fun with food

just don't know anymore

I am constantly walking the line between fear and relaxation. today g and I went out with his dad's boat, into the chesapeake. it's a small boat, nothing substantive. the water was certainly much too choppy in certain places, more placid and enjoyable in others. in the more choppy areas, g would go faster and really slam the boat down after coming off the crest of a wave. now this is fun and very scary, jarring your bones. you have to sit on a padded seat, otherwise you get a headache. this explains why boxers develop horrible neurodegenerative diseases. all those jarring hits to the body and head would cause anyone's neurons to malfunction. anyway, while jumping these waves I would get this fear that theboat was going to tip, rise too high and flip over, or throw me out of it. I have a certain reverence for water, which is really just a mild phobia, something developed in childhood due to a lack of swimming talent, lethargy and an unfortunate near-drowning panic episode. I just don't feel safe, and treat the ocean more like a wild animal than a friend. which some would find sensible. however, due to my interest in surfing and general spiritual and energetic connection I feel with my surroundings, this is something I need to get over. balance needs to be achieved, fears processed and discarded. skills learned. especially since I now have a wetsuit, and all I need is a surf board; then g will start giving me a hard time that I need to get out into the fucking water and let some waves beat the shit out of me.
I have had a certain reverence for surfing as well, as I think I understand the hold it gets on people. this is an experience that I can't put into words, but have seen people around me have. you are interacting with this huge, mammoth body of water, the most plentiful thing on earth, and at moments you transcend the boundaries of human ability and are in complete synchrony with the wave. the board is part of you, the wave is part of you. it is an experience I have had while meditating and this is why I think I have a clue about the draw of surfing. so it is something that I am interested in doing. but, as one of those often overachieving people, I am taking on too many interests. too many to devote quality time to each. with gung fu in the forefront, a lot of my time is devoted to that. gung fu and science are the top priorities in a professional and personal sense (human relationships are being left out of this equation due to their complication of this matter further). then yoga, then hiking and traveling. yoga is actually something that I would never dispense of, whereas if someone put a bullet to my head I would stop hiking. so anyway, surfing seems like something I don't feel I have the time for, physically and mentally. I feel that I have chosen my pursuits.
HOWEVER. this is not enough for me to rationalize not trying it. I will do it. the decision to want to try it is again a balance thing, and me actively letting go of controlling my life. do not close the door on something you feel you don't have the time for and think you have all you could ever possible want in what you have already found....there is always more.
so while I sit here, still smelling the sunblock I put on while on the boat today, g is watching a recording of ween on letterman in 2000, and I think of australia, blue water and waves, of gung fu and yoga on the beach, surfing, and science, science, science.
H

