Our flaws

Everyone has something that they're hiding away in a deep dark closet.

This is not surprising. Human beings are naturally judgmental. The longer we live-the more we learn about what our flaws are-and-the consequence of revealing them.

So how long is appropriate to wait before releasing this deep dark closet of flaws on a friend/lover/roommate/co-worker??

I can speak from personal experience that it's deeply exposing to reveal things about your personality that are less than flattering! More than one person has run screaming the other direction and never looked back.

Not unlike most things we try to hide, flaws creep out at unexpected times... moments when you're run down/sick/nervous and frustrated. There's no grabbing it, throwing it back in the closet, giggling and saying "oh that... that was nothing...just forget that happened." Once the flaw's out, it's not forgotten.

Any thoughts internet readers?? Let's have a discussion.

Flaws are apart of what makes us who we are, and revealing them either alienates you from the other person or brings you both closer. We can either live with and accept someone for who they are... or say "sorry, that's a deal breaker."

What makes it worth it?

As much as the pain of rejection stings, the euphoria of being accepted for the things that you are most insecure about is one of the best feelings I have ever experienced. There's a sense of security in finding a person who isn't deterred by your deepest felt flaws. You can be sick and grumpy, tired and frustrated and they will still be there for you.

We're all flawed... but we don't all accept each other for who we are.

This is a Rant

I tend to be very optimistic in this blog.

Most of the time I'm inspired to write by the beauty I find in everyday life and the beauty found in a moment.

I haven't been feeling very optimistic recently though.
Being sick for a month will do that to you.
Granted, it is my own fault for ignoring I was sick in the first place. I insisted on barreling through, and exhausting my immune system to the point where it had to revolt in rage.

For the past month I have been walking through life in a daze. Waking up everyday to a unfamiliar lethargic-ness, Shaking my head, slapping my face and getting through the day. I felt better for a day in mid-April. But I jumped the gun, went climbing/biking... who knows what else... in celebration and fell right back into the daze. Exactly 34 hours ago I woke up with an un-ignorable swollen throat.

My body had finally rebelled.

Thankfully my awesome housemate offered to drive me to the emergency health clinic. I had all of 2 seconds face time with a young, enthusiastic doctor who made sure I wasn't dying of pneumonia, before he prescribed me some strong antibiotics and established the importance of returning to the clinic if I didn't feel better in three days time.

Cost= $216
Time with doctor= 5 minutes
Result= 7 days of swallowing powerful antibiotics.

I guess in the end the antibiotics are worth it, if they kill whatever is zapping all of my energy.
I am ready to get back to being myself!

Birthday Reflections

We plant seeds.

Everyday as we live our lives, whether knowingly or unknowingly, we plant thoughts in the minds of friends, new acquaintances, and co-workers. Our ideas nourish and support the opinions of like minded individuals, and expose spectators to new perceptions. Over time these interactions teach us, allow us to spread our leaves, and root ourselves in what resonates with us.

Like the growth of plants our roots search for nourishment in the world around us, and there are indeed different ways in which this happens. Plants have different sorts of roots, mostly classified into the tap or fibrous root categories. Tap roots have one main root that secures them securely to the earth, sending out weaker roots in search of more nutrients. Fibrous roots, on the other hand, send out multiple roots that grow in intricate patterns, equally strong and equally weak.

My root system is somewhere in between. It grows much like "quack grass." A fibrous weed that is highly adaptable and fast to mature. In the Northwest this common weed is a pain to get rid of, because it actually grows from the roots it puts down. The plants themselves are reincarnations of each other, every new one nourishing and supporting the other.

When pulled from the ground quack grass reminds me of a timeline. Here's where the plant was born, it went to primary school, traveled to other countries, went to college and started struggling to understand life without the support of it's parents. Each new experience brought it farther from it's beginning, but still connected it to it's original roots.

If you were to look at my life thus far, like the roots of a quack grass plant, you would see a timeline of experiences that affixes me to different places. In turn my experiences inform my perception of the world, and gives me new roots that support me as I continue on.

I feel so lucky to have experienced all that I have in just 25 short years of life. Now past root systems have lead me to the Northwest. The roots I have put down here connect me to many wonderful people, and allows me to explore new interests while expanding on some old ones.

