I Can't Wait for Right Now

I'm packing my suitcase and eating black Red Vines. (I don't know why I eat those things. I know they make me shit wrong.) I leave for Hawaii tomorrow. I've been so freaked out about the flight. Tonight I was pacing around my apartment getting more and more freaked out, so I called a friend to meet for a late dinner. It was either that or Valium. 

I hope I have a great time. My BFF who I've made all previous trips with couldn't go, so this time it's all me. I've been hoping to make this a bit of a surfing vacation, but I don't know. 

My surf lesson last week was really tough. I'm sure there are people who can go out of their comfort zone and try something totally new without it being a complete emotional saga requiring intense psychotherapy . . . but screw them and their parents that are still together*. My two lessons have been great but intense, bringing up all kinds of issues for me. And you might think I'd hate it, but I don't. That's actually a big part of why I'm doing it, of course. But it's still uncomfortable and takes a lot of processing. The lessons are three hours long and this time I spent the first hour and a half  - at least - totally going through the motions and wondering how on earth I ever thought this was a good idea. I couldn't get my foot up. I was sliding off the left side of the board. Nothing was working. At one point I shrugged and said to Jules, "I'm not really having any fun." 

I tend to get overly focused on technique and doing things "right" and I just fight against the waves. It's fricking irritating - the board is slick and the water is moving and everything in the universe is conspiring for you to not stay on that thing. I pounce on the middle and grip the rails and wait to feel balanced, but just end up flipping right over. I spent the first hour and a half fighting with the water, trying to harness it and show it who's who. I used every muscle in my body to force the board to stay steady. And it left me exhausted and ready to throw in the towel. 

Then Jules changed how we were going about it, and after every wipe out, I had to tell her one thing I did great that time. I'd paddled really well. Or I'd timed my pop-up attempt perfectly (wave - one - two - go!) I had some awful runs, and when she asked me what I did great, we'd both just stare at each other. Finally she'd say, "You really tried!" and I'd agree. Jules also started having me focus on just one thing - getting my back foot right, or pushing up from the rails and not the deck. She also made an observation - that when I wiped out, I stayed down in the ocean swimming around a bit. I played in the water, felt the motion of the waves, let them relax and focus me. She said people generally fight the momentum and stand up as quick as possible after wiping out. And somewhere in the middle of all that mess, I started to have an awesome, awesome time.

It's so damn hard to show up for yourself sometimes. To be fully present, accepting whatever thoughts or feelings come up, honoring them as valid and worthy of acceptance. At the end of the lesson when we got out of the water, we were team-carrying my board (because it's so damn heavy because it's so damn big) and I was walking behind Jules and I started to cry. Yes, cry. I had about three hours of sleep the night before, so I was exhausted before even starting. And it would have been easy to explain it away, or to not even mention it - we were both dripping with water; she never would have noticed. But I knew there was something that could be learned from what I was feeling, so when we made it up the sand to our bags I said, "Jules, I'm starting to get emotional." 

You know how when you're crying around someone you don't really know and you feel weird and they feel weird and they kind of try to hug you to be nice, but it's awkward because you're pretty much strangers and it's weird to be touching and stuff? Yeah, it wasn't like that at all. We sat on a washed up log and looked out to the ocean, baking in the sun, and Jules scooted by me and put her arms around me and held me. I wasn't crying very hard or anything, I was just really overwhelmed and having a hard time putting my emotions into words. And I showed up for myself and she showed up for me.

There is a long list of things (for a long list of reasons) that aren't for me. Just normal things in life that one might encounter, but when I encounter them, there's no reason to even consider it. No reason to try. I know that's not for me. Do trust me when I say that surfing, for a plethora of reasons, is not for me. But I'm trying to challenge that, and by extension, all the other limits I've put on myself. 

It was a hard day surfing. I didn't get up; I still haven't gotten totally up. (But I've almost mastered surfing on my knees, which, as far as I know, isn't a sport.) It was incredibly physical. During my first lesson I caught about twelve or fifteen waves, and another instructor chased my board for me. This time I probably caught forty or fifty waves, which means forty or fifty wipe outs, and chased my board - far and wide - all on my own. The waves were rough, well over five feet, with a lot of wind. (Beginner waves are 1 - 3'.) We worked a lot on my paddling, which was tiring, and I carried my mammoth board on my head all over that beach and parking lot.

