Picture of me with a snail

Parties: The stupid thing about them is that socially awkward people interrupt conversations constantly, then have nothing to say. Like, awesome, thanks so much for making me feel as akward as you. You were standing around with no one to talk to, so you thought it was okay to come up and interupt my conversation so you don’t feel alone. Now, you’re talking diddly to me and the person I was actually having an enjoyable conversation with walked away. This sucks, I’m leaving! (and I did).

Also, I wish people would stop saying FAIL.  It’s reached the plateau “psych” reached in the 80s. Please, stop using it.

On a personal note, I have never this poor in my life, something happened with my unemployement, they’ve put me on hold and I don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent.  But I’m following my dreams. Does that even mean anything? Maybe I’m just being irresponsible. I’ve never tried to follow my dreams before, so I don’t know what it feels like. It’s uncomfortable, most things I’ve spent my time doing are much easier.

I’ve also never, ever, not been able to pay my rent. Maybe I’ll buy a van and live in it like Jewel! People will say, “Wow, Veronica, she used to live in a van.” People like stories about other people overcoming hardships.

I could change it up a little bit. Instead of a van I could live in canoe.

“Veronica, she used to live in a canoe. Her feet were always wet. What a survivor.”

xo

I started in a standing position with her standing directly in front of me, her hands on my lower back to help guide me as I arched backwards to place my hands onto the floor. I touched the floor and straightened my arms and legs, something that is very difficult and somewhat painful to do. After staying in this extreme position for 5 long, deep breathes she pulled on my hips as a signal to pull myself up. I flexed my things and began to pull my arms off the ground and lenthen back up to a standing position when my mind when blank and my body went limp. I felt her grip around my waist tighten as she firmly directed me in a clear, loud voice to pull up.

“Pull up!” she instructed loudly. “Pull up!” she yelled again for the second time. I came back to the present moment, engaged my abdominal muscles, tightened my things and came back to a standing postiion.

“What happened?” she asked. “You lose strength?”

I looked at her and said the simple truth. “I forgot what I was doing.” The pain of being in the present was so great I realized that my brain shut off and I exited into a fantasy world. This inabilty to accept the present moment could have injured me, and I beleive it symbolizes the eternal struggle of maintaining present time awareness 100% of the time. Afterwards I felt overwhelming emotion well up and almost began to cry. I withheld the tears out of respect to the rest of the students. I believe that emotions are incredibly powerful and they influence the emotions of others. That if i’m feeling weak or emotionally negative that it is important to continue to bring postiive vibrations, energy and thoughts to those around you until you are in a place where you can vent alone or with someone you trust that has cultivated strong energy and is impervious to absorbing your pain. This is what I have learned and experienced to be true in my 27 years here on Earth.

I do Yoga every day. It is the only thing I wake up for, it is my devotion to God, to eternal bliss and to the divine. I do not know why we exist in this world, at all. If I don’t devote myself to something that helps me grow on a physical, mental and emotional level I cease to believe that I have any reason to exist. I dive into a depression so deep that the only escape, the only way out seems to remove myself from this world and therefore forgo the pain and suffering that is present if not in my own life, in the lives of those that I am surrounded by. Addictions, lack of self care, unconscious self hate seem to abound. How often to you meet people who are striving to make the world a better place without forgoing their own personal health and serenity while doing it, if they even do it at all? Not a lot, in my experience. This depresses me because I genuinely care deeply about the human race. If you ask me to explain why I couldn’t begin to tell you. I suppose because I feel as though I’ve felt many many things, and feel the ability to relate, sympathize and empathize with the majority of people that I meet. And it makes me love them even more. I believe that we all have the ability to experience, and more importantly share, the greatest of gifts which is unconditional love.

I have had some interesting experiences this week while attempting to practice this sort of unconditional love and feel compelled to acknowledge that my attempts fall so short, so far from the tree. I might elaborate on some of these experiences later in the week when I’m feeling a little more open to being vulnerable, perhaps. Tonight I feel tired and unsure about what level of vulnerability is safe to share on such a public forum.

What I know is that it is very important to focus on the betterment of one’s own spiritual growth and fostering of unconditional love, and that to focus on the wrongdoings and shortcomings of others is extremely painful and can lead to circumstances worse than death, such as sever mental illness or a consistent and overwhelming feeling of pain and unhappiness.

