10. There's nothing good on television.
9. Didn't make it to the gym today; have to get in the cardio somehow.
8. I just watched a Jason Statham movie and, well, if I can't have the real thing...
7. Bored.
6. My friends dared me to.
5. Vibrator broke.
4. Too much toxin buildup in my body so I figure, what the hell?
3. Hormones are out of control.
2. I drank too much.
and the number one reason to have sex tonight (a la Dave Letterman):
Endorphins people, endorphins...
Okay, gotta go. ;)
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Why you ask? Why the hell not...
Somebody asked me the other day (and this is certainly not the first time that this has happened) "Why do you want to do a triathlon?" and while many things run through and ran through my mind, it wasn't until later, again conspiring with a friend... well, not really, but we were talking about this notion and the answer is so ridiculously simple, so unbelievably obvious that it doesn't seem to require an answer and yet, here it is, "Because I can..." Now that might not be enough of an answer for the hardcore pessimists out there or for those who cannot fathom the idea that tackling something or taking on a challenge that is out of your comfort zone is done because it is that very thing that deep down you don't really "want" to do, but you feel compelled to "try" anyway. Like anything really, having a kid or buying a house or compromising on an issue. Do you really "want" to do those things? Or is there something in your nature that drives you to do it. I mean seriously, does anyone really "want" kids? I'm laughing at myself right now, but if you knew what you were getting yourself into for the next 18 odd years, you might not have agreed so readily or, suggested the idea so readily...
So you doubting Thomasas out there, here's the thing. Will is a powerful yardstick by which to test your growth; as a human being, as a woman or man, as a force of nature. There has to be something that screams out at us, "I'm here, taunting you, just try to get past me" that begs us to do that. It might be piano lessons or skydiving or Thai cooking. It might be the Kama Sutra, computer programming or planting grass in your backyard. It might be traveling to an exotic place or giving up caffeine (yikes) or Bikram yoga (took a class last night, my body is sighing in relief today). But whatever it is, it has to reach that locked up piece of your soul that is begging you to take it out for a spin. And maybe, if you don't, then you become a stagnant swamp creature who soon cannot even look into the light. Or maybe the Blob... but I digress, just a bit here.
It is almost impossible for me to understand the apathetic. And I am not judging physical stature or ability level here. I am talking about people who just exist, who don't live, who just exist. And while my judgement extends to those who have first rate opinions about everyone else wrapped up in their apathy, I'm really addressing those who choose not to do anything outside of their comfort zone and, for many people, that comfort zone is smaller than their desire to change it. And so they question others. The why becomes the question instead of why not? I run because my legs let me and I read because there are books that I haven't begun to imagine finishing and I push myself because soon, I too will be just a memory and I want to know that I gave it everything I had. And by no stretch of the imagination am I suggesting a triathlon for everyone, but what I am suggesting is a hard look at the bigger picture here. Sinking into depression or apathy only breeds more of the same and that results in nothing good for anyone. While medication or alcohol may help, therapy too, I still believe that it is a lack of desire for something and the subsequent loss of having something to look forward to that depresses people and rains on their parade so to speak. I know you ask, well, does she really look forward to all those workouts and that pain and the exhaustion that comes along with it? And, if you've understood what I've been attempting to explain here, then the answer is obvious, "YES, dammit, YES." Why else would I allow the redhead to get me to sign up for 1/2 marathons? Why would I carpool with the bedthump and said redhead at the crack of dawn up to a fucking mountain in Palm Springs and then walk up it for crying out loud??!! Why would I subject myself to the fear and even terror that I feel when I am swimming in the cold ocean not knowing what is beneath me (and yes that does terrify me). Why do I sit in the rain or get up at 5 a.m. and do whatever activity is scheduled for that morning? Yoga, biking, running? BECAUSE I CAN people, because I can and the day I can't, I may just lose my will to live. Well, unless I have grandkids by then or something else that can simultaneously cause me pain and ecstasy.
I really think and I do see this in my students every single day in class and let me tell you, taking English 100 in summer school is NO picnic by any stretch of the imagination. Those who are taking it and doing well, they have wills of iron, nerves of steel and a huge giftcard from Starbucks because at 7:30 a.m. no one is paying attention, not even me... But, ultimately, having a strong will is not enough; it becomes about testing that will, challenging it and forcing it to push back so the next time, any time that you need it, like every other muscle in your body, it is stronger and faster and more capable when you want it to be, when you need it to be.
