Monday, April 29, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Hike All The Days!
Today I went hiking.
I meant to head out at sunrise, to avoid the heat of the day as much as possible, but that plan failed spectacularly.
My alarm went off at five, and I hit snooze every 9 minutes until half past six. I got up, stumbled to the bathroom, and realized I was unsure how long it had been since I'd last washed my hair. It was gross, and clearly needed washing. I took a shower and dried my hair. I packed a bag and was out the door by 7:10.
I had to stop to pick up enough water for the trip. I realized I'd forgotten my breakfast and drove home to pick some up. I headed out again and realized I'd forgotten my sunscreen, sunglasses, and to put on deodorant. I returned home to avoid what would have been impending doom.
It was after 8 by the time I got to the Peralta Trailhead, but it was still in the 60's temperature wise, and the sky was as clear as it's ever been.
There was a man sitting at the trailhead whittling, and as I approached he said hello and asked me if I'd hiked here before. Startled by the unexpected social interaction, my mind failed to form any words for a minute or two. I looked at him, then at the maps/visitor information and told him of course I'd hiked here before. Scoffed, almost. Then I smiled and hurried past him without looking at the information. There were three trails to choose from, maybe five feet behind the man, and I didn't have time to debate the merits of each trail, or pause to think about what I was doing. If I hesitated, I feared he would try to talk to me more, and it was far too early in my day for that nonsense. I needed time to acclimate.
I'd done enough compulsive research over the past couple of weeks to have been okay regardless of the trail I'd chosen, but as luck would have it, I took the trail up to Fremont Saddle, which is the one I had intended to hike anyway. It's just under two and a half miles up to the saddle, and it is marked as a moderate hike, so I wasn't particularly stressed. I ambled along, but before long the trail was kicking my butt. Literally this entire hike was an uphill climb, and not a particularly gentile one at that.
For the first forty minutes or so I huffed and puffed along, being lapped by elderly persons and large women inexplicably hiking in tutus and sports bras. In addition, the whole desert is in full bloom. There were bugs everywhere, and I was covered in tiny flies that I convinced myself were sweat bees, and because I am pathologically afraid of wasps, the constant buzzing had me on edge. Every butterfly that flew past me (and there were MILLIONS of them) sent me in to a panic. Every bee or fly that buzzed made me jump and dodge like a crazy person. It was not pretty.
I sat down in the shade, shamefully far from the top of the trail, to collect my wits. I opened my bag and took and allergy pill, which almost immediately made my day better. I ate a cliff bar (yay caffeine!) and had some water, but before I knew it I was covered in tiny flies (sweat bees!!!). I muttered to myself that this was some sort of evil plot the desert had to keep me moving at a rapid clip. If I slowed down at all (or heaven forbid stopped!) the sweat bees would soon sap my body of all its moisture. I put on my headphones and turned on the music to drown out the buzzing sounds and started moving again.
Then about an hour in I found my clear head space (and my hiking legs) and began to feel invincible. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the allergy pill, maybe it was that I couldn't hear the buzzing and spaz out about wasps, maybe it was heatstroke, but whatever it was, my day soon became magical.
I ran up the mountain.
I hopped up rocks. I took all the picture. I smelled all the flowers. I chatted with people that I passed on my way up. It was grand.
I became so emboldened by my new found fearlessness, that I stopped to explore some stagnant puddles filled with tadpoles despite the six million bees swarming around them. I DID take some pictures for you. You can't really see the tadpoles very clearly, but I'll try and post them for you tomorrow after I get them all uploaded. I was so pleased about the tadpole puddles (and the fact that my music blocked out the buzzing) that I didn't even notice that I was loitering in a swarm of wasps for several minutes. When I finally came to my senses, and realized that no, those weren't bees, they were wasps, giant, ugly, evil, menacing wasps, I nearly fell right off the side of the mountain.
Luckily I regained my footing, and ran the heck away from there.
I made it up to Freemont Saddle and looked out over Weavers Needle. My initial plan had been to continue on from here down Needle Canyon and around Weavers Needle doing the full loop, 12.9 miles, but because the man had startled me at the get go, I now had two problems. First of all, I didn't have a map, and I hadn't gotten a chance to look at the map at the beginning to note where I needed to change trails. Second, the trail north of the saddle was marked as 'strenuous', and when compared to the 'moderate' trail I'd just come up, I began to doubt myself.
