I managed to survive my first winter in Chicago in 5 years. I was gone for a month, but that's nothing when winter lasts six months, right? It's been quite a season.
I spent an entire month away, including a week in Texas and 3 weeks in California for my research study. In Texas, it was all about rest, friends and sunshine. I flew to Dallas/Fort Worth to see my BFF, and we just hung out and did a little bit of jogging/walking outside. Then we drove to San Antonio together, where her parents live, and we spent most of the week there. We did some jogging/walking for exercise (it was in the 70's and very nice!), sightseeing at one of the missions, and holiday stuff. I spent Christmas with them, which was very nice. I cooked good food, rested, talked a LOT with her and her parents, and finished preparing my doctoral applications.
Then it was off to California.
California was a 3-week whirlwind. I hit the ground running. I set up my trailer in a RV park across the street from Disneyland and prepared like crazy for running my study. After having more (yes, MORE) RV problems, I was exhausted--I already knew my refrigerator wasn't working, but to top it off it started to REEK of ammonia, so much that I froze my ass off one night to sleep with the windows open because it was so strong (beauty shop perm x 10). I had to have someone come in and remove the damn thing, fix a minor propane issue, and then I bought a small electric fridge. Problem solved? Um, no. The side vent for the fridge started leaking during several downpours of rain, so more sleepless nights ensued as I tried to patch up the leaky went edges. Urgh. I had so little time to deal with it, I wonder now how the thing is doing all by itself out there.
And I was worried about rodents and spiders! Ha!
My research study went extraordinarily well. The goal of the study is to recruit 80-100 subjects, and my mentor thought that getting 20 or 25 would be impressive. Well, I ended up with 56 this round! Scheduling was insane, with many cancellations and reschedules (damn college students!), the actual sessions were back-to-back and brutal (with near-constant speaking and data collecting for 6 hours, including up to 4 lectures or guided relaxations per day), but I'm so glad I had some trusty undergrad assistants to help me! And I have more than two whole boxes full of data. And a whole refrigerator full of spit. But that's another topic.
I even managed to get down to San Diego for a jog on the beach one day. I really miss San Diego.
My last day there was in mid-January and involved cleaning the RV sewer and packing it all up (a HUGE job!) on an 80-degree sunny day...and then flying back to the dead of winter. All in all, I flew on 5 flights for the whole trip. Lots of flying! Lots of panic attacks! But I made it.
When I got back, and ever since, I hit the ground running in Chicago with massage work on the weekends and an internship at a halfway house for addictions counseling. I'm also taking three addictions counseling classes at COD, one women's studies class (my last one for my graduate certificate!), am working on finishing my thesis, and had a poster presentation for the American Psychosomatic Society for my thesis research in March. I'm also teaching Hypnobirthing. It's been overwhelmingly busy.
I think being busy was a good thing this winter. However, it's been a mixed blessing because I am not taking care of myself lately. I'm doing too much massage and I am needing more time to recover from my internship, since it is so draining. Overall, I am glad I planned all of this for the spring, in order to keep busy and try to deter the seasonal depression--however, I am not really into what I'm doing. I feel a little lost again. I don't like working with addicts and my body is very, very tired from all of the massage. But it will be over soon.
I'll be going back to California in May to finish data collection for my study, and in July I'll start a year-long internship at a rape crisis center--a population I'm really looking forward to working with! I'm hoping to integrate it into working with pregnant women who've survived trauma. I hope to enjoy my summer as well.
I applied to two doctoral programs for the fall (one PhD, one PsyD at my current school) and I was waitlisted for both. So that means I'll know in late April (I think) if I get an offer. I'm ambivalent about getting accepted. If I don't get accepted, it means I'll apply next year--to UC Irvine and other warm-climate locations. And that sounds really appealing right now!
And my BFF is moving to Detroit! She'll be very close! And, more importantly, I'll have someone close to me (who also hates cold weather) to tolerate the winter with.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Power of the Mind & How it Saved Me
Being a hypnotherapist, I often spew rhetoric about how powerful the mind is. The truth is that, sometimes, I don't truly believe it. However, subconscious experiences have changed my life, I really do believe that. As a social scientist, I have no explanation for it. But I can't deny it, either.
I had a dream once that saved my life. I was in the darkest of my days, depressed and suicidal. I was about 26 years old and dabbling in various forms of spiritual exploration, mostly of the alternate mystical kind. I took a lay course on dreams that was hosted by a friend of mine--a friend who I share a special connection (I took tai chi classes from her, she knew an ex-boyfriend of mine, and I dabbled in other mystical learning with her). At this time, I was in the habit of recording my dreams every morning. I was paying attention to the dreams, in order to determine their meaning.