Thank you to everyone who helped me celebrate being a quarter of a century year old during the week of March 23rd! I so appreciate you, and the great adventures we have been on. I am looking forward to finding out what happens in a new year of life.

A Coincidental Story

Fate. Happenstance. Destiny. Karma.

Being in the right place at the right time.

This morning I was late leaving my house. I woke up late, lingered over my coffee and cereal before struggling into my bike clothes, boiling some eggs for lunch and rushing out the front door 15 minutes later than planned. I rode my normal bike route, cursing the southern wind hitting me in the face and loving the sun poking out from behind the clouds. I hit 50th street which runs parallel to the highway headed towards University district to catch Roosevelt down to Eastlake. Mid-way up 50th street I heard a faint "help" cut my mental discourse. I thought I hadn't heard anything, but decided to turn around anyways. When I glanced behind me I saw two feet hanging out from over the guard rail.

My heart jumped, I stashed my bike and ran across the road to find a girl trapped between a bed of blackberry bushes, her bike and the guard rail. She was obviously shaken. In a state of shock myself, I asked her what had happened and if she was ok. She explained that she had swerved (for what reason I don't know), hit the rail and fallen over. The way she had fallen looked almost like the blackberry bushes had grown over her in the short time she'd been stuck. First I struggled to get her bike free of her body and the spikey black berry prickers. Her bag was next before I finally helped her to pull herself free of the bushes clenched grip.

The whole process took about 10 minutes, during which time three cars passed us without stopping. To put this scene in perspective: I was standing on the edge of the road in a bright red jacket (which makes me pretty visible). The girl I was helping was completely trapped in back of the guard rail struggling to pull herself upright by using my weight. No one even rolled down their window to ask if we were ok. If I hadn't ridden my bike by, I don't know when she would have gotten help.

Fate- being where you're supposed to be, without realizing you are supposed to be there. I've spoken with people who believe whole heartedly that there are forces in the world that predestine certain events in our lives. I've also spoken with people who believe that it's a matter of mathematics. My love of fantasy and mystery bias me towards the more idealistic perspective. I like to think that things do happen for a reason... even if they can be measured by numbers, and that there are reasons we find ourselves in certain situations.

I'm glad I was late for work today. If I hadn't taken my time this morning, left late and turned my bike around to figure out if I heard someone say help... it might have been a long time before the biker freed herself (there's no real way to know). Matter of fact what if it hadn't been me that rode by but someone with headphones on who wouldn't have heard a yell for help.

Besides feeling that I was supposed to be on 50th to help this girl, I was disappointed that nobody else stopped to help us. Drivers, pedestrians, fellow bike commuters pay attention when you're out! If there are people on the side of the road who look like they're in trouble, take a few minutes to ask them if they need help. It just may be that you are supposed to be there.

side note: Considering my own recent bike accident, it felt good to give back and help another biker in need.

Confessions of An Adrenaline Junkie

Adrenaline rushes aren't just bursts of energy during moments of crisis. They are not simply a fast and intense release of power to the muscles due to anxiety.

Most individuals who seek out adventures understand that this adrenaline can be sustained in outdoor activities that test you physically and mentally. In fact, I hypothesis that there is a method to releasing adrenaline.

The process starts with the approach.

The thrill of the unknown and the joy of discovering the new.

The approach is anticipation. It's leaving home, and taking the first steps towards the adventure on the horizon. There's an excitement to leaving what is familiar and safe. As you travel from home the complacency of everyday life becomes more unrecognizable, until you are separated from the comfortable and introduced to the unknown.

The approach is those initial fragmented steps that begin your journey. Walking from your front door to the car, watching the landscape as it changes from fields of gray and brown roofs, to fields of green grass scattered with farms.

Next comes the adventure.

The adventure is the uncertainty of arriving at an alien destination, and choosing to follow a new path.

It is the emotion for the experience that you are opening yourself up to.

The adventure acquaints you with new environments. It teaches you the excitement of being separated from normalcy, and allows you to expand your thought. Embracing the adventure with an open mind and a willingness to explore IS the adrenaline rush.

Finally comes the reflection.

