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the perils of parking and the "mean" face.

  • Nov. 15th, 2007 at 10:32 AM
Halloween 2007
I've come to terms with the fact that it will never be easy to find a parking space at my gym.  Night after night, I circle the lot in my dear Lil Muz, patiently waiting to see an opening.  Scream, yell, bitch, moan ... finally resorting to stalking those gym-goers who've completed their workouts and are on the way out, while my workout thus far has consisted in exercising the air in my lungs and the pitch of my voice. 

Turn the radio up, creep forward. 

Pretend like you're not following the S-L-O-W walker. 

Creep again. 

Stop, look around, whistle.

Who, me?  Following you?  Pssssshhhhhht.

While on this wild goose chase around the lot, it hits me:  The reason why I don't think Christmas shopping is that difficult to deal with is because I already deal with it on a regular basis.  I'm used to the ebb and flow of gym-goers throughout the year.  The January "resolution" joiners.  The February "restart those workouts" returning members.  The March-April-May "I'm in it for my summer look" power exercisers.  The June dropoff.  Steady, steady, steady until the October resurgence of those "the holidays are coming" last-minute workout mavens.  Then peace until January again.

What happened to that cycle?  Are people finally growing half a brain and realizing that a little exercise won't kill them?  It's entirely possible, although walking into my gym, you'll see the wannabe power lifters who will do a set while you're watching, then hop on their cells for a 30 minute conversation about how "Dude, I'm in the gym, just trying to get a workout in today" when really, you know that doing one set of bench press isn't doing anything for them.  These guys are the sort who are perpetually at the gym because they NEVER get anything done.  Ever. 

They irritate you as you navigate the equipment.  "Dude, you don't understand ... I'm working out man.  I'm about to press 220, no joke.  Aww, fuck off man.  I don't lie."

Being a chick, it's already hard enough to get a weight routine in.  Guys always pick you to "work in with" seeing as how you're a chick, and you're probably "not that serious" about working out.  Please.

You're listening to the obligatory iPod, and yet you still hear them from across the room.  If you go up to them and tell them to shut the GD phone off, suddenly you're a bitch.  So you grit your teeth through the "Surfer from the UAE in the Valley" speak, put on the "leave me alone face" and push yourself harder to get through it.

Why do I look so intense when I work out?  You're reading it.

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subliminal messages from MySpace.

  • Nov. 14th, 2007 at 8:03 AM
Halloween 2007
I'd rather explain myself in a forum rather than to individual people.  Yes, I purged my own self from MySpace, mainly to avoid having to go through each of my "friends" on here and determine which are healthy friendships and which are not.  And yes, I'm now back.  The downtime totaled about ... 4 days, give or take a handful of hours.

Okay, for Pete's sake ...  It was 3 days.  Happy?

It's weird - I always think I can do it, but there's a certain aspect of this website that I cannot avoid: online socializing.  My jobs thus far have been demanding, but somewhat uninteresting, if that's a word.  The ADHD running rampant among parties of our "MTV" generation triggers a need for a heightened form of intellectual stimulation that working for "the man" doesn't provide.

That's all I've got.  My explanation, in a nutshell.  I've tried to fit into one of those, but GD they're tiny.

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just a random note.

  • Nov. 2nd, 2007 at 8:53 AM
Halloween 2007

It is entirely possible that I’ve sat through too many thought-provoking Communications classes, or that I think too much, or that I carry the weight of the world in worry on my shoulders, but lately I’ve been pondering the idea of perception.  What do we truly “see” when you remove the filters you’ve grown accustomed to using your whole life to view the world?  And why on Earth do we train ourselves to habitually use such discriminating filters?

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Tell me what you think.

  • Oct. 29th, 2007 at 11:22 AM
Halloween 2007
I'm working on my essay for grad school.  The prompt: "Why do you want to pursue a Master of Public Administration?"
Roger Johnson was my high school mathematics teacher for two years, artfully instructing me on trigonometry and somehow coaxing me into understanding Calculus.  My parents were the machine driving me through school.  I often wondered how I'd get by in college without them around, but I discovered their influence was far-reaching enough to stay with me through my studies.

I attempted the engineering route given the skills I learned from Mr. Johnson coupled with a proclivity for math instilled by my father, but quickly discovered that only some can master the art form of Calculus.  After several months of pondering and struggling to read the true language of advanced math, I realized I could still take the teachings of Mr. Johnson and the guidance of my own parents down a different path.

I chose Political Science mainly because it allowed me to think with creative yet constructive analysis, and it welcomed the thought process Mr. Johnson inspired through his teachings: the power of deduction and logical reasoning.  I found that I was able to excel in a new realm of study, and it inspired me to look further than simply getting through college, initially driving me toward an internship position in Washington DC through the University of California.  It was through this UCDC program that my chosen path became more defined.  Bearing witness to the way government works internally stimulated my brain with a new-found vigor.  As a Congressional Intern, I experienced briefings, attended a session of the Supreme Court, and honed skills to use my voice sagaciously in the political realm.

