Realizations

Posted on October 29, 2011 by reginadma

During the regular season.

CN: So, Josh Reddick took over for J.D. Drew.

RA: Oh really?  Is Drew injured?

CN: He was.

RA: So, wait, he’s not injured anymore?

CN: No.

RA: But wait, so, but he’s still not playing first string? They’re keeping Reddick in?

CN: Yeah, I guess so.

RA: But Reddick was playing right field because Drew was injured, but Drew isn’t injured anymore. Aren’t they going to  put Drew back in?

CN: I don’t think so.

RA:…oh, I don’t like that.  If I played baseball, I wouldn’t like that at all.

CN: I don’t think you have anything to worry about.

RA: [silence.]

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On Stacking Chairs

Posted on October 23, 2011 by reginadma

Closing: chairs come in                                                                                                               Corner stacks messy and neat                                                                                                    Makes me want to help

I wrote this haiku when I was in London at the Founders Arms, but it’s a feeling I have no matter where I am.  Usually, I’m at an event, a community discussion hosted by Coro Pittsburgh, a fundraiser/party like Love of Friends, The Midwife Center client picnic most recently,  where I concluded that the chairs at the Avalon Community Center are the worst to stack, where I am indeed helping to stack the chairs.  I can be involved in another “closing up” activity, but once people start stacking the chairs, I bee-line it over to help.  It’s probably because with stacking chairs, everyone knows what to do: you take these chairs, and you put them over there.  There’s a sense of accomplishment as you see the chairs stacked higher and higher.  There’s a community of people involved in the same task and you talk about the event, you talk about each other, and you talk about stacking the chairs.

On this particular night at the Founders Arms, the people working at the pub didn’t seem to care much if you were already there, they just dissuaded others from coming in, and cleaned up around us.  I had the feeling they were trying to give us a hint to move along, but was told otherwise.  That’s just how it’s done there.  I didn’t offer to help on this night.

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If YOU* want to stay in shape…

Posted on August 19, 2011 by reginadma

YOU have to have a workout buddy.  Period.

There are two types of workout buddies.  Within that venn diagram are running buddies, of which there are also two.

I’ll describe the first kind of running buddy.

Kelsey is my running buddy.  We’ve been running together for awhile now whenever our schedules match up.  Kelsey also runs with a few other friends all of whom train for marathons.   They run a lot.

This kind of running buddy is on the same page as you.  Of course you work hard, but it’s not outside of your limits to say the following kinds of things to your running buddy:

Hey, only wanna run 5 miles today?  That sounds great, I’m beat.

Hey, mind if we…skip the run today? Thank god you said that.

Hey, mind if we take it kind of easy on our run? Sure.

Hey, can we walk a bit? Totally.

With this kind of running buddy, you talk while you run, you have fun while working out.  These running buddies make sure you get out and get moving, and that’s important.

BUT, to not just stay fit, but to get better, you need a running buddy who is better than you.

This second kind of running buddy is NOT on the same page as you.

Sure, you might start your run off together, being all like, “we’re so bad ass, we’re running. Everyone else is totally not running right now.”  You might even high-five a few times, but soon, no.  Soon, you do not look like a zero calorie beer commercial, you look like shit, and your running buddy is about two blocks ahead of you.  What’s worse, you might catch up to your running buddy at a red light, and your running buddy might be waiting…for the light to turn green.  As soon as you catch up, (you might even have time to come to a complete stop) you think you’ll have a chance to talk to your running buddy.  You might.  You might have the following conversation:

Your running buddy: Which way?

You: Straight.

The light turns green and you have no break like the one your buddy took.  No, what will happen is your running buddy will turn back around and say, “lengthen your stride!” Translation: “run faster.”  You both know this.  But, you take the literal interpretation and say, in your mind, “If I do that, I could injure myself by changing my stride up too much.”  And, if you hadn’t already, you really begin to question the reasons your running buddy could possibly have to want to kill you.

Or, on the off chance you’re doing sprint workouts, and you’re running the length of a block as fast as you can, heaving and wanting to die, you’re running buddy will say, “now SPRINT!” and blow past you (even though your running buddy gave you a head start) and yes, you will whine, “I am sprinting!”

“What’s in it for the running buddy?” My running buddy asked me while we were “running,” meaning I was shouting at him from about 20 yards up the road what could possibly be in it for the other running buddy, to which he replied, “I can’t hear you.”

What’s in it for the stronger running buddy?

Well, they get to go for a jaunt.  Get their muscles loosened up a bit.

