6 ways to Prevent Preventable Derby Disasters

Me? I'm pretty accident prone. But I learned a LOT with my latest injury, an MCL tear, as well as through my years of playing. It seems like common sense, but sometimes it's just good to review.

 6. Invest in the best gear that you can afford, and wear it. 

But not all great gear is expensive. These are my faves!

Don't get "Atom Gear" kneepads until you can confidently slide-fall instead of faceplanting. Instead, get well-constructed kneepads with a ratchet strap on the bottom that have a built-in knee gasket. I'm not interested in Atom Gear because I still fall, and not always well :/ Elbow pads are important because we actually do use them, knowingly or not. I was a little unsure if I actually did use them a few years ago and started choosing to NOT wear them when I skated the boardwalk. One day, I caught a big pebble and bit it. Hard. I was wearing my wrist guards and my kneepads, but not the elbows. I had two scabby bows for a while. They got infected. It sucked. Get wristguards with a wide plastic protective piece, and always wear them on skates. I've broken my left wrist and my right hand playing derby. Both times I was wearing Protec wristguards with that measly plastic piece running up the palm. If I hadn't been wearing them, I probably would've had 2 hand surgeries by now-but if I had been wearing something like I have now, it probably wouldn't have happened. Make sure your helmet fits snug, and that your chin strap isn't loose. The reason we wear helmets is to protect one of our most valuable organs: our brain. Don't be stupid. Wear it. Properly. I've seen dozens of concussions. WITH helmets on. Without wearing a helmet, I know of one death, on skates. On a flat, indoor surface. This means wearing your gear at open-skate in rinks, the boardwalk, and every parade. Is your brain worth risking for a little wind in your hair? Is a 30-minute free skate down the boardwalk worth a month in a cast? Mouthguards are important for game play and full contact. I can't argue that we should always wear them because it's super tough to yell the instructions to a full drill with it in your mouth... but I ALWAYS put it on before I demonstrate a hit or any full body contact. Mouthguards don't just protect your teeth-they protect you from concussions... and from biting off your tongue. No thank you!

5. Use your resources, or find some.

Where are their helmets??

On my first league, we had skaters that were massage therapists. We also had a chiropractor that skated, and a slew of medical professionals like OT's and EMTs. In my current league, I know of at least 4 Occupational Therapists, several nurses, and several massage therapists. Derby is rough, dude. Injuries happen and muscles/ligaments/bones get jacked. Ask questions from your league mates, get advice from the professionals, and when appropriate, see your doctor. Don't just ride it out and think everything will magically get better. This is not Never Never Land. This is cold, harsh reality. Do you want to be bionic and take 3 months off to have surgery/do physical therapy for a knee injury, or do you want to learn how to train your muscles properly and skate? Don't be shy asking for help or advice, and don't wait until your 7th year like me to start learning about dynamic stretch routines and knee strengthening exercises. I was a fool. Don't be a Calamity. You'll end up in a wheelchair 50th birthday like me someday. Also, don't skate without medical insurance. I tore my MCL the same day I returned to skates after taking a break from being uninsured between jobs.

4. Come prepared.

me before I'm warmed up

Be on time. Be ready to go when the warm up starts. Get your routine in so that you're warm and stretched for the beginning of drills or the start of the jam. I used to be chronically late to everything, but because of derby, I make a point to get my warm up in. Maybe it's because I'm "derby old." Maybe it's because I'm growing up. Maybe I'm just getting smarter... (I would like to think it's that :)) When I don't get a good warm up complete with stretching, my body is tight and non-responsive to fast-twitch muscle movements (like lateral track work and jamming). I'm a hot mess, and easy to bowl over-it's just bad all around. But more than that I'm a threat to myself; if my muscles are cold and stiff, I'm crazy susceptible to injuries. I have been injured soooo many times, and I bet a lot of those times were due to a bad warm up. Some leagues are really strict and make sure everyone is skating warm before they launch into a drill... but some leagues are more laid back. This is where injuries happen. Sprinting out to the track at the start of a jam or contact drill without warming up is like asking for a trip to the E.R. You're better off to yourself and your team by taking at least 5-10 minutes and preparing your body than you are taking a hit when you're cold. The start of the jam is NOT the time to be warming up. It's just not. Everyone will notice-even you.

3. Mental game is crucial for practice, as well as for bouts.

There have been girls that come to practice or to a bout completely distracted by their toddler in the stands or a head full of stress. I've been guilty of showing up with a zillion other things on my mind that are way more important than doing pack work, and I know how detrimental it is to not have focus (I play bad. Really bad). Unfortunately, this is a judgement call that we all make to ourselves, and I have to trust that my teammates will make the right one and not skate if they can't be fully present in their heads. How many times have you been distracted by a blocker, only to end up on your ass because her teammate landed a monster hit on you from your opposite side?

Squirrel!

Being aware of your surroundings and not allowing outside distractions into your head is critical to safe game play. If that skater chasing her toddler in between lines during a drill (or worse, a bout) isn't watching the pack as she skates, she's a liability. I don't want to be her casualty. Call your fellow skaters out on their shit. If someone isn't able to concentrate because of x, y, and z, tell her to work it out and then come back. Is waiting until the toddler runs out on the track to say "hi" the time to address this? You bet your ass it is. Now she's putting her kid in harm's way, too! We have laws in our state prohibiting cell phones/texting and driving, and we surely shouldn't allow girls to skate that have their heads in the clouds or their eyes fixated on the bleachers. We all owe that to each other. I've growled at children and I've growled at derby moms when this interferes with my game or my practice. Number of times I've regretted it? Zero. It may be hard to juggle derby and parenting, and I realize I can't relate to that and those challenges... but I know when something is unsafe and I'm vocal about saying so. It's dangerous!

2. Listen to your body. PAIN stands for "Pay Attention Inwards Now."

Through error, mostly, I have learned to listen to my body, and when I feel out of it or my game is off, I pull myself from the drill before something bad happens. It doesn't happen that often, but when I notice, I stop. I used to just power through bad practices like that and sometimes I still do because I'm stubborn, but I've found that really it's dangerous to myself and to my fellow skaters when I'm scrimmaging on a bad day. Drills are meant to be hard and work us over in order to improve, but when you enter into a scrimmage, your teammates are counting on you to be playing your best. I try to assess how I feel in the first 1/2 hr of every practice. If I'm pmsing and having a bad practice-lots of trouble connecting my hits like I usually do and excessive clumsiness (I run into walls and trip over air during pms)-I cruise on the sides while the team scrimmages or I watch and try to guess their plays. I've had some bad falls and caused equally bad pileups because I wasn't feeling that great. I also do a lot of dynamic warmup exercises and never stretch cold.

Kinesio tape and/or braces do NOT make you bionic.