Reflection is as equally important as the approach and the adventure. The moments after adventure and the surge of adrenaline, are when clarity is developed. I've pondered the importance of reflection in this blog before, and I still feel the same way. It is rare that we have time in the moment to piece together the importance of experiences, and only after they end that we are able to understand them.

Making connections between an experience and oneself, our perceptions and the world is the most addicting piece of adventure.

When you begin seeking risks to understand these connections you become an Adrenaline Junkie. You realize that the risks you take, connect you to experiences that few people have found. The adventure feels unique even though other people have most likely come before you.

I am addicted to the process as a whole. From the moment I step out my door on a day hike, ski, climbing adventure, or trip to the farmers market, I crave the adrenaline and the connection to new experiences.

I crave it so much that while I was waiting for my poor ankle to heal this past month, I still went hiking, skiing and climbing... with caution of course. Despite actively trying to injure myself again (sorry mom and dad), I am happy to say that my ankle is now healed!

Make over!

I've been writing on this site for almost two years! Is that even possible?
Well it's time for some perspective, so I've switched up the layout.

Let me know what you think!!!

New post on it's way :)

Here's something to think about in the meantime:
http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2011/01/06/hmong_urban_farmers_ext2011

Ironic injuries

2011 is starting out to be the year of injuries I've never had before.
This might sound a little scary to some of you, but the reality is that I wouldn't be getting these injuries if I wasn't challenging myself and reaching to do the things I've never done. I actually see it as a good thing.

let me explain...

To balance all the time I spend thinking on my couch, I've gotten into habit of headed to the ski slope or day dreaming about rock climbing whenever I can. I invest a lot of time and thought into both of these hobbies, and both are hard to keep up without persistently nagging my friends to get out and have fun in the outdoors. So, to reduce the nagging, I finally took a leap and decided it would be worth it to get a membership to the climbing gym. My thought was that it would at least keep me busy until things dry out here in the emerald city. The universe had other plans.

Just one hour into my bouldering session (climbing without ropes) I went for a higher, but easier climb. I stepped up to the edge, crossed over the top... just a few more moves, one more move... damn. I looked down and realized how high I was - without a rope attached to me. Insecurity washed over me and my hands started to shake and get sweaty.

"I should down climb"

"I hate down climbing"

"I'll lose control if I don't move soon"

"I'll lose control if I do move"

"I'll jump.."

"this is going to hurt"

.... and it did!

Hitting the mat wasn't bad, but something had obviously gone wrong. My ankle didn't feel quite right, and I couldn't stop holding it and breathing heavily... I appeared much like a woman in labor. I breathed heavily in and out, trying to keep my focus concentrated on anything other than the pain I knew was coming. Sprained ankle... and not two hours after getting a gym membership for the month. In an effort to keep a little more active... I actually reduced my activity to zero. At least until my ankle is a little stronger.

Hears to resiliency and a fast recovery!!

Where Time Goes

Time is so funny.

We spend time relaxing with friends, sitting at home stuck indoors, learning new things about ourselves and the world around us, and on occasion doing truly constructive projects.

Where does it go?

I've noticed that with age time seems to fly by even faster. In elementary school time was measured by those coveted holiday vacations and dreaded school tests. Time stood still between Thanksgiving and Christmas as me and my sister waited to receive the presents we'd been asking for all year. During summer breaks time flew by while we played at the lake or struggled with adult emotions at summer camp.

In college time evened out and stayed at a steady speed for a while. I enjoyed the ride. There was so much to soak in and learn, both in and out of the classroom. The years went by filled with new ways of thinking, new people to discover, languages to learn and cultures to explore. The steady speed of time helped me to find out who I was, or a piece of who I am.

But, the last few years time has become extremely sporadic. One second I am throwing myself into projects I love, completely forgetting about time. The next minute I'm back on my couch struggling with the really difficult questions of time that everyone asks themselves as they grow up. Should I go back to school? Can I get a good job? Am I making the most of the time I have?

Time is the one consistent. No matter what else happens in life, time is the one thing that is guaranteed to keep speeding, walking... bumbling ahead. All we can do is try to make what we have count in the short blip we have in the relatively infinite time of the universe.

Long Winters

What is a season... What constitutes spring, summer, fall or winter?

It can't be summer if there's still snow on the ground and it's cold... or can it?
And certainly if it's winter there can't be 100 degrees of heat outside...unless you live in the southern hemisphere...

