Rage Against the Metabolism

I just want to say that it isn't funny. I'm not laughing. Why is it that as I near 30 my metabolism has decided to slow down like a party girl on GHB? I used to dance in the crowd, but now I'm slumped over a chair in the dark corner of the VIP room, or worse, on the floor of the bathroom stall. I eat the same. I workout the same. But for some ungodly reason I'm expanding in all directions. I am the Big Bang Theory. So what do I do? Fight? But how? Diet pills, more lemonade and cayenne, Spin classes two times a day, give up everything that means anything to me - dark chocolate, goat cheese, Santa Fe garden burgers from Astroburger? Even my splurges are healthy, so what gives? Am I doomed to never wear my skinny jeans again? Does it only get worse from here or can I pull a Dylan Thomas and "rage, rage against the dying of the light"? I suppose I could get rich and hire a personal nutritionist and trainer. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Or I could get really poor and not have enough food to eat. Nah, no fun. I'd probably end up eating one of the cats, which would be truly terrible. Ok, so until I get rich, rage it is. Rage Against the Metabolism... Does anyone know of a good fasting tea?

West With the Night

"Why am I gazing at this campfire like a lost soul seeking a hope when all that I love is at my wingtips? Because I am curious. Because I am incorrigibly now, a wanderer."
-West With the Night, by Beryl Markham

Beryl, a race horse trainer turned airplane pilot in the 1920s & 30s, was raised and spent most of her life in the country she loved, Africa. Reading her memoir now I can't help but relate to every word on the page, but this quote especially stood out to me as a wonderful expression of what it means to be an eternal wanderer. It's not as if the place you stand has no value. In fact, once gone from it, nostalgia often takes over, creating lasting memories that lean toward exaggeration. What was once a pretty fun time, becomes a pinnacle of enjoyment. What was once a relaxing vacation, becomes the utmost time of Zen in your life. So, yes, there is a great deal of value in the current position, place and time. But what underlines it all is an undying urge to try something new. To explore new territory and devour new experiences. And no one did that better than Beryl. As a small girl she wanted to hunt like the Murani tribesmen, so she shadowed them every chance she could get, despite near death escapes from lions and other jungle predators. She wanted to train horses like her father, so she did, on her own at the age of seventeen in the middle of a largely unexplored, wild land. She wanted to fly planes, so she learned to fly a Gypsy Moth, over elephant herds and into villages that no cars could go. She amazes me, but what gives me pause is the question, "Would I amaze her?" Probably not. So this is what I'm going to work on. This is my New Years Resolution. To amaze Beryl Markham posthumously. It's as good a goal as any other, and definitely more rewarding than being five pounds slimmer or giving up my morning cup of coffee. If I'm going to be a wanderer, I better get my moccasins on and start moving.

Fun with Flan

Just a quick observation about my new neighborhood. The one difference I've noticed living in a predominantly Mexican-American neighborhood is that no matter what grocery store you find yourself in, there is an abundance of flan for sell. All shapes, sizes and flavors. Coffee-flavored flan at Fresh & Easy - who ever heard of such a hybrid? I never realized to what extent flan was a truly popular dessert. I thought it was just one of those cultural things that people talk about but never really eat, like fruit cake for caucasians. My last memory of flan was a flan food fight we had at my high school in the cafeteria. That stuff can really fly, and it's quite buoyant, even against wool-blended plaid skirts. Plus, it stays in its original form during air transit no matter the velocity of your throw, which is nice if you are aiming at a particular person, such as that b***h who had the nerve to invite your boyfriend to Homecoming or that dork who dressed as Xena the Warrior Princess on career day. So I guess what I'm saying is, when in Rome do as the Romans and get yourself some dragonberry flan and call it a day.

Tyra Has a Point?

I hate to give credit to a supermodel of any kind, but I was watching our favorite person to hate the other day, Miss Tyra Banks, and found myself actually interested in the show's topic. It was about men who were married or in relationships and outside female friendships, whether they were dangerous, disrespectful, harmless or even beneficial. In true talk show format, everyone had a different opinion.

Some women thought it was okay as long as the man hung out with his female friend in a larger group or when his wife/girlfriend was also there. Some thought it was okay only if it was a superficial friendship and that there was no "emotional cheating." This means basically they could drink beer together and talk about sports but under no circumstances anything truly relevant in their lives. Then others thought it was no big deal at all. Of course, the only ones who thought that were the men. But still, dissent is dissent and should be noted. Lastly, there was the "When Harry Met Sally" school of thought that says men and women can never truly be just friends. That there will always either be some type of feeling from one or both parties or that the bond between friends of the opposite sex undermines the relationships with their partners since their partner should be their best friend and "enough".