This is also true for nagging injuries; when my knee starts feeling strange and a repetitive drill is adding extra stress to the joint, I stop the drill and skate laps instead. "Strapping" or using kinesio tape on an injury does not make you invincible. You still have to heed your body's warning signals and be prepared to R.I.C.E. on the sides if need be. Re-injuring my knee is only going to make me miss more drills and be miserable. Not worth it to practice plow stops for 5 minutes. I'm cool with taking a time out now to save myself a longer recovery.

1. Don't take unnecessary risks. Derby is hazardous enough.

The venue we skate at in town is unsafe because it is smaller than regulation size, and there are perilous obstacles like the fencing enclosure, steel beams, and volleyball posts, nestled right up to the outside boundary. Our team has dubbed them the "Murder Poles." We pad the poles during practice now, but doing full-on scrimmage or big hitting drills are super scary and ridiculously dangerous in that space. The fence is what caused me to fully tear my MCL... I did a controlled knee stop and slid jussst a bit too far out of the track boundary (I was used to more clearance on a full-sized track). I hit the fence skate first, and there was a twist and a pop. It was a horrible sound and there were many swear words. Ideally we would find another venue, but it has proven nearly impossible in our area as real estate is in high demand and rental fees are atrocious. So... in the meantime, we skate near Murder Poles. Some skaters are cool with full-on derby scrimmage there, but I am not. So now, when a drill starts, I assess if I feel safe. If I don't because the drill is too wild or uncontrolled, I sit and watch. What's harder than watching a drill at practice? Watching a bout on crutches because you were too stubborn to heal or too reckless to acknowledge a bad situation.

no fun.

Preventing preventable disasters is a guiding principle to the new chapter of my derby existence. It's a great rule of thumb, really. My latest recovery has taught me many lessons that are probably good for other aspects of my life.

The moral: Don't be an idiot any more than you have to. ;)

Three Little Birds

'rise up this morning
scowled at the rising sun
3 little birds
dead by my doorstep
smelling sweetly
of your wretched rue

This is my message to you.

Don't try to chide me
don't try to call my name
if I'm hung up on you
you know I'll die alone
baby don't call me
don't even call my phone

This is my message to you.

If you did want me
you should have made it known
instead I groveled. Damn you!
You ripped my heart out
It was just freshly sewn
Now leave me alone.

Each sickly message is an open sore
your words blacken my loss
and I want more.
You are a maggot turning into a fly

Now fly
Now fly

Finding My Center Through Derby

I know it's generic to say that life is amazing, but it really is.
Sometimes I think about the incredible journey that I've had over the past few years and I can't believe it all really happened. I lost a super close relative, sacrificed a stable situation in my home town near all my family and moved across the ocean, moved five more times, went through a slew of jobs and slumlords, went on/off welfare, lived on different islands, got in a motorcycle accident, broke bones/tore ligaments, lost touch with lifelong friends, surrendered my dog, landed my dream job. So much has changed, yet one thing has remained a steady constant:

Derby.

No, I'm not saying that derby itself has stayed exactly the same; rule sets are adjusted annually and the newest strategies have fans and players alike in an uproar... but the spirit of the sport is solid. So many sacrifices by thousands of girls throughout the world have gone into creating this unique and stable identity, a beacon of empowerment, inspiration, reward, triumph, and most importantly, support through defeat.

I've skated for three leagues. I left the most established of the three to fall backwards into starter leagues that had shaky foundations and growing pains. I reluctantly took on leadership roles in attempts to help build an environment where the league could grow. But despite best efforts, plans fail... intentions are misinterpreted... friendships, destroyed. My current league has had so many internal conflicts that I sometimes feel like a child in a broken home. It's heartbreaking. It is my abusive relationship that I just can't quit. Something deeper, richer, and more important than petty arguments compels me to try harder and invest more. Derby has become a part of me, and when I step away to take a break and breathe, I feel like something has been ripped from my chest. Derby is in my center.

Derby is the extended family of sisters that I quarrel with, and yet I have to learn to trust them in the heat of battle when our opponents are out for blood. Alpha bitches that hate being followers instead of leaders, all with the common goal of making our sport the best it can be, yet mostly too pigheaded and stubborn to accept that sometimes our own take on things isn't the right perception. Mothers, career girls, homebodies, world explorers. We all love the sport. And like moths to the flame, we intentionally get too involved and get burned. Again, and again. We make mistakes. We fall from grace.


I'm on a crazy path of spiritual awakening at present, and derby is at the center. If I step away from practices for too long (as of late), I feel incredibly alone in a very big world, and quite unsettled. 80% of the contacts in my phone and on my facebook are derby people with derby names. I can't imagine my life without all that it encompasses. Looking at my smaller group of friends unassociated with the sport, I sometimes feel bad for them and hope they have a community with as much purpose as mine. It's all ego, I'm sure, but I feel so lucky to have this extended family that in a cultish way, I want them all to join me. I've been playing since 2007 and yes... I've been recruiting since 2007. I want to teach everyone all that I know about the sport. I want them to love it as much as I do. Of course I know that everyone can't possibly, but like a Jehovah's Witness, I pack recruitment flyers and business cards in my purse and freely distribute on the bus, the sidewalk, Subway, the grocery store, the mall, the doctor's office. You just never know who you'll save.

Every derby girl has a before and after; before derby, I longed for a nickname and felt like a misfit. After derby, it feels bizarre to have someone call me by my legal name, and I am so strong inside, so confident. What other place is there than this rich one, oozing with opportunity/inspiration/hope/identity/courage/strength/wholeness? The church. But I don't go to a temple to worship; I'm a Buddhist that doesn't meditate regularly and never chants. I'm living as zenlike and present as possible for what I'm comfortable with, and yet derby.... a violent, strategically competitive sport... makes me feel closer to enlightenment than any amount of time in a temple. I feel high on life after a hard bout. I am emotionally and physically drained, like an evangelical born-again abolished of sins by a slap to the forehead. I am so at peace, and so calm. It is the ultimate release.

Derby takes me to my higher place, so despite any amount of drama within a league, my spiritual growth from derby is sound.


Derby is my rock.

Yuppies happen when hipsters and preps grow up.

Pretty sure the world is ending and pigs can fly...
I just purchased organic vanilla soy milk instead of 1% cow milk tonight at the grocery store. 
Two weeks ago, I (probably permanently) switched my triple grande mocha to a triple soy skinny mocha. I also ate All-Bran for breakfast all weekend with soy milk and organic bananas, black bean soup from scratch, organic spinach, tomatoes and hummus. I even had raw almonds in there. But... yesterday I freaked out and ate really badly. Sigh. This new age food regimen is challenging. Being a yuppie doesn't come naturally when you're raised in dairy country. It's an exciting and difficult test of my will power and a true lesson in discipline and consequence. 

There is no one to hold me accountable but myself.

I downloaded an app on my iphone that I already despise to track my food journal entries. It forces me to stare each "secret eating" indulgence in the face when it destroys an otherwise great food day. I'm only a few days in to the attempt, but the bad choices are glaringly obvious. Before, I could eat something with some guilt and plenty of glutton, then go about my business and not think about it again. With this app, I now track every item that enters my body, every day, week by week, month by month. If I don't work out and I eat shitty, I see my fall from grace. I had no idea I lacked so much discipline until now. Bummer.

