The Skeptic, The Naysayer

I have a chronic case of pessimism.

There was a time in my life when I was told (not by anyone for whom I coveted great respect) that my permanent expression was a frown. I was greatly insulted by this comment until I realized it was probably true. Then my life changed. I met a person with a chronic case of optimism (Luke). My whole perspective changed and the world suddenly looked pink instead of blue (it may have been a lasting effect of the awesome Aussie wine...). When I returned from Oz, my life was enriched, enlightened, and framed in a positive way instead of a critical way.

Then life happened. Five years into marriage, eyeball deep in debt, and wondering if we'll ever have enough money to have kids, the pink has faded into a tepid taupe. It becomes much harder to see things in an optimistic way. My beacon of positivity has been affected by the challenges of the real world, and the positive of each day becomes the fact that we have shelter, some food, and each other.

I thought I was different at work. I thought, I'm the source of optimism and positivity at my workplace. I'm the only one not complaining about "The Way Things Are" and the bureaucratic bullshit that governs us all. I'm the one looking forward to making a positive change in the district and the industry.

And then came Joel. And suddenly I'm Miss Poopy Pants again. It feels like a disease in my veins. I don't know why my responses are coming out the way they are--bitter, skeptical, naysaying. It's not the message I am rationally intending to send, but every word I say pulls me deeper and deeper into this quagmire. Why is this happening? Is it jealously of his awesomeness as a behavior analyst? Am I intimidated by his pervasive optimism? Am I afraid people will look at me differently now that he's around? Maybe all of these things. But I need to shift my attitude somehow. Just because I have been here longer doesn't mean I'm right about everything/everyone. When asked for advice, I give it. The delivery must never include judgement. State the facts, just like I tell everyone else. "In my experience..." is a great way to preface this advice.

Okay, things are looking up...

I'm taking over the world!

So to speak...

In attending the first day of Mt. Diablo School District's annual Leadership Institute, I realzied something about myself. I can't help but lead people. Laura and I spoke a lot about management versus leadership in work settings and today confirmed what I expressed to Laura (one way we apparently differ): I am a leader. I can manage people and all that, but I am not satisfied or interested in things unless I have a leadership role.

I started today begrudingly. I was not happy to be spending an entire day sitting and listening to people talk, or even to facilitate the "interactive conversation" on our summer camp program which I enjoyed tremendously, as I wrote in another entry. In fact, I don't think I smiled until 9:30, and that was only to make people believe I was enjoying myself. After lunch, and dodging the crowds and the junk-food laden buffet, we broke into our nebulous "cafe conversations" in which one brave soul had to volunteer to be the "host" and faciliate each of 3 different groups on the spot, given 3 very abstract questions as a starting point. As I sat down with my first random group, consisting of faces I recognized but not any real acquaintences, I immediately volunteered to be the host without even thinking about it. Based on my mentality from earlier in the day, I have no idea why I volunteered. I actually ended up enjoying myself more because of this sense of responsibility than I ever did as a "spectator." Sometimes I really surprise myself.

The moral of the story is, no matter how bad my attitude may start out, when I'm put in charge of something, I fly. And people follow.

Sin City

A day and a half after getting home, I think I have finally recovered from the gluttony of a weekend in Las Vegas. Laura and I met there on Thursday night and departed Monday. I greeted Laura in the airport holding a hand-written sign reading, "Koetter," because I felt silly standing next to the limo drivers without a sign in my hands. After a $30 cab ride to the Sahara (the second most expensive cost the whole trip!), we sped up to the room to freshen up so we could make it to the buffet (#1 of 3) before it closed.

After stuffing ourselves silly on a rather delicious and well-endowed buffet spread, we decided to try our hands at the poker machines. With a martini in one hand and a Club Sahara Card in the other, we camped out at the machines just long enough to make $1.40 (Laura) and lose $1.45 (me). Satisfied with our gambling endeavour, we sipped one more cocktail and retired to our room to get our beauty rest and prepare for our adventures in Sin City.

Friday we were delighted to be out of bed and out of the hotel by 10 am. We walked the long walk down to the strip to see the sights. Making several pitstops along the way to cool off, we managed to see McDonald's, a mall, and several hotels. By the time we got to the Venetian, our stomachs were growling so we loaded up on a reuben sandwich and matzoball soup at a deli. With this sustenance, we managed to explore several more hotels before we decided we were too hot to continue and made our way back to the hotel for a cooling sun and booze session.

