Welcome Oslo

"Don't worry, my blog only has two readers."

"I think there are more than two readers, honey," says H.

So I put a Sitemeter on 52 Faces and continued blogging. A few days later I check the stats: someone in Barcelona is reading 52 Faces!

::S cowers and hides behind the screen::

::comes back out when she realizes reader is from Cataluna - she loves Cataluna!::

(this is what she and L.S. did in Barcelona before the techno festival:)

::end tangent::

Texas and Norway, two countries* with giant natives, are reading. Wow. This internet thing really works.

*I am not pulling a Miss South Carolina.

I cannot thank you enough readers. Please pass on anything you find interesting or inspiring. Your views (and BlogHer ad clicks) keep 52 Faces alive and eating!

Crazy Enough To Be Committed

After reading Confessions of a Settler, the inimitable L.S. asks:

My question to you and to [Gottlieb] is: what about commitment outside of marriage. Do you have to actually get married to commit?

I have no idea what Gottlieb would say (although it would likely lean to the left) but I sure would be thrilled if she read my blog in the first place. (Somebody wanna tip her off?)

My own reaction was to demur. "It's not my place to say," began my inner politician. Then my inner writer grew red and embarrassed to share head space with a politician, reminded me that I am a BlogHer, and said, "He just wants your opinion. It's not like it'll become decree; you're not Oprah (yet). Just tell him and the entire blogosphere your personal thoughts."

So these are my personal thoughts, not intended to start a book club.

Part One of The Answer: No, you do not have to legally marry to commit.

I am far from matrimony de juro, yet I feel quite committed (oh so committed, boringly committed, tired-on-Friday-night committed) to H and it has been this way since the first few weeks when we said to each other, "I can see myself married to you." "Me too."

therefore, Part Two of The Answer: But I personally find it useless to date unless you are looking to marry.

For me the feeling of commitment is intertwined with the shared goal of marriage. It makes the commitment feel that much more solid: you live every day of your life upon the foundation of your staying together. Long-term goals include each other and the journey takes a much more fulfilling shape. There is a sense of security that is unparalleled when you know the other person is factoring you into each decision.

I always wanted to marry, but I was not always ready. In my early twenties I craved The Fabu, so much so that my oldest college friend still thinks of me whenever "Glamorous" plays. I have since slipped into a fine taste for the mundane so suddenly it is underwhelming.

Dating has also been better with marriage on the mind. There is a striking difference in the commitment levels of men who want to marry one day and everyone else. The first feels like a relationship. The second just gives you a push-pull, borderline-kind of anxiety that makes you ask, "What's the point?"

If there is another way to develop the kind of commitment deep and steady enough to heal childhood wounds, to allow you to blossom into your full self, to provide stability to your life, to raise an actual child and to form the foundation of society, then be it. Cast marriage off. But to this day, nothing has paralleled the cultural and psychological power of matrimony. Those who truly believe in loving commitment, who are ready to flush their hearts with it, are not afraid to give their relationship a name. Anything else is plain old commitment-phobia.

Related Posts:

Settling For More

Blues Brothers Ride

I spoke too soon. Mere hours after composing my Urban Biking farewell, my middle "brother" called with an invite to my first ever midnight mass...ride that is.

The Blues Brother Ride was a North Hollywood tour of liquor stores and 7Elevens with a brief and raucous romp through the underground parking lot of Ralphs.

I went in with not enough food in my belly and my blood sugar went a bit too low. I am also not in my top shape; legs are still feeling sore two days later.

Our last rest stop, me shoveling sugar. (Turn a camera on me and I can hide even a hypoglycemic headache.)

My brother and I did 15 miles before we had to turn back to meet my boyfriend, who drove down from NoCal. The last few miles were really rough; before setting off on the last leg I had to say a prayer to steel my will. My brother was so sweet; he watched out for me the entire ride and pushed me the last mile or so when my legs were too sore.

Rock on.

