Driving...

The act of driving has been a cathartic experience for me. From the first day I got my license, when I realized one should not drive a stick (manual transmission), talk to her sisters, eat taco bell, and perform the act of a U-turn at the same time, to the many drives across the country that I have experienced. In all my driving adventures, for the past 22 years I can say there have been no regrets... Not even the speeding ticket I received for driving 80mph over the Grapevine (more like 100, the cop was very nice that night). So, it is no surprise that this morning's drive was one that brought on a spirit of optimism I haven't encountered in some time.

Driving up Highway 41 in the Central Valley after it rains/snows is a beautiful experience. I wasn't even a little upset that the road I was supposed to journey on was closed due to snow. I was listening to Ellen DeGeneres' book, Seriously, I'm kidding and I was enjoying the view of the crisp clean air and the freshly snow capped mountains. There's nothing profound about the way Ellen speaks, she's not prophetic or philosophical, she's a normal person who is down to earth pragmatic and funny. So, it's like driving with a close friend talking to you about all the things she's learned in life that are relatively cliche but stated in a hilarious manner. While I'm listening, I'm thinking, gosh, it would be fun to be famous for simply being me, and hopefully, I'd be able to be as down to earth and generous as this lady.

You know what the best part about driving 35 miles and then having to turn around and come back is? I'll tell ya. It's the contrast of sunny and gray, the piercing light reflecting off of the snow making everything appear golden and new. It's the cows, literally frolicking in the fields and the green and golden grass intermingling to form a new perspective of familiar territory. It's the looming dark clouds which are suspended in the midst of blue skies threatening to "clean up this joint." It's the still-cold-enough-to-freeze-the-dew forcing everyone to slow down and turn the trip into a lazy, no where to go feel. I love driving, and someday when I'm too old to drive, I hope I can afford train rides or a chauffeur! Told ya I was feeling optimistic ;)

Epihany- I am a city dweller

I arrived in Minneapolis, Minnesota on Friday March 31, 2011. I was beat, tired, ready to relax, so I barely noticed I was in a city at all. I met my dear friend Kaci at the airport and we rushed to the hotel, checked in, ate at a small bbq hole in the wall (which was pretty fantastic) and retired for the evening.

In the morning we didn't venture out of the hotel, but instead ate the crappy continental breakfast provided for us by the Hyatt... thanks for the stomach ache Hyatt. After 8 hours of class and some serious recovery from the time difference I was pooped, but still walking was needed to clear the air and my head... and that is where my epiphany began.

Walking down the gorgeous tiled sidewalk (okay gorgeous may be a stretch) I began to reminisce. I slowly started remembering the enjoyment I used to have walking the streets of New York, watching the hustle and bustle of the pedestrians getting to where they need/want/have to go and the thrill of being surrounded by the large buildings. I used to believe the feel of it was akin to an amusement park... it was the energy of it all and the people and the place, yes, the place. I started to feel that same energy permeate my being, here in Minneapolis... it seems weird, but it's not an exaggeration. Truly some mysterious energy began to surround me and slowly, like an IV drip administering a much needed drug, it began to revive a dormant happy place in my soul.

I don't understand how a place can do this to me... but not just any place mind you. So far there are only a few that have been able to bring me to a giddy state, New York, San Fransisco, Denver, and now, Minneapolis... I must hurry to Washington DC to discover if the light shines brightly there as well, but something tells me no. I didn't care for Chicago, but who knows, maybe I didn't give it a true chance, and I wasn't ready to move to New Orleans, even though there were sparks there and the food... OH MY the food, but that town seems more like a vacation spot than a place to live. Minneapolis, however, even in the cold spring, when everyone is walking to work pissed off at the unseasonable flurries (snow/rain) tumbling down upon them, had me bouncing along the sidewalk with a cheesy grin on my face from ear to ear, clutching my coffee and seriously thinking, I could call this place home. What? Well, probably.

