Defeat.

Super cool original ceramic replica of a Polaroid Land Camera :)

"We shall find no enduring strength until we first admit complete defeat."

Twelve Steps, Step One

This inspired me this week, the idea that there is strength at the bottom, strength in brokenness. I struggle to hold on to his idea, even though I'm sure lots of people who know me would say otherwise, describing me as vulnerable. But the truth is, I like to look good. I talk big talk about trash and recycling, but deep down, I want people to think I have it all together and I want to look good.

I want to be a winner. I want to be the best. I don't want to admit my faults or flaws. I don't want the world to see the ugly parts of me.

It's easier to be vulnerable when deep down I think I have it all together, and the vulnerability is a nice persona. It's harder when it's the real thing, when the vulnerability is raw and needy and broken because that's where I am.

Defeat.

Celebrate good times, come on!

Vintage Tiki Hula Girl Boob Mug from Harvey's

I've spent the morning researching PhD programs outside of California. Those non-resident fees are astronomical! Don't bother getting a PhD without getting a research or teaching assistant position, which will likely give you automatic resident status and give you a stipend or scholarship in return.

I don't want to be a "doctor" per se, but I continue to run into the reality that I think in a research/clinical way, and my work does not particularly allow me to pursue these things actively. I love to research and write. I don't necessarily want to do tests on people, or rats, or monkeys. I just want to write about the thoughts in my head. I think that's a reasonable goal for a doctoral program - Dear Dean of Admissions, I'm brilliant and I need to share it with the world. Please accept me. You won't regret it. You'll be happy you did.

I tried to do this as a seventeen-year-old applying to the honors program at my university. It didn't work out so well. It made sense to me, but I guess they diagnosed me with narcissism, and threw the essay away. I'm struggling a lot with self-doubt right now, and will be spending the next two weeks trying to work through that. I don't think I want to go back to school. I think I just want to go to Montana, and meet some lumberjack with a thick beard who will appreciate my intellect, and write poems about trees.

Actually, I'm less interested in men than I ever have been. It's pretty wonderful. I highly recommend it. I think I've dealt with some issues surrounding my feelings of inadequacy about being single. Or maybe I'm just pretending. Who knows?

Anyhoo, good to have you. Please come again :)

Tennis balls :)

C'est vrai, mes amis, c'est vrai.

Tonight, the stars aligned and I remembered something my yoga studio does, and I did it at home. We often bring tennis balls along with our blankets, blocks, etc. and use them in class as weird pain-providing devices of torture wherein we place them under particular parts of the body (tight parts), and lie on top of the ball, allowing the full weight of our bodies to press down on the ball, creating a pressure to break up the tension. It can be quite painful, not in a bad way, but in a "this-part-of-my-body-has-never-felt-this-much-pressure" sort of way.

I went into the garage, knowing deep down that I'd seen a tennis ball somewhere. And alas! I found it! And I laid on top of it, with the ball beside my shoulder blades, and I swear to you, I can't remember the time my body felt so relaxed and just good.

Anyhow, you should try it. Peer pressure. Do it. Do it now. Or tomorrow. Whatever.

B I K R A M

Revue Eyeglass frames, from France!

My bff has become completely and totally a Bikram convert. She talks about it all the time. I've been hearing about it for three straight weeks. And since I'm already a wannabe yogi, I figured it was worth my time to give the whole thing a shot. I knew what I was getting into. It would be hot. I needed to be still. I needed to be prepared to sweat a lot without wiping it away, etc, etc. So I waited until I was actually up to the challenge, and went to the studio yesterday afternoon.

It felt like I walked into an oven. It felt oppressive without moving. I've lived in hot, humid places. I've exercised in said places. But I was not prepared for the heat of that room. It was unlike anything I have ever felt, save the moment I stepped off the plane into the equatorial heat of West Brazil six short years ago. But I was committed, and I didn't doubt that I could do it. And I was able to do the first maybe 25% of the poses, when I stood up and felt sick to my stomach. I knew my blood sugar had plunged, and I knew that I had to get out of that room, but the teacher told me to stay and sit, and I did not feel like I could do anything else. So I sat, and I sat, and held back tears that came out of nowhere.

Eventually, I caught the teacher's eye and asked if I could leave. Her response was not positive, but I was adamant. I knew I needed to check my blood sugar, and I needed to not feel so sick for another minute. I sat for a while in the front room, and drank my water. My sugar was 75, which is not pre-comatose, but not okay to keep going in the negative direction. I had to leave. I had to go home.

I wailed all the way home. It was bizarre. There were no feelings or thoughts associated with the wailing, just a raw, guttural noise from my soul. Eventually, it ended, and I ate dinner, and slept through the night.

It wasn't a good day to go, and I want to go back. But I don't know when I'll feel up to it. I think that heat is a really big stressor to my body, and I'll have to be in a perfect place blood-sugar and energy wise before I try again. It's difficult for me to accept defeat, even temporarily, but if I'm learning anything at this point in my life, it's that I need to have patience to get the things I want.

Peace out :)

Thriftspiration.

El Vaquero Valerio Giuntoli boots - booyah :) Pretty freakin' awesome.

Do you like how big the photo is? Do ya? Do ya? You're welcome.

So in an effort to discover the origin of these freakin' awesome boots, I ended up on Italian eBay, looking at shoes, and boy was that a good time. They were all so colorful! I wish I had a ton of money to spend on shoes.

Why aren't we all buying more Italian leather shoes? I found these blue leather heels. They were unlike anything I'd ever seen, and they made me drool. What can I say? Even I, the lover of trash and all things used, can easily get drawn in to consumerist lust. Seriously, I cannot contain my glee, so I'll share it with you: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (oh, and I can't resist - 6).

I am spending the weekend probably reading scandalous literature to my mother in the hospital. If I don't keep her adequately entertained, I imagine that she will be more prone to sexually harassing cute young male orderlies/nurses/doctors and blaming it on the morphine. I take it upon myself to be a buffer - not in a codependent way, just in an effort to have more men in my life.

Peace out mofos :)