(dis)comfort levels

On the day I got the Reiki Attunement, we had to do some group-type things that required us to close our eyes.

For some most people, closing eyes in a group can be very uncomfortable.  Especially when you are closing your eyes and doing something you've never done before.  There is that overwhelming temptation to peek, just to see if you are doing it right. And an even more overwhelming temptation to peek and look how stupid everyone else looks.

(hint: Never Peek.  If you keep your eyes closed and just do what feels right and natural, you are doing everything correctly and the people who are peeking will think you are the bizzy and do exactly what you are doing, making everything that feels right and natural to you feel right and mostly natural to everyone who looked to you and saw you with your eyes shut and doing what your body does all by itself)

I was pretty lucky because I was in a room full of people that I sort of know.  People who work in Parenting under the same City Money that I work under. People who I look up to, people who have the same underlying philosophies about being parenting professionals and parenting educators and just plain old parents.
And one other girl who was really cool and turns out she lives in my neighborhood so I can't wait to be better friends with her and I fingers-crossed hope she doesn't google my name and find this blog and read this and think I'm crazy because now I'm blogging about her and what if she never returns my calls or the email I sent to her saying I'm available for coffee or for lunch whenever she is because I'm pretty flexible especially if she doesn't mind an almost six year old tag along.  Her hair was really pretty too, and she kept doing that thing where the pony tail goes out and the pony tail goes back in and sometimes it's up high and sometimes it's down low and it was really all just follicular magic.

Anyway.  I'm usually pretty comfortable closing my eyes in front of people, thanks to improv and attending so many squishy warm warm professional development classes and City Funded parenting classes (I know I've reached a certain level of comfort within the universe when I can be locked into a room full of untethered maximum security prisoners and shut my face down completely.  Good or bad, you be the judge) and other stuff where they make you close your eyes and last Saturday at the Reiki Attunement wasn't much different.

But I did something I've never done before there in a circle with my eyes closed and my hands clasped around two others'.  I chanted, along with the entire group doing the same, my own name.  Starting out really quietly, like a whisper.  Then spoken, then sung. 

Sung the way you might sing your baby's name, the way your name probably hasn't been sung since you were a baby. 

It was pretty powerful.  And really super unnatural for me and really hard to do and my voice choked up and hardly came out and I'd like to try it again but I want an empty house and a finger or two of something strong and I'd feel much better if maybe the neighbors aren't home either, just in case they hold glasses to the wall or whatever.

Honoring yourself as someone who is loved and cherished and wanted and valuable and precious and and and is really outside of the everyday spectrum of normalcy.  For me at least.

happy new year, again.

Today begins the Year of the Dragon.
I'm a Dragon.  A Fire Dragon specifically, since I was born in 1976.
I'm a Dragon almost to the letter.  Though I like to think I'm not quick tempered, I'll admit that I'm very knee-jerky. 
I'm also a Leo, albeit a sort of self-conscious, but people are always surprised to learn that about me if they know me in real life.
So, you know.  All that.  Don't say I didn't warn you.
(you'll  note the number of "I's" up there)

Just in case you're a dragon too, here is something I lifted off www.chinesezodiac.com.  It's a little more in depth than the placemat at your local take out.

"Occupying the 5th position in the Chinese Zodiac, the Dragon is the mightiest of the signs. Dragons symbolize such character traits as dominance and ambition. Dragons prefer to live by their own rules and if left on their own, are usually successful. They’re driven, unafraid of challenges, and willing to take risks (eh- not so much me. I don't like risks). They’re passionate in all they do and they do things in grand fashion. Unfortunately, this passion and enthusiasm can leave Dragons feeling exhausted and interestingly, unfulfilled.

While Dragons frequently help others, rarely will they ask for help (ever see me receive something?  I'm not good at it). Others are attracted to Dragons, especially their colorful personalities, but deep down, Dragons prefer to be alone. Perhaps that is because they’re most successful when working alone. Their preference to be alone can come across as arrogance or conceitedness, but these qualities aren’t applicable. Dragons have tempers that can flare fast!

Health
Considering their hard-working nature, Dragons are healthy overall. They do get stressed and suffer from periodic tension/headaches, likely because they take so many risks. Dragons could benefit from incorporating mild activity into their lives. Yoga or walking would be good as these activities can work both their minds and their bodies.

Career
Dragons prefer leading to being led. Jobs that allow them to express their creativity are good choices. Some good careers include: inventor, manager, computer analyst, lawyer, engineer, architect, broker, and sales person.

