Linda's

Or "the place where we used to get drunk on cheap beer in college and then again in grad school".

It's still very much the same.

It us us who are different because now we drink cheap wine instead of cheap beer and get called "mam".

We're so mature.

And this guy comes along:

Love them.

15 years?!

I graduated high school 15 years ago today. 

Does that make me old?

This week in news

I got in the school paper of my old high school:

My Multicultural Literacy students made some awesome posters in class:

Baby boy Viktor turns 7:

Carrie finds ancient photo strip...when was this??

I take Andy Warhol style selfies of myself when bored:

It's just too good

to be savored

Have you ever enjoyed reading a book so much so that you didn't actually want to read it?

This is a seldom occurance, but when it does happen it happens hard. I am currently rationing out The Goldfinch page by page because I just don't want it to end. This book is meant to be savored.  I just may never get through it.

I liken this phenomena to when I was a kid, sorting and rationing my halloween candy as if I were preparing for an apocalypse in which candy would never be found upon the Earth again. I would sort by color, genre, and texture, save my favorite pieces for the end, sometimes never even getting to enjoy these bites-the chocolate having gone grey and flakey.

No, I did not grow up during the depression era, instead I just really have an obsession/problem/attachment to never wanting a good thing to end.  At least now, I can recognize this in myself and learn to enjoy the things that I enjoy. The Reese's cup that is The Goldfinch will not go grey and flakey, but instead it will be delicately devoured bite by tiny, bite.

Ukulele Goddess

Jason and I are learning to play the ukulele. I find it much easier than playing the guitar, which I briefly started playing when I was 9 and then again at age 20. Both times resulted in my quitting because my fingers were too small. The ukulele is way more manageable. Additionally, it is cute and slightly hip, which supplies the "cool factor".

Learning how to do something new with a loved one is very gratifying. We play. We sing. We drink beer.  It's a great indoor activity for the rainy, Oregon winer ahead.

I Love My Name

When I was little, I always wanted to be a Stephanie or a Jennifer. I couldn't understand why I couldn't just have a "normal" name. Now, I love my name. Just look at it!

I want my MTV!

Remember how awesome MTV used to be? I remember getting home after school and pumping The Grind while eating saltine crackers.



Or staying up late at sleepovers to watch The Real World (the awesome ones) and planning how you were going to live in gorgeous loft apartments with all of your friends.


Or watching Beavis and Butthead when your parents weren't looking.



Or learning the ropes of 90's hip hop from Yo! MTV Raps.


Or laughing your knickers off at the inappropriate sketches of The State.


Or how about just watching music videos? I mean, wasn't that the point of MTV?


So, here's my question: Has MTV fallen drastically in its programming quality since the 90s or did I just grow up? Will the adolescents of today look back with fond nostalgia at Teen Mom and Jersey Shore?

Probably.

Moby What?

Ladies and Gentleman,

This weekend I will commence a massive literary undertaking: the reading of what some have referred to as "the greatest American Novel ever written", Moby Dick.

Even if you've never read Moby Dick, you probably know a few things about it, assuming that you are a somewhat culturally literate American. You know it has to do with a mysterious white whale and a crazy sea captain. You know there's some dudes out at sea for a long time. You may even know about those famous lines "Call me Ismael". And, you know it's long.
But who is Ishmael? Why are they searching for this whale? And why is it all so important to American Literature?

When mentioned, most people cringe, wince or groan and follow that with "I never could finish that book"! But what I'm realizing, while doing my homework in preparation for this project, is that most people don't get it and can't finish it because they were forced to read it in high school or college when meaningful life experiences are slim and interests are mostly confined to beer and people of the opposite sex. Most people got bored, bought the cliff notes, and then headed out to a party. We are better able to understand and identify with American classics when we have some background knowledge to bring to the table, or this is at least what I am hoping in my 29 years of sage living.

So, here's to being well-read! Here's to being a part of something bigger than the passing fad! Here's to impressing your friends by understanding literary references! Here's to being 30 in 9 months and hopefully having some life experiences to season my read!

It may take me that long to read the book.