Urban Biking

Biking on streets that are scary to even drive down (read: all of Los Angeles) has become my thing. I will ride during traffic, I will ride at night down pothole-ridden sidewalks with a useless bicycle light mounted to my handlebars. I pass freeway on and off ramps de rigueur.

Let me get this clear: I am not doing this to be cool.

I am doing this because I have no car. No car in L.A. I am a pariah.

Some of the rides have been Godly experiences (particularly when my ankle hurts like a mothertrucker and I need to push through) and all of them have been plain old empowering. If I am feeling a bit down, a ride will turn my whole day up.

I began my Urban Biking series on my currently neglected private blog so at least a slice of the blogosphere could share in the joys heretofore only known by hipster white guys and car-less Mexicans. I am afraid that that experience will once again belong to those groups because my new old car is coming late late late tonight, along with my boyfriend.

Remember: Always wear a helmet!

Ah Schwinn, you have served me well.

Shower Fun For All

I am playing my second M&M prank on my beloved room and soulmate Selena. In the first prank, I pasted this:

into her shower. Nothing like being naked and vulnerable and turning to see a green candy-coated Texan smiling at you.

Last night I finally gathered another precious addition to this freak show of an ad campaign:
Results in 4...3...2...1...

Ah, the screams of delight. (Don't fret, she laughed. After the screaming.)

Week 16: Confessions of a Settler

Settling seems to be in vogue again. From the latest issue of O magazine to this Atlantic piece I now worship, everywhere I turn there is an article about mild to deathly-miserable wives who are absolutely committed to their marriages.

This comes at a point when I am entering the twilight of my 20's and am, for the first time, so tired on Friday night that the most excitement I have energy for is discovering surprisingly good BBQ sauce over a suburban dinner with what is the equivalent of my "husband" (yes, the same BBQ I ate the next day while watching LOST and listening to chatter).

My "husband" is in so many ways the opposite of everything I have sought in a mate. He is an engineer, with all the autism to match. A cement column in a parking lot will send him screaming with excitement. But show him a feeling and he will stare dumbly at you for several minutes, causing you to wonder if he should be on neurological medication, or in the very least, working thrice a week with a speech therapist.

One of my oldest Harvard friends said last week, "I just worry about you having an emotional outlet. I don't want you to kill him. Nevada has the death penalty."

"That's what my dog, piano, yoga, art and MFA is for," I said, citing the lifestyle I have been promised once I move in with him.

Am I disappointed that my possible future husband may not be my soulmate, harbor of my deepest dark, healer of my sorrows and holder of my pain? Laughing bitterly out loud, YES. Of course. It is always sad and hard to watch your dreams fade as you move into the future with its different priorities.

I had looked forward to returning to NY, land of witty men, and living a life full of banter in the morning. Instead, I ended up with an earnest Taurus whose own brother teases him for being a "total square". (He did attempt sarcasm recently. It was bumpy and had an odd lilt, like an American attempting a Scottish brogue, but it passes.)

So I do not have the emotionally-containing, zenlike aware, space-holding, live-in-therapist I dreamed of. I once counted the time it took for him to respond in a conversation. It ranged from 7 to 15 seconds of mind-numbing dead space. He has a nervous tick that involves mindlessly picking at his skin right against me that makes me want to jump out of my own dermis. After a blowout Valentine's weekend, I have not received a gift for an anniversary since.

What I do get are daily, original text messages that let me know he thinks about me all day. I have someone who calls every Costco in the Bay Area for a same-day weekend optometry appointment so I can replace my broken glasses. And I have someone who craves commitment, who is devoted and places the relationship as high a priority as his career - big beans for a man. We have a solid friendship and I know that he will always follow through on his word.

Will settling be the right thing for me? Am I even settling "correctly"? I have no answer for the future. This, like my fledgling business, like my three cross-country moves in my early to mid twenties, like any chance you take, is life's journey.

Here are the themes that are important to me:

1. Priorities change. Update your decisions accordingly.
2. Commitment is underrated in marriage. I wish more people (especially Californians) would remember that.

