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Why American Students Are Not Leading the Way in Tech

2011-11-13T01:01:00.000-08:00

Imagine, if you will, a world where Americans don't teach our children math in elementary school. Imagine that children no longer learn addition in first-grade, subtraction in second, multiplication in third or division in fourth. Imagine instead that children make it all the way through high school without having any formal presentation of mathematical concepts. Now imagine that a student is observant enough to realize that adults who have a firm grasp on mathematics have much better problem-solving life skills and financial opportunities than adults who don't. If that student is curious enough to enroll in an undergraduate math class, imagine how frustrating it would be to have the whole of arithmetic, algebra, and statistics thrown at you in your very first term. Wouldn't it feel overwhelming? Wouldn't you be discouraged...especially if you noticed that several people in the class already seemed to understand the stuff fluently? Wouldn't it be difficult to perceive the subject as one where you have talent?

This hypothetical may seem ridiculous, but the truth is that a similar situation is being played out in America today with the subject of computer science. For many, computer science isn't even introduced to them at a k-12 level and their first exposure comes in an undergraduate classroom, where they're forced to absorb all of the basic building blocks of computational thinking at lightening speed before they can begin to fathom the concept of programming, design or engineering. To add further blows, a handful of students (mostly boys) *will* actually have skills in these areas, making the newcomers feel deficient, awkward and behind.

How can we rectify this frustrating situation? It could be as easy as giving formal language to computational thinking concepts beginning in elementary school. Students don't have to be given computers as toddlers in order to start creating a technological foundation. It's not as if we currently go looking for grants to put graphing calculators in the hands of kindergarteners. We start with age appropriate tools, preferably tactile examples, then associate the formal language of math to the skills they're learning. We show them how to count two groups of objects, then have them count the total and call that "addition". Why can't we have them step through sorting blocks from smallest to largest and call that an "algorithm"? Why can't we have them find a solution that works for two different types of problems and call that "abstraction"?

I acknowledge that it's more than the fear of calling curriculum "computer science" that holds us back. Teachers are overwhelmed with the number of subjects that they already have to squeeze into a day. After all, mathematics is required in educational assessments and computer science is not. My challenge to you is to think of the world that our students will be working in, and ask yourself whether we should be preparing our children only for assessments, or if we should be preparing them for life-long success. Computational thinking gives students the skills required to solve problems even when they have never explicitly been taught the answers. It encourages them to think of things in different ways and helps them navigate complex situations by breaking them up into manageable pieces. Don't those skills seem fundamental to a successful adult? Isn't it possible that skills like those could help a student raise their scores on required assessments? I invite educators everywhere to take a challenge of numbers. Feed your kids computer science for one year, with or without machines, and look at the scores that they produce on required exams. Post your results here and we'll have a healthy, hearty discussion.

Those Who Can, Do. Those Who Can't, Google It!

2011-10-04T21:48:00.000-07:00

There are few things in my life that I will readily admit I can't do. I can't sing, and I can't lick either of my own elbows. Oh, wait. It appears that I can (don't try to picture it...it wasn't pretty.)

I've never been the type of girl who crumbles at a challenge, or murmurs "I dunno" when asked how something is supposed to be done. It's not that I have to be the best at everything, only that I need to give it a try. Failure sucks, but it's not as bad as wishing I had given something a go in the first place. That's why I'm completely baffled when I see young girls who would rather admit defeat from the beginning than give something an honest try. Is it lack of self-confidence? Laziness? Fear of criticism? What's the cause and how can we erase it?

In my classes, I've taken to not always answering my students' questions directly. When I was young, my dad always told me to "look it up." Back then, he meant the encyclopedia or the dictionary (do you know how frustrating it is to have to look-up how to spell a word in the dictionary? You don't know how it's spelled! How are you supposed to look it up??) Now days, I do the equivalent with Google. I wish Webster would have had cross-references like, "Do you mean BOLOGNA?" But I digress.

"Google it." I'll say. Yes, I'm the teacher and I'm supposed to be teaching -- but the way I see it, I'm teaching something far more powerful than Python and JavaScript. I'm teaching them how to fish. I'm trying to feed them for a lifetime...and not just with Python. When Python becomes Go and Go becomes Clojure, they'll know how to translate, look up samples and eventually learn the complete syntax. There's definitely a lot of guidance yet to be given and someone has to steer the boat while the students focus on the sport of it. In the end, I don't care whether they think I taught it to them or that they learned it themselves. I only care that they have learned it and believe in themselves enough to do it again.

Wreck This Life ( Wabi-Sabi and the Perfection of Imperfection)

2011-08-27T14:55:00.000-07:00

If you're a loyal reader (and you must be, since you're back after my multi-month hiatus) then you already know that I've been working diligently to embrace the beauty of serendipity and be more open to the wonderful opportunities that hide inside of ruined plans. You can see a tiny example of this in the image to the left. My friend, Cheri, took this photo. It was intended to be a reminder of our irreverent evening out at Jameson's in Eugene. I had tamed my hair perfectly, posed sweetly and had the most genuine smile on my face...but none of that came through. Instead, we ended up with a side-lit image that just barely highlights my dimple as a random guy photo-bombs us with drunken excitement. In a way, this random mash of elements is a much more accurate depiction of how the night went, even though the original subject was hijacked by ill-positioned lights and well-positioned strangers.

A "ruined" picture isn't that big of a deal anymore, is it? With the rapid-fire digital cameras that we all carry with us now days, we can just keep snapping until we get what we want. It's a much bigger risk to ruin something else...like a drawing, a carpet, or a brand new book. That's where Wreck This Journal comes in. I ran across a copy of it at Borders the other day and it only took a few pages to anchor itself to my heart. As someone who will buy a blank pad of paper and leave it sitting on my nightstand, terrified to make a mistake on such a pristine medium, I was utterly transformed by the message of WTJ. The journal not only encourages you, it practically *begs* you, to do something wrong with it. It wants you to fold it, tear it and get it dirty. It wants you to drip and rip and crease with reckless abandon. It wants you to try things that you've not had the courage to try before and let go of the fear that you will do something incorrect. It wants you to have your way with it -- have A HUNDRED different ways with it -- then stand back and realize that what you've done has given it a level of beauty that is impossible to reach when you walk a line of perfection. In short, it asks you to do with your journal what I'm trying to do with my life!

These concepts aren't new. In fact, the Japanese call the phenomenon wabi-sabi. It's basically the belief that "nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect." It's the idea that something can be flawed and still be beautiful. It is permission to stop looking at your body with criticism and start embracing it as uniquely gorgeous. It's the ability to forgive mistakes as they are elements of your unique life experience. It's the valve that releases the pressure to get everything right each step of the way. It's the knowledge that wrecking something doesn't always ruin it.

That said, it's important to realize that the idea of seeing the beauty in a wreck requires that there's something left. I don't want anyone to get the idea that a wasted life is equally acceptable to me. I wouldn't drop it in the trash or throw it in the fire, I just need to stop protecting it so diligently from the wear and tear that gives it purpose and character. I don't want it stolen or kidnapped, but I would be happy to welcome a photo-bomber every now and again :D

What is Regret?

2011-05-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

What is regret? If someone asked me what my biggest regret was, I'd be tempted to say that I have none; Afterall, my life has been exactly what I've made of it. In its most simple form, however, regret just means "having a sense of sadness over something previously done". Certainly I must feel that for something, mustn't I?

Truth be told, I have many little regrets: not stopping to assist some ducks across the road, telling my first-grade teacher that I could count to 100 when I really could have counted ad infinitum, and not buying those shoes when they were on sale.

My biggest regret is much more difficult to define. Since we now know that I have at least one, I must have a "biggest regret." That big regret has to be something larger than missing a great value on footwear. In actuality, knowing myself, my biggest regret would have to be something to do with love.

Unfortunately, my most miserable experiences have brought me my most wonderful joys, so it's impossible for me to regret any of the bumps on the path that led to happiness. Taken item for item, I wouldn't have traded any of the sucky moments knowing what they have brought me. That's horribly depressing, because it means that my biggest regret actually *is* something like buying shoes at full price. Gosh, now that I've said that, my biggest regret may be *not* having a big enough regret...I better work on that!

May the Force Be With Ye

2011-05-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

Borrowed from HowStrange.com

I'm pretty sure I've seen all of the Star Wars movies at some point during my life (afterall, what kind of geek would I be if I hadn't) but I don't really remember them very well. With my boys so deeply entrenched in all things Skywalker, I've decided that now is as good of a time as any to introduce them to the saga.

Like a good Gen-Xer, I decided to introduce the episodes in order of original release, meaning that we enjoyed "A New Hope" as our first family introduction to the Lucas franchise. I loved watching my sons as they stared in awe at the screen. My youngest, a six-year-old, cuddled up in the crook of my arm, hid his eyes at suspenseful times and constantly asked "Is he going to die?", "Why did he just kill that guy?" and "How are they going to escape?"

I learned a lot about my kids from watching them watch Star Wars, but I also learned a lot about myself. In fact, maybe I should have called this blog "Everything I Learned About My Taste in Men, I Learned from Watching Epic Blockbusters." Take for example Luke Skywalker; soooooo not my type. The little blond pretty-boy thing doesn't work for me and neither does that false bravado hiding childish-naivete. He does what's right because he's programmed to do so, not with any sort of passionate lightening spark. Skywalker is a simple man with a farm-boy mindset and that just doesn't work for me.

Han Solo, on the other hand, is much more appealing. He's strong, confident and owns his own ship. He appears to be aloof, but it doesn't actually take him very long to bond with the others despite an exterior attitude of callousness. He doesn't live his life based on what he "should" do, but in the end he can be counted on. Still, he's in debt to some pretty bad people, doesn't have a lot of respect for women and lives his life as a selfish man-boy. Three strikes. Sorry, Solo.

Ya know who else is confident, aloof and owns his own ship? That's right. CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. Yes, he too is a disrespectful, selfish man-boy who's in debt to some *really* bad...er...people?...but with his quick wit, sexy accent and flair for acrobatics, I still kind of wonder what it would be like to wrestle his kraken. I can tell you right now, I'd choose him over Will Turner in a heartbeat.

Will is very similar to Skywalker in my mind. He's outwardly brave, but a child-like innocent inside. He has very little Joie de vivre, but somehow makes it through a lot of very dangerous situations with the help of a crew and one powerful woman.

Would you like to know who really floats my boat? No, not Barbossa, you smart-ass; Admiral James Norrington. Yes, Norrington, a brave and lawful man* who cherished his love once he found her and treated her always with respect and kindness. When Elizabeth broke his heart by choosing Will, James ultimately wished them well as long as Elizabeth was happy. Norrington was an intelligent and thoughtful man who knew his way around both a ship and a sword. This is why he's my choice for Epic Movie Husband. That's also why -- when everyone else is all aflutter on Friday watching "On Stranger Tides", I'll be mourning the death of a beloved character and sobbing into my popcorn.

*Granted, he became a bit less lawful as the sequels wore on, but when it came time to sacrifice his life for the good of others, he didn't have to be handcuffed to the ship by a woman who lured him there with sex.

Too Soon

2011-04-15T22:56:00.000-07:00

My first boyfriend was Daniel Self. It was the first grade and we were about seven. He was a towheaded blond boy with an infectious smile and a much larger brain than many of the other kids in our class. We played soccer on the same team and his age was constantly called into question by the opposing coach, due to his towering height. At recess, we would either play house on the Tower of Trouble (a tall wooden play-structure) or spend the time chatting, hand-in-hand, curled up inside large cement cylinders watching the rest of the kids play dodge ball. He bought me gifts and drew me pictures. He was one of my best friends.

Then one day, a new girl came to the school. Her name was Gretchen. She wore make-up and off-the-shoulder shirts. She'd wink at Daniel as she sat sideways at the cafeteria table. My first true taste of jealously. Then, the rumors came. Toward the end of the first-grade, rumors started going around that Daniel had kissed Gretchen. He hadn't even kissed *me* so I was very disturbed. At recess that day, I asked him about it and he wouldn't answer me. I was so frustrated with him that I picked up a handful of rocks and shoved them into his mouth. We didn't speak again until college.

Several years later, I saw him crossing the campus at U of O and we stopped to talk. We were both all smiles, but time had passed and we realized that we really didn't know each other at all. He went his way and I went mine, pleased that we had caught up a bit, but certain that we would lose touch again.

A decade later, Facebook entered our lives. As the rest of our graduating class started to link via friendships, Dan and I made that connection again. It was a tad bit superficial, but a connection none the less. My guilt over my immature behavior (Hey, I was seven) had sat with me for a long time, so 25 years after the fact, I finally messaged him an apology. I told him how often I had thought about that day and that I wished I had handled it differently. He told me to forget about it, saying that he didn't even remember that it ever happened. He may not have cared, but I did and I'm glad that I got the chance to talk to him about it. That was nearly two years ago.

Last night, I found out that Daniel killed himself.

His Facebook page never advertised any sadness in his life. In fact, it's full of quotes like "I'm gonna have more fun than you." and "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." He ran a skydiving school and went by the name "Dive-Out Dan." He was -- at least outwardly -- a very ambitious young man who was full of energy and life.

Dan and I have obviously not been close in recent years, but he was still a very formative part of my past. Dan was smart and fresh and cheerful and had a world that was equally bright in front of him and in his rear-view mirror. Having a rare inside peek from additional sources that I've encountered in my work life, I learned of some issues that may have been weighing heavily in the back of his mind, but no one would have ever had any clue that they were there. According to friends, he never asked for help.

Some people don't ever ask for help.

I'm writing this today not as a plea for you to observe your buddies...that's far too much burden to put on loving friends who often bring out the best in people who feel dark when they're alone. I am, instead, writing to plant a seed in your brain. You most-likely aren't currently planning suicide. At least, I hope that you aren't. But, if the idea ever comes to your head, traditional help is probably not the first place you will go. Suppose you're not constructive enough to call a help line. Suppose that you don't have a religion or other fear of the hereafter which looks down on suicide. Suppose you don't care that your family and friends will suffer with the pain of loss for as long as they live. This seed is here to put some sort of hesitancy in your mind, nonetheless...just enough that you will hopefully delay long enough to get your zeal back.

The seed is this:
Some day, someone will need your help. It may be a child who can't find her mother. It may be a pedestrian who doesn't see that bus. It may be a neighbor who has a heart-attack in his front yard. Some one *will* need you. If you aren't there, it affects other people's family and friends, too. You will cause a ripple of heartache that could have been avoided if you had just spent a little more time on this earth.

Now, some more traditional info.

If you're currently contemplating suicide, please talk to some one. You could have an actual chemical imbalance that's making life feel far worse than it is. Here are some resources:

Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)
Read This First
The Samaritans

And finally, some facts to inspire:

Life can get better...look at JK Rowling
Rags to Riches
Paula Deen
Extraordinary Comebacks

Please remember, the world needs you. Love needs you. I need you.

It's Alarming

2011-04-01T14:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of the most important days of my life as an entrepreneur. I had a big presentation in front of lots of very, very rich people. Pitches started at 6 pm and somewhere around 6:08, someone's alarm went off.

That evening, while enjoying a drink with my colleagues my business partner asks, "Who sets their alarm for 6:08 anyway?" I said, "I do, but.." and then (as if on cue) my other partner and I say in perfect synchronization, "for me it would have to be 6:07."

As it turns out, we both have a preference for setting our alarms to odd times - not including 5 min after...because that's still too divisible. Are we weird? Is this a unique phenomenon? Well, there's a Facebook group for it already, if that makes any difference.

I've searched the web to see what might possibly be inspiring us to do this. As it turns out, there are several others who claim to prefer odd times, but no scientific (or even acceptable) explanation as to why. I have some theories, but I know it's not something I do with good reason...just something I do. Anybody else?

Thinking Computationally

2011-03-06T21:15:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about computers since I was a very, very little girl. Somewhere inside, I believe they think about me, too.

I have one that has trouble waking up in the mornings, one that plays with my kids and one that is there for me whenever I need it; no matter what time of the day or night (I call that one Mac.) For all of the emotion that I tie up in my computing, my brain knows that they are inanimate machines which are simply responding to low-level binary commands. Even so, it's hard not to personify them once you get to the point where you're confident enough with a keystroke to really make them dance.

For some, getting to that point is more difficult than others. I do believe, however, that there is a specific way of thinking that promotes the ability to really connect with your integrated box of circuits. It's called "Computational Thinking."

Originally, it was the definition by Jeanette M. Wing which helped the concept hit the stratosphere. In short (very short) she boils it down to "abstraction" and "automation." Basically, getting a problem ready for computation, then using computation on it.

As CT started to catch fire, people took those sparse guidelines and ran with them. Many went one way, while some went another and other groups sat still. The idea of CT really opens itself up to many different interpretations; the easiest to say being, "Think like a computer scientist." While I wouldn't consider any of these wrong, I wouldn't consider them complete, either.

The definition I bonded with most was that of Google, in the doorway to the curriculum which they developed for schools in California. They've worked hard to put together "classroom ready" lessons for grades 6-12. Though their actions are commendable, I'm not necessarily in favor of the "Math & Science" approach...nor do I love the concept of starting at a middle school level. I think if we want to show that CT is a universal key to problem solving, we need to give lively examples in fields as far away from what one thinks of STEM as possible. I also believe that if we want the females to successfully weather the storm of gender bias in computer science, we need to start teaching these CT ideas as fundamentals in grades K-5.

Now, as I like to say, enough talk...let's do something inspirational.

I would like you to oblige me in an idea. It seems apropos that computational thinking could be represented as a tree, with each node further pointing to all of the specialized categories that the brilliant minds of computer science can think up. The essence of this tree is that it begins by splitting into two distinct sides...things that a computer can do & things that *we* must do for the computer. Maybe I should include a diagram...a good diagram can make anything appear more official.

Diagram 1a: The CT Tree

You see, I believe that computational thinking has two functions. For starters, there is the concept that humans should understand how to process a problem for computation. It's an extremely useful skill and has an infinite number of uses...even when there is no plan to ultimately use a machine for execution. Secondly, there is a need to understand how to process a problem correctly and efficiently...even without machinery. Comprehending both pieces makes it easier to see that computational thinking can be helpful in any field.

Take art, for example. A painter may want to create a statement on how all living creatures should be considered as important as humans. She may want to find the patterns which all of her favorite animals have in common with people, then abstract out the remainder of the details. She can then plan to highlight the shared qualities through boldness and exaggeration. Once her algorithm has been determined, the artist can avoid getting overwhelmed by the long, detailed road ahead by following her algorithm step by step; considering each piece individually and looking for patterns as she goes (consecutively painting areas that require similar colors, etc.)

The above example may be uncharacteristic of an artist's personality, but it's an effective illustration of the way that efficiency can be brought to many aspects of life...whether or not it belongs in those aspects is up to you.

Regardless of your opinion on efficiency, hopefully you can see the need for both halves of this definition. Whether you plan to prepare problems for computation or perform the computation yourself, computational thinking will certainly be a vital skill for the future.

Computationally Thinking

2011-03-06T02:14:00.000-08:00

For the last two years, I've been doing research focused around women in technology; more specifically, getting young girls interested in computing. In all of my reading, research and interrogations, what I have determined is that "computational thinking" might just be the concept that helps bridge the gender gap.

Computational thinking is in the middle of an identity crisis right now. The scientific population doesn't yet have a standardized definition, though one is beginning to materialize. My view on CT differs slightly, but I elaborate on that in another post.

First, let me state that I acknowledge that not everyone fits snugly into a gender stereotype. There are certainly women that will not fit the descriptions that follow. I don't mean to imply that anyone outside of the groups I discuss are somehow less "female," just that they are less indicative of the majority.

Formalities aside, let's address the reason why I believe that CT can help draw girls toward technology. Bear with me, this is a bit of an indirect and bumpy ride.

The female mind is an incredible thing. From infancy, studies show that the mind of the average female tends to be far more empathetic than that of a male. Such empathy is an expression of a fundamental difference in the way that women solve problems. In general, the empathetic brain looks for emotional cues and facial expressions to assess the validity of a decision, while a systematic brain (typical male brain) uses behavioral queues. This means that machine related tasks come relatively easily for men, but leave women cold as they lack the emotive qualities that we seek. When someone fiddles with a program or gadget and the behavior of its response changes, a man is likely to absorb that change and consider the gathered information useful. A female brain, while easily capable of accurately taking note of the data, is less likely to have an intuitive reaction to it.

That one difference goes a long way toward explaining why young girls consider computer science to be "hard" and "masculine." Without emotional feedback, technology doesn't naturally fulfill a woman's instinctual learning methods. This is why we see such a large percentage of women in people-related jobs. Even in 2009, the most popular female careers were secretaries, nurses, teachers, and cashiers. All receive frequent face-to-face interaction which is a supplement to pay rate when considering how rewarding their job is.

Now, take an empathetic woman with a high-desire for emotional reward and place her in a career that often requires many hours of individual performance - where the majority of her feedback comes from a compiler in cryptic, uninspired messages - and you have a recipe for a very dissatisfied employee.

By now, you're probably asking yourself why computational thinking has any effect on the above scenario. In a word...understanding.

The beauty of an empathetic mind is the ability to sympathize with, relate to, and understand views other than those which they have previously experienced. Computational thinking is the tool that links sympathy and the machine.

Again, I'll save my detailed beliefs on the definition of computational thinking for another day, but in short, CT is the ability to comprehend what is needed for a computer to do its job. It's more than just a list of steps that one does to prepare code for a solution. It is, instead, a method for understanding the needs of a computational entity so that one can either process a problem to make it solvable by computer *or* look at a problem from the viewpoint of a computer. Either way, it's a symbiotic junction which allows a human to relate to a machine and in my opinion, that's a very important first-step toward translating "hard," "masculine" feedback into meaningful personal cues.

Better Communication Through Texting

2011-02-22T20:10:00.000-08:00

Yes, I'm textually active. I text with so many people in a given day, that it's become my preliminary form of communication with nearly half of my dearest friends. Is this to say that I prefer text over face-to-face contact? With one exception, no. I'd much rather chat with them over lunch or walking around campus, but we just don't have the time. Text is a quick and viable solution to our communication issues using technology that's with us almost all the time.

With this increased textual interaction, I've found the need for improved text etiquette. Some of my text buddies are a bit on the sparse side, others a tad verbose. How do I balance my interactions with these people in a way that is neither insulting nor annoying?

I propose a set of unified texting rules that we can all refer to, as well as some new terminology and a guide to etiquette.

Rules
1. Ask about texting hours (I prefer 10am to 10pm.)
2. No naked pics unless I ask for them.

Ettiquette
1. No more than 3 in a row before I get back to you...I'll answer when I can.
2. It's polite to send some sort of reply to let me know you got my text.
3. Text ping-pong should only happen between consenting couples.
4. If it requires more than 3 lines, call me or send an email.

Even if we all know these rules and guidelines, there's still confusion to be had. As a girl, I'm very comfortable using emoticons. Typically, guys don't. This can lead to some pretty awful misunderstandings. I'm going to suggest some terms that can help.

Shortcuts
1. brb - If you have to leave a ping-pong match suddenly.
2. ... - More to come in a minute (can't answer now.)
3. o&o - Over and out (I'm done with this conversation.)
4. 2em - Taking the subject to email.

Will this catch on worldwide? Who knows. As long as all the people who text with me read my blog - and I know the important ones do - then at least *my* texting life will get less complicated!

Can I Do Good All By Myself?

2011-02-02T20:52:00.000-08:00

No, not "well"..."good." I already know that I can do well, but that means slightly less to me at the moment. In recent months I've been focusing on trying to do good things; mainly for youth and women. My schedule is beginning to make it difficult to handle everything alone, so I'm having to broaden my comfort level and delegate.

Delegation is a good thing, right? Makes life easier? Where can I find the line between asking for help and taking advantage? I dunno. I'm not a big fan of asking someone to do what I can do myself. I literally have to force myself to ask my kids to do things that I know they should do, out of fear that they'll turn into incapable adults if I keep providing everything for them. Outside of that, though, I feel like it reflects poorly on me when I accept help from other people. Almost as if I then owe them something.

That's an interesting concept, actually. Owing something to someone. I would willingly do almost anything for anybody, but I refuse to be in debt to anyone...especially a friend. That makes everything a little more complicated. It makes it hard for friends to treat me to lunch, difficult for guys to buy me a drink and near impossible for someone to help make my life easier.

I am an independent being. Stubbornly so. It appears as if I've regressed into the "autonomy" stage of childhood. I feel like I have to do everything myself or else I submit to some doubting sense of shame as if others perceive me as incapable. This behavior becomes a problem when it stops me from accomplishing as much positive change as I could otherwise affect as part of a team. For this reason, I'm asking for help. I want your help giving to causes, building confidence in children and supporting the weak.

For those of you who know me personally, I want you to hold me accountable for letting down this defense. If you catch me denying a sincere offer of support, call me out on it. Use a code word, hand gesture or flat-out rake me across the coals. I'm trying to change, but I don't have the hang of it yet. So, if you see me out in public somewhere waving my arms and singing at the top of my lungs, don't worry about me. I'm most likely just trying to be a flash mob by myself.

What Would You Choose: Brains or Beauty?

