The Centerville Junior High Reunion

My Junior high years are probably my favorite. I had really great friends. There was something special about those two years, and our class was really close.

I remember being a social butterfly in Junior High and talking to EVERYONE. I guess not much as changed, but in some weird and Freudian like way Junior High set the tone of what my social personality would be for the rest of my life. In retrospect our class was very non judgemental. I can't explain what the chemistry was. We had our assigned ethnic cliques I suppose, but we all floated around and just kicked it.

Alicia who is sitting to my left in the picture, was our class star and president, but both of us didn't go to high school with the rest of our friends. The power of Facebook brought me and Alicia back together, and we came up with this crazy idea to do a reunion with just our eighth grade class. We both felt weird about actually going through with it, because we didn't want to look like a bunch of desperate people who were trying too hard to be nostalgic.

Then in true Alicia and Christina spirit, we both decided we didn't give a shit, and we went through with it. We got the support of our two other friends Dina and Monique to help us. All four of us were on the step team, and it was great to be working with them again.

I didn't go to the my high school reunion, because I didn't click with my class. I went to a Catholic High School, so naturally I just found folks to be super snooty. Maybe in the back of my mind I just always wanted to be back with my eighth grade class. So naturally I just dove myself into planning our reunion.

We had it at the Centerville Community Center, which is behind our junior high. My very good friend Nicolo spun for us, and I told him that this felt like eighth grade again, except I'm not carrying his crate of records into a house party.

Our DJ even came! DJ Hightop spun at all of our dances and he loved our class so much he wanted to stop by and say hi...... to the girls ;) I had a blast! To me, everyone is still thirteen. We just have adult bodies now. Everyone is still down to earth and open.

I have so much love for these people. Many of them are parents now, and I'm so grateful that they took time out of their busy lives to come out for one night.

I love Alicia for flying out here from Washington D.C. to carry out this crazy idea. I hope we do this every year. It was definitely worth all the trouble! The future has so much anxiety. Sometimes you need to go back in time to remember who you are.

Thank you everyone for the spectacular time!

Gobble Gobble

I always find a way to feel fat and miserable around this time of the year. The conversation around weight will always fly out of someone's mouth and I have to counsel myself for the next hour.

"You know these are YOUR genes that I have?"

This conversation puts me through puberty all over again, and I don't have enough snarky comments to combat childhood ingrained insecurities. Am I the only that checks my stomach and thighs after Thanksgiving? Fuck this shit I don't want to do it anymore.

All my life I've been rewarded or praised for losing weight. It's something that I never want to do to my daughter. I'm trying to stop to habit of noticing when someone loses weight, because I know that I am toying with someone's self worth.

Right now my self image is the healthiest that it's ever been. For once in my life I'm not weight obsessed, but old habits die hard. There will be no yo yo diet this year. I will eat what I want and I will not exercise out of guilt. This is the best new year's resolution I've ever had.

I promise to enjoy my worth.

Come join me.

Relief

It's lonely being angry.

Earlier today I read my posts from the past week, and I see that I was all over the place. Like someone took a bag of marbles from my brain and just spilled them all over the floor.

I used to carry a lot of anger towards myself, because I had shown that I was easy to manipulate. I have a tendency to trust terrible people, therefore all of it is my fault.

So I'm now obsessed with Yoga. Yoga either attracts the obnoxiously peaceful or the emotional train wrecks like myself. I don't brag that I do Yoga, because it implies that I can afford the ridiculous prices, and I am a crunchy granola yuppy. Well, I'm actually a crunchy granola hipster, because I only go to the $5 classes!

This pose that I'm doing this picture, is an advanced version of a pose that is really hard. It requires a certain amount of strength and a lot of men can't do it. Two months ago there was was no way I could have balanced my foot onto my leg. I could barely hold myself up. My arm would shake, as if a bridge was about to break. I would get very frustrated and I would literally cuss at the pose. If you want to know what angry yoga sounds like, set your mat next to mine

When I first started doing Yoga I carried a lot of anguish when I came into class, and I would power through the poses as if it were circuit training. Many yoga classes end with Shavasana which offers time to feel the effects of your practice and to rest as you lie down on your mat for 5 to 10 minutes. In my first class I cried during Shavansana. All of sudden the tension that I had carried for the past five years was released, and I had no pride or ego to hold it in. Of course I had to do it silently so I didn't look like a freak. Before anyone had a chance to open their eyes I wiped my eyes and I scurried out the door. Maybe I was crying because I was so glad the class was over ;)

The Shavansana is the most interesting concept in Yoga, because you are training your body to rest. You put your body through a lengthy and tortuous session and it is now to time to reflect. This contradicts many aspects of how Americans view exercise. We exercise to look good, and that's it. There is not time to rest when you have too look good.

My time in Los Angeles has been a two month Shavansana. Once you rest and reflect on your practice it will get better over time. My life practice has been very scattered, but it was because I was forcing it to be linear.