Paralyzing feelings = Paralyzing fear

Why is it that some people have all the courage in the world and others (me) don't want to put anything out there into the universe? I don't want to share my mediocrity and sarcasm for fear that you may actually get a clue as to who I am... DUMB! Who the F*&K cares who I am. Really, I'm not being flippant here, but let's face it... little ole me is uninteresting to billions of people... yep billions. There are a few people however who are interested in me, and those people are the ones I love! So really all those people know my feelings and fears (I'm not really one of those closed off types)and mostly what makes me tick so what is so darn scary?

Yeah, I had to rant a little, I know this is your basic diary crap, but I'm frustrated. I just went to see a play called [Title of Show] and it was about four people writing a play... that's right, they were writing a musical and putting that dialogue in the musical and it was WONDERFUL, guess what... I was also COMPLETELY interested. There was a song in there called Die Vampire Die that went over conquering our creative fears that hold a person down... and how one little defining moment, when you just say I'm just doing it... and then do... can produce something wonderful.

I have a friend who has conquered this vampire thing... or he's just ignoring it altogether, and I am envious of his world. Not because he has achieved world wide fame, although I'm sure he's well on his way... but because he has the balls (yeah I said it) to do it... to share it... and to take whatever heartbreak comes with it... I need to go to the balls store now!!! I don't have aspirations of getting famous, I just want to have the guts, the gumption, the I'm taking no prisoners attitude to really enjoy my life. To CREATE something that is productive, helpful, and meaningful. I know we all have our piece of the puzzle that contributes to the whole, I know there's a harmony in the undertow of chaos in life, I've heard it, I just forgot to keep singing.

The RAW adventure...

I know I owe you the second part of The Crush, and I promise to get to it soon, but I have to tell you a little bit about my latest endeavor. I must start with, vegan/vegetarian I am not! I have always loved the taste of a nice bacon wrapped fillet or chicken (grilled, fried cooked, etc. and so on and so forth). Therefore, when I read the book "Skinny Bitch" three years ago and the idea was presented of eating fruit for breakfast and lots and lots of veggies, but giving up all meat, including fish... I sweetly acknowledged the entertaining way the book was written, but cast it off as no way in H-E-double-hockey-sticks was I going to try that diet.

Fast forward to today... I am now on week three of eating raw. What raw means is no food is prepared in such a way as to reach 115 degrees Fahrenheit. (I'll wait while you replace your jaw). I agreed to try this way of eating for 30 days with my sis, and thus began reading information on what it means and what I need to do and how to get all the right nutrients. I quickly discovered that there are A LOT of processed foods out there, and many, many, many of the things I eat on a daily basis are processed with heat. For example, many of the juices you purchase in the grocery store are pasteurized (not to mention milk and egg whites). Pasteurization requires that these things be brought to a boiling point (which takes out all the original nutrients) in order to maintain a longer shelf life. Not to worry folks, all those vitamins, nutrients, and even some that were never there, are replaced. Don't even get me started on the roasting of nuts in so many of my favorite snack stuff like peanut (has to be done for this nut) and almond butter. At any rate, I began studying and researching and with the help of a blogs like Raw on $10 a Day (or less) http://rawon10.blogspot.com/, and books that break this diet down into simple terms a gal like me can understand, I have made it three weeks eating 95% raw. (applause!! LMAO)


Now comes the important part, results! On the third day I began to feel energetic and, let's just say, my digestive track was in good form! After the first week the cravings became minimal (though bacon still gets me) and my mood was less erratic. Week two I was jumping up and down with elation at the consistent loss of weight without worrying about calories, fat content, or any other pesky type of keeping track, and my brain began to feel sharper. The end of week three has brought about compliments, which I must say are fun to hear! In the last three days I've heard I'm glowing, I suspect, as much as a newly pregnant woman. I have also lost 11 pounds, which, you know, feels good! 30 days comes to an end on May 2nd and, at this point, I just don't feel it's time to stop. I am going to attempt to make a tuna ceviche tonight in an effort to bring some meat back into my life, but for the most part, I really am enjoying this way of eating... Who knew??