Physical fitness is about a lot of things, we all know that. And even if you were never an athlete or you never competed in the "sports" sense, doesn't matter in the least. The thing about physical challenges like mud runs or marathons or even triathlons is that you are only competing with yourself. Unless you are an elite athlete and I'm not really speaking to them right now because their will is unlike anything I could aspire to have. I'm talking about you and I, the everyday Joe's who walk around struggling with all of it and trying to find some balance. Creating competiton with yourself is a win-win situation. There is no loser involved. You get out what you put in and at the end, you are better. I mean I like that I am fitter than I have been since my teen years and because of that, I am reaping other benefits, but the biggest one, the most important one is knowing that I can try to do anything I set my mind to; note that I didn't say I can do it. Again, I never go out to win, that's not the goal. I go out to try and when I try, giving it my all, I never fail... nor will you.
So, why do a triathlon? Maybe for the same reason you watch reality television or bake cookies or wash the car. Because it is there, waiting for me, taunting me, asking me to do it. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's heartbreaking, but it's never the same thing twice. So, heed my advice, don't. Do something, do nothing, but remember "You are what you choose to be;" the Iron Giant, great movie... so, what's it going to be? Choose...
So you doubting Thomasas out there, here's the thing. Will is a powerful yardstick by which to test your growth; as a human being, as a woman or man, as a force of nature. There has to be something that screams out at us, "I'm here, taunting you, just try to get past me" that begs us to do that. It might be piano lessons or skydiving or Thai cooking. It might be the Kama Sutra, computer programming or planting grass in your backyard. It might be traveling to an exotic place or giving up caffeine (yikes) or Bikram yoga (took a class last night, my body is sighing in relief today). But whatever it is, it has to reach that locked up piece of your soul that is begging you to take it out for a spin. And maybe, if you don't, then you become a stagnant swamp creature who soon cannot even look into the light. Or maybe the Blob... but I digress, just a bit here.
It is almost impossible for me to understand the apathetic. And I am not judging physical stature or ability level here. I am talking about people who just exist, who don't live, who just exist. And while my judgement extends to those who have first rate opinions about everyone else wrapped up in their apathy, I'm really addressing those who choose not to do anything outside of their comfort zone and, for many people, that comfort zone is smaller than their desire to change it. And so they question others. The why becomes the question instead of why not? I run because my legs let me and I read because there are books that I haven't begun to imagine finishing and I push myself because soon, I too will be just a memory and I want to know that I gave it everything I had. And by no stretch of the imagination am I suggesting a triathlon for everyone, but what I am suggesting is a hard look at the bigger picture here. Sinking into depression or apathy only breeds more of the same and that results in nothing good for anyone. While medication or alcohol may help, therapy too, I still believe that it is a lack of desire for something and the subsequent loss of having something to look forward to that depresses people and rains on their parade so to speak. I know you ask, well, does she really look forward to all those workouts and that pain and the exhaustion that comes along with it? And, if you've understood what I've been attempting to explain here, then the answer is obvious, "YES, dammit, YES." Why else would I allow the redhead to get me to sign up for 1/2 marathons? Why would I carpool with the bedthump and said redhead at the crack of dawn up to a fucking mountain in Palm Springs and then walk up it for crying out loud??!! Why would I subject myself to the fear and even terror that I feel when I am swimming in the cold ocean not knowing what is beneath me (and yes that does terrify me). Why do I sit in the rain or get up at 5 a.m. and do whatever activity is scheduled for that morning? Yoga, biking, running? BECAUSE I CAN people, because I can and the day I can't, I may just lose my will to live. Well, unless I have grandkids by then or something else that can simultaneously cause me pain and ecstasy.
I really think and I do see this in my students every single day in class and let me tell you, taking English 100 in summer school is NO picnic by any stretch of the imagination. Those who are taking it and doing well, they have wills of iron, nerves of steel and a huge giftcard from Starbucks because at 7:30 a.m. no one is paying attention, not even me... But, ultimately, having a strong will is not enough; it becomes about testing that will, challenging it and forcing it to push back so the next time, any time that you need it, like every other muscle in your body, it is stronger and faster and more capable when you want it to be, when you need it to be.
Physical fitness is about a lot of things, we all know that. And even if you were never an athlete or you never competed in the "sports" sense, doesn't matter in the least. The thing about physical challenges like mud runs or marathons or even triathlons is that you are only competing with yourself. Unless you are an elite athlete and I'm not really speaking to them right now because their will is unlike anything I could aspire to have. I'm talking about you and I, the everyday Joe's who walk around struggling with all of it and trying to find some balance. Creating competiton with yourself is a win-win situation. There is no loser involved. You get out what you put in and at the end, you are better. I mean I like that I am fitter than I have been since my teen years and because of that, I am reaping other benefits, but the biggest one, the most important one is knowing that I can try to do anything I set my mind to; note that I didn't say I can do it. Again, I never go out to win, that's not the goal. I go out to try and when I try, giving it my all, I never fail... nor will you.