what we are and aren't 

mighty ship at sea

I sit here at work, with a sore throat. tired, knowing that I should be doing something pressing to occupy my time. but no, I sit in my office, waiting to be paged by two nurses whose patients have parents whom I would give my eye teeth to see right now. they are the few, the proud, the people I need to be closer to finishing my study. only 6 more, and those 6 are turning out to be the worst of all. waiting, resending forms, calling. I can only really do so much data cleaning if we do not have all the information.
psychology has turned into a numbers game. we need NUMBERS! statistical significance can only be achieved with 85 participants, and we have 79. hence our numbers are crap. people who call psychology a pseudo-science really have no idea what meticulous methodology psychologists must employ to collect valid information. it's like the runty kid at school who seemed like he didn't know jack, but then all of a sudden he was playing jazz piano and head quarterback of the football team. I think that's how psychology is now. up there with the fuckin big dogs. hence emotions, thoughts, hours spent curled into a ball, agonizing over your abilities as a human being, as a parent, friend, your self worth, your body perception, your school yard bullies, your alcoholism, your cancer coping skills, your brain waves, your language (or lack thereof)... all have been assessed and coded by psychologists as either a 1 or a 0. simple as that. psychologists who engage in psychological research turn feelings into numbers and then tell us all sorts of things that we could have figured out on our own, using common sense. mostly. but this is a necessary science, because it puts humanity back into modern life.
for instance, businesses would rather not spend the money on employee benefits, day care, paid vacation, lunch break. because psychologists have done research studies to show that employees are more productive with perks, businesses often decide to keep these perks, to the known benefit of the employee. I work at a hospital and get 5 weeks vacation/year starting out. why? because hospitals are easily the most stressful work places in the world. you think that fucking report about sales performance has got you by the balls? think about being in charge of 15 patients, reading x-rays, and then having to go to a family meeting with a family whose baby was born with intestines knotted and twisted like taffy, to tell them that the kid will end up with like 10 cm of gut.
that shit can get to ya.
so anyway, psychologists must exist in these settings to let people unwind. next week I get to go to a lunch meeting where the neonatal ICU staff will discuss a baby who was on the unit for at least 5 months, first on ECMO (a heart-lung machine), then got a traechiotomy and was on a ventilator. mom in every day to care for this sick baby. they cut him open for surgery, this baby who has never been outside or home, and found his heart to be totally non-functional. so they closed him up, told parents, they probably wanted him taken off life support, and the kid died within hours. they took him out of his regular four bed room to shield him from the other baby/parents who have had the exact same hospital course and who undoubtably are feeling mixed emotions. relief to not be the family that has to deal with a death quite yet, after so much struggle, but some envy that their struggle must go on, while another family just has to pick up the pieces, focus on the older, healthy child.
heavy shit.
all I really wanted to illustrate with that last story is the importance of psychological services in these and other traumatic settings, where drama is on the menu every day and you just have to deal with it and try not to let it eat you up inside.
I guess i needed to get some of that out. I have seen a lot of death and disease in the last 8 months, and wrinkles are starting to crease around my eyes, and on my forehead.
but I am being overly dramatic.
all from H

me

front and center, right on the money

Just got back from the family homestead in south central PA and" oh, oh what a night, oh what a garden of delight, even now that sweet memory lingers." yeah. somehow I just got into this weird Paul Simon song k-hole. that is a lyric from a song called "Lincoln Dunkin" off of his self-titled debut solo album, early 70's. I find myself quoting songs from that album a lot, probably more than any other Paul album, and usually completely out of context, to the bemusement of the other conversational party. sadly, not many people I know have gotten into Paul, and have not discovered his absolute genius for words, melody, rhythm, smooth natural vocals. To all of my readers, buy "Paul Simon" now, preferably on vinyl.
preaching done.
one of the more important things I have learned about this past year is perception. perception has been staring me in the face, daring me to take a look at it, understand it, realize its power. Little things keep popping up here and there, mentioning its importance, its power over who we are and why we are that way. of course, I am also in psychology, and work in clinical psych at that, so I get to hear a lot about individual differences in reactions to traumatic events specifically (in my work, parents of sick babies, adolescents with chronic pain syndromes and their parents). for instance, at a conference for pain research, an epidemiological study was reported on that examined people in the NY, NJ area pre- and post-9/11, looking at fibromyalgia symptoms (a pain syndrome with unknown cause) and depression in this population that had been affected by a major terrorist attack. they saw NO statistical increase overall in pain symptoms for the population they surveyed. HOWEVER, when they looked at people who reported being deeply traumatized by the attacks, vs. those who thought that they hadn't been, the people who said they were affected had a higher rate of the pain symptoms than people who said they had not been affected. this was regardless of the reality of the individual situations for the people (like if they lost a loved one, close friend, were close the the trade centers, worked in them, etc). the same pattern was seen in depressive symptoms. that would point towards the idea that the perceived impact of the event was more important than the actual impact of the event.
Some of my professional work is in adolescent chronic pain, and the severity of the pain varies from patient to patient. HOWEVER, if you study two adolescents with comparable pain, you might find one in school, doing all of their activities, fully functional, with the parent not encouraging illness behavior, while the other is on homebound education, which means they are receiving tutoring at home, has no friends and has basically crawled back into the shell of family life that teens normally would do anything to flee from. so what is the difference between the two patients? perception of disability. perception of ability. ability of the parents to push them to work through the pain, while still being sympathetic and helping them find ways to be more comfortable. illness behavior enables one to escape from the situations in life one finds uncomfortable. we might act sickly because we don't want others to pick on us, might get a stomach ache before a big, stressful event and not be able to leave the house. adults do it, they probably started as kids.
but I am becoming a bit tangental. peception. that's what makes these kids' pain problems so disabling. that's what makes people sick. the mind tells the body that some kind of stress/danger situation is at hand, and the body reacts accordingly.
one small tidbit. researchers have found that depressed people actually have a more realistic view of the world, and a more realistic view of their place in it, and their abilities. constantly cheerful people are selecting positive ways of perceiving things, creating their reality around what they choose to attend to. depressed people are just peering down the rabbit hole of the human existance and can not get on with the oblivion.
so where is the middle ground?
I need to cut this blog off, so I am going to throw down logic and observation as a means to creating a view of reality based on what is really going on.
how do you achieve that? there are ways, but they are not being taught to everyone.
all for now,
H

