Notes

12/26 In a plane hovering over a barren looking Midwest, at 12:35 PST, I realized that I really need to look further into the writings of Thomas Pierce. It is possible that I may need to Google his bio, as well. Any man who can write the narrative of an older woman with abandonment and humility is worth praising. The structure of "Shirley Temple Three" reminded me slightly of Bradbury, but, for the life of me, I cannot remember which story my mind links it to.

Pinterest had a point in my life today.

Usually I "pin" things while wondering to myself if I will ever actually use the ideas I've taken the time to create a board for.
I don't know why, though.
I had a board with decoration ideas for my engagement party that I used. I have tried more than a few from board dedicated to beautifying myself, because there are never enough beauty rituals in life. Obviously, I need more.
I tried a recipe or two, both of which worked out well. The calorie reduced ice cream cone cakes made with cream soda were funny looking but delightful. The egg baked in an avocado has enriched my fast-but-healthy meals.
I don't know why it's such a shock to myself that I would use a Pinterest idea for my home, and yet here I am, totally impressed with myself.
Tim and I were having an extended photo shoot for our engagement photos. I, of course, made a board and we played with the different ideas. One idea was for kitchey photos in front of a chalkboard, using the board to create a goofy story about us.
To create the board, we went to home depot and bought something called chalkboard paint. It can come in basic black, or they can mix it in other colors. We went with black.

Then, we took my card board fabric cutting board that I never use anymore and painted the back of it with the chalkboard paint. The chemical fumes were overwhelming, but didn't trigger a migraine, miraculously. We took our photos but loved the board so much, we decided to hang it on the wall over the couch.

How Advertising Stole Christmas

 

Christmas has become synonymous with mass consumerism and society acts as an emotional bully in its defense. If you go along with the madness, you spend way too much money on gifts, trying to please people on a level you feel is expected. If you object to the over-consumption and over-consumerism, you're called a 'grump' or a 'Scrooge,' or, worse yet, 'the Grinch.'

I love Christmas. My decorations were up the DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING. I buy a new tree ornament each year. I listen to Christmas music pretty much all month long. Sometimes, I'll still listen on the 26th because I freaking love this holiday. I love that there's an entire month of the year when we're all supposed to be kinder to each other, when people walk around caroling, when charity is emphasized and we are encouraged to spend time thinking of others.

However, I dislike that the time spent "thinking of others," has become figuring out how to squeeze a ton of Apple products on your credit card, and how to 'get by' the month of and the month after this gift-giving misery. Can't showing up and saying, "I love you and I'm grateful for you," and then listing all the reasons be enough? Why would I need to buy something that proclaims that message when I can literally say it?

Honestly, I see it all as corporate greed marketing their version of Christmas to us that if we don't buy these things for each other, then we fail at Christmas and we've ruing everything by not buying the "right" gift. It's a supercilious amount of pressure and, frankly, it's ruining the holidays for me. Greed has become complacent with Christmas. Advertisers and commercials have damaged the spirit of the season and I feel like if consumers everywhere don't break the habit we've all fallen into, the pressure to give beyond our means may never cease and the destruction of Christmas will become irreparable.

This isn't a "keep Christ in Christmas," message. This is just asking to keep corporate greed out of it and to maybe not bully the people who see through the scummy spending propaganda thrown at us from every direction for a whole month. Maybe modern "Scrooges" are "grumpy" because they actually love Christmas and we're not the kill joys, we're just the ones who are awake. Corporations are the real Grinch.

RAW BRAIN

It's amazing how when you're emotionally like an open wound, be it from a bad break-up, a horrible fight with friends, toxic relationships renting from your life, a terrible memory revisited in therapy, etc... your brain can come to focus on random items in a very strange way. When else, but when you're very depressed, can you stare at, say, lip gloss for twenty minutes; totally unmoving, totally unfeeling, just staring at lip gloss and thinking solely about something as mundane as lip gloss? Your mind finds some totally random object to obsess about for a few minutes while your chaotic and painful emotions "numb down." You take a small powder from your static despondency so that when you look back at what caused you to be so sorrowful, you look back from a place completely devoid of any emotion. The contrast is often so severe and striking because it's in this moment that the truth first shows itself. Not clearly, no, but maybe you see a shadow move somewhere in that melodramatic jungle. It catches your eye and you examine it closely. It draws you in. You take a step back towards the mess, but just a step. You're still in Apathetic Lip Gloss Land, but you're peering towards it, examining it. If you're very still, like a wild animal, truth will come closer and closer, becoming more and more visible, possibly coming right up towards you. The trick is to not move, one must be still and it will come. The more patient you wait for truth to come to you, the clearer you see truth when it does.

