Remember that shiny and new relationship I wrote about earlier? Well it's not shiny and new anymore. It's broken. Bryce and I decided to break up the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We each had our own reasons for breaking up: him because of me, and me because of him. However, the break up was surprisingly civil, which is the best you can hope for in situations such as these. The reason I want to type this up and put it out into the internet universe is because of what happened to me afterward.
Sunday morning I woke early, got ready, cried a little as I drove to church, and sat on the pew next to my brother. I told him what happened. Aaron turned to me and said, "You broke up? For how long? Or I guess it's a permanent thing." I laughed inside remembering a past relationship with a few not-so-permanent breakups, Aaron's question was a legitimate one. However, this break feels un-fixable on my end. I had done all I could and was at peace with claiming defeat. The question intrigued me and I spent a few moments mulling over what I would say to Bryce if he came back to me to pitch the idea of "us" again.
I stopped dead in my mental tracks. "Liann. Live in the present." The thought resounded loudly in my mind.
This concept of living in the present is one we talked about in my yoga teacher training. When in a difficult or uncomfortable yoga pose people often think, "Oh man! Oh man! When is this going to be over?" Or if you're me you are simply counting your breaths swearing you'll kill the teacher if she doesn't stick to the "5 more breaths" like she promised. Whatever it is, people tend to escape the pain by putting their minds anywhere else but on their mat in that moment.
So I thought, "Well, what is in your present?" The answer:
emptiness
At that moment I could feel the empty space in my chest and stomach. It was as if I could inhale and inhale and never fill that space. It felt wide, expansive. As I looked into that space I felt a little uncomfortable, scared even.
I then asked myself, "What do you want to fill this space with Liann?"
"I could fill it with bitterness, resentment, and sadness." I answered. Which is something I have done in the past. I poisoned my heart so much that it took years and even a 7 month long trip to India before I was fully able to love again. I shuddered.
With that emptiness tugging at me I then thought, "Or, I could fill it with other things." I then thought of how much more time, more emotional energy, more thinking "space" I have now that I'm not dating Bryce. I can make more friends in my current ward, read more books, focus on yoga more, spend more time at the gym, set aside more time for me and God, sign up for that book binding class I found weeks ago, and maybe even spare some vacation days for a trip to Europe next year.
I became hopeful with the possibilities of what I could do with all that empty space.
Whenever I find myself thinking unhelpful thoughts about Bryce and I (things like daydreaming about what I'd say to Bryce if he came back) I stop myself. I remind myself that that isn't in my present. I then meditate on that empty space I found so unpleasant and yet so hopeful. And whatever I feel passes.
While I am still allowing myself time to mourn, to work through the past as it relates to my present, I am careful about what I am filling my present emptiness with. And I've noticed that each time I peak into that empty space within me I find that a few more things have slipped themselves into there and it doesn't feel so vast and scary anymore.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Becoming
In the last General Conference Elder Scott said, "We become what we want to be by consistently being what we want to become each day."
I've been thinking a lot about that quote lately. It's gotten me out of bed in the wee hours of the morning so I can exercise at the gym. It's also helped me be a little cleaner around the apartment and more thoughtful of my roommates.
Because he's right, if I'm not being those things now, I will most likely never become those things later. But I have to admit all this "becoming" business is quite exhausting.
I've been thinking a lot about that quote lately. It's gotten me out of bed in the wee hours of the morning so I can exercise at the gym. It's also helped me be a little cleaner around the apartment and more thoughtful of my roommates.
Because he's right, if I'm not being those things now, I will most likely never become those things later. But I have to admit all this "becoming" business is quite exhausting.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Grateful for the beginning of other things.
It’s 2010, the unemployment rate is up, but I, Liann Seiter M.S., have a job. This path has been long and hard for me. This transition into post-collegiate life has been a challenge. I love being a student. I didn’t realize how much I love it until I found myself making cute little flashcards for the Foreign Service Officer exam. Silly me and my obsession with Back to School supplies at Target.
While I may be a bit remiss to leave behind my title as student, I am looking forward to start with my new title of Research Associate at American Institutes for Research. I have been temping there for a few months now, hoping to get an “in,” and well, now I’m in.
When I think about this job offer I have the same welling up of confusing and potent emotions I have when I think about graduating. I am so grateful my heart knows no other way to express it except push water out of my tear ducts.
I take that back, my heart did lead me to write out a stack of thank you cards to people who helped along the way: my parents, the people in the Field Studies office, and a few professors. I was even considering writing a card to God, making tangible the emotion that’s been filling my insides. I ran out of cards before I could write one to God. But I keep thinking of more people I want to thank: past roommates, old friends, fellow BYU grad students. I could not have made it through those years sane without them. So, maybe I’ll buy (or make) more cards and make physical evidence of the emotion which seems to be overflowing right now.
While I may be a bit remiss to leave behind my title as student, I am looking forward to start with my new title of Research Associate at American Institutes for Research. I have been temping there for a few months now, hoping to get an “in,” and well, now I’m in.
When I think about this job offer I have the same welling up of confusing and potent emotions I have when I think about graduating. I am so grateful my heart knows no other way to express it except push water out of my tear ducts.
I take that back, my heart did lead me to write out a stack of thank you cards to people who helped along the way: my parents, the people in the Field Studies office, and a few professors. I was even considering writing a card to God, making tangible the emotion that’s been filling my insides. I ran out of cards before I could write one to God. But I keep thinking of more people I want to thank: past roommates, old friends, fellow BYU grad students. I could not have made it through those years sane without them. So, maybe I’ll buy (or make) more cards and make physical evidence of the emotion which seems to be overflowing right now.
Grateful for the end of some things.
I recently got word that the Journal of Adolescent Research is going to publish the article version of my thesis (with me as the first author!). My little heart thumps loudly at the thought of all my work being printed in a big, fancy, peer-reviewed journal. Only people with letters after their names do things like that. Wait. I have letters after my name. In case you didn’t know my name is actually:
Liann Seiter M.S.
It even says so at the top of my resume (but only after a colleague suggested it). Before then is just read:
Liann Seiter
So much fancier with those extra letters eh?
In related news, I finally got around to calling BYU to get my diploma mailed to me—apparently there was a hold on my account because I had not turned in an ecclesiastical endorsement for fall semester. That honor code office, always keeping an eye out for my soul even as an alumni. Luckily I got that cleared up. I’m graduated and can have my boyfriend over as late as I want. But thanks to my 40 hour a week work schedule “as late as I want” usually means 11, sometimes 11:30.
I keep thinking that maybe when I get that fancy piece of paper this graduation thing will feel more real. But in all probability I will open that package, sit in the middle of my bedroom floor next to a pile of my laundry and cry.
There’s something about finishing such a hard thing that makes me want to cry. I don’t know quite how to explain it, but it’s something like this: I can emotionally revisit the pain of all those lonely months of working on my thesis, be happy that that damn paper is finished, feel grateful it was good enough to publish, and wallow a little in sadness because I won’t be able to sit around and shoot the intellectual breeze with my cohort in that little grad lab ever again.
I’m grateful. So grateful I don’t even know quite how to express it without a little rambling.
Liann Seiter M.S.
It even says so at the top of my resume (but only after a colleague suggested it). Before then is just read:
Liann Seiter
So much fancier with those extra letters eh?
In related news, I finally got around to calling BYU to get my diploma mailed to me—apparently there was a hold on my account because I had not turned in an ecclesiastical endorsement for fall semester. That honor code office, always keeping an eye out for my soul even as an alumni. Luckily I got that cleared up. I’m graduated and can have my boyfriend over as late as I want. But thanks to my 40 hour a week work schedule “as late as I want” usually means 11, sometimes 11:30.
I keep thinking that maybe when I get that fancy piece of paper this graduation thing will feel more real. But in all probability I will open that package, sit in the middle of my bedroom floor next to a pile of my laundry and cry.
There’s something about finishing such a hard thing that makes me want to cry. I don’t know quite how to explain it, but it’s something like this: I can emotionally revisit the pain of all those lonely months of working on my thesis, be happy that that damn paper is finished, feel grateful it was good enough to publish, and wallow a little in sadness because I won’t be able to sit around and shoot the intellectual breeze with my cohort in that little grad lab ever again.
I’m grateful. So grateful I don’t even know quite how to express it without a little rambling.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Le Sigh
A good friend from BYU called me the weekend before last and during our conversation he referred to something in my latest blog post, which reminded me that I have not written in ages!
There are a few reasons for my neglect: I’ve been busy moving to a new apartment, studying for the FSO exam, volunteering as a temple worker weekly, working a temp job, and interviewing for a permanent position at my temp job (more on that later). But really the main reason has a name and his name is Bryce. We officially decided to use the title “boyfriend/girlfriend” about a month ago (a declaration of mutual affection was signed and the title put into effect) and I have been sleep deprived and love sick since then.
