intellectual properties

it does a body good

for the record, i rode my bicycle 104.9 miles this month, recorded 18:39:00 of total cardio time including the biking, and lifted 49,514 lbs in weights (only 5 weight sessions due to injury), logging activity on 23 out of 31 days. injury aside, body feels pretty good, but next month: more.

le weekend

despite me having another bout of shoulder/neck pain and us being without a car (in the shop), it was a great weekend, probably because those 2 things forced us to relax and lay low.  several movies watched [liked: a serious man, up in the air.  did not like: fantastic mr. fox (a movie with george clooney and bill murray i didn't like?! thought it was boring, went to sleep halfway through), star trek (2009) (too many legacy issues, too many explosions, not enough script)], 2 sunny afternoon BBQs, time with friends, plenty of time outside and i even got a sunburn yesterday.   and now it’s a drizzly monday morning, and all i want is some hot thai curry.

help save 300 acres of rainforest @300acres.com

My friend Natalia is spearheading the 300 Acres project, an effort to raise funds for an Ecuadorian community to buy back their ancestral rainforest lands, which will otherwise be sold to developers.  If you have an extra $5+ dollars, this is a specific project with a direct impact you can donate toward (tax deductible!). Time is running out – they only have a week left to raise funds. Thanks!

Not only will your tax deductible donation help save the endangered rainforest where the Amazanga people reside, but it will also aid in the on-going construction of their school of natural medicine – The School of Guayusa.

The Amazanga are now working toward recuperating 300+ acres of pristine jungle that is under severe threat of destruction. Blessed with waterfalls and dense jungle growth, this forest will serve as a base for the Amazanga’s international natural medicine school, the School of Guayusa.

This sacred, ancestral land was seized by the Ecuadorian government and military in 1940. The indigenous people that inhabited this area were forced to leave their home, the source of so much abundance. Now, however, we have the opportunity to reclaim this land for its rightful protectors.

The Amazanga are a group of indigenous healers and conservationists of Quichua and Shuar descent who are dedicated to the protection of nature and the preservation of natural wisdom and indigenous traditions. They are true forest protectors who have resisted the destruction of the Amazon jungle by oil and mining threats since the inception of those influences.

For almost a century the Amazanga have organized grassroots campaigns to protect the forest from oil companies such as Shell, Arco and Tripetrol, mining companies such as Nambija, and logging companies such as Plevol.

With the help of U.S. based foundations such as Tropical Rainforest Coalition, the Amazanga have helped to recuperate over 5,000 acres of ancestral land that is now protected as a natural reserve and being guided toward becoming a World Heritage Site. Read more about the Llushin Rainforest Reserve.

Donate now to help them save the next 300 acres.

photos of the kids aka The Uggles

top: snuggles (pronounced “snOO-gulls”)
bottom: piggles (pronounced “pEE-gulls”)

(adopted december 2005)

QOTD

“Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.” – Oscar Wilde

a blue true dream of sky

i repeat this to myself often, and when i did so again this morning while riding through the clear warm spring green lush sunshine on my way to work, i realized it’s probably the closest thing i have to a prayer.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

–e.e.cummings

flavor of the week

i seem to be in the habit of quoting things without much comment lately.

oh well. anyway.

today it’s this:

“So you can’t be everything to everyone. You have to just be you. The various of versions of you that there are. Sometimes you will be internet you, sometimes you will be real life you. Sometimes you will be grumpy jerkoff you, and sometimes you will be hat-in-hand apologetic you. Sometimes you will be that you who comes out and makes everyone go “Man, I wanna buy that guy a beer” and you’ll go “self, where does that guy GO and could he come out more often?” and your self will go “hey, we are ALL you. Go easier on us, be as nice to us as you are to everyone else, stop trying to be liked by everyone, and we’ll see what we can do.”

So I’m finally learning that it’s okay to not be liked by everyone. I’m even learning that it’s okay to stand up for yourself, to do right by yourself, even if it’s uncomfortable and awkward, even if it means people you in fact like might turn around and dislike you. Even if it means everyone might dislike you.”

–leah @ oh, hey great

i’ve been stewing on this subject a lot lately. i won’t get too personal here in this public place, especially since before i’ve even written this i know it’s going to reek of self pity and that’s not at all what i am trying to say or want reactions to be responsive to, but anyway: i go through periods where i start to get the feeling that more people don’t like me than i was previously aware of.  meaning, of the people i spend time with (in all the various ways/places i spend my time, this is a lot of people, so i am not talking about close personal friends, but people i see/work with/hang out with repeatedly), i suddenly feel like, maybe when i walk into a room, they don’t care about saying hello.  and i understand why.  because it’s no coincidence that these same periods are the time when i am least liking myself, times when it seems like “THAT girl” who is one of the many versions of Me who lives inside me that neither i nor anyone else likes has been out more than the version who is compassionate, joyful, enthusiastic, fun, etc.  so i don’t blame them, these people who i’m pretty sure don’t feel like saying hello to me anymore, or calling me, or txting me, or communicating online.  it’s ok. i know if i’m being the me that *I* like, then more people will like me, and vice versa. duh.

recently, 2 things brought this all into a bit more focus for me personally.  ok, probably more than 2, but 2 are what i will point to right now.

