Today I ventured stateside to spend the afternoon with James and Ryan in Lynnwood. The three of us haven't spent an afternoon together since the summer of 2006, so it was long over due.  That isn't to say I haven't seen James and Ryan separately since then; however, it's not the same without both of them at once. 

Actually, I feel like a horrid friend.  The last time I saw James was in early 2007, and I hadn't seen Ryan since he visited me in December 2007.  I suppose that's what happens when you move out of the country.  I guess it's also what happens when you grow up. We all go in our different directions and do our own things.  James is going to be an amazing engineer, and who knows where he'll end up.  Ryan's going into the air force and goodness knows where they'll send him.  And I'm already in Canada.  Still, I feel like I've neglected a lot of friendships.

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I lived in this bizarre limbo state for over a year in anticipation of moving to Canada, and I cut a lot of ties because it was easier than having the emotional toll of staying invested in relationships with people, never knowing when I was going to have to leave.  Granted we thought our house would sell in February of 2007, and we didn't end up physically moving until September of that year.  During that time, the only person I really saw was Kevin, and I deeply regret that - not because I regret the relationship or dislike Kevin, but because it really isolated me.  I invested in the one person I thought I could take with me because living in limbo sucked and it hurt.  Looking back, I wish I had spent time with my friends and made more memories while I still had the chance.  I wish I had spent that time with the people that really mattered most to me.

Today was very bittersweet. For an afternoon I had my best guys back.  Unlike the days when we bummed around the mall and ate white chocolate break-ups, we went for a nice lunch.  Actually, it was a great lunch.  It's hard to find Mexican food in Canada, so I was thrilled that we went to Azteca. Over fajitas and beer we reminisced about the old days, and laughed about where we are now and where we're going.  It was just so good to sit and laugh like we used to.   And then we saw "Push," which was actually a great film compared to the flicks we used to go see.  Yes... films that the three of us watched together in the past include "Malibu's Most Wanted," so our taste in movies has apparently gotten better over the years.  Then when it was all over,  I hugged my guys, got in the car, and felt very displaced.  Lynnwood just isn't home anymore, but sometimes I still feel like I've left a little piece of my heart back there. 

I guess being an "adult" does have perks, however.  Being an adult means that you can travel across international borders to see your guys.  Today was the first time I ventured south on my own.  I crossed the border within fifteen minutes of leaving my house, and I was so giddy and excited about having a mini-adventure by myself that the drive flew by.  The roads were clear, and there were minimal annoyingly slow drivers on the road.  It also seemed like more of I-5 south has a 70mph speed limit.  That was also enjoyable.  I had good tunes and made it to Lynnwood in under two hours - without speeding! 

I had the best part of an hour by myself to run around the mall.  That was really nice because I got to do some shopping without Ryan complaining about my shopping habits and without feeling bad because James somehow ended up carrying the bags.  However, James still ended up carrying my Hollister bag once he showed up.  But he's hilarious.  He insists that he must help carry the bags so that I don't get too tired to keep shopping.  I have to laugh because I'm sure Ryan would spend the entire time hoping and praying I'd get tired of shopping (if I was an a real shopping binge) while James did everything possible to help me stay caffinated and motivated to shop.  I guess that's what I love about them.  Together, the two of them really balance me. 

I was finishing up in Hollister when James called me to play the "can you see me now?  wait?  where are you at?" game.  I found him pretty quickly.  We ran into another old friend of mine, Jeremy, who works at FYE.  I completely forgot he worked there and dragged James over to look at the life-size Edward Cullen cut-out (which I did not buy, I should clarify).  After a quick (and unsuccessful) stop at the Gap, we found our Ryan (through a second round of the "can you see me now? wait? where are you" game and our trio was finally complete.

When we went our seperate ways, it was slightly depressing.  The drive home was mind-numbing.  When you've already listened to every song on every CD in the CD changer and it starts getting dark and rainy so that every mile of freeway seems exactly like the last, a 2 hour drive seems more like 8 hours.  I also fell victim to rush hour going north through Everett.  By the time I passed the Tulalip Cassino, I was toying with getting a hotel room and crashing because the experience was so draining.  However, I made it home unscathed.