Someone told me that women lack discipline more than men do, that women want to be comfortable and don't want to be inconvenienced by withholding favorite foods or creature comforts. Men, supposedly (at least this source), can withstand more discomfort to reach a goal. I'm not 100% buying that opinion, but it is an interesting one to make a study of. Can I sacrifice creature comforts and favorite foods in the interest of trying to cut out the fat? So far the score is tied, with only four days recorded.

I've been dealing with some real derby problems the past few months, and my safe place has been uprooted. It would seem the derby drama truly never ends. I sort of did it to myself by taking on leadership positions, fully knowing that I would have a target on my forehead, but yet... I thought I could keep it cool and help stabilize the very turbulent waters of this league. Enough said. Amidst the chaos of all of that, I have made enough poor diet choices amidst recovering from injury to feel like a baby rhinoceros. I am taking back some control. This really boils down to an attempt to be more aware of what I'm ingesting. I'm no angel. But I'm starting to try harder.

Derby, My Internal Clock, and Sacrifice

Yesterday was my 35th Birthday. You know what that means, boys and girls! That's right... sexual peak. Which consequently means that my biological clock is working over time to remind me that my eggs are shriveling up and rattling around in my barren uterus.

Pleasant, I know. That's how my confused, post-modern, career-oriented brain feels. I feel overly saturated with multiple agendas and a conflicted identity. I am a walking contradiction.
I was designed to breed... but too keen on traveling, sleeping, pursuing dreams that don't involve diapers, and involved with a man that isn't too thrilled about the sacrifices makes for a pretty solid argument against child-rearing. But there is this clock. And it is a very nagging internal voice that tells me I will regret this decision when I hit menopause. Oh Em Gee. What's a girl in the year 2012 to do?

For one, said girl will continue with her re-entry into roller derby post-injury to burn off some of her frustrations. Except derby in itself is a giant hairball of incessant drama and catty confrontations. So that doesn't really ease my burden... it adds to it. I started working on a big painting... and that is therapeutic, but I'm nervous that little babies will start working themselves out through the canvas to expose my delicate psyche battle...

So far, no babies. But it's interesting how things have changed within me in the past 5 years. I was pretty set against kids at 30. Prior to that, I was sure I'd consider abortion if there was an accident.
Now, my man likes to make fun of me at the height of ovulation by pointing out my estrogen peak and then mentioning all of the local Chinatown bars filled to the brim with deadbeat men who will gladly knock me up for free.

Yeah... I'll get right on that...

So, human programming and the need to procreate in order for the species to survive has a grip on my good judgement at the moment. What about all of those women out there who don't have the ability to conceive? What about those who lose their kids to bad accidents and miscarriages? Am I more selfish for choosing to have one, or incredibly selfish for NOT having one? This is a complex situation.

If I got pregnant this month, I would:

• Not be able to travel to foreign countries on my bucket list with any ease, if at all
• Say goodbye to sleeping in for the next 10 years, if not longer
• Have to quit derby for at least a year
• Would have very little support from family (they live very far away)
• Would have some hard sacrifices to make in order to afford my rent/bills
• Would have no guarantees that I wouldn't be a single-mom 

These are serious sacrifices. So those baby-mommas out there need to weigh in on this junk. I'm not even saying I have the option of this biz going down... but I really need someone to validate my anxiety over this clock situation. Someone needs to tell me it's all gonna be okay, because my poor brain is freaking out. What if I make the wrong decision? What Would Buddha Do?
I don't have that much longer to make this choice. Thirty-five is no spring chicken. It's late summer chicken.

Other than that burning question, life is beautiful;

Last night for my big birthday, my man took me to Ruth's Chris for the most expensive steak I've ever eaten (my steak alone was $50, and that's all he told me).

Today I was approved for hire "officially," so I think I sign the last document tomorrow... meaning I will FINALLY have stable income, benefits, a 401k, 3 weeks vacation a year, and sick leave. Working my dream job.

My life is fucking fantastic right now.

I just don't think I was grateful for what I had when I had it; when I was laid off in 2007 and lost my full-time job with benefits, I began a journey of soul-searching. I developed appreciation for all I had lost. I needed until now to realize how important it is to my health and lifestyle to have stable income and all of those benefits, that they allow me a standard of living that is coveted and privileged. Stability is important to me now. I don't know that I thought it was important in 2006.

But just to reiterate yet again... Hawaii is hard. It took a lot of suffering to make it to this point! I need to constantly remind myself to be grateful for what I have, instead of worrying about what I don't have.

All we have is now. That's it! Just now.

Through the Single Moments

I think it's great to take on a philosophy of living in the Now. I have done enough Zenmaster reading and thinking to feel it is a suitable mindset. I'm going to immediately launch into a life-altering moment. Actually, I have several, but right now I'm just going to tell the one that touches me the deepest and carves out my pathway today. Several revolve around death which I don't find to be too much of a surprise, as it is a truly awesome moment (and by that I mean inexplicable):

Not even a year after my grandmother died of breast cancer, my aunt (48 yrs old at the time) was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. She was a rather modest individual (conservative in dress and spirituality), and she was very private (didn't talk about feelings or insecurities or sex). This cancer, in addition to being a devastating diagnosis, was deeply embarrassing to her. Over the course of two years, I watched her struggle with the reality she was facing and how she tried to keep her composure and dignity-the wrath of chemo and radiation, coming to grips with all she would never accomplish, how she explained to people that she had terminal cancer, and her fights with my mother (they had always fought as siblings do, but these were even worse).

I watched her slowly die.

It was not a quick and painless death. It was an evil, crawling-up-your-leg-and-gnawing-at-your kidneys type of death. I would take off days of work when she was having a "single moment" as she called them, just to sit with her or take her shopping to distract her. She would buy me a latte and talk to me about her positive spiritual approach to overcoming this terrible cancer. She tried hard to believe she would be spared. She was weak from chemo and pale as sheets. Her hair had almost completely fallen out, but before it did, I sat with her while she had Glamour Shots taken at ProEx camera. She said she wanted to look nice in her obituary photo. When they gave them to her and we left the store, she laughed and cried as she told me stories about all of the horrible obituary photos people put in of their loved ones, and how she wanted to go out with a bang and be remembered as beautiful. She had a sense of humor about it, which helped ease the tension.

My aunt was the mother I thought I should have had growing up (I think we all wish we had other mothers at challenging times... though I am certainly glad for mine now). She was funny as hell and always the rowdy one at family gatherings. She was in a theater rodeo in South Dakota in her 20's, was a flight attendant that hawked goods from Seoul, Korea, sold pagers back when those were a big deal, bought a house all by herself, became a realtor and made big money off of house sales to the very end (she actually sold a house from her death bed)... and she totally "got" me. More than my mother. She loved travel, she was in the dating scene, she went to concerts and liked to bend rules.