Lastly, yes it does feel good to be part of the club of women who complain about their annoying, more than slightly retarded husbands and would never trade their married lives for singlehood.

Shut Up and Be: Quieting the Chatter

I received wonderful feedback from a practice client today. This individual, like most of us, is a successful Do-er. After our session she took time out of the week to just Be! I was overjoyed for her.

I have been obsessed with Being this week ever since my last training event. It seems to be the key difference between a good life and a stressful one.

H is moving to Vegas like yesterday and helping him pack nearly sent me to the sanitorium. He appears to have one main method of action: constant, repetitive chatter.

I am sitting at the computer (what else) while he supposedly naps. Suddenly out of the air comes, "I think I should get that brand of car after all because it doesn't cost that much more than the other brand and gas is just gonna rise."

"I support that," I reply.

I am eating leftover BBQ ribs while watching Season 2 of LOST. H walks into the room, already speaking, "Maybe I should just get a used car. I need to figure out the financing. I should call several places."

"That sounded good the last time you said it."

Finally, I am writing a difficult, sensitive email to a good friend of mine. H paces next to my chair, chattering away, "Maybe I should just get that brand, I mean it's going to be -"

"SHUT UP!"

H skitters out of the room.

"Sorry," he calls out.

sigh. Big Breath.

"Sorry," I say back.

We ended up having a meaningful discussion about being present, what it looks like and how it has helped me live a relatively stress-free life during this exciting time. (My spiritual connection has certainly been the main support.)

"The answers will come if you just live life. You can't control it. If you're present, you'll see opportunities everywhere."

Then we went for a walk by the Crystal Springs reservoir.


We sat on benches when we grew tired, made wisecracks about other people's terrible outfits and looked quietly at the lake and trees.

"It's nice to just be and know that the answers will come," he said later at a Mexican restaurant in San Mateo.

I smiled, relishing the contentment I felt.

He has not chattered since.

Prayer:

May you trust in the Lord to care for you

the Universe to provide

And may this being presence infuse your life with peace

Gum for the Gods

Nothing like being woken by the hammering of an altar being built. As much as I would like to say that is a spiritual metaphor, unfortunately it was my Tuesday morning last week.


I feel very Chinese when I stand in front of it. (Yes that is bottled water. H's ancestors are very chic.)


In case the ancestors throw a party and need to mack on each other.

Altars are awesome.

A Few Minor Setbacks in an Otherwise Good Life

sigh.

H's moving schedule is pushed up now so I may not be getting his car as we thought.

I will probably have to take a student loan out to pay for the rest of the training sessions because I am hecka low on cash.

My ghetto pink glasses broke one more time and remain unfixable by our dinky little repair kit so I am stuck with my reading glasses, contacts or straight up near-legally-blind eyes. I have no vision insurance. (Or health insurance for that matter.)

Some things to deal with, hunh?

Week 15: Most Tiredest Blog Post Ever(est)

And Everest in another way.

I have begun a training program to enhance my coaching skills and begin the certification process with the ICF. Today I completed the first of a series of three-day intensives. These are the words I come away with:

Awe-inspiring
Transformational
Energizing
Draining
Intense
Life affirming
Touching
Humbling
Enlivening
In-love-ening
Peaceful
Embracing
YESing
Dreaming
Crazy! (with all its wild creature positivity)
Smiling
Playing
Empowering

I am surprised I still have words. I would be shocked, but my system cannot produce any strong emotions whatsoever.

H is cooking pasta for our late as usual dinner while I look up under my half-closed eyelids at the computer screen to ensure I deliver this week's face on time.

I love my new profession, even though it is such a work-out for the whole body-mind-soul. Right now I am just hoping I can chew my food before I fall asleep.

It has been a transformational (I know, I used that word already, you try coaching for three days straight and then attempt brilliant verbiage) (thank you H for reminding me of that oft-overlooked word) last two weeks, ever since I put into motion the sign that God sent me back in Vegas.

Thank you Lord. Thank you.

