Let's See It

"So you got something you want to show me"

Today at the gym, the man with the staring problem was being especially annoying. I chose a treadmill in the empty row that gave me a good view of all the hanging flat screen TVs. Minutes later a woman came to the treadmill next to mine, where she walked at a snails pace. Her hair was wet, like she just showered, and combed it, and she was wearing jean cargo pants, with her keys dangling from her belt loop by a carabiner.

Right when I came into the gym, his eyes locked on mine like a fucking heat sinker. I nodded to him as I pulled my equivalent of the hotel do not disturb sign out of my purse, my headphones, and stuffed them in my ears.

As the woman next to me and I occupied the treadmill section he was at an arm machine facing us, continuing to stare, in a very rude manner.

My daughter stares at people in the changing room, and we've had talks about giving people privacy. She is very interested in naked people. An old Japanese woman swims every day, and after the kids do their pool time, we see this woman frequently in the locker room. Kiki is fixated on her. I tell Kiki, "Privacy please! Don't look at people as they are changing."

The woman always acts like she doesn't notice, which is difficult since a couple times I've looked over at Kiki after getting George dressed, and she has her hand over her eyes but opened her fingers in a v shape, so one eyeball is exposed, looking at the changing woman.

The last time we saw her, the woman dressed, and hobbled by on her cane. She stopped in front of Kiki, looked at her and said, "You are very interested in me, aren't you?"
Kiki looked down at the ground, and didn't say anything.

It didn't take the man long to make his way over to the treadmills, and of the empty row, he chose the one next to me. When the woman next to me finished her stroll. I tried sending her an ESP message,  "Please don't leave me next to him." because I had a feeling he was going to try and talk to me.
She didn't pick up on my mind message, and left.
My headphones remained in my ears as I wiped the machine down, and picked my purse up off the floor. As I turned, I heard him say something. I couldn't tell you what, maybe something about my distance, or perhaps about how I cleaned the machine, but I just chuckled and shouted "bye," to emphasize that I am listening to loud music, unaware of the world around me. I walked away, mildly ashamed. I didn't want to give him free laughs.

Last night, as I read to my kids the word chuckle came up, and I explained to them that this means to be amused, most of the time when laughing at your own joke. They thought that was funny.

By laughing with him, I contributed to his problem. I need to ovary-up, like the Japanese woman, and ask him, "What the fuck are you looking at?" It's not like I'm in fine form when I'm at the gym. I usually look like ass.

There's one woman there who I call Hot Mom because, just as you'd expect, she is super hot. Aside from her body, giant butt and tits, she has the necessary confidence. She usually power walks on the treadmill at a 45 degree angle, and then does squats in the middle of the gym, at this point I chuckle to myself because I think of Ned Flanders.

I wonder if creepy staring problem man would have the balls to go sniff around Hot Mom's crotch. Based on her disposition, I'm pretty sure she'd whoop his ass, so maybe he knows his audience. I look passive enough to dish out free laughs at his bizarrely inappropriate way to engage in conversation.

I can imagine the retaliation though, for me calling him on his shit. He'd say something, like don't flatter yourself sweetie, then spew an onslaught of insults at me. In order to protect myself from that type of self-esteem damage, I'll keep up my MO of completely oblivious with my music too loud to ever hear what he's saying.

I can already see how a conversation with him would play out. He'd blow out a bunch of gratuitous compliments, so I'd feel rude telling him to fuck off. His intentions are confusing though. His staring at me is forcing me to look at him. This entire charade is a way for him to make me acknowledge him, most likely as Man. The quickest way to squash this would be to appease by saying, "Ok, just show it to me. Pull it out so we can get this song and dance over with."

Then he'll pull it out, and hold it in his hands. And I'll say, "Well, that is exactly what I was expecting. You are such a Man." Then he'll be so pleased with himself he'll chuckle, and I'll get back to not being disturbed.

Avoiding A Strange Trip To Self Help

Sunday night I watched the Tony Robbins Netflix documentary called I Am Not Your Guru. The film was inspiring, and a good reminder to maintain high expectations and not fall victim to your personal story. Throughout the documentary we're shown "interventions" from members of his Destiny seminar. In an intervention, a person stands up and tells their story, then Tony gives them harsh questions so they deal with their issues head on.

