As predicted, my aerial ballet class royally kicked my rear. I'm finally able to sneeze without wishing for death. Of course, me being me (read: retarded), I scheduled a second aerial ballet class.
It's tonight. I'm totally pumped to learn more climbs and more flips and rolls and such, but this is not a post about aerial ballet. This is a post about rock climbing.
Specifically, how hard it is when I'm no longer 18.
I'm almost ten years past 18 at this point, and while I would like to think I'm pretty well adjusted and much happier now than I was then, there is a point of contention to that statement. When I was 18, I swam 7.5 hours a day, lifted and ran every day. (Thank you, D-1 college athletics!) So, when I was 18, I was in significantly better shape than I am now. Im not in bad shape, I just can't bench press more than my body weight anymore. I'd be happy if I could bench press half my body weight right now, but that's a story for a different day.
I used to climb with some friends from the dorm I lived in temporarily when I was in college. One of them taught me to boulder, and the other taught me to climb on belay. We used to go maybe two or three times a month after freshman year, so it wasn't ever like I did it on a really regular basis. Both friends have sinced moved to remote and exotic locations like the Moab Desert, and Milwaukee. (Seriously.) I have remained in the area, and stopped climbing for a number of years.
I picked up bouldering again two years ago. Again, not a lot of consistency in my practice, but I would go and have fun, and enjoy myself.
Apparently, gravity is stronger now than it was when I was 18. I can't climb for the life of me anymore; its really disappointing and disheartening. I like going so much, but its really hard to struggle with something that used to be so easy (due to all the swimming and freak upperbody strength).
Two recently acquired friends are really into it. Like, reallyinto it, and I accompanied them last week after my top rope refresher course (there was a method to it, I swear) to a rock gym I don't usually frequent. After some seriously disorienting news, I tried climbing. I was unsuccessful. I tried again. More failure. Blerg. I watched them scamper up the walls with a good deal of ease. I kept reminding myself that they'd been climbing a lot more often and a lot more consistently than I had. Still hard. Argh.
So I kept at it, gritted my teeth and kept trying. I discovered that I really loathethe automatic belayer that gym has. Doesn't catch quite quick enough for me to not feel like I'm plunging to impending death. I'm sure that gripping the holds will get easier, as it always does with practice, but until then, I am less than thrilled with the idea of returning. It's very intimidating to go into a place with a bunch of really well-skilled climbers; it's really obvious that you're new. Painfully, if you will. Also useful? Some climbing flats would be nice. Maybe for my birthday. Until then, sneakers or rentals will have to do.
Anyway, I had a good deal of fun with the aerial ballet of last week even if it did make me wish for immediate death when I sneezed, and not so much fun with the climbing. Oh well. I'll keep going because I know that I will make progress. Slow, painful, skin-ripping progres...
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Friday
Last night was a great night.
I went to visit JD, who had a long and disappointing week. After interviewing for a job three times over the course of two months, she was informed with a form letter that she was not offered a job. Her mood was quite south of jolly. Me? I was all disoriented from a couple of out-of-nowhere revelations about family and friends, so I wasn't entirely myself, either. So, I brought over a big bottle of wine and we ordered a white pizza from the place around the corner from her apartment. We watched a bunch of wierd movies and had some good laughs and deep conversations-- one of which was waaay too intellectual for a drunken midnight.
Sleeping in was nice, too-- I hadn't done that in quite some time. We grabbed some brunch at a local place, and then took a nice stroll through the neighborhood. I found a jar of local honey, and it was delicious! We even gave directions to some lost person; I hope they were right...
Anyway, by the time I left at noon, I was feeling happier, and I think JD was too. Sometimes you just need a good night with some friends to lift your spirits. Having been friends since we were 14, I think that just the company can be comforting. It's nice, almost like having another sister. You don't need to say anything, but you just know you're with someone who gets it, whatever it might be.
I went to visit JD, who had a long and disappointing week. After interviewing for a job three times over the course of two months, she was informed with a form letter that she was not offered a job. Her mood was quite south of jolly. Me? I was all disoriented from a couple of out-of-nowhere revelations about family and friends, so I wasn't entirely myself, either. So, I brought over a big bottle of wine and we ordered a white pizza from the place around the corner from her apartment. We watched a bunch of wierd movies and had some good laughs and deep conversations-- one of which was waaay too intellectual for a drunken midnight.
Sleeping in was nice, too-- I hadn't done that in quite some time. We grabbed some brunch at a local place, and then took a nice stroll through the neighborhood. I found a jar of local honey, and it was delicious! We even gave directions to some lost person; I hope they were right...