There was one dream that stood out.
I basically dreamed that I ran out of gas in my car, among other things. Attempting to interpret other parts of the dream over the next days and weeks, I forgot about the gas--until I was running on "E" one night while driving to a Little People show. Interesting, I thought. I think I even mentioned it to my coworkers. I thought about stopping to fill up, and I even gave it some extra thought due to the memory of the dream, but I really wanted to get back to the office (which was not far) and not take up my coworkers' time.
On the way back to the office, a short drive, I took a wrong turn on an exit ramp. Damn it! So much for saving time. My coworkers were nice and didn't appear to mind that this detour would delay our trip a few moments. I didn't stop for gas, either.
As we approached the office, we stopped at a stop light, behind a squad car--something insignificant, yet I noted it mentally. As the light turned green, we turned right as planned, with a gas station on our left, in front of a Target, and a Denny's restaurant on the right. Suddenly, right in front of us (I had to hit the brakes, we were that close) a pickup truck that was parked at the back of the gas station parking lot backed up at FULL speed, screeching wheels and all, jumping curbs and crossing the street, hitting the Denny's parking lot curb across the street. As it careened across the street, I saw the driver's head bobbing as the vehicle bounced him around.
After the truck stopped at Denny's, it immediately started moving forward at full speed, bouncing over curbs and crossing the street in the opposite direction, finally stopping when it hit the side of the Target. This all happened right before our eyes.
Apparently it was a shooting (we read this later), although none of us could figure out why the truck started careening like it did. All we know is that we were about 3-5 seconds from being in the path of this runaway truck.
So, what's my point?
Besides being rather traumatic (as any accident is), watching this car race and bounce uncontrolled across the street in front of us, I believe my dream (and, subsequently, my subconscious mind) served to save my life. Why? Because I was suicidal at the time. This dream made me think twice about stopping for gas, when normally I would have not given it another thought. And when I didn't stop for gas, I made a wrong turn that delayed my arrival at that deadly intersection for enough time to make sure that I wasn't in the crossfire.
After that experience, I had an awakening. I knew I had to be alive for some reason. It gave me a sense of purpose. It wasn't my time. And I needed that experience (seeing that dramatic accident) for a reason: To convince me that I had just missed an event that would have easily taken me.
That's my first example. I'll post my second example on my next post.
I had a dream once that saved my life. I was in the darkest of my days, depressed and suicidal. I was about 26 years old and dabbling in various forms of spiritual exploration, mostly of the alternate mystical kind. I took a lay course on dreams that was hosted by a friend of mine--a friend who I share a special connection (I took tai chi classes from her, she knew an ex-boyfriend of mine, and I dabbled in other mystical learning with her). At this time, I was in the habit of recording my dreams every morning. I was paying attention to the dreams, in order to determine their meaning.
There was one dream that stood out.
I basically dreamed that I ran out of gas in my car, among other things. Attempting to interpret other parts of the dream over the next days and weeks, I forgot about the gas--until I was running on "E" one night while driving to a Little People show. Interesting, I thought. I think I even mentioned it to my coworkers. I thought about stopping to fill up, and I even gave it some extra thought due to the memory of the dream, but I really wanted to get back to the office (which was not far) and not take up my coworkers' time.
On the way back to the office, a short drive, I took a wrong turn on an exit ramp. Damn it! So much for saving time. My coworkers were nice and didn't appear to mind that this detour would delay our trip a few moments. I didn't stop for gas, either.
As we approached the office, we stopped at a stop light, behind a squad car--something insignificant, yet I noted it mentally. As the light turned green, we turned right as planned, with a gas station on our left, in front of a Target, and a Denny's restaurant on the right. Suddenly, right in front of us (I had to hit the brakes, we were that close) a pickup truck that was parked at the back of the gas station parking lot backed up at FULL speed, screeching wheels and all, jumping curbs and crossing the street, hitting the Denny's parking lot curb across the street. As it careened across the street, I saw the driver's head bobbing as the vehicle bounced him around.
After the truck stopped at Denny's, it immediately started moving forward at full speed, bouncing over curbs and crossing the street in the opposite direction, finally stopping when it hit the side of the Target. This all happened right before our eyes.
Apparently it was a shooting (we read this later), although none of us could figure out why the truck started careening like it did. All we know is that we were about 3-5 seconds from being in the path of this runaway truck.
So, what's my point?
