The Boingo of the Oingo

Lately I've been on this Oingo Boingo kick. They are on my top five list of favorite bands. Their songs wind in and out on my iPod but recently I've been opening up just their list and listening to them alone.

I love their witty bluntness about the shadow of human condition. Plus they are very twisted, with such songs like "Little Girls":

I love little girls they make me feel so good
I love little girls they make me feel so bad
When they’re around they make me feel
Like I’m the only guy in town
I love little girls they make me feel so good
.....

Uh oh take a second take
Uh oh it’s a mistake
Uh oh I’m in trouble
Uh oh the little girl was just to little
Too little, too little, too little
Isn’t this what life’s all about
Isn’t this a dream come true
Isn’t this a nightmare too . . .

The official music video. Listen!

To the crazy whacky "Insects":

Tiny insects in my hair
Tiny insects everywhere
Tiny insects in my pants
Watching insects make romance
Insects make me make me want to dance dance dance
They make want to dance . . ."
(song breaks into a funky almost motown beat)

Not the official music video. Listen!

I adore them. Plus it's just well done music. Lot of horns and synth, a strange sort of 80's flavor. And you can't go wrong with the impish, devilish Danny Elfman, lead singer for Oingo Boingo and movie composer Extraordinaire (for over 100 movies and video games since the late 1970's, such as Beetle Juice, most of the Batmans, Men in Black, Edward Scissorhands, various Simpons episodes, mostly dark sci-fi and fantasy movies).

I mean, look at him, second from left. Eee-vil!!

In any case, Oingo Boingo rocks!!

Airports

Okay, how familiar is that sight? Or maybe more memorable filled with people and luggage going round and round.

I'm waiting at baggage claim for my mother who just flew in from Kentucky. I really miss the days when non-ticketed folks were allowed to meet their people at the Gate. Remember *those* days?

Those were not the days of sitting in the baggage claim area listening to airport-wide announcements, "The Homeland Security threat level is Orange."

Christ, the baggage conveyor just started up and scared the crap out of me and my mom just walked up too so I must go.

The Establishment of the Mom and Pop

Everyone stand up right now and give a shout-out for your favorite Mom & Pop Establishment.

Balboa Sushi House!!

It is so worth it to build up a relationship with your local Mom & Pop stores. I'm not hugely connected into a community but I recognize that Community is what America and many places is sorely missing and lacking.

Balboa Sushi House is a little Japanese restaurant near my house run by a woman (in her late 40's to early 50's) and her husband. She runs the front, he makes the food. The sushi is decent and fairly priced. The decor is fun, with a little "fish jar" on each of the five or six tables with a live fish and water plants. Plants all over the place.

I've only seen him once or twice since he's in the back but the woman is super nice. I try to eat my sushi there or order to go any time I'm going for my fix of raw fish or Japanese and have been doing so for the past two and a half years.

I hadn't been in a month or more and I walk in yesterday, which also happened to be Valentine's Day, to get some tastey raw fish for my dinner and she is receiving flowers from her husband who then disappears back into the kitchen. She was giggling and it was all very cute. She then says to me in her thick Japanese accent, brightening up as if I were their first and only customer of the day, "Hello, Heather, how are you?!" I think I was a little non-plussed. Not at her brightness but remembering my name.

One might say, "She's seen your credit card and probably has a good memory." And yes, that's likely true. But let me relay another story.

This was about a year ago. I had lost my credit card, couldn't find it for months, and I hadn't eaten at Balboa Sushi House for months either. I was sitting in Canvas Cafe, which is on the other side of Golden Gate park from where my house and this little sushi restaurant is, studying with a friend when she walks by the window. I immediately recognized her but couldn't place her. She was out of context so I couldn't get my associational memory to kick in. She comes into the cafe, saying, "Oh, you left your card! You should come by and get it!" I had left my credit card there, last time I had eaten, months and months previous.

And that's why, my friends, you support and build up relationships with your local shops, farmer's markets, little grocers, etc.

Sushi Rock (big sushi "chain"), eat your heart out because I ain't buying.

Brew of Eee-Vil

Well. I had a coffee today. On purpose. I'm so ashamed.

A vile concoction of "chocolate macadamia nut" flavor with my additions of some milk and a ton of sugar.

It's Monday. I'm gearing up for the longest day of my week. Actually I've already been into my longest day for about 23 hours so far. I was at work from 11:30am Sunday (yesterday) to 10:15am today. Class starts at 11:30am and pretty much goes until 6pm. Then I have a class at 7pm until 9pm.

I even went to bed early yesterday, 12:30am, which, trust me, is early for me. But I awoke feeling so draggy that I had to resort to such methods as the Brew of Eee-Vil. But it's my fault. I'll get to that in a moment.

The thing about coffee and I is we sometimes don't get along. Okay, let me translate: we never get along. Sometimes coffee (read here: any caffeine) makes me sleepy. Really. I don't know why. Sometimes coffee makes me crazy. And I mean Beavis crazy. For those of you who even remember Beavis & Butthead, there's an episode where Beavis eats a bunch of candy bars and drinks a dozen sodas and goes bonkers, running around with his shirt pulled up on his head, laughing his obnoxious little laugh, shouting, "I am Cornholio!! I need TP for my bunghole!!" and "Bungholio!!"