Beyond that, I think here is where things get sinister, I don’t know, I’m not a “stronger” running buddy for anyone, but, well, the running buddy get’s to chase something, and that is primal fun.  But more, the stronger running buddy gets to beat the weaker running buddy…all the time  Sometimes if feels good to be strong.  I could only imagine.

Is that it? Is that all the stronger running buddy gets?

If all involved play their cards right, at the end of your workout, you get to take a shower with your running buddy, and in those situations, everybody wins.

*Now imagine, all thoses "yous" are "ME"! (and "I")

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Changing Your Diet…?

Posted on August 8, 2011 by reginadma

I think it’s good to change your diet.  Like clothing styles, friendships, your job, eating is serious stuff, and should be taken lightly**, it’s not etched in stone and probably originates in some fashion from long traditions and habits.  It’s complicated, it’s not complicated.  If you want to stay current, relevant, and keep things fresh, change and evolution is a good thing.  I’m not talking about week-to-week fad diets, rather thoughtful diet changes.

Whenever I’m talking about food…which is very often, what kind of eater I am comes up the majority of the time.  Figuring out how someone eats is one of those standard questions people talk about, like the weather or occupations…and most of the time you don’t really care, but you ask anyway.

This is an example of a standard conversation:

Me: Yeah, I had this great seitan sandwich at Salt.

Person: Oh, are you vegetarian?

Me: (pause…pause mostly because I’m struggling with myself to figure out how to explain myself, and then restruggling with myself because I think, this person doesn’t care. I don’t care, how can I talk about this? The fact that I’m struggling so much adds to the absurdity of myself and the situation.  Bam, in the span of about a synapse, but what feels like eternity, I say,) Well…

Person: Oh…are you a flexitarian?

Me: (Struggle ridiculous struggle ridiculous struggle) Um…well…

I’ve learned that clearly I have struggles with my brain.  I’ve also learned that like ethnicity, when given the opportunity to actually talk about who they are, or what they eat, people have a lot more to say than, “I eat meat” or, “I’m a vegetarian.” I think that’s good.  Humans just like boxes to put things in…biological stereotypes have helped us live all these years.  That those biological stereotypes gave way to cultural stereotypes, well, who saw that coming?

Hopefully we will all live a long time, and as the years go by, who’s to say we’ll have the same diet one year or decade to the next?  I’ve had people tell me they were vegetarian for 8 years, 20 years, one year, or, they’re learning to eat vegan because of health concerns.  People started eating fish, stopped eating gluten.

I mean, hell, the food “pyramid” has changed.

The other thing I noticed is that, when given the opportunity to talk about their eating habits, people had a lot of guilt associated with the diet change.  Though I struggle internally a lot and about a lot of things, I can say without struggle, I am DONE with the feelings of guilt associated with incorporating more things back into my diet.  I encourage everyone to do the same*.  Used to be vegetarian, but now you eat meat?  Fine.  Used to only eat raw, but had to give it up for whatever reason, that’s okay.

It’s okay to change your diet.

The ability to even change our diets and then have this guilt on our chests like the horla, this smelly rancid guilt coming out of our pores like a vegetarian might after eating meat for the first time in four years, due to changing our diet is definitely a First World Problem I say we can do without.  So, eat up!

Cheers.

* I thought I could do it, I thought I could write a whole post without an asterisk.  Well, I can’t OKAY? I had to say, incorporate more food into your diets (let me climb on this little soap box right here…that’s better), just don’t eat at McDonalds or places of that ilk.  NO ONE needs that except maybe professional athletes…don’t eat there unless you’re getting a frosty or an ice cream cone made from powder.

**Want to try something funny? (Requires a Twitter account) Tweet about genetically modified food and ask a simple question, or even state something you believe about GMO foods and  you’ll get a BARRAGE of folks that take themselves VERY seriously and DO NOT joke about food, at all.  It’s funny.  (Do this on a day when you need a self-esteem boost too because you’ll also pick up at least 3 new followers…and if you don’t…I’m sorry I just made you feel worse.)

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I’m a Crier

Posted on July 27, 2011 by reginadma

I cry at everything.  I mean, I don’t wail and sob, but tears come to my eyes pretty easily.  For those that know me, you’ve seen it literally, and without hyperbole, a million times.

Graduation celebration? I’m crying.

Wedding? Pass the tissue, because I always forget mine.*

StoryCorps? Forget about it.