Besides being rather traumatic (as any accident is), watching this car race and bounce uncontrolled across the street in front of us, I believe my dream (and, subsequently, my subconscious mind) served to save my life. Why? Because I was suicidal at the time. This dream made me think twice about stopping for gas, when normally I would have not given it another thought. And when I didn't stop for gas, I made a wrong turn that delayed my arrival at that deadly intersection for enough time to make sure that I wasn't in the crossfire.
After that experience, I had an awakening. I knew I had to be alive for some reason. It gave me a sense of purpose. It wasn't my time. And I needed that experience (seeing that dramatic accident) for a reason: To convince me that I had just missed an event that would have easily taken me.
That's my first example. I'll post my second example on my next post.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Winter Plans
Plans for the winter have materialized, although sometimes it seems as though they have just fallen into place (or are in a constant state of falling, but haven't quite landed yet). Things are just kinda coming together, how 'bout that?
I'll be going to California, oh yes. But just for a few weeks. Before I go to California, I'm going to go to Texas for a week to spend the X-mas holiday with my best friend. I shall commence the trip by flying south on the darkest day of the year, the winter solstice.
In California, I will spend 3 weeks in data-collection-mode for my research study at UC Irvine. I wasn't sure if it was going to work out, as I am having communication issues with the kinfolk there, but hell. My IRB application was approved, dammit, so I'm collecting MY DATA!! I have dived right into what I do best--planning and organizing--so that I can pull this off with very little drama. And minimal help. I have already started the first phase of the study, which is an online screening tool, and I have almost 100 eligible participants already!! Hurray for research at the University of California! Unfortunately, there is no way in OC (i.e., Hell) that I'm going to be able to process all of these participants in January--although, if I did (assuming they all attended, etc.), I'd have all the data I need. The goal is 80-100 participants. However, I will be able to process 40-50 participants in January, by scheduling people every freaking day that I'm there...so that is awe. some. Two and a half solid weeks of data collection will equate to an entire semester of processing people once per week.
In other words, I'm consolidating and condensing...and will be working efficiently. And I don't have to spend months in Orange County again. And that is good.
Of course, the whole point of this is to do it as quickly and simply as possible in order to get some data to write a paper and get a publication out of it. And I think I've proven, over the last year with my thesis, that I am perfectly capable of getting work done remotely. Yay for me.
I'll just have to plan to go back over spring break to finish the job. Cool beans.
So, in about a month, I leave for a month, to be a traveling woman once again...including living in the trailer again...to get some sunshine and pursue a lofty academic goal.
When I return, I will continue working as I have been, but I will also start a short internship as an addictions counselor and finish a certification in addictions counseling. I will also apply to practicums for the 2011-2012 year that will eventually capstone my master's degree.
Around the first of the year, if I can secure recommendation letters, I may be applying to 2-3 doctoral programs in clinical psychology. So, the spring may just be a game of waiting to hear of acceptance. Or not. Depends if my letter writers respond to my emails!! Otherwise I plan to apply heartily at this time next year.
In other news, I have a new LONG, warm down coat, Uggs, and a plan for staying warm and moderately content this winter--excessive overdressing, exercise (via daily cardio/elliptical/jogging and weekly ballet classes) and semi-weekly visits to the tanning bed. Oh, and a month in a warmer climate. Not 7 months this time. Just a nice quick visit, and back home.
And so it goes...
I'll be going to California, oh yes. But just for a few weeks. Before I go to California, I'm going to go to Texas for a week to spend the X-mas holiday with my best friend. I shall commence the trip by flying south on the darkest day of the year, the winter solstice.
In California, I will spend 3 weeks in data-collection-mode for my research study at UC Irvine. I wasn't sure if it was going to work out, as I am having communication issues with the kinfolk there, but hell. My IRB application was approved, dammit, so I'm collecting MY DATA!! I have dived right into what I do best--planning and organizing--so that I can pull this off with very little drama. And minimal help. I have already started the first phase of the study, which is an online screening tool, and I have almost 100 eligible participants already!! Hurray for research at the University of California! Unfortunately, there is no way in OC (i.e., Hell) that I'm going to be able to process all of these participants in January--although, if I did (assuming they all attended, etc.), I'd have all the data I need. The goal is 80-100 participants. However, I will be able to process 40-50 participants in January, by scheduling people every freaking day that I'm there...so that is awe. some. Two and a half solid weeks of data collection will equate to an entire semester of processing people once per week.
In other words, I'm consolidating and condensing...and will be working efficiently. And I don't have to spend months in Orange County again. And that is good.