She was a free spirit that didn't want to fall into the typical steps of women. She wanted to explore and have adventures. She struggled with those "traditional" desires, though... which I also relate to. She wanted a husband and family, someone to love and nurture and share the joys of life with. She was hopelessly single and tried every sort of dating scheme out there... with no luck. What I admired about her most is that she never let it stop her from doing what she wanted to do.

When she was financially ready, she invested in a few properties and bought a beautiful 1904 Victorian. Everything she ever dreamed of in a house. English garden in the back (that I helped her build), million dollar view of downtown St. Paul and the Mississippi, and all of the prestige that goes with living in a historic neighborhood. I think she made choices along her path in life that brought on her singledom (she was very picky about men and unwilling to bend about quite a few things), but she didn't deserve to die with such agony and struggle, and certainly not feeling so alone. Sadly, that was her end. She had her sister and her sister's family, and we included her in everything... but it was not her own. We made due, but the ache was always there for her.
I watched her pass through the stages of death and held her on the couch. Her last conversation with me was painful and heartbreaking. I asked her if she was satisfied with all she had accomplished in life, and she told me "no." It shocked me. It wasn't what I wanted to hear from her. It was the truth. She told me she "needed more clarity," and "it wasn't fair." It haunts me. I never told my mother about that conversation because I thought it would break her heart.
I don't ever want to die knowing that I didn't do everything I wanted to do. Of course, It would be impossible to check every thing off of my bucket list since I keep adding to it, but I intend to pursue things. I don't want to end up feeling like I didn't give life my all. I don't want to die alone. I don't want to hold back because of guilt over how it's impacting other people, and I don't want to settle for less than I deserve.

All of that said, I was to inherit her house and all of the things within it were divided between myself and my two siblings. Most of the furniture stayed there. It was a beautiful house with an original mural of a forest/swamp scene around the perimeter of the dining room, a fully stocked kitchen that had heated floors, leather embossed paneling on the walls leading up the spiral staircase to upstairs. Seriously, this house was a dream. What I couldn't shake, though, was that this was someone ELSE'S dream. I wasn't me there-I was living out her life. My mom still referred to it as "Kim's house" and "Kim's couch" and "Kim's garden," and I knew, after trying to afford the mortgage for a year with roommates, that I needed to let go and get out. I was living in a museum and it would never leave my mother's mind. Leaving was the key. It was the only way for me to truly be happy. So I ditched it. Let my mom and dad sell it, quit my job and moved to Hawaii... my aunt's favorite place.

So here I am, three years later from when I first packed up that house and moved to Hawaii. I'm a little more certain I made the right choice. I think about my aunt all the time. I wish she was here today to share in my trials. I want to thank her for pushing me to get out there and do something with myself, instead of taking the easier path. It has been lonely and it has been uncomfortable, but I have grown in the most amazing ways. I have learned to love myself and to earn my way. I have suffered and I have gained. All from remembering that life is short.

Life IS short, and life is beautiful. Carpe diem.

I have no idea what I am doing. Is that normal?

There are endless possibilities when you do not know what you are doing.
When you admit you don't know everything, you don't have to defend your actions.
You travel lightly without expectations.
You can relax, and just BE.


a space for mystery
a space for new adventures
a space for growth
a space to truly learn

So I humbly ask myself, who am I? And what am I doing?

Antarctica at Work

Like any good novel, the character has made a choice that has altered her future... and there is no turning back.
I'm figuring out how to maneuver towards the center of the earth with an ice pick for a weapon. Might as well have been Antarctica today at work (and no, it's not actually cold in there). I would love some human interaction right now. I spend 8 hours alone at work, and come home to an empty apartment.
Now come the questions, and the sleepless nights.
It was the right thing to do, right? To quit work at a safe job in the industry that I found tolerable but not terribly inspiring, that had full benefits and good pay,
to risk everything for a museum job (in my field and using my degree), with no guarantees and no benefits? Have I made yet another terrible mistake?

I'm applying for COBRA. My school loans are due, my check is lagged in the transition for a full month, I only have four stat doses of medication left for migraines. I just drained my savings account to pay rent. I have really gambled. It's all in the pot.

What am I doing with my life? Why? Does it matter? How am I this old and still have no fucking clue?!!

I've felt that way since I lost my aunt and moved to Hawaii. Except with this huge risk, I thought I was really going to work some magic in the career gap of my life. Now in week three I'm doing a thorough self-interrogation, questioning my motives, my goals. I feel very uncertain and childlike.
It's that insecurity you feel when you're unpopular in junior high.

• it's shitty that my "dream job" can be ruined by some really entitled state workers with a chip on their shoulder
• this is supposed to be my big opportunity of a lifetime, and they're ruining it

But then, they only ruin it if I let them... and maybe they will get fed up and quit. 

I'm a chess piece. I'm an external hire, which is the equivalent of being the company rep that comes in to evaluate which departments to consolidate and who to fire.

So you see the game we play now.

But there is so much more that is important in life. For instance:

we will inevitably die before we get to do everything we want to do.

The lessons on repeat in my world over the past few years have revolved around patience, acceptance, compassion, and being grateful. Patience is really hard. Especially when you're within an arm's length of the prize. 

I promise to let go of the bad and be grateful for what I have.
I promise to stop and see the world around me.
I promise to stop worrying about the future, because it may never come.
I promise to be kind, and to think before speaking or doing.
I promise to stand up for myself, and for others.
I promise to trust my gut instincts.
And I promise to remind myself that I am a lucky bitch.

Where The Magic Happens: Sociology of Fiction

Taking a bit of a sociology lesson out of my conversations with the Writer, we have recently been discussing reasons behind common themes in books:

Human nature responds most strongly to desire, conflict, risk, and change because that is the pattern of growth within our lives… what helps us to overcome fear and become stronger. The only way to grow is through desire and risk, to go outside of our comfort zone and experience something unfamiliar that will break us out of what is beginning to hold us back/suffocate. Something commonly sought is also the thing we somewhat loathe; stability. It is the boredom that sets in when nothing changes; life becomes stagnant and stale.

Despite the benefits of knowing each day will be the same as the last, we begin to see through repeated days upon days that “stability” is keeping us from progressing. We start to sniff out new things that will awaken our senses and remind us to be alive and present. Some people do this through changing partners, some through traveling, having kids, jumping out of planes, some through moving to a new country or career shifts. It is especially true in American culture where we are accustomed to being able to do a full upheaval into a new avenue of living without fatal consequences.

When someone is smart enough to know that they must have at least some stability to survive, they can seek out risk through fictional events…by escaping into an alternate reality that is not theirs.

Fairy tales and fiction both convey messages that are a part of our life cycle. Where fairy tales provide a hero, other fiction questions why a hero is necessary. Fairy tales give shape to both the enemy and the enemies’ enemy (it is a powerful reassurance to have something exist in the universe that is more powerful than darkness). Likewise, it is an interesting and unsettling realization to end a book and feel different because of the conclusion, or lack of conclusion.

