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Ok, when I started watching The Bachelor at the beginning of the season, I’m like, why am I watching this? And every time I watch, I feel like a sick, sick puppy who is only ingraining bad, bad ideas from this culture more firmly in my head.

But then comes this one redeeming week. So, The Bachelor, for the wise uninitiated, is this show where they take one guy and 25 women and week after week he whittles down the women from twenty five to one. Da, da, da! You can see how it is just the worst version of the Cinderella story ever. Why do I watch this crap?!

Oh yeah, this week. So, this week, he is down to four women and he gets to visit their families. I should really just watch “The Hometown visit” episodes. I guess what I like about these visits is that their families are always so important to the people. So, during the earlier shows, you see a lot of posing, a la high school, but when people go home, you can really see them being genuine and genuinely caring about their families. Also, their families usually look and act like normal people which is rare to see on TV. I just find it touching.

So, although I DON’T recommend the Bachelor. I do recommend this week’s home town date episode!! Look at the cute families! See how the one dad says that he married his best friend and that’s the best you can do. CUTE!

I want to find me my best friend. (said in a Colorada accent) Where are you best friend? I promise I won’t make you watch the Bachelor with me.

The Bachelor, episode 6. (Skip the earlier ones. They might make you hurl.)

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Merle’s Door

One of the great things about quitting my job has been getting to spend time reading. One of the books I read over Christmas was Merle’s Door. Here’s what my mom has to say about it:

I finished reading Merle’s door - I don’t know if you checked out the website - but you can see pictures & a slide show at www.kerasote.com and listen to an interview if you want.
What a great dog story! And a people story too and inspiring to how we treat each other.

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Ear ah Tahble

I had a great day. A good talk with a friend. Got lots done. Went to my Womyn’s group which I was really looking forward to, but while I was there, started feeling really IRR-A-TAble. I don’t know why.

All I know is, I came home and looked at my netvibes page to take my mind off it, and I was irritated with Dooce for her stupid pictures of her poor dog with the peanut butter, I’m disgusted with Blue and her stupid vengeful murder planning shenanigans, and hating this stupid asshole for his stupid f@#$ing advice that some poor slob is probably taking and bothering his wife about her cute new haircut. WHICH SHE REALLY DID GET JUST BECAUSE SHE WANTED A NEW HAIRCUT, YOU ASSHOLE!

This article made me feel better because it’s tone resonates with my current mood, which I should probably thoughtfully analyze but I DON’T WANT TO!

Only these little cuties are free from my wrath.

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The sign at the front of the trail warned about mountain lions. I waited until I heard other people’s voices before I started hiking, and as I hiked I made sure to look tall and confident and looked around for weapons. My friend’s aunt had her dog snatched off the porch right in front of her by a mountain lion. She beat it with a broom but it didn’t let go. So, I had fantasies of rescuing a dog right from the jaws of a mountain lion as I hiked. Not on my watch, mr. lion.

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British Columbia rocks. On the first day of our trip, we landed in adless Vancouver, as previously noted and then, following some crazy plan of my mother’s, we spent the next 6 plus hours in transit. We took three bus rides and a ferry to our hotel on Vancouver Island where we immediately fell asleep. The ferry ride was beautiful though, and I tried to keep a pleasant attitude towards her as this was the beginning of our TWO WEEKS together. (”Family vacation,” “two weeks” I wonder that the two phrases together did not give me a single moments pause before the trip started.)

Vancouver Island reminded me of Denmark because of all the people riding the bus, riding their bikes, and wearing rain gear. I miss bike paths.

Here are some of the pictures I took on our ferry ride back to Vancouver to board the cruise:


Finally a vista: what I had been longing for in my little urban life.


I was sick as a dog on the second day of our trip, but hey, look at the view!


Pulling into the dock.

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Forget finding a mother duck, sometimes you just need your mother. I have several friends whose moms have died. I’m so glad I have my mom. I still have enough baggage with her to gauge which things I want to share with her when I’m feeling vulnerable, but more and more I’m rewarded for taking a chance and sharing.

Tonight she was just the person I needed to help me feel more spacious, seeing the bigger picture, feeling less alone. At first our conversation was just about the details of her next visit. I suggested she stay longer, subtext: “I’m lonely. I need you. Please come stay with me.” Of course, she responded to what I said with the practicalities of the visit, and as she said the reasons she had to leave when she did, and continued talking about the details, I felt myself going into the self-imposed state of aloneness I can sometimes go into. I decided not to do that to myself. “I’m lonely.” I told her.

