a most curious adventure

Tech Savy

2012-01-20T10:46:00.000-08:00

January has a tradition for me of being a month of reassessment and reorganization. Its typically cold out, dreary, windy, dark; plenty of valid reasons not to run outside in my Hawaiian shorts and have a picnic. This week in particular, the weather has given the entire northwest a great big slap in the face. Meetings are cancelled, classes are delayed, folks are hibernating.

Instead of giving in to a bad case of the lazies, or staring longingly out the windows dreaming about being on the mountain, I have decided to use this time to get it together for 2012. After all, I want to look nice when the world ends.

I've never been one to fear technology, 'Luddite' would not describe me in any way. However, I sometimes worry that in my steamy embrace with technology, I'm failing to take a step back to see if this relationship is actually healthy. Therefore, I'm taking this snowy opportunity to streamline the technologies in my life, see if I can make them a time saver instead of a time suck.

Spend 3 hours blindly scrolling through Facebook while my eyeballs dry out? No thanks. Show up late for work because I got distracted reading articles on Jezebelle? Not me, no sir.

I have ways of making me organized.

I am learning to make the internet more like an attentive personal assistant and less like an unruly puppy that's super-cute but craps on the rug when you're not looking. Just kidding...I love you, Internet.

Useful tools on the web are completely changing the way I organize and complete tasks. In order to share my productivity with the world, I have put together a list of the best things I've found so far.

1. Evernote - Requires online signup with the option of a program download
Over the holiday, a friend introduced me to an online program that allows you to make lists, bookmark websites, keep photos, and basically eliminate the need to stuff your pockets with the post-its and napkins that I randomly scribble on.

Evernote can be accessed from any web browser, has a download-able program for your desktop computer, and also syncs with a phone via an android or iphone app. In fact, yesterday I started typing this blog post in the Evernote app on my phone, and I'm currently finishing it up in the full program on my computer.

I have transferred all of my shopping lists into the program. No more paper! Now when I'm at Costco, I simply open the app on my phone and scroll through as I dump giant containers of mayonnaise into a cart the size of Vermont.

2. Google Calendar - Comes with Gmail
One of the great things about working for yourself is that you can completely get lost in your work and activities; your time is your own. Preparing all of my class materials far in advance and having a variety of techie tools to keep me on track pretty much allows me to wander through life like a 5-year-old. My most pressing concern is 'when is snack time?'

This is where the Google Calendar comes in. I already use Gmail for most of my email communication so it was pretty easy to click that little link that says 'calendar' and get started. Google Calendar has a reminder function that I set up to ring to my phone 20 minutes prior to meetings and an hour prior to work to give me time to get ready. It allows me to add events via my desktop computer or via my phone, eliminating the need to write something down then transfer it into the calendar at a later time. No more paper(!), no more lost information, no more obsessively checking the time. When the bell rings, I go to work. I'm well trained.

3. Pick&Zip - Requires a Facebook login ID
This handy tool is one I discovered while planning my 2012 photo project. One of my goals this year is to take all of the photos that I have stashed away in physical albums and to scan them so I can have digital copies.

This means they will always be safe from fire, they will be available to any family or friends who want them, and I will actually look at them from time to time. I mean, really, how often do I sit on the floor in front of the bookshelf and drag out the old albums? Almost never. But if I'm on Facebook, or importing new pictures into iPhoto, I often stop for a moment to relive old memories. With the way my life is so digitally centered these days, I need to find new ways to 'stop and smell the roses.'

Scanning is the only way to get my traditional photos into a digital format. But what about photos that are already digital? What about all those parties and events I've gone to where I wasn't the one behind the camera? All of those pictures are up on Facebook, but I don't have the time or the patience to click through and download them one-by-one.

That's why I was ecstatic when I found Pick&Zip. It is a Facebook downloader that allows the user to get all of their own photos and all the of the photos where they have been tagged. It also allows you to select albums from your friends pages and download those entire albums. You end up with a ZIP file that can be uncompressed and added to your favorite photo program.

Done and done.

4. Shutterfly - Requires online signup
Step two in the photo project required me to find some online storage for my precious memories. I already have my scans and downloads backed up on an external hard-drive, but I want an extra layer of protection. After all, scanning every photo you've ever taken is a lot of work, work I wouldn't like to repeat.

So I signed up for Shutterfly and put all of my photos online. While I was setting up my account, I poked around a bit and was excited to see that I can also sign up to have cards for Christmas and birthdays sent automatically. I can choose my favorite photos and use them for the covers of the cards, keep an address book, and set up dates for mailings. Never again will I send out my Christmas cards late.

5. Spotify and Pandora - Both require online signup
These aren't really productivity tools, but they are changing the way I think about accessing music. Pandora is an oldie for me, I originally signed up for a few years ago and had it playing constantly at work, it remains a favorite. Music is a big motivator for me, it keeps me moving, so having an internet radio station has gone a long way to keep me productive. I often find that I'm about to get up and wander away from my desk, but then a really good song comes on and I forget to quit working. I have the Pandora app on my phone and run it through my car speakers when I go up the mountain.

Spotify is a more recent addition to my program arsenal. At this point, I don't open it as often as I open Pandora, but when I do, I have a clear purpose. The benefit of Spotify is that you can type in any song you want to hear (provided that it's in their database) and hear it instantly. So let's say that I've had 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' stuck in my head for three days and it's driving me nuts because I only remember the chorus. Now I can pop in to Spotify, cue up the song, put it on repeat, and sing along passionately for as long as I want. It also allows you to play an entire album, letting you discover songs by a favorite artist you might never have heard before.

The best thing about all of these programs is that they are all FREE!!!!!!

Each one (with the exception of Google Calendar) offers a 'Premium' version with added bells and whistles. Or in the case of Shutterfly, offers you add-ons like photo prints, books, the card mailing feature, etc.

I'm not new to the internet, but I am relatively new to the concept of using it to improve day-to-day routines. It's blowing my mind a little to think of being online less like being in a giant library of people's thoughts, and more like being in a room full of tools that can build the perfect me: productive, organized, creative, and thoughtful.

Only time will tell if these tools help to hone those skills, or so thoroughly remove them from my responsibility that I lose those skills entirely.

But that's a worry for another day, I'll add it to my calendar for 2013.

Resolve

2011-12-26T16:38:00.001-08:00

2012 will be my most selfish year ever. I will consider my own feelings along with, and sometimes even over, the feelings of others. I will be concerned with my appearance in a base and superficial way; spending time on my hair, luxuriating in sinfully smelling lotions, getting the good workout clothes/bras/shoes instead of the cheap stuff, blowing off unnecessary work in favor of free time.

I will lounge around. I will chill out. I will make time for myself.

It's all about me. This time I won't forget. This year I will stop being a human shield...

Yes. That's right. A human shield.

A funny thing happens to me when I'm around other people, even people I don't know very well: I throw myself in front of bullets that were not intended for me.

I hear them say, "Ten thousand cookies by tomorrow and I have no idea how I'm going to do it!" or, "I'm planning a party for my husband's, step-neice's, uncle's dog and I just don't even know where to begin..." or, "I need flyers for a charity organization you've never heard of that places abandoned cows in foster families..."

And my hand goes up. Over and over again. I can't control it, it's like I'm swatting flies.

This has always been the state of things for me. And it's ten times worse when the needy party is someone I am dating. Suddenly I am personally invested in whether or not someone who is not related to me makes it to the dentist on time. Do they have enough clean clothes? Are they eating healthy? Can I help them? Please?

It doesn't make sense for grown adults to throw all of their needs onto someone else, and it extra doesn't make sense for me to volunteer to be the baggage camel. Especially when it seems that I'm always trying so hard not to get "involved" with anyone. "I'm not looking for a relationship," I say, "just someone to hang out with." Then, two months later, when I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas with birds nesting in my hair and this person is passing me the remote, it hits me: I've been relationshiped.

How do you know if you've been relationshiped? The signs are not always obvious. You might find yourself driving someone everywhere, texting them before you decide if you are going out tonight, choosing between heading out in the cold to help them buy groceries or watching movies on your comfortable couch in your toasty warm house. Maybe you stop going to the gym, stop eating the foods you like because the other person doesn't like to try new things, stop laughing at things you used to find funny.

You've been shanghaied...maybe you were a little drunk at the time, but you've agreed to go along, so no one is really forcing you to do anything that you didn't sign up for.

You didn't make it clear that you weren't looking for this when you volunteered to help with all the things all the time. It wasn't apparent that you wanted your own space when you were constantly around checking to make sure everything was okay.

Before you know it, the people around you are hinting that you might get the privilege of carrying this person for the rest of your life...and possibly a smaller person as well. They smile and say, "well, accidents do happen..." in such a way that makes you wonder if they volunteer at the condom factory just so they can gleefully poke pinholes in the rubbers.

I want to stop this madness. I want to get to the root of the problem so this doesn't keep happening.

I'm fortunate to have a group of friends who are grown-up pants, self-sufficient people. They don't need my help most of the time, and if they do they ask for it, and I'm more than happy to oblige because I know that they are capable of helping me in return. This is the level of interaction that I should be expecting from everyone, everywhere, all the time.

With the exception of things that I consider charity (donations to good causes, helping 95-year-old ladies pick up heavy boxes), I really shouldn't be putting all my effort into things that have no return.

My solution is selfishness. My resolution for 2012 is to take a good hard look at what I'm saving before I jump in front of the gun.

So don't look at me. I'm not getting involved.

the year in review

2011-12-22T17:44:00.000-08:00

If ever I am at a loss for something to do with my time, or I've forgotten what my goals are supposed to be, I refer to The Master List.

"What is 'The Master List?'" you ask, and I'm so glad you did. The Master List is not a list at all, but is in fact, a whiteboard. This whiteboard lives behind my office door and is a dry-erase paradise filled with my random thoughts, books I intend to read, places I want to go, my goals; and most importantly, who owes me money.

If you've ever felt bad because I appear to be more organized than you, take heart, I'm also INSANE.

Around this time last year, I wrote a blog post about my goals for 2011 and added a bunch of unintelligible scribble to The Master List (my handwriting is what happens when you put a pointy stick in your mouth and try to write on an uneven surface using sumi ink from a bottle...while riding a roller coaster).

12 short months ago, I scrawled out the following goals:

Run another half marathon
Take a cross country road trip
Complete an Olympic distance triathlon
Pay off my car
Run the Spokane Marathon in October
Get published
Read at least 10 books from the banned books list
Dine out once a week or less
Make a will

Did I do all these things? In a word: no.

But I did do some of these things. And I also did other things throughout the year that I felt fairly good about. See how vague I'm being? Pretty soon you'll have forgotten all about that list of failure up there.

I did run another half marathon (#1), and the full Spokane Marathon (#5). Making a will (#9) went by like a breeze once I actually sat down and did it. I forgot all about reading banned books (#7) until the end of November, but I finished that one this afternoon with only days remaining in the year.

I fully flunked numbers 2, 3, and 4. I did not get published (unless you count this blog, which I do not), and try as I might, I could not stay away from all the fine dining establishments Spokane has to offer.

4 out of 9 is a 44%. That is clearly failing. But what about extra credit? Can I get points for all the things I did end up doing in 2011?

Went to Emerald City Comicon
Learned to wakeboard
Learned to shoot
Went ziplining
Ran a full marathon
Threw some awesome parties
Ran the Warrior Dash and the Dirty Dash
Went to Silverwood for the first time
Almost got washed out to sea in a kayak
Spent a week in Myrtle Beach with my family

If you crunch the numbers on this, you'll note that there are 10 things on this list of accomplishment, and only 9 things on my previous goals list (aka 'failure list'). Also, subtracting the things I actually completed on my previous goals list takes that list down to 6...and 10 is more than 6. In fact, it's 4 more...so let's say it's 40% more...if you take that 40% from the new list and add it to the 44% achievement rate on the old list, you get 84%, which is a solid "B" grade.

See what I did there? That's called math.

That's not bad at all. 'B' isn't just okay, it's slightly above average. Good job 2011.

David Bowie New Year, January 2011

Liz learns to snowboard, January 2011

Emerald City Comicon, March 2011

St. Patrick's Day, March 17th

Selina's Birthday, June 2011

Myrtle Beach, June 2011

Kayaking at Owens Beach in Tacoma, July 2011

Old Hollywood Party, July 2011

Intro to Shooting, August 2011

Super Mario Halloween, October 2011

phoneless and phreaking out

2011-11-17T16:00:00.001-08:00

"You know, if you keep making those faces, eventually your face is going to stick like that."

That's what they tell me, anyway. I'm not sure if I believe it since I made a sour face for the first 20 years of my life and I seem to be recovering nicely.

However, I do see some truth to the statement. It's about habits.

If you keep doing something long enough for it to become a habit, eventually you will stick like that. This is true for the good things, like exercise or spending time with your family, and true for the bad things, like drinking too much or gambling away your savings.

But what about the in-between things? What about the habits we pick up that are widely sanctioned by our society?

There's something that I'm obsessed with. Something that I have to have with me at all times of the day. I take it with me when I go to sleep, when I go to work, when I'm in my car. I tend it like an obsessives' garden, making sure everything is in its' place, checking and rechecking. If I don't pick it up at least once every 20 minutes, I start to feel jittery. Others encourage me, asking where it is if they don't see it with me, proudly showing me theirs like brand new parents.

I'm talking about something I've started to take for granted over the past few years: my electronic tether; my cellphone.

By a gross miscalculation in timelines, I managed to shut off my own phone today while porting my number to a new carrier. I have no idea when I will have a working phone again. Note to my future self: next time make sure you have your new phone before turning off your existing phone.

What's most disturbing about this situation is not that I managed to misplan, I'm human after all. No, what's bothersome here is the way I'm reacting to my disconnect.

Whenever my mind starts to wander, I catch myself poking at the dead shell of my old phone. I turn it on and stare at its shiny screen, glancing to the top right for the tiny letter icon to tell me I have a message, hoping to see the little "G" symbol that means I have new Gmail. I might as well be curled up in a corner rocking back and forth while talking to myself.

When did this happen? I remember growing up without a phone, being a teenager who had to use landlines to call home and leave a message on the answering machine (the kind with the tiny tape inside). Heck, I didn't even have a cellphone until my junior year of college. Yeah that's right, I managed to survive until the age of 20 without sending a single text message. Amazing, huh?

But now? No fricking way! I've only been without the phone for a few hours and I've already lost my sh*t. If it wasn't for the fact that I still have the old phone to cradle softly in my arms, I'd probably be starting a fire or something. Like this girl who literally killed when her phone was taken (click to read the article).

I read an article a few weeks back that said that people reacted the same way to loosing their iphone as they did to loosing a loved one. As in, the same area in your brain that lights up when you are in mourning lights up when they turn off your phone. It's a creepy little member of your family. And now, with the Siri technology, it's even got a sweet lady voice to further your attachment (as if you needed it).

I'm sure I'll make it through this troubling time, not in any small part due to the fact that I still have the internet with access to Gmail, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and all the other millions of internet locations that eat my time.

Thank goodness I have this virtual world in which to live, where else would I go for support? Real people?

Don't be silly.

Hello World

2011-11-14T14:15:00.000-08:00

"Don't touch anything," my Dad sternly commanded, wrinkling his brow in that certain way where you can tell he's confused, but just on the verge of a solution. He held a tangle of cables and cords, puzzling over a telephone book of instructions printed in both English and Japanese. My Mom drummed her fingers, looking bored and frustrated. I, for my part, gave all the help I was capable of giving by spinning around as fast as possible in the adjustable office chair.

There it sat, on a desk against the wall, in the room with the old zebra-stripped couch that smelled like dust, and the flimsy pressboard bookshelf housing an entire hardback set of Encyclopedia Britannica. This foreign invader, so strange in it's beige, boxy shell. The television seemed to look on in distress, worrying about being replaced.

Suddenly, with an electric fan whir and a happy little beep, the box sprang to life, emitting an alien glow. Filling the room with an eerie cast, throwing our shadows to the far wall.

I shot my feet out to the floor, stopping the chair mid-spin, focusing in on the bright white letters. They burned my eyes a little, jumping out from that deep blue, undulating with color and light.

I reached out my hand.

"She touched that thing!" my Mom cried, "why is there an hourglass?! This thing is broken!"

--------------------------

Within a few minutes of meeting someone new, it invariably comes up, "What do you do?" quickly followed by, "How'd you get in to that? Do you like it?"

Everyone wants to know, are you happy? And if you are...how did you do it? Can I do it too?

Where did it all begin? When was the moment that it all came together and you said, 'Here it is, this is the thing that will change my life?'

It's been a few years since my introduction to the computer (maybe more than a few), but I still remember that first taste like it was yesterday. I didn't know right off the bat that I would end up using them to make art, but I did know that I wanted to learn everything about them, discover how they worked from the ground up; break them down and rebuild them, create something new.

One of my Mom's favorite stories to tell about me is the time she bought a new vacuum and couldn't figure out how to assemble it even after reading the directions multiple times. When she had finally given up, I began to pick up the pieces and stick them together, completing the vacuum simply by studying the parts. I was five.

When my artistic talent and my penchant for advertising began to emerge, my Mom started bringing home books from the library. "It's called Graphic Design," she said, "this is you."

And that's how I knew.

Onward from the age of ten, through adolescence and into adulthood, I tapped away at countless keyboard keys and double-clicked hundreds of mice, learning to express myself by interfacing with a machine.

Which brings me to today. Happily working as a freelance Graphic Designer and teaching others to use the fascinating tools of my trade.

That's kind of a long story though, so I'll just give you my standard answer: "I'm an artist, it's a fun job."

How about you? What do you do? How do you like it?

--------------------------

Here's a share, a couple of recent projects for non-profits. Using my skills to help others is part of what makes my job so great.

Christmas Party invitation for RiteCare Spokane a non-profit speech therapy clinic for children ages 2 - 7.

Site design for the Spokane Bike Swap a non-profit bicycle event to raise funds for the Friends of the Centennial Trail.

Good Form

2011-11-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

First off, it's been a stupid long time since I've sat down to write, and for that I apologize; mainly to myself for forgetting the cardinal rule of success: Consistency.

I've finally gotten on board the Consistency Train with running and exercise, but I have yet to allow consistency to keep me on track for the other things I enjoy, such as painting, writing, and making time for my friends.

Most recently, consistency in my training allowed me to complete my very first full marathon, the Spokane Marathon, earlier in October. Sticking to the schedule and remembering to use my body in the way that it was designed is what got me through to the end. Working, resting, fueling, and thinking. Putting it all toward my goal.

Big surprise: it works. It's all that "you get what you put in to it," "your body is your temple," "you are what you eat" stuff that so many people like to spout. Who knew it would turn out to be true?

So here I am, post marathon, feeling great, wearing my awesome new hooded sweatshirt that says, "finisher!" and I declare out loud to myself...(don't worry, lots of people talk to themselves before, during, and after running)...anyway, I announce in my runner's-high afterglow that I'm going to train for an ultra-marathon. Something more than 30 miles, a real, crazy, over-the-top challenge.

With this goal in mind, I decide to incorporate longer runs (duh) and work on getting faster. You see, I'm a bit of a plodder. I shuffle along at about a 9:30 mile pace regardless of the race distance, and when I get to the end, I'm not even tired. I know there's more speed in there somewhere, I just have to teach myself to access it.

I've gone running with the boyfriend a couple of times, and it seems to be helping since he is much faster than I will ever be (I assume).

I want to say up front that there is nothing that feels more natural for me than running. Sitting sucks, walking is too slow, hopping is awkward.

When I run, my entire body feels like it drops into place. As far as I know, I've had the same running form my whole life: standing up straight, leaning forward, arms a little low, feet hitting the ground flat/mid-foot. <-- And there's the problem.

The first time running with Don he mentions something about my foot strike, and how it would be better if I stayed toward the front of my foot. So the second time we go running I try this different foot strike thing for the duration of the run, which turns out to be around 12 miles...and I feel something pull in my ankle. Goodbye Achilles tendon, it was nice knowing you.

Suddenly, my body that feels best after a 20 mile run can't even handle a 2 mile run. I took something that works, and I broke it.

This is not to say that he doesn't have the right idea (maybe or maybe not, it's up in the air) but I definitely had the wrong idea to immediately jump on something new without a consistent history of training in that way to back it up.

And now I'm out for at least a couple weeks. Leaving me with hours of free time when I would rather be running. Sidelined by form, which brings me to my tangent about paper forms:

There are certain aspects within the daily dealings of life where I expect consistency. One of these places is on official documents. I have no idea why I feel that way when there is absolutely no evidence to support those feelings.

Today I was reminded how little attention is paid to consistency when I sat down to fill out some paperwork and promptly found myself smacked full in the face by the grotesque mis-appearance of IRS forms: daunting. ugly. inconsistent.

Now, it's important to note that I don't find forms to be inherently ugly. A sea of grayscale boxes does not have to be a sign of bad design. They don't have to be a clown-vomit explosion of color to keep my attention, or have flashing banner ads on the sides to peak my curiosity.

No.

Where these forms fail me is the same place I failed in trying to change myself too quickly. Whoever designs these IRS forms has taken a good idea and simply gone too far. Absolutely everything is encased in a heavily stroked black box. Somewhere along the way, some helpful soul looked at the form and said, "You know, I bet that would stand out better if you put a box around it...try making it bold!"

And a monster was born.

Changing up the form (the form-form or the running form) can be a good idea, but not if it defeats the original purpose. Form should follow function.

In the case of IRS forms, the function is the transfer of information from one spot to another. Or in my case, the transfer of energy from one spot to another. My existing form was doing it for me, without the add-ons, and I bet those IRS forms were almost attractive before they got painted up with boxes, bold text, underlines, different fonts, and 'helpful' symbols.

Lesson learned.

It doesn't have to be pretty. It just has to work.

let's get dirty

2011-08-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

Now that I've done both the Warrior Dash and the Dirty Dash, I feel that I am qualified to write an intensive, tell-all exposé of inner-city crime...oh wait...I got off topic for a moment there. Um...I feel that I am qualified to talk about mud in your shorts.

And a couple hours after a 10k obstacle run, that's just about all I'm qualified for.

I automatically award the Warrior Dash with extra points for having more of my friends in attendance. This was due to the timing of the event and also the shorter, 5k instead of 10k, distance.

However, the Dirty Dash pulls ahead slightly based on two factors:
1. It is close to my house, thus close to a shower.
2. The shirts are better, they are fitted and femme.

BUT...

Parking SUCKED! We were told to pull over to the right to be 'in line' for parking, but in fact, we were as far along as we could go and ended up abandoning our vehicles along the side of Government Way. The race was about 2 miles away from where I left Geordi, effectively turning a 6 mile race into a 10 mile race. Trudging back to the car in my mud-filled shoes in the torching sun was not something that I accounted for.

Luckily, as I shielded my eyes from the blaze I suddenly remembered Jason talking about Bear Grylls peeing on his shirt and tying it around his head to keep cool in the desert. My shirt was already soaked from the plunge into the river - saving me from having to figure out how to aim - so I draped it over my head and hoped to God that Eastern State wasn't doing any patrols for escaped patients. It worked better than I could have hoped, I am sunburnt everywhere except the top of my head.

Chic desert Sheik, or underground breakdancer?

Both races gave the opportunity to donate your muddy shoes to the needy and un-shod. A great idea, to be sure. Unfortunately, I didn't end up donating at either race. The mud pit at the Warrior Dash was so deep that I stepped right out of one of my shoes (the one with the timing chip) and couldn't find it again.

Parking at the Dirty Dash put me so far away from the car that there's no way I could have made it back without shoes. Much of the terrain heading back was rocky, and the rest was sun-baked asphalt, just waiting to fry my little toes. I suppose it's for the best though since I realized back at the car that my one-size-too-small running shoes had been steadily rubbing holes in the backs of my heels, soaking the insides of the shoes with blood.

Nobody wants those now.

This is after the shower, but you get the idea.

The showers at the Dirty Dash were for realsies, or at least as for real as a shower at a campground:

Above your head
Emitting a trickle of water
Spread far enough apart that you aren't rubbing your muddy body against others
Outside so you aren't tempted to rub your muddy body against others

The Warrior Dash "shower" was this:

A homicidal maniac with a fire hose to your face

Dirty Dash at Riverside St. Park - Note those showers back there

As far as obstacles go, I loved the Beer Chug "obstacle" in the Dirty Dash, it was a nice break after running up and down trails. The Warrior Dash gets mad props for its spectator area with the giant cargo net, fire jump, and mud pit all lined up one after the other for the amusement of your friends and family.

