Always remain a student, no matter how often you are the teacher- in Yoga and in Life

I love teaching....I love teaching yoga, I love teaching about sexual violence, I love being in front of a group pontificating on one thing or another.   
Love. It. 
Love.
Love.
Love!
It is my total natural high.  But sometimes, I get so wrapped up in being a teacher, that I forget how wonderful it is to be a student.

Last night I subbed for another teacher at Infusion.  It was cool...new students to mold to my will....muwahahah!  Unfortunately, I couldn't read them very well....at least the women in the class.  The one lone gentlemen was more forthcoming.  It was his first yoga class ever...and for lack of a better term, seemed like a jock.  At the end of class I asked him how it was, and he told me that it was more intense then he thought it was going to be.  Woot!  Score for the fat girl!  After that class, I decided to stay for the last class of the night, which was Yoga for Sleep.  The class was excellent! And I needed it....one, cause this week has been a bear, and two....I am forgetting how it feels to be a student.  The wonder in doing something new, the sensation of relaxing into Savasana (which I don't take when I teach because someone has to bring everyone out of it), the feeling of awe and excitement with discovery....I was forgetting what it felt like to be that, that eternal student.

Re-discovering the joy of being a student is what makes me a better teacher....it lets me grow.

Today with my private student, I tried to channel that same excitement as I felt in the class the night before.  I pushed her today.  I pushed her harder than I ever have.  I made her go into a modified forearm stand.  She looked at me like I was crazy when I showed her what we were about to do.  Then I assisted her.  The look on her face when she came out of it was breathtaking.  It was pure joy.  I knew that she would want to do it again (because when I first did the pose, I did) and I offered to take a photo of her.  She allowed me....and she doesn't like her photo taken at all.  I'll put up a photo of myself the pose
instead of her however.  This was such a turning point for her and for me.  For her, as she doubts her beauty
and her strength
and her grace. 
For me....because it brought it back to the forefront that I need to teach with the spirit of a student.

So, my advice to you.... 
Always be the student.
Love it.
Honor it.
And let that joy guide you as surely as your intuition does.

Overloaded

I received what I am going to term as a cosmic bitch-slap this weekend.  Or maybe I could term it as a sucker punch... in any case...bleck.

It's been an incredibly busy week.  I had a friend visiting from out of town, which involved alot of gatherings with other friends who knew her.  Then on top of that, there just seems to be a shit-storm abrewing with this board that I am chair of, then adding in my normal stuff, and then we get to the incident yesterday...which I will detail in a few paragraphs.

The issue exploding on the board I'm head of revolves around the executive director of the organization.  I've never been as continuously mad at someone as I have been at him for the past few weeks.  Normally I am good at letting the anger go, but I still reserve the right to make snarky comments from time to time.  Tomorrow is the board meeting, and I've just sent out emails letting everyone know that the executive director is not coming.  There is no good solution to this problem.  Either I go, he goes, the board agrees to work on the issues to resolve the problem, or we just make plans to close the non-profit.  All of these are good solutions- none of them are great solutions.  Part of me just wants to hide under the covers and not come out until this next weekend.

And then we get to the "incident".  So yesterday at my Theosophy meeting, there was a new guy there.  As soon as I sat down he remarked at how he loved my profile picture on the Meetup.com site.  I thanked him, introduced myself, and sat down.  I was a little bit more vocal than I usually am during the meeting, but the topic was historical gender issues...and of course, I was chomping at the bit to get a chance to pontificate.  During this little soap-box moment, he made several comments about how much he liked my passion on the subject, how he loved opinionated women, and wow...she's a leo...no wonder...I like leos, etc.

After the meeting he asked me if I wanted to go somewhere and talk.  Appreciating the directness, I accepted and we sat outside at a shop near the library where the meeting took place.  I'm going to give the highlights here rather than a blow-by-blow account.  What started out as me getting hit on, turned into a sales pitch for the self-hypnosis program he does, and then became this very creepy pushy attempt to have me sample his technique so that I could teach it as well.  There were alot of things that didn't add up.  He would tell me about how he left a job installing heaters and air conditioners that paid him $2000 a week, to becoming a life coach/hypnotherapist earning $700 a week because the "spirit called him to do this work".  It isn't the money that concerns me, but the excess information about these things that he was giving me.  People who give too many details that don't matter are often lying.  He was also driving a 20-year old 2-door geo metro that looked like his life was in the back.  He was excessively touchy.  His complimenting of me (while in the beginning was nice and sort of sweet) became almost oppressive.  And then his insistance that I experience his hypnotherapy technique so that I could "teach" it to others....he even offered to lead me through it right then for free, although he suggested that going to a park might be more comfortable...and of course noting that one of the two parks nearby might be better because it was more "secluded".

I agreed to meet with him, which I will cancel in the morning.  After our discussion I got into the car, and freaked the fuck out.  Complete panic attack, the shakes, random crying....the whole scary melt-down thing.  I ended up texting the HBM saying that I needed a hug and for someone to tell me that I was safe.  He immediately came over, and was able to give me what I needed.  He made me feel safe, he calmed me down, and he distracted me.  Of course, I think that I might have also ruined everything by putting myself in the category of girls he regularly rescues, or I might have fixed everything because I was vulnerable and needed him...or something like that.  Who knows...

I am not sure if HBM really understood the reasoning for my freak out....I wasn't very coherent to begin with.  When I told Libby the story this afternoon, I wasn't even halfway through it when she said "You met another Mike" which for those who don't remember is my ex-husband, aka Mr.3.  And its true, I did.  Although Mike was much better at the manipulation, or maybe I am just better at spotting it.  Later that evening, Jimmy and I looked at this guy's website....all of the women who had testimonials about how wonderful he was....all looked like me.  Again, shades of Mr.3....inducing a hell of alot of shivers and that creepy desire to shower in scalding hot water.

