingly fast. I never hit the wall. I never got bored. I probably shaved four minutes off my time, which is amazing at my pace and distance. I didn't want to stop. I wasn't breathing hard. I felt like a machine.

Self-Sabotage

Well, I never should have taken that second round of sedatives last night just before midnight, but I was desperate to get to sleep. It's mid-morning now and I'm clearly still under the influence. I could barely keep my feet under me this morning when I woke up.

I hate to say it, but I'm not sure I'll be able to manage my run this afternoon. Yesterday was my scheduled day off, and I don't want to take two in a row, but I would rather rest than have a bad run. I don't know. I'm trying to avoid making a decision until I get home from work and see how my body feels. Taking unscheduled days off is a Very Bad Habit to get into.

I hate this.

Suffocation

I fucking hate anxiety.

I'm suffocating and sedatives aren't working and I've been choking on my own breath for hours and that's just tonight. My alarm is going to go off way to soon to put up with this shit.

Go away and leave me alone. I fucking hate you.

ANXIETY

It's A Joy To Be-Fore I Sleep

The following is the result of a joint post composed by Matt and I after one and a half bottles of wine and scouring our memories for conversations over the past several years.

Reasons Matt and Diana Can Never Date

-Diana is too clean.
-Diana does not do well with "flaky" people. To her, this means people who do not always arrive EXACTLY when (or before) they say they will, or people who do not always do things EXACTLY as she expects them to be done. (N.B.: Diana's "expectations" are based (fairly) on what the person says they will do.)
-Diana has cats. Matt has a bird.
-Diana likes red wine. Matt only likes white wine.
-Diana notices everything Matt may happen to do accidentally. Matt thrives on people overlooking the little things.
-Diana can't sing. (N.B.: Not true!)
-Diana refuses to serenade Matt on her bazooki (N.B.: bouzouki).
-Diana thinks that Vespas are cooler than Segways.
-Diana makes more money than Matt does.
-Diana won't let Matt touch her. When Matt tries, she says, "HEY now! No funny stuff!"
-Diana is technologically inept.
-Diana is afraid of Matt's messy apartment.
-Diana is a fan of the "tough love" school of losing weight. Matt needs babying.
-Diana does not buy into Matt's many reasonable excuses.
-Diana likes the car/apartment far too warm for Matt's tastes.
-Diana gets up way too early and does not enjoy the night life.
-Diana is too argumentative.
-Diana doesn't like chick flicks.
-Matt has seen Diana naked in a professional context. (N.B.: Matt would still likely give Diana a chance because he is a compassionate individual. But to Diana, Matt is like a doctor. Matt has seen her, clinically, in all her glory. Romance is a difficult and fleeting thing to achieve, and the clinical aspect of the photography has made that tricky.)
-There is a lot of competition for Diana.

Let's hear it for collarbones!

Right, so, it's time to get all this under control again. I would like to bring my BMI down 1.5 points, and while I won't go so far as to post the current number (I'm not as brave as Matt when it comes to making personal stats public) I will let y'all know when it gets where it should be.

The weather is cold but generally mild and has made for the following schedule to be maintained pretty consistently:

Monday - 3.3 mile run
Tuesday - yoga
Wednesday - off
Thursday - 3.3 mile run
Friday - yoga
Saturday - 4 mile run
Sunday - yoga

I'm off ice cream indefinitely and trying to avoid the other winter culprits like hot chocolate and (my beloved) chai latte.

I have a host of special events on the calendar this year, including an upcoming trip to Manhattan and four weddings (two of which I'm standing in), so that should be enough motivation to keep the scale moving steadily down!

Nothing Further

Naked yoga. In my bathroom.

That's all I'm saying.

I can't seem to stop breaking glass today!

I woke up a klutz. My first act of the day was to break a glass in the kitchen. A few minutes later, I knocked my fruit bowl off the counter and spent a good minute cleaning up layers of shallot and garlic peel from the depths of the corners. Then I got on a bit of a cleaning kick and promptly shattered one of the glass lightbulb shields in my bathroom.

Later I managed to run AND go grocery shopping sans calamity, but the rest of the evening was spent inside never far from a precautionary box of band-aids.

I Feel Too Fat to go to Yoga

Or more precisely, I feel too fat to put on my fitted yoga clothes and stare at my self contorting in a mirror for an hour and a half.

I had the most delectable lunch: a panini with grilled chicken, avocado, and roasted red peppers. For dessert, a raspberry and strawberry crepe with one perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Hence, fatness. I have fifteen minutes to decide what to do. Fourteen.

EDITED TO ADD: I went to yoga and I feel amazing. An inch taller. More lithe. Glad I swallowed my shallow body-consciousness and made a healthy choice. Here's to not being neurotic!

A Question for Myself

If a person prays to God for stronger faith, does God just give them faith? Or does He present them with situations that require faith and trust?

I don't pray for a specific path to present itself, I only pray that the path He has laid be illuminated and that, through grace, I am given the courage to walk down it.

One foot in front of the other...

Back in 2004 when I was distance running, I became co-dependent with my watch. I relied on it to track my pace, to ensure that I was running a positive split, and to schedule walk breaks (hey, don't judge me. When everything over 6 miles is a personal distance record and you're attemping 14 or 16 for the first time, you may need to walk a little. Or maybe that's just me.)

Since then, I've never, ever run without my watch. Until today, when I got home from work, suited up, and realized that the batteries were dead.

Can you guys believe that I almost bagged my run? Over a dead watch? How lame. After a stern self-lecture I abated my panic attack, laced up my shoes, and proceeded to run my strongest 3.3-miler since I got back out there a few months ago after my hamstring hiatus.

I powered up hills and let it fly on the plateaus. I sprinted through intersections to make the green light and lept over branches and curbs to avoid moms with strollers. I sweated, I burned, and I didn't miss my watch one bit.

Silver Lining

So I'm back to an annoying pre-0630h start time at work. But there is a bright side. Now that I take the 6:01 bus instead of the 6:36 bus, I can avoid the creepy Salvadoran guy half the time! Sometimes he is on my afternoon bus depending on which one I take, but at least I can avoid him in the morning.