o bra day rocking out 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY X!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Some song lyrics for your 28th
Exactly Where I'm At
Let's beginWith the past in front
And all the things
You really don't care about now
It'd be exactly where I'm at
And to think You got a grip
Look at yourself
Your lips are like two flaps of fat
They go front and back and flappity flap
I'm all staged
It's all an act
I'm really scared that I may fall back on the abstract
It'd be exactly where I'm at
If you're to be
The roaming eye
Pry it open and let me tell you why it sees
The harsh realities
Mutilated Lips
I lick my brain in silence
rather squeeze my head instead
midget man provoking violence
listen not to what I said
I said please calm it down
everything is turning brown
Mutilated lips give a kiss on the wrist
of the worm like tips of tentacles expanding
in my mind, I'm fine, accepting only fresh brine
you can get another drop of this, yeah you wish...
(REPEAT)
Laughing lady living lover
ooo you sassy frassy lassie
find me the skull of Haile Sellase, I...
give me shoes so I can tapsy
tap all over this big world
take my hand you ugly girl....
The Blarney Stone
Get off my ass you wee bitty fuck
if I pull out the claymore you're shit outta luck
who's that girl, that pretty young thing
after I fuck her she'll get up and sing
Aye Aye Aye
sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye
the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
down to the pub for a two shilling ale
the bread on the counter is going stale
if I don't get some fresh bread soon
gonna punch you in your face and bark at the moon
Aye Aye Aye
sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye
the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
Aint got no girl 'cuz I haven't the time
got too many other things on me mind
Patty was nice she was pale and cute
but I threw her away like an old piece of fruit
Aye Aye Aye
sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Ayethe Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
got ooze in my pores my feet are all wet
got mold in my ears but I ain't dead yet
got stones in me bladder got a crack in me head
when Patty starts cryin' this is what I said
Aye Aye Aye
sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye
the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
love you X,
H