So, why do a triathlon? Maybe for the same reason you watch reality television or bake cookies or wash the car. Because it is there, waiting for me, taunting me, asking me to do it. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's heartbreaking, but it's never the same thing twice. So, heed my advice, don't. Do something, do nothing, but remember "You are what you choose to be;" the Iron Giant, great movie... so, what's it going to be? Choose...
Saturday, July 16, 2011
An exercise in futility?
I'm tired, I'm so tired of all of the management that daily life requires. I try not to let it wear me down, but it does and it is. I'm like that proverbial piece of "antique" furniture in your garage that needs to be refinished, but months go by and then years and pretty soon the elements, the insects and just the general effects of time begin to wash out the color, the smooth wood, the appearance that once gave it a lustrous feel... and now has left it just plain old. Some things do not get better with time; some things just fall apart.
I try to remind myself that everybody has a bad day now and then and ironically, I had a pretty good day today. But sometimes, even when I'm thinking that it's a good day, I can feel that sense of despair and, although, I despise using the word depression here, if only because I do not want to lessen the diagnosis of those who truly do suffer from this debilitating problem, I feel at a loss. I feel like I've put my shoes on the wrong feet. I can still walk, can still move forward, but much more slowly and with some sense that things are amiss...
I used to get mirgraine headaches and for many years, I didn't know that's what they were. When I was a teenager, I just labeled them "really bad" headaches; I didn't know that there were actual symptoms, medicine to combat those symptoms and even, therapies that might help alleviate the pain. When I was 26, I had an MRI done of my brain and, let me just say for a moment, if you are ever able to have this procedure done, whether you need to or not and you can pay for it, it just might be worth every single damn penny that you can scrounge from the couch cushions... but I digress, I know that MRI's border on ridiculously expensive, but the images that this proecdure produced and of my HEAD... let my pause for a second and say, I now understand why I was not capable of going to medical school. Because basically, I would have been standing over the patient with a gaping knife wound or a piece of glass stuck in their head and my mouth would have formed a nice doughnut while my eyes got wider and the sound, "Whoa" emitted from my throat. I am seriously in awe of modern day medicine and the technology that has enabled the peons of the world, myself included of course, to view images of their brains. For crying out loud, my BRAIN...
So, the doctor told me to wait until I had a migraine and then call, come in and they would do the MRI, while I was experiencing the excruciating and nauseating pain. They had already completed the images of my brain without the migraine so this was just the other half of the equation. I lay very still, or at least I tried to as the pain jackhammered itself into the right side of my brain and my stomach churned endlessly. The procedure takes about 30 minutes, but it feels like 30 hours when you are in pain and not able to move. I lay there, focusing on the noise, closing my eyes, wishing for certain death... no, not really, but wishing that the whole thing would hurry the hell along. Anyway, the procedure is finished and the radiologist asks me if I'd like to take a look at the images. I'm about ready to tell him off when I see him pull up side by side images on the computer and I feel myself moving automatically toward them. On the left are spliced images of my skull and my brain and on the right, you guessed it, my brain on drugs. Red synapses blossomed all along the right temple of my head and seemed to explode outward, but only in that one place. I felt compelled to put my fingertips against the pain, as if I could feel those red lines emanating throughout my body. I stared in amazement as the doctor pointed out different areas and identified what each was responsible for and how the patterns did this and that, but I was lost in the idea that he had actually captured my physical pain on camera, physiologically. From that point on, I knew that how I looked at things would literally be different...
I take medication now for the migraines, but, knock on wood, what a stupid expression, I don't get them as often anymore. I now know some of the things that trigger them and so I try not to smoke crack quite as often... insert smiley face here. I try to avoid too much caffeine, chocolate or wine. I try to get enough sleep every night and I try to stay hydrated. That is the worst one by the way, dehydration. When those don't work, I take Imitrex and that does work. So, on the days when things go awry, when my head is pounding and I cannot, for the life of me, seem to get a grip, I remember, I remind myself, I think back to laying in that machine and I know that things could be a whole hell of a lot worse.