After Jules and I finished processing - which was intense and magical, and that's all I can say - she told me to have fun for the rest of the day and bring the equipment back to the shop before closing. At first I didn't even know what she meant. When I figured it out, I told her that I didn't think I could go out on my own without her. We talked about it and in the end I decided to just borrow her belief in me and do it. She gave me a leash - HEY THANKS, NOW I DON'T HAVE TO CHASE MY BOARD ANYMORE - and I had a lot of fun for the next hour being pounded in the head by wave after wave, and exercising my faith in myself. It was pretty awesome.

That afternoon driving back from the coast I thought of my Hawaii trip and felt 100% confident in my ability to rent a board and play around on vacation. Who cares how I would do, I knew I would have a total blast messing around and practicing. The further I got away from my lesson, the less I felt ok about it, and right now I know there is no way that I can try to surf in Hawaii. I would do it wrong, I would embarrass myself, I would break surfing. I'm back here again. 

I don't know. I'm reading the killer-est, kick-ass book called Saltwater Buddha: A Surfer's Quest to Find Zen on the Sea, and it's challenging me in deep ways. The way Jules challenges me. So I'm going to go to Hawaii tomorrow and lay on the beach and read, and maybe find some courage to do more, and have a crazy great time. I'm so excited. I can't wait.

Thanks, Bob. Love that line.

The Time of My Life

I have to be the big music geek that I am and mention that I finally saw Green Day live tonight. Best. Concert. Ever. Best. Ever. Times a million. Unbelievable musical performance, killer graphics behind the stage, crazy, crazy showmanship. He had every one of those 16,000 people in the palm of his hand. The crowd was one word away from rioting. I think I can die happy now.

Cross another one off the Life List. 

Love

I'm in Seattle visiting my two year old nephew and I'm totally overwhelmed by how much I love him. He bats his eye lashes - they are a mile long - and whispers "Auntie" and I forget everything else.

He waits on the porch for me to drive up the street in "Mimi's car." He tells me to sit down on the swing beside him. He grabs my fingers to steady himself as he walks on gravel. He falls into my arms as he spirals down the park slide. He asks me to hold his head and give him kisses as he goes to bed in his crib.

I love him so much. Too much. My heart almost explodes when he pushes his button nose against my face. His neck smells like playground dirt and hope and sunny days and tired tears and a thousand prayers. 

Happy

Yesterday I was driving to Silver Falls, OR, to meet some friends from my time in Japan. It was gorgeous out and I had the sunroof open and my favorite tunes on. I was thinking through everything, like I always do, and specifically about the next few weeks, and this exactly phrase spontaneously ran through my head: Sometimes I feel like my life is one dream-come-true after another. 

Now, I find that so strange. I'm 38, single, barren, unemployed, and rapidly depleting my entire life savings. I live 3,000 miles from my best friend, my seestor, and despite having lived in Portland before, I don't have that many friends here. But right then I felt a pinch-me, is this really my life? kind of happiness. And I genuinely don't feel that all the time, or even often, but I felt it intensely on Sunday. Maybe it's just an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I don't know. It felt good.

I have my second surfing lesson on Wednesday. I'm so nervous! I'm scared that I'll be terrible, that I'll totally fail, that I'll break surfing for everyone. I'll be so bad that no one, anywhere, will ever be able to surf again. That is my fear. I hope I have the guts to go through with it. I hope it's a good experience. 

I started a DreamWeaver class at the local CC last week. It's exciting. I like the tiny bit of HTML that I know, and I thought that class would be a neat way to see if there is even an ounce of creativity left in me, or if 15 years of banking has killed every right-brain impulse I ever had. I was so excited to get the book and the software and start on our first assignment . . . and I couldn't figure it out. It completely stumped me. The task was an HTML review and I screwed around with it for several hours over several days. I was really getting down about it - surely I wasn't up for the class if I couldn't do the first assignment. I e-mailed the instructor and didn't understand her reply. Ugh. The whole time I had a feeling my problem was with the extension on my saved file, but I couldn't get anything to work. 

