Inspiration behind the ink

After many many months of contemplation, I finally decided on a tattoo design. I’ve spent a lot of time teetering back and forth, taking polls on artwork, and trying to mentally prepare my parents. Originally I had planned to get the tattoo for my 25^th birthday (my parents were conveniently on vacation) but I was pretty set on getting something on my foot, and with trying to train for the half-marathon a foot tattoo just wasn’t feasible in June. So I spent the last few months tweaking ideas, and watching a lot of LA Ink.

I am completely baffled by some of the tattoos I see.  I mean, to each his own… but seriously.  I am fascinated by the thought process (or in some cases lack of thought process) that people have going into this.  I mean, is it really necessary to get your ex-girlfriends face tattooed on your chest? (even if she did just die… you weren’t together at the time… do you really want any future lady friend you have to be looking at your ex-girlfriend every time you get naked?) Or what about the people who get their Pet’s names tattooed on them…. What happens when you out-live your pet, and in 20 years your kid is asking you who is Baxter, and why is his name written on your arm?

That being said, there are also a lot of really cool tattoos out there, and  once I started seriously contemplating getting my own ink, I began to notice everyone’s tattoos. It really added a whole new element to people watching, and there are so many things to notice!

 So last week I found myself sitting at the tattoo shop, talking with my artist, and picking out fonts.  It seemed fitting to get something poetic, and though the words are not my own, what better words to get put on your permanently than words from your favorite poet? Oh Mary Oliver... The quote is the final two lines from the poem The Summer Day  "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life."  Couldn’t you just read her words all day? I get so lost in her word… or maybe I get found in them?

This quote was also the inspiration for one of the poems that was the cornerstone of my senior thesis, so I feel really comfortable having them permanently on my body. Not only is in an homage to MO, but it is a perfect reminder for me to be actively living my life rather than sitting around waiting for my life to happen to me. 

And then there is the Om symbol… ( still awaiting for the parental reaction). There is so much to say about it, and then again no words to really get there. The three syllables (A U M) represent Body, Soul, and spirit, Or Physical, Mental, and Deep Sleep states. The all-pervading consciousness of the soul. For me it serves as a reminder to stay grounded, and also to honor my own truth, and it seems to go hand in hand with Mary Oliver’s words.

I’m really happy with how the font turned out. I wanted something that was easy to read at first glance… nothing too scripty. There are a lot of cool fonts out there, but I didn’t want people to have to do a double take, or struggle to read what it said. I’m also thrilled with the placement on my foot. Easy to hide if I want to, but also easy to show off.

Yes, it was a bit painful on the foot…. But overall I figured it would be painful no matter where it went, so I might as well get it where I wanted it. All the people in the tattoo shop were like “wow that is brave”  But thankfully there was no passing out involved (thank you yoga breathing) I found it was also nice to be able to see what the artist was doing while the was tattooing. Not that I had any doubts, but it helped to be able to anticipate when the pain was coming, how long it would last, and to be able to see how much was left to do etc. It was nice to be able to count how many letters I had left. I was thrilled that we were able to get it in two lines... When I first went in she was really skeptical that it would fit, but she did a great job! The line breaks are even true to the poem, so it's perfect.

I found it pretty ironic that last year when I was hobbling around with a staph infection so many people asked me if I had just recently got a tattoo. The whole time I was thinking “if only this was a tattoo!” (for the record the lancing and draining and packing of the staph infection was way more painful than the tattoo). Last night as I was hobbling around with the bandage (hobbling more so from the half-marathon than the tattoo) everyone I ran into was like “Oh no, what happened?” So it was fun to be able to say “nothing, I just got a tattoo!” But I will admit the bright green bandages were very reminiscent of my summer with staph.   

Now I’m just hoping for a few more weeks of flip-flop weather (come on Oregon!)

I survived!

Good News,

I'm still alive after "running" the half marathon! Ok running might be a little much... jogging? Trotting? I don't know if there are actual words to describe my pace of movement... but I like to call it running. That being said, I am still coming to terms with the fact that I was passed by SEVERAL power-walkers throughout the race... (one of them was a seventy-something year old man...) But my official time was still 2 hours and 53 minutes! I was assuming it would take me over 3 hours to complete it, so I was thrilled that even though I broke down and walked a bit that I still made it in under 3 hours! There were some definete rough patches (like the 3.5 miles of gravel hilly country roads that started at mile 8) but I survived!