I think we do desire a certain amount of resolve to a story that we’ve invested hours of imagination into and have built therein a small escape from reality. We want to know that it all works out somehow, and that those characters have grown as a result of the events and consequences that they face. Many times a story is compelling because the reader of the book may not have the courage to actively take the sorts of risks the fictional character can take… so the reader identifies with the character’s desire and gets to partially experience what may happen as a result of pursuing it. We are always seeking out knowledge, and learning about what happens-as a result of a murderous rampage, or what goes through a psychopath’s mind, or how it feels to be swept up in a star-crossed love affair-without actually having to partake in the event. A book can satisfy the reader’s curiosity. Gaining bits of knowledge about lives outside of our own is advantageous to being able to withstand changes in our reality, should they happen. It is easier to adapt to something that is not foreign.

You will laugh! And then you will smile :)

Let's get one thing straight: I do not intentionally injure myself! These things just seem to happen to me. I actually stopped skating in the two week lapse that I had between health insurance policies because I KNOW myself. My name is CALAMITY. I am aware of my shortcomings.
So I returned to practice on the 4th of June, three days after my new insurance policy kicked in. 20 minutes into practice during a very fun episode of on-skates dodgeball, I took a knee to slide over and grab a nerf ball to take out some fellow skaters... and slid right into a fence. My skate wheel got caught in the mesh, my leg twisted, my knee... popped. Torn MCL.

So yeah, that part of my life is sucking eggs at the moment, but I guess I should be happy that I've been playing derby as long as I have without any major knee injuries outside of the loss of cartilage behind my kneecaps (minor, I swear). It was apparently my turn to have a crippling knee problem (a staggering 80% of all derby injuries), and as I lie there cursing like a sailor and vehemently denying any sort of EMS involvement, I was incredibly grateful that I listened to my inner girl scout and stayed off skates for two weeks. I've seen a lot of doctors and have now begun PT, but it could've been worse and I could've needed surgery. Instead I have 6-8 weeks of PT recovery. Imagine how in debt I would have instantly become had I needed knee reconstruction. Wow.

I tried hobbling around with a cane for a week and experimented with what it might feel like to be an old woman on the metro transit, needing a little extra help on and off and gratefully accepting seats at the front of the bus. It was humbling. I looked longingly at the youthful girls with their tanned and perfectly functioning knees sitting across from me, and dreaded my stop as it approached... knowing I would have to walk 1/2 a mile to work from my bus stop. Oh yes, it sucks to be a cripple. At least I'm not in a wheelchair.

The best news has happened within this setback, however.

I got a super rad interview and then was offered a super rad job at an art museum!! This has all the potential of being my dream job. I am so absolutely excited that I'm scared to tell anyone for fear of it falling through before I start. It will set me up in many ways and pave the road to a promising career in the arts in a prestigious museum that mainly handles public art projects! I will be able to apply all of my degrees and challenge myself in a multitude of extremely awesome ways such as Curatorial and Art Event Planning, and I couldn't feel luckier. The Executive Director is throwing me a bone and giving me the opportunity to prove myself. I am nervous but very much ready to move on to something that has golden potential. I have given my notice at the Coalition and although I feel a little bad about leaving them in such a short time frame, they remain understanding in light of the other shifts within their organization and recognize that sometimes opportunity knocks.

I feel so lucky right now, and I'm so grateful to be given this chance in the art community. I have been away for so long. I am so glad I didn't give up.

I stumble

Sometimes I stumble upon things that really touch the center of my being. This blog post is an important message to me. It has taught me, once again, that the way I am navigating through life is always going to shift and change and morph, that all external values are in constant flux. If I am craving challenge/change/variation/exploration/adventure/excitement, it is mostly due to the inner turmoil and unrest within my own person. I must find a way to "soften into" my own being-accepting all for what it is-instead of constantly wanting more or to do something else. I must learn to be content with now. This realization is not bound simply to physical existence but also to spiritual development. I must be content with who I am inside, who I have become, and who I am becoming. How do I do that?
There is no easy path. Why am I always so lost?

Dog Forgiveness

For reasons unknown, I have a habit of taking on just a little more than is comfortable... overstepping my boundaries by jussst a hair... changing so many variables at once that I can barely tell which way is up...
So, I am starting to "settle" into my new job. I am starting to "settle" into my new place, and all that single living entails. I am starting to get into a routine. So what's the big deal in that? Well... let's just say it didn't take long to take on a little more.
One fine morning, three days after purchasing a Walmart cruiser bike

to commute to work (because my bus commute was ridiculous on the way home and involved multiple transfers), I discovered that my bike had it's first flat tire. As it was too late to catch the morning bus, and as I had just started my new job a week earlier, and worrying about how bad it would look to come in late on my second week, I sprinted out of my apartment in hot pursuit of a different bus line a mile away. As I illegally jaywalked across the street in front of my building, an ex I haven't spoken to in YEARS came driving up. We exchanged hellos, I thanked him for not hitting me, and we each asked how the other was 3 or 4 times. Then he gave me a ride to work. I had time for coffee, even, so we caught up a bit for about 15 minutes. This led to dinner later to get the rest of the very lengthy story that he had to tell about the many, many, events that had transpired since we last spoke. After he gave me a ride home that night, he asked me to dog sit for him. Well... House sit. and Dog sit. He offered me his car to use and gave me gas money. Amazing situation, right?
Until he called me the next day to tell me he had adopted a second dog. Who does that? Who adopts a second dog and then leaves town a week later? This guy. This guy is pretty spontaneous. This guy... well, it doesn't matter. I have no stake in his affairs. I'm just a friend.
It should've been easy. Feed them, play with them, make sure they got lots of love. I discovered what I was in for upon arrival.
The dog immediately peed on the living room floor. Then she tried to chew my shoe. When I took the shoe away, and sat in a dining room chair, she went for the chair leg, my toes, the table leg. This dog was not to be trusted! Very well... the dogs stay outside all day, so I can handle household supervision. I can guard the house. From the dog.

Sophie and I assembled his dining room chairs, which was actually my distraction from being completely pissed and rageful towards the animal. After all, she needs something else to chew on.
The dog turns out to be full of other surprises, a few of them sweet (we took showers together, and played silly games of hide and seek, tag, and learned some tricks). She's cute enough... but cute gets pretty ugly when you zone out for a minute on your laptop and look down to see her gnawing on your $100 Power Cord. I wanted to strangle her. All of those feelings I had in sleep-deprived, puppy-parenting moments with my boy came back to haunt me... the feelings of seeing red and contemplating dog murder. At least when it was MY dog, I knew how much the investment was and his baby cuteness showed through his naughtiness. With this dog, I had no investment. I was furious. I couldn't even look at her. She got a pretty awful scolding, and then went outside for an hour. I had to talk myself into letting her back in the house. I had to pretend I loved her anyways. I had to pretend that she represented unconditional love that I needed to nurture regardless of how ugly I saw her. It was incredibly difficult to let her on the bed that night, but it had to be done or she would have destroyed everything else in the house by sunrise. I had to make amends even though I was right and she was wrong. I had to forgive her.
It was a good lesson. When someone gives you money and a car just to stay at their place and take care of their dog(s), there may be a catch. All of that money went towards gas into town and back and the replacement of my power cord. Was it really worth it, outside of helping out a friend? Questionable.. but I it's nice to help out friends that have helped you out in the past. I think that sometimes it's really weird how people come back into your life randomly when you had just about forgotten them. I would have been late to work but otherwise gone about my routine and my "settling in," but I guess it's kind of nice to have him as a friend again. He has a lot of great stories and a LOT of energy, which is good. He's going to need it for that dog.
Mental note: DO NOT BUY ANOTHER DOG until I'm ready for the inevitable training period that comes attached. It actually made Oscar look pretty good! I miss my boy. I also miss my boyfriend.