Warrior Dash mud pit

Warrior Dash fire obstacle

It seemed like there were the same number of obstacles in each race, The Dirty Dash just had twice as much running to get between each one. That's thumb-up for me, but probably a thumb-down for most people.

Hands down (but thumbs still up), the best obstacle of the Dirty Dash was the slip 'n' slide. I wasn't expecting it and I haven't been on one since I was ten, or thereabouts. Running and jumping into the inflatable chute was a damn good time. Also notable was the incorporation of the Spokane River into the race, with one section detouring into the water before turning back up the hill.

The Dirty Dash was most definitely a trail run. Lots of uneven and rocky areas, lots of perilously skinny routes along the edges of embankments. The Warrior Dash, by contrast, was less intense in that way. It wasn't on pavement, but it wasn't what I'd call a "trail run." It may have been dirt, but the area was mostly flat and mostly smooth, it looked like it was a pretty heavily trafficked farm road.

For non-stop action and an event that you can do with all of your friends - even the ones who "don't run" - The Warrior Dash definitely gets my vote. For more of a bad-ass, I-can't-believe-I-ran-six-miles-and-drank-a-beer-and-jumped-in-the-river-all-within-an-hour feeling, the Dirty Dash is the way to go.

Either way, you're gonna get dirty.

when it's okay to quit

2011-07-26T09:55:00.001-07:00

I've spent a lifetime training myself that it's never okay to quit. There are always more reasons to continue along the path than there are to turn back. People who stop before they really began just don't understand what they are capable of.

It was in this general mindset that I headed out for a training run Sunday morning.

This was the run I was supposed to complete on Friday...but instead I ate lots of Thai food. So it became the run I was supposed to complete on Saturday...but instead I sat perfectly still for 10 hours to work on a project (a project that needed to get done, but I'll try not to defend myself too much). That brings us to the run I was supposed to complete beginning at 6 am on Sunday...but instead I twirled myself up in my blankets and said, 'just a few more hours of sleep.'

So it was that I found myself at the Mirabeau park entrance to the Centennial Trail at 11 am, with the sun already high in the sky. It was getting hot. Nasty hot. But I decided to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach that told me this run might need to wait for another day.

The first few miles were a breeze. I flew along under the tree canopy, enjoying views of the river that would be fit for a postcard anywhere else, but that we who live here see as same-ol'-same-ol'. I munched on almonds and chocolate covered raisins, my favorite running foods, and tried to be mindful about drinking from the many tiny water bottles that lined my waist.

At Noon, I left the trees.

Miles four and five weren't unbearable, but the sun was causing me to squint under my sunglasses, and I could feel the rays pushing down on my shoulders. At 5.5 miles, I turned to head back for the trees, 'maybe a little more time in the shade will help me out,' I thought.

Eight miles down and back in the trees, I realized I had run out of water. There was still two-and-a-half miles between me and the nearest water fountain, and now the sun had shifted so those previously friendly trees were no longer casting their cooling shadows.

As I plodded along at an increasingly slower pace, I offhandedly noticed that I was no longer sweating. Normally, this would be cause for alarm. But to my sun-addled mind, it was cause for mild amusement, 'Weird!!' my subconscious squealed, 'my skins feels all squishy!'

The headache came on at around mile 9, shimmering curtains of iridescence crashing though my eyes, making it hard to see. Ophthalmic migraines are common for me when I'm in intense pain or have become dehydrated. Unfazed, I continued to jog, probably in a series of weaving lines and circles.

11 miles down and standing back in front of the water fountain by the parking lot, I carefully filled each little bottle from my hydration belt, and proceeded to drink them and fill them again. It didn't make any sense to me to drink directly from the fountain. So I stood there, for perhaps 10 minutes, filling and draining those mini-squeeze bottles.

Then came the defining moment of my day.

Normal people; sane people; take stock of their situation and make decisions based on that data. People like me; crazy people; complete a task regardless of outside information.

I was 20 feet from my car and my cell phone. 5 feet from a tree providing shade. Mere inches from a water fountain.

My thought process, in it's entirety, went like this:

'We have the water!! LET'S GO!!!'

And I set out again, this time going the opposite direction, in full, soul-sucking sun. The tiny trees I passed offered enough shade for chipmunks, and I contemplated crouching under them for a while, but somehow I was certain that I wasn't allowed to be under the trees. Each time I passed a shady spot I would think, 'I wish I could stop there,' and yet I'd continue on.

During a normal run for me, I run halfway out (away from my car or house or wherever), then I turn around and run back. This ensures that I don't crap out and give up in the process of circling my house five or six times: I'm already out, now I have to go back.

Without realizing exactly what I was doing, I ran myself halfway out from the car and the water source when I should have been trying to pass it multiple times. Or better yet, should have been indoors after realizing it was too sunny for a pale kid like me.

So it went that I trotted another 2.5 miles away after having already been at the car. When I reached 2.5 miles away (13.5 miles total), I noticed a woman and her daughter with their bikes taking refuge under a larger tree. I wandered over and stood uncomfortably close to them, then abruptly sat down in the pine needles and put my head between my knees. They left at some point, weirded out no doubt, but I stayed under the tree for at least 15 minutes trying not to lose the almonds and chocolate raisins I had consumed earlier.

The distance back to the parking lot this time was not a run, not a jog, not a walk; more like a death march.

People passing on the trail said things to me, one woman pointed at me and seemed concerned, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. I stopped five or six times to sit under trees while my head swam in circles. The parking lot seemed to be running from me.

The next thing I knew I was lying under a tree by the water fountain with my shoes and socks off, 16 miles displaying on the iPod. Logic tells me I walked there, but I can't be sure.

When I got back to the house I laid down to stop the spinning in my head and woke up three hours later feeling like I'd been hit by a train.

My sunburn makes it hurt to wear shirts with sleeves.

I approach most things with overwhelming enthusiasm and confidence. I run head-on into any situation, literally and figuratively. Leaping before looking. Shooting first. Apologizing rather than asking for permission.

I can now look back with confidence and say, "Yeah, I should have just quit."

long runs make your face hurt

2011-06-27T20:09:00.000-07:00

Last Friday I hit the trail for a long training run; 13 miles along the Spokane River. I'm training for a marathon, you see, and when you are training for a marathon, you run a lot, and you tell everyone how much you are running a lot, and you expect everyone to offer you encouragement for running a lot, as though it wasn't up to you, but you are such a saint for powering through it.

So I'm training for this marathon.

Anyway, while I was out on the run, I noticed something really different about running outside versus running indoors on a treadmill. In the gym I spend most of my time avoiding eye contact with other sweaty messes. Kindly averting my gaze whenever I catch sight of a bright red huffer-puffer struggling away on the elliptical or stair climber. Fiddle with my iPod. Pretend I'm watching Judge Judy. Read that poster about protein smoothies for the hundredth time.

But this is not how they roll in the great outdoors. When you are outside running, you are expected to make eye contact. Smile. Give that little acknowledging head jerk. Raise your hand just a bit like you are placing a bid at auction. Perhaps grunt out a, "Hey," or a "morning." All the while sucking in your gut and trying really hard not to look like you're about to pass out.

It's exhausting.

And I had to wonder, since running is such a workout, and being social can be mentally taxing, how much more difficult is your outside run than your inside run?

This led me to Google both "calories burned smiling" and "calories burned by waving." Alas, there wasn't much concrete information to be found on either topic. Apparently no one but me is curious about how many calories a Lilac Princess might burn while parade-waving atop a float. Plenty of people care about the smiling thing though. 'It takes more muscles to frown than to smile' and things of that ilk. The only problem is that there is no solid research.

What are you wasting your time on, Science?! Curing cancer? Solving the world hunger crisis? Those things are so last season. What matters right now is how many muscles it takes to smile, and how fit I'm getting by flashing by pearly yellows (maybe yours are white, but I drink a lot of tea).

On a side note, I also tested out GU Chomps energy chews on my last long run and found that they don't make me want to barf like the gels often do. Instead of outright eating them, I stored them in my cheeks like an electrolyte-hoarding chipmunk. It seemed to work pretty well except, of course, for the times I would run past someone and feel the need to smile and wave and greet.

I might start asking around to see if anyone else finds outdoor runs draining for reasons other than the varied terrain.

If I keep up this running outside thing, I'll have to start incorporating weight lifting moves that work my waving arm. Or maybe I should start frowning at people instead of smiling, since frowning uses more muscles. And we all know how serious I am about building muscles.

Since I'm training for this marathon.

the things we keep

2011-06-17T08:06:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I tasked myself with sorting through the basement, drawers, closets, and tiny spider-filled spaces to gather items for a yard sale. We're not running out of space; on the contrary, we have more space than we can handle.

And as often happens with extra space you don't need, we've rushed to fill it with extras things we don't need. An empty drawer is like a haunting siren song, playing over and over again in your head, saying, 'why would you leave me like this.'

It took longer than I thought to get started with the sorting process. Each time I would imagine myself tromping down the basement steps and tackling the mess, my chest would seize with fear. What would I find down there? Would it take days? WEEKS?! MONTHS??!!!

And more urgently: How would I part with these things that are apparently so important to me that I stashed them under my house?

Setting deadlines proved to be the push I needed to get it done: I had already placed an ad in the paper about the sale, and it was looming in the not-so-distant future. People would show up on that day, and if I wasn't ready, they would judge me.

Reluctantly resigned, I made myself a reward snack (for all the hard work I had yet to do), and headed into the chilly darkness.

It didn't take long for things to get weird.

The questions I had struggled with before about my unnatural attachment to inanimate objects quickly flew out of my head and were replaced by incredulous terror questions such as these:

Why do I have a two-year supply of low fat popcorn and instant mashed potatoes?
Whose tupperware is this? WHY ARE THERE NO LIDS?!
I own a hamster ball?
What made me think I needed to keep four inflatable flamingos?

Spartan. Organized. Functional.

These are the words I would have used to describe my house prior to my basement adventure.

Now I know the truth.

I have allowed myself to use out-of-the-way spaces to hide my inner pack rat. Areas of my house where visitors rarely tread are a safe haven for my irrational hoarding impulse.

Some people keep extra water and food in their basements in case of emergency. Not me; oh no.

I could sleep easy knowing that my basement had enough pink sparkle crap to get me though the worst of times. Do you need a glittery mouse pad? I have three! How about an assortment of unused tumbler cups with shiny Hello Kitty faces emblazoned on the sides? Have you ever wished that you had pink, rainbow-patterned shoe laces? Wish granted!

But no longer. This had to stop.

It was brutal. I moved without mercy. I was like a machine.

I've cut my collection of random Hello Kitty items by more than half. HALF!

Mainly, I've tried to keep only the things that I've had since I was really little, since they have actual sentimental value.

Somewhere, I have a picture of myself at the age of five running away from home with my little red Hello Kitty snack box (a girl's gotta eat). There's a picture of this event because I told my mom I was running away...and also where I was going...before I left.

She told me to be home for dinner.

I found that snack box and the tiny thermos that nests inside, it was one of the things I chose to keep.

The more I sorted and dropped items into the 'sale' box, the easier it became. My criteria was simple: if my house burned down, which of these things would I miss? Everything else goes.

What now takes up the most space in my home are my boxes full of photographs. My summer project is to scan them and back them up, so they will always be safe. My memories are more important than anything I could buy at the store.

Those are the things we keep.

Summer of Awesome Reloaded

2011-04-25T23:32:00.000-07:00

Where does the time go? Is there a black hole over my house sucking up all the seconds that haven't been assigned to specific tasks? Are they really gone without a trace, or did they serve their purpose with honor and I just don't remember?

I just can't seem to keep track of my time. Hours fly by and I can't account for them.

I'm not talking about work days, because I automatically chalk those up to a loss. Yesterday, for example, I worked from 10:30am to 9:30pm then had just enough energy to watch an episode of Spartacus before I crashed out. I don't bemoan those lost seconds, because I'm exchanging them for dollars.

Ready for work! This is how I look at the beginning of the day,
by the end I look like I've been hit by a bus.

The lost time I'm worried about losing is the stuff that's supposed to belong to me, but still seems to get away from me. If I don't want my dogs to run off, I just put them on a leash, it's not so easy with time. Time doesn't care for your "sit" and "stay" commands. Time is crafty. Time can get under the fence.

I'm pretty sure that I burned an entire day last week just sitting on the floor chewing on my hair.

Well, not really, but that's how it feels. I can't figure out how I had, in my estimate, almost 6 hours of uninterrupted free time where I accomplished absolutely nothing.

I want to put my time to better use.

Today I decided to keep track of everything I do so I have an accurate representation of "a day in the life" of Selina Shehan:

At 9am I rolled out of bed and onto the floor where I was immediately dive bombed by two chihuahuas. I wandered into the kitchen where I made coffee and stood in front of the open fridge for five minutes until I realized we are out of waffles. I made myself a quesadilla.

9:30am - Thought really hard about doing dishes but then didn't do them.

10am - Checked my emails, bank accounts and bills, threw some money at my big credit card bill and got a little upset that I have to buy a new phone (mine is being discontinued).

10:06am - Cracked the books and began my lecture materials for class this week.

10:55am - Notified the Earth Day longboard winner about his prize (a totally rad board made by Dan Dengler).

11:30am - Played fetch with the dogs and took photos of their adorableness.

Spike and his favorite toy

Romi and Lola

11:55am - Made some fakie-fake buffalo wings while washing dishes. Dishes had to happen as I otherwise would have no place to put barbecue sauce and ketchup for my soy products.

Sidebar: The main reason I let my dishes sit for so long is that I'm still not convinced that it doesn't take a full 16 hours to wash them...even though I've proven time and time again that it only takes about 20 minutes to wash every dish in the house. My kitchen does not have a dishwasher as my house was built in the paleolithic era when people mostly cooked outdoors over campfires and had little use for Kitchenaid appliances.

12pm - Ate some wings. Note the 5 minute time difference between making wings and eating them. If I was not a vegetarian I would probably die of a combination of salmonella and e-coli because I have no patience for food that takes more than 5 minutes to cook completely. I would also like to point out that vegetarian buffalo wings are no less "buffalo wings" than any other kind.

12:30pm - Called t-mobile store about a new phone, thought about the upcoming art event for the INBA and realized it's scary close to go-time. Fired off a few emails to make myself feel better.

1pm - Delivered the longboard prize to the raffle winner and wandered around in Fred Meyer talking on the phone to my mom. I managed not to buy anything but I now strongly desire tiny solar powered lights and a bench shaped like a bunny for my yard.

2pm - Visited Greg at Radio Shack and picked up the new t-mobile Sidekick to replace my soon to be useless old SideKick phone. Also picked up some new running shoes and new skate shoes to replace the torn up pairs I've been kicking around in.

Old Shoes

New Phone

3:30pm - Arrived back home felt a little sluggish, fixed this problem by eating an apple dipped in peanut butter.

3:40pm - Set up a meeting with a new client (exciting!)

3:43pm - Briefly worried that if I accomplished too many things today, I would have nothing to do tomorrow. These are the kinds of deep thoughts that cloud my mind.

3:45pm - Puttered around on Facebook and watched the videos other people posted today. This down time helped to quell my fears that Tuesday would present an overwhelming amount of opportunity.

I really wanted to go skating today but it's still raining. The upside is that the plants and the tree look really happy.

Dreary sky, happy tree

4:07pm - ...hungry again. Rewarding myself for doing not much really all day today by making stir fry and watching an episode of Star Gate SG-1. Because really, what better way is there to celebrate having clean dishes than by making them all dirty again?

There's no better way. None.

I was recently introduced to SG-1 (it's not a drug, it's a show) and it's causing me to break my cardinal rule of never drinking alcohol or watching television when I'm by myself (just the t.v. part).

This rule was put into place due to my poor impulse control.

Allowing myself to watch one episode of a show is my way of testing the waters to see if I can wade a bit and enjoy a show without drowning in eight solid hours of mindlessness. I guess we'll all know for sure by looking at my next time stamp...

5:39pm - A fresh pot of coffee is on and now I'm typing my lecture materials for tomorrow night's class. I managed to enjoy my stir fry and television responsibly.

6:44pm - Finished typing out the first 2 hours of lecture material, time for a break!

6:55pm - Created a coffee/chocolate syrup/soy milk concoction and read the internet for 10 minutes, now back to work.

7:26pm - About halfway through the rest of the material, time for another break...and some cookies

8:47pm - Just finished watching the last episode of the Spartacus prequel. Thankfully Netflix still streams just fine through the PS3 even with the network outage. No gaming though.

11:01pm - Returned triumphantly from the gym with 7.38 miles under my shoes.

11:12pm - Uploading the random photos from my random day. I'm going back to documenting everything visually since that really helped me keep track of everything I did last summer.

11:30 - I'm about done with this post and ready to spend the next 8 or 9 hours dreaming about better weather.

So there you have it, an entire fairly typical day off from work for me.

Yesterday was a legitimately nice day, leading me to believe (in spite of today) that we may have a Spring, and possibly even a Summer this year. Now that I know where my time goes, I can apply myself to inserting radness wherever possible.

This summer I am going to fill my time with so much rad, there will be none left for anyone else.

Last year I declared a "Summer of Awesome," a season for me and all the things I love to do. The most important take away from last summer was a reset of my priorities. I took a chainsaw to my life and began to rebuild and reshape based on what I'd learned about what I actually want from everything.

Summer 2011 will put Summer 2010 to shame. Not only will I do all the things I already love to do, but I'll introduce brand new things, gain new skills and experiences, and hopefully better myself in the process.

Honestly, my main goal is to make my real life at least half as awesome as it appears on Facebook.

Let's see how I do.

Where are you going? Where have you been?

2011-04-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

It's already near the end of April (I know, right?) so it's about time I looked back at those resolutions I made at the beginning of the year to hopefully re-ignite the fires of effort and progress.

On the last day of last year, I made the following goals for 2011:

Run another half marathon
Take a cross country road trip
Complete an Olympic distance triathlon (my first was a sprint distance)
Pay off my car (early)
Run the Spokane Marathon in October (the full marathon)
Get published
Read at least 10 books from the banned books list
Dine out once a week or less (unless someone else is paying, haha)
Make a will (I've been talking about this for years but have yet to do it)

I did end up running another half marathon, although it was only at the gym on a treadmill. As a result of my work schedule and my efforts to tighten down on spending, I've been running in a lot less of the organized races this year. The good news is that I'm still getting the most out of my gym membership, and if it continues to snow and hail every time I think about running outside...I may never run outdoors again.

There's also a definite check mark for making a will, thanks to Liz and the RocketLawyer website for making that so easy. That is one of those things that I just avoided because I thought it would be time consuming and sad.

I'll give you fair warning: it was definitely sad.

If you've even taken stock of the life you've made and the people you've come to know, you can relate. If that's something you've never done, there's no time like right now.

When I was done filling everything out, I got up and walked around the house a bit, and it was incredibly surreal how disconnected I felt from all of the objects I've brought into my space. I found that what I wanted to do more than anything else was to grab the dogs and go sit out in the yard.

So that's what I did.

Then I called some friends to grab breakfast the next day and to be the witnesses for my will. The thing that really stuck with me in this process is that my first response to thinking about my own death was not to bemoan the fact that I haven't seen all of TruBlood, or to cry about the possessions I would leave behind, but to grab the living things and reach out to the people I care about. Wills are important because they give the people you leave behind some sense of closure; clear instructions to follow when the world seems confusing and scary.

So yeah, sad for sure. But honestly, it wasn't time consuming at all. If anyone out there is reading this and doesn't have a will yet, the RocketLawyer site is offering free wills throughout the month of April, check it out here: RocketLawyer.com

Out of the sadness and back to the goal list:

My reading habits are still a pale shadow of what they used to be. I'm only two books in to my 10 book challenge. So far, I've read The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, and Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. The problem here might be that the library is just too close to my house. Seeing it every day lures me into a false sense of ease about gaining access to books.

At this point I won't say that I'm completely off or on the track for completing my other goals. The year is still young and anything can happen.

What I can say is that I'm a total rock star at not going out to eat. I wish I could say it was because of my iron will, but actually it's because my schedule makes it so that I'm nowhere near an eating establishment when it's actually time to eat. I may find myself walking by O'dougherty's downtown...at 9am. Or perhaps driving by the Dairy Queen...at 11pm when it's 25 degrees.

This wasn't a goal that I set before, but I'd like to say right now that I will not go so long in the future without writing a post for this blog. A month and a half is ridiculous, especially by internet standards.

So there you have it, the goals are set! The time is now! Go Go!

a retrospective on the future

2011-03-01T20:43:00.000-08:00

This week wraps up my first quarter of being an adjunct instructor. The past eleven weeks have been an interesting experience to say the least.

Being the one wielding the dry erase pens and flipping through the slideshow is an entirely different experience than sitting slack-jawed and passive, eyes glazed and mind wandering; like I did for the first 25 years of my classroom experiences.

Seeing all these faces ready to soak up knowledge makes me think of myself when I was in college.The first day of classes I was always so on top of things, bright-eyed, ready to listen and learn, fresh pens and notecards at the ready.

Well, alright...maybe not the entire first day...maybe the first half of the day...no...

Okay. Honestly, my inner go-getter was ready to be a go-outsider or go-homer within about the first 15 minutes of each class. Maybe less.

As soon as that slideshow came into focus on the projector screen and the professor began to drone on and on in the way only a teacher can, I was ready to be out of there. Outside. Anywhere.

I'm pretty sure I avoided the freshman fifteen solely by fidgeting.

Graphic Design is my life, I should have been listening, I should have been hanging on every word.

But I wasn't, and I didn't.

I learned only for the tests and put in the minimal effort that I had to in order to get by. Monday at 8 am often found me struggling to complete a project that was due for my 9 am class; a project that we'd had four weeks to finish; a project that I hadn't even started.

So yeah, I get it.

I get that even when you're learning something that you find fascinating, or something that's essential for your career, the shear fact that you're required to be there makes you resist.

That, I understand.

What I never understood before is how amazingly frustrating and awful it can be to watch people who are so talented and so full of potential throw up walls for themselves. There's no way I could have understood what it's like to hear the same excuses over and over again and to know for a fact that they're fiction.

Students who should be flying through this material are never even beginning, or quitting halfway through, or not showing up at all...but don't you worry, they can tell you why:

-The weather was bad
-My significant other was sick
-I have kids
-I have pets
-I have that "throat thing"
-My car wouldn't start
-I work two jobs
-My roommate keep me awake

etcetera...

Go ahead, give me a reason, I can guarantee you I've heard it before, I've probably used it myself.

The delightful irony here is that I have to show up for every single scheduled class. Regardless of whether or not my car starts, if I twist my ankle, if someone dies, if I'm sick, if it's -6 degrees, if my other job made me tired or the schedule conflicted, I have to be there. It must be some kind of cosmic punishment for my decades as a world champion slacker.

Not only do I have to be there, but I'm acutely aware of who isn't there. I never expected to care, but I do.

It makes me feel amazing when people who were struggling begin to do better just because they refused to give up

It matters to me who is slipping though the cracks, it matters who is making a conscious decision to fail. Because that's exactly what it is: a choice. If someone had told me that when I was in school, I would have laughed in their face.

I would have said, "What the hell are you talking about?! Of course it's not my choice, it's not my fault, stuff just happens that keeps from getting things done."

But when I look back I see a very different picture. I see my instructors trying to push me in the right direction but never being able to get my full attention or effort applied to anything. I see countless hours of time I spent avoiding work when I could have spent one hour completing it.

I see now that my excuses were my way of saying "I'm not accountable for my own life."

This is not to say that I won't make excuses for things anymore, because I surely will. But now I will be a little more honest with myself about why I'm making them.

So what incredible new insight did I draw from my first 12 weeks?

Simply this:

I should keep teaching. I might learn something.

Just Barely

2011-01-24T13:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was running, like I am most of the time, and thinking about all the things I need to get done before the end of the week. There are papers to grade, a quiz to write, two lectures to prepare, housecleaning, grocery shopping, running all the miles to beat Erin and Liz, some get-togethers with friends, and a few freelance projects that are screaming to be completed.

All of these things swirling around in my head made me paralyzed, every cell in my brain screeched to a halt. I couldn't even begin to organize things into sections that seemed manageable, because there didn't seem to be enough time between events to complete each of the tasks in their entirety.

And that led me to wonder:

Why do I feel like I need to wait to start something until I have a huge chunk of time to complete the task...when I know for a fact that I never have a huge chunk of time?

Seems to me that I've created an elaborate system to avoid getting anything done, thereby keeping myself in constant agony over the things that aren't happening.

Things don't need to get done all the way, all at once. They can be completed in increments.

Such a novel concept, I know.

