Where am I?

I'm so frustrated with myself. I let myself get wrapped up in a life, in a country, in a past, that distracts me from feeling the present. How do I get to the now?

When I first moved to Mexico, I was obsessed with my ex. Figuring out what he was doing, how he felt, analyzing pictures (was that a friendly hug? they never are)... so for the first few weeks I was in Cabo, I was a hermit. Thank God for new years eve, which forced me to go out, or I might never have met my best friend.

When I moved to Chicago, I spent the entirety of 6 months on facebook. What was going on in Mexico? Who was with who? What happened last night. Granted, the dramatic group of 'friends' that I left there did much to fuel the fire.

Now I'm back in Colorado, and I can see myself doing it again. Maybe it's easier to deal with fragments from the past as opposed to jumping into new things. Maybe I'm avoiding the job market. (I don't think it's called looking for work if I only applied to one place.) Or maybe I'm just stuck looking over my shoulder, allowing myself to doubt the major decisions I make because of it.

What it really boils down to is- I need to get out more.

Harvest Moon

There was a great big harvest moon out tonight. As I was driving home I saw it, and it struck me. It was so sharp, so crisp, and then it ducked behind the trees.

As I drove, it kept being interrupted by trees, or buildings, or even neon signs that overpowered it and completely destroyed its beauty. It would always reappear though, even if just for an instant. Eventually, it rose above these distractions, and I could see it for the elegant force that it was.

It came to me then- I am that moon. Maybe it is a tired and cliche metaphor, but I'm at a point in my life, that I keep getting covered up. I am shadowed or allow myself to be overtaken by boys, or jobs that I don't want, or paths that aren't really me, all the while believing that I am back there, somewhere- waiting to be seen.

I know I will persevere. I heard once that harvest moons seem so large due to the points of reference near the ground. The trees make it seem bigger, they shape it. Right now I'm being shaped by the distractions, but it was so clear, and such a relief, to know that soon enough, I will rise above and be what I really am.

Family time

I've been back in Colorado now for a few weeks, and my biggest accomplishment is becoming an essential part of my nephews' (and niece's) lives.

Here are some of my favorite moments. Also, I've started taking millions of pictures again. (for the kids!)

Ladies of the Family

Sister dinner- first time we're all over 21

Em at the pool

Johnny at the pool

Boys plus friend James at the county fair

Doodle petting at 4H rabbit

Col on the coolest water slide/ waterfall I've seen

Lunch with John's girlfriend

Painting a dog house for Ella (the "pretend" dog)



Bath Time

Bed time! I'm the coolest aunt ever.

Put the camera down, and no one gets hurt...

Ever since college, I've become a photophiliac. I'm addicted to pictures. I know that if I take about 50 a night, then I will have 3 that I love. For the past month however, my camera charger has been missing. I realize I had been missing some real moments while capturing posed ones.

Fortunately! My friends take pictures. Here's what's been up.

<-- An outfit that I truly enjoyed,

<-- An activity that I had forgotten I love,

And a word my mother used

to use "cashola"

(not to mention nice orange shoes)

That Moment

I always come to a point in any relationship- not necessarily romantic- where I consider laying it all on the line. It usually comes when I'm tired of fighting, or when I don't think there's much else to lose. Alternately, it might be when I feel most open or optimistic with someone. If things are going so well, I might as well tell them everything and see how it goes. I think to myself, why not? I should just tell them everything. Every motivation, every detail, every secret.

I never do.

I should. I should say, 'I really didn't want to be your friend, I just didn't have anyone else to turn to, and now things have gone sour, so let's just walk away.' I should say, 'I've just been seeing how long this dating thing would work out, but I really haven't invested any emotions since the beginning.' Or 'I'm totally fucked up in the head, please forgive that and love me even when I have no mascara on.'

I'm not sure what I'm waiting for.

Is this awesome or awful?