Now I find myself alone in my room, resolved to see my friends again much sooner. 

Unbeknownst to Ryan, James and I are already plotting an epic weekend visit.  Said visit will involve visiting various sights in Vancouver (without getting lost again, Ryan! I promise!), late night movies in our jammas, and playing the new zombie game "Left For Dead."  I also told James that I would make them a lassagna.  I make damn good lassagna, if I say so myself.  Ryan, you participation is not optional! 

Anyway, I'm completely exhausted from today, so I'm going to bed. Thanks guys for an awesome day.  It was so good to see you.

I'm watching the Grammys and I was rather stunned by Kid Rock's performance (which in and of itself is surprising). Anyway, the lyrics speak for themselves, so I'm just going to post them.  Take the time to read and reflect...

Amen - Kid Rock

It's another night in hell
Another child won't live to tell
Can you imagine what it's like to starve to death

And as we sit free and well
Another soldier has to yell
Tell my wife and children I love them in his last breath

C'mon now amen, amen, amen

Habitual offenders, scumbag lawyers with agendas
I'll tell you sometimes people I don't know what's worse
Natural disasters or these wolves in sheep clothes pastors
Now God damn it I'm scared to send my children to church
And how can we seek salvation when our nations race relations
Got me feeling guilty of being white
But faith in human nature, our creator and our savior, I'm no saint
But I believe in what is right

C'mon now amen, amen
I said amen, amen

Stop pointing fingers and take some blame,
Pull your future away from the flame
Open up your mind and start to live
Stop short changing your neighbors
Living off hand outs and favors, and maybe
Give a little bit more than you got to give

Simplify, testify, identify, rectify
And if I get high stop being so uptight
It's only human nature and I am not a stranger
So baby won't you stay with me tonight

When a calls away
to break the sound
I'm faden down, I need someone
Oh to be someone
They just sinken down, and holden back
I hold the dawn and run
They don't save a child
Oh, to save a child

It's a matter of salvation from them patience up above,
So don't give up so damn easy on the one you love, one you love
Somewhere you got a brother, sister, friend, grandmother, niece or nephew
Just dying to be with you
You know there's someone out there who unconditionally, religiously, loves you
So just hold on 'cause you know it's true
And if you can take the pain
And you can withstand anything, and one day
Stand hand in hand with the truth

I said amen, I said amen
I said amen, I said amen,

Amen

Tonight I watched the screen adaptation of the musical "Mamma Mia!" 

I've been an Abba fan since I was about 12 and discovered my parent's record collection.  As you can imagine, it was an enjoyable viewing experience with 3 out of 4 Hoggs singing along (Peter abstained from singing, as he's far too cool for that sort of thing - but he admitted he liked the music).   

I have to admit that I never thought I'd see Colin Firth singing and dancing.  Actually, I'd have been equally amused if I had just seen a ten minute short of Meryl Streep and Colin Firth singing.

That said, I have to admit I thought the storyline was a little "Days of our Lives" meets "My Big Fat Greek Wedding."  I know from experience that trying to have more than one ex boyfriend in a single place at a time is a nightmare.  I couldn't see any 3 of them uniting together in song and dance.  Although, if they ever, I'd be sure to record it in crystal clear, high definition and put it on youtube. 

In the film, the main character - Sophie - reads her mother's diary and discovers that there are three men (Sam, Harry, and Bill) that may be her father.  Naturally, she invites all three to her wedding without telling her mother. By the end of the film, Sophie had decided not to marry. I should interject that when I decided not to get married nobody let me throw a party  anyway and nobody sang "Take A Chance On Me,"  which now feels particularly unfair. But I digress! Her mother marries Sam, Bill ends up with her mother's friend - Rosie, and we find out Harry is gay.  And the men decided to share equal thirds of Sophie instead of finding out who the real father is.   The most amazing part of the whole ordeal is that it all took place in 48 hours.  Wow! 

It was a highly amusing film.

Earlier this week, I speculated that I had fallen victim to the plague.  Today I went to the doctor, and I discovered my situation may be more dire.  I have Influenza A.