Now, while I don’t like blogging about my dating life I did want to “talk” about this one thing: the newness and freshness that comes with the beginning of dating relationships. Having felt battle worn and a bit weary in the dating scene I have been struck by how entirely beautiful it is to start with this clean, (unabashedly) loving relationship.
Do you know what I’m trying express?
We haven’t said any harsh words or gotten tangled in negative emotions—it’s so shiny, and free from problems. Instead of having to work out our differences, we’re having seemingly endless conversations about deep and beautiful things. We’re holding hands anytime we’re together, shyly kissing goodnight at the door, and sending the occasional flirtatious text during the day. Writing love letters and making mixes of love songs. Not to mention keeping each other out later and later. I forgot how fun this could be. It's all that cheesy stuff love songs are written about.
As stated in a previous blog post I felt frustrated when couples would say, “enjoy this time it’s so fun.” I still consider the insecurity of getting into a relationship taxing, but I find the first part of committed relationships quite delightful. While I know this “newness” won’t last forever, I’m certainly enjoying it now.
So for now, Le sigh.
There are a few reasons for my neglect: I’ve been busy moving to a new apartment, studying for the FSO exam, volunteering as a temple worker weekly, working a temp job, and interviewing for a permanent position at my temp job (more on that later). But really the main reason has a name and his name is Bryce. We officially decided to use the title “boyfriend/girlfriend” about a month ago (a declaration of mutual affection was signed and the title put into effect) and I have been sleep deprived and love sick since then.
Now, while I don’t like blogging about my dating life I did want to “talk” about this one thing: the newness and freshness that comes with the beginning of dating relationships. Having felt battle worn and a bit weary in the dating scene I have been struck by how entirely beautiful it is to start with this clean, (unabashedly) loving relationship.
Do you know what I’m trying express?
We haven’t said any harsh words or gotten tangled in negative emotions—it’s so shiny, and free from problems. Instead of having to work out our differences, we’re having seemingly endless conversations about deep and beautiful things. We’re holding hands anytime we’re together, shyly kissing goodnight at the door, and sending the occasional flirtatious text during the day. Writing love letters and making mixes of love songs. Not to mention keeping each other out later and later. I forgot how fun this could be. It's all that cheesy stuff love songs are written about.
As stated in a previous blog post I felt frustrated when couples would say, “enjoy this time it’s so fun.” I still consider the insecurity of getting into a relationship taxing, but I find the first part of committed relationships quite delightful. While I know this “newness” won’t last forever, I’m certainly enjoying it now.
So for now, Le sigh.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Book, books, and more books
So as you may be able to tell from the last entry I've been spending a lot of time reading as of late. With over an hour commute on the metro/bus each morning and evening I have had some delightful chance to read. So I thought I'd tell you what I'm reading and what I think about it:
An Accomplished Woman by Jude Morgan: I have been ashamed to admit it in the past, but I'll confess I am a fan of Jane Austin novels. Unfortunately having read all of her works I find that I'm like a drug addict stranded on a desert island in need of a fix. Luckily there is the occasional book like An Accomplished Woman that drifts onto shore to help me cope. This book is delightfully light and for women like me, worth a read.
The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho: I fell in love with Coelho when I read his Book The Alchemist. My hopes for this novel became particularly high when a woman on the metro saw me reading this and gushed about how much she enjoyed the book and likes to reread it to connect with its ideas. I will say I like the concept of getting out of comfort zone to come to a new truth. I enjoyed how the ending brought a new depth and meaning to the entire book. But all in all, I didn't feel the same way I did when I finished The Alchemist--like I had been given a whole new perspective on living.
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy: I find Cormac McCarthy's writing style absolutely captivating and his stories gruesome and disturbing, but maybe still worth the telling. While in India I was consumed by reading The Road, to the point where I stayed up one night under my sheet, flashlight in hand to finish it. His books have a depth that easily insights interesting conversation. I only wish I had people around me I could talk to about the book like I did when I read The Road.
Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus by John Gray: As a snobby sociologist I scoffed at the implications this book has on the continuation of gendered norms. However, a boyfriend once read this book and claimed that it was truer than the Old Testament. When ranking truthfulness of scripture for him it was: The Book of Mormon, The New Testament, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, and The Old Testament. On his recommendation I purchased the book at a used bookstore and read through many of the chapters, but never finished it. This summer I dug that old copy out of my box of books and read all the way through. It has surely opened my eyes and given me a new lens to use when viewing romantic relationships. As the author admits these patterns aren't true of everyone all the time. But I feel like I've had a peak into the other team's playbook, but rather than beating them, it will help me play better with them.
Dune by Frank Herbert: A friend and I decided we would read Dune for a book club with just the two of us. As I've been carrying around this book with me I have gotten into so many conversations with random people about how great this book is. I had no idea. Apparently growing up my nerdy friends were either (a) not nerdy enough or (b) not good friends because NO ONE EVER TOLD ME ABOUT DUNE before now! The characters are layered, the world fascinating but not too confusing, the writing engaging, and the plot intense. My metro rides have never seemed so short! I felt like for a time there I was rambling in the Dune world. I have yet to pick up the next in the series because I have things in this world that do need to get done.
Bonds That Make Us Free by Terry Warner: I was introduced to this book my freshmen year of college in a Philosophy class. I was intrigued so I bought the book, started it, but never finished it. While reading it I look back on my actions in past relationships and see the problems we had in a whole new light. I wonder how different those relationships would have been had I known then what I know now. Not that I feel regret, just a desire to change now. I'm still confused on how to escape cycles of self deception in my own life, but I am looking forward to trying.
An Accomplished Woman by Jude Morgan: I have been ashamed to admit it in the past, but I'll confess I am a fan of Jane Austin novels. Unfortunately having read all of her works I find that I'm like a drug addict stranded on a desert island in need of a fix. Luckily there is the occasional book like An Accomplished Woman that drifts onto shore to help me cope. This book is delightfully light and for women like me, worth a read.
The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho: I fell in love with Coelho when I read his Book The Alchemist. My hopes for this novel became particularly high when a woman on the metro saw me reading this and gushed about how much she enjoyed the book and likes to reread it to connect with its ideas. I will say I like the concept of getting out of comfort zone to come to a new truth. I enjoyed how the ending brought a new depth and meaning to the entire book. But all in all, I didn't feel the same way I did when I finished The Alchemist--like I had been given a whole new perspective on living.
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy: I find Cormac McCarthy's writing style absolutely captivating and his stories gruesome and disturbing, but maybe still worth the telling. While in India I was consumed by reading The Road, to the point where I stayed up one night under my sheet, flashlight in hand to finish it. His books have a depth that easily insights interesting conversation. I only wish I had people around me I could talk to about the book like I did when I read The Road.
Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus by John Gray: As a snobby sociologist I scoffed at the implications this book has on the continuation of gendered norms. However, a boyfriend once read this book and claimed that it was truer than the Old Testament. When ranking truthfulness of scripture for him it was: The Book of Mormon, The New Testament, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, and The Old Testament. On his recommendation I purchased the book at a used bookstore and read through many of the chapters, but never finished it. This summer I dug that old copy out of my box of books and read all the way through. It has surely opened my eyes and given me a new lens to use when viewing romantic relationships. As the author admits these patterns aren't true of everyone all the time. But I feel like I've had a peak into the other team's playbook, but rather than beating them, it will help me play better with them.
Dune by Frank Herbert: A friend and I decided we would read Dune for a book club with just the two of us. As I've been carrying around this book with me I have gotten into so many conversations with random people about how great this book is. I had no idea. Apparently growing up my nerdy friends were either (a) not nerdy enough or (b) not good friends because NO ONE EVER TOLD ME ABOUT DUNE before now! The characters are layered, the world fascinating but not too confusing, the writing engaging, and the plot intense. My metro rides have never seemed so short! I felt like for a time there I was rambling in the Dune world. I have yet to pick up the next in the series because I have things in this world that do need to get done.
Bonds That Make Us Free by Terry Warner: I was introduced to this book my freshmen year of college in a Philosophy class. I was intrigued so I bought the book, started it, but never finished it. While reading it I look back on my actions in past relationships and see the problems we had in a whole new light. I wonder how different those relationships would have been had I known then what I know now. Not that I feel regret, just a desire to change now. I'm still confused on how to escape cycles of self deception in my own life, but I am looking forward to trying.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
I heart my local library
I have been wanting to write up this blog entry for awhile now, but I have finally pulled together the pictures I took one day while at the library and my thoughts on the topic. So here it is, my nerdy confession: I LOVE my local library.
Soon after I moved to Maryland I found that I did not have many friends (see previous post if you’re feeling sad for me—I did find friends). But job hunting left me with a need to rejuvenate and not many people to go out with to do that. Well, never fear my friends. Your local librarian is always available to be your BFF!