The Good, The Bad, and Disco

I used to avoid Disco like the plague (it was right up there with Country). But I have to admit... it grows on you. Now there is something in my soul that stirs when I hear that downbeat of the BeeGees or see a flitter of glitter and sequins. Maybe it alludes to the ancient quest to turn lead into gold... or symbolizes the fountain of youth flowing through smooth, feathered hair and frosted lipstick... but whatever it is, I turned my nose up at it until now.

Now, in the midst of some sort of major tectonic plate shift in my world of ID, my soul strikes a chord with Disco. It isn't trying to be real. It's a dream of soft lighting, sparkle, and curves. A true harmony of suspended belief. It is about love and the seduction of a moment, frozen in time.

My life is the frozen coast of Lake Superior, patiently breathing with the tides and waiting out a Spring thaw. I am Disco, on the brink of a new direction. I am not the birth of Rock and Roll, I am not Synthetic 80's pop or stinky, raw Grunge. I am sexy hotpants on their last night out before they are retired to the closet. I have nothing to lose.

Enough with saucy metaphors.

I got the job with the non-profit to advocate for tobacco-free legislation and enforcement. I'm going to be a full-time employee with full benefits and paid vacation. I also found an apartment for a pretty good rate in town that has a dated, early 70's feel. I will finally be independent and free from roommates. I will be on my own for what feels like the first time (I know it's not true... I've been on my own for a while, but somehow this feels different).

I just went through a major issue regarding my current job and a derby tournament that I trained and fundraised for for months-I had received an approval to go to the tournament months ago, but I asked the wrong person. It ended up being not an issue of whether or not there was work for me to do, but a matter of being there in case something went wrong. I didn't go to the derby tournament in favor of keeping my job. It was the first time I have ever felt that my job was more important than derby.
I also managed to salvage my relationship with my boyfriend by the skin of my teeth through this (there are some overlaps that are kind of complex), perhaps more due to patience and some hard work on both of our parts to see the other's perspective. It was hairy. I actually packed two suitcases, thinking I was going to be kicked out. I don't know exactly how the whole thing patched up, but I think it might have something to do with both of us coming to the realization that we love and need each other. It's both upsetting and wonderful. I'm internally at peace with knowing that I depend on him for companionship and horrified that I am admitting that. I guess we all learn about ourselves as we go?

Much like Disco is dependent on John Travolta and it's eventual death, I am dependent on the love and respect of this man that is moody, difficult, and brilliant. He is the smartest person I know and I can't imagine my life without him in it. I guess that's how I know he's the one for me-honestly, who else could I talk to about Alchemy, Resurrection Deities, and the archetypal pattern of all human behavior, then find bliss holding his hand as we take a walk at dusk? I just don't think anyone else like him exists, and I can't risk losing him to find out just to go to a roller derby tournament. My perspective must have changed.

The best part of a really bad argument is the peace that comes with resolve. I am happy to at least grow from each painful transition and look forward to May when my metamorphosis really takes place. God damn, I think I've grown up! Scary.

Calm Before the Storm?

Life is a tightrope walk, delicately poised above a smoldering lava pit. One small gust of wind may whisk me to the inferno...

I have shipped Mr. Piggles to MN for the companionship he deserves, with his loving grandparents. Although it was pretty straightforward in the send-off, I had a hell of a time with it at home. It created a lot of domestic disturbance and I was almost cast out, all because I wanted a hug. I may never understand men. Since I do not understand women (myself included sometimes), that means I will have to conclude I don't understand people. Sending off my dog was really hard. He was my security blanket. Perhaps us women think we are entitled to consoling when we undergo a major trauma... but I have a hard time believing that a man wouldn't also expect consoling in a troubled time. Do men need emotional support? It was my understanding that ALL human beings needed it. Perhaps I am mistaken.

I need to find a place to live in May and another job, since this one ends and this living situation must end as well. Every time I talk to my dad, he is chuckling about yet ANOTHER interesting kink and turn in my road. It's flabbergasting that I can even function emotionally. What helps is to look at all of the mentally unstable, homeless people in Chinatown. They remind me that I've got it pretty damned good. In better news, I have a job interview tomorrow for an interesting advocacy coordinator position with a nonprofit I actually care about, and I'm curious about what they have in mind. I am somewhat excited and simultaneously wary. I guess it's better to go in optimistic. In best news, I was named the game MVP for Saturday's bout, and I'm slowly getting into the groove of work and derby. It's been a pain in the ass, but I think all of that is starting to come together.

When times get tricky, you are forced to make sacrifices. I have left a trail of belongings from MN to NC to MN to HNL to LIH to HNL, and now I have dug my toes into the dirt and will be DAMNED if I lose my footing in May.

Dog-gone it.
Pun intended.

I am perfectly aware that everyone has struggles in their life creating chaos, and I am trying my best to quell the storm before it destroys my house. I am a peacemaker, not a flipping drama queen. I am acutely aware, however, that I cannot control the actions of others and whether or not they choose to be emotionally available. I am a living daily newspaper, my headlines constantly shifting, my news sometimes bad sometimes good, my weather cloudy then sunny then full of tornadoes. I am still resolved to practice my zen ways of living in the moment, perpetually caught in a present state, tracing a circle of breath through my nose, into my belly, and out my mouth. I am not going to scream. Yet.