Also, the 6:01 bus is right on time, and the 6:36 bus was very inconsistent and so I would end up having to go out early and wait up to ten minutes. And let me tell you, at that hour, every minute feels like an hour...

Temporary Hiatus

Yeah, I know I've been neglectful of IaJtbH lately... seems to be going around... I'll be back soon!

LOL!

Very funny.

Just 'cuz

Can't make up my mind!

I want to start running again! But I don't have sufficient clothing. One improvement via a Christmas present (thank you!!) but there are a few more things I would need... like shoes... and gloves...

I like the idea of running but am ambivalent about actually getting out there. Maybe what I need to do is carve out some time dedicated to running over the course of two weeks and make myself get out there and not skip a planned day. A little jump-start to get me through the painful endurance-building stage. A scheduled addiction acquisition.

Yeah. I'll do that. But first I have to get a day planner. And some shoes. And gloves.

It's that time again

The time for resolutions!

I love resolutions. I love the challenge of improving myself. Call me a nerd, I don't care!

Some of my resolutions this year are financial, and I won't go into detail here, obviously.

But I also want to:

Read more books (fiction and non)
Shop at the Farmer's Market more often (it's only three blocks away!)
Form a solid plan and take some actionable steps in re: my career future
Grow my hair longer!

Let it begin!

Bet

I have a bet with someone from work on the Wings/Caps game tonight.

When the Wings win, he will:
-Go around the office and tell everyone that the Wings do, in fact, rule and that his loyalties have been gravely misdirected all these years;
-Put a WINGS RULE sign on his desk for a week;
-Put a full-color WINGS RULE signs on all his car windows for a week;
-Wear a Wings jersey to the Adams Mill Grill on Thursday night when the Capitals play the Montreal Canadiens.

This guy is a long-time, hard-core Washington Capitals fan and will find all these conditions, even the first three which seem pretty minor to me, a grave injustice. He will be hurting. I will be smiling to myself... not gloating, really, just wondering at his childlike ignorance of the way the world works.

As if the Caps have a chance. Stay tuned.

Middlesex

By Jeffrey Eugenides. An excellent read. Intimate prose. A fascinating story - and set right in Motown, too.

I've been volunteering my time this week to help wrap Christmas presents for a toy giveaway. The first step was to sort the donations by gender, and then by age. This led to an interesting discussion about gender identity and socialization, especially when a guy I was working with threw a Rubik's Cube onto the "boy" pile! Rubik's Cubes are definitely "unisex." :)

In Middlesex, the main character is raised as a girl until, at age 15, her parents discover that she is genetically male. Until that point she self-identified as female, was attracted to females, and had female external genitalia. Her doctors recommend surgery to 'correct' a slightly ambiguous external genital, which would make her physically female, all the while noting in her file that her sex-chromosomes are male.

Is she male or female? Do sex-chromosomes or socialization determine gender, or is it a combination of both? Are there other variables that work in determining gender identification? If a child is born with ambiguous genitalia, should the doctor or the parents 'decide' what the child should be?

The hijras in India are an interesting example of a 'third gender' group generally marginalized but at the same time play a very important and revered role in certain religious ceremonies.

I saw a cute commercial recently. I can't remember the product beining sold, but the segment opens with a little boy tearing into his Christmas presents under a tree. Barbies, ponies, sparkly art kits, these are the sorts of things he's getting and you can see his face falling and becoming sad. He scrawls a letter: "Dear Santa, Kelly is a boy's name, too!"

I need to get me some smarts

I think I'm getting dumber.

So I have a plan.

Tonight I will devise a study plan for the winter which will involve brushing up on my philosophy, history, and law.

I am also going to try to do Sudoku every day, even though I suck at it. I'll still crossword too, but Sudoku is a real challenge for me and I think my brain could use the workout.

Can't... lose... intelligence...

Fierce Dreams

Some of my faithful readers will remember that my dreams are often innundated with large, exotic wild animals, and often bears. Sometimes I'm observing these animals, sometimes interacting with them, and sometimes they are trying to attack me.

Last night I dreamt that my dad and step-mother and I were getting ready to run a marathon. I remembered in my dream that when I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in 2004 that my shoes weren't as broken in as they should have been, which caused me some problems, and I was relieved that I had good shoes and socks for this run. My dad was putting a protein bar in his pocket for later but I was planning on buying one (?) halfway through.

So my step-mother and I posed for a pre-race picture when my dad shouted a warning. I looked through a line of trees to a field beyond and saw a huge lion bounding towards us. I dropped to the ground and laid there on my face and prayed to God while the lion stood next to me, deciding whether to attack.

Then, flash to my apartment and a huge lioness trying to get through the door. I could hear her pacing around outside in the hallway, and when she leaned on the door it opened and she could get a paw or her head inside! I was trying to lean on the door and close it, and there was this pet-door in the bottom center of the door that she was trying to squeeze through.

So I lit some paper on fire and blew the smoke towards her and she retreated a bit. Then I saw that my neighbor from across the hall had nailed some wood across his pet-door, and it seemed like he had been through this before and knew what to do.

But I was thinking, how can I nail something across this door when I have to hold the door shut so she doesn't push it open? But I managed to run and get a hammer and nails from the kitchen, and some cross-thatched Chinese screens I'm storing in my closet (in real life, actually!) and started to nail them across the pet-door.

Then I woke up, buried under the covers, on my stomach with my face underneath a pillow, ten minutes before my alarm.

I have two very cold real-life lionesses won't stay out of my lap or off my feet, which is just fine with me.

Paraphilia Memorabilia

"Prepare yourself to see some genitalia."

Truer prophecies than these, by my training instructor today, were never spoken.

Unfortunately, we were studying sex homicide, so the genitalia we viewed (photographically) weren't exactly... in tact. I will spare you further details.

It's a quiet snowy night (have you ever noticed how snow quiets the world?) and my brother has cancelled our sushi plans, understandable, so I have some much needed time to myself. Characteristically, I'm in the middle of three books. I still haven't put together my photos from the trip I took with my mom to Greece this past June. I might wrap some Christmas presents!!!! And I will certainly go to bed early, to wake early, as usual.