Love and Blessings,
S

Prayer in the Mist

In these cloudy times, do not wander, but stay close.

In these cloudy times, cling to me, my love, as we cling to the Lord.

Close our eyes and hold ever tighter as Spirit guides.

Weather this storm with me and I will stay with you.

Live at the Well

H and I returned to L.A. from Vegas last weekend in time to attend a (mostly) Asian American concert at the church of an old pastor friend (we won't say how old ;P).

Exodus' own Benny Mao opened the night:


He's available ladies! (Don't tell him I just said that.)

I am obsessed with the Nehemiah Band's Awaken the Dawn:


And their tie-and-gym-short uniforms:

These boys are fresh out of college - adorable! (Twizzlers c/o Judy.)

Britnie Young prefaced a song by talking about how Christians often fear that if we have not communed with God in a while he will be angry and smiteful (it's a word now) but, "That's not our God." I loved the unapologetic way she laid claim to who God was. It reminded me once again that the power to see God's face is not in an institution but firmly, thankfully in our own hearts.

Week 14: I, Abraham

I've been reading



as my bathroom book (avid readers know the bathroom book is an esteemed spot) and this past week reached the story of Abraham and Isaac.

For bible-newbies like me:

Abraham had only one son, Isaac, and he loved this child like none other. To test Abraham's love and devotion for God, God called Abraham to take Isaac to the mountain and sacrifice the boy. Though Abraham was grief-stricken, he brought his son on the appointed night, for Abraham did love God.

When Abraham arrived with the child and prepared to sacrifice him, God forbade him from laying a hand.

Tozer framed it as such:

'It's all right, Abraham. I never intended that you should actually slay the lad. I only wanted to remove him from the temple of your heart that I might reign unchallenged there. I wanted to correct the perversion that existed in your love. Now you may have the boy, sound and well. Take him and go back to your tent. Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing that thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me.'

Yet was not this poor man rich? Everything he had owned before was still his to enjoy: sheep, camels, herds, and goods of every sort. He had also his wife and his friends, and best of all he had his son Isaac safe by his side. He had everything, but he possessed nothing. There is the spiritual secret.

I understood this passage in an experiential way. It hearkens back to my own prayer in which I returned H to the Universe and he was indeed taken from me. I did not fight this because he was never mine to possess and in the end riches beyond my imagination came to me. Like Abraham, I have H again (and v2.0 is even better!), I have a new journey that feels blessed, I have exciting job prospects, increasingly good health and a new old car but none of these gifts should hold a harness over my heart.

It is right that prayer marathon occurred this week. Looking back, it was easy to relinquish the world and turn myself over to God 24-7. Because now I have the ultimate supah-mystical, synchronicity-making, lovefest gift of all: a deeper connection to God.

H just called for a quick coaching and prayer and at the end said to me

I hear it. You really do have a direct connection. It's like you have the red phone.

Prayer:

May you too have the red phone.

I'm A BlogHer!

Nice treat from the Universe today:


My Dog is God post is being advertised on BlogHer's ad network! Pray for more readership and let me know what you want to see. Thanks for the support!

God Is Instantaneous

Great news: I met with a temp agency referred by a friend and they already had a fantastic short-term job they want to push me for.

Now the only thing I needed was non-bicycle transportation.

Reminded by a comment on a recent Conversations with God post of how the Universe will respond to your request if you put it out there, I gave my own call:

Dear Universe, I need a car right now please, thank you.

One day later, I asked H if I could buy his car off him.

He responded that he would just give it to me.

We decided we would drive the car down at my next visit and leave it with me.

And now I have a car*.

:)

My prayer for you is to remember to put your requests to the Universe. They will be heard. The Universe is a giving Universe, full of abundance. Really. This is coming from someone who used to think there was not enough love to go around, much less resources. We really are more taken care of than we know. Just ask.

*fuel-efficient too!

Resume Mother TV Worship

Attention 52 Face readers!

S has just made herself a steaming hot bowl of angel hair with marinara sauce and is about to settle in front of the big black idol for some quality fast breaking!