1. I am not a morning person. one of my newer coworkers is.  not long ago she was prodding me because i never give her a super friendly “GOOD MORNING! HOW ARE YOU?” at the office.  i usually just mumble “Hi” and try to wake up while reading my email and drinking coffee before actually speaking to anyone.  i jokingly responded with something like “You haven’t worked here long enough if you think you can turn me into a morning person.”  from the other room, my boss, whom i’ve worked with 40 hours a week for 10 years, chimes in: “Yeah, but maybe you could try being nice.”

ouch.

2. I recently visited my family, and had a difficult time not feeling like a judgmental bitch, when really i just care so deeply about them that it’s somewhat difficult for me to not comment on certain lifestyle choices, which i know causes friction and makes me seem holier-than-thou. i am aware of this. could i comment more compassionately?  Yes, and in the future, i will try. i promise.

So there we have 2 cases in which people who know me very well/have spent a lot of time with me were not liking me, or, maybe in the 2nd case, even though no one directly said anything by the end of the 3rd or 4th day i was feeling like they weren’t liking me, because i was not liking myself in that situation.  These do not even account for all the other people in my life who i’m pretty sure i’ve rubbed the wrong way recently, with a comment or a look or a something.

the crux of all this appears to be that while “being yourself” is key to authenticity, and yes this means that some people will not like you and that is OK, it is also important to be your best self, a self that you like, whether anyone else does or not. using the excuse that being a sour, judgmental person is just “who you are” does no one any good, even if it’s true.

back to the point:  why i go through cycles where the version of me who is most present in my life is someone i don’t like is something i am trying to investigate. it’s ok for other  people to dislike me.  it’s not ok for me to dislike me. that is dysfunctional.

update/addendum, from my comment on the original post:

thx to leah @ohheygreat for being brave enough to start the conversation and writing about this, as it’s something i’ve been stewing about for a while but felt…..immature? for even thinking about, like this is something that only teenagers should be concerned with and once you reach a certain age you should stop giving a f**k if anyone likes you.  but the truth is, some of us never thinking about it (and what it means about yourself if you realize that you’re unlikable), which to me is a sign of self-awareness, but a lot of older people just repress the hell out of these thoughts because it’s seen as a sign of weakness or something and succumb to accepting themselves as an “angry old wo/man”, believing that’s “who they are” and that there is no point in trying to change, which is sad to me.

morning, Oakland, Lake Merritt

morning, Oakland, Lake Merritt, originally uploaded by arlington avenue.

after seeing some dawn scenes in a film (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), i had a mad craving for dawn over the weekend but never managed to get up to get some. this photo only makes the craving more intense, and i should get down to the lake for some dawn soon (sunrise now at 7:20am…it’s possible.)

thx eye on blogs for the photo.

QOTD: ‘i had to draw the drawing’

“i’ve always lived it as big as i could… my brother is married and retired and lives in staten island. and that’s good. his kids are all college educated. i had to do things. i had to draw the drawing, not look at someone else’s drawing and say ‘yeah, that’s a good drawing.’ since 1987 i’ve lived in a commune in brisbane called the annex. it used to be sex, drugs, and rock and roll. every sunday there was an orgy. we called it sunday services. man, that was fun. we had partners—that’s how my daughter was born—but the orgies were disconnected from that and it was fine. now it’s more about pasta dinners all together, and i’m a personal trainer and my roommate laura is a yoga teacher. do you know how high pasta is on the glycemic index? what i’ve learned is this: all the things other people think matter don’t matter. things other people see as sins. we’re all human. there’s a connection to it. as you get older you realize none of that stuff matters.”

- an SF cab driver, via scenes from my hood. it’s so San Francisco, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

on the bus (from “Veronica”)

“The bus humps and huffs as it makes a labored circle around a block of discount stores and a deserted grocery.  As the bus leans hard to one side, its gears make a high whining sound, like we’re streaking through space.  Looking beyond the stores, I glimpse green hills and a cross section of sidewalks with little figures toiling on them.  Pieces of life packed in hard skulls with soft eyes looking out, toiling up and down, around and around.  More distant green, the side of a building.  The bus comes out of the turn and stops at the transfer point.  It sags down with a gassy sigh.  Every passenger’s ass feels its churning, bumping motor.  Every ass thus connected, and moving forward with the bus.  The old white lady across the aisle from me sits on her stiff haunches, eating wet green grapes from a plastic bag and peering out to see who’s getting on.  The crabbed door suctions open.  Teenagers stomp through it, big kids in flapping clothes with big voices in flapping words.  “Cuz like–whatcho look–you was just a–ain’t lookin’ at you!”  The old lady does not look.  But I can feel her taking them in.  Their energy pours over her skin, into her blood, heart, spine and brain.  Watering the flowers of her brain.  The bag of green grapes sits ignored on her lap.  Private snack suspended for the public feast of youth.  She would never be so close to them except on the bus.  Neither would I.  For a minute, I feel sorry for rich people alone in their cars.  I look down on one now, just visible through her windshield, sparkling bracelets on hard forearm, clutching the wheel, a fancy-pant thigh, a pulled-down mouth, a hairdo.  Bits of light fly across her windshield.  I can see her mind beating around the closed car like a bird.  Locked in with privileges and pleasures, but also with pain.”

–from Veronica: A Novel, by Mary Gaitskill, the book I am currently reading. i have not read any of her other works, but this one reads, in style and content, somewhat like a female Bret Easton Ellis. slightly more poetic, but at the same time some of the sentences hit hard.  i like it.