I tear up at most American-centric songs.  I like them.  During the 7th inning stretch when “America the Beautiful” is sung, I cry, even if it’s a bad rendition.  Clearly I must be brainwashed** because a) I think our national songs are far superior to the songs of other countries and, b) I want to own a house some day.  Hey, I like my country…even though I do plot the governance and culture of my own nation-state…I’m currently trying to figure out how to properly handle the folks that don’t stop for pedestrians in crosswalks.  I mean, the standards to get a license in my nation-state will be much more stringent than the states’.  Plus, reliable public transportation coupled with a learned concern for our impact on our environment in my nation-state will ensure people will opt for alternative transportation instead of drive.  Despite these factors, people are human and sometimes their behavior is unpredictable, like ignoring the traffic laws…

I cry when I hear people have done amazing thing like the group of friends that organized to save the life of a young man in Haiti.  I cry when I try to retell the story, or when I try to tell any of them what an incredible thing it was that they did.

I’m tearing up writing this.

I cry when I see someone genuinely touched by something.  I was reading an interview I conducted with my friend Alyssa and she relayed the story of working in the Dominican Republic.  She helped pregnant women hear the heart beat of their babies and described how great that was…I teared up.

I have to say, it’s not easy being a crier.  Hey, you think I want to cry all the time?  I don’t.  I get ridiculed.  My coworkers and my friends give me a hard time.  They roll their eyes at me.  I feel their frustration.  “I feel their pain.”

John Boehner and I have at least one thing in common…I guess two.

*I love “hot yoga.” If you’re not familiar with this form of yoga, the room is heated to about 98 degrees or so and the flow is vinyasa, or power yoga, meaning you are working hard…you sweat a lot.  You drip sweat.  Despite the fact that I’m so great about scheduling this into my day, I would say about 80% of the time I forget to bring a towel to wipe off my yoga mat so I don’t slip and crack my chin trying to downward dog. Fine. That’s not a big deal.  I’m human, and resourceful.  I’ve used a spare tote bag I just happened to have lying around.  What truly freaks me out is that over the 2 years that I’ve been going to Amazing Yoga, I’ve only noticed about twice that someone else has forgotten a towel or one of those trendy little towel/mat things you put on top of your yoga mat. TWICE.  And I take note of this every time I go.

** If I’m aware that I’m brainwashed, does that mean I can’t be brainwashed in the first place?   Or, is letting the brainwashee know that he or she is brainwashed a new form of brainwashing?  Brainwashing and culture are apparently bed fellows, or slippery slope buddies.

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It’s an ear worm AND a trigger!

Posted on June 29, 2011 by reginadma

I’ve positioned myself so that my job and my personal life as a community member (blended role) require that I make a lot of decisions.  I like making decisions by myself, within a group, you name it…And I will make them in the rain.  And in the dark. And on a train.  And in a car.  And in a tree…

As of late, I’ve been asked to weigh in on some things.  For example, the car that Clayburgh and I share, a 1995 Volvo named Vick E. Coyote has been the source of a lot of decision making.  What to do about Vick E.

That’s all fine and good.  I have strong opinions about Vick E. (I love him.)  The thing that is getting to me is not the fact that I have to make decisions, it’s more, how I’m being asked in the first place.

“I dunno, what do you think? Is it worth it?” “I just don’t know if it’s worth it. What about you?”

Is it worth it?

Every time I hear these words, in my mind, and lately, out loud, I say, “is it worth it? Let me work it. I put my thing down flip it and reverse it.”  Bam.  A trigger is born thanks to Missy Elliott.  Unfortunately for me, and those around me, when this trigger is in my head, I can only think of “replacement words” that keep to the beat because I don’t actually know the lyrics.

To help my sanity, and again, the sanity of those around me, so I didn’t have to sing, “is it worth it, let me work it, la la la la, la la la la.  La la la la la la la yuh…do do do do, do do do do.  Do do do do do do do,” I looked up the lyrics.  And I’m happy to report that there are sections in the song where the lines are actually played backward…so it doesn’t make any sense anyway…and I recognize I’m the last one to know this factoid…and what the hell is a factoid anyway?  Is it different from a fact? Can a factoid dress up like a fact for Halloween?

Anyway, enjoy a personal trigger of mine, and what I also believe is an ear worm.

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First World Problems: Thanks a lot FB**

Posted on June 11, 2011 by reginadma

Here’s what happened:

Some girlfriends* and I were communicating via the [annoying] facebook emailing system.  We were trying to find a time to meet up for dinner.  Having kids, obtaining Ph.Ds, starting our own businesses, volunteering like crazy, n’at, means getting together in the evening is difficult.

I admit, I lost track of things; I got busy and figured dinner logistics would continue to volley.  Fast forward a few days, I got a text from my friend asking if I would be able to join everyone for dinner–that night–at NaCl.