Seasons are relative, and locational. To be honest, I think seasons are more feelings then the changes in the world around us. Take for example, this winter in Seattle. It is unusually snowy here in the city. For most Satellites the city in the winter is a gray, drizzly, rainy place. When it snows city dwellers hide in their homes, shut down their businesses, and run to REI for down coats while they wait to see if the snow goes away. What happens when the snow doesn't disappear you might ask... nothing good. The feelings associated with snow here are much different then the feelings I have as a long time east coaster, from a state where snow sticks on the ground for almost half the year!

So far this winter has been a comical, almost cartoonish experience! An inch of snow on the ground and the University of Washington shuts down, city roads are deserted and what cars are left are slipping and sliding around residential streets. Growing up in Vermont an inch of snow meant there was a foot more to come. It also meant time to break out the snow pants/boots/hat/gloves/wool socks and wool layers, because you were going to be walking to school!

For me winter is not the stress that comes with navigating freak snow storms. It's the mystery of snow falling on the ground and the way each little snowflake feels on your face as you build a snow man in your back yard or snow shoe through a dense maple tree forest. Winter is the warmth and comfort you get from drinking hot chocolate while sitting by a crackling orange fire with friends on long dark nights. It's the tingling sensation you get in your nose when it finally starts to thaw out, and that fully satisfied feeling that comes from seeing the ground completely coated in a white blanket.

My advice to Seattle: Be safe, forget the worrying and enjoy the experience of having cold and snow right in your own backyard.

The Terminal

What's the movie that came out a few years ago... with Catherine Zeta Jones, and Romance movie stud Tom Hanks?

You know, the one where Tom Hanks' character finds himself stuck in the airport after his home country has a coup and changes leadership. Oh yeah, The Terminal.

Well, I wasn't stuck in JFK and I wasn't in transit between two countries, but I was forced by United Airlines to spend the night in Chicago at O'hare International on my way from Vermont to Seattle. A wary word of advice to all travelers between the East coast and West coast- If you can afford to, spend the extra money and take a direct flight (at least during winter months).

Learn from my misfortune. When I arrived at the airport in Manchester on Dec. 29th I was endearingly optimistic. Earlier in the day I'd checked my flight to see that it was on time. Then full of nostalgia I pulled myself and two carry on bags from my childhood home and headed out with my mom towards the airport. It wasn't until 15 minutes after I'd arrived at the terminal that United announced that my flight would be delayed an hour, at least. Again, my optimism kicked in and I humbly asked the agent at the flight counter about my connecting flight in Chicago. He re-assured me that all flights going in and out of Chicago were experiencing delays and not to worry about my connection. Trouble sign #1....

My plane took off a hour and a half after its scheduled time, spent 20 extra minutes in the air circling O'hare until they were cleared to land, and then took 15 minutes to taxi to the gate. By the time I made it off my plane and jumped on a bus across the airport to my gate, my plane had been gone for 15 minutes... Trouble sign #2.....

My optimism stayed intact, although significantly diminished, while I struggled through lines of people to talk to a customer service representative (trouble sign #3). The United representatives were extremely overworked and had no sympathy. They informed me that they couldn't book me on a flight for another three days (January 1), and that they would not help me in anyway during my stay at the airport (thank you United...). When I finally... and embarrassingly... threw a small fit they finally told me that they could put me on standby for a flight leaving the next morning.

Normally I would have looked at this as another adventure, try to make the best of it, and move on. But for some reason this bump in the road took a toll on me. You could literally taste the bitterness of everyone stranded in O'hare. The United representatives weren't discrete about taking out their annoyance on the waylaid travelers either. Tired and frustrated, everyone left in transit to their final destinations desperately tried to secure the last seats on already full flights. The man at the counter next to me struggled with United as they explained that he would have to wait 9 days to get on a flight home. The next morning I spoke with a woman who took her dog out for a walk at 11:30pm, only to find that she couldn't get back through the security barrier for the rest of the night, and had to sleep just inside the airport doors.

In The Terminal Catherine Zeta Jones was compassionate to Tom Hanks, and helped him through his confusing and stressful JFK experience. My experience with the United airlines representatives was very different.