If you missed the first day of your exercise or diet program, you don't need to wait for a new week or a new month to try again.
- Your body doesn't know it's not Monday

If you don't have time to clean the entire bathroom/living room/kitchen whatever, that doesn't mean you can't do a small amount to keep things sanitary.
-Your bathroom doesn't care that you cleaned the floor by swishing a paper towel around with your foot instead of scrubbing on your hands and knees

Not preparing a six course meal for your family or friends is not a crime.
-Your kids don't see ordering a pizza for dinner as a parenting fail, they see it as awesome

There are some things that don't need to made top priority.
-Your neighbors aren't sneaking into your yard at night to measure the height of your grass with a ruler (and if they are you need a better fence or a bigger dog)

Just barely is better than not at all.

The year two thousand eleven

2010-12-31T08:11:00.000-08:00

It is almost 2011, which, according to the progressive rock band, Rush, means that we are only 101 years away from assuming control over the planets of the Solar Federation.

It is also the year of the run-on sentence, as evidenced by the previous lines.

At the end of January I christened 2010 "the year of new adventures," and I believe that it lived up to its name.

Here's a quick view of the major happenings from the year gone by:

Learned to rock climb
Bought a car
Took a trip to New York
Completed my first Triathlon
Quit my job
Started the Bomber Betties Longboarding Club
Longboarded 40 miles from Spokane to Cd'A
Had my first solo art show
Wrote a novel
Began teaching at ITT

2011 will have its fair share of adventures, to be sure. But I'd like to take a different approach to the coming year than I have in the past. I'd like to actually make some long term plans...and possibly even follow through on those plans...

2010 was a bit like running into traffic after anything that looked shiny.

This is an actual picture of me. I look good in black, don't you think?

2011 will be the year of goals and goal attainment. I will make a list of major things I'd like to accomplish over the next 12 months and work through them like a kind of list-checking-off professional of some sort. Yeah.

For the most part, these goals should be things that will be difficult for me, but I'm going to throw a few easy ones in there too just to keep my spirits up. There will be more to add, but this is my starting list:

Run another half marathon
Take a cross country road trip
Complete an Olympic distance triathlon (my first was a sprint distance)
Pay off my car (early)
Run the Spokane Marathon in October (the full marathon)
Get published
Read at least 10 books from the banned books list
Dine out once a week or less (unless someone else is paying, haha)
Make a will (I've been talking about this for years but have yet to do it)

I realize that setting lofty goals is a common activity for anyone celebrating New Years. But to be perfectly honest, I've never been one to make resolutions. I've never said, "this is the year I lose 20 pounds," or "this is the year I quit smoking," or eating chocolate, or slacking off, or whatever.

And that's not because I think resolutions are a waste of time, because I don't. Any effort you take to step back and look at what you're doing is not a waste. It's just that I don't normally wait for the calendar to roll over to decide that something needs to happen. I'm impatient like that.

This year is different. It just so happens that the traditional time of reflection has arrived at the station at the exact same time as my mental train. Things are in flux, whether that's for good or bad is beside the point. The point is that now is the time to take stock and move forward in the direction of my choosing.

I know where I've been, and hopefully, through setting goals, I'll also have a general idea of where I'm headed.

Looking back and looking forward at the same time is what January is all about. "The Romans named the first month of the year after Janus, the god of beginnings and the guardian of doors and entrances. He was always depicted with two faces, one on the front of his head and one on the back. Thus he could look backward and forward at the same time. At midnight on December 31, the Romans imagined Janus looking back at the old year and forward to the new." --goalsguy.com

Less than 24 hours are left til the commencement of my goal attainment efforts, better eat all the chocolate and smoke all the cigarettes that I can right now! :-D

Enhance That

2010-12-14T09:54:00.001-08:00

I was tagging photos after a recent birthday party and got a kick out of how hard Facebook's facial recognition feature tries to find people. It asked me to tag the beyond-distorted wine glass reflection of something that may or may not actually be a face. The best part is that there were two real people in this photo and Facebook only grabbed the one in the wine glass.

Who is that?! Great question, let's enhance.

I had to laugh because it reminded me of the mash-up video of television crime dramas where they "enhance" photos beyond the realm of possibility to get information that would never be there in real life.

Surprise: A low res screenshot from a surveillance video doesn't suddenly become high quality just because you zoomed in really tight. Also surprise: a 2-D image doesn't jump into the 3rd dimension just because Gil Grisom requests that we rotate on the z-axis.

For those who aren't familiar with how image resolution works, the idea that you can just zoom in to get more pixel information is the same as thinking you can make more dogs by squeezing yours really hard. It just doesn't work that way.

As one commenter says:
BS! When a computer or a security camera takes a picture it has by definition only a limited amount of pixels given to you and that is it. Computer enhancement it's very unsafe and vulnerable to commit a mistake because it means that information has been ADDED to the picture thereby altering the real and only information that existed. This would not stand in a court case because artificial information was added by the computer. - ThoughtGazeCarlos

For my students if they are reading this: Adding pixels to an image is called "interpollation." This is done in Photoshop by leaving the "Resample Image" box checked in the Image Size dialog box when you increase the dimensions of your image.

Here's the video. It makes me chuckle every time I watch:

On another note, I've leapt into the Photoshop War going on through Facebook. The only real rule of engagement for this war is that you must use at least one photo taken from your opponents' Facebook page in your composite image. After each person has submitted a challenge, Facebook friends vote for the winner.

I chose to challenge Devon for this round. Here are the images I started with, along with the final composite. I grafted Dev's face onto Jane Fonda, removed the background using the pen tool, used brushes to create the trees, and cut out the ball to float in a few random spots. The whole process took a little under an hour.

Three Starting Images

Composite Image

I'm up for a friendly fight if anyone out there wants to challenge me.

I'm a driver, I'm a winner. Things are gonna change, I can feel it.

2010-12-01T14:21:00.001-08:00

There's something about delivering pizzas that makes me want to rip pens of out people's hands and run away screaming with them. You can never have too many pens.

Somewhere over the past few months, I've become someone who is prepared to ride out an accounting apocalypse /slash/ beauty emergency in my vehicle. I've got flashlights, chargers for electronics, paper, a calculator, five separate containers for change, an industrial-sized ice scraper, hair supplies, six kinds of lip gloss, MREs and a blowtorch (for realsies), and pens, did I mention pens? I have so many.

Does all of this preparedness and guerrilla style run-around, just-take-your-pizza-and-let-me-keep-the-GD-change stuff make me good at math? Why, no. But thanks for asking.

If you're starting to think that maybe I've lost my mind just a wee bit, let me assure you that I'm not even half as nutters as some of the people I get to visit.

Here's a few examples:

A couple weeks ago I pulled up to a place that had no house number, but it was in the logical spot for the address I needed, so I took a guess on it being right. This house was way out in the way outs ('way over yonder' for those in the south) with no other houses around. As I drove up the driveway my eyes caught on something hanging from a maple tree in the front yard: A severed mannequin head, screaming and dripping bright red blood from the mouth and neck, with a sign that said 'No Trespassing.'

Oh...ha? I laughed to myself, thinking...maybe Halloween?

Then I saw the other signs. Everywhere. 'Keep out or I'll shoot.' 'You are now in firing range.' 'Stay the fuck off my property.'

I sat in the driveway for a minute or two, thinking about my life and how much I like it. Wondering if I should abandon the car that's probably now on surveillance tape, run off into the woods with this pizza, pick the meat off and eat it myself to survive.

Finally, I got out of the car and started to walk up to the door, pizza in hand. The door burst open and a man stepped out onto the porch, stopping and staring me down like it was noon at the OK Corrall. "Can I help you?" he asked, eying me with suspicion.

"Um..." I took a step back, "did you order a pizza?"

And he comes hopping down the stairs, and goes, "Oh yeah! Hey, here's twenty bucks, you can keep the change, have a great day!"

Just like that.

Seriously, dude? What's not giving me away here? Is it the ridonkulous green hat? Is it the bag I'm holding that says 'pizza'?! Is it the fact that a tiny blond girl drove right up to your palace of insanity with no regard to the signs??? omg, the signs.

Good times.

I'd like you all to pool your money and buy me this for Christmas so I can be prepared.

Here's another one about delivering, this one might be amusing or might be creepy, I haven't decided:

On the first day of our epic snowstorm, I took a delivery to a house over on the west side of town. When the guy opened the door, standing right behind him in front of the fireplace was a little girl, not wearing a shirt, stuffing her face from a giant bag of pretzels. I kind of did a double-take and she waved at me, so I waved back, and she shouts out, "My name is Teagan and I like to dance!"

"Wow, that's great," I said, freezing to death while her dad or whatever wandered off and took 15 minutes to find change (real safe, right?). "What kind of dancing do you do?"

She looked at me like I was the one not wearing a shirt in a snowstorm and she said, "No, it's not time for dancing now."

Then she started waving at me again.

Twilight Zone.

My last story for today involves being indoors (which you might consider 'safe' if you never worked at the Tacoma Taco Bell like I did):

Dude walks into the store and comes up to the counter to order a pizza. He's a big guy, maybe 6' 4," 250 lbs, but he looks friendly enough. I start taking his order and suddenly he reaches over the counter and grabs my wrist.

"What are these?!" he demands, pointing at the black jelly bracelets I've been wearing all summer without drawing attention from anyone else.

"Er...they're bracelets...?" I respond with that almost sarcastic, upward inflected question statement voice that I perfected as a teenager.

He kinda tilts his head and gives me the forward-leaning vulture face, still holding my wrist, and he says, "How old are you?"

I'm a little weirded out (no...wait...a lot), so I ask him to repeat; and yes, that is what he asked me.

And I say, "26..."

...like you do

And he just let's go of my wrist and is like, "Oh, I thought you were 16 or 17."

Then he goes and sits down in the lobby. Like he's not the slightest bit psycho. Just a guy who wants a pizza.

The good news about this job is that I get lots of time to drive (which I love), and lots of time to listen to music (which I love love).

Here are my current top 5 favorite songs to listen to while driving (in no particular order):

Bombs Over Baghdad - Outkast
The Black Swan - Story of the Year
Shut Me Up - Mindless Self Indulgence
Far - Coheed and Cambria
LSD = Truth - Lords of Acid

Has working with public always been this weird? I have vague memories of my high school experiences working retail and fast food, but I don't remember it being 10 shades of bizarre every single day.

Does anyone else have some good stories about interacting with the world at large? Please share them with me. I'd like us all to have a customer service pity party.

Do you NaNo?

2010-11-15T11:07:00.000-08:00

For those who are unfamiliar, November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). This is a fun event currently (and annually) sweeping the internet. It is a challenge to write a 175-page novel (50,000 words) by midnight on November 30th. The idea is to just write until you reach the word-count goal, or until your fingers fall off, in hopes of finally being able to call yourself a novelist.

Many people out there have dreams of writing a novel and will probably never get around to it. I was well on track to becoming and staying one of those people when I heard about NaNoWriMo from my roommate. Sure, I've always had the best intentions when it comes to my writing. An idea for the great American novel will come to me in the night all glittering gold and full of promise. And I'll jump on that idea and write like crazy until I get bored...about 10 pages in. Then I'll shut off the computer and make myself a snack, maybe go to the gym, open the mail, and completely forget about the fantastic idea and all my prior enthusiasm.

That's where this challenge comes in. It completely does away with the idea that I need to be excited about what I'm writing in order to write. The rules are just that I plug away until I have 50,000 words. They don't even need to be intelligent words, I just need lots of them.

So I've accepted this challenge, and I'm making it public to keep myself on task.

Here's a synopsis and an excerpt from what I'm working on:

Synopsis:

A few years out of college and still working in a dead-end job, Sarah Moon (26), is aimless and bored. She has yet to figure out that her feelings of loss and abandonment stemming from the death of her father are holding her back. She has done nothing in her life but run away from people and relationships.

Told half from Sarah's perspective and half from that of her mother, Ann, this is the story of Sarah's cross-country journey following a rock band and finding herself. Through Sarah's writing about her travels and Ann's memories of Sarah's shortened childhood, the reader comes to understand how our feelings about life and death color every part of our lives.

Excerpt:

His favorite thing was to scoop up Sarah and toss her into the air like a miniature acrobat. He'd tell her that one day the whole family would run off to the circus together. It was something she'd read in a book and always wanted to do. She didn't understand that when children run away to the circus they are running away from home, away from their families.

Sometimes I imagine them when I'm doing dishes, looking out the back window into the yard. Chuck, with his huge form blocking the autumn sunlight streaming under the chestnut tree, while he swings Sarah around, creating crazy shadows dancing across our kitchen walls.

At the end, this 6' 5" weightlifter who tipped the scales at 225 had shrank down to 160 pounds. He shook constantly and could barely lift a water glass to his lips. I could see in his eyes that he didn't want to live another day, but sadly, he did. It went on that way for the longest time. He fell away completely, he barely noticed when we came to see him.

It was as though he didn't just die, he broke into a million pieces. The hospital became my puzzle box, full of tiny fragments of my husband that would never fit together again. As he sank further into depression, I continued to try to reach for him, though it became clear toward the end that my gestures were meaningless. What do you say to someone who's physical life is everything when they are breathing their last in a plain white room? He told me once that the only thing that would make him happy again would be to pick up me and Sarah and walk right out of the room. Apart from that, there was nothing else.

Dare to Dream

2010-11-04T15:05:00.000-07:00

It's day four of the napping experiment. Like a scene out of Sleeping Beauty's castle, three dogs, a cat, and a girl with long blond hair slumber in dormancy through the day while the loud, waking world spins on outside their walls. Of course, instead of roses or magical fire, my bed is surrounded by dog toys.

Demographic studies from the Pew Research center state that an average of 34% of the adult population in the United States will take a nap today. Oddly, napping is prevalent among the not very affluent (those making under 30k annually) and the wealthy (those making over 100k annually), but not so much among the middle class.

Check out this nifty chart from the Pew Research Center article by Paul Taylor (it's a little pixelated, so click the link if you'd like to read their entire article and see it larger):

The Wikipedia article notes that a "power nap" of anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes is most refreshing because the person wakes up before entering the normal sleep cycle. Waking without completing the sleep cycle can cause the napper to feel groggy and disoriented.

Need more proof? Here's an excerpt from an article on Geek.com about a University of California, Berkeley sleep study:

"The findings came from a study performed by the university in which 39 “healthy, young adults” were divided into two groups. Both groups were given a rigorous learning task at noon which utilized the hippocampus where they performed at comparable levels. The groups were tested again at 6pm, but one group was able to take a 90-minute siesta at 2pm. The group that took a nap showed improvement in their capacity to learn while the non-nap group showed a drop in their learning performance." - Brian Osborne

Judging by the encouraging feedback on my last post, there aren't many who dispute the benefits of rest.

We all know it's good, we just don't make time for it.

Just like...*gasp*...exercise!!! If you'll notice in the graphic above, there is an eerie closeness in the between the percentage of the population who nap (34%) and the percentage of people who exercise (37%).

Here are my napping and exercise stats for the week so far, specially designed to make you cry in shame:

Monday: 1 hour nap / 3.5 mile run
Tuesday: 30 minute nap / 7.5 mile run
Wednesday: 1 hour nap / weights, 30 minutes stair climbing, 3 mile run
Thursday (today): nap TBD / 3 mile run, 0.5 mile swim

I'm not gonna lie, it's hella hard to stop what I'm doing and take a nap in the middle of the day. Pretty close to how hard it is to get my butt off the couch and throw on my gym clothes.

So far it seems to be having a positive effect. When I wake up from a nap it's like I'm starting fresh and it seems easier to organize my thoughts and get going on a task. The feeling is like the cache in my brain has been cleared, and now I'm ready to take in and categorize new things. I almost feel like I've added extra days to the week.

I think napping is one of those things where you just need to make an honest assessment of whether or not your body needs it, and if it does, do it.

To help you on your way, I'm going to administer a large dose of sleeping kittens from The Daily Kitten:

There now, don't you feel better?

You are Getting Sleepy

2010-11-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

Over the years, I've seen a lot of evidence that taking a mid-day nap helps productivity and brain function. This is evidence that I categorically ignore because it's just not normal for folks in the busy-busy-run-run United States to take naps, even though many other countries see napping as a standard occurrence and not at all a sign of laziness.

I resist. I refuse.

I stomp around like a two-year-old yelling "I'm not tired!" up until the moment that I pass out from exhaustion.

Napping and I have a long history of not getting along.

My Mom never made me nap when I was little. In fact, she discouraged me from sleeping during the day because she wanted me to go to bed at 8 and sleep through the night so that she could sleep too.

When the other children had to go inside for nap-time, I would stay out and climb trees or run laps around our house (seriously). Such was my energy level at the age of 5.

I was the only child in my kindergarten class who refused to nap.

While the other students lay their towels out on the floor and took a snooze, I would sit bolt upright with my kitty cat beach towel around my shoulders like a cape of resolve.

That's right Ms. Browne, naps are stupid, and I don't need one.

As I write this, my standard mid-afternoon tension headache is just beginning to settle along my temples and at the back of my neck. It's something that I normally ignore, or quick-fix by chugging a cup of coffee, then get on with my day.

Today is different.

It's sleepy-time, Spokane.

Every day this week, I am going to take a nap, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I know at least two people, one of whom being the incomparable Liz Blodgett, who nap regularly and are scary productive in spite of (or because of?) the time off to rest.

Special thanks to Erin for pointing out the napping conundrum to me yesterday. We all know it's good for you, but no one wants to say "I need a nap" even knowing that they'll regain that 20 minutes and more upon waking.

I will post some links and quotes about the benefits of napping later in the week, but right now, I'm off to bed.

New Paint on Old Surfaces

2010-10-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know, my family lives in a house that was built over 100 years ago. In 1905, someone stopped in what was probably an empty field with no buildings within throwing distance and said, "Yep, this is the spot."

A lot has changed in 100 years. Families have come and gone from this house. These walls have seen workers rights movements, woman's rights movements, and civil rights movements. There is new paint, new furniture, and new faces.

A lot has changed.

What hasn't changed is the basic structure. It's still wood and stone, built on a solid foundation.

When I think about social progress, this is how I see it, we are solid. An end to racial and gender inequality has not brought our society crashing down around our ears. We can move forward and change without losing our values, our basic structure.

Today I attended a counter protest outside the Gonzaga University campus. Seeing the messages of hatred on the signs of the Westboro Baptist Church protesters made me think about the times I've been wrong about people I didn't know.

How many times have I looked at a stranger and made judgments about their lifestyle or their character? How many times have I been wrong?

I may never know the answer to that question, because I won't have the chance to ask. I can't go back and find out the truth. What I can do is change my point of view.

It's so easy to hate. It's so easy to push someone aside and say they're worthless, evil, or wrong. What's not easy is to really get to know them, then say those things.

I don't know anyone from the Westboro Baptist Church, and they don't know me, it would be easy for me to say that they are evil people, but I won't. I will say that I think they are misguided, and I hope that one day each of them will come to know a gay person or a soldier, or maybe even someone who is both, and realize that they are not so different from any other American.

One of the many messages of the WBC.
Also popular: "Thank God for IEDs" and "God Hates Fags"

Most of the time I'm a little too serious about human rights...if you believe that's possible. I was reminded by a friend today that it doesn't all need to be furrowed brows and clenched fists.

Here's a short video I put together of Jason dancing in a gorilla suit at the WBC counter protest, I hope it brightens your day:

I think I started this post talking about how the house has changed before I was sidetracked by the big picture. Funny how that happens.

Our bathroom has undergone a minor transformation that makes a big difference. I've painted out the yellow in favor of a bright white that makes the room look a little bigger and enhances the natural light.

Here are a few shots of the old color:

Old, light yellow bathroom color

Mellow Yellow

And here's the update to a cleaner look:

Shiny "new" bathroom

So there you have it. Everything old is new again.

Time marches on, the world changes, and we change with it, but our structure remains.

Need costume ideas? May I suggest "networking vampire"?

2010-10-14T16:32:00.001-07:00

Being funemployed has got me thinking a lot about meeting new people, not just meeting people for friendship, although that's nice, but "networking" as those crazy kids are calling it these days.

Networking has never been my thing, not least of all because I'm almost entirely face-blind. I have no trouble remembering names or details about the people I meet, I can just never figure out if this brown haired guy at the bus stop is the same brown haired guy from the gym about whom I know those things.

At the point in the conversation where I'm supposed to say, "Oh, right! Because you're a cliff diving concert pianist, it makes perfect sense," instead I say, "mmmm," and nod because I'm not really sure if that was you.

I'm the type of person who could name your grandmother's childhood goldfish, but probably couldn't find you in an elevator.

Actually, it would be very helpful for me if everyone I know or semi-know would wear a bright red top hat with their name on it. That way, when I saw you coming toward me on the street, I would instantly know that I'm supposed to recognize you, and your name would help me remember why. Maybe you could make me some flash cards to jog my memory. That would be helpful.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't be the end to my networking problems. You see, the main problem I have with networking is the idea that introducing yourself to someone makes them obligated to help you.

For example, I could walk up to you at a restaurant and say, "Hi, I'm so-and-so," and tell you a bit about myself and ask about you...and now I know you, and now I can tell other people I know you, and I can call on you when I need something.

Is that what you wanted? It doesn't matter.

Your new contact is like a vampire. You've said they can come into your house and now it's all over. By merely reaching out and giving a firm handshake, you've agreed to make special allowances for your new friend. Pretty soon you'll be flapping your tiny little bat wings beneath the full moon when you'd much rather be home on your couch watching "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."

Even if you already know the person, it still sucks (ha! vampire joke) when they ask you to help them if you weren't planning to already.

I'm curious about the point where a friend starts to become a nuisance, or an acquaintance oversteps their bounds with their requests for a boost.

Has anyone out there ever been in a situation where someone asked too much of you and used your friendship as an excuse to suck you dry?

How about the other way around? Have you ever befriended someone for the purpose of getting ahead?

it gets better

2010-10-07T08:50:00.000-07:00

On September 23rd, 2010, Dan Savage wrote in the Seattle Stranger about the suicide of a bullied gay teenager.

Savage writes:

"Billy Lucas was just 15 when he hanged himself in a barn on his grandmother's property. He reportedly endured intense bullying at the hands of his classmates—classmates who called him a fag and told him to kill himself. His mother found his body." - Dan Savage, Seattle Stranger

Savage launched a YouTube channel and a Facebook page for people to connect with each other on this issue, calling the effort the "'It Gets Better' Project." In less than a month, the channel has gone from one video to thousands. Their channel has over 1 million views and the outpouring of support is incredible.

I'm not in the business of telling anyone what to think, but when I read about someone taking their own life rather than endure daily torture, I have to stand up and say, "What are we doing?"

Why are we telling our children that it's acceptable or even encouraged to tell another human being that they deserve to die for being different?

I have to believe from what I've read, heard and feel in my heart that the Christian message is not one of violence and hatred. I can't even wrap my head around why anyone would care more about who their neighbor chooses to love than they care about worldwide hunger, genocide, rape, human trafficking or domestic violence.

Seeing the videos and reading the supportive comments from viewers has made the knot in my stomach release a tiny bit.

But here's the thing: It doesn't always get better.

Gay children and teenagers become gay adults who are equally ostracized.

Couples are told that they are not able to raise children, even though a single parent with no job and a crack addition is deemed perfectly fit. According to a report issued by the National Marriage Project at Rutgers University, a paltry 63% of children in the United States grow up with both biological parents - the lowest figure in the Western world.

Seems like we could make that better.

Gay couples are told that they devalue the institution of marriage, when any drunken pop star with a few hours of free time can have an a marriage and an annulment just for kicks.

Seems like we could make that better too.

Soldiers in our military are told that they can't serve if they are openly gay. They can't tell anyone because it could mean loss of job and rank, or something much worse like the torture our teenagers experience. This means that they go into battle, to get shot and killed, alongside people who they can't trust.

Could it be better? Yeah, I think so.

Again, I'm not telling anyone what to think, but I would like to see a world where our actions reflect a desire for everyone to be loved and treated as equals.

Let's make sure it actually gets better.

Odd Jobs

2010-10-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

9S5B4DFXX73G

When you work for yourself, you are never done working, but nothing ever gets done.

With the exception of the days I've spent immobilized on the living room floor with my messed up foot, I've done little sitting still for the past two months. It's all hard running without moving forward, like sprinting on a treadmill and expecting to end up somewhere new.

Building a solid clientele for a graphic design business is like herding cats. Everyone has heard about the benefits of having good marketing materials and a website, and, oh yes, they definitely want to get that done, but, oh wait, no, don't come any closer...feed me...let me outside...no, inside...no, outside...