Of course, the whole point of this is to do it as quickly and simply as possible in order to get some data to write a paper and get a publication out of it. And I think I've proven, over the last year with my thesis, that I am perfectly capable of getting work done remotely. Yay for me.
I'll just have to plan to go back over spring break to finish the job. Cool beans.
So, in about a month, I leave for a month, to be a traveling woman once again...including living in the trailer again...to get some sunshine and pursue a lofty academic goal.
When I return, I will continue working as I have been, but I will also start a short internship as an addictions counselor and finish a certification in addictions counseling. I will also apply to practicums for the 2011-2012 year that will eventually capstone my master's degree.
Around the first of the year, if I can secure recommendation letters, I may be applying to 2-3 doctoral programs in clinical psychology. So, the spring may just be a game of waiting to hear of acceptance. Or not. Depends if my letter writers respond to my emails!! Otherwise I plan to apply heartily at this time next year.
In other news, I have a new LONG, warm down coat, Uggs, and a plan for staying warm and moderately content this winter--excessive overdressing, exercise (via daily cardio/elliptical/jogging and weekly ballet classes) and semi-weekly visits to the tanning bed. Oh, and a month in a warmer climate. Not 7 months this time. Just a nice quick visit, and back home.
And so it goes...
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Slowing Down
Life is slowing down. I'm not sure if I like it. But I am sure that it has to be a good thing.
The fast pace of my southern California adventure is a fleeting memory. I remember thinking, as I was there, in the moment...someday this will all be a figment of my imagination. And now it is. Aaaaahhhh. (That was a sigh of relief.)
But now I find myself in a strange place. Not zooming forward, trying to get 'er done. Just standing still and slowing down. I am doing massage again--fairly full time. I am on a plateau with school. I am pondering the option of not moving forward in some arenas. I am planning to just live. And adjust. Not pursue.
It is hard.
This should be a rest. But it doesn't really feel like a rest. A rest would feel peaceful. A rest would (ideally) be rejuvenating. And this time in my life feels like a makeover. A peeling-away and a restructuring. And, yet, at the same time--paying the dues for the consequences of my actions, as a result of the crazy pursuit in California. Nope, this is definitely not rest.
I worked hard, fucked up, and now I am still working hard.
And, wow. The realization that I am most definitely NOT where I thought I would be after all of this. Not where I wanted to be.
So. I start over. Tail between my legs. Humble Pie. On to month #3 in Chicago, with no real plans to change anything. Yet.
The fast pace of my southern California adventure is a fleeting memory. I remember thinking, as I was there, in the moment...someday this will all be a figment of my imagination. And now it is. Aaaaahhhh. (That was a sigh of relief.)
But now I find myself in a strange place. Not zooming forward, trying to get 'er done. Just standing still and slowing down. I am doing massage again--fairly full time. I am on a plateau with school. I am pondering the option of not moving forward in some arenas. I am planning to just live. And adjust. Not pursue.
It is hard.
This should be a rest. But it doesn't really feel like a rest. A rest would feel peaceful. A rest would (ideally) be rejuvenating. And this time in my life feels like a makeover. A peeling-away and a restructuring. And, yet, at the same time--paying the dues for the consequences of my actions, as a result of the crazy pursuit in California. Nope, this is definitely not rest.
I worked hard, fucked up, and now I am still working hard.
And, wow. The realization that I am most definitely NOT where I thought I would be after all of this. Not where I wanted to be.
So. I start over. Tail between my legs. Humble Pie. On to month #3 in Chicago, with no real plans to change anything. Yet.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Settling In
I have been back for almost 2 months! It's hard to believe.
I'm still trying to get settled.
These days, I sometimes think about my life in California during 2010. I think about my apartment in Laguna Hills, I think about my jogging path that took me past the high school and to a park (and sometimes to a grassy canyon), I think about how much I worked and how busy I was, I think about my massage students and the walks we took at the beginning of evening classes and I wonder how they are doing now, I think about the yoga studio I worked at, and I think about that god-damned Massage Envy and wonder how I was able to do so much massage. I think about my trailer. I think about how I was able to stay healthy for the most part. I think about how depressed I was in May and June, that going a day without crying was an oddity.
I think about how I left with the intention that I would come back in a few months.
And I think about how I have absolutely no intention of going back anytime soon. And no desire, either.
I think about how I told my boss at my teaching job that I would keep in touch about when I would be back. I was careful to clean out all of my teaching supplies, yet kept them neatly organized in a box in my trailer, so that I could still use them when I returned. And I was on Craigslist today, looking at job postings (for shits and giggles), and I saw an unnamed ad for a Massage Therapy Director (my boss' position) at a school that looks hauntingly like my previous employer. And I realized she is probably gone as well.