The first intervention is a petite young woman who wants to get her eating under control. When the "problem" came out of her mouth I thought, this poor idiot is in front of the greatest motivational coach and she wants to talk about how she has problems eating, life must be good if this is the extent her issues. At this point, I was apprehensive the film would really be worth my hour and fifty minutes, but minutes later I saw it was a setup to demonstrate people distracting themselves from their inner turmoil with nonsense. Tony, being the non-guru, identified it as a stupid problem she  cooked up to avoid dealing with the real issue. After two questions he finds out her dad is a prick with a drug problem. Then he told her to call her dad, and thank him for being that way because it made her who she is. Let go of any anger, and replace it with gratitude.
An intervention that follows, I think, really takes the reigns of the film because her story is more powerful than the damn seminar. Dawn says she was born into the Children of God cult in Brazil, and brought everyone to tears describing her traumatic upbringing, and that now she is left trying to help her depressed family, and all she wants to do is kill herself because she has been unsuccessful in finding a model for love. Tony assured her through the massive crowd that she is loved, and that love does exist. In addition to support, she was given a career and $100,000 from other participants.

That night I laid in bed, and thought about her, and what she went through. I tried not to. I couldn't calm my mind. It is so terrible to think about the magnitude of evil in this world. I read a Sonia Sotomayor interview, and she said this was the reason she had to stop working as a public defender,  living a life where she has to stare into a deep well of evil is too burdensome. I was hollowed out after reading that. It is something people don't like to think about. This truth is the greatest flaw in Idealism which neglects to acknowledge the darkness in a balanced universe.

Last night I finished reading an autobiography by a psychic paramedic, Journey Into Grace, an interesting story of a woman who was brought up by a terribly abusive mother and fell into a wealth of personal problems, but overcame it all and harnessed a power she developed at the age of 7. The book maps out her traumatic adolescence, wayward youth, finding her path and ends describing her practice as a psychic healer. Although I had a hard time visualizing the "color grids" she explains when working on people, it was captivating. She talks about interfacing with evil entities, and how combating them only brings on more combat, and so what has to be done is acknowledge their existence and ask what their intention is. She repeats, "I see you," to the entity, so it feels loved rather than hated, and then through her healing powers, draws on energy sources that clear out the evil through love. This reminds me of the Martin Luther King quote, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that."
In the book, her psychic stories sound other worldly, which I suppose they are. For example, she explains being in another dimension, talking to a hissing black serpent whose taken space in a woman's body, a woman who is sleeping on a table in the other realm, visible far below. The stories sound so crazy, they just have to be true.

Like the author of Journey Into Grace, Tony Robbins had an abusive childhood. I wasn't as extreme, I don't think she would have made it out alive if she weren't always on high alert. Tony says he has no anger towards his mother, in fact he thanks her for all the abuse and neglect, because it made him into the man he is today.

I went to yoga this morning, and felt such a release of tension. Maybe it's because of the full moon. I  recently finished a huge goal of mine, and although there is still tending and follow through needed, I'm ready to take on a new project. I have so many ideas, and I struggle with choosing one thing and focusing on that, rather than having ten things going that I'm unable to fully dedicate myself to. I'm excited to be at a point where I can start up something new, but I just don't know which project to choose.
In shavasana I spoke to myself about what I want to do next. I have a short list of three things; writing projects that will likely take a year or so each. I was able to say, ok, what should I do next? And I told myself to write out what I'm grateful for, but not the obvious things that I'm grateful for; the love of my family, the love I give and receive, feeling challenged creatively and acting on these ideas, having money, health and happiness, but writing down the things I don't talk about. I don't feel like I hold onto anger, but I never give any attention to skeletons in my closet. Its sort of like I ignore them, trying to push them into my subconscious. I need to write them out, Thankful for all the dark shit because it allows me feel so much light. I'm able to feel love because I know there are spaces in this world without it.

This week's New Yorker has an article by Ariel Levy about Ayahuasca, the hallucinogen that is sweeping the nation by storm. Unlike most drugs, where teens are the target audience, this is a drug taken by adults on a quest to better themselves. Tim Ferris says he takes the hallucinogen frequently, even though the first time he took it he experienced two hours of the worst pain imaginable, having seizures that left rug burn on his face, because after the experience he felt like he let go of all the anger he'd been holding onto.
It sounds preposterous that people would want to take this drug, even with the execptation of a lightened soul because the effects when under the influence are horrific; barfing, hellish visions, and pain. Levy does take the drug, but her trip is not described in detail. Were told after she barfs she feels a calming, but nothing about visions or life guidance.