Anyway, by the time I left at noon, I was feeling happier, and I think JD was too. Sometimes you just need a good night with some friends to lift your spirits. Having been friends since we were 14, I think that just the company can be comforting. It's nice, almost like having another sister. You don't need to say anything, but you just know you're with someone who gets it, whatever it might be.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Aerial Ballet/Trapeze School
On Monday, I was able to take an aerial ballet class. It was my very first, and right away, let me say, I was hooked.
Class was held in a very large, airplane-hangar-like building. There was a setup for trapeze beside the beams from which a very long swath of peacock-green cloth was suspended by carabineer. It was me, the instructor, and another person in the class while a bunch of people were on the trapeze platform.
The instructor had us begin with a basic climb, which I was nervous about mostly because I haven’t climbed a rope since, oh, fifth grade. Climbs involved wrapping the silk around your leg, making one foot flexed, and then stepping on the fabric on top of the opposite foot and using it like a stair. Slide your arms up, wrap, step, repeat. Sliding down, things got a little warm—cloth burn on my palms and feet and legs.
I tried a bunch of different things: wrist locks, ankle locks, a twisty-spinning thing, a couple of flips, some poses. It was really, really cool. Most of all, it was way less scary than I had anticipated. I was really intimidated to walk into the studio and try –I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to climb the fabric—but I managed to not only climb, but try all those various moves. I was really impressed by the instructor, who was able to break steps down and assist when needed (like when I swung a little too far out and came too close to a wall for comfort); randomly, she graduated from the same school I graduated from, and we have some mutual friends. The world is a small, small place.
I have another class next week, and I have to say, I am really looking forward to it. This is a hobby that combines three of my favorite things: spinning, flipping, and being airborne. Also: fighting gravity. The only thing about this that doesn’t make my heart race is the price—it is a little on the expensive side. But, because it is so much fun, and it is two people per class, I think its worth it right now.
So today is the dreaded delayed onset muscle soreness day. And boy oh boy am I sore. My wrists and ankles still look like I have ligature marks; my forearms are screaming; I haven’t been this aware of my ribs since I broke one in college. Oh, did I mention that my chest hurts when I breathe or sneeze? I got one heck of a workout at aerial ballet, and I am pumped.
I won’t be so pumped tonight when I go to my top rope refresher course and cant climb worth a hill of beans, but, whatever.
Class was held in a very large, airplane-hangar-like building. There was a setup for trapeze beside the beams from which a very long swath of peacock-green cloth was suspended by carabineer. It was me, the instructor, and another person in the class while a bunch of people were on the trapeze platform.
The instructor had us begin with a basic climb, which I was nervous about mostly because I haven’t climbed a rope since, oh, fifth grade. Climbs involved wrapping the silk around your leg, making one foot flexed, and then stepping on the fabric on top of the opposite foot and using it like a stair. Slide your arms up, wrap, step, repeat. Sliding down, things got a little warm—cloth burn on my palms and feet and legs.
I tried a bunch of different things: wrist locks, ankle locks, a twisty-spinning thing, a couple of flips, some poses. It was really, really cool. Most of all, it was way less scary than I had anticipated. I was really intimidated to walk into the studio and try –I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to climb the fabric—but I managed to not only climb, but try all those various moves. I was really impressed by the instructor, who was able to break steps down and assist when needed (like when I swung a little too far out and came too close to a wall for comfort); randomly, she graduated from the same school I graduated from, and we have some mutual friends. The world is a small, small place.
I have another class next week, and I have to say, I am really looking forward to it. This is a hobby that combines three of my favorite things: spinning, flipping, and being airborne. Also: fighting gravity. The only thing about this that doesn’t make my heart race is the price—it is a little on the expensive side. But, because it is so much fun, and it is two people per class, I think its worth it right now.
So today is the dreaded delayed onset muscle soreness day. And boy oh boy am I sore. My wrists and ankles still look like I have ligature marks; my forearms are screaming; I haven’t been this aware of my ribs since I broke one in college. Oh, did I mention that my chest hurts when I breathe or sneeze? I got one heck of a workout at aerial ballet, and I am pumped.
I won’t be so pumped tonight when I go to my top rope refresher course and cant climb worth a hill of beans, but, whatever.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Honolulu, November
My last trip to Hawaii ended close to a month ago, and I have since returned to the snowy arctic that is Massachusetts. It has been downright brutal. No snow, but when the temperatures are being called “unseasonably cold,” you know that it’s bad.
Let me start from the beginning.
