Think About It

To love at all is to be vulnerable. 

Love anything and your heart will be

wrung and possibly broken. 

If you want to make sure of keeping it intact 

you must give it to no one, 

not even an animal. 

Wrap it carefully round 

with hobbies and little luxuries; 

avoid all entanglements. 

Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. 

But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, 

it will change. 

It will not be broken;

 it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. 

To love is to be vulnerable.

C.S. Lewis

The Resilience of the Moon

A green glow from my watch reveals yet another combination of digits I am discouraged to see: 3:37 AM. Insomnia bites again; that nagging summer nuisance, persistent as a fly thirsting for glistening sweat that beads through the crimson skin of an exhausted body. Summer always brings about the worst of it. The stubborn spell of nearly sleepless nights is likely indicative that I’m overtraining... again.  

I lazily fight my awakened state, as I did at 12:13, 1:04, 1:56, and 2:42, readjusting my tired body onto my left side, then twisting over to my right, and seconds later flopping frustratingly onto my back. I’m still uncomfortable, still sleepless.

But a subtle tapping outside spurs my alertness.

Inconsistent and ceaseless, it sounds like a light rainstorm, the type of weather pattern I had wished for as plumes of dust rose from the narrow trail ahead of me yesterday evening as I weaved down the single track behind my dad. I was enthused to accompany him and two other mountain bikers on the ride for one sole reason: smoking them on the uphill. I daydreamed about their astonished babbling after they caught their breath at the hub of the mountain, ogling at me, the youthful specimen of elite athleticism. In this fantasy they would slap my dad on the shoulder, joking about the the questionable inheritance of his genes, and encouraging me to resurrect my past in competitive mountain biking.

In any case, reality yanked my feet back on the ground and I found that I was literally and figuratively dusted by the group on the technical downhill trail rendering me no chance at all to impress them with my leg strength on the uphill. My dad defended my pride by declaring that after eight years of mountain bike dormancy, I didn’t have my confidence up yet on the technical sections and that we would split off to the more familiar single track and let the other two romp down the mountain without us.

Meh, it never hurts to daydream. 
But, damn, I wish I could fall back asleep so that I could have real dreams.

Tap, tapity, tap, tap…

I don’t smell rain, and the beam of moonshine cast upon my bed further baffles me. It glares strong enough to illuminate my pen and paper. I strain for an explanation and the only one that comes to mind is that fragments of a meteor shower are scattering haplessly over earth… I once again have to tame my imagination.

I give into my sleepless state and rise from my bed, stumbling on achy legs to my windowsill to greet the full moon. After disengaging the screen from my window, I extend my arm out to catch several cold droplets. A deep breath wakens me to the subtle scent of fresh rainfall. Although delighted, I remain perplexed by the moon’s presence. Like his counterpart, the sun, he usually flees when the rain arrives. Yet tonight, I am charmed by their cooperation: the rain enlivens me with inspiration to write, and the moon shares his luminescence to guide my pen along a thin blue line of the paper.

Tapity, tap, tap…

I euphorically return to my bed, adjusting to the moonlight like a lazy dog would adjust to a warm ray of sunlight cast through the window on a chilly autumn evening. Submerging my body within the frame of the moon’s beam, I stare up into the boldest celestial body of the night sky. I watch as he gently deflects the clouds, which curve submissively around him as they would a mountaintop on a foggy morning. Nothing can steal his thunder tonight. Oh, how I envy his resilience.

As I peacefully drift back to relaxation, I tell myself the same thing I tell myself everyday: that I will let my body recover tomorrow. Paradoxically, recovery is always for tomorrow, and tomorrow is never today, so I continually push my limits day by day until I find my orbit again: the one among the stars that guides me to the moon.

           Being lost in space isn’t easy, it isn’t comfortable, and it sure the hell isn’t secure. It’s laborious, unbalanced, and obscure. For five months I was lost in the ill-represented space of an injured runner. Now that I’m back to running, I’m scared shitless of getting hurt again. My mileage is one third of my goal mileage for an ideal summer, so in desperation of feeling complete I juggle a multitude of substitutes including biking, elliptical, core workouts, Foundation, and power walking, which I strenuously pursue. I’m eager to reach a more stable and comfortable mileage so that I can invest all of my energy into running and take recovery more seriously. Fortunately I’m beginning to realize that I can’t keep aiming at the moon, but rather I must hop from star to star until I find my orbit again.

Currently obsessed with: Make it Up by Joe Purdy

Bon Iver...