Sometimes all you need is to reach out. Then we had one of those conversations that probably promted the phrase, “friendship is the sweetest balm,” when someone says just what you need to hear and brings you to another place. She told me with warmth in her voice how much bounteousness I’d added to her life, and then sympathized with the longing I feel for a special person, saying she remembered being my age and feeling that. Thanks, mom.

My mom has found love, and now whenever I picture her, it is like she is in a little cottage in a village in the woods, with animals freinds hanging out in the house, and soup cooking in the background, and a loving husband just getting home, or reading the paper, or playing with the dog and petting the cat. “Our house is a very very very fine house…

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Passing along a mass email my mom sent me:

A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience, raised a glass of water and asked, “How heavy is this glass of water?” Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g. The lecturer replied, “The absolute weight doesn’t matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it. If I hold it for a minute, that’s not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I’ll have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you’ll have to call an ambulance. In each case, it’s the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.”

He continued, “And that’s the way it is with stress management. If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy, we won’t be able to carry on. ” “As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again. When we’re refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.” “So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don’t carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow. Whatever burdens you’re carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can.”

So, my friend, why not take a while to just simply RELAX. Put down anything that may be a burden to you right now. Don’t pick it up again until after you’ve rested a while. Life is short. Enjoy it!

Then the email listed ways you can “put down the burden:”

  • Accept that some days you’re the pigeon, and some days you’re the statue.
  • Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.
  • Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.
  • If you can’t be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.
  • Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.
  • When everything’s coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.
  • Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.
  • A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.
  • Have an awesome day and know that someone has thought about you today….

…I did.

Resting in between working, sprint-like instead of marathon-like, is what helped me change a long held procrastination pattern I had. Today I rested by going to the dog park to get my cuteness fix. I like to have regularly scheduled rejuvination in my week, like church and lunch with my friends. When I wake up I write in my morning pages. What are some things you do to make clean transitions between work and make sure you aren’t holding the glass for too long?

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Lady, that is some good writing.

In the last few days, however, you’ve shown so much more interest in doing it yourself, and your father and I have screamed ourselves hoarse trying to encourage you. The other night you were walking back and forth between us when the dog came upstairs to see what all the unnecessary screaming was about, couldn’t we be quiet because he was downstairs in the dark putting on black mascara and dying his fur with Koolaid. When he saw you coming at him upright with your E.T. waddle he whipped his head around to give me a look that said, “You’re shitting me. When did this happen? And why are you letting her do that?”

There’s more. And it gets better. “putting on black mascara and dying his fur with Koolaid”?! Yes, yes, exactly! Ok, she’s brilliant.

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I went on a trip. It went without a hitch and was better than expected. I came back and the dog and cat were happy to see me. :) I feel so uncertain in my life right now. What will I do next? I have so many questions and so much to do to be in a comfortable resting place. However, all my things are now with me or at my Granddad’s house and I feel like I have a home base again. It’s probably a sign of modern materialism that I identify so strongly with some of my possessions, but I felt so happy to see my books again! It was like visiting old friends. I unpacked two shelves full of books and put them up in the “turquoise room” at my Granddad’s house. My books have a home, I have a home.

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I love reading Andrea’s real life updates over at Roundy Wells. I wish all my friends and family had blogs! So, today I am going to treat you to a real life update.

Men: Nada. (Wow, this is quick!) I theoretically want to get married and if I happened to meet someone that I clicked with, I’d be all for it, but I’m putting no energy into looking. The only reason it has a little half-hearted place on my to do list is my biological clock. Mental calculations of biological clock: “Let’s see, I’m 31 [now you know :)] If I meet someone now and marry them in a year, the earliest I will have my first child is 33. If I want 4 kids, spaced two years apart… ARGHGGGH!!!” That’s how those internal conversations usually go, followed by a panicked: “I must meet somebody now!” or a tremulously reasuring, “Well, people are getting younger all the time, if you just stay in really great shape, it will be almost like you are in your 20’s when you are having kids!” Yeah right!

Job: Just quit! Yay me! In my job-life, I really feel like the airplane motivational speakers always talk about, on the wrong path most of the time but continually making adjustments so that it does eventually get where it intended to go. I know what I want to do: create blah, blah, blah, blah. (That information is part of my secret identity- or actually, my known identity, but this site is part of my secret identity, so my known identity is… this gets so confusing.) But how do I get there? I started drafting a letter to send to a well-known writer and Ph.D to share with him the research paper I wrote that involves his work. Ach! It scared me to even draft it. Do you double-dog-dare me to send it today? It is great thinking, in my humble opinion, but really stilted writing. I haven’t figured how to make research paper writing flow. I HATE that method of writing. eek.