In this strange transition period into being the master of my own destiny, I've been fostering a tiny, pointy, underwater-mine-like, back-of-the-mind freak out about not having a guaranteed income (mortgage payments will do that to you), so I began to peruse Craigslist for a part-time gig.

Worry is like a playful Naval mine

Over the past few weeks, I've sent my resume to every type of business or individual you could think of: barista stands, auto shops, sign makers, typesetters, sandwich makers...really anything, anything at all. And you know what? Nada. Not a single successful lead. You have failed me, internet.

So I turned to the people I know for realsies and managed to squeak myself in as a weekend driver for the Pizza Pipeline. It's not much, but it turns out the job is pretty fun, and the outfit makes me look even more elfish than usual:

Will enchant for +20 spirit with large 3-topping pizza

Among the other things that have been keeping me busy are craft fairs and art shows.

The Ferris Craft Fair is coming up in two weeks, and I'm sending a selection of my jewelry and magnets with a friend to the barter faire at Tonasket.

My very first solo art show opened last Friday at the Brooklyn Deli downtown on Monroe. It will up until October 31st.

I also had a sculptural piece in the Kinetic show at the now defunct Lorinda Knight Gallery.

"Potential Versus Actual" at the Kinetic show.
This piece is intended to be rearranged by each new viewer so that it is constantly representing the movement from a potential event to an actual event. There is no correct way to arrange the blocks. Even when they are put together as the artist intended, they are still not "right."

Cindy arranging the blocks at Kinetic

"Upstream" at the Brooklyn Deli

A wall of paintings at the Brooklyn Deli

Overall, this self employment thing is weird. Sometimes I am making good money and I feel confident, other times there is nothing and that pointy sea mine comes floating toward me again. But feast or famine is the life I've chosen and I'll make it work.

The Weeks Without - Part 4: a change in pace

2010-09-27T10:13:00.000-07:00

If you've been following my blog for the past month, you know that I've been picking one thing to give up each week. The purpose of this experiment is to force myself to pay attention to how I live my life, and find out where I can make changes for the better.

Week one was the week without bread, week two I made no purchases, week three I attempted to give up all caffeine, and this week I had intended to not throw anything away.

So far, it's been a real eye-opener. My week without bread caused a significant change in my mood, energy level, and my pants size. Going a week without buying anything gave me a new appreciation for the things I already have and made me realize that I sometimes use purchases to "reward" myself even though I forget that I've bought something within a few hours. Special Starbucks "coffee treat" quickly becomes "coffee routine" becomes "coffee requirement." Quitting caffeine for week three was an epic failure of headaches and irritation but I certainly learned something: Not worth it!

I still plan to go ahead with the trash experiment, but it may need to be postponed for three to six weeks because...well...

...this:

"This" is my sprained or possibly broken foot.

Welcome to the weeks without walking.

Greg and I were longboarding on Friday, trying to get better at sliding, and I had a little accident.

Not a cute "little accident" like a puppy, unfortunately.

I've been trying for a couple weeks to learn how to do a pendulum slide since I've gotten pretty good at shutdown slides and now I want to be able to speed check instead of foot braking on a fast hill. I made the mistake of wearing unsupportive shoes and ended up rolling my foot under the board then coming down on the board with my full body weight and crushing the foot sideways.

The foot did not like that. Not at all.

Extra-awesome news to add to the foot fun is that this weekend was the Maryhill Freeride where I was supposed to spend two wonderful days zooming past wheat and windmills in scenic Goldendale, WA.

We still made the drive, an eight hour round trip journey through central Washington. It was a blast to see some of the girls from the Bomber Betties ride Maryhill for the first time, but it was a little hard to keep my jealousy in check. I guess that just means I'll be that much more excited for the next Freeride.

Two riders on Maryhill

Riann, Erin and Barbara watching the action

Riann

Barbara

Summer of Awesome - A Retrospective

2010-09-23T15:26:00.000-07:00

"More and more as I delve deeper into the "adult" world, I find myself a different kind of tired. An aching tired that comes with stress and worry and the pressure to maintain order among people and things that have no desire to be organized.

I'm not saying that I've had a bad time the past few years; far from it. But I've moved away from the carefree good times of childhood and focused too hard on forcing others to have a good time. This life is one big decision, I will decide what to do with it and how I feel about it.

This summer is for me."

Selina, April 28, 2010

As that familiar Fall chill creeps back into my fingertips and slips through door and window cracks to seize my toes, I look back on a Summer that was mine.

26th Birthday - Ever Neverland

Trip to NYC - Coney Island

The Bomber Betties Womens Longboarding Club - Established May, 2010

Performing in Riverfront Park with Tony

Biking at Riverside State Park

Cindy's ninja rings at the Garland Street Fair

My first triathlon - Wunder Woman at Medical Lake

Camping at Lake Gillette

Camping at Lake Gillette

Rings & Things' new Graphic Designer taking over my old cube

Liz's going away party - 80's Prom

I'm originally from the 80's, you know

The Palouse in mid-Summer

Making slide gloves with the Bomber Betties

Green Bluff - Devon buying fresh corn on the cob and apples for the week without bread

Green Bluff - short people need short horses

The Spokane Interstate Fair

Looking back through the photos from the past few months, I can honestly say that I don't feel like I missed out on anything this Summer. I took stock of what I was doing with my life and reset my priorities.

I've discovered that everything is a choice, no matter how much it seems like it's outside of our control. These days, I'm devoting more time to my art and spending more quality moments with my friends and family. This means that finances are tight and things may need to change to reflect that, but the benefits outweigh the risks.

The older I get, the less I care about money or status. Summer coming to a close, the weather cooling off and the kids heading back to school reminds me that growing up is a state of mind.

We get to a certain age and we stop being fascinated by the world. We stop exploring. We focus on getting by and making a good life for our families (nothing wrong with that), but we push so hard to make a good life that we often forget to spend some time enjoying it.

There's no reason to stop learning and discovering. My actions are my own and I choose not to stay still and accept a mundane existence.

This is my adventure.

The Weeks Without - Part 3: No drinks but water, checking in

2010-09-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

Failure Failure Failure. No caffeine = horrible idea.

The death headache that began around noon on day 1 didn't show any signs of backing off. It was the kind that starts out having a booming bass techno rave behind your eyes, then, just for fun, smacks you in the back of the head with a hammer at random. Add to that the nausea, muscle aches, fatigue, inability to concentrate and general bite-your-head-off attitude that I'd acquired, and I'm sure you can imagine that I was a joy to be around. Much like a cheery little ray of sunshine that travels through a magnifying glass and lights the forest on fire.

Anyone else out there tried to quit caffeine? I talked to a few people about my journey this week and the response I got was an overwhelming, "Why would you try to do that? Are you crazy?!"

The answer is yes. That was a bad idea.

Symptoms of withdrawal from caffeine (officially classified as a psychoactive stimulant drug along with amphetamine and antidepressants among others, btw) are not so weirdly similar to symptoms of "hard" drug withdrawal like heroin or cocaine. Depression, anxiety, paranoia, nausea, fatigue and muscle aches are some of the shared symptoms of withdrawal from both caffeine and heroin.

Check out these eye-opening statements from the interwebs:

"Kuhar explained that caffeine blocks receptors in the brain that can dilate blood vessels causing headaches. "Withdrawal symptoms can start from 12 to 20 hours after your last cup of coffee and peak about two days later and can last about as long as a week," Kuhar added.

It is not just coffee that can lead to caffeine withdrawal. While a 6-ounce cup of brewed coffee contains about 100 milligrams of caffeine, tea and cola have about 40 milligrams each, a bar of milk chocolate has about 10 milligrams and hot chocolate has about 7 milligrams." - CNN Health

"...caffeine is the most widely used behaviorally active drug in the world...Average daily intake of caffeine among caffeine consumers in the United States is about 280 milligrams, or about one to two mugs of coffee or three to five bottles of soft drink..." HopkinsMedicine.org

A close friend recently shared with me that he felt it was harder to quit caffeine and cigarettes than it was to quit methamphetamine and cocaine. That's just one person's experience, but it's interesting to consider what's different about quitting something that is socially acceptable, readily accessible, and so ingrained in our daily lives. Wake up, drink coffee. Eat lunch, drink soda. Have dinner, drink tea. Relax before bed, drink hot cocoa.

Caffeine is also contained in many things we wouldn't think of (like yogurt and Excedrin), so even if you think you haven't had any, it's possible that you are an unwitting consumer.

Observations during a double-blind caffeine withdrawal study showed that although some subjects experienced mild symptoms or no symptoms at all, a few had complete break downs of daily function including missed work, errors at work and inability to care for children.

Honestly, I don't even want to think about caring for children without having had a cup of coffee or two.

You may be interested to know that the only reason I'm not screaming and crying while sitting in my sunny spot on the couch, staring at my glowing computer screen, while my neighbor mows their lawn with the loudest lawnmower ever, is because I've had two cups of coffee this morning.

I find myself sitting up straight and tall, researching effectively, confident about the day ahead, a perfect example of a functioning addict.

So weigh in on this for me. Who out there is addicted to caffeine? Is it a problem or is it a solution? Do we live in a society where this sort of pick-me-up is necessary?

Should we be worried when we haven't heard much from the scientific community about negative side effects of caffeine addiction?

Tell me what you think.

The Weeks Without - Part 3: No drinks but water

2010-09-20T13:19:00.000-07:00

No coffee, tea, or soda for the entire week.

I briefly thought about lying and saying I was doing this but not actually doing it. The throbbing pain at the back of my head is proof that I went through with the plan.

This morning I awoke and stumbled into my kitchen on a lurching path toward the coffeemaker as per usual. Then I drifted slightly to one side and ended up at the sink instead, where I poured myself a glass of water and emitted a cry of frustration somewhere in between an angry t-rex and a scared pig.

I feel a bit like both.

If you have ever owned a chihuahua, or know someone who does, you know that they NEVER. SHUT. UP. Somehow, this had completely escaped my notice until today. Normally, my dogs bark and I pop my head up from behind the computer and yell something encouraging like, "Nice job guys!" It's not because I like to hear barking, it's because I'm equally excited about distant noises and the six cups of coffee I've consumed have me shaking harder than tiny, two-pound Lola in a snowstorm. I'm READY!

Bark Bark --- Shake Shake

My dogs are LOUD. These drivers SUCK. That sun is BRIGHT. It's gonna be a LONG week.

The Weeks Without - Part 2: Purchasing Freeze, checking in

2010-09-19T08:59:00.000-07:00

This week has been a rough one.

None of my friends are encouraging me to spend. Not a single person has laughed or chided me when I've said I'm not spending money this week. When I say, "I can't go out," they say, "that's cool, let's stay in," or "let's find something free to do."

Do you realize what this means?!

It's my fault

Here I am, surrounded by wonderful, supportive people who don't give a flying frick if I can pick up the tab, and I've been completely oblivious.

The problem with not spending any money for one week is that it makes you realize that you shouldn't have been spending money in the first place, at all, for any weeks.

Instead of running to the store every five seconds for things I thought we needed, I actually took the time to look for the things we already have, and to see if we had something that could act as a substitute.

For example, I was making lasagna and we were out of the ground soy stuff I normally use. Instead of falling to the floor in a crying heap, I looked in the fridge and found some soy "sausage" links to chop up. Turns out, fakey-fake sausage lasagna is delicious.

Yesterday as we were leaving the gym, I was hit with the almost overwhelming urge to walk across the parking lot and "treat" myself to a frappucino at Starbucks. You know...for being so good about not buying things...

Why is that? Why is that a treat at all? What's so special about not-enough-coffee blended with too-much-ice by a stranger?

Mmmmmm...too-much-ice...my favorite...?

Not only is that a silly thing for a "treat," it's a hollow reward for keeping my paws off the debit card. Here is something that tastes good but not great, lasts about 15 minutes, isn't made for sharing, creates trash, and has no positive effects after the initial buyers-high.

So instead we went home, reheated some awesome lasagna, and all sat together in the living room hanging out and taking turns playing Resident Evil (that's a heartwarming, family scene if I ever saw one).

Aside from the motion sickness that came on after watching Greg run around on a super-spin-spin-camera zombie killing spree, I felt great.

I didn't feel like I needed anything else. To be honest, by the time we had turned the corner off 57th to head down the hill from the gym, I had already completely forgotten about wanting a crappy coffee.

I wanted something that actually matters: good times with my friends.

The Weeks Without - Part 2: Purchasing Freeze

2010-09-13T08:40:00.000-07:00

Last weeks' bread fast has come to an end. I've learned a lot about how I eat, when, and why. Turns out, I'm more likely to crave bready things when I'm tired or slightly sad. I desperately want pasta when I feel like I need an excuse to crash on the couch and do nothing. Even when I eat bread for the appropriate reasons, I eat waaaaaaaay too much, just because it's so easy to do.

Eating fruit is hard. I can't just push it into my mouth and gulp it down and be done with it. It must be chewed. It demands to be peeled, or sliced, or pitted. Fruit likes to make itself difficult.

I'll be happy to reintroduce bread to my life this week, but it won't be making a full on, Madonna-like comeback.

Indeed, bread is back, but it's back like visiting relatives.

Maybe it will roll though town once in a great while, and maybe I'll go see it and have a great time, then I'll laugh about how we should get together more often, but I won't really mean it.

Bread makes me exhausted in the afternoon, sluggish, hot when I'm trying to sleep, and um...fat.

Well, not really fat, but puffy. Puffy like a puff pastry

After seven days of no bread, here are my measurements compared to last week:

neck: 12" ------> 12"
bicep: 11" ------> 11"
bust: 36" -------> 35.5"
waist: 30" ------> 28"
hips: 37" --------> 35"
thigh: 22" ------> 22"
calf: 15" --------> 15"

Notice that the parts of my body that have very little fat made no changes in measurement. That's good news for me because it means I haven't lost any muscle. My weight has gone from 140 at the start of this experiment to 138.5, not a huge drop, probably just water weight.

The running regiment hasn't suffered at all from the reduction in flour. I'm still trudging along at 8 minute miles for my one hour runs, and averaging 9:30's for my two hour training festival of fun.

I even managed to make it through the Spokane Interstate Fair without feeling sugar-sick or being mistaken for a bovine. Don't worry though, I spent plenty of time chewing, I wasn't out of place. Instead of my typical Fair food favorites like fry bread, onion petals, pizza, mini doughnuts and gyros, I enjoyed a corn on the cob and a caramel apple. Believe it or not, that's still a vegetable and a fruit, even when coated in butter and sugar. Better still, I feel completely satisfied with my Fair experience without also feeling completely regretful.

Check out this list of calorie content in common Fair foods from an article by John Brewer about the Minnesota State Fair

Caramel covered apple (1 order): 347 calories

Cheese curds (1 order): 759

Corn on the cob with butter (1 cob): 179

Cotton candy (1 bag): 323

Flowering onion with ranch dressing: 980

Funnel cake/ Elephant ear (1 each): 452

Mini donuts (1 bag): 622

Pronto pup (1 each): 350

Taffy (30 piece box): 557

Soooooo, for those who are like me and look at numbers like they are beautiful poofy clouds in the distance...so pretty, but not able to be touched...let me break this down:

Selina's regular Fair Fare: 2,054 calories for a funnel cake, doughnuts, and fried onions

Selina's reasonable Fair Fare: 526 calories for corn on the cob and a caramel apple

A savings of 1,528 calories.

To recap: still The Fair, still fun, still smelly like horse poopy...minus the 1/2 pound weight gain.

Please don't try to pet me, I will think your fingers are carrots!

Tiny horse!!!!!

Mutton Bustin' - children dressed as tiny linebackers clinging to stampeding sheep

Sick individuals who enjoy watching children getting thrown into the dirt by sheep

Desi rockin' the fried potato on a stick

Corn on the Cob...not nearly as terrifying as I've made it look

Hi Greg

This week the hammer is coming down. Hell and wallets are freezing over. The bank of Selina is shutting down. Cliches are coming down like mana from heaven.

A big part of this weeks' "without" will be determining where my money goes, if I really buy things because I need them, and if my spending habits are affected by the company I keep.

I'm hoping to come out the other side of this seven days with my new, smaller waist intact (no purchases means no restaurant eating), a budget for the remainder of the year, and a new appreciation for the things I already own.

Wish me luck and dollars.

The Weeks Without - Part 1: Bread, checking in

2010-09-08T15:15:00.000-07:00

Today is day 3 of the week without bread. So far, so good. I haven't gone on a bread truck hijacking spree or held up a Cinnabon. With a little luck, I shall remain a law-abiding citizen at least until I pass the mini doughnut guy in Riverfront Park. Watch your back, doughnut guy.

There has been an adjustment period, a little more thinking than normal when I wander into the kitchen, but I think I can get into the groove before the week is up.

Erin came down to the basement at 9 Monday morning and asked if I wanted to go to the gym. And of course, I said, "Yeah!" with my excited face on. I wanted to go for a run, a loooooong run, then I remembered I hadn't eaten anything yet (except coffee, which is not a food, no matter how much I think so). So I went upstairs to make myself some peanut butter toast...

...and

...I

...crap

Luckily, we had some apples sitting next to the bread in the fridge, so I just let my hand drift slightly to the left and picked up one of those instead. Apples slices with peanut butter on them are the shiznit. I never would have known.

It's strange to sit through a meal and not be constantly reaching for something in the center of the table. It's extra-weird to feel like making a sandwich then preparing and eating sandwich innards instead. But the craziest extra-extra-weirdest thing is that...it's not really a problem. My body isn't screaming "abuse" and shutting down without flour and yeast. I don't feel tired or hungry. I'm not a flaming ball of energy either, but feeling like that is a rarity reserved for I-just-had-eight-cups-of-coffee days.

Usually I feel like taking a nap in the afternoon. An actual nap is something that rarely happens, but I almost always wish I had the time to doze off for at least 30 minutes around 3pm. All three days of this bread-free week, I have sailed through the afternoon with the same amount of energy I typically have the rest of the day.

Check out a side-by-side color comparison of what I ate the day of my bread ephiphany verses day 1 of this week:

Bad Bad Beige Day

Beige Day breaks down like this: Coffee with soy milk, bagel, pita and crackers with hummus, tortilla chips, garlic bread, pita (yet again), cheese raviolli.

Variety Day started with the serendipitous peanut butter apples for breakfast, followed by veggie sausage salad for lunch, yogurt, stir fry, corn on the cob, and baked apples with brown sugar topping.

Variety Day!

Bread may not be invited back, at least not to every meal.

The Weeks Without - Part 1: Bread

2010-09-06T08:50:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking about what it would be like to not have the things that make life so comfortable. Not just because I don't have a steady job, but maybe that's part of it, this funemployment has certainly given me more time to read up on world news and get a new perspective. But it's not just that. Here we are at Labor Day, the end of Summer is imminent, hanging over us like the wintery clouds that are currently suspended outside my window.

Seasons are changing but I am staying the same. And you know how much I hate that. There's nothing that gets to me more than realizing I've dropped into a routine; waking, living and sleeping again the same way, every day. Effectively going through the motions, allowing time to whip past me without even reaching for it.

While it's true that time flies when you're having fun, it's also true that we become numb to the passing of time when we are fully embedded in our day-to-day.

On Labor Day, the day that we celebrate the fact that the CLU (Central Labor Union) of NY didn't want to continue punching in and out without thought, I'd like to shake things up. Instead of turning my gaze outward and lamenting the political choices of foreign leaders, or the destructive nature of nature, or how nice it would be to lay on a beach somewhere instead of mowing my lawn, I'm going to spend 5 weeks truly thinking about what I, personally, am doing. Not on a grand scale, not, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" more like, "Where do you see yourself in three minutes."

Hopefully, in this process, I will cut out some of the excesses in my daily life and get closer to my real self, without the buffer I create with food, chemicals and objects.

Each week for the next four weeks, I will remove something or change something that has become ingrained in my existence. Essentially exploding the small parts of my life from the inside.

Week 1: I will consume no bread
Week 2: I will buy nothing
Week 3: I will drink nothing but water
Week 4: I will not throw anything away

So here goes week 1.

What will happen if I don't eat bread for seven days? Will I transcend this world and become something greater than myself? Will I just get snappy and irritable? Perhaps I'll waste away to nothing, or become strong like the spinach-pushing Popeye. Will I get an anchor tattoo?

Let's find out!

As of 9pm on Sunday, 9/5/2010, here are my measurements (weight will be added as soon as I'm near a scale):

neck: 12"
bicep: 11"
bust: 36"
waist: 30"
hips: 37"
thigh: 22"
calf: 15"

No. Bread.

This is no small feat, I eat some form of bread or starchy goodness at every meal. Crackers, pita, pizza, tortillas, bread sticks and OMG CHIPS!!!! These things go with Selina like Selina goes with running. This weeks' "without" landed on my consciousness and started lightly tapping on my brain when I was sitting at the 2-7 on the South Hill stuffing my face with garlic bread and raviolli. I ate four slices of bread, then I reached over and snatched a pita bread triangle from Greg's plate. Prior to the arrival of the entree, I had even considered ordering an appetizer: french bread topped with garlic and gorgonzola cheese(!!!). As I munched on this carbohydrate-sugar-fest, I glanced around the table and noticed that there was nothing green. In fact, everything I had eaten for the entire day had been white or slightly beige.

I hate beige.

What I hate even more than beige is that although I consider myself a healthy person, I had managed to entirely dodge nutrients for a day without a second thought. How many other times have I done this? There's really no way to say. At this point I could just shrug my shoulders and say, "Whatev," but that's not me.

Bread, I quit you!

go go gadget shoe

2010-08-31T09:29:00.000-07:00

There is a tiny mastermind holding me hostage. He doesn't have a gun or any sort of weapon. He hasn't made explicit threats or demands, but still, he has a hold on me. Oh yes, he has the power.

He's got a friend who looks similar but is a bit larger; clearly the muscle. One has my hands and the other has my right foot. They work together, they seem to communicate without speaking at all, and they say things about me.

I worry about the things they say.

You'd think I'd be able to overpower them since they're so small and everything...

Yep, that's a Nike Running Monitor with my ipod Nano. Two small items that plug into the ipod and attach to a shoe.

Like the Eagles singing Hotel California, I have become a prisoner of my own device.

For those who are unfamiliar with the Nike Running Monitor and its App for Facebook, the function is simple: tiny devices keep track of your runs, then proclaim your awesomeness to the internet, which prompts distant friends and relatives to praise you.

Thanks guys!

I got the tiny chip for my shoe and the widget that plugs into the ipod earlier this year. Erin had one, and that's just not fair. My brain said, "OMFG, that's so cool!" and I ran right out and threw all my dollars at a Best Buy employee to get my own.

Each time I run I happily click though the options -->New Workout -->Basic -->Playlist -->Go!

Clicky Clicky Clicky GO!

Very satisfying.

I trot along clutching my ipod (wrapped safely in its neoprene Bat Suit should I accidentally throw it or sweat on it). I obsessively shift it from one hand to the other, using each pass as an opportunity to look down at the tiny orange screen and verify that it still knows I'm running.

I'm such a badass. I smile and nod to myself, maybe I laugh a little, people at the gym think the quiet girl has finally lost it.

Then, one day, disaster.

My running monitor wouldn't load. There would be no way to record my time, distance and calories burned on my ipod Nano. No way.

OMG! What happens now?! My head was spinning, my thoughts rapid and jumbled...I can't...I can't...what?...where is?...hello?...NO...hello?...I can't...I can't run!

Yeah, that's right, I can't run. There's no way. It's silly to even think that I could. There would be nowhere to put my hands. No record of what I've done. I'd probably have to watch Judge Judy or Fox News on the gym televisions instead of thinking about what I'm doing. Yeah. That would suck. Better just go home.

Seriously? ... I can't run? I can't swing my arms and lift my feet unless the ipod is registering my steps? Hold on...doesn't this treadmill have a screen that tells me how far and fast I'm going?

Moron.

How in the world did I take running, the most natural human action next to smiling, and turn it into something that requires an equipment arsenal?

In fact, I can run without the bells and whistles. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I've done it before. I run the same way I always do: with my back straight and my arms comically low, for an obscenely long time, grinning like an idiot. A parody of a perpetual motion running robot.

I'll still use the running monitor after I fix it because I enjoy its features. But from now on, I'll take extra care not to get so caught up in it that I forget why I run in the first place. Fitness, a sense of accomplishment, and the pure joy of moving through the world by my own power.

Now I'm left to wonder what else I've added 10 extra steps to. And what I can do to simplify. There must be at least a few other things that I've forgotten how to do the real way.