As I sat there, eating more cliff bars and contemplating where to go from here, two of the older ladies that had lapped me early on emerged from the 'strenuous' trail like it had been a cakewalk. Ridiculous. I came to hike! And hike I shall!
I set off down this other trail, the name of which I was unsure of. (I was also unsure if this was the trail I had wanted to take, or a different one, or where exactly it lead to, but that's neither here nor there. It headed down toward Weavers Needle, and that was good enough for me.) I marched along, still feeling invincible, pleased that the trail was downhill, rather than up.
This trail was not nearly as well traveled or maintained as the south side of the saddle had been. It was barely wide enough for one person, and was overgrown with all sorts of lovely desert things. It was also significantly less populated. While there had easily been a hundred people hiking up to the saddle with me, I only saw two others during the five hours I spent on the north side of the saddle.
I marched along for a couple of hours. I came down one side of the canyon, and skipped along the other. I walked all the way around to the north side of Weavers Needle, not noticing the time, distance, or heat. There was a lovely breeze blowing and the lower canyon was shaded so it didn't feel like it was in the 90's at all. Before I knew it it was well past noon. I'd started out with eight liters of water, and I was half way through number four, so I decided it was probably best to turn around and head back.
I'd wanted to do the loop, but since I was unsure what trail I was on, and if it made the connection to the Lost Dutchman trail I needed I decided it would have to wait for another day.
On the way back I lost the trail several times, but always found it again (thank whatever gods may be for cairns!) My lovely downhill hike now became an uphill trudge, and the sun was high overhead, reducing my shade cover dramatically. This wasn't particularly bothersome, particularly in light of the solitude it granted me, and I skipped along back up the mountain.
I made it back to the saddle at the height of the day. It was sweltering. I was sunburned, I had a million cactus thorns in my jeans, and I could feel my feet blistering, but I was happy.
I began the decent down the south side of the saddle, back now on the Peralta trail, however the lovely breeze that had made me forget all about the heat was gone, and there was absolutely no shade. It was a long, long decent. 2.5 miles suddenly feels like a million when the sun is beating down on you, no matter how beautiful the view is. With a mile to go, I was exhausted and the sun was winning.
I could totally just spend the night here, I reasoned with myself. You've got plenty of water, no need to push yourself. Look how lovely the ground looks. Just take a beat. The other half of my mind kept saying, you're crazy. Maybe you have heatstroke. Why on earth would you give up now? You're not throwing up, bleeding, or dead, ergo you may not rest! March onward!
And so I did.
That last mile was the longest mile of all my life. I was so grateful to reach my car. My shoes were torn up, and all my toes had blisters on them, but I couldn't have been happier.
All in all I saw six rattlesnakes, countless lizards, eagles, hawks, buzzards, ground squirrels, chipmunks, tadpoles, and butterflies, but no gila monsters. (I was REALLY hoping to see a gila monster!). I hiked further than I had planned to 13.4 miles total, and spent eight hours out in the wilderness. It was fantastic, and next weekend I'll be at it again.
I miss you terribly, and I couldn't help but think of you while I was compulsively taking twenty pictures of every flower I passed. I wish you could have come with me, and that we weren't rapidly approaching the two year mark since your departure. But on the bright side, I took lots of pictures for you, and I will get to see you soon. Until then, all my love, as always.
me.
I meant to head out at sunrise, to avoid the heat of the day as much as possible, but that plan failed spectacularly.
My alarm went off at five, and I hit snooze every 9 minutes until half past six. I got up, stumbled to the bathroom, and realized I was unsure how long it had been since I'd last washed my hair. It was gross, and clearly needed washing. I took a shower and dried my hair. I packed a bag and was out the door by 7:10.
I had to stop to pick up enough water for the trip. I realized I'd forgotten my breakfast and drove home to pick some up. I headed out again and realized I'd forgotten my sunscreen, sunglasses, and to put on deodorant. I returned home to avoid what would have been impending doom.
It was after 8 by the time I got to the Peralta Trailhead, but it was still in the 60's temperature wise, and the sky was as clear as it's ever been.