My parents instilled the drive toward public service from an early age, but it took a journey through college to fully realize that passion.  My father worked as a civil engineer supporting the City of San Jose, while my mother was always involved in the local Mayoral and City Council campaigns for our district, with me in tow.  The work experience along with my internship opportunity with Congresswoman Susan Davis solidified my interest to be involved with the inner workings of government, in a capacity where I feel my work would have the most meaning, on the local level.

A Master of Public Administration promises an increased awareness of and sensitivity to the crucial political factors that characterize public service, coupled with the ultimate goal of operational motivation. This awareness and sensitivity will enhance not only my capacity to manage but also to be managed, subsequently allowing me to be an active, contributing member of society.  I am in pursuit of an MPA so that I might increase my involvement in positively shaping the surrounding environment through my service.

Halloween 2007
Since I've already introduced you to the Dutch factor in this equation, it's now time for step two of the getting lost fantasy: please refrain from learning the language of your surroundings if at all possible.  This rule of thumb is relatively tricky, for I've learned the art of the lisp (it is like a fine wine, delectable and, on occasion, utterly unrefined) as a result of my travels, but prior to heading over there, I stowed away only my English tongue that is well-versed in the French language and knows how to jibberjabber in Dutch.  As you might imagine, none of these fascinating talents were good for much, but I did get in at discounted rates to museums and old fortresses simply because I'm that special.  Did I mention I flashed my Stanford ID?

But I digress.  Learning Spanish would have meant we might have been able to understand when we stopped for directions umpteen times (and no, I do NOT mean from that darn Tom-Tom, which, in all its Dutch glory, got us INSANELY lost one night, leading us on a five hour trek that should have taken less than two.  Learning Spanish would have allowed us to understand the maps slightly better (this is a gut feeling I have, but since that's all I've got to go on ... lap it up like good kitties, won't you?) ... the problem was, the road signs tended to occur after the fact.  Case in point: the sign for La Zubia comes just after the original exit for the town.  Luckily enough for us, there was another exit, along with 8 dozen roundabouts where we took our time trying to figure out which right turn to make (Look kids!  There's Big Ben!).

Never learn the language.  Your trip will be that much more exciting, I guarantee it.  Then you TOO can see the landscapes of southern
Spain from a personal and rather in-depth perspective.  Go ahead, treat yourself.  You deserve it.

(To be continued ...)
Halloween 2007

It's been said that the best way to get a good feeling for your surroundings when you travel some place new is to get yourself lost and figure a way out.  Trust me when I say that I've gotten "getting lost" perfected to a tee ... but only when my traveling companions are my mother and her fiancee.

Step one: If relatives on the continent are joining you in the excursion, stay at least 2 hours away.

Three of my aunts were in town from
Holland for this Spanish wedding.  We opted to stay closer to Gibraltar, as this was the best way to create space and truly experience Spain without the detriment of hearing Tante Phine harp on about how to make Spanish Tortilla, smelling the smoke of the three burning chimneys that travelled all the way from den Dolder and beyond, and simply having to deal with so many people staying under one roof.

So why not keep the people who've never been to the country a full two hours away for extra space ... in which to get lost?


(To be continued ...)

Spain update

  • Sep. 11th, 2007 at 3:10 PM
Halloween 2007
Hello everyone!

Just wanted to give you all another quick update as we wait for a bite to eat in Sevilla.

The trip has had a few glitches so far - between Mom and Tom's fantastic "knowledge" of Spanish roadways and Nicole's luggage, being "lost" seems a way of life around here unless William is reading from his tour book. I was waiting for my own head to start spinning prior to N&W's arrival. We spent a lot of time driving around ... But they say getting lost is the best way to find your way around, right?

Since Nicole's luggage was lost and she arrived the day of the wedding, there was a lot of confusion between mom and Tom trying to take charge and track down her bag, then we stopped to shop because we had to get her something to wear and ultimately missed the wedding, but made it to the reception. It was in a beautiful setting and I have lots of photos to share.


Yesterday we got into La Alhambra and toured around all day. We tried to walk to the Albaisin to shop around, but Mom & Tom weren't wearing walking shoes, so their feet were hurting after 8 hours walking.  This was when we decided to head back to the house in Monachil. I have photos of everything ...

Today we are in Sevilla and are staying the night so the kids can do separate things from the adults.  We have had really great weather so far, but it was raining in Monachil when we left for Sevilla this morning.

One week left, and Mom and Tom head to
Amsterdam on Thursday.

Hope all is well. See you soon!

Love,
Natalie

Oh sweet gourds ...