Well. Duh. Life continues to spiral and change. Orange County certainly isn't standing still, waiting for ME to come back!!
These days I'm not sure of a whole lot. My dreams have turned into dust. I don't want nearly the same things now, in September of 2010, that I desperately wanted in March or April of 2010. What things did I want then? Well, I wanted a PhD, I wanted to live in California, I wanted to never see another Chicago winter again...well all of that has dissolved and I am happily in Chicago and grateful for every moment.
I'm not quite ready to dive back into reporting lame, superficial details of my life here yet. I do not want to forget how significant this year has been. I am still recovering and unraveling. I am cherishing simple things like chit-chatting with Leo at the end of a busy day, seeing a beautiful mixture of old and new buildings as I drive down the street, seeing different colors of people throughout my day, earning a decent wage while doing massage, snuggling with either one of our cats, using a dishwasher and our OWN washer/dryer, and feeling just fine when the weather is crappy. I feel like I belong here.
I didn't belong in Orange County. May I never forget that.
So life has in store for me that I am jumping back into a variety of things. I am going to be working a couple of shifts at Urban Oasis (read: Chicago's BEST massage spa), along with some fill-in work as usual, teaching HypnoBirthing classes (group and private), and seeing private massage and hypnotherapy clients. I am on the last phase of my master's thesis--I will be working on my data analysis and writing up the final results of my study very soon. I will start an Addictions Counseling certificate program. I am putting off my graduation in order to pursue a practicum next year. I am going to apply to PsyD programs. I am thinking about going to San Diego for about a month over winter break. I'm taking dance classes. I'm reconnecting and re-rooting.
I'll be just fine.
I'm still trying to get settled.
These days, I sometimes think about my life in California during 2010. I think about my apartment in Laguna Hills, I think about my jogging path that took me past the high school and to a park (and sometimes to a grassy canyon), I think about how much I worked and how busy I was, I think about my massage students and the walks we took at the beginning of evening classes and I wonder how they are doing now, I think about the yoga studio I worked at, and I think about that god-damned Massage Envy and wonder how I was able to do so much massage. I think about my trailer. I think about how I was able to stay healthy for the most part. I think about how depressed I was in May and June, that going a day without crying was an oddity.
I think about how I left with the intention that I would come back in a few months.
And I think about how I have absolutely no intention of going back anytime soon. And no desire, either.
I think about how I told my boss at my teaching job that I would keep in touch about when I would be back. I was careful to clean out all of my teaching supplies, yet kept them neatly organized in a box in my trailer, so that I could still use them when I returned. And I was on Craigslist today, looking at job postings (for shits and giggles), and I saw an unnamed ad for a Massage Therapy Director (my boss' position) at a school that looks hauntingly like my previous employer. And I realized she is probably gone as well.
Well. Duh. Life continues to spiral and change. Orange County certainly isn't standing still, waiting for ME to come back!!
These days I'm not sure of a whole lot. My dreams have turned into dust. I don't want nearly the same things now, in September of 2010, that I desperately wanted in March or April of 2010. What things did I want then? Well, I wanted a PhD, I wanted to live in California, I wanted to never see another Chicago winter again...well all of that has dissolved and I am happily in Chicago and grateful for every moment.
I'm not quite ready to dive back into reporting lame, superficial details of my life here yet. I do not want to forget how significant this year has been. I am still recovering and unraveling. I am cherishing simple things like chit-chatting with Leo at the end of a busy day, seeing a beautiful mixture of old and new buildings as I drive down the street, seeing different colors of people throughout my day, earning a decent wage while doing massage, snuggling with either one of our cats, using a dishwasher and our OWN washer/dryer, and feeling just fine when the weather is crappy. I feel like I belong here.
I didn't belong in Orange County. May I never forget that.
So life has in store for me that I am jumping back into a variety of things. I am going to be working a couple of shifts at Urban Oasis (read: Chicago's BEST massage spa), along with some fill-in work as usual, teaching HypnoBirthing classes (group and private), and seeing private massage and hypnotherapy clients. I am on the last phase of my master's thesis--I will be working on my data analysis and writing up the final results of my study very soon. I will start an Addictions Counseling certificate program. I am putting off my graduation in order to pursue a practicum next year. I am going to apply to PsyD programs. I am thinking about going to San Diego for about a month over winter break. I'm taking dance classes. I'm reconnecting and re-rooting.
I'll be just fine.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Back to real life?