There was a man sitting at the trailhead whittling, and as I approached he said hello and asked me if I'd hiked here before. Startled by the unexpected social interaction, my mind failed to form any words for a minute or two. I looked at him, then at the maps/visitor information and told him of course I'd hiked here before. Scoffed, almost. Then I smiled and hurried past him without looking at the information. There were three trails to choose from, maybe five feet behind the man, and I didn't have time to debate the merits of each trail, or pause to think about what I was doing. If I hesitated, I feared he would try to talk to me more, and it was far too early in my day for that nonsense. I needed time to acclimate.
I'd done enough compulsive research over the past couple of weeks to have been okay regardless of the trail I'd chosen, but as luck would have it, I took the trail up to Fremont Saddle, which is the one I had intended to hike anyway. It's just under two and a half miles up to the saddle, and it is marked as a moderate hike, so I wasn't particularly stressed. I ambled along, but before long the trail was kicking my butt. Literally this entire hike was an uphill climb, and not a particularly gentile one at that.
For the first forty minutes or so I huffed and puffed along, being lapped by elderly persons and large women inexplicably hiking in tutus and sports bras. In addition, the whole desert is in full bloom. There were bugs everywhere, and I was covered in tiny flies that I convinced myself were sweat bees, and because I am pathologically afraid of wasps, the constant buzzing had me on edge. Every butterfly that flew past me (and there were MILLIONS of them) sent me in to a panic. Every bee or fly that buzzed made me jump and dodge like a crazy person. It was not pretty.
I sat down in the shade, shamefully far from the top of the trail, to collect my wits. I opened my bag and took and allergy pill, which almost immediately made my day better. I ate a cliff bar (yay caffeine!) and had some water, but before I knew it I was covered in tiny flies (sweat bees!!!). I muttered to myself that this was some sort of evil plot the desert had to keep me moving at a rapid clip. If I slowed down at all (or heaven forbid stopped!) the sweat bees would soon sap my body of all its moisture. I put on my headphones and turned on the music to drown out the buzzing sounds and started moving again.
Then about an hour in I found my clear head space (and my hiking legs) and began to feel invincible. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the allergy pill, maybe it was that I couldn't hear the buzzing and spaz out about wasps, maybe it was heatstroke, but whatever it was, my day soon became magical.
I ran up the mountain.
I hopped up rocks. I took all the picture. I smelled all the flowers. I chatted with people that I passed on my way up. It was grand.
I became so emboldened by my new found fearlessness, that I stopped to explore some stagnant puddles filled with tadpoles despite the six million bees swarming around them. I DID take some pictures for you. You can't really see the tadpoles very clearly, but I'll try and post them for you tomorrow after I get them all uploaded. I was so pleased about the tadpole puddles (and the fact that my music blocked out the buzzing) that I didn't even notice that I was loitering in a swarm of wasps for several minutes. When I finally came to my senses, and realized that no, those weren't bees, they were wasps, giant, ugly, evil, menacing wasps, I nearly fell right off the side of the mountain.
Luckily I regained my footing, and ran the heck away from there.
I made it up to Freemont Saddle and looked out over Weavers Needle. My initial plan had been to continue on from here down Needle Canyon and around Weavers Needle doing the full loop, 12.9 miles, but because the man had startled me at the get go, I now had two problems. First of all, I didn't have a map, and I hadn't gotten a chance to look at the map at the beginning to note where I needed to change trails. Second, the trail north of the saddle was marked as 'strenuous', and when compared to the 'moderate' trail I'd just come up, I began to doubt myself.
As I sat there, eating more cliff bars and contemplating where to go from here, two of the older ladies that had lapped me early on emerged from the 'strenuous' trail like it had been a cakewalk. Ridiculous. I came to hike! And hike I shall!
I set off down this other trail, the name of which I was unsure of. (I was also unsure if this was the trail I had wanted to take, or a different one, or where exactly it lead to, but that's neither here nor there. It headed down toward Weavers Needle, and that was good enough for me.) I marched along, still feeling invincible, pleased that the trail was downhill, rather than up.