Rest for My Soul

So, I haven't really been running. For a while there I was doing okay, slowly building up my base mileage again. But now it's cold, and dark too early, and I don't have any proper running clothes, and I need new shoes, and running isn't giving me the pleasure it once did. So maybe my return to the streets was short lived. Maybe I'll try again once spring rolls around.

This has been a hellish, stressful, busy week. Two 13-hour shifts; being in a screaming speeding police car resulting in close proximity to a fire after three of the people I work for interrupted each other to call us pathetic for two and a half hours; a lovely dinner with a friend but I still reeked of smoke and pathos; a filthy apartment; neglected furry creatures.

I can barely take care of myself this week, and I'm just one person.

Some Girls Wander By Mistake

I wish I could compose a post as thoughtfully apologetic as Matt's as to why I haven't been writing much lately. But I can't. And I won't try.

I'm here. I've been travelling. Working, yoga, running, blah blah blah.

My life is a little weird right now. Up until my mid-twenties, things seemed to move in several-year stages. Three years of middle school, four years of high school, four years of college, two years of graduate school. And now I've just finished up my third year of full-time work, and I can feel myself getting antsy, not because I've lost my contentedness, but because the pendulum has swung back, the rhythm started over, and my life's clock says it's time for something new.

I also might be getting a little too comfortable. That frightens me. I don't
want to be too comfortable in my life. I want to be challenged and improving and a little afraid. Not afraid, excactly, but I don't want to become too accustomed to God's graces. I want to be awed by them continuously, and thankful, and most of all, I want to steward well the gifts He has given me and continues to give.

I Need a New Head

I have a cold.

BLAH.

A Gentle Start

Earlier today I was feeling just plain weak. Weak-willed, weak physically, weak spiritually. Generally just feeling like I sucked. Feeling short and scrunched up and inflexible and impure.

The driving rain and whipping wind that plagued me today didn't help my condition, but a nice, gentle, beginning level yoga class did. Immensely. I went in there feeling as though the only difference between me and a first-week beginner was that I had the Primary Series memorized. But soon enough my chest opened, my back lengthened, my hamstrings... well, not so much, but my mind settled down, and now I feel long and lithe and clean.

Yoga is like the Fountain of Youth. Seriously.

It's Raining and I Forgot My Umbrella (and other pathetic tales of woe)

It's raining and I forgot my umbrella and have to spend most of the day outside running from office to metro to other office to metro back to office.

My muscles are all scrunched up from hours and hours in the car over the weekend and I feel like I'm back to square one with my yoga practice.

I'm on "Ladies' Holiday" this week and won't be doing much yoga anyway.

My tea doesn't have enough milk.

I need a haircut (this is hard).

I wanna go home and go to bed.

Dreary, rainy day.

Road Trip

In a silly little PT Cruiser.

Ciao!

Why I Can Never Get Anything Done

Open Letters

Dear Kind Stranger,
Although, like dear Ralph Waldo, I am bent on self-reliance, and like venerable Betsy, banner-builder, I grip the reins of my independence by its needle and thread, I offer you my deepest thanks for giving me your Metro seat this afternoon. I was not feeling well -- indeed, the horn call of my personal liberté, égalité, fraternité blared not from my bosom (see next letter) -- and was thankful to avoid the stomach-rupturing stench of the slob crammed aisle .
A thousand thanks,
Di

Dear Starbuck(s),
I supped last night on magnificent cuisine (of which the Proof was in the pudding, though I had none), and was, needless to say, unprepared to gorge myself on one of your one of your average-at-best pumpkin muffins during our morning routine. The shock to my system was truly earth-shattering; indeed, having choked down the brick, I felt as though I was doing damage to under-foot with every step as I plodded, pumpkin-esquely down the sidewalk. Were it not for that the Crisco sheen aided in the application of my cosmetics, I would have retributively left you the crumbs.
Resentfully,
Di

Home Again

I did a lot of running this past week down in Georgia, but not much yoga. So boy, was I feeling my hamstrings (and lower back, and calves, and shoulders) this morning in class. I purposefully took a Level I class because I knew I was going to need to ease back into things... god, I had it when my body is weak.

Two short weeks ahead, and a road trip to which I'm very much looking forward.

Ciao for now

I'm off for a week of top-secret training in a top-secret location.

Talk to y'all next weekend.

The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts...

I used to think that Christianity was stupid;

I used to think that in order to be perceived as having good taste I needed to criticize everything I saw/ate/read;

I used to hate olives;

I used to confuse arrogance and intelligence;

I used to think that being strong meant never needing anything from anyone;

I used to think that no one in the world was truly happy in their marriage.

..................................

I'm still afraid to answer a question unless I'm sure I know the answer;

I'm still afraid to try anything creative;

I still starve myself as punishment if I feel weak;

I still can't stop interrupting people on the phone;

I still can't do a yoga headstand;

I still enjoy dining in a restaurant by myself.

City Skyscape

She just can't get it quite right..

... so lately I have been taking the bus to work, which is actually quite nice. I like to look out the window and watch my city go by.

There is another woman who waits for the 6:36am bus with me, but she seems very confused and I don't think she actually checks the schedule. The bus, in my experience (and I don't take it every day) comes on time or within two minutes of being on time, yet this woman, right around 6:35, always starts to get really agitated and will give up on the bus. She'll hail a cab, and then the bus will usually come right after her cab has driven away.

She only takes the bus four blocks to the metro, anyway, so I don't see why she just doesn't walk... why take a $6 cab four blocks every day?

I've told her that the bus is supposed to come at 6:36, but I think she gets to the stop too early and feels like she's waited for ever, so she gets impatient.

I dunno, it's just a weird morning ritual to witness...

In Which Di Struggles To Keep Herself Intact

Lordy!

For some reason work has been really overwhelming all week. I have been falling asleep after work but still keeping up an evening yoga/running schedule, which is good, otherwise I would be turning into a completely useless lump.

The stress is enormous but the work (mostly) satisfying.

I need a moment of vanity to say the following: I'm so freaking competent at work. I rock. The volume and complexity of work I produce is truly awesome, the potential impact is life-saving, and I'm very, very proud of myself.