My first week in Chicago was great. It felt so good to be home, the weather is warm, I got rest and accomplished many important tasks. And now that the initial thrill of arrival has passed, it is time to hunker down and face reality.
Reality means that I am happy to be home with my sweetheart and my things, I am *this close* to having my master's degree, I am unemployed (except for a few scattered gigs), and I do not know what my future holds. In many ways this time is ripe with possibilities. In other ways, it is nerve-wrackingly uncertain.
One of the things I like(d) best about my lifestyle of traveling to California is that I get to be true to myself. I realize now that the act of being true to myself is often interrupted by external forces that muck it up, so it doesn't really manifest as my true self. However, at least I'm doing the best I can.
Being true to myself, these days, means many important things. It means getting enough sleep (at least 8 hours), eating foods that make me feel good (i.e., that don't trigger my allergic/intolerant reactions), being around people who validate and reflect my ideas and beliefs, and doing work that is fulfilling. I've had trouble with this in some circles. In general, mainstream American life doesn't really align with MY true self, so life for me has become a type of rebellion.
Take my family, for example. Since my parents are no longer living, it has forced me into the role of an outsider. Besides this, my family and relatives are extremely traditional--something that I am not, nor have I ever been. The loss of my parents has been rather freeing, actually, since I am not longer obligated to the traditions that are so suffocating to me. I still have the presence of relatives, though, who carry on these traditional ways. And, since I and others in my generation are now young adults, this means two things and two things only....weddings and babies.
Weddings and babies.
That's all anyone ever seems to talk about. Or care about.
And they are two things that I have no interest in.
I just don't get it. I don't understand, for the life of me, why these things are so pervasive in a culture or a family! Especially because they are minor events, in my opinion, compared to all the rest of the spice that life has to offer! Okay, so you get married. The wedding is (or should be, in my opinion) one day, and you move on with your life. Have a baby, great. But there are SO many other great things about life! I guess I can understand getting married, if you really want to. But I personally don't see the point in all of this attention on weddings--bland events that are always the same, sexist and full of toxins (alcohol and gross food) and trite ceremonies that cost such a large amount of money and are such a waste of time.
And, I understand that some people are content with having a family. But I don't. And I definitely can't comprehend the actual desire to PLAN to have a baby. Or to want so badly to have one that not having one is seen as a tragedy.
So, when certain of my relatives only seem to talk about these topics, is it any surprise that I don't care to participate in their get-togethers anymore? It makes me feel like an outsider even more. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I hate sitting around and watching everyone eat. I hate pretending to perform niceties about material things and people that don't really matter that much to me...especially when the events in my life are so meaningless to those same people, and prior actions have proven that fact.
I just don't really want to participate in such events anymore. They go against what I think is right, real, and important in life.
This is yet another way of being true to myself.
On another note, it is great to share my true self and to be genuine with others who truly appreciate it and want to know the real me. So bring it on.
Reality means that I am happy to be home with my sweetheart and my things, I am *this close* to having my master's degree, I am unemployed (except for a few scattered gigs), and I do not know what my future holds. In many ways this time is ripe with possibilities. In other ways, it is nerve-wrackingly uncertain.
One of the things I like(d) best about my lifestyle of traveling to California is that I get to be true to myself. I realize now that the act of being true to myself is often interrupted by external forces that muck it up, so it doesn't really manifest as my true self. However, at least I'm doing the best I can.
Being true to myself, these days, means many important things. It means getting enough sleep (at least 8 hours), eating foods that make me feel good (i.e., that don't trigger my allergic/intolerant reactions), being around people who validate and reflect my ideas and beliefs, and doing work that is fulfilling. I've had trouble with this in some circles. In general, mainstream American life doesn't really align with MY true self, so life for me has become a type of rebellion.
Take my family, for example. Since my parents are no longer living, it has forced me into the role of an outsider. Besides this, my family and relatives are extremely traditional--something that I am not, nor have I ever been. The loss of my parents has been rather freeing, actually, since I am not longer obligated to the traditions that are so suffocating to me. I still have the presence of relatives, though, who carry on these traditional ways. And, since I and others in my generation are now young adults, this means two things and two things only....weddings and babies.
Weddings and babies.
That's all anyone ever seems to talk about. Or care about.
And they are two things that I have no interest in.
I just don't get it. I don't understand, for the life of me, why these things are so pervasive in a culture or a family! Especially because they are minor events, in my opinion, compared to all the rest of the spice that life has to offer! Okay, so you get married. The wedding is (or should be, in my opinion) one day, and you move on with your life. Have a baby, great. But there are SO many other great things about life! I guess I can understand getting married, if you really want to. But I personally don't see the point in all of this attention on weddings--bland events that are always the same, sexist and full of toxins (alcohol and gross food) and trite ceremonies that cost such a large amount of money and are such a waste of time.