a pic by frogmang, one of my favorites 

funneling external input

interesting things swirling around in my head this beautiful may day. spring is descending upon us like an avalanche, and in a blink of an eye it will be gone, to be replaced by summer. here in philly we don't get much spring - just go from cold, snowy and unplowed streets to stuffy heat. allegedly, that's the word I hear from the natives. speaking of natives...
every once in a while a complete stranger (male) comes up to me and states very directly that I am attractive and inquires if I am "taken." this morning I was locking my bike up at the Wawa (PA convenience store that is top rate) to get coffee for my sleepy neurons, and I feel a presense next to my right leg. I look up and this tall guy, wearing light colored clothes and a commie military type hat, with cappucino colored skin is standing next to me. he's looking at me really intently says "I saw you at the park and thought you were really beautiful and I wanted to let you know that." so I go red and furiously yank at my bike lock into position so that it wraps around not only the tires but a metal apparatus that will prevent it from being stolen. I am looking down, not looking at him because I am too embarrassed. he takes that in an interesting way, almost like he thinks I don't care or don't believe him. says he's not kidding, he saw me at the park, but I'm probably already "taken, with a boyfriend." I say yes, I have a boyfriend, finally halting my bike distractionay tactics and look him straight in the eye, and ask him which park he's talking about. he's referring to Clark Park, the park I walk the dog at, which is small but possesses a wonderful community feel, great charm and is a few blocks from where I live. he says he was "working out, doing push-ups and sit-ups and saw me." cute. I am at a loss for words and he asks if he gets a handshake, we shake hands, I don't even remember if I told him my name, because I don't remember his. I told him to say hi next time he sees me, and then signal that I need to go, am in a hurry. I turn, walk into the store to get coffee and granola bar.
I was flustered, feeling not at all pretty as one pant leg was rolled up to avoid wrapping my pants in my bike chain, and I had just taken off my helmet which makes me look like some kid who runs into walls, and my hair was kinda crazy, at day 5 of no washing (one more day before it gets to be no good anymore). but it's those moments in which someone catches you off guard, slams you with something you were absolutely not expecting.
so what to make of this experience? nothing really. I am not writing this down to flaunt my prowess at attracting dudes, because, like the band Spinal Tap, my audience is becoming more selective. while yes, some guys tend to dig the H-dog, I am not run-of-the-mill attractive, and don't wear the kind of clothes that girls are wearing nowadays to "get guys." at least not for the majority of my days. so yeah, it's nice when strangers say those kinds of things to you, it lets you know someone is paying attention.
this incident has been running through my mind all morning and I just needed to write about it. in the end though, I wonder if I will ever get over my embarrassment about my attractiveness, my sexuality, my appeal to others. I am very sensitive about it, as I try to interact with people and generally deal with people based on the content of their characters, not their physical appearance and grooming prowess. so when people deal with me based on the fact that I have sexual organs, and might be visually appealing, it makes me uncomfortable, like it's that one thing that I can't control, and it gets in the way of dealing with people from one human being to another as opposed to from woman to man, or woman to woman. or cute girl to not cute guy, or frumpy girl to hot guy who thinks she isn't worth his time because her sweat pants don't have juicy written on the butt.
so where does the ink fit in, the massive tattoos that are in progress on my body. in a way it is further abstracting the body, creating art on it that puts in the body in a context that is different than the normal one. appreciating the body not for its sinuous curves, but how the sinuous curves have a big fucking dragon on them. for some people that makes the body even more attractive, for others it is too overwhelming to understand. I do it to create art, to appreciate my body more, to have things with me that help me remember concepts. it also helps remind me that my body is something I live in, but that I can be detached from, so I might as well dress it up a little. like the women who tattoo their masectomy scars and newly-flattened (sans-breast) chests, to focus energy on something that needs to be nurtured, to make beautiful what could be seen as ugly.
all for now,
H