Run Report!

Today I began running again after an eight-month haitus. I ran a 3.3 mile route and finished in 36 minutes - not exactly a praiseworthy time, but I came in strong and felt great afterwards.

Mile 1: The beginning of my run was a struggle to run slow enough. Yep, that's right - slow enough. I'm trying to build my confidence again and set myself up to build a good base of endurance. The last thing I wanted to do was try to run my former pace and crash out early. The first part of my route is pretty much straight uphill, but I felt good.

Mile 2: The middle of the run was more difficult. My body kept trying to find it's own pace, which is ordinarily fine, except that my body's own pace was, for today, just too fast. So I consciously slowed myself down and distracted my mind by composing this post in my head.

Mile 3: By this time I had my second wind and was sailing right along - albeit slowly. I fought the urge to check my pace, fearing that knowledge of my slowness would cause me to try to speed up, which would then cause me to hit the wall and crash.

The finish: I just let my body open up for the last .3 miles or so. The finish is downhill and I was well into my second-wind at this point.

My plan is to take a yoga class tomorrow and try the same 3.3-mile route on Wednesday. I really need new running shoes, but the ones I have will do for another couple of weeks or so. I also need running clothes, being that I got rid of a lot of mine earlier this year, anticipating that when and if I started running again I would want to reinvent the wardrobe, anyway.

New Goal

I am blessedly (but, surely, momentarily) free of existential crises, so this post will be rather bland.

I'm thinking of putting on my running shoes again. My faithful readers will remember that I stopped running about six months ago to see if I could affect positive change in my hamstrings and thus open up my yoga practice.

The verdict? Uncertain. My hamstrings feel more open but I'm not sure if it's because I stopped running or because I increased the hours I spend on the yoga mat.

But with this lovely fall weather and the drop in humidity I find myself itching for a run, so I think I'll spend the rest of the year building up a good base of miles and after the First begin a serious training program to ready myself for the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler in April (thanks to Matt for the idea!).

I guess the dust hasn't cleared

Yesterday after work I hopped on the L2 bus to come home and found a young woman screaming at her toddler to take his time eating his cookie. Just after I sat down, she slapped him three times and took the cookie away because he wasn't 'eating it properly.'

The kid didn't flinch or whimper at all. His startle reflex has already burned out.

A few minutes later she was crooning happily to him and then announced to the bus that today was his birthday, he's turning one year old.

She gave the cookie back but still wasn't happy with how he was eating it, so she filled his bottle with some of her Diet Pepsi and shoved it in his mouth. He started crying and couldn't hold the cookie, bottle, and his blanket all at once so the bottle sort of fell in his lap. He continued to sob a little and his mother picked up the bottle, shoved it in his chest and shouted that the bottle is RIGHT THERE and she doesn't know what else he wants from her.

They got off the bus at the National Zoo and I thought that would be a nice birthday afternoon for a one-year old, but instead she crossed the street away from the zoo entrance. We were stopped at the light there and I watched her push the stroller into the liquor store.

My heart broke for that little boy and today I am still thinking about it today.

The Great Reminder

Plato said, "Be kind, for those who you meet are fighting a harder battle."

If there's one undercurrent to an education in the classics it's that anything meant to cultivate and improve the mind necessarily involves a certain amount of labor, and labor with no discernible end.

It's so easy to get absorbed in the work itself, the winter work of persistence and consistency and rhythm. The progress truly begins to come, however, with the realization that the fruits of all this labor lie outside of the labor itself. Disproportionate focus on the work is like looking at the finger pointing to the moon and missing the moon itself.

It's always been tempting for me to find my salvation in work, in the law, in the rules. Doing feels good, it feels productive and meaningful; in some ways it feels good to suffer and to punish myself for any perceived weakness.

Be gentler with me than I am with myself.

Trite

Sometimes you don't realize how valuable something is until it goes away, or almost does. I guess that's what's called 'taking for granted.'

I feel anxious and jittery. I've been cleaning and pacing. I'm not calm.

I miss yoga.

Wow, this feels more vulnerable than I thought it would...

Inspired by the resurgence of Matt's Primal Eloquence blog, I just attempted to outline my own two-week workout/weight loss plan right here in public.

But I just can't do it.

Matt, how do you make that sort of thing public and still... be okay??

Maybe it's just me, but - I hate talking about food in terms of dieting. Describe me a gorgeous eat-with-your-eyes-first haute cuisine dining experience and I'll beg you to go on forever, but talk to me about your low-cal this and non-fat that, how much you're eating and at what times of day and I just want to scream and poke my eyes out.

It's a horribly uncomfortable topic for me.

That said, Matt, I am following your adventures and you have my utmost support in your journey! Just don't ask me to talk about it with you over dinner the next time we go out, okay?

My Mood

Thanks to my Annapolitan for encapsulating it perfectly:

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honor bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbors' eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.

--W.B. Yeats

Relapse

The culmination of my exceptionally challenging and stressful day came about an hour ago via panic attack while at yoga. I was literally hyperventilating in Adho Mukha Svanasana. A few poses later, I told Keith that I wanted to go home. He asked me to finish the standing sequence, after which he let me go with the promise that I would leave this behind me and show up anew on Thursday.

Now I am home in my cluttered and filthy apartment. My body is clean but my mind is a wreck. I feel disgusing and useless. I'm afraid to practice the banjo because my confidence is so shaky that a few bad tunes make me feel like never playing again.

But my Annapolitan offered a keen insight: it's the days when you don't feel like practicing that practice is so important. We talked about how that sets serious musicians (and athletes, and academics, etc) apart from the masses: anyone can practice their talent when it suits them, when it's easy. It takes true dedication and discipline to practice when it's hard, when you don't have time, when it's not going well and when you feel like quitting instead.

I quit yoga for today, but I am going to pick up the pieces and try to make something productive out of the rest of my evening. Wish me luck.

Still Alive

It seems as though leaves of absence are going around in the blogosphere these days.

I've been absent from most things lately - yoga especially. And reading. And prayer.

The Music is alive and well in my life, though, and that is an immense comfort to me.

Onward.