And, I understand that some people are content with having a family. But I don't. And I definitely can't comprehend the actual desire to PLAN to have a baby. Or to want so badly to have one that not having one is seen as a tragedy.
So, when certain of my relatives only seem to talk about these topics, is it any surprise that I don't care to participate in their get-togethers anymore? It makes me feel like an outsider even more. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I hate sitting around and watching everyone eat. I hate pretending to perform niceties about material things and people that don't really matter that much to me...especially when the events in my life are so meaningless to those same people, and prior actions have proven that fact.
I just don't really want to participate in such events anymore. They go against what I think is right, real, and important in life.
This is yet another way of being true to myself.
On another note, it is great to share my true self and to be genuine with others who truly appreciate it and want to know the real me. So bring it on.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Road Trip
So, you want to see pictures from my 30-hour, 2,000-mile, 4-day, SOLO road trip?! No? Well, I'm going to post them anyway.
My kittie cat did so well on the trip! She found her little nooks and just hung out, watching the scenery or (more often than not) snoozing. Her three favorite spots were on the floor in the driver's side back seat (this was #1, but no pics), her favorite pillow on the passenger seat:
And the pillow that was stuffed on top of the pile of my shit that I jammed into my teeny car (seen here via the rear view mirror--which I loved, because I could see her, and I think she loved it because she could see out the window):
And here's a fun picture of my bloated potato chip bag--I noticed it was bloated in St. George, Utah, where it was VERY HOT (100+ degrees in the day) and dry, but it got WORSE when I reached some higher elevations!! Wild! The highest I got was about 7,500 feet before I opened the bag and started eating them. But it would have been fun to see what happened at the Vail Summit in the Rockies (10,000 feet) or the one that comes after that, which was certainly around 11,000 feet. Oh well.
I passed by my most favorite road name EVER, just south of Las Vegas:
And caught some pretty desert mountain scenery in NV/UT:
Some of my favorite road-trip scenery are the rock formations in southern/central Utah and Colorado:
Rocky Mountains now!! I know these are out of order, but screwy Blogger won't let me move these around, and I'm not organized enough to plan how to post these ahead of time.
Here is the ONE bit of snow that I saw, over the several hours it took me to conquer the Rockies:
Seriously, I forgot how long, how high, and how exotic the Rocky Mountains are! It is very humbling to drive through them...
I think these next pictures are Copper Mountain, which is a ski mountain (you can see the paths carved out by the trees):
And this picture captures the top of the mountains, which I thought was particularly cool because it shows the top of the treeline, where the snowcaps inhabit the mountain most of the year (but not in late July!):
And then here are just some more beautiful shots of the mountains and pine trees and such, with a few drops of rain on my windshield! Everything is just so lush and green this time of year! No doubt, from all of the snow and precipitation it receives:
Vail (10,000 feet elevation and right off the highway) is in here somewhere, but I can't remember which pictures, specifically:
A scary tunnel that goes right through the mountain, at least 1-2 miles long! Not good for a claustrophobic gal like me:
And (again, going backwards) here are some pictures from the CLIMB. In other words, going through the Rockies is a LONG process. The west side is a slow, slightly curvy ascent (but it's an interstate, so it's not cliff-hanger curvy/scary), which hugs the Colorado River (literally, it is there right next to the interstate for much of the climb--I even saw several rafters):
Then, the interstate snakes through the higher elevations for at least an hour or two, which is where a humbling climb and descent through Vail occurs, followed by ANOTHER more trecherous climb and descent (10,000+ feet well into the descent tells me that it was around 11,000 feet at the top). These climbs were humbling because of their steep grade--at least 3-4 up/downs at 6%. Which means that my little stick-shift had to shift down into fourth (and even third once or twice!!) on the INTERSTATE, and even then I was only going 40-50mph! Wow! I can't even imagine driving a truck (or a motorhome!) through that! But it was beautiful!
I thought this name was funny too. I think this was just east of Denver:
It was a long trip, but looking back, it wasn't too bad. This is the second time I've done the full trip back to Chicago by myself--the fourth time (2 round-trips) I've done it alone in either direction. It's amazing how such a long trip can seem shorter each time! As I said to Leo, the worst part on this particular route is the third night--because once you reach Denver, it is FLAT from then on. And Denver is the half-way mark, driving Denver to Chicago takes roughly 15 more hours, so it can't be done in one day. So, there are two days of driving with no scenery, and that third night was preceded by a drab day of driving in Colorado and Nebraska, with over 20 hours of driving logged, and no immediate reward.