Surrender

i must surrender
i must endlessly explode
pulse with the flame
that lights the candle
move with the wave
that pushes the sea

Bad Dog Mom

Let's take a little glimpse of the past few weeks in my world:

Work is incredibly chaotic, with waves of constituent concerns pouring in over the phone, email, and through the door. I am fielding all of them with mixed results whilst simultaneously trying to maintain my composure. As I calmly listen to a repeat-caller tell me about his need for a colon hydrotherapy bill to be heard by the committee, my partially deaf co-worker is handling bill collection and hearings procedures... and since he still thinks he's a lobbyist, he has a constant stream of people coming in to talk story or just hang out. Meanwhile, several different hearings are being broadcast on the overhead television and I'm trying to pay attention to when they go into recess so I can alert my Senator by text message that he must now wrap up his meeting in his office to go in for decision-making. I don't really know how it all works, but somehow by the end of the day I have merged three different schedules into an email itinerary for the next day, made calls to banks, the DOH and the DLNR about constituent issues, filed reports, collected signatures of Senators, and coordinated info briefings. If it seems like a lot, it is. Am I totally complaining? No. I really don't mind the work. In fact, I really like the controlled chaos. There is an artful finesse to balancing so many odd tasks and loose ends. When I finish compiling the schedule for the following day, I spend a good 10 minutes scouring through hearing notices and triple-checking schedules. Inevitably, I miss something. It happens. But you know... it's really satisfying to leave work knowing that I've managed to get almost all of the ducks in a row for the morning without too many casualties. I feel good about it.

Trying to get all of those ducks aligned in time to catch my carpool to derby practice has proved to be a tremendous challenge. Often I get to work thinking it will be a slow day, only to discover that something major is going to happen around 2pm that will make it impossible to leave my desk long enough to run down the hall and pee, and any chance of leaving before 630-7 is absolutely out of the question. I've only been able to coordinate seeing my dog on Saturdays. Work has completely consumed me.

I believe I may have taken on more than I can chew with derby this time around... NOT because I wasn't ready or equipped to handle the additional responsibility, but because I cannot handle it during this legislative session. I am crossing my fingers that no one starts complaining about my lack of league participation; tonight I worked an 11 hour day for the second day in a row. I missed league practice last night, a GM meeting for derby tonight. I know that's not good. I sense the silence of my co-chair and coach as being entirely related to my absence. But I can't change it right now... career comes first. Luckily I know that my coach recognizes my need to set down roots so that I can stick around past May. I don't think he would be as understanding were I a new recruit or a mediocre skater. I think he knows I'm trying to find the balance between work and play. I'll find it... I just need a little more time.

In addition to the work drama and the derby drama, I currently also have DOG drama. The couple that I've been paying to watch my dog while I work Session and live in a dog-free building had a major break-up last weekend. Consequently, the girl tried to commit suicide with an overdose, causing the guy to ship her on a plane back to her parents on the mainland. He then decided to move back to the mainland himself this weekend.
This obviously puts my dog and myself in a serious dilemma. Strangely enough (and I'm a bit put-off by it, but oh well), the girl placed a craigslist ad without telling me for a new foster situation for my dog... BEFORE the guy had told me he was leaving Hawaii in a week. I got an email response from a woman who is now watching my dog, as I discovered when I paid a visit that the dog wasn't receiving his meds. The poor pooch was covered in hives and sores, had a horrible ear infection, and bloody paws. Jesus. I was paying these people to watch him, when really, the guy had focused his attention elsewhere (and I am sympathetic to his stress, but come on). I think the couple were good with the dog until their personal life crumbled... but due to the circumstances, I yanked my dog out of the apartment and placed him immediately with random strangers that I had barely talked to. She and her disabled husband happen to be wonderful dog people and are taking extra good care of him now, but in light of the whole debacle, I have decided to fly my dog back to my parents. I can't handle any more drama involving that dog. I love him, but he's tricky and Hawaii is tricky to find accommodations that aren't in the heart of Kalihi. It's just too many strikes and not enough time to find a good setup.
So this random couple is helping me to get my dog to the vet tomorrow to get an updated health certificate so that I can fly him on the ONLY airline out of 10 that I called (all but 1 don't allow his breed anymore on any airline. Only Alaskan) back to MN to live with my parents. I think my mom and dad are excited to help and love him, but I feel a great amount of guilt for putting the responsibility of his care upon them.

I don't like admitting defeat. Right now, I have to stare it in the face.

I just can't handle the dog right now and give him the care and attention he deserves. Sadly for me, I know he will be happier back with my parents. After 7 years of dog care, I am a failed dog-mom. Surely this means I would be an unfit mother... aren't dogs the test-baby? Sigh.

This may be one of those regrets in life that I reflect back on in 10 years, but right now, I have to do it. I can't put him to the Humane Society because I know what will happen. I know my dog has red flags. I also know what he is capable of giving with his heart. With that in mind, I'm forking out the same amount it would cost to fly me to MN round trip, just to ensure that my furry son is safely back with a loving family that will give him the good life he deserves. I feel very fortunate to have such kick-ass parents right now. I also feel fortunate to have the support of my sister and brother, who know I'm busting my ass out here to try and make things work and are reaching out to let me know that they think my decision is okay.

Sometimes I DO have a lot of drama in my life. I know it's a lot at the moment. I just don't know if it's entirely my doing, is all.

Embracing Personal Sadness as a Path to Awakening

I had a particularly horrible day today. There are some inexplicable things that I allow to happen that I shouldn't, and often I suffer in my head for making mistakes. There is truth behind the old saying that we are, in fact, our own worst enemies. Even worse is that I am so incredibly embarrassed and ashamed of my decisions lately that I don't even want to air my grievances with my closest friends. Everyone has their own coping mechanisms to pacify themselves through rough days, and when the going gets tough, I turn to Ben & Jerry's "Cherry Garcia," or peanut butter M&M's.

Today I bought both before coming home.

I also did some things for myself that are less about guilty secret eating; I took a bath to center myself. Then, I turned to spiritual guidance like millions upon billions of people worldwide. It is the spiritual path that reminds us about the purpose of life's daily struggles and the meaning we might grasp even in our darkest hours. It's no secret that I relate best to Buddhist teachings; often it is Pema Chodron's lessons about inner stillness, living in the present, and enlightenment through suffering that keep me in life's good fight. I stumbled upon a blog that had this article.

Here is one of the most relevant comments in the article summarizing my struggle today:

"The futility of life, as we have been living it, is not the fault of our upbringing; we cannot blame it on society or the insufficiency of religion. Truly relating to our personal suffering means that out of all the assholes we have met, we are, perhaps, the biggest; out of all the bullies we have faced, no one, other than the one we created, so ruthlessly suppressed that silent voice of authenticity that always asked us to be true to our Self. Second, it puts us in a very compromising position. We are forced to learn to love ourselves, even the part of us we hate for having created this terrifying situation."

I honestly don't know why I choose such difficult paths in my life-and why I find the safe routes to be inaccessible-but I do. Again and again, I choose challenging life partners, occupations that don't quite mesh with my skill sets/personality, and social situations that start to unravel at the seams after a few short months. Of course I have friends and lovers, enjoy work from time to time and smile often... but these dark days, the ones that leave a void inside of me and cause me to question my judgement, sanity, decision-making, mental capacity and overall well-being, are so rattling that I actually daydream wild fantasies about walking right out of my life and disappearing into the abyss.
Of course, I have far too much love and respect for my family and friends to intentionally disappear off the face of the earth, but isn't it startling to have such an idea enter my head in the middle of a difficult situation? Why do I have a fleeing mentality to just pick up and go?