Well, I'm still doing my One to One Apple sessions (and will be for the foreseeable future - there's the cutest Genius at that location, at least 6'6" and totally gorgeous) and I had an iMovie session last Thursday. As we got started, I took a chance and asked the guy if I could be so bold as to ask for help with my homework. He was incredibly, incredibly cool about it, and we spent at least 30 minutes working on it together! He really enjoyed the chance to work on something different, and, even better, the problem was with my extension! I was so stoked. So maybe I'll do ok with this new adventure. I'll check out my next assignment tomorrow.

Three weeks ago I started jogging at a local high school track. I'm really trying to lose weight. Not a crazy amount (although I would be fine with that), but enough to make throwing myself around on a surfboard a bit easier. I also find that running is the one exercise that I don't completely hate and I might even like it a little. I have pretty intense shin splints and always have to come home and throw bags of frozen broccoli on my shins, and I think I will ask my doc about them just to be sure, but this guy kicked the shit out of me using them as an excuse to not go. I started out running in the mornings but have lately switched to evenings, and I'm having a great time running at 9-ish each night, watching the sun set and the moon rise. The field is gorgeous and the sky feels huge around me. I look forward to it every day. 

I don't really know all the implications or what this exactly means, and it comes and goes, but I'm realizing that I feel less stress right now than I think I have in the past ten years. Maybe twenty. I have times of intense fear about what comes next, and what if nothing comes next, and what if, what if, what if. The potential for this story to end in a bad way is probably pretty high. But for the first time in so long I don't experience the Sunday night anxiety about starting a new week, and I don't have my mind race with meeting details when I'm trying to sleep, and I don't have even one tiny piece of my brain dedicated to office politics or bosses that I hate. It's truly a new feeling for me. I think it's what I've always tried to cram into a weekend or a week-long vacation somewhere, but it never really works. I think I'm refueling in a deep way. It feels good.

It's a Long Story, But Trust Me, She Deserved It

I went to Seattle this past weekend and had such a great time. It was the kind of weekend that makes a girl really happy she lives in the Pacific Northwest and not Japan or NY. 

On Friday night I attended Sizzle'sNintendo's "Girlfriend's Guide to Gaming" party. What to say about a party so awesome I practically levitated around the room? It was such a good time! There were four stations set up for gaming and you spent time at each station playing specific games (Mario Kart, Brain Age, etc.) When you were finished at each station you were given a coin to show that you'd visited and tried all the games. 

And at the end of the night we turned in our coins and were given our VERY OWN NINTENDO DSi portable game systems! I couldn't believe it. Actual party swag! (Not to take away from the PB&J sandwich I got at TequilaCon '07. I loved that sandwich.) I just couldn't freakin believe that part. We also got the game Brain Age, which, sadly, proved that my brain is a shriveled pea. It was so totally generous and cool. I about barfed from excitement when they started pulling out the boxes of new DSi's. I think we all did.

I'm not terribly social, so the party was a really cool for me to say Yes! to getting out of my comfort zone once again. Everyone was so cool, and laughing with a bunch of smart women is among my all-time favorite things to do. My Flickr party photos here. 

On Saturday morning I had a delicious breakfast with Sizzle, Kerri Anne, and Kaply. I have to say how much I enjoyed hanging out with 3 women who are so smart and funny, just talking about life and laughing together. I had a really nice time. 

On Saturday evening I was exhausted from walking around the city for about five hours (I love you, Seattle! Call me.), so I bought a ticket to "The Hangover" and was settling in with some popcorn when my brother texted me. His very cool in-laws had an extra front row ticket to the Mariners game. Did I want it? 

Now, I try to like the sports. I really do. But I don't understand all the rules and details and stuff. But I love my little brother, and love spending time with his wife and her fam, so I ran back to the hotel, freshened up, and caught a cab to the ballpark. It turned out to be such a total blast, and the seats were crazy! At one point a foul ball went 3" over my brother's head at about a zillion miles an hour. Nuts. It was such a blast to see my first ball game, and my brother generously explained the rules patiently. (Except when I asked multiple times if it would go into overtime. He would close his eyes and shake his head slowly saying, "Extra innings. They're called extra innings.") My Flickr photos, including 25 shots of Ichiro-san's butt, here. 

