Viva la resistance

My yoga teacher often reminds me all suffering is caused from resisting change.

I know that if I could somehow learn to accept change as the natural, exciting, and (quite frankly) inevitable thing that it is, I'd be infinitely happier. However, like most people, change is not my forte. I become anxious, even sometimes physically ill, when major changes loom ahead. I like my universe orderly and predictable.

Today, I emailed in sick, not because I'm actually ill, but rather because I needed a mental health day. I needed it because yesterday, my boss, who I adore, quit. I knew that this day would come, but I was kinda hoping it wouldn't come quite so soon. So, with a mixture of resentment for the people I believe forced him out, sadness, shock, and fear, I finished my day and sulked home, fully prepared to pout for a long time.

This change will be dramatic for me in a lot of ways. For one, I'll be loosing day to day contact with my mentor who has taught me so much and clarified a fabulous career path that i would likely have never discovered on my own. I will miss him terribly. I'll also have to get used to another boss, who will undoubtedly pale in comparison. I may also have to find another job myself, which will disrupt my social circle, my schedule, and my finances (though perhaps in a good way). I already feel like a Robin who has lost her Batman, a chip with no salsa. This is absolutely an instance where resistance to change will cause suffering.

Because i slept in on my day of mental health, I walked Olive later than usual. I was still feeling sorry for myself. Then i saw a man carrying a pet carrier. He looked very sad so I smiled at him. He didn't smile back. When i looked over my shoulder at him i saw that he did indeed have a pet in his carrier, but that it was covered in a blanket. I knew that he had just euthanized his friend. It brings tears to my eyes as i write this. Suddenly i knew that i couldn't pout and whine and be irritable even one more second.

I guess that was the universe giving me what I needed on my "sick day." I needed to see the change I'm dealing with in it's proper scope and magnitude. However much I resist moving forward, probably to bigger and better things...however uncomfortable I am with the prospect of evolving...however much I wish things could stay the same forever, they can't and they won't. Let's try to keep things in prospective for once, Rach.

Hype by Tegan and Sarah

So good

I got an invitation and biographical update survey for my 10 year class reunion the other day. It immediately brought to mind the days of Pom Pon, Drama Club, my job delivering flowers for Country Gardens, sneaking 6-packs of Zima, my cute red Honda Civic, my even cuter bf (he had his nipples pierced and bleached his hair...that was so hot), and Warren G on repeat.

My girlfriends and i often share those universally awkward stories of growing up...horrible fashion and hair choices, battles over Independence with our parents, heartbreak, prom dresses, insecurities, etc. One topic that has come up again and again with all my many different groups of friends is our social status in high school and how it in no way mirrors the social status we have now.

Many of my girls have expressed to me, after several cocktails, that the unkind way they were treated in high school left deep emotional scars and a complete lack of interest in returning to their class reunions. In fact, there is general consensus to flip the bird to anyone even resembling that asshole in high school who made fun of our favorite outfits and laughed at us in gym class. Being unpopular in school may seem meaningless now, but at the time, it was easy to use popularity as a thermometer for our eventual success and happiness in life. I mean, frankly, what else did we have to go on?

Some of my friends, who are now both successful and drop-dead gorgeous, claim that they were misfits in high school, much like Daria or Mary Katherine Gallagher in Superstar. They didn't fit in, were unpopular with boys, and got made fun of. They are real-life examples of how being "in" in high school has nothing to do with your eventual fabulocity. (Of course, I don't have any friends that used to be one of those beautiful but bitchy chicks in high school...those chicks grew up to be uninteresting, medicated housewives.)

I actually didn't have too much trouble in high school. I had good friends and fun parents. I'm not saying i fit in (i think i'll have to accept that i may never experience that sensation.) but i made it out alive and without any severe phsychological damage. And i've been kinda riding that wave ever since. No major changes to report on the BHS Class of 1998 Survey.

But for all those people who also just got their class reunion invites and had a mini-panic attack at the prospect of having to face all those mean people again, don't worry. You don't have to go. In fact, i'm of the opinion that 50% of people who attend reunions only have something to prove. The other 50% just really do like polite chit chat. I'm not in either of those groups so i won't be attending. However, i dedicate this cheesy 90s song to my friends who had a shitty time and still turned out fabulous.

So Good by Destiny's Child

10 Block Radius

The other night, I had plans with a boy. I had boxing first so i rushed home to hose off. Tick toc, tick toc...he finally calls and ditches me, giving some lame excuse typical of crooked politicians, Enron execs, and single men in DC.