Someone wise once told me, sometimes when life hands you shit, it's just compost in disguise. You never know if the moment that feels horrible is going to turn around and create something wonderful for you. So many times I felt like a bomb just went off in my life- break ups, getting fired from babysitting, failing my AP History exam- but when the dust settles, things look so much better than before. If there hadn't been break ups with a million jerks, I wouldn't still be available for Mr. Right. If I hadn't gotten fired from babysitting, I wouldn't have started working at Santiago's where I learned Spanish. If I had

passed my History exam, I wouldn't have needed to take Sociology 101, which put me where I am today.

The school that I was going back and forth about signing a contract for a full time position with next year in Mexico just made it a lot easier to choose. They offered me 6 hours a week (which is up from my 3 now but still part time); I would be sharing with the non-English speaking current teacher. They loved my teaching, I excelled in all areas, gave about 100 90 percent when it came to after hour meetings, plays, fairs, fundraisers, protests, recycle clean up, recess duty, substitution... the list goes on. Maybe it's because they don't want to fire another teacher to give me a full time spot. Maybe I didn't seem interested in a full time position. Maybe they want people that don't speak English to teach English!

I know I could make an incredibly convincing argument for the full time, well paid position that I know I should have. I could go in, 3 tiered argument blazing, email the head of the school, and might get exactly what I'm asking for. But in the end, I feel bad fighting for a better position that I don't even know if I want. I suppose I'll leave it be for now. Who knows, this pseudo- snub might actually be a blessing in disguise. The richest compost often comes in the form of pure B.S.

Foto fabulous

Just a little sample of things that have been going on in my neck of the woods.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

When I was young, my family and I went on a white water rafting trip. Our guide was a talented, tanned, young woman who could probably could have bench pressed my father. There was a moment when we were all floating outside of the boat except my dad, and the raft started to drift in the wrong direction. The guide had to swim upstream to help him steer, and the image of her doing the butterfly stroke against the strongest current I'd ever felt is an image that will stay with me for the rest of my life. She was so strong! I tried to turn and swim, and I wasn't even staying in one place. She managed to beat the current, return to the boat and save the day.

In a nutshell, she is my hero. I want to be able to beat that current. I want to be that strong.

Unfortunately, I'm not. My life is the current, and I can barely stay afloat.

This boy I'm seeing, I know how bad he is for me. All my women's studies training is screaming in my ear to leave, but I keep trying to fix him. I keep thinking if I just give enough, he'll stop needing. I give him my most powerful butterfly stroke (a rose at the airport when he arrives, little surprises at work...) and yet all I'm able to do is stay still. The moment I stop swimming, I'm rushed downstream. The first slip in affection, and he turns back into the insecure ball of lint from before.

I'm swimming towards the goal of a life of travel. I'm so close, sometimes I'll catch a good upstroke like Nicaragua, and yet, I'm still not there. What are the types of jobs that will let me move to a new place every six months, pay the bills and get me work visas? Hotel management for a large firm? Pilot? Mail order bride?

I swim towards happiness. Some elusive elation is in my raft and I know if I just swim hard enough, if I just master my efforts, I can get there. Either that, or I should just let go and enjoy the lazy river of life. How bad could the rapids ahead be? Hmm. They could be really bad. If I stop trying, I might end up living in my dad's basement in the same town I grew up in, working for the same pizza place as I did in college. In the end, I just keep swimming- I'll get there.

To Kill or to Chill?

First thing's first- salsa dancing is hard. Zuma is like salsa on meth. Therefore, Zuma class followed by a night of salsa dancing is a bad plan, but a great work out- just a little FYI.

Moving on, I've been wondering all morning, what's the difference between being a doormat and being easy going? I think it might have something to do with letting things go that you can't change (thanks serenity prayer) but I'm having trouble walking the line between the two options.