2011-01-29T11:12:00.000-08:00

Recently, this little infographic has caused quite the bustle on the internet. Having been called "The Saddest Pink Infographic About Women In Tech You’ll Ever See," controversy is brewing as to whether or not this is the kind of publicity that women in computer science need.

Personally, I think this is fantastic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the type to limit girls to dolls and boys to trucks, but I don't see any problem with leveraging a form of entertainment which tweens actively seek out in fashion magazines and online apps.

Let's start, first, with the idea that intelligent women "deserve more than this". Yes. That's true. They do. But they deserve more than this without excluding this. The big ol' pink infographic to the left is an extremely flattering representation of both mind and overall persona. Why should a woman be limited to choosing brains or beauty? The two are not mutually exclusive. That's a point I've been trying to get across for a very long time! Why is it an insult to a woman's intelligence to call her beautiful? Isn't it okay to recognize all of the areas where she's putting in hard work?

Secondly, this infographic is cartoonish and sassy. There is no point where it tries to pass itself off as indisputable fact. The steps along the way may be cheeky, but if you don't like one of the options, you won't select it and it won't represent you. That said, I'm a little offended that if you prefer the Adult Video Network over New York Fashion Week, you're given the hand. At first glance, it feels like you can't be a computer scientist if you enjoy sex. After further scrutiny, it becomes obvious that you just can't be one of these 5 highly successful tech women. I guess we'll have to wait a while to know where I land, but even until then, I'm completely willing to give this card the thumbs-up.

Then Again, Maybe It's Not The Dawning of The Age of Aquarius...

2011-01-14T00:28:00.000-08:00

Picture look familiar? If you're a constant reader, it probably does. That's because I was about to add this whole section as a comment to my blog from earlier, but it was just a little too full.

So, apparently, we've all been categorized incorrectly! It seems that the original astrologers intended there to be 13 birth constellations, with an extra one between Scorpio and Sagittarius. The repercussion of that is that none of us are what we say we are.

According to the article above, the true classifications are as follows: "Capricorn is now Jan. 20 to Feb. 16; Aquarius, Feb. 16-March 11; Pisces, March 11-April 18; Aries, April 18-May 13; Taurus, May 13-June 21; Gemini, June 21-July 20; Cancer, July 20-Aug. 10; Leo, Aug. 10-Sept. 16; Virgo, Sept. 16-Oct. 30; Libra, Oct. 30-Nov. 23; Scorpio, Nov. 23-29; Ophuchicus, Nov. 29-Dec. 17; and Sagittarius, Dec. 17-Jan. 20."

That officially makes me a Capricorn. So now, I'm supposed to believe that I'm inhibited, patient and unimaginative? Not likely. Aquarius is so perfectly suited for me that it's almost as if it were...well...written in the stars. Was I destined to become this way because I'm an Aquarius or did I become this way because I grew up aware of what an Aquarius is? Regardless of the cause and effect, I *am* an Aquarius through and through.

When I heard about this, I went and read the description of a Capricorn, thrilled that I may see a piece of myself that had been hidden since ancient times. Instead, what happened is I had to call bullshit on the whole idea of a new structure. A Capricorn only describes me in the highest-level "fill it in with your own thoughts" kind of way. The Aquarius description continues to hold true even to my cellular level. As an example, here's the definition of an Aquarius woman:

"The Aquarius woman is the ultimate independent woman. She is funny, smart, adventurous, never clingy or jealous, never demanding and not overly emotional. She is unpredictable and craves excitement. Anything goes with this woman and any man that she chooses will have an amazing relationship. Court her and woo her, she expects this ladylike treatment, she is old fashioned in that sense but be known that her mind is already made up and if she is not interested, she will never be interested. The relationship will progress slowly because she does not get emotionally involved very easily and she is not one for showy displays of romantic affection. The man who is trying to win her heart has to treat her with respect and treat her as an equal. Communication is key, this is how a relationship with an Aquarius woman evolves. Once she trusts you and you two grow closer, she is an amazing loyal and kindhearted person."

If you don't know me, you don't know how completely true this is. If you do, you can probably see how intimately it relates to me. I know there are skeptics who will say that this could apply to anyone, but really, this is a very specific description of a very specific type of relationship personality.

In any case, I'll stick to my original dawning and let the rest of y'all make up your own minds!

Turns Out That Tears Are a Tool, Not a Weakness

2011-01-08T00:06:00.000-08:00

I knew it! I knew that there was a reason that I have trouble controlling my tears when I get emotional. I used to refer to those moments as "being a girl," but it turns out that I can now call it self-defense. That's right, a recent study has shown that a woman's tears actually send chemical signals that cause a decrease in male testosterone. This is great news for me. That means that all this time, when I thought I was showing signs of defeat, I was really only beginning to fight.

Apparently, a woman's tears emit a previously unknown pheromone which triggers a cut in a man's testosterone levels. Low testosterone levels have been linked to a decrease in aggression as well as sex-drive. Suddenly, my unwanted tears have been transformed into a magic potion, capable of rendering men powerless. That is, they would be...if I were willing to cry with a guy in the room.

The True Cost of Technology

2010-12-31T00:58:00.000-08:00

It's hard to turn on a computer these days without hearing about the way technology is saturating our lives. We have unlimited knowledge in the palm of our hands every moment of every day. Nowadays, instead of merely immersing ourselves in television, we're submerged in news stories, storefronts and a non-stop stream of social interactions. I have no fewer than six actual keyboard-laden computers in my daily life. I use them to work, to play, to inform...and if they were waterproof, I'd probably even use them to entertain myself on my long walks across campus (instead, I use my Droid or my iPod or one of my other pocket-sized micro computers.) I have no doubt that I'm trading previous intellectual handicaps for new ones, but them's the breaks, baby. I'm always on and I want my world to be, also.

Critics call this technological engorgement unnecessary, maybe even harmful. Bill Murray may just be showboating in this 1982 clip, but the perspective that he's spouting is no less relevant today. People continue to fear what they don't understand and the fear is even more potent when kids are involved. What is this newfangled high-tech world doing to our youth? What is the cost of introducing our children to technology?

UNPOPULAR OPINION ALERT! Some psychologists claim that technology may be linked to ADD (or a more pleasantly named, Attention Deficit Trait - ADT.) That is to say, instead of being an issue that can be treated, the need for a rapid stream of information to process becomes an intrinsic part of a child's character. I won't dispute this, but I don't necessarily think we should prevent it. Here's the part where I expect some discord: I think we should embrace ADT as a sort of mental evolution. If our brains have the ability to work in a different manner, who is anyone to say that it's not the *right* manner? Yes, I know, I know. Elementary school isn't formatted for classrooms full of excitable, rapidly-thinking children. Parent's aren't prepared to keep up with quizzical exploration and non-stop mental and physical activity. The world isn't tailored to brains that function in this evolved way. But maybe it should be. This "trait" is currently identified as a "disorder" because it's inconvenient. It's debilitating in our current system, but it's conceivable that it could become an asset. THAT world, however, is mega-millions of manhours away, so I'll table this discussion for now.

I'm going to wrap up this blog with a completely different thought. Instead of asking what the cost is of introducing our young children to technology, I'd like to ask what the cost will be if we don't. Sure, we could save a few hundred dollars by not having that extra laptop to buy, which will undoubtedly be destroyed within it's first year of life, but what are we giving up in exchange? The world where our children become grown-ups will be a fast-paced technical one, full of innovation and change. As computational thinking becomes integral to our lives, so will jobs encompassing technology. We're looking at an increase in the T-word in every feasible area: Nano-technology, environmental technology, biotechnology. One day, technology will be associated with the rapid progression of advancements everywhere. It only makes sense to allow our children the freedom to explore these necessary skills while their brains are still easily absorbing new information. One bit of caution -- as with any powerful technique, guidance and responsible use are important elements if you want to create a healthy and happy future computer scientist.

Written in the Stars?

2010-12-19T02:21:00.000-08:00

So, last week, I found out that my ex-boyfriend from Colorado (who had said that a long-distance relationship was just not right for him) had actually been seeing a girl from even farther away in Washington. Not only was that enough to make me want to erase him from my life forever, it was also a huge source of liberation which allowed me to be okay with moving on.

I had just made up my mind to get back out there when I read this horoscope:

"If you had to put out a fire, you would search for the closest source of water. Time is critical when something is burning. Well, Aquarius, something is burning in your personal life. It may be an issue you have neglected, and now it is raging out of control. You don't have the luxury of time to be choosy about how you solve the problem. You need to look for the closest and most effective resource. Oddly, your timing is perfect, even though you procrastinated. If you focus now on solving a problem, you will get excellent results."

Sure enough, a date was immediately offered. I accepted and I had a great time. You may be thinking "WOW! What perfect timing on that horoscope!" or "Just a coincidence." or any number of other reactions to the concept of looking to horoscopes for direction. Whatever your reaction, you can bet I've heard something similar...but before I continue, let me back up.

I love fortune cookies. Not for the cookie, but for the prophetic little slip of paper that you find when you crack that sucker open. That cookie could have been selected by any random person and yet, it still holds power. How? Why?

Whether it's a fortune or a horoscope, I look at it the same. It has less to do with the words being presented and more to do with the mind interpreting those words. I think of these things as tools to assess our own life situations and highlight our true feelings by way of instantaneous association. Just like dreams may be able to help us make sense of our jumble of daily details, "predictive" phrases can trigger hopes and emotions that might have been hidden in our conscious mind. I'm not saying that fortunes and horoscopes are science or magic, but I *am* saying that they serve a legitimate purpose and should not be dismissed as fraudulent verbal snake oil.

Can a reaction to a prediction be taken too far? Sure. But if interpreted with a sane mind, a horoscope could also lead to good...well...fortune. At very least, it could lead to a wonderful night out full of interesting company and great conversation.

To Ping or not to Ping?

2010-12-05T17:44:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have not yet been introduced Ping, it's a social network experience for iTunes. That means, you can share your musical interactions with followers in much the same way that you would share tweets, statuses and even Netflix activity.

So, yes, I'm signed up with Ping and even participating a little, but I have to admit that I'm not so sure about it. This may surprise some of you, but I think that my music preferences are just too personal to share with the world. "What?!?!" you might shout. "Aren't you on Facebook with, like, 4 different group pages, 4 separate twitter accounts and more blogs than you can even connect to your Google Buzz???"

Okay, the answer to all of that is "Yes, but..."

Yes, but to me music is the most intimate external medium for sharing emotions. It's poetry with rhythm. It's a mood wrapped in an audible shell, sex through sound waves. I believe that the mix-tape (or nowadays CD) is the most inspiring love note that you can present someone. It says, "When I hear this, I think of you." Creates memories. Builds you up. Breaks you down. I deleted half the songs from my iPod when my love and I broke up. I still can't listen to most of them. I've replaced them with songs about determination, good-will and how awesome I am. How can I possibly share that in bursts of "like" and rating with stars and comments about what I just purchased and why? The more information I give you about why I'm listening to what I'm listening to, the more I let you straight into my heart - and that, my friends, is a reserved space.

In short, it may seem odd that I blog and tweet and paint and would share any one of those things with anybody who cared enough to follow, but I'm uncomfortable with Ping. For now, I *am* using Ping, but I use it very deliberately and with caution. How about you?

Is Perfection Overrated?

2010-11-14T14:01:00.000-08:00

Whatever happened to "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again?" That is, after all why God invented ctrl-z, right?

I'm taken aback by the amount of pressure there is to get everything correct the first time. My midterms and finals are heavily weighted and based on the premise that we can quickly answer a complex problem without flaw. In the end, the pressure to do so usually makes me panic. Inevitably, I end up belaboring the little things until there's not even time enough left to finish what I had thought I was confident in.

For Pete's sake, I'm not a doctor or bomb-defuser, I'm a computer scientist. Our profession is built on a foundation of trial and error. We hypothesize, test, analyze, repeat. We make sure something is done right before we make it public, but the idea of correctly completing a program in one session and releasing it before it's been picked apart and fine tuned by many other sets of eyes is ridiculous.

I think that the desired traits for this profession are being over-looked in favor of outdated scholastic traditions. I'm proposing that we overturn this antiquated testing format and put a little more weight on creativity. What if students answer questions then trade with classmates who then point out flaws? It would give them a chance to see the problem differently and try again. I think the learning opportunity would be much greater than spending all night "cramming" for an unknown wealth of possibilities that could show up the next day. The former results in a lesson that's far more likely to stick in one's mind than the information accumulated by the latter.

Up to this point, I have been discussing this on a (somewhat tongue-in-cheek) collegiate level. I do, however, feel like this issue is even more important for young children. The fear of failure kicks in for young students (especially girls) and keeps them from even attempting things that they could possibly get wrong. How often do you hear shy girls answer "I don't know." even when you're certain that they do? What if the classroom adopted a model that revolved a bit more around computational thinking and the scientific method? What if students weren't labeled as "wrong" when they answered something incorrectly? What if they were then presented with another opportunity to succeed? Imagine a system where students were allowed to continue revising their homework assignments until they had tuned them to the desired specifications. Assignments could be graded on a combination of correct answers and time taken to achieve the final draft of the assignment.

This all has come about mainly because I don't like the "You got it wrong, your grade-points are gone, now move along." attitude in academia today. Students have been trained to memorize things for tests, then forget them as soon as the term is over. In practice, there are very few professions where you're forced to have instant recall (without the Internet, books or colleagues) for facts that you rarely use. Information is so readily available that trivia is no longer a commodity. Instead, it's the ability to take the facts and use them to develop helpful solutions that has become rare. Let's start working on that.

Waking Up is Hard to Do

2010-11-06T20:49:00.001-07:00

I'm so tired. I haven't been to bed while the clock read "pm" for a very long time. My life is an amazing whirlwind of beauty and aspiration right now. I can honestly say that I'm living up to my recently acquired nickname as a "Technological Force of Nature." Between being a single-mom, completing the final year of my Master's degree and working as the chair for Women in Computer Science at the University of Oregon, I have also been passionately shaking the publicity tree for my latest project, Picture Me in Computing Day.

Born of an idea by Julia Fallon (the Crazy Idea Factory) picmecomp has become a movement greater than two intelligent women had a right to believe it would. With the website, promotion, blogging and research, I'm spending more time on picmecomp than homework and school work combined! I've been staying up until three in the morning, getting up at seven and working hard not to neglect my children or friends. You'll find that my next sentence is missing, due to the fact that it has been sacrificed as an offering to the gods of the Internet in an effort to get all y'all to participate on 11-10-10 in recognition of all my hard work! -- - -- - - -

One thing I've learned by trying to juggle a seemingly endless stream of flaming swords is that it's much better to refuse to take one on than to drop one on your foot! Some of us find it very difficult to decline opportunities to help, even when our hands are already full. For this reason, I'm providing the following helpful list of ways to say "No!"

When you hear someone say the words "I've been meaning to ask you..." turn and run!

Associate an email filter with the words "help", "request" or "your time." Then, have it autosend a reply saying that you will get back to them as soon as you return from entertaining the troops on the international space station.

Acknowledge all requests by including the phrase "your inquiry is currently 4,237th in the queue. Please continue to hold and I'll be with you as soon as all previous requests have been handled."

When asked to help at an event, resist your urge to join-in by faking a heart attack. Not only will you have an effective excuse, but you just may wake up to find someone feeding you Jell-o!

"That sounds like a great opportunity. I happen to be a little overextended at the moment, but please think of me next time!"

I hope you've found this list to be helpful. Since I, myself, don't expect to be slowing down any time soon, I'm counting on you to take particularly good care of yourself so that you'll be around to check me out of the loony bin at the end of the school year!

What the #$*!& ?

2010-10-13T18:36:00.000-07:00

Cussing. Swearing. Curse words. Profanity. Whatever you call it, it has me perplexed. For some people, it's a big deal. I suppose that I've always been aware of that (since I was a very little girl in pig tails who used the word "bitch" and promptly had my mother tell me that little ladies don't talk that way.) What I've recently been surprised by is how offended some people can be at "replacement words".

Okay, I admit it. I'm taken aback when I'm in the presence of someone who drops the f-bomb, s-word or especially the c-word. None of the other words generally offend me very much. Even so, I was always relatively careful not to use any of the "second-string" curse words, because I didn't want to make others uncomfortable. When I was feeling frustrated, I'd dig deep into my third or fourth string and whip out a "GOSH DARNIT!" or "GEEZ LOUISE!!" Who would have known that these exclamations could also be offensive? As it turns out, my dad did. Apparently, my father subscribes to the philosophy that it doesn't matter what the term is that you use, it's the emotion behind it that's startling to people. He considers even the most tame of the expletives (such as "dang") viable curse words. I was truly dumbfounded by this.

I was blissfully unaware of this whole micro-culture who switches the station at wanting to be a billionaire so "freaking" bad. The people who make their children sing "Oh, oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh my Goodness" instead of "Oh my gosh." If that's the case, I'm certainly not fooling anyone using the terms "Oh Gawd." and "Geezus!"

So what's the deal with all of this sensitivity? If I were to stub my toe and scream "POTATO!" would the same people charge me with cursing? If it really is the expression of the harsh emotion and not the actual word, then are these people offended by others who are injured or upset? Is it okay for someone to be offended by genuine emotion?

For myself, I just don't like hearing the harshest of the words. To me, it indicates lack of control. Just like I don't like hearing people say "I HATE broccoli," (I prefer "I really don't like broccoli") I believe people should use words that live on the same level as the emotion that they're needing to express. If you use one of the top-tier curse words, I'm going to assume that you're expressing top-tier trauma and I will react to that. Now, all of this isn't to say that I'm a low-tier supporter. I think for the most part, people use curse words as replacements for forming complete thoughts and sentences and when used too frequently, they can be a sign of low intelligence or lazy communication. Personally, I'll continue trying to save the malediction for times when I really want to be shocking or make a point.

A btw for the non-sensitive: http://xkcd.com/75/

Who am I and who the heck are you?

2010-09-20T21:41:00.000-07:00

There's a girl named Nikki and a girl named Sally. Nikki and Sally get in a horrible accident and by some freak, sci-fi medical mistake, Nikki's body gets Sally's brain and Sally's body gets Nikki's brain. Which one is Nikki and which one is Sally? Does the name go with the body or the mind?

I tend to think that it's your personality that makes you who you are. After all, if you were a brain in a box, you'd still be you. Right? I suppose having your body stripped away is likely to change your personality a bit, so maybe you wouldn't be quite the same you, but another version of yourself for sure. In fact, I'm still pretty much me after going through a huge personality change during my divorce, then again when I got over it. My experiences are deeply influential in shaping my state of mind.

With that said, it seems more likely that it's our history that make us who we are. If that's the case, it's safe to say that many of you have been instruments in my life. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the role that you've played in creating my memories. Because of our time together, you will always be part of me.

P = OMG!

2010-08-09T12:31:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a day in your life so monumental that you thought your head might explode...or you could pass out...or combust? This is that day for me.

For me, today has seen the furthering of my latest cs opus, a personal victory, a huge step in net neutrality and the proposal of the biggest proof of my lifetime...plus, I'm looking hot ;)

Those of you who are following my work for women in computer science already know that I'm involved in the "Picture Me in Computing" day coming up on 11-01-10. What you don't know, because it just happened, is that we officially have support now from Intel, and Curtis Silver (of Geek Dad/Shamable/etc.). We're now adding them to the list with Google, Girls Inc., and soon Mattel. Our website is en utero and we're off and running! With a few extra press persons, this promises to be the biggest campaign that I've ever been involved with. w00t!

It's also evaluation time for my class. My students have come up to me throughout the term and told me how much they love my class, but none of that means anything to the department if they don't write it down! I was just informed that one of my students commented that I was so instrumental in her love for CS that she wishes that I would be teaching other classes in her series! That's honestly the biggest ego boost I've had in a while. Such a great feeling to be taking an active part in fostering love for CS in girls and women.

In addition, after all the hullabaloo over the rumors that Google and Verizon were paving the way for pay-for-priority internet, it looks like they've actually been working on a best-case scenario for that type of deal. It seems that Google and Verizon are planning to work together to ensure that the "regular" internet stays free and they propose installing a *new* series of tubes for the priority content. This would ensure that huge corporations don't mess with the little guy on the web as we know it...EVER! This is huge news. It's so appealing to me that I can actually see it changing the course of history forever. Over-dramatic? Perhaps, but you have to admit it's way better than what was expected.

On top of all of that, today a very reputable man, Vinay Deolalikar, believes he has shown P != NP. This is a huge accomplishment that means a lot in the fields of physics, mathematics and computer science...just to name a few. It's literally the ULTIMATE question in my mind...and while the troublemaker in me would love to see P = NP, I have no doubt that the opposite is far more likely. Being alive for this proof is monumental. If it turns out to be accurate (there are well over 50 faulty proofs on the same subject) then I will be witnessing the end of one era and the beginning of a new one. Now, intellectuals will finally be able to start pondering what it is that makes a certain category of problems so much harder than others.

All in all, today has been overwhelming to say the least. So much good in such a small space has me reeling. It's a welcome change from the bumpy road I've been schlepping for a while now. I'm enjoying the view from up here today. We can think of tomorrow later.

Seriously?

2010-07-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

What year is it? 'Cause last time I checked, we were out of medieval times and women were actually being accepted as functional members of society. How is it that a subject as benign as Women in Computer Science could bring so many closed-minded, sexist extremists out of the woodwork to pollute the airwaves with comments of negativity and hate? If you're not familiar with the current debate over Google supporting women in CS, here's a link that will bring you up to date.

First, let me state that I don't consider myself a feminist. As far as I'll go in that direction is "Femininist," a trait that I blogged about just shy of two years ago. And while I don't go around bashing men or blogging about the supremacy of women, I do believe that women can do whatever men can do...even if they accomplish it differently.

I was so mortified by some of the comments in the twittersphere that I couldn't focus as I headed to teach my CIS170 class yesterday. I was still shaken when I got there, so we took a little time out and I decided to have a discussion with them. My students are from all over the world, diversified in age and plan to go into a varied mix of majors. Of those 10 students, only one was of the opinion that men were better than women at logic and math. He said it was a fact. But he said women were better at languages, so that made it okay.

The other students were just about as in awe of the situation as I am. Many of them are going in to fields where women are an equal or greater percentage of the population, so they're quite comfortable working with the female gender. Not one of my students had an issue with a private company offering grants to help underrepresented groups attend a prestigious conference.

I mentioned that I could understand that filling chairs with unqualified women would be an abomination (trust me, it doesn't make us look good to be filler) but if the women are equally qualified and need extra encouragement to attend an event such as this, I see no problem in offering that encouragement. To me, it's the difference between "This group is underrepresented in a field that could benefit from having more people like them." and "We just like this group better." The first is commendable, the second is not.

In my opinion, Google is simply adding depth and diversity to a field that is currently risking levels of stagnation due to the lopsidedness of the participants. If we can fill out the base of creativity a little more, it will benefit everyone. Oh, and in case you're wondering, we're not *taking* jobs from anyone. According to NCWIT, almost half of the CS jobs out there will be unfilled by the year 2018. We need more people, period. Our largest untapped resources just happen to be women and non-white men. Let's tap that!

If I Could Turn Back Time

2010-07-20T13:43:00.000-07:00

Time travel isn't that hard. I've done it about half-a-dozen times now. The problem is that it takes me such a long time to put the machine together, then I only get back as far as when I've almost completed the damn machine before it comes apart and I'm left to pick up the pieces again.

My friend just shared an article with me about Time Travel Without The Grandfather Paradox. It made my brain feel like it was about to explode. I've never done well with scientific solutions that require that we get to set our own conditions. When in real-life do we get to set our own variables so that things work out exactly as we had hoped they would?

I happen to have my own theory on time travel, that is probably not going to be well-received or popular to any sci-fi/fantasy subscribers out there. I think that if one were able to travel back in time (they would have to be unaided by hardware to prevent the repetition I describe in my opening paragraph) I believe that one's body would also regress. Just as moving through space causes a location change, I believe that moving through time would cause a change in age. I don't think it's possible for our current selves to go exploring previous generations. Instead, I think it would be very much like pressing 'rewind'. One copy of us travels backward, getting younger and ending up in the same position that we originally were. The question then becomes, would our brain retain any of the knowledge of the life we rewound from? If so, we still have the potential to go back in time and change events, we just have to live them over. Like 'back' in a web browser, any changes we made in our surfing would change the course of 'forward.' It *would* therefore be impossible to go back and kill your grandfather, because you couldn't possibly go back any further than when you were in-eutero...and if you did, you'd still have to wait for your egg to get dropped and fertilized.

An interesting thing happens when I consider that one doesn't get to keep the thoughts that we build as we originally age. Suddenly, time travel seems feasible. In fact, time could constantly be moving back and forth, but we have no knowledge of it...except maybe that faint whisper of deja vu that we get when we reverse through a moment and then immediately begin forward again.

No, I don't think time-travel needs to be invented. I highly suspect we're all already going in every direction at once.

Tick Tock

2010-07-08T20:57:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, I watched a movie called Timer. Basically, it's about a timer that people can install in their wrists that tell them the exact day that they will meet their true love. The movie follows three main stories: One woman who finds out that her true love won't come along until she's 46, a boy who finds out that he'll find the love of his life at the age of 14 and the main character who's timer hasn't even started because her yet-unknown partner hasn't been fitted with his chip yet.