Relationships
Dragons will give into love, but won’t give up their independence. Because they have quick, sometimes vengeful tempers, their partners need to be tough-skinned. Dragons enjoy others who are intriguing, and when they find the right partners, they’ll usually commit to that person for life."

My child is a dog.  And a fish.
Zodiacally speaking, of course.
He's got both right down to a t (tee? tea? T?) too.  Funny how that works.
I guess some people are born with conflicting signs, but not us.  Or maybe some of us are just so good at wanting to fit in that we read into these things with a mindset that can let us buy into anything we read.

You might not know this about me, but I'm a sucker for this mumbo jumbo.  Not the daily blurbs you find in the paper, but birth signs and star charts and ancient wisdoms.  When I was in between college and grad school, at the beginnings of a useful internet but while real library research was still en vogue, I spent months plotting out this personality chart based on the time and place of my birth and the moon hanging out in the seventh house and Jupiter aligning with Mars and when it was all done, for just that moment, peace guided the planet and love steered the stars.

science!

On Saturday I became certified in Reiki.

Level one.

"Stand back, or I'll heal you", she said, with raised hands and waggley fingers.

That's what I like to do whenever I tell anyone.

I plan to take the second level sometime soon.  For now I'm having fun with what I've got so far.

I've gotten Reiki a few times, nothing extensive.  I know people who swear by it, I know people who swear it's a bunch of billshut.  Sort of like prayer.
It's all about energy, and channeling energy, and using the energy that is around us with the intention to do good and wonderful things.  I'm into it.

The proof I needed to know whether I was doing it "right" or not came from my cat, who won't leave me alone anymore.  She gets really floppy and relaxed and stops purring normally and starts drooling and jumps up to smell my hands every couple minutes and lick my nose and then goes back to the floppiness.
Have you ever seen a horse fall down?  She gets sort of like that, but not so heartwrenching and much  more adorable.

And I tried it on Jake without telling him what I was doing and he closed his eyes and smiled and said, "Mom, what did you put on your hands?  They are making my insides feel like fluffy clouds on a sunny day!".  He loves it, and sits down next to me and puts my hand on his belly or his head way more than socially acceptable.

That's proof enough for me.

***

My improv team got a really exciting opportunity to be part of the Philadelphia Science Festival.  There is a worth-watching Highlight Reel from last year's fest if you scroll down and look on the right hand side of the page.  They did a pretty good job with it.

For our bit, we are teamed up with a historian/scientist and while he gives a lecture, we get to do some sort of comedy around it.  The theme for our, um, I'm not even sure what to call it.  Symposium?  Is Life, Sex, Death, and Food.
We got sex.
Luckily we are a pretty tasteful bunch and are classy enough to not be raunchy, so it should be a pretty good show.  Last year was the first year of the festival, and this year we get to be the first-ever-improvisers.  It's nice to know that smart people trust us enough to let us do something totally off the cuff.  We went in to the first meeting thinking they'd ask us to write a sketch or something that can be stamped with scientific approval by a bunch of whitecoated censors, but no.  That feels good.
Click here for a You Tube of last year's Comedy Symposium.

Our show is Thursday, April 26th 7pm at the Chemical Heritage Foundation.
There will be beer.  Yards is a co-sponsor, and will brew something special for the festival.

There's also lots of things for kids to do, it seems most of the program is geared for the K-12 set.  Except for our show.  Don't bring your K-12er to our show.  I think there is an age clause on the bill.
18 to enter, 21 to drink.

***

Nothing much else is going on.  Jake has a dentist appointment next week.  For those keeping track, he has lost his two bottom teeth.  They are mostly grown in, and crossed over one another.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed over one another that it isn't indicative of the rest of his Big People Teeth.

I took him to the eye doctor months ago, I'm not sure if I wrote about that here but just in case I'll let you know that everything was fine.  A note came home from the school nurse that he failed his vision test.  He did fine with the distance stuff but not so well with the up close test.  Which makes sense, because he's always complaining that he can't see the lines in his copy books or the small print in adult books and magazines.

Ohgodno. No, no, no.  Not like adult adult magazines and books.  I mean, like, books and magazines that aren't printed specifically for children.  Small font.  He has a problem with small font.