I'm still trying to process what happened.  Part of me feels a little betrayed... just when I decide that I need and will be more open with people (especially with the likes of HBM)....I then have a run-in with the type of person that is precisely the type of person I have been hiding myself because of.  On the other hand, it was a very clear realization that HBM is not ever going to be the person who would hurt me....as my immediate response after this meeting was to contact him.  Then on the other hand, this makes me worried that I attract a "type" and that I should just forget any notions of being with another person ever ever again.  And then on the other hand....I spotted the deception and was able to get myself out of a situation before it ever became bad.  Too many things going on here...so I am still really confused at what the moral of this story is going to be.

I do know this....It's Sunday evening, and I already feel completely overwhelmed with the week ahead.  I feel like I am setting tiny deadlines...if I can get through writing that email, if I can make it through this meeting, that appointment, I'll make it past this all.  Oh, to be out of this crisis mode of operating, that would truly be lovely!

Safety is more than being behind a locked door

Safety is a state of mind.  Safety is being solid, stable, sane.  I'm not feeling too safe at the moment. Or for that matter, not cogitatively at 100%.

Last week, my ex-husband, Mr.3, was sentenced.  And overall it was a success.  His lawyer had asked for 15 months, the state recommended 15-20 months, and the judge....gave him 48 months plus three years of supervised release PLUS when he is done with the jail time (federal prisoners don't get parole so he serves every day of it) he will be turned over to the authorities in Maryland to be prosecuted there.  I wrote a victim-impact statement that was read in open court.  A victory. Right?

I should feel safe.  I should feel elated.  I will know where he is until at least 2016.  He won't be able to hurt anyone during that time....everything should be wonderful.

But I'm not.  The euphoria wore off and I've been re-triggered.  In my line of work we teach advocates about the healing spiral   The idea is that healing travels along that spiral   You have the initial trauma, the crisis response, then a period of healing.  Along the spiral there will be moments where the memory of the initial trauma sparks a crisis response, then another period of healing sets in.  Re-triggering events will happen from time to time, but the effects of crisis lessen each time.

Of course, there are always complicating factors to that. One of those factors being that I really thought that I had dealt with the emotional stuff of what happened to me.  I guess that I haven't. Plus there is the realization that I haven't been able to be myself with a romantic interest of mine.  The last time that I liked someone this much, they used everything that was "me" against me.  And while I rationally know that this person would never do that.  I am still haunted by the fact that Mr.3 manipulated me so much, controlled me, made me feel like I was the only insane person in a world of coldly rational people.  I've been evaluating the stories of other women who have had run-ins with Mr.3, comparing their stories to mine.  Which is wrong, I shouldn't compare.  No one but me will ever fully understand the day to day of being under his thumb.  How he could be across the country, and yet every day for a year I was up at 4am, went to bed at midnight, was constantly by the phone, the computer, desperate for word from him.  How everyday, there was some sort of contact...he was never out of touch with me long enough to file a missing person's report....  Others were given the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn't going to come back.  I was continually reminded of him, by him.  The psychological toll of that...can't ever be truly expressed.  Even when he was physically with me, I was overpowered by him.  It was slow...gradual...but he dictated everything: how the money was spent, what food we ate, what happened in the bedroom, how I dressed, and even how I felt about myself.

I've been trying so much to overcompensate to make it look like I have it all together that the stress fractures are starting to show.  The current romantic interest has this "thing" for rescuing the damsel in distress.  Which normally revolves around some other girl that he knows who just can't seem to cope with 'whatever' and the drama/crisis/emotional 'whatever' just explodes all over everything.  I watch him pick up the pieces, be the hero...I've even gotten dragged along for the ride on some of these missions.  For the effort he makes, I wish that they would be more grateful....maybe that would placate some of my anger/jealousy for being left behind while he is on a rescue mission.  My "go-to" guy friend says that all men have this need to be needed.  I will never be the type of woman who let's her guard down enough to need to be physically rescued like the girls I've seen rescued lately.  And in saying that, I fully understand the irony in which my next statement will be read with...  I feel like I'm screaming out "rescue me, save me! Can't you see that I'm crumbling? Can't you see that I need you more?"

This is all so ridiculous.  This is all about me being scared.  About me being overprotective...of myself.   Right? There is a Regina Spektor song lyric that says "I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved."  I listened to that album alot when I was in therapy.  It was my anthem. It was me coming to terms with the fact that no one was going to fix this but me.  I recently learned that in the hero's journey there is a period of death, rebirth, and redemption...and I am not quite clear that redemption happens by the hero's own volition or if the hero is redeemed by someone.  I am not sure it is even fair for me to even hope for someone to help me pick up those pieces....

There are just too many variables....too many places where my vulnerabilities are exposed.  So....I'm just going to cry when I need (and hopefully with an audience of zero), I will use lots of eye drops and under-eye cream, write obnoxiously moody and contradictive blog posts, and hope...that I will come out of this loop of my spiral soon.

So have patience with me...especially since I can't seem to even have patience with myself at the moment.

Rating quite high on the creep-o-meter

Yesterday I was unsuccessfully searching for the turtles when I came across this thing behind the bookcase.. Honestly it looked like an albino hermit crab without its shell. Thinking that there is no way that a random crustacean could have died behind my bookcase, I just figured that it might have been the world's creepiest looking dust bunny/hairball and left it there until I gathered up the courage to actually touch the thing.

So this morning I mention it to the lil bro. Thinking that I was crazy and have finally officially lost my mind he goes to investigate.

I am not crazy... There really was a dead crustacean behind the bookcase.