When I finally got this pose I felt like a beam of light was shooting from my ribs. My arm was solid and rooted to the ground, and my foot came up my leg so effortlessly, as if I was dancing. In Yoga as it is in life, you can master something, and then become challenged with something else.

I wish the rules were different. It wouldn't be called practice if it all came easy.

The Year of the Planner

As I began my statement of purpose this morning, I felt my breath pacing in that very worrisome way that I hate.

The only voice that I could hear in my head was "I am not going to get accepted to any of these programs." If I ask teachers to write me letter of recommendation, I'm going to be wasting their time. I started to cry in front of my computer.

It was more than doubt meeting insecurity, it was a reality check. I realized that I'm running a race for the Olympics when I didn't train all year. There is no way I'm going to win.

I just dawned on me that I was laid off of my job just four months ago, and I've been living in Los Angeles for two months. How the hell am I'm going to turn in MFA worthy writing in a month? I have the talent to write things quickly, but I cannot "wing" a manuscript in a month. I have a year to be in Los Angeles. I can use this year wisely so for next year's applications, so I don't feel so unprepared. If I take my time I can have enough to show that I'm a writer. My blog doesn't exactly show that I'm a great candidate for a MFA program in writing.

I've applied to grad school twice and I did not get in, but it's taken me a long time to realize why. In the past, I would hastily pick a program, in hopes that I would get in and escape my monotonous life in San Francisco. I was also using grad school as a means please my parents, because I wanted to show them that I could become more than a poor social worker. This is not to discredit the work that social workers do. It's an incredible and rewarding job. However, truth be told it can long and miserable place to be, because there is a ridiculous lack of support.

You need to be a special person to make it your life's purpose. I will always be socially and politically engaged in everything that I do, but I couldn't continue on the path that I was on. It was becoming destructive. I was starting to hate service. This not the trait of a good human.

Why have I chosen writing? It's the only thing that I'm remotely good at. I would do it in my sleep, and I would do it for free. It's a skill that is mine, and I don't have to share it with anyone, but it needs a lot of work. I need to write more and I need to get published. Things do do include refreshing my grammar and language, expand my range in writing, and to read more.

I'm great at planning when I am accountable to other people, but when it comes to myself I don't think I've ever planned beyond a week. So here it is. My plan is to take classes here in Los Angeles for the rest of the year. If all works out well, I can move NYC by September and continue to take classes and write. By December of next year, I will not be so ill prepared for the Olympics. I will take this year to train.

Inspired by Samarai, Miyamoto Musashi, I'm in a process of letting things go of what I know and just be.

Spiritual Challenges

My best friend Jeff took me to a SGI Buddhist meeting about a month ago.

I'm really cynical when it comes to religion, and I did feel incredibly out of place at the meeting. I didn't understand any of the chants, and I don't have the patience to sit through a Miley Cyrus television special much less an hour of chanting.

I'm in no place to find a religion, but I feel the need for an anchor.

Nam-myoho-renge-kyo is the main chant that we did that night. A close translation of its meaning is "to devote oneself."

The people at the meeting were very nice and they assured me that if I continued the practice that I would find my internal happiness. It's been on my mind since, but I haven't taken the time to start the practice.

Jeff gave me the prayer beads as a gift. Along with the beads, he gave me two books to help me understand the practice better.

There are moments where I don't trust anyone, but I'm thankful for Jeff all the time. "Practice" is a concept that I'm growing into. I hear it a lot in Yoga and now in Buddhism. I'm not sure where this introduction will take me. However, to have a friend who is invested in my spiritual well being is worth the try. Thanks Jeffy poo.

Brain Fries

To get into grad school you need to write a personal statement and a statement of purpose.

I looked for programs that didn't require GRE. The last time I took the GRE I bombed big time. I Atomic bombed to the point where I left the testing site in tears.

I would rather write for ten hours instead of studying for a test that I don't fucking care about. I suppose this is where my strengths begin and end.

I have to write a manuscript; a non fiction prose. As I begin to type my mean insecurity takes over me. There are people that enjoy my writing, but I'm not sure if it's worthy of a prestigious MFA program. I still have to google certain words because I don't know how to spell them. Does Columbia have to know this?

As I begin to type I can't breathe because I hate everything that I am typing. Perhaps I hate it because I am typing a memoir. I'm trying to make it funny, but it's actually very painful. I resent the fact that I have to revisit these moments, but if they manage to get me into grad school I will thank my lucky stars that they happened.

I've always wanted to write a book, and my goal was to write one by the time I turned 30. I entered college with the hopes of gaining a writing career out of it, but there were other things that distracted me. Aside from winning an awesome dance competition, writing is my dream. I need to keep doing this and not be discouraged.

No boys or facebooking. Light blogging is allowed. I need to get my brain working and ready to write. It's like a warm up mile before a race.

Chug Chug CHOO CHOO bootch.