Our night out on Friday was definitely the most memorable. We got all gussied up and hopped on the monorail to Ye Olde Excalibur. I had staked out a "dining" location called Dick's Last Resort where we could catch a bite before our show. The waiters were lude and obnoxious and did amazing magic tricks. The food and drink were ok but this place is more about the "experience" than the food. With our bellies full and our heads happy, we made our way to the much-coveted Thunder From Down Under which proved to be the most awesome thing we did. By about halfway through, I was hoarse from yelling so much. Nuff said.

That afternoon, we apparently looked just hot and sweaty enough to attract the attention of a dude passing out VIP tickets to the Tao Nightclub. After Thunder, since we looked good and had just witnessed 9 beautiful men taking their clothes off, we were in the mood to check it out. After waiting in a line just long enough for us to realize how cool we were for going to this nightclub, we entered and headed straight up to the "beach" to get cocktails (for a mere $12 each). Blue drinks in hand, we ventured to the "dance" floor which basically consisted of many many many bodies rubbing up against each other. We weren't sure how long we would last there, but a nice young man came to our "rescue" and proceeded to block the attempts of any smarmy man to make contact with us without actually being smarmy himself. His presence made the night. Then his friends showed up and we took our leave. Once out of the club, we kicked the shoes off and walked home, tired, satisfied, and with Las Vegas all over our feet.

Saturday we woke up only (surprisingly) slightly groggy and basically ready for another day on the town. We sampled the greasy fare (and redeemed our food voucher) at the hotel cafe and made our way back down to the strip. By about 3, the night before had caught up with us and manifested itself as naps, for Laura in a dark room in bed, for me with a beer at the pool. A couple of hours later, we were as good as new and headed out to Stratosphere for night #2.

At Stratosphere, we had a crazy dinner package that included a show (impersonators), the buffet dinner (#2 of 3), 2 drinks, and a trip to the "Top of the World." Nothing was all that spectacular, but all very pleasant. We (old ladies) were in bed by 12 that night.

Sunday was a big food day. We took a dip and a bit of sun at the pool in the morning and proceeded to Paris where we stood in line for the champagne brunch buffet (#3 of 3) for an hour. We then spent 2 hours eating and drinking unlimited champers. It was unbelievable. The food was great, the drink was great, and my stomach was fuller than it has ever been. We rolled ourselves our of there to try to see the last few hotels on the strip.

Sunday night, we saw a comedy show which proved to be better than expected. A lot of p0tty humor, but a good audience and good seats (we only got targeted once--whew). Our next stop was a wine bar called Onda at the Mirage where I'd heard you could get a plate of cheese and flights of wine. We settled in with a glass of wine each and a nice combo plate of cheese and cured meat that provided us with the perfect dinner. We finished up the night at Treasure Island's Kahunaville where the bartenders are noted for their "flair" abilities (meaning, their ability to throw bottles of alcohol around and occasionally pour a drink). We ordered the biggest drink I've ever seen, which also happened to literally steam (from dry ice). I was very interested in the drink, but I think Laura was more interested in the biceps of our bartender...

Somewhat sadly, we made our tired way back to the hotel, realizing suddenly that our trip had almost come to an end.

Because we had seen everything we wanted to see (except the Wynn, but that'll be another trip), we spend our morning at the hotel, sunning at the pool. Then we packed up, dropped our bags with the bellboy, and strolled back up to the Stratosphere to eat at Roxy's Diner. The waiters and waitresses sang, as promised, and the burgers, fries, onion rings, and of course banana split were awesome. Again, bellies full, we rolled back down to the hotel, hopped in a shuttle and made our separate ways home.

The trip was filled with food, booze, shopping, gambling, gawking, and walking, but best of all was the opportunity to spend the time with Laura. It literally took us 4 days to catch up from the time we were apart, and that time together was the real jackpot.

Not About Work

When I started this blog thing, I hadn't intended to use it to write about anything work-related. Goodness knows I spend enough time in my day thinking about work and why would I want to spend my leisure time on the same thing? Well since summer school ended, I feel a bit sad, which is an indicator that perhaps I actually enjoyed myself for those six short weeks.

Having all my autism classrooms in one location was a dream. Rather than spending 1/3 of my day navigating the lights and traffic, I spent the whole day with the children and staff, and most of it smiling. To see something we all worked so hard to produce come to fruition was unbelievably rewarding. Though people had their issues, as they always do, the beauty of the children trumped all. The enthusiasm of the staff was constantly inspiring to me. I found myself thinking frequently, These people are amazing. I felt so lucky to be able to work with all of them.

Though it isn't really a practical expectation to see enormous behavioral or educational change in the short six-week period, the program served its purpose, to maintain skills and expose the students to frequent transitions and social opportunities. With the effort of the whole team, we made it happen.

So now as I sit reflecting, I smile knowingly to myself. A bit smug, yes, but truly satisfied with my job well done.