Okay, I'm not that bad.

And coffee is a complete crap shoot with me. Will I get sleepy or crazy? I also usually get diarhea and nausea as well. Fun, eh? Can you see why I don't drink the Brew of Eee-Vil on a regular basis. But I'm willing to take the risk today. And possibly every Monday hereafter.So, what was my fault, as previously mentioned? Eating a box of Krispie Kreme donuts (six), an entire jar of Pringles chips (we can't even really call them potato), a large glass of Nestle Quick chocolate milk and I think a RedVine or two (your basic Twizlers). That was a bender for sure. And I pay for every bite. Recently I found out that I have a mild to moderate sensitivity to wheat and probably have always been sensitive to sugar (which, really, all of us do). So, a donut is the ultimate evil for me. Although not Eee-Vil. Only coffee and coke (soda) hold that distinction for me. So needless to say, I didn't sleep well with all that crap in my system.

You know, why do we use that phrase "needless to say" if we're already saying it? English is strange. Humans are stranger.

In any case, I doubt I'll become an addict to the Brew of Eee-Vil since I'm already a sugar/carb addict.

Sigh, the things we must endure in this life......

Being a Student

Well, you're always a student, in life at least. Some of us go to school and don't finish. Some of us go to school and finish and go on with career, etc. Some of us go to school, finish, and for some crazy ass reason, go back again.

And this crazy girl is going back to school.

Partly it doesn't seem like such a big deal for me because I'm attending City College of San Francisco (CCSF, the local community college). I'm getting an Associate of Science degree in Photography. That seems basic, but really it's 46 units of core and elective classes, including 28 units for graduation credits which I fully intend not to fulfill, hoping all my credits will transfer over. I have a Master's Degree, fuck that.

The 46 units, however, wil be all new. That's about two years or... at my pace, who knows, maybe four! The AS Degree prepares you for commercial (and some fine art) work while an AA (Associate of Arts) sets you up to transfer to a full time university, or school of arts. CCSF doesn't have an AA available yet but they've said there might be one coming soon. I think it's half the units or so. You can check out the class listing if you like.

I'm only taking Phot 51, Beginning Photography this semester out of the four recommended for the first semester. Please. I work. Full time. And have other mini-classes. In looking at the number of units though, I do wonder how I'm going to complete these in any regular, sane amount of time.

Most classes I've been doing have been online or little four week "continuing education" types. Also this semester I'm taking a 10-week singing class at Blue Bear Music (I'm wanting to hone my voice a bit), a five week sewing course through CCSF continuing ed (want to learn how to use my sewing machine) and a four week knitting class through ImagiKnit (I'm a crocheter and want to learn a different technique).

So, being back on an actual campus doing actual semester long classes is very strange. A classroom! With a teacher teaching!! Whaaa..?? And most of my classmates.... so... young! I never thought I'd say that. Ever. But it seems to be more frequent these days.

So being back in the "student realm", it's familiar in an almost body memory way and somehow alien as well. I certainly know "how" to do this whole thing. Sit there (my gods, do I remember the seats being this hard??), take notes, listen up. Easy. But getting back into the swing of things, organizing notes, remembering your pen, keeping up with your readings. Harder.

So much of my school "stuff" is tied into getting good grades. And I can blame my father on that one. Maybe my mom too. Heh. Don't you just love having parents to blame things on. I joke.

Mostly.

I should have gone to one of those special schools like the Montesorri schools out here. No focus on grades, just learning and learning in a way tailored to your own personal style. That's the kind of school I should have been in. This grade stuff really bites. And I know I can audit the whole damn thing, from credit 1 to 46 but unfortunately degrees are important for later "show off" of competency in jobs. Bah.

So, off I go in the familiar, not so familiar, wild blue yonder.

What the hell does that mean wild blue yonder.

Hair Gone, Here Tomorrow

Well, February 1st has come and I have measured. I gained 1/2 inch of hair in 31 days.

Almost every day I was getting the comment, "Wow, it's really growing in fast!"

I think likely it seems that way because it's going bald to 60 in days rather than months. When it's longer, it's probably not as noticeable. Indeed, I was always lamenting that my hair was growing too slowly. So, I wonder if it grows the same amount each month, no matter what length it is already.

So does that mean at the end of the year my hair will be six inches long?

Social Politics

I am reminded quite often that you can't get away from the social politics of humans.

I play World of Warcraft (WoW) which is an MMORPG, Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game. Way back in the day, there were MUDs (Multi-User Dungeon), which were text based. You logged on through a Telnet type system and followed the text which basically described a room with exits, etc. Actually, Marty's blog entry on interactive fiction explains this very well. Of course, the father of all these games is Dungeons & Dragons, which involved actual face to face group role playing. I did that too. I even was a DM (Dungeon Master).

Well, today, MMORPGs are extremely complex and graphically interfaced games. They started out with Neverwinter Nights, very basic graphics, to Ultima Online and the Final Fantasy series. Then came EverQuest and the real shit was launched. Hundreds of thousands of users playing against and with each other in rich graphical worlds. And then came World of Warcraft. And with World of Warcraft, a whole slew of worldwide popularity for MMORPGs. Millions of people started playing WoW, quickly outstripping the number of subscribed users in EverQuest.