Influenza A is the root of all evil.

 Seriously. 

According to Wikipedia, Influenza A is the branch of flu that produced the Avian Flu, amongst its variously deadly strands.  Most notably, a strand of Influenza A known as Spanish Flu ran rampant worldwide 1918.  In the first 6 months of the Spanish Flu, 25 million were killed.  Most recent estimates say that 20% of the world's population suffered some form of the disease, with a total of 50 to 100 million casualties.   Many researchers think that Spanish Flu - a strand of my Influenza A - may have killed as many or more people than the Black Plague. 

Ultimately I wasn't far off the mark.  While I may have guessed that I suffered from the Plague, I actually contracted something much more dangerous.  I'm secretly impressed with myself. 

During my conversation with Dr. Baker today, I learned that Influenza A - as found in the Spanish Flu and other strands - was not the cause of death in most cases. The inflammation and additional symptoms generally cause the development of secondary infections. Baker explained that medical researchers dug up the corpses from the Spanish Flu and found that most people did have pneumonia.  Naturally, this was of grave concern in my case.

Hyperbole aside, I  have a history of severe, if not life threatening, asthma.  Thus, Dr. Baker took decisive action and prescribed me a steroid inhaler for my asthma and a preventative antibiotic so that I would not develop pneumonia.  He also suggested I should stay home for the rest of the week. 

I am now spending my third day in my pajamas.  I can expect to feel flu symptoms for up to 3 weeks more, and will suffer from aches and pains, as well as general fatigue.    Fascinating!

I'm very glad that I decided to go to the doctor.  Generally speaking, I avoid doctors.  I find that medical professionals in general weird me out.  Consider Urologists.  What sort of person would go to university for ten years to study the process of urination?  Although, I must say that in many cases we should all be thankful that someone cares enough about that particular part of our bodies.  But I digress!  I like going to the walk-in clinic by our house.  It's convenient and the doctors never try to poke and prod you for anything other than the immediate symptoms that are presenting themselves.  The doctors are all very friendly, and Dr. Baker seems to be a kindred spirit.  After all, he is fascinated by digging up corpses and discovering traces of pneumonia, too. 

(I should interject that at this point, I'm staring blankly at the screen, attempting to remember where on earth I was going with all this...)

Now that I have my drugs, I'm confident that I will make a good recovery, although it might take some time.  I suppose the time spent resting in my pajamas is really a gift.  After all, I can study, I can write papers, I can watch Disney Films, I can be spoiled rotten by my mother...  While Influenza A is hardly enjoyable, every cloud does have its silver lining. 

(Since I still can't remember where on earth I was going with any of this, I think I'll conclude now and bow out gracefully.  I may write more after finishing my anthropology papers.)

I am sick.

I'm not just a little bit sick, nor do I have a common cold. 

I'm becoming increasingly convinced that I have caught the plague - complete with the hacking cough, blocked sinuses, pounding headache, muscle aches, stabbing pains in my stomach, and the insatiable need to burp ever 2.37 minutes in order to avoid a painful case of hiccups.   I'm sure whatever I have is the same thing that ravaged Europe in the 1300's, and advise you to stay away from me at all costs!

Thus, my ramblings tonight will no doubt be disjointed and possibly questionable. 

Today I learned something important.  All vaporizers should be tarred and feathered, then sent to serve life sentences in a penal colony.  My throat was almost completely dry before I attempted to sleep with a vaporizer running.  My sinuses were completely impacted, but my nose was not running.  My chief concern before my first attempt to bed-down tonight was that my parched throat would burn through the night, causing me to consume ridiculous amounts of fluids, which would wake me up some time later when nature decided to call.  

After half hour in my bedroom with the vaporizer, I found that I couldn't breath through my nose or mouth because this massive amount of fluid had appeared from who-knows-where and was running rampant in my bronchial tubes. It was actually quite frightening.  It brought back a lot of childhood asthma attacks, several of which were pretty close shaves.  I ripped the vaporizer cord from the wall and opened my window and bedroom door to evacuate the steam.  I still feel claustrophobic from the steam, none the less.  At least I no longer feel like I'm sitting in the sauna from hell.   However, after my panicked coughing fit, I've found myself wide awake.

