Destiny

I am trying to come to grips with the fact that growing-up does not mean you ever know what you are doing. I treated myself to a movie yesterday - The Prince of Persia. It is my favorite kind of movie - light, action filled, with elements of the fantastic. And threaded with the theme of destiny.

I know I make fun of myself for being clumsy. I mean, I am a pretty easy target. But there are times when the epic inevitability of my clumsiness is just too much to take. Escaping my house after a less than productive afternoon, I walked to the grocery store, which is just a mile or so away from my house. As I bagged my groceries in the bags I brought (one made by Ms. Verch - thank ya ma'am!), I thought to myself, hmmm, I will carry my eggs by hand, so as not to break them. Unfortunately, one the way back home I straight out fell. Don't know what happened, there was nothing on the ground, I just fell. So there I was, on the side of the road, eggs cracked and broken, knees cut and bleeding. I walked home leaving a trail of blood and egg yolk, like some sort of twisted Hansel and Gretel.

Geek Out

It is time for me to embrace my inner geek. Little did I know a return to school would release my pent-up OCD; organizing notes, color-coded flash cards, knowing all the answers = yours rockin' truly. Yeah, I have already been made fun of in class for being type A. Just because I was the only one who did homework for the first lab when it wasn't required. I am thorough, ok!?! I watched Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, and felt affirmed that it was okay to be crazy and a geek. So that girl walking down the street with her ipod, fanny pack, and a stack of index cards bigger than your head? Yeah, that's me.

I just realized that when my landlord called me asking if I heard any parties over the weekend, he was asking if I had any parties over the weekend. Which is ludicrous. I do watch BBC movies late at night, is that crazy enough for you? Apparently the people below us moved out and broke their lease because of my raucous habits, aka cello playing, sewing frenzies, and old movies. Really kids? Have you met me? I am an old woman.

In other bad news, my lab practicals in Anatomy are spelling dependent, meaning I have to be able to spell. Which makes sense, but does not bode well. And tomorrow I find out the score of my Chem placement exam, which won't drop me from Chem but the prof might suggest that I step down to a lower level. Fat chance, lets just hope I got 1/3 of the questions right.

Day Two of School: Everything is okay. Except I have a lot of studying to do. LOTS.

Okay, but really. Today was the first day of Chemistry and the prof is amazing. He is from the Dominican Republic, has a great accent, and a great sense of humor. I will never be able to fully explain his awesomeness, but I will give you the best quotes from the lecture:


"I am like a diver, I can smell a rotten problem. I go straight in the ocean to kill the octopus."
"I am not here to destroy your dreams, I am here to add gas to your wings. I am a poet."
"I am like a hawk!"
"You don't care about magic?"
"Rum is the spirit of life."
"Even Marijuana growers use the scientific method to make the pot stronger. That is what I call American ingenuity!"
"You think Chemistry is dry? Bullshit."

I didn't even take notes on Chemistry, I just wrote down his jokes or his attempted jokes. I think there is still something of a language barrier. Instead of "I wasn't born yesterday," he said "I didn't wake up this morning." Ha.

LAST DAY!

Lessons from the farm:

Christa! Don't forget your gloves!

Christa! Don't forget your hat!

Christa! Don't forget your water!

Christa! Don't forget your suncreen!

I am exhausted from four hours of weeding, scratched from nettles and raspberry bushes and sore from digging holes, and my ankles (only my ankles) are sunburned. How did that happen?

I made up this lymric while I was weeding:

I am tired of weeding this thistle
Though it gives me time to whistle
It would go by fast
If we used a blast
Why don't we weed with a missle?

I love the farm.

I thought this was creepy.

But then I saw this and this.

I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair...

Today I, yet again, washed my hair with something that is not shampoo. I think it was my body wash since I would have noticed the little exfoliaters from my face wash. What a mystery.

The times, they are a changing...

Yep, that's right. I have put in my notice, switched from a year's notice to three weeks. Three weeks! That gives me three weeks to secure loans, a part time job, register, buy books and a calculator. OMG! We just went into super drive and will not stop for the next two, three, or five years. But the end goal I have in view is being able to make a living, buy land, move to the country, build gardens, own goats, help people, travel, and, eventually, find rest.

