musical chairs

For two years I have bumped the arms of my office desk chair into the keyboard tray. Every time I hear the "thunk" I curse under my breath and check to see if I scratched the desk. Invariably, I do.

So I began to sit at the taller living room desk, with the chair that has no arms, is too small, and doesn't roll. And every day I lament that I can't rest my elbows, or scoot closer without clinging to the chair sides and jumping forward like a kid bouncing on a hopper ball.

Today is just like any other day, except that today I rubbed two of my brain cells together and solved my problem.

Did you know that chairs can move from one room to another?!? Neither did I!

Clearly I am a genius.

Summer Resolutions

January is the completely wrong time to be making promises to ourselves. We plan and resolve, then promptly crawl back under a mountain of fuzzy blankets and sleep for a few more months. I know I'm guilty of that. Back at the beginning of the year I came up with a bunch of goals for 2012, like I always do for the new year, but this year I'm doing something a little different: half-year goals. Instead of making vague promises and forgetting about them until next January, I'm going to make some goals for the warm months when I can actually act on them.

This summer I'd like to do the following:

• Skydive
• Learn to ride a motorcycle
• Take a trip to California
• Have an awesome Star Wars party
• Get rid of stuff at a yard sale
• Swim at least one mile without stopping

That's it. Short and sweet.

Judgy McJudgerson?

"Only flat sheets?" the chipper checkout girl at Wal-Mart cocked her head at me as she scanned my items.

I rummaged through my purse for my debit card, eyes down, concentrating, mumbling, "Uh...yeah...they're for flags."

My eyes darted up to meet hers and she crinkled her nose in confusion.

"Flags...?" Her eyes got rounder. Had she never heard of flags?

I tried again, "Like party decorations?" I asked, hoping she would just hand me the receipt and I wouldn't have to give details to someone who wouldn't understand anyway. I don't want to be at Wal-Mart all night after all.

"Oh, a party!" she exclaimed, a slow understanding breaking through her expression, "have fun then."

My sigh of relief was audible as I snatched up the plastic bags, crinkling them in my fists and bolting for the car.

You see, it's hard for me to explain sometimes. Yep. It's hard to explain to the checkout girl at Wal-Mart that I need flat sheets to make flags for the Rebel Alliance.

Sometimes it's difficult to tell people that I named my car Geordi La Forge. I can't always find the right time to tell someone I'm dating that I've seen every episode of Star Gate. When people talk about Warcraft I have trouble not chiming in about my Blood Elf. I don't need much provoking to start quoting The Princess Bride. If you hang around long enough, I will show you my comic books. God help me if you start to talk about code. I just can't contain it.

A few weeks ago a coworker started explaining Skyrim to me as though I might pick up a controller and try to use it as a boomerang, or possibly a fancy light-up paperweight. It was all I could do to not explain to him in extreme detail how to complete the Diplomatic Immunity quest. It's not that hard dude, seriously.

But I keep those things to myself. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

There's a certain stigma that surrounds the "geek" persona. As the following description notes (ripped straight from Wikipedia):

• (Novelist) Julie Smith defined a geek as "a bright young man turned inward, poorly socialized, who felt so little kinship with his own planet that he routinely traveled to the ones invented by his favorite authors, who thought of that secret, dreamy place his computer took him to as cyberspace—somewhere exciting, a place more real than his own life, a land he could conquer, not a drab teenager's room in his parents' house."

 The geek is lazy, anti-social, over caffeinated, awkward and...male.

That's just not me (apart from the caffeine). But it seems to completely throw people for a loop when any of that stuff comes out. Suddenly they forget that I'm an accomplished, athletic, outgoing, and somewhat cocky person (yeah, sometimes I'm a jerk). Out of seemingly nowhere it becomes assumed that I don't have a grip on reality, that I lack for friends, or that I'm pretending to be someone I'm not.

I'm not busting on anyone in particular, rather I'm just wondering: why can't we have a little fun and still be perceived as competent adults? Is it really that strange that I'm capable of paying the mortgage while wearing furry bat wings? Why is it so hard to believe that I can spend 12 hours a day on the internet and also manage to shower on a regular basis?

Back in February I asked on Facebook if people make assumptions about you based on your appearance. And if so, what assumptions do they make?

The reason I asked that question is that I've been struck lately by how differently I'm treated depending on how I'm dressed. When I'm in my normal street clothes, for skating or wandering around, police cars slow down and follow me like I stole something. When I'm slightly better dressed, men yell at me from their cars like I'm a hooker. When I put on slacks I'm respected. When I wear a dress I'm pretty. When I glam up for a night out dancing I'm treated like a vapid, empty headed moron. And none of this has anything to do with who I really am.

There's no real point I'm trying to make here. Just that the older I get the more I see the way we subtract from people. Oversimplifying. Distilling them down so they are easier to categorize. I want to practice seeing the world around me as more and more, instead of less and less. I would like the people in my life to be as complex as they really are, without dumbing it down or being a caricature of only one piece of their personality.

Don't just be the sporty one, or the smart one, or the one who likes cats, or the funny one, or the quiet one. Be exactly who you are, and be all of it.

Tech Savy

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

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

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:

1. Run another half marathon
2. Take a cross country road trip
3. Complete an Olympic distance triathlon
   
4. Pay off my car
   
5. Run the Spokane Marathon in October
   
6. Get published
7. Read at least 10 books from the banned books list
8. Dine out once a week or less
   
9. 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?

1. Went to Emerald City Comicon
2. Learned to wakeboard
3. Learned to shoot
4. Went ziplining
5. Ran a full marathon
6. Threw some awesome parties
7. Ran the Warrior Dash and the Dirty Dash
8. Went to Silverwood for the first time
9. Almost got washed out to sea in a kayak
10. 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

"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

"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

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

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.