I took my photo ID and a piece of mail, and delightedly drove to the Germantown Library down the road. I signed up and got a card to their “cool kids club” a.k.a. the Montgomery County Library System. In case you’ve never visited the Germantown Library let me enumerate the many wonderful features (which may also exist at your local library):
1—There are tons of books to choose from! While it has taken a little while after graduating, my thirst to read was soon revived. Thanks to this library I have been able to quench that thirst!
2—If the Germantown Library doesn’t have a copy of a book you want, but another Montgomery County library does you can request it! I have a few friends who have heard about my recent love affair with the library and have suggested a few books of their own. But those books weren’t in Germantown. No worries! I got online and requested them. A week or so later I got an email that the books were ready to be picked up and checked out.
3—This library has free wi-fi and quiet rooms to work in. This became critical when I needed a place to focus on job hunting and a place to get some of my consulting work done. Thank you for shh-ing the patrons for me old lady!
4—Last but not least, they have a large selection of DVDs and you can check them out for the small fee of free-ninety nine. Which means if you’re anything like me you have a handful of movies you’ve always wanted to give a try, but were too cheap to rent from Blockbuster. Never fear. Librarians LOVE cheap people, because they always return their stuff on time. And just when I didn’t think things could get any better I found out that when you return your books one day late they give you the benefit of the doubt and don’t charge you! Man they are nicer than my kindergarten teacher, well….wait I wouldn’t go that far. Mrs. Wright was sweeter than apple pie, but yeah they are SO nice.
So, while I don’t have anything too poignant to share I must say I have felt more at home since becoming a regular patron of the G-town Library. There is a sense of community I feel when I am there—something I miss dearly after moving out the geographical boundaries of the Food Co-op in Utah. So, yeah, thanks Ben for hooking us up with that.
I meant to post this with some pictures I took weeks ago, but it's been weeks. I'll get around to adding the photos later (I promise Skoticus!) because I hear they make it more interesting to read when there are photos!
Soon after I moved to Maryland I found that I did not have many friends (see previous post if you’re feeling sad for me—I did find friends). But job hunting left me with a need to rejuvenate and not many people to go out with to do that. Well, never fear my friends. Your local librarian is always available to be your BFF!
I took my photo ID and a piece of mail, and delightedly drove to the Germantown Library down the road. I signed up and got a card to their “cool kids club” a.k.a. the Montgomery County Library System. In case you’ve never visited the Germantown Library let me enumerate the many wonderful features (which may also exist at your local library):
1—There are tons of books to choose from! While it has taken a little while after graduating, my thirst to read was soon revived. Thanks to this library I have been able to quench that thirst!
2—If the Germantown Library doesn’t have a copy of a book you want, but another Montgomery County library does you can request it! I have a few friends who have heard about my recent love affair with the library and have suggested a few books of their own. But those books weren’t in Germantown. No worries! I got online and requested them. A week or so later I got an email that the books were ready to be picked up and checked out.
3—This library has free wi-fi and quiet rooms to work in. This became critical when I needed a place to focus on job hunting and a place to get some of my consulting work done. Thank you for shh-ing the patrons for me old lady!
4—Last but not least, they have a large selection of DVDs and you can check them out for the small fee of free-ninety nine. Which means if you’re anything like me you have a handful of movies you’ve always wanted to give a try, but were too cheap to rent from Blockbuster. Never fear. Librarians LOVE cheap people, because they always return their stuff on time. And just when I didn’t think things could get any better I found out that when you return your books one day late they give you the benefit of the doubt and don’t charge you! Man they are nicer than my kindergarten teacher, well….wait I wouldn’t go that far. Mrs. Wright was sweeter than apple pie, but yeah they are SO nice.
So, while I don’t have anything too poignant to share I must say I have felt more at home since becoming a regular patron of the G-town Library. There is a sense of community I feel when I am there—something I miss dearly after moving out the geographical boundaries of the Food Co-op in Utah. So, yeah, thanks Ben for hooking us up with that.
I meant to post this with some pictures I took weeks ago, but it's been weeks. I'll get around to adding the photos later (I promise Skoticus!) because I hear they make it more interesting to read when there are photos!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Unexpected Teacher
In my yoga teacher training we talked about teachers that come in and out of our lives. In that particular lecture we were talking about personalities who somehow manage to cut deep to our nerves and bring out the worst in us and how those personalities seem to recur again and again in our lives to give us opportunities to practice patience.
Well, this summer I met a teacher, but he wasn’t that type of teacher (thank goodness). He is easy going, quick to be pleased with life, and fun to be around. As an intern in the DC area his influence was brief, but meaningful. He, I, and two other friends spent the summer frolicking around the district enjoying the sights, sounds, and tastes of a summer in the nation’s capitol. In that group of friends I was reminded what an interesting, powerful, attractive woman I am. It feels that this summer I was able to shed my winter coat of self doubt and discouragement. And I learned something I had somehow forgotten along the way: to enjoy the present.
With the end of his internship our little group, while not completely disbanded, doesn't have quite the same dynamics that made it so fun. While a part of me is sad to see this summer come to a close, I feel overwhelmingly grateful.
With his parting I have been feeling a bit reflective. In this state of mind I have thought of other teachers who have come and gone in my life. That is the sad thing with good teachers in my past, they taught me what I needed and then our paths tended to part. I’ve been working to let go of the bitterness of the parting and simply reflect on the sweetness of the interaction.
As some of you may know I have finally grown tired of the hobo lifestyle. As a result, I have started looking for a room in an apartment with other LDS women. I’ve already been to see one place and as I knocked on the door I thought to myself, “I wonder what future teachers live in this house? Will they be a part of my life’s education? And if so, what do they have to teach me?”
Well, this summer I met a teacher, but he wasn’t that type of teacher (thank goodness). He is easy going, quick to be pleased with life, and fun to be around. As an intern in the DC area his influence was brief, but meaningful. He, I, and two other friends spent the summer frolicking around the district enjoying the sights, sounds, and tastes of a summer in the nation’s capitol. In that group of friends I was reminded what an interesting, powerful, attractive woman I am. It feels that this summer I was able to shed my winter coat of self doubt and discouragement. And I learned something I had somehow forgotten along the way: to enjoy the present.
With the end of his internship our little group, while not completely disbanded, doesn't have quite the same dynamics that made it so fun. While a part of me is sad to see this summer come to a close, I feel overwhelmingly grateful.
With his parting I have been feeling a bit reflective. In this state of mind I have thought of other teachers who have come and gone in my life. That is the sad thing with good teachers in my past, they taught me what I needed and then our paths tended to part. I’ve been working to let go of the bitterness of the parting and simply reflect on the sweetness of the interaction.
As some of you may know I have finally grown tired of the hobo lifestyle. As a result, I have started looking for a room in an apartment with other LDS women. I’ve already been to see one place and as I knocked on the door I thought to myself, “I wonder what future teachers live in this house? Will they be a part of my life’s education? And if so, what do they have to teach me?”
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Transitions
“I hate transitions.” I write with a red pen on my legal pad. I’m supposed to be using that pen to edit the latest version of this Strategic Document before emailing it to me supervisor for feedback, but instead I’m using it to silently vent on this piece of paper.
My bad writing habits haven’t gone away. I cringe as I think of Larry’s comment, “Need a transition here.” on draft after draft of my thesis. Sometimes he just resorted to writing the transition sentences for me. As I read the paper in front of me I see that it is starting to shape up, but I need to write a few sentences that connect the paragraphs to each other.
In college one of my favorite writing teachers had us rush write three separate pieces in class. (Rush write means you write whatever is on your mind as fast as you can, not worrying about grammar, punctuation, flow. The point is to just get ideas down on paper and fast.) Our assignment that night was to write a few sentences to connect those three rush writes. The connecting sentences were to be bolded while the rush writes were to remain unedited and in normal text. The next class period he made us read each others' transitions. Some were brilliant, mine were mediocre. He said that it is in the transitions our most creative writing happens.
Is it the same with life—is it in our transitions our most creative living happens? I feel like I’ve been living in transition for the last few months: waiting to finish the last of my thesis and graduate, attending one random month of yoga teacher training, and now living as a hobo in other people’s homes while I job search. I re-read that sentence, “I hate transitions.” I feel that so deeply. At first graduation felt a little scary, the unknown future exciting, my yoga training intriguing, and this move to DC adventurous. Now it all feels stressful. In the last few months I haven’t been able to put on the autopilot. Frankly, it’s been exhausting.
It’s like when you first start dating someone you really like. There is that in-between stage when he’s more than a friend, but not your boyfriend. My married friends talk about how fun that stage is. I think they have completely forgot what it’s like to actually date (or what it’s like to be going to bed alone for that matter). It’s terrible. Sure, holding hands for the first time can be exhilarating and that first kiss delightful. But the chances for you to transition into a dating relationship is about as good as your chances to become an unused phone number in his contacts list. If this is the best part of any given relationship, then I’d prefer to stay single. Maybe I’ll just run off and spend the rest of my life single in some yoga ashram in India.
