I don't want your rules. I don't even want my own. :My hair

For large spans of my life I seemed like the type of girl who was about to chop all of my hair off into a boy short cut. Spunk, sexual confusion, admiration for Gwyneth Paltrow in the movie Sliding Doors, I don't know. People asked for it. I considered it. La di da di da. Never happend.

I needed a rule to launch me in: Cut my hair short when I was thin enough to have the cheek bones to support it. I was thinking being a waifish pixie was my ticket to the androgenous carnival of modern fun and amusement. For the first time in my life, I'm being confronted with accidental weight loss. I'm riding my bike and climbing mountians, and I'm just dropping weight. This is weight that I was happy to carry around. I stored it in my pants and pranced it around proudly. Now, it's leaving me. As with most of my plans and expectations, turns out, my rule blows. A pixie cut is the farthest thing from a solution.

If my body is going to muscle up and drop signs of feminity there is only one solution: Bigger, Busslinger, Possibly Brighter Hair. Watch out. I may start teasing the shit up.

Hater Help: Getting Up Glory

I went back-country skiing again!!! I hiked up a big mountain, Glory Bowl, for those in the know, and it was awesome. The hike up took me forever. Everyone passed me. I almost threw up and there was a point where I could only take 10 steps without a pause. What is important though, is that I made it. Taking a chance, pushing my own limits, I decided to try this whole back-country skiing thing again. It didn't hurt at all, besides the challenge of the hike. The skiing was smooth and easy.

After seriously contemplating not going because it could be unsafe, I couldn't resist. The #1 reason I was driven to go was a conversation I had with a hard-core skier after my previous back-country flop. I told him of the perils, the falls, the temptation to just sit and cry. His response was something to the tune of, "That's ok. You're just not a back-country skier. You're a lift skier. That's who you are. You are someone who skis the lifts." He didn't intend it in a mean spirited way, but in my head the hater warning flashed. This guy echoed my fears back to me and as he shrugged off my attempt, I knew that wasn't the end of my back-country exploration. Nobody puts baby on a chair lift and tells her that's all she can do. At this point, I would like to say thank you to all the haters out there.

My first winter in Jackson, I was definitely a fish out of water. I was a girl who had stopped working with vintage clothing, who had never skied before, who had never really been around snow before, who was active but not athletic. A lot of that first winter was spent learning how to walk and drive on snow. But after I mastered that, I even got a little skiing in. At the end of winter, my lovely friend Anna said to a boy, "Aren't you proud of what a snow bunny Jessica has become?" His answer, "She learned how to look like a snow bunny but she isn't actually a snow bunny." True, I came to this town with more knowledge on shifting appearances than hitting the slopes. He wasn't wrong, but he also wasn't right. He couldn't see the snow bunny badass blooming inside. His words prickled me. Thanks to his underestimating me, I fully realized what I wanted to be capable of, which is the first step towards success. So, thanks haters. Without you, my own desires wouldn't flare up inside of me so brightly.

No one knows where you are coming from and only you know what you are capable of accomplishing. Actually, what's even better is you probably only realize about 1/100th of your own possibility. Let the haters light the fire under your butt and use the flame to rocket up the mountain. The climb is the hardest part. You are gonna need all the inspiration you can get.

Smart Choices in Back-Country Skiing and Other Things I Don't Know About

The weather being so crappy has made me seek out some new adventures. Actually, this is more of revisiting old adventures. Adventures of the mind. I've been reading a bunch, strengthening my vocab and mental prowess. I used to read all the time. I hope this doesn't make me sound like a loon, but I cut back on my reading because I came to the conclusion that it was making me think too much. As in, fueling neurosis and causing me to be so heady that I wasn't sociable. Mainly, I just got tired of people telling me that I think too much. Trust me, I'm not a genius and the thoughts were not leading to solving the environmental, political, or economical crisis of our time. The people were probably right. I was thinking too much. Actually, I might be thinking too much right now. I'm already doubting the reading.

I would prefer a nice cleansing hike right now, but it's snowing. Other people are out there being active. They are back-country skiing. Dang-it! I want to do that, but based on the first and only time I tried, I know back-country skiing can be scary. It's scary because it is legitimately dangerous.

This is where thought becomes unavoidable. Thought is key in risk assessment. In my reading today, I found some badass wisdom from Yvon Chouinard's book, Let My People Go Surfing. This man is the founder of Patagonia, the outdoor clothing and gear company. He was also one of the early innovators in rock climbing and seems to be someone who conquers all sorts of outdoor adventures while running an extremely successful and environmentally responsible corporation. Damn, this man is a badass.

Since trying some back country skiing and having it kick my tush, I've been contemplating limits and knowledge. Chouinard had some advice for me today. He says, "Never exceed your limits. You push the envelope, and you live for those moments when you're right on the edge, but you don't go over. You have to be true to yourself; you have to know your strengths and limitations and live within your means." Essentially, he is reinforcing the philosophy I've heard around the mountain: ski today at the level that allows you to ski tomorrow.