Peeing on the Wall

Every year, without fail, a 5th grader at our school gets in trouble for peeing on the wall in the boys' bathroom. I'm always baffled as to why someone would do this and why it happens every single year. Well, today I cracked the case.
As I walked out of my classroom on my way to the bathroom, I suddenly had the urge to do something crazy just to shake things up a bit. And, for a split second peeing on the wall crossed my mind. Now, I am an adult. I have self control and a sense of perspective, so I was able to contain myself. Then, I remembered how when I was in 5th grade I used to sit on the windowsill of the second story girls bathroom at my elementary school and dangle my legs out the window. Some girls were scared by this (rule followers!), others thought I was crazy for doing this (robot children!), but for me it was a small way that I could carve out a moment for myself in the rote routine of my public school day. My thoughts went to the bevy of misunderstood boys from the past 5 years. Then, I realized it: the boys are so bored out their minds that they must do something to break the monotony of the day. Peeing on the wall is an outlet for them...literally. It may seem disgusting and necessary to you and I, but to a 10 year old it is the perfect way to exercise one's independence and control of their situation. It says "Even though I'm stuck in here all day, I can do what I want for a couple of minutes and man, it's thrilling!"

Lessons Learned: Students need ways to feel independent.
Students need to break out of their routines sometimes.
Students need to go against the grain sometimes, constructively of course.
But for cleanliness and safety reasons, we need to find alternatives to peeing on the wall.

Wishing I could play the guitar

There was a brief time in college when I tried to learn how to play the guitar.

Actually, no, strike that. Before that, there was a brief time in 4th grade when I tried to learn how to play the guitar. I went to guitar lessons in the basement of a strange house (probably not that strange, but it seemed quite strange to 9 year old Blaine). My teacher was also a wierd man, who vaguely resembled Gary Busey in Point Break, named Decatur. I eventually fought to quit the guitar based on the aforementioned weirdness associated with it and the intense finger pain that it caused me. Oh yeah, and I hated to practice. I thought that if I just went to my lesson every week, I would somehow become a guitar aficionado. This did not happen. I became frustrated. Decatur was also frustrated. I quit.

Then, during a brief time in college I tried again. This time I practiced. I wrote little ditties. One of which I remembered today:

I like, I like mmmmm salvation Through my, through my My vegan chocolate chip cookies and my hair hanging down hanging down all over town

Quality stuff. I wrote a lot of these. I still do, only now sans guitar.

I wish I had really learned to play the guitar. I'd be a sexy little folk/alt. country/R &B singer. I'd travel all around and perform my ditties.

Sigh.

Yoga and Infinite Wellness

I am really beginning to believe that with a consistent yoga practice, wellness in unlimited! I guess I've always believed it, but now I am beginning to live it, rather. Understanding how to live it was one of my biggest struggles during college and the subsequent 3-4 years after. I mean, how can you begin to live yogically when drama majors and their cohorts are slippin' slidin' through your house at all hours of the night and scream-telling stories at each other to see who can be the loudest, funniest, and most "entertaining"? How can you understand true contentment when your idea of happiness is a great part in a play or the affirmation you receive when lights are shining on you and people are watching you in the round? How can you begin to understand health when your diet consists of gummy bears, ramen noodles and beer? How can anyone truly understand how to live a healthy and happy life until they have done it?

I thought about this the other day when I realized that I have been practicing yoga for over 10 years*! Discovering yoga happened to me at the same time that I was also trying to figure out so many things about myself, life and people. What I now know though, is that yoga was and has remained a constant for me. That is special and something that will hopefully fuel my journey for the rest of my life.
So, I'm working on it; I'm still learning, but it is a work in progress. How many people can say that?


*This was definitely an "Oh shit, I'm going to be 30 in 11 months" moment.

Some day...

When I was a freshman or sophomore in high school I got the idea that I needed to shave my head or cut it really short and dye it blonde. I don't know what it was; maybe something about feeling like I had control over my appearance or wanting to feel the complete opposite of what I was. But I wanted it...bad. Because of certain powers that be, I was unable to satisfy this desire, and recently I've been thinking about it again. I mean, tons of hot actresses have done it and still look awesome. It seems like there must be something so freeing about it. And, absolutely no upkeep!