And do you know what stress makes me do? Bake. I have been a veritable machine, motivated by nerves and a desire to get rid of all the potential edible temptations in my house. Bread, cinnamon rolls, soup, and a gorgeous dark chocolate tart have all been churned out of the oven in the last 48 hours.

You all have to check out Jessa's "the-gal-who-I-introduced-to-sewing-and-then-she-vastly-surpassed-me-in-skill-and-creativity" new blog and etsy web site. More importantly, you need to check out the precious purses she just crafted. For reals.

It is late, I should not be up but I am.

I am at work, writing an article about food and emotions, which is laughable given my propensity to use any little emotional trauma as a diving board into a pint of Ben and Jerrys. Choclate Chip Cookie Dough. Eaten while in a hot bath, reading a Jane Austen rip off or any sort of ridiculous historical fiction. Maybe with dragons. In the book, not the bath. However, here I am experiencing a now familiar scenario, trying to teach people about things I am still struggling with.

Here are some realizations, moments of clarity from my oh-so-crowded mind. I am learning there can be freedom in discipline. So many times when I try to eat well, there is this breath-caught-in-my-chest feeling that I am just waiting to see myself fail. Waiting for that time when all I really want is a cookie and gosh darn it, don't tell me no! But I feel like there has been a slow change, where eating good food isn't part of me trying to be something else but rather eating good food is just a part of who I am. Does that make sense? This perspective eliminates any sense of failure and makes me feel less desperate and more peaceful. And I almost want to cry from the relief of it.

I told the worship leader at church that I would play something for offering, which immediately led to anxiety and nausea. We settled on Bach and now I have been practicing feverishly. But I had a practice revelation last night! First, I started to memorize the piece I am going to play. It’s an oldie-goldie, one I have learned and played before, but the act of memorization produced remarkable results in the way I played. It made me start thinking about the piece rather than just reading it off the page. I began to understand it rather than be frustrated by it. I felt like my eyes were opened. I also stopped hold my bow like a weapon, which also improved my technique. Shocking.

Other news:

- I was trying to order sushi and I kept saying shusi. I said it, like, three times and couldn’t get it right. Very embarrassing. Stupid brain tumor.
- This weekend is my first farm day at the CSA. I almost want to get some new overalls in honor of it. But I wouldn’t want them to think I was kitschy. I will just stick to gingham and pig tails.
- There is a direct correlation between the number of hours I listen to Vampire Weekend and how happy I am.
- I cried a little when I realized that Lauren Conrad of “The Hills” and “The City” has published several young adult novels, which I discovered in an airport book store in March. Her book was rich in “OMG”s and “I knew he was the man of my dreams by the way he texted” and, this is a direct quote from L.A. Candy, “She had to take a shower, like, immediately. Who knew how long he had been in her bed, polluting it with Old Spice and Man Sweat.” Ah, sweet prose. (There are many questions raised by this evocative quote: How come she didn't know who was in her bed? Why is 'Man Sweat' capitalized? Why is 'immediately' italicized? Is this to ensure the reader grasps the depth of her emotion?) I was seized with anger, that young women might be reading this trash. Who knows how many girls have a library consisting onlyof Twilight and L.A. Candy!?! We need to start a Little Woman Fund to distribute Louisa May Alcott and George Eliot novels to this neglected populace. And hunt down LC. On a lighter note, I leave you with this.

I don't know what is happening in my brain, but I have not been on top of anything this weekend. I was going to play with a band, turns out I went on the wrong day. Skipped Bible study cause I felt like crap. Didn't go to orchestra dinner cause I forgot directions and Jessa had a more appealing movie-watching plan. I am so not on my game this week. Sigh. Alas, I am determined not to beat myself up about any of it, but just let it be. It is what it is. I can only try and do better.