Our Nation's Capital and the Union of 2 Souls

Luke and I just got back from a fabulous journey to Our Nation's Capital and Steve and Melissa's wedding. Though we went through our clothes faster than anticipated due to the urban tropical climate, we enjoyed playing tourist tremendously.

We arrived at Dulles Airport late on Wednesday night, but not too late for a Guinness and authentic fish 'n' chips at the Elephant and Castle Irish Pub. After a long day of traveling, it was the exact sustenance we needed. After a guzzle of a few more beers, we set off to explore the night lights of the White House. After walking a few blocks, we arrived at a gorgeous building, white and lit and majestic, and though the White House is probably one of the most globally recognized architetural structures, we mistook the Treasury Building for the famous house. After consulting my Little Black Book of Washington DC, we realized our error, laughed, and kept walking. We did see the White House lit up for night time, and felt satisfied with our sight-seeing endeavour for the first night. Then we set off back for our quaint and old hotel (Hotel Harrington) and had a nightcap in the local hotspot below, Harry's. We drank away our jet-lag and drifted off to get a good night's sleep for another big day.

On Thursday we had a very strict schedule. We got up early (for vacation anyways) and ventured all the way to the Capitol Building to see if we could gawk at the lawmakers and such. The tour was nice, though I was begrudgingly forced to throw away my beloved protein bars (and emergency lunch supply) due to the ridiculous rule about no food or drink in the capitol. We spent several hours there and even got to witness a session of the Senate. After that we headed towards the Archives building to re-enact our favorite scene from National Treasure in which Nick Cage steals the Declaration. After a long wait for a cheap lunch and a short wait to see the documents, we entered the dimly lit hall where the Constitution, Declaration, and Bill of Rights are housed. We decided against stealing any of them and explored the Public Records Vault instead. Though shivering in the air conditioning, we enjoyed seeing documents throughout our nation's history.

Next came the highlight thus far for Luke. I decided to be brave and stay with him in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum (rather than searching for a nail salon) and we actually had a great time. For 3 and a half hours. After spending $8 and 30 minutes on the flight simulator (and beating down a little kid to get the driver's seat) Luke agreed with my proposition to hydrate and venture back to the hotel for the best dinner EVER.

On the way back to the hotel, the sky began falling. Literally. It went from muggy to pissing down in about 5 seconds. We were soaked in a matter of seconds and found ourselves giggling and sprinting the block to the hotel. After a warming shower and a cocktail, we were ready for the meal of a lifetime.

Went the 20 paces down the street to a Brazilian Churascaria called Fogo de Chao which I think translates to "eat until you can't get up off the ground or move at all or even open your eyes cuz you're so full." Though I opted for the salad bar "only" and Luke opted for the full deal, we stayed almost 3 hours and probably ate 5 pounds of food each. Several cocktails, glasses of wine, and more cocktails later, we rolled ourselves out of there very satisfied with a job well done. Though the rest of the night is a bit of a blur (or coma), we went to bed content.

Friday was the day of monuments and memorials. And sweat. Lots of sweat. Little Black Book in hand, we set out to see as much as we could before our departure. We managed to see everything except the Jefferson Memorial because we decided it was not worth walking around a lake to see something that was already magnificent from a distance. Luke agreed that FDR's was a favorite. Sweaty ad thirsty, we headed to ESPNZone for a beer and snacks. We bid farewell for now to DC and boarded the Amtrak to Baltimore.

Once we arrived at the heavenly Holiday Inn, we were exhausted but excited to see friends. Just in time, Steve called and announced we should go to the Mad River Bar and Grill in a trendy area called Federal Hill. After sampling the fine fare and the local brew, our friends turned up (though Melissa was already in bed). Luke stayed out until the wee hours but I retired early to primp my nails and get my beauty rest.

The day of the wedding (Saturday), I rose early to go help the bridesmaids and Melissa with their makeup (thanks Mary Kay!). It was so fun to be a little part of the prep for the day but I took my leave in time to go back and rouse Luke in time for the ceremony. The service took place at the amazing Baltimore Basilica (the taxi driver who picked us up afterwards was in shock and awe that someone could get married there) which was beautiful and very special. The service was just serious enough, just comedic enough, and everyone in attendance was inspired by the couple's evident adoration for each other.