Having recently separated from a man that's more than I ever dreamed of - knowing we love each other but can't end up together - this movie has been rolling around in my brain. The phrase "bad timing" has been used between us more than once. The phrase "too late" has come out a time or two, as well, being that I didn't meet him until after I was married, even though we were still both in our very early twenties.

I can't help but use the characters in the movie to predict all of the things that could have happened. Take for example the boy who finds out that he will find love three days after he receives his timer, at age 14. Think of all he gives up by resigning himself to that relationship the day he meets her. Since he "belongs" to her from that first day together, he never goes out and makes mistakes with others to appreciate what a wonderful woman he'll eventually end up with. He doesn't have to feel the loneliness or heartache that makes one so grateful of the real thing when it comes along. How will that change the overall enjoyment of their life together? Is there something to be said for knowing the person you're going to end up with and coming back to them after you've grown-up emotionally?

Now take the sister who learned at age 14 (currently at age 30) that she wouldn't find her true love until she was 46. Because of that, she gave up on having anything real or meaningful in between time. She went from fling to fling, torturing herself and others in the wake. Had she not known, she could have had a lovely and beneficial relationship for years, perhaps decades, before her "true love" came along. She may have had children or maybe even a partner in young-adulthood to help her on the road to her dreams. Instead, since she knew she wouldn't be with any of these guys for the rest of her life, so she checked out. She missed years of possible love and growth because she was holding out for a guarantee.

What about our ingenue? The girl who's timer isn't even activated? One might argue that she's the luckiest of all. She has plenty of opportunity to test the waters - having lots of potentials who end up getting timers and proving that they aren't right for her in the end - but also experiencing the moment when you know that someone isn't right for you without even needing a guarantee. Even she eventually finds her match and it's easy to see that they probably wouldn't have ended up together without the help of the timer.

There's one more character I would like to mention. She has a small, but important part. She's the woman who is so in love with a man who is not her "one" that she has her timer removed. She knows that she's destined for someone else, but chooses to believe that being happy in the moment is far more important than any guarantee. I wonder what my timer would be doing.

What would I do if I knew? Is it worth missing out on even a minute of love if you know that it won't last forever? If you hold on to something that isn't meant to be, will it prevent you from finding something that is? Can any two people eventually become "meant for each other" if they love each other enough and are willing to grow along with one another? Perhaps most frighteningly, what happens if you blow it with "The One"? Do you get a second chance or are you forced to settle for second best? For now, I'm choosing to believe that new "Ones" continually make their way to you, until the day you realize that the one you're with makes you happier than anyone else you've ever loved.

End of the world...as we know it

2010-06-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I had ten minutes with nothing that I had to do. Class prep was done and the kids were with their dad, so I decided I would take 10 minutes to unplug (which is very rare for me) and go lay outside beneath the setting sun with nothing more than a towel and a bottle of water. My laptop nestled safely inside, I laid flat on my back. The evening sun felt wonderful on my face. Almost below the fence line, it was neither too bright nor too warm. That's when I did something I shouldn't have done. I opened my eyes.

If you're a frequent reader of my blog, you've probably heard me talk about the "Acme Effect" already. This is my name for the phenomenon where Wile E. Coyote can defy gravity, but only until he recognizes that he's doing it. Once he acknowledges that he's breaking the laws of physics, the jig is up. Well, that's very much the sensation that I had. Sometimes, when I look at very tall buildings or, apparently, cloudless skies, I am overwhelmed by the fact that no matter where we are on this planet, we are upside down to *someone*. In this case, it was the depth of the clear, blue atmosphere that caused me to lose my breath. Instantly, in a meaningless reaction, I clawed the grass...as if a handful of grass roots would keep me anchored should mother-earth decided to release her gravitational pull on my sunkissed body.

Now, logically, I know that I'm not going anywhere. I knew I wasn't going to fall wildly off the earth and spin out into space. The reaction was, instead, a larger clue into what was going on in my brain. It was a symptom of not trusting something that has always been there for me. The irrational fear of a good thing disappearing just because I've learned to rely on it. Whatever that moment meant, I'm certain that it wasn't my last waltz with irrational fear and the need to have control over myself. I've chosen to type this up, because as odd as my experience may seem to most of you, I'm certain that someone out there has felt something similar. Anyone wanna share?

It's written all over my face

2010-04-07T20:39:00.000-07:00

The center of my brow is permanently furrowed. Now that I'm in my thirties, I've started looking a little closer at the lines I see in the mirror. Out of curiosity, I called about Botox for my forehead, but then I started to think about what hiding my facial expressions really meant.

First of all, I've only recently started thinking about the lines in my brow, even though I've had them for as long as I can remember. I showed my mother the face I would have to be making to create such a landscape and she told me that it was the exact expression that I had on my face when I was born. A little research taught me that the expression in question is associated with worry, anxiety and controlled fear. Not a big surprise. That's the undersong of my life. Apparently, my face does accurately represent who I am.

I find it amazing how well we can infer fundamental bits of one's character by looking at his or her face. When we start changing the cues to our emotions with injections and surgery, how do we change the way people interact with us? I suppose the depth of the concern over this would depend on how comfortable you are with showing emotions in the first place. Our faces, unfettered with pins or potions, can't help but give away telltale signs of what we try to hide. Take some of these famous faces for example...

Barack Obama's deep vertical eyebrow creases indicate masked anger.

George Bush's tight lips and wrinkled full brow indicate contempt and confusion.

Conan O'Brien's laugh lines and crow feet indicate a jovial personality.

So, even though I can't promise that I'm going to age gracefully, I *can* promise that I'll think twice before I paralyze the muscles that are responsible for advertising who I am. My lines may not be beautiful, but they're honest...and my mom taught me that honesty is a good thing.

It's All a Matter of Perspective

2010-04-03T20:13:00.000-07:00

http://xkcd.com/721/

Flatland. Originally introduced in a novel in 1884, it has become an illustration of dimensional observation as well as a highbrow punchline in the century-and-a-quarter since. It's a 2-dimensional world whose residents cannot comprehend the free movement in three dimensions that we enjoy. The idea is that there's a square that lives on a single plane, unable to exist in multiple segments of the third dimension at one time. It sees the world differently, not understanding our enhanced view.

I've been thinking about Flatland lately. Actually, I've been thinking about the 4th dimensioners that would see us the way we see Flatlanders. We can witness a 4th dimension (time) only in individual slices, but is it possible that there is some being that can exist in multiple points of time the way we can in space? When I look at it this way, time and time-travel for a 3-D being makes so much more sense. It's not that different copies of us exist simultaneously in several parallel time periods. More likely, it is just as it would be with the square moving in the third dimension. When it enters a new plane, it must leave the old one. That's not to say that it has to travel the dimension linearly, maybe it finds a way to drop several units in an instant, but to the other residents of Flatland, it would seem to disappear instantly from one and appear instantly in the other. I think that's how time-travel would have to work for us.

What's more, Flatlanders experience time as well. They are, in fact, experiencing all of the same dimensions as a 4th dimensioner would, but they are only capable of expanse in two of them. Are there other dimensions out there that we are already experiencing one point at a time, but cannot perceive without the continuum? We don't know what we don't know. Dogs don't know that color exists, even though they mingle with those of us who can see it. Do we walk among bees that span centuries? Spiders that span gravitational leaks? Cockroaches must exist in at least six dimensions, right? And if there's truth to any of this, what is the Möbius Strip of higher dimensions? I'd love to take a walk on that!

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2010-04-03T19:21:00.001-07:00

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Google Reader will be the Death of Me.

2010-03-15T11:46:00.000-07:00

Between the articles that I subscribe to on Google Reader and the articles that my friends share, I'm processing over 150 headlines a day and full-on reading many of them. There's so much information flying around me every day, that I don't know how I have any room in my brain for what I'm learning in school! Lately, the math articles have been keeping me particularly occupied. Graphs, fractals, how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop(TM)...all are problems that I get sucked into and can't seem to pull myself away from for the sake of dishes or laundry.

Recently, I've been thinking mathematically about "Less is More." The thought that you could take away something and actually have more. I guess that it makes sense in a natural way...if you deadhead your flower bushes, you end up with more blossoms later. If you trim your hair regularly, you end up with longer stronger hair eventually. But how do you get that numerically? I've been mulling it over for about twenty minutes now and this is what I've come up with.

-6 < -4

Okay, the above statement is easy to see. Negative six *is* less than negative four. So, if you have negative four, negative six times...

-4 * -6 = 24

And 24 is absolutely *more* than negative four. Here's what bothers me about that. First, in our initial step, we're relying on the premise that less is less. We can't start with one condition and then end with the opposite...that's proof by contradiction.

Now, let's look again at

-6 < -4

Could this statement be false to begin with? Well, mathematically, no...or else the world would turn on it's ear, Pythagoras would roll over in his grave and Radiohead may actually deserve some academic respect. But figuratively, one could look at this in such a manner. For example, If I owed my son four cookies and you owed him six, you would actually owe him MORE than I do. Taking away less actually leaves you with more and that's kind of a nice lesson in and of itself.

What *is* mathematically possible, however, is that less of one thing could mean more of another. Less blue marbles in a jar means there is space for more red marbles. So, when someone looks at your choice in accessories and tells you "Less is more, hon." You can just look at them and say, "It all depends on your perspective."

So. Emotions...what are those about, eh?

2010-03-14T22:56:00.000-07:00

Emotions are crazy things, aren't they? Ups. Downs. Emotions we're extremely familiar with...ones that we don't recognize. What are we supposed to do with them?

Our bodies are genetically programed to respond to our emotions in order to keep us safe. A twinge of fear can cause a rush of adrenaline which allows us to do things that we may not be able to do under normal circumstances (run faster, lift heavier things) and some people believe that it goes even deeper than that. Here's an article about a woman who does an experiment with her blood and a microscope.

http://www.emofree.com/Research/Research-other/Emotions-Blood.htm

She finds that her blood really does look different as she induces strong emotions with a sort of sentimental meditation. What is even more interesting, is that the blood continues to shape-shift according to emotions once it's outside of the body. I wonder, along those lines, if other people's blood could actually shift according to another's strong feelings. I would assume more research is needed in this budding field. Actually, I think it's mostly crap, but it's pretty entertaining.

With all of that in mind, I want to know what the repercussions are of trying to artificially control our emotions. I, myself, enjoy feeling my full range of emotions. While I'm not one that people would describe as "stoic," my highs and lows fall in what I consider to be a very normal range. As badly as I hurt when I'm at the bottom of a down, I would much rather feel that than numb away any other part of the roller coaster. I acknowledge that it's my own personal preference for the dichotomy of living (I'd rather be sad than apathetic, have a bad day than a boring day, have a nightmare than no dream at all) which drives my decisions to ride out the hard times. Others may not share those preferences and they may experience swings of emotion that are far more wild than mine. So what is the consequence for the body when you admonish the natural feelings? Does it help you stay physically healthier to shave the stress and sadness in your life or could it possibly stop you from learning lessons that could keep you from getting hurt in the future? A caveman on Xanax, for example, may not flee the sabertooth tiger.

So this may be starting to sound like I'm against covering up our emotions, because I believe that we need to feel them in order to learn something. Maybe. The truth is, though, that I think it's very important to learn to control our emotions. I just happen to personally prefer controlling them on my own. When I was younger, I was very dramatic. I know, you're SHOCKED, aren't you? A woman with creative flair, purple hair and savoir-faire...whoda thunk? As a teenager, I would cry at the drop of a hat. It took almost nothing to shake me to my core. Life has a funny way of slapping us out of that. For me, it was a sadistic boss when I lived in Seattle.

In my early twenties, I had a boss that loved to make the women cry. It was a game for him and I swear he tried to improve his time each round. Whenever he would call one of us in to the office, the others would all feel so bad for her and some kind of group lunch was sure to follow. I'll relate one such instance of my own.

I am a good employee. I'm good at what I do and I hate to let anyone down. The first time Mr. Bossman (obviously a fake name, but hey, no one really cares who he is) called me in to his office, I thought it was just a routine check-in. He sat me at his desk and started to ask me questions about my personal life. He watched my face and when he would touch on something that was obviously sore for me, he would pry a little further. Being the innocent and emotional girl that I was, I didn't suspect his motivations. He asked me about my failures, about my family and about my future. He told me that if I didn't become more firm with my coworkers I wouldn't succeed in the company. He then started talking about what I would be like as a mom. Even though I didn't have kids at the time, motherhood was one of the most precious goals in the world to me. I wanted to emulate my own fabulous mother and having him tell me his opinion on how my kids would turn out was torturous. I started to mist-up and he belittled me. He told me to wipe off the doe-eyed sadness and get out of his office. But I had given him the fuel he needed for the future. From then on, whenever he wanted or needed something from me, all he had to do was call me in his office and focus on the weak spot. Working there was horrible, but it taught me to keep closer control of my emotions, because you never know how someone will use them against you.

Nothing highlights that concept more than a divorce. By the time I was done with my marriage, I was pretty sure that I was done with loose emotions too. Those renegade butterflies that take over your insides are only good for giving others weaknesses to exploit. For that reason (and a couple of others) I chose to limit my dating habits to one night only. For a while after my divorce, I had rules and guidelines and so many other crutches that I was positive that I would never let another ninja butterfly attack me. That is, until Patrick came along.

After my very first date with Patrick, I started to question all of the safeguards that I had put in place for myself. I kind of wanted a second date. I wanted to feel the tingles and I wanted to let him in. I just didn't want to tell *him* that. In fact, the one thing I still hold on to is the fear that sharing the true depth of my feelings will just provide ammunition for something unforeseen in the future. I'm convinced that without my former boss, Andre, I would still be hiding my love. Hearing the way I talked about "Colorado Guy," Andre would ask me why I don't just put myself out there. For conversation after conversation, I tried to convince him that if I could just control my emotions, it would be best for everyone. And each time, he worked a little harder to try to make me see that if I didn't open myself up to acknowledging what I was feeling, it would eat me up and wouldn't have a chance at finding the love that I deserve.

In a Hollywood production, those conversations would have been all that I needed. But really, it took all of those talks, visiting Patrick in Colorado, seeing him with the boys, then talking to my cousin who asked, "And how would you feel if he started seeing someone else tomorrow?" before I realized that whether my emotions are on display or not, I am equally vulnerable. What is worse is that if I didn't share what I was feeling, the possibility of getting hurt was even higher.

Alright. Now that I've showcased my talent for making a long story longer, let's get back to drugs. I want to know what you all think. Is there any difference between stifling your emotions with self-suppression vs. medication? Do you personally prefer one method over another? To what extent should one try to control their own emotional state? What good comes from feeling, besides feeling good? Please comment.

Social Media - Y U B H8n?

2010-01-17T17:24:00.000-08:00

You Tube, Twitter, Wave...so many new online applications have been developed to help turn a scattered world into a cohesive population. But how are we to expect our peers to take full advantage of these when there is still such a rebellion against email in favor of snail mail and cell phones for land-lines?

We've all heard it.

"I got along just fine before cell phones were invented." or,

"If someone wants to reach me they can wait until I get home."

Well, that's fine if life as status quo is your preference. If you think your biggest risk is not being reachable in case of an emergency and you're okay with that, then you can disregard the rest of this blog. What these people don't get, the things they're missing out on are all of the millions of ways that the entire world is being offered to us, literally in the palm of our hand. There are many people who are put-off by the intensity of this information stream. I recently read an article by Peter John Lindberg in Travel and Leisure magazine, called "How Social Media is Changing Travel." It was very entertaining, I suggest you give it a look. In that article, Lindberg talks about the way technology is altering our vacations, saying (among other things) that it's robbing us of our serendipitous mistakes and spontaneity. I can see what he's trying to say, but think about all of the things that we're gaining. I, for one, missed my carefree and spontaneous years. I didn't travel at all during that time. Now, I'm a single mother of two young boys and I can't afford to be careless with my life or even with my time.

Take a look, for example, at the road trip I took with my boys (then 4 & 5) last summer. I would have been OUT OF MY MIND to attempt such a thing alone without the confidence of a constant connection. What if I had broken down on a deserted road? What if there were an emergency back home? What if Jack had an allergic reaction in the Painted Desert? That experience, the one that caused my boys to take interest in geography and helped us bond as a renegade group of explorers, would never have happened without my extra layer of protection in the form of an LG Versa.

Imagine if I had not had that phone. What would we have done when the van was overrun by ants and we needed to find a garden store that carried child-safe pesticide? Drive around LA for hours looking for a Home Depot while the ants climbed our legs? I don't think so! We looked it up on the phone and had Verizon's GPS take us right there. Problem fixed. Vacation saved.

What about my trip to China, in October '08? I was able to blog my experiences so that I didn't have to call multiple people (at $1.99/minute) to relay the same story over and over. I was also able to take advantage of Skype to see my children who I was over 5,000 miles away from for longer than I had ever been away from them before. Would I have gone on that trip if I didn't think I could be contacted in an instant if there was a problem with my babies? No way.

I use Dropbox to synchronize folders between home, work and school. I use Picasa to share photos of the boys with their grandparents. Google Calendar helps me keep several itineraries straight so I can share appointments with my mother and boyfriend. I watch TV on Hulu to save the $29.99 for cable and get my movies instantly online with Netflix. I keep up with friends via Facebook, sharing and learning things that I would have otherwise been unable to share due to lack of time. I tweet on Twitter (Twitter is a noun, not a verb) and...I blog.

Long story made a little shorter? The only reason I've been able to succeed on this chaotic, exciting path to improvement all by myself is because I'm never alone. Now, I challenge you to choose one application/technology that you've been avoiding and embrace it for a week. Then, let me know what you did and how it treated you!

Feeling Wiley

2010-01-15T10:07:00.000-08:00

It's been over a week now. I dutifully kept a food journal and discovered some shocking things. For some reason, I had assumed that my diet didn't contain enough protein. Whenever I have been faced with rather equal food options, I generally choose the one with more protein. I drink protein water, eat things fortified with soy protein...all to discover after three days of journaling that I'm ODing on PROTEIN!

The average adult requires somewhere around 50 grams of protein. I was getting close to one hundred! Along with many of those sources come saturated fat...of which my intake was also about double what is recommended. Seeing that pattern early on, I decided to do something that I claimed I wasn't going to start right away. I changed my diet. I started opting for the foods with less saturated fat. I skipped the Track Town pizza and did the salad bar instead. I reduced my intake of everything that I considered junk. What do you suppose happened? If you knew me my first time through, you can probably guess.

I call it "The Acme Effect." I'm pretty sure the term has appeared in my blogs before, but let me elaborate anyway. Ya know how Wiley Coyote can be walking happily along off the edge of a cliff, but then as soon as he looks down...GAME OVER! He falls and makes a dusty thud on the ground below. Failure. I've experienced that phenomenon in many things over the years, but none as noticeably as in my weight. The harder I try to reign myself in, the more I gain. It's very discouraging. In fact, during the first week of my weight loss attempt, I GAINED 5 pounds. Yes, I probably put on a bit of muscle with my workouts, etc., but WTF??

A strange twist to this tale. I stayed at my sister's house Thursday night and weighed myself on her scale...which had me in at three pounds less than I was when I started journaling. Could it be that my scale has an issue? Is her scale nine pounds low? More to come when I get back to my house and I can investigate further!

Rude Awakening - The 4 year old and the earthquake

2010-01-13T08:43:00.000-08:00

My four year old likes to watch the news. He spent more time watching coverage of the last election than I did. Unfortunately, the news is laden with things that he's not quite ready for, so I try to curtail his exposure to CNN.

Last night, however, I forgot to switch the tv from NBC to OPB before I went to bed, so this morning when Jack woke up to watch cartoons, he got a brain full of something a little to intense for a preschooler. Snuggled soundly in my bed, I heard Jackson run in to the room he shares with his brother and scream at a still-sleeping James, "Bro, guess what?? Bad news! Bad News! There was a Haiti Quake and people are trapped!!!"

My eyes popped open. Instantly, I knew what had happened. My baby was being bombarded by the same images that I had seen last night. Things far too frightening for his sensitive heart. I went and got him, brought him back out into the living room and switched the tv to cartoons, then, I asked him to talk to me about the Haiti Quake.

"What did you see?" I asked.
'There was a Haiti Quake and people are trapped." He responded.
"What does that mean?"
"It means there was an earthquake in Haiti and people are trapped in the quake."

It was true. He seemed to have a pretty firm grasp of what he had seen, so the best I could do was damage control. I told him that we had sent some troops over to help and that he didn't have to worry about it, because it would be okay. I chose my words carefully and yes, I know that it won't be okay for everyone in Haiti, but it will be okay for Jackson and that's all he needs to know right now.

Later, on our way to school, Jack brought up the quake again. I asked him, this time, what he understood was going to happen now. This is what he said:

"GI Joe is going to go to Haiti and throw the earthquake to the North Pole. Then, Santa Claus is going to take the quake to Hawaii where the Hawaiians are going to toss it into the ocean."

It was then that I realized it was time to drop it. Nothing I could say could *possibly* be better than that!

Full Body Scan

2010-01-11T22:24:00.001-08:00

Okay, so I'm not the only one who's petrified about being digitally stripped like this in front of airport security personnel. It's bad enough that I get poked fun at about one in every five times I fly. I've had a security man look at my ID, look at me (both with bright magenta hair) and say, "I'm not sure if this is you...do you have any other distinguishing marks?" I've had another make his wand beep artificially over my breasts and then laugh when he saw my expression, saying "I'm just playin'." Some people just don't handle themselves well and people like that don't have any place looking beneath my clothes.

I'll agree that I'm not exactly an exhibitionist. I've been called prude and borderline frigid, but you don't have to be prudent to feel violated having your hidden shapes projected on a screen to people that you don't have any relationship with.

That said, I'm actually comfortable with the new rules for the new generation of scanners setting to be deployed in the airports. First of all, they've done away with the photo-real pictures and are instead creating characterized images for display. To the right is a sample of the new style.

Along the same lines, they have disabled the ability for the machines to capture, save or send these images. That means that there's a constant and real-time visual, but as soon as you're gone, so is the picture. I'm okay with that. It's a lot better than having to go through a tactile search by security looking for hidden weapons. We already have to take off our shoes because of a resourceful bomber, I'm not willing to take off my panties before I'm allowed to get on a plane.

Look. If having this multi-million dollar equipment in every airport will deter people from bringing their tweezers and nail-clippers on the airplanes, then by all means, fire them up! I'd hate to be the target of an extremist plucker.

One Step at a Time

2010-01-03T18:55:00.000-08:00

2009 was a crazy year. I submerged myself in so many projects and came out the other side feeling more satisfied and enriched than at any other time in my life. I started my Master's program, reignited my interest in painting and fell in love.

One failing that I had, however, was breaking my downward weight trend twice this year...once over Spring Break and again between Thanksgiving and New Year's. For the first time since I took my life back, my weight has started rising again. This would merely be a minor inconvenience except for two things. The first is that I'm horribly afraid of gaining back what I lost over the last four years and the second is that I still have about 35 pounds to go.

That said, I feel like I can safely claim that this isn't just a normal, run of the mill weight-loss resolution. This is simply getting back on track in 2010. Now that I've got all of the explanation out of the way, I'm going to tell you how I plan to do it.

What follows isn't exactly a secret. It's not a magic cure-all, because I don't believe that anything works for everyone. What I can tell you, is that it worked for me (to lose more pounds than I care to tell you right now.) My method? I call it "One Step at a Time."

Cold Turkey doesn't work for me...the meat is fine, it's the method that causes me trouble. Whenever I look ahead at all of the things I'm supposed to give-up, I crack. I have to take everything very easy and get used to it. That may sound odd, considering that when it comes to my actual life, I tend to dive-in head first. In this case, when trying to take off some extra poundage, slow and steady wins the race.

First? Pay attention to the time. I find that my body processes food a lot better when I eat progressively less throughout the day. That means a large breakfast, medium lunch, small dinner.

Second? Knock out the caffeine. Caffeine can stress out an already overtaxed body and cause cortisol build-up which is famous for encouraging the production of fat.

Third? The thing that is simultaneously most important and most annoying is keeping a food journal. Whether or not I keep track of the calories, fat, protein and fiber in everything I eat (which I should) it's very important to know just how much I'm eating so that it doesn't add up on me without even realizing it. I also know that I'm a lot less likely to grab a handful of chocolate chips (omnomnom) if I know I'll have to go to my food journal to write them down.

There are several other things that I'll get around to adding to my regimen once I've re-adapted to the three things above. Exercise, vegetables, reduced dairy, and more water are all things that my body reacts very well to. I'll give more detail on these as I incorporate them.

A final thought on the issue: I know myself well enough to know that I can't deprive myself of anything. The more I tell myself that I can't have it, the more I want it. That means that no food will be off limits. Burgers (as always) will be ordered without cheese or mayo. If I want a Blizzard, I'll order one and throw away as much as I need to and I won't feel guilty. I'll continue to have Ben & Jerry's...I'll just eat a little less of it. That's going to be the secret to my success. One step at a time.