Purging the Healthy Way

No Mom - I am not bulimic.

I am in a mood to throw things away. Getting rid of excess is not just for spring cleaning, you see. I think it's wise to continuously pare down one's belongings and evaluate one's attachments to what one owns.

The problem for me is my definition of excess and the way I view any sense of affection for my possessions as being unhealthy and in need of dissolution.

For example: I do not like having two of anything. This ranges from black skirts to place settings to easy chairs to bottles of shampoo (and sometimes to kittens... NATASHA WILL YOU QUIT RUNNING AROUND). Sometimes, though, a person really needs multiples of things. I have been trying to come to terms with this. I have four whole wine glasses and two plates. I have two mugs for tea. And I have three black skirts. Yes, this makes me anxious, but I am trying to be okay with it.

I am not very attached to anything I own except for my kittens and my instruments. In some ways, I would like to have very few possesions that are exactly what I want and that I love. In other ways, I would like to feel as though I could give absolutely anything I own (with the aforementioned exceptions) away to someone who needed them without shedding a tear or looking over my shoulder. Sometimes I test myself by getting rid of things that I like, just to see how it feels. If I feel sad, then I have a nice talk with myself about the important things in life and how you can't touch them.

I am hereby acknowledging that this behavior is extreme. That is why, istead of getting rid of my coffee table or something else that I could justify "needing," I have decided instead to clean out my closet and purge worn out yoga clothes, unwanted apparel, and other useless clutter. Clutter being the key word, not anything that I am actually using.

And then I am going to meet up with Matt for MONGOLIAN BARBECUE and he has a very mysterious 'favor' to ask me, and hopefully it won't be something that makes my boyfriend want to maim him...

Untitled

It can be really overwhelming to think about a significant event in my life by tracing all the little details that led me there. It's scary because sometimes events are set in motion in such a way that, upon looking back, it seems incredulous that it all actually worked out and that nothing got in the way, and had I been ten seconds later or hadn't felt well or burned my dinner, that it would not have worked out the way it did.

In times when I can't fathom how our Creator has set in motion the events that have been ordained for us since the day we were born, I remember that even the hairs on our head are numbered. We are the answer to His question, and the question that He answers.

I Can't Relax

We got home pretty damn late last night (near 2am) and yet I still managed to drag myself to work. The day was pretty intense, and when I got home I fell asleep for about two hours. Which brings me to now and I hate this feeling, like I should be springing into action to make up for my weak will and lazy body that just crashed in the middle of the day.

I frantically did the dishes. Now I am thinking of re-stringing my banjo. And my bouzouki. And I should do some yoga since I will probably be skipping class tonight. Is David going to disown me? He'll at least be disappointed. I should clean. I should study. I should watch a film and return it to Netflix. I should check my work email. I should jog up and down the stairs a bit. I should go grocery shopping. I should clean my closet.

I should take a hint from my kittens and stretch out in a sunbeam and scrunch shut my eyes and breathe deeply and do nothing at all for the rest of this evening which I've dedicated to myself alone.

Why isn't that, like, simple?

Home Again

I apologize for the absence, dear readers (or as Patrick would say, I haven't been blogging enough blogging blog), but I've been up in New England for the past few days helping my grandparents celebrate their 60th wedding anniverary.

Sixty years. Can you believe it?

I'm finally home, and while I wait for my Annapolitan I'll be investigating the mystery of the Two Cute Kittens Who Did Not Get Taken Care Of Like Claire Said They Would. I'm more than dismayed. When I arrived they had no food or water in their dishes and yet there was food left in the bag - and there shouldn't have been if they were fed yesterday. That should have been all of it. Also, Natasha has a bloody gash on her shoulder. Now, I know my little girls tussle with each other from time to time (they are sisters, after all), but I've never seen anything go down between them fierce enough to draw blood. They must have been in the state of agitation that shelter kittens can regress to when left with dry plates.

Poor little girls. I'm glad to be home.

Le repas d'hier soir

Lamb chops stuffed with garlic cloves. A small breed of pasta with a very light tomato sauce. An expertly rinsed salad. Dubliner and pecorino cheeses with tomato and an airy cracker. Da Vinci Chianti.

A handsome Annapolitan slaving away for my affections.

Genius Annapolitan

I can't believe that I am 27-years old and just yesterday found out that Windows Media Player will slow the speed of a track without distortion.

This changes my life.

Explain Something To Me

Let it be known up front that I find cruelty to people, animals, minerals, vegetables, and musical instruments to be categorically abhorrent.

This condemnation, of course, includes dog fighting.

However, I am in an unfortunate business which requires me to think, from time to time, as an offender or criminal may think. I'm required to understand (not empathize) with an evil thought process.

So. If one has invested a significant amount of money into a dog fighting business and the dogs are not performing well, I can understand, on some level, why the dog would need to be put down. Cages, space, food - all these things cost money and can't be wasted on a dog that isn't fighting well. They can't be left for adoption as pets, obviously.

So I guess I always thought that killing a dog in this situation would be sort of a pragmatic undertaking. It's not meant to be a deterrent to other dogs, it's not punishment for the dog in question (because punishment is intended to influence future behavior, if something it dead it no longer behaves in any way at all). It's simply a matter of streamlining the business. So shoot the dog, or abandon it somewhere. Why in God's name would you drown the dog, or hang him, as Michael Vick recently admitted to doing? What is the point to the excess cruelty?

It just seems to me that a person in the business of dog fighting and gambling is a different sort of criminal than the sadist who enjoys inflicting pain for it's own sake. Perhaps I should consult a forensic psychologist, because I just don't get it.

Major Faux Pas

I totally suck right now.

Both of my kitties are months overdue for their distemper shots, and Natasha is almost a YEAR overdue for her rabies shot. So I finally got around to making an appointment to take them to the vet this afternoon.

I rented a Zipcar and raced home from work to pick it up on time. When I got home, I found all of their paperwork, ate a small snack, and went about the intense but usually uneventful task of putting them in their carrier.

Well. The cat carrier I bought for them when they were tiny two-month olds is now far, far to small for the both of them to fit.