Good night, I wish you love and freedom from fear and all of its manifestations.

my first day of school (when I didn't know that I was going to die)

I’m no longer a wordpress kinda gal. i’ve made the transition over to tumblr. READ ME HERE AT TUMBLR FROM NOW ON OR MISS OUT ON ME ENTIRELY!! Sorry for all the trouble, I just prefer Tumblr. The user interface is way easier and the community rocks socks.

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I’ve been trying to find new work since I got laid off/demoted/let go, not really sure what exactly to label it. I taught a demo Yoga class last night to a teacher at one  of the oldest studioes in Los Angeles. I taught to her and the two other candidates. Then those candidates taught their demo with me in their class as well. Afterward I got an email from the teacher. She likes me, she thinks I have the most potential but least experience. I feel completely at the mercy of God. This whole month has fed me a lot of humble pie and I’m just eating it, bite after sour bite, trying to swallow it without throwing up.

My social life still rocks, it helps when you love people and you love being inspired by those around you. But what happens when you want to be inspired when no one’s around?

I got to experience that when I was in Denver. Just tooting around the town alone, talking to strangers, seeing who I am when I’m around no one else I know. I’m not much different I found out. I managed to surround myself with new, temporary friends, to fill the silence of my own beating heart. However, I did have some time alone to reflect. Far more time than my usual 10 minute prayer time before bed.

And yes, I pray, I’m not religious, I’m spiritual. I pray so that I remember how big the world is and how little I am, in the scheme of things, but also to remember that even someone as little as me can make a difference and to ask for courage and strength not to give up and to keep on waking up, day after day, even though I have no idea why on earth I should in all honesty. I think some people call that faith.

But I noticed myself in Denver. I noticed because, while alone, I spent my days the way I wanted to spend them. There were no friends who needed rides, there were few phone calls, I had no work to do, no meetings to go to, no performances or obligations impressed upon me by friends and no cliques to be a part of. Nobody knew me, nobody needed me ,and therefore I was free to do and be as I pleased.

All I did was practice and research and visit Yoga studios in Denver, plan my Kombucha workshop, commence work on my Yoga blog and cook vegetables in the hostel kitchen. I also took public transit all over town and read a novel.

It’s scary for me to do what I love to do. What if I can’t do it well, what if no one wants me, what if the thing I love most isn’t meant for me? None of these thoughts are conscious of course, nor are they as cut and dry as I have just made them out to be. The fear is so subltle, so justifiable, that I don’t even notice that it’s fear.

Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to find myself before I kill myself in frustration trying. Not that I’m suicidal, because I’m not. It’s just that sometimes, when I think about what in God’s name we’re all doing here on this planet, it’s just, well, I just want to laugh and cry hysterically at the same time. This life, what the fuck. I mean WHAT THE FUCK. Is it a joke? Is it a dream? As soon as I start figuring it all out, or I think I’m finally starting to get a grasp on it all, I realize that I’m dying, and that time is slipping away, second by second, minute by minute, as I become closer to reaching the final destination, one we all have to face in the end:   Death.

And then what? I mean, THEN WHAT??? Jesus.

on a side note:  you ever notice how much time it takes to do any one little thing and do it well?

It’s brisk here, it’s nice.

I went to Yoga Now, took their morning MySore Ashtanga class. I didn’t connect with the teacher so I’m checking out Moksha Yoga on Clark street tomorrow morning. I have to get up soon, I should go to bed like a good little yogini.

I’ve been trying to get into this pose for over a year now, still can’t do it completely but I’m getting close!

Suptakurmasana Yoga Asana

Do Yoga!!

Las Vegas Strip

I ate a hamburger and french fries on my way to Las Vegas. I felt like I deserved the “treat”, you know, for taking time off to drive to my friend’s wedding and enjoy a little vacation time. It just made me feel fat and slothly.

I got hit on twice in the parking lot of Circus Circus on my way into the hotel. Pretty much sums up what Vegas is going to be like I suppose. Getting hit on by gross looking guys walking to their crappy little sedans as I get out of mine. I feel fat and slothy from said meal mentioned above, I didn’t put any make up on and I’m wearing mismatched socks with flip flops.

Maybe standards don’t exist in Vegas.