World of Warcraft was born out of the Warcraft series of strategy games created by the gaming company Blizzard Entertainment. The series started out with Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, Warcraft II and the expansion Warcraft II: Beyond The Dark Portal, Warcraft III: Reign Of Chaos and its expansion Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne.

World of Warcraft is set in the universe and story line created in this series, characters, plots, etc, all pertaining to the game. There are orcs and elves, humans and dwarves, trolls and a sort of bull like race called taurens. Along with the new blood elves and draenei (really hard to describe what they are). Various classes to play like warriors, mages, priests, paladins, shamans, warlocks, hunters (ranger types) and rogues. Your characters can learn professions for crafting and trading (yes, there is economy on these games) like blacksmithing, leatherworking, tailoring, alchemy, enchanting, mining, skinning and herbalism, cooking, fishing, first aid and the new jewelcrafting.

Anyway, I digress and if you want more info, you can ask me. I am always happy to answer questions about WoW.

So anyway, you play your chosen character alongside hundreds of other players on any given server (realm) of the game. People form guilds to group up on the hard dungeons and content of the game and vaguely (I'll explain this later) form friendships. I'll get back to this paragraph shortly.

Like in the series of Warcraft, WoW came out with an expansion as well, called World of Worldcraft: The Burning Crusade. Once the expansion was announced, there was drooling anticipation for its release, the date never quite being firm until sometime last year. The sort of date was moved back several times and then finally firmly announced for January 16th, 2007. They would release the game in normal format and then also release a Collector's Edition full of cool stuff like an art book, in-game cute pet, behind the scenes DVD, etc. A limited, never again to be released edition.

I foolishly, because I should of known better, not because of him but underestimating the power of WoW, asked my non-WoW loving husband to buy me a copy of the Collector's Edition because I'd never had one before and well, I'm addicted to WoW. The power of WoW has taken me too.

My husband loves me. He hates that I play WoW, thinks it sucks my soul away. And maybe it does when I play way too much. But my husband loves me and so he says yes, he will buy me a copy of the Collector's Edition of World of Warcraft: The Burning Crusade.

He started looking maybe the end of November 2006, I think, and by then, they were all sold out on the pre-buy. You see, I should have made a move on it in, like, June. But I wasn't thinking either, and like I said, since I play the game, I should have known better. So I knew I would have to wait until Jan. 16th, 2007 to see if I could get a copy in the store on the day of release. And so I wait.

January 16th, 2007 finally rolls around. I catch a cold on the 15th and could barely get up on the 16th to go to Best Buy to find a Collector's Edition. I figured I would go to the closest Best Buy just down the street because I was feeling rotten enough to figure I would just get the standard edition if there were no collector's left and go home back to bed. Cut my losses and sleep.

I got to Best Buy about TWO MINUTES after 10am, opening time. And they were all gone. Two minutes. I was very disappointed. But I grabbed the standard copy and went to stand in line to purchase it. Ahead of me were two men holding a copy of the Collector's Edition a piece. No, I didn't go all Aries on them, kick them in the head and take one for myself. I just stood feeling all bad (illness) and all bad (didn't get a copy) until I realized they were talking about their friend for whom they were buying a copy for being ambivalent about wanting one. I immediately piped up saying "I'll buy it!". They deliberated for a bit. Apparently the guy behind me gave it up to them because he decided to get the standard copy. They asked him if it was okay to give it to me because they wanted it to go to someone who really wanted it. He said it was okay with him because he would want the same thing. So they handed me a copy of the Collector's Edition right there in line. I was a bit blown away and asked if they were sure a couple of times. No, really, I did. Because by this point, it was selling on Ebay for about $300 when it goes for $70 in the store. They were sure and I thanked them many times, telling them I would write about their good human act in my blog. So I own the Collector's Edition for World of Warcraft: The Burning Crusade due to some very nice social "politics".

And then comes the not so nice, real social politics. Of an online game. And trust me, they exist. People say "It's just a game!". Hell, some of the players themselves when trying to diffuse drama in-game say the same thing. But it's not. You're dealing with real people, hundreds on hundreds of them, behind these "toons" (the graphical representation of your character in-game) and just like real people in real life, they have feelings, emotions, thoughts, idiocies, mental illnesses, careers, lives. And so many varied opinions about things.

I had been in my guild since June 2006 and had built up the type of friendships that happen in the game (I'll get to that). I played with my guildmates and would often drop anything I was doing on different characters or in different parts of the "world" to come help out on raids or an individual guildmate. I had shared some personal information with a couple of people and they with me. But I wouldn't call it "friendship" in the way of the friend you have in real life. These friendships are very situational, meaning pretty much in-game only. Although you might have exchanged photos through email, they don't email if you go missing from the game for some time or if you have explained you've been having a hard time in life.

I log on Tuesday after purchasing my game and find that I have no guild, I've been "booted" by the guild leader along with about thirty other people. Later he "explained" that he was basically getting rid of all the "non-dedicated raiders", meaning people who don't raid the bigger dungeons in large groups, because "non-raiders turn off the solid raiders". I think partly he was feeling, well, hurt, that all these people had been leaving by their own volition to form another guild of their own.

