Still here.

Upon discovering that Tony Perkins is now going to be involved with the Louisiana Law Enforcement Commission, the girls and I took a moment to figure out where we should move to.

California seems to be winning.

Words for the sake of words.

So, I'm searching for something totally legit and completely work related earlier, and this happened:

And I thought to myself "damn, it's a shame I don't blog anymore, because I could find something deep and meaningful and funny to say about why America is fat."

And then Krak and I discussed that clearly, after your half pound of weed you'd WANT a half pound burger on a buttered cake bun, because you're fat and high (and it's obviously been long enough since college that neither of us remember that you'd actually be trying to con people into making you ramen, not getting ambitious and baking or cooking)...

And then I gave myself a guilt trip, and here we are, putting something into text and publishing just in hopes that perhaps that action triggers the muscle memory of loving to blog, and maybe then tomorrow or the next day there will be things worth reading.

It is not that I do not have things to say.  I have ALL the things to say.  I'm just maybe not ready to say them just yet.

Don't get me wrong. Nothing particularly catastrophic or deep is going on.  I'm trying to sell my house and have un-hoarded approximately 1/4-1/3 of my possessions, and I do not miss one of them.  For anybody keeping score, though, that now means that if I move into a smaller place than my current 4 bedroom home, I'm still possibly going to have "too much."

I've moved to Shreveport, to a tiny and cozy apartment that will serve as my transitional home between the house to sell and the next one to buy. Once I'm done futzing around in Benton to actually get the place listed and that turns into a matter of "keep it dusted, pay the lawn guy," I'm going to have so much more free time, and I'm going to love it.  I do not love it yet.  Currently, I feel like I'm living through the biggest, time-eatingest, pain-in-the-assiest project OF MY LIFE.

I'm also coming to terms with the notion that "derby girl" is less of a "what I am" and more of a "what I was", though I'm enjoying being a coach, an announcer, and I'm aspiring to ref.  It's just that the whole PCL/MCL thing going on my leg is maybe not ever going to be up to full contact again unless I want a surgery, and I don't.

And maybe one day I'll talk about those things.  Here's hoping.

The Dalai Lama; Musical Events # 19-21; A Very Long Nap.

A quick glance at my Google Calendar tells me that I REALLY dropped the ball on updating the whosits and whatsits of where I've been and what I've been doing.

Oops.

Last weekend, Krak, Nate and I headed to NOLA for two days of public talks by the Dalai Lama.  For the most part I left the phone ignored so I could try to be present in the moment, and for the most part, it worked.  I did not get dozens of blurry photos of maroon robe and shiny bald head, but I don't think anybody is sad about that.  I did get a wall hanging from the Drepung Monks which I have yet to get put up in my office.  Aside from the talks, the weekend featured some DAMN fine food and friends and a lesson in learning the New Orleans Transit System as we decided to stay on the West Bank and take busses/streetcars to get around.

Salt N Pepper - I'm pretty sure this is a converted convenience store.  We had some AMAZING Indian food.  Nate ordered the Chicken Masala and the sauce was toe-curlingly good.  I had a religious experience with some goat (not A goat, which would be an entirely different situation).  I do not remember what Krak ordered but it was delish as well.  They also feature gyros and pizza, which we did not try.

So, that was the pre-Dalai Lama meal on Friday.  Then there was the talk, the navigating of the bus lines back to our hotel on the West Bank.  Shower. Nap. Sent Nate and Krak out on supersexy date night and got myself ready to go out with a great friend who first took me to Jagerhaus and then to ALL the fun Quarter places, including the Carousel for random drink roulette and Fat Cats(?) for a band and dancing and beverages and it was nice. The band was fun. No clue what their name was, actually, but they were enjoyable and we were there for several songs, so they make up #19 on this year's list --- Random New Orleans House Bar.
Home again for a 4-day work week, and then....

#20

Black Flag/ Good For You/ Mind Spiders

Shit, kids. I was NOT prepared for this.