I’m told I’m supposed to enjoy the journey, but there comes a time in any journey when—after all those hours on a plane—you just want to arrive. Right?
I do hate transitions. They’re uncomfortable and apparently I was never very good at them. I'd rather be here or there, not somewhere between here and there.
My bad writing habits haven’t gone away. I cringe as I think of Larry’s comment, “Need a transition here.” on draft after draft of my thesis. Sometimes he just resorted to writing the transition sentences for me. As I read the paper in front of me I see that it is starting to shape up, but I need to write a few sentences that connect the paragraphs to each other.
In college one of my favorite writing teachers had us rush write three separate pieces in class. (Rush write means you write whatever is on your mind as fast as you can, not worrying about grammar, punctuation, flow. The point is to just get ideas down on paper and fast.) Our assignment that night was to write a few sentences to connect those three rush writes. The connecting sentences were to be bolded while the rush writes were to remain unedited and in normal text. The next class period he made us read each others' transitions. Some were brilliant, mine were mediocre. He said that it is in the transitions our most creative writing happens.
Is it the same with life—is it in our transitions our most creative living happens? I feel like I’ve been living in transition for the last few months: waiting to finish the last of my thesis and graduate, attending one random month of yoga teacher training, and now living as a hobo in other people’s homes while I job search. I re-read that sentence, “I hate transitions.” I feel that so deeply. At first graduation felt a little scary, the unknown future exciting, my yoga training intriguing, and this move to DC adventurous. Now it all feels stressful. In the last few months I haven’t been able to put on the autopilot. Frankly, it’s been exhausting.
It’s like when you first start dating someone you really like. There is that in-between stage when he’s more than a friend, but not your boyfriend. My married friends talk about how fun that stage is. I think they have completely forgot what it’s like to actually date (or what it’s like to be going to bed alone for that matter). It’s terrible. Sure, holding hands for the first time can be exhilarating and that first kiss delightful. But the chances for you to transition into a dating relationship is about as good as your chances to become an unused phone number in his contacts list. If this is the best part of any given relationship, then I’d prefer to stay single. Maybe I’ll just run off and spend the rest of my life single in some yoga ashram in India.
I’m told I’m supposed to enjoy the journey, but there comes a time in any journey when—after all those hours on a plane—you just want to arrive. Right?
I do hate transitions. They’re uncomfortable and apparently I was never very good at them. I'd rather be here or there, not somewhere between here and there.
Friday, May 28, 2010
One Way to World Peace
So, I’ve started my consulting position at Management Sciences for Health (MSH). I’ve been hired to write up a Strategy Document for their Family Planning and Reproductive Health Unit. In order to write this document I’ve spent my first few days reading lots and lots of documents about the projects MSH has done regarding family planning and reproductive health. Yesterday I ran across this sentence from one of those documents, “Reproductive health therefore implies that people are able to have a satisfying and safe sex life and that they have the capability to reproduce and the freedom to decide if, when, and how often to do so.”
Now don’t get me wrong the Family Planning and Reproductive Health Unit of MSH is providing many evidence-based programs that help reduce the mortality and morbidity rates of mothers and the mortality rate infants. (Can you tell I've been reading a lot about this subject?) And I find that that services they provide are an important part of health care.
With that said, I also want to say that I just love that I am working for an organization that supports satisfying sex lives for people across the globe. And I can't help but smile when I told a friend and she commented, “I also feel that happy sex is a vital step in ensuring world peace.”
Now don’t get me wrong the Family Planning and Reproductive Health Unit of MSH is providing many evidence-based programs that help reduce the mortality and morbidity rates of mothers and the mortality rate infants. (Can you tell I've been reading a lot about this subject?) And I find that that services they provide are an important part of health care.
With that said, I also want to say that I just love that I am working for an organization that supports satisfying sex lives for people across the globe. And I can't help but smile when I told a friend and she commented, “I also feel that happy sex is a vital step in ensuring world peace.”
Monday, May 10, 2010
Confessions of an Addict
OK, so I’ve never really been addicted to a television show before. Well, I take that back—there was X-Files while I was in high school, and that phase before I moved out of Provo when I watched a large portion of Sadie’s DVD collection of Star Gate.
But I have to say I am addicted to this season of 24. It all started when I was living in Jana’s house and each Monday Brooks, Jana, and I would sit down and watch the show. I moved down to DC and missed a few episodes until I realized that the Premonts were avid fans.
Brother and Sister Premont are in charge of the young single adults in our stake and each Monday they have the us all over for Family Home Evening. The lesson, activity, and treats are usually done by 8:00 or 8:30 and I am the only one who sticks around to watch 24 with the family at 9:00. Carolane (their daughter) set the rule, “NO TALKING during 24.” This is the one and only rule, and I think she and I are the biggest culprits when it comes to breaking it. But I think the rule actually reads “No talking about anything except this episode of 24.” During the show we’ll exclaim things like, “I can’t believe he just did that!” or “No! No! No! This is all wrong.” We’ll discuss our hunches in great detail or recap intense moments over the commercial breaks. The whole thing is just delightful. (I feel I’ve been using that adjective a lot, but that’s really how it is).
I didn’t realize how deep this addiction ran until last Monday when I missed our weekly tradition (see previous post for details). And right around 8:45, 9:00 I was checking my watch thinking “Oh we didn’t set the DVR to record 24!” Too shy to admit my addiction I let it go and watched the episode on Hulu later in the week, but it just wasn’t the same watching it alone on my computer. When I ran into the Premonts at church we had our “Can you believe what Jack is doing these days??” talk. And they expressed a similar sentiment that it just wasn’t as fun without the entire peanut gallery.
So, there it is. My name is Liann and I’m addicted to 24. There are four episodes left, so I don’t plan to quit anytime in the next month. I’m not sure what the Premonts and I will do when the season is over—stop hanging out after FHE I guess. Sad. But hey I’ve still got four more intense hours of Jack and the rest of the crew.
But I have to say I am addicted to this season of 24. It all started when I was living in Jana’s house and each Monday Brooks, Jana, and I would sit down and watch the show. I moved down to DC and missed a few episodes until I realized that the Premonts were avid fans.
Brother and Sister Premont are in charge of the young single adults in our stake and each Monday they have the us all over for Family Home Evening. The lesson, activity, and treats are usually done by 8:00 or 8:30 and I am the only one who sticks around to watch 24 with the family at 9:00. Carolane (their daughter) set the rule, “NO TALKING during 24.” This is the one and only rule, and I think she and I are the biggest culprits when it comes to breaking it. But I think the rule actually reads “No talking about anything except this episode of 24.” During the show we’ll exclaim things like, “I can’t believe he just did that!” or “No! No! No! This is all wrong.” We’ll discuss our hunches in great detail or recap intense moments over the commercial breaks. The whole thing is just delightful. (I feel I’ve been using that adjective a lot, but that’s really how it is).
I didn’t realize how deep this addiction ran until last Monday when I missed our weekly tradition (see previous post for details). And right around 8:45, 9:00 I was checking my watch thinking “Oh we didn’t set the DVR to record 24!” Too shy to admit my addiction I let it go and watched the episode on Hulu later in the week, but it just wasn’t the same watching it alone on my computer. When I ran into the Premonts at church we had our “Can you believe what Jack is doing these days??” talk. And they expressed a similar sentiment that it just wasn’t as fun without the entire peanut gallery. So, there it is. My name is Liann and I’m addicted to 24. There are four episodes left, so I don’t plan to quit anytime in the next month. I’m not sure what the Premonts and I will do when the season is over—stop hanging out after FHE I guess. Sad. But hey I’ve still got four more intense hours of Jack and the rest of the crew.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
The Delightfully Awkward
Ted and Sheryl (the couple I’m living with) had another couple over for dinner during General Conference Weekend. In the course of the conversation the other couple mentioned that they knew a young, single, Mormon, male, Foreign Service Officer, who happens to be in the DC area currently studying Serbian before he leaves for his next assignment. The four of them decided it would be a great idea to introduce us. I recognized that there wasn’t really a way out of this, so I agreed to the set up, asking that they simply give him my number and have him call me.
No, no, no. They would have none of that. It was as if they didn’t trust the two of us with something as important as this. And by being there, somehow the relationship would have a better chance.
So, Sheryl insisted on having the three of them (the couple and the poor boy) over for dinner! As the day approached Sheryl made her finest fare, set out her best china, and even had water glasses and wine goblets (full of carbonated peach drink). I have to say I was secretly looking forward to the evening not because I wanted to meet this guy, but because I knew this would be delightfully awkward.