My inquiry is sparked by two things. First, I'm in line for a new contract at the school I work at. I know what I want: to be English coordinator for the middle school and I have a certain number in mind for my salary. With these two things, I will sign a contract to stay for next year. If not, I'm going to have to seriously think about it. But do I go to them and say- 'this is what I want'? Or do I wait for them to offer and then counter with what I'm looking for? Who knows, they might have a way higher number in mind... or way lower. So do I sit back and wait or actively push my own agenda?

Secondly, I'm currently in a relationship. The ex of the guy keeps popping into the picture. They have a good relationship, and I'm all for being friends with ex's. I'm putting on the "chill girlfriend" front, repressing any jealousy or urges to scream, "If she calls you again, I'll shank a

hoe!", because, you know, that would not be very chill. So last night he gets a call from her at 5 am. I hear her tell him she's outside and ask if he's busy... (this is the part where I am trying my hardest not to grab the phone or better yet, walk outside) Like a good boy, he tells her he's happily asleep with the girlfriend he loves and she hangs up. The whole thing seems very sketchy. So what is my plan of action here readers? Is it a doormat move to let him handle it? Would it look bad for me to politely ask her to stop such tomfoolery? (Ask her with my fists? I mean....)

I know I'm in charge of my own life, making my own destiny. But at what point should I bulldoze my way to my own goals and when should I allow life to offer me what it has to give? Hmm.

A Little Masochism in the Morning!

I have a bad habit. Two actually, but it's the same habit in different forms. I love punishment. Like all problems, it's best to blame the mother. When I was little, probably old enough to understand she was joking (mostly), my mother would brush my hair- hard. She didn't have time to gingerly work around the knots. When I would yelp, she would "lovingly" smack me on the top of the head with the back of the brush and tell me it's the price of beauty. Ahh, the ways the rabbit hole twists. I'm sure there are more origins of my slightly masochistic ways, but the end result is- I get some satisfaction from suffering. The two main ways I self inflict this punishment is with shoes and men.

We'll start with the former. I love shoes, I love the way they look lined up in my closet, I love the way they feel when I slip them on, I love everything about them. Specifically, I adore high heels. The higher the better. Which means I love heels that hurt. My hands down favorite pair of heels are my gold glitter ones. The first time I wore them, my feet bled from the glitter rubbing the sensitive part under my ankle bone. I have scars from that night. Do you think I stopped wearing them? No. I keep them for special nights; the logic being that, it's not a special night unless I'm in pain. Wow, that came out a little more twisted than I had hoped. This is what blogging is about right? Uncovering things about yourself? Anybody? (crickets squeaking) Back to shoes! The weird part is, when I'm buying shoes, I don't think about how comfortable they are. I worry about how they look, what I will match them with, if I have some like them, everything that should come second to whether or not they will hurt me. Pain is not a factor. The similarities between this questionable habit and my choice of men are bountiful.

Ahh, boys. Sigh. When I think back on the "important" romantic relationships of my life, I realize they were all incredibly... painful, for lack of a softer word. Ups, downs, fights, break ups- the works. Admittedly, they were also full of intense love. Heartbreaking love, painful love, love that makes you ache. Does this sound healthy? Not so much. If everything was peaches and cream, butterflies and shit, the relationship doesn't register with me as one of the Big Ones. I actively look for boys that I will conflict with. Again, did I really just say that? I look for interesting men, confidant men, opinionated and strong. Put me in the mix, and you have fireworks.

I love boys and shoes that don't quite fit. I keep thinking if I just break them in, work on it long enough, I will be more comfortable. This plan never works. I start off the night, or the

relationship, happy and comfy. I look great, I feel beautiful, compliments flow freely. The moment some dancing starts, some challenge, I feel a tinge of pain. I ignore it, I deny its existence, until finally the pain is unbearable, and I toss them aside. The next day, I swear I will be better. I wear clogs, I date nice boys, but sooner or later, I feel the itch for something a little dangerous, a little painful....

(I hope I didn't get your hopes up for stories of whips and chains; maybe next post.)