There was no explanation, no warning and I became very triggered from old high school trauma where I was outcast, unwanted no matter what I had put into something. I wasn't teased, I was tortured. I was physically abused, my hands and head slammed into lockers, tripped in the halls and kicked when down. Emotionally abused, called names, clever and very manipulative schemes played out against me. I say this fairly plainly, I don't feel much about it. I didn't even know it was an issue until a couple of years ago when I was describing these experiences to Marty, again without much emotion and I look up and he's crying. It flabbergasted me because I hadn't thought of this as abuse, it happened so often that I guess I just got "used" to it in certain ways. It still hurt, of course, but I numbed out. Else, I wouldn't have made it to this point in my life as a fairly whole human being.

So, I was feeling really rotten, upset. Here I am hoping that I can go through the Dark Portal (to the new expansion content) with some guildmates and start questing and playing this new form of the game with them and bam, not going to happen. I didn't flip out. I went and picked up my scooter from the mechanic and had lunch with Marty.

He was very sweet in this whole thing, asking to see the new content and soothing my hurt feelings, talking me through it in the best way, psychologically. So I could see it wasn't on me, but really, on the guild leader and the game and how it creates social politics. Helped a little bit.

My crap resurged a little bit after I did managed to talk to the guild leader about what had happened and he explained it to me. I asked if there was anyway to get back in and he said, "Sure, you can reapply to the guild if you can reliably raid two to four nights a week." I did not laugh at him. And I was even nicely polite and did not get crazy Aries on his ass. I just told him that I had a marriage, a full time job, classes and an actual life but thanks for the time in the guild. He thanked me in return and I went on my not-so-merry way, almost in tears. I did not say "Whatever!" to him. I really do not want to join the ranks of WoW Drama.org. Yes, there is a website dedicated to all the crazy drama that goes on throughout the worlds of warcraft.

And, this experience only serves to remind me that connections in this game are not the kinds that I SHOULD be cultivating, those in real life, with real concern, real connections. And on that note, I'm going to write an email to someone I met at Burning Man (which, I might say might fall under the same sort of type of connection as the game but fortunately, not with this person).

Bring On The Fuzz

Well, I didn't cry.

My New Year's Day was spent, for the most part, shaving my head. Marty was out running and I just took a pair of scissors and starting hacking away. He returned and said, "Why don't you use the clippers?" I think I gave him one of those looks and reminded him that the electric clippers were completely rusted shut, probably rotting in various cabinets since their inclusion into Marty's life.

I love my husband, I really do. But sometimes I want to smack him thoroughly about the head and shoulders with a large piece of wood. "Oh, I'll just use rust remover on them." he says. I saw them. As a jeweler working with soldering metal, I know those rusted pits in metal, I know they can't be taken out unless ground out and buffed. But with men, you sometimes just have to back off and say, "Okay, go ahead." Because they have to see it for themselves. If he'd gotten all that rust off, I'd have let him use them. If they had been shiny. Because another thing (besides actually working) that I was worried about was the rust getting in me. As in nicking me and needing a Tetnus shot or something. But as it turned out, I didn't have to worry. They wouldn't work.

I'm not saying anything.

So, he took the scissors and completed the task of shearing my hair as close to my skull as he could and then we started with the regular shaver with a lot of shaving cream. At lot. At first. Then I kept saying "Hey, more cream!!" He shaves with water. That just don't work for my poor head. He did a good job, nicking me a couple of times but not bad.

It's an odd experience, having a bald head. Hard to keep your hands off your head. The regular baldness was strange to say the least. It felt weird, slightly stubbly and... well... bald. Where hair should be, there was weird feeling skin. And it's just.... weird.

But even after seven days, it's got quite a bit of fuzz. My husband can't keep his hands off my head. I can't either. It feels fun, velvety, fuzzy. It looks good. Most people say it looks pretty good, that they focus on my face more, the structural bones. Interesting. What is it about hair that distracts from this.

I find that I hold my head differently, more "elegantly" is about the only word I can think of to describe it. My posture is a little better. My head looks good with earrings. And I have three piercings in my left ear, one in my right, so plenty of "canvas" to show off with.

It still suprises me though. At least when I look in the mirror. When I'm just around the house or at work, I don't really think about it. Except messing with it all the time. Then I look in the mirror and it's like *blink*, who the hell is that. Still a bit weird.

It's growing so fast. I thought I would have more stubbly skin time but very quickly it turned to the fuzz stage. I think I like the fuzz stage the best, it's fun and feels nice. It's also very easy to take care of. No brushing or worrying about style or anything. And it doesn't look so... raw.

If it's growing this fast, it will be interesting to see how much it has grown in three more weeks. And that's all she wrote because she's continually distracted at work.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

So, the end of 2006 is nigh. The reign of 2007 is winging in.

I find this to be an interesting upcoming year. We as a world have a lot going on and it will be curious to see how things will pan out, or how they will continue to sink like a dead frog filled with lead pellets. Two more years of Bush. I'm guessing they aren't going to get all that better. I'm thinking frog with lead, personally. But, you never know. And if there's one thing that I'm slowly learning in my life is that the only permanent thing is impermanence.