Jah pizzle, you could use this for your profile 

the jello that is you 

peach fuzz buzz

by far the stupidest title I have come up with. I think it arose from this flyer I saw for a band called "the moldy peaches," which is a pretty stupid name. but band names are just more and more stupid all the time. now it's reeeally trendy to have band name starting with "the:" the white stripes, the darkness, the faint, the brave, bla bla bla. it seems to be heralding back to a time in the 60's and 70's when lots of bands had "the" names: the who, the the, the band, the beatles, the eagles, creedence. wait, scratch that, reverse it. not credence.
gavin's brother just changed his band name from "huzzavox," which I kind of liked, to "raw." jesus christ. I am not even going to go into that one.
all it brings to mind is wrestling and bad new rock. of course, is it really worse than the brother's previous band names: romeo blue, sudden attack, swift justice? gag.
okaaaaaaaay, enough ridicule at teh expense of the boyfriend's brother. I actually really like him and enjoy seeing him play. I need to stop being such a snob.
speaking of snobbery, apparently I am a movie snob, a title branded upon my humble little shoulders by more than one person. it's definitely genetic, in that my brothers and I all have a certain selective taste in movies, and smell the bullshit of romantic comedies and hollywood token action and "hipster" movies a mile away. people usually tell me that movies I have no interest in seeing have some kind of redeeming qualities. like they're entertaining. picking scabs and reading about sappy real-hollywood romance is also entertaining, but they are not things that I need to be occupying my time with. take the remake of "the manchurian candidate" with denzel washington. I like denzel, but like tom cruise and tom hanks he is caught playing the same character over and over again, just in different surroundings. denzel often plays some kind of family man, some guy who is part of the system but rises above it to save his children/bring down a government conspiracy while using his cunning and smarts. he's blunt, and sees things for what they "really" are. tom cruise always plays these really attractive guys who have tons of bravado (either from the very beginning, or they had bravado, lost it due to some incident and throughout the movie regain it, pulling in at least one woman in the process who would do anything for a piece of that bravado ass). these guys have attitude and a bit of the "fuck the man, I'll do it my way" mentality. tom hanks always plays smart dudes who are a bit nerdy and not the hot guy on the block, but who inspire those around them and have this endearing santa clause sort of quality that makes them the one person you want to have as a next door neighbor.
apparently that rant (which I have laid upon at least one person in the past) is what makes me a movie snob: I am close-minded towards certain types of movies from the get go because I see something formulaic in them that reeks of boredom and mindless entertainment. hot chick, explosions, cocky guy you love because he is so cocky and doesn't give a fuck, some kind of pulling at heart strings, bad guys overcome. the end.
so while the central aspect of my work in my studies is to increase my sensitivity, my ability to see and perceive, in areas like science, learning, politics, motion and martial arts, and the science of the mind in general, I am going to plunge ahead with my movie snobbery with full steam ahead. fuck it. if anything I will become more opinionated as time goes on...
this rant is tiring and I am at work and shouldn't be ranting like this. damn hormones.
selah, H

random 

Ode to the guy living in the broken down car next to my house (or how his car was towed and we were all happy about it)

Roughly around late November last year this white caddy type car was pushed into the corner parking spot next to our house (known to us as one of the few "diggedy-dank spots"), with new mexico plates. it was pushed into the spot by a cop car, because the car wasn't moving and it just seems right to encourage non-functional cars to sit parked on the road in urban areas, right? philly cops are out to fucking lunch. that's why this can seem like a bit of a lawless place sometimes, at least when it comes to traffic and parking rules. double parking on busy roads, making one lane roads into two lanes, liberal red light running, horrible pot holes, one of the highest insurance rates in the nation... all bodes badly for regular, rule abiding expectations for driving conduct. back to the narrative:
the guy in the car starts to live out of it, putting cardboard in the windows to shield out the light, emerging from it each morning to pee in the gutter, emptying his trash out onto the sidewalk without a second thought. he was arrested once, given a shake down which I watched, overhearing the cop say to him "you're a thief, you've assaulted people, do you really think that the people of this neighborhood deserve to have someone like you on their streets?" riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. at this point logic really started to break down for me. I mean, this guy is doing something illegal (living out of his car in an urban neighborhood) and this cop says this to him refering to his past, cuffs him and takes him away, only to return him to his car a few hours later? what's the deal? the guy even started talking to gavin, saying hi to us while we walked the dog. the second big incident occured when some construction-y guys came and broke one of his windows, accusing him of stealing some of their building supplies. they had seen him lurking around their job site. at this point the two tires on the car that were next to the curb were totally flat, and the car looked even worse than it did before. the cops were called while the construction guys were pounding on teh roof and doors of the car to coax the guy out. the cops searched the car, found nothing. the guy just put some plastic in the broken window and turned in for the night.
a few weeks ago the guy told gavin that he was leaving town for a few months, and could gavin "watch his car for him." this is the total different reality that this dude is living in. a few days later a big bright orange towing notice was slapped onto his car, and a few weeks after that, the car was gone when I came home from work. now that this guy and his car are gone, and the squatter in the basement seems to have shipped out, our immediate surroundings are finally free of vagrants, freeloaders, etc. at least that's how it appears.
this is just one aspect of philly life that you kind of have to accept to still be able to live here. one reason that it's so cheap to live in philly is the element of lawlessness and neglect that is still so alive here. another reason why philly people are a little more laidback than other major cities is evident in this. you have to be a tad more accepting and a little less high-faluting to live here.
I like it regardless. it's fun to live in philly. it can be ghetto and reviving. and it's only a matter of time till some homeless person pitches a make shift tent in the vacant lot across from my house. we can only hope.
selah,
H

