Two Reminders, Basic

1. The amount of people you are severely disappointed in is way way fewer than the amount of people who are severely disappointed in themselves.
2. Everyone else's disasters always appear redeemable. Sometimes even "for the best."

The night Muffy and I got two v different cups of froyo and they weighed the EXACT SAME.

Clara in AZ

This is when we were both slap happy sleepytown USA.


We climbed a mini mountain Saturday morning!

Clara's visit was SO MANY GREATS!

Highlights:
-Bringing her to my sketch show and improv rehearsal--getting to discuss comedy with her visually artistic brain
-So much good food: Ethiopian, pasties, award-winning macaroons, and more
-Going to a dramatic one-man show and decompressing decompressing
-Singing Celine Dion while running
-Poolside conversations about faith, friendship, trust
-Eating ice cream out of the carton while watching a documentary about eating disorders

Why I Love Clara (A Partial List):
-She is honest and forward about expectations/desires (important for visitors)
-We like junk food
-She disagrees in a compassionate and smart fashion
-She is an optimist big time
-Gratitude is the attitude
-Laughing, laughing, laughing
-Pick-up friends

Ideas Mulling:
-Does "it" matter? If it does, then is doing our best enough? If it doesn't, is doing our best futile?
-There are a lot of things that we expect others to do based on our own concepts of not being interested in the temptation they face
-Being frugal is something to celebrate
-Close your eyes and imagine what you really really want--then go after it

This is the big stuff for now.


We may not reach the ending,
but we can start--
slowly but truly mending,
brick by brick, heart by heart.
Now, even now
we'll start learning how.
We can build a beautiful city--
yes, we can. Yes, we can.

How Are You?

Can someone think of an alternate question to ask that starts a general conversation and shows I care that doesn't force the person I'm asking to place Life and existence somewhere on a linear Good Vs. Bad chart?

When people ask me how I am, I usually say "Good"--not because I'm being compliant with societal norms, but because, unless something horrible is happening AT THE MOMENT, I am Good. I have a lot of Good at my fingertips all the time, so I feel like it's only respectful to the powers that be if I acknowledge it. I mean, obviously, if I just dropped an ice cream cone on the ground, and a passerby asks how I am, I have permission to say, "Horrid! Simply dreadful!" and, like, wail at the melty dessert.


Graduation cake. June 2010. From my Wisconsin Aunt.

It's a very weird habit we've formed as humans. When we take a moment to evaluate how we are, it's either "good" or "bad"--very rarely just "happening" (which is actually all it ever is: happening). We usually end up coming to a polarizing conclusion (for me, it's semi-mathmatical: work was a plus today, financial concern negative, hanging out with LC positive, super stuffy nose negative...I guess if class is good tonight I will be "good." But if it's bad, I will be "bad.") Why can't we just "be"? Better yet--why can't we be "good" and cast of the "bad" as flakes of insignificance. Because the Good is far more enveloping than we ever realize. A billion Good things happened to me today I don't even consider, and I fill a page in my journal with gratitude every night, and yet, tonight I might have forgotten the fresh green beans I ate at dinner, the fact that I own a sportsbra, that I found a typo in a form I was about to send out just before I sent it. It's poor practice to think of good and bad as equals--swinging the scales day by day. It's simply not so!

Grant us all from earth to rise,
and to strain with eager eyes
towards the promised Heavenly prize!
We beseech thee, hear us!

MARATHON

Because I've been yakkin' about the dang thing for like three months now, I figure y'all deserve a full recap.

Last Night: We (Nac and I) went to sleep very early right after dinner. We were both exceedingly tired from a day of sunshine on the beach THAT OUR RESORT IS ON. (Obvi, side note, this place is amazingly beautiful, and Nac and I have been having mucho de fun. Queso fundito, if you will.)


View from our resort balcony.

Pre-Race: I woke up basically every hour last night with variations of dream about missing the race. Awesome! Finally, when it was time to for real get up, I felt sick (Good start to a morning of running 26.2 miles!) I threw up :( And Nac said, "I am so mad at you. Now you don't have anything in you!" But he was absolutely wrong--mainly because if I had thrown up all the food we ate on "Carb Load Saturday" I would have drowned in vomit. I'm really not exaggerating. I ate like...more calories/ carbs than a person should in a month yesterday.


Bad picture of Nac mid-discussion of gender inequality...Over chocolate chip pancakes and omelets!

We took the shuttle to the race start, and still in the dark before dawn, the race began.

Mile One: Everyone was giddy. We ran across bridges over the water. It was a pink morning.