I think everyone goes through this, on some varying level. We get worked up, we calm down, we see clearly.

I think it's what we do when truth comes close enough to touch, that's when no matter what everyone does, they all do it differently.

Long Beach Marathon, For Bobby

I did the unspeakable (for a non-runner, at least).

I ran half a marathon in honor of my Great Uncle Bobby, whose presence I felt with me the whole way.

My uncle Bobby in 1980 with his dog, Tabbet.

From the moment I signed up, I felt like I did at age 4, sending off my list of demands to Santa - excited, nervous, planning for the big day. I woke up most morning after that at 6am, ran a couple miles to start the day. After work, I would "run" a few more miles on an elliptical, weight train, and/or swim laps for an hour. I felt myself become stronger, have a longer endurance, and the endorphin highs would last throughout the day. It has been wonderful. What a wonderful legacy to adopt!

Now, I'm faced with a new question. Do I stop here?

I may have started for Bobby, but do I continue? If so, in his honor, or simply my own? ...more on this later, I'm sure.

In the meantime, here are some photos from yesterday.

starting with the last wave felt like a safe choice

right before the race began

mile 5, stopped to stretch

the fire boats gave us a show as we ran past

after the finish line

post race

my training partner and me

 photo recreation

favorite

Pepto Bistmol Month

If you're like me, and you roll your eyes at the advertising "styling" spreads in every magazine marketed towards motivating women into making guilt-pink-purchases (even my favorite, Essence, which I always felt was above exposing their readers to pure marketing ploys but apparently wasn't this October), then you understand the following points:

1- Retail prices hover around a 70% mark-up from the price it cost to make the product (which differs from wholesale, which is a 40% markup from cost). If a company donates less than half, they aren't really donating anything, they're still making a profit, they're just not making as much as they're used to. If the "donation" to a charity is 1/5 or less of the retail price, it's not worth it. A woman is better off straight up donating that money to a charity and walk around with pride knowing she donated instead of wearing a pink item to brag that she cares. Of course she cares! What modern woman in her right mind doesn't fear and loathe breast cancer. According to reports about BPA, air pollution, and that one glass of wine you were told to have everyday that was suddenly putting you at risk, it feels like every woman and some men are probably going to die of breast cancer.

2- Wearing head to toe pink doesn't cure cancer or raise any more awareness than is out there now. Do you really think there's someone out there still who's like, "Oh hey, what's breast cancer? Can that really affect me?" Or that looking like you were really inspired by Steal Magnolia's Blush & Bashful wedding colors, you're going to inspire anyone to donate more than they already do/can towards the research and cure? No. You're just looking for an excuse to dress as cutesy and girlie as you did when you were 4. There is nothing wrong with that, just own it. Showing up drenched in pink to walk/run/jog/stagger in heels to an event which raises awareness is way cooler than randomly walking around in pink, plus at that point, you really are working to raise awareness, in which case good for you!

3- Magazines don't really do enough to stress the above points, they just promote what they're given money to promote.

***
In case you want some actual products that may or may not be pink, which, you know, really donate the full price you're paying, I found a couple. They aren't the only ones, by far, but they are some I've come across. I also came across some that have already donated and are marketing their donation amounts with products that are inspired by their philanthropic choices with no spikes in price.

1. PUMA pink project

These products are affordable, not over-the-top, and 100% of the profit goes to charity. Then again, it doesn't say which charity, and they stop donating to this mystery charity at $120,000. Still that's much better than some. 

2. Ugg - Breast Cancer Awareness Edition

They are donating none of their profit, let's get that clear. They are selling pink shoes in celebration of already donating $25,000 to Susan G Korman. It could be said that if you buy these, you're just dying for an excuse to wear pink Uggs, which is fine. You may become distracted by the 'I Do - Capsule Collection's' sequin boots, which are extremely adorable. Just remember that they've already donated, and the pink boots above are cheaper than their sparkly distractions. If you buy anything from them at all, just know that your purchase is enough of a 'thank you' for donating. It doesn't have to be pink.

3. Ford - Warrior

Yeah, Ford; like, the car company. They randomly have a yoga-wear line called "Warrior" AND 100% of the profit goes to a charity. Must feel guilty for all the cancer the fumes from their cars (and others) are probably responsible for.