Apparently a mutant crawdad that the lil bro had taken home in high school had escaped in the house, we've now found it. Lil bro insists that he told me about the disappearance but I think that I would have remembered a mutant crawdad on the loose in the house.

Seriously... Who wouldn't have remembered a crustacean on the loose?

In the meantime....I'm gonna remain a little grossed out.

There are times to embrace those moments where we are feeling new things & out of our comfort zone- this is not one of them.

I'm panicking.
Blind panic.
The type of panic where if you were alone you would indulge in some screaming and tears and your average over-the-top hysterics.
But I'm not alone. 
I'm at the office....trying to keep it together and I am doing a really REALLY bad job of it.

About 9 times out of 10, in the face of a conflict, I am the cool, calm, and collected one.  The one able to sift all the crap out of the way, make a clear picture, to-do list, and then spring into action.  Before today, I probably would have would have said "normally", "usually" or "10 out of 10 times".....but right now, in this moment, I am experiencing this one time.  So, I'm trying to allow myself a bit of catharsis here in the hopes that I can do something more than just being stuck, frozen, staring at a computer screen.

I'm not even managing cathartic writing very well....cause I keep freezing.
Trying to keep your breath normal is difficult.  So is not completely losing it at random things in the office like the scanner that is on strike or the fact that the coffee creamer curdled two days before the "use by" date.  Maybe the waves of panic flying off of me curdled it.  But it took everything in me not to launch that cup of curdled cream coffee across the room.

Why? There's a work crisis. A crisis that I can't fix.  A crisis that I could help with, but ultimately I feel so blind-sided by everything that I am just stuck in this wave of inaction.  And now....now is the time for action. 

And I'm sitting here.  Inactive.  I can't prioritize.  I've been having to narrate to myself what I am doing so that I can complete simple tasks.  Just when I think that I've got it managed, that I'm in the groove of things....the worst case scenarios come flying into my brain...and I freeze.

I just want to be able to do my job.  Without worry.  Without the drama that seems to be permeating the field that I am in at the moment.  There is more than enough work to go around, there is more than enough money to fund it....why is it necessary to make some random power play that ultimately will do more harm to victims in the state than good?

And then.......freeze. Panic.
I must remember to breathe.  Breathe.  Breathe... 

My word for 2013 is Strategic

Ahh....so it is that time again.  Time to review 2012's list of schemey/resolution type things.  

Here was the quick run-down of what I wanted to do:

Yearly Goal One: Pay off my private student loan: Whoops!  Still paying this and not really concerned about it.  Oh well.

Yearly Goal Two: To be kissed romantically: This happened, but it was my neighbor who was really drunk at the time.  I'm not sure if that gets full points or not....but sure, why not?

Yearly Goal Three: Work on finishing all of those books that I have started: Excellent progress has been made on this!  I feel confident calling this one as good.

Yearly Goal Four: If I am not going to celebrate on a paid holiday, at least spend some time learning about the holiday: Also accomplished!  Plus I have made it a policy not to really shop on the Monday of a three day weekend.

Yearly Goal Five: Master freetime at home: Hee hee hee, I really wrote that? HA HA HA HA!  I take more baths and try to spend time in silence, so....well....I guess it is a go.

Overall, I have definitely had worse years and I've definitely had better.

So what about 2013?  Trying to come up with specific goals has been difficult this year.  I've been angry and annoyed at alot of things lately.  And it is because I just can't let stuff go.  So... if I have a goal for this year, it is going to be summed up with the following word: strategic.

I feel like I've been trying to be a little good at everything for far far too long.  I don't feel like it is serving ME at all.  So rather than just saying "no" to something, I am going to ask myself, "how is THIS serving me?"

Global Voices for instance- it's been wonderful not having to work on the digest email everyday.  In fact, I came home late from a night of training yesterday and was excited to realize that the only thing I needed to do before going to bed...was nothing.  It. was. amazing!  I've also been considering cutting all volunteer ties with GV.  Which isn't much really....I am more than likely going to let myself fade out.  Just a few moments ago, I sent a resignation email to UPD telling them to remove me from the on-call calendar.  I have had much more angst about this volunteer opportunity than reward.  I love it when I am on a call......but 3 call outs in 9 months?  That is not really serving me.  And I'll admit it....being an advocate is a no-brainer, but my real push to get the experience was for a job that I didn't get. 

This week, I was elected as the board chair for SALAAM.  I feel that it will be more work, but that it will serve me in the end.  I have items that I want to work on with my co-masonic lodge.  I want to work more on my yoga teaching.  Those items I feel serve me.

Do you have a word that you feel sums up your hopes for the next year?

Saying goodbye is hard to do

So I've done it.  I have just finished my last bit of work as the Digest Editor for Global Voices.  I'm crying....tears of joy, relief, and then of sadness.  Saying goodbye is hard to do.

For 4 years and 8 months, I have been compiling the daily digest email. Through travel (nationally and internationally), daily life drama, computer crashes, hectic schedules, etc...the digest email would still come out with almost computer-like regularity.  I would say that I was good at what I did because I did it with such efficiency that I went pretty much unnoticed most of the time.  That ability is what has made me a good assistant, a good administrative person....but I am tired of being someone who is just really good at paperwork.  I am something more.

I've thought about leaving Global Voices for months now.  After being an author, and then a board member, being digest editor really felt like it was the last toe-hold that I had in the organization.  Global Voices has been a major part of my life for the past 7 years or so...wow, can it really have been that long?  GV was an emotional and financial anchor for me.  But I need to move on.

When I first took over, David, my predecessor said that he loved doing the email but that it was becoming a burden.  At the time, I thought that he was crazy.  I would get to play on GV everyday, and get paid for it!  I understand what he means now though.  And so do the people who are near me all the time, who have been listening to me lament after my average 12+ hour workdays: "Damn, I can't go to bed yet, I still have to do GV".  The digest editor needs to compile that email with passion, with life....and I am not the person to do that anymore.