And I was not disappointed. I don’t quite know how to tell this story in such a way that captures the whole evening, but imagine four people over the age of 50 sharing stories from the good old days, making references to Liberace, lecturing the boy about the length of his hair, and conversing about the latest shortage of canned pumpkin. Then there was the two of us occasionally trying to strike up conversation, but finding almost every attempt interrupted by the four of them wanting to take part. After dinner we played a game a Yahtzee where Ted did this classic victory dance when he rolled his second yahtzee. (Sometimes I just wish I had a video of my life so I could occasionally replay it for other people.) The guests all left by midnight. Sheryl and Ted said nice things about the boy as we turned off the lights, headed up to bed, and left the massive pile of dishes in the kitchen for the morning.
I know I can’t post this without saying at least something about how the set up actually went. It was very sweet of the four of them to go through all the trouble to introduce us. Luckily the boy seems very nice, interesting, attractive, and has a great sense of humor. I can understand why he was dreading such an evening! We’ll be going out next week, but don’t expect any update. I’m not big on blogging about my dating life. This just happened to be too good of a story not to share!
No, no, no. They would have none of that. It was as if they didn’t trust the two of us with something as important as this. And by being there, somehow the relationship would have a better chance.
So, Sheryl insisted on having the three of them (the couple and the poor boy) over for dinner! As the day approached Sheryl made her finest fare, set out her best china, and even had water glasses and wine goblets (full of carbonated peach drink). I have to say I was secretly looking forward to the evening not because I wanted to meet this guy, but because I knew this would be delightfully awkward.
And I was not disappointed. I don’t quite know how to tell this story in such a way that captures the whole evening, but imagine four people over the age of 50 sharing stories from the good old days, making references to Liberace, lecturing the boy about the length of his hair, and conversing about the latest shortage of canned pumpkin. Then there was the two of us occasionally trying to strike up conversation, but finding almost every attempt interrupted by the four of them wanting to take part. After dinner we played a game a Yahtzee where Ted did this classic victory dance when he rolled his second yahtzee. (Sometimes I just wish I had a video of my life so I could occasionally replay it for other people.) The guests all left by midnight. Sheryl and Ted said nice things about the boy as we turned off the lights, headed up to bed, and left the massive pile of dishes in the kitchen for the morning.
I know I can’t post this without saying at least something about how the set up actually went. It was very sweet of the four of them to go through all the trouble to introduce us. Luckily the boy seems very nice, interesting, attractive, and has a great sense of humor. I can understand why he was dreading such an evening! We’ll be going out next week, but don’t expect any update. I’m not big on blogging about my dating life. This just happened to be too good of a story not to share!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
A Love Letter
Dear Yoga Mat,
It was lovely spending some time alone with you this morning.
It feels like every time we get together lately I’m distracted with teaching and helping other people on their mats. I’m glad we got some quality time in this weekend. I look forward to getting together more often—just you, me, and (if it’s alright with you) my iPod.
Yours truly,
Liann
Friday, April 30, 2010
Progress
Yes, this job hunt just may end one of these days. Surprising. Maybe not to anyone else, but to me this has been a surprising development. All this volunteering, networking, resume building, cover letter writing, emailing, waiting, planning, hoping, and finally dealing with rejection has felt quite endless.
Don’t get me wrong. I DON’T HAVE A JOB YET, but things are looking up.
I have an unpaid internship with MSH lined up for the summer or until I find a job that pays (as the MSH staff encouraged me to do). I’m lined up to audition this coming week for a yoga teaching position at Fitness First (getting paid for teaching yoga would be a plus). Plans for my Yoga for Runners Class are underway—I just need to settle on a time and a park so I can start advertising. And sitting on my desk is a stack of business cards newly acquired from the Annual Society for International Development Conference—and some of the people actually handed them to me with enthusiasm (so following up with them just might pay off).
I’m still working out the details of exactly what I want to be doing, but I think I have a better idea than when I started this whole job hunting process in mid February. And if you’re a potential employer who has happened on my blog after reading my resume, than the job you have available is exactly what I want to be doing.
So, all in all I’m making progress.
Don’t get me wrong. I DON’T HAVE A JOB YET, but things are looking up.
I have an unpaid internship with MSH lined up for the summer or until I find a job that pays (as the MSH staff encouraged me to do). I’m lined up to audition this coming week for a yoga teaching position at Fitness First (getting paid for teaching yoga would be a plus). Plans for my Yoga for Runners Class are underway—I just need to settle on a time and a park so I can start advertising. And sitting on my desk is a stack of business cards newly acquired from the Annual Society for International Development Conference—and some of the people actually handed them to me with enthusiasm (so following up with them just might pay off).
I’m still working out the details of exactly what I want to be doing, but I think I have a better idea than when I started this whole job hunting process in mid February. And if you’re a potential employer who has happened on my blog after reading my resume, than the job you have available is exactly what I want to be doing.
So, all in all I’m making progress.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Aunt Liann
I've never been comfortable with titles. I became an aunt when I was 12 years old so my oldest nieces just called me Liann. But most of my younger nieces and nephews know me by my full title. Whenever they try to get my attention by yelling out, "Aunt Liann! Aunt Liann!" I always want to respond, "Yes Niece Eve (or Nephew Henry)"
Well I decided to take up my sister's invitation and I drove up to New York for my nieces and nephew's spring break. Having received the "Honorary Lindberg" status by Ethan (represented by a circle of yellow construction paper with the word Lindberg penned on it) before I left for DC, I decided it appropriate to walk in the back door without knocking.
Jana, my sister, was making dinner and hugged me hello. Jane, the toddler who would have nothing to do with me the first week I was living there, walked up then allowed me to pick her up and hug her. And the other kids came in with the usual "Aunt Liann! Aunt Liann!" hustle and bustle. It was great to be home--at least "home" is how it felt.
The week was delightful. The older kids and I went to see How to Train Your Dragon in 3D (we sneaked in some candy and ate so much of it I think we all left with a desire to eat veggies the rest of our lives). All of us braved the crowds at the MoMA--each kid bought a postcard at the gift shop and we had a great time finding the originals in the museum. I also read a book recommended to me by Ethan and got the chance to talk about it with him and Kate. Of course we read plenty of picture books and I even lost a round of Settlers of Catan (I'm SO ashamed!).
By the end of the week I realized that I'm starting to get used to this Aunt Liann business.
Well I decided to take up my sister's invitation and I drove up to New York for my nieces and nephew's spring break. Having received the "Honorary Lindberg" status by Ethan (represented by a circle of yellow construction paper with the word Lindberg penned on it) before I left for DC, I decided it appropriate to walk in the back door without knocking.
Jana, my sister, was making dinner and hugged me hello. Jane, the toddler who would have nothing to do with me the first week I was living there, walked up then allowed me to pick her up and hug her. And the other kids came in with the usual "Aunt Liann! Aunt Liann!" hustle and bustle. It was great to be home--at least "home" is how it felt.
The week was delightful. The older kids and I went to see How to Train Your Dragon in 3D (we sneaked in some candy and ate so much of it I think we all left with a desire to eat veggies the rest of our lives). All of us braved the crowds at the MoMA--each kid bought a postcard at the gift shop and we had a great time finding the originals in the museum. I also read a book recommended to me by Ethan and got the chance to talk about it with him and Kate. Of course we read plenty of picture books and I even lost a round of Settlers of Catan (I'm SO ashamed!).
By the end of the week I realized that I'm starting to get used to this Aunt Liann business.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Speaking of Movies...
Has anyone else seen the movie Ladyhawke?
Surprisingly delightful, but what were they thinking when they added that soundtrack!? Lots of synthesizer when portraying a medieval story?
Really guys?
Surprisingly delightful, but what were they thinking when they added that soundtrack!? Lots of synthesizer when portraying a medieval story?
Really guys?
Too Practical for Poetry
I watched the movie Bright Star with my sister this week. The movie tells the story of the poet John Keats who falls in love with his neighbor’s daughter, Fanny Brawne. In case you haven't seen the film this involves a few awkward conversations and several shots of them walking around, looking at each other, then eventually holding hands, cuddling, and kissing in a way that reminds me of the obnoxious PDA I so often saw (and possibly participated in) at BYU. After making their engagement public he moves to Italy for health reasons, dies, and leaves his fiancé to wander among their old stomping grounds alone quoting poetry for the rest of her life still wearing his engagement ring.
Seriously?
I found myself constantly rolling my eyes at the dramatics of Keats and the immaturity of Fanny. Every half hour or so I would blurt out, "The pacing of this movie is so weird!" I don't know if the director was intentionally trying to achieve a feel of poetry throughout the film--i.e. short scenes packed with visual images and emotion. I generally prefer a story based on at least some dialogue and scenes that clearly fit within context and relate to one another (you know the stuff that conveys character development).