The eye doctor said that he does have a little bit of a prescription (there is a real word for that.  Refraction, I think, but I'm not sure) but it isn't worth the hassle of making a five year old wear and take care of glasses.  I was glad.  Jacob was sad.  He even picked out a pair before he went in for his exam:

Because I know the optician and I know I'd get a good deal, I just let Jake take a look and pick out whichever ones he wanted and he beelined to these.

Those are probably the same I'd have picked for him.  He looks very Ben Folds-y. 
Of course they were the most expensive in the box, so it's probably best he didn't need them. 

Still no word on the summer camp issue, but my fingers are still crossed.

January is half over and I haven't cried because of the cold yet.  Yet.  It's pretty rough out there now but still no snow.  You don't have to shovel wind and you can't slip and fall on the cold.

Say! Any of you guys know how to Madison?

I watched a lot of television yesterday.
A. Lot.

I don't do that very often, but I'm a little distraught about something and it's a good way for me to be able to think and do nothing all at the same time.

Housework is another way to think, but the "do nothing" part was of utmost importance.
Although I did get the laundry done.
Reading is not a good way to think, but it is my favorite way to do nothing.

I watched the second half of season two of Eastbound and Down.  One of my favorites.  EVERYTHING in that show is funny.  Every line, every plot, every thing.  My problem with it is now that I know Will Ferrell has a heavy hand in it, all I can see is The Guy Who Plays Kenny Powers as Playing Will Ferrell Playing Kenny Powers.  I like Will Ferrell.  I think he is talented.  Have you ever seen his SNL audition tape? Gold. So is Phil  Hartman's, btw.  But I've had more than enough Will Ferrell in my life for at least the next 50 years.  I can't stand Old School, that's where he lost me. I hate that I feel like Kenny Powers is just another Frank the Tank.  I wish I never let the DVD player run through the credits during the first episode of season two.  I usually fast forward.
I had a track coach in high school who looked just like (and acted quite like) Kenny Powers. An internet stalk search shows that he works at a Buick dealer in my hometown.  Gross.
I have a friend who's family sounds like they are saying "Buick" when they puke.  My track coach in high school really makes me want to Buick every time I think of him.

Anyway.

The same thing happened with Curb Your Enthusiasm.  I hear it's a great show, but I can't get through a single episode due to having watched Jerry Seinfeld play Larry David for ten years.  Now when I watch Larry David, all I can see is Larry David playing Jerry Seinfeld playing Larry David.  Larry David is his own Poor Man's Larry David. It's his own fault, really.
Plus that Cheryl Hines really grosses me out and I can't stand to look at her.  When you Google Cheryl Hines, you get a lot of information about her feet, which are apparently the focus of a large number of fetishists.  Who knew?

Feet fetishes are weird to me.  I have an anti-foot fetish.  The less I see of feet, the more turned on I am.  It conflicts strongly with my anti-shoe and anti-sock fetish.  If I see your socks I want to throw up.  Especially if you are wearing shorts or your pant hems are too short and it goes shoe-sock-flesh-pant. OMGross.  If your shoes look too tight or too loose or too anything other than perfect, I want to cry.  I don't like to wear socks and shoes because I feel like I'm going to choke.  I do like just socks, provided they have no seams and are either not textured at all or there is a perfect nubby-rubby texture, like cable knit or marled.  Oh, marled.  I think you are the focus of my fetish.  I want the world to be marled.

I thought my universal remote wasn't compatible with my DVD player for about six months because I didn't understand why the buttons didn't work when I hit VCR then ff/rewind/play/pause/etc.  I can't get used to the term DVD.  It sounds like something contagious.

Did you hear about Sally?
No, what?
She has DVD
DVD!?!?  OMG! What a slut!

Anything that includes the initials "VD" sounds scabby and itchy.

I also watched Rocky Horror in its entirety last night.  If you've never seen it, please see it sometime between now and the end of the month.  It is my favorite movie of all time, partly because of the acting (everyone is so committed and so on-point) but mostly because I'm a sucker for half-dressed transvestites. And Tim Curry.

I could go for some really good Thai porn food. There is this vegetable red curry at The Reading Terminal that is my most favorite food ever.  It's all coconut milky and spicy and filling and has 8 or 9 different vegetables in it. And it's like five bucks.

Comfort food is good.
All of my present-day comfort food is food I never ate as a child.
Take from that what you will.

