Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

In July I received a text message from my landlord's bitchy wife telling me that she "need[ed] the apartment by September 1."  I laughed, and then sort of couldn't believe it, and then was relieved.  I have lived in the same apartment for 5 years and have complained about it for the last 2.5 years.  When I found the apartment I NEEDED it as soon as possible.  It was small, two rooms - one was a bedroom and one was a living room/kitchen combo.  I believe that it was shown to me as a junior one bedroom.  I took it.  I loved it, I disliked it, I started to hate it.  It started to shrink on me.  And my neighbors seemed to get louder and louder.  The neighbors in the building next door were the loudest sons o' bitches I'd encountered.  One of them, Jimmy the Plumber, has a voice that makes me want to kill.  I see red every time I hear it.  So, I was ready to go.

Around this same time I made an awful discovery.  I got home late one night after a great show at Shakespeare in the Park.  I sat down on my couch and watched a couple of episodes of The X-Files.  It was around 1am when I decided to change the linens.  I pulled a pillow case off a spare pillow and found a little bug and some black smudges.  Of course I thought it was gross.  But bugs...I grew up near a river.  We have bugs.  When it rains, bugs come in.  When it's hot, bugs come in.  When it's cold, bugs come in.  It's normal.  Then I pulled the pillow case off another pillow, and there were a couple more bugs, more black splotchy stuff, and my pulse quickened.  Ok, gross, I thought.  And then I decide to look closer.  I lifted my mattress off my box spring and there they were...a couple bugs, one running up the wall, some more black smudges.

I went to my computer, my new, shiny, MacBook Air (see A Tale of Two Computers), and optimistically Googled "spider mites."  No luck.  The top hits all skipped over sider mites and went straight for the bad boys of the bug world: BED BUGS.  Needless to say, I was horrified.  I pulled the infested pillows out of my laundry bag, put them in a plastic bag, and threw them out.  I then proceeded to Google the blood sucking critters for the next two hours.  At 3am I came to a couple conclusions.  First, I had to sleep in my own bed. Even though it was possibly/probably crawling with pests.  I had no choice. Sleeping elsewhere would only contribute to the problem as the nasty critters would come FIND ME so they could feed.  Second, I realized that this was no small  problem, and not even close to be a laughing matter.  And third, I realized that you can Google something to death, but it doesn't actually kill that thing.

I had to resign myself to being a nightly human sacrifice.  I called an exterminator for an inspection.  I got very little sleep.  The exterminator told me the infestation was bad.  Pretty bad.  But he has seen worse (I may have made him say that to me to make me feel better).  I had to take two days off from work in order to wash/dry all my clothes in hot water and hot dryers.  I had to double bag them all.  If there were items I wanted to throw away I had to be sure to bag them before removing them from my bedroom so as to decrease the risk of spreading them throughout my tiny apartment.  I am lucky enough to have friends who are very supportive.  Some have even gone through the bed bug ordeal.  They bought me beers, they bought me food, they gave me hope.  I also had to put up with people telling me what I should do even though they had never had personal experience with bed bugs.  To these people I say: Hey guys!  I know how to use the internet, too!

As all of this was going on I also had to get an Orthograph and MRI on my right shoulder.  Yay! Funsies!  A couple of doctors who looked like characters from Space Balls came in to show me what's up.  They were all game faces, no jokes.  The idea is that they would use low-level radiation (an X-ray) to "see" the ligaments and bones in my shoulder.  With the help of the X-ray and bony landmarks, one of them would then inject some contrasting dye into the cartilage of my rotator cuff, so as to get a better picture of what was going on.  The procedure, I was assured, would take one minute, two if it was really tough.  They'd numb up first, and if they got it right the first time, there'd be very little needle adjustments needed.  Needless to say, after about three minutes, we were still going at it.  My doctor had met with "some resistance, " he said.  His theory is that the constant inflammation in my shoulder was making it tough.  My theory is that it was just me.  He had to move the needle around A LOT.  And while it wasn't exactly painful, it didn't feel good either.  As a matter of fact, it felt really gross.  But all of this was nothing compared to the nightmare that is an MRI.  I do not like being stuck in a loud, tight, metal tube in an uncomfortable position.  Yuck.

So...I made it through the Orthograph and MRI, and eventually I made it through all the prep work and the treatment for bed bugs.  I found an apartment (the first and only apartment I looked at.  Finding an apartment in August, in Astoria, for a reasonable price is not easy guys!).  And, last but not least, I moved!!!  I now live in a railroad-style apartment at least twice the size of the abhorred junior one bed.  I received the results of my MRI, and while I have a tear in an odd place, according to my doctor (a posterior labral tear), and while to attempt to fix it will require surgery, in Doc's opinion, he said that the activities I'm involved in (running, yoga, climbing, biking) aren't causing further damage, and that I need not rush into any decisions.  I have also not seen a bed bug in several weeks (knock wood), and not once in the new apartment (knock wood twice).