I always get a little depressed nearing the coming of the New Year. I think it might have something to do with feeling like I haven't really done anything the previous year. When, if I sat down and thought about it, I probably did quite a bit. But it's the feeling that counts.

Now, I have this strange weakness for First Days. I like to start "Master Plans" on the First of things. Monday, first day of the week. The First, first day of the month. January 1st, first day of the year. Now, you can imagine how much my lust for January the First to land on a Monday would be. Oh say like, TOMORROW!!! January 1, 2007 this year lands on a Monday. So, therefore, I must put my Uber Master Plan into action! I say this with a bit of self-mockery because I often get myself so hyped for such an event which thusly only lasts about two weeks. But I continue stalwartly onwards, over and over. I think it's sort of like the Gambler's Fallacy: THIS TIME it will work!! Only with the Gambler's Fallacy, it's designed NOT to work THIS TIME. Whereas, in my situation, it's completely under my control. I won't get into the whole psychology of it right now because I know it's there, the issue of dropping my Master Plan. "Ooops, I tripped and dropped my paperwork right in the storm drain! Oh wring hands about!!"

This year, 2007, will be an interesting year personally, I think. Firstly, I'm shaving my head on Jan. 1st. Yes, all gone. Hair today, gone tomorrow. I look at this in several ways.

1. It's a symbolic clearing away.
2. It challenges my body image stuff and brings up lots of crap to work on.
3. I want to see how much my hair grows in a year.
4. I've never done it before.

"Bye bye hair, bye bye silkiness
Hello stubbliness, I think I'm gonna cry."

It's amazing how attached we are to body image. I confess a penchant for watching "America's Next Top Model" (hey, that's along with Battlestar Galactica, Stargate: SG1, Stargate: Atlantis, Doctor Who, Jericho, Heroes, so I'm really more of a Sci-Fi buff than a crazy, socialized "reality" TV show maniac, I promise) and every season, the model wanna-be's have to go through a "makeover" episode. Invariably, someone with long hair gets it all whacked off to a short cut and invariably balls her eyes out about it. I always roll my eyes and say to myself "It's just HAIR, girl, it'll grow back." And besides, someone that sensitive about their hair should not be getting into a career where half the time all they do is mess with your hair. So say I. And to my surprise I found myself very attached to my hair as the process of deciding to shave all off fomented. I think I was laughing at myself for mentally chiding all those models. This is a pretty edgy thing to do in this society so attached and addicted to Body Image. It's more acceptable for guys to shave their heads, I've noticed. Not many people blink on that one. But it is a "risky" thing for a woman to do. "You'll look like a cancer patient.", "What if your head is ugly?", "Why would you want to do that!?!?" A couple of questions I've gotten, all usually accompanied by looks of shock. My residents are very excited to see it, "Girl, you're gonna be off the hook!!" (meaning, in this case, fantastic!) Hmm, what does that say about our society when the "mentally ill" can accept things with openness (of course, not all the time, mind you) and the rest of us have a hard time (or course, not all the time, mind you)?

I don't think I've ever noticed my hair so much as I have in the past two weeks. From, "I hate this mop!!" to "Hey, that hair doesn't look so bad." I don't think I've ever run my hands through my hair as much as I have in the past two weeks. I've really NOTICED my hair!!

Another question I get is, "Oh my gosh, what does Marty think about this??" I love answering, "He's helping me cut it all off." Heh. He can't remember what color my hair is or my eyes are in any case, so really, he's not very attached to it (my hair).

I guess we'll see if I too, cry like a baby tomorrow.

Also, starting January 1st, I want to get back onto my no wheat, very low high-carb food, very low sugar intake nutritional plan I did for four months, testing whether or not I was allergic to wheat/gluten/sugar. I did discover that I do have a sensitivity, although I wouldn't say allergy, to wheat/gluten/sugar.

And during that four months of "testing", meaning I didn't eat ANY simple starches, simple carbs, no sugar, pretty much ate meat and veggies (please understand this IS NOT an Atkins Diet thing, I hate that plan); I lost almost 20 pounds (I didn't even exercise which would have really helped as well) and felt a hell of a lot better with all my chronic pain crap.

Oh the chronic pain crap? Pain in my joints, muscles, head. Constant misalignment of my skeleton. Tired achiness, like having a low grade flu throughout my entire body. Heart palpitations (arrhythmia). Low energy, low libido, depression, anxiety, lack of motivation, mental fogginess and confusion. Weight gain. Life generally sucks with it.

Part of the nutritional plan is also following "The Diet Cure" by Julia Ross and taking supplements like Amino Acids and regular vitamins and minerals. So that's also starting first thing Jan. 1, 2007.

And I'm going to start exercising. Slow stretching at first, I've really tightened in on myself in the past year. Lost a lot of muscle tone and strength. I'm going to continue to work with my Rosen body worker, which I'm hoping will jump to more than once a month (he's still gathering up hours for his certification). Body image. That's a theme for this year for sure and I'm really wanting to challenge myself on that one this year.