Displaced Dreamer

Sitting in the large field, alone, in the warm spring sun she watched the bees flitter from clover to clover.  Her new school is awful. At least in San Mateo she had friends to play with. Here all the kids wore expensive jeans, displayed fancy hair dos, and generally acted as though she didn't exist, in fact as if she were invisible. She wasn't used to this kind of snobbery. 

She continued to watch the bees work hard.  The yellow stripes on their bodies seemed even brighter than usual.  She felt privileged to be able to watch Max and Mabel, for those were their names today, pollinate flowers.  For a moment she turned her head up to the sky and noticed the lovely blue color and the large marsh-mellowy clouds.  They looked soft, puffy and inviting.  Would that she could escape this place that felt like a prison and jump freely among the clouds.  Just then the bell rang.  Reluctantly, she stood up and headed for the classroom.  "Good Bye Max and Mabel.  Maybe I'll see you again tomorrow,"  she whispered.

Herded back into class single file, most of the children were fidgety and giggly, but she stayed silent and observed the march to the classrooms with the hard desks.  The teacher of her class had a kind face.  She approached the teacher, eager to have a conversation with someone, she asked "what do you think it would be like to die?"  The teacher was taken aback, and appeared to be at a loss as how to respond to the question.  Instead, the teacher offered, "take your seat and we will talk about this later." This would be the first lie the girl would remember encountering.  Though the teacher had said they'd talk about it later,  she sent a note home letting her parents know that the girl would be given a battery of tests to find out what is wrong with her.  The girl's curiosity got her into trouble, and this wouldn't be the first time. 

The girl, sitting in what felt like a closet with a bright bulb behind the man opposite her, began offering descriptions of what different smatterings of ink appeared to be in her mind.  She was honest and said what she saw, "that one looks like a dragon fly.  That one looks like a flower. That's a girl riding a bike.  That's a dead cat on the side of the road." And it went on like that for 20 or so minutes.  After the testing was complete the man recommended that she go to family therapy, with the whole family.  He said her answers were not that of a typical 7 year old child and there was cause for concern because her grades were so low.   No one bothered to tell the man that this was the 3rd school she'd been to that year, and that of course her grades were low because each school she went to had a different curriculum and were at different points.  Not that it would matter, she should be brilliant enough to figure it out, in her mind anyway.

Family therapy was AWFUL!  She went and the doctor saw her, then her mom, then her dad, and then the three of them together.  The room was large with a lot of distractions, Tupperware shape balls, chalk boards, books, blocks, and puzzles.  She wasn't paying attention when the family were altogether.  In fact she became startled when her mom took her arm and led her out of the office.  She didn't hear her dad call the man a quack and that he had no right to interject his opinions of how he raise his daughter.  Her dad made it clear that the family would not take any part of this treatment, but she missed it, not that she cared too much, she wasn't sure why they were there in the first place, and never would understand, really.

When she returned to school the following day she was told that she would no longer be going to lunch with the rest of the children.  She'd spend the hour before lunch and through lunch with the school psychologist.  She didn't find this fair at all, but she wasn't really given a choice.

The girl was sad.  One night at the dinner table she began crying... perhaps it was for attention, perhaps she just felt invisible again, maybe it was the overflow of her heart unable to be contained any longer... but she couldn't stop.  Her parents were dumbfounded and asked why she was crying.  Obviously, she didn't know why she was crying, but her lack of answer felt wrong... so she made something up, "They called me a big fat chicken at school!"  Her dad stifled a chuckle, her mom appeared horrified and her sisters continued to stare at her.  Finally, her dad came up with an answer, "do you think you are a big fat chicken?"

"N-n-n-o-o-o," she stammered.
"Well, there you have it, they lied to you."

The statement from her dad, though designed to make her feel better, only made her cry more because she just lied.  Her dad, not understanding what was going on, put his arm around her and told her that she was not a big fat chicken to him.  She began to calm down, and did feel a little better somehow.