I know, I know...don't worry, I'm not going to do it. I just wish that I had satiated this desire when times were simpler. I wish my window of shaving my head had not already passed. Or has it...?

On western

During my "free time" (this is beginning to feel more and more like what I imagine rehab to be like, which has got me thinking that maybe this place wasn't created to teach teachers something about teaching to relay to their students but rather as a mini rehabilitation center for the withered and crazed teacher who needs retreat from their school), I Thoreaued my way around- exploring my surroundings and retreating within myself.

There was even a pond








The woods









Introspective ponderings









Joyous revelations









Stumps









Facing fears









Going towards the light









Coming out on the other side (which in this case was the campus of Western Carolina University- not a very peaceful setting at all, but ironic and thought provoking nonetheless)










Me, Thoreauing









"You only need sit still long enough in some attractive spot in the woods that all its inhabitants may exhibit themselves to you by turns." Brute Neighbors, Walden, Henry David Thoreau

How'd you fit all that into 24 hours?

Upon rising at 4 am, Jason and hustled ourselves off to run the American Tobacco Trail half marathon. I don't know if I am supposed to publicly admit this or how incriminating it is in the first place, but in the spirit of full disclosure I will divulge: I was not officially registered to run the race, but ran anyway, thereby making myself a bandit runner. Don't worry, I didn't take a medal or any of the shwag- only water. And, I didn't cross the finish line; I ran to it and then splintered off, so as not to be discovered. A certain official race contestant was lucky enough to appear on the News and Observer website, looking strikingly athletic and overall badassedly:



After meeting all goals (I finished in 2:05, besting my previous half marathon time by 6 min and Jason coming in under 1:30), I hit the road to drive 4 hours to Cullowee, NC for my greatly anticipated seminar "Is There a Children's Book in You?". Highlights from my drive include listening to many episodes of RISK!, finally getting the scoop from my beekachu, and maybe listening to my new favorite song on repeat for a while.
Cullowee, meaning valley of the lilies, is tucked between two mountains and appears to be a tiny town consisting of a Bojangles, Western Carolina University, and The North Carolina Center for the Advancement of Teaching. I will spend the next 4 days here retreating and writing. Here's my little room which somehow feels like something in between a Howard Johnson and rehab. Or, rather, what I would imagine those things to be, since I have never spent the night in either.




And maybe, somewhere nestled in between a Goo Chomp and a piece of steamed broccoli, there is a children's book inside of me. Although, now, I'm feeling like there might be a memoir waiting to bust out instead.

Orientation

Who decided that Right meant forward and Left meant backward? And who decided that Up meant forward and down meant backward?

I have always had a problem with my left and my right. I remember being in first grade and my teacher saying to the class "Alright everyone, if you write with your right hand come to this table and if you write with your left hand go to that table." Although I am indeed right handed, less people went to the left handed table, so I went there. From that moment on (who knows maybe before that?) I have been drawn to the left side. The left side feels right to me. This orientation to the left, has always confused me, and still to this day I get my right and left mixed up. I have to stop and think before telling someone to turn left or turn right.

Today it all came rushing back to me as I pushed the down button on the CD player in my car to skip to the next song. It just seemed right. Down- Forward. Up-Backwards. Why?

Is it wrong to want to push the down button to move forward? Am I dyslexic to think that left could be just as forward as right? Does it make me crazy to want to go right when I say left? And, who decides what is right?

Blogiversary!

Happy Congratulations to me and to you!

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of my official beginning of blogging. When I started, I had a goal of writing as much as possible but with as little frivolity as possible (or, well...my idea of frivolity at least). In a year, I have blogged you with approximately 280 posts, some have sparkled and others have bombed, but despite the fumbles of my dipping my toes into a new world, I'd say it's been a good year. In honor of the occasion, I have reviewed the past year of entries and will now present you with a top ten of my favorite moments in the year of Santosha's primary nascence:

10. Containment-Contentment. Clever Purse Pun? Auto Correct Nightmare? Freudian Slip? Stupid Error? The idea intentional mistake fascinates me. Also, a blanket apology for past and future errors.

