not always older than my age

I ordered a yoga mat last week, and only today while gathering the shipping info did I realize that it's not as long as I wanted it to be. I mean, the only reason I bought my own was because I wanted one that my feet wouldn't hang off of. I'm a little frustrated with my haste.

Regardless, it will still get a lot of use as I've been practicing at least once a week. My neighbor and virtual-older sister Cori introduced me to the Namaste studio in Royal Oak, and in particular their Thursday night class. I first went on my own, and struck up an acquaintanceship with the teacher, Lindsay. We've even become friends on Facebook, and I invited her to have coffee when our schedules allow. She seems like a nice and interesting person, but it's difficult to establish a friendship with someone who I've only met at the yoga studio.

I also rearranged the furniture of my apartment. I moved the bed into the room at the front of the house, and the futon and television into what used to be the bedroom. Not only will this offer a bedroom better connected with the air outside my window, and more condusive to sleep and creative inspiration (ie. writing, drawing), but there is a surreal element to having a shower and sink in the same room as the television.

Work was really engaging last week. I assisted Tanya for the first half of the week on some Chrysler, Jeep, and Dodge commercials relating to the Auto Show. We finished 14 spots by Wednesday, and though I haven't personally seen them on television, I imagine they'll be getting a lot of airtime before the end of the month.

On Thursday morning my car wouldn't start, but Julie let me borrow her's which allowed me to drive to work and to come back home during lunch and have my car towed down to the mechanic's. I got it back the next day, and had to have the remote start removed and the battery replaced. All in all, it could have been worse. I hadn't had any other major problems with the car, and hopefully won't experience more.

I drove out to my parent's Sunday night for dinner and to play dominoes with my aunt and uncle who were visiting. I woke up even earlier than usual on MLK day; while I had a vacation day from RingSide, I opted to do some freelance work with Michigan Productions. Our shoot went until 1:00, and afterwards I had lunch at Raja Rani (my favorite Indian restaurant.) My parents had never tried Indian food before, and they didn't like how spicy it was. I am glad they tried it, but I don't think we'll be going there again anytime soon.

This week is going to be busy. Today was taken up by all of the inauguration proceedings. Tomorrow is the monthly free movie in Eastern Market, as well as the season premiere of Lost. Thursday is RingSide's monthly bar night at The Loving Touch in Ferndale, and we're going to have the Silent Years play, who I've never heard but have been told are good. Saturday Ben and Brad will hopefully be coming out to go to the Auto Show, and Sunday I'm thinking of going to Cass Cafe for a benefit for the CAID.

what a new year means to me

2008 was not a year of anything specific. I am very aware of how everyone had a different year than anyone else. If I had to try and succinctly define my year, I would say it was a year of being wrong. My expectations were frequently faced with opposition. I learned hard lessons about communication, trust, and needs. Not to say that 2008 culminated in the resolution of these problems (I still have a lot to learn), but with a convenient benchmark in this new year, I have been reflecting on who I have been and how it isn't who I want to be anymore.

For me, the changing of calendars is more than a simple adjustment. With my birthday so early in January, my personal maturation is prominent even with everyone reflecting on their yearly growth. Not that I'm trying to come up with some excuse, but I am feeling an honest self-awareness that is prompting some refocused introspection. I have been misguidedly selfish; as with my generosity. I think I need to see the forest for the trees, if you know what I mean.

To put it simply, I know now that I have been trying too hard. I'm missing the point of my own tattoo. I had love twice, and for the feelings it never brought me, the wonders and joys have had me seeing it in friendship, lust, and desperation. Perhaps the only person I have not loved has been myself. And so I lash out at my parents, fall to timidity, and seek answers in style and state of mind. Really, form should follow function. So, let me put it this way:

Fuck all y'all.

Thinking too hard. Not thinking enough. This isn't about definition, or a simple solution. I am always overwhelmed. But, I can choose when and where and how to exert myself, and maybe that burden will begin to lift. Sure, idle hands to do the devil's work, but weary hands do no work at all. Some focused determination has made me an Assistant Editor, but the thin line I've been walking will not get me any further. It's high time I learned some real patience. "Calendars and crosshairs; for the earth spins ceaselessly"; what's the rush if I'm arriving unprepared? I am not turning myself around, there is still a lot of me that I like. I'd like for other people to like me as well. First, I've got to be someone. Someone. Myself.


(P.S. Best New Years party ever! Thank you Julie and Laura.)