I arrived in Honolulu for the second time this year in the early afternoon. It was sunny and beautiful and it made me forget all about the screaming children and broken entertainment systems on both of my flights. (What a coincidence! TWO flights with nonfunctioning systems.) I hopped on the shuttle and napped until I got dropped off at my hotel, where I checked in, got settled, and hopped across the street to snooze on the beach.
I got some dinner just as the sun was setting at a take-away place my sister and I had eaten when we were there in March, and had a happy little picnic on the beach. Got to do exactly what I wanted to, which was watch jets land and take off over the ocean. I think I like watching that as much as I like being on a beach.
GC made it to the hotel a few hours later, and we got caught-up, made a list of stuff we wanted to do, and crashed.
The next morning, our phone went off at 530. I couldn’t understand the person on the other end of the line. I figured that she had the wrong number and was about to hang up when I recognized the words “dolphin tour.” And then she said, “No worry. Everyone speak English.” The rest was in Japanese. She was calling to wake us up to make sure we’d be at the shuttle pickup on time. She called 45 minutes early. We had a two minute walk. Gah.
GC and I got onto the shuttle and something felt… off. The tour guide looked a little panicky. She leaned over and repeated, “No worry. Everyone speak English.” And now GC and I were really concerned. We looked around. We were the only non-Asian people on the bus. Our tour guide handed us a release form, and the bus took off for a part of the North Shore, while she played a video (in Japanese).
The deckhands turned out to be the only people on the boat who spoke English. They laughed at us a bunch and wanted to know how we’d managed to pick them; they specifically cater to Japanese tourists. As that information wasn’t included on their website, there was no way for us to know that.
We eventually got to see a couple pods of dolphins. And while it was really very beautiful and extremely cool, I was a little disappointed that we didn’t spend more time in the water. I guess most of them had a hard time swimming; the deckhands were visibly relieved when we told them we could both swim well. The dolphins chased the boat for a while, and they jumped and spun, and it was really, really beautiful.
One of the deckhands hooked us up with a great discount at the luau he danced at. He told us he was a world champion firedancer, and had danced at a private recital for Oprah the week before. So, that evening, that’s where we went. The dancing was astounding. The dancers were awesome, and the music was really very interesting. I was a little skeeved out by the narrator and many of his comments. There was just this undertone of fetishizing the exotic brown sexy dancers that made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if anyone else noticed.
The other high light of the trip was going to the North Shore. That was really very different from our time in Waikiki. GC and I rented a car, and went to Waimea Falls and Waimea Bay. Her parents had been married at the falls, and so went to see it, oddly the day before their anniversary. As expected, it was gorgeous, green, lush, and extremely beautiful.
I ended up spending a bunch of time at the North Shore after GC went to the airport. She left a whole day before I did. I got to watch a surf competition from Haleiwa. Spent the whole day in the sun on the beach, and kept seeing these four turtles around. They were always really close to each other, and mostly up at the same time. They reminded me of my fam.
Anyway, loved it. The trip was too short, but a lot of fun.
Let me start from the beginning.
I arrived in Honolulu for the second time this year in the early afternoon. It was sunny and beautiful and it made me forget all about the screaming children and broken entertainment systems on both of my flights. (What a coincidence! TWO flights with nonfunctioning systems.) I hopped on the shuttle and napped until I got dropped off at my hotel, where I checked in, got settled, and hopped across the street to snooze on the beach.
I got some dinner just as the sun was setting at a take-away place my sister and I had eaten when we were there in March, and had a happy little picnic on the beach. Got to do exactly what I wanted to, which was watch jets land and take off over the ocean. I think I like watching that as much as I like being on a beach.
GC made it to the hotel a few hours later, and we got caught-up, made a list of stuff we wanted to do, and crashed.
The next morning, our phone went off at 530. I couldn’t understand the person on the other end of the line. I figured that she had the wrong number and was about to hang up when I recognized the words “dolphin tour.” And then she said, “No worry. Everyone speak English.” The rest was in Japanese. She was calling to wake us up to make sure we’d be at the shuttle pickup on time. She called 45 minutes early. We had a two minute walk. Gah.
GC and I got onto the shuttle and something felt… off. The tour guide looked a little panicky. She leaned over and repeated, “No worry. Everyone speak English.” And now GC and I were really concerned. We looked around. We were the only non-Asian people on the bus. Our tour guide handed us a release form, and the bus took off for a part of the North Shore, while she played a video (in Japanese).