Intentional or not I was having a hard time swallowing it all. However, the only other film Netflicks sent to her mailbox that week was a kid’s film. Reluctantly we decided to finish the movie.
As the credits rolled I turned to Jana and over the voice of Keats reading one of his poems I said, "I think I'm too practical for poetry."
She laughed and said, "I was thinking that EXACT same thing!"
We must be sisters.
While there are some poets/poems that do (and I quote) "speak to me." I'm glad I'm not completely alone in the sentiment about my relationship with poetry. Thanks sis.
Seriously?
I found myself constantly rolling my eyes at the dramatics of Keats and the immaturity of Fanny. Every half hour or so I would blurt out, "The pacing of this movie is so weird!" I don't know if the director was intentionally trying to achieve a feel of poetry throughout the film--i.e. short scenes packed with visual images and emotion. I generally prefer a story based on at least some dialogue and scenes that clearly fit within context and relate to one another (you know the stuff that conveys character development).
Intentional or not I was having a hard time swallowing it all. However, the only other film Netflicks sent to her mailbox that week was a kid’s film. Reluctantly we decided to finish the movie.
As the credits rolled I turned to Jana and over the voice of Keats reading one of his poems I said, "I think I'm too practical for poetry."
She laughed and said, "I was thinking that EXACT same thing!"
We must be sisters.
While there are some poets/poems that do (and I quote) "speak to me." I'm glad I'm not completely alone in the sentiment about my relationship with poetry. Thanks sis.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Job Hunting, New People, and Curling
I have a few "rules" for myself when posting personal stories on this blog:
1. Have it be positive.
2. If it can’t be positive then have it be either meaningful (which is positive in a way) or funny.
3. If posting a story that is both tragic and funny don’t let it demean people who may potentially read the blog or be recognized by a reader
4. Don’t be TOO personal. It is the internet after all (this may be the rule I break most often!).
Well, for these reasons I have failed to post much on my blog in the last month. I think job hunting may be akin to Chinese Water Torture, although I’ve never had the “pleasure” of the latter. I vacillate between being overwhelmed and being whelmed by this seemingly monumental task. I am living with an older couple (friends of my parents) who are great for funny day-to-day stories, but I’m not quite sure they’d appreciate me sharing them over the internet. They are providing me with free housing and I think that as a guest who would like to stay it’s best to keep their very personal quirks to myself. And finally I am meeting loads of new people which of course lead to fantastically awkward situations, but I’d hate to post these stories about them over the internet only to find out later we could have become best friends if it weren’t for what I wrote about them on my blog!
I do have a great story from a few weeks ago (has it really been that long?). Ted, the father of the household, and I were sitting down to a dinner of leftovers (since Sheryl was out doing RS service that evening). We turned on the Olympics. Since Ted is not interested in hockey he turned the TV to curling. I teased him about choosing curling over hockey, but to no avail, he wouldn’t change the channel. I then insisted that if I was to be subjected to curling I must know the rules of the game. He didn’t seem to know much, so I skimmed the article about curling on Wikipedia and related what I learned to Ted.
By the time Sheryl came home Ted and I were sitting on the edge of our seats with empty dinner plates in front of us, watching the last few ends, and saying things like, “Well we still have a chance to salvage this one, we do have the hammer!” I have never before enjoyed so thoroughly a night of discussing curling strategy and I’m afraid I never will again, but that’s OK because I had a great time.
1. Have it be positive.
2. If it can’t be positive then have it be either meaningful (which is positive in a way) or funny.
3. If posting a story that is both tragic and funny don’t let it demean people who may potentially read the blog or be recognized by a reader
4. Don’t be TOO personal. It is the internet after all (this may be the rule I break most often!).
Well, for these reasons I have failed to post much on my blog in the last month. I think job hunting may be akin to Chinese Water Torture, although I’ve never had the “pleasure” of the latter. I vacillate between being overwhelmed and being whelmed by this seemingly monumental task. I am living with an older couple (friends of my parents) who are great for funny day-to-day stories, but I’m not quite sure they’d appreciate me sharing them over the internet. They are providing me with free housing and I think that as a guest who would like to stay it’s best to keep their very personal quirks to myself. And finally I am meeting loads of new people which of course lead to fantastically awkward situations, but I’d hate to post these stories about them over the internet only to find out later we could have become best friends if it weren’t for what I wrote about them on my blog!
I do have a great story from a few weeks ago (has it really been that long?). Ted, the father of the household, and I were sitting down to a dinner of leftovers (since Sheryl was out doing RS service that evening). We turned on the Olympics. Since Ted is not interested in hockey he turned the TV to curling. I teased him about choosing curling over hockey, but to no avail, he wouldn’t change the channel. I then insisted that if I was to be subjected to curling I must know the rules of the game. He didn’t seem to know much, so I skimmed the article about curling on Wikipedia and related what I learned to Ted.
By the time Sheryl came home Ted and I were sitting on the edge of our seats with empty dinner plates in front of us, watching the last few ends, and saying things like, “Well we still have a chance to salvage this one, we do have the hammer!” I have never before enjoyed so thoroughly a night of discussing curling strategy and I’m afraid I never will again, but that’s OK because I had a great time.
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Quiet Moment in DC
For those of you trying to keep up with my recent adventures I've finished my delightful stay in New York and am now residing near the D.C. area. I arrived two weeks ago (to the day) and this story actually took place at the end of my first week here.
I came into the city to meet up with Chrissy, my yoga teacher from New York, to take a yoga class together. I needed to see a familiar face and reconnect with my lovely month of yoga. I'd met plenty of friendly faces that week, but all of them unfamiliar. And while I love to meet new people, even I have my limits.
I came into the city early to get my first look around the place I decided to make my new home. I meandered into a delightful Whole Foods Store, purchased a few things, and snacked on them while sitting and writing in their cafe. Since I had no other intentions than getting to know the area I decided to wander over to the White House.
As I approached the building's "backyard" I saw a few tourists taking pictures, some haggard looking employees trickling out the side exit, and police eying me and my long yoga bag suspiciously. I made my way to the front of the building. As I walked I thought of all that must be going on in there. With Obama trying to live up to his big campaign of change and working to recover from this failed health bill, people must be working all hours. My mind soon hopped back into the seemingly never ending contemplation of my job hunt. As I fretted, strategized, and pep talked to myself I found my legs had brought me to that famous view of the White House.
My mind paused. I just stood there interrupted by only a few tourists who braved the cold and snow to see this famous residence too. I let my mind settle on the majesty related to this nation. While I do tend to be a bit...hesitant in my feelings of patriotism, I have my moments. And this was one of them. As I stood watching the evening fall I felt simple awe. Knowing that no matter what the most recent scandal in government is I will probably continue to feel this lingering sense of pride for what this nation continues to be. It is so much bigger than any one person. And for that brief moment I caught a small glimpse of that.
I came into the city to meet up with Chrissy, my yoga teacher from New York, to take a yoga class together. I needed to see a familiar face and reconnect with my lovely month of yoga. I'd met plenty of friendly faces that week, but all of them unfamiliar. And while I love to meet new people, even I have my limits.
I came into the city early to get my first look around the place I decided to make my new home. I meandered into a delightful Whole Foods Store, purchased a few things, and snacked on them while sitting and writing in their cafe. Since I had no other intentions than getting to know the area I decided to wander over to the White House.
As I approached the building's "backyard" I saw a few tourists taking pictures, some haggard looking employees trickling out the side exit, and police eying me and my long yoga bag suspiciously. I made my way to the front of the building. As I walked I thought of all that must be going on in there. With Obama trying to live up to his big campaign of change and working to recover from this failed health bill, people must be working all hours. My mind soon hopped back into the seemingly never ending contemplation of my job hunt. As I fretted, strategized, and pep talked to myself I found my legs had brought me to that famous view of the White House.
My mind paused. I just stood there interrupted by only a few tourists who braved the cold and snow to see this famous residence too. I let my mind settle on the majesty related to this nation. While I do tend to be a bit...hesitant in my feelings of patriotism, I have my moments. And this was one of them. As I stood watching the evening fall I felt simple awe. Knowing that no matter what the most recent scandal in government is I will probably continue to feel this lingering sense of pride for what this nation continues to be. It is so much bigger than any one person. And for that brief moment I caught a small glimpse of that.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Alone, but Not Lonely this Valentines
My sister and brother-in-law celebrated the holiday by joining a group of couples for a progressive dinner that ended with dessert at their house Saturday night. Rather than bumming around the house with the babysitter or (as Bridget Jones would say) spend time with “lots of smug married people” I decided to have an outing to the city.
