Ahhhhhhh...(like a sigh, not a scream)

I can't even find words to express how crucial the friday afternoon beer is. Is it wrong to end a sentence with a shitty little verb like "is"? Hmmmmmmmm? I don't know.

Anyway, the Friday beer is crucial. It is so crucial that on Fridays I begin to shake until my Friday beer has been imbibed. Yes...ahhhhhhhhhh.

Speaking of beer...Jason just got back on the home brewing train! We've got a batch bubbling in the closet as we speak.

Saltines!

Oh man! I've been eating a lot of these lately! They are so good! I know they are probably really bad for me: enriched flour, riboflavin, and other things that I can't even pronounce. But, damn...when you want a salty, crunchy snack they are the thing! And, they're cheap too. With all the budget cuts, I might be eating these as my main form of sustanance for the next few years. If so, I may turn soft and round and start to smell like a baby.

Oh, Andy...

He thinks he's so funny! I bet he gets a lot of action, even though he's not even hot.

What is it about funny dudes?

Bill Murry- not hot, lots of action.
Jim Belushi- not hot, lots of action
Chevy Chase- not hot, lots of action
Steve Martin- not hot, lots of action
Eddie Murphy- not hot, lots of action
Chris Farley- uh.......yeah.

Dane Cook- not funny, maybe hot, still lots of action

Probably, also has to do with the millions of dollars.

On fighting

Why do we fight with people? It always ends up bad, and someone always feels stupid or sad or unappeased or something else. In some strange way fighting seems like its supposed to be cathartic, but what does fighting really do to the relationship between you and the other person*. Like, can a relationship only stand so many fights before its rotten? OR, as so many believe, does fighting mean that you care and ultimately bring the two parties together? OR, is it different for different people? And, why?

Sometimes, it seems like things would be much easier if we could tap into the animalistic sides of ourselves and just go at it!

Also, our styles of fighting are different depending upon with whom we are fighting. Is this because certain relationships have more at stake? If I scream really loud, does that mean that I care more? If I try to stay calm, do I care less?

And, why is it so damn hard to say "I'm sorry"? "I'm sorry" is the magic pill for ending a conflict. But, alas, saying sorry means being wrong or putting yourself in the vulnerable position. But, hey....who cares? Even if you don't mean it, say it.

*The other person in this case isn't anyone in particular, I'm just waxing...

The grass is always greener

One of the great mysteries of life and one of the greatest blockages to achieving Santosha is the human tendency toward wanting things that we do not have just because we do not have them. This idea of "the grass is always greener" is my Achilles heel.

Before I began teaching, I toiled away at the Open Eye making coffee/espresso drinks, waking up at 6 am every morning and chatting people up in an effort to get them drop a buck in the tip jar. All I wanted was a "real" job. A nine to five that I could go to, feel respected for my work, and wear normal clothes and not go home smelling like coffee everyday.

Now, I have a day job. I don't smell like coffee. I even feel important sometimes. Yet, still I dream of going back to coffee. I romanticize the laid back atmosphere and long to see the old regulars. I also dream of moonlighting as a bartender. I'd make a hell of a lot more money than I do now, and drunk people might be fun to mess with.

But then, would I only long to go back to teaching? Would my hair stink and my feet hurt? Would I glorify the vacations, the kids, the health insurance? Yes. Yes, I would.


So, what is the take away here? Be happy where you are? Appreciate that you have what you thought you wanted?

Santosha. Contentment. That is what it is.

And, awareness is the first step.

Yoga Dog! the next generation

So, as of late, Viktor has been really upset. Pacing around the house, crying, gazing at me longingly with his sad pitbull/boxer eyes. Then, yesterday, we realized that we had forgotten his birthday! Poor little baby boy!

Jason bought him a giant bone (Edie got one too, so she wouldn't have sibling birthday jealousy) and I treated him to a little mother/son yoga session this morning! We had a great time.

Happy Birthday little man!

boo hoo

I hate running on the treadmill. I have to though because of my abnormally severe spring allergies which turn me into an evil Cruella Deville of all things nature during the months of April and May.

I also am frustrated by the fact that I cannot physically, nor mentally, manage to run more that 5 or 6 miles on the treadmill. I feel trapped. I feel deranged. I feel ridiculously privaledged in some way, that my life affords me time and resources to literally run in place for no particular reason other than my own need to feel accomplished in some way.

I know, I know...cry me a river.

The missing piece to my puzzle

Damn. I've been non-blogging for a few days because my awesome friend Alex was in town with her sweet little hubby, Kurt. At this point in time, I am too sad to truly express how much fun we had nor how much I already miss her even though I saw her, mmmmm, yesterday.

Alex is the kind of friend who is so rare, that, well...it makes you wonder how you ever got so lucky. We have so many differences, yet I feel like we are the same. We so completely understand each other. In any given moment I think I know what she's thinking. We can go months without seeing each other (although I wish we didn't have to) and it is like we spoke only yesterday. But, best of all, she makes me feel complete (but not in a Jerry Maguire corny way).

The only problem with getting to spend time with far away friends, is that they eventually have to leave and you are thrust back into your ugly world of non-real friend-ness.

What is it about growing older that makes all the truly important people in your life move far away? Maybe it's the fact that I'm not close enough with my family to consider them my family, so really, my friends are my family. Perhaps, its just me, but I can't seem to make friends who are truly as real and meaningful as my main triumvirate of friends (see diagram below).

Yes, I know, you have to move on, get a job and have a life, blah blah blah. But, if true joy is brought to us in life by the people and relationships that we create with them, why not let's just all be together. Forever.

apron me

This is me in my fancy Anthropologie apron. I make cookies while I wear it. Don't I look like a little domestic dream come true? Bekah would be so proud.

Possibilities

There is this moment right after you have too much coffee and right before you tweak out and crash. At this moment in time, you can do anything. The day before you is ripe with possibility. Its time to conquer the day! The world is your oyster!

And then, CRASH!

More coffee? Or switch to beer?

Shhh!

On Saturday Jason and I attended a show at the Cat's Cradle in Carrboro. Not only did it make me feel old to attend a show and wish that I was sitting down rather than standing, but...here it is......I was shushed! Thats right. I was shushed. By a Duke fan. What was this duke fan doing at the Midlake concert in Carrboro? I don't know! Apparently looking for an ass kicking! Yes, this happened Saturday and today is Tuesday and I'm still annoyed by it.

Since when did indie rock shows become places of quiet?

Coincidentally enough, this shushing by a Duke fan fell two days prior to Duke winning the National Championship. What does this mean?

Reason 1,204,769 why Duke sucks. The silver spoon fed New Jersey transplant yuppies like their rock shows quiet. That just doesn't sit well with me.