Shades of Grey or Gray

2009-11-20T17:28:00.000-08:00

Most of the time, to most people, situations seem awfully black and white. The thing is, if you take a step back and look at the big picture, you'll find many various shades of grey that you were overlooking.

Before I continue, I feel like I should explain my use of "grey" over "gray." When I was younger and wanted to live in a castle somewhere in Europe, I adopted the English spelling for many words. "colour" got me kicked out of my fourth grade spelling bee. I try my hardest not to add that extra 'u' in words anymore, but I still prefer "grey" over "gray". To me, "grey" represents a mixture of black and white, while "gray" evokes feelings of gloom. Maybe it's odd, but that's just my personal preference.

However you spell it, I'm constantly amazed by how many people refuse to see the shades of grey in life's circumstances. My friends seem to be dominated by a "I'm right, they're wrong" mentality. What good does that really do? What can we learn from those situations? In my mind, all it does is breed hostility and allow bitterness to fester over a situation gone awry. It's much easier on an ego to see both sides and understand that there are many ways for any situation to go. For one to expect that every conflict will end in their favour...um...favor...is pure hubris. What's the harm in looking at the opposing side? Maybe, just maybe you'll start to see some flaws in your own logic that can help you build a stronger argument next time.

I used to want to be a lawyer. When I was young, I thought my communication skills and quick wit would help me get my point across to any audience and allow me to defend the downtrodden. I soon realized that as a lawyer I would be forced to defend people that were neither entirely right nor entirely wrong. I would, in effect, have to choose a side knowing full well that I didn't believe it was the only legitimate point of view. That was the end of that aspiration. To this day, I can't really defend something that I don't completely believe (so if you get in an argument with me and I'm fervently holding my ground, you may want to give your position a second thought.)

Because my extreme empathy is rare, it can make people who aren't used to it pretty cranky. When someone's pouring their heart out about how upset it made them that they were cut off by a woman on the freeway, the last thing they want to hear is that she had been trying to get to her exit, but you were driving the exact speed as the car right beside you, leaving her no opportunity to shuffle appropriately. Run on sentences aside, enlightenment like that is generally unwelcome. I try to curb my urges to paint other people's scenes in grey. Even so, that's most likely what's going through my head as I nod in support. So now you know that just because I'm not arguing with you, doesn't mean that I agree with what you're saying. I believe that life is extremely grey and that's wonderful.

Lucky Me.

2009-11-16T11:27:00.000-08:00

How many discussions have I had about luck versus skill? Though rhetorical, that question was intended to get you thinking about the relationship between the two attributes. If you could actually answer it, I'd be seriously creeped out right now. In any case, I hope you've had a little chance to form a slapdash opinion on luck and skill. Does luck exist? Is good-fortune due entirely to skill? Is it a mix of the two?

Let's take a look at luck for a moment. Could it be that the definition of luck is actually different for different people? Sure, there are events that one can influence with their actions, but what about things like the flip of a coin or roll of the dice? Please travel with me as I leave this world of logic and transcend momentarily into a cosmic fog of voodoo and mysticism.

Seriously? You were really going to follow me there? Well in that case, what I'm actually going to say should seem pretty mild. What if luck is a manifestation of karma? What if we truly do make our own luck, just with our daily choices? I had the great privileged of knowing one of the unluckiest guys from my highschool. He once had a truck fall on him while he was just sitting at a stoplight. It was really good for me to see the way the world treated him, especially because he treated the world the same way. Whenever there was a decision to be made, he didn't. Instead, he let karma determine his fate. Without having put any positive energy out into the universe, all he collected was stagnation and disorganization. That bad luck spilled over into just about everything he touched from his work life to his family life. Frustrated and discontent, he never attempted to change the direction that his life was going. He only sat in his misery and complained about his raw deal.

I saw an interview several months ago where some distinguished host was talking to an author who believed that luck was the defining factor in anyone's success. I wish I could remember where I saw it, or knew any other details, but if I come across it I'll add a comment below. In any case, the television host became irate. He was insulted by the prospect that there could be some aspect of his life that he had not *earned* through his hard work and risk. He emphasized over and over again how he had gotten where he was because of the risks that he took and that luck had nothing to do with it. You could see just how cranky this idea made him if I actually had a video link here.

I would like to propose that luck is actually a necessary portion of risk, or else a risk wouldn't be a risk at all. If you know before hand that something is going to turn out in your favor, that's not a risk, it's just an option. Risk has the inherent problem that the outcome could go either way. There are things we can do in advance to make situations less risky, but if you're going to proudly display your willingness to take risks, you cannot deny your dependence on luck.

Ah, but once I take a risk, can't I help push the outcome into my favor? Why yes, yes you can, and that's called making your own luck. Certainly if you're up for a job and you take the risk to apply for it, you can encourage the employer to consider you more seriously by properly preparing your materials and sending follow up emails. What you don't know, is what kinds of luck other people have on their side. Perhaps another applicant went to the same high school as the hiring manager. Perhaps another has the same rare maiden name as his mother.

There's no doubt that if you flip a coin 50 times it will have a fairly uniform outcome of heads vs. tails, but who knows when you're flipping a coin for something very important JUST ONCE if maybe karma has a hand in choosing how it falls.

How Rude!

2009-11-02T20:43:00.000-08:00

"How Rude" is not just a phrase from Full House. The act of being rude has suddenly become very intriguing to me. Why is it that people can be so cosmically drawn to someone who is quite rude, but annoyed by someone who's chronically polite? How often is rude behavior genuinely incondsiderate as opposed to a benign act that is incorrectly perceived? Is it better to be rude and honest than polite and misleading? The answers to all of these questions are eluding me.

There are dozens of examples of things that are perceived as proper in one culture that are considered "rude" in others: looking someone in the eyes, greeting someone you don't know, burping during a meal, giving the thumbs-up, taking your shoes off...is it the act or the intention behind the action that causes such an uproar? Surely something impolite is more easily forgiven if the offense was accidental. Perhaps it's the motivation behind the action that prompts such a negative response.

Sometimes it's the lack of concern for others that inspires rude behavior: someone who cuts in line because they didn't realize that others were waiting or somebody that finishes the last helping of pie without asking if anyone else was looking forward to it. Have you ever gone on and on over the phone about your horrible day, then realized after you hung up that you didn't even ask how the other person's day had gone? How many of these fauxpas can we rack up before we realize that we're just inconsiderate people?

Maybe we're meant to be rude in general. Being overly polite to someone you aren't close to can give them the impression that you feel more deeply than you do. Maybe the point is to be considerate to those who deserve your consideration and disregard what anyone else thinks. If that's the case, what about the Golden Rule? I want to be done unto a certain way, so I do unto others appropriately. That doesn't make me false. In fact, I *want* to treat people with respect and consideration. I can't understand how there are people out there who don't, but it appears that they actually outnumber the rest of us. Anybody have any words of wisdom for me on this?

It's not the Destination...

2009-10-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

They say that it's not the destination that's important so much as the journey. I'm not exactly sure who "they" are, but I'm positive that I ought to be included in the group, as it's a view that I've absorbed as part of my nature since "becoming Kiki" almost 2 years ago. Recently, a couple of related questions have been pinching me in the back of my psyche, like: What if the journey truly does suck and the destination is worth giving pause for a decade or two? Can you ever really appreciate a journey while you're in the middle of it if you're destination is worthwhile enough to keep you traveling? Is there actually a destination, or is every stop just a scenic pullout in life's grand route?

I've been fantasizing recently about winning the lottery...about a lot of other things too, but the lottery is something I'm actually willing to write about. I wonder what I'd change if money was no issue. I think about how I'd approach life if I had more time to "journey" and less concern about "destination". I was surprised to figure out that my journey is not as much about the money in my pocket as it is about the avoidance of couldashouldawoulda. I don't want to look back at my life and feel like I could have been so much more if only I would have _____ . My journey right now is about taking every path simultaneously and seeing everything I can see, so that *I know* I lived willingly and on purpose. I want my children to know that I was the pilot of my own life and that wherever I end up I got there deliberately. At the same time, I want them to grow up believing that they can steer their own lives in any direction, regardless of where they were when they took the wheel.

Journey? Destination? Who cares? Experiences are experiences no matter where you have them.

Feelin' the Need for Speed!

2009-09-22T13:35:00.000-07:00

As a teenager, during one of my first driving lessons, my instructor took me on the freeway and brought me back via a residential area. He said that the idea was to see how well I acclimated to the change in speeds. I was able to keep my car going as slow as was legally allowed, but my insides were screaming for me to go faster. To this day, by body tries to dictate my speed based on my driving situation and I have to force my brain to take over. Thank goodness for cruise control.

As often as I use it in my car, I'm horribly opposed to living my life on cruise control. It's true that I want to move much more quickly in my life than is socially tolerable (sometimes even logistically possible) but I don't believe that I need to maintain a safe speed just because traffic around me is congested. I crave change, I feed off of it and if that change can happen quickly, all the better!

I'm a person who tends to believe that if you have to wait before you act (stop, fill out forms, wait for approval, check your oil) you're less likely to take any of the huge and daring risks that make for extraordinary bedtime stories. Sure, you can think before you act, but you can also continue thinking *while* you act. Maybe I should have taken that left at Albuquerque, but guess what, I can get the same place by taking a right at Cheyenne. Life's full of circles and figure eights, so if you miss an exit because you were going a little too fast, take the next one and enjoy the scenery on your way back! If you get there and find that it's not all that you hoped for, head somewhere else. Life gets a million miles per gallon. Take advantage of that. I guess what I'm trying to say is you don't always have to stop to think. You can think as you go.

Philosophy

2009-09-02T01:59:00.000-07:00

When you spend a lot of time in the car with Confucius and Socrates, you're bound to contemplate some heavy topics...especially when you're fielding questions like "Mom, how many days until you die?" and "Are dinosaurs aliens?"

Sometimes, even when you think you know the right answer, it's not entirely clear whether you should pass the knowledge on. How early should a child become aware that their mom won't be with them forever? When one child asks "Who made the bugs?" and the other responds "The bug-makers." is there any need to get involved? The only answer more specific that I could come up with was "The bugs mommies." But then I would find myself in a "Who made the bugs mommies?" circle and end up having to explain why 'turtles all the way down' pertains to insects.

I used to be a big fan of raising my kids honestly, not hiding the uncomfortable truths and letting them grow up submersed in the world. As I've gotten to know them more, I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Their imaginations play a huge roll in the way they develop. What are the advantages of popping that magical bubble earlier, rather than later? If you tell them something can't be done are you sparing them the wasted time of trying or preventing the possibility that they could find a way to do it?

Pay it Backward?

2009-08-25T22:47:00.000-07:00

Paying for my frappuccino yesterday, I decided to get the coffee of the woman behind me as well. She was a middle-aged working-class type, and seemed extremely over-particular and irritated as I could hear her order, even above my music. For some reason, I thought that a little caffeinated surprise would make life somehow easier today. When I asked the barrista to add it to my tab, she started glowing. "I think that's so great!" she said. "The universe is going to bring this back on you, big time, you know?" "That's not why I'm doing it." I responded, smiling and driving away.

Well, not only did the universe seem unimpressed by my minor token, it seemed to want to punish me intensely. I had what I can only describe as the worst day of my life so far. Too much about my day involves other people, which prohibits weaving my tale into a moving and memorable saga fit for the big-screen. I can, however, share the little bit that sent me into the frenzy which caused me to make the call that sent me into a panic.

Those of you who follow my blogs will know that I've had an impossible time trying to find daycare for my peanut-allergic son. Last month, I was finally able to find a daycare, but they bus to a different school than we are assigned, so I had to ask for a transfer. I was told yesterday that the transfer didn't go through and we were sent back to square one. After that, a chain reaction of minor tragedies on top of horrible possibilities began to mushroom into the threat of my worst fears coming to light. After a couple of moments of terror, I took a step back, looked at the present situation and pulled myself back into action. A couple of hours later, I had an interview with a principal at a nut-free school and was back on track. Still not certain what the outcome will be, but I am on a track. That alone is comforting.

Sunken in the thickness of a misty cloud of fear, I reached for my most reliable vices to pull me through. Very first, was my peeps. My mother, my special gal, my special man and my boys. Together, they reminded me in constant flow that I was cared for and that everything would be alright. Although none of them has that magic crystal ball that shows us living happily decades from now, each was very convincing in lending their support.

Secondly, was a big glass of grape juice. Though I'll be the first to admit that it's not a typical mind-altering substance, there's just something about its purplesque sweetness that empowers me.

Lastly is my megalomaniacal need to have my life under my own control. I think this is the source of my never-ending motivation, as well as the reason that I don't reach for drugs or alcohol in my most desperate times. The worse my life has been pulled into confusion, the more intensely focused I become on setting it right again. My ninja-sharp skills in improvizing have been tested wildly over the last year, causing me to zig and zag irratically in order to keep my end-goals in sight. To others, it may seem as if I'm vascillating, but the truth is that sometimes the less-direct path is the one that makes you most certain that you are where you want to be.

In any case, it's late in the evening now and I feel as if I've pulled out of the frightening fog. I'm ready for bed and willing to wake up and start a brand new day tomorrow. I will not, however, be stopping for coffee.

Not-Quite-Baseball

2009-08-24T16:58:00.000-07:00

It's really difficult to play traditional baseball with three people, especially when two of those people are under the age of six. Our family, however, is unsurpassed in the art of adapting. For example, we spent our afternoon in my parent's backyard playing Not-Quite-Baseball.

The casual onlooker would no doubt recognize our equipment...a traditional child's bat and ball. The player's rolls, on the other hand, may seem more foreign. In our game, there's a pitcher, a batter and a finish sayer. While you can probably guess what the first two do, I'll explain the third. The finish sayer imparts words of wisdom on the other two players after every hit and before every pitch. These can be suggestions or rules, such as: "Don't throw the ball too high or my puppy will sting you." and "Don't cut down trees, only hit the ball."

After a ball is hit, the roll of the pitcher is much more hands-on. The pitcher is responsible for retreiving the ball and chasing the batter around the bases. If a pitch doesn't result in a hit, then the *batter* picks up the ball and chases the *pitcher* with it! The running bases thing has also been modified. With only one batter, and a tremendous chance that each hit only gains one base, we have to have the batter bring the bat with them and hit from the base that they're on at any given time. This makes it extremely convenient to have the pitcher's mound in the middle.

You should try playing this for a while. You'll never look at baseball the same way again!

Snorkel Rice

2009-08-19T10:52:00.000-07:00

When I first heard the term Snorkel Rice, I wasn't sure if it was agriculture or an insult! Seriously, who among us hasn't called someone a huge rotting pile of snorkel rice? Just me? Okay, moving on.

As it turns out, snorkel rice is a genetically modified plant that has been bred to grow almost instantly when flooded by water. The plant contains a gene that instructs it to shoot its chutes above the flood, allowing it to survive the tortures of the Asian and African rainy seasons. The submerged plants can grow nearly 10 inches a day! Experts are very excited about the ramifications of this creation, believing it can go a long way toward ending worldwide famine.

Even as I reeled in the wonder of having a plant grow so quickly that you could actually *see* it, I began to wonder about the effects of this gene on the consumers. Is it possible that eating the rice from these magic plants could have unforeseen effects on the general population? Will teenagers be sprouting inches in their morning shower? That's a hyperbolic example, but I think I got my point across. If there's a gene in our food that causes some extreme reaction, how will that affect those who eat it, especially when it's a dietary staple?

This also leads me to ask some other questions. Does self-stretching rice have any advantage over permanently taller rice? Is there a point that the rice ends up getting too tall and causing issues? Lastly, how can we extend this feature to other items? I'd really like to see a hundred-foot Sweetpea.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8208411.stm
http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v460/n7258/edsumm/e090820-14.html

Writer's block

2009-08-17T22:22:00.000-07:00

Even as I sit about to write tonight, I doubt that the words are going to see the light of a monitor other than mine. No fewer than 3 of my previous blogs sit in my index, yet unpublished. Perhaps what I'm experiencing is less of a writer's block and more of an emotional barricade. The words are written, the stories flowing, I just can't seem to share them.

This behavior reminds me of my high school days when I'd write things on paper and crumple and toss them away without ever showing them to anyone. Why has this insecurity returned? Why is it that I'm no longer able to share the literary fingerprints of my soul? My last unpublished blog gives me a clue. It's title? Overexposure. I've recently gone against my protective grain and exposed myself to the innermost core. Nothing bad came of it. Nothing was pierced, nothing shattered. Even so, I still feel wide open and raw. Maybe it's a negative thing for the fans of my writing, but to me, it's very positive. The wall that I had built over a decade of daily heartbreak has been carefully dismantled. My bitterness and lack of belief in coupledom is fading. Where I once described myself as "jaded in love," I now feel...well...I feel. And for now, that's a step in the right direction.

* Image courtesy of http://www.calvininnes.com/images/writersblock-innes.jpg

Was there life before Google?

2009-07-25T16:46:00.000-07:00

Ah, the "Double O Oracle". I resisted it. I swear I did. Just like with Myspace, Facebook and Twitter, my obstinance turned into lust once I experienced it for myself. It started with a simple search on a computer with limited resources and suddenly I saw the beauty of their design.

Next, I became drawn to AdWords while I was trying to run my own design business. I appreciated the ability to have thousands of free impressions of my business name in search results, even if no one ever clicked further. When I came back to school, a friend introduced me to Gmail and I now check all of my 6 or 7 email addresses from one online interface, which allows me to see all of my messages - past and present - from any computer that has an internet connection. That was life-changing. As far as tools for entrepreneurs go, that one was priceless...followed closely by Google Calendar, which I use to do everything from planning my week to synchronizing weekends with the boys for my ex-husband.

As if that wasn't enough reason to owe my sanity to Google, they then came out with Google Docs! I can write papers and spreadsheets, or do homework online and have it all safely saved for me the next time I want to look at it, even if it's from another computer with a different operating system! Google Reader allows me to follow my favorite blogs and RSS feeds (if you need a blog to test it out with, I'm volunteering http://geekgroupies.com/GeekBlog/groupie.html) and now Google Voice. I just hooked myself up with a number for my latest venture. Whew! And the miracle here? 'Sall free. That's right. I haven't paid a red cent for any of the services with the exception of getting clicks on AdSense, which is the backbone of Google's game plan. They let the *advertisers* pay for leading the general public to their virtual doorstep.

There are those who feel that Google is evil. They feel invaded and used. If this is how you feel, by all means, avoid their many excellent and time-saving products. I, for one, don't see a problem with letting a company earn a profit when they have a business model that is both creative and useful.

Guided by a Pinlight

2009-07-15T00:15:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I felt like I could see forever into the future. I always knew what my next step should be. Somewhere in my twenties, that all-knowing lantern which had shed light into eternity dimmed to something less powerful than what I now have hooked to my keychain. Eventually, I began to feel like I was groping my way through a cave with a pinlight. I barely have enough insight to make my next step, let alone try to predict what I should do farther down the road.

At first, I saw the disappearance of my certainty as a sign of doom. I felt lost and confused. After a while, I began to think of it as a novelty - allowing me to make decisions spontaneously, based on where I am rather than where I thought I should be. This became an important element in letting fate shape my future. Recently, I said to my mom something like: "The thing about planning everything, is that everything goes as planned. When you leave something up to chance, you get serindipity." I've started to believe that if you want to have lucky breaks, you need to be able to see outside of your best-laid plans and allow something to go wrong...or atleast differently than expected.

Unfettered fate is a beautiful and wonderful thing, bringing you moments and opportunities that you may have passed up if you had kept it in your own hands. Left to the universe's devices, I feel like I'm being guided into my proper place, instead of feeling like a square peg in the round hole that I had previously selected for myself.

If you still have your lantern, by all means, use it! If, however, your path is no longer illuminated (or perhaps never was) don't be discouraged. Just shine your pinlight beneath your chin. You may not know where you're going, but you'll look scary as hell to anyone trying to stand in your way!

Of Moths and Men

2009-07-02T22:55:00.000-07:00

My 4 year old is allergic to almost everything. Included in that horrible overstatement, are cats and dogs. This is a cruel truth, because he is more enamoured with furry friends than almost any other child I've ever met. He wants to nurture them. In his room, he maintains a zoo of stuffed animals, each one his favorite.

He was in the bath last night when I heard him wail about a bug. Taking one of his drinking cups, he scooped the bug from the bath and held the cup high. I proposed that he discard the water, and the bug, in the toilet. "But I want to keep it as a pet!" He said, his eyes glistening in the incandescent lights of the bathroom. "Honey," I prodded. "That's a dead moth. Moths are made to fly in the air. They don't do well in water." I said, with slight sympathy. "They do if they're dead!" He rebutted and again held the cup in the air, as if he thought his logic had persuaded me. I smiled at him, took the cup and flushed the bug down the toilet.

Is this what it's come to? My child, so starved for a pet, has been forced to seek a friend in a bloated, drowned donkey of a butterfly? I tried getting him fish, but one carelessly placed Cheerio brought an army of poisoned ants to the water. By morning, the whole lot was dead. I suppose I could try a hamster or a guinea pig, but what's to say that the fate of either of those furry animals would be more favorable? Is the death of an animal a fundamental part of the process of becoming responsible for one? Can the same lesson be learned through stories, therefore sparing the life of some poor handheld mammal? For now, I'm going to try helping them learn through empathy. If that makes me a heartless mother, I'll add their therapy bills to the list of things I'm saving for.

What I learned when I stopped standing still

2009-07-02T01:30:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that less than 24 months ago, my life was over. I had two toddlers and my life was over. I drove a minivan...and my life was over. I was in a marriage where we were both miserable and my life was over. Freedom was a dream that I never knew I had, and exploration was something that only adventurous people did. I certainly wasn't one of those people. I couldn't do those things. My life was already over.

Then an epiphany. Maybe, just maybe, if I figured out what was killing me, I could fix it and learn to live. Months of soul searching and opening my eyes to the facts that had been staring me in the face led me to realize that the kids and the minivan weren't the reason that I felt pinned and alone. Misery was responsible for the death of my soul. That misery was caused by trying to nurture a marriage that was both poisoned and poisonous. So the cure was administered and all parties began to heal.

Still, I never thought I would be an explorer. Didn't ever think of traveling the country, let alone the world. Sure, there were people who did those kinds of things, but it wasn't something that I should be doing. I wasn't one of those people. I don't know what it was that made me believe that the right thing to do was set roots and keep a firm hold on the ground where I grew. Maybe it was soley the fact that I had never been told otherwise. Maybe my fears of the great-wide-open caused me to stay in my own little corner, even when the world was calling my name.

"Couldn't" turned to "shouldn't" then "wouldn't" until the opportunity to go to Beijing arose and I finally said "Why not?" Moments of guilt and doubt intervened, but friends prodded and when I listened to reason I knew that I had to go, if only to prove to myself that I could live my life on purpose. That was one week that changed my life.

I won't go into detail about the trip - not only because that story has been told - but also because it's not the content of the journey that caused my evolution, it's the fact that I took the journey at all. By the time I flew home, I knew that I *was* one of those people. I *was* someone who could and should and would explore the world around me.

Five short months later, I said "Why not?" again, and initiated a road trip that led a friend and I across more than 2,000 miles of paved and unpaved road. We saw new places, camped in all sorts of weather and geocached our way through treacherous terrain. We met a man that the world had forgot and navigated steep and winding roads that the earth had started to reclaim. The freeway brought us home without a hitch and I felt vindicated and empowered. There's a world out there to see and I don't want to see it by myself.

Who would be willing to accompany me on my quest to see the world? Who could tolerate hours in the car with me? The answer was right in front of me and illuminated by a little boy who tenderly proclaimed "Sometimes a four-year-old just needs his mommy." What better way to ensure adequate time together than forcing ourselves to buckle-up and hop from state to state? A little planning and we were off! The ease with which this road trip evolved was amazing. Everyone handled it wonderfully and with vigor. There was excitement growing with every mile and achievement every night. I was simultaneously satisfied and inspired. I've been bitten by the travel bug.

There have been moments when the image in the rearview mirror seemed far more sentimental than time spent in the first place, but it took visiting those locations to realize what I would miss when I was gone. Interests uncovered, geography discovered and friendships recovered, travel is both desirable and necessary as a catalyst to my personal growth. Hopefully, by furnishing it to my boys at such a young age, they will achieve greater heights than I.

I'm stable, I'm growing and I can honestly say that I'm alive. I'm living in a way that only I can, and embracing my unique situation. I know a whole lot more now than I did two years ago. I know who I am. I know what I want. I also know, that I don't want to live a life gathering moss. Roots are good, wings are better.

Some interesting facts about our Wild West road trip

2009-06-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

Total Miles Traveled: 3,764
Total Days Traveling: 14
Hours in the Car: 75:30
States Explored: 7
Lowest Gas Price Paid: $2.439
Highest Gas Price Paid: $2.899
Highest Gas Price Seen: $3.359
Notable Injuries: 7
Speeding Tickets: 0
Stumbling Blocks: 4

********
Total Miles Traveled: 3,764

Wow. Whoda thunk that a single mom would have the patience to travel 3,764 miles with 4 & 5 year old boys? That's farther than driving from the westmost coast in Oregon to the eastmost coast of Maine. And by the day we were heading back to Eugene, James still wanted to turn around and do it all again!