The past few months I have felt like I am standing on the edge of a cliff....at the very tip of a major change in my life.  Letting go of GV is one small foot wiggle to that change on my horizon.  I don't need the money....although it has helped me greatly paying for rent, my yoga instructor training, and even a year and a half of college for my little brother in the past.  But now....now, I am in a place where I don't need it...and the time that it will free up is much MUCH more valuable to me than the stipend I would collect every two months.

So Goodbye.  Goodbye digest.  I won't be able to completely say goodbye to Global Voices, not yet.  There is still work that I can do, that I want to do.  But it will be on my terms how I can give my time back to them....back to an organization that has given me so much.  Goodbye.

The Cost of Weight Loss

Recently I had a bit of a mental crisis.  The crisis stemmed from the realization that my thighs are falling and also what I lovingly refer to as my "lower hemisphere".  They are falling because I am slowly toning up (teaching 2-4 yoga classes a week can do that to a person).  Gravity and I aren't friends on a regular basis but this new development.....grrr.  Its making me a bit self-conscious. And for those that know me well...that is very VERY hard thing to do.  Plus....clothing isn't fitting me right and well....my underwear falls down way more than I would like to admit.

Here's the thing- if you listen to the psycho-babble/multi-billion-dollar-a-year-diet-industry losing weight makes your life better.  You will instantly become loveable, men/women/whatever-you-are-in-to will start falling at your feet, you'll have more money, you'll live happily every after, etc, etc, etc.  This frankly is bullshit.

Bullshit.

The diet industry has a 95% failure rate.  If all of those silly diets worked, they wouldn't make any money anymore.  So they sell you a dream.  A dream that once you achieve that strange ideal of beauty that your life will really start.

Again- bullshit.

First of all...that "sameness" ideal of beauty is damned boring.  Everybody looks the same and have the exact same neuroses.  My ideal of beauty is something that changes, that looks different everyday.  My ideal of beauty is about the personality, intelligence, and outright silliness that a person is willing to exhibit.  My ideal of beauty is much more real and dynamic than anything that is being shown in a fashion magazine.  Of course, my ideal is not what everyone else is looking for.  Dating has never been the easiest thing for me and I've come across more than one person in my life who assumes that since I'm big that I have no self esteem and they could take advantage of me.  Shame on them.  But I have NEVER felt like I have had no life, or that it is on hold because of my weight.  For those that think I should feel this way....I would like to invite you to one of my yoga classes and just see how much this 300 pound yoga instructor can make you sweat.

Weight is one of those issues that everyone feels like they can talk to you about.  Concern about "your health" is just another way of people saying "you being fat reminds me that I could be fat and that scares me".  I've had doctors- who I wasn't even seeing- see me in the halls on the way to an exam room and tell me that I would be a good candidate for lap-band surgery.  Whoa! Hold on, I'm only here for my annual exam buddy!  Of course, since everyone is apparently deathly afraid of being fat, the extreme weight loss shows are very popular.  You get to fat-shame people and then see them become something that is much less scary to you.  You see them get yelled at while they are working out, being told they are worthless.  You get to see they cry over failure because they had a cookie.  You get to watch people bully others, tear them down mentally and emotionally, all because you are worried about "their health".  What you don't see on these weight loss shows are the hidden costs of this body transformation.

I hate to tell you this folks, but skin just doesn't bounce back if you are heavy and have been so for a long period of time.  What happens...is gravity.  Everything falls, deflates, and you are left with disgusting amounts of skins that just hangs there reminding you...that you are still fat and ugly.   The only way to get rid of this is surgery, and lots of it....which is more than likely not covered by insurance.

I have always been comfortable with my fat.  I have never really had a knowledge of myself or my body as being thin.  And frankly, being thin scares the shit out of me.  Being fat means that I can be myself, rejoice in my squishy-ness in the right places; being fat means that people know me for all that I am, not as some sexual object.  In many ways, fat is my hijab.  I have never really sought out to lose weight because I know that there are some hidden costs that I don't want to have to deal with.  Realizing that I was having some "gravity" issues made that all come the forefront and has resulted in a couple panic attacks.  Being thinner means that I would end up being part of a culture that prizes that beauty esthetic...there is a strange girly competition there that I have luckily never had to be a part of, and I really don't want to have to deal with that now or ever.  Being thinner means that I might have to deal with people finding me attractive that wouldn't have looked at me before when I was bigger.  That is only going to make me more mistrustful and bitter.  I want people to love me for me, not just on my appearance.  And monetarily....being thinner also means spending money on clothes and....surgery.

So what is the cost of losing weight?  I can tell you actually because I had a consultation with a surgeon today.  The cost is $11,104, not including time off from work, complications from surgery (months of drains were mentions and some horrible thing where you end up risking getting a wound that never heals).  That is also $11,104 that needs to be paid in full before the surgery.  That's a car.  That's a year's worth of day care.  That is a whole shitload of money.  And it is also something that I am not going to be doing right now.  I will reevaluate in 6 months.  I will plan to set aside the money so that in a year or two or three that I might have this done.  Or not.

I will also go back to actively loving my falling thighs.  I will continue to rock my yoga-ness.  I will continue to be my fabulous, silly, intelligent self.  And I will continue to be outraged everytime I see someone telling me that I should lose weight for "my health".  Sure, I'll do that....if they pay for the surgery.  Until then....those people can just kiss the little baby butt that my upper thighs resemble at the moment.