After a brief pit stop at the hotel and at the WRONG location for the reception ("well we might as well have a drink while we're here") we ended up at the proper restuarant, McCormick and Schmick's just in time for appetizers and to help uncork the wine. The rest of the day is a bit of a blur but some prominent memories from those next 12 hours were dancing with small children, a never-empty glass of white wine, delicious chocolate chip cake, smuggling a full but uncorked bottle of wine from the reception into the bar under my sweater. Several glasses later, we split up. Our little posse became me, Yogi, Luke and The Chad. Somehow, Chad led us by cab to Fell's Point and a bar called The Horse She Rode in On where a lovely local guy strummed a guitar and we guzzled Seven and Seven's. On several occasions, I tried talking to Melissa on the phone about meeting up again, and she said Steve was asleep but that she would try to get him up to go out again. The next memory is pizza at Uno's and the magical placement of beer in front of me (again, neverending). While we were at Uno's, Steve got up and we all ended up at the Irish pub across the mall, Tir Na Nog. My last memories of the night were sitting with Melissa, eating fish and chips, finally an empty beer glass in front of me, and Yogi and Luke fondling Mel's 5-month preggers belly and arguing over names. After a swift punch to Luke's balls by Yogi, my darling was ready to go and somehow we found our way back to the hotel by foot. It was an all-around ridiculously good time had by all.

We spent most of the next day recovering, aided by coffee, McDonald's, sweating a lot from walking, the fishies in the National Aquarium, and finally one of the best Italian dinners I've ever had in Little Italy. We closed out the night by trying to retrace our steps from the day before, ending again at Tir Na Nog with one final Guinness.

Our last day of vacation was spent on a long journey from Baltimore all the way back to Dulles via every possible method of public transportation: taxi, train, and bus. With one pit stop at DC's Union Station for some quick food-court fare, we found ourselves at the airport with a long line for security and an hour-delayed flight. Not so sad to sit and do nothing, we waited.

The flights home were uneventful, but when we arrived at the Oakland Airport and began searching for our strategically placed vehicle (thanks Barnsey and Cat) we were a bit surprised. We searched the area where they said it would be and there was no Murano. After pacing the entire parking lot, having several heart attacks and reliving the tragic car-stealing incident of 2003, the idea struck Luke that maybe they had brought the Saturn. Lo and behold, there was the little green monster, right where they said it would be. It took me several minutes to recover from the retraumatization but eventually we made it home safe and sound.

It will go down as one of the great vacations of Luke and Lorien (though none as of yet have failed to be outstanding) with the highlights being Air and Space, Fogo, and of course, the union of two blessed souls. Now we are happy to be back and looking forward to the next adventure...

Ego-Alter

Sometimes I say to people, "Yeah I'm a dancer. It's kinda my alter-ego." Well I've decided that's not really true. I think, in fact that it is the other way around--that dancing is my ego, my center, my essence, and any other component of me simply revolves around the fact that I am a dancer. I may not get paid for doing it, I may not do it in a studio every day, and I may not even be very good at it, but to say that I am a dancer is not a lie. It may actually be the truest thing I could say.

In class, Byron said that dance is his voice, the way he expresses himself, and when he is limited, it is up to us to be his voice. I am so honored to provide this reflection to him. Byron's class is the one remaining guaranteed inspiration in my life. As I have grown before Byron and with Byron, my ego has altered. I have learned humility and how to quietly shine wherever I may end up standing in the room. I have learned that what matters is the movement and the passion and the emotion, not the image in the mirror or the way I look next to anyone else. To dance without inhibition is to be alive. To connect with others through the choreography is the most primitive and elegant message in the universe.

Given all the restrictions I have encountered in my dance career, physical, financial, geographical, I have always found a way to move. I have taken some pretty sour classes and some pretty awesome classes, and if I have ever gone without dance for more than several weeks, I have felt some indescribable empty space somewhere in my chest. I try to substitute other options, more convenient, or cheaper (yoga, kick-boxing, pilates, walking the dog) just for the sake of movement. Dancing up and down the hallways of my little condo still provides more emotional satisfaction that any of those pastimes.

In my next life--one of many I have planned--I will pursue a career and a life of dance. If I have done well in this life, maybe I will reincarnate with the "dancer's body" that I have always dreamt of (Byron being the ONLY dance teacher who has managed to compliment my "instrument" in all its short squat glory). Until then, I'll follow the Buddhist life and continue to "suffer" through the poverty that deprives me of a physical existence based on dance, and be satisfied and pleased with the opportunities that I do have. Each moment my body is allowed to move as I want it to is a gift, and for this I am grateful.

So this is a blog

Well I have finally joined the world of the technologically current. In looking through all my old journals, I realized how much I love to write and how much I need it and miss it. Then my hand got sore just with the thought of holding a pen for long enough to write anything substantial. I don't know how I used to do it! Maybe the hours of taking lecture notes in high school and college honed my gripping muscles. Well it appears I have evolved. Maybe the venting nature of blogging will help rid my crowded mind of all the useless info I carry around and clear some space for the relevant things that happen every moment of life...