Entry Way

The problem with having a blog is the shaping of my mind into blog enteries. Like I mentioned in one of my enteries from Guatemala, I title everything. I don't find myself doing that so much these days as actually writing little articles about themes, topics, ideas.... pretty much all the time. It's an ongoing monologue, and I'd like to learn how to quiet it... at times.



Today. Back Home and 25.



I ran today. Hahhaha. Wait. Lets rephrase that. I jogged today, slowly. My 1st jog as a 25 yr old. My short exercise adventure was absolutely delightful. I'm talking cherry on the top delicious moment. The sun was low in the sky over the ocean, I chose the grassy bluff path called Kortum trail and I took my easy jog through the mudpudles. Waves pummled the beaches and rocks, pelicans flew overhead and ravens fought in a bush of lupin. I mean, doesn't that sound amazing? I exaggerate no detail, except for that there were no cherries.







25.



I don't really like the attention you get on your birthday. I don't like being singled out like that, expected to be having the greatest day of all, and having people sing directly to you while you sit akwardly.

This year felt different. Felt like celebrating. Not me so much. But me as a part of so many. I mean, celebrating all in my life these past 25 minutes.

Felt like handing out some high fives and hugs. Good feelings.

Sushi. Is what we really did. Sushi and speeches. I akwardly made my way through something I've wanted to phrase out loud for a while, but something I've always felt embarassed to say. And, yup, I felt embarassed.

So, when do you just push past those feelings and do what you want to do? Say what you want to say?

I've got no answers. But your birthday sure feels like an OK time to say those things :-).


I'm finishing this post much past my birthday.... on my new desire to finish things in life. To give fruition, to finally make myself not be so half-arsed about so many things. So here it is, out of order, but I'm fixing all my old 'draft' posts and just posting them. Not really the "things in life" i feel the deepest to finish, but, feels ok to do it nonetheless.

Snow

The Snow.

You can forget how wonderful the soft blanket of white is... after decades of pushing it over, moving it, sloshing through it and struggling with it... you forget how wonderful, how beautiful.... or maybe you just temporarily forget...

the snow here in flagstaff makes me miss home. Makes me miss being a kid, cold nose and fingers playing in the snow for hours... chewing on the bottom of my face mask and loosing feeling in my toes... snow always crusting in my hair. Breathing in the the snow, face close... snow tunnels and shelters... sledding, bounding, skiing, building castles and snow kingdoms. Snowballs and slidding down hills... road salt treasures and sweet slow slow flakes on the tounge.

the soft big fat flakes in the trees,
crunching underfoot,
coating and covering, and then the silence....
the silence of snow.
the silence of snow in the forest.

the sweet. soft. silence of snow.

Living Da Vida Vegas

Here I am again. Sitting comfortably on the 50s style baby blue couch that contrasts and yet compliments my uncle's modern style Vegas home.

How many entries I would have written in the past five days, more than anyone could have handled to read, and more than my hands could have handled to type.

In the basics, as a refresher for myself heres what myself has been up to:

The New Years Eve Party... the drunk theif, thick smokey air, canadians, and fire in the eye.

Friday I wandered, wandered wandered... and then went to QTs and got medicine that made my mouth numb... crazy. Besides that, I relaxed and prepared for the next day. Oh and wrote in spanish. no es fasil.

Saturday I went to Georgians Fuentes in the am and met five women who braved the hot waters with me. Soups, Salad and Spinning would be the title of that day.

A quick shower, and pack and I was put on a bus (after a few tears on my part) to another bus, to yet another bus, to Josettes house.

Oh Josette's house, what a story onto itself.

The next day, after coffee and a bit of laying down, I made my way to San Marcos. San Marcos is exactly what both the guide book and Laura said that is was: just a chill hippy spot in the world. Yoga, meditation and tofu would sum up that spot... of course that would leave out the beautiful setting and coffee plants, and the extreme amount of gringos and expats. I saw more white people than Guatemalans.

So what did I do there? Two main things. One, I was sick, and couldn't shake it. I would swell with a short fever, then get so dizzy I had to hold onto a banana tree, then get really pissed off and slow down, grumbling about the unfairness of the world. Then I got over my own anger, and just kept blowing my nose. I learned however, not to blow my nose too hard, because it left one ear deaf and the world spinning like ten beers too many. Oh well, was my eventual opinion about the cold that wouldn't leave, oh well, can't do too much about it. Water, tinctures, vitamin c, and thank goodness I packed three hankies.

What else did I do? Nothing. I read a book, 500 pages, in one day. That was nice. The book wasn't nice at all, but the idea of reading in a hammock, which had been my goal, was accomplished. Along with nothing, I went to San Pedro, went out to eat, baked a chocolate cake with the other Hostelers, plaid twister and went cliff jumping and swimming in the lake. Which, has not been explained, is the most beautiful lake I have ever seen... although Rushford pond is pretty sweet.

After many conversations with the other four hostel folks that became my travel friends, I said my goodbyes on the third day, and then boated back to Pana to meet Josette and overspend on souvenirs I am sure I do not need.

A bus ride of crazy proportions with a car full of frenchies, traffic jams that make traffic jams jealous and another bus ride later, and I was the last person dropped off... safely to my hostel in Guatemala City. Cheese pizza, conversation with Nadia and a million kleenex later, I went to bed. 4 am came and with it was I swept off to the airport.

Not too much to be said about 2 planes and 7 hours of waiting in Mexico City airport. Except, it is not designed for sleepy travelers... and Chicken Soup for the Singles Soul... is not a good book.

And Vegas. So many hours later. Finally. Vegas. Here I am. The greatest contrast as of yet.

I can't get rid of this cold, which has manifested into an intense sinus headache. Medicine I took threw me off majorly, putting me in a haze and causing all my facial muscles to seize in pain (or just hurt, really, but seize in pain sounds nicer). We saw O last night, which was amazing. AMAZING.

As my uncle says himself, "You have the best uncle." It's true, I do. And now we're going to make breakfast and head out into the sunny world. If only I could pull this head off and shake it out, screw it back on and feel good. Oh well, nothing can beat the sickness of Morocco 2009, so I'll take this happily (or, not too angrily).