How to celebrate a holiday that you've never really felt you could claim

Today is Eid el-Adha.  And I am kinda depressed about it.  Kinda is an understatement as I have actually cried at work about it.....stupid emotions.   Twice a year, I am reminded that while I have been a member of a faith for 10+ years now, I've never been in a position where I can be in a community that celebrates that holiday.  I celebrate Christmas and Easter with my family because we come from a Christian background.  We don't have religious ceremonies with those holidays that we perform but we still celebrate traditions with them and those traditions would be recognized and accepted by the community we live within.

Not with Eid.  In the past, I tried to celebrate Eid el-Fitr with my family.  Which wasn't really successful....I tried to cook a Middle Eastern feast that seemed to just be more about it being weird food that they would probably not eat again.  I tried it once and never tried it again.  Now, when an Islamic holiday comes around it feels like an afterthought.  I have that moment of getting annoyed with myself that I wasn't paying attention to the calendar.  I shouldn't have to feel like I need to watch the calendar, I want these holidays to feel like an innate part of my life, like I do with Christmas and Easter, as a part of what happens to mark the passing of a year. 

I want traditions. I want that happy buildup to a holiday.  I don't want to celebrate it alone either; I am tired of that.

I guess I need to work on this.  How does one create a tradition....just dictating it? Well...I'm definitely not going to be sacrificing any animals and give the meat to the poor today.  I might have had some feeling that I should give to others this weekend, because I am scheduled to volunteer this evening and tomorrow night.  Now, I just want to partake of a meal with family....next item to figure out....

My -shortened-list of what not to do when applying for a job

Recently at work I was part of a hiring committee reviewing job applications for two separate position openings at my place of employment.  And….wow….is it ever interesting to be on the other side of the process.  So here are some tips to present yourself on paper best.

First, remember that you are trying to impress your potential employer….not the other way around.  If there are specific hiring instructions, FOLLOW THEM!  You need to make it easy for that hiring committee to process your application….plus it is also a good idea to show that you can follow simple directions.  If you have to make a hiring committee work to review your items, you won't get an interview.  So, don't send an updated resume after you have already submitted one….. why? Cause we all know now that you didn't really put your full effort in on the first one, you should have revised first then sent, not send then revise.  If the instructions say to apply for jobs individually, don't send an email asking for your resume to be applied to all open positions- we aren't your secretary.  And don't send in a resume for a position that another agency is hiring for…..you look stupid.  And no, I'm not going to pass it on….I'm drawing a bitch line there.

Second, typos, typos, TYPOS! Spell check is amazing.  USE IT!  Also, please review what you are writing.   I understand that you may be applying for a bunch of jobs…..but things like applying to my agency but in your cover letter saying that you want a job with the United Way, doesn't help your case.  We are not a gateway to your dream job with the United Way….we have nothing to do with the United Way…and why aren't you applying directly to them in the first place? Also, please spell the name of the agency you are applying to correctly.

Third, personalize your cover letter and resume!  I don't need to read about every job you have ever held if it is not relevant to the position at hand.  I want to hear more about your job or volunteer experience that relates to my field rather than the fact that you worked at a coffee shop in your teens.  It also shows that you took the time to think about the position you are applying for.  SHOW ME THAT YOU CARE about what you are applying for by taking a little bit of extra time on your application.  We had several people who applied for our two -very different- position openings with the exact same cover letter and resume.  It gets noticed.  It does.  Especially when on your cover letter you don't even bother to change the title of the job you are applying between one application to the other.

Fourth, GET A THESAURUS! Read it, use it, become friends with it, make mad passionate love to it and then marry it if you need to make an honest woman of it later…..cause if I have to read one more application that says the person has a "passion for" or is "passionate" about something, I might scream. 

Fifth, we know when you are full of bullshit….so knock it off already.  Buzz words will kill you, especially if you don't know how to use them correctly.  Cultural competency is thrown around a lot, it is a goal that one seeks….but no one ever achieves it.  So don't tell me that you are "culturally competent" about the universe in general.  If the job sounds like it has a specific focus...say...like Prevention, and the position announcements asks for someone to be knowledgeable about primary prevention strategies and current research.....that actually means something a little bit more than you saying you are qualified because you think sexual violence is bad.  It is a real thing we are referencing.  If you don't know what it is....don't say that you do and then try to cover it up.   And sentences like this describing your objective in employment: "Professional individual seeking to join a team committed to the highest quality legal service through personal integrity and dedication to its' clients exceeding their expectations".  What the fuck does that mean?  Or items like this: "After reading about the highest quality of exceptional service provided by [My agency] to its' clients, I am confident that I will add to the committed and dedicated team with my broad range of skills".   Yeah….we all know that you are using some silly template that you found on the internet somewhere.

So what should you do?

Be real.

Our agency wants to hire a real person.  Someone who is honest, attentive, and yes….perhaps even a little quirky....they will fit in better here that way.  You can still be yourself and impress a potential employer.  Write me a cover letter that talks about the work you have done and how you feel about the world you are applying to, and then make sure that your resume is consistent with your cover letter.  Show me that you care by doing more than just attaching a document to an email.  You need a job, we need an employee….we can be discerning even if you aren't in deciding who or what you are going to apply to.

Update on the Lil Bro and the Haunted House

We all know that I am super proud of my lil bro and his work at the haunted house Nightmare on 13th.  He's designed and built a good hunk of the building this year and is the cast director.  Attached is one of the many news spots to come..... plus....he's Dr. Nightmare.

Why Can't People Just Say That You Have the Wrong Number?

It isn't a huge request.  It really isn't.

So today I sent a text to someone who I hadn't contacted in probably a year.  And I immediately get a response back saying "Hello!"  Then starts a very odd text conversation-

My response: Hi [name omitted]! I was hoping that this number was still a good one for you.
Their response: Wow.  What was the pic u sent?
My response: There was no picture, only text.
Their response: Ah...it said multimedia but i could not see ur first mssg.