The deckhands turned out to be the only people on the boat who spoke English. They laughed at us a bunch and wanted to know how we’d managed to pick them; they specifically cater to Japanese tourists. As that information wasn’t included on their website, there was no way for us to know that.
We eventually got to see a couple pods of dolphins. And while it was really very beautiful and extremely cool, I was a little disappointed that we didn’t spend more time in the water. I guess most of them had a hard time swimming; the deckhands were visibly relieved when we told them we could both swim well. The dolphins chased the boat for a while, and they jumped and spun, and it was really, really beautiful.
One of the deckhands hooked us up with a great discount at the luau he danced at. He told us he was a world champion firedancer, and had danced at a private recital for Oprah the week before. So, that evening, that’s where we went. The dancing was astounding. The dancers were awesome, and the music was really very interesting. I was a little skeeved out by the narrator and many of his comments. There was just this undertone of fetishizing the exotic brown sexy dancers that made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if anyone else noticed.
The other high light of the trip was going to the North Shore. That was really very different from our time in Waikiki. GC and I rented a car, and went to Waimea Falls and Waimea Bay. Her parents had been married at the falls, and so went to see it, oddly the day before their anniversary. As expected, it was gorgeous, green, lush, and extremely beautiful.
I ended up spending a bunch of time at the North Shore after GC went to the airport. She left a whole day before I did. I got to watch a surf competition from Haleiwa. Spent the whole day in the sun on the beach, and kept seeing these four turtles around. They were always really close to each other, and mostly up at the same time. They reminded me of my fam.
Anyway, loved it. The trip was too short, but a lot of fun.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Island Time
I'm back from my 5 day stint in Honolulu. (Stint, like its a prison sentence...?) Anyway, it was a gorgeous, hilarious time. There was much hilarity involved, especially on the first day GC and I were there.
As in:
1) We booked a swim with dolphins tour that catered specifically to Japanese tourists. Hi, we don't speak Japanese. That was....awkward. Especially when the boat crew asked us if we could swim and both replied, "Well, yeah, duh. Who'd go on a swimming tour without being able to swim?!" and he pointedly looked at the rest of the boat.
2) One of the deckhands is a world-champion firedancer. He offered us half-priced tickets to the luau he worked at after the tour ended. We got what amounted to "VIP" treatment--- a table abutting the stage, autographed posters, and an entouraged escourt back to our transportation.
3) We spent a couple nights with GCs friend from back home. Her three boys are under the age of 7. The 15 month old loved me. This is hilarious to me for reasons unknown. GCs friend is listed as totally awesome (and should be given the opportunity to be sainted).
4) I didn't actually adjust to island time until Monday. I left Tuesday. Hence, I am still on island time, and feel like roadkill when my alarm goes off at 5 to get to work. My body rebels and says "...NO! It's midnight!" I am afraid I will give in to that tomorrow morning.
5) I spent a couple hours at the airport in tears, trying to figure out a way to "miss my plane" so I could stay. Because I suck at math, I couldn't make the numbers work so I got on my flight and came home. On that flight? Six annoyingly amped-up Valley girls, and a smattering of small children. Two of those small children sat behind me and wailed the whole six hours to San Fransisco; one of them kicked my seat for the vast majority of the flight until I turned around and asked his mother to please contain him.
There will be a better summation later. When my thoughts extend beyond, Please let this day be over so I can go home and sleep.
As in:
1) We booked a swim with dolphins tour that catered specifically to Japanese tourists. Hi, we don't speak Japanese. That was....awkward. Especially when the boat crew asked us if we could swim and both replied, "Well, yeah, duh. Who'd go on a swimming tour without being able to swim?!" and he pointedly looked at the rest of the boat.
2) One of the deckhands is a world-champion firedancer. He offered us half-priced tickets to the luau he worked at after the tour ended. We got what amounted to "VIP" treatment--- a table abutting the stage, autographed posters, and an entouraged escourt back to our transportation.
3) We spent a couple nights with GCs friend from back home. Her three boys are under the age of 7. The 15 month old loved me. This is hilarious to me for reasons unknown. GCs friend is listed as totally awesome (and should be given the opportunity to be sainted).
4) I didn't actually adjust to island time until Monday. I left Tuesday. Hence, I am still on island time, and feel like roadkill when my alarm goes off at 5 to get to work. My body rebels and says "...NO! It's midnight!" I am afraid I will give in to that tomorrow morning.
5) I spent a couple hours at the airport in tears, trying to figure out a way to "miss my plane" so I could stay. Because I suck at math, I couldn't make the numbers work so I got on my flight and came home. On that flight? Six annoyingly amped-up Valley girls, and a smattering of small children. Two of those small children sat behind me and wailed the whole six hours to San Fransisco; one of them kicked my seat for the vast majority of the flight until I turned around and asked his mother to please contain him.