I was bummed, partly because i was now without plans and partly because i could have stayed at boxing and talked to another, cuter boy i have my eye on at the gym. This boy has done this so, so many times before that i have difficultly even being angry with him and am instead furious with myself for even trying.

So, after making a grand statement about how i certainly wouldn't find love sitting on my couch, I invited Olive on a walk. This was a solution i knew would appease both my dog and my disappointment.

Upon reaching Dupont Circle, who do i see giggling with another chick at a crosswalk? Yes, that's correct. I was ditched for a girl in a buttondown. Muttering "You've got to be f*!king kidding," i approached the lying jerk. I got the usual sleazy load of crap.

I was not amused.

I made my exit by explaining to Beige Buttondown that Asshole must have mistakenly made two dates...in the same night...in the same neighborhood.

And you wonder why i'm bitter...

Go Ahead by Alicia Keys

Kisses with tongue

It is well known that i am in the throes of an intense and satisfying love affair, the most life-altering relationship to date...with my dog, Olive.

Dogs are, without a doubt, one of the most charming creatures on this planet, up there with otters and pandas. Now, i'm not belittling the importance and loveliness of cats. I have some very dear friends that would scratch my eyes out if i ever spoke ill of the feline. Let's just go with a disclaimer that Rachael, though appreciative of the cat, is completely bias towards dogs.

My dog shows me near obsessive loyalty, friendship, and love; never passing judgement, even after witnessing my chronic misbehaviour; always thrilled to see me, however briefly i've been away; constantly worrying about my whereabouts and safety, much like an attentive nanny or suspicious prison warden. I've come to realize that this kind of devotion is not possible with a human companion. I've given up on a human version of unconditional love.

However, my adoration of Olive has taught me many things about loving unconditionally and generally being a better person. My mom also got me a lovely book a while back filled with interesting observations about how applying dog traits to my everyday actions could make my life happier. The following lessons i have learned from my own fluffy therapist:

1. Ask for what you want. If you want a Greenie, much like if you want a promotion, just ask for it. You'll probably get what you want just for being ballsy enough to ask.


2. If you don't get what you want when you ask, keep asking. Eventually you'll become annoying enough to get a positive response.


3. Have preferences. If you don't like carrots in your food, remove them from your dish and place on the floor. You are likely to get no carrots the next time you are fed.


4. Get excited. Nothing makes people feel like pleasing you more than acting happy when you are pleased.


5. Be important. It is OK to know that you are worth extra effort and are worthy of praise, affection, and time.


6. Don't apologize. Sometimes you fuck up. But you try harder next time. Your real friends will continue to love you anyway.


7. Sometimes you need only sit quietly next to someone to make them feel better.


8. Growl before biting.


9. Be spoiled. Indulge yourself in things that make you feel good. Eat well, drink well, take naps, take yoga, get a full-body rub down...whatever makes you happy, do that.


10. Don't be bothered. If you don't want to sit, keep standing. Don't do things you don't want to. (This life lesson is specific to the Shih Tzu.)

I recently celebrated 3 years with Olive by hosting a fabulous dinner party and cocktail celebration that went well into the following morning, as most of my parties do. Friends came unexpectedly from far and wide to help us celebrate and, from the look of my house the next morning, a terrific time was had by all.

Olive perhaps taught all our guests a few additional lessons that night as well. For example, if an unwanted guest shows up (the adorable Miss Dutchess, the English Bulldog), just take a shit on the floor so that everyone at the party knows you are unhappy. Also, if you are underage, it is best to steal swigs of champagne when your mum isn't looking.

What makes you

A friend of mine posted this quote to their Facebook recently.

People are going to want you, need you, exceed you, take you, love you, hate
you, play you, rate you, save you and break you. But thats what makes you.
~ bumper sticker

Clever. Thanks HH.

The Neverending Story

So, today my ex-boyfriend's parents will be visiting my parents in my hometown of Blair, Nebraska. His parents are on an incredible journey: driving across the country on a bike. No, not a Harley. A real bicycle. Tandem, to be exact. My parent's house is pretty much the half-way point, from what i can tell from the map of the United States.