The times, they are a-changing.  Fall is in the air, we have a presidential election almost upon us, and the clock just keeps on ticking.  But I'll tell you what -- August was the LOWEST point in my short, charmed life, and that makes me pretty grateful for what I have because you know what: bed bugs, being kicked out of my apartment, and a nagging posterior labral tear are nothing compared to the hardships so many people in this world suffer.  I am thankful everyday that the worst that's ever happened to me left me better off than when I started.

I am thankful for each tick I get on that clock.

P.S. Please, please, please, especially if you live in a densely populated city, learn about bed bugs.  The more you know, and all that...

Fuji Newest 4.0

I got a new bike!  I talked for a year about purchasing a bicycle.  Swore I would do it.  But then I did not.  This spring arrived and I said, with more conviction this time, "I will buy a bike this spring."  Then I did not.  Suddenly it was June!  And I really wanted a bicycle.  So I set myself a goal of purchasing one in June.  I failed to meet that goal, but I did buy one on July 03.

I walked into the neighborhood bike shop having only the vaguest idea about what I wanted.  I knew that I had a finite amount of money to spend, that I wanted to be able to go on casual rides, to the park and such, possibly commute to work now and then, and maybe even ride in some longer rides like the Five Boro Bike Tour or the NYC Century series.  The sales staff was very helpful, and although they originally told me I'd only be able to afford a hybrid bike (best for commuters), I ended up walking out with a beautiful, new, blue road bike.

It has been so much fun!  I wanted the bike to make getting places easier, especially places that are just out of walking distance.  The very afternoon I got it, I rode to the park.  It's about half a mile from home, and the walk, while not unpleasant, can be a deterrent at times.  Riding there takes ten minutes, max!  I love it.  I took a few nervous turns around the park.  I haven't been on a bike in about 15 years or so, so riding makes me nervous.  It was tough to realize that the ONLY place I had to ride was the street!  With cars! And pedestrians!  But I made it there safely, and took some time to relax.

Since my first ride (and I've only had the bike a couple of weeks) I've gone on four or five short rides to the park and around my neighborhood.  I feel a little bit as though I'm getting my sea legs back -- but the old adage is correct, you never forget how to ride a bike.  Just the other night a friend helped me expand my horizons and took me on a ride to Gantry Plaza State Park in Long Island City.  I have been wanting to visit the park for a while -- I haven't been since last year -- so I was excited to learn the route.  It was interesting to recognize the difference in my confidence levels when riding with another person.  I felt safer, but not in a way I can really explain.

Anyway, we made it to the park and locked up our bikes -- the first time I had done so.  I can probably use some practice in that area.  Then we walked around and enjoyed the breezy night and the view of Manhattan. It must be one of the best spots to enjoy the vistas of the city.  

So begins what I hope is a long love affair with my bicycle.  It won't always feel good or be fun, but I think that the places we'll go together will make up for the pain.  

A Tale of Two Computers

For about three years now I've owned and loved and possibly abused a 17-inch Dell PC.  I've spent many (too many) hours surfing the internet, watching dvds, and streaming videos.  I have no issue with the fact that it is a PC, even though I've had several people proselytize on behalf of Apple.  Macs are pretty, but I didn't need one, and only lusted after them occasionally.

Sometime in the past couple of years I started working a lot more than I had before.  I needed to work from a laptop now an then and would drag mine to work.  I suppose I never quite realized that it weighs about as much as a human baby.  I would take a trip home to New Mexico, or visit friends in L.A.,  and have to create a pros and cons list to decide whether or not to take the laptop along.  I started contemplating whether or not I should get/needed a netbook.  I started daydreaming about MacBooks.  The regular MacBook was nice, but oh, that MacBook pro...now that was something.

Much time passed.  But I would think often about the work I could get done had I a second computer!  I often debate whether I should watch a show on Netflix, or do some work, write a blog, write anything at all, maybe compose a letter to someone.  Ninety-nine times out of one-hundred, the movie won out.

Just a few days ago I was chatting online with my technical coach & guru about computers.  Maybe I had complained about the weight of my laptop -- whether I should bother taking it home or not.  Next you know, link after link to used or refurbished MacBooks appear in the chat window.  I'm not always one for quick decisions -- I often mull things over until it's too late to make a decision.  However, sometimes I make the toughest decisions (like those involving risk or big ticket items) in a snap.  I decided to jump out of a plane over chicken wings and beer, and fell out of the plane the very next weekend -- no looking back.  I decided to run my first Ragnar Relay with very little knowledge about the race (btw, it's a 200-ish mile, 12-person relay that takes place over two days).  Next thing you know I'm stuffed in a van with six sweaty runners on little sleep, fueled by Cheez-its and Fig Newtons.  And, I made my decision to purchase a refurbed MacBook Air in about 30 minutes.