This trail was not nearly as well traveled or maintained as the south side of the saddle had been. It was barely wide enough for one person, and was overgrown with all sorts of lovely desert things. It was also significantly less populated. While there had easily been a hundred people hiking up to the saddle with me, I only saw two others during the five hours I spent on the north side of the saddle.
I marched along for a couple of hours. I came down one side of the canyon, and skipped along the other. I walked all the way around to the north side of Weavers Needle, not noticing the time, distance, or heat. There was a lovely breeze blowing and the lower canyon was shaded so it didn't feel like it was in the 90's at all. Before I knew it it was well past noon. I'd started out with eight liters of water, and I was half way through number four, so I decided it was probably best to turn around and head back.
I'd wanted to do the loop, but since I was unsure what trail I was on, and if it made the connection to the Lost Dutchman trail I needed I decided it would have to wait for another day.
On the way back I lost the trail several times, but always found it again (thank whatever gods may be for cairns!) My lovely downhill hike now became an uphill trudge, and the sun was high overhead, reducing my shade cover dramatically. This wasn't particularly bothersome, particularly in light of the solitude it granted me, and I skipped along back up the mountain.
I made it back to the saddle at the height of the day. It was sweltering. I was sunburned, I had a million cactus thorns in my jeans, and I could feel my feet blistering, but I was happy.
I began the decent down the south side of the saddle, back now on the Peralta trail, however the lovely breeze that had made me forget all about the heat was gone, and there was absolutely no shade. It was a long, long decent. 2.5 miles suddenly feels like a million when the sun is beating down on you, no matter how beautiful the view is. With a mile to go, I was exhausted and the sun was winning.
I could totally just spend the night here, I reasoned with myself. You've got plenty of water, no need to push yourself. Look how lovely the ground looks. Just take a beat. The other half of my mind kept saying, you're crazy. Maybe you have heatstroke. Why on earth would you give up now? You're not throwing up, bleeding, or dead, ergo you may not rest! March onward!
And so I did.
That last mile was the longest mile of all my life. I was so grateful to reach my car. My shoes were torn up, and all my toes had blisters on them, but I couldn't have been happier.
All in all I saw six rattlesnakes, countless lizards, eagles, hawks, buzzards, ground squirrels, chipmunks, tadpoles, and butterflies, but no gila monsters. (I was REALLY hoping to see a gila monster!). I hiked further than I had planned to 13.4 miles total, and spent eight hours out in the wilderness. It was fantastic, and next weekend I'll be at it again.
I miss you terribly, and I couldn't help but think of you while I was compulsively taking twenty pictures of every flower I passed. I wish you could have come with me, and that we weren't rapidly approaching the two year mark since your departure. But on the bright side, I took lots of pictures for you, and I will get to see you soon. Until then, all my love, as always.
me.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
It's been a craptastic week.
Or rather, it's been a fairly good week, but I've been in a rather craptastic mood. Perspective is everything, I suppose.
At any rate, I've crammed my face full of the chocolates and managed to survive it. I'm starting to come around to feeling better, but I'm not fully there yet.
I've spent the majority of this week reading in the bathtub (since my foot is still much too messed up from the Easter fiasco for too much physical activity). This pleases me immensely, the reading and the baths part that is, not so much the nonsense with my foot, but I suppose that goes without saying.
The last calendar year passed without me reading a single (non-school related) book (Edit: All lies! I read at least one, Suicide by Edouard Leve, there may have been others!), and that makes me rather sad. I've organized my (vast) book collection into four categories; books I haven't read, books I started and never finished, and books I haven't read in a very long time, and books I've read fairly recently. I will now proceed to work my way down the list one book at a time.
My goal is a book a week, but seeing as how it's Thursday and I'm only 276 pages into We, The Drowned (only a hair past the 40% mark), that may not be entirely feasible, though I suppose we shall have to see how the weekends pan out. At any rate, I intend to read consistently, as well as out loud, since the animals, for whatever ridiculous reason, seem to suddenly behave themselves when I am reading aloud. I expect to continue along in this manner until my foot heals or I get a second job, whichever comes first.