As of now, I'm still debating what to reflect upon tonight, so excuse me if I seem to ramble. 

Let me begin by offering a piece of unsolicited advice: never get your nose pierced during flu season.  Just don't.  I doubt it needs further explanation. 

However, I'm not sure that having the flu is an altogether bad thing.  Today I have only eaten one slice of pizza, a chicken nugget, 3 slices of green peppers, and a Starbucks oat fudge bar.    I even turned down a cinnamon roll because I felt so ill.  Allow me to explain...

We will hopefully be taking a family vacation to Maui during the first week of May.  As it is now February, that leaves me only 3 months to get into bikini shape. Not only do you cut significant calories while you're ill, but I have to imagine that coughing fits and long bouts of hiccups both burn calories.  While I don't advocate sickness as weight loss method, I must say that every cloud has its silver lining.  Considering the fact that I'm a lazy procrastinator, I must say that this illness has occurred at a most opportune time to kick-start my attempts to get into shape.  Was it not for my recent infection with the Plague, I'd most likely wait until mid-March, realize that I wasn't going to get into bikini shape, gain 5 pounds from chocolate consumption, and spend the vacation in a tankini.  In other words, I have the unrealistic expectation that I'll narrowly survive the Plague with increased hotness.  Don't burst my bubble.

I'm also shocked to see that I received a ridiculous amount of blog views today. I find this strange as my last blog was written on Friday and consisted of maybe 6 sentences I jotted down more for my own records than anything else!  I suppose it was a pleasant surprise considering the fact I've been a negligent blogger!

Speaking of my last blog, I recorded that I passed 90,000 words on Friday, but I'm happy to say that my official word count is currently 102,159!  Even though I haven't concluded the story, I've stared doing rewrites throughout the first chunk.  I think it's turning out a lot better now that I've refocused the beginning.

At some point today, I came down with a crazy hankering for some hookah.  Obviously this would be a very poor time to make a pilgrimage to the hookah lounge, but I'd like to venture down there once I'm better.  I'm still convinced the one that used to be in Seattle is better than the Persian Tea Room in Vancouver; however, beggars can't be choosers!  If you would like to join me for a hookah adventure, give me a holler! 

The Steelers won the Super Bowl. I'm still upset about the 2006 Super Bowl, in which the Seahawks were robbed by the Steelers.  It really bothers me that they won again tonight. I'd have liked to see the Cardinals cream them.  Oh well.  C'est la vie, no?  You win some; you lose some; you watch the hour-long episode of The Office and decide that Jack Black and Cloris Leachmen are way creepier than you could have ever imagined.  Seriously! 

Speaking of television... I'm excited for the Grey's Anatomy-Private Practice Cross-over event.  I like Addison Montgomery and I've missed her since she left Seattle Grace, although I was thrilled she was out of the way so that Derick and Meredith could work things out.  I'm also psyched that Derick has an egagement ring for Meredith and I'm hoping that he's going to get some use out of it this season. 

I'm also thrilled for the new Amy Poehler show.  From what I gather, it's called Parks and Recreation, and will feature Amy as a town official  It'll be filmed in mocumentary style, much like The Office!  Hooray.  That said, I already tivo Grey's and The Office on Thursday night, I don't know if our DVR can handle another show!  If we're lucky, The Office and Parks and Recreation will be back to back, thus allowing me to record on two channels (NBC and ABC) without a hitch. 

It's now well after midnight, and I'm debating whether or not to watch a film.  I am nowhere near sleepy, and I'm still fighting off the remnants of vaporizer humidity.     Perhaps I will watch Enchanted.  Patrick Dempsey is in that film, and I'm rather partial to him...

I'm just recording my progress as I continue working on my manuscript...

My current word count is 90,791 words! 

About a week ago, I rewrote 20,000 words or so.  As a result, I was pretty shocked when I hit 80,000 words a several days ago, and even more surprised when I looked down and noticed I'd passed 90,000. 