Total Days Traveling: 14

Near the middle of the trip, it felt like we still had a lifetime to go. By the last day, I couldn't believe that it was over. What a trip!

Hours in the Car: 75:30

Yeah, nuff said.

States Explored: 7

Oregon: Love it just as much as ever, but appreciate it a little more now. The allergies are still too severe for me to believe that the boys will end up calling Oregon home forever, but it's a beautiful and bountiful place for sure.

Idaho: I didn't see a single place in Idaho that I didn't like. Boise was beautiful and well planned. They had all of the retail places that I was accustomed to, and the roads were easy to travel. The prices were fair and gas was cheap. Twin Falls was one of the lovliest places we saw on this trip. There was greenery and water, canyons and falls. Just a great place for fostering memories.

Utah: Before this trip, I thought Utah was all about Mormons and missions. If I had never left Salt Lake City, I would still probably feel that way (drove right past a missionary mall.) Fortunately, I drove along the south shore of the Great Salt Lake and got to play on the beautiful beach. I also drove out to the Salt Flats and took a picture of some of the natural whiteness that graces the ground all year long. We went rock climbing in Provo and toured the arches in Moab. I could probably have stayed in Utah for months and never been bored...as long as I didn't have a door for the missionaries to knock on.

Colorado: I only got a small peek at Colorado, but what I saw was beautiful. It was like peering through a keyhole at a large slice of destiny. You know there's so much more that you can't even fathom, but you feel really lucky to have had the chance to get even a small glimpse. Before Durango, the Denver airport was all I knew of this Cowboy laiden state. I would be lying if I said that the scenery was all that attracted me to Durango, but it was certainly enough to cause me to recommend it to others. Be sure to check out Mesa Verde if you visit.

New Mexico: I had been to Santa Fe before, and recommended it as a city to explore with friends and loved ones. Albuquerque, on the other hand, is a great place to go even if you're exploring alone. They have a cute little zoo, some great Route 66 culture and an adobe-clad university. One word of caution. The allergies are attrocious! Not exactly on the top of my list of places to move for my son's health.

Arizona: Didn't like Arizona. I thought it was barren and dry and even the reservations catered to tourists. The shops that sold quality artifacts were way over-priced and the vendors who sold affordable goods offered very low quality. The cities were few and far between. The Grand Canyon was beautiful though. Gas was cheap (when you could find it) and there were a lot of days that were perfect for ice cream! My favorite stop in this state was Lake Havasu City, where we saw the London Bridge. It was a cute little town and I'd like to visit it again someday.

California: What's to say about Cali? Disneyland was great, LA traffic sucked, the mountains were gorgeous. I loved driving by all of the orchards and seeing the truckloads of oranges, lemons, onions and garlic drive by us.

Lowest Gas Price Paid: $2.439

Lake Havasu City, AZ

Highest Gas Price Paid: $2.899

All fillups in Calfornia

Highest Gas Price Seen: $3.359

LA, Ca

Notable Injuries: 7

Personally, I had two injuries that had me wondering if I'd need medical attention. The first was my foot, when I slipped in Dinseyland and tweaked it all around. I did end up seeing a doctor for that one and everything was fine after some advil, an ace bandage and a bag of ice. The second was my wrist. I pinned it between two very heavy containers when I was loading the car. It was sore and bruised for a couple of days, but it's fine now.

The other five injuries belonged to Jack. The poor kid has so much trouble staying on his feet - a problem that seemed to be made worse by elevation. He fell so many times in Moab that we had to replace bandaids that were already covering his broken skin.

Speeding Tickets: 0

Which is not to say that I didn't get pulled over...'cause I did. After safely travelling 85 for weeks, it was really hard for me to slow down in California, that is, until I was pulled over for doing 83 in a 70. When I saw the officer parked as I passed, I repeated "Oh crap, please don't pull me over. Please don't pull me over." But apparently officers in the California PD don't listen to telepathic pleading. Even worse, the officer was female.

I have never been more grateful to have my boys in the car with me. The officer got to the window and asked for my license, registration and proof of insurance. Being that it was my mother's car, I couldn't find anything but the driver's license. From the back, my youngest calls "Why did you pull us over?" The officer responded "Because your mommy was driving too fast." Jack quickly asks "Are you going to put her in jail?" The officer smiled and reassured him that she didn't intend to arrest me. Meanwhile, she accepted the expired insurance card that I *was* able to find in the glove compartment and went back to her vehicle to call me in. (I didn't realize at the time that my mom's van has a whole seperate compartment with all of the necessary documents inside.)

When the officer came back, she asked me if I knew how fast I was going. I said I did. She asked if I knew the speed limit and I said that I had seen the sign just a few feet after I noticed her sitting beneath the bridge. Then, James interrupted from the back. "Mommy, we've never been pulled over by a police officer before!" Bless his heart! His intuitive little brain prompted him to say one of the best things that he possibly could have at that point. Nevermind the fact that he was in the car with me both other times that I had been pulled over...but those officers were both men and I was able to get away with a verbal warning after they verified that I wasn't a raving lunatic.

Fortunately, this officer was merciful and let me off with a verbal. She then asked me to watch my speed because I most likely wouldn't get away with a warning the next time. I'll tell ya, it made for a damn long drive doing the speed limit the rest of the way home!

Stumbling Blocks: 4

I will actually skip sharing the first thing. It's a little private and incredibly female. Suffice it to say that I had a little hurdle that took a lot of phone calls, a little time and a little money to overcome. But I did.

The next thing was dropping my phone in a puddle. It shorted out the board and Verizon wouldn't help me because I didn't pay the $8/month for insurance. Bastards. Fortunately, after everything dried out, the phone seems to be working again as normal.

Thirdly, was that I forgot the charger for my camera battery. I was able to locate a Batteries Plus in Boise that had a charger for my particular model. It even had an adapter to plug it into a lighter, so I was good to go for the rest of the trip!

The last one was a doozy! We had a little ant infestation in the car, caused by bringing an old cooler that apparently had an ant's nest in the lid. Everything was fine while we had ice in the cooler, but after leaving it in the car while we were in Disneyland, the ants woke up and took over the car! It took 4 hours, 6 ant traps and a bottle of soy bug spray that smelled like throw-up to remedy that issue.

Well, that was my trip. I hope you all had fun following along! Hopfeully there'll be more in the near future!

Why my four-year-old will be in the master's program next year.

2009-06-03T12:44:00.001-07:00

By now, everyone has heard me say that my boys are smart. It's true, they are. While Jackson is doing a great job reading small words and doing arithmetic with Corn Pops, James is reading even complex words with tricky letter combinations and doing math mentally. So, why is it that James is headed off to kindergarten and Jackson's entering higher education? Allergies.

After weeks of struggling with daycares over Jackson's peanut allergy, I've decided to just bring him to school with me next year. Since last January, I've had the boys at a great daycare center in the Valley River area. Playdates works with Jackson's allergy and has become a nut-free facility in an effort to provide him with the best care possible. With the new school year, however, James is starting kindergarten at Malibon in the Bethel district and needs to attend a daycare close by. Finding a center that's willing to take the liability of a small boy with life threatening allergies has been a struggle. All of the places that I've called so far have declined and few have given me any idea where to turn to find what I need. A few things are certain. I need someone to watch my boys and keep them safe while I'm at school/work. I need to have Jackson in a place that's nut-free and sensitive to his conditions. I need them both to be at a place near to James' kindergarten so that he can get from school to daycare and back while I'm working. Also, it would be nice if I could find this somewhere that doesn't cost more than what I make in a month. *Sigh*

That said, I haven't found anything close to an option yet. I'm ready to throw my hands in the air and just bring Jack to school with me. I hope my professors don't notice!

*** Update***

The boys ex-teacher, Ms. Brittany, has opened her own school and has told me that she made it nut-free with Jack in mind. She said she'd love to have him, and she'd even take the boys home with her on nights that I had to work late. The catch? It's out at 50th and Fox Hollow! That's a 25 minute drive each way, according to Google.

Triple fortune

2009-06-02T18:15:00.000-07:00

@ dinner tonight. Makes up for the empty one earlier.

National Lampoon's...I mean...Davis Family Road Trip (Summer 2009)

2009-05-30T22:37:00.001-07:00

Well, it took a long time to nail down all the pieces, but our road trip has finally got bones!

OR -> ID -> UT -> CO -> NM -> AZ -> CA -> OR

The plan is...

Day one: Leave graduation and head to Portland to pick up the boys and make it as far as Pendleton before calling it a night.

Day two: Get ourselves to Baker City before the Motorcycle Rally ends at noon. We'll stick around for as much of that as is entertaining and then make the trek to Boise.

Day three: Hopefully we'll be up at a decent hour so that we can go to Wahooz for the day. After lunch, we'll travel down to Salt lake City.

Day four: We might go out to the Bonneville Salt flats, but more likely, we'll take our time driving through the UT landscape, possibly caching as far as Green lake if the weather is tolerable.

Day five: Through Moab and Monticello, down to see the arrows in Cortez before winding up in Durango, CO.

Day six: Make a stop in Aztec to visit the ruins, a short trip to Cuba, then end in Albuquerque for a couple of nights!

Day eight: Through Gallup, Holbrook and Flagstaff to end in Williams.

Day nine: Up to the GRAND CANYON then back down and onto Route 66 until we get to Kingman. From there, we're gonna take a little detour south to see the London Bridge.

Day ten: Back up to Hwy 40 until Barstow. We'll come down through Victorville and down into Anaheim...Shhhhh...don't tell the boys!

Day eleven: Disneyland - California Adventure!!

Day twelve: I'm sure it's gonna be almost impossible to tear the boys away after just one day at the park, but we'll make it better by spending the good portion of the day in the car, breaking somewhere around Patterson, Ca.

Day thirteen: Another long drive with very little planned until we finally wind the evening down in Medford, Or.

Day fourteen: Medford back up to Eugene or Portland...hopefully making a short trip to Wildlife Safari on the way.

That's it! That's the trip that's been widdled down from a month two almost exactly two weeks. If anyone has any additional suggestions of things that we shouldn't miss, I have about two days before I need to solidify my accommodations.

Wish us luck!

Eugene's Finest

2009-05-20T19:01:00.000-07:00

I was caching away, by Autzen Stadium, when I came across a black rag hanging from a tree. I've seen lots of discarded junk in my last few months as a geocacher, so I did little except to take note. As I headed deeper into the underbrush, I came across a notebook, full of poems and lists and plans. That sat a little more uneasily with me. A few moments later, when moving a stick to inspect the location that my GPS had settled on, I spotted a pair of women's underwear snagged on a limb. With all of the other nearby things that had raised flags in my head, I felt that I had better at least call and let the Eugene Police know about the combination.

I called the non-emergency line and the gentleman who answered was actually pretty concerned. He said he'd send out a squad car and asked me to call 911 so that he could track my location. I obliged. My phone threw itself into Emergency Mode and started buzzing away. The operator tracked me to within 20 feet ("Are you about 50 feet from the river? 20 feet east of the bike path?") An hour later, the trooper showed up. The 40-something cop sauntered over and looked at the peice of fabric that was waving in the wind. "Mmm hmm, that's a do-rag." He said. Then he had me point out the notebook. He barely took a second look before asking me to point out the woman's underwear. I led him deep into the shrubbery, covered with trees and blackberries. Arriving at the location, he pulled some gloves from his pocket and put them on. He picked up the underwear and inspected them. "I don't see any blood, " He said. "but there's definitely some wear and tear." He then placed the underwear back on the tree in almost (not really even close to) the place they had been before...as if he thought it should be perfectly reasonable that their owner would come back and say "Ah, here they are! Just where I left them."

As we headed out of the bushes, the officer stopped at the notebook, this time picking it up and turning through the pages. A few pages in, he began to read aloud. The poems were crude at best. There were lists of what this person intended to do in a given day, and poems about what he wanted to do - all piled on top of a paper instructing a mandatory drug course at LCC. The policman must have stood there for 10 minutes, reading these bits of R to X rated lyrics and poems aloud to me. After a few minutes, I took a slice* and realized that I was standing in the bushes with a policeman who was reading me poems about wanting to give it to me all night long. It had to be one of the strangest moments in the last week or two!

After he was done reading, he offered me the notebook. "Want to take this home?" "No thanks," I said. "You can keep it and share it with the missus." He responded, "Would if I had one." The officer shrugged and got back in his squad car. "Thanks for calling that in." He said, and drove off.

As I walked away, I reflected back on what had just happened. I wasn't sure that there was any reason for alarm in the first place, but something just sat uneasily with me. Apparently, he didn't have the same feeling. Ah well, it was an interesting way to spend the afternoon, anyway.

* Taking a slice is something I like to do occasionally. I will sometimes just take myself out of context and realize how cool it is that I am in a specific place at a specific time, ignoring all of the logical things that brought me there. It makes special moments infinitely more spectacular.

Example: "Wow, I'm on top of the Great Wall of China!"
"I'm in a restroom in Kirkland at 5 in the morning."
"I just climbed under barbed wire and now I'm alone in the middle of a forest."

Planetary Passion

2009-05-12T13:33:00.000-07:00

The sky is lit by a hasty comet and all my dreams are riding on it, but how do you follow a shooting star...when you sit in silence, dissecting oddities as friends punctuate with celestial bodies? Could mine cause the world to pause, or even take a breath?

I'm not a sentence, I am a book and I deserve a second look. Why are casual glances so commonly exchanged? My rumbling cloud longs to throw wild lightning, fears relax while my fists are tightening, yet I know that I would still be nothing more than weather.

I don't need to control the tides, ebb the waters far and wide, but would like to see a wave and know that it was just for me. All the heavens crisp and white fade to grey most every night, though the morning promises to bring a new radiance.

I see myself and all I've done in the earth, the moon and in my sons. Their brilliance far exceeds my own. I will try to avoid regret, knowing my path has not been set - if only for the prosperity of those who depend on me.

Stuff that matters - Thinking in print

2009-04-21T15:43:00.000-07:00

I've been on a hunt for nearly a year now, trying to figure out what really matters in life. It's tempting to make the mistake of believing that the things that matter the most are the things that make you the happiest. That's a pretty egocentric way of thinking, so I'm trying to bar that idea and seek a more wholesome definition which still stays local to the heart of a person and avoids becoming about ethereal matters, as I believe there are enough people out there seeking OM at this time.

My sister suggested at one point that I write a mission statement for myself. I absolutely intended to, but the problem became that I couldn't define myself well enough to craft a statement that I thought would work for my entire life. It's safe to say that I don't define myself by my professional title, I also don't define myself by my financial well-being. I have learned, however, that what other people think of me factors into my definition much more than it should. Currently, I'm trying to figure out how to define who I am so that it is unaffected by temporary fluctuations in my surroundings.

Here's a question..."Is who I am important in figuring out what matters?" Certainly if I were going to tell you what *should* matter, it would have less to do with my specific life than trying to come up with the things that actually *do* matter. So now, I'm going to try to reverse this puzzle by figuring out what matters to me and then defining myself based on that.

First and foremost, it's my boys. They're a constant in my life and they make me happier than any one or thing ever has or ever can. I'll admit that I tend to forget this, especially when I'm heavy in to the quest to provide for them. I've been so consumed by figuring how to pay for our life that I've reduced their waking hours to daycare time. To make up for that, I'm going to bring them out of daycare over the summer and make sure that they get as much quality time with mommy as we can all handle.

Next, it's my family. The boys are included again (hey, they deserve it) but I mostly mean my Mom, Dad and Sisters. I've always been much more attached to them than I should be, but without them, I could no longer be myself.

After that (and at one point in my life I believed *before that*) is supposed to be romantic love. I guess this is a spot that I hold open, waiting for a man who deserves to be so high on my priority list that he actually defines who I am. I periodically test people for this section, but there is a major caveat to living here...the guy has to admit that he wants to.

You're probably seeing a trend with the things that mean the most in my life. It's practically all about people. I feel like the right thing to say here would be that my friends are the next most important thing - and they are - but really it's humanity in general. People mean something to me. Often, I feel truly and deeply for the people that I meet (good or bad) to the point where I actually take on some of their emotions myself. I had to leave peer counseling in middle school because I would absorb other people's problems and let them affect my heart. I've learned to control that quite a bit, but still find myself having to rationalize with my own mind when it comes to pulling back from someone who's taking advantage of my open heart.

What's next? Here's where I start running in to trouble. Does money matter to me? Only in-so-much as it allows me to provide the necessities of life and afford entertainment and adventure. Ah, now we're on to something! What kind of entertainment and / or adventure do I hold most dear?

EDUCATION. Yes, educational experiences and adventures of all kinds. Education of myself and my ability to help educate people around me. Education is definitely right there below the well-being of people in general.

Humor. This is probably the last of the elements that I consider to be at the foundation of what matters. It's very important to me that I bring humor in to the lives of others and that I have humor in my own life as well. This is why my life feels more complete with Jcomm.

There it is, the stuff that matters most in my life. All things that I believe will live there permanently. Now it's time to form that into a way of defining who I am.

I suppose I could stop now and encourage you to follow the same steps for putting together your own self-definition, but if you've been with me this far, you may have some interest in the outcome, so here it goes.

I am : A mother, a daughter and sister. I'm a woman. I care deeply for people and want to help in every way I can. I'm a student, a teacher and self-proclaimed comedian.

If I keep in mind what I am, then the opinions of others shouldn't ever cloud my opinion of myself.

To create a mission statement, I need to put into words my intention to tend to the things that matter in my life. After a couple of versions, here's what I've come up with.

My mission in life is to nurture my children in a way that reminds them every day that they are loved and able. I will take care of my family unfailingly, doing my part to make sure that they are never without life's necessities. My spouse will know what he means to me and will never have to doubt my love or fidelity. I will do my best to bolster others, without undermining myself or my virtues. Difficult decisions will be guided by my desire to make the world a better place through humor and education, combining the two whenever possible. Additionally, I will do my best to live my life surrounded by kindness, fairness and honesty.

So there.

Wisdom of the Panda - Warm Fuzzies in a Cookie 4/13/09

2009-04-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

Topic of discussion: I was with my boys and we were talking about cookies.

Restaurant: Panda Express

Fortune: People enjoy having you around.

Thoughts: Really? That's so sweet.

Woops, your intolerance is showing!

2009-04-08T11:29:00.001-07:00

Recently, a video by an anti-gay group calling themselves a "True Rainbow Coalition" has been circulating. I won't link it here, because I don't want anyone to mistake their views for mine.

To summarize, the video claims that a storm is coming. They say that they feel afraid because schools are teaching their children that same-sex marriage is okay. They say that they're being threatened by other groups who want to change the institution of marriage. This unlocked a whirl-wind of craziness in my mind, causing me to wonder what marriage was really intended to be.

Let's tackle the most controversial view first, shall we? If what you believe is that marriage is a ceremony linking two people together in the eyes of 'The Lord', then you most-likely believe that the reason same-sex marriages shouldn't be allowed is because 'The Lord' doesn't sanction same-sex lovers. If this is the concern, then shouldn't marriage only be limited to people who believe in God? Shouldn't marriage require that some deity has officially sanctioned the union with a public miracle or at very least a testimony from a prophet?

To be honest, I would be willing to vote for having a separate ecclesiastical ceremony for anyone who could prove that 'The Lord' believed in their union and truly wanted them to be together. The caveat would be that those marriages are interminable without also acknowledging that you are going against God's desires, much the same way that you would be by marrying someone he disapproved of in the first place.

Now, let's look at marriage in another way, a way of formally declaring your intention to love and be faithful to one another. This is the function that I truly believe most Americans consider marriage to have. This is my most abstract definition, but it's also the one that gets to the modern view of marriage and the reason that marriages are no longer viewed as permanent.

When you marry someone, you invariably promise them forever. In my opinion, that's a mistake. DON'T STOP READING! Listen, I'm not saying that love *shouldn't* last forever, I'm just saying that if you think declaring that your love will last forever gets you out of having to actually nurture it forever, then you have pain and hurt in your future. This is the same reason that I'm against giving your betrothed a diamond ring (oh yeah, and all that blood-diamond murder and cartel stuff.) I think that marriage shouldn't be symbolized by something that you give to them once and don't have to think about again. I think that your intentions in marriage should be symbolized by something that you know you're going to have to renew...and the more frequently the better! I'm talking like a band made out of wood, paper or even a Sharpie marker that you draw on each other in the morning. If you need a symbol, make sure the symbol is sending the right message.

With that said, if people love each other and are willing to forsake all others, then it doesn't matter what the race, sex or religion of the people in the union are. What matters is that they're willing to abide by their vows as long as they are bound by them. In a marriage like this, the vows should be chosen carefully by a couple, because those are the promises that you're making to one another. You're relying on those to define your marriage, not God's intentions.

Lastly, I want to consider marriage as a legal treaty. This seems like a perfectly valid bug...er, um...feature of marriage to me. Considering that marriage used to be used as a merger of land and/or families, marrying for legal benefit cannot be ignored. Again, if you accept the premise of using a legal union for personal gain, then it shouldn't matter what the race, sex or religion is of either person participating in that union. Amirite?

Wisdom of the Panda - Talent - 04/02/09

2009-04-02T23:08:00.000-07:00

Topic of discussion: Why am I the only one who got a fortune cookie?

Restaurant: Panda Express

Fortune: Your genuine talents will lead to success.

Thoughts: Super! Now I just need to figure out what those are.

It's a confusing life

2009-04-02T14:38:00.001-07:00

Today has been stressful and confusing. Each little item feels like it's building on the last and I was hanging on to all of that as I walked in the rain from the bookstore (where I just re-purchased a $100 book) to the computer lab. My brain was tired and heavy, until I overheard a conversation between two guys behind me.

It was obvious from the way they were talking that they were good friends. One had a girlfriend with him. They were talking about differences and biases and perception, then one of them asked the other: "So, would you hold my hand all the way through campus?"

I giggled, appreciating the concept of that experiment. Then I smiled as the other guy said "Yeah, absolutely." Then, they held hands, at least until our paths diverged.

Reflecting on what I had just seen, I got a warm and fuzzy feeling about the world. Then, I got all introspective. I'm an enthusiastically heterosexual woman (sorry Kat) and yet, I realized that if one of my female friends asked me the same question, I would gladly hold their hand through campus. What surprised me is that if one of my guy friends asked me the same question, I would certainly hesitate. If it were a guy that I was actually interested in, my answer would most likely be, "No way." So how effective could that experiment have been and who's perception was it testing - theirs or the rest of ours?

When checking my own initial reaction, I found that my response was mostly initiated by the impression that I wanted to leave with the person doing the requesting. When the request is made by a straight, female friend, I can be certain that they have no expectation that our holding hands will insinuate any vulnerability on my part. If the request comes from someone eligible and available, suddenly the act of holding hands becomes a public display of affection. My current reaction, when faced with admitting to myself that I like someone (and through PDAs, everyone else) is to run! My willingness to oblige has less to do with what everyone else thinks of me and more to do with how safely I can navigate the situation and emerge emotionally unscathed.

I wonder, does the origin of the motivation for accepting or declining the invitation change depending on the intensity of the request? What if the request is changed to sitting next to each other? Hugging? Kissing?

What would you do? What motivates your answer?

The world through my eyes - Tibet, water and the weather

2009-03-31T16:43:00.000-07:00

If you aren't one of these people who finds humor in everything, you might have a little trouble understanding me. I can see many points of view at one time, inevitably one of them is hysterical. If you know me even a little, you have probably seen me giddy and giggly and cracking myself up until I can't breathe. If you know me well and *haven't* seen me this way, then it's probably *you* that's bringing me down!

I was walking down the street one day and saw a sign hanging in a merchant's window that said "Free Tibet." All I could think was how slow business must be for the shop down the road offering Tibet 25% off.

Shopping online, I saw an ad for a solar powered flashlight. There are people out there who buy these things, so I started thinking, what other unlikely product could become a big hit? Eventually, I came up with Instant Water. It's so simple! Just... you know... add water.

Then, the other day, I was in my car, driving through the rain and listening to the radio. The weather lady came on and forecasted a 90% chance of precipitation. I looked at the sky, then back at the radio and realized that there was a 10% that my imagination was PRETTY FRICKIN' AMAZING!!

This is just a brief example of the things that crack me up from moment to moment. If you don't think it's amusing, don't worry, I think I'm funny enough for the both of us!

Epic Road Trip - Eureka, CA to Eugene, OR - Final Day, BABY!!

2009-03-28T00:52:00.000-07:00

It was only our 6th day on the road, but we were already getting nostalgic for day one. It was hard to believe that we would be home by midnight. We planned a couple of caches for the day and one heck of a drive through the Redwoods.

One of the caches we stopped at was on location for where they filmed the movie Jurassic Park. The scenery was beautiful and the find was easy. Dalby got a picture of a fallen tree who's branches had turned into trees themselves. We drove along looking at some very impressive scenery, though it wasn't too different from what I had grown up seeing on the way to the coast and such.

The whole drive, we were looking for the turn-off to the drive-thru tree. It was supposed to be the highlight of this leg. We got to Gasquet before starting to think that we had missed it. Turns out, we had. There was a turn we should have taken back in Klamath to the Trees of Mystery which we had decided to skip. Woops. For a minute, we considered another epic U-turn, but decided that it wasn't worth the detour. Perhaps we would plan a CS trip to the Redwoods during the Summer.