9. Oh what a tangled web we weave... Still my favorite trick.

8. Vomit Hand: A true poem about what happened to me Trying my hand at poetry was fun.

7. Oh! Why hello there, dear friend I'm loving this approach in practice and looking back now, I can see how it has affected me

6. All too easily we forget... Made me realize that things do happen.

5. A Fa(s)t Day Another great realization.

4. On competition... Competition isn't all bad. I think.

3. My Secret Baby Barometer A true conversation piece and button pusher. And still quite true I might add, although meant to be satirical.

2. the new hot I still can't get over this album!

And... (DRUMROLL>>>>>>>>>) the # 1 blog entry of the first year of Santosha was

Santosha Not particularly well written, but it truly details my connection to exploring Santosha and gave my blog it's name.

And now, onward into another year. Wish me luck!

A Fa(s)t day

Yesterday morning Jason showed me an article in the March issue of Runner's World entitled "A Thin Line"(Peter Sagal). It's all about a guy who used to be fat when he was a boy; he runs now and isn't fat anymore. But, his past heftiness plays tricks on his mind, and even though he's an amazing runner, he lives in fear while chasing numbers on the scale. He's constantly asking himself "Am I fat"?

This struck something in both Jason and I, as we both used to be fat kids growing up. Not obese fat, but chubby and blubbery. Fat enough that people made fun of us, and at age 9-13 that matters most. I can still remember a young Brad Edgerton shouting "Freeeeeeee Willy", as I skulked my way into 6th grade Language Arts class (Brad, if your listening, I forgive you, although I still secretly hope that you turned out to be slightly fat in your late 20's). I can remember another time that I had to carry something to school for a project and I put it in a Bruegger's Bagels bag (those bags were awesome for carrying stuff) and another 6th grade meanie asks "What happened to all the bagels? You ate them!!" So. Clever.

If you're made fun of at an early enough age, it gives you a strong determination to change your life, usually to be cool, to be liked, to be beautiful. Being made fun of gave me the strength to become what I wanted to be, but it still left tiny scars and, like Sagal, I will always wonder.

I mulled all of these thoughts over on my long run yesterday. I had a particularly fast run yesterday, and I kept asking myself: Am I fa(s)t? I was thinking about the struggle between feeling like you are fat, running, feeling awesome, trying to be normal, eating, feeling fat, feeling apathetic, feeling determined, running, eating, feeling fat again. As Sagal says "The memory of feeling fat never subsides-even after you become fit. It's about the terror of what we might become if we allow ourselves to let go".

The biggest difference between Sagal and I is that even though I know a part of me is running from my past self, for the most part I want to run in to be in the present. To be happy. To feel good. To find inner contentment.

* Check it out: Sagal, P. (2011, March). A Thin Line. Runner's World. pp. 46-47

Snow and Christmas

It couldn't have been a better past few days. We ate, drank and Christmased with the best of them. Whoever "them" is in that saying.

We started out with the Roberts family on Christmas eve. There was an obscene amount of food consumed and mimosas all around. It was the biggest Christmas of all- 13 people!! And if the amount of food, folks and merriment are any indication of the amount of presents, you can be sure that Santa treated everyone quite well.



Christmas day began with our annual christmas morning yoga class with Ti. It is the absolute best part of Christmas in my opinion; yoga, warm people, good energy and a christmas meditation.




The rest of Christmas day was spent in my childhood home with mama Barbee and uncle David. The food was delicious and I now know why I was chubby child- like Julia Child, Dena Barbee is not afraid of butter and it makes for some damn good food. We ate, presented, talked and ate. And little Blaine was even channeled in some sugar cookie decorating, which were neighborly taken to the Burmese neighbors who are Buddhist but have an affinity for Christmas tree shaped cookies and sprinkles.

Later we Black Swaned- and WOAH...I'll have to talk about that later.

Then came the snow...





Snow Blaine





Snow dance





Snow hike






Snow baby





Snow man ( I can't take credit for this one. It was sent from Jess)





Snow snuggle



It's been a great holiday weekend. It's only too bad that there isn't any school to be canceled on account of all this snow.