Anyway, I'm excited that I'm able to keep working through my story.  It's been a rough week, but I guess my writing has been a nice way to escape and channel my emotions in a more positive way. 

Every year I agonize over making a new year's resolution.  Usually, I resolve to watch less tv, become more active, and deprive myself of anything that tastes delicious. I fail miserably at all of the above within several days.  This year, I decided to spend several weeks thinking about a meaningful resolution in hopes that I would actually achieve whatever goal I set.

I had an epiphany on Wednesday afternoon.

I used to be much more spontaneous. If you asked me to try something new, instead of listing every reason why it might be unwise, unsafe, frivolous, or perhaps pointless, I would ask myself one quick question: Does this contradict my morals?  If the proposed activity wasn't something I was morally opposed to, I would have probably jumped at the opportunity to try something new. I didn't care if I offended, worried, hurt, scared, or annoyed another person. I suppose my outlook could be summed up by my response, "Sure, why not?"  Several years later, I find myself raising my eyebrows and asking, "Why should I?" 

It's not that I don't want to have fun or new experiences, but a bizarre mix of life experiences has changed the way I approach life.    Often when I decide that I will try something new, I resolve to try it at a later point.  I put it off indefinitely, actually.  As I've considered this, there are a number of reasons why.  I'm scared of failure, I'm scared of looking stupid, I'm scared that I wont get things perfect on the first try, I'm scared of what others will think, I'm scared that it will all go horridly wrong and I'll end up ten steps backwards.  I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared...  Other times, I'm not actually scared, but my reactions have become such deeply formed patterns that I continued to push things off into the indefinite future anyway. 

Wednesdays epiphany really began in the morning...

I decided to get my nose pierced.  I'm not sure why I felt so strongly that Wednesday should be the day. I just felt it in my gut.  I knew if I did not go get it done, it would be yet another thing I would decide but fail to follow through to a conclusion.  I'd run out of money, chicken out, wait so long that nose piercings went completely out of fashion, or come up with a completely different excuse.  Thus, I decided to go straight after school to get my nose pierced. 

Just by making the decision, I got back in touch with my inner spontaneity. Shocking, I know! Some of my newer friends and acquaintances are going to have to trust me when I say that underneath my anal, panicky, and sometimes paranoid exterior, there's a spontaneous person who's been on heavy muscle relaxants and sedatives for the past two or three years. 

It wasn't until I was sitting in the chair, watching Mike, my body piercer, painstakingly peel the needle out of its wrapper that I remembered a very important fact:  I'm terrified of needles.

Let me elaborate a little further. I was sitting up straight on the edge of the reclined piercing chair. My purse was on the far side of the room - on the far side of the dreaded needle, to be exact.  Mike was sticking the needle in some sort of goo to make sure that it was well and truly sterile.  It sat on a tray next to the stud that was about to be put into my nose; it too was in a small puddle of goo.  Mike changed gloves.  I'm sure he did it just so that the snap of the latex would terrify me more.  I could feel my foot bobbing faster and faster as I tried to relax.  My palms were sweating profusely, and the room seemed much smaller than it had before moments before.  It was too late to run away. The only thing between myself and the door was a heavily tattooed man holding a needle, but that was more than enough to keep me at bay. 

Then Mike began to talk.  We talked about school, life, church, my silver purse, Britney Spears - everything really.  For a few moments I completely forgot about the needle again.  Then he informed me that he was about to stick a metal tube up my nose.  The tube would stop the needle from piercing anything but my nostril, he explained.  He made me lie back and close my eyes. He told me to inhale deeply, then moments later he pulled the tube from my nose. 

Mike had actually stuck a needle through my nostril.  I wont lie and say I didn't feel it, but it didn't hurt more than a pinch. If it hadn't been for the involuntary tears that escaped my right eye - a reaction to nose trauma, not emotional trauma - I'd have seriously doubted the piercing had been successful. 

Minutes later, I left the shop with a sparkly stud in my nose and an epiphany.

The epiphany came in two parts.  The first part, I've already explained.  In so many areas, I have irrational fears.  The second part is this:  I need to get over my fears. 

Thus, I've resolved to work on overcoming a number of my fears this year.