Gender Mash Up

I would be a great boy. Day to day, I don't think about my gender much. I suppose that's how gender works, silently infecting everything we do with instructions for how to act. Lately though, I have been taking charge, being "the romantic one", messing around, and I keep thinking- I would make one hell of a guy. Now might be a good time to admit, I tried it once, being a guy. I voluntarily cross dressed for 2 days as a final for my Social Construction of Femininity and Masculinity class.

It started out as a joke, something to get me out of the written final. There was a transgender symposium on campus at the time, and a wonderful workshop called King for a Day. I figured it would be something I could bs my way through, and come out of it one less final to complete. Little did I know my life would be completely in the hands of an undetermined gendered person, and nothing would be the same. The first day, it was all about developing who you are as a man. I was named Topher and I was kind of a hippie. I wanted to put my long hair up in a hat, but our instructor would not allow it. "Men don't do that with their hair." So instead of cutting it, I did no styling, pasted facial hair on my face, and did not bathe. My boyfriend was not pleased. I changed my walk, my voice, my whole demeanor. We were instructed to own our steps; to walk each step as if we owned the ground we were walking on. We were strictly forbidden from smiling, apologizing and getting out of the way of others. (Women do this constantly. If you don't

believe me girls, actively try not doing these things on the street, it's disturbing.) I rode the bus, and for the first time, I got my own seat. I walked into my work, and my coworker and friend said, "Hey buddy, what can I get ya?". I even had to pee in the stall of the men's bathroom, because it's harder to explain that you're just "playing dress up" to a woman at the sink than to just go with it in the men's room. The "ah-ha" moment for me, was when I was leaving the

auditorium after the grand finale presentation. It was dark, and as I stepped out onto campus alone, I was not afraid. I was a man. A dirty smelly man at that. Who would fuck with me? I hadn't realized how crippling the fear of the night was until I no longer felt it.

Overall, it was an incredible experience. I really had to reevaluate my actions. Was I doing things because I liked how I did them, or because it was the "girly" thing to do? Since then, I haven't changed my whole life, but a few minor adjustments have taken place. I sit how I'm comfortable, even if it's not "lady like", and people comment on it every day. I haven't quite become the Boulder armpit hair lady, but shaving my legs is only for very special occasions. (Yes internet people, I'm kind of hairy.) But the biggest change is that I own my steps. It's not about the walk (although I can whip out a mighty swagger if need be), it's about my happiness quest. It's owning up to my choices, and making ones that work for me. OWN that step, because if today's your last day to live, you'll think about every single step. Was the right one? Did you go where you were supposed to? I want the answer to those questions to be 'hell yes'.

Pretty and Witty and Gay!

Maybe I should feel bad... but I don't. I'm catching a little bit of flack for my actions as of late. Some people might see what I'm doing as inconsiderate. I've done some reevaluating and I've changed my perspective and motivations to be a little more... selfish. Eek! You mean I'm actively pursuing my own happiness? How rude!

Maybe I should back up and fill you in as to what caused such a change. I was never selfless in my actions. I've always had my own interests in mind, but I feel like I had some awareness as to what I'm doing to other people, a certain responsibility to the feelings of strangers. As I watched a 2 year old friend yell "MINE" and grab my camera away from me, I realized that we're born with the need to look out for ourselves. We don't even have a concept of other people until quite some time after we're born. I have a reoccurring image of myself at age 60, looking back at the life I've lived, and realizing the people I've been looking out for, stressing about their feelings, they won't matter in the least. Now, I'm not throwing family or friends under the bus here, but random strangers who disapprove of my dating habits? Fuck em. The people higher up than me at work who don't pull their weight but who I don't want to make look bad? They won't matter one iota to the 60 year old me. What will matter is whether or not I made myself happy. So that's what I've been doing, and it's been working out pretty well.