In other news, my sister is still mad at me, or embarrassed, or whatever over the Easter mess, and I remain blocked on all fronts. I called my Dad today to casually mention that I'm praying to whatever Gods may be that she develops some sort of glandular problem and balloons up to seven hundred pounds (AND is forced to wash herself with a rag on a stick). I know, I know, its one of the meaner things I've ever said, but you know what? That's my birth right as the older sister, to occasionally look down on said bratty younger sister and pray that misfortune befall her. I could wish famine or plague or pestilence, I suppose, but fat is her worst case scenario and so I wish for that.
I've spent my whole life being nice to her while she was casually cruel, it's my turn for once to play the bitchy sister card. :P
It's officially summer here, even if the calendar says there are still two more months of spring left. The temperature is creeping dangerously close to the 100 degree mark, and I love it. That roast-y, oven feeling when the sun shines down on you mid-summer is one of my all time favorite feelings. The desert is awesome. I don't know how you're surviving among all those trees.
Other things, other things, I'm sure there are other things, but I fail to think of any. I'm super curious as to how your meeting went down today, and looking forward to June shenanigans. I miss your face, like always, and wish you were here. More than that really, I wish you hadn't ever left and that we'd managed to survive the last few years together without all that pesky distance between us. Ha!
All my love.
At any rate, I've crammed my face full of the chocolates and managed to survive it. I'm starting to come around to feeling better, but I'm not fully there yet.
I've spent the majority of this week reading in the bathtub (since my foot is still much too messed up from the Easter fiasco for too much physical activity). This pleases me immensely, the reading and the baths part that is, not so much the nonsense with my foot, but I suppose that goes without saying.
The last calendar year passed without me reading a single (non-school related) book (Edit: All lies! I read at least one, Suicide by Edouard Leve, there may have been others!), and that makes me rather sad. I've organized my (vast) book collection into four categories; books I haven't read, books I started and never finished, and books I haven't read in a very long time, and books I've read fairly recently. I will now proceed to work my way down the list one book at a time.
My goal is a book a week, but seeing as how it's Thursday and I'm only 276 pages into We, The Drowned (only a hair past the 40% mark), that may not be entirely feasible, though I suppose we shall have to see how the weekends pan out. At any rate, I intend to read consistently, as well as out loud, since the animals, for whatever ridiculous reason, seem to suddenly behave themselves when I am reading aloud. I expect to continue along in this manner until my foot heals or I get a second job, whichever comes first.
In other news, my sister is still mad at me, or embarrassed, or whatever over the Easter mess, and I remain blocked on all fronts. I called my Dad today to casually mention that I'm praying to whatever Gods may be that she develops some sort of glandular problem and balloons up to seven hundred pounds (AND is forced to wash herself with a rag on a stick). I know, I know, its one of the meaner things I've ever said, but you know what? That's my birth right as the older sister, to occasionally look down on said bratty younger sister and pray that misfortune befall her. I could wish famine or plague or pestilence, I suppose, but fat is her worst case scenario and so I wish for that.
I've spent my whole life being nice to her while she was casually cruel, it's my turn for once to play the bitchy sister card. :P
It's officially summer here, even if the calendar says there are still two more months of spring left. The temperature is creeping dangerously close to the 100 degree mark, and I love it. That roast-y, oven feeling when the sun shines down on you mid-summer is one of my all time favorite feelings. The desert is awesome. I don't know how you're surviving among all those trees.
Other things, other things, I'm sure there are other things, but I fail to think of any. I'm super curious as to how your meeting went down today, and looking forward to June shenanigans. I miss your face, like always, and wish you were here. More than that really, I wish you hadn't ever left and that we'd managed to survive the last few years together without all that pesky distance between us. Ha!
All my love.
Friday, April 19, 2013
I woke up.
I woke up this morning, more exhausted and puffy-faced than usual. My eyes were mostly swollen shut, just little slits that let enough light in for me to navigate my way to the bathroom. I'm unsure at this juncture if it's allergies or a sinus infection.
Anyway, I attempted to do something (anything) with my hair, but failed miserably. I put on some cream eyeshadow in what I thought was 'mushroom' which is a really mild silvery grey. Instead it was some neon white color, full of huge chunks of silver glitter, a fact I wouldn't notice for a couple of hours yet.
I fed the animals, packed up my stuff and headed to work. The tiny chip in my windshield from the day before was now a huge spider-ing series of cracks, radiating out three or four inches in each direction. I made a mental note to call the insurance company to have it replaced.