For Me, Diamonds are for Never

It was a truly beautiful moment. We were standing on the cliff we'd come across on a hike, overlooking waves crashing against caves below. It looked exotically South American, like we'd somehow hiked through a wormhole in Southern California and came out along an idyllic Brazilian coast. It felt scientifically magical to stand there with Tim's arms wrapped around me.
He nuzzled his nose against my cheek before placing a small kiss on the same spot. He hugged me a little tighter and asked me if I would spend the rest of my life with him.  Of course, he didn't technically ask 'Will you marry me?' or bend down on one knee, so I didn't truly know what was  happening - I thought he was being really adorable and lovey because he's a really adorable and lovey kind of guy.  I told him that of course, I would spend the rest of my life with him.
Then he said he had something for me and my heart jumped. I was already loving this moment and I really, really love presents, so to add a gift on top of already being in paradise was like a dream. He pulled the small box out of his pocket and I melted. On top of Mount Faux Brazil, with a cool breeze blanketing against the shining sun, our dogs sitting by our feet, panting & happy to be outdoors, I absolutely, without a doubt melted.

Then he opened the box.

Let's just say, while I was surprised, none of this was actually a shock. Tim & I had discussed that we wanted to be married many times. I never wanted a formal engagement. If two people can sit down and admit they want to be married, why bother with the whole charade of a ring and a surprise question that you already know the answer to because we just discussed it like two logical adults.  At that point, plan a wedding, already.
Tim had a different outlook on the matter and he was incredibly stubborn about it. In his head, you had to be engaged. A ring had to be on the finger, or it wasn't real. Every time we had the discussion, I'd look him up and down, mentally judging whether I trusted his ring selection skills.

To build that trust, we went ring shopping and I sent him waterfalls of ring emails with pictures, links, tips. I even sent him photos of rings I thought were incredibly heinous, so he would know what to stay away from. I drew him technical sketches complete with specs about size, stone, cut. There was one point I stressed in every email, post-it, and shared link: no diamonds.

Everyone "does" the diamond thing and I was not only born without the cookie-cutter gene, but I have a severe distaste for it. Diamonds are fine for girls who like shiny things without thinking too deeply about it, but I like color, content, and symbolism - not marketed symbolism, but real symbolism. I do not want my love symbolized by a jewel that looks like broken glass, whose value is rumored to be a conspiracy, and was probably mined by kidnapped, forcibly drugged child slaves. Just because it happens on another continent does not mean it is exempt from the truth.
It is a known fact that jewelers lie and say their diamonds are from Canada. If I were a jeweler, as a small business owner trying to stay afloat, I'd lie, too. Who's to say these people aren't proficient at Photoshop, creating falsified origin certifications? As long as your appraisal is right, why would you ever question it? I have zero patience or trust, and I don't love diamonds enough to put that kind of energy into researching a stone. I'd just as easily move on to another one.

 I love sapphires. The really good ones are hypnotizing in their depth, as if you were in a boat looking straight down into the water. In literature, blue symbolizes loyalty, sincerity, truth; all of which are a great foundation for a life long partnership. Also, a majority of mined sapphires in North American stores come from Brazil or Montana where kidnapped, forcibly-drugged minor miners are possible but highly unlikely. I like to cut my odds greatly.

I also love Russian mined Alexandrite. It's beautiful. In daylight, it is green as an emerald. By firelight at night, it is red as a ruby. Pragmatic green by day, passionate red by night. That sounds like a fun marriage.
Russian mined Alexandrite is the only kind that is green and red and impossibly difficult to come by. Indian Alexandrite is purple and teal, which is still really cool, but not quite the same, either. The closest stone would be color changing garnets, but the colors are not as bright and, again, they're more likely be mined by kidnapped, forcibly drugged children. Again, I maintain my stance on having no patience or trust.

To be clear, I've been passionately discussing my feelings regarding these stones for - literally - years. The moment I realized Tim may one day propose, before we ever had a discussion about marriage, I started talking about everything above. I used to joke that I would say 'no,' if there was a diamond in the ring. 

You can imagine, then, my surprise when he opened the box and there was a square cut green sapphire (which technically isn't a sapphire if it's green,  anything that strays from blue-tones is technically quartz) sandwiched between two giant diamonds.

I still said 'yes.' I smiled, cried, hugged and kissed my [now] fiance. I was oddly grateful we'd waited to officially be engaged, that I was able to see the nervous/relieved happiness in his face as he put the ring on my finger. Giddy, I called, texted, and emailed every person I knew with the wonderful news. We had celebratory french fries at the first snack stand we came across at the resort we were near. As we made our way home, I let myself absorb a simple truth about my life, and that is how incredibly lucky I am.

 The next weekend we returned the ring to his family's jeweler. We had one custom made and I upgraded the stones to my tastes. Now, I have a ring that makes me as happy as the man it represents.