Also, Andrea's Guinea Pig (GP) died on my watch, while she was out of town. In my defense, I wasn't required to do anything the GP, because she had all the food she needed for the week. But it was only this morning that I noticed she hadn't moved but even more telling, her food was untouched. I poked it and then called Andrea in a flurry. I think it had been dead for a while, maybe explaining why I kept thinking our apartment smelled funky. Poor GP, RIP.

Monday morning you sure look fine

The cat threw up on my clean laundry.

Despite this ill boding event, I suspect I will thoroughly enjoy this gloomy, indecisive day. Lunch with the Decker-Smiths, some music adventures, and, hopefully, sewing. I have many decisions coming up (ugh, and begin practicing for the GRE. I have forgotten algebra!) but am excited about new steps and possibilities. I am trying not to be completely overwhelmed. In other news, I am obsessed with cauliflower, my mom's shampoo, and my long hair.

Lately, I think mostly due to my fading illness, I have been in a food slump - not really hungry, not wanting to make food, nothing sounding good to eat. But, thank goodness, dinner with Rachel and Annie seems to have cured me, as I ate with gusto and it was delicious. We had yummy salads laden with pears, beets, and bitter greens. I have been experimenting with homemade Popsicles, so I brought some of my coconut blackberry treats for dessert and they were fantastic. Today's tantalizing food tid-bits: I had a breakfast wrap with eggs, greens, and cilantro pesto, looking forward to hot and sour soup for lunch, and spinach noodles with feta, more of the cilantro pesto and asparagus for dinner. Oh, and I made more Popsicles for my co-workers to celebrate Marcy's birthday! Hooray!

She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee, her dress has got a tear...

It is 9:10 on Monday morning. So far I have:

Overslept
Fallen in the parking lot of my apartment
Ripped my dress
Scraped my knee
Was late to work and my first client

Hopefully I have gotten the clutsy quota taken care of and can now move on to more important things in my day, like not falling asleep at my desk and not spilling food on my second dress of the day.

The show is a success! At least, the final show ran without a hitch, a glorious culmination of all the hard work of the kids. Sigh, I love musicals. And I am exhausted. The level of tiredness was not helped by the fact I stayed up until (eek!) 3 am sewing last night. And am likely to do the same tonight. I have been constructing clothes in my head non-stop and it is time to make these mental creations a reality. Enough talk, time for action!

I burned my fingers this morning by falling on my hair straightener while looking for shoes in my closet. Don't ask how, these things happen to me. First, lost shoes, then burning hand. This is unfortunate because it is my left hand, my money hand, the hand that makes the cello work and TONIGHT is opening night. How's that for drama? Heal, little fingers, heal. They are currently slathered in strange Chinese balm (Ching Wan Hung) that is supposed to help. So far I just smell funny and my fingers still hurt. I will push through!

"Dude, Nice Metastatat"

My co-worker came up with the word and together we wrote the definition.

Looming Disaster

So, as is usually the case with a high school musical, the first full run through of the performance was an unmitigated disaster. Long awkward pauses with no music to play, Maria running on stage, late to her own wedding, the captain left hanging, waiting for the voices of his own children, half of whom went to change costumes when they weren't supposed to. A total of 4 hours of tragedy that will put fear in the hearts of the performers to learn their cues, how to change costume in less than 4 seconds, and to pick up that wayward bench that is continually left lurking in stage right. Ah, the glory of the musical!



I have come to the fearful conclusion that I need an attitude re-adjustment. I have realized that most of my humor comes from the mocking of others and no matter how good-humored, satirical, or funny, it's not right. It's like using only sugar as your method of making food taste good; it gets old fast, has no real value, and is cheating. That being said, my co-worker is bidding on mermaid and faerie mummies on e-bay. No comment.

I think the snow might be gone for good (don't jinx it!). I have been so ridiculously productive this weekend, mostly getting all those piles of things done I never have time for in the week, like taxes, cleaning, and re-arranging my bedroom. I finished my two books and now will read All the Pretty Horses. I went to a picnic yesterday and sat in the sun to get my first sunburn and my first farmer's tan. Two birds with one stone, yeah baby. I walked to the mailbox this morning and it is delicious out.