Then mid-January I start my first photography class towards my Associates of Science degree (in photography) and continue on with my light diet of computer programming (last semester regular HTML which I already knew but needed for a certificate, this semester XHTML and CSS, of which I know a little bit). And I'm taking an intermediate singing class at my music school, Blue Bear Music. I sing all the time and used to sing in show choirs and such but I'm wanting to shape my voice up, retrain my breathing techniques. I've actually often had fantasies of singing in a band but then I get terribly shy and struck by stage fright (and I haven't even made it to the stage yet!).

Also this year, at some point I am going to have to make That Decision. Whether or not I am going to finish my hours up for my MFT licensure (or at least finish the hours for the privilege of studying for months for the licensure exams). This is the Existential Impasse I've been in for... well, a year now. Since I left my internship in February 2006. Sigh.

I'd like to get back into my Fire Dancing again, which I have sort of taken an extended break since coming back from Burning Man, and also due to not really wanting to move because of not feeling physically great or having no energy. Guitar and crafting are on my list too. Getting my room in order because "bomb-went-off-in-my-room" and I haven't done anything about it in two years, is high priority.

I'm not interested in overwhelming myself with things to do because I really can get myself into a crazed, almost manic state where I burn out all this stuff in two weeks and drop it all, going back to well, ending up with year I regret. So I'm trying to take my Uber Master Plan that usually I go all bonkers and bugger nuts about, slowly, casually if you will. NO freaking out allowed. Although an occasional freak-out is, of course, permissible.

2007, we shall see, shan't we?

New Year's Eve at Work

You never know what you're going to get at Eucalyptus House for the holidays. It could be a houseful of the morose or the extremely hyper. I've spent quite a few holidays over the four years I've worked here. ...... Wait, four years???

Today has been full of energy, especially at dinner time when I broke out the sparkling cider (we have folks in recovery from substances so alcohol or any other kind of substance is not allowed). Although most people go to bed after taking their medications, there are a couple of stalwart residents who want to give it a go to midnight. So I reserved three bottles of the cider for that occasion.

There's 80's music on the radio and you can never go wrong with the 80's. I can hear some folks singing and dancing around in the community room, having fun. Good energy this year. I hope it holds throughout the night because often times 9pm hits and people seem to get depressed, irritated, angry and withdrawn.

I encourage people to write goals for the upcoming year and try to reflect on the past year and what they might want to keep the same or let go of or bring into their lives in the new year to come. Some get into it, some go to bed, it all depends.

The paperwork is immense today, three URs (Utilization Reviews, basically documenting why they should "stay" at the program longer), three monthlies (a monthly summary of progress) and two weeklies (a weekly summary of progress) and of course, the never ending daily notes which have been changed to almost resemble weeklies for twelve residents. So I basically sit at the computer all day when I'd rather be out of the office sitting with the residents doing what I'm supposed to be doing, milieu social rehab. Sigh.

And hopefully, I'll get to sit down and write up my goals for the new year at some point.............

Time in a Year

Well, the year winds down, just as every year has before this one. Time sometimes is a curious concept to me. Well, not Time itself but our conception of time. Or maybe I should say our conception of anything beyond a day.

A day I can understand. Sun comes up, Sun goes down. That's pretty simple, fairly easy to track. No problem. And no, I'm not going to bring Time Zones into this because yes, Sun comes up and goes down at the same time in different parts of the world. So I'm talking about the basic concept of a day. One full revolution of the Earth on its own axis. And we are about to complete one full revolution (okay, orbit) of the Earth around the Sun. Oh, and don't forget, we tilt too, creating our summers and winters (again, I'm talking Northern Hemisphere, West Coast North America). So, one day and the seasons are fairly accurate tracking devices. Good there.

But what the hell is an hour? A month? A year!?! Human constructs of Time. Although I am curious as to how the 60 sec minute, 60 minute hour did come about. Who gets to decide these things and why wasn't I consulted. And why aren't there 60 hours in a day? Because the Sun comes up and the Sun goes down. Yeah, but so what? Why couldn't three Sunrises and three Sunsets be a week? Sun comes up, go to work. Get sleepy in the afternoon, take long break. Sun goes down into deep night, go to bed. Who needs 5:00pm anyway. And I just have to say, having visited countries that implement the highly civilized concept of a siesta, and once getting over the fact that things close down and aren't accessible ALL THE TIME, siesta is a massive boon on the daily self. And I mean it, civilized as all get out.

Now I'm not saying that countries that don't have siesta times aren't civilized or losers or that siesta countries are better than others. Because really, I don't know the statistics of various countries and their rates of mental health or lack thereof in connection with siestas but my personal opinion is the slower you take things, the better off you are. And siesta countries tend to be slower paced than say, oh, AMERICA. Granted, they do not have all the uber things we have, World Super Power opportunities and all. And more often then not much of the population is living in abject poverty in comparison. So maybe it's just a crazy gringo concept of mine, idealizing as my husband would say. But again, I'm not denying these countries too have issues, big ones, hard to be idealized issues.

But I want to point out that America is not "all that". It certainly has its issues as well, some that are very deeply ingrained, so deep that they might not be seen off the bat. And America... okay, on Speed or something. Constant rushing about, especially within the commercial realm. Well, and the work realm.

9 to 5. Work, work, work. Be a productive and good citizen. Meh.