There will be a better summation later. When my thoughts extend beyond, Please let this day be over so I can go home and sleep.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Halloween
I am no longer allowed to watch scary sh*t. My overactive imagination ran away from me last night after watching several of my favorite scary movies (“The Descent,” “The Exorcism of Emily Rose,” and “Paranormal Activity”) before watching all of Season One of “Paranormal State.”
Yes, I am well aware of the fact that the show Paranormal State is a lame docudrama/mockumentary, but I can’t help myself. I love to be scared. I love wondering what is going on, and if there’s something I am not clued into because I lack capacities to tap into it. Hell, I love wondering what my dogs are staring at when they stare into the distance of a blank wall.
Well, last night I might have overdone it.
Because Dog had knee surgery, she is unable to go up and down stairs. The basement in our house does not have stairs so I can take her directly out to the yard so she can relieve herself. I have been sleeping in the basement with her because I hate the idea of her being sad and lonely in the dark and the crate with the cone of shame. So, I slept in the basement. Last night was Halloween. Every single noise I heard became an encroaching malevolent spirit.
I quivered in the dark, awaiting the blankets to get ripped off of me. I heard the baseboards creak to life and imagined the moaning voice of a trapped ghost imprinting itself onto an EVP. When the room cooled (because the heat is electric, natch), I pictured a violent poltergeist swirling in black smog above me. Blonde Dog whimpering in her sleep from the foot of the bed became a warning sign that some spirit was ready to pounce. I heard footsteps above my head. I heard gusts of wind. I heard a cat meowing in the distance. All of this set my teeth on edge. All of it is explainable. (My dad got up to go to the bathroom. The trees outside were dropping leaves in the blustery October night. Oh, and we have a cat in another room.)
All in all, I think I slept a total of twenty minutes. I kept dreading 3am. I couldn’t bring myself to get up and go to the bathroom (all of ten feet away), convinced that something was going to get me. I kept telling myself, "Its OK. Dog and Blonde Dog are both sleeping. They wouldnt let something get you; theyd totally let you know something was there- especially since its bigger than a squirrel." It kept running through my head, but it didnt pacify me- especially since both dogs are really giant chickens, and one of them is injured and PO'ed about being back in the Cone.
So, as much as I love to be scared, I think I overdid it this time. I have put in place a moratorium on scary forms of entertainment. The bags under my eyes are tired.
Yes, I am well aware of the fact that the show Paranormal State is a lame docudrama/mockumentary, but I can’t help myself. I love to be scared. I love wondering what is going on, and if there’s something I am not clued into because I lack capacities to tap into it. Hell, I love wondering what my dogs are staring at when they stare into the distance of a blank wall.
Well, last night I might have overdone it.
Because Dog had knee surgery, she is unable to go up and down stairs. The basement in our house does not have stairs so I can take her directly out to the yard so she can relieve herself. I have been sleeping in the basement with her because I hate the idea of her being sad and lonely in the dark and the crate with the cone of shame. So, I slept in the basement. Last night was Halloween. Every single noise I heard became an encroaching malevolent spirit.
I quivered in the dark, awaiting the blankets to get ripped off of me. I heard the baseboards creak to life and imagined the moaning voice of a trapped ghost imprinting itself onto an EVP. When the room cooled (because the heat is electric, natch), I pictured a violent poltergeist swirling in black smog above me. Blonde Dog whimpering in her sleep from the foot of the bed became a warning sign that some spirit was ready to pounce. I heard footsteps above my head. I heard gusts of wind. I heard a cat meowing in the distance. All of this set my teeth on edge. All of it is explainable. (My dad got up to go to the bathroom. The trees outside were dropping leaves in the blustery October night. Oh, and we have a cat in another room.)
All in all, I think I slept a total of twenty minutes. I kept dreading 3am. I couldn’t bring myself to get up and go to the bathroom (all of ten feet away), convinced that something was going to get me. I kept telling myself, "Its OK. Dog and Blonde Dog are both sleeping. They wouldnt let something get you; theyd totally let you know something was there- especially since its bigger than a squirrel." It kept running through my head, but it didnt pacify me- especially since both dogs are really giant chickens, and one of them is injured and PO'ed about being back in the Cone.
So, as much as I love to be scared, I think I overdid it this time. I have put in place a moratorium on scary forms of entertainment. The bags under my eyes are tired.
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