Mile Two: I started feeling really uncomfortable and mad at my dinner choice. A. Half of it was in the sewer system by this time. B. I'm pretty sure there was some citric sauce on it that gave me MEGA-heartburn. So, my legs were good, but my chest was not doing so hot.

Mile Three: Heartburn persisted. I focused on people around me--a group of women screaming "HOT CHICKS COMIN' THROUGH!" and a friend coaching another woman saying, "Your husband never would have thought you could do this! Success is the best revenge!"

Mile Four: I realized I was running eleven minute miles--about two minutes faster than my goal pace. I also realize I really need to use the bathroom. Waiting in line for the porta-john ate up the extra minutes I had lost.

Mile Five: The heartburn is still going strong.

Mile Six: I have to go to the bathroom. Again. Boop.

Mile Seven: The race makes its way through residential areas, and lots of families and groups are outside cheering for everyone.

Mile Eight: I want the heartburn gone. As I pass a water station, I see a jar of pretzels for the volunteers. I ask, "Can I have a pretzel?" I am given two pretzels. I eat them, making my mouth dry, but settling the acid in my chest. I consider asking for milk at the next station, but i decide against it.

Mile Nine: The trail turns onto a huge busy street. Lots and lots of people (and water)! My race number has "ALICE" on it, so people think its cool to yell at me by name when they are strangers...weird.

Mile Ten: The blister that formed last week and hadn't totally healed starts buggin'. I just want more pretzels and decide to ignore the blister.

Mile Twelve: Suddenly, the half-marathoners are GONE. They took a turn towards the finish, and I realize I was in a huge pack without any other marathoners. In the FAR distance, I see an older man. I catch up to him, and we talk for a while. One of the first things he says: "I just think about Japan, and I keep fighting." I realize me running a marathon today doesn't DO anything for Japan, but Japan is in my heart, and I did run for Japan today.

Mile Thirteen: I acquire two more pretzels. This significantly calms the burn, and I am feeling healthy. As it has become a pretty lonely trail, I turn my iPod on. "By My Side" from Godspell is the first thing that plays. Extremely appropriate.

Mile Fourteen: I am slowing down a bit. I realize I am in a loop that I must double. People are lapping me in said loop.

Mile Fifteen: Still in the dang loop.

Mile Sixteen: Looping! %#&^!

Mile Seventeen: Doing the loop a second time.

Mile Eighteen: I get an orange slice from a passing water table. For some reason, I really enjoy chucking the peel down on the ground.

Mile Nineteen: It has remained an incredibly beautiful day. Just about 50 degrees with slight sun, but overcast. I am grateful. I also hear "Born This Way" and think about how grateful for the KohHos who recc'd it to me. When "Make a Man Out of You" comes on I almost cry thinking about my CT05 friends. How proud of me they would be!

Mile Twenty: As a result of literally almost crying because of a song from Mulan, I start to realize my emotional sanity breaking down as my physicality weakens. I chuck some more orange peels when I have the chance.

Mile Twenty-One: Nac was supposed to finish the race out with me from here, but he is no where to be seen. I am running about half an hour faster at this point than I had anticipated, so I bet he will go there later. Oops.

Mile Twenty-Two: Back on the very busy main drag, but by this time (with most competitors as halfers, and the super fast marathoners already done) no one is around. Marathoners on the train are very very few and far between. It feels horribly lonely. A super busy street, blocking traffic, and no one around cheering or giving water. This is when I hit the wall. I am slowing. I wonder how Steve Prefontaine would have done in a marathon. Nac and I watched the Prefontaine movie yesterday afternoon. Apparently, the dude was kinda a jerk--despite what the hoards of inspirational quotes would have you believe.

Mile Twenty-Three: At a water station manned by a frat house, a guy tries to hand me a Twizzler with my water. I laugh and he goes, "What?! They're delicious!" This makes me happy, but I can't pick up the pace for the life of me. I say, "You guys are great!" And they bump chests and scream, "NO! YOU'RE GREAT!"

Mile Twenty-Four: Crazy twisty roads and starting to feel faint. I don't know where I am going. At one point I catch up to a man "running" just like me "near walking." Not competitively, I decide to pass him. I actually laugh because we are both "running" at a snail's pace. It probably looked like a slo-mo replay of an exciting challenge, but we were actually going at like 16-minute-mile paces.