I'd be curious to see what would happen if everyone was able to take a nap in the afternoon. Or have nice, long drawn out lunches with their fellow humans. Or go for a nice stroll. (Ahh, in Malta, people turn out by droves at dusk to stroll on the beaches, boardwalks, what-have-you, in a daily ritual... little gelato, strolling hand in hand with your friend/family/partner while the sun goes down??).

So, any theories about what might happen? Post a comment and let me know.

Just Don't Grab Santa

So, I'm at my husband's family's house for Christmas this year. Or I should say just about every Christmas since I've met him. My family primarily lives on the East Coast, a much harder trip than the two hour drive to Sacramento. And far more expensive than a tank of gas or two.

So my husband's family does Christmas differently than mine. Firstly, they open Christmas gifts on Christmas Day morning rather than Christmas Eve night. Secondly, they don't eat Jule Gröd on Christmas Eve or any other day for that matter. And then there's Santa's Grab Bag.

Formally held on Christmas Eve amidst lots of tasty edibles, everyone (meaning the Coopers and various family and friends) bring some random gift for the event. Then all the gifts are put in a box/bag/center of the room after all the regular tasties have been eaten and the crowd is starting on the sweet tasties. Ahh, Judie Cooper's (Marty's mom) chocolate pecan fudge. Everyone draws numbers and the lowest number (Number One) gets to choose a gift from the pile. Number Two goes next and so on. But wait! There's a catch. Okay, so say Number Three gets a cool gift and Number Four goes next. Well, if Number Four wants the gift Number Three got, they can "steal" it for themselves. Granted, Number Three gets to choose again but I was just all ablink the first time I encountered this game. But it is pretty good natured and the gifts are usually benign. I think Marty and I got a stretchy plastic duck-like creature called a "Hyper Head Duck". Occasionally however there are some coveted gifts like a gift card to Starbucks or Borders and this year, a $20 bill. That one got stolen by last number Number Thirteen, Gavin, taking it away from his sister Tamsen, claiming it in the name of his gas tank.

This year, Sam (Samantha), daughter of Corey (Marty's brother) and Karen (Corey's wife), had to gone on Christmas Day so we joined in watching her open presents on the morning of Christmas Eve. The rest of us opened on Christmas Day.

I personally received several signs from the "Heavens" that I need to get off my ass and learn to use my sewing machine. Last year, maybe two years ago, I had requested a sewing machine to get into quilting, at least the machine set up kind, probably hand-finishing. Heh. So I signed up for a class where you can bring your own machine and make a project on it to learn its wily ways.

I'm doomed. Photography class, singing class, short sewing class... who knows what other class. Work. Exercise, eeeww! Major life decisions! Action, drama, romance! Everything you'd want for the movie trailer of "Heather: 2007"!! Well, maybe everything YOU'D want. I'M not so sure!! :)

Cabbage and Roasted Jesus

You know, many strange things happen when you work where I do. Profound insights brought on by cabbage and of course, Roasted Jesus.

Remember, I work in a milieu type setting, so I basically "live" here too, when I'm on shift. I eat with the residents and hang out with them along with assisting with skills of daily living and basic counseling. Of course you build relationships, and they are different from those of a one to one therapist/client relationship. More boundaries in that, less disclosure. But here, disclosure sometimes is part of the interaction. Our clients may not know a lot but I'm willing to share far more than I would with a private practice type of client.

Take my fire dancing video. Which you can see here. I showed that to one of my primary residents (we all closely follow two - four residents, almost like a case manager, during their stay) because we were talking about building practice poi. She was very moved, almost to tears. One might say curiously enough but I wouldn't. This is a woman who is struggling to find passion in her life and if there's one thing about fire that I have learned in my life (never mind me being an Aries and all), it's that it is the epitome of passion. Symbolically.

She and I have a pretty good rapport and she impishly said, "Heather, you lied to me!", totally outraged (kidding, which she is very good at). I blinked and said, "What did I lie about?" She says, "You told me you didn't smoke!!" and we both laughed and I followed up with "Well, I would only smoke if I caught myself on fire and I don't plan on getting roasted." She blinks and says, "Jesus." I shook my head and said, "Roasted Jesus." And really, I don't know why. It is not upon me to question why these things come into my mind during my time at a rehabilitation house for the severely mentally ill. But, we just started to howl. Especially after I started singing "Plastic Jesus" with a little... ahem, poetic license. "Long as I have my Roasted Jesus, riding on the dashboard of my car." I'm telling you, working here temporarily affects the brain.

Of course, my husband probably would say... "Temporarily??"

The intern therapist was here, Melissa, and present for the unveiling of the Roasted Jesus and really, it's not all me and one resident because she thought it was funny too. It only got worse after the resident said, "Well, Goddamn, that's funny." and I made the interpretation that Goddamn is basically Roasted Jesus in a different form. God=Jesus, Damn=Hell=Roasted. Okay. I'm fairly certain it's one of those things you... had to be there for.

So onwards to cabbage, with a helping of Roasted Jesus. At dinner, I was sitting with this same resident and Melissa and we were cracking up over the Roasted Jesus quite frequently. I was eating the dinner salad (all food is prepared by the residents, different pair for each day of the week, part of that whole daily living skills thing), which had raw cabbage in it. I like cabbage as well as the next odd person out and I was noting its presence. I must have been taken by the spirit of the Roasted Jesus because I was in a contemplative mood on one of my bites and notice the subtle flavor of the cabbage, which, really was pleasant. No, I mean it.