kinda what I would rather be doing right now 

It is alive

Some sluggishness remains from the weekend and I have no real interest in conducting my study right now. I would rather go and frolic with the dog in wissahickon, throwing sticks out into the water for her to fetch, watching her splash down to shoulder depth and then paddle methodically out to the stick, losing sight of it, regaining recognition, then snatching it up in her mouth to paddle back to shore, hauling herself with her still-wintery coat out of the water, shaking off water if she feels she has the time, and then tirelessly barking, showing boundless enthusiasm for a repeat of this simple yet important game. she feels that this is her obligation, her job as dog, besides protection from mailmen, mail, and strangers in the house (whose feet she bites at if they move around too much or are too tall). she is doing me a service by getting this stick back to me that I keep losing. once done with swimming she carries the stick with her on the entire rest of the hike, only to drop it a few feet from the car before being quarantined to the "wet dog" area in the back. people love it. she gets constant attention from fellow hikers, meanderers, for her obvious devotion to carrying her stick.
and I smile at my fellow nature lovers, offer the usual anecdote about how she drops it before getting into the car, explain her old age, 77 in dog years, and everyone makes astounded noises and looks at the dog with respect. she then continues to limp along with her arthritis, the limp that the drunk russian guy on our block who was walking around with an american flag bandana last night always forgets exists, and he fusses over the dog with "what happened?"... "oh, arthritis? you have to give her MSM!" nice enough guy, just drunk. once he caught me in my gung fu uniform, wooden training sword in hand, on my way to my training spot, and quoted bruce lee to me, in his own interpretive way "bruce lee said, be like water." one of THOSE kinds of guys. the kind you never, ever, under any circumstances want to get caught in conversation with. especially when he is waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye...
a quote from F&L but still applicable to this situation.
to get back to my initial complaint, study fatigue is rampant, and I am anxious to be done. anxious to move on, find another job. something in my field that doesn't involve fucking doctors. I am starting to really dislike doctors, who don't want to have to do anything unless it is part of their job description. yeah, they're really busy, but they're the ones who decided to be doctors for fuck's sake. you thought this would be a cake walk?
but I will stop this rant while it is still in kid's shoes, as every cell in my body would rather not be at work now, and there's no need to take frustration out on doctors, nurses, work, this blog.
selah,
H

how about something like this on a t shirt?

I'm so hungry now I could eat a... (shit sandwich? who wrote that? can I write that?) 