Not very long after, we realized that my car was just a little bit shy of turning 50,000 miles. Dalby got his camera ready and I drove slowly, hoping to pull over when it happened so that I could capture a few pics of my own. It seemed like a good idea to pull in to the parking lot of a local inn and drive around until the odometer turned. Almost instantly we determined that the parking lot was way too small to try to drive 4 miles in circles, so we got back on the main road. With a mile to go, a side street presented itself. I took a right, hoping to avoid having traffic behind me at the big moment.

The road that we ended up on was not only steep, it was windy and narrow. Chunks of the road were missing, crumbling off into the cavernous area below. I've never driven a more intense mile in my life. Add to that the fact that we were trying to watch the odometer and take pictures at the same time and you'll understand why there was such a build-up of anticipation. The miles turned to 50,000 and I stopped the car so that we could get the necessary documentation. By the time we got the pictures taken, we were both relieved that it was over and that we could finally finish the drive home.

We drove through Cave Junction (where my parent's lived when I was born) and Grant's Pass (where the hospital was that I was born in.) We stopped at Wild River Brewing and had some dinner, then made the rest of the journey back to Eugene. When we turned back on to HWY 126, we made note of the 2031.7 mile circle that we had just completed. Day 1 felt so far away and we had been through so much together. The impressions of Maxwell hadn't even begun to get tiring and yet, the trip was over.

I dropped Mike off at his place - along with all of the remaining peanut products - and bid him farewell until we see eachother again with the new term. It was a hell of a Spring Break and I was so grateful to have had his company. Thanks Tom Tom.

I learned a few things over the week that I thought I would share:
* Those pesky bull are everywhere! BULL!
* Not everywhere in the world has a Starbucks.
* Self-doubt can keep you from getting where you really want to be.
* If a stranger offers you unsolicited information, question it before you alter your course.
* Circus Circus uses milk in their Strawberry Smoothies
* Vietnam was far more messed up than any younger generation could possibly know.
* There are two kinds of redheads.
* Guys in Nevada are not shy about asking you to dance for them.
* Some things require 1,000 words *and* a picture.
* If you miss someone before you leave on a 6 day road trip, you're still going to miss them when you get back.

Epic Road Trip - San Francisco, CA to Eureka, CA

2009-03-27T17:43:00.000-07:00

This shouldn't have been tough. All estimates pointed at a four hour drive from San Francisco to Eureka. Unfortunately, our self-doubt took us on a detour.

In order to understand how funny this really was, you may need to know that we made somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 U-turns on this trip. Between Dalby and I, we were continuously doubting our route. We'd give ourselves a point that if we passed, we would assume we had gone too far and turn around to look for where we were supposed to go. Invariably, we hadn't gone far enough the first time before turning around. By Sacramento, we had reduced our U-turn frequency, which still didn't save us from a great big U-turn late in day 5. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start with the morning.

By the time we woke up Tuesday morning, Jake's family had left for their individual daily activities. We three were left in the house. I was really looking forward to what was supposed to be the day that I first tried surfing. It was on my life's list of things I wanted to do - along with going to Europe, publishing a book and counting the licks that it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. Jake had called the surf shop, who said that the waves were awful and the weather was cold, but if you were desperate then you could get away with going out. We decided that we qualified as desperate.

The one hiccup in our plan was that Jake had a dentist appointment at 1:30, so we'd have to wait until later to go out. We made plans to do lunch and walk around Japan Town until Jake was back. Japan Town was lovely. It helped that the weather was warm and the sun was bright. We started with Sushi and finished with some ice cream. Dalby had this nasty-looking concoction made with green tea ice cream, green slushie, red bean paste, whipped cream and a cherry. I was slightly less adventurous with a mint-chip cone.

We walked through Japan Town and took in the sights. There were a couple of Hawaiian stores and one really bizarre hardware place. I bought some great caching containers there. I almost got a kimono, but it just felt wrong to buy a kimono at a hardware store in San Francisco, no matter what the circumstances.

By 2:30, we were ready to head to the beach, but a quick check of the surf line told us that the waves were iffy at best. We talked amongst ourselves in an effort to decide whether we wanted to risk it or not. We had intended to leave San Fran by 5 pm, so by the time we got everything together and got ourselves to the beach, there would only be an hour to play in the waves. Hardly worth spending $20 on a wet suit rental for 60 minutes in the surf. We chose to go with plan B, a tour of Golden Gate Park.

Golden Gate Park was beautiful. We took a picnic snack and ate in front of the pond, watching the ducks and seagulls (actually, San Francisco's on the bay...wouldn't that make them Bay-Gulls?) fight for attention. We took our shirts off in an effort to dull the shine of our Oregon-Day-Glo (tm) skin. Still donning my undershirt, I rolled up my pants and took off my shoes and socks. The sun felt wonderful on my legs, even though the breeze would bring a mild chill every few seconds. After about 15 minutes of sun bathing and chips, the sun escaped behind a thick cloud-cover and the guys started to cover up. We decided to pack up our food and mosey-on so that we had time to see some of the landscape.

The flowers were in bloom, as were the trees and algae! We saw so much color and beauty that I barely had time to put my camera away. We walked through the bamboo garden where the stalks grew so high that they blocked out most of the daylight.

As we emerged on the other side, there was a squirrel standing on a branch, waiting for us. The squirrel was definitely looking at Jake, who was carrying a bag of Tostitos. Jake offered a chip to the little dude, who gladly snatched it and ran back to his perch. Dalby decided that he wanted to try, but Mr. Squirrel was hesitant to approach Mike. Though both eventually succeeded in feeding Mr. Squirrel, he definitely had a preference for Jake's technique.

Soon, the squirrel's friends joined him and we figured it was time to go or else we were going to end up being kidnapped and carried off to their tiny squirrel lair until we could produce some salsa. As we walked away, the squirrels followed making a little rodent train. At several points in the park, we found ourselves being watched by little eyes, but they were all scared away as we passed an old fat man sitting on a bench, resting his arms on his tummy. No one needed to see that.

In an effort to make our trip a worthy adventure, Jake (who was driving my car) decided to take us on some of the notable hills in the area. I have to admit, they gave me a little rush. I was sure glad that *I* didn't have to maneuver them. After that, we dropped Jake off at his place and it was time to head out to the Redwoods where we were going to camp for the night. Ooh, okay, here's where you need to recall that stuff that I said in the beginning. It's okay, go back and read it, I'll wait.

Done? Alright, so just as we were about to leave we were introduced to one of Jake's surfer buddies. After telling him that we were headed to the Redwoods, he commented on what a horrible drive 101 is. It would be about 6 hours, he claimed. He suggested that we should take I-5 and stay in Weed (there's about a dozen stupid jokes that I could make here, but I think I'll skip them in an effort to save myself some typing). Apparently, if we ended up in Weed we could experience the Eastern portion of the Redwoods. Thankful for the tip, we decided to take the well-lit, straight road (about a dozen more jokes I'm skipping here) and end up in Weed.

Tom Tom said that the best route to I-5 from where we were was to head back toward Sacramento and go up. Fifty miles later, we decided to have some dinner, find a Starbucks and head to the Five. It was nearly 9:00 pm before we actually looked at the map and realized that there were NO REDWOOD FORESTS IN WEED.

We stared at each other in disbelief for a second. At that moment, we had to assess how important it was to camp in the redwoods that night. Turns out, it was very important to both of us. That's when we made the MOST EPIC 50 MILE U-TURN. We drove back down to San Francisco and headed up 101 nearly 275 miles and 5 hours in the middle of the night. Along the way, we saw several tsunami warnings and signs advertising a tsunami test that was going to take place at 10:45 the next morning. How exciting.

We finally had a place to set up our tent at about 3:30 am. By then I was tired and ready for bed, but it was our last chance to do S'mores and hot dogs, and we weren't going to miss it! We had one log (which we had snagged from a gravel road in Fields, OR) but it was really wet. We went through a few paper plates and all of our old geocaching papers (including the one with the coordinates for the cache that we had placed at the hot springs) trying to get that sucker burning. Eventually we settled for a small, contained flame for roasting the marshmallows. At 5 am we finished our S'mores and beer and turned in for the night.

The next morning came and went without any sign of a tsunami test. No sirens sounded, no emergency personnel showed up, no one came up to our tent and threw buckets of water on us. It was sort of anti-climactic.

Epic Road Trip - Reno, NV to San Francisco, CA

2009-03-27T01:23:00.000-07:00

We took off from Reno late in the morning. We had slept in and still wanted to get some coffee and check the internet before we got on the road. Finally, a Starbucks! We had great coffee and terrible bagels, then headed over Donner Pass. For all of the hooplah of the terrible weather and signs posted about how bad the pass was, the drive was actually quite nice.

We stopped in Sacramento for dinner and a short walk through State Capitol Park. The sun was setting and the flowers were beautiful. It was a very nice walk back to our car and we marveled about the beauty of the sun and about California in general. Mike got his Android going again and got me directions back to the freeway. Mike was ever so useful on this trip. I started calling him Tom Tom, because it was very much like having an in car GPS system that not only helped me get where I was going, but also made rude comments and questionable jokes when the mood grew stale.

That night, we ended up in San Francisco. The weather felt great to us, even though it was chilly for the area. We found a place to park along the famously steep streets and hiked a couple of blocks to Jake's place.

Looking up at the row of houses, I was reminded of the opening credits of the tv show Full House and I wondered if I would find Danny Tanner inside. Mr Tanner wasn't there. Instead, we met a family full of incredibly nice people and one rabbit. The rule of the house? “You can keep all the beer in our fridge that you want, just don't eat the bunny.” Fair enough.

The goal of the evening was to head down to the local bar, called the Rip Tide, and watch Jake & Mike make fool's of themselves at Open Mic Night. We had escaped into the bedroom for a while to try to come up with an original ditty for the event, but our playing was distracting Jake's sister who was studying for law school, so we decided just to head out immediately and spend the evening spectating instead of participating.

Getting to the bar entailed a 20 minute bus ride followed by a 10 block walk. On our way, we could hear the ocean and we made a mental note to say hello to it on our way back.

Walking into the Rip Tide, Mike made a comment that it reminded him of Max's Tavern. It did have that same sort of “Sweet Caroline” charm, but I've never seen a dog sauntering non-nonchalantly around Max's. The boys ordered some beers, but I declined a drink. I could hear a gentleman singing at the piano and I really wanted to watch him play. I made my way through the crowd and stood at a clearing where I watched him finish his song. He was a very handsome man, probably in his mid thirties. He looked like the quiet type, but had a very kind face. After his set, I congratulated him on a good job, then walked back over to Mike and Jake.

Mike tried to convince me that I should go talk to the guy, but I told him that it wasn't my style. Besides, there was a tall blonde girl chatting him up and they looked like they knew each other pretty well. After the next musician played, that blonde girl hit the stage and introduced the next act. It turns out that she was Annie, the organizer of Monday Open Mic night. It was, in fact, her one year anniversary of planning them. They even had cupcakes.

With the new knowledge that the mystery woman was actually just the event planner, the guys started in on trying to get me to talk to the handsome singer. At first, I just smiled and told them that I wasn't comfortable, but they persisted and eventually Mike told me that I was no longer allowed to sit with them. Defeated, I went over to HS's side of the bar. There was an open stool next to him, so I sat down and ordered a Diet Coke. After a few minutes of watching the guitar player on stage, I turned to HS and asked him if he was going to sing again tonight. He told me that he'd like to, but that he didn't think that they'd get through another rotation of the list. That's all it took. One comment and we entered a conversation full of get-to-know-you's and laughs and flirtatious smiles. Somewhere during that time, Mike texted me, but I chose to ignore it.

The bartender offered a free round of Jameson's to everyone to celebrate Annie's anniversary. HS and I raised a toast and drank. We kept talking about everything from school to work to the weather. He had mentioned that he did this every week and lived far away, so I asked him if he planned to drive home that night. HS looked at the stage, then back at me and told me that he'd be staying with Annie. She *was* his girlfriend.

After a few minutes, I took my phone out and read Mike's message, pretending it was a call to come back over. As it turns out, admitting that he had a girlfriend did not mean that he wasn't interested – a fact that he illustrated by giving me his phone number before I took off. Charming.

Eager to head to the beach, we left before last call. It was a very short walk through very cold air. The shore was dark, we couldn't see much. The wind whipped at our faces and we realized that the beach was meant to wait until the morning.

We were all hungry, so we decided to stop at the 7-11 before we caught the bus. A homeless man was standing at the entrance, eager to chat. He engaged Jake in conversation, looking up as I passed by and wheezing “Hi Lady.” The man had quite a story to tell, so Jake bought him a beer, I bought him a hot dog and we all sat down outside and let him vent.

Turns out the man was a Vietnam Vet, named Maxwell Stevenson. He was harboring a lot of terrible memories, which he didn't hesitate to share with us. He presented us with a 30 minute monologue about watching his “bestest buddy” get his head blown off. He talked about Jesus and the Devil and surviving torture. He went into some sort of war trance, emerging only momentarily to comment on my hair. “You know what they say about red heads? Red heads are one of two things, they're either horribly ugly or terribly cute. You ain't ugly.”

I smiled at the man then, happy for a reprieve from the horrible stories he had been telling. He instantly went back into his tales of torture, saying “Now listen, Sister Bear, our plumbing is different from yours.” He then illustrated his point with a story about fish hooks and a 4-wheel drive truck. Another one about a fire hose enema. I'm not sure I'll ever be the same.

Dalby looked at his watch. It was almost time for the bus, so we excused ourself and told the old vet good bye. We walked, stunned, toward the bus stop. We began to talk a little about torture amongst ourselves, when a car alarm started blaring. A tall man stood up and dashed away, fleeing around the corner. At first, it looked like it could have been accidental, but then we noticed the man down another block, testing doorhandles. Dalby puffed up and started acting all protective, heading toward the alleged perpetrator. Jake and I called him back, warning him that approaching a big man in downtown San Francisco at 2 in the morning was probably not the best idea.

After that, the conversation turned to disgust about lawbreakers and the flaws in our legal system. All communication fizzled as we boarded the bus and headed back to Jake's place to sleep.

Epic Road Trip - Carlin, NV to Reno, NV

2009-03-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

In the morning, we were bustling with excitement. This was it! The day that the whole trip was centered around had arrived. After breakfast, we carefully planned our route, knowing that the potential for danger around our "The Flip of Beijing" coordinates was huge. We snagged a map of Nevada from the room and a couple of pens from the front desk. After that, we were off!

Finding the road to TFOB was easy. Getting up it, however, was not. A sign at the entrance posted a speed of 45 miles an hour, but I started sliding doing less than 30. The roads were muddy and unstable from supporting the melting snow. As we approached the top of the hill we had to stop and assess the viability of the situation. The earth was squishy and the trail wasn't solid, but we felt that if we tread slowly then we could make it. We got back in the car and drove a little more carefully. Eventually, we came to a place where we had to get off of the gravel road and head east on a dirt trail. The trail was obviously intended for 4-wheel drive vehicles, but because we were more than 5 miles away from TFOB we decided to give it a shot.

Under normal conditions, across normal terrain, a five mile hike would have been completely acceptable. The problem was, the terrain was rocky and covered in sagebrush with barely an inch between each plant. Plus, the elevation was high and the weather was freezing. We were able to drive within 2 miles of the point, but then the ruts in the road became so deep that the bushes growing between them were hitting the underside of my car. A few feet later, the bushes made the trail impassible.

Like responsible little hikers, we made sure our day bags had all of the appropriate accouterments, 2-way radios, locator beacon, handwarmers, and a deck of playing cards. I even wrote a note to leave in our car with our intended destination, just in case. We marked the location of the car on the GPS and started walking along the road as far as we could get before we needed to forge through the scratchy plants. Less than 20 feet from the car, we saw our first set of big cat tracks in the snow. Our guess was mountain lion. After that, deer or elk, and some kind of crawly thingy. We did our best to be both noisy and alert, simultaneously watching out for animals and preventing attacks. With about a quarter of a mile to go, it was time to start heading north, which meant leaving the trail. Fortunately, we hit a dry river bed that was headed the way we needed to go. Grateful for our luck, we walked along until we came to a barbed wire fence.

After coming all that way, we weren't going to let a little thing like breaking the law stop us from getting to where we wanted to be. Like a true gentleman, Dalby let me go first. The fence wasn't very high, so I hopped right over and waited for Mike to come join me. Our GPS counted down the fractions of a mile. We had just hit .15 mi (792 feet) when Dalby noticed something in the distance. Nudging me, he pointed in the direction we were headed. There, less than 800 feet away was a herd of bull. It was hard to tell whether or not they had noticed us, but some were definitely looking in our direction.

For a few minutes we talked about what we should do. How far could we get before the bulls decided they didn't want us to get any closer? It would have been alright if we had the ranch owner's permission and maybe new the temperament of the herd, but since we didn't have any idea what to expect, we didn't feel comfortable approaching them (especially because there was an obstacle preventing us from getting to the car quickly). We decided to inch parallel to the cattle in an attempt to get closer to the exact coordinates and see how near we could be before they noticed us. We got about 740 feet away before we saw one of the bulls stand up. That was it. We decided to settle for pictures of the location of TFOB and get back to the car. Plus, it was starting to snow.

Now, when I say snow, what I really mean is hail. Actually, I think it would be more accurate to say afflictive little ice balls. These miniature bullets were hurled at us from the clouds - at first, one by one, then by the thousands. As we headed back to our location, we were assaulted with wind and miniature meteors made of ice. That had to be the longest 2 miles I've ever walked. We were so thankful for our little hand warmers. It would have been nice if I could enjoy mine longer, but the wind kept blowing the hood off of my head and I was holding onto it for the safety of my own porcelain skin ;)

By the time we got back to the car, ice was covering everything, including my chest. My pants were wet and covered in mud and snow. My face and hands were frozen, but dammit, we got a picture of the western coordinates from the cache that we found in Beijing University. Yay, us.

The topic of conversation on the drive back to the freeway was whether we considered the mission a success or failure. I think we decided on success, because the location that we got to was still the western version of coordinates at Beijing University...AND we did get a picture of where the actual location should have been, even if there *was* a herd of cattle in the way. Dude, to me that screams mission accomplished. Besides, we had the last laugh. We stopped in the very next town and had ourselves some hamburgers!

With full bellies we hit the road for the remaining 4 hours to Reno. That part of the trip sucked a little. The mountains were steep and covered in snow, plus, the sun was down so I couldn't see much of the view except that at several moments I knew that we were driving along very steep cliffs. We rolled into Reno, Nevada at 11:00 pm and got us a room at the Circus Circus. We were both a little tired, but we were in RENO, baby! How could we not do a little gambling? Together we hit the slots and for every dollar Dalby won, I lost two. His success cost me a lot! About 3 in the morning I couldn't take it anymore and decided it was time to turn in for the night.

Epic Road Trip - French Glen, Or to Carlin, NV

2009-03-26T01:47:00.000-07:00

I woke up early Saturday morning to the sound of animals rustling around our campsite. Looking out, I saw a couple of deer walking by. Unfortunately, I only had my cell phone handy and it doesn't zoom, so the deer look so far away that you can't even what they are. They're deer, people! I promise!

For about an hour, I tried to get some water to boil. Like a real suburbbie girl, I had brought a hot-pot to plug into my portable outlet. Unfortunately, the amps it needed were too low, so my portable outlet would shut off whenever I tried to plug it in. Yay, safety.

I had to resort to heating the water in a pot over a very low flame. By the time Dalby woke up an hour and a half later, the water was barely above body temperature. *Sigh*

We packed up and decided to get going. We had heard of a natural hot springs by Whitehorse Ranch in Fields, Oregon that we really wanted to have time to sit in. Before we could think of rest and relaxation, though, we had some business to attend to...a cache in French Glen. Very nearby was French's Lookout. The terrain was very rocky and I stepped wrong on a boulder, twisting my ankle ever so slightly. I lost my breath for a minute, but continued on through the desert, eventually finding the cache and logging another success.

The drive was so immediately beautiful that it took less than 5 minutes for me to pull off the road and whip out my camera (I'd be called a photo-holic more than once during this trip.) I got some beautiful pictures of plateaus and the unoccupied road. The drive went on like this for miles. So many miles, in fact, that we started to worry. There hadn't been a functional gas station in French Glen, like I was hoping, and my tank was nearing empty. As I fell below a quarter of a tank, there were still no towns for as far as the eye could see. Slightly panicked, we navigated the curvy roads between deserted mountains. Finally, with little more than a gallon of gas left, we arrived in Fields, Oregon where there was a gas station/coffee shop/town store.

While the old fashioned gas pumps did their thing (nearly 15 minutes) Dalby and I went in to the little shop. He got a coffee and I asked about the hot springs. The shop owner/gas attendant/chef pointed us toward Willow Springs, which was about 8 miles away, 26 miles down a gravel road. Let me explain. The spring was only about 8 miles away, but to get there you have to take a skinny gravel road for 26 miles up and around then back down the local hills. Some of these roads really required a 4x4. Fortunately, some fancy navigating got us to the desired location.

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but the hot springs was not it. The words "I thought it would be bigger" formed in my head, but years of conditioning prevented me from saying that phrase out loud. For some reason I was hoping that we'd be the only people there, but that wasn't the case. There were about half a dozen others at the spring, most of them ranch hands from Whitehorse. There was also two veteran type men, sitting in their army tent propping their feet up on the bumpers of their military vehicles. All in all, it wasn't a situation that I would normally want to be in a swimsuit, but I had come all this way to have my first hot springs experience and I wasn't going to ruin it with self-consciousness.

The first thing I noticed was how horrible the water smelled. It was almost as if we had decided to swim in rotten egg. Fortunately, I have pneumonia, so only a little of the stench filtered through. As I slipped in to natures bath tub, I could feel the slimy mud squish between my toes. I tried to imagine that it was some kind of pedicure masque that would make my feet smooth and soft like bunnies, but it was gross - even for bunny mud.

The waters seemed to help my ankle and Mike said they helped his shoulder (which he had dislocated kayaking a couple of days before) too. I was also grateful for being submerged, because I hadn't taken a shower after camping the night before and we were supposed to be in the middle of nowhere again that night. It wasn't until after the soak that I realized that it was probably better to have lived with mild BO than to go to sleep smelling like Mephistopheles.

After getting out of the hot spring, we pitched our mineral soaked clothes in the trunk and hit the open highway, but not before placing a cache on a nearby hill. Unfortunately, the piece of paper that we wrote the coordinates for the cache on was accidentally used as fire-starting material on our last night of the trip, so we have no way of advertising that it's there! Time to get creative.

From there, it was off to camp in Tonkin Springs, Nevada - at least, it was supposed to be. Unfortunately, the time was coming up on 5 pm and we were still more than six hours away. After eating pizza in Winnemucca, we realized that it was about time to find a place to sleep. We drove until almost 11 pm and wound up at a motel in Carlin, NV.

We had some mixed feelings about staying in the motel. On one hand, it was warm and we were able to shower the natural stench of the hot spring off of us. On the other hand, we weren't exactly roughing it, considering that they offered a nice continental breakfast in the morning. In our defense, we *did* have to make our own waffles.

Epic Road Trip - Eugene, Or to French Glen, Or

2009-03-26T00:58:00.000-07:00

Morning came too soon. The car was mostly packed, but a last minute sweep of my house reminded me that there were a few things that I should have included. After making sure that my emergency pack was ready to go, I took off to pick up Dalby.

Even though I got to Mike's house before 9:00 am, errands and breakfast kept us from hitting the road until 11:30. Our spirits were high and we were off to a good start. Laughing and joking ensued. In fact, there was so much laughing and joking that we completely missed the exit to the Old Mckenzie Highway where the majority of our intended caches were located. Thrown, we made our way to Sisters to figure out what to do. We decided on a couple of caches in the Bend/Redmond area, along with one containing a coin that I *really* wanted to find.

Dalby's first cache (excluding the one in Beijing) was called Something Shocking. It was hidden below a power line in a pile of rocks. While we were putting our names on the log, a police officer rolled by. Immediately, Dalby started to slow his movements down. He needs to practice acting casual. I assured him that the officer would be familiar with geocaching, but he was still hesitant. The officer rolled his window down and slowed to a stop. Mike told the officer that we were caching, to which the officer responded "I figured. Is that your car parked down the way?" We told him that it was and he wished us well and headed on his way.

Laughing, we put the cache away and headed back to the car. I saw a downed cable on the rock by my feet. "Wow," I said. "I almost stepped on that." "Actually," Dalby corrected, "you stepped on it on the way in, but since you didn't die, I decided not to say anything." This is the kind of relationship we have. He's so special.

We got back in the car and decided we had time to try to find the cache that I had been looking forward to. It has a coin in it that I'd love to bring back to Eugene and we drove dozens of miles out of the way just to locate it. Unfortunately, there was no way to get to it without trespassing. The property was heavily wired and no trespassing signs were posted every 100 feet. We know this, because we trepidatiously ignored the first 2 sets. Bummed, we decided to pack it in. All in all, we had eaten up three hours with that cache and the drive to French Glen was still looming.