As I sat there chewing, I went through a common process (for me) called non-linear thought. Well, it might have some linearity to it. So, I'm sitting there and suddenly have the thought of "Wow, this is pretty good." "Hey, animals eat food." "Animals find food all around them. Like cabbage. And so do we." "The Earth made this to feed animals. And us." "Isn't that amazing!! It's like no plan we could ever organize and implement. It's perfect." "What the HELL are we doing? Look at all that processed food when we could be eating cabbage!"

And suddenly, I experienced this deep disgust for humankind's mark upon the world of food. It was like I could see the entire history of processed food laid out before me and I felt the echoes of rage stirring within. Years and years falling away before my eyes, layers and layers of experimentation, factory production, commercial capitalism. It was almost visual, conveyor belts carrying Twinkies and boxed foods. All of this in the midst of Roasted Jesus laughter.

I really was disgusted. How did we get to this point where cabbage became the Devil? I've been reading The Mood Cure by Julia Ross, a book about using nutrition to, well, cure emotional moods rather than using synthetic medications. It may be a high possibility that we can blame the Devilizing of cabbage on sugar and white simple carbohydrate starches. Did you know sugar used to be considered a drug when it was first brought over to Europe and locked carefully away in the apothecary? And it was called "crack" in France in the Sixteenth century. Wow. She calls it the most addictive substance in the history of mankind. And apparently messes with us just as much as the things we call "crack" now.

Now, I imagine I won't forgo processed foods and sugar from this point on but it was an interesting moment in time. The experience itself was brief although still lingers a little bit. Not that I might not allow myself to enter my experience in a more permanent fashion. Especially it so plays into my issues around body image. Which is next post since it's three am and I'm not sure what I'm even writing anymore.

Oh, and who knew the "Plastic Jesus" song was crazy long like this???? And errr... I say to the lyrics... WTF??!! (What The Fuck??!!)

F.E.A.R.

I was working yesterday with our house manager (the person who shops for the house and takes care of the physical plant of the house) and training her for the relief counselor position (someone who is called in when regular staff is on vacation or sick) and we were talking with one of the residents about fear. My colleague said to the resident that fear stands for "False Experiences Appearing Real".

I was struck by this in the moment. Later thinking led me to believe that there are experiences that are quite real in connection with fear. And there are ones that are false too, so I agree and disagree with the anagram. But more on fear itself later.

In the moment however, I was thinking, "That's fantastic!!" And I think in the moment, it fit the resident's situation as her fear was based on what she perceives in other people, ie, "I know so and so is upset with me." I've often challenged residents and my clients (when I was in internship) around this. Depending on my rapport with the person, it often goes like this "Wow, when did you develop telepathy!! That's amazing that you know just what people are thinking!" Which I can do with this resident. Meaning, we aren't a telepathic species and cannot know for sure what another person is experiencing unless WE ASK. So go ask. "Hey, so and so, are you upset with me?" So in her case, it was definitely a false experience (so and so is upset with me) appearing real (so and so IS upset with me).

Hmmm, fear. Nothing to fear but fear itself. Good old fear, for so many a constant companion throughout their lives. And when I mean so many, I mean just about all of us. Maybe the Dali Lama does not have fear. Maybe. Well, he probably has a very different relationship with his fear. One far beyond the rest of us. Fear takes so many different forms so I don't want to hear anyone say, "Oh, I'm not afraid of anything." And I'm not talking about fear in the sense of being afraid of the dark, of spiders, etc.

I'm talking about Fear. When you have that idea that you really want to start your own company selling crochet, jewelry or photographs (some of ideas I've had) and you don't do it, that's fear. Inner Critic shit is fear. "Oh, no one would buy my stuff, it's no good." Fear. And I guess that is a false experience appearing real. "I'm no good." Lies! People all the time say this to themselves. Lies! Straight out lies. "But it's true!" Lies!

We are so often controlled by our own fears; we miss out on so much. I know I have. I know my residents do, moment to moment. From not being able to go on a simple walk to getting their own independent living situation. For me, I think, fear has had a wild tap dancing party on my creativity. And not just the ideas of having my own company. But everything from writing a poem (which I used to do frequently) to figuring out what I want to do in my life as a career. What's really hard is that I'm AWARE of it!! I know it's Fear lurking and plotting and controlling but yet, I still fall prey over and over. Sigh.

Burning Man's theme this year was about fear, well, and hope too. "Hope and Fear: The Future" Here are some quotes about fear that I found at Burning Man in different areas of Black Rock City but that have been with me all my life, excepting the Temple quote since it was my first time to BRC.

Marianne Williamson, from A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Dune, by Frank Herbert:

"I shall not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will allow it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Author unknown, found on Temple wall at Burning Man 2006:

"Life's journey is not to arrive safely at the grave in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting, "Holy shit... What a ride!!"

We are so controlled! Fear is our master and we let it be as such. We are
slaves to its whim.

So, what are you going to do about it?