A couple weeks ago, we were sitting outside after the sun had gone down and Greg told me it was 93 degrees. It had been a hot day but had cooled considerably. The air felt like it was about 75, with a light breeze.

"I don't think it's 93, Hon. I think it might have been earlier, but not anymore," I said.

"Oh, no," he replied earnestly, "it's definitely 93. It says so right here." He turned the screen of his HTC Hero phone toward me and pointed at the temperature icon.

I waved my hand around in the air, testing the temperature, unable to understand how it could still be 93 degrees. Greg made a face and looked at the screen himself, mumbling something about it not feeling that hot, but it had to be right.

Then...aha! He pushed "refresh" and the temperature gauge updated: 78 degrees.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my boots. My Mac says it's raining.

Goodbye July

2010-08-03T17:00:00.000-07:00

Five years ago I went camping with my boyfriend Greg. We headed up to Mount Spokane on a scorching day in early July with little more than a tent, a cooler full of drinks, and our three dogs. We had a great day running through the woods, getting lost, climbing on the empty ski lifts, playing catch, and lying on a picnic table under a billion stars that are normally blocked out by city lights.

Late that night, the temperature dropped to below freezing on the mountain, and as we huddled together, shivering with our dogs under the single blanket we'd brought, I thought about how ill prepared we were to be away from the comforts we knew at home.

The next day, I began my career as a Graphic Designer with Rings & Things Wholesale. July 7th, 2005, 21-years-old.

Five years later I went camping again. The first serious camping trip I've taken since that weekend on Mount Spokane. This time I brought a stove, a lantern, extra blankets, jugs of drinking water, a tarp, an axe, fire starters, and countless other things. Despite an epic thunderstorm and downpour, this trip was much smoother than the time before.

This time, I return from camping to tackle a new career, in business for myself. I'll be mostly contracting with Community-Minded Enterprises, doing non-profit work; and also taking on more freelance projects. I'll be my own boss.

A lot has changed in five years.

I'm now more likely to be found outdoors than in. More likely to be leading a group than following placidly behind. More likely to speak my mind and to know what will happen when I do.

I've always been a compulsive list-maker, but now I can tell the difference between wants and necessities. As in: I 'want' to bring my giant inflatable alligator to the lake, I 'need' to bring water. Fortunately, I am a big-girl-pants-wearing adult and I can decide to bring both.

There is a list. There is a plan. There is balance.

I tell it like it is, but not with the intent to hurt others. I get far more sun than a pale person should, but I'm always vigilant about applying and reapplying the SPF 50. I do what makes me happy but also what makes others happy, because we're only truly happy when we're happy together.

Here's what's been making me happy recently:

Bomber Betties
The women's longboarding club is taking off in a big way. When I started this group, I had small hopes of helping a few friends learn a new sport and maybe teaching a few others about something I love. Fast forward three months and here is an enthusiastic group of women who are learning new skills, bringing others, and getting seriously involved in the longboarding community. We have our very own group t-shirts (designed by Erin Buehler) and we've been written about in The Inlander.

Here's our t-shirt designed by Erin:
Click here to read the Inlander article by Blair Tellers

New Bike!
When I bought my road bike in the Spring, I teetered around in the parking lot behind Spoke n' Sport and nearly crashed into a wall yelling, "I'm a skateboarder, dammit!"

My previous two-wheeled ride was a small mountain bike that I bought at Wal-Mart 10 years ago for $60. It was the first purchase I made with my paycheck from JcPenney, one step up from my turquoise and orange Malibu Cruiser with the purple streamers.

Now I have a road bike, and the biking chutzpah to do an 8 mile ride, then devour three entire pizzas at The Flying Goat.

Serious, delicious chutzpah.

Swimming in Lakes
I've always been afraid of deep, open water. This is not a serious problem for my day-to-day life.

No one ever says, "Hey Selina, can you take this folder over to Loss Prevention? They are at the bottom of the shark tank."

However, it became a problem when I decided to take up a triathlon as my next big challenge. Believe it or not, they require a bit of swimming before the bike and run, it's not a choose-your-own-adventure-style thing.

So it was that I left the safety of the Oz Fitness pool and inhaled billions of lake dwelling microorganisms, using them to wash down the panic that rose in my throat each time a strand of kelp wound it's slimy hands of death around my ankles.

Then I ate an apple. And decided it wasn't so bad.

Triathlon Training
At this point the Wunder Woman Triathlon in Medical Lake is less than two weeks away and I feel completely safe throwing out reckless comments like: "I won't die during that," and "It's possible that I won't throw up at the finish line."

I attribute my hubris to my personal trainer, Darrin. I signed up to work with him at Oz fitness in May, and he helped me find the weak points in my exercise program. In the process, I whittled down to a highly efficient, 10% body fat and finally got my 5K time into a range that brings more than age-group medals.

For the first time ever, I brought home a first place finisher medal. Not first place in my age-group, but first place for women overall.

Camping
On the way to the Colville National Forest, we ended up overshooting the turn and driving all the way up to Kettle Falls. We were lost, but I didn't feel apprehensive. I don't worry any more because I know I can handle it. I know that there are worse things than adding 30 minutes to your driving time, it's not worth fretting about.

Whenever I am driving lost, I think of the time my family went up to Mount St. Helens and our truck died on the way back. We coasted in neutral all the way down the mountain to a repair shop in town, praying that no one would slow down in front of us to make a turn and cause the truck to lose momentum. We jokingly blamed the breakdown on the bad-luck pumice stones that we'd collected at the park; the ranger had warned everyone that they were cursed. We laughed at the time, but we threw out those stones the second we hit town.

From there, my mind drifts to the time my alternator went out on I-90 and I was able to glide off the freeway in a rest area parking lot where I spent the day with friendly Mormon missionaries selling snacks.

Sure it was frustrating to break down, but no one got hurt, people helped us, and we got back on the road eventually.

The most important lesson is that it was beyond our control. Bad-luck pumice stones aside, both cars got regular checkups and were reasonably well taken care of.

Most of the things that go wrong in life are the things you would have never thought to worry about in the first place, so there's no sense wasting space in your head trying to imagine the worst.

This is what I've really learned in five years:

Stop worrying.
Take a risk.
Say what you mean.
Follow Your Bliss.

40* on the 4th...*or just 38

2010-07-04T14:57:00.000-07:00

It's only been five miles and I'm already panting and exhausted, throwing my pushing foot forward and slamming it down to the ground, launching hard off the ground with each rotation.

I'm passing the dam but it's been in my sight for so long that I don't really feel like I've gone anywhere. Good thing it's pretty or I'd be sick of it by now.

There is a runner up ahead who I can't seem to catch. She has long, dark hair and an impressive, steady stride. I'm pretty sure I've seen her running around town before. One of those people I wish I could be more like. She's clipping along at a 6.5 minute mile pace, not even sweating or breathing hard.

There she goes

I vaguely wonder if I could run 40 miles, but then have a vision of my sun-bleached bones being picked over by marmots.

"That's stupid," Barbie scoffs, "marmots are vegetarians."

Okay then, maybe it would be giant flesh eating ants. Flesh eating ants or caribou. Wait...those are vegetarians too. They wouldn't hurt their own kind...would they? Does Coeur d' Alene have caribou? Are they extinct? Why can't I catch that girl?

Suddenly I realize that I've been approaching this journey from the wrong angle. I've been ignoring the action, retreating into my head.

I begin to steady my flailing limbs, slow my breathing; start thinking about what I'm doing instead of where I'm going. Expanding my awareness of my immediate surroundings. Feeling the muscles in my legs working, and setting a reasonable pace.

Now I'm using what I've learned from years of running. Now I'm passing the dark-haired girl. Gliding by in a whir of urethane.

Today is the 4th of July and I'm having my very first long distance longboarding adventure. My route will take me from downtown Spokane to Coeur d' Alene along the Centennial Trail. A distance of approximately 38 miles.

Once I tried and failed to ride my bike to Idaho. But that was before I could run more than a mile without throwing up. Now I'm good to go for at least 13.1 miles on foot, maybe more.

It's hard to explain why I thought that running more than 10 miles made me qualified to skate almost 40. I guess the important thing is that I believe it does.

Provisions for the trip. Water bottle, camera, sweatshirt, backpack full of trail mix, Barbie.

Mile 15

I'm having trouble thinking because Taio Cruz is singing loudly over a thumping baseline.

"Shhhhhhhh," I hiss. There's no one around. I'm not wearing headphones.

Barbie hates this song.

"I'm only gonna break break your, break break your heart," Taio croons.

God damn it. Of all the songs I know; all the underground indie rock, all the punk, all the classics, all the sonatas and concertos...this is the song that my brain chooses to motivate me with for the next four hours.

"I'm only gonna break break your, break break your heart," he repeats, more insistent this time.

I give a little sigh, "I always knew you would."

The Spokane River

Eastern Washington is secretly a model train set. I'm reluctant to leave the trail because I know that as I walk from the path, the buildings and the trees will become smaller and smaller until my shoes threaten to crush them. Then I'll see the astroturf and the tiny plastic tree bases topped with dyed spanish moss, carefully dabbed with a slightly darker green paint for realism.

Maybe I'm delirious. Time to stop for water.

Arbor Crest Winery is atop this hill. You can squish it with your fingers.

Mirabeau Park

This was the starting point for the Windermere 1/2 marathon. Passing it means that I've now skated farther than I can run.

Mile 20

From here it's hard to argue that this side of the state isn't pretty. Western Washington gets a lot of credit for its rain forests and mossy, cushy, green grass.

The landscape under the Big Sky is rougher. It's windswept and sharp, these plants don't look soft, they look sturdy. They hold up to the unforgiving sunlight of the high desert torching them for 12 hours a day, then they reach up their spiny little branch hands to catch the snow that will cover them completely from December to March.

It's a different kind of beauty.

Things start to get a little choppy near the border. State Line is known for strip clubs, I guess their patrons don't often hop on the bike and peddle over for some entertainment. This part of the trail seems like an afterthought, a last minute idea that was abandoned the second someone said, "Hey guys, there are boobies over here!"

Distracted workers don't do the job right.

State Line
Barbie poses with the State Line sign.

Idaho

A big blue chihuahua is always a good sign.

Corbin's Ditch area
Not at all ditch-like. There is an awesome waterfall just upriver from here.

Mile 30

A trail marker

This section of the trail is ending and I don't know where to go. I catch up to a biking couple at the traffic light and ask for directions. They point out the next trail head as they shift impatiently, dancing from toe to toe as though they'll explode from the waiting.

'Bicyclists are high strung,' I decide, 'like skiers.'

The man's eyes are wild, he looks consumed with joy and adrenaline. "Sometimes we cross against the light," he shouts apologetically.

I'm not sure if he's shouting to be heard over traffic or because he's so excited, but I like that he thinks I have some kind of bicycle law authority. "There are no laws in Idaho," I reply.

He laughs and zips away. Against the red light, just like he'd said.

The bicyclists I encountered early in the morning were the smiley, friendly kind. Afternoon bicyclists are still friendly, but they've got a certain, "Don't mess with me while I've got my spandex on," air to them.

There are no other skaters on the trail but there ought to be. The North Idaho section of the Centennial Trail is awesome. It's smooth and clear of debris. The path rolls through the trees alternating between straight 8% grades and nearly flat meanderings though the woods. Each hill has a nice uphill run out. The trail would be wide enough to accommodate traffic in both directions if there was any.

If I'd had an elasticity to spare in my legs, I would have pushed back a ways and gone again.

Coeur d' Alene is ahead!

Those little illustrated squares mean there's lots to do here if you have the energy left to do it.

Victory! Spokane to Coeur d' Alene in a little over 4 hours.
My arms still function, my legs do not.

Luckily this giant spider will carry me the rest of the way.

No, just kidding. The giant spider had other plans. Luckily I have awesome friends who were willing to drive to another state to pick me up. Thanks guys!

Red Hot American Summer

2010-07-03T07:53:00.000-07:00

90 degrees and 100% humidity. The crowd on the platform shifts and shuffles feet in the half-dark. Faces turn upward expecting fresh air, but get only the thick stagnation of an underground tunnel.

The man on my right keeps jabbing my thigh with his briefcase. I am hot. Tired. Dirty. Soaked with sweat. The ground beneath my aching feet begins to tremble and shake. A subway train comes roaring out from the blackness like an ancient monster, washing the crowd with a hot wind gust that almost hurts as it hits the skin.

We jostle and shove in the most orderly fashion. Filing onto the train while lightly bouncing off each other. No one says, "excuse me" or "sorry."

Air conditioning. My skin goes clammy and cold. Instantly, I miss the heat.

The train barrels down a track strewn with water bottles, dropped children's text books and trash bags filled with God only knows. All around me are four-mile-an-hour people hurtling along at 50 while the cars above inch along at half-speed.

I emerge across town, an entirely new place than I was mere moments before. A sneeze tickles my nose in the glaring sunlight and the sound of a thousand foreign voices mixed with taxi traffic assaults my ears.

The heat, the noise, the smells, the masses of people. The incredible vibrancy of a living, breathing city.

This is good.

New York City in the Summer is everything I could have hoped. We land in suffocatingly humid Newark, NJ on Father's Day. After a celebratory fist-pumping, we hop a train to NYC and haul our luggage up the steps of Penn Station with the 500,000 others who pass through it each day.

Our hotel, the NYMA, is located in K-town, New York's Korean business district. It's all I can do to get out of there each day without stopping for kimchi.

K-Town

Kimchi in NYC = Awesome ... Kimchi anywhere, all the time = Also Awesome

Hotel NYMA

It's spacious, but kinda messy. Oh wait...I guess I did that.

It's now 8:30 pm. Infamous time-wasters that we are, Mom and I drop our baggage at the hotel and run over to the Empire State Building to watch the sunset. Afterward, we wander Times Square and explore our new home for the week.

Sunset from the Empire State Building

Times Square

That was Sunday, here's a little bit of Monday

Battery Park

It's got a splash pad for the kids and a hustling acrobatic troop that collects money in big black pillowcases. Family friendly.

The Statue of Liberty

Just a quick boat ride from Battery Park, and a chance to catch up on the latest gossip in the 4th grade. Did you know that Shania only likes Ms. Brown's Social Studies class because Ms. Brown is pregnant and is never there? I know it.

Ellis Island

This is how all of Ellis Island looked before it was turned into a National Park and fixed up. The island was actually up for sale to anyone with the funds. As many as 100 million Americans are descended from someone who passed through the doors of this building. It didn't occur to anyone that it might be something worth saving. I'm glad they didn't knock it down and build a luxury hotel.

An arching wall monument on the city-side of the island lists the names of those who were recorded passing though.

Shehans with two E's. Just not the same.

South Seaport
It was closing up shop by the time we got there, but we did get a chance to see human foosball. No photos, sadly.

Monday night we meet up with Matt at Stanton Social for dinner and drinks. The highlight of the meal is most definitely the red velvet twinkie. I love it so much I have zero reaction when Matt points out Joseph Gorden-Levitt from 3rd Rock from the Sun sitting next to us.

Whatever, junior high school crush, stay the hell away from my dessert.

Does this look like a dude who would steal your twinkie? I'd rather not take the chance.

The ride back to the hotel is my first time in a cab, I prefer public transit or my own two feet. I guess I'm just traditional that way.

Some Tuesday for ya:

The Metropolitan Museum

I've been to Vegas so many times that I've almost become immune to awesomeness. I'm like, "Yeah, whatever, a giant concrete replica of the sphinx, I'm sure that took tons of rebar..."

But here's the thing: All this stuff is real. That's real armor, worn by real knights, a real long time ago. The pyramid at the MET is an honest-to-god, real pyramid. Deconstructed in Egypt and carefully reconstructed in NYC. That's real awesomeness.

Central Park

Those children are not mine.

Holy crap-in-a-hat it's the Shake Shack!!!!

Eat here.

Wednesday is free day at the zoo. It's also free day at the Botanical Gardens, but we give up hope upon discovering that the train doesn't go there. Take a bus?! That's for losers.

The Bronx Zoo

Them are lions

Wednesday night was made for adventure. I venture to Brooklyn.

A pilfered coaster from the Chip Shop

The Chip Shop would have never been graced with my presence had it not been for Kelly from Brooklyn, who works at city hall and just might be the nicest lady in New York. She walked me six blocks, in the opposite direction I was headed, to deliver me safely to beer and the best fried mac and cheese I have ever had.

2am treats me well

Thursday is Broadway and a glittering waterfall in the settling darkness. We catch Promises Promises, featuring Kristen Chenoweth and Sean Hayes. On the way to the theater we come across a courtyard with gorgeous trees and bistro tables against the backdrop of a cascading wall of water.

The next courtyard is even better; it has this:

This is how I prepare for world domination.

Promises, Promises (you all know what I mean)

I didn't buy you anything, but I got a great photo

The Rose Center

The Natural History Museum Thanks to Devon for pointing out the old dude doing the robot.

Friday brings us to Coney Island. The Atlantic Ocean is flowing between my toes once again. It's slipping sands pulling away with each outward wave, sucking out from under my arches, leaving my feet balanced on tiny stilts of sediment that hold for mere seconds, then lightly collapse back down into familiar earth.

Rockin' it in my fierce neon bikini and bitch googles.

Although I haven't been on a roller coaster in years, I opted to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. It fits in with my, "If not now, then when?" approach to life lately. And you know what? It was rad.

After Coney Island we return to Manhattan to seek out dinner. Mom is hot and tired and cranky. Everything is, "Horrible! Crapy! A waste!" Finally, we come across a Turkish man with a guarantee: "You like it or it's free."

"Even her?" I ask, pointing to my stubborn and impossible to please older-self.

"Of course!" He snorts.

And he's right. For possibly the first time on any vacation EVER, my mother is not complaining. She has been tamed by kebabs.

Happy Mom.

That night I take the train to 2 Ave, a route that's become familiar. My sexy shoes are packed in my purse, waiting for the switch from serious to frivolous. While I lean against the outer wall of Katz's Deli trading walking shoes for something less practical (three-inch stiletto heels in bright, aquatic teal, that tie behind the ankle. Not just impractical, but loud about it too), two female tourists pass and give me a fascinated once-over. "I could never live here," says one to the other, "I'm not trendy enough."

Pianos in the East Village

Sad Red

Standing on a corner at 2 am waiting to cross the street. I am on fire. This is what I've been waiting to feel. Here I am, 26, in the best shape of my life, pretty as I'll ever be, and feeling invincible.

They always say that teenagers feel "10-feet-tall and bulletproof." Never in my life have I felt that way, until this moment.

I gaze at the flashing 'don't walk' sign and turn just in time to receive a high five from a stranger. "Very nice," he says, fading into the crowd behind me and slipping away forever.

-------------------------------------------

MetroCard!!!!! Don't leave home without it.

A light fixture at the NY Public Library.

My hottie-hot $10 shoes from H&M

The Naked Cowgirl in Times Square

The Museum of Sex
Ladies who were lusted for in the early 1900's

Freebie from the grand opening of a Forever 21

A good reason to come back

Home Sweet Home

Summer Reading Project: building a social library

2010-06-11T10:52:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I miss the days when learning wasn't optional. It seems like it's too easy to shut off my mind and go through the motions of adult life without ever introducing new thoughts. From where I'm sitting, thinking critically is a luxury of those who have the time.

It's been five years since I graduated from Eastern. Five years since I applied my mental energy toward something other than day-to-day actions and the occasional amusement. I've learned to do a lot of things with my hands; sewing, painting, building. I've pushed my body farther than I ever thought possible still with no obvious limit to what I can do.

But mentally, I'm dead in the water. As of mid-May, 2010, I hadn't read a book in over a year. I made this horrifying discovery while sitting in a restaurant with friends after biking. They were discussing their favorite authors and what they had read recently, and I had nothing to offer.

Has anyone else out there gotten dumber? I know I have.

Since graduation, the things I've learned have been gradually slipping away. Associations that used to come rabbit-quick now seem to crawl into my brain at a snails pace. I can't always remember the correct usage of a word or phrase. If I do find the right words, I might mispronounce them, and I certainly can't spell them. Maybe I'm the only one who notices that my thoughts don't line up and march the way they should. Perhaps you get the gist of what I'm saying and that's good enough for you. But it's not good enough for me.

My project for the summer is reading. And I'm not talking about reading more trash magazines or taking more online quizzes, I'm talking about reading real books and deriving real enjoyment from the experience. I want to consume the printed page with the same voracity that I apply to a run. Not just the books I want to read, because that would be too easy, but any books that come my way.

The idea here is to expand my world. To have something in my hands that I would not have reached for.

This is where I need your help: I need recommendations from everyone on what I should read this summer. Don't worry about trying to pick something you think I'll like, just tell me what you like. It doesn't have to be something you've read recently and it certainly doesn't have to be a classic. If you give me a book, I will read it.

So drop me an email, comment on this post, or leave a comment on Facebook and tell me what you'd recommend.

Here's what I've read since May 17th, along with the name of the chooser:

Memoirs of a Geisha ~ Cindy and Liz
The Sex Lives of Cannibals ~ Cindy
Candy Girl ~ Cindy
Ender's Game ~ Erin
Jitterbug Perfume ~ Cindy

Patriotism

2010-05-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

I am a patriotic American.

I love this country and I love the rights afforded to me by living here. There is nowhere else on the face of this planet that I would rather be. Multiple generations of my family have served in the military and I'm proud to say that I am related to people who would give their lives for their convictions. We may not agree on every front, but we do agree that what we have here is worth defending. America is beautiful in landscape and in its diversity. This country is free because brave people have fought wars for it. Its majesty is intact because smart people have created legislation to preserve it.

Long story short, I'm a big fan of public services. The United States Armed Forces are a public service. If we are suddenly invaded by a foreign country, I fully expect them to do something about it, that's what I pay them for. When I get my paycheck every two weeks, I don't bemoan the amount that is subtracted for taxes because it goes toward things that make my life better.

If a tree fell through your house in today's windstorm, you would expect the publicly funded police and fire departments to come to your aid. If you needed information, you would expect to find it in the publicly funded library. If you choose to drive to work today, you would expect to get there on a road that was created and maintained by the publicly funded Department of Transportation. If it snowed five feet tomorrow, you would expect the publicly funded plow to come by and bail you out. You would bitch and moan if it didn't.

Have you ever taken your children to a park? Did they go to public school today? Have you ever been to the city swimming pools? Do you like that your neighbor can't build a 60 foot tall shrine to the devil in his front yard without violating zoning laws? That's kinda nice, isn't it?

When my next door neighbor thought it was a good idea to have 10 starving pit bulls that had attacked kids and barked incessantly, it was really nice to be able to call someone and have them tell her "NO."

Sorry sweetie, you can only mistreat 3 of those dogs within the city limits.

I'm not made of money. I am a taxpayer and a homeowner hit hard by the recession. However, I am perfectly happy to pay other people to do the work I'd rather not do. Our parks are awesome, I love them, but I don't want to mow them.

Why talk about all this now? Tonight the Tea Party is descending on city hall to introduce legislation to stop what they see as a UN takeover of Spokane. According to the proposed legislation, sustainability programs are akin to "undermining US sovereignty." You can read about that in The Inlander. The group seems to think that a sustainable Spokane means the "DoE telling you to move away from all water sources on your own property, the removal of private property rights, Regulatory taking, imminent domain issues, removing public access to public lands, the increase of livestock and farming regulation to the point of wiping it out entirely, the increasing of fuel prices, energy costs, taxes, etc, etc." (The quote is from an email sent to their group. The random capital letter is theirs, not mine).

Great email, by the way.

Aside from getting me thinking about the absence of logic and reasoning skills in these folks, it also got me thinking about the things I'm willing to support, and where I fall on the political spectrum.

I feel that it is valid to support programs that lead to a better, healthier, shared condition. We all live here together, after all. However, bigger is not necessarily better. I don't believe that the government should have the reach to able to tell anyone what to think or what to say, or to restrict access to information. The job of the government is to serve the people, not to control the people.

I believe in capitalism. If you built a successful business, good for you. If it's growth is unstoppable, then it just is, no government agency should be able to impede you. Conversely, if your business fails, then no government agency should prop you up.

Big surprise, I am a Libertarian. (I'm also an avid tea drinker, but I will not attend your "party.")

Side note: City Council is also voting tonight on whether to hire a second elevator inspector. I certainly hope that the next time I step into an elevator, it will have been inspected by a qualified person funded by my tax dollars. That's money well-spent.

I choose to live here, I pay to live here, therefore I expect livable conditions.

I don't see this as an invasion of my rights.