The day I purchased it a friend asked me why I needed two computers.  What would I do on my MacBook that I don't do on my PC?  I couldn't come up with very many good ideas!  Activities involved looking at pictures of baby animals on the internet, working while being able to watch a program on the ol' Dell, writing perhaps, surfing the net...I suppose nothing very productive.

It arrived today!  I wasn't expecting the MacBook Air until Monday, but UPS delivered this afternoon.  I was so excited!!! The entire package weighed less than six pounds -- the box, cushioning, accessories, and computer!  It was like a dream.  I opened it up, logged on, registered my Mac...and here I am!!! After getting caught in an amazing down pour, praying I wasn't already ruining my new little toy, I made it home.  While a Masterpiece Classic BBC program plays on the desktop of laptops, I get to blog away on the Mac.  After this, I might peruse Jezebel, look at photos on The Berry, and learn a little bit more about what this puppy can do.

So, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and I can handle it and deal with it all using the tools I have: My Dell PC and my MacBook Air.

Saucha

I've been practicing yoga asanas for just over three years.  My practice is regular, usually two times a week: one vinyasa class, one hot vinyasa class.  I enjoy it. I might actually love it.  And during these three years a few things have begun to sink in.  Each month at my "home" studio, we have a different focus on some yoga topic, and as it turns out, yoga is not just a physical practice.  As a matter of fact, there are eight limbs of yoga.  Patanjali (credited by many as the "father" of yoga) outlined the limbs in the yoga sutras.  Briefly they are

Yama :  Universal morality

Niyama :  Personal observances

Asanas :  Body postures

Pranayama :  Breathing exercises, and control of prana

Pratyahara :  Control of the senses

Dharana :  Concentration and cultivating inner perceptual awareness

Dhyana :  Devotion, Meditation on the Divine

Samadhi :  Union with the Divine

I cannot even begin to explain these.  That is what Patanjali is for, as well as the many teachers and gurus to follow.

 Anyway, this month our focus is Saucha, one of the Niyamas.  There are many ways to expound on Saucha, but the most basic definition is cleanliness.  This cleanliness is physical, as in keeping a clean home and clean body.  But it is also more theoretical purity.  Or maybe to me it is theoretical.  This purity is an inner purity.  One must keep one's thoughts clean, pure...and even more so, distinct.  Thoughts, intentions, goals, paths, asanas, meditations, each of these need to be distinct so as not to be muddled.  I haven't quite wrapped my head around it just yet.

Swami Krishnananda says, "Any entanglement of consciousness in things or circumstances which have no constructive relationship with the goal of Yoga is to be regarded as an impurity."

Aha...ok, I think I'm starting to understand.  I'm beginning to picture a bunch of threads.  My life, your life, everyone and thing.  My actions, your actions, all actions. My thoughts.  My practices.  My relationships. When they are tangled, all you have is a big giant knot.  What these threads need to be is, I think, untangled.  Straight, clean threads.  What then needs to happen is that only particular threads should come together to weave a fabric.  A "pure" fabric. This is how I picture saucha.

Some of the ways we can practice saucha is by keeping a clean and orderly home.  Not my biggest attribute.  We can keep a clean body.  Ok. I'm pretty good at the whole showering thing. Being clean feels good.  We can focus our thoughts. Well, ok. I'm getting better at that, but I sure do get distracted a lot.  I'm not even inclined to meditate, except when guided or in the form of an activity like running...and even while runningI can become distracted.

Tonight I practiced hot vinyasa.  In class we are invited to set an intention, and tonight my intention was to have a pure intention.  To move through each posture and breath focusing on just that.  And not letting my thoughts wander.  Looking back, I think I did pretty well.  I don't remember thinking of anything other than the practice.

Just a Tin of Sardines

Happy New Year!

Here we are in 2012.  I did not make any resolutions. Not really.  The thing with resolutions is, they get broken. And then, I feel shitty.  I do have some things I'd like to do.  A friend of mine made a really wonderful, comprehensive list of intentions for 2012, but I'm not that advanced.  I jotted down some ideas.

Idea #1
Go climbing, either rock or in a gym.  Goal accomplished! Thanks to a friend having a great idea for a birthday celebration, I was able to spend the day at a climbing gym only 14 days into the new year.  We hope to make it a monthly occurrence.  It was so much fun.  I had to travel far from home (1 hour) to do it, but it was definitely worth it.  By the end of the day, my forearms were trashed.  I had to sign a card and I literally could not do it the first time I tried.  My arms and back were sore for several days, and I can't wait to feel like that again.