BreakFast Entertainment

Notes on an Electronic Entertainment Fast...

Achievement:

Finally finished reading



The end made me weepy. Every yellow go and by this book. And be proud, people!

Observations:

The urge for television sprang up during habitual times, such as meals alone, but it was easy to prohibit myself from getting the remote and turning it on. Internet surfing was harder because of the nature of the medium. Marketers make it utterly easy to slide from research and business to browsing. Some of my internet activity felt blurry too, such as when I was following links while researching for my career and woke to find myself on a bright pink site about a fashion and beauty expo. In a panic I thought, "I can't look at this!" and then quickly remembered that I had surfed here on business. (I take it as a good sign that my business is so pink fun.)

Teaching:

The key is not which web page is kosher and which is verboten or even what activity you do (within reason) but the mindfulness you bring. I noted most saliently that the act of turning on the tube or remaining immobile save for the rapid clicking and scrolling of a few fingers is most of all an act of tuning out. Our culture is diseased in its dependence on denial as a coping mechanism. (Although acting out is not any more aware.)

Deny the easy soporifics!

Pick up that book and relearn how to read. Stop shaming the country with our low literacy rates. Start small - heck the book I finished is a graphic novel. Minimal word count. Start there! Or here.

Just realize what you are doing. Where you put your time says much about what is important to you. (Case in point, after reading my last post, H said to me, "Aw, you really want a dog! We'll get a dog.")

Awaken to what you devote your time to. Does it align with what really matters? Does it feed you? Follow awareness with acceptance and with it, paradoxically, will come change.

Dog is God

At first I thought I would be writing a confession. Before bed last night I browsed the internet for breeders and shelters, in preparation for the doggie H said I could have. This is more pleasure than business, so technically I broke the fast.

But then it went to the next level. Selena came home to find me talking to the screen.

"You are so cute! Yes you are! Aw, you found a good home, look at you going to your new home," babbles S with a glazed look on her eyes, a droplet of spittle hanging from the corner of her mouth.

I ended up staring at dog pictures until after 3 a.m.

This is not a fast break, people. This is addiction. It was like porn. I was sighing and cooing at the screen, poking a finger at two-dimensional noses and muzzles. Selena over at her laptop would hear the occasional rising squeal or incoherent baby talk. I kept sending her links over gchat. (Yes, we gchat each other in the same room.)

"That? You want that thing?" Selena shrieked, shocked and dismayed.

She eventually went to bed, bidding me tear myself away from the French bulldogs that she found horrifically ugly.

I spent three hours staring at electronic dogs. There is no cure for this, I am afraid. It's in God's hands now.

The Iams Dog Breed Selector says that Toy Fox Terriers are an ideal breed for me:

Overheard: Electronic Entertainment Fast

on the phone

S: Well, I'm off to my night of printed word-based entertainment.

H: (dryly) You mean books?

S: (lame pause) Yeah.

Latter Day Saints

You're not late, you're latter!

I don't know about you, but this is what I was doing the day before Easter...





















"Use the force."

"No?"

"Okay then try adjusting ISO."

(alternately I could make a Taliban joke but I'm afraid of alienating my entire readership rather than just 30% of it)

Monthly Lent

God darn it!

It's marathon prayer week at the Exodus again and fasting of something costly is encouraged for the next few days. Didn't we just deny ourselves all month for Lent? Man!

Well, since some of my fellow Exodusians (I personally like Exodasians - more accurate) will be subsisting off juice for the next 3 days I will participate grudgingly, replete with sighs and groans.

I am giving up...

Electronic Entertainment!

Once you have stopped laughing and uncocked that eyebrow I will explain why this is "costly" for me.

I have always had a fear of loneliness. I was an only child with two working parents. I was hugely unpopular in high school and although college was eons better socially, it was still full of emotionally frozen overachievers who all seemed to have a rather severe aversion to hugging. The one thing I always had was the babysitter of the millennium: Mother TV.

