"I don't do goofy photos."

It's simple words like those that baffle me.

We were taking group photos earlier tonight, and someone said we should switch it up, "Let's do goofy photos...!" And behind me I hear "Yea I don't DO goofy photos," as a few others chimed in.

What does that mean? When did they lose the sense of fun and ridiculousness that I think is vital to one's well-being? Was it they never learned the importance of play? Or is it a public versus private persona that is being threatened?  So many questions, so little time to run studies to find out.... 

~~~

Yesterday, my boyfriend started to ask me to imagine a time when I was uncomfortable socially. He stopped before he was done asking the question as he realized that I was incapable of ever being uncomfortable socially, and therefore couldn't fathom such an idea. Yes. By all considerations or measurements, I'm an extrovert who thrives in social situations. I don't, however, reach out to fulfill a need to be social.  I am perfectly content curled up in front of a big screen watching re-runs of my favorite rom-com's. 

In many respects, I reach out to fulfill others' needs to connect with another human being. I see people and I read their sadness. Their anxiety. Their uncertainty. I speak to them plainly, and I gain their trust, as some have articulated, "I don't know why, but I'm comfortable with you" when they are normally reticent. I appreciate their trust, and I do my damnedest to keep the fragile connection.  Frequently I wish I could do more. I wish I could resolve their problems. I wish I had more resources than just my time and my honesty. Yes, I know it matters because we live in a strange world where "social media" is the buzz word, yet Wherever I look, we're looking down, and not at each other.  

~~~

So if you were wondering, my foray into Introduction to Apparel Construction has had mixed results. The good? I now know how to sew a button! AND to operate an industrial sewing machine! AND sew a straight line!  The bad? I am easily just as slow at sewing as I am at writing papers.  I don't know if it falls under time management as I know what needs to be done and I know the deadlines I face, and even as I work incredibly hard and continuously, I just always seem to fall behind. "Slow and steady wins the race," doesn't quite work in academia. Especially not in a quarter system.   Nevertheless, the first sewing project I completed was the assembly of a bag that was made from 40 disposable plastic bags!  And yes, I patted myself on the back when I completed it, and I have been carrying it around everywhere.

Picture to follow.

...and I need to write more. 

Public Introspection

Introspection. Is it a lost art?

Technically I'm being introspective when I type up these posts, yet a part of me recognize the voyeuristic qualities of a blog, where your words aren't just a practice in narcissism and there's a larger audience in mind. In my case, I suppose the audience is anyone who care to read my writing. It feeds to my vanity as a unrealized novelist. Perhaps one day. When I have a good story to tell.

I'm in the midst of a meandering Summer, the beginning of which started off fortuitously, only to quickly flame out when my curmudgeo-ness caught up. I was in a situation where rather than stay in and try to talk it out and to justify my reasoning, I decided to gracefully bow out before I rained my 32-year-old insight all over someone else's parade. 

Yesterday my dear friend +My-An Le shared with me a blurb written by the stupendous Olivia Wilde in Glamour, where she touted the turning of age when one becomes 30, or as Ms. Wilde dubbed, the "Cut the Bullsh-t and Go Be Awesome" stage. I couldn't help but chuckle at the "truthiness" of it all... perhaps with the exception of the "Don't cut your face," which applies to a vastly smaller percentage of women I would imagine than the rest. 

Over the past 6 months I'd noticed that I was becoming increasingly aggravated by what I loved the most in this world, and that is simply, People. Ever since I made my way back to school, I find myself surrounded by peers who were not my age, or where I was "in my head." When this is reflected in conversation, it finally dawned on me that it was like trying to have a conversation with myself in my early 20's. Sure I was introspective and thoughtful then, but my responses would not be what they are today. I don't carry myself the same way, nor do I have the same tendencies, expectations, or motivations. I finally realized that I had to leave it alone... to let them experience time as I did. To not force them to see things from my perspective, which is more universal than even I might wish to think... just universal for those who are also of my age. 

On the flip side, it's gratifying to be in a position to say what I want to say, and rather than experience the panic of "I don't think they understood let me try and explain myself..." I'm okay with leaving it there, having the assurance that what I said was what I meant, and that was enough. Misinterpretation may occur, but it's not for me to fix. If what I said was in good faith, it ought to be enough. It's also okay to not be the first person to say something. Or the last. 

If anything, this vacation has been a welcomed break from the rigors of academia and the routine of work. It's giving me a chance to clear out the intricate cobwebs that have been woven in the dark corners of my mind where creativity has taken to hibernation. A deep, deep, slumber that I hope to awaken this Fall when I take "Introduction to Apparel Construction."  That's right, I'm 32 but to this date I've not learned how to sew a button. And now that all of my core coursework for my Master's have been completed... time to take on new challenges! One. Button. At. A. Time.