I made plans to meet up with a friend and her sister in Brooklyn to eat dessert at the Chocolate Room around 7 or 8, but she had to make an emergency run to Ikea (what an emergency run to Ikea entails would have to be a post of its own). For the purposes of this post the Ikea run left me with a few hours to kill. I ate hot dogs with some random friends I ran into during an evening session at the temple. Our happenstance group parted. I took a subway to Times Square for a quick look around and then headed to a jazz bar in the village.
I pulled up a barstool in the corner, ordered a “Virgin drink. Something fruity.” And sat down with my juice to enjoy music and people watching. An older German speaking couple, a flamboyantly gay man trying the wine before buying, a waitress upset about her low tipping table, a bald old Asian man dancing while playing the electric guitar, and the circus of bartenders running around pouring, shaking, and serving drinks were all part of the entertainment.
Between sets the female half of the “older couple” went to the restroom while I felt ready for another drink. I stood next to her empty stool trying to catch the eye of a bartender. The male half of the “older couple” started moving his partner’s coat and offered me the seat.
I said, “Oh. No. No thanks I have a seat” motioning to the seat behind him.
He continued to move the coat and offer the empty bar stool and in a thick German accent said, “When an attractive woman comes by. You always offer her a seat.”
I smiled at the silly notion of sitting between this gray haired man and the gay guy while the poor woman in the bathroom would be left sitting on the other side of the old German, the one at the end of the bar. “Isn’t your...is that your wife?...in the bathroom?”
“Oh she’s not my wife!! She’s not even my girlfriend!! We’re not...uh...” He seemed mortified that I would assume they were in a relationship! “No, I am a kind of tour guide. She is on a tour. She is like my client. We’re both in this tour group. And we were just having dinner.” He couldn’t spit the words out fast enough!
“Well, I just wanted to order a drink. But they’re not looking over here.” I said, nodding to the group of chatting bartenders. “Thank you though.” I finally caught the eye of one of the bartenders, ordered a glass of Coke and walked back to my seat in the back.
Near the end of the set the couple stood and put on their coats. The man looked over to me. With a look of longing he said, “It’s a shame you’re here alone.”
“Oh no. I’m meeting up with some friends later.” Showing him the cell phone in my hand, “They’ve been caught somewhere. So, I’m waiting to meet up with them.”
He waved his hand as if batting away the 'lie' he thought I told, shook his head and gave me a once over glance as if thinking to himself, “if only I was a few years younger.” He said, “A young woman as attractive as you...It is a real shame.”
I smiled and bid them a good night and a good stay in New York. The pleasantries were reciprocated and they left.
I leaned back on the wall behind me and smiled. While I may look a bit pathetic drinking alone, I was quite content with my solitude.
I made plans to meet up with a friend and her sister in Brooklyn to eat dessert at the Chocolate Room around 7 or 8, but she had to make an emergency run to Ikea (what an emergency run to Ikea entails would have to be a post of its own). For the purposes of this post the Ikea run left me with a few hours to kill. I ate hot dogs with some random friends I ran into during an evening session at the temple. Our happenstance group parted. I took a subway to Times Square for a quick look around and then headed to a jazz bar in the village.
I pulled up a barstool in the corner, ordered a “Virgin drink. Something fruity.” And sat down with my juice to enjoy music and people watching. An older German speaking couple, a flamboyantly gay man trying the wine before buying, a waitress upset about her low tipping table, a bald old Asian man dancing while playing the electric guitar, and the circus of bartenders running around pouring, shaking, and serving drinks were all part of the entertainment.
Between sets the female half of the “older couple” went to the restroom while I felt ready for another drink. I stood next to her empty stool trying to catch the eye of a bartender. The male half of the “older couple” started moving his partner’s coat and offered me the seat.
I said, “Oh. No. No thanks I have a seat” motioning to the seat behind him.
He continued to move the coat and offer the empty bar stool and in a thick German accent said, “When an attractive woman comes by. You always offer her a seat.”
I smiled at the silly notion of sitting between this gray haired man and the gay guy while the poor woman in the bathroom would be left sitting on the other side of the old German, the one at the end of the bar. “Isn’t your...is that your wife?...in the bathroom?”
“Oh she’s not my wife!! She’s not even my girlfriend!! We’re not...uh...” He seemed mortified that I would assume they were in a relationship! “No, I am a kind of tour guide. She is on a tour. She is like my client. We’re both in this tour group. And we were just having dinner.” He couldn’t spit the words out fast enough!
“Well, I just wanted to order a drink. But they’re not looking over here.” I said, nodding to the group of chatting bartenders. “Thank you though.” I finally caught the eye of one of the bartenders, ordered a glass of Coke and walked back to my seat in the back.
Near the end of the set the couple stood and put on their coats. The man looked over to me. With a look of longing he said, “It’s a shame you’re here alone.”
“Oh no. I’m meeting up with some friends later.” Showing him the cell phone in my hand, “They’ve been caught somewhere. So, I’m waiting to meet up with them.”
He waved his hand as if batting away the 'lie' he thought I told, shook his head and gave me a once over glance as if thinking to himself, “if only I was a few years younger.” He said, “A young woman as attractive as you...It is a real shame.”
I smiled and bid them a good night and a good stay in New York. The pleasantries were reciprocated and they left.
I leaned back on the wall behind me and smiled. While I may look a bit pathetic drinking alone, I was quite content with my solitude.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Just Can't Shake the Marriage Lecture
Tonight's FHE lesson was given by Eve, my four year old niece. Over dinner we asked her what she wanted to do for her lesson and she said she wanted to "read scriptures" and play Hullabaloo for her lesson.
Eve set up Hullabaloo while Jana, my sister, and I got our copies of the scriptures. However, when it was Eve's turn to teach she stood up, walked over to the end table, and started pulling magazines off the stack saying, "Wait, I'm not ready." She pulled out a copy of The Friend, opened the magazine to random page that had a picture of the Salt Lake Temple, and said, "We're going to talk about temples."
Brooks, my brother-in-law, asked her, "OK, what do you want to teach us about the temple?"
Eve, "You get married in the temple."
We couldn't help but laugh a little as Jana winked at me and said, "Well, I guess this lesson is for Liann."
Eve continued with dignity as her audience tried to hold back giggles. She talked about how you get married in the temple "because then you have children and start a family." She took a short topical detour to Joseph Smith's First Vision. Tried to re-find the page with the picture of the temple, gave up, and then concluded the lesson with a reminder that when you marry in the temple "God blesses you." We then played Hullabaloo, had a closing prayer, treats, and played a different game for our real activity.
Singles ward or no singles ward, somehow God still manages to slip the marriage talk in there somewhere.
Eve set up Hullabaloo while Jana, my sister, and I got our copies of the scriptures. However, when it was Eve's turn to teach she stood up, walked over to the end table, and started pulling magazines off the stack saying, "Wait, I'm not ready." She pulled out a copy of The Friend, opened the magazine to random page that had a picture of the Salt Lake Temple, and said, "We're going to talk about temples."
Brooks, my brother-in-law, asked her, "OK, what do you want to teach us about the temple?"
Eve, "You get married in the temple."
We couldn't help but laugh a little as Jana winked at me and said, "Well, I guess this lesson is for Liann."
Eve continued with dignity as her audience tried to hold back giggles. She talked about how you get married in the temple "because then you have children and start a family." She took a short topical detour to Joseph Smith's First Vision. Tried to re-find the page with the picture of the temple, gave up, and then concluded the lesson with a reminder that when you marry in the temple "God blesses you." We then played Hullabaloo, had a closing prayer, treats, and played a different game for our real activity.
Singles ward or no singles ward, somehow God still manages to slip the marriage talk in there somewhere.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Don’t have a grocery store nearby? Don’t worry there’s a Starbucks right around the corner.
I think Starbucks sustains life in New York City. There is at least one (if not 2 or 3) within a 2 block radius from almost any point in the city. And they seem to have plenty of business when I walk by. I’m not sure if the city planner was involved, but seriously I wonder if the city would just shut down without a regular supply of Seattle’s best coffee.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Liann the Yoga Teacher
Well, it’s over. My month long intensive yoga teacher training is finished.
While I sat with my fellow yoga teachers in our last circle together I felt myself getting quite emotional. However, in classic Liann style I couldn’t express any of it in the moment. (Before any of you laugh out loud I’ll explain.) I tend to express my day to day emotions with copious amounts of words, but when they run deep I find it difficult to say much at all. Later that night I found myself on the train ride home crying into my journal as I tried to write what I felt.
As I sift through my emotions the words that stick out most are: Gratitude, deep and enduring gratitude. A glowing, radiant, yet peaceful happiness. And finally a great deal of sadness that comes with the end of anything beautiful.
Ever since I made this decision, people have asked, “Why a yoga teacher training?” And my answer tended to be a rambling one. While I had my reasons, when explained in the light of casual conversation they just didn’t sound that convincing.
But I never expected to feel the way I do about this last month. So much so that I’m even having a hard time expressing it here. While I think my last few blog entries have been a bit clever they dance around what has been really going on in my life.