Dalby napped for the majority of the remaining four hour drive. We got to Fish Lake (which has no lake, FYI) somewhere around midnight. The stars were so beautiful that Mike requested we leave the cover off of the roof. The weather was clear and crisp, so the risk was small. Unfortunately, it was also cold and windy! All night long, arctic breezes would shake us awake. Yay, Oregon.

Epic Road Trip - Prologue

2009-03-26T00:24:00.000-07:00

I needed to get away. Even if everything had been fine before Thursday, March 19th, I would have needed a vacation by that evening. It started out crappy and got worse with every hour.

I might have stayed out a bit too late Wednesday night, especially considering that I had to have my car to Kia at 8:00 in the morning Thursday. There was nothing important wrong with my car (at least I didn't think there was) but my passenger-door lock wasn't behaving. Since my car is still under warranty, I decided to have that fixed before Dalby and I headed out.

In the meantime, I had a routine doctor's appointment and I was going to inquire about the rattling cough that I'd had for a few weeks. The doctor said that my left lung was full of fluid and sent me for blood tests and x-rays. After a few more minutes of waiting, the x-rays were done. I had pneumonia. Lovely.

Walking home, I gave Kia a call to check on my car. It was ready to go, yay! No, not yay. Apparently, I needed new tires. Not only were they worn below the wear-bar, but they were cracked. He told me I'd be okay in town, but if I planned to make any long drives (um, do you consider 2,000 miles long??) then I better replace them first. Sigh.

Alright, off to Les Schwab. They've been great to me, so I decided to buy my tires there. After 4 new tires and a front AND rear alignment (apparently I was off by a few degrees) my car was ready 2 minutes before closing...oh, except that he didn't suggest I drive it very far, because I needed new brakes. What?!? New brakes? Thanks for telling me that right before you close on the day before I leave for a gimungous road trip. He offered to look up other Schwabbies between here and Nevada. I thanked him, but told him I was taking my car to Firestone, if it was still open.

I called Firestone, who said they were going to inspect them first to make sure that LS wasn't feeding me a line of Free Beef. Turns out, they weren't. Not only were the brakes metal to metal, but my rotors were so worn that they were beyond turning. They said that they'd stay open to fix it for me that night and get me on my way. Two hours later, I had my car back, just in time to get to the pharmacy and pick up my antibiotics before they closed. Now, I had a whole 2 hours to get my supplies and load my car before I went to bed. I had to leave for a road trip in the morning!

Epic Road Trip - Do or Die

2009-03-22T08:59:00.000-07:00

Today is the most perilous portion of our trip. We're about to head to a location (+39° 59' 30.90", -116° 18' 19.32") that is several miles off the main roads smack-dab in the middle of mining country. Oh, and did I mention it's snowing??

We're leaving our nice warm hotel in Carlin, NV and heading about 40 miles down Hwy 278 before we cut west on local roads (a bizarre combination of Tonkins and Alphas.) It appears, by word of the OO oracle, that we can drive to within 2 miles of the point. It also looks like there are creeks and rivers everywhere. Our fingers are crossed.

In any case, we're packing day bags with emergency gear and water, planning for the worst and hoping for the best. I'll update FB through Twitter when I have cell reception, but if you don't read any updates from me by midnight, we've found trouble.

Reno by midnight, Baby!!!

The Epic Road Trip (Not that kind of Epic, Toby!) - Preparation

2009-03-19T09:55:00.001-07:00

Tonight, I'm in the preparation stage for my very first Spring Break road trip!!!

One of my biggest features (read: flaws) is being a planner. I tend to over-plan. I'm not going to do that with this trip. What I will do, however, is make sure I'm prepared, then go where the wind and Dalby take me.

Intentions:

In case you don't follow my blog religiously, I'll let you know that I spent a week in Beijing during the month of October. While I was there, I went geocaching and took a picture of myself at N 39° 59.515, E 116° 18.322 with the intention of someday getting a picture at the Western equivalent of those coordinates - which happens to be in a barren and desolate part of Nevada. Well, the opportunity presented itself to get away over Spring Break, so I texted Dalby (who was with me at the cache find in Beijing) and asked if he was in. He responded "Dude, I don't even see myself as having a choice. Let's do this!" With that, we started working on a route.

Preparations:

Neither of us particularly *like* spending hours on our asses, but when you go on a road trip some driving time is inevitable. We tried to break it up into small enough chunks that we'll have time to get to our daily destinations and still have time to play. We've agreed on a route and now we're working on the whole 'accommodations' thing. I've got a tent (and a car) but when it comes to camping in strange and unpopulated places, that prolly won't cut it.

Summoning my good sense, I stopped at the Outdoor Center at the U of O and checked out a set of 2-way radios as well as some road flares and a locator beacon (in case we get stuck someplace where cell phones won't get reception.) With the 'communication' thing covered, I turned my attention to preparing the caches that we're going to place along our journey. Actually, preparing might be a stretch. I gathered all the pieces, but I'm gonna try to talk Dalby into putting them together while I drive. It will give him something to do ;)

Supplies:

* Tent
* Tarp
* Sleeping bags
* Blankets
* First aid kit
* 2-way radios
* Flares
* Locator beacon
* Food
* Water
* Shovel (Thanks RetroRambler!)
* Caches
* Flashlights
* Camera
* Music!

Route:

Just in case you want to follow along! The flag marked "D" is the destination of the western coordinates.

Scars

2009-03-11T19:57:00.000-07:00

I've always been able to heal relatively quickly. For some reason, bruises hang around much longer than cuts and scrapes, but some cuts leave scars long after the bruises have disappeared.

I'm very fortunate that I don't have any large or disfiguring scars. I do, however have several little ones, each reminding me of another one of life's lessons learned. For example, I have one underneath my eye that I got when I rescued my puppy from the top of the playhouse <--That taught me not to put dogs on roofs. I have another on my knee from my first (and only) skiing experience <--That taught me not to hurl myself down an icy slope without the ability to stop gracefully.

Like many people, not all of my scars are physical. I have some pretty good-sized emotional scars as well. Obviously, I try to let my wounds heal. I try not to go around ripping them back open at the smallest hint of similar situations. It hurts me to watch other people do that. Every day, I see the emotional triage of life, bleeding hearts and wounded souls everywhere. Recently, however, it's become obvious to me that something that I thought was forgotten was still hanging around, causing internal bleeding.

I've made a connection between my past and my present and noticed that my past is still weighing heavily on my interpretation of everything I encounter. I still see through the eyes of the person that I used to be, even though I'm a completely different woman today. A very trusted friend has helped me see that it's time to allow that wound to close and carry on. I'm going to try to eradicate the symptoms, even though I know that the cause remains untreated. I'll work on controlling the effects until I figure out the cure. Eventually, I know that I will learn from this as well.

Yes, some of these scars continue to hurt once closed, but that's how they caution us to remember what they have taught us.

True, Kind and Necessary

2009-03-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

No, your ass looks great in those jeans. I quit gambling months ago. I'll call you tomorrow. Your breath smells terrible.

Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? Which comments deserve apologies before you even get called out on them? That's what I'm blogging about today.

Not too long ago, my little sister reminded me of something that a family friend (appropriately named Karma) had said. What it boils down to is this: "If you want to be a decent and respectful person, make sure that what you say falls into two of these three categories - True, Kind and Necessary."

It follows that it's okay to lie if you're saying something kind and necessary, such as telling someone who has recently quit smoking "I didn't notice that you've gained any weight." Similarly, it's acceptable to say something unkind if it's true and has to be heard, "When you drink, you can be a real ass." Finally, it's okay to say something that doesn't need to be said if it's true and kind.

If you realize that you've made a comment to someone that doesn't include the better part of these three guidelines, you may want to apologize, clarify or amend it to fit it into another. If you realize that you're constantly making comments outside of those lines, maybe it's time to do some self-reflection and figure out if you enjoy alienating people, because you probably do!

The Ethics of Addiction

2009-03-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

Usually, the word "addiction" has negative connotations. When something is addicting, it implies that we're powerless over it. It's also frequently true that the things we're addicted to are bad for us. If, however, the objects of our addiction have no ill-effects is it still a problem to crave them?

Cigarette companies have faced decades of trouble for trying to find a way to make their dangerous product more addicting. Soda companies are known for adding caffeine gratuitously to get children hooked. Even McDonald's has been said to use copious amounts of sugar in their french fry recipe to keep people coming back for more. Is this practice ethical? Is there anything wrong with adding ingredients just to cause an addiction to a product? What if the product was water? If there was a completely benign substance that you could add to water that would keep people constantly drinking it, would that be ethical? Is it ever okay to knowingly weaken someone's decision making abilities?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/2707143.stm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Addiction

Wisdom of the Panda - Travel - 03/03/09

2009-03-03T19:01:00.000-08:00

Topic of discussion: Nothing, at the time.

Restaurant: Panda Express

Fortune: You will take a pleasant journey to a far away place.

Thoughts: Yay! I've been wanting to travel more! My goal in 2009 is 3 more trips. I've been trying to set up visits with friends around the world. Some are working out, some look like they won't. Hopefully I'll have my three trips scheduled soon so I can start planning!

Wisdom of the Panda - Heart - 02/28/09

2009-02-28T20:57:00.001-08:00

Topic of discussion: Nothing, really. I was too busy.

Restaurant: Ocean Sky

Fortune: Answer just what your heart prompts you.

Thoughts: I'm screwed.

Really? Answer what my heart prompts me? What's the question and who asked it?

IMHO, my heart isn't to be trusted. As a matter of fact, it's been talking way too much lately and has been nothing but trouble. If you ask me, it's time for my heart to shut the eff up and let my brain take over again!

Score: ?/4

No good deed goes unpunished

2009-02-26T16:05:00.000-08:00

Read the Article

Jim Moffett, a Denver bus driver, saved the lives of two elderly women Friday night, when he pushed them out of the way of traffic and was then struck by an oncoming vehicle. Imagine his surprise when he woke up in the hospital and found out that he had been cited for jaywalking!

The citing officer maintains that his decision to ticket Moffett was just and correct. According to this theory, we should also prosecute someone for trespassing if they enter a burning house to save a small child. This brings up an interesting question. Are laws there to be followed to the letter, or to provide socially beneficial guidelines?

Not without my babies!

2009-02-25T12:41:00.000-08:00

Watch the video

By now, almost everyone has heard about Octo-mom. In case you've been hiding under a rock for the last month (or in a textbook or behind a desk in your office) "Octo-mom" was the term bestowed upon Nadya Suleman after the birth of her octuplets in late January.

Though octuplet births are rare in-and-of themselves, this case is particularly noteworthy because Nadya is single and unemployed. Oh yeah, did I mention that she already had 6 kids? In an attempt to have "just one more girl, " as claimed by her mother, Nadya was implanted by eggs that were fertilized by the same sperm donor that helped create her 6 other children. Eight of the implanted embryos survived and she gave birth to a bevy of babies ranging from 21 oz to just over three pounds.

There's already a surplus of discussion on the morality of this situation in general, so I'm not even going to go there. What I *do* want to talk about is the newest information being presented. Apparently, Nadya's house is in foreclosure. Due to Nadya's financial instability, the hospital is threatening to keep her babies. Nadya responded by threatening to sue.

Here's my question. What's the right course of action here? Is it alright for the hospital to keep the newest members of the Suleman family? Is the hospital justified in retaining the infants if it does not also try to find an appropriate living situation for the other 6 children?

As a mom, is suing your best option, or does that just further the opinion that you're motivated by money?

If you're in charge of the children's welfare, what do you do?

Oh yes, people, she's got a website.

Wisdom of the Panda - Contentment - 02/18/09

2009-02-18T13:41:00.001-08:00

Topic of discussion: One friend wrapping up her life while mine feels like it's really just starting again

Restaurant: Panda Express

Fortune: The Near Future Hold's a Gift of Contentment

Thoughts: That would be a feat. My parents raised me to believe that if you're content, then you aren't growing fast enough. Happy, yes. Joyous, yes. Shooting rainbows out of my eyes, okay. Content? Prolly not.

Score: ??

Inspired by This American Life - Valentine's Day

2009-02-17T12:03:00.000-08:00

My boss is an entertaining guy that I admire and get along with really well (a sentiment that is true and has nothing to do with the fact that he'll probably end up reading this.) So, when he started talking about the Valentine's episode of This American Life, I listened, expecting another humorous diversion.

What he actually presented was almost depressing. A very intelligent man had been on the program, talking about how he had calculated the probability that he would find a suitable girlfriend. Now, I haven't double-checked his numbers, and granted there's some fuzziness in the statistics, but he ended up with an incredibly small number.

My face wrinkled as I thought about how small my number would be. For Pete's sake, I just turned down a second guy because his spelling sucked! Out of curiosity, I decided to have the guys in my office help me try to do my own number crunching.

Well, the first thing the guy did was take the population of his dating area. In his case, Boston. I live in Eugene, but I think I'd be willing to consider going as far as Portland to meet someone that had the potential to be my lifelong partner. Then, I thought, it depends on what we mean here. Because two hours is a stretch if it's just a dating possibility, but if I knew that he was my soulmate - and he would love me as much as I loved him - then what would I consider too far? In that case, I narrowed it down to America. Okay, now we have two sets of numbers to work with. Other than that, I'll use the same statistics that he used.

Set # 1: Probability of finding someone I enjoy dating

1. Population of Oregon - 3,701,000

2. Only about half are guys (50%) - 1,850,500

3. Within 10 years of my age (35%) - 647,675

4. College Graduates (25%) - 161,918

5. SINGLE (50%) - 80,959

6. Attractive to me (20%) - 16,192

The numbers get narrowed down really fast before we even take into account things like party affiliation, culture and sense of humor. By this formula, I would consider a first date with 1 out of every 125 guys.

Now, for the bigger question. How many people in America have a good chance of being my soulmate? Even if we expand to the population of America, we have to take in to consideration my additional criteria - intelligence, class, humor, kindness, democrat, non-smoker, clean and not fanatically religious - is there anyone left? Then, of those, which find me appealing with all of my idiosyncrasies and minuses? Who would consider me the woman of their dreams, even as a divorcee with 2 kids?

This turned out to be a frightening little exercise, but it did effectively open my eyes to realize that when I find that bond, I'm going to cherish it for the rest of my life ;)

He's Just Not That Into You - Concept Review

2009-02-14T22:43:00.000-08:00

It was only a matter of time until I blogged about this movie. The whole progression was a creation of destiny, a manifestation of fate. In order to understand what I'm talking about, I'm gonna have to back-up about a year.

{back story}

January 25, 2008: I moved back to Eugene after separating with the man I had been with since I was 15. What I needed was a clear head and time to gather the much needed experience that I had skipped my first time through. That's when I created my very first rule - No second dates.

I dated more men in the two months that followed than I had dated my entire life up to that point. Sometimes, I'd run across a guy who would tempt me to break that rule, leading me to make up another rule. Enter rules 2 & 3: No guys under 25 & No dating guys I work with.

The rules did their job and (with one exception),I had managed to avoid developing feelings for anyone or experiencing the sting of rejection. In November, my Ex announced he was moving in with someone and all of the reasons for my limitations started to fade. I figured if he was already moving in with someone it was a little extreme for me to be avoiding second dates. It took a while for the rules to die, but the first to go was rule #1.

In January 2009, Cheri gave me the book "He's Just Not That Into You." Every chapter was fuel, more reasons not to pursue anyone. It was perfect, because I found myself working extra-hard at that point to suppress some completely irrational feelings.

The weekend after I finished that book, I had a revolutionary experience at a bar. I met a man that was exceptionally handsome and we chatted for a while. When I got up to leave, he asked for my number. When he asked if I wanted his, I told him "Nope. If you want to see me again, you'll call." He did...ten minutes later. We hooked up for more drinks and I realized that even though he was straight from the pages of Abercrombie & Fitch, he had about as much depth as a cookie sheet. After I declined to go home with him several times, I figured I wouldn't hear from him any more. The next night, I was out with my friends and they were urging me to phone him. I quoted "He's Just Not That Into You" and got flicked a ton of shit. They may have been right, he might have been glad to hear from me, but if all he wanted was to get laid then I wasn't interested.

The very next day, I saw the ad for the movie "He's Just Not That Into You." What's more, it opened on my birthday! I took it as a sign.

{/ back story}

The movie itself was pretty great. It shone a spotlight on my own insecurities (let me also mention that the main character's name is Gigi) but there were hidden treasures as well. Little truths, like how confusing protocol has become, made me giggle and reflect. One woman desperately wants to find love, one man desperately works to avoid it. Everyone intertwines and learns from each other. Touching.

There was one moment that offered the characters the same type of clarity that it offered me when I read it in the book. The idea is, if he's not calling you, it's because he doesn't want to call you. It seems simple, but it's also so easy for us to explain away. Maybe he's out of town, or busy. Maybe he's afraid he'll come off as to eager. Maybe he's got company. We're always looking for exceptions, but we're not exceptions. Once we realize that we're the rule, we can stop reading meaning into things that aren't there and start focusing on the people who really care about us. If someone really cares, he'll want to call and he *will* call.

Something that came to me after the movie was an explanation of what we're searching for. I think (at least for me) that what we really want in a partner is an extension of a friend. As a woman, I want someone who understands me the way that my best friends do. I want someone who pays attention and knows that I prefer Diet Coke. I want someone who knows that the next time I get married, I don't want a diamond. It seems perfectly logical to want someone who cares about my happiness at least as much as my good friends do. By the same token, it makes me want to be more of a friend at a guy level...to watch the same sports that he watches or try to appreciate his music. It's a give and take.

While the movie subtly refuted many of the ideas in the book, I think both forms should be experienced together. The book is unquestionably extreme, the movie is playful and starry-eyed, but together they formulate some pretty truthful concepts. Two thumbs up.

Wisdom of the Panda - Dolled Up - 02/12/09

2009-02-12T20:41:00.001-08:00

Topic of discussion: How much healthier Mongolian Grill is than Carls Jr.

Restaurant: Mongolian Grill

Fortune: You should enhance your feminine side at this time.

Thoughts: What?!?! Seriously? I do my hair and make-up every morning. I even wore a skirt on Friday. If people don't see me as a female by now, there's no hope for me at all!

Maybe I'm misunderstanding. Perhaps the fortune is referring to my behavior. Maybe I should start acting like more of a woman. I don't know. I'm confused. This one may not have been for me.

Score: ??

Does that make it a Flo Rida?

2009-02-06T18:33:00.000-08:00

So, on my flight to Denver, the seat-back in front of me had a sign that said "Your seat cushion can act as a flotation device."

This alternate spelling of floatation seemed odd to me. Turns out, it's the preferred spelling, but for some reason it just feels wrong. If I land in the water, I don't want to flo...I don't even want to flotate. I just want to know I'm gonna float.

Now I wonder if we can randomly drop the a from other words. How dark do you like your chicken rosted? How bout that new football coch? Would you use a cleaner with foming action? We've got botlods of coxal cables. Yep, nope. I'm not a fan.

Ya know who doesn't like the Eee PC?

2009-02-06T13:29:00.000-08:00

Airport Security.

Like an imbecile, I left my netbook in my school bag while going through security. It was amusing to watch them slow down the conveyor, eventually deciding that they needed to look again. They snatched the bag up from the other side and put it back in, this time stopping the belt and having a very quiet conversation.

"You can look inside if you want." I offered.
"That's what we're gonna have to do, Ma'am." He replied.

The security dude walked me over to a small metal table, where he gently laid my bag. After carefully putting on a pair of latex gloves (which seemed a little small for his big ol' hands) he informed me of the rules.

"Please stand there. Do not attempt to touch anything that comes out of the bag, nor the bag itself."

I nodded and smiled as I watched him dig through my coursebooks and personal clothing that I had stuffed into the bag in order to have a make-shift carry-on. My mind went immediately to a metal pick that I have in my bag for sweeping the hair out of my face during tests and such, certain that they were going to take it. He didn't. He didn't even seem to notice it. Instead, he went for the small book wrapped in black foam. That's right, security dude, that little thing is a computer.

The man wiped it down with some magical voodoo pad and re-ran it through the scanner. Once satisfied, he put it back in the foam case and back into my pack.

"Sorry about that ma'am, but with all of the books in that bag, we couldn't tell what it was."

"It's okay," I told him, secretly glad that I was able to keep my hair pick, tweezers, and nail file, "have a good weekend."

I grabbed my bag and made a mental note to take the netbook out before scanning on the way home.

Wisdom of the Panda - Work it out - 1/30/09

2009-01-30T14:27:00.000-08:00

Topic of discussion: None, I was by myself.

Restaurant: Panda Express

Fortune: You will soon make a change at work.

Thoughts: I got this today after spending all day yesterday working on my online portfolio and resume. Consequentially, this doesn't surprise me in the least. It could be taken one of several ways, the most prominent being that I'm currently looking to take on some more professional contract work. Woo hoo, gotta love the panda!

Score: 2/2

Am I just easily irritated?

2009-01-22T13:43:00.000-08:00

Tuesday was shaping up to be a very happy day for me, as well as millions of others. That's right, Inauguration Day. I was so proud of my country - not only had we elected an African-American president, but we were also enthusiastic to celebrate his ascent to power. Gone are the days of the old, white, republican. We're ushering in the era where *our* generation's beliefs will be represented. In my head, it was one of the most important days I had ever witnessed...then I turned on the radio.

The morning dj on Star 102.3 casually mentioned that it was Inauguration Day, and followed the thought with "not that it matters." He continued to elaborate, saying that he hadn't voted and wasn't really excited about the whole event. Now, I can respect that politics isn't for everyone. I can even understand that they wouldn't be interested in watching a day full of politician's speeches. Then, he went a step too far, in my opinion. He said that too much time was being spent on this inauguration, and that we should all focus on something more important!! Can you imagine?! He even said that our money would be better spent on things that actually mattered. ACTUALLY MATTERED?!?!?? What could possibly matter more than the way our country is run? What matters more than the leadership of the country where we live and raise our children? I just don't understand how someone can be so ignorant and apathetic. What could he find more important? Britney Spears' new hot pants? Jonas brothers bringing back 80's fashion? For Pete's sake. Honestly.

Okay, when I had that reaction, I considered it completely justified. I was right, he was wrong and I needed to vent about it. It wasn't until later in the day that I realized I may have been overreacting a bit. That afternoon...the same afternoon...I heard a commercial for the Dairy Farmers of Oregon.

In this commercial, the farmer compares his cows to women. At first, it just made me roll my eyes. He continued going-on about how similar cows are to ladies and how farmers have to behave if they want to get something from them. I was so irritated that I changed the channel...then I changed it back so I could hear who had paid for the advertisement! I told Kristy that the commercial "made me so mad that I could just blog about it!"

It's not often that I get so completely irritated twice in one day. Now, I'm looking for opinions. Would either of these things get you as irate as I was, or was I just in a mood?

*Image: Betye Saar Blow Top Blues The Fire Next Time 1998

Faking your own death; Only slightly less stupid than suicide

2009-01-12T12:46:00.001-08:00

Marcus Schrenker faked his own death last night, by making a distress call from the cockpit of a plane and bailing out somewhere over Alabama. Schrenker told the tower that his windshield had imploded and he was bleeding from the face. After that, things didn't work quite in his favor. First of all, after receiving the call for help, the tower dispatched military jets to rescue the pilot, but when they got there, they reported that the door was open and the cockpit was dark. Woops, if you're going to try to fake your own death in a plane crash, you usually don't want someone to verify that you're not in the plane when it goes down!

Secondly, the plane landed in a swampy Florida marsh. It may never fly again, but it didn't disintegrate in a fiery explosion, either, leaving plenty of evidence for forensics.

Lastly, he probably didn't account for an astute officer, who noted (after Schrenker claimed to have been in a canoe accident) that he had flight goggles on his head.

All of this made it pretty simple for authorities to get a general location on the man and piece together his story. Investigations are still pending.

Surprisingly, faking one's own death is not as rare of an occurrence as you might think. For instance, in November, a well known music attorney named William Grothe made a call to the emergency room claiming to be someone else, and confessing to the lawyer's murder. He then moved into a bed and breakfast under a fake name.

A couple of months before that, John Sung faked his death in a spearfishing accident to evade felony charges for drug possession and robbery.

In my opinion, faking your own death is a ballsey, but stupid thing to do. On one hand, you have to have a great deal of faith that you can pull it off. On the other hand, you have to be some first-rate coward to fake your own death rather than face the consequences that lead you to that point.

My recommendation, if you're going to pretend to kill yourself, don't call for help first...especially from someone who's going to send it to you!

* http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/12/florida.plane.crash/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

* http://www.mercurynews.com/nationworld/ci_11435757

* http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,249938,00.html

* http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28529059/

* http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-diver31-2008dec31,0,5349671.story

Wisdom of the Panda - I'm Broke - 01/11/2009

2009-01-11T14:26:00.000-08:00

The Wisdom of the Panda will be my new section to document my stunningly accurate fortunes from cookies (generally received at Panda Express.) This one, however, actually comes from Ocean Sky.

These sometimes amaze me because they are constantly relevant to the topic of conversation and sometimes they predict future events that I would like to try to document.

The topic: How difficult it is to get by without child-support and my reluctance to approach the subject with my ex.