This is terrifying in a plethora of ways:

For one, his parents are infinitely charming and will surely have a terrific time with my parents. Not only are my ex-potential-in laws kind, generous, and loaded with interesting stories about their worldly travels, they also drink tequila. In summary, they are the kind of rare, mega-fun people you can only hope will pass by your house on a bike.

This may not sound terrifying to you, but i can assure you it is. It is scary because as much as i adore these crazy bikers, they are not my family anymore. Yes, they've grown to become friends i hope i'll always have. But, at the end of the day, i'm long broken up with their son. So, the terrifying part is that eventually, my parents and i will have to pass them on to the next set of parents. I've already warned my Mom that she cannot keep them.

Secondly, i'm not there to chaperon this visit. In fact, i've never been able to see my parents and his parents interact. They've only ever visited each other renegade-style, without my permission or supervision. For all i know, my Mom will be going on about how she wishes me and Ex will get back together and have beautiful blond children together. My Dad may recommend they trade in their bike for a motorcycle, which may hurt their feelings. His parents may reveal stories of me drunk in Mexico. All of these conversation topics i wish desperately i could be there to derail.

All that being said, i'm strangely glad his folks feel comfortable enough visiting my folks. My ex and i didn't have a harmonious relationship and our breakup was equally disheartening, involving a rather divorce-like halving of possessions and several Eat, Pray, Love-style trips overseas (there was no custody battle over Miss Olive, though we still call the ex Olive's Dad). I'm sure his parents have heard complaints about me that would make most people feel strongly opposed to maintaining friendship, much like the stories my own parents have heard about him. I know that my parents have my back and his parents have his, but it is refreshing to know that however bad things can get between two people, their loved ones need not share in the bad energy and hurt feelings.

If there is good that can come from a love that has ended, i'd like to think it can be to bring other people together. However unusual and nerve wracking i perceive this visit, i have to hope that they all have a lovely time, as i know they will. Anyway, my Mom is making her amazing bolognese sauce and she already stocked up on Cuervo. It can't possibly go too far astray. (And, those surveillance cameras i installed over Independence Day should give me some peace of mind.*wink*)

Check out the Tour de Homerpearl at http://homerpearl.blogspot.com/.

Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3

This is a test...





It works! Thank you so much Reid. This job was truly above and beyond your usual musical mentorship. You're the best!

Ladylikeish

Last night, after a strenuous yoga class, I went to the Madhatter, our usual watering hole (with an emphasis on the hole), for a few cocktails with my best girl. I've grown to like the Hatter over the years, despite the risk of infection from the ladies room and hideous music. Like a really bad episode of Cheers, there is something kinda comforting and easy about hanging out in a dirty pub, stumbling distance from my house, where everybody really does know my name. And sometimes i'm almost glad i came.

However, last night i experienced one of the most revolting things that can happy to a girl in the city...

I ran into a rat upon stepping off the curb in the back alley. The dirty little (and by little, i mean huge) beast ran right into my platform shoes, tripped around under my feet for a while, and then ran off.

I realize that hanging out in the alley behind a bunch of dive bars may put me at risk for certain horrible experiences like crackheads, sewage leakage, drunken urinators, and rats. The fact that i know how disgusting it is makes me even more irritated with myself for doing it.

After my male companion recovered from a fit of uninhibited laughter at my misfortune, i informed him that i was a lady and therefore should not be subjected to the likes of back alley rat collisions. But, even as i said it to him, i began to question just how ladylike i really am. I'd like to think that i'm infinitely civilized, complete with embroidered hankies and stemware and good posture. However, i clearly don't behave very well and have most of my fun in a drunken, rowdy stupor. In fact, some of my most cherished moments in life have resulted in my awakening at 6am fully-clothed on the Love Sac with Olive looking at me shamefully.

The only redeeming quality of the night was that after a good long scream and a short trip onto the back of my male companion, i was able to laugh about my intimate moment with one of DC's finest. I was a bit surprised myself! Even though i usually pout about why i always end up in rodent-infested bars instead of immaculate, posh lounges, i was able to see humor in this situation. Perhaps that is the most ladylike behavior after all...perhaps maintaining fabulocity against all odds and in every environment is the epitome of a lady.

I won't be so bold to call myself a lady quite yet. If i do, i'm afraid i'll have to also call myself old. But, in the meantime, i'm relieved to discover that even if i find myself in a thriving dumpster community of all things sick and wrong, i can still hold it together (pretty much).

P.S. If i suddenly die from Black Plague, please send the lovely folks at the Hatter my regards.