I'm a little upset about something.
A lot upset, really.
The community center where Jake attended pre-school and a summer program and now afterschool care and where I planned to send him this summer is closing.  I have no idea what I'm going to do.  The center is open from 7am until 6pm, which is perfect for people who work full-time.  Everything else of value in South Philadelphia and downtown is only open from 9-3, with the exception of somewhere that is open 9-5.  I work from 8.30-5.  I'm going to try to pull some strings with people at my job who have jobs dealing with funding for programs providing child care when school isn't in session, but it looks bleak.  Especially for summer.  Afterschool I will deal with.  I won't love it, but I'll deal with it.  The place he is at now has all sorts of accreditations and a gym and a weight room and a pool and a computer lab and is attached to the public library and they have an outdoor space.  It's perfect.
And $65 a week.
They are open when schools are closed.  Most places aren't.

I know things will work out.
I also know that the only bid on the center is by Jake's school. 
I'm going to write to the principal and ask her to consider running an afterschool and summer camp there.  It would be great money for the school, provided she can get all the insurances and stuff together in time.  It would provide extra income for the teachers during the summer.  Or maybe she could keep some of the existing staff.

The Community Center is also a senior center.  A place where they can exercise and socialize and eat.  A place they can go to get out of the house.  That's important when you're old.  You need to exercise and socialize and eat and get out of the house.  If not, you die.

I know the woman who runs the agency who runs the center and she is a terrible person.  She's made a lot of really bad social work and public health decisions in the past.  Some that I was directly involved with, some that I just heard through intra-office and inter-office chatter.  But the center itself is great.  Was great.  Will hopefully continue to be great.

I love how I don't have to worry about good schools here in the big city, but I am sick over what will happen to my child when he isn't there.  Being a working mom is hard for a lot of different reasons.  This is one of them.

But, I have a great weekend planned out.  Tonight I clean the house.  Tomorrow day I have a class that I've been looking forward to for years, tomorrow night I have a show- we are doing an improvised B-movie, which is our favorite thing to do, and Sunday a good friend is coming up from Baltimore and we are hanging out late night since there is no work on Monday. 
And Monday? I rest.

I can't wait.

tuesday

Ever since the earthquake happened, a big chunk of the fire tower in my building between the mezzanine and second floor has been cracking and falling to the ground.
By "big", I mean about 20 inches by about five inches. 
By "cracking and falling", I mean I've been picking at it very stealthily with outstretched fingers that traipse along the entire staircase wall and bumping my shoulder and rubbing my bag into it as I pass.  I really needed to see if it was just surface damage to the plaster or real for serious damage to the concrete and I couldn't just stand there and wreck it worse because there are security cameras in there and even though I'm not really that afraid of our 67 year old lady security guard, I'm afraid of the people she might tell.

Maintenance finally got to it over the weekend and picked it apart in a for reals investigation and they haven't made it to the actual patching up part of the job yet so I can see that the foundation of the wall is doing just fine.

That's a load off my mind.

***

We didn't get a call back for the Olive Garden commercial, but it was a great experience.  I've had two auditions in my whole life- one of them tanked and one of them went well.  If I was a baseball player, I'd be batting .500 and riding high on my career so there is no room for complaints.

I sort of want to audition for something else now.  Just so I can look into that camera and say my name and feel all those goosebumps and butterflies jumping around my body.

***

I read this article the other day that made cockroaches sound delicious and nutritious and shrimp sound like the most vile creatures in the universe.  Something about eating whole grains in a kitchen verses poop on the (ocean) floor and a bunch of other stuff that supported the argument.
Me?  I think cockroaches and shrimp are pretty much exactly alike and neither should be favored over the other.
The only difference for me is that I've eaten shrimp on purpose and shrimp never startle me when I take the trash out on a sticky summer night.  I'm sure I've eaten (the equivalent of) at least one cockroach.  See, I've also read this article about how the FDA allows so many bug parts in peanut butter and sacks of rice and flour and other dry goods. 

***

I heard on television that the real danger of eating cookie dough is not the raw eggs (only one in every 30,000 eggs in the US is contaminated with salmonella.  Or is it 300,000? Odds are good either way) but the uncooked flour.  Lots of pesticides and bacteria and viruses and cockroach parts in uncooked flour.

***

A few co-workers found traces of mice in their desks last week.
By "traces", I mean poop pellets and chewed cardboard.
I didn't find any in mine, but I cleaned house really well just in case.  I brought in a giant empty Scottish Butter Cookie tin in from home to hold my oatmeal and tea.  Mice can't chew through metal according to the most recent scientific reports.  The only problem is now it looks like I have 64.8 ounces of butter cookies on my desk and people keep asking for one but I have none to give.