But how do we learn our limits? Mr. Chouinard shares later in the book about how he started being careful. He dove off a bridge and hit a sandbar that was a foot underwater. His neck was fractured by landing directly on his head. I don't know if I should be using this guy as a role model. I guess I won't know what to do until I do it.

I need a teddy bear.

It's 2 am and I can't sleep because the wind in rushing by my window and beating on the pane. It's howling, gusting, smacking. It might be about to beat me up. I'm just plain scared. So much for badass. I need a teddy bear and a glass of warm milk.

Shopping

On a walk/write around town today, I decided to see if I could get inspiration from an old favorite: window shopping. In my layers, topped with a fleece, and trotting along on my tennis shoes, I cruised the couple of boutiques this town meagerly possesses. My first stop, Katherine's. A beautiful store full of designer clothes that I can't afford. Staring at the over sized Marc Jacobs leather bags and over the knee suede boots in the window, I didn't get my usual tingle. A few years ago, I loved clothes so much that a great pair of shoes could give me a literal body buzz. Hope that isn't a feeling I've lost forever. Looking at the beautiful things, my only thought was, "But what could I DO in those?" The clothing is made for being in the clothing and standing still so people can admire the clothing. C'mon. I want to climb something, or at least, dance.

The change has been slow coming. For a while, I wasn't as concerned that the clothing was truly beautiful and inspiring, just as long as I felt it made me and my body look beautiful. Now, I want functional, flexible clothing that is comfortable and will keep me a desirable temperature. If it happens to match and keeps my body from looking like a 14-year-old boys, that is bonus points that go to me having a really good day.

It's possible that I'm on the precipice of losing all of my city girl cred. Oh, help me. I think a trip outta this town maybe in order. I need a city and one in Utah or Idaho will not suffice.



If I'm not able to make it out of this town, please, just keep an eye on me. If anyone sees me in some sort of athletic Patagonia sundress at a wedding or similar social event, smack me in the face until I come to my senses or bleed on the damn dress. I'm not hating. It works for some people, but that's not me. I don't have the toned arms to pull those dresses off.

Engaged: Rock Climbing and Marriage

When I was in Thailand, I decided to give rock climbing a go. There was an instructor, an assistant, a cute capable boy, and his overweight sister who kept quoting the TV show Biggest Loser and saying, "We're gonna die. We are so going to die." Without much instruction we were harnessed in and sent up a wall. Two things made the experience horrible. 1) The girl repeating the word die as I tried to shimmy up. 2) The assistant was in charge of my rope and spent more time looking at his hot instructor fiance than me. I lost my grip and fell about 10 feet before he caught me. Ever since then when people bring up rock climbing I've said, why would I want to desperately cling to a wall of rock?

I thought I knew myself, but boredom will make me do crazy things, so when my friend Shane invited me to the rock gym, Enclosure, here in Jackson, I said sure. Had I tried it before? Ummm.... Just once in Thailand. Never a rock gym. I didn't want to share too much of my true hatred for the activity because I was bored and lonely and desperate for action. Previous experience has taught that people aren't going to want to hang out with me if I'm whiny and full of hate, so I tucked the fear and dislike away for the present.

Turns out, rock climbing isn't so bad when the path is marked out for you on a rubber wall and you are surrounded by padding. I recommend trying out rock climbing in this fashion. Leave Thailand for the people who know what they are doing. My favorite part of the experience was Shane explaining to me why he loves climbing.

You go from standing on the floor, full of life's nerousis and distractions to be being fully engaged in one step. By just getting your hands and feet on the wall, you have put yourself in a position where your entire body is active and your mind needs to be focused on keeping you there. Clinging to a wall does have a way of snapping you into the present. I will give the activity that. While climbing, even fully surrounded by padding still scares the poo out of me, and the experience caused my body to tremble, I can say that I felt fully engaged. I wasn't bored or worried about the future for a second while I was on the wall.

Can't pass up this opportunity to give a shout out to my friends Max and Brittany who just got engaged. They are an amazing couple who seem to make each others lives better. They have a smoothie and yoga routine going that anyone should envy. I'm happy to see love advancing in this independent valley, where the persuit of freedom seems to override the fostering of love.

Personally, I've always been a little weird about marriage. As a little girl, I fantisized about having 4 or 5 marriages. I'm pretty sure this is just a negative side effect of watching Elizabeth Tayor's E! True Hollywood Story way too many times. Once I hit 18, I started dreaming of a quicky marriage in Vegas followed by an annulment. It just seemed like a fun story for my retirment years. Really, I've just always been more into rings and dresses than the thought of a life long commitment. But I've been haunted by Shane's word, engaged, since he gave me the motivational tutorial. I do love being engaged in a physical activity. Does that equate in an abstract way? Would I like to be engaged to a person?

On a solo, low-key bike ride the other day, I got to thinking about staying engaged. When I had the bike in a high gear and was challenged, all I could think about was my movement. My mind was clear and happy. Then, I'd get tired and let myself coast. Beyonce as a really talented and engaged performer came to mind. I thought about how she must have amazing focus. Then, I thought about how much I admire her butt. Then, my own butt came to mind and a peddled harder for a few seconds. The distraction had crept in, though, and soon I was back to barely moving and thinking about how my butt seemed a little flatter that morning and maybe my butt is getting flatter from biking. Not good! I'm going for rounder and plumper! In this time, I could have been hit by a car or thrown by a pot hole because I was not in this world. I was completely in my own head and nothing was happening to my butt because I was barely cycling.

