Red Hot American Summer

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

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

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

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

...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

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

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

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

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.

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