***

When I was in college, I worked as a Pharmaceutical Tech.  You didn't need a special license or degree to do that back then, and you made almost $10 an hour which was really good for back then. 
$10 used to buy a lot more than it does now.
Like two red Solo cups on a Saturday night. 
Two red Solo cups on a Saturday night used to guarantee you'd get laid sometime between midnight and the next morning.
Date night, indeed.
At my Pharmaceutical Tech job, the Real Pharmacists used to call me Lorna Doone.  That's how it was recorded in the Pharmaceutical System and everything.  You didn't need a real name, a special license or degree to fill prescriptions back then.  Just the willingness to work under pressure while the Real Pharmacists smoked cigarettes out back and did the crossword puzzles in the break room.
I hope I didn't accidentally kill anyone.

***

On Christmas Eve, Dave, Jacob and I took a drive to our college town to buy a pizza.  The pizza shop has the same name and location but looks a lot different.  The town has the same name and location, but looks a lot different.  The campus has the same name and (an expanded) location, but looks a lot different.
Old dorms have been torn down and rebuilt, but ours is still there.  Dave and I were next door neighbors in the freshman dorms.  Mothers and dads, don't let your babies live in co-ed dorms.  New buildings have gone up where we used to be able to have catches and kicks and build snowmen and get a little bit of sun.  The Quad is the same.  Same trees, same buildings, same sidewalks.  But it looks smaller now.  And somehow more beautiful, despite the fact there is a Starbucks in the library.  There was no one else there, we had the whole place to ourselves for the hour or so we spent walking around.

Something about watching your child run wild across your college campus makes your throat feel funny and your eyes get something in them.

Something about watching the man who, once upon a time, was just your college boyfriend run wild after your wildly running child across your college campus almost twenty years after it all first happened makes your throat feel funny and your eyes get something in them.

Damn suburbs and all the nature out there messing with my head holes.

Thursday Spaghetti

I've been awful about Wednesday Spaghetti.  Mostly because improv practice is on Wednesday nights, but partly because I've lazed up these past couple years.  But Wednesday Spaghetti is still going awful strong in my heart.

Yesterday was National Spaghetti Day.  I ate spaghetti, for the first time in a long time.  All alone, as no one else wanted pasta.  My cat licked the bowl.  That has to count for some sort of sisterhood.

Angel hair with a cabernet sauce, scrambled eggs mixed in, parmesan and lots of black pepper and a bit of rosemary on top.

Nothing special, I assure you, to eat- but it was tasty and filling and it brought me to thinking of how much I miss my Wednesday Spaghetting and how proud I am of the ladies all over the country who are still keeping the torch lit. 

I'll be doing at least quarterly spaghetti dinners this year.  Probably on Thursdays.

 ***

In other Thursday Spaghetti news, I had an audition this morning for a nation-wide-televised Olive Garden commercial.
Me and a few other members of my improv team.
No biggie, just something that I've never ever done before and never ever thought of doing until less than 24 hours ago.
Carrying on as if I just walk around town with my head shots and drop in on this kind of stuff every day around lunchtime.

You know how I do.

New year, new stuff.
Start the year off like this is going to be the one where I'm going to make real changes.

I didn't puke.  Or sweat.  Or poop.
All things that I used to be really afraid of doing in conjunction with any sort of performance-based activity.

It was really fun, and after getting a few pictures taken and saying our names into a camera all we had to do is sit around and BS about a whole bunch of lightly-scripted stuff that I can almost remember but not really because I don't want to dwell on it too much.  That's when the voices start, when I start dwelling.

It was weird because it was supposed to be dinner tabley talk, but we were sitting on stools in a row.
It was good because we are really comfortable with one another and have no problems going on and on about nothing in a natural sort of way no matter how awkward the seating arrangement.

Acting!

I've never done anything from a script before, save for elementary school plays.  The thought terrifies me.  I'm okay with making stuff up on the spot, but I feel like if I have to memorize anything I'll choke and get a brain block and everyone will laugh at me.  I recently dreamed that I got a part in a local play and then they kicked me out because I flubbed everything.  That and I didn't speak French or dance the Ballet and it was a French rendition of the Nutcracker, but I had no idea at the audition.  I guess I just got in on my good looks.

Call backs are next week, and while I don't have High Apple Pie in the Sky hopes about it, it was a really good way to spend my lunchbreak on a random Thursday.