I would like to manifest a money tree and a chocolate cake please.

One very loud and obvious aspect of the "manifesting what you want" ideology that has been sweeping the nation the last few years is that while working towards a specific goal is fantastic, flexibility in that goal is what will make or break you.

Since January I've been manifesting a house, a new life... and boy howdy I got one. I didn't get the one that I wanted but I sure as hell got the one that I needed. In the depths of my now-passed (or just quiet?) resentment towards this new life, I likened The Secret to libertarianism... Both would work famously if the decisions and motivations of other people weren't involved in your life. Unfortunately, much like the free market, we are always at the end of the line in a ripple effect for someone, some thing, somewhere, separate from our lives; we are always making ourselves believe things for various reasons: to keep the peace, keep the comfort, not hurt someone we love, even when we know it's the right thing to do. In short, we rarely make decisions based on what we and we alone want. There is always at least one person hiding in there, informing you... and rarely, RAR-E-LY, does the world operate in strict black and white tones. (Did you know that black is not the absence of color but the involvement of all colors in the light spectrum?)

Anyway, what's the saying about butterfly wings starting hurricanes? It's like that.

Am I saying don't make goals?! NO. Make them, but know that it's like drinking a glass of wine. There are obviously no cherries in that wine, but you can taste them...slightly. Go ahead for the literal translation of your goal but be flexible enough to accept the hints and undertones in place of your verbatim request.

Money Tree : Chocolate Cake -as- House/New Job : New (non-food) Indulgence

Let's face it, you can't actually manifest objects in your life. You can, however, manifest ideals and habits, which may make the possibility of receiving those objects greater...but... may not be exactly what you had in mind.

Karni & Saul

Their videos are phenomenal.

and, I didn't die.

50 75# deadlifts
800m run
50 situps 25 supermans
800m run

The running was slow. The sit ups were slow. I was generally slow, but whathefuckever: I showed up and didn't stop. It's been two months since le cray-cray smacked me down and made it a mind bonker for me to even complete the basics of self care (ie- eating).

...and I'll be back for more this Friday morning, and Saturday morning if I stay out of trouble Friday night. I make no promises people, especially considering this (flyer NSFW!) is happening on Friday night...yowzah. Barrel o' monkey fun. Who's in?

The CC Woman's Challenge is mere weeks away! Remember last time? Ouch. I have a sneaky suspicion sandbags will make an appearance. Anyone still down for sandbag stair or hill sprints? Yes, the diet will be cleaned up. No more burrito marathons. Promise.

Here's TEAM PHOENIX! on the final run from last year. I'm really looking forward to another go with these ladies.


Also see Mel's post on the good-fun-times, and the Bacchanal after party at the Frisco...

Blank Canvas

Life went a bit cray-cray on me at the end of May and in one afternoon I found myself no longer under contract on my dream home and no longer in my long term (seven year) relationship. May 24th, to be exact. Since then I bought a house and was laid off from my job, the latter not nearly as terrifying right now as it sounds.

Fast forward to now, mid-ish July, and I have a new dog, Perseus:



A new house:



A new life:

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Truth is, I'm learning to love it. Right now, I'm still unsure of its intentions.

I've never met anyone who was given such a bold opportunity to forge a new life, and it's one largest mixed-bag-of-emotions situations I've ever been in. Good, bad, ugly, all of the above, at the same time.

In art school the first thing you learn is the terrifying nature of a blank canvas. That first mark is so very, very special; it starts the process and sets up the nature of the piece. Many, many pieces met their demise soon after the first mark, and I'm feeling much like I do when I stand in front of a blank canvas. Metaphorically, this new life/place I'm in is the largest fucking canvas I've ever been in front of, and it is pristine; not a mark, not a blemish, nothing to break the tension. I've seen artists spend HOURS pacing in front of their new, perfectly white pieces. Shit, I've spent DAYS debating that first mark.

My first drawing professor told us his trick: "paint the canvas the most horrid color you can imagine, and I guarantee you'll want to put that mark down quick!" I started painting my canvases pink. This really pukie pink, not fit for anything but a gynecologist's office and it made me dry heave. I had to cover it up quickly.

Of course I can't actually paint my life a horrid color to turn the tension into something comical. However, I can feel as though I'm getting to the stage where I'm becoming annoyed with my own inaction.

That's just as good as the pukie-gyno-vagina pink I used to motivate myself in the past, because being pitiful and sedentary makes me want to dry heave too.