The future population

A scene from the HBO series Big Love has stayed with me for the past few days. The 3 wives were congregated in the kitchen discussing the neighbors proposition for Margie (the 3rd and youngest wife, from a previous "normal" life) to be a surrogate mother to her and her husband. Margie felt she had the right to choose whether or not she wanted to accept. Nikki (the 2nd wife, born on the compound, the truest polygamist of them all) felt it was completely against the Principle to do this because Margie had the calling expand their own family of true and righteous souls not be a baby depot to every Tom Dick and Harry on the block.

This scene has stuck with me because the most educated, social-minded, and "normal" people are choosing to marry later and later in life and are having fewer and fewer children. They are not populating anywhere near the rate as extremist religious folks (ie my aunt and uncle-- 7 homeschooled missionary children).

So eventually, hundreds of years from now, societal norms could shift again, putting the information age behind us and a new religious fervor upon us.

Meditation by Foot

Today was my longest hiking day thus far. I think I came in somewhere around 9 miles. It was cloudy out so I didn't feel the hot sun burning my skin until well after I was home. I have a nice reddish tint with a nicely defined line on my forehead where my hat's protection kicked in.

When I got to the top of Sunrise I decided that now was the time to sit facing a new direction. In the past I have always perched myself with a view of the trail I had conquered far far above the city landscape of roads and buildings I knew.

Today I decided I have dwelled enough on the past and it was time to face the East to the mountains and hills I've never explored. What lies ahead of me?

After 45 minutes of basking in the accomplishment of my summit I was inspired to keep treking along the Sunrise trail instead of turning around and heading back the way I came. If I was truly leaving the past behind, why double my steps? Instead I chose to go full circle. I came out of the hills somewhere near a millionaire subdivision named Hidden Hills.

Thoughts of irony passed through my mind as I walked down Via Linda the 20 blocks to the Lost Dog Wash Trailhead. In order to have some of the most pristine and "wild' views these rich people build sprawling mansions across thousands of feet of land, destroying the richness of the land and forcing the animals into smaller spaces. If the land and views are so desirable and so important to these folks, why do they insist on destroying it? Via Linda was littered with trash along the road. You'd think they'd see the importance in putting trash in a trash can. But maybe money buys you littering privileges as well.

The list:

So I mentioned the list I wrote last year in my last post.

Let's recap.

September 4, 2006

I turned 29 while visiting my brother, aunt and uncle in southern California. We went sailing in Long Beach. I had an intense and passion-filled moment with a sea lion.

In my 29th year I want to accomplish:

• Reread Hemingway (I intend to start this tonight!)
• send something to a publisher (I did create this blog last fall, it is a form of publishing)
• lose 10 pounds (I'm not sure what I weighed at this time last year but I think I did this)
• visit a place I've never been (I went to Austin and Flagstaff)
• take a cooking class (I start a 10 week series 1 day before my bday)
• pay off all credit card debt (done)
• create a plan for the future (um.. my plan is to have no plan. accept each day as it comes)
• do 50 pushups (done it several times... not today though)
• visit Newport Beach (done)
• buy a computer (I bought a USB drive, does that count?)
• join something (I joined USTA, match.com, eharmony, Animal Rescue Center, meetup, and McDowall Sonoran Conservancy)

I feel pretty good about my results. It seems like years have passed since the day I wrote the list though.

Feeding the soul

I was sitting here a few minutes ago watching a chef dice onions on Top Chef and I remembered the list I wrote last year of things I wanted to accomplish before I turned 30. One of those items was to take a cooking class.

I fire up my laptop and browse a few of the sites I bookmarked in the past to see what classes are being offered right now. The first site I visit was AZ Cooking which hosts Kitchen Classics Cooking Classes. They have a knife skills class, a class I've been wanting to take for years, next Thursday August 30th-- 1 day before my birthday.

I click on the description and remember this is a 10-week class that costs nearly $500. I wanted to sign up for this class in January but didn't have any extra cash. Today I have extra cash but am worried the class is already full. A phone number is listed to call to register and I figure that it's probably a recording since it's nearly 9pm.

I call the number fully expecting to hear a mechanical voice tell me the semester is full and try again next year, but a friendly woman's voice answers. They only take 12 students and have 7 spots filled right now. They won't even distribute the flyer until next week as the class fills up so fast. The school is located halfway between work and home and the classes are Thursday evenings at a time that would work for my schedule.

Destiny seems to be at play with this one and I give her my credit card information.

I'm excited. What a good birthday present!

mental prep for match.com date #3

I have a date tonight. 8pm dinner at Fate in downtown Phoenix, followed by a comedy show at Paper Hearts. It should be fairly interesting. I've spoken to the guy a couple times on the phone and he seems a little "too" nice and has a very screechy hilt to his voice when you ask him his opinion of something. He's a long-distance runner and I fear he'll be somewhat skeleton-esque in physique.