Doin' Science

I dream someday that this sad excuse for a blog will blossom into a food/photography blog that depicts my cooking, travels, and love for the little things in life. As a full time student and runner (or cycler/aquajogger/ellipticaler at the moment), my posts have been sporadic and disjunctive, lacking the wholeness and flow I strive for.

Regardless of the content that is lacking, there are little things that excite me and that I feel the urge to write about or photograph. Recently I made cookies for my friend Mike’s birthday and was quite pleased with how they turned out! He is a graduate student who was my Microbiology Lab T.A. in the fall, and then was kind enough to take me under his wing and allow me to work with him in his research lab. We manipulate bacterial genetics in order to discover the function and importance of a competition-oriented family of membrane proteins, so I thought it would only be suiting to make him microbio cookies: 

Scientists, single colony isolation streak plating, Erlenmeyer flasks, test tubes, electrophoresis DNA gels, bacteriophage, and beakers.

If Biology was your thing, you’d need no explanation or caption, almost like an inside joke. But for all the non-scientifically inclined followers, these silly little frosted shapes are probably just “cute”, and quite frankly, I agree!

If only all science could be this fun!

What I'm listening to right now: The Temptation of Adam by Josh Ritter

Sunrise

Patience.

But I don’t wait for anything.

Time is the least expendable aspect in my life. Yet while I wring every last drop from each hour of the day, they evaporate during freefall. None collect into my empty glass.

Refocus: optimism…

Is the glass full?

Full of air – the most vital element to my survival.

It’s time I take a sip of what is in my glass.

Just breathe.

But patience is not my strength. 

Oh no, back to pessimism, doubt, insecurities. My muscles tremble when these emotions slink up from the shadows of my mind multiple times a day. They wrap their chilling fingers around pride’s neck… no air, no strength…and the world on my shoulders begins to sway.

I collect the light and shoo them back into the shadows.

But the barriers and obstacles are copius, and as I radiate the light, the shadows take shape behind them. These shadows shelter my negative daemons – the perfect refuge for those cold creatures.

With more light comes more shadows.

I never stop learning.

Refocus: rely on my resources…

I’m losing strength and my world is heading for it’s destructive plummet. As the globe on my shoulders teeters, I intuitively opt to keep the light. Although no drops of time have condensed into my glass, I lift it to my lips and sip.

One deep long draw of air fills my lungs.

Another sip and my chest rises.

I am elevated above the obstacles and my light shines down. The shadows shrink as I gulp the air from my glass.

Like sunrise.

Steady now, I stabilize my grip. I am composed. No more quiver, no more wobble.

With another gulp, the light that emits creates no shadows from this angle high above the barriers. With nowhere to hide, the daemons dissipate.

I am strong.

I am tall.

I am patient.

   

As the Sun Sips the Ocean's Venom

There’s a hole in my pocket where I hide all your faults

And I let them fall on through

Pretend that they’re far and few

My head’s always turned from the girls that you yearn

I know they’re no good for you

None are worth your pursuit

I’m breaking his heart to keep mine a la carte

I'm saving it up for you
‘Cause I can’t help but be true

There’s a void in my mind where I lose and refind

The years I’ve been loving you

You act like you never knew

I’m twisting your sternum to thieve your affection

Oh the larceny I stoop to

Yet I cannot break through

I’d wake in the dark to collect shooting stars

Wish our love burns a fiery hue

My efforts will soon subdue

I’m tangled up tight in the strings that you tied

I’m choking on my own noose

You left me a hopeless view

And I know it's not right, these feelings I fight

But I've tried all I can do

Will I ever get over you?

The Recess Bell Rings and I'm Heading Back to School

Now that winter break is nearing it’s unfortunate finale, I am left to reflect and appreciate the wonderful recess I had away from school. I won’t go as far as to say I was busy, but I was definitely never bored because I applied myself to so many hobbies and crafts. I usually make a checklist comprised of activities and projects I want to accomplish during a given break, but this time I just sat back and let the hobbies come to me.

And it was great.

This was the first time in a long time that I finished a novel. It was exciting to be so involved in a book that I didn’t want to put it down. What book was this, you may ask? Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton of course! I am a steadfast fan of the author, especially because he paints vivid pictures with his description and writes about biology-based subjects. I like being able to relate on an academic level while enjoying the story line as well.  