Okay, I’ll admit I owned the Blue Album, Pinkerton and the Green album. Why? Becuase my boyfriend in high school was obsessed with them and I thought he was extremely cool. I was kind of obsessed with this guy. I even learned how to juggle becuase he juggled and I wanted to do it better than him. I researched all the things he was interested in so I would know as much about it, if not more, then he did.

I take a step back and wonder why people were so gaga about them in the first place. I mean, I already explained that I inheritied an obsession with the band from an ex, but what’s YOUR excuse?

Pinkerton sucks. I didn’t even know anything about music when I listened to it for the first time way back in 1999. Even Rivers Cuomo disavowed the record. Even still, when the Green album came out I got tickets and so did all of my little friends, marinating in coolness that would eventually propel them into hipsterdom.

The Green album sucks too. Come on. It does. At the very least, it’s nothing special, you have to admit that. The only thing Weezer ever did that was worth an inkling of a shit was the Blue album. Okay, I’ll admit, that album rocks actually. It’s a total gem in the pile of shit that is the rest of their music.

Weezer, they peaked early, like a 15 year old pubescent boy sneaking a peek into the girls’ gym locker room.

Wants:

I just want to write more.

I want to eat food that nourishes me.

I want to participate in projects that inspire and uplift those around me.

I want to feel like I’m making the right decisions all the time.

Don’t Wants

I don’t want to feel like I’m overstepping any boundaries when I’m interacting with other people.

I don’t want to feel ashamed for being who I am.

I don’t want to hurt other people’s feelings, but I also don’t want to have to anticipate how others are going to feel if I speak my mind.

……….

It amazes me how many people don’t do what they want in life. I think it’s because they don’t know what they want to do.

……….

I wrote a new post on what I think about marketing today.

make stuff, it's fun

I’m not sure why I feel compelled to share what I’m thinking on this blog. Sometimes I go to write, then I think “oh, who gives an eff” , or another common one is “that’s stupid, no one cares.” When that voice gets loud I just keep doing what I’m doing until I make headway with something. Once I make headway, that voice disappears.

I’m reaching out to other bloggers to begin sharing my thoughts and opinions on issues that really matter to me. I tried to blog about music, but you know what? I love music, and I love making it, but I don’t care about writing about it. Not even a little bit. I prefer to write about social, economic, environmental, tech or cultural issues. So I’m going to stick with that.

Here’s my latest blog post.. I realize that it is incredibly unprofessional, as I didn’t list any sources for the statistics that I posted. It was the submission that I sent in to be considered as a contributer. They just started the blog so they’re still fine tuning the layout, etc. I found it on Craigslist and thought it would be a good way to excercise writing about environmental issues and could help support another project I’m launching with a friend soon.

Oh, and if I didn’t tell you already, it looks like I’ll be teaching a workshop this year at the Do Lab’s Lighting in a Bottle Festival. I’ll be teaching people how to make their own Kombucha, why Kombucha is a healthy addition to one’s diet, what it does for the body, as well as cultural information behind the drink!

And, in other news, there is a nazi/kkk rally at city hall this week in Los Angeles. People are rallying for an anti-protest protest. If you didn’t hear about it you can read more here. It’s pretty interesting to think that racism still exists to this degree, I mean, what the eff, kinda sad.

oh, p.s. I’m sorry the piano is so out of tune. I will try to get it tuned soon.

"pain" by Hoag

She’s sitting on a couch. The couch is plaid. There is a cigarette burn on side cushion that sits to the far right end of the couch.

The rest of the couch is immaculate, as is her entire apartment. She likes the burn mark on her couch. The mark is small, brown and dirty. It didn’t exist until two years ago. Her friend was helping her move from an old apartment. He was smoking a cigarette when it fell out of his mouth and onto the cushion where it burned a hole.

He felt badly. She just smiled and told him it was fine. He didn’t believe her. Who would? Anyone would assume that someone with that much money would be greatly offended if a piece of their material world was tarnished, ruined. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t feel it was ruined. In fact she found it to be quite the opposite.

They fell in love, for a time. Eventually, while the love didn’t fade, their tolerance for their respective defects did, and they spent less and less time together, until eventually neither of them called each other anymore.

But she never forgot him. He taught her a great many things. She didn’t hold onto the material gifts that he had given her over the months. The hat he bought her, she had thrown away long ago. But she didn’t turn the couch cushion with the burn hole over. She left it just the way it was.

I think there’s more magic in pain than in joy.