Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
On this fine rainy day, I don't have to work. I don't have to go out and play. Thanks, rain. I've got nothing to do besides try to figure out how to enjoy myself. There's been some reading, some sandwiches, E! True Hollywood Story: Oprah, and most recently, there's been some stretching. The past few weeks being peak season, I've been working my booty off to try and support the international jet set life I aspire to, and it's been making me uptight in mind and body. I wake-up in the middle of the night and my mind races, "Did I drop off 223's ribs?" Nightmares of forgotten food haunt waitresses around the world. Physically, I'm developing TMJ and a grandma walk. My muscles are so tight and my feet so sore, people must think I'm Estelle Getty from behind in a blonde wig. Thanks to this lovely day off, I can try to turn my hobble into its former sashay. I'm limbering up, when it occurs to me that maybe my hand isn't bruised. Maybe it's just tight. Maybe nothing has been wrong all along, but a fear to use it, causing me to lose it.
On that inspirational and jazzy slogan, I'm going to return to stretching. Keep on, folks. You can do more than you can ever realize.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Luckily, I had a fond memory to look back on and keep me motivated. A few months ago, I took a couple of newbies up Snow King, which is a steep mountain right in town that I had my first badass break through on years ago. My two newbie friends are from NYC and incredibly badass in many ways, including, but not limited to, outfit coordination and witty banter. These girls were not at all prepared to hike up a mountain. I greeted them in full athletic apparel, with a camel pack (back pack with water bladder), and a gung-ho spirit. They greeted me with a small leather purse, adorable cut-offs, converse, and a cup with a straw. I couldn't help but smile to myself. I used to have no idea how to do this stuff either and now I kinda do. I know what it takes to get up Snow King. But my badass hiker friend, Ali, proved to me yesterday that I still don't know crap about heading straight up a mountain. I love the circle of life. There will always be someone who is better at something and someone who is worse. Kinda sweet. There will always be someone to teach you, and then, there will be someone to make you feel like a badass cause you can teach them later.
The Little Prince says, every adult was once a child.
Every badass was once a lame-o.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
1) She's got a rediculous number of kids and one could spit up on her at any moment. Black is the best camoflage to spittle.
2) Lady's saving the world as a Goodwill Ambassador for the UN. That leaves less time for assembling ensembles.
She throws on a black dress, knows she looks great, grabs a baby or two, and heads out to end world hunger. The lesson here is if you want to get mad stuff done, you gotta simplify the essentials. In honor of badassing, I'm simplifying. But I'm only going to wear red cause I deal with a lot of ketchup at work and, lately, I bleed a lot.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
He said, "That was amazing!" Laughter. More laughter. Big laughter. I nervously giggled as I stood and contemplated wiping the gravel off my leg. What was clinging and what was embedded?
"I totally saw that coming. I watched the whole thing! Don't you feel great?"
"I guess it doesn't hurt that bad."
"Isn't it exhilarating? Aren't you happy you can still do that?"
Blood dripped off my hands. Standing there, in my bathing suit, the pain started to emerge. At first there had been nothing. Now, though, as I stared at an open wound, not scrap, not cut, but gash, a true wound on my hand, it started to burn. It burned until it stung and then stung until it ached. I believe Shaun was now shouting, "You're a badass!" Suddenly, a mini-van is beside me. A bleeding girl in a red bikini with scraped knees stands next to a fallen bicycle and a minivan. That sentence could be used to describe everyone of my k-5th summers. There I was fifteen years later and nothing had changed. As I talked to the dad in the mini-van, I started to feel good. Don't worry about me, sir. I'm fine. Just fell off my bike. Not the first time it's happened and you know what? I hope it's not the last. Shaun's point was sinking in. I can get hurt and it can be worth it. The moments leading up to the crash were definitely worth a scraped knee. I had just floated down a river on my back for the first time ever. I had danced around on the beach. I had raced along laughing hysterically on a bike, something I haven't done in way too long and trust me, the laugh was an incredible one.
If you're pushing yourself to do things you haven't done or do something better then you've ever done it, you're going to fail. You're going to fall. Failing and falling both hurt, but they are things that happen on the way to awesomeness. So what if my pretty little knee is a little less pretty? It's a little less scared and that's worth it being a little more scarred.
Plus, I got five stitches in my hand. I've never had stitches before. I'm a badass.