Regardless of an overriding connection, I always love eating at new places and seeing comedy shows and I'm looking forward to the date he planned. And the date has to be better than the last two from match.com.

I'll update this tomorrow with the results.

Building self-identity one step at a time

On my way down from Sunrise Peak on Thursday I was thinking about how my mom used to lecture me for hiking by myself and how passionately I responded "If I waited to have someone to go with me I'd never get to do anything. I will do things I want to do when I want to do them. If someone goes with me, then great, but if not, I'm not going to wait around to do the things I want to do."

And as I was coming down from the peak, I thought to myself, would I have wanted anyone to be with me? I enjoy my time on the trails alone. It's my meditation time. Just because someone might want to come with me doesn't mean I have to want them along. Sure it would be great to have my friend Rebecca back, or to have a guy who dotes on me and inspires me along, but for the most part, my trail time is the time when I push and challenge myself and try to come to terms with who I am. Adding another person to that takes away from what I'm trying to build within myself.

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Blackie and Brownie came into my life October 29, 2004. I was looking for a cuddly pet that would take to apartment life well. Two little sisters named Godiva and Nibbs were given to me by Pigpalooza Rescue. I tried to rename them Karma and Mocha but my ex, Mark, couldn't figure out anything more than their colors so they became Blackie and Brownie to us. I built what's called a C&C cage for them-- basically a huge piggie mansion:


Soon, I expanded their 2nd level so they had even more room to run and I learned that they were much happier when they had fleece bedding instead of the recycled cage litter. For many months I was kept occupied in guinea pig research: cutting toenails, toys and products, novelty items, gpig behaviors and diets and health. Their cute little smiles made cleaning their cage seem worthwhile.

After a year and a half of guinea pig bliss I left the boyfriend who couldn't deal with naming conventions and the gpigs and I moved to a new abode. They took to the change well, and soon became used to the new routine. Any crinkling of plastic alerted them to the idea of fresh lettuce and the gpig orchestra would immediately chime in with a high-pitched "whee, ree, ree."

But singlehood also brought me extra chores as I could no longer share the feeding or cleaning duties with my other half. The screeches were singularly for me. The cage cleanings gradually became dreaded activities and I began to worry they weren't happy with me anymore.

As I quickly approached my 30th birthday, I hit a moment in time where I couldn't believe I was a single girl who lived alone with guinea pigs. Seemed creepily weirder than being an old cat lady.

In June my mother was in town for a few weeks and found a woman about my age who seemed to have her life in order; a husband, 2 daughters, and 2 dogs and as such, my mom dredged up interest in my beloved Brownie and Blackie. After some dealings with my persistent mother the gpigs left my life July 19, 2007.

I have not followed up on their new home as I'm afraid of the answer. I was their guiding force for 3 years-- the majority of their little piggies lives and I just abandoned them, left them to die in a playroom under the clutches of maniacal children and dogs. The poor little piggies could be in dire need of extra veggies right now, or a toenail clipping.

And what have I done to fill the new void in my life besides move my exercise bike to their corner of the living room?

Poor little piggies. I wish you well.

Sunrise

I went for a 6 mile hike yesterday in the middle of a wind storm up to Sunrise Peak. It was awesome. Exhilarating. At the top, I sat against a pile of warmly sunned rocks and let the wind blow over me, drowning out my ever-present thoughts. A huge rainbow stretched across the south sky, disappearing into the clouds and appearing again many miles north. I was alone on my journey to the peak and realized that no matter what happens in life and who comes in and out, I will always be stuck with myself. And so I have to make the best of me.

In all things of nature, there is something of the marvelous. --Aristotle

It's been awhile

Last May I broke up with my latest long-term boyfriend and joined the single world again. Since that break-up period I've dated some and I'm trying to learn something from the joy of dating because I sincerely hate it. It's an emotional roller coaster and most of it is a waste of time and most of the people I meet that I like end up not liking me and vice versa. It's hard and horrible. But we should get some enjoyment out of it so I'm going to chronicle my sad stories for all of our enjoyment.

Shall I start backwards or forwards?

Let's start with today. Today I went on a date with a guy named Jason. I met him on match.com. I just joined the paying subscriber ranks yesterday and already am lining up nearly 4 dates. Irony strikes this unborn relationship with Jason. First of all, back in Jan or Feb when I was spending a lonely weekend night drinking wine and browsing myspace I sent a msg to this same Jason fellow. At the time my photos were somewhat sparse and not as flattering since I weighed a good 10 lbs more and had no friends in any photo. My msg was very short, "I like your photos" His response back was somewhat jerky with something to the tune of "I've looked at your profile and although I don't see anything that turns me off I am not certain I feel an attraction back. Perhaps you should put up more photos" I replied back with a "I wasn't saying I was attracted to you, I was saying I liked your photos, particularly the waterfall and green ones." That was the extent of our communication 6 months ago.