What?! I thought. When, how? What?! I went back to the facebook email exchange, searched specifically for the girlfriends’ names, and couldn’t even find our exchange.  Leah sent me a screen shot*** of the information I missed: the back and forth continued, a date had been set, everyone was all in, except for me.  Suddenly I was voiceless and continued to be so despite friends emailing and saying, “Regina? You in?”  A trigger was pulled and the dinner date was set.

Apparently facebook tweaked out and excluded me from the conversation completely.  Leah suspects the emailing system was updating and my profile was left out of that particular wave of updates.  Who knows.  All I know is that facebook tried to kill my social life.  And to you, facebook, I say, YES, I did miss that amazing dinner with my girlfriends, and I also say, “I bleed, sir, but not kill’d.”

*Growing up, I never used the term “girlfriends” to describe my female friends.  I always thought it sounded old, I stepped through some door, got old and now I say this term. Eh.

**Take this as if I’m not serious…and serious…and not serious.  Just down slap me or things will get real.  Call it post-hyperbole if you will.

***I give props to friends that know how to do screen shots.

Posted in Stories real & true & made up | 1 Comment

Ridiculous

Posted on June 3, 2011 by reginadma

Fork in my yogurt

Impractical yet needed

A pain in my side

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First World Problems to the Max

Posted on June 1, 2011 by reginadma

Douglas Coupland writes a lot about middle class experiences and the proclivity of the middle class toward creating or honing in on problems that, when given certain scrutiny, are in fact not really problems at all.  (He’s Canadian by the by.)

When this proclivity toward bemoaning certain mundane problems is part of the main culture of a given country, like the United States, or CANADA (and of course, not everyone participates, sure), this movement can be classified as First World Problems.

First World Problems are ridiculous, funny, humbling.  And honestly, the other thing is, First World Problems actually do suck.  Like the fact that all of my friends have had to deal with me publicly working through my anger and frustrations via Facebook about my technology curse I picked up a few years ago, must really suck for them.  The technology curse sucks for me, so I could only imagine having to hear about it all the time.  Having a technology curse is a First World Problem (and for some other Worlds that are beginning to see the increase in cell phone but not an increase in cell towers, they feel me on this.)

What I love about First World Problems is the space they occupy in our lives.*  They are ipso facto problems; layered problems; Kafka. What I mean is, the very problem stated isn’t of interest, but more, of how the individual categorizes and gives life to each of the problems.

There are many people on the spectrum complaining about First World Problems.  I mean, it’s a spectrum, spectra are wide, and deep and multi-faceted.

Here’s a short example of some folks on the spectrum:

A) People who actually, truly, really complain about particular problems in earnest such as their housekeeper not doing a good job, or flipping out about scratches on their city car.  I recognize those are real problems for some people that cause them great angst.  I probably judge these people.

B) Then there are the folks that complain about scratches on their car, or talk about having a housekeeper, and almost while they are stating their frustration, they simultaneously joke about how ridiculous they sound.  “I know that I’m lucky to even have a car in the city, and scratches will definitely happen, it’s just that this is the first nice car I’ve ever invested in…but, whatever, scratches happen.”  And then they go off and volunteer somewhere.

C) Let’s not forget the folks that complain about nothing and inhabit the end of the spectrum, or, are to the very right on a standard deviation chart.  1) If these folks DO complain, it’s probably in the context of complaining about a problem they are already trying to solve.  “Ugh, I’m so frustrated that I can’t get more people to VOTE.  It’s so important.”  “Yeah, that sucks.  But why are you ignoring saving wild animals?  Don’t you think you should do more for them and quit whining about how you’re failing at getting people to vote?” The original FWP complainer acquiesces and goes and joins the WWF; and 2) The people on this end of the spectrum are probably in the leprechaun family of not existing cause I ain’t never witnessed anyone like this before.

I write all of this for two reasons, well, three:

1) I just feel like enumerating things.  It keeps me linearish.

2) I would love to hear about your thoughts about First World Problems and people on the spectrum, and finally,

3) I have just experienced a First World Problem so horrible, I had to blog about it.  I’ll tell you the story later.  I’m still processing.

*Please refer to my post where I talk about my triggers.  Often, when I hear the words, “I love…” I almost always automatically say it in my mind the way Jay from “Clerks” says it when he says, “I love women!”

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Liberty Paints

Posted on May 23, 2011 by reginadma

I made homemade teriyaki sauce for the first time.
Comprised of soy sauce, mirin and honey.
Combine sake and sugar 3:1 if mirin is unavailable.
I wonder how I can make my own sake.

I poured half of the teriyaki sauce in a bowl,
Admiring, as I did, its dark luster the recipe promised.
To that liquid with so much depth I added honey, garlic powder and ground ginger,
but the terikayi sauce seemed the same.

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