I was walking around the resort that I live at, and a friend was watching from a penthouse above. He called me later to ask me why I was so happy. I didn't know what he was talking about, but apparently, I was dancing. Skipping, disco handing, twirling, the whole gambit. I didn't even know I was doing it. I guess the happiness crusade is working. I feel pretty... :)

Getting Lucky

Last night, as I sat in my uncle's hot tub, listening to the waves crashing, looking at the stars, the very obvious thought finally crossed my mind- I'm lucky. I get so wrapped up in the future, that I forget to look around at where I'm at right now. I'm in an amazing place, surrounded by family who love me and friends that care. No matter what comes in the future, I have to remember these days as some of my best. I have no bills. That's huge! Outside of work, there's no one who I report to. If I decide to drive 45 minutes away to get the best milkshakes around, I can. If I want to stay out until 5 am dancing with strangers, I can. What's more, I actually do these things. If I had children, or roommates, or a dog even, there would be someone or something counting on me to be home, to be responsible. I can do what I want, when I want to, which is a luxury many people just don't have.

There are so many blogs that talk about the struggles that people face, infertility, death, depression- and I don't face any of them. Any problems that I do face seem minuscule in comparison. Some of the hardest times I've experienced were in college, when I struggled with money. The looming bills each month constantly weighing on my brain, I was always stressed. With the clarity that comes with time, I can see now that I was stressed, but not depressed. Depression is something that many of the people close to me struggle with. Looking at the genes, the stats, and the fact that it's not something I face, I have to come to the same conclusion- I'm a lucky little whippersnapper.

So how can I save these moments? How can I capture this luck? The term 'live in the moment' comes to mind, but how does one actually do that? Stop planning so far ahead? I feel like there's some kind of deeper appreciation that I need to tap into. I'm open for suggestions as to how. I'll start today by setting aside a little time to hang my legs off the stone wall at my uncle's place and soak in the view of the ocean spread in front of me... and perhaps tonight I'll dance with a few strangers.

Settle Down Now ...

When I was in my first sociology class ever, my teacher gave us a warning- once you start looking at things from outside the social box, you can never go back. As a 17 year old in an intro class, I was intrigued but didn't heed the warning. I don't know if I would have switched majors had I known that every decision I made after that which involved other people would be second guessed and over analyzed. It's even hard for me to watch movies with out wondering why they made the villain darker skinned than the hero, or why the chick flicks rarely end with the woman making grand gestures.

The most recent annoying sociology pondering comes when I think about my romantic relationships, and where I see them going. The well socialized woman in me gets dreamy eyed when I think about a guy being "The One". I mentally check his last name to see how it sounds with my first (no doodles... *ahem* usually), I think about how tall our kids would be, I wonder if he will be in the "poor guy wedding" or "rich guy wedding" categories that I've been planning since I was 5- all the appropriate fluster. Then, the sociology fairy chimes in.

"Are you really jumping to marriage already? Why do you need a contract and a declaration in front of family in order to feel legitimate? Marriage doesn't even exist except as a social path into an institution which has constantly supported patriarchal, heterosexist values. Furthermore, do you even think that monogamy is the best or only path for a successful relationship? Why are you assuming that men are the only available partner for you?......" Sociology doesn't shut up. She's a total buzz kill.

So can I never settle down with a clear intellectual conscience? What does settling down entail, and is 24 the age that people are doing it? Why, WHY do I care what other people are doing? Just as my head starts pounding, I see a light of clarity shining brightly through the socy questions and the cultural expectations. My friend and her relationship. When I'm down, I just think about her 5+ year relationship with a wonderful, intelligent, socially aware partner. They just recently bought a house together, because they wanted to, not due to any outside pressure, and because it would be a great place for their dog (not kids). They refuse to answer any questions regarding "when they're going to get married", because they're just enjoying each other's company. They travel, they go out, they stay in, but most of all, they're enjoying life and youth together and ignoring what they "should" be doing. In the end, it seems like the perfect situation.

Now the tricky part is telling that nice boy that he's great, but marriage makes me mentally shudder. It doesn't sound very nice. Maybe he'll just have to get over it, and I'll keep making little hearts around his name.