My watch says 11:15--which is great because my goal was to finish, and the race closes at 12:30. I am golden. I could walk the rest...UNLESS THE TIME I HAVE BEEN USING IS ACTUALLY ST. LOUIS TIME ON MY WATCH! I wig out and realize I only have fifteen minutes to run the next two miles! I start frantically sprinting, probably resembling some kind of opossum that can't really run, but it trying SO hard. There's no way I'm gonna make it. I approach a volunteer and scream, "WHAT TIME IS IT?" He sees my insane fear and says, "11:16." Oh. I had switched my clock. My bad. The volunteer tries to pump me up. I revert back to my plodding pace.

Mile Twenty-Five: I enter a side street decorated with signs that say things like, "PRAYER ZONE! SOUTHERN BAPTISTS!" And am BOMBARDED by about a hundred people lining the street in both directions with Biblical signs and smiles and saying, "God is helping you through this! Jesus loves you!" which usually I would be kind annoyed by ("Southern Baptist ladies, y'all need to understand that our concepts of God are probably not the same.") but as I actually felt like I was going to die, I had to hold back tears. Emotions = on the fritz, whackoland big time. I also shed a tear while listening to Elvis's "Can't Help Falling in Love."

Mile Twenty-Six: I wanted to finish strong and return back to a faster pace. As I pass the frat guys again, they scream, "YEAH ALICE! YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I know I am going to finish. I can't sprint to the end, but I run through the finish as a decent pace.


Spoils of the day.

Post-Race: I am immediately offered painkillers (which I deny...weird) and am led to a tend of people getting medical care. So disarming! I feel sore, but good. I hit the food tent, nom some oranges, and find Nac, who is very proud of me. In the car I realize I look horrible, and Nac has done a very good job hiding this news. Apparently, when you sweat and you let it dry, it evaporates, and you are left with a nice crusty salt mask. Who knew? Not this girl.

And the land sinks into mellow blueness.
Oh please, take me with you.
Let me skip the road with you.
I can dare myself.
I can dare myself.
I'll put a pebble in my shoe,
and watch me walk (watch me walk)
I can walk.

The Rules

I really like self-set rules. I can see why people don't. Freedom and all that. But, not me. I just like making choices and stickin' to 'em. I was wishy-washy on eating fish for years. Periods of yes, periods of no, then just trying to limit it...but it was just too hard. When it doubt, cut it out. Bye tuna. I miss you most of all.

This summer while teaching Sunday School to a group of juniors in high school, we came across the question, "If we are supposed to enjoy our lives but not be fixated on materiality...how do we live?" It's a good question--for all religions. I mean, Buddhists eat.

So I thought a bunch and studied a lot, and I came up with four rules.

Enjoy earthy pleasures as long as...

1. you're not putting your opportunities at risk. Example: Indulging in an illegal substance for which you could potentially get caught and fined or jailed for.

2. you're not trying to replace a spiritual quality with the materiality. Example: Buying new clothes because they will make you beautiful, instead of buying clothes that are beautiful to compliment the beauty you already possess.

3. you get legitimately angry or frustrated if you are separated from the materiality. Example: Getting extremely fussy when you don't have dessert after a meal.

4. the indulgence is one you can pull away from and out of if someone were to need help. Example: Getting so drunk you couldn't offer advice to a family member calling in a crisis.

I really like these. Follow 'em!


Amazing chocolates my mom got me from Bruges! Chocolate--my biggest vice.

Some men are born to live at ease, doing what they please, richer than the bees are in honey.

Godspell

Tonight I saw one of the best pieces of theatre I have ever seen in my entire life. It was a modernized version of Godspell that took place in the slums.

Every actor and musician was fully committed, loving, sure, INSPIRED. I sat on the edge of my seat through all the regular "Day by Days" and "It's All for the Bests"! It was...funny and smart...raw and rich...and Jesus. The student playing Jesus Christ was sensational. I have never connected with the crucifixion. Ick. No thanks. But tonight? Tonight I was so moved by this boy's complete humility, amazing voice, and sincere movements that I found myself praying although I do know how the story always goes. Please don't do it Judas. Please.

My heart wretched as the train rumbled faster and faster. A huge light from stage right shot straight into the boy's eyes. Rumble rumble steam shooting. Jesus hit by a train while avoiding the police.

And then he came back for a bow which I gladly leapt up to clap for. He smiled with so much love! They sang one more round of gospel jam and danced away into the wings.

I want so badly to run into that actor. To say Thank You, You Have Given Me So Much. I Understand. But, also, I could not bear it. I cannot take the fact that he is probably twenty-one and sometimes makes rude remarks, and laughs at unfunny television, and has to warm up before hitting those gorgeous notes. Because then Jesus really will be dead.


Far beyond where the horizon lies
Where the horizon lies
And the land sinks into mellow blueness
Oh please, take me with you