This is where Tyra firmly stood. I'm not sure I totally agree with her. We all get different things out of different friendships. Plus, I think a lot of it has to do with her own past. Girl dated a basketball player, and we all know that's bad news. Also, there's the small, no... large, matter of ego. As a wise person told me, "the girl who recognizes she is jealous is your true self. The girl who is jealous is your ego." So perhaps Tyra's ego is the reason behind her stance. Maybe she's the jealous type because of some insecurity, blah blah blah.

But then maybe, just maybe the former supermodel turned talk show diva has a point just as Billy Crystal did when he said the same thing in that famous cross country road trip with Meg Ryan. It's hard to tell, but the man also said in the same film, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." And ain't that the truth. Besides, once Harry realized he loved Sally I guarantee he stopped making friends with cute blonds. Finally, for once in his life, he had "enough." But that's the movies. And life, like Tyra Banks the person, is far more complicated...

... F' it, I can't resist, one more quote from Billy to showcase his infinite wisdom. The following is from "City Slickers".

Mitch: "Value this time in your life kids, because this is the time in your life when you still have your choices, and it goes by so quickly. When you’re a teenager you think you can do anything, and you do. Your twenties are a blur. Your thirties, you raise your family, you make a little money and you think to yourself, What happened to my twenties? Your forties, you grow a little pot belly, you grow another chin. The music starts to get too loud and one of your old girlfriends from high school becomes a grandmother. Your fifties you have a minor surgery. You’ll call it a procedure, but it’s a surgery. Your sixties you have a major surgery, the music is still loud but it doesn’t matter because you can’t hear it anyway. Seventies, you and the wife retire to Fort Lauderdale, you start eating dinner at two, lunch around ten, breakfast the night before. And you spend most of your time wandering around malls looking for the ultimate in soft yogurt and muttering, "How come the kids don’t call? How come the kids don’t call?" By your eighties, you’ve had a major stroke, and you end up babbling to some Jamaican nurse who your wife can’t stand but who you call mama. Any questions?"

Clogged Drain

Today I dragged myself out of bed and my Benadryl induced slumber to march to the store and buy some Liquid Plumber. You see, my bathtub is stopped up, and lately I've been showering in a pool of water. I pretend I'm in the tropics in an outdoor shower, rainwater gently collecting at my feet from a summer storm. But even that's worn off, and now I just feel white trash. So as I wait for the chemicals to do their magic, I can't help but think that this situation illustrates the state I've been in lately.

You see, I've had trouble writing. It's not for want of ideas. I have a ton lurking beneath the surface. It just seems that every morning I think to myself, 'tomorrow will be a great day to write.' Or I convince myself that the next trip I embark on will provide me with the space and motivation I need to write. But it doesn't, and the putrid cycle continues. It's like I'm clogged. Something inside me is preventing me from putting my ideas and characters and plots onto paper. Ok, that's passe... onto the computer screen.

Now I just have to figure out what's clogging me up, find the tools to dislodge it and then watch as my imagination gushes out. Man, this is one disgusting analogy. Truly horrific. But i think it can apply to other areas of life... love, career, health, spiritual growth. Not to sound new age, but we all need a little Liquid Plumber now and then to get us back on the right track, or as in my case, so we can take a much needed shower.

Something To Work On...

I've decided that with my birthday rapidly approaching I need to start working on my New Year's resolutions. This week's goal: patience. Why is it so hard? Why? Tell me someone! Quick!

Patience is one of the hardest things for me to master. I want what I want and I want it now. I've even begun to mark off days of the calendar. This is a true sign of not living in the moment, as if two intersecting black lines will make a future event come that much quicker. The worst part of impatience is that it's a gateway neurosis. It leads to nervousness which leads to anxiety which leads to frustration and then, often times, anger. And no one likes an angry female. Even Rosie the Riveter had a smile on her face.

So here's the plan when impatience rears its ugly head: stop, take three deep breaths and then find something to take my mind off it... preferably something pleasurable and/or relaxing. The John Adams miniseries worked particularly well this week. Thank you, HBO. There's nothing like period costumes and proper English to calm the mind.

The Wild Wild West

Back from Santa Fe with many more wild west adventures under
the belt. Wrote this on the plane:

"I dream of wild Huck Finn adventures,
Swallowed by the road.
Terminally restless,
Body young but the spirit old.
Longing to be free and follow every whim,
We swim in the desert soil
And plow the Rio Grande.
The mystery is in the adventure,
A new start everyday.

Aspens full of light and giant tents of stone,
Quiet, deserted churches and drying desert bones.
Red hot cacti blossoms catching the western wind,
Endless paths of magic becoming your truest friends.
They speak to me of lives not yet lived,
That I want to capture whole.
At times guilty for who I am,
I'm tormented and blessed by my wanderer's
soul."