I think I've conquered needles.  I would happily return to Mike for a navel piercing, or perhaps a Marilyn Monroe.  If I can do that, almost anything is possible.

On a serious note, the point isn't that I plan to become as thoughtless and irresponsible as I once was.  I can't say that I completely liked the person I was when I'd shrug and ask, "Sure, why not?".  At times, that girl didn't think about anyone but herself. However,  that girl didn't have it completely wrong either.  You can get too caught up in your own plans and rules and routine that you're too rigid to take a detour and see what life has to offer.  I want to change my mind set.  I don't want to be negative any more.  I don't want to sit and list all the reasons why something wont work or shouldn't work or why I shouldn't even bother trying.   

This year I want to work on reconciling the two sides of myself.  I want make wise choices, but also have a lot of fun and random adventures.  I want to really grow up.  I don't want to take on the facade of being an adult by walking the line and making all of the "right" choices;  I want actually mature and become more wise as the year unfolds.   I want to stop worrying about what other people think, while still seeking counsel from people older and wiser than me. 

Maybe I'll conquer shallow, surface fears - like those of needles and heights.  Maybe I'll be more successful and work on some of the nagging doubts and fears I have about myself.  Either way, I'm off to a good start and think I'll be able to carry this resolution through to the year's end.  Hopefully I can carry the resolution much further. 

Since getting over my irrational fear of heights, I have decided to go skydiving with Peter. Yes, I'm going to strap myself to a complete stranger and jump out of a plane, trusting that he will pull the parachute in time to float us gently to the ground. And I'm really quite excited about it!

Deciding to skydive has caused me to ponder a number of other experiences that intrigue me.

1. Leg-dangling roller coasters
I was once absolutely terrified of roller coasters bigger than Splash Mountain; however, if I can handle jumping out of a plane, I think I can handle less than a minute of being thrown around by a roller coaster.

2. Water Sports.
If I survive the jump, I think I'll more than survive snorkeling, scuba diving, et al. In fact, I've been pondering the idea of adult swim lessons. Hilarious I know, but I'm a weak swimmer. I think it would be good to conquer my fear, much like Julia Roberts in Sleeping With The Enemy, only I promise I wont fake my death to relocate to a new town to start a new life. Not without writing a blog about it, anyway!

3. Eyebrow Waxing
Considering the risks associated with jumping out of a plane, eyebrow waxing has less of a potential for death. I suppose in a very dire case, in which an inexperienced esthetician might rip the very flesh from my head leading to a rampant infection, eyebrow waxing may indeed induce death. I think it's about 99.99% impossible to die from eyebrow waxing. I should also note that I didn't pluck my eye brows for the past two months until I realized they were a complete eye sore last night. Considering the inconvenience of having to actually groom myself, I may be willing to risk death to avoid tweezing...

4. Having My Blood Sucked Out
No, not by Edward Cullen (although Robert Pattinson is an entirely different matter...). I am fascinated by leeches. I think they're actually sort of cute. They can be used medicinally to help circulation in cases where a digit has been severed. The proper term for the medicinal use of leeches is actually hirundotherapy, and it's been used for centuries. That said, it must not be common as the word "hirundotherapy" shows up as misspelled (but then again, so does the word "Pattinson" - my spell check must know absolutely nothing... Has it been living under a rock?) Just once, I'd like to have a leech suck out my blood. Just one. On my hand where I can watch. It would also be nice to have a doctor with a very strong sedative standing by in case I started to panic and attempt to remove the leech.

5. Giving Blood
If I can get brave enough to let a leech steal my bodily fluids, I think I can manage a needle. I would like to conquer my fear of needles and donate blood. As needles still really bother me - although they are seldom as lethal as jumping out of a plane - I'll say no more on the matter.

6. Getting The Names Of The Cute Boys In the Photocopy Room
Suddenly I have a great pick up line! "Excuse me, I might die this weekend, can I have your name?" At the very least it would provoke conversation and make me look like a total bad@$$ when I tell whoever I meet that I'm about to go and jump out of a plane. Although, I might say there's more of a possibility I'd crash and burn with the cute photocopy boys than I would if I just jumped out of a plane.