how I feel at the dentist 

why my dentist rocks

Normally going to the dentist is something I fear and loathe, and I really do hate it, on a basic motor level. I hate the numbing the most, I think, as I sit here 3 hours post local anesthesia with a still incommunicado upper lip. Being a red head, I have extra sensitivity to anesthesia. Redheads are either hypersensitive, staying numb for hours, or hyposensitive and the stuff runs through em like laxatives. Lucky me, I am hypersensitive, and the shit WORKS! when I think about me in general, it goes along the "me" lines that I would milk that goddamn anesthesia for everything its worth, letting it linger for as long as possible, as I am a bit of a ruminator. the actual drilling stuff isn't so bad, besides the smell.
here's why my dentist rocks...he's cute, he's funny, smart, weird. he takes time to talk to me. they have an easy listening radio station on in the office and this barry white song comes on and he turns to me, mid-drill, with instruments hanging out of my mouth and says "you know what's great about this song? the cowbell." I lose it, and he does to. laughing with your mouth stuffed with suctions and tubes is not easy. he referred to the book 1984 today as well. He always tells me how he was engaged to a redhead once. He has theories about the psyche of redheads. He travels a lot and loves australia. he told me I have "tight canals" (as in "you have tight canals, my dear" with a pat on the shoulder). the guy hasn't owned a tv in 12 years. he made a reference to dressing up in women's clothes by candlelight, at which point his father, also a dentist in that office, leaned and told him to stay out of his mom's closet. he's tall, handsome and well built. yadda yadda yadda.
so while I abate my flow of gush for this guy, I have to say that anyone would find a visit with this dude at least bearable.
but I could be wrong.
hopefully he will never randomly find me on blogger.
so I encourage the masses to go to the DENTIST!!!! find someone you like who will entertain you while they stick needles in your gums and shoot tooth chips down your throat. someone who claims that the "you're so vain" song was written about him.
just don't go over your insurance cap for how much they will pay for with your dentist. root canals get expensive.
H

someone give me a beach towel because my head is swimming 

Release, babies, what now, what next

I haven't posted recently because I wrote a really awesome post a few days ago that was lost into the sewers of the internet. The blogger website was not working and I could not recover my blog/post. it was a good one too. poo. hence I was a bit miffed and was punishing my blog for being so unreliable.
am back now though.
I have a very interesting relationship with my kung fu teacher, who is really more than just a kung fu teacher: he's a bit of a guru for some of us, someone who can teach us many things about many subjects. he's a master of the physical arts and of the mind as well. it's interesting because people who meet him are a bit puzzled at first, and his normal behavior would not make one think so much that he is a master at anything. he quotes movies like a recording (something we share and that bonds us a bit), he yells, he's overweight, he's not all serene and mr. miyagi-ish (spelling?). he has a very clear sense of right and wrong, only sugar coats with certain people (people he isn't trying to teach anything), he has a bit of a weirdness with women (because his mom was crazy), and his brain soaks up information like nothing I have ever seen. when I started I was just learning the physical arts from him, and was led astray a bit by my previous instructors (his students) who colored my perception of him in an intensely negative fashion. they have since left the system, leaving me like martial arts floatsam behind, to figure things out for myself. it took a lot of work on my part to warm up to him. I have a problem with authoritative figures (to be traced back to my own father) and projected a lot of personal image and self-worth issues onto his interactions with me. interesting stuff.
finally though, I worked through it. even though he still scared the bejeezus out of me I went calling him and knocking on his door to be taught. I am developing the ability to act more on my rational mind as opposed to my emotional mind. this effort is leading me to learn tremendous amounts from my current teacher, physically, emotionally and spiritually, I am buying a house at 24, I am excelling at my job and in my field... all things I might have otherwise shyed away from because they scared me.
But, as always, all is not necessarily hunky dory from one day to the next. I still have major issues and the work is only just starting for my mind. the way that I see it, if I think things are going well now, as I feel better than I probably ever have, just imagine how thing will be a year from now.
The little lady (the boyfriend) and I have been talking kids. I say, gimme twins so I can pop two kids out at once and be done with it. and then I can have .1 more kids and be totally average.
but when do I have the little larvae...now, or after grad school? during grad school? do we get married first (I vote for married, then kids)? that would mean we would get married soon. me, get married?? fucking scary. these concepts that a year ago were completely foreign (as in "maybe I'll get married someday") are now seriously swirling around my mind.
I guess everyone experiences this and many make the decision to just take the leap and start a family. jump into that mirage that could be an oasis or just dry sand with no water in site. I think my chances of oasis are better than others, but who knows? remember the days when I was wearing big pants, clockwork orange shirts, headbands and worked at hot topic? smoking weed and getting body piercings? those times seem so recent. and now I wear business casual and am buying houses and talking marriage?? and am learning to be a kung fu master?
that's it, I'm out.
H