I have absolutely no desire to take this drug in order to confront my subconscious, and attain greater inner peace. I did mushrooms too much in my youth. I had the habit of laughing so hard I peed my pants. While on a freaking mind trip, acknowledging, you're a grown ass woman who just laughed so hard at a dancing mole on someone's face that you peed yourself. Great job, Alicia!
Aside from not being able to control my laughter (and bladder), I spend the entire time battling my thoughts, worried sick people can read my mind, trying to not think bad things in the case that they can read my mind. That command, do not think bad thoughts, only makes me think bad thoughts. After a couple experiences where I felt powerless in my own mind, I decided it's not worth it for me.

I think the subconscious exists for a reason. There is a place where things are sent because life functions much better without having them swimming around in our thoughts, let sleeping dogs lie. Drudging up the sludge will create silt in a calm, yet shallow, mind. It seems that the trend in taking Ayahuasca is in line with the the psychic's beliefs as well as Robbins; let go of anger by acknowledging it's existence. Allow the mind to be deep, even if it's swirling with murky water.

Since I can't risk laughing till I pee my pants, or relax when I'm told to relax, I have to stick to writing lists while in reality (or whatever we'll call present time) and hope for the same type of release one gets from Ayahuasca. After I feel a lightening, and a clear direction for my next project, I can spread the word, there is no need to torment yourself with hallucinogens, just make a list! It sounds so simple. Then I will know what I want to begin next. I think it is fantastic a femme thriller I've thought up, like the movie Deceived starring Goldie Hawn. Oh, that movie is so good. When I was ten years old, I used to watch that movie, peeking over the back of the couch. This is why I can't take a trip into my subconscious, I don't know what could be in there. My trip could end up being John Heard chasing me around an abandoned loft and I have to kill him with the rickety old elevator, but only get to use one eye, lurking in a shadow, to see. What a strange thrip that would be.

Stress Relief

Yesterday I had the flu. It wasn't a head-in-the-toilet-and-fever type of flu but my joints were aching and my body temperature swung from freezing to sweltering every ten minutes. My body has been in mayhem since Saturday when I woke up with a cold sore itching my lip. That was the day of my brother's wedding, so my sister and I went on a Valtrex mission in Salt Lake City so I could stop the cold sore from getting any bigger. After an hour at CVS, I got my medication and started taking high doses a couple times a day before the lip sore started to eat my face.
I told my grandma the next day at lunch, "I have no stress, I don't know why I got a cold sore!"
As I told her this, George ran around us like a tasmanian devil, and occasionally I'd frantically chase him down before he ran into the valet parking lane. She looked at me like You're delusional.

We returned to Sacramento, and the flu picked through my husband and me. The kids probably had it first, and we didn't notice because the fever was low grade and the only obvious ailment has been congestion. This flu is best described as being severely hungover, and anyone knows, pairing a severe hangover with parenting is a fast way to bring on sobriety.
My husband had the flu first. I didn't really believe him, so I glared at him as I frequently passed the bedroom, watching him lay in bed while I played with the kids. The next morning he was cured, and flew to Las Vegas for work, and I thought I was coming down with a terminal illness. I always like to advocate being married to someone who travels a lot for work. It's the perfect prescription to any marriage, time apart. But as I lay on the couch wishing I could go take a nap, I thought, well having a partner who is gone a third of the month does have a drawback, someone to take over parenting duties when on death's doorstep.

The day we left Salt Lake we spent some time in my parents' hotel room. My dad tickled George till he peed his pants, and then they watched a movie. I told my parents how I feel a lot better now that I quit drinking, but I think I need a weekend a year where I meet my sister in an undisclosed location, so we can party down. Then I'll return home and suffer through a hungover-parenting day, and swear off booze for 365 days. My dad said, "That's a terrible idea." and my mom said, "Can I come?"

Of course it would start out as a great time, but I'd probably end up getting arrested for pissing behind a dumpster, or even worse, someone would record me trying to fuck an aspen tree, and that shit would go viral. Then I'd get a cold sore.

If I can't get Valtrex, I could buy a mask