I will pull out my wallet to fund an education system that will produce intelligent, well-rounded individuals. Today's children are tomorrow's adults, and we will live alongside them. Wouldn't it be better if they had reasoning skills and a foundation of knowledge?

I will write you a check to care for, feed, spay and neuter animals at the Humane Society. An overpopulation of feral animals is good for no one. I saw that in Tijuana, and I didn't like it.

I will support legislation to improve drinking water and air quality. Not just because I like you and I want you to have a life free of dysentery, but also because "asthma costs more than $400 million every year in medical expenditures and lost productivity for the state."

That's my money...I repeat: that is MY MONEY

When you choose to ride your motorcycle without a helmet, I pay EMS to come scrape you off the pavement. Same thing when you don't wear your seat belt.

In fact, "Medical costs from collisions amount to more than $276 million each year in Washington. An unbelted vehicle occupant’s medical costs average $11,000 more per collision than those of a belted motorist." (According to the Washington Traffic Safety Commission)

When you pour your toxic chemicals in the grass, I pay medical bills for the un and under-insured. If you are the type who pours toxic chemicals into the grass, chances are that I'm already paying for you and your whole family.

Stop it.

As an American, you have the right to choose to do some pretty stupid things. I wish you wouldn't, but you probably will, and I will pay for you.

That's the trade off. That is the price I'm willing to pay to live in the greatest country in the world.

GreenSkate and why this summer will rock so freakin' hard

2010-04-28T16:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Liz asked me about moshing and why I would rather be in the pit than anywhere else at a concert. As I tried to explain it to her, it occurred to me that I didn't entirely understand it myself. I thought about it a lot more last night and today and came up with a rambling explanation of why I feel compelled to punch, jump and thrash.

Being in the pit, to me, brings on this incredible uncontainable feeling that's a strange combination of excitement and violence. It's absolutely amazing being in a group of people who are in the same place for the same thing, and are so passionate about what they are there to see that they feel the need to bleed energy.

I've never experienced anything remotely close to singing along with 100 people rocking out together in frenetic motion. There's something raw and real about sharing music with others and allowing yourself complete release. Afterward, I feel like I've been to therapy, like I could sleep for days.

I get a similar, smaller version of the that feeling when I run and longboard. All three of these things (running, skating, music) are deeply individual things that you sometimes share with a group, and all three are things that I feel very strongly about.

My goal for this summer is to take the three things I enjoy most and wrap all of my days around them.

At the end of each day, I want to be tired. Not tired like overworked, but tired like when you are 7 years old and spent the entire day running around with your friends and building forts in the woods. Tired like laying in the grass in your bathing suit as the sun goes down when you can feel your skin radiating heat from the days' sunshine. Tired like I haven't felt in years.

More and more as I delve deeper into the "adult" world, I find myself a different kind of tired. An aching tired that comes with stress and worry and the pressure to maintain order among people and things that have no desire to be organized.

I'm not saying that I've had a bad time the past few years; far from it. But I've moved away from the carefree good times of childhood and focused too hard on forcing others to have a good time. This life is one big decision, I will decide what to do with it and how I feel about it.

This summer is for me.

--------------------------------------------------------------

GreenSkate 2010

Here is my first ever Beginning Longboarding Class

Here are a few shots of us in the booth at the Spokane Earth Day Celebration on April 17th
We gave out 100 skateboarding helmets

We did a drawing to win a complete longboard (not the one I'm holding, nobody touch my board!)

We gave out information and talked to visitors about the awesomeness of longboarding as alternative transportation.

**Photos for the 2010 Spokane GreenSkate are by Devon Kelley.**

Very cool things that you can't afford

2010-04-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

...and some even cooler things that you can.

Adobe is at it again, taunting me with their newest software offering, Creative Suite 5.

CS5 is mind numbingly awesome, just like it's predecessors CS4, 3, 2, and so on. The only problem with CS5 is that it will be followed by CS6, 7, 8 and so on. Each costing upwards of $2,000 to own. Even if I could justify the cost, there's no way I could sustain it. The last upgrade I made to my home software was from PageMaker to plain-old, basic Creative Suite. That was 7 years ago and I have no regrets about clinging to my ancient software like a castaway on the technology seas.

Saving money isn't always fun in the short term, but I doubt that having advanced abilities with the PhotoShop healing brush would bring me the same joy as the three new trees that now grace my front yard. More control over Illustrator gradients isn't as cool as taking in a matinee movie with Greg and having lunch together.

Fancy furniture, cars and clothes hold a strong appeal for me, but I try to resist as much as possible. These things are fleeting. Couches wear out, cars break down, clothes go out of fashion.

I'm not saying that money can't buy happiness. It can. It does.

But choosing when and where to drop the cash seems to have an effect on quality of life, at least for me.

I'm the type of person who prefers experiences over items. I would much rather go somewhere than own something. I enjoy it when someone compliments my nice house or my shoes (who doesn't), but that euphoric feeling only lasts a few moments, whereas positive experience memories can last forever.

This is coming up for me right now because even though we've done a substantial amount of cutting back, we are still teetering on the edge of struggle. A slight wind could toss us into a financial free-fall.

Because of this, I'm taking yet another step back to figure out what's important.

It's already been decided that these things are not:

Cable - canceled
Starbucks Coffee - replaced by home coffee maker and flavor syrups (free coffee maker from Erin, thanks!)
New clothes for events - modifying old clothes instead
Going out for lunch - replaced by sack lunches
New bed for the office - mattress is on the floor, and that's where it stays
Moving the basement stairs - the danger continues

After another assessment, here are my problem areas:

Eating dinner out - already cut back but not eliminated, it has to go
Party supplies - oh crap, I spend a lot on this stuff
Home improvements - I have big plans that need to be shot down by a shrink ray gun
Food - I love those extra things that Costco has, like the jalapeno artichoke dip and the hummus, it's time to drop those "luxury" food items
Season Passes for Snowboarding - not happening next season. This cutback hurts pretty bad, snowboarding is what makes winter bearable for me.

To kick off the new era of saving fun, I took a short "staycation." The original plan was to go to California to visit relatives, or to Hawaii to relax on the beach. Instead, we played a lot of PS3 and fetch with the dogs.

My vacation week was fraught with rainy weather disaster, but it was not a wash in terms of fun and savings. I had just about the best time I could have hoped, spending less than I thought was possible.

Here's a quick rundown of how I spent the week, including the colossal spending failures of going out to eat multiple times and going to the movies:

Friday:
We spent $1 at the RedBox to rent Zombieland. I loved it and would highly recommend it.

Saturday:
I went for a 9 mile run, spent the afternoon painting with Devon and went to the Earth Hour Protest at City Hall.

These clever guys with the "Rabble, Rabble, Rabble" signs showed up to be the neutral party at the protest. I had to include this shot because this post would not be complete without a South Park reference

Sunday:
Monthly Costco run (hard punch directly in the wallet). Made myself feel better by watching the ducks at Aslin Finch. It's fun on two levels, first of all because they are baby animals therefore adorable, second because they are tiny birds that don't scare me like other birds do.

Here they are in all of their cuteness:

I rounded out the cuteness by killing dudes in Modern Warfare, achieving Rank 3 (no laughing, I rarely get to play the PS3 because of time constraints and the boyfriends unwillingness to hand over the controller). We continued the war theme by watching The Hurt Locker, another $1 rental from the Red Box, then ended the day with band practice

Monday:
Longboarding
5 mile run
Call of Duty MW2 - Rank 5

Tuesday:
Spent part of the day with Erin in Cheney. Got to do some longboarding on the Fish Lake trail then enjoy lunch at Rosa's. If you are ever in Cheney, be sure to go to the tiny bowling alley and eat their cheesy bread, it's worth the 20 minute drive.

After filling up on bread and cheese, I risked my life by not waiting 30 minutes to go swimming with Liz. It all worked out in the end, but I want everyone to know that I frequently live my life on the edge like that.

All that swimming made me hungry so I met a friend for dinner at Cafe Marron <---Pricey splurge. I felt super-guilty afterward, but that doesn't bring the money back. I take solace in the fact that I truly enjoyed the dinner and their awesome taste in decor. Looks a little like my house...

Wednesday:
Planted 3 trees in the front yard, cleaned up the backyard, had band practice.

Right now they look like sticks, but the guy at the nursery assures me that he is not trying to pull a fast one:

Thursday:
Dump run/yard clean-up. We were supposed to do this after all the work on Wednesday but we drove all the way out to Airway Heights at 4:45 with our car full of stinking garbage only to find that they closed at 4:30.

Check out their crushy claw thing. It comes down from the ceiling like one of those games at the bowling alley:

Going to the dump makes me feel a little guilty, but I can't think of anything else to do with my actual, unrecycleable trash. I suppose I could build a fort.

We had lunch at One World - The vegi/vegan friendly restaurant on Sprague that lets you pay however much you can for your meal.

Exploring the "International District"

Most important achieviment of Thursday: Call of Duty - Rank 7

Friday:
Call of Duty Rank 11! Hells yeah, Friday.

Not much other than that, except renting Where the Wild Things Are from the red box.

Saturday:
Girl Scout Cookie 5K run. I took 3rd place in my category for this run. It sounds cooler than it is because there weren't very many people there.

I didn't get enough exercise running a 5k, so I headed to the gym. Easing back into lifting is not as easy as I'd hoped. I've not been as hardcore on the weights lately. An unfortunate combination of out-of-town gym buddy and over-focus on running is making me into a scrawny weakling. I'm getting back on track now and back to a balance.

Sunday:
How to Train Your Dragon in Imax 3D
Lunch at Red Robin
Little Big Planet
Vegging out watching television

Not too bad for a week off. Certainly cheaper than a week in Hawaii. If I can't spend money on myself, I can still get joy from volunteering for others (how selfish of me ^_^). According to what I've observed in myself, and this article from Psychology today, spending money on others is more satisfying than spending it on ourselves.

If I squint hard enough and turn my head sideways, I think I can be convinced that spending time on others is more satisfying than spending money on ourselves also.

The Spokane Earth Day Event was last Saturday and I volunteered my time hosting a booth for GreenSkate, the annual Earth Day event to promote longboarding as alternative transportation.

I extolled the virtues of skateboard commuting and gave away a longboard (donated by Deano) and safety gear.

100 brand new, shiny black skating helmets were stuffed with safety information and handed out to kids at the event. I got a sheet and fabric markers for people to decorate by drawing themselves skateboarding, that was super-fun. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the finished art project, but it's pretty cool looking.

Also, I got a lot of women signed up for the Beginning Longboarding class this Saturday. I doubt that I'll really get that many people to show up, but just having that amount of interest is amazing.

Update!: The class was fantastic, by the end of the session, everyone was at least able to push and roll down a tiny slope. Not a single person got hurt.

Here are some of my successful students:

I want everyone to know that skateboarding is a legitimate form of transportation.

If you are over the age of 13, the most common reaction you probably get from cars, bikes and other pedestrians is, "You're an adult and that's a toy, put on your big boy pants and get the hell out of the way."

They wouldn't think that about a guy on a road bike.

I want to tell skateboarders that Spokane is not a bad place to skate, but more importantly, I want to tell Spokane that skateboarders aren't bad people to have. Typically, the purpose of GreenSkate is to encourage boarders to board. I'm taking a different approach.

Boarders are going to board regardless of what I tell them. The people I really want to reach are members of the community who know nothing about skateboarding. The people who cross the street when they see you coming, the people who scowl at you, the people who yell about how you're wrecking things, the people who think you're a threat.

So far, response is positive. I'm meeting some cool people and getting great ideas for developing the skating community here in Spokane. More on this as the summer progresses.

Since things are going so well in general, I have decided to dub this season the "Summer of Awesome."

Calendars mean nothing to me, those little squares can't tell me what to do, so I started the summer last weekend with GreenSkate and an awesome Sunday longboarding with Greg. This weekend I had the class, lunch with good friends, and THE CIRCUS (OMG!!!).

Ethics

2010-03-26T19:04:00.000-07:00

What would you do if there was no one to stop you? If there was no one to point their finger or raise their voice? In our day to day lives we often assume that what's right and wrong is obvious. Our social conventions keep us in check when it comes to the basics.

Kicking the dog? Wrong.
Returning the wallet? Right.
Cutting in line? Wrong.

Acting unethically on a large scale is usually pretty noticeable. Human rights violations by world leaders fall into this category. Ethics on a small scale, however, is a different beast. Little breaches in the moral code can slip by unnoticed and often do no damage to your outward persona.

Take something a little more abstract than puppy kicking:

Let's say that you are a door-to-door salesman selling candy as a fundraiser for children with cancer. You are incredibly good at what you do and you've raised a lot of money to save children's lives. You also need this job because your family depends on you. One day, you discover that the candy you've been selling is manufactured in a factory that uses child labor and has miserable conditions. What do you do? Assuming that there is no other way to raise the money, is it wrong for you to continue selling the candy? Knowing that your own family would suffer without your job, is it wrong for you to quit? Moreover, are you responsible for taking action because you are now aware of the problem?

My ethical problem isn't that intense, but it still weighs on my mind.

Last weekend I ran a local race called Rapid Rabbit. I was attempting to qualify for second seeding at Bloomsday but missed it by a little over a minute. The required time for women was 37 minutes, I came in at 38:15.

Dwelling isn't my thing, so I forgot all about being bummed out until Thursday when Tony sent me the results from the St. Paddy's Day run. My time for that run ended up a little faster than I'd thought and got me wondering if I had actually gotten a faster time without realizing. So I popped over to their website and saw this:

Holy crap! I got 2nd place. 5 miles in 33:14!!!!! I'm gonna go buy my second seed singlet package right now. I can't wait to run Bloomsday without having to trip over people who are going to take more than an hour to complete it.

Best. Running. Year. Ever.

But wait...

My excitement slowly gave way to dismay when the tiny man in my head who does math asked, "Isn't that a 6.5 minute mile?"

Uh oh.

I currently top out at 7.5 minute miles for any distance over 2 miles. My heart sank, I knew it couldn't be right. But more importantly, I knew it was wrong.

I knew that I wouldn't accept a second seed position based on those race results. If I ever run a 6.5 minute mile, it will be because I worked for it, not because of a clerical error.

As Tony pointed out, not correcting the error could lead to someone else not qualifying if their time had been switched with mine. Believe it or not, that makes me feel sick to my stomach. I don't want to win like that. And I don't want to cause someone else to lose like that.

I sent an email to the race coordinator asking for the results to be corrected. Hopefully that will clear up any misunderstanding.

Why does any of this matter? No one would be forever damaged if I moved up a group at Bloomsday.

It matters because I didn't earn it, and it isn't mine.

My sense of right and wrong is strongly ingrained. The ideas that I have about ethics and morality are rooted in the Buddhist teachings of Right Speech, Right Conduct, and Right Livelihood. These tenets are usually defined as follows:

Right Speech - Abstaining from lying, from divisive speech, from abusive speech, and from idle chatter.
Right Conduct - Training oneself to be morally upright in one's activities, not acting in ways that would be corrupt or bring harm to oneself or to others.
Right Livelihood - Not engaging in trades or occupations which, either directly or indirectly, result in harm for other living beings.

When I believe that I have a reason to question a situation, I consider those three things.

Ethical concerns sometimes crop up in the advertising/marketing world. Examples of this could be marketing a product you know to be harmful, or editing a photo to make an item look flawless when you know that it isn't.

Fortunately, my workplace ethics have not been put to any kind of harsh test. I like to think that if they are, I'll know what to do.

Think Tink

2010-03-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

The time has come to hide your true identity...or perhaps to reveal the real you.

Well, it's not quite time yet, but it is less than three months away. Costume planning time is definitely upon us. Every year I throw an over-the-top, costumed, theme party for my friends (using my birthday as an excuse). The theme for my birthday blow-out this year is "Ever Neverland ~ Never Grow Up." I generally get a good mix of costumed, partially costumed, and non-costumed guests. Plus, I can rely on everyone to bring food and drinks so I can focus all of my energies on the decorations.

After the Alice in Wonderland party, the bar has been set pretty high. Worry about not being able to out-do last year is beginning to creep into my head.

Here's a closer look at "Selina's 25 Birthday Adventures in Wonderland":

The Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit

Another take on the Mad Hatter

The Red Queen
The March Hare

Tweedle Dee

A group pic during the croquet game

The Cheshire Cat

The Caterpillar

Another group pic during croquet

Alice and the Cheshire Cat

The Red Queen, March Hare, Mad Hatter, Alice, and "Eat Me" Cake :-D

My "birthday tree"

The backyard, note the "beer tent" with the swimming pool. I've found it much easier to have everyone throw their bottles and cans into a kiddie pool filled with ice rather than have them try to fit it all in the fridge and go wandering though the house when they need another drink.

I made these fake trees using garden fencing and the pots that my real trees came in

Another shot of the backyard. We have a fire pit and a propane heater to keep guests toasty.

Hanging out around the fire

Opening presents under the birthday tree

For this years' Peter Pan themed party, I am planning to go as Tinkerbell. You've probably noticed from the photos that we don't strictly adhere to previous conceptions of the characters. The idea is put your own spin on the story and the costuming, to take the character you identify with and make it even more "you."

My plan for Tinkerbell is to make a gauzy, ethereal looking mini dress in a brownish-greenish shade. I'd like to figure out how to attach foliage to it without causing it to look cheezy.

My sewing machine is a Brother Festival 461 from the early 1960's. It's distinguished brown exterior hides its sinister nature. At it's core, it is evil. This machine has decided to stop working in the finishing stages of many projects, in addition to having sewn through my finger on one occasion, and sending a needle shard flying into a nearby wall on another. It is weighty and bulky and temperamental; but I have yet to send anything through it that makes it take pause (including a finger). It is the sewing equivalent of crushing soda cans by smashing freight trains together. Overkill to the max. I'm not sure how it's going to handle lightweight fabrics.

I'm also a little unsure about wings for the costume. I realize that fairies fly, but party hostesses run around a lot and become easily entangled.

I want so many things! Flamingos, a pirate ship, a tree house, a lagoon, skull island, tiki torches, clouds to sit on, the ability to fly, a shadow puppet station, a Wendy house, a giant crocodile, and a reef full of sirens...I may have to compromise on a few of those things.

Denied

2010-03-12T11:46:00.000-08:00

As I write this I am lying on the couch with my head filled with fluid, hugging a box of kleenex. I've felt this coming on for about a week but ignored it, thinking I could power through it.

I train hard and I play to win, sickness is for weaklings. The St. Paddy's Day 5-miler is this weekend and I'll be damned if I get anything less than the top 20 for women.

This is the fallacy of my life.

At the beginning of this year, I was excited by the possibility of selling my jewelry at a store in the mall. After months of trying to plan a meeting with owner, I finally got my chance today. When I woke up this morning, my face was burning and I had lost my voice, but I refused the miss the meeting that it had taken so long to get. I put on some of my nicer clothes and took my carefully arranged items to the store.

And got denied.

What happened? Isn't this the same store that was excited about my items a few months earlier?

She told me that she already something similar to my items that she bought last week (last week!) at a trade show. But the look on her face told me that she wouldn't have bought anything regardless. Maybe it was my sniffles and haggard look, my presentation, who knows. What I do know is that I regret pushing so hard for this when I should have stepped back to see the big picture.

The big picture is this: That place is not a good fit for my items, neon day-glo and hand-turned wooden bowls can never be friends. I should have been working toward something else.

The big picture for running is that I'm training for the Windemere 1/2 marathon in May. If I'm over-training to meet a goal for a minor race, I will be too tired or injured to do the work when it really counts.

The million-dollar question is figuring out when it's really going to count. I haven't discovered the answer to that yet, so if you have, please let me in on it.

But even without the ability to see the future, we can at least think about our real goals. What are your goals? Do you want to lose weight, spend more time with your family, go to Europe? By themselves, your goals might look sensible, but if you break them down, you could discover that what you are doing is contrary to your desired outcome.

For example: Two of my current goals are to take a trip to Ireland and to build my business. Sounds reasonable right? I work hard and a vacation would revitalize me. Selling my stuff would earn me money and help pay for the trip. After my vacation, I could really focus on the business and be more aggressive about promoting.

I'm saving money for the trip by not going out to eat or buying fancy coffees. I'm publicizing my business on Etsy, opening a Google Adwords account, building inventory and doing craft fairs...wait a minute...I'm concurrently saving money for one thing and spending the same amount (if not more) on the other.

I'm moving neither forward nor backward. I'm relying on one thing to cause the other. I'll sell lots of things and use the money to take a trip; I'll take a trip and use my renewed energy to sell lots of things. CRAP.

Are your goals canceling each-other out? Are you working super-hard so you can take a break and not be so tired from working super-hard?

What do you really want? Do you want to run yourself into a brick wall over and over, or would you rather slow down and make the turn?

How to start a blog

2010-02-20T11:28:00.000-08:00

I have something to say! ...now what?

Lots of people have been asking lately about starting a blog. How do I do it? Does it cost money? How often should I write in it? Does anyone care what I have to say?

How do I blog?!

You sure have lots of questions. The good news is, you may already be on the right track.

If you have a Facebook or a Myspace page, you are already a blogger (yay! That was easy!). Think about this: once a week, or maybe even every day, you have something so important to say that you want all your friends to know, so you post a status. If you want to maintain a separate blog, then instead of posting a status update, make a blog post. Then think about all the comments people would make on your status and address those questions or comments in your post. For example, your Facebook status might be "Selina Ariel Shehan: is exhausted but so happy to be here!" Your blog post, on the other hand, would say: "What a crazy week! I'm gearing up for the SCC craft fair next weekend and cutting mat board for my paintings. Last night I stayed up until 2 a.m. gluing bails onto my new pendant designs while my cat conspired to knock my entire process onto the basement floor and do a victory dance in the mess...." ...and so on.

In summary: take what you were going to say anyhow and elaborate. Elaborate as hard as you can. Dig deep and be descriptive.

That's the "how," now here's the "what:" What will you write about?

Unless you hold a PhD in something, you probably aren't qualified to dispense information on a single topic with any level of authority (but go ahead and do it anyhow, this is the internet, after all).

If you aren't so bold, stick with what you know. What is something that you know more about than anyone else. Take a minute to think about it. I already know the answer, so I'll just wait...

The answer is "you!" You know more about yourself than anyone else in the world. Now, obviously you are a very complex individual, so you may want to narrow this focus to a few things about yourself; perhaps your hobbies, your family life, your musings on the universe; whatever. But you know you, and nobody knows you better.

To get started writing about yourself, take the example in the first part of this post (use your status updates) and see what you can come up with. Don't worry about what's happening right now, just scroll back through your old updates and take a minute to think about each one. How were you feeling when you posted it? What would you share about it if you were telling someone you'd never met? Think about "future you," when you go back and read these updates 20 years from now, will you understand what you were talking about? This is your chance to keep a record of a place in time.

Use these mental exercises to get your wheels turning whenever you are stuck for blogging topics. If you don't have a Facebook or Myspace page, try flipping through photo albums or journals and do the same thing. Take what's already there and expand it, create a full picture for your reader.

Congratulations, you are a writer. Now you need a place to write.

Your inquiring minds want to know:
Does it cost money to have a blog?

No! Blogs are free. What they cost is your time and mental energy. They are free because the blog hosting companies make money from selling advertising space to businesses.

Two free sites I would recommend for blogging are:

www.blogger.com
and
www.wordpress.com

both are easy to use and they allow for customization if you are so inclined. You can pick a "theme" (a ready-made color scheme and design) from a list of templates, or you can design your own layout. Blogs are hosted online, this means the information lives on a server somewhere. You won't save the blog to your desktop, you won't need to be on your own computer to use it, and it will be available for you to work on anywhere that has internet access.

When you set up a blogging account, you'll be able to name your blog, create posts, upload pictures, and all sorts of fun stuff. If you are stuck picking a name for your blog, my go-to favorite is "The life and adventures of _________" (insert your name in the blank). It leaves a lot of room for movement, as long as you are still you, you can write about anything you want :-D

How often should I write in my blog?
When you are first starting out, I would recommend writing something, ANYTHING, every single day.

Why? To create a habit.

You need to train yourself to log thoughts away in the back of your mind to write about later. When you get used to the idea that every evening at 7:50, you will sit down and write about whatever strikes you, then your mind will start to prepare for it and it won't seem so daunting. I use this method for going to the gym. I go almost everyday regardless of how I feel. Often on my way there, I think, "I'll probably just sit on a recumbent bike and read a magazine today, but at least I'm going." Inevitably, when I get there and enter the familiar atmosphere, I'm inspired to work-out for real and not just fake it. That's what you want to achieve with writing. Fake it 'til you make it! Show up for your writing session everyday whether you think you'll be able to write or not.