So I reexplain my original message to them....

Their response: thank u so who is this?

So.....I reexplain who I am and why I was contacting them.

Their response: oh. i remember u. super cute.

Somewhere in the soundtrack playing in my life is the screech of a needle being dragged across a record.  This seems like an odd response from someone who I believed to be a woman in her 60s....but to each their own right? Maybe.

They asked: Debbie would u be interested in hooking up 4 some wild fun?
My response: No. I thought that this was someone else.  I'll remove this number from my contacts list.
Their response: Ok but i would love to lick ur pussy and fuck.

Uhhh..... who the hell responds this way to a complete stranger who has gotten the wrong number?  I mean really?
What. The. Hell. 
And on the other side of this....what if I was a total creeper and said "Sure, your use of "ur" instead of "your" really 'sends me baby'.  Name the place and I'll be there with no underwear on."
C'mon really?  What sort of effect does a statement like that ever really hope to have?
Couldn't it have just been easier to either not respond to the text or just write "I'm sorry, but I think that you have the wrong number"?

It only leads to trouble...

I can't tell if it's my neighbors that are weird or just the world we live in. While I was excited to finally get to the stage of hanging out over a beer with the voyeur neighbor.... The end of the beer was a weird conversation of about how "mean" I was because I was honest and said that I wouldn't go to bed with him. Although our conversation did get repeated alot because he was quite drunk...

In any case though, it brings up an interesting point. When did it get to be ok for a guy to be all sad and complainy when a girl stands her ground and says no? Seriously? Even after I explain what coercion is? In very explicit detail?

When did it get ok to excuse bad behavior because you're drunk?

And since I'm pondering the deep unanswerable questions..... Why is it that these strange situations happen with people on the days where I end up making a failed play with the person I wanted? Is this karma's way of telling me that I should just stop trying? Or is the universe just helping me out by lumping all the incidents into one day for speed and efficiency's sake?

Plus, I'm starting to get really annoyed that married men and drunk men can tell me how great they think I am, but the single sober ones can only see me as the girl they can talk to about how other hotter girls confuse them.

Mah....

Diving Backwards

Last night I kinda went out on a limb and attended an "Intuitive Q&A" evening.  The best (and most concise way) of describing the event was that it was a group reading.  Everyone in the group would ask one question and the "readers" would draw tarot cards, use numerology, and/or draw upon their psychic energy to answer the person's question.  It was an interesting night, and I enjoyed it very much.  Part of me was worried that I would find the whole thing incredibly fake, but everyone felt very genuine.  I guess that this is a sign that I spend too much time with people who want to practice magick and are looking for rituals and incantations to do something which other people can do naturally.  I guess this means that I believe that there are certain people who have special abilities....not something like traditional scifi superpowers....but that those people have a more open and active channel with the collective consciousness of the universe.  But I digress...and trust me....I could joke about the "magick" people all day.

Of course, with any event of this nature, my first concern was whether or not the readers could really "read" me.  I've had other people in my life say that they can read me easily....and I let them think that.  I rarely let my inner nature be seen....and even then, it is only with people who I trust explicitly.  Most of the questions in the group were specific to jobs, lives, the regular cares and worries of everyday life.  My question, and really the reason why I wanted to come to this event to begin with, was about how to tap into something that I didn't realize that I had bottled up.  I have had several instances lately where (for lack of any more concrete terms that can be found) I've felt that my energy and the energy that I am capable of projecting has been bottled up.  It keeps popping out and I would like it to do that more but I don't want it to explode under all the pressure it is apparently packaged up with.  For example, I love teaching yoga, and after every class I feel....powerful.  Almost radiating with it.  And not powerful in the sense that I am going to take over the world (that is on a completely different to-do list) but powerful in the sense that I am projecting all the love, hope, and sense of possibility that is out there in the universe.  I want to be able to use this more...and I figured that if anyone could assist me, the people in that room could.

Their insights and advice hit to my core:
"The word that seems to come to me that you are always worried about is appropiateness" (ouch, true.)
"You come into each room, evaluate how everyone else is feeling and then match yourself to fit into them." (ouch, true)
"You need to stop worrying about the appropriateness...."(at this point I'm making faces cause I'm annoyed that I am crying) "....you need to be comfortable with projecting that true self, because it is what makes you a great teacher" (ouch, again true, dammit)
"The other word that comes to me is 'sage'.  You're a sage and you're hiding it." (At this point everyone looks at me in the group with a look of 'shit they're right, why are you denying us'?)

At this point I was called on the spot to dispel my 'wisdom'. And uh.....being called on the spot like that is not easy.....plus what in the hell do you say? We all closed our eyes and breathed for a moment and I spoke when I was ready.  To be honest, I don't remember what I said, and no one in that room could remember the specific words either.  Which is a little funny, because I said something along the lines that we needed to be comfortable with those times when words fail, or there are no words...something like that.  Anyway, half the room was crying....and I felt generally uncomfortable and that I had taken over someone else's party.

They definitely tapped into what I've been feeling for a while, but it sounds crazy and like I am bragging to admit those things to other people.  I didn't really want to be called a 'sage', because my first thought was 'but who loves a sage'?  Sages have followers, people that love them yes, but do they have someone as a significant other who joins them on that journey?  No.  Sages are fairly notorious for being single their whole lives.  Maybe I need to read more and see if Nesrudin Hoja had a wife.'  And I guess that I can think of another person who is a sage and is married.  But they are both men.  If anyone can give me an example of a prominent female sage who has a significant other, I would love to see it.  Cause the reality of it feels heavy....not just the lack of a partner thing, but the responsibility of the weight my words could carry with others.