I mean, that's no way to live your life, with the mantra, "Things could be worse, so I should be happy with what I have..." and that's what I was really thinking about. Happiness is like lowfat potato chips or fat free cookies: a mere illusion. Happiness is not the goal for me anymore, maybe it never was. Peace is the goal, inner peace and yes, I'm channeling my own personal half Yoda/half Buddha. But I'm talking about the kind of peace that slows your heartrate and allows you to sleep soundly at night, deeply... the kind of contentment that forces you to breathe deeply and smile as you exhale. I yearn for the kind of peace that makes me accept the fact that I will die and I do not know when or how, but that when I do, I will be ready because my life will have been everything that I wanted it to be. I think that happiness is temporary, but peace with yourself is eternal; a semblance of immortality if you will. It is the transference of a level of consciousness that transcends material goods and status. While I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my job and my ability to make money do help to define me, they are not me; they are what I allow them to be, what portion of "Yvette" I allow them to claim. Maybe not the best argument philosophically, but if I were to draw it on a piece of paper, it would be a few simple circles instead of a whole flow chart entitled what makes me happy, but I digress...
I just would like to get to a point where I wake up in the morning and stop telling myself that today has to be a "productive" day in order for it to be a "good" one. I mean, why can't I have days where I just lay around and do nothing, absolutely nothing, but read my book for 6 hours straight and then take a bath at 1:00 in the afternoon and, eat ice cream before dinner, well, let's face it, I do that anyway and often I eat it as dinner. But most importantly, when am I doing to stop judging my days by how much I got "accomplished?" It's not a checklist and I am not answering to anyone, not even to my family here. I'm simply saying that, for me, getting to that place of peace means accepting that boredom and sometimes just plain laziness are perfectly acceptable means and a part of my life and if I am trying to stave off the inevitable that I'd better start looking elsewhere because eventually, I am not going to be able to physically keep up the pace that I'm moving at right now and the sooner I accept that, the better shot I have of living a calmer and hopefully, more peaceful life. But for now, I'll just work on having a day or two where I do very little and try not to feel guilty or bad about it...
I saw a man sitting outside on his front porch this morning when I walked down to get a cup of coffee and that was about 7am ish... when I walked down around 10 to drop some mail off at the corner mailbox, he was still out there and I found myself throughout the day, just peeking at him to see what he was "doing." 3:00, he was just looking out at the street, shifting in his chair, kind of rocking back and forth. 4:30 or so, he had his hands behind his head, fingers interlocked and he was checking something out in the sky. The last perusing was around 6:30 and he had his arms folded across his chest. He might have been asleep, but I couldn't really tell from where I stood. I thought that he probably had gotten up a few times during the day, to fill his various personal needs, but, there he was, for a good 12 hours, just, well, just sitting. Imagine, just sitting, enjoying the world go by. I like to think that, as I write this, that he had no guilt about "wasting" the day because if I thought for a second that he did, the whole exercise would have been one of futility. So I just imagine that he was "happy" and at peace on his porch and that simple fact, or thought, gives me hope that someday I might be able to do that, or, at the very least, something similar. Maybe at least an hour. Here's hoping...
I try to remind myself that everybody has a bad day now and then and ironically, I had a pretty good day today. But sometimes, even when I'm thinking that it's a good day, I can feel that sense of despair and, although, I despise using the word depression here, if only because I do not want to lessen the diagnosis of those who truly do suffer from this debilitating problem, I feel at a loss. I feel like I've put my shoes on the wrong feet. I can still walk, can still move forward, but much more slowly and with some sense that things are amiss...
I used to get mirgraine headaches and for many years, I didn't know that's what they were. When I was a teenager, I just labeled them "really bad" headaches; I didn't know that there were actual symptoms, medicine to combat those symptoms and even, therapies that might help alleviate the pain. When I was 26, I had an MRI done of my brain and, let me just say for a moment, if you are ever able to have this procedure done, whether you need to or not and you can pay for it, it just might be worth every single damn penny that you can scrounge from the couch cushions... but I digress, I know that MRI's border on ridiculously expensive, but the images that this proecdure produced and of my HEAD... let my pause for a second and say, I now understand why I was not capable of going to medical school. Because basically, I would have been standing over the patient with a gaping knife wound or a piece of glass stuck in their head and my mouth would have formed a nice doughnut while my eyes got wider and the sound, "Whoa" emitted from my throat. I am seriously in awe of modern day medicine and the technology that has enabled the peons of the world, myself included of course, to view images of their brains. For crying out loud, my BRAIN...