But I could do it again.
And this route is definitely meant for summer. During the cold months, Texas/New Mexico/Arizona is the way to go!!
P.S.--I checked this page and discovered that Vail Pass is at elevation 10,666 feet and the tunnel that I mentioned (the Eisenhower Tunnel) is at an elevation of 11,158 feet! No wonder that tunnel made me dizzy! It wasn't just claustrophobia!
My kittie cat did so well on the trip! She found her little nooks and just hung out, watching the scenery or (more often than not) snoozing. Her three favorite spots were on the floor in the driver's side back seat (this was #1, but no pics), her favorite pillow on the passenger seat:
And the pillow that was stuffed on top of the pile of my shit that I jammed into my teeny car (seen here via the rear view mirror--which I loved, because I could see her, and I think she loved it because she could see out the window):
And here's a fun picture of my bloated potato chip bag--I noticed it was bloated in St. George, Utah, where it was VERY HOT (100+ degrees in the day) and dry, but it got WORSE when I reached some higher elevations!! Wild! The highest I got was about 7,500 feet before I opened the bag and started eating them. But it would have been fun to see what happened at the Vail Summit in the Rockies (10,000 feet) or the one that comes after that, which was certainly around 11,000 feet. Oh well.
I passed by my most favorite road name EVER, just south of Las Vegas:
And caught some pretty desert mountain scenery in NV/UT:
Some of my favorite road-trip scenery are the rock formations in southern/central Utah and Colorado:
Rocky Mountains now!! I know these are out of order, but screwy Blogger won't let me move these around, and I'm not organized enough to plan how to post these ahead of time.
Here is the ONE bit of snow that I saw, over the several hours it took me to conquer the Rockies:
Seriously, I forgot how long, how high, and how exotic the Rocky Mountains are! It is very humbling to drive through them...
I think these next pictures are Copper Mountain, which is a ski mountain (you can see the paths carved out by the trees):
And this picture captures the top of the mountains, which I thought was particularly cool because it shows the top of the treeline, where the snowcaps inhabit the mountain most of the year (but not in late July!):
And then here are just some more beautiful shots of the mountains and pine trees and such, with a few drops of rain on my windshield! Everything is just so lush and green this time of year! No doubt, from all of the snow and precipitation it receives:
Vail (10,000 feet elevation and right off the highway) is in here somewhere, but I can't remember which pictures, specifically:
A scary tunnel that goes right through the mountain, at least 1-2 miles long! Not good for a claustrophobic gal like me:
And (again, going backwards) here are some pictures from the CLIMB. In other words, going through the Rockies is a LONG process. The west side is a slow, slightly curvy ascent (but it's an interstate, so it's not cliff-hanger curvy/scary), which hugs the Colorado River (literally, it is there right next to the interstate for much of the climb--I even saw several rafters):
Then, the interstate snakes through the higher elevations for at least an hour or two, which is where a humbling climb and descent through Vail occurs, followed by ANOTHER more trecherous climb and descent (10,000+ feet well into the descent tells me that it was around 11,000 feet at the top). These climbs were humbling because of their steep grade--at least 3-4 up/downs at 6%. Which means that my little stick-shift had to shift down into fourth (and even third once or twice!!) on the INTERSTATE, and even then I was only going 40-50mph! Wow! I can't even imagine driving a truck (or a motorhome!) through that! But it was beautiful!
I thought this name was funny too. I think this was just east of Denver:
It was a long trip, but looking back, it wasn't too bad. This is the second time I've done the full trip back to Chicago by myself--the fourth time (2 round-trips) I've done it alone in either direction. It's amazing how such a long trip can seem shorter each time! As I said to Leo, the worst part on this particular route is the third night--because once you reach Denver, it is FLAT from then on. And Denver is the half-way mark, driving Denver to Chicago takes roughly 15 more hours, so it can't be done in one day. So, there are two days of driving with no scenery, and that third night was preceded by a drab day of driving in Colorado and Nebraska, with over 20 hours of driving logged, and no immediate reward.
But I could do it again.
And this route is definitely meant for summer. During the cold months, Texas/New Mexico/Arizona is the way to go!!
P.S.--I checked this page and discovered that Vail Pass is at elevation 10,666 feet and the tunnel that I mentioned (the Eisenhower Tunnel) is at an elevation of 11,158 feet! No wonder that tunnel made me dizzy! It wasn't just claustrophobia!
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