So I had to call and reschedule my appointment. Ten minutes before I was due to arrive. Arrgghh.... that's just awful. My girls are probably happy to be spared the drama of a car-ride, for two weeks at least.

I have issues

The other day I ran out of G-strings. It's a really awkward thing to have happen in the middle of the week, let me tell you. Here I've been going work, going to yoga, going to the pub... all the while completely immodestly without any functional G-strings.

I found some temporary replacements, which John was kind enough to feel up for me last night (I saw the grimace... I KNOW! I'm embarassed enough as it is, thank you very much) but... temporary replacements really aren't working for me right now. I just feel so good when I have a high quality, tightly wound, slightly vibrating G-string.

For my bouzouki, people! Get yer minds out of the gutter.

Dream

I know it can be irritating/boring to read about other people's dreams, but I wanted to get this one down for my own edification.

Last night I dreamt that I was supposed to read Psalm 31 at my father's wedding. I know this was in part a day residue because yesterday on the metro I saw someone reading a book about Proverbs 31, and last night before bed I was reading a few Psalms. Also, let it be known that I stood up and read from the Bible at my father's wedding several years ago.

However, in my dream, it didn't work. First, I started reading but the microphone wasn't turned on. Then, once we got that figured out, the page I was reading from was folded over, so I ended up reading the first half, skipping the second half, and going straight into the last part. When I realized what I did, I tried to go back and read the part that had been folded under. Then the microphone stopped working and I couldn't hear myself at all. Then people started talking and not only could I not hear myself talk, I knew no one was paying attention.

This is an interesting variation of my recurring theme of not being able to talk on the phone in my dreams. I will try to dial, but end up with the wrong number. Or the wrong person will pick up. Sometimes I am trying to call my mom, or 911, and it just won't go through or I won't be able to stop dialling the wrong number or some random stranger will pick up.

Deeply frustrating.

Tired of Summer

I'm ready for autumn.

Summer clothes are starting to bore me. I'm craving the warm tones and luxurious fabrics of fall.

The cooler months are always my favorites. Everything settles down. I revisit the classics and enter a time of contemplation and waiting. Something about the clean air, changing colors, and later, a blanket of snow on the ground just signals a time of sitting quietly.

Rumi-nating

Borrow the beloved's eyes.
Look through them and you'll see the beloved's face everywhere.
No tiredness, no jaded boredom.
"I shall be your eye and your hand and your loving."
Let that happen,
and things you have hated will become helpers.

A certain preacher always prays long and with enthusiasm for thieves and muggers that attack him on the street.
"Let you mercy, O Lord,
cover their insolence."
He doesn't pray for the good,
but only for the blatantly cruel.
Why is this? his congregation asks.
"Because they have done me such wondrous favors.
Every time I turn back towards the things they want.
I run into them, they beat me, and leave me nearly dead in the road,
and I understand, again, that what they want is not what I want.
They keep me on the spiritual path.
That's why I honor them and pray for them."

Those that make you return, for whatever reason,
to God's solitude,
be grateful to them.
Worry about the others,
who give you delicious comforts that keep you from prayer.

Friends are enemies sometimes,
and enemies friends.

Consider a porcupine,
if you hit it with a stick, it extends its quills and gets bigger.
The soul is a porcupine,
made strong by stick-beating.
So a prophet's soul is especially afflicted,
because it has to become so powerful.

A hide is soaked in tanning liquor and becomes leather.
If the tanner did not rub the acid,
the hide would get foul-smelling and rotten.
The soul is a newly skinned hide, bloody and gross.
Work on it with manual discipline,
and the bitter tanning acid of grief and you'll become lovely
and very strong.

If you can't do this work yourself,
don't worry.
You don't even have to make a decision,
one way or the other.
The Friend, who knows a lot more than you do,
will bring difficulties, and grief, and sickness,
as medicine, as happiness,
as the essence of the moment when you're beaten,
when you hear Checkmate, and you can finally say,
with Hallaj's voice,
I trust you to kill me.

-Rumi

Last Night's Fun

At the behest of Josh and in honor of Christie's brief return, we rallied the troops last night and descended on Nanny O'Brien's, the scene of my entry into DC Irish Trad and of many a debaucherous, whiskey-filled session.

Wide Awake

My brother's girlfriend cooked a lovely meal earlier tonight: roasted leg of lamb infused with garlic and rosemary fresh from their garden, roasted vegetables, peach and mango cobbler, an amazing petit syrah.

It was a lovely evening filled with talk of the future and the finer things in life.

Then I dreamt the following, separately: that I seduced an Army Ranger, narrowly avoided an abduction that surely would have ended in my rape and murder, smuggled a piece of artwork. Something else macabre that I can't quite pull up, now that I'm awake.

It's 4am and I am tired of dreaming. I am tired of waking up every hour disoriented and shaky. I could feasibly sleep for five more hours before I need to get up for yoga. What are the chances my subconscious won't interrupt me?

What I Need Right Now

I have been sitting here for I-don't-know-how-long trying to articulate the longing with which I want to play the piano.

I miss my piano so much.

THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE

This is the Ashtanga jump-back. It happens about fifty million thousand times in one practice and I just do not get it. Many, many thanks to Roboramma for his always helpful YouTube videos. Maybe one day it'll click...

Hi Tina :)

I just love it when I have new readers, especially when they're people who know me in real life!

In other news... absolutely NOTHING has been going on lately.

Let's see... I'm reading Water for Elephants (novel), No Man is an Island (contemplative), and am about to delve back into the Claudius novels, which are some of my favorites.

I'm watching The L Word (netflix) and waiting eagerly for Season Three of The Office to be released on DVD.

It's freaking HOT outside.

The metro has been running really slow. My hair needs a trim. I played tunes last night and this morning my fingertips are sore. There are no good Irish trad streaming radio stations for me to listen to at work and I am too lazy to bring in CDs, so I am listening to the "Celtic" station which pretty much sucks.

That's it. Bo-ring. Sorry :)

Less Angst, More Nipple

Thanks for the sage advice, John.

A brief narrative update, which is what I resort to when the time for a more thoughtful post eludes me. Yesterday I attended a very interesting wedding and got to spend time in the car with Kyong-Ju (yay!) and her husband (grrr). We connected over a love of Korean film, which I imagine she just calls film.