Idea #2
Write more.  And look, here I am doing just that.  But really. I should write more.  I should take Wilford Brimley's advice on checking blood sugar levels and apply it to writing: Do it, and do it often.

Idea #3
Travel more!  I love to travel, really, I do.  I don't have any money. Traveling (the way I prefer to do it) takes money.  So really I guess Idea #3 should read, "make/save money!" But it doesn't.  My brother has applied for a job transfer to Alaska.  I really hope he gets it.  Then I can visit!  I've wanted to visit Alaska for several years now, and this could be my chance.  I'd know someone and have a place to stay.  I want to go lots of places, both near and far, but I find that I don't travel well alone. Actually, I've never tried.  I'm a chicken.  I think I just landed on idea #4!   However, I like traveling with good friends/partners.  So, to travel, I guess I need to coerce my friends into going where I want to go.

Idea #4
Stop being a chicken.

As for resolutions for the New Year, I suppose I understand the idea that the beginning of the year is a good time to drop old habits and start news ones.  However, this is a process that I try to do throughout the year.  I believe that I am constantly, and hopefully consistently, on the path to self improvement.  I try to challenge myself and keep up good habits, making them stronger, while leaving bad habits in the dust.  There is a lot of room for improvement.  But choking up January with tons of intentions is no way to begin.  I don't want to slog through a list of resolutions and get bottle-necked with everyone else trying to eat right, exercise more, buy local, etc.  I'll just keep on doing what I've been trying to do.  There is no finish line, and the only moment is now.

That being said, I really should try being on time to work.

But Oh Well, Life Goes On

Someone wrote a song about me once.  I only know this because he did it right in front of me.  I no longer remember who he was.  I know I was with a friend or two, we had gone to someone's apartment in Albuquerque for New Year's Eve? Maybe? And the guys there were drunk.  I believe the last time we'd all been together, I had also been drinking. Possibly a lot. Probably I did something silly or foolish.  I no longer even remember all of the words to the song, but it was definitely about something I had done in some sort of drunken stupor.  And it all came back to one refrain, "But oh well/Life goes on." 

Ok, so maybe it wasn't a great song, and maybe it didn't show me in the best light. But goddammit someone wrote a song about me! Me!

When I was young I had this unwavering belief that I'd be famous.  Not a famous actor, or singer, or performer of any type.  Hell, not even the type of person who changes the world drastically.  I just knew that I'd be recognized and remembered.  I also hoped (ok, I admit it, knew) I'd be a published author some day.  I'd like to find some sort of grade school essay about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I seriously doubt it said anything like "doctor" or "lawyer", although I have the sneaking and embarrassing suspicion it said "secretary".

As I got older, I lost faith that I would be well-known myself.  But I thought, "Hey -- maybe I'll meet someone who is or will be well-known...and I will gain some notoriety through this person."  Yes. It's true. I've actually had this thought. More than once.  And in it's most basic form, it was something more like: One day, someone will write a song about me.  Ha! Oh yes.  That is what I hoped. 

I suppose I imagined that I would meet a boy/man (depending on my age -- they've only recently become men to me) who would fall madly and irresistibly and painfully in love with me.  It would be dramatic.  It would be fiery.  It would be tragic.  Love would be pain.  It would hurt too much to be together; it would hurt too much to be apart.  We'd yell and scream and fight and make-up.  And he, of course, would be an artist. Probably a musician.  And from the depths of all the drama and turmoil and passion, I'd be his muse in one tortured, deep, biting, yearning, hateful, loving song.  Of course, we'd never be able to have a long-term relationship. It would end.  But I'd never forget.  He'd never forget.  And the whole thing would live on in that one song. No matter when or where it was played/performed/listened to...It would me.  Us.

Well. So far, this has not even come close to happening.  But like the mystery song writer of yore said, "But oh well/Life goes on."

I'm not a song writer.  I'm barely even a prose/poetry writer.  But I think about what I am inspired by, and whom.  And sometimes the "you" is just any ol' "you" and the "he" is just some "he".  A no one. A someone. It hardly matters.  When the "you" is someone real, I often think of how embarrassed I would be for that person to know that I wrote something inspired by them.  That they actually affected me enough for me to write about it.  But at the same time, doesn't everyone deserve their song?  Hasn't everyone I've known earned the right to appear somewhere, in one line, in one poem, of mine?  I think they have. But be warned: it won't always be a flattering mention.

I've settled down a bit.  I've learned that I don't need a mention anywhere (and if I insist upon needing it, I'll always have the New Year's Eve live acoustic ditty).  I've learned that (surprise!) the world does not, in fact, revolve around me. Or anyone.  So I'll write my songs.  You write yours. 

Life goes on.