I got up at 5AM on race day, and immediately I was thinking "no way in hell. I paid money to get up this early and run 13.1 miles?" After all, I am not a runner! I've decided that there are two types of people "runners" and "people who run" and I am a person who runs (or jogs... or trots). I still don't know what got into me that I had the desire to do this, but I do have a great sense of accomplishment.

My Sister-In-Law and I at 6AM

Initially I signed up because I thought I would need something to distract me from the fact that I didn't get into graduate school. Running seemed like a healthier option than eating or drinking excessively, so I paid $80, and figured there was no turning back.  Well that way May, and this is September, and I can honestly say that I did not need the distraction. Work got crazy, I started yoga school, and all the excess running was really more of a hassle than anything else. I started to feel like all I did on my days off was excercise, and I will be very glad to take a bit of a break from running. I do think I will continue to run a couple times a week, but I'm talking more like 2-3 miles, rather than 7-8 at a time. I'm excited to get back to the gym after a summer absence, and I'm excited to have a little more free-time on my days off!

The race itself was actually pretty fun. It's weird to be around 2,000 all running towards the same place. For me running is a solitary activity, I just listen to my music, have some time with my thoughts, and get in the zone. So it was an adjustment to be running in a herd of people. I knew a ton of the people  who were running, and started the race next to my dentist and his wife, and was right behind one of my co-workers. They quickly pulled ahead of me.... and as the race went on, I was passed several time by people that I knew. They each kindly tapped me on the shoulder and waved as they went by, and I embraced my spot in the 12-13 minute mile bracket.

Oh Look... It's my spot

I was totally in the groove until I hit the gravel... and then my body simply said "NO" but overall I think I ran at least 11.5 of the 13.1 miles. I am currently in a cycle of "Advil, Ice, repeat" and probably will be until I can get my hips stretched out. Right now my hips don't lie, and they are telling me that I do not have a runner's body. Thank God for Yoga.

 The Post Race Shock... I mean afterglow

Hello September

Is it weird that I am kind of excited for September to be here? Don’t get me wrong, I am in no way ready to relinquish summer (though I am starting to think about things like leggings, tall boots, and light-weight scarves) but every I cannot help but get a little excited for September.

I blame it on our society, mainly, and the “Back to School” mentality that we have exposed to our entire lives. September rolls around and this undirected excitement starts building. I wonder if this will go away the further and further I get from my life in academia. Will I always be spending the first weeks in September longing for new roommates, and jonesing for school supplies? Oh to be in twenty and taking art history classes….

Ok, so gone are my college co-ed days, but even in the “real world” I’ve got a busy September and a lot to look forward to as well. Here are just a few things on my radar.

1) I’m taking some much needed time off of work. This is not to say that I will be working any less, as my project load is increasing, and weddings are still going in full swing. But I’m shifting some things around, taking a few days here and there, and hopefully regaining a bit more of my sanity. I am in desperate need of a social stimulus package, so I’m taking some time. Yes, this might mean burning the midnight oil as I write copy for a website, re-vamp contracts, draft newsletters, and design tee-shirts, but at least I’ll have some quality buddy time.

2) I’m running my first (and possibly/probably last) Half-Marathon! Ok so there are runners, and people who run… and this experience has solidified that I am a person who runs (or really a person who jogs… but that just sounds dumb)

3) I’m choosing and teaching the “Pose of the Month” at my yoga studio. This is really exciting because I get to explore what aspects of the pose I find important, and get to utilize some teaching skills, anatomy, and yes, some Sanskrit. Get ready for Vrksasana (Tree Pose).

4) I’m getting my first (and possibly my last) Tattoo! After giving it much contemplation, I have finally decided to get inked. Expect updates/ pictures… September 7th.

5) Going to see Stephen Kellogg with the fam. I feel sort of like we have been like a wolf pack this summer, as most of my fun outings/ experiences have been in a family setting. We go to the theater together, to baseball games together, to fancy dinners together, to concerts together and soon to Montana together. But we all like each other (most of the time), and though I feel slightly nerdy going to a concert with my parents on a Friday night, I think we will have a good time.

6) Quality time with my college roomies! I’m going to Seattle to spend a few days catching up with one of my old roommates… we haven’t seen each other in almost a year, so clearly there will be many cocktails and lots of catching up.

7) Catching another Red Sox game. I don’t care how many players are on the DL… I’m still excited.