  • Aug. 29th, 2007 at 7:29 AM
Halloween 2007
You've come back to me in the form of a white cup with green and black prose enscripted upon it.  Your spiciness perks up my senses on brisk fall mornings ... oh, wait, it's August.  And it's going to be in the 90s today.

If anyone works at Starbucks and can get me a bottle of this Pumpkin Spice syrup, I will pay you AND have a latte party at my house when I get back
from Spain.  No joke.

the winds of change.

  • Aug. 13th, 2007 at 3:22 PM
Halloween 2007
I was walking through the halls today, noticing the patients waiting, eating lunch with loved ones, sharing a laugh, shedding a tear, and some simply just waiting.  There's a certain sadness that sets in every morning I walk into work, something I thought I was desensitized to early on, but today I realized that the images are not something I can ever escape. 

 

My heart broke a little every day while I was here – there was always some new injury to which I had not yet been exposed.  I cannot fathom how pain and suffering like this is allowed to continue, while billions upon billions of dollars being funneled into a war that has been over for quite some time now.  Did you think about the veterans, Mr. President?  It sure doesn't seem like you put much thought into the not-quite-fatal, yet somehow much worse casualties.

Not-So-Secret Admirers

  • Jun. 22nd, 2007 at 9:46 AM
Halloween 2007
Imagine my surprise to get this email:


Dear Natalie
My name is Aaron Rutherford and I am 15 years old and a big fan of you. You are my favorite model and I think you are beautiful. If it is possible could you send me an autographed picture of yourself. Any consideration you give would be appreciated. Thank you and God Bless.
 
Please send to Aaron Rutherford 303 West Parish Street Sandusky, Ohio 44870

How does one respond to something like this?

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Thumbelina

  • Oct. 25th, 2006 at 9:25 AM
Halloween 2007




horse081006_536x700.jpg (JPEG Image, 536x700 pixels)

    Is this horse not the cutest thing ever?

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Oct. 23rd, 2006

  • 11:19 AM
Halloween 2007
The most creative signs of support seen along the side of the road while running:

4 guys standing in support of the runners.

guy number 1: you're beautiful.
guy number 2: we're lonely.
guy number 3: call us.
guy number 4: (415) (then the rest of the telephone number)

It was so distracting to one runner that she managed to trip over something and skid a bit downhill.

I was amazed at the number of people who were awake and cheering for us while we ran. The supporters kept us motivated to run, propelling us toward that finish line and all it represented. For Nora, it was a chance to prove that she could get herself back in shape two months after recovering from another C-section, to prove that she was working hard for herself and her kids, to prove to her husband that she could just do it. For me, it was a mental and physical test, providing a means to prove to my friend that I wasn't going to give up, and even though I somehow lit a fire under my ass when I saw that finish line, I waited for her with tears in my eyes because she is my inspiration.

Whirlwind weekend.

  • Oct. 22nd, 2006 at 11:39 PM
Halloween 2007

What more might one pack into a single weekend?  I tested myself both physically and emotionally, and came out looking like a champ, with my best friend by my side.  I gained a sister on Saturday and coincidingly witnessed one of the happiest moments in 2 people's lives.  My brother is in fantastic hands, and the intertwined lives of two people willing to put in the effort to making a marriage work holds nothing but fantastic journeys on the road of optimism.  The tears that threatened to creep down my cheeks on Saturday are sure to fall if I keep up with this.

But on I go ...

With a spring in my step and a bearhug from my counterpart in one of those rare, quarter-century-long friendships, I finished my race today - and that alone makes me feel SO incredibly accomplished.  Forgive my lack of energy at the moment, but I took a lot out of myself today on many different levels.  I am trying hard to maintain some semblance of normalcy despite being ecstatic that Nora and I kept on pace the entire time.  She was a great motivator, a woman who has such an incredible inner strength that hearing her tell me that I am to be credited with motivating her to train for this race truly does make my eyes glisten and my heart swell.  She and my sister have together been such a solid presence of support and friendship, through my most difficult times in life as well as through the cakewalks. 

Bear with me for a moment while I clear my eyes ...

Nora ran with me the entire time today, which was a great thing for pacing purposes.  I didn't want to overextend myself at the beginning, and the balance she provided simply by being there was much appreciated.  When I couldn't handle the hills running, I told her to go on ahead to the top because she was a trooper on those painful inclines.  Without fail, she was there running in circles, waiting for the crowds to dissipate until my sweaty mug broke through.  Nothing but words of motivation came out of her mouth when all I could think to say was "fuck hills!"  Her husband and her kids propelled her through the brief but intense training and brought her to San Francisco yesterday.  This morning, I tapped her lightly on the back and asked, "Sweetheart, are you ready to do this?"  A brief morning ritual and a friendly squeeze later, I looked at her, and she at me ... then we were off.

Running gave her a purpose today, I simply provided a means to get there.  I'm so happy that I could do that for her, because giving back is what friendship is all about.

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Halloween 2007
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