So now you are writing, but...does anyone care what you have to say? I say "YES," of course they do. The all-around, smashingly good thing about the internet is that you are bound to find somebody, somewhere who shares your views on something. You may have family or friends who already care what you are all about. But if you don't, don't worry about it, write for you.

Writing can relieve stress, preserve memories, inspire others, become actions, and change lives.

It's good for you, so go to it!

Lucky U.

2010-02-11T15:40:00.000-08:00

I take a lot of good-natured ribbing from all of you for being "the luckiest person on earth" and as of right now, I have to agree, things are lookin' good. But lest you start to hate me just a little, I'd like to shed some light on where I came from, what I've learned, and how it all came together to build the life I have today.

My folks had "problems." I had "problems." Our "problems" had a profound effect on all three of our lives, and I'm gonna leave it at that. In the interest of not cutting fresh lines on top of old hurt, I choose to dredge this aspect of the past and channel it into my visual art, but consciously leave it out of my writing.

That being said:

We moved a lot.
A lot.
A lot.
Ask me where I'm from and I'll tell you: "I'm not."

In total, I have moved 13 times (not counting back-and-forth for college or brief stays in Navy Lodging), the lucky 13th move being the house I currently own. Among the places I've called home off-and-on are southern California, North and South Carolina, and various parts of Washington State. We moved cross country a few times, bouncing from the east to west coasts as required by the Navy.

Being from SoCali makes me a fun contraction of hardened bad-ass and hippie tree-hugger, with a potty mouth and an idiot grin, a fake suntan and a healthy respect for neighborhood boundaries. Seeing the poverty in Tijuana offset by 40 foot tall grandiose statues in the center of impossible traffic circles led me to question social classes, and who's job it is to say that one individual is better than the others. It forced me to break a mental window to outside of the white middle class. My school in California was predominantly Hispanic, and classes were taught mostly in Spanish; in the classroom, I learned nothing.

Being from the Carolinas makes me stop and appreciate glorious sunsets, makes me heat tolerant, makes me love sweet tea, warm oceans, blue mountains, chasing lightning bugs, creek stomping, tacky-lighting*, and my wonderful family.

But it also makes me understand that there is still hate, discrimination and close-mindedness in our modern world.

Being from Tacoma and Parkland makes me drug savvy and world-weary. It means when I see a cop car, regardless of my aversion to illegal activity, I reflexively turn away and text everyone that there are po-pos in the area. It also makes me hope for better things, and understand the value of supporting your home town. We volunteered at the Pt. Defiance Zoo, patronized the museums and local businesses, rode the buses, and attended the schools. That's a first hand view of where my tax dollars go, and a reminder of why they should go there.

Being from the the 509 makes me better at athletics because I'm more inclined to be outdoors and less afraid that I might get shot. But...just like the deep south, it also makes me understand that there is still hate, discrimination and close-mindedness in our modern world. I live in what many people classify as a "bad" or "poor" neighborhood, but the only difference between my neighborhood and anywhere on the North Side is that my neighborhood is not entirely white. In fact, my area is as nice or nicer than most of town (excluding the tippy-top of South Hill). Yet it maintains it's scary-dangerous reputation. Some of you might remember that Tom was badly beaten in broad daylight while working at the Goodwill drop-off station on the South Hill. I maintain that there are no classifiable dangerous areas in our city, just dangerous people who roam freely.

For most of my time in California, we lived in "Select Suites," a dusky pink apartment complex just off the main road. My friend Tia and I ran the place. We worked for the front office, delivering pizza coupons and helping file papers. Our apartments had a mysterious dirt alley between them with only one entrance; a tiny wooden door. It became the secret meeting place for all the kids in our complex. I used to hang around with a girl who's mother was "trapped" in Mexico. Her father was illegal, but she was born in the states. I know because she told me one day in the secret hideout. Kids rarely realize the magnitude of the secrets they are asked to keep. She would climb up to the roof of her building and stare at the lights of the border for hours, silently willing her mother to walk across and come to her.

From the roof of the farthest building from mine, you could scoot on your butt to the edge of the safety railing, hanging your legs out over the two story drop, and take in a view of the Coronado bridge. We briefly lived in the Navy Lodge on Coronado Island and got to walk directly out of our apartment and onto the beach. To contrast my friends' life from mine: I would stare at that bridge for hours, silently willing my Dad to take us back there to live. I see now that I had no idea what it was really like to want.

My southern California days are a heavy influence on my art. I remember being completely taken in by the graffiti around Chula Vista and the calaca dioramas at the market. The vibrancy, passion, and reverence for the dead and the afterlife struck a chord with me. I love the strong contrast of brilliant oranges and yellows with the heavy black, woodcut lines that at the same time enhance and obscure the colors. I was lucky to have a mother who took me to all the museums and gardens in Balboa park, so I could suck up the fine art culture along with the street art culture.

When I left Parkland for the Inland Northwest, I lived in the dorms for a year at EWU. After a very stressful and confusing start, I found myself friendless and in mountainous debt. Here is where I began my long descent into deep depression.

During my sophomore year of college, I worked as a live-in nanny and housekeeper because I couldn't afford a place of my own. It wasn't a bad gig, I got my own room and the family was fun. Because of the remote location of their home, and the discovery of a headless torso in the field next to the house, I quickly became paranoid and began having the night terrors I suffered as a child. My paranoia was so intense that I often went days without sleeping, locking myself in the bathroom at night and crouching under the towel rack, trying not to make noise.

Once I scrapped together enough to move out on my own, I took a studio apartment on Cedar on Spokane's west side. The building was a converted house (as are many Spoko-partments). My unit was a 10x10 foot room with a tiny bathroom, and a closet with a mini fridge and hotplate inside. I lived there with an angry cockatoo named Sid Vicious and spent most of my time staying very still so he wouldn't know I was there and start screeching at me. My neighbor who shared a wall with my unit complained about the screeching bird constantly, but I never once complained that he brought home screeching women at 4am and slammed them against our shared wall until it was time for me to go to school at 7.

I worked long hours and studied long hours, sometimes going as much as a week without talking to anyone. All of my tension and anxiety hit a wall and came crashing back over me when I went back to Tacoma for New Years; culminating in me waking in a hospital bed covered in my own vomit. Not the way I wanted to go. As I lay shaking and squinting up into the florescent lights, I vowed that I would never allow myself to become that person again.

I asked my boyfriend, Tom, to move across the state and come live with me. We got a bigger apartment on Lincoln, behind the Rosauer's. He got a job at the Goodwill and I began working at Great Floors while finishing my degree at EWU. We had a free couch that smelled like dead dogs and a creepy black mold growing in our closet that ate half my clothes before we discovered it.

We rose up through the ranks together. Starting out getting our food from Second Harvest food bank, surviving on potatoes and generic boxes of mac n' cheese made with water instead of milk and butter. We were denied for government aid because I was a full time student. I was told that if I wanted food stamps, I'd have to quit school. So instead, I walked down the food bank every week and filled my backpack in the basement food storage room. The food you could take home was limited by weight, so you got more if you took light things like chips instead of heavy things like rice or vegetables. So yeah, I got fat and stayed poor. Looking back now I can see the correlation between my heaviest days and my bouts with depression and anxiety. The thing about being depressed is that you don't think you are. You think it's just reality and things are just getting suckier, and maybe you're just bad at life; bad at finding the good.

I know the streets of this town inside out because I couldn't afford to be inside. On those smoldering summer nights, while most people were in the air conditioned movie theaters or bars, I was riding my bike all over the south hill, stealing peaches from the tree at the Buddhist Temple, making them my dinner while watching the city lights off Cliff Drive.

We worked and saved and built our lives around each other, planning to get married and do better than our parents. We grew as people, but ultimately, we grew apart. Our relationship tripped and fell in early 2005, then bounced and skidded across the asphalt for a few months, bleeding all the way.

I had known Greg since we moved into the building and began to spend my free time with him just to get out of my own apartment. We started out as friends but became more. At the time, he was working graveyard shifts delivering lost luggage from the airport to people's homes. The only time we had to spend together was when one of us put off sleeping. I frequently rode with him in the work van, doing my assigned reading while he picked up and dropped off suitcases, so we could talk and be together while he drove from place to place.

This brought me closer to him and closer to the Inland Northwest. I love the way lake Couer d'Alene looks at 3 o'clock in the morning, flat as black glass with a stratosphere of orange speckles from the lake house lights. I love the free cookies at the Doubletree Hotel. I love winding roads along picturesque hidden lakes and convenience store workers who know your name. What I don't miss is hitting my head on my desk while falling asleep in class.

I don't see how anyone could live here and not fall in love with the place, the perfect solitude of the palouse lying just out of reach of the vibrant yet accessible city. A community that has no trouble getting volunteers for local events. A place where the whole town turns out to watch the fireworks in the park. The more I saw, the more I became certain I would stay.

After graduation, I got my job at Rings & Things and was able to pay back what I owed and start saving for real. I bought my house in 2007 and moved for the 13th time into a place that is truly my own. I joined a gym and got in shape, put all my financial ducks in a row and taught them to salute, took advantage of my health insurance, and proceeded to throw massive parties.

And that's when you met me...probably...if you think I'm the luckiest person in the world.

If you've been with me from the start, then you helped make me the luckiest person in the world, and I thank you for that. For my new friends, you help me stay lucky, and I thank you for that too.

----------------------------------------------------

*Tacky-lighting (verb): cramming your car full of people, hot chocolate and cookies, and driving all over town looking for the best light displays containing broken plastic reindeer, burnt out light strands, multiple Santas, blaring holiday tunes, and/or animatronic characters that are twitching like they have touretts.

My newest painting ~ en Todos del Siete Mares

Happy New Year (still)

2010-01-27T23:25:00.000-08:00

2010 will be the year of new adventures. I've experienced the following new-ness so far:

Rock Climbing -
It may have been my first time clinging to a plastic rock and using silly words like "belay", but it won't be the last time. Rock climbing is no longer a mystery sport reserved for uber-athletes and adrenaline junkies (although I guess I've become one of those). This is one of those things that looks difficult but is simple (also deadly, so don't get distracted). The key is to use your legs to push yourself up instead of trying to hoist with your arms.

Contrary to what you might think, as the belayer (the person who stays on the ground and holds the rope) you have absolutely no time to ogle the toned butts of fellow climbers. Disappointing but true.

On the bright side, you do hold your friends' life in your hands, so they'd better be really nice to you.

"Oh, you're ready to come down?! Tell me again how great my hair looks. Say it like you mean it!"

New Car!!!! -
Not really "new" but new to me. Continuing the Honda dynasty of my household, I purchased a 2005 Honda Element as the upgrade to my 1990 Accord. If I loved it any more, I would change my Facebook status to say "Selina Shehan is now in a relationship with Honda Element." All of the seats come out or flip up, it has a tail gate that you can sit on while putting on your snowboard boots or waiting for your tofu pup to come off the grill, it's got a moon roof, outlets for pluggin' stuff in, more cup holders and armrests than you can shake a stick at, and most importantly: dramatic pause...

When you drive this car, you feel like the captain of the starship Enterprise.

I have named him Geordi LaForge.

Training for my first Triathlon -
Both Liz and myself are planning to do the Wunder Woman triathlon in Medical Lake this August. It's still a long way off, but we are both inexperienced with swimming and we want to kick serious butt, so training starts now. Training will include swim caps with giant fake daisies.

I'm including this photo because it makes me laugh so hard I snort. This is a mugger taking down a jogger...no, wait...that's me running a 5k on a cold day. Go 204!

New Band -
The Bleeding Edge was fun while it lasted, but we have moved on to a new project. The new band name is Cryptid, we are a trio with Greg on bass, Tony on guitar, and me on guitar and vocals. I'm hoping to get us out playing shows by early Summer.

On top of all that, I just finished up a few projects that I'd like to share.

The first is the flyer and postcard invitation for Boutiques and Blooms.

Boutiques and Blooms is part of the Inland Empire Garden Club tour, the proceeds from this event will benefit RiteCare Spokane, free speech therapy for children ages 2-7.

The second thing is the updated homepage for Rings & Things
Here's a side-by-side comparison of what the Rings & Things homepage looked like when I started working there, way back on July 6th, 2005, and how it looks as of today (click 'em for a closer look):

an Alice in Wonderland themed ad for Rings & Things

and finally, here is the 2010 postcard invitation for the Rings & Things BeadTour.

And...back to my New Year's resolution of "promoting my business"; I am showing a painting in the SVS (Shrinking Violet Society) Birthday show. Sharing my "fine" art is yet another thing that I've never done. Art for art's sake has always eluded me. Although I've been drawing and painting for many years, I never considered that I could sell anything other than my commercial art abilities. I thought: "why would you pay me to do something that has no function?" It doesn't sell anything, it doesn't inform anyone, it doesn't save the world...but I guess it's pretty. This is my first shot at art that needs to defend itself based on it's arty-ness and not it's effectivey-ness, and that is scary.

Amor y Muerte ~ Selina, January 2010

That's whats shiny and NEW with me. What's new with you?

Serious Business

2010-01-04T18:07:00.000-08:00

"2009 is the year we got our grown-up pants. 2010 is the year we get to wear them." -the past year eloquently summed up by Devon

At South Perry Pizza on December 31st, in between bites of delicious pizza and swigs of equally delicious beer, I arrived at my New Year's Resolution. As with most things that come out of my mouth, it popped into my head less than 1/10th of a second before I blurted it out:

"I will aggressively promote my business."

Which immediately led to the question, "um...which business?" ...Good Question. Officially, there's Rings & Things, Spike and Lola, and Selina Shehan Design. But unofficially...there's absolutely everything under the sun that I've ever done or plan to do.

My business is not just a day job, or a haphazard collection of projects, my business is me, and I am serious about my business. Everything about me adds up to the image I project into the world.

Take a minute and think about you - How many social networking sites are you on? Have you ever been in the paper? Ever been on television? Who are your friends, do they all know each other? How do you dress and what does it say about you? If you had something to say, where would you say it?

What would happen if you Googled yourself? Go on, try it.

I took a screenshot of my Google results (see image below) and I pretended that I hadn't heard of this "Selina Shehan" person, whoever she is. Here's what I assume about her based on the search results:

"Spokane-based Graphic Designer" - she lives in a town with a silly name
"25th Birthday"- she is in her mid-twenties
"ETC, for Rings and Things, sets an outstanding example..." - she has a weird acronym in her job title...hmmmmm...I thought she was a graphic designer
"Spike and Lola Handmade Resin Jewelry" - a different business? There must be two Selinas.
"Through the Grapevine - Marquette Books LLC" - yet another random thing, she seems like a job-hopper.

That's a quick impression of me from the internet. Not much info, and certainly not anything that I care to click on or learn more about.

Now, here's what you might think if you encountered me in the real world:

If you saw me on the street, you would probably assume that I'm a good-for-nothing skateboarder who works part time at Taco Bell.
If you saw me at the gym, you might think that I'm a hardcore bodybuilder who has a girlfriend.
If you saw me out with Greg at Twigs in my fancy coat, you could guess that I live on the South Hill, own tiny dogs, and drive a Hummer.
If you've seen me at a concert or a craft fair, you probably think that I'm 16 and extremely emo.

And you might be partially right, but you are mostly wrong. Am I sending the wrong signals?

What I wish you could see all the time is the graphic designer, skateboarder, gym rat, musician, fashion lover, vegetarian crafter that I am every second of the day, and not just when it's outwardly visible.

I want you to know about my jewelry business.

I want you to know about my design work for RiteCare Spokane, a nonprofit speech therapy clinic for children ages 2-7...and I want you to give them money, because they deserve it.

I want you to know that I love where I live and support local business and events whenever I can.

I want you to know about running and skateboarding and snowboarding and everything else that makes my life fun.

I want you to know that I've illustrated books.

This year I'm going to aggressively promote my business.
I want the Google search results for me to read like a transcript from the life of the world's most interesting man. I want people to say, "Oh, I've heard of her," and to know what I do.

What am I doing about it?
So far, I've made a video to promote Rings & Things and Spike and Lola (and myself). I've also put together a press release and gathered some nice photos of my work to send to magazines and newspapers in the area. Then I made a Squidoo lens (it's like wikipedia for projects and businesses), set up a Twitter account, and of course I will continue to blog here.

And that's just to start. This year I am putting on my grown-up pants and applying everything I've learned from years of school, work and life in general to make a name for myself.

I leave you with the following thinkables:

What does the internet say about you? What do you wish it said?

Now...what are you going to do about it?

Hello Holiday '09

2009-12-22T16:30:00.000-08:00

Bad poetry about good things:
No presents this year, just lots of cheer.
I'll see my family, we'll have a beer.
When first we see snow, my eyes will tear.
The mountain is calling: come here, come here!

Crappy Christmas Crafting:
Today I made my first potholder out of fabric loops (thanks Amy M for bringing this project). I somehow missed out on this craft as a child. I think I'll give it to my Mom. :-D

~ Merry Christmas! ~

Although I'm officially "skipping Christmas" this year, I realized today that I've actually been missing Christmas entirely since elementary school.

My fondest Christmas memory is from Bellfork Elementary in Jacksonville, NC. For the Christmas of 1989, our kindergarten class made Santa Claus figures from red construction paper with cotten ball beards. They had long, accordian-folded dangly legs because he was meant to sit on the fireplace mantle and stream over.

I don't remember any of my presents, but I remember being very proud of my Santa.

We made them on the last day before Christmas break (it was still called that when I was a kid), and they were still too wet with Elmer's glue to take home on the bus. I wanted my Santa so badly that my Dad drove me to the school after he got off work to pick him up. Miss Brown, my kindergarten teacher was naturally very surprised to see us, but humored me, as a kindergarten teacher should. I breathlessly drug my Dad up and down the hallway of the school, showing off the sloppily colored Christmas trees and paper chain garlands my classmates and I had made. I was so excited to show him how hard we had worked on our decorations.

That's it, I don't remember anything else from that Christmas. What it was really about, from a five-year-old's perspective, was creating special things and sharing them with the people I love.

The feelings we chase but can't seem to catch in the holiday season: Peace, Love, Warmth, Closeness; these things have nothing to do with how many gifts we receive, or how many obligitory holiday drop-in visits we suffer though. We need to stop feeling like the holiday season is just another thing to check off the to-do list. We need to stop worrying that we'll ruin the holiday by not getting Junior an X-Box, or by forgetting the egg nog, or not making it to every holiday party.

Settle down, step back, and take a look at what we've done. We've taken a time meant for reflection, sharing, and appreciation, and made it into a competition where the best gift-buying, card-sending, tinsle-throwing warrior takes the top prize.

The holiday season should be about the people, and the people are not perfect, but that's why we love them.

I'm dreaming of a green Christmas

2009-12-17T17:38:00.000-08:00

Deck the halls with bags of money, fa la lala la, la la la...hold on a sec...did I rob a bank in my sleep again?! No, relax, this money is mine, and I saved it the old fashioned way.

Since this summer, I've been tricking myself into saving money by transferring small amounts into my savings account each month. That minimal effort, along with quitting fancy coffee, avoiding Target, eating out less...and oh yeah...skipping Christmas, has made me a mini windfall. We've still got a tree (and plenty of holiday cheer) but no extravagant gifts this year. Honestly, they will not be missed. We're only 8 days away from the holiday of the year and I've done zero running around collecting pricey reminders of my love for you all. I've sent some cards (purchased for 90% off at Spokane Discount last March), bought one $20 gift for a gift exchange, wrapped dog bones from the kitchen for the dogs, and sent Toys R Us gift cards to my little brother and sister (pets and 8-year-olds shouldn't be asked to skip Christmas).

Greg and I went shopping last weekend and bought small things that had been on our needs/wants lists for a while then we wrapped them in last years gift bags and boxes and stuck them under the tree. Of course we already know what's in them, but we do legitimately want what's inside. The part that makes this really fun is that our chihuahua, Spike, gets really upset when he sees people opening presents. He starts to cry softly, then he tries to come over and help open your gift, when he sees it's not for him, he barks and growls at your horrible trickery. And that's when we bring out the wrapped dog bones and watch both dogs go crazy ripping the paper off. I also like to hide treats in the pet stocking because Spike will stick his head inside and run around the house trying to reach them. Christmas joy is cruel sometimes.

So that's that. I am officially a Scrooge and loving every second.

The $30 pre-lit Wal-Mart tree that jumped into my car two years ago

Stockings! Guess which one is mine. Every year I tape cards to the back of the front door as we receive them like we always did when I lived with my Mom. It's a free seasonal decoration, and a reminder each time you leave the house that someone is thinking about you.

Spike checking for presents that we could be hiding from him

Spike and Lola "helping" to open presents

Spikes with his stocking

Don't go there; it's uphill both ways.

2009-12-08T17:54:00.000-08:00

Drenched in sweat and struggling to breath, I gripped the table edge and pulled with all my strength. We labored together, traversing vast spaces, porting our bounty, trusting our feet to guide us through the darkness.

This is what happens when your craft show booth is in the far back corner of the lunchroom, up a set of stairs, in an area with no lights, behind a booth that takes up two spaces with 8-foot-tall displays.

Crafting. Is. Intense.

Last week, I launched my resin jewelry website, Spike and Lola. I discovered resin this Summer in the stifling hot garage of a friend and was instantly hooked. Maybe it was the way she offered me popsicles in exchange for spray painting sprinkles...maybe it was the fumes...I try not to dwell. At any rate, I fell hard for epoxy and all the promises it held suspended in it's clear, chemical makeup.

So powerful was my zeal, that I signed up for my very first craft fair and spent the next few months measuring, mixing, pouring, sanding, and clear-coating in preparation for my debut.

...which brings me to the sweatiness.

My first show EVER was at East Valley High School this past weekend (December 5th and 6th). I over prepared and covered every detail, as is my custom. The only problem is that it was almost completely unnecessary. The crowds were small and they weren't buyin' what I was sellin'.

But in fact, they weren't buying what anyone was selling. Many of the vendors didn't bother to come back for day two after disappointing sales on Saturday, and the whole thing packed up early on Sunday. All told, I left with $160. Not bad for a weekend in which I would normally make nothing, but not quite in correlation with my wildest dreams.

I'm down but I'm not out. I love the way my stuff looks and I couldn't have been happier with my craft fair display. I'm sure I will rock another craft fair, but I'll be more careful about the venue so I reach the right people.

It's done. It's over. I have survived.

A view of a few bangle bracelets, necklaces, and magnets.

The booth. Note the lime green table skirt inspired by Jen's booth at the Ferris show.

Tiny Trees! Ity-bity resin trees with candy sprinkles or glow-in-dark glitter inside.

Skull and Crossbones Necklaces glowing under the blacklight

Greg!

Me!

Better, Faster, Stronger

2009-11-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

My constant quest for self-improvement has prompted me to get more serious (read: organized) about my workout schedule. I'm already a gym rat, but I don't keep very good track of my workouts to gauge my progress. If it wasn't for Liz's organizational skills, I would be content to run the same distance and lift the same amount every day, vaguely wondering why it wasn't making any difference.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with eating right and working out without working toward a specific goal. I've just reached the point where I'm ready to take the next step, and for me personally, setting a challenging goal is an easy motivator.

But...

Let's go back in time for a minute...waaaaaay back....back to the spring of 1999. This is me: scraggly hair pulled into a thousand tiny braids, baggy wide-legged jeans and a Megadeth t-shirt, sitting on the couch eating an entire box of Wheat Thins dipped in salad bowl filled with melted cheese. It's pouring rain outside and I'm watching The Offspring's "Pretty Fly for a White Guy" video on Total Request Live. This is my typical after-school routine when I don't have golf practice, my wind-down before hitting the books.

Then suddenly, out-of-nowhere, I got bored.

It had never happened before. There was nothing in the world that held my attention better than the television and a giant bowl of finger food. I felt antsy, like I needed to move. I was confused.

So I got up, grabbed an umbrella, and ventured out into the rain with my portable CD player balanced carefully in my pocket (so it wouldn't skip), and I walked for two hours.

I passed the familiar landmarks of Linda's house, the Fern Hill Library and about 50 Korean churches, finally ending up at the Fred Meyer on Pacific Avenue, where I bought a Mr. Pibb and a Cold CD then caught the bus back home. The next night, I did it again; and again the night after that; and again and again.

Then one day I picked up the pace a little, and I started changing up the route, and I started going farther. I was too embarrassed to run in public (no one wants to be the fat girl trying to run), so I moved into the backyard and began running tiny laps around our maple tree and patio set. Until the day my Mom noticed I was wearing a track into the grass, and made me move to the street in front of our house. Eventually, I was running 5 miles at a time, at least 3 times a week. It felt incredible, I was finally doing something, and I was seeing results.