I’m considering going to school some more to get a Ph.d and doing research there, applying for a grant to get my research funded, or… working at a regular job while I work on my own research on the side? This is all up in the air.

For the near future, I have a student loan coming in, so I won’t starve. However, I do want a job during this last semester and I will definitely need a job when the semester ends. As the very talented Andrea has shown, getting a job in a particular field can be challenging. I won’t have any welcoming arms letting me stay somewhere, I’ve already used that option up post bachelors degree. Unless something changes in some other area of my life. (See “Men:” above.)

Jobs I am considering: low paying student job on campus- hey, it’s money, actual full time job in my field if I can get it, or get an internship in my field. In addition, I AM starting my hypnosis practice back up. The website is in the works.

Other dreams: I want to sing and play the guitar and write songs. My grandma has agreed to pay for me to get singing lessons! Yay, Grandma!! I am soo excited to have a more consistantly performance worthy voice. Also, I am going to learn to play the guitar better and learn more music theory. As you know, I don’t want to become famous in that I don’t want my face to be broadly recognizable, but I DO want to be rich and talented. I would love to make money selling my songs and be a slightly known singer in my community- at church and in a local band. That would be sooo fun.

Housing: I want my own house. But I went driving around yesterday and I realized, even if something magical happens, I don’t know exactly where I want to live yet. However, being in a temporary place that is someone else’s house just sucks. No, I am not pleased with my roommates. Today I realized that I just have to clean in front of my other two roommates so they can WITNESS ME CLEANING, then they see that I am contributing my fair share of cleaning. My other roommate, the owner of the house, who I will call Fantasia, just got home today. Disclaimer: all of these roommates are nice. They are not horrible, but still, I am not pleased. So, Fantasia and Tina are chatting about the trip she just got back from and I say, “Hi! How was Florida?” And she says, in a measured voice usually reserved for pre-schoolers, and irritating even then,”Braidwood, I had a nice trip, but I don’t want to talk about it now. If you’d like, I will tell you about Florida later.” What the hell! I wanted to turn all Hustle and Flow * on her and tell her, “Yo, bitch, I couldn’t care less about your trip to Florida! I was just asking to be nice!” Then I fantasized about coming up with something socially acceptable yet funny and mean to say back to her. I could think of nothing. When I am displeased I turn very sincere and tend to say things like, “I really don’t like being spoken to like that.” I did think it would be funny to make up a song about Fantasia to the tune of “I’m living in my own private Idaho” and call it “I’m living in my own private Ashram!” (Fantasia teaches yoga and gives astrology readings and doesn’t think farting is funny.)

*I saw Hustle and Flow with my Grandma when I was in Hawaii, her choice, and the only reason I went. I usually stick to my Mormon heritage and skip rated R movies. Especially if there is the chance that there will be something in the movie that I just wish I had never seen. However, while Hustle and Flow had the trappings of banality, it was not banal. It was an awesome movie and I could totally relate.

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WARNING- do not read any further if you haven’t seen the movie! This will totally spoil it for you!

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Here is Ebert’s review. On the side there are other interesting articles listed.

Lot’s of people disagree with what Clint’s character did, but I don’t. If I am ever paralyzed and so desperate to die that I bite through my tongue twice, I hope someone will have mercy on me and let me go. Most people would be at least that compassionate to an old dog who can’t even say if it wants to die or not. I can’t imagine the horror of wanting to die and being trapped against your will because you can’t physically move. On the other hand, I don’t know if I could kill someone, even if the person was someone who I loved very much and desperately needed my help to die. When my great-grandma was alive, mentally sharp, but longing to go, I wondered what I would do if she asked me to help her die. I would shrink from the physical act of taking life from someone and the prospect of future, sickening inner turmoil. I don’t think I could do that, and I consider that a weakness. I think Maggie’s trainer showed a courageous, self-sacrificing love.

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mmmm….. another uplifting link. To remind be that there is beauty all around me and to bring me back from my dim view of the world yesterday. (Its so much more fun being happy. - and easier too.) Also, check out the comments- some of them are inspiring too.

When I finally figure out how to organize posts by catagories, maybe I will have a post called “Beautiful Anyway” or “This sad beautiful world” or something that expresses the beauty that can be found in our old, dingy world. American Beauty fits into that theme and a tap show I saw once did too. I think it was Tap Dogs. There was a scene of a grimy alley way and some guys drinking and playing cards. Slowly, a rythm emerged from the shuffling of the cards and the banging of the garbage cans and even the yelling people.

(See how this all fits into the gratitude/appreciation theme I’ve got going? I think that is going to be my theme for the year! - I like to have a theme for the year.)

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