Tomorrow I have to go back to school. I'm excited to get back into the swing of things and to study again. I like to keep my mind active, and had I not been working on my manuscript throughout December I would have probably gone absolutely MAD!

While I'm glad I'll be back into a structured routine, I must confess that I'm slightly frustrated that I'll have less time to work on my manuscript. (I want to interject that we are using the word "manuscript" instead of the word "book" because my story is a loooooooooong way from becoming an actual book.) I'm making good strides, and I don't want to lose momentum. I'm really putting a lot of myself into the book, so every day I think of new ways to incorporate some real truth into the story, despite the fact it takes place against a very fictional backdrop. Once it's done, I know some of you will laugh uproariously when reading it - not because it's actually hysterical, but because you've witnessed similar events taking place.

Today I went to the amazing used bookstore I'd been told so much about. The website made it look pretty classy, and I had heard rave reviews from a woman I know, so I had been itching to check it out since early December. I was thoroughly disappointed. It was sort of a dive, and the prices and stock were hardly exciting. The entire place was permeated with the smell of damp old books. I rather like the smell of old books; however, damp old books smell only marginally better than damp old dog. Needless to say, I'll be looking for a new artsy place to shop for books.

I also got my payments for school squared away today. I'm proud and excited to add that I don't have to take out an educational loan for this semester, and shouldn't have to take out another loan for the rest of my education if I stay on track. Suddenly my $15,000 Sally Mae loan seems much less crippling. Once I'm able to work for money in Canada, I'm going to start paying it off aggressively. I think I'm also going to start writing short stories to see if that can generate some income. By "some income" I mean the measly $200-400 that the New Yorker et al toss at desperate aspiring authors. I've decided if I make any money off of that it'll go directly to retiring my loan.

Finally, I discovered Gweneth Paltro's website today (www.goop.com). It's all about living a healthy, active life by putting the right things into your body and doing the right activities. She offers articles written by doctors, nutritionists, and experts from a variety of spiritual backgrounds on how to achieve holistic wellness. While I can't say I subscribe to eastern philosophy, the idea on a whole bares merit. The website has a lot of really great recipes that look tasty and help your body to naturally detox. As we get into 2009, if it's your resolution to get into better shape and make healthier choices, the website is an amazing resource. I personally plan on making a bunch of the detox soups for which she posted recipes.

And now I'm going downstairs to make another cup of tea and to see what's shakin' with the rest of the fam.

Hope everyone having a blessed Monday and staying nice and dry!

Every 4 or 5 days I suddenly get a new "favorite song ever."

The song de jour is "Bruises" by Chairlift. It was on an iPod nano commercial, so you've probably heard the song without realizing it. On that note, I have to say that Apple uses the best songs on their commercials, but that would be a massive digression from the point... As I struggle to describe the song (it's on my profile, just listen to it) and give it a genre, I think the words "apple commercial" are probably descriptive enough...

Anyway!

The song is about a girl that tries to do handstands for a boy and gets very bruised knees as she attempts to impress him, even though she falls every time. Moreover, she gets grass stains on her knees, and eventually rips holes in her jeans.

Considering the fact the last time I got black and blue knees, I was trying to impress someone, I can't help but laugh as I listen to the song. In fact, that day began with a ride on a chairlift...

I completely ruined my knees as I futilely attempted to snowboard. (Actually, if I'm honest, I didn't pretty darn good that day, considering it was only my second trip up the mountain.) I was fairly happy mastering my technique on the bunny hill. It was a miracle that I had actually agreed to get on the chairlift in the first place. I'm horridly afraid of heights, and the idea of letting my feet dangle with a snowboard attached as extra weight almost scared the ski pants off of me. It's also a miracle that I agreed to strap myself to a piece of fiberglass, on which I planned to go falling down the mountain. Still, that day I found myself on the mountain for the second time. Figuratively speaking, I was taking a second stab at those handstands.