After elementary school I hung out with Laura in her little house on the prairie and slid through Uncle Scrooge's money bin with Huey, Louie, and Dewey. As an adolescent I frequented the Red Dragon Inn, the progenitor of today's RPGs. (Oh yeah. I was an original geek.) Harvard provided the ultimate elixir of heaven: a T3 line and the brand spanking new - and free - Napster. O those halcyon days before our dictatorship government plunged us into the Dark Time. (While we're on the subject, remember democracy? I don't either.) The pinnacle of electronic addiction (or lowest of loneliness) were the three years I survived as a film and TV actor in L.A. The only person who stood by me was my boyfriend, TiVo.

I have dutifully maintained my relationship with my oldest friend to this day, where it has evolved into awesome bad reality TV (when I am in L.A.) and the entire 3 seasons of LOST (when I am in the Bay Area). In fact, I currently have My Fair Brady frozen on my television screen, waiting with infinite digital patience for me to return from my other mistress, Blogger.

As you can see, cutting electronic entertainment from my life is like telling that codependent friend of yours you don't need them anymore. You do, but this is not healthy. Seriously, you are hurting me now. You need help. Don't call me psycho, you're the one that won't let go!

While my psyche dukes it out, here is the definition of Electronic Entertainment:

• any TV: live, on DVR, video/DVD or the internet
• radio
• internet news/entertainment/gossip sites, including other people's blogs
• iTunes/music streamed or retrieved from the internet
• following entertainment/"for fun" links sent to me via email
• computer or video games
  

Allowed:

• posting to my own blog (for revenue purposes; stopping this would be like quitting your job for Lent)
• email for the purposes of business, church, scheduling and basic contact with friends
• playing my Casio (unfortunately I do not have an acoustic instrument with me at this location)
• use of the computer for work (see blog) or editing my novel

I am also going to limit my CD-playing to varieties of worship music, which is what is in my CD player to begin with.

Facetious grumbling aside, I am rather excited to begin my printed word-based life for the next 3 days. Good excuse to catch up on reading - now that is in truth my dearest childhood friend.

Asians Praying

Me and my House of Guitar Worship staring at our deity.

I'm the one on the left with the super bright sleeves and brown vest.

God is Good

The more I submit the greater riches I could never have dreamed come into my life.

The biggest breakthroughs have been occurring in the realm of healing my childhood wounds.

huge. Huge.

I'm here to tell you the good news. (;P)

God is good.

Journey Prayer for Those Who Have Stopped Whining

H and I are driving from Las Vegas back to L.A. in a few minutes. Bless and protect our journey and may the freeway be swift and safe.

I had a wonderful day at the grand opening of the amped-up Borders off the Strip, made a new acquaintance (Asian undergrad in psych who wants to be a therapist or psychiatrist - definitely had to network there), scored some free gourmet chocolate, picked up the latest Ekhart Tolle book that Oprah's been drooling over these days and got even more career ideas.

I also have to admit that I picked up some relationship tips from Dr. Laura Schlessinger's new bestseller. That neo-con broad has some good points.

Week 13: Rides

One week ago I was riding the Ballona Creek Bike Path searching for meaning and now I am in Henderson, NV tripping over career opportunities with every other step. I attended my first yoga class in a long time (I took a hiatus for several years to rehab dance-related hip injuries exacerbated by yoga) and a whole new possible city to live in has opened itself to me. The great energy of this week makes the blight of last just a minor trip in this marathon.

I credit my spiritual practice for the relative smoothness of the transition from dolor to joy. After the upheaval last year that birthed 52 Faces, life passages like relationship transitions, large-city moves and career changes are now par for the course. In the last few years I have truly begun to see these stressful events as openings. Each time a structure falls away is an opportunity to move closer to the path that we are meant to be on. It really does feel like God clearing away the clutter so you can listen more quietly to your heart.

Don't cling to the congested highway you are used to. Leave yourself open to the rattles and surges of life's bumpier-than-not ride. The scenery is much, much better.