At my largest, I weighed 190 pounds and wore a size 18. That was my freshman and sophomore years of high school. I have talked to people that I attended classes with all four years who honestly don't remember me being there the first two years. By junior year of high school, I had dropped to 135 pounds and wore a size 9. My eating habits were still horrible, but the exercise allowed me to maintain a healthy weight.

My weight was stable until I got my first apartment sophomore year of college, and promptly gained 20 pounds. I tried everything to get back to where I was, but I fell into a trap of telling myself that whenever I exercised, I deserved to go out to dinner or have some ice cream. Like: "I walked all the way to the McDonald's...so now I get a milkshake!" Any gains that I made by walking or riding my bike, I completely wiped out by eating like a six-year-old on the loose at an M&M factory. I took diet pills, tried detox/fasting diets, cut out foods that I loved only to devour an entire box of donuts after a few days. But I lost weight, it dropped and climbed, but I was down to 120 pounds and a size 10 on a good day. I weighed myself every single day, sometimes a few times a day, I obsessed about everything I ate. As a result, I was jittery, malnourished and underweight, but still fat. I just didn't feel the same drive to move and run that used to be so strong.

One day in 2007, after moving into my house, Erin called and asked if I wanted to go to the gym at Eastern with her. I said, "sure," even though I didn't really feel like it. When we got there hopped on an elliptical trainer and suffered through the hardest 20 minutes I'd had in a long time. Afterward I was sore and sad, but determined to try again. We went to the gym at the Phase until her Fast Fitness class ended. Then, on her suggestion, we all joined the Oz Fitness gym in downtown Spokane.

The first thing I did at Oz was try to run on the treadmill, and I made it about a quarter mile before I had to walk. I was so disappointed in myself, I couldn't believe that I had let myself fall so far even though it seemed like I was constantly trying to loose weight. One of their personal trainers gave me a body fat analysis and set some goals for gaining weight (gaining!) and reducing my fat to muscle ratio. He told me to eat real food and get at least 1,500 calories and 40 grams of protein each day. My weight gain goal was set at 135 pounds.

Having it written down, reduced to simple math and displayed in black and white, I couldn't help but be shocked at how simple it seemed. "Three months," he said, "I want to see you hit this goal in three months."

Here I am two years later: 135 pounds, size 5*, long distance runner. Once again sitting on my couch, but drinking a protein shake and getting ready to have a healthy sandwich with a bowl of soup.

*See that?! 15 pounds heavier than my lightest weight, but 5 sizes smaller. All muscle.

Here's what I'm up to these days:

Running Training Schedule - 7 week cycle

Week	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat	Sun	Total
1	3	Rest	5	3	Rest	cross train	8	19
2	3	Rest	5	3	Rest	cross train	10	21
3	4	Rest	5	4	Rest	cross train	11	24
4	4	Rest	6	4	Rest	cross train	12	26
5	4	Rest	5	4	Rest	cross train	9	22
6	3	Rest	4	3	Rest	cross train	8	18
7	3	Rest	3	Walk 2	Rest	cross train	13	21

cross train = elliptical trainer for 30 minutes or some other kind of aerobic activity
Also, even though the weekdays are set low for mileage, I don't stop myself if I feel like running farther. I also don't worry if I end up walking, the point is that I'm doing something.

Current Weight Training Schedule
"A days" and "B days" alternating on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday
"A days" have been renamed to "Fun weights day" and "B days" are now "Awesome weights day"

Fun weights - 50lb barbell, 3 sets of 8
Overhead Press
Bent-over Rows
Squats

Awesome weights - varying weight, 3 sets of 8
Bench: 25lb weights each side
Squats: 10lb weights each side
Pull-ups: start with zero assistance, do as many as possible, followed by 3 sets of 8 at 70lb assistance
Sit-ups: 65lb resistance

My goal is to maintain the 7-week-cycle running schedule above and run a 1/2 marathon twice a year (one Spring, one Fall). For weights, I want be able to add 5 pounds of resistance every 2 months until I reach my max, then maintain.

Diet Supplements
As a vegetarian, I constantly get asked, "But...how do you get any protein?!" Honestly, the average vegetarian gets plenty of protein from vegetables and meat-substitutes. In case you are worried, I became a vegetarian 17 years ago and have yet to drop dead.

If you are curious about your protein needs, check out the handy chart on this page: http://www.vegsoc.org/info/protein.html

As a runner and weightlifter, I do need to be more aware of my intake. This is true for any athlete, regardless of dietary choices. To get extra protein on top of what I already get from healthy foods, I drink a protein shake each morning that has 14 grams of protein (and only 80 calories!). The brand I use is Aria, it's supposedly "for women" but I'm guessing that's because it's low calorie. Since I began increasing my protein, I've noticed further definition in my muscles and less soreness after my longer runs.

So there you have it. I hope that this information is inspiring and helpful; or at the very least, informative. If you have a fitness goal, I encourage you to go for it, but make a reasonable plan and don't be afraid to ask for help. I was floundering on my own until I got real information from a personal trainer. Reaching your destination is easier with a detailed map.

I am wearing my business pajamas

2009-11-07T18:45:00.000-08:00

There is less than a month left until the craft show at East Valley High School! I got down to some serious business today figuring out my product line and beginning work on my website. My dream is to be able to direct people to my site for special orders if I don't have what they want at the show. So far I've picked a name, set up a domain, begun design on a logo in keeping with my products (see below), and enlisted some friends to be jewelry models (thanks guys).

The business name will be Spike and Lola and it will live under the happy umbrella of my current business. I bought www.spikeandlola.com (there's nothing there yet so don't bother to click it).

Here's the logo so far. It still needs a "Spike and Lola" text treatment. I might add more detailing to it also.

(Side note: In between staining the trim in the kitchen, pouring resin, cleaning the bathroom, spray painting signs, and cleaning my brushes with mineral spirits; I suddenly realized that I'll probably be mad as a hatter before the age of 30.)

"Good lord, that's a ton of stuff, it's just a craft show, what could possibly be left to do?!," you cry.

Um...first of all, the bathroom just needed cleaning. But yeah, there's lots of stuff still left to do. Lots and lots. Let me tell you why:

Sometimes I commit to doing something, and I don't go all the way. I just kinda, like...try a little bit...but not so much that I couldn't later say, "It's cool that it didn't work out, I didn't try that hard anyway."

That era is over.

I'm going on the record as saying that I'm working really really hard on this, and I'll be disappointed if I don't sell anything, because I'm actually trying. Training for and running the half marathon has had a profound effect on my goal attainment process. I proved to myself that I could work hard and get real results.

Those of you who know me know that I make most things look effortless, and for the most part, that's because I'm not putting forth any effort. This is not a "look at me, I'm so damn awesome" statement. I only say that to illustrate a point: I am not in the habit of setting goals that I don't know for a fact I can reach. One of my favorite things to say when someone tells me it seems like I'm good at everything is, "Well, I can't dance and I can't play basketball." But...I don't actually know if that's true. I've never really tried to dance or play basketball because, in the back of my mind, I'm hoping that I'm secretly good at those things without ever practicing them. It scares me to death that I might not instantly be an incredible dancer, so I refuse to dance.

I'm gonna fix that.

Next weekend, I will attempt to exercise my dancing demons by getting down and funky at Liz and Jen's birthday, regardless of how silly I look. I will own up to the fact that being really good at Dance Dance Revolution is not the same thing as having rhythm.

And I will make an awesome craft website, and (hopefully) sell lots of awesome crafts that I worked really hard on.

All of this, in my Cheshire Cat pajamas.

-------------------------------------------------------

A few days ago, I started reading the Facebook developer blog to see what new horrifying changes they were going to bring down on us like the Hammer of Awful. Who likes the new "Live Feed/News Feed" options? Really? You are stupid.

In that spirit, I found it hilarious that they mark their potential updates with this snazzy orange button (circled in blue):

Forget the "dislike" button, I would like a "mock" button

Mock this? Why yes, I think I will. *click*

Somebody please start a group for the "mock" button. I will join your cause.

Getting crafty

2009-10-07T17:04:00.000-07:00

On a whim and inspired by the incomparable Jen, I recently signed up for my first craft show. Being in a craft fair is something I've thought about for a long time. I am one of those people who likes to go craft fairs to look, but never buys anything because I know I could make those things at home. A part of me always resisted getting a booth because I wasn't confident that I could make lots of awesome things that someone else would want to own. So, since this is the year of confidence, self-discovery and newness, I thought, "What the hell, let's do it!"

The show is going to be at the East Valley High School, December 5th and 6th. I've dreamt up a very elaborate collection of day-glo, plastic, 80's-style jewelry based on what I observed at the Warped Tour this year. I'm going to be selling resin rings, bangle bracelets and necklaces in neon pink, green, orange and yellow.

Here's a picture of a few of my first items. I'm still learning about working with resin, so there's been a bit of trial and error, but so far I've managed not to create any crazy chemical reactions or accidentally encase one of my chihuahuas in glittery epoxy.

Halloween Party prep is in full swing. Liz and Jen have graciously taken over the foodstuffs. It's a good thing because I've been seriously craving those vegan chocolate cupcakes. The idea of two baking masters working together fills my stomach with joy (then I cry a little because joy isn't as tasty as cupcakes). This year the party is going to be primarily indoors since it will probably be negative 1000 degrees outside. I'm setting up the basement as a game area with a balloon dart game, pumpkin toss, and few other ideas I found online. It should be rad, I'll post pictures when I get all the decorations together.

Since I promised myself I would make time to paint (time that I don't have), I chose to paint something that needed to get done anyway. This years' Halloween Costume Party invitation is done with watercolor on canvas board.

And here she is:

A couple other random things:

1. Here's the new logo I did for the Rings & Things Gallery

2. Today discovered that I've inadvertently saved over $550 by being enrolled in BofA's "keep the change" program. Automatic savings is seriously the way to go.

Nothing but the Truth

2009-09-22T09:06:00.001-07:00

Over the past month or so, our group of friends has been talking about telling the truth. Not "telling the truth" like avoiding overtly lying, but "truth" like how you really feel about something. Truth like, "Actually, I'm not fine," "I don't feel like going," "When you do that, it bothers me." It may be hurtful in the short term, but overall, it seems better to have it out in the open.

I'm choosing to write about this today because yesterday I got hit by a car on my longboard, and it was absolutely imperative that I tell the truth.

As the driver was apologizing and saying that she just didn't see me, I realized that the "old" me would have jumped in and said, "Oh, it's okay, don't worry about it." But it wasn't okay, and she should be worried, and she should be sorry.

So I did the "real" thing instead of the "right" thing. I admitted to being freaked out and upset, and possibly injured. I told the police officer exactly what happened, even though the lady who hit me was very nice, and I felt badly that she got a ticket. Why should I feel bad? It's time to stop being so damn nice.

Why do we say and do things that aren't in our best interests simply to preserve the feelings of others? If you are hurt you should say so. If you need something, you need speak up. It's a disservice to yourself to sit in silence. And in a way, it's a disservice to others. When you hold everything in and lead everyone to believe that you feel a certain way, then one day you suddenly tip over the edge and explode, you leave a blast-zone of bewildered people who don't understand what went wrong.

The other day I told a client that they were making a "poor choice" by picking one design over another. It felt weird to offer my opinion like that, and in such a blatant way, but I'm glad that I said it. Regardless of the outcome, I'm happy that everyone knows how I feel.

Here are the two postcard designs. I prefer #2 over #1, I feel that it is the more powerful of the two, and is more likely to leave an impression on the viewer.

So be warned. I am done agreeing simply for the sake of saying "Yes."

Lest you think this is only about being catty and evil, consider that it also applies to speaking your mind in general. When Liz and I first started talking about saying what you really think, I experimented with sharing the funny things that I think about instead of censoring myself.

For example, when I saw that the parking lot attendant at the mall had a giant bottle of wine and a sub sandwich at his desk, I said, "You really know how to bring the party." And we all had a good laugh. Good times. Now we all get to be amused instead of just me.

Another example from Liz: Liz asked the girl (Erin) who scans our cards at the gym why there were balloons in the lobby, and Erin said, "It's to show that we appreciate you today," to which Liz replied, "Shouldn't you appreciate us everyday?" And we all had a good laugh. Good times.

In both cases, we have made new aquantance-type-friends. Erin is now very happy to see us each time we go to the gym, and the parking lot attendants are equally enthused to see us. I'm sure they are thinking, "There's those funny girls, I wonder what crazy things they'll say next."

It's not going to hurt the random people you encounter to know what you're thinking. The worst thing that could happen is that they'll think you are a little odd. But honestly, you are a little odd, aren't you? Tell the truth now.

Everyday could be a Holiday-Day

2009-09-14T16:00:00.000-07:00

As I'm thinking about preparations for the 4th annual Halloween Party, I am also looking back at past holiday events. Holidays are very important to me. I love traditions and rites-of-passage almost as much as I like shaking-up those traditions.

Making special occasions out of every-day occurrences helps me remember the good times. Moments slip through my mind faster than I can capture them. My mental shutter speed is no match for a camera. That's why I try to take lots of pictures and write about what's going on in my life. It seems that our minds sometimes block out the good memories when the going gets tough, but I have concrete evidence that I do have a good time on a regular basis. :-)
Try it! Take a picture of yourself with a big, cheesy grin and put it up somewhere you'll see it everyday. When something horrible happens and it seems impossible to find the lesson or the humor, fake it. Write down something positive about it, even if you have to lie a little, it can help shift the way you are feeling right now...and it will definitely change the way you remember it later on.

If every single day could be a party, I would be the happiest person in the universe. I love the way people interact and experience something when they know it's time to relax and let go. Also, being a visual person, I love to make invitations and create atmosphere through lights, decorations and music.

Years and years ago, before my Dad shipped out on a 6-month tour, I created a "Holiday-day" event. I set up "stations" around the living room, each one featuring a different holiday, effectively cramming 6-months worth of holidays into an hour. We walked around to each area, sang the related songs and took a picture of ourselves with the holidays' decorations. It helped me to create a memory for each holiday that included our whole family. That way, when the actual holiday rolled around, I wouldn't have to feel like anyone was missing.

It's about escapism. It's very much about forgetting that tomorrow we get on a boat and sail away from the ones we love. Whether that's an actual boat or just the obligations in our lives that pull us away from what's important, it makes no difference, the feeling is the same.

Here some invitations I've designed that remind me of fun times and make me smile:

On a separate note:

This Sunday, I tried inner-tubing for the first time. I haven't been on a small boat in about 20 years and I never imagined that I would be comfortable on the water. But you know what? It was awesome.

The speed and the sunshine and the spray from the water is incredible. It was much more intense than I thought it would be.

My arms are crazy-sore today from holding on to the mesh handles. Keeping your grip isn't easy and hitting the water is like being struck by a train. I don't remember anything after hearing Aaron yell, "OH SHIT!" Then I was coughing and laughing and soaking wet and trying to catch my breath.

"Super-Awesome, Shorty-Summer" isn't quite over yet, but it could end tomorrow and I would be more than satisfied. The yard sale, the yard-sale after party, having my socks rocked off by Modest Mouse, being seriously piggy-ish at Pig Out in the Park, making a whole new look for my kitchen for just over $100, training for the Spokane half-marathon, and myriad other things have made it incredible.

Bring on the Fall!

So far, so good.

2009-09-01T17:50:00.000-07:00

My money-saving kick is really paying off (ha!). I could actually see the difference in my savings account right away. Those $3 coffees for both Greg and myself every single day were draining over $2,000 from our wallets each year. Red's tiny coffee pot from school is the perfect size since we each drink two cups of coffee in our giant tumblers.

URM (cash & carry store) has tons of flavors for coffees or italian sodas. Our kitchen is now stocked like a full-service espresso stand and I couldn't be happier. No more hoping that I get the barista who makes the coffee the way I like it...because now it's always me...and I know exactly what I like!

Another success story: Super-Awesome-Shorty-Summer!
Thus far, I have accomplished the following summer/fun-related activities:
- Epic Skate Journey
- Gym like crazy - Seriously - Like. Crazy.
- Flying Irish fun running
- Rocket Bakery and neighborhood adventure - ate a yummy sandwich and ventured about
- Golfing for Nate's B-day
- Party at Erik's - dressed as a gangsta hottie in my kick-ass pin-striped hat
- Party at Aarons - trampoline! fire pit! alcohol! ...danger!
- Silly lunch with good friends - silly because the service was bad and the food was disappointing, not because lunch itself is silly, lunch is serious business
- Newman Lake for a family BBQ - still fun even though I was falling asleep in my comfy camping chair
- Marilyn Manson Concert - Greg and I rocked the mosh pit, the show was incredible
- Yard Sale! - this hasn't happened yet, but getting ready for it is eating up a lot of my time in a good way. Every box that I take out to the garage is more space in the house and more money in our pockets. If that's not good enough for ya, the yard sale will be followed by a BBQ at Cindy's, then a sure-to-be-rad Modest Mouse concert.
- Painting the kitchen and cabinets - a full makeover on the cheap that I have optimistically planned for Labor Day (before and after photos coming soon)

Let's try this again, shall we? - Super-Awesome, Shorty-Summer

2009-08-21T11:52:00.001-07:00

Summer has failed me...or perhaps I have failed Summer. So I am starting over.

Selina's official Summer do-over kicked off on August 15th with the Warped Tour. I took a vacation day Monday and leveled my Paladin to 79. Pedro celebrated his 22nd birthday on Tuesday and we all stuffed our faces with and incredible WoW-themed cake. Then Liz and I hit the two-thirds point for our "silly people like to run 7-marathons on treadmills at the gym" event. It got even more awesome last night when The Bleeding Edge played at The Grail in Post Falls. We had a killer time and booked two more shows with that venue. So far, so good.

I am going to concentrate on making each day of "Super-Awesome, Shorty-Summer" every bit as great as its name implies. Although I am short on time, I am long on ideas for maximum Summer impact.

Hear that sizzle and pop? That's the sound of a fire starting. It will continue to burn away fast and furious until Tuesday, September 22nd. That's a little under a month of seasonal activity.

Cindy says it can be awesome like the last 5 minutes of a fireworks show: extra-intense, bright and loud. An impressive ending that makes the build-up worth it. Everyone knows that the finale is the best part anyway.

(Just to be clear, my summer failure doesn't include my week of vacation that was previously chronicled in this blog. I would be lying if I told you that I didn't have a blast.)

Sometimes the best way to enjoy the time you have is to step back and take a look at what you were doing wrong before. I think I just assumed that if I waited long enough, Summer would happen to me and I would have a great time.

Now I am in pursuit of Summer, I realize that it will not wait for me.

Attack of the 80's

2009-08-17T13:49:00.000-07:00

Shutter sunglasses, pink and black tiger-striped skin-tight pants, lime green nylon hats and mustaches galore. Welcome to my 80's nightmare...it's happening right now...and I am wide awake.

This Saturday was the 15th Warped Tour at The Gorge. I am used to seeing punky-colored-hair, spikes, leather and ripped black fishnets. This year was completely different. You couldn't drunkenly stumble 2 feet in any direction without running into Cyndi Lauper and the Beastie Boys circa 1985. Last year we were fine, where did this entire generation of color-blind fashion victims come from?! Surely they remember watching their older brothers and sisters getting dressed up like that...the crimping...the hairspray...the horror. Why are we doing this again?

Ranting aside, it was a great show. We saw Bad Religion, NOFX, Senses Fail, Saosin, In this Moment, YB, Meg and Dia, 3OH!3 and a bunch of others. Maybe it was just me, but it didn't seem like the pits were as intense as they have been in the past. It was cool to finally see NOFX, it sucked that most of the people watching their set were just there waiting for 3OH!3 to come up next. Hopefully they appreciated the better band and will see the error of their ways (^_^)

It didn't rain, I didn't see any flaming port-a-poties and no one slept under a car (at least not anyone from our group). So I say, "Success!"

I didn't see as much of the emo kids as in years past. There were still skin-tight pants but they were more of an 80's style (neon colors or higher cut in the waist) than the usual 70's punk rock influenced style. Hair is going bleach blond with black roots, I didn't see a single person with the "chunked" hair color.

I noticed a lot of t-shirts with giant Helvetica text like, "THIS IS A 3OH3! SHIRT" in black ink on white shirts. No graphics, just text. There were quite a few different takes on that design. Some were in multi-neon inks, but most were just black or white ink.

The best thing to do now is to embrace this resurgence of ridiculousness. I missed out on the bad 80's fashion the first time around because I was too young to successfully dress myself (perhaps I still am). This is a golden opportunity to shine like a glittering neon beacon of awesomeness without even the slightest hint of irony.

Babysitters Club anyone? Where is my half-shirt?! It's time to party.

how I spent my summer vacation

2009-08-03T17:10:00.000-07:00

August 3, 2009

by sEliNa - age 25

I am in pursuit of the perfect week...how do you think I did?:

Friday - dyed my hair orange, ate at Neato Burrito, went to a Sonic Youth concert

Saturday - Gym, finished reading "Good Omens" - awesome book, hilarious, went skateboarding with rad new board and saw Over the Hedge in the park in Liberty Lake

Sunday - Bare Buns Fun Run at Kanisku Ranch, I got 1st place for females ages 25-29

Then we attended the Royal Fireworks Concert in Riverfront Park. In my opinion, the fireworks display for the symphony was way more impressive than the usual 4th of July show.

Monday - Pullman adventure to visit Erin

On the way down to Pullman I saw phone booths! The only other phone booth I have seen in the past few years is the one next to the Shell station on Division that doesn't have a phone inside, but always seems to contain a homeless person and hundreds of burrito wrappers.
then...
I got attacked by Freddy Cougar at Sella's. The delicious calzones made the bites and scratches worth it.
then...
I toured Erin's extra-sensitive apartment
then...
we did a little bowling and checked out the arcade. I beat Erin at every game...yes, Erin, I did...don't listen to her...she is a liar.

Just for fun: See if you can guess which of these sinks belongs to Erin, and which belongs to her room mate.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Tuesday - Played WoW went to the gym and got my new board ready to bomb hills

Wednesday - Played Wow some more and bought a killer new coat for the winter they tell me we'll be having as soon as the 105 degree weather ends...

Thursday - Flying Irish, gym, skateboarding, rocking at Club Edge (no photos from this show) Please enjoy a photo of me loving beer instead:

Yep, that's my 21st birthday. Not much has changed.

Friday - Went to see Harry Potter, then gave Greg a new hair cut and took artsy photos in the living room

Saturday - gym again (I am a machine!) + attended Mark and Jen's Awesome Wedding

Sunday - Chillin' at the lake with Greg's family

Trying to convince me to try wakeboarding, Greg says, "Doesn't my hair look awesome?! I totally face-planted and got water up my nose...it feels like someone punched me in the face!...but it turned out okay. Wanna try it?"

Um...sure honey...I'm all over that.

I am now ready for my next vacation. Can I make it better than this one? I'm going to try.

endless summer? I hope so

2009-07-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

July 25th, 2009

My awesome board has arrived! It's a Rayne Hellcat with Randall R11 180 trucks and 75mm Orangatangs. The wheelbase is a little longer than the Big Red X and the board is a little wider. It is seriously the most comfortable board I have ever stood on. The trucks are incredibly turny, but still stable at moderate speeds. I'll need to tighten them up more for the big hills, but they have been great so far for riding downtown and hitting parking garages.

Look at it...it is glorious.

I love the queen of hearts graphic on the bottom (maybe it's king of hearts, but I'm a girl, so I say queen). It came with a roll of clear grip tape, but I've always hated how clear grip gets nasty and grungy looking, so I decided to go with black instead then cut a design to make it more personal.

Here's a couple shots of the finished design:

It takes while, but it's not too bad if anyone out there wants to give it a try. The trick is to flip the grip over and sketch out your design on the back (in reverse/mirror image), then cut it from the bottom with an exacto knife. Grip tape eats exacto blades for breakfast so have extras on hand. Getting the tape on without ripples can be tricky. I've found that it's a lot simpler if you start at one end and peel away the backing as you go down the board instead of peeling off the backing all at once then trying to get the whole sticky mess to cooperate.

After the grip is stuck down, use your fingers to push it down around the edges all the way around the board. Instead of trying to cut a perfect outline with your exacto knife, run a screwdriver around the edges to score them (use the metal shaft, not the tip). The friction will wear away the grain of the grip tape and you'll be able to peel away the excess leaving perfect edges.

I'm looking forward to another few months of good skating weather so I can break it in properly. It's not a coincidence that I decided to take a week off work the same day this arrived. (^_^)