The primary advice I was given was to start noticing when I was being "appropriate" and to stop it.  Yeah.....that is going to take a while to start noticing because it has been a lifetime habit and an incredibly effective way for me to move through this world.  If everyone would just have their eyes closed, or allow me to have my eyes closed during these 'sage-like' moments I would feel better.  It kinda feels like the anxiety that I get when I sing.  I know that I can, that I have a decent voice, but I am petrified to sing in front of others...even though I really really want to.

Just after the session, the guy sitting next to me told me that when I was called on the spot he had an image of me of me in his mind.  In his image he saw me standing on the edge of a diving board with my back towards the pool, and that I jumped off backwards from the board when I spoke....and there was no splash, just silence as I slid quietly into the pool.

So.....here's to no splashing....

Random things I love about GV summits

1. How people always complain about jetlag....but honestly if you are up half the night discussing citizen media in a global context you can't blame jetlag on your sleep deprivation.
2. Your panelists are tweeting while they are on the panel speaking.
3. The Internet postings of attendees complaining about everyone else making the Internet slow down.
4. No one complains that you are playing on your phone during a presentation because they are on their laptop waiting for your tweet/blog post to show up in their feed.
5. Even the most mundane of errands become an epic adventure.

A short letter to the guy that I wish I had NOT given my number to

Dear Neighbor,
    I completely regret giving you my phone number.  It was a moment of weakness....and in hindsight, stupidity on my part in assuming that this could turn into a friendship instead of the awkward state of epic awkwardness that it has become.
   I don't care that you had a dream about me.  I definitely don't care if you feel guilty about this dream.  But, don't call me at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning and "confess" this to me thinking that this would be a valid seduction technique.  It isn't.  And it has also had the exact opposite effect that you wanted.
   Seeing that your apartment building is less than 20 feet away from my home, you can easily see when I am or am not home.  You can also see that when the lights are off at my house, that I am most likely in bed.  So don't call me when you know that I am out helping my brother move into my house and then get annoyed that I am not answering....especially after I TOLD YOU that I would not be available to talk. Also, don't send me text messages after midnight asking me if I am "buzy".  Yes, I am.  I'm fricking sleeping.
    You don't love me.  You hardly know me.  What you see is a round white girl that can seem to take care of herself...and possibly you as well.  That will not happen.
    Also, you seem to believe that if I would just come over to your house and watch a movie with you....and of course, let you kiss me....that I would suddenly fall madly in love with you.  Even though I enjoy them very much....life is not a Walt Disney fairy tale.  A kiss does NOT make someone fall magically in love with someone else.  It may make them lust after a person, but not love.  Also, I am NOT a princess.  If I am anything, I am a Queen.  Therefore, I am NOT looking for a prince to sweep me off of my feet and carry me away into the sunset.  I am looking for a King- an equal, who will rule by my side.
    I know you're trying to roll with your A-game here.  It's not working.  You aren't going to get into my house, my pants, or my heart.
me

Witness what happens when the lil bro and I make a father's day video

Limited time awesomeness for your viewing pleasure!

Apparently the caretaker of my house is a homeless man....

or something along that nature.

I have an awesome landlord who always seems to have a workman for one thing or another....someone does the garden, another mows the lawn, someone shovels the sidewalks.  Its a good system and I am quite fond of it.  You get used to workmen floating around, and I am normally not concerned because I always keep my doors locked.

A few years ago we had a crotchety old man named Burt who sorta managed the property.  He was only really any good at changing out the front porch light bulbs....because I am still waiting for the light in my guest room closet to be fixed...for a couple of years now.  Anyway, it seemed that Burt was replaced, and about a month or so ago, I noticed a new handyman doing work around the house. 

This is where I seem like a horrible person....but I never bothered to ask the guy his name.  I was perfectly happy just to wave at the guy as I was leaving the house.

So the past couple of weeks this guy has been around the house- A LOT.  He goes out of his way to talk to me about the raking of the tree blossoms and how he has tried to stay on top of it.  He's knocked on my door at 9pm to explain to me that he put the garbage out to the street.  And (today makes this twice) he has come out of absolutely nowhere and scared the hell out of me as I was getting out of my car to tell me about...something.  He's repeats himself alot, and while he seems really sweet, he also doesn't seem like he is all there.  I do alot smiling and nodding.

His desire to talk to me all the time is getting excessive.  When he talked to me this afternoon (when I got out of my car and startled me) the lil bro heard me yell and came out onto the back porch thinking that some random homeless man was bothering me.

Oddly enough, he was kinda right.  The old guy- whose name I found out was Larry- was rambling about how my landlord was over-reacting to something and that his apartment was supposed to be open on Friday and that he had no other choice etc, etc. 

At this point, I thought that I should talk to my landlord.  She used to employ the guy years ago and then he just disappeared.  He reappeared a few weeks ago offering his services as a caretaker.  He would come to her door every few days, detail whatever yardwork he had done, etc..and then tell her that the work was worth $3, $5, some figure.  She would pay him when she could, but kept telling him that she really didn't need him to do the work as there were other people that she paid to do that.  Yesterday, my landlord's husband saw him coming out of the downstairs apartment area (which is not open or rented currently) at about six in the morning.  Then this morning, they found a grey tarp with his belongings in it stuffed behind the front bushes.  I've seen this tarp circulating around the yard in odd spots for about two weeks now, but never made any connections with it.  With all of the times that we have walked around my neighborhood and played the "if I was homeless I would live there" game, I never thought to play it in my own yard.

The situation is sad to say the least.  He is older and constantly seems to have a dripping nose.  He normally is fairly well kempt....but today was the first day that I noticed him being "rough" at all.  He's never asked me for anything but a wave and a smile...never asked me for money or food.  He just wants to work.  He is in such contrast to the people who you find begging on corners all the time.  In any case, my landlord is going to contact the homeless shelter tomorrow and see if she can arrange for him to have a place to stay.  She had her suspicions about him, but until talking with my brother and I could not confirm things.  I hope that she finds a place for Larry.  He shouldn't have to be out in the hot sun raking all day for a few dollars.  He should be able to sleep someplace safe and warm.