I had left home early so I could stop by the store to get more coffee creamer. I had driven past the store before I knew what happened. I turned around and settled for a Walgreens instead. As I paid for my items I noticed a fine, bronze-y dust on my wallet, and thought it was odd. I got back to the car and realized my work keys weren't dangling from my scrubs like they should be. I thrust my hands into my purse and the container of loose eyeshadow pigment I'd been lugging around since pride exploded, covering everything I own in the finest black/bronze dust imaginable. My keys were not even in my purse.
I turned the car on and drove back home, finding my keys on the key rack where I'd so dutifully placed them the night before. I grabbed my sunglasses and drove back to work.
The coffee machine was out of coffee, and I wasn't wearing socks, but I was grateful that it was Friday. I set my stuff down at my desk and made the long walk down to the other end of the facility in search of coffee. I was rewarded for my hard work. As I trudged back to my desk I sneezed and spilled scalding coffee down the front of my scrubs.
I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and noticed that I'd mistakenly worn my painting scrubs. I turned them inside out, but the paint stains were still obvious, perhaps even more so now, in light of the coffee stains. I looked in the mirror (my eyes still unbelievably puffy and red) and noticed the eyeshadow issue. It was hilarious, and I immediately washed it off, or at least attempted to. While the white eyeshadow part came off without issue, the glitter just sort of swirled around my face. I couldn't get it off, so instead I just attempted to coat my face in it evenly, hoping it would look strange, but perhaps intentional.
I made my way back to my desk, took an allergy pill and drank my coffee, and that's as far as I've made it today.
Ha!
But it is Friday, so I remain hopeful that the day will improve from here. If my eyes de-puff themselves I think I'll head off to a bikram class this afternoon, and try and sweat out the strange mood I've been in all week.
I miss your face, and I hope you're well. Don't work yourself to death.
All my love.
Anyway, I attempted to do something (anything) with my hair, but failed miserably. I put on some cream eyeshadow in what I thought was 'mushroom' which is a really mild silvery grey. Instead it was some neon white color, full of huge chunks of silver glitter, a fact I wouldn't notice for a couple of hours yet.
I fed the animals, packed up my stuff and headed to work. The tiny chip in my windshield from the day before was now a huge spider-ing series of cracks, radiating out three or four inches in each direction. I made a mental note to call the insurance company to have it replaced.
I had left home early so I could stop by the store to get more coffee creamer. I had driven past the store before I knew what happened. I turned around and settled for a Walgreens instead. As I paid for my items I noticed a fine, bronze-y dust on my wallet, and thought it was odd. I got back to the car and realized my work keys weren't dangling from my scrubs like they should be. I thrust my hands into my purse and the container of loose eyeshadow pigment I'd been lugging around since pride exploded, covering everything I own in the finest black/bronze dust imaginable. My keys were not even in my purse.
I turned the car on and drove back home, finding my keys on the key rack where I'd so dutifully placed them the night before. I grabbed my sunglasses and drove back to work.
The coffee machine was out of coffee, and I wasn't wearing socks, but I was grateful that it was Friday. I set my stuff down at my desk and made the long walk down to the other end of the facility in search of coffee. I was rewarded for my hard work. As I trudged back to my desk I sneezed and spilled scalding coffee down the front of my scrubs.
I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and noticed that I'd mistakenly worn my painting scrubs. I turned them inside out, but the paint stains were still obvious, perhaps even more so now, in light of the coffee stains. I looked in the mirror (my eyes still unbelievably puffy and red) and noticed the eyeshadow issue. It was hilarious, and I immediately washed it off, or at least attempted to. While the white eyeshadow part came off without issue, the glitter just sort of swirled around my face. I couldn't get it off, so instead I just attempted to coat my face in it evenly, hoping it would look strange, but perhaps intentional.
I made my way back to my desk, took an allergy pill and drank my coffee, and that's as far as I've made it today.
Ha!
But it is Friday, so I remain hopeful that the day will improve from here. If my eyes de-puff themselves I think I'll head off to a bikram class this afternoon, and try and sweat out the strange mood I've been in all week.
I miss your face, and I hope you're well. Don't work yourself to death.