So, I went into this tired. Didn't sleep Thursday night, loaded into the car with Misti, Eric, and Zakk (three of the 4 Rusty Shacklefords), drank ALL the caffeine and wore not the smartest boots.  Despite feeling like we were "running late" we weren't. We got to the venue in time to get in, buy merch, have a beer, and leisurely wait for the Mind Spiders to take the stage.  We established our spots on the railing and enjoyed their show.  They clearly had a local following present and they were good but I can't remember anything that especially stood out.  

Good For You is- and I didn't know this going in- the same exact lineup as Black Flag with the exception of Mike Vallely as lead vocalist instead of Chavo.  Also, Greg Ginn plays a theremin as well as the guitar, and now I want a theremin.  I'd not heard a peep of Good For You but of the three acts, they were my favorite.  Really awesome energy, strong lyrics, and a motherfucking theremin.

So, there's then a long intermission and Black Flag takes the stage, and the shit promptly got real.  I am used to frenzied concert crowds but sweet Jesus, I do not think I've ever dealt with a band with such a HUGE devoted following.  I got very claustrophobic very quickly and was about to hit the wall of "THIS IS NOT FUN", but thanks to the location we were at, was able to kind of sneak behind the stage barrier just a bit.  Fortunately, security was unconcerned-- they were busy paying attention to the crowd surfers and mosh pit.

OH HAI THERE!

This was an excellent place to be.

---

So, that was awesome, once the "people touching me" thing was resolved.  The ride home was not friendly on any of us; I pulled into my driveway at 4 AM Saturday morning and was doing good to get my shoes off before passing out.

#21- The Second Annual This Won't Suck

Got up and out of the house by 11 Saturday morning and thought that really did kind of suck, a lot, but I wanted to see the opening act, Das Pretzels, as they came from Zwolle and I felt like I should support the hometown boys.  Had the brilliant presence of mind to take a cooler and a case of water, which was pretty much the only thing that kept me from just falling down dead.  

Das Pretzels was good.  Prestor John's all acoustic "guitar and djimbe" set was AWESOME.  Summit Falls, whom I'd never heard of was also really great.  The two touring bands, Blanket of M and End Hits, were both really tight and the End Hits guys were SUPER nice, too.  Zakk and Sam as "The Regular Jerkoffs" were great and talented and fun and did the longest ode to a blanket I'd ever heard.  Goutbrake was as interesting as ever.  Bland and The Bipolaroids were both good but not my speed, exactly, and both of the Rusty Shax sets were awesome.  My ONLY sadness was that the rain ended up hitting about a song and a half into Social Bliss, which are currently high on my list of favorites, and then Midnight Tiger didn't get to play at all.

SO, I ended up limping into my bed around 11:30 that night, and stayed there until 12 hours later, when I had to get up and get human so that I could head to Monroe to run the scoreboard for a scrimmage bout.  I have feelings about that (the bout, not the scoreboard), but they're not ready to come out, just yet.

All in all, an absolutely perfect couple of weekends that reminded me that while I am not 20 anymore, 20 was not NEARLY as much fun as 34 is.

And now we're caught up!

Hard Shit: Still Hard.

Last weekend, I went to New Orleans with some beloved friends to see the Dalai Lama.  Have you ever been in a room of thousands and felt calm and at peace?  I hadn't. I did. It was amazing.  I'd like to say that I emerged from the weekend at one with my inner ZenMistress, but.... no.

I got some cool mental and emotional tools. I learned some neat stuff.  I let myself relax and enjoy the moment and be present, and was able to not worry about the little things that I normally fixate on, like checking the messages on my phone to make sure nobody NEEDED anything.  I spent a few hours for a few days not thinking about who was looking or judging or seeing or doing, just on my own being.  Pretty cool.  I got to have an absolutely perfect evening out with a great friend, and it was good.  Checking out for the weekend, whether in the context of a spiritual zen trip or just in general, was needed.  My edges were getting frayed, and they got a bit smoothed by the getaway.

Upon my return to The Real World, I am more in touch with the reality that I'm not exactly doing ok.  There are certain benchmarks that I keep an eye on of things that are in-check when I am happy and in a good place, mentally.  Things like making my bed every morning, putting my laundry away quickly, not eating junk.  Well, for the most part I am not eating junk but I'm letting other things slip, or I find myself half-assing them.  I have TIME to do things, but I find myself curling up with a cat and a book because that feels like what my body and mind want to be doing, and I don't have the willpower to say "fuck you, body.  Your ass CAN go do some damn packing."  I don't wanna.  Can't make me.