The fortune: Broke is only temporary, poor is a state of mind.

W

2009-01-02T22:36:00.000-08:00

After watching the movie 'W' - which was billed as a chronicle of the life of George W. Bush - my first thought was, "I sure hope this movie was accurate, because it certainly wasn't entertaining." I even said it out loud. Ask John.

'W' was a 2 hour long retrospective, barely grazing the surface of Bush's life. The audience gets the idea that GWB feels suffocated beneath the shadows of his father and brother, but it never compels us toward empathy. Similarly, we are supposed to gather that Bush rebels into a life of sex and drugs, even though the subjects are only casually mentioned.

The flashback method is intertwined with camouflaged dream sequences as well as broken time lines, which keeps the movie-goer from ever actually getting lost in the story itself. The plot seemed to be missing, opting instead for a central focus on the botched war and all of the ways manipulation was intentionally used to fuel the cause. Even the war theme was scattered, making it difficult to piece together who was responsible for which segments of which war.

The acting itself was quite respectable, most notably James Cromwell, playing the part of George Herbert Walker Bush. Ellen Burnstyn and Josh Brolin gave acceptable performances, too. Unfortunately, at the most gripping moments, the music and cinematography caused the movie to feel like a cut-rate musical. At one moment in particular, Gen. Colin Powell gives a speech about the merits of the Iraq war...at least, I think that's what it was about. I was so convinced that the cast was about to break out into song that I couldn't focus on the dialog. Thandie Newton's portrayal of Condoleezza Rice was as exaggerated as a boardwalk characature, and it reeked a little of Dustin Hoffman's 'Rain Man'.

If we are to assume that this movie is based off of actual events, then the audience is treated to a back-stage pass leading up to the election of our 43rd president. If the time line is shuffled into order, we get to ride along with GWB from his frat days in Yale, through many unsuccessful careers and his first failed attempt at politics. If nothing else, this movie shows us that Bush is a man who is desperate to be seen as powerful and capable, even though he never feels like he lives up to the Bush name.

There was one single conclusion presented in this movie that stands out in my mind. A connection is drawn between the fact that Bush Sr. ended his Iraq war quickly & successfully, to the fact that he lost his run for a second term. GWB lashes out at this point, hollering that his dad should have killed Saddam the first time. GWB then vows that *he* will never feel that kind of embarrassment, insinuating that the second Iraq war is just an attempt to finish what his dad started.

Whether wrong or right, 'W' leaves the viewer with an interesting perspective. Personally, I now see the President as a religious-nut, taking actions in the name of God, claiming it is his calling. I see an egocentric child, refusing to let go of something that he may not even truly believe, purely because he had already presented it as his position. It appears that GWB is easily manipulated (once figured out) and Dick Cheney is his puppetmaster.

Bush supporters may have an entirely different perspective on this chronicle, but I think Oliver Stone intended to allow for ambiguity. The whole movie is sort of one big cinematic fortune cookie.

*Thanks to Grant_P for his wonderful Characature off of flickr

What are the signs that you should get out?

2008-12-30T23:45:00.000-08:00

Why is it appalling for a woman to spend three years in an abusive relationship, but acceptable for her to spend twice that long with an abusive boss? How come it's not okay for someone to yell at you and berate you at home, but it's overlooked at the office?

I was a victim of workplace abuse in two separate locations, one physical and the other emotional. At my first real graphic design job, I had a very hot headed boss. He would fling boxes of fliers at employees when they were folded wrong and even threw an inkjet printer across the room, narrowly missing my supervisor, when a customer refused to pay for a botched job. This type of behavior was common from him...and yet my ex-husband encouraged me to suck-it-up, day after day, and be thankful for the work.

In another location, I had a boss who openly admitted when he brought you into his office that he wouldn't let you leave until he had made you cry. He would attack us personally, even after commending us on a job well done. He picked-on clothing, demeanor and family life. Nothing was off-limits. Although he attributed the torture to management training, it was clear that he just enjoyed keeping his employees (particularly the women) in a subordinate position. Again, I was encouraged not to take it too seriously. I mean, it's only a job, right?

The truth is, with as many hours as we spend at work, doesn't it make sense that we would want our professional environment to be as safe and supportive as our home? Why aren't more people in an uproar over treatment in the workplace?

My mother works for a place where she gets 8 minutes of personal time. 8 minutes! If she's not on break or lunch, she only has a total of 8 minutes to go to the bathroom, get a drink of water, sneeze, cough, or anything other than talk to customers on the phone. She's got no fewer than 5 things that she's required to do with every customer, yet she's penalized if she's on the phone for more than 200 seconds on average. She's monitored via recording, managers on the floor, and buttons that she has to press which indicate that she's on a call, on hold, or in after-call mode. Her use of after-call is also limited via monitoring.

If a woman were controlled like this in her personal life, she would undoubtedly feel major pressure to abandon the relationship. What's the difference? Can anyone shed some light on this for me? Is it because the working hours only account for 1/4 of our work week? Does that make it okay to have a boyfriend who's verbally abusive or controlling as long as you only see him on Saturdays? Maybe it's because there's an assumption that jobs are more easily exchanged than relationships. I would argue the opposite. One can lead a very functional and safe life when they live without a partner for months or years, but life without a job gets very sticky after even a few weeks.

I don't know what to suggest for this, I certainly don't think unions are the answer.

I think recognizing and pointing-out the behavior is important. As a culture, we need to take responsibility for ourselves. We need to decide how we will allow ourselves to be treated and hold ourselves accountable for surrounding ourselves with people who maintain that standard. If we can be strong enough, I suggest we also force ourselves to be so bold as to inform others of our requirements when they don't meet those criteria. It may not cure the disease, but it can help inoculate us individually.

I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be better than this

2008-12-27T21:59:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong. I'll be the first to admit that I don't have enough experience.

That's right, I'm talking about dating.

If you don't happen to know my history, I'll give you a short overview. I started dating the man that I eventually married when I was 15. That means that 100% of my relationship experience was created with one person. It's an idea that was romantic while it lasted, but when it was over I was left jaded, confused and naive. So much so, that when a gentleman tried to kiss me at the end of a date last night, I actually had an internal struggle.

So much of my life (almost exactly half) was spent being faithful to one person, that I find it difficult to let my guard down and enjoy the dating experience. Last night, I realized that this apparition of loyalty has been manifesting itself in many ways since the very first day that I became single again. Most notably, the creation of rules. Some of these rules are logical, common sense.

* No married men (or guys with girlfriends)

Other rules are highlighting themselves as unreasonable attempts at keeping me from getting attached to anyone.

* No dating coworkers or people in the department
* No second dates

As a result, I've had a string of dates with people that I have no attachment to and no desire to form one with. After my epiphany, I can see how I was constructing that situation for myself. I was stuck inside my head. I was over-thinking everything, completely unable to navigate by heart or libido. By breaking just one little rule, things got intense enough for me to step back and actually see the walls I've been building.

I'm tired of being lead around by my brain. If I keep this up, I'll end up a frigid, lonely, old spinster. I don't want that. I want to be happy. I want to enjoy my life. As far as relationships are concerned, I just want to spend time with someone that I enjoy being around and someone who enjoys being around me, too. It's increasingly obvious that I'm going to have to break a few rules to get there. The problem is convincing myself that I'm ready.

Unfortunately, I don't think this is something I'm going to be able to research and create a plan for. It looks like I'm going to have to jump in head first. I can only hope that if I get cold feet there's someone out there willing to give me a little push.

What the GRE taught me about myself

2008-12-22T15:48:00.000-08:00

While I am apparently an effective writer, it seems that I have no clue as to the meanings of obscure, multi-syllabic words...especially when you toss them at me with no context.

I mean, really, if I jumped out at you and yelled "SESQUIPEDALIAN," would you embrace me and say "Yes, I understand!" or would you grimace and wait for more? Now add the expectation that you're supposed to derive the opposite of my outburst and you'll know the state of confusion that I just had to endure for two and a half hours.

Fortunately, I consider math to be one of my skills - even paper & pencil math. After nearly a decade without using the Pythagorean theorem, circle geometry or the quadratic formula, I still managed to rock the quantitative section...that is, until half way through when I realized that I only had 10 minutes left! The state of panic that enveloped my body is unexplainable in the confines of a blog. It really requires beat poetry or interpretive dance. It goes without saying that the last half of that section was completed with considerably less care than I had used leading up to that point. So much so, that the last five questions had to be done in thirty seconds, which barely gave me time to click through to the next page and select a circle at random. Boy was I relieved to see that my math score was still higher than my verbal.

Poor, poor verbal. As if the first time through wasn't bad enough, I was randomly selected to do *another* verbal section, to test questions for future testing versions. This was another 30 minutes of taunting that will either be incorporated into your score - or not - but they won't tell you which. The entire time, all I could think was "Holy crap, I just threw away the last 5 math questions. They're gonna send me back to high school."

After the damage was done, I drug my defeated ass back to Deschutes. After talking to Star, I was relieved to find out that my scores will still qualify me to join the department. So now, I'm tormented. I don't have to retake the GRE for any logical purpose, but if I don't I'll have to live with this score for the rest of my life! I only have one thing to say "PHILOPHRONEA!"

Big things come in small packages

2008-12-02T13:08:00.000-08:00

Bull. Small packages just can't fit big things quite the way that big packages can. In particular, I'm talking about my new Mini Laptop, the Eee PC.

I got this computer as a spare, to keep in my school bag for taking notes in class and accessing the internet on the fly (since I use Verizon and therefore don't have an Iphone like everyone else.) My primary computer - a 10 lb, 17.5" HP notebook - Is hella fast and great to work on. Unfortunately, it takes forever to start-up and requires a separate bag for transportation. With all of the great tech sales going on, I decided to take advantage of the crappy economy and pick up the 9" notebook that I'd had my eyes on since they first hit the market.

Let's start by saying that I am well aware that you get what you pay for (or in this case, don't.) At less than $300, I didn't expect my Eee to be lightening fast, or have a lot of hd space, but I did expect it to be at least as functional as my 3 year-old Palm Pilot. So far, it doesn't look promising.

Granted, I've only been using it for about 4 hours, but the network is slow, the programs are slow and the interface doesn't feel very customizable. I'm hoping that it grows on me as I get used to its eccentricities and it's teeenie little keyboard, but I see many upgrades in the near future.

One such upgrade is the hard drive. Right now, the solid state drive holds a whopping 8 gigs. Less than my Ipod. It comes with a subscription for an online storage package, but I can't see a benefit to doing that when I have my own server space.

Speaking of that agreement, while reviewing the terms, I came across something very odd. One of the things that they disclaim in their agreement is that they accept no liability for suspension of service in many cases. One of those cases is: "Suspension or termination due to acts of God."

The phrasing of this note strikes me as odd on so many levels. First off, if we accept their terms, are we also accepting that God exists? If they're trying to excuse the unforseen, couldn't they have blamed acts of nature, or did they want to allow room for burning bushes and locusts?

At any rate, I wanted to share my experience and say with as much authority as I can muster while typing on a 8" keyboard, try these suckers out for a good-long time before you buy one for yourself!

Next Time - Installment #2

2008-11-14T11:38:00.000-08:00

Next time you think that things aren't going your way and the world is plotting against you, pour yourself a glass of grape juice, wrap yourself in a blanket and sit on the couch...then, start thinking about pygmy goats. Truth is, you're still probably much better off than a pygmy goat.

Kiki's Guide to Doing Practically Anything*...Installment #1.5...Almost

2008-11-05T20:07:00.000-08:00

The next installment of Kiki's guide is already planned out. It's something I really want to write, but I just don't have the guts. It's sort of embarrassing and extremely personal, but I truly believe it will be motivational. I will write it. I plan to. It's just that...I don't have the balls to do it right now.

Anyway, keep an eye out for this piece. It will come directly after "Kiki's Guide to Growing a Pair".

Eat Play Love

2008-11-05T16:07:00.000-08:00

I recently finished a book that my good friend Cheri loaned to me called Eat Pray Love. Yes, I intentionally changed the middle word in my blog title. This alteration isn't just a commentary on the book, it's also to emphasize that I recognize that the road to healing is different for everyone.

As some of you know, I recently went through a divorce and was hurled out into the world to try to figure out who I am, if not just an unhappy homemaker. This combination, along with a few others, struck a chord in Cheri (who was also reading the book) and she began to insist that I look it over. After weeks of having me smile nicely and say, "Yeah, I'll try to, when I have time," she finally bought a copy of the book and handed it to me. It took me a few months even after that, but I finally dove in.

Eat Pray Love is a good book. I won't dispute that. It's a true and moving tale of a woman, broken by marriage and destroyed by divorce. One night, after realizing that she couldn't stand to be married anymore, she hit her knees and prayed for the first time. That moment changed her life and led her on a journey across the spiritual and physical world. Her only goal was to find balance, but by the end of the book she had found balance, beauty and love.

In the first of the three sections, Liz, also the author, describes her time in Italy where she played with gentlemen much younger than she. Her intentions there were only to learn the language and experience the joy of the place. Since she has sworn herself to celibacy for the year, sex isn't an issue and she is extremely content keeping the company of men a decade her junior. She absorbs her surroundings, eats mercilessly and regrets nothing. This is, in some small part, the same type of experience I had in Beijing. Although my trip was only a week, not the four months that she had the luxury of taking, it was still an eye opening experience. I indulged in the decadence of all types of food and all kinds of company. I saw beautiful sites and opened my heart and mind to another culture. Sex was also not an issue for me (as I'm convincing myself at the moment that noone would be interested, were I to lose my inhibitions) so I was more than happy to spend all of my waking hours with men that were talented, smart, funny, amazing and very unavailable to me.

I came home from China fully aware of the juxtaposition between the week I had lived in Beijing and the life I have at home. My responsibilities here are huge, but also greatly rewarding. If nothing else, it put a microscope on the things that I haven't gotten right yet, giving me a chance to continue working on them.

In the second section of Eat Pray Love, Liz spends 4 months in India, fasting, meditating and praying. She uses this time to find out who she is inside. She realizes that she's a social creature, but that she doesn't need to have possessions to be content. She finds solace by bringing God inside her and being one with him.

Now, this is where she and I vary greatly. I do believe in a cyclical energy...some sort of karma, perhaps...but I don't believe that there is an all-knowing, omnipotent being watching us to make sure we mind our p's and q's. I can see the value in pulling in the happy energy and letting go of the hostility that we hold toward people and situations. Unlike Liz, I think this balance can be achieved through 'playing' rather than 'praying'. Happiness is polite. It won't come in uninvited. You have to open your heart and your head and bring it in. Playing, dancing and joking are far more powerful ways to let in bliss. Meditation can bring in happy, but happy is fairly subdued. Laughter is even better. Laughter is a joy-gasm. I really see no need to stop with just happy.

Finally, for Liz, is a trip to Indonesia. She meets so many people there, including the man who she ends the book with. She tells him all the reasons that she doesn't intend to get intimate with anyone. One of the reasons that she lists is the fear of getting naked in front of someone new. It struck me as odd that someone who had been through all of the things she had and learned to be at peace with all-the-world was still not at peace with herself. At that point, is it true self-consciousness, or just a lack of being able to predict a lover's reaction? I recognize that it is possible to be a confident person and lack confidence in the way you look - in fact, I believe I fall into that category. For myself, I am generally unable to see loveliness in my physical appearance. Instead, I rely on the vision of myself inside someone else's eyes. Only when someone else sees me as alluring can I take a moment to basque in my own beauty. But then - just as quickly as I accept it - I lose it when the object of perception is gone. I haven't yet figured out if it's a flaw in my personality or a tool to keep me from becoming conceited... as we computer scientists say "Maybe it's a feature, not a bug."

Liz finds a man who loves her and she smiles because there is someone else in the world who can promise to take care of her. Someone other than herself. When she mentioned that, I got a little tingly. I've always believed that I don't 'need' to be taken care of by a man, but it would sure be great to find one that 'wanted' to take care of me. Even if I should never need a dime of his money or a moment of his help, it would be a realization of my personal fantasy to know that there was someone sincere in his offering of it. I applauded her find, but acknowledged the improbability that there is one of those for everyone.

Anyhow, you can probably tell that I identified with the book more than a little. I did get annoyed from time to time that a strong and intelligent woman would need to lean on thoughts of God to find balance, but I guess that's what the idea of Him is there for. It does get awfully tiring standing here trying to balance on my own.

It's a landslide!

2008-11-04T20:45:00.000-08:00

Just as I knew it would be, the election was a resounding win for Barack Obama. The hearts of America (indeed of all the world) are bubbling with ecstasy. There's a feeling of hope and revolution, as our country welcomes the President elect.

Amidst this enthusiasm, there is an emerging murmur declaring that Obama failed to win the "white" vote. To that, I say, "Who gives a damn?" This country is a mixed bag of all religions and ethnicities. There is not a single group who's vote is worth more than that of another based purely on its title. The only power held by any conglomeration is the power of numbers...and those numbers came together for Obama tonight. In fact, if you find yourself bothered that Obama can be president even though the majority of white people voted for McCain, perhaps you should take a good look inside yourself, because I have a newsflash for you - that's not the way America works anymore.

To those who say that Obama is naive and inexperienced, I respond "Who gives a damn?" Sometimes it takes a person who hasn't yet become jaded by the system to have the energy to change it.

That's about the end of my hostility. Every other fiber in my body is urging me to reach out to the remainder of the nation. I want to beckon those of you who voted republican for less closed-minded reasons, to embrace the next four years. Acknowledge that the rest of the country had a burning desire to go a different way. Understand that your peers had a longing for change and watch what happens with open eyes and an open heart. Better yet, get involved and change this term from an administration of democrats to a united bi-partisan government. If any administration desires that interaction, it's the one we've voted for tonight.

With all of that aired, I want to add this: If in four years, we are at all worse off than we are now - whether it be in the economy, environment, human-rights, war or unemployment - I will eat my words and volunteer to help the next republican candidate get elected in 2012.

Good job, America. Welcome to change :D

Pure Decadence

2008-10-26T04:42:00.000-07:00

If I told you that I was experiencing native life in China, I would be lying. We're staying in a 5-star hotel, eating at 5-star restaurants and meeting at Beijing University (the Harvard of China.) There is nothing pedestrian about this trip...and I'm kind of okay with that :)

We checked-in to our rooms and noticed the luxury right away. There are feather pillows, down comforters and a bathtub with a retractable divider from the main area so you can see the television while you lounge. They even provide three complimentary bottles of water a day, as well as all the amenities you could ever dream of, including a beautiful comb made of wood.

Our meals have been at some of the nicest restaurants in town. Course after course is deposited in front of us, each beautifully presented. There were all sorts of interesting dishes laid before us. On this trip, I tried unpeeled shrimp, jellyfish, rabbit, and a variety of unnamed fruits. At the tea house in the Olympic District, I ate a soup made from some type of bark that was supposed to make me more beautiful and drank tea that was supposed to make me look younger. I almost asked for seconds when the traditional Chinese dancers came out and gave a performance for our benefit.

The next night, we ate at a restaurant which is famous for its Peking Duck. Again the courses flowed, one after the other. The table was full of sea cucumber, duck liver, orange chicken, ground duck, jellyfish and all kinds of fruits and vegetables. Finding a Diet Coke here is almost impossible, but the peach nectar that they offered at dinner was a welcome substitution. With all of the great company and delicious food, the meal carried on well into the evening. Afterward, we went out for a foot massage.

While I miss my family greatly, the decadence of this trip is not lost on me. I understand that when I return home this all ends and it's back to dishes, laundry, and responsibility. I'll embrace that with open arms, but until then, I'm going to enjoy every minute of this!

No Blogger for Me! - Brought in from Facebook Notes

2008-10-23T15:01:00.000-07:00

Well, I tried to make an entry in Blogger about my day yesterday, but was greeted instead with an unfriendly screen that forbid me to continue. I don't read Chinese, but I can only assume it says something like "Wait until you get back to your own country to practice freedom of speech."

Fortunately for me, I realized that I can write it as a note in Facebook until I get home :)

It took me a while to recover from the queasiness of the plane ride, in fact I'm not sure I have yet. My first night's sleep was incredible, in a beautiful bed with goose down pillows and comforter. I had pampered myself the night before with a bath from a luxurious tub where I watched tv and had a cup of tea. In the morning, I had just started to stir when I got a call from my travel-mates, Mike and Toby, that they were ready for breakfast.

The breakfast buffet was so tasty. There were pieces of fried dough with ground meats in the middle, fried buns wrapped around ground meat, and ground meat surrounded by pasty and fried. They had a rainbow of juices and tasty gelatinous treats. It was so yummy that it gave me hope for the cuisine of the day.

We met Andrjez and Steve downstairs and decided to share a cab to Tienanmen Square and the Forbidden city. The cab ride was long, but the company was great. The first hour or more after we arrived was filled by picture-taking and getting our direction. I was prepared for large crowds and shoulder to shoulder sight-seeing, but instead saw a desolate and quiet downtown area.

After navigating through Tienanmen, we headed to the forbidden city, but first, a bathroom stop. The public restrooms were actually fairly clean. I wasn't shocked to find that I was expected to squat over a hole in the ground (I had been told about it before I arrived) but I was surprised to see that there was no place for toilet paper, nor were there any hooks to hang our belongings. I was a little concerned about how clean the floors were, so I opted to skip the preemptive potty break. After that, it was back on the sidewalk to the palace.

At the gates of the Forbidden City, many people stopped to take pictures of the buildings and all of the guards. We stopped momentarily and a Chinese native grabbed Mike and asked to have his picture taken with him. Mike politely agreed, and I laughed hysterically. When he realized that I was included in the bargain, he asked me to come join them for the picture. After trading off with his friend for one last shot with the blonde and the red-head, they shook our hands and set us free. It was very odd, like a mixture between being a celebrity and a sideshow attraction.

Once inside the gates, the professors left us, and Mike and I explored the Forbidden City alone.

Alone is just the term I would use, too. There were so few people in most of the areas, that we were able to get several pictures without any passers-by. It was almost creepy how easily we could navigate the area...that is, until we reached the Emperor's bedroom. Throngs of people gathered to oogle and photograph the ancient boudoir. Once satisfied with the peek, the crowd moved on and traffic dispersed.

I was a little disappointed with myself for being so jaded by it all (excuse the pun) but years of seeing all the sights in pictures and on television took some of the awe away. It was fun to be in the images, but it felt very normal, not at all surreal.

Early in the afternoon, we left to get some lunch, then decided to take a bus back to the hotel. The bus ride was about 18 miles and took a little over 2 hours. The highlight of that trip was the end, where a very cute Chinese girl came up to Mike and struck up a conversation. She helped us locate our stop and gave Dalby her card, asking us to call her if we needed anything while we were in Beijing. She then gave him a great big smile. She was obviously into him.

With her help, we were deposited right in front of the Lakeview hotel. I was absolutely exhausted, so I went up to take a nap before heading out for the night. Unfortunately, I couldn't get myself to wake up again! I ended up sleeping clear through the night until 2 am when I awoke completely refreshed and ready to play. Everything around was dark, so I decided to contact my family and video chat with my boys instead. I was really grateful to see how happy they are, and even happier that they grew tired of watching me in the webcam in less than 10 minutes. It let me know that they aren't missing me too badly.

Now, here I am, nearly 6 in the morning, and ready to start another fun day! Yay for Beijing.

The waiting is the hardest part

2008-10-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

Ever since the first time I can remember flying, I've hated it. I have what I will refer to as the 'Acme Complex.' I know that people fly all the time, and the vast majority of those flights make it safely...but somehow I feel like if I look down, all that magic will drain and we'll suddenly fall from the sky, just like Wile E. Coyote has done so many times.

I admit that this thinking isn't limited to flying. I feel the same way about gravity to some extent...and molecules. 'Looking down' is obviously metaphorical for looking too deeply into the things that seem impossible. And somehow, I have no fear that my atoms will rearrange and very little fear that we will all suddenly be flung from earth.

In any case, the jitters that I get before a flight are inconsolable. I tell myself over and over that I'm gonna be fine and hear great friends reassure me that nothing's gonna happen. I know that, but we don't *know* that. So, anyway, here I sit, waiting in the airport.

The steps up to this point were mildly stressful, but only enough to be fodder for some good stories. I managed to get both my passport and visa inside of a month's time. My debit card was turned off because of a database leak, and a new card reissued, but that card wasn't here yet yesterday...I took care of that. I found out last week that there was no room reserved for the night that I arrive, but a friend took care of that, too (thanks Toby).

The most difficult thing so far is saying good-bye to my boys. I've never been away from them this long...or even half this long... and my heart is hurting already. They'll be with their Aunt Randee during the days and their daddy at night, so I know they're well taken care of, but it still pains me to go so long without having the chance to hug them. I've got several pics on my computer & iPod and I even printed some out so I can look at them on the fly.

As I was kissing them good-bye, acting like it was no big deal, Jackie asked me to please stay with him. I told him I couldn't, but he'd have so much fun with his cousins. He then informed me that he was coming with me. I smiled and told him that mommy only had one ticket, but I would be back in a week. Hopefully his brother will remind him that mommy's always thinking of them and I'll be back as soon as I'm able.

Well, that's the scoop so far! Stay posted and as time permits, I'll write more!