Handmade, aww yeah

I’ve also been crocheting. Yes, like a grandma would. It all started when I became curious about what kind of monsters have been dwelling under my bed while I’ve been off at college. I hesitantly extended my arm into the depths of darkness between my ancient box spring and the dusty carpet. If you’ve ever stared straight at the sun while doing the thizz face, then you’ve probably been wearing an expression similar to the one I was displaying as my fingers curled around the first object I pulled out from under my bed. As my fingers nervously grazed this furry object, my mind painted a vague representation of a dead animal about the size of a rabbit. I erased the image once my analytical brain decided that it wasn’t methane I was smelling but sooty dust, so I pulled the object out of it’s dark hiding place into the light of my room. It was Furby. Now the disgusted face I sported when I first touched the object creeped back as I sifted through memories of the damn toy and how freaking annoying it was, hence the reason it has been squirreled away under my bed for a decade. If you have had a Furby, I’m sure you understand; if not, I won’t torture you with a description of the nightmare of a toy it was. I stuck my hand back into the darkness and pulled out a few filled shoe boxes: one was full of notes and letters, which I figured could age a couple more years before I read through all of them. I did open a few letters out of curiosity, one from my first boyfriend and another from a friend who I haven’t heard from in four years. I wondered if they remember writing those notes or if they ever think back on the good times and struggles we had. It reminded me of how quickly we move on from events and feelings that seemed so significant at the time. Finally I pulled out the golden box (it wasn’t literally golden) and it revived an old chapter of my life. I opened it up and scanned its contents: vibrant fuzzy thread, aluminum hooked needles, and how-to manuals sparked my interest immediately. Crocheting made it’s cordial comeback into my life. I’ve made a beanie and a chalk bag so far, two projects I instill a great amount of pride in, mostly because they took so long and turned out pretty impressive looking. I’m currently working on a hobo bag, and I think it’s going to turn out really well.

Chalk Bag

Now, I’ve been woolgathering a lot about where I will be in five years. One vision that I keep building on is that after graduation, I sell everything I have that I don’t essentially need (which is a LOT of stuff) and hit the road in a dusty old pop-top Vanagon, camping in the cheapest campgrounds around the western U.S. and selling various handmade crafts (crocheted doodads, hemp bracelets, photography, dream catchers, etc.) and also playing small guitar gigs. I’ll hike and rock climb and simply enjoy the outdoors and the company of vagabonds I’ll meet on the way. I understand that there is a three percent chance that this fantasy will become reality, but it doesn’t hurt to dream, right? Anyway, in my preparation for the awesome future I will pursue, I have been sharpening my guitar mastery. I have quite the repertoire of songs after a month of practice and I’m excited to have callused my fingertips enough so it’s not at all painful to play for hours at a time. Playing guitar is my favorite hobby because it combines feelings with melody to present a liberating mode of expression. I’ve even started to write my own songs. To add to my musical career, I got a ukulele for Christmas!

Ian jumping rocks in Joshua Tree

I’ve been fairly active the last month, as expected. Running has had its ups and downs. It started out great while I hit 70 miles and 80 miles the first two weeks of break, but I was pretty flat afterword and had to decrease mileage last week and this week. I was running with my brother and friend Ian but they both got a tad bit injured so I’ve been running alone lately. I can’t wait to reunite with my team, running is so much better with friends. It’s still really early in the season so I’m not stressing speed, but am putting a lot of energy into abs, drills, Foundation, and miles. Enjoying the outdoors has been gratifying during this break as well. I visited the Palm Springs Tram, which is a large revolving gondola that transports people from the desert up to the summit above Idyllwild. For all the years I’ve lived in Idyllwild, I’ve never been on the tram, so it was exciting to check that off the bucket list. It was so cold at the top, with two feet of snow and chilling winds. Another trip I went on was a New Years camping trip in Joshua Tree. The whole family was back together since Jenn and Matt came down from Portland for a week, and we spent three days scrambling, hiking, sunbathing on massive rocks, and celebrating the arrival of the new year out in the middle of the desert.       

Joshua trees and one of the popular rock piles

The rest of my break consisted mostly of making homemade Christmas cards, listening to music, and taking photographs. I recently inherited an old film camera from my uncle but it has its glitches so I’m having a hard time being consistent with using it. I’ve also invested some time into my guilty pleasure… watching the show The Bachelor! I’m a real sucker for dating shows, and I made the mistake of watching the first episode of this season, so now I’m hooked.

The website I’m currently addicted to: Pinterest. Check it out! It’s perfect for dreamers.

I head back to school tomorrow, and I’m excited for a change of pace yet bummed to be putting my hobbies on hold for the sake of getting good grades and getting really fit for this coming track season. 

What am I listening to now? A lot of Joe Purdy and Josh Ritter. Listen to Mary May & Bobby by Joe Purdy