So, here it is, for all you avid readers (don’t worry I’m not that delusional about how many there are of you). I AM A YOGA TEACHER (well almost. I’m one take home test and two homework assignments away from being certified). And while I never expected my life to take such a “hippie” turn, I’m very grateful it did.
While I sat with my fellow yoga teachers in our last circle together I felt myself getting quite emotional. However, in classic Liann style I couldn’t express any of it in the moment. (Before any of you laugh out loud I’ll explain.) I tend to express my day to day emotions with copious amounts of words, but when they run deep I find it difficult to say much at all. Later that night I found myself on the train ride home crying into my journal as I tried to write what I felt.
As I sift through my emotions the words that stick out most are: Gratitude, deep and enduring gratitude. A glowing, radiant, yet peaceful happiness. And finally a great deal of sadness that comes with the end of anything beautiful.
Ever since I made this decision, people have asked, “Why a yoga teacher training?” And my answer tended to be a rambling one. While I had my reasons, when explained in the light of casual conversation they just didn’t sound that convincing.
But I never expected to feel the way I do about this last month. So much so that I’m even having a hard time expressing it here. While I think my last few blog entries have been a bit clever they dance around what has been really going on in my life.
So, here it is, for all you avid readers (don’t worry I’m not that delusional about how many there are of you). I AM A YOGA TEACHER (well almost. I’m one take home test and two homework assignments away from being certified). And while I never expected my life to take such a “hippie” turn, I’m very grateful it did.
Rats
I met my first bonafide New York rat the other morning. I was walking on 55th Street between Park and Lexington as I saw this skinny rat scurry right past me! I’ll admit I jumped and maybe even yelped. He wasn’t as large or fat as I expected a New York rat to be. I mean I saw much fatter Indian rats—although I think those rats may benefit from the Hindu principle of ahimsa (non violence).
Interestingly, Aliza (a friend from the yoga training) told me that the population of New York rats is large because they are able to navigate the grid system here. I find that idea very fascinating somehow.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
It's the Little Details in Life
I have been sleeping in the attic bedroom of my sister’s house. Rather than whistling like a tea kettle my radiator pathetically whispers. Sometimes as I’m falling asleep I feel like I’m eavesdropping on an important conversation just out of reach.
I just love little details like that.
I just love little details like that.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Concerns of a Metro North Passenger
Is it weird that I worry about my train conductors getting carpel tunnel syndrome? I’ve yet to have the courage to ask one of them whether or not their job training involved a discussion of the potential for a repetitive stress injury from punching all those tickets. But I find myself wondering about it each time they walk by clicking their ticket puncher saying "Tickets. Tickets."
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Dirty Rumor
Let me dispel one dirty rumor about NYC. When I moved from overly polite Provo I thought this city would be full of pushy, rude, pissed-off New Yorkers. As I also found in Paris, the people in New York are surprisingly quite polite. I’d even go so far as saying they can be very nice and thoughtful to total strangers.
One evening on the subway I asked a man how to get to Union Square. The directions I had been given were a bit sketchy. I knew I had to transfer, but I wasn’t quite sure where and to what subway. I asked a man in the car and he explained where I should go. I must have looked concerned still because he stood and walked me over to a subway map to show me my route!
On Friday night I was sprinting to catch the train, but I ran up down onto the platform as the doors were closing (the next train wouldn’t be coming for quite some time so I was a bit frantic). A group of people on the platform got the attention of the conductor to open the doors.
In the mornings I have become a little overzealous in my new found freedom of jaywalking and occasionally will be crossing the middle of the street as the light turns to green. Rather than honking, the drivers wait patiently as I trot toward the sidewalk.
Today at lunch I watched a man hand a homeless guy a cup of soup and piece of bread bought from the shop he just left.
Tonight as I was going from one car to the next on the train a guy sitting by the door held the very heavy door for me as I went through.
Every door that people hold. Every moment of eye contact that ends in a smile. Every joke shared among a random stranger on the subway. Each beautiful interaction with the people of this city reminds me of the good of humanity. Yeah there are those eye-rolling people who are pushy and impatient. But all in all I have found that most people in New York are just doing their best to get along with everyone else. There are just a lot of everybody else-s to get a long with around here.
Monday, January 25, 2010
For the Sake of Self Transformation
“Come forward. Bring your shoulders over your wrists in plank pose*.”
Burn there is only burning. This is not the first plank pose of the morning. My arms, shoulders, abs, thighs, calves. It all burns.
Chrissy continues, “Lift through your shoulders. Be mindful that your hips points don’t drop. Roll your inner thighs toward the ceiling. Rake your buttocks flesh toward your heels.” On and on. She repeats herself again and again using different terminology each time.
As I carefully follow her instructions there is more burning. My abs begin shaking, but I refuse to let my hips sink anymore. I will do this right.
“Look forward. Face your sternum to the front room.”
I notice that as my eyes had fallen to looking at a piece of lint on the front of my mat and my chest had sunk into the pull of gravity. I push with all I got while trying to maintain the work in my legs.
“Good. Push your hips up and back into downward facing dog.”
Release. My breath slows and becomes less audible. Calm.
“Bring your shoulders back over wrists.”
I think to myself, “Bring it.” As I picture future Liann at the front of some yoga studio effortlessly demonstrating plank into chaturanga.
My body begins to shake immediately as my breath becomes labored. I tune out of Chrissy’s enduring voice drumming through all the alignment points. Instead I meditate on the alignment points myself—they become a mantra in my head. “Inner thighs up. Buttocks flesh back. Hip Points up. Chest forward. Lift in the arms. Inner thighs up. Buttocks flesh back. Hip points up. Chest forward. Lift in the arms…”
I do hear her say, “Lift your hips up and back into downward facing dog. Slowly drop your knees and come into child’s pose.”
With a smile in her voice she says to us, “You’ve got tapas. Tapas is the willingness to endure intensity for the sake of self transformation. This training is a process of self transformation and I see your genuine effort in trying to achieve that change”
Her words touch each tired muscle in my body, particularly the ones near my heart. I swallow hard and try to put back on my game face. I focus on my breath as Chrissy leads us out of child’s pose and into the rest of practice.
“Tapas.” I think to myself as I sit on the train home that night.
But what about the type of “self” I want to become outside of yoga? Employed for one thing but beyond that I want to become beautifully virtuous in thought and deed, kind, patient with self and others, honest (truly honest), lovely, adventurous (but not recklessly so)…the list goes on.
I think of the girl I used to be and the moments of intensity that lay between that girl and me. Things like struggle with school, moments of intense loneliness, and repeated failures. I think about how each intense moment contributed to this process of becoming a little more like the self I want to become.
My thoughts now turn to the many moments of intensity ahead of me. It’s a little overwhelming, but
Bring it.
I’ve got tapas.
*For those of you not familiar with yoga, plank pose is like holding yourself at the top of a push up.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Theme Song
If Rocky was a young woman in New York doing a yoga teacher training I think his theme song would be "Dreams" by the Cranberries instead of "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor.
Because after dragging myself out of my warm comfy bed at 6 am, eating, dressing, packing a lunch, walking/jogging to the Fleetwood station, barely catching the 7:03 train, and arriving to the Grand Central Station at 7:40, I often feel the need to blare "Dreams" on my iPod as I brave the cold weather and walk (with a New York pace) the 8 1/2 blocks to my yoga studio in time to change, place my mat down, and feel ready for our 2 hour yoga practice.
But that's just me.
Because after dragging myself out of my warm comfy bed at 6 am, eating, dressing, packing a lunch, walking/jogging to the Fleetwood station, barely catching the 7:03 train, and arriving to the Grand Central Station at 7:40, I often feel the need to blare "Dreams" on my iPod as I brave the cold weather and walk (with a New York pace) the 8 1/2 blocks to my yoga studio in time to change, place my mat down, and feel ready for our 2 hour yoga practice.
But that's just me.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
New Year's Resolutions
As I approached this New Years I thought about what I wanted to accomplish in the next 12 months. Instead of overwhelming myself with a huge list I decided to whittle my list down to 5 manageable goals.
So, here they are Liann's Official New Years Resolutions for 2010:
1. Blog more than I did last year (a.k.a. write at least 5 posts in the next 12 months).
2. Survive my yoga teacher training in New York.
3. Lose weight while doing #2.
4. Find a job (preferably in DC)
5. Come to peace about gaining all my weight back while attempting to accomplish #4.
So, here they are Liann's Official New Years Resolutions for 2010:
1. Blog more than I did last year (a.k.a. write at least 5 posts in the next 12 months).
2. Survive my yoga teacher training in New York.
3. Lose weight while doing #2.
4. Find a job (preferably in DC)
5. Come to peace about gaining all my weight back while attempting to accomplish #4.
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