The ceremony was in Korean and English. Not sure how the Spanish-speaking family of the groom were following along, but I assume that it had been discussed. At the reception the bride and groom changed into traditional Korean dress and there were some ceremonial elements such as bowing, etc, that were beautiful.

Korean food, Latin music, interesting people, and I didn't even need to partake of the vodka-filled flask that Gretchen brought along, just in case!

Tonight I am meeting some very interesting friends for dinner at Hook. And by interesting, I do not necessarily mean that any nipples will be involved, I just mean that they are both complex people and the conversation will undoubtedly go towards... shall we say... fringe topics.

Speaking of fringe, I recently watched an interesting documentary called The Lifestyle: Swinging in America (and I'm not talking about dancing). There were some nipples involved, just FYI, but they weren't necessarily attractive ones.

Off to yoga and I will try not to let my mind wander too much toward what gorgeous cuisine awaits me later on...

Welcome To My Hermitage

Ever since Matt and John have linked to my blog in various ways, I've been getting a lots of hits from interesting places around the country.

If you were teased by Matt's vague and romantic description, prepare to be disappointed - you won't hear anything of my day-job here. Just random musings that I promise will be of little interest (even to me!).

But please visit as often as you'd like. It's a joy to be hidden, but a tragedy to never be found.

I met a hot Korean chick last night

A friend of mine, who I helped save from blackmail and extortion by the people who used her for slave labor when she first came to the States, is getting married on Saturday. Last night was her bridal shower. I had bristled at some of the instructions ("wear pink!") but ended up having a pretty good time.

The bride is Korean and doesn't speak much English. Her groom is Hispanic and doesn't speak much English. Neither of the extended families speak any English. One of the bride's friends is from Togo. The hostess' roommate is Brazilian. We counted at least six fluent languages present (including ASL and English). I love that!

Some of the Korean bridesmaids were totally hot. Asian girls can get away with some very edgy looks that Westerners just can't pull off. I couldn't take my eyes off of Kyong-Ju and Emily. Metallic makeup, razored haircuts, risky fashion... I'm jealous, and slightly in love.

Overwhelmed and I Want to Cry

But I've never been very good at that sort of thing.

It's impossible for me to describe the two things that happened today that drew back the curtains on my world to reveal a giant chasm of possibility, beauty, potentials, and ideals. I feel both inspired and deeply sad.

The only thing to do is to sit quietly with this zeal, this yearning and longing and offer it to God, Who alone can make something worthwhile come of my pitiful life.

TMI

My first order of business after work today was finding a piercer who could replace the bead that has mysteriously vanished from one of my nipple rings. I noticed it last night, and have the ring sans bead taped down all day to hopefully avoid losing the whole thing. My heart stopped when I noticed the missing bead; about once a month I'll have dreams about my piercings falling out, but this is the closest it's come!

I first stopped at Fatty's, who did my tattoo, but their piercer was off today. Just as well, actually, I've seen him work and would not want him anywhere near me with a needle - not that replacing the bead requires any of that, but a shaky hand is a shaky hand and I don't want one anywhere near such a sensitive area.

So then I embarked to find Tattoo Paradise in Adams Morgan. For whatever ungodly reason I decided to walk the mile or so between neighborhoods. Due to an unforseen footwear issue from last night, I have blisters on both heels and on the soles of my feet, which are also swollen and scraped up. Between that condition, the blaring heat, and the beating sun, I was pretty delirious when I finally found the place. But George was very nice and I have two shiny new silver beads and am only out $5.

I made it home and decided that I've had enough of being outside for one day and am going to have a little yoga practice here instead of walking to the studio. Word on the street is that we're supposed to have "severe thunderstorms" sometimes between now and 8pm. I would love nothing more than to open a bottle of wine, the blinds, possibly the windows, too, and watch a storm from my sunroom. There hasn't been a good one all summer.

Sunny Day Salutations

I think this blog encourages my writer's block.

Since college my prosaic prowess has degenerated daily.

I've already had to use the Thesaurus once this post.

Also, I think my penchant for solitude is eroding my conversational competence.

Last night I had one of the most lively, interesting, and at times intimate conversations that I can remember, in the recent and not-so-recent past. Looking back, it seems like such an amazing thing. I've apparently forgotten what it was like in college, where I was exchanging ideas and being challenged on a daily basis.

I miss that. Repartee, civilized argument, exploration of attitudes and perspectives are critical elements for the cultivation of the mature mind. And a mind, once matured, makes no guarantees to remain in such a state. It requires tweaking. Pruning. Scathing, even, and regularly.

Updated Thesaurus usage count for this post: 3 - Pathetic.

Good Find!!

Today a girlfriend and I walked up to Chevy Chase to have iced teas and we stopped by a video store that she likes. Imagine my astonishment at discovering the most extensive and complete Asian film section that I. Have. Ever. Encountered.

We rented Suzhou River to watch later this week, and got to talking to the guy who checked our film out for us, who might be the owner. He asked about our interest in foreign films, Asian in particular, and I mentioned how impressed I was at his selection. He asked if I had spent any time in Asia, and I said I had been to Shanghai but actually my favorite director is from Hong Kong: Wong Kar-Wai.

"We have a whole Wong Kar-Wai section downstairs," he said.

I started hyperventilating with pleasure.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, "You're BLUSHING! Your arms, too!!"

What can I say? I really love Wong.

Rainy Day Ruminations

Today while walking home from work wearing a white skirt and rather clingy red top, I got caught in the rain! I owned it, though, not afraid of accentuating my curves. And since it was raining, not many people were out walking around, and thus I was free from leering strangers.

Which got me thinking. I'm confident, I know I've got stuff to strut. And I like that I get noticed, most of the time. What it comes down to is, I think there's a big difference between being admired and being ogled.

I very much enjoy being admired by a lover or boyfriend. I do not, however, enjoy being stared at in bars. Both (the second possibly to a different degree) are measures of appreciation, but I think what matters is the taste of the person doing the staring. I would think that guys in a bar are probably staring at every girl that walks by, so while they may be appreciating me in some way or another, their tastes are not very discriminating. It cheapens the compliment.