Before continuing, I must follow my tradition of grand digressions and say something about my irrational fear of chairlifts. At that point, I was still quite terrified of heights. On that particular day my fears can be best summarized as follows: 1) falling from the chairlift and breaking every bone in my body, ending up in excruciating pain for months, and not being able to just die upon impact because snow is too soft for that sort of thing - and 2) killing a small child (or a whole group of them) as they learned to ski or snowboard on the run bellow the lift. And now back to the ski slope...

After several runs on the bunny slope I was informed that I was good enough to take on a bigger slope. Frankly, I'd be more than content to spend the rest of my life on bunny slopes. The thought of trying anything bigger was absolutely terrifying. (At this point I must digress and offer a general piece of advice - an observation from my own life... If you ever seem to be excelling at something and rounding the learning curve quickly, make sure nobody notices because it will only cause them to have above-average expectations of you from then until kingdom come.). That particular day, the mountain hadn't seen snow in about a week. It was pretty solid ice instead of fresh powder that you would land on if you were to fall. However, I was trying to do some handstands. I [grudgingly] left the comfort zone of the bunny hills for bigger and [supposedly] better things.

I'll save myself the embarrassment of retelling the entire story. It ended like this: me sitting on the slope trying not to cry as my knees throbbed in pain. I'll admit I was a little hormonal and at the time the whole thing seemed like an evil conspiracy to take me up a mountain to have me killed or humiliated or probably both. I had fallen a few too many times and I was done with the entire sport. Before I had reached the bottom of the run, I had already decided to craigslist my board, boots, and bindings.

The next day, one of my knees was swollen up to the size of a grapefruit. The other knee was a deep, dark blue. I could hardly walk. My knees still hurt on cold days and I never did get them checked out, so who knows what the heck I did. My left knee had a giant fluid lump, which I cured myself by hitting with a large, hardcover book. An old wives' tale suggests that minor fluid pockets and cysts can be cured by hitting them as hard as you can with an old family Bible. I can tell you from experience that it hurts like hell but is surprisingly effective.

Reflecting on the experience I have a few abstract thoughts that I'm going to try to put into some soft of logical order.

First and foremost, I'm still feeling the effects of my figurative handstands. The bruises went deep. However, they didn't go nearly as deep as some of the bruises I had accumulated in bygone years as I searched for other ways to make people happy or to impress them. It's a lesson I'm still learning today. People will try to make you jump through the most ridiculous hoops in life, but at the end of the day it's all just handstands - stupid, meaningless parlor tricks that don't count for anything important.

We all do stupid, stupid things. I should never have left the bunny slopes. I was asking for it the minute I got on the chairlift to the bigger ski run, and I paid dearly for my poor choice. However, my poor choices was followed by a series of other choices. I could have stayed in the following night, nursing my aching knees, feeling sorry for myself, or I could take it in stride and go out for a night of music and fun with my friends. I opted for the latter option, and saw Ludwig's Van play with some of my best friends. And of course, we sang along with the toothbrush song. You can't let one stupid choice stop you from making future choices to enjoy yourself.

And finally... My bruises went deep. In fact, I'm sure I cracked my left knee, hence the large lump of fluid. Assuming I did crack my knee, that would show up on a future x-ray. It will always be there as part of me, even if it stops hurting. My bruised knees are part of me. They were part of the journey that got me to where I am today. Life can definitely beat you up, but life isn't measured by how many times you get beat up; life is measured by how many times you pull yourself up and keep going. Compared to some people, I've seen a lot and been beat up a few times; compared to other people, my life has been very easy. It's all relative. I guess I'm finally learning that no matter what life throws at you, you have to take it in stride and look at the past as an opportunity to learn and grow.

I'll conclude by adding this: I never sold my board and I do intend to go snowboarding again. It turned out that it wasn't really that scary, I'm not half bad at it, and if I wasn't flat broke I'd make a few trips up the mountain this year. Sometimes we're terrified to throw caution to the wind and to try something new, something different. Sometimes we need a gentle push to try get out there and try our handstands. Sometimes doing handstands isn't so scary when you've got someone to spot you. And sometimes we discover that we should have been doing handstands all along.

Here's hoping this makes some semblance of sense!

(I'll add that I've since gotten over my fear of heights and Peter and I are planning to go ski diving for his 18th birthday)