All my love.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Tegan and Sara
Last weekend we went and saw Tegan and Sara at the Rialto. It was super awesome. Stars opened. Here's a super quick photo summary of the night.
Miss your face.
Miss your face.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Handstand Madness
In case I haven't told you, I'm obsessed with handstands. Specifically handstand madness, which is this whole...instagram thing...anyway... I spend way more time than I want to admit to in stripping down to my unds and taking pictures of myself doing handstands.
Because I have to work an actual grown-up job that does not allow me to frolic atop the mountains, handstanding my way though life, I have resorted to doing my handstands (in my unds) in the employee bathroom/locker room at work on my breaks.
The problem with this plan, as I learned today, is that a lot of people like to use our bathroom.
Today I was photographing myself in what was, by far, my best handstand to date, up against the door in the bathroom, sans scrubs, when someone knocked on the door. And by knocked on the door, I mean pounded on it like they were the f*ing police.
I did my best to say something to let them know that the bathroom was occupied, and tried my hardest NOT to sound like I was upside down. I failed spectacularly at the later, and just as I heard the interloper turn to leave, I catastrophically fell out of my handstand, smashing into the lockers, and rolling very loudly across the floor into the dirty linen bin. It was NOT a silent dismount.
I very quickly got dressed and scurried back to my desk. When I opened the bathroom door, two housekeeping ladies were staring back at me, and I did not even attempt to give them any explanation for the noise.
As far as I'm concerned, what I do in the bathroom is not anybody's business. No matter how loud, upside down, or partially clothed it may be.
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
I hope your day was equally eventful.
I miss you terribly.
*LoveLoveLove*
Because I have to work an actual grown-up job that does not allow me to frolic atop the mountains, handstanding my way though life, I have resorted to doing my handstands (in my unds) in the employee bathroom/locker room at work on my breaks.
The problem with this plan, as I learned today, is that a lot of people like to use our bathroom.
Today I was photographing myself in what was, by far, my best handstand to date, up against the door in the bathroom, sans scrubs, when someone knocked on the door. And by knocked on the door, I mean pounded on it like they were the f*ing police.
I did my best to say something to let them know that the bathroom was occupied, and tried my hardest NOT to sound like I was upside down. I failed spectacularly at the later, and just as I heard the interloper turn to leave, I catastrophically fell out of my handstand, smashing into the lockers, and rolling very loudly across the floor into the dirty linen bin. It was NOT a silent dismount.
I very quickly got dressed and scurried back to my desk. When I opened the bathroom door, two housekeeping ladies were staring back at me, and I did not even attempt to give them any explanation for the noise.
As far as I'm concerned, what I do in the bathroom is not anybody's business. No matter how loud, upside down, or partially clothed it may be.
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
I hope your day was equally eventful.
I miss you terribly.
*LoveLoveLove*
Pride
Pride somehow came and went without you again, a feat which seems like it defies all the laws of nature at once. We got up early and made it through the whole day. The weather was lovely for once, maybe around 90 or so, instead of the sweltering 120 it usually is. The main stage was tented this year, so we didn't have to stand in the direct sunlight all day. :)
The weekend was awesome. Girl in a Coma played, they ended their set with their cover of Selina's Si Uni Vez, which made the both of us so happy we could have died.
Our friend Lady J preformed both days, singing Disney songs while getting whipped. It was pretty amazing.
I did my best to take a million pictures for you, but somehow still managed to take way less than I would have liked to. I haven't uploaded them yet, or I would have attached them here. Maybe by this weekend I'll have them up.
I did cross paths with SWSNBN, but only once, just before Girl in a Coma started playing. It was funny, and we rolled around cackling about it for some time. The joy was compounded by everyone else in our queer network texting me funny things whenever they passed her as well. It was ridiculous, and funny, and magic, and all sorts of other things.
I'm still exhausted (which I'm sure you can tell from my tone, lol). In fact, I slept most of the day yesterday, and I'm heading back to bed now. I miss you more than life. More than I even want to admit to, and I wish so desperately that you could have been there with us. Maybe next year, eh?
Song of the Day is Lana Del Rey
All my love.
The weekend was awesome. Girl in a Coma played, they ended their set with their cover of Selina's Si Uni Vez, which made the both of us so happy we could have died.