I've never been a quitter, but boy does my abusive bully of an alter-ego make me want to give up sometimes. I want to hide from the world in my room and eat ice cream, or just walk away from everything and start over. It's very difficult to face the disappointments of not fulfilling our personal expectations. Even harder, the recurring thoughts of failure and anger that I feel towards myself when I make bad errors in judgement/in action. I don't like to let people down. I also don't like to let myself down. Life is hard, and some days are a huge struggle for survival. It amazes me that even though my basic needs are now in order, I am drowning in feelings of inadequacy and personal disappointment. I would like to think that I deserve happiness and a loving relationship with someone who will comfort me in times of great distress and life tests, but I have not arrived. I am disappointed in myself. I am trying really hard to accept the anger I feel inside without blaming other people, and trying equally hard to accept that I have painted myself into this corner to learn something.

Oh my goodness.
It really sucks to own up to our own doing.

Because That's What Happens

So I'm settling in my new job, getting used to the rolling waves of chaos, when.... BAM!! Road blocks. All over my fucking road.

Big ones.

One of my favorite derby girls in the whole wide world ends up in the Intensive Care Unit with no warning in a losing battle with septic pneumonia and MRSA, fighting for her life...

The office manager who had a premature baby 8 months ago is finally able to bring her son home from the NICU and takes maternity leave...

and before those two upheavals, I am throned as co-chair of the Athletics committee and simultaneously voted in as co-captain of my home team. 200+ emails flood my inbox relating to topics and documents...

I am feeling like I need a brush-up course on how to swim...

Now, I've heard of life throwing us challenges when it thinks we are prepared to cope with them, but COME ON. Did it all have to happen in 2 weeks time? I'm trying really hard not to freak out, but damn. I worked a super long day today and had to miss my own committee meeting, and yesterday I coordinated a food run to the hospital via text for my friend's boyfriend in-between hunting Senators to sign bills (they're like endangered species you know... elusive, protected, and super crafty).
I've heard of multi-tasking, I vaguely remember multi-tasking in college, and I've always thought myself perfectly capable of doing so. But this definitely ups the ante for me. Now I care. Now I have to do good work. This is not a situation I am allowed to fail or coast through. I am challenged in work, challenged in derby, and challenged when I go home each night. I certainly bit off a large chunk of reality, but I am learning a ton! I used to wonder how people could function on very little sleep. Now I am one of them... fueling up on coffee whenever possible, taking sleeping pills at night to keep from waking up in a panic every half hour.

It's not that my job responsibilities are too hard, it's that there are so many. I am now doing the job that was set out for me to do PLUS the job of the Office Manager, and doing a bang-up job, I might add ;) So far, no appointments have been double-booked or forgotten, and all errors have been corrected with very little disturbance. I think I am harder on myself than anyone in my office is on me. I get mad when I fuck up. The silliest thing is that these "fuck-ups" aren't really me screwing things up as much as they are holes in my training. It would be impossible to know every detail of the office process in only a few weeks time, let alone run the entire circus flawlessly. The office manager has been waiting a long time to take her maternity leave and enjoy her baby boy, and even though the timing couldn't have been worse, THAT'S LIFE.

Is the timing bad for me to be going through such a tumultuous shift in duties and responsibilities? Oh, hell no. It's perfect. Into the fire with me! I've certainly been flying by the seat of my pants long enough to figure it all out as I go. Right?

New New New Year!

So here I am, back in the big city! I am living on the 16th floor in a kick ass apartment on the edge of Chinatown, adjusting to posh living. Oscar the wonderdog is tucked away in the Kalihi ghetto; I found two really awesome and extremely loving people off of craigslist who just wanted someone's dog to snuggle with until their own dogs get out of quarantine. He's really quite happy with them, and he is undergoing triathalon training regimens every morning. I'm sure I will notice his shrinking waistline a lot faster than I will my own. Oscar is adjusting much better than I am, I'm afraid.

At the risk of sounding like I'm complaining, I'm in a little bit of misery at the moment (wait... let me explain. I'm still ridiculously content).

Stripped from my dog-walking routine and normal grind of activities, I'm a bit discombobulated. Yesterday I walked for 7 miles around the city aimlessly, just trying to get accustomed to the new sights and sounds and smells... So much change to all of my senses! I ate a gyro in the food court of a mall with about 500 people, and lucky me was picked out by a creative homeless guy who claimed to be writing a book on his experience with homelessness. Amused and alone, I entertained the conversation and heard all about his Atheist approach to life including the rejection of organized success within education. He went to Boston U, you know... but his parents in Manila disowned him when he decided to research homelessness by in fact BECOMING homeless in Honolulu instead of pursuing an MBA as they wished (he calls it research). "James" told me all about his theory that whether or not a person would be willing to freely give $200+ to a homeless person without expecting it to be repaid was tied to religious beliefs. He raised my eyebrows when he then went on in detail about how people are more willing to give up sex freely to a complete stranger (a one-night stand) than they would be to give money to a stranger-knows this first hand-and that this seems to have nothing to do with religious affiliation. As entertaining as the conversation was, I had had enough after 20 minutes and was able to politely excuse myself after telling him I would consider mailing him $200 to his local Waikiki P.O. Box. Yes, I will consider it (consideration does not make a commitment). He is counting on my belief in karmic output, I think... but he doesn't seem to realize that money is closely knit to trust-and I had no reason to trust anything he told me was even true. I wouldn't even borrow some of my friends $200, let alone give it away to a stranger for no reason whatsoever. Well, enough about homeless swindlers. Lets think about changes.

Some changes are good, some of them not good. I'm finding that my perceptions-and consequently the realistic version of events-doesn't play out the way you want every time. Rarely, ANY time. It's always different than you thought it would be.

That has definitely been my experience with relationships, and this one is no different. I'm now living with this strange man that I adore, but I think we both feel a great amount of stress from the risks that we are both taking by allowing each other into close proximity. It is hard to trust when you have been stripped of your naivety through abusers and users, and this causes me to view all new relationships as both perilous and somewhat scary. So you know... I'm struggling with the growing pains of adjustment in home life followed by how other new events in my life affecting all of that on top when I get home. Add in "that time of the month." This seems to be my personal Molotov cocktail. I've been pacifying my emotional rollercoaster with naughty food, but what I think will really do the trick is when I get back on the roller skates this weekend at the annual derby tournament. Despite not having practiced in weeks, I think that outlet will be the remedy to all of my problems. If I am disillusioned into believing that roller derby will save me, let me continue to believe. Here I am in this amazing city with all of these glorious opportunities glittering like gold, and I'm ragefully PMSing. Thank goodness for contact sports!

Today's work day was so distracting that I didn't even think of my dog until I got home, and it was really cool to walk around the capitol and settle in a bit. I know that this will be a great challenge for me and I'm stoked about it. Hopefully the relationship will turn into a prize worth fighting for... but what my dating history tells me is that caution is a virtue... right next to trust and patience. So yet again I apply my continued studies in Buddhist philosophy, letting go to just be.