8) Going to a wedding that I am not coordinating! Two of my good friends from college are getting married to each other! This means lots of craziness and good times will ensue. This is the first time that a lot of us have been together since last August (at the last set of nuptials). It will probably be a shit show, as there is a crazy bachelor/bachelorette party taking place, out of town guests, and overall hanging out/ re-living college, celebrating our friends & their super awesome wedding. I CAN’T WAIT!

9) Knitting Projects: There is something fundamentally wrong with knitting in the summer time. (this may have something to do with the fact that I only know how to knit scarves…) I’m ready for some cool fall evenings curled up with project. Cowl Neck Scarf anyone?

10) The Much awaited Season Premiere of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia…

Bring it on September. (but I’d be ok with the Indian summer…. And many many many more days of sunshine and warm evenings)

a poem for a Tuesday

Waking up with a borrowed view

Engulfed in the quiet beauty

Of the everyday.

The grapevines are not my own

Nor the sky

Nor the morning in it’s perfect fog

But I can’t help but feel a sense of coming home.

Though this space is not my own,

And therefore neither is the moment

 it is present in the inklings of my subconscious

The familiar un-familiarity

Of belonging to a place.

Oh to live only on the notion of stolen moments

Some Prose on my Writing Epiphany about Writing Poetry.

Ok, so I feel like I’ve reached a life/writing epiphany over the past few days (clearly it was a slowly cultivated epiphany) and now I’m so thrilled to share it, I feel like my thoughts are totally jumbled and will just come out in a awkward explosion of words. Agh, totally frustrating for a writer… As clearly I value getting my point across through language… so sorry if it all comes out in a dyslexic looking mess… I guess that is the random beauty of stream of consciousness.

It all started with yoga homework… the longer I am in this program the more I realize that this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now. Honestly, graduate school is still at the back of my mind, but I cannot help but think of what I would have missed out on if I had been in a traditional classroom rather than being in my currant RYT program. Not only have I formed a very close bond with all of my classmates, but I am daily/ weekly going deeper into my yoga practice, and also discovering so many things about myself and gaining an entirely new perspective, and I feel that this self-knowledge can only better my writing. Anyway… so my homework this past week was to take one of the Yamas or Niyamas and essentially embrace it into not only my yoga practice but my daily life. I won’t go into the depths of the branches of yoga right now, but the Niyama I chose to integrate into my life this week was Santosha or Contentment. It seemed rather fitting as I really was struggling with restlessness towards the beginning of the year. I will not delve into a rambling play by play of all the realizations that I had about contentment, but I will give a brief summary of some of the highlights.

Though contentment doesn’t/ shouldn’t be dependent on physical surroundings or things, I really began to realize that to be content with myself and my life I needed to be an active participant in it. Yes, finding contentment regardless of your situation is important, but I also think that contentment can sometimes be a form of settling. I don’t want to be the type of person who is content to watch tv and sit on the couch all day (unless of course I’m watching all five seasons of Weeds in one week… we all need to indulge a little bit!) So for me I realized that to be content with my life, I needed to be doing things that stimulated me physically, mentally, and emotionally. And by integrating these things into a daily routine I was cultivating myself into a person that I was content being. By actively living my life, I am perfectly content in it.

The second major thing I realized about contentment is that to achieve it you cannot be attached to results, outcomes, or have expectations. It is so hard to live in the moment and appreciate things fully when you have this huge expectation of what something should be. I’ve seen it so many times when I wanted so badly for situations to end up a particular way, and when they don’t I am always disappointed. Though it is a huge challenge, I’m finding that living in the moment without being attached to results is actually really freeing. I understand that working towards a particular goal can be good, and really motivating and rewarding… and in general I am a goal oriented person. But I’m finding that being able to separate my actions from a desired outcome allows me to really attain a sense of emotional balance.