I liken it to cooking a gourmet meal and serving it to someone who ordinarily eats hot dogs. He may enjoy the cuisine, but his praise wouldn't mean as much as if it came from a connoisseur.

Sorry, John

I know we had tentative plans to visit closer to the film release date, but yesterday when my brother called and proposed an excursion to the newly erected Kwik-E-Mart in Bladensburg, MD, I could hardly say no! We got Krusty-O's, Buzz Cola, and squishees! It was very fun.

The place was pretty difficult to find - despite the address being on Kenilworth Ave, there is no sign for Kenilworth Ave anywhere nor is there any indicated that Route 201 IS, in fact, Kenilworth Ave. Once we figured that out, we still ended up on a wild goose chase through the parking lot of a public housing complex, which is where the signage led us in order to go north. But we found it (packed!) and had a pretty good time all in all.

Dream

I just dreamt that I kept receiving plane tickets to Greece in the mail that were from a mysterious stranger whose name, on the documents, was written in Greek cursive that I couldn't read. The tickets would come in the mail, but I would never go to the airport and get on the plane becuse I didn't know who they were from, really.

And then one day the names were in a form of Greek that was easier to read, and the name sort of looking familiar (minus a few letters) and I thought I realized who they were from, even though I didn't really remember meeting anyone in Greece with whom I promised to come back.

So then I was coming down this weird escalator where there are vendors and you have to buy something from them and then they lower you to the ground so you can descend, but I only had a dollar so the vendor opened a pack of gum for me and let me buy one piece, and at the bottom of the escalator were my brother and Christos, this guy I met in Mykonos who was apparently the person who was sending me the Greece plane tickets, which is weird because in my dream he had just moved to DC for four years, so why would he be flying me to Greece?

Semi-Serious Post

Sometimes being a friend is difficult.

Often times, being a friend is difficult.

I am still learning how to be supportive without judging.

I suck at it.

I'm extraordinarily gentle with my friends compared to the way I treat myself.

That's depressing, considering that I'm actually quite harsh with my friends.

But when they want to self-destruct and I don't want to let them, what am I supposed to do?

My not so secret admirer sent flowers yesterday for the Big Two-Seven... he is going through a bit of a rough time at the moment and I am sending him all my love...

I was just in the middle of reading the Washington Post Book Reviews, when:

Tonight after my yoga class I met up with my new friend for another Thai feast. I ordered modestly: vegetable soup, satay, and spring rolls. He proceeded to order four more appetizers and two entrees, including a whole steamed rockfish in spicy lime cilantro broth. The waitress had to ask us to move to a different table (for four!) because the table where we were seated wouldn't accomodate all our food.

On the walk home I saw some lightning bugs (cute!) and also a vanity license plate that read HEY JERK.

Happy Fourth!

I didn't feel like going downtown tonight for fireworks, so I decided to wander up to the rooftop terrace to see what I could see.

I could see everything! There were fireworks going strong on all sides! The entire river was lit up with displays from Alexandria and Anacostia, I could see the displays from Georgetown, U St, and lots of others... the whole city looked to be sparkling.

Happy Independence Day.

Gratuitous Cat Pics

My girls slept in a big pile between my feet this afternoon... it's a little blurry because I took the shot with my cell phone. Adorable.

Natasha's Favorite Spot

Cautious Success

I set out this morning determined to enhance my wardrobe. I was even prepared to go into debt (and I did, heh). After trying on a gazillion things at Lord & Taylor only to feel my frustration mounting (why does a SMALL hang like a BAG on me??), I decided on a whim to stop by a little boutique. I had been by a few times but couldn't decide from the window displays if the clothes were really me, or if they were even my age!

But the girl who helped me was amazing and everything fit beautifully and I ended up spending way too much money but I love all the clothes I bought.

My refrain while at clothing stores is always, "I never see anything I like!" Why can't that ever be my problem at the grocery store??

On that note, I'm going to have a bowl of Breyer's Black Rasperry Chocolate Chip ice cream and enjoy the hot, sunny day.

Lazy!

It's been a weird week. Not unduly stressful, but a couple of evening committments and late nights amount to no yoga and a drowsy Diana.

Just now, I slept right through my 4:45 class, and I don't necessarily feel up to rolling out my mat right here and flowing through the poses.

I hate going a whole week without yoga. Not only because I feel flabby, but because yoga is such a great anchor for me.

So I'm going to have some tea and try to slowly wake up and find the energy to do a few Sun Salutations and try not to feel so generally useless.

I AM NOT ASHAMED

Yes, I am about to go watch Larry King's interview with Paris Hilton.

Whatever, don't judge me.

A Taste of the Other Side

This evening, for about an hour, I had a sugar daddy! About a month ago the owner of my yoga studio threw a party and I got a chance to talk to some of the people I practice beside every day. One of those was a guy about my age and his girlfriend. We had a good time talking and then went out for drinks and food afterward. They were a fun pair.

I've been seeing them in class from time to time, and tonight he was there alone. We walked out together and ended up going to the Thai restaurant next door. Looking over the menu, I made my choice rather quickly. When the waitress came, he ordered soup and three appetizers for both of us, and his own entree plus a couple bottles of Perrier. I ordere my entree.

So, not a $500 tab or anything, but I'm getting to the sugar daddy part - when the check came, he paid with one of those black American Express cards...

Wednesday Evening Blues

For reasons of feeling stressed and rushed in general this week, and also possibly dealing with an existential crisis, I decided to skip my sign language class tonight.

Did I mention that I'm taking Advanced American Sign Language at the library? First class was Monday night and it was great. There is even a very attractive deaf guy in the class, sort of like an assistant-teacher. I think he's friends with her and just likes to sit in.

But tonight I would have had to rush and barely make it in time and I just decided to come home instead. I took a bottle of wine and The Seven Storey Mountain up to the rooftop terrace and read for a while, then came in and painted my toenails.

How Considerate

A few minutes ago I noticed that my kitten Elena threw up on a dishtowel that had fallen onto the kitchen floor.

What considerate aim she has.