Maybe this is why people get engaged. It is easy to date around, and hook-up with someone who is ok when you really want physical affection. It's even becoming hugely, culturally acceptable, but it isn't challenging or very rewarding. It's the cycling equivalant of coasting. Really getting to know someone. Investing in another person. Accepting all of someone and allowing someone to see and accept all of you, even the really embarrassing parts. That must be what being engaged with another person is all about. It sounds really hard and scary to me. Even more frightening than rock climbing in Thailand. But the challenge is what makes it rewarding. It's what causes growth. It's what keeps you in the moment instead of thinking about stupid crap on TV. Rock climbing builds crazy little muscles in hands and arms and places I haven't even considered. Maybe getting engaged to another person, making that commitment, builds crazy little emotional muscles in the heart. Or wherever the love center really it. Maybe it makes us able to love stronger, longer, better. Sounds good to me.

The theory I was left with is, being challenged makes it much easier to stay engaged. We can live our lives like drones, coasting, or we can push harder, challenge ourselves, and stay engaged. Being engaged, we can enjoy this moment and grow in it. Otherwise we have to feel insecure about our butts compared to Beyonce's. That is no way to live.

Momentum

I thought I knew how to ride a bike. There hasn't been much biking in my adult life, but hey, it's like riding a bike. Right? My discovery is that phrase only applies to quick jaunts around town or one of those care-free beach rental rides. If you wanna ride a bike up a really steep butte, there is stuff you need how to know. Learning about shifting gears, different ways to engage your muscles, how to change a flat tire is important. Most crucial, however, on bikes or on whatever mode of transportation you have picked for this great road called Life, is how to keep your momentum up. And what's even more important is keeping your momentum up while flailing wildly, almost falling, and, let's hope, learning something. The butte I went up the other day was such a challenge I almost puked. I could feel the corners of my lungs. A new muscle has popped up on my forearm. That was some fricken doing. And after it was done I felt really great about myself. It would be nice to be in such great shape that I didn't dry heave. I guess that will come in time. Probably come when I'm better at keeping my momentum up.

What you all just missed in the writing process of this very line, was several failed attempts at getting personal with you. Words strung together to try and tie in the anxiety I feel living in a ski town and working as a waitress. I keep deleting and looking for a way to continue in metaphor. There are all sorts of things my fingers tap out that are then deemed either not worthy of the public or too private for the public. Here is what I don't want to tell you: how I wonder sometimes if I'm being sucked into a life that while being quite easy and in many ways fun, will never amount to a career, a family, or financial stability. What if I never fulfill my potential and i miss out on some of life's greatest joys? I would like to delete that last sentence. Pretend it never existed. Say I'm having enough fun to not care. In many ways, I don't. I don't need much money, I don't mind my work, and who knows if I even want a family. Children are scary and seem very time consuming. There. I said it and I'm not deleting it.

The anxiety is pinned to specifics, but really, I'm scared of losing momentum. Some people can relax, live in the moment, find every second's beauty, just enjoy. I'm not one of those lucky people. I need a goal to keep my eyes open and fixated on going forward, otherwise I just sit on the couch and think about the chances of actually dying of boredom and how ashamed I'll be to have died in such a whiney, losery way. The biggest shame in having these feelings is that the emotions are born from and suckle on the situation. Sitting on the couch makes me have the thoughts and the only reason that the thoughts are legitimized is because I'm there sitting on the couch. This is called a vicious cycle and it's what I am doomed for if I don't keep up momentum and push forward. If I'm not accomplishing, the feeling comes. There is no avoiding it, so, please, don't just tell me to relax.

I've accepted the feeling. That doesn't mean I've found a solution. I do know some handy tricks for keeping momentum up while going up a really steep butte on a bike, though.

1) Slow down.
2) Get into a lower gear.
3) Circle in one spot if you have to until you can push forward.
4) Vary the muscles you are depending on for strength.
5) Practice, train, build muscle and it will get easier.
6) If you absolutely have to stop, stop. Rest, get back on, and head down the hill for a few seconds to get some
momentum and then head back up the hill.
7) Visualize how hot your body is going to be if you keep it up.
8) Imagine all those assholes who have ever tried to make you feel fat, like you couldn't, or like you weren't good
enough to even try something. Now imagine you crushing them with every pump of the pedal. You can even puke
there heads if it comes to that.
9) Look around and be thankful for the beauty around you.

I don't know if these tips can help in every situation in life. If only everything had the automatic gratification that biking possesses. Then again, it is nice that most situations don't make me dry heave. Pros and cons on that one. These tips got my doubtful butt to the top of a butte. I don't know what to do with my time not on a bike, but maybe it's time to slow down, get in a lower gear, vomit on the heads of my doubters, and push forward.