Shock

I apparently have retained the ability to be absolutely shocked, which is an amazing thing in itself because I consider myself fairly worldly.  I know that I will never truly understand everything that I encounter....but I didn't think that I could be shocked to the core. Today, an acquaintance of mine, through a discussion on Facebook, noted to me that he doesn't believe in evolution.   I know that there are lots of people out there who do not believe in evolution, and I have definitely have some preconceptions about them.  People who believe that every aspect of the bible is true and not allegory.  These are people that I don't consort with because I know that they hold opinions antithetical to my own.....especially in areas about LGBT populations.  And yes, I will admit that I believe this non-evolution-believing-stereotype are also people who are not very intelligent.

This situation is really forcing me to rethink this stereotype and also what I consider in someone who is intelligent.  Because this person knows so much, and is well read.....but he doesn't question.  And I'm beginning to think that a person's ability to question is more important than how many books they have read or years in school that they have spent.

One of his reasonings behind not believing in evolution was that science wasn't 100% accurate.  I will concede this, but then again, it must also be recognized that faith and religion is also not 100% accurate.  We should hold both things up to the same standard.  I firmly believe in evolution.  There is an overwhelming amount of scientific evidence showing that it exists and so I accept it.  Likewise, the existence of God cannot be 100% proven, but I have also seen enough evidence to show me that a force of creation (and whatever name you wish to ascribe to it) exists, therefore I also accept it.  But he can't seem to do that.

This has totally blown my mind.  I also can't seem to just let it go.  I don't want to debate with him further on it because I don't think that he will change his mind, or even concede that even in the slightest bit that evolution is a possibility.

This is also a dealbreaker for me I've learned.  His admission to me is more damning than any other information that I could learn about him.  I also know that I could never be with someone (not that I have EVER thought of this guy in this way---but in general terms) who did not believe in evolution.  I might have to start asking this question on dates.

In conclusion....you can read everything ever written, you can recite or regurgitate every fact that you have come across, you could have advance degrees filling up your wall.....but if you can't question what you believe, what you read, and/or what other people tell you is the truth.....I'm gonna think you are an idiot.

Announcing 2012's Hare-brained Scheme

How many years do you have to do something before it becomes a tradition?  Well, this will make it three years in a row of having a hare-brained scheme.  Schemes are different than yearly resolutions...mainly because they are measurable, public, and life altering. 

The first year of hare-brained schemes was in 2010, when I decided to train for a 5k and meet a lifetime fitness goal of running a mile.  Bought some expensive shoes, did a couple 5ks and came in last at pretty much all of them....but I finished and that was the important part.  It drastically changed my fitness level and outlook of what my body is truly capable of....and reinforced my general sense of awesomeness.

Hare-brained scheme 2011 was to become a yoga instructor.  I graduate from the program next month.  I also start teaching officially next month (Curvy Yoga!)....and I'll be starting a website devoted strictly to yoga and body awareness in order to let all the beautiful round people of the Salt Lake area have an opportunity to savasana with me.  More on that will be announced here on this blog....when I finally have everything in a format in which I want others to see it.

So now.... for hare-brained scheme 2012!  I am now volunteering as a victim advocate for Unified Police Department (UPD).  At this point, not much has happened except filling out an application and two completely uneventful nights of being on-call.  Why this?  Mainly because while at UCASA I have been training others on how to be an advocate for themselves and others....I need the experience myself as well.  I kinda equate it to learning theory in school and then finally having a job where you can apply all that theory you have learned to the real world.  Mainly, if there is a crisis call on nights and weekends where an officer needs an advocate to assist with victims of crime and trauma, I could be called out.  I still have alot to learn...police procedures, dispatch protocol, and a little more on working specifically with domestic violence....and I'll be shadowing other advocates for a while before I will be ready to head to a scene on my own.  Rather than volunteering for hospital response at the local rape crisis program, I would be responding to victims of a variety of violence not just sexual.  And I will have the added ability of learning after the initial contact about what happened to the victim if I want.  I don't think that I could emotionally handle working with a victim on the worst day of their life during the worst medical exam that they will ever get and then having no contact with them.  Working with UPD gives me more of an option for followup, which I think will help me better handle any vicarious trauma I might experience.

That's that... the scheme has been announced! 
Now go back to your regular business.

A poem, of sorts.....as of yet untitled

I miss writing
     almost as much as I miss wanting to be a writer
     or grand poetess
     of one of those incredible literary types that can quote long and obscure passages from the extended works of this author or that.

I tried that once....to be that type.
I quoted an entire Shakespeare sonnet to a friend at lunch
    one of those sonnets written to the dark lady
    that at one time when I
    felt-
    impacted me.
    a sonnet that proved that I read more than just the "best of" pieces that all the ordinary people read.
I will never forget the look on my lunch companion's face
   awe
   reverence
   arousal
It made me feel smart
   powerful
But lets be honest.....even if I could quote all the now obscure philosophers and poets of the world...
  is there still an audience?

I talk about this person I want to be
   cultured
   educated
I may own the books that house the thoughts of those obscure intellectuals
But I don't have time to read them
Instead I carry the books around me in the house
   finding comfort being surrounded by these stacks of wisdom

This actually makes my bookshelf the cultured, intellectual one
and me something more akin to an illiterate dreamer that lives in a library

In any case,
I miss this self that I wanted to be,
the writer
    who now spends more time criticizing and editing the grammar mistakes of others on Facebook
    then taking up pen to paper and making grammar mistakes of my own.