Yesterday as my first paying day of match.com I was excited to receive my first 2 msgs from potential suitors. One of which was from this same Jerky Jason. I thought it must be fate. We exchange a few emails, he flirts a little, gets a bit too sexually interested but I think to myself, Hey maybe it's meant to be, so I let it go. He's in the PhD program at ASU for philosophy and is 31. He's dog sitting (or as he calls it repeatedly doggie-sitting) for a former professor of his back in Glendale and will be somewhat near my side of town tonight he says. So we agree to meet at a Borders in Paradise Valley. Before this first meeting I know that he smokes weed, he doesn't know the proper verb tense of write and he seems very slow. But his photos are promising and he has the ability to write complete sentences.

He calls me around 6 to inform me he can meet earlier than 8. His voicemail message is seemingly 20 minutes long and he repeats himself repeatedly. I find myself annoyed by the slowness to the message. I call him back and we have an awkward chat about meeting. On my drive to Borders there is a beautiful thick rainbow, again I wonder if there is a greater message behind this.

At Borders I pay my 4.50 for a vanilla latte, a complete rip-off, but I don't care cuz I make a decent dollar. Jason quickly arrives and we get to talking. I learn that he really has not done much with his life. He's very much into getting "funded" and doing as little work as possible. He's not even sure of the MA requirements to graduate and doesn't seem to perplexed by the idea he may not graduate after so many years of school. He talks and talks and talks about differences between two 101 level courses. I notice as he's talking that his fingernails, every last one of them, are abnormally long and he mentions those nails several times in the evening. I'm slightly grossed out by long nails on guys, gives me the heebie jeebies.

He cannot follow the conversation very well. He's probably somewhat stoned. He doesn't know that an Australian Shep. is a Shepherd. He doesn't know what a Blackberry is. He doesn't understand how big business works in terms of hiring people who will impact the bottom line. He doesn't have a clue what he wants to do if he graduates. I stress IF.

After a little while he suggests we go to dinner. We start to head across the street to Coco's when he sees a Souper Salad, which is his favorite restaurant. He pays on his credit card, I give him $7. I've never been to a Souper Salad before but it's basically a salad bar. He grabs 2 plates and fills both about 4 feet high with nearly every item on the salad bar and then he tops each plate with a piece of cheese pizza. He doesn't really eat beef he says and tries to be healthy by eating salads. I am astounded by the amount of food he has and wonder how much he'll finish.

Over his salad greens, I learn he's never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months. He doesn't see himself being monogamous. He has had a series of roommates and it doesn't sound like he lives in a very organized or even semi-tidy manner. I can only think about his dirty long fingernails tapping against computer keys in a sparse room with dirty laundry, dishes, and bongs laying in every crevice of the musty college apartment. As I think of this he's shoveling food in his mouth with no regard to the fact that he's talking. He holds the fork like a baby whose fat fingers have to clench the utensil in order to have enough control to get the food near its mouth, and chunks of salad and pasta fall to the sides of the red plastic buffet tray. He doesn't touch his water.

He tells me of his worst date--an online date who arrived at his house. Upon first glance he knew there was no connection because she was butt ugly compared to her photo. They rode together to a free movie showing of The Astronaut Farmer with Billy Bob Thorton. The movie was delayed by technical difficulty as often free movie showings are. And they were stuck in traffic on the way home. He wanted nothing more than to be free of her.

Finally, it's after 9 and the Souper Salad bus people are trying to scoot us out the doors. Jason gets some ice cream and a box to take his last 2 feet of greens home. When we leave he seems to think he's Mr. Suave. He goes in for a kiss and I give him just a peck. He draws me closer as if there is some lasting connection. One more peck. Finally it's over and I can get into my car and drive away. I'm chipper as I say across the parking lot "it was nice to meet you."

I think of Marc on my way home. The one guy I've had a connection with but does not want an exclusive relationship.

While I was on the date my ex-boyfriend Mark texted me. I call him back on my drive home to learn that he's going to be a daddy. His girlfriend of 2 months is pregnant.

I get home to see that Jason has already left a msg for me asking if I want to see him again. Gross.

Life's courses

Or sometimes life's curses.

Everytime I think I'm making progress something happens that steals the momentum out from beneath my feet.

I can't figure out what I'm supposed to be learning from this. Maybe the progress I think I'm making really isn't the right direction