Alright back to the writing aspect of things. So I’ve been house-sitting, living in the lap of luxury (seriously, two house-keepers came in this morning and cleaned the entire house… going home is going to be a harsh reality) and I started to realize that most of the time I am sitting around waiting for a poem to find me. Is that not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard? I have been spending my time waiting for inspiration to hit me over the head, rather than actively pursuing it. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud. What was I thinking? Yes, life often gets in the way. Business happens, work happens, appointments happen, and there isn’t always time in the day to be cultivating a writing practice. That being said, if I’m not out actively pursuing writing in some fashion, then why would I expect that inspiration should be surrounding me all the time. My only real answer for that is that writing poetry is hard. It sounds like a huge cop-out, and essentially it is, because I find inspiration in all places of my life. Turning that inspiration into poetry is something that doesn’t happen on a regular basis because it is hard. By nature I am a loquacious person, I like my modifiers and complex sentences. I get inspired by something and I want to explain it in perfect detail, and more often than not, the way that it comes out of my head is in prose form. It is deliciously easy to sit down and type out full and complete sentences for thirty minutes and have everything I’m thinking and feeling be perfectly articulated on the page. Poetry requires an editing eye, and the ability to eliminate all the excess language, all the unnecessary adjectives until you get to a point where every last word is essential to the interpretation of the piece. I could spend thirty minutes pouring out my thought process, or spend twelve days trying to get the same poignancy with fewer words in shorter lines. And so I squirrel away the ideas for poems, type the prose, post it instantly, and am still able to cultivate the feeling good writer vibes because I’m putting something out there.

So what am I waiting for? The perfect inspiration? The time? The motivation? The inspiration is everywhere… the time is hidden in little pockets… the motivation is building some momentum… and the glue that holds it all together is the not being attached to the results. It is hard to write poetry, mainly because it is so easy to write bad poetry. And so rather than write bad poetry, I write good (sometimes mediocre) prose. But at the end of the day, I’m not content without writing poetry (though this blog does fulfill a large part of my composition cravings). I know, I’m rambling… and at the end of it all, I don’t even have a poem to share… But I will get there. The important thing is realizing that I’m not the kind of girl who is content to not write poetry. So I’m just letting you all know… its coming. More poetry is on the agenda. I am going to try really hard to put it out there without attachment to an end result. I am going to try to not always fall back on my ability to construct full and complete sentences. I am going to actively be in search of poems rather than letting them occasionally cross my path.

And I’m going to have a damned good time with it too.

Playing House

For the next two weeks I am playing house, as my boss and her husband are on a cruise in Russia (seriously, who goes on a cruise to Russia?) I mentioned in passing a few weeks ago that I would be happy to house-sit so they wouldn’t have to put the dog in the kennel, and a few days ago they decided to take me up on it. I of course had a few ulterior motives, as their house is within walking distance of the office and event space. Two weeks here means that I will never be late for work, and more importantly, that I will be mere feet away from my bed after late-night events.

This comes at the perfect time, as it will hopefully cure my real-estate lust, at least temporarily. Upon walking into the house I immediately started to contemplate ways I could marry into the family. ( I think my options are limited as their only son is married with two kids, and happens to be my other boss… and the next closest male relative is the twelve-year-old grandson…) So here I am, trying on someone else’s life for a bit.

 The house is gorgeous, with luxuries galore, but it is in no way pretentious. It is a very lived in, functional house with a country/ grandmotherly feel.  There are books in every room (so many cook books, its amazing), pictures of the family scattered around, dozens of orchids, mis-matched furniature, odds and ends, and has this comforting element of randomness. My boss and I are kindred spirits in the fact that we are both a little cluttery, and I feel right at home in this house! And then there is the view, which is right out of a movie. The house is literally located in their vineyard, and you step out onto the porch and the entire Willamette Valley is spread out before you. There is a terraced porch, raised beds, intricate fountain, luscious landscaping, there are Buddha statues peaking out everywhere, giant oak trees…. Oh to wake up to this every morning! 

I am utterly content here, with the functional kitchen, wireless internet, satellite TV(they have the MLBTV network… hello Red Sox Games) , access to nature, and the dog to keep me company.  I’ve already established my favorite spot in the house, a gorgeous yellow leather arm chair with matching ottoman. I can curl up with Netflix here, write here, read here, nap here… it’s like sinking into a hug. 

Of course there are a few awkward downsides into stepping into the life of your Boss. Firstly, the proximity to work is a blessing and a curse. I’m already wondering if my days off will really be days off, or if I will find myself walking up to the store, or if the store will come to me. Friday morning as I was getting ready, I opened up the bathroom blind, and there was my co-worker wandering through the drive-way with an armful of flowers. As it is wedding season, and she is doing most of the flowers for our weddings at work, it is really only natural to find her scavenging on the property, but I was reminded of how close to work I really was. Truth be told, I love being at work (I know I’m pathetic, but I’m so in love with my job and the people there!) and my co-worker and I hung out on the porch and drank coffee, but I’m wondering if after two weeks I will be ready to re-gain some distance. And though I am feeling quite at home here, I am constantly reminded that I am not really at home… Friday morning Paul (the Son/ my other Boss) had his daughters at work, and he brought them to the house to make breakfast at 7:50 AM. I was on my way to a networking function, so we stayed out of each other’s way, but it could have been interesting. This is of course perfectly normal, as it is a family owned business, and the grand-kids are out here often. That being said, it is still a bit awkward when you are just out of the shower and your boss is downstairs making breakfast for his children.  The lines between my professional/ personal life were already quite blurry and making coffee with your boss when your hair is still wet is definitely an adjustment. Needless to say I will not be walking around in my underwear in the mornings. I also stopped over here to make lunch one afternoon, and I was planning on watching an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia while I ate. I walked in, and there was Paul, sorting the mail, doing some filing, making business calls. I’m sure it is just as awkward for him, as technically I am in his space, but you can tell we both don’t want to be in each other’s way.