Tim Gunn, I'm coming for you...! 

On teaching

A few days ago I happened across my old MySpace page. A page that I've decided to treat as a commemorative site for a moment frozen in time. In typical fashion, I re-traced my steps, and read my old blog entries... and yet again, I felt an injustice for myself, in not following through on writing these entries, because I clearly enjoy writing.

A quick recognition to "Tristan," a young man whose blog has inspired this particular post, and also a quick hello to all those who may at some point or another, by choice or by chance, live inside our heads. Social norms be damned, there is something to be said about being communicate with one's words, if nothing else. All the great ones did, no? So keep writing Tristan!

The title of this entry is titled "On Teaching," if only to put a context to where I am in my life. I'm teaching! The experience has been tremendous. With a bit of training, some guidance, a whole lot of verve, I've been instinctively doing what I think ought to be done. I am profoundly humbled by the task of educating college students, wishing only to serve them well, and helping them figure out how best to apply what they learn in my classroom once they leave my classroom.

(Quick segue --- I've a tooth that's threatening to eat my face. OUCH. Off to the dentist the first thing tomorrow, sans insurance. All fingers crossed.)

(Quick Segue #2 --- I'm now listening to the "Into the Woods" Pandora Station I created this afternoon. The sing-along-ability is not helping with my toothache.)

Back to teaching... like most of my peers, there is a frustration with students not demonstrating an understanding of the material. But my frustration inevitably lies with myself... what am I not doing? It MUST be how I'm not communicating concepts clearly. Hmmm... a constant work in progress. Let's call it: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

(Pocahontas!)

I've work to do, so I'll keep this short and say simply that: I LOVE teaching. I only wish to be better. Always better. The best. It's something to strive for I think.

Be well,
"Ms. Chee" --- ha!  :)

What? Summer Vacation?

I feel 12 again, this is fabulous. I have the Summer off. Perks of being a student with supportive parents and a healthy (i.e. substantial) amount of student loan debt.

Downside of being a student at 31, there's no PE class. I'm also not fudging around with taking beginning volleyball or any  "fun" classes.  I've picked up a fairly sedentary lifestyle, the impact of which I did not feel (nor did I see) until school wrapped. I went home, looked in the full-length mirror, and...and... I went online.  Which brings us to this particular blog entry:  FREE SHIT IN LOS ANGELES!

Pardon the language, but it was too catchy to avoid.

I hadn't realize that most gyms/workout spaces in the area extended a first class for FREE --- a trial for you to figure out if it works for you. So for each of the places that I found interesting, I have officially signed on to a free class so I can figure out what I can commit to and what fit my ADD exercise style. And so, Operation Body Shock is now underway...

Pure Barre, Pasadena --- There's something to be said about being the first one in class. It's slightly awkward, especially since I'd never been there before. The receptionist girl was friendly and helpful, although I don't think she realized the extent of my uncertainty.  "Oh you can go ahead and stretch in the studio if you'd like."  Oh... stretch huh... just walk into the studio and stretch...  Yes I know it sounds simple, but I'd no clue what I was in for, where I should put myself, etc. And then people showed up, one smiled when we caught each other's eyes. No one else did. Four other girls who clearly had been there before, arrived, grabbed the weights and ball, sat and well, stretched. They avoided eye contact with each other and absolutely did not smile. STRANGE.   Anyway, to the workout, no introduction, no coddling, no differentiation between newbies and none, just straight to the exercises. At first I was a bit disconcerted, and then I kind of liked it... the quick transition from move to move, the jello-like shaking of my legs, the exasperated gasps of people failing a move, the chuckles at a particularly difficult routine.  It was a lot like Pilates, and a lot less actual bar work than I was expecting although I didn't have too much expectation, I've figured out that's the best way to approach anything new. I spoke with Melanie the trainer after the session, she said I did well for my first time and I asked her at what point do my muscles stop jiggling. Apparently it doesn't ever really.

The Cycle Annex, South Pasadena --- Michelle, the trainer for the 8:30am session welcomed me, I liked her immediately. I enjoyed her style, very matter-of-fact, "just-do-it!" directness that I appreciated. She fitted me for my bike, told me to start peddling as I waited for the 9:45am class to begin. Folks filtered in (friendly, direct eye contact...lol), along with Leslie, the trainer. She was bubbly, energetic and very encouraging. What followed was a lot of breathing, watching my form, concentrating on getting through the muscle spasms and minor freakouts where I'm panicking I can't get through the next 10 seconds, the breath goes away and I have to sit instead of ride off-straddle. HOWEVER, I think I did fairly well for a first-time, again, no expectations, just a lot of uncertainty yet willingness to push myself. My thighs are burning.  Leslie too said I performed really well and didn't appear to be a first-timer. I met Brandon, who started the gym. Overall, I really like the space, their philosophy, the ease of it all... AND, the fact it's in my favorite part of town. Right next to Heirloom, which I promptly visited for a French Chicken Sandwich and coffee. 