All in all, a really awesome time. Can we do it again this weekend?

Twice Today

Dear XXXXXXXX Bank, 

Thank you for contacting me today regarding the previously referenced position. I appreciate the opportunity to share my background and experience with you. I understand that you have found a candidate whose qualifications more closely match the requirements of the position and that you will not be including me further in the recruiting process.

I find it somewhat surprising that I wasn't chosen for the position given the fact that I did this position for your Bank ten years ago. However, I understand that things change, and I guess they have with me as well, as I wouldn't work for your shitty, federally bailed-out asses again if you paid me in raw cookie dough. 

While I do have fond memories of working seven days a week for months on end and getting paid peanuts, accepting a position at this time wouldn't allow me to maintain my current schedule of near-constant introspection, late night TV, and Twitter trolling. 

Thank you for your kind consideration. Please suck it.

Sincerely, 

LSL

The One Where I Meet Internet People

I was mildly excited to run into Philly D, of the Philip DeFranco Nation, in Powell's the other day. So excited that when I noticed him I smacked him on the shoulder. Hard. Twice.

He told me I was the most assertive fan he'd met on his entire road trip. Oops.

(We all know how this goes. That ridiculous and unflattering picture of me will disappear very, very soon . . . )

Also, I had dinner with GeekGirl and IronFist last week after the David Sedaris reading. It was fun to hang with the cool kids. And I didn't hit either of them.

Yes! Maybe.

I'm trying to say "yes" to the universe a lot lately. It's something I'm consciously working on and even enjoying. (I think my secret hope is that the universe will start frickin saying yes to me, too. Can the universe be manipulated? Is it wise to try?) 

My surfing instructor, Jules, who basically I want to be, gave me two pieces of homework after my lesson a few weeks ago. The first was to say yes (actually, YES!) to everything the universe handed me. We talked through my personality and the huge transition that I'm going through, and where I'm at in relation to all of that. (You didn't know that surfing instructors are therapists, did you?) We agreed that I'm in a hyper-growth period and that I'm craving new experiences to help me gain a frame of reference for my new life. I was excited about the homework; I'm pretty adventurous and generally meet challenges with enthusiasm. Since my lesson I've tried to be aware of new chances to do that, and I've been saying Yes, Uh-hu, Wahooey! to things that have come my way. 

The second assignment Jules gave me was to f*ck up everything I did for a month. Blink. Blink, blink. Huh? It gave me chills just thinking about it. F*ck up everything? On purpose? I actually felt like she should get a talking-to for even suggesting it. Why would anyone want to mess things up? I mess up enough when I'm trying to do things right. Hell, I'm trying to do everything right. Just right. All the time. I'm trying to do things exactly right so that I can blend in and minimize the attention drawn to myself, and most of all not rock the boat. (I'll give you a minute to wonder how I got this crazy. Ok, time to move on.)

So since my lesson I've been spending a lot of time thinking about that assignment and wondering what it would look like to do it. What would it mean for me to f*ck up everything? How will I know when I've done it? Is it even possible to complete that kind of a task? And then I started thinking, I can do this. I can totally do this. Actually, I bet I could be the very best f*cker-uper there ever was! I could do it better than anyone ever has, and when I go back and tell Jules about my progress, I bet she'll tell me that I'm amazing and that no one has ever f*cked up things like I have!

Sigh. This week I went to a volunteer orientation session at the local AIDS support organization, and as folks wandered in the room they passed out name tags for us to fill out and wear to facilitate mingling. It was a great group of folks and mingle we did. As the Volunteer Coordinator corralled us back into a circle and got started on the agenda items she said, "Before we begin I just have to say, LSL, you have beautiful handwriting. You guys, look at LSL's name tag. I wish everyone had handwriting like that." Click. Monster unleashed. Inside I thought "Yes! Eat it, bitches!" And then I realized that I was excited because I just got an A in name tag writing. 