So, the doctor told me to wait until I had a migraine and then call, come in and they would do the MRI, while I was experiencing the excruciating and nauseating pain. They had already completed the images of my brain without the migraine so this was just the other half of the equation. I lay very still, or at least I tried to as the pain jackhammered itself into the right side of my brain and my stomach churned endlessly. The procedure takes about 30 minutes, but it feels like 30 hours when you are in pain and not able to move. I lay there, focusing on the noise, closing my eyes, wishing for certain death... no, not really, but wishing that the whole thing would hurry the hell along. Anyway, the procedure is finished and the radiologist asks me if I'd like to take a look at the images. I'm about ready to tell him off when I see him pull up side by side images on the computer and I feel myself moving automatically toward them. On the left are spliced images of my skull and my brain and on the right, you guessed it, my brain on drugs. Red synapses blossomed all along the right temple of my head and seemed to explode outward, but only in that one place. I felt compelled to put my fingertips against the pain, as if I could feel those red lines emanating throughout my body. I stared in amazement as the doctor pointed out different areas and identified what each was responsible for and how the patterns did this and that, but I was lost in the idea that he had actually captured my physical pain on camera, physiologically. From that point on, I knew that how I looked at things would literally be different...
I take medication now for the migraines, but, knock on wood, what a stupid expression, I don't get them as often anymore. I now know some of the things that trigger them and so I try not to smoke crack quite as often... insert smiley face here. I try to avoid too much caffeine, chocolate or wine. I try to get enough sleep every night and I try to stay hydrated. That is the worst one by the way, dehydration. When those don't work, I take Imitrex and that does work. So, on the days when things go awry, when my head is pounding and I cannot, for the life of me, seem to get a grip, I remember, I remind myself, I think back to laying in that machine and I know that things could be a whole hell of a lot worse.
I mean, that's no way to live your life, with the mantra, "Things could be worse, so I should be happy with what I have..." and that's what I was really thinking about. Happiness is like lowfat potato chips or fat free cookies: a mere illusion. Happiness is not the goal for me anymore, maybe it never was. Peace is the goal, inner peace and yes, I'm channeling my own personal half Yoda/half Buddha. But I'm talking about the kind of peace that slows your heartrate and allows you to sleep soundly at night, deeply... the kind of contentment that forces you to breathe deeply and smile as you exhale. I yearn for the kind of peace that makes me accept the fact that I will die and I do not know when or how, but that when I do, I will be ready because my life will have been everything that I wanted it to be. I think that happiness is temporary, but peace with yourself is eternal; a semblance of immortality if you will. It is the transference of a level of consciousness that transcends material goods and status. While I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my job and my ability to make money do help to define me, they are not me; they are what I allow them to be, what portion of "Yvette" I allow them to claim. Maybe not the best argument philosophically, but if I were to draw it on a piece of paper, it would be a few simple circles instead of a whole flow chart entitled what makes me happy, but I digress...
I just would like to get to a point where I wake up in the morning and stop telling myself that today has to be a "productive" day in order for it to be a "good" one. I mean, why can't I have days where I just lay around and do nothing, absolutely nothing, but read my book for 6 hours straight and then take a bath at 1:00 in the afternoon and, eat ice cream before dinner, well, let's face it, I do that anyway and often I eat it as dinner. But most importantly, when am I doing to stop judging my days by how much I got "accomplished?" It's not a checklist and I am not answering to anyone, not even to my family here. I'm simply saying that, for me, getting to that place of peace means accepting that boredom and sometimes just plain laziness are perfectly acceptable means and a part of my life and if I am trying to stave off the inevitable that I'd better start looking elsewhere because eventually, I am not going to be able to physically keep up the pace that I'm moving at right now and the sooner I accept that, the better shot I have of living a calmer and hopefully, more peaceful life. But for now, I'll just work on having a day or two where I do very little and try not to feel guilty or bad about it...
I saw a man sitting outside on his front porch this morning when I walked down to get a cup of coffee and that was about 7am ish... when I walked down around 10 to drop some mail off at the corner mailbox, he was still out there and I found myself throughout the day, just peeking at him to see what he was "doing." 3:00, he was just looking out at the street, shifting in his chair, kind of rocking back and forth. 4:30 or so, he had his hands behind his head, fingers interlocked and he was checking something out in the sky. The last perusing was around 6:30 and he had his arms folded across his chest. He might have been asleep, but I couldn't really tell from where I stood. I thought that he probably had gotten up a few times during the day, to fill his various personal needs, but, there he was, for a good 12 hours, just, well, just sitting. Imagine, just sitting, enjoying the world go by. I like to think that, as I write this, that he had no guilt about "wasting" the day because if I thought for a second that he did, the whole exercise would have been one of futility. So I just imagine that he was "happy" and at peace on his porch and that simple fact, or thought, gives me hope that someday I might be able to do that, or, at the very least, something similar. Maybe at least an hour. Here's hoping...
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