The little girl's body was too small to contain her very big feelings.  At the age of 7 she did not understand what her emotions meant but they would overflow from her in the form of tears, laughter, anger, and frustration.  She learned how to tell stories that explained them and soon, she would begin to believe the stories she fashioned.

The long and the short of it...

So, in the last week I've posted two blogs about... well if you read them you know, and I'm done talking about all that. Honestly, all that drivel lit a fire under my ass. Don't get me wrong it was all honest drivel, and I only call it that cause it still hurts a little but it inspired me. You see, I was honest about my emotions, and I'm still alive. I didn't die or go insane and I don't think I hurt anyone, but if I did, I hope I'll be told so I can make that right ... at any rate...

I was going over all the random thoughts that happen inside my head everyday, and I thought, maybe instead of putting up my silly statuses on facebook, maybe I should expend some energy and write a little story here consistently. This may be a trifle ambitious, but I've been told several times by different friends that I should write. I kind of agree. I'm good at telling stories, so I guess I should start with mine. Once I dislodge all the fuzzy junk from my brain and set my imagination free again, I'll be able to compose some REAL stories for a change. I remember watching Almost Famous and, of course, the bonus features and Cameron Crowe discusses how no story is worth telling if there isn't a risk involved (that is paraphrased by the way). As hard as it is to face up and be brazenly honest about the life I've led, it's harder to keep it buried because it stifles who I am.

This journey is completely selfish and may even seem narcissistic to some, however, I'm doing it, join me for the ride, or not... the choice is yours. I'm not going to tell you how often I'll be posting because I am nearing the end of my school quarter which, for those of you who haven't been in school for awhile, means some final projects and general craziness... but perhaps I can commit to once a month... I mean how hard can it be...right?

Rain, Hormones or Feelings... you decide.

The weekend came and went and there was a lot happening in my little head. My emotional level was up, then down, then up, then down... I was beginning to feel a little bipolar... and kinda still do. It's weird not being able to escape from the constant barrage of emotions. I used to have a few shots of tequila or whatever and then all would be well in Sheila world. I did try, and failed, to pacify my emotions in other unhealthy ways, I ate a lot (success till I felt completely fat), I wanted to go dance and make out with a stranger in a dark room (failed completely... didn't find a dark room, let alone a stranger), participated in risque text behavior that could potentially lead to more (momentary pacifier and ego boost, but overall execution failed- probably best in the long run), and the list of dumb, not so dumb and down right stupid things continues.

Why is it so effing hard to deal with a little rejection!? Seriously, I've been handling it for 26 years one would think I'd have earned a metal by now, and have a standard coping mechanism. Nope,I continue to over indulge in chocolate, and cry at stupid love songs that don't apply to the situation, and in general feel sorry for myself. It's PATHETIC!!! It's not like I'm super flawed, or he's a nincompoop it just didn't work!

So, I wondered if perhaps I was being too hard on myself. Maybe it's the rain that's making me feel so down and lonely. I mean, the lonely part is kinda dumb cause I'm surrounded by people all the time... but I do feel the loss of physical comfort. Anyway, before I go back to my poor me rant... could the gray days, that usually propel me to contemplation and reflection be contributing to sadness? Maybe. Or is it hormones... not that you'll all want to know, but I'm awaiting the monthly and since I quit drinking they seem to get worse and worse on the emotions. Or could it be that I have numbed out for so long that any little trigger sends me on an emotional "bender."

I'm not sure how all this pans out... I don't know how long I get to live on this emotional roller coaster or if, like life, it's a never ending ride. I fully understand that there are no easy answers and that living in my head is just rough sometimes, but it is nice to go on a holiday sometimes. I think I'm going to do that this weekend. I'm going to run away, alone, and maybe just maybe, I'll figure some stuff out! At the very least I can cry for hours and no one will bother me (it's a great AB work out if you've never tried it). I could even, I don't know, pray about it... hmmmm, could there be a spiritual solution to this malady (boy am I thick or what)? This too shall pass!