Last night was wonderful as I was able to drive home in two minutes after a wedding, and immediately crawl into the giant bathtub. (it was pretty decadent, as I brought home some cheesecake from the wedding. Yes, I did eat cheesecake in the tub).

Overall, once I adjusted to the noises of a new space, I am loving waking up with someone else’s view. I love the his and her sinks in the bathroom (I have naturally taken over both of them), I made my coffee this morning with a $1,200 espresso maker, and the house-keepers come at 8AM on Wednesday. A girl could get used to this…

Embracing my life as a glorified squatter... AKA Friday the 13th

I'm not a superstitious person (ok unless it comes to baseball) so when I realized that today was Friday the 13th, I really had no reaction. Just another Friday, get up, do some networking, drink copious amounts of coffee, tie up lose ends at work, mentally prepare for another wedding at work. Typical. Work was un-eventful, and the couple I'm working with tomorrow are an absolute dream (East coast, money is no object, super sweet, really organized) After assisting with their rehearsal dinner I had plans to take myself to happy hour at my favorite roof-top bar, soak up some sunshine, read my book, drink a pitcher of cold beer, eat a veggie burger, and relax.

Sounds nice, right? I'm sure it would have been. Sadly one of my co-workers decided to lock up before making sure I had my belongings out of the office and 5:30 found me locked out of work, my car, my apartment, and essentially my life. Thankfully I was not alone in this adventure, my other co-worker (not the one who managed to lock us both out) was in the same boat, and we both just laughed in disbelief and misery. There are eight people in the entire world who have keys for my office. Seven of said keys them unlock all the doors (including the office) and one of them unlocks only the outer doors. Five of  the keys  were with people who were out of town, two of them were locked in the office, and the one that was maybe on the outskirts of reach was the one that only unlocks the outside.  We were one-hundred percent screwed.

On the bright side, we both had our cell-phones with us... On the down-side my entire family, and the only people with extra keys to my apartment (besides my landlord who will charge me $25 every time they have to come let me in). I had no purse, no book, no wallet (which meant no ID, No Cash, No Credit Cards) no car keys, no house keys, no chap stick... I slowly kissed my dreams of cold pitchers of beer goodbye, and devised a plan that involved breaking into my parents house... I might not have clothes or contact solution here, but at least I didn't have to break a window and there is air-conditioning. It could be worse... I found some vodka in the freezer, and I've been able to watch Weeds to my hearts content... so what if I have to do the walk to shame to work in the morning? I'm going to roll up there in my Dad's car wearing the same thing I am right now, and I will have to put on a happy face, and pray that my clients don't judge me. At least if all goes smoothly I'll have time to run home & change before the wedding.  Thankfully My co-workers mother was close by, so she came and picked us up, and drove us both home. At least someone's parents were in town!

It all turned out ok(ish) but I still sort of want to punch the one co-worker in the face. Who locks up the office without double checking to make sure the two people left actually have their keys (I have a bright yellow purse sitting on the desk in our tiny tiny office... one would think she would have noticed it). I have to get up an hour early so I can go to work, get my keys (from the office that will hopefully be un-locked by then, by one of my less than thrilled bosses who had to drive home from a family reunion.... at least this didn't happen when they were out of the country) go home, change my cloths, peel the contact lenses off my eyes, power slam a venti-coffee, go back to work, finish prepping for the wedding, go pick up a CSA, grab lunch, then back to work for my marathon wedding... of all the days to be getting less sleep and running around like a crazy person, this would not have been the one I would have chosen.

I'm still clinging to visions of happy-hour, and praying that I don't get pulled over on my way to work before I have my ID back in my possession.  In the meantime, I'm trying to embrace my status as a glorified squatter...