And the sad thing? Sadder than all this? Is that when I wrote that name tag I was disappointed in myself for just a second because I did it kind of sloppily. Have you ever in your whole life known anyone who needed to f*ck up more than me? 

In The Name of Jesus, Amen

I'm so angry tonight that Dr. Tiller was murdered. It happened while he was at church, by the way. 

I'm angry at the churches that grow this kind of hate. I'll never understand Christian Fundamentalism.

I'll never understand how the Catholic Church can openly oppose the extension of the statute of limitations on child molestation. Evil, evil people. 

I'm so angry that I don't know what to say. I'll let Joe do the talking for me. Here's my favorite weekly feature from JMG:

This Week in Holy Crimes:

Over the last seven days...

Minnesota: Rev. Donald Dean Budd convicted of two counts of felony sexual misconduct.
Utah: Pastor William J. Blanscet charged with exposing himself over a webcam to who he thought was a 13 year-old girl.
Pennsylvania: Pastor Guy Carlton Jones sentenced to three years in state prison for attempted sexual conduct with an 8 year-old girl. Bonus: Jones was convicted of raping an 8 year-old girl in 1991.
California: The Catholic Diocese of Monterey agrees to pay man $1.2M for years of sexual assaults by two priests. The diocese never reported the assaults to the police and the priests went on to abuse others, including the plaintiff's brother.
Idaho: Pastor Reuben Elmer Floyd Jr. sentenced to 10-25 years in prison for child molestation.
North Carolina: Pastor Tommy Wheeler charged with multiple felony sex offenses for molestation of 15 year-old girl.
Louisiana: Youth pastor Jeremy Little sentenced to 24 years in prison for drugging and molesting young boys.
Kentucky: Pastor Richard Wilson Bridges charged with stealing $50,000 from his church.
South Africa: Pastor Muzi Kunene convicted of murdering his real estate agent. Bonus: His church says he will "remain an inspiration." Extra bonus: Kunene founded Christians For Truth, an anti-abortion lobby group.

This week's winner:
New York: Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio of the Brooklyn Catholic Diocese is blackmailing lawmakers who attempt to extend the statute of limitations on child molestation, telling a gathering of legislators (according to one Assembly member who was present), "If it passes, we will close a parish in each of your districts and we will tell your constituents that it was your fault." Extending the time limit allowed to report attacks is predicted to cost the Catholic Church hundreds of millions in judgments in New York state. The Child Victims Act will likely be voted on before the close of the current session at the end of June.

Gotta Keep Fighting

I took part in the Prop Hate protest last night in downtown Portland. We had a good crowd, well over 100, although I was expecting and hoping for more. Folks brought homemade signs and we chanted and marched from the waterfront to the courthouse. The most inspiring part was what happened on the march - folks hanging out in the parks or eating outside at cafes left whatever they were doing and joined in, and cars, taxis, and even a whole max train (!) honked their horns like crazy to encourage us. That was awesome. 

A couple of crazy things happened to me at the protest, because it wouldn't be me unless something crazy happened - one attendee, this awesome guy named John, asked me to speak to the television crews present to explain why I was attending as a straight supporter. He kept touching my hair and saying my fabulous hair and sunglasses made me the perfect spokesperson. I felt torn - I'm very proud to be a marriage equality supporter, and I do have great hair, but I am a terrible speaker. I just knew I would pretty much screw it up. So I fought it for a few minutes but eventually gave in to John. I'd actually brought my six foot rainbow feather boa to the event but decided to leave it in the car because it was a mellow crowd and I specifically didn't want to attract (media) attention. So I gave an interview to some station, totally messing it up, forgetting how to spell my name, and that was that. I think they probably scrapped it. 

So after my fifteen seconds of fame, I decided, screw it, I need my fabulous boa, and went to the car to pretty myself up. That thing makes a statement. Wouldn't you know five minutes later I'm standing in the middle of 100 people and I hear someone yell, "OH MY GOD, (insert my full name here)!" I turned around to see someone I literally haven't seen since high school, over 20 years ago. My first thought as I stood there in the middle of a gay rights protest wrapped in a rainbow feather boa? No wonder I can't get a date in this town.

Click on the photos to embiggen. My favorite is the second, the gay agenda.