Next, Rock It Workout for a routine they call Barre Fly --- this is definitely a fancier gym, complete with a tea bar and a DJ for every group class. In some respect it's not my kind of environment, but I'm determined to keep an open mind, especially when they have the most inexpensive deal that I've seen for their group classes.

Oh!  It's not just workouts that are free in LA ---

Downtown Property Tour, Los Angeles --- Hal Bastien is an excellent tour-guide given his insight into the history of Los Angeles and his passion for its growth. This free tour is a great way to see different parts of the city and to get an idea of the neighborhoods.

Self-Guided Audio Tour, Disney Music Center --- Despite the fact that I've attended numerous concerts and have actually sung at the venue, I'd never attended the tour. A tip --- use the self-guided audio option, it's fantastic! John Lithgow is the narrator, and the guided tour gives the exact same information, and unfortunately when my brother and I were on our tour, we came across the group that was being guided by an actual tour, and she was really not good. She didn't have the same delivery as John Lithgow :)   Very insightful, and completely free! 

Tonight I'm headed to the KJAzz series on the westside at the Century Mall for some free Jazz... free jazz!!!  I met a new friend at the Vox Gala awhile back and she has her own trio... it should be marvelous.

Free shit in LA, who'd thunk it ;)

Sure signs that I'm putting off writing a paper

* The laundry is done
* Some form of re-organization has taken place with the BF's closet
* The furniture has been re-arranged
* The dishes are done (not yet, but they will be)
* My Hulu queue is decidedly shorter
* ...I'm blogging.

But unlike any other day, today is a special day. Today, I get to stand on the stage at Disney Music Center, albeit not to give a performance, but I get to rehearse in the magical space! In front of Grant Gershon and with many many many many many other choral singers!

Vox is a part of Mahler 8, billed as the "MUSICAL EVENT OF THE DECADE!!! DUM DUM DUM!" Along with the LA Phil (DUDAMEL!), LA Master Chorale, National Children's Chorus, we will be 800 choral singers strong for a SYMPHONY OF A THOUSAND!!! And while my dear friend Marcela will tell you, Mahler did not truly intend for it to be 1,000 people when he wrote it and only 300 actually performed in that first performance, it will be quite awe-inspiring. We will be a part of a sold-out performance (4,300 tickets!) at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles, and I will undoubtedly, be quite frankly, petrified.

19 hours in formal rehearsal between now and the evening of February 4th when we are scheduled to perform. That's 19 hours to put on my big-girl's choral pants and truly learn the piece and be able to do it justice. That's 19 hours until... THE MUSICAL EVENT OF THE DECAD...

You get the idea.  So can you blame me for being so distracted that I cannot complete my paper that was in fact, due, yesterday...? 

That's just an excuse, I really do need to finish this paper. For more info on this epic performance, check out www.LaPhil.org!

One day at a time

And a year at a time.

Sooner or later this will all work out.


~~~


There was a singular moment two years ago, when I was in Taiwan, where it struck me that what I was feeling at that moment was rare, and perfect. I'd stopped myself to 'be in the moment.' - as cheesy as that sounds. I closed my eyes and held onto it... wishing it could become reflexive, like muscle memory where at a later date, when I was feeling less than divine, I could recall that moment and all would be well. I held on tight to the feeling in my balled fists... and wished and hoped.

I've not felt quite like it since. But I relish in the fact that it was mine for even a little while... perfect serenity. Eager anticipation. Calm happiness.

~~~

On the recent trip to Iowa, there were many similar moments. Not of perfect contentment, but one of 'let me appreciate this moment'. As I sat in the grass in a beautiful backyard, as I looked out of the car window at the expansive canyons, the wide open fields, the puffs of clouds... the skies... I wanted to breathe it all in, bottle it up and save it for later, when I'm sitting in front of my computer screen as I am now, wondering when I'll next be out on the road.

~~~

School's starting in 3 days. Timely distraction.

~~~

Made a friend today. Even if it was just for an hour or two. I shall call him the great Dane. Not of the canine variety... just originally from Denmark. Has a 17-year-old son who's into what sounds like extreme skateboarding. Come to find out the daredevil streak was passed down by pops, who used to be a skier, dirt-biker, and scuba diver... complete with broken fingers etc. Asked me every question under the sky without it ever feeling intrusive, just born of curiosity and good-will.

I'd write more... but I'm tired.

Duke just ate his food. With me watching.