Our friend Lady J preformed both days, singing Disney songs while getting whipped. It was pretty amazing.
I did my best to take a million pictures for you, but somehow still managed to take way less than I would have liked to. I haven't uploaded them yet, or I would have attached them here. Maybe by this weekend I'll have them up.
I did cross paths with SWSNBN, but only once, just before Girl in a Coma started playing. It was funny, and we rolled around cackling about it for some time. The joy was compounded by everyone else in our queer network texting me funny things whenever they passed her as well. It was ridiculous, and funny, and magic, and all sorts of other things.
I'm still exhausted (which I'm sure you can tell from my tone, lol). In fact, I slept most of the day yesterday, and I'm heading back to bed now. I miss you more than life. More than I even want to admit to, and I wish so desperately that you could have been there with us. Maybe next year, eh?
Song of the Day is Lana Del Rey
All my love.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Easter
Easter came and went.
We had a lovely time for a couple of hours.
Then my sister got drunk, made a bunch of flippant remarks about white power, and picked a huge fight with me over her swastika fetish. It was disgusting.
I tried to leave, but couldn't find my shoes.
The conversation got increasingly ugly and at some point I just said 'Fuck It' and started running.
It was like that scene in Hedwig at the end of "Angry Inch" when everything goes silent in Hedwigs mind, and she dives/flies over all the chaos.
Just like that.
I didn't feel anything.
I wasn't angry or sad or frustrated or annoyed or anything else.
I was just running
Putting as much distance between myself and that conversation as I could.
And it felt good.
Right up until it didn't.
Running without shoes is a terrible plan.
By the time I realized that my feet were both blistered and bleeding I was miles from home.
I sat down for a while to think, but my head was strangely empty.
When I gathered up the courage to start walking again, I made my way back to the canal behind your old house.
I sat on the steps leading down to the water
And thought over the last 14 years.
Can you believe those moments are exactly half a life-time away from me now?
That I was as old then, as I am far away from those moments now?
Craziness.
I sat there for a couple of ours.
Watched the sun set and the stars come up,
And missed you.
I missed the time we spent back there, wandering around the canal like it was the cool thing to do.
I'm sad that you're gone.
But I suppose that's nothing new.
And I have to remind myself, that even if you were here
You wouldn't still be living by the canal
And I wouldn't still be living within running distance.
Somehow that's a small comfort.
At some point I summoned my strength and walked home.
Another holiday under my belt.
Lol.
I miss you terribly, as always.
All my love.
We had a lovely time for a couple of hours.
Then my sister got drunk, made a bunch of flippant remarks about white power, and picked a huge fight with me over her swastika fetish. It was disgusting.
I tried to leave, but couldn't find my shoes.
The conversation got increasingly ugly and at some point I just said 'Fuck It' and started running.
It was like that scene in Hedwig at the end of "Angry Inch" when everything goes silent in Hedwigs mind, and she dives/flies over all the chaos.
Just like that.
I didn't feel anything.
I wasn't angry or sad or frustrated or annoyed or anything else.
I was just running
Putting as much distance between myself and that conversation as I could.
And it felt good.
Right up until it didn't.
Running without shoes is a terrible plan.
By the time I realized that my feet were both blistered and bleeding I was miles from home.
I sat down for a while to think, but my head was strangely empty.
When I gathered up the courage to start walking again, I made my way back to the canal behind your old house.
I sat on the steps leading down to the water
And thought over the last 14 years.
Can you believe those moments are exactly half a life-time away from me now?
That I was as old then, as I am far away from those moments now?
Craziness.
I sat there for a couple of ours.
Watched the sun set and the stars come up,
And missed you.
I missed the time we spent back there, wandering around the canal like it was the cool thing to do.
I'm sad that you're gone.
But I suppose that's nothing new.
And I have to remind myself, that even if you were here
You wouldn't still be living by the canal
And I wouldn't still be living within running distance.
Somehow that's a small comfort.
At some point I summoned my strength and walked home.
Another holiday under my belt.
Lol.
I miss you terribly, as always.
All my love.
UGH!
Okay, so I've found a way around the video sharing issue...for now. Or at least, I think I have. The problem itself still exists, but hopefully this works:
Song of the Day!:
Song of the Day!:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)