I feel like I am not keeping up with my "to do" list, and that is demoralizing, but at the same time I do not regret that I have been prioritizing people over things lately.  I've gotten to spend time with awesome people and start working on some great projects.  Surely important, but now I'm caught in the struggle between trying to rationalize my Grasshopper vs. Ant attitudes.  I have had a headache since Sunday.  I've got no energy.  I give my energy to social endeavors and have none left for the boring tedious shit I need to do. It's a problem.

So, clearly, "Do what I want to do" isn't working out so well. I'm finding myself feeling guilty, and I'm not making as much progress as I need and want to toward getting ready to sell my house- as in, absolutely no progress this week.  I'm hoping to use the upcoming weekend as a reset and start scheduling my days a little more strictly.  I'll leave time for social things and fun things and curling up with my cat and my book, but I need to treat some of my necessary projects with the same gravity as a work schedule, I guess.

I just want a nap, first.

Whack-A-Mole: Neurotic Edition

Last weekend was rough, ya'll.

It was not without happy moments, to be sure.  I had some of those, to be sure, but I also fell into a pretty ugly cycle of negative thoughts.

* I don't want to be doing this.
* Nobody likes me.
* I am a failure because my knee is injured.
* I am shit with time and money management.
* My taste in music sucks.
* My taste in entertainment sucks.
* My taste in clothing, which I look horrible in, also sucks.

Sometime around Sunday, I got out of the funk.  The ennui, it happens.

You are beautiful, flower. I WILL EAT YOU.

This week has also been rough:

Monday:  Personal conflict and some hurty conversations.
Tuesday:  More hurty conversations, but also some great ones.
Wednesday: Had super fun plans go awry. End result - not super fun, felt rejected, got pissy.
Thursday: Information on the medical front that left me feeling really fragile and upset.  BUT I also had a very good evening despite that.
Friday: COME AT ME, BRO.  Like, seriously. What you got?

So far, I'm not super happy with today, but I am making a concerted effort to be happy with myself despite the fact that not all the circumstances are fun, that sometimes painful things have to happen, and that not all of the people are capable of giving me all of the attention all of the time.

Here's the good part: When I remember not to give up on it, all this "think yourself happy" practice I've been trying to engage in is really working for me.  For all that shitty stuff up there, I have got so many good things to counter.

* I am already getting stronger with my new PT regimen... and my ass is looking amazing.
* At least 3 different people have told me that they love me every single day this week (some overlap from day to day, of course).
* I made 3 new friends this week, and I think they're all keepers.
* I accepted two invites for things to do this weekend, and had to decline 4.
* I have made time, despite being busy and sometimes sad, to take care of myself properly.  I'm eating super clean, getting my long baths and my book time, and cuddling the kitties as much as they want.
* After reviewing my budget, I realized that I'm actually awesome with money, and that medical bills are expensive, and it's going to be ok.  I'm not being a jackass and my expenditures are really quite conservative.
*Tomorrow marks 100 days since I was a smoker. Confession- I did steal a couple of drags from Misti on two occasions. They were awful... but that's the extent of the backsliding.
* In a week, I get to see the Dalai Lama, and in two weeks, it's Black Flag.


It's gonna be OK. Hell, it IS OK, it's just the kind of OK that needs a little extra work.

A Hard-Reset Monday.

On Monday, I got solid confirmation from my ortho that per my physical examination and my MRI results, my PCL in my right knee is in bad shape.  The conservative approach is 2.5 months of SERIOUS PT.  Not "kinda do some stuff" PT-- rather, I've been prescribed a 5-day per week workout regimen to strengthen the leg, get it up to the same strength as the other one, and maybe see about circumventing surgical necessity.

Well, "necessity" is a bad word.  If I just wanted to live a normal, sedentary life, I'd probably be ok. The problem is that I do NOT. I want to keep skating, or at least, being active on a regular basis. I want to continue getting MORE fit, not staying at the same level I am at or degrading in that.  And if I had a different situation right now I may have agreed to the consult... but I can't. I live an hour away from work, and carpooling is not currently an option. I can't be right-leg-less for the 6-8 weeks that I'd be on crutches and immobilized.  It is just not an option today, so all I can do is anything else, which is hard.

I agreed to hang up my skates until my followup in the middle of July, and that broke my heart, but I have a good plan. I am really afraid that this plan may not be good enough, though, and my ortho strongly indicated that without surgery I may not have the opportunity to return to the flat track, but he conceded that we can look at it a little later and see.  First, there's a lot of work.

About 2 hours after that appointment, I got confirmation that the friend who has been trying to work out his financial plan to purchase my house is just not going to be able to do that at this time... and so if I do want to sell it and move into town, it's going to have to go on the market.  I have a good list of the things I need to accomplish to do that.  I need to get about 50% of my possessions out of it, firstly.  Then I need to do some prettification and resign myself to strangers poking around my home. I may need to temporarily re-home my cats, which I'm not excited about at all.  It may be that I end up storing most of my things and, when the time comes to listing it, move into a small apartment for a short while which is a new level of scary all to itself.  I don't know...but I know that first, there's a lot of work.

How do you move them? One at a time.

SO, it looks like the prevailing theme of my summer is going to be "Do Work, Son."  I'm going to have to change some plans to re-route some time and finances, but I can do that. I'm going to have to write lists, and hold myself accountable, and I can do that, too.  I'm going to have to be honest about what I need and what I like and what I've just been hanging onto because it is convenient, and I'm not just talking about my clutter but also things like mentality and drive and excuses.


The only thing left to do now is write the playlist and get to work.

90 seconds of absolute batshit crazy

Scene:  A Sonic Drive-In Restaurant, approximately 9:00 on a week night.  Our heroine is patiently awaiting delivery of a magical Diet Cherry Limeaide (extra cherries, please) after Roller Derby practice.  As is fit, she is sweaty. She is wearing an ensemble consisting of bicycle shorts, a teal T-shirt reading "Bitches Be Trippin'", a purple bandana on her head... and pink KT Tape decorates her knee. Her socks feature C3P0.

In the next car-stall, an older woman is piloting a large black pick-em-up truck whilst maintaining a solid grasp on the chili dog in her right hand.  She hits the menu post with her headlight, and rather than stopping and realigning tests the boundaries of physics to see if her F950 (est) can win the battle. It can, but at the cost of her headlight shielding, headlight, and a portion of chrome plating, all of which shatter upon the ground, glistening in the security light and menu glare.

Then shit got real.

Ok, so seriously? This woman (whom I hate for her actions, not for her chili dog) is all like, just going on away, leaving the car debris. So I call out of my window "You forgot part of your truck!"  Because I am HELPFUL, you know.  So she stops her truck behind me and rolls down the window and says "Oh, it's ok! It's just my headlight!"

OH BUT NO.

So I leap from my car and grab a shard of displaced plastic from where it bounced off of my car and I waved it at her.  "This was under my tire."

She sits there....and takes a bite of her motherfucking chili dog while examining the glistening shard in my hand.

So I proceed to pick up all the bits and pieces and chunks of Made-in-the-USA-Pickup-Truck, WHILST carrying on an improv monologue on how SOME PEOPLE just leave their trash lying around to puncture tires and ruin nice evenings and SOME PEOPLE could get out of their damn trucks... and I carried them over to her.  At which point she quickly handed off her chili dog to the passenger, which is a damn fine thing because had her hands not been free, she'd have been catching shattered plastic bits in her lap, and probably, that damn chili dog.

She did say thank you, though. I'm not sure if she was grateful because I gave her back her headlight or because I did not punch her in the throat, because I suspect that my appearance was pretty damn frightening... that lighting is never complimentary in those parking lots, you know.

Scene:  The carhop arrives with a Diet Cherry Limeaide and a perplexed expression on her face.  Was the confusion because the patron was out of the car or because the menu one stall over was askew, unlit, and scratched to hell and beyond?  Who knows.  Our Heroine was happy to point out that the black pick-em-up truck was getting on about their hitting and running now that their trash had been dealt with.  And then there was Diet Cherry Limeaide, and all was good.

---End Scene---

This post not sponsored or endorsed by Sonic Restaurants.