The Things I Get Myself Into: A Tale from 30,000 Feet

This morning I was flying to San Francisco for work on a project. I woke up at 4:45 a.m., not from my alarm clock, but from nerves. I had to be out of the door by 5:30 a.m. anyway, but oh how anxious I get when I have to fly. I get to the airport, make it to my gate with twenty minutes to spare, pop a Xanax and get on the plane. 

The plan was to sleep for as much of the flight as possible to compensate for the long hours ahead with a nice layer of jet lag. I made it halfway. Despite my best efforts to go back to sleep, I was awake. "Ok," I thought, "let me dig into my email and see what I can start working on." 

I pull out my laptop and it's covered in...well, goo. Exhausted and sedated for the flight, I'm just utterly confused. But to be fair, if the same thing had occurred at home I'd be just as confused. I smell my hand, which is also covered in goo to find a teriyaki-ish, somewhat sour, something's-definitely-wrong-here kind of smell. That couldn't be good. 

Lucky for this particular situation, I had been sick for a small eternity so I had a lot tissues in my pocket. I began wiping down the laptop wondering what the hell was going on. Once I got the laptop all squared away, I stuck my hand in the computer pouch and encountered more goo. I try to find some sort of explanation. 

The bag had been sitting near the garbage for a week since I had been off. Maybe, somehow, some thai got dumped in it on the way to the garbage. Which would suck. Really, any answer here would suck, because there was some sort of rank goo in my bag. I clean up what I thought, well hoped, was all of it, but figured I'd best make sure. As I shoved my hand into the bottom of the computer pouch, I encountered a handful of the rancid smelling goo. What. The. Fuck. What was possibly going to be in my hand when I pulled it out. And then what? What am I supposed to do with this from an airplane, in a window seat, in the dark. (For whatever reason, not one person on this flight opened their window shade. So the entire flight was lit by some weird 90's pink neon lights, which I guess Virgin finds posh.) 

I grab the plastic case my tissues were in (you know those little travel plastic wrappers) and proceed to pull out a handful of awfulness to put in my tiny makeshift garbage bag. And that's when the goo revealed itself. A completely disintegrated banana. It must have been sitting there since the last time I worked, which was exactly a week ago, and the fruit was in questionable shape then.

I now have a travel tissue pack full of rancid banana and I'm still stuck in my seat because now the seatbelt light is on and some really decent turbulence is starting. Ah, but wait! My one quart bag! I dumped out all of my liquids containers into the middle section of the backpack, and put the mess in the quart bag and sealed it. (Clearly, not checking my bag was the correct choice this morning.) 

Now I have a quart bag full of rancid banana, a backpack that smells like week old garbage and sticky, smelly banana hands. Luckily a stewardess was walking by so I handed her the mess and was later able to get a plastic bag to wrap my computer in. Upon examination in the airport bathroom, I found had removed all the goo and only the smell remained. Small victory. The morning was redeemed, however, when I stopped to get a double double from In 'N Out burger on my way to the hotel. 

So the moral of the story? When life gives you rancid bananas, go get In 'N Out. Or maybe it's something like, don't check your bags when traveling, you never know when you'll need a one quart plastic bag. Or perhaps I just need to remember to check my bag for fruit at the end of each day. 

2014: A Quick Look Back

It's New Year's Eve and like everyone else, I'm thinking about the year behind me, the year ahead of me and the person I am right now. So where have I been, where I am going and what have I learned?

January 2014 marked one year since we lost Grams. I learned that with that kind of loss, life is never quite the same. We live with memories that conjure up smiles and laughs but also an ache that will never go away, one that I'm learning to live with. Now that we're coming up on almost two years since she left, I can hardly believe it's been that long. But, I realize each day how much of her is a part of me and how strong I am because of her.

February, the month of love, I fell more for Rich and happier every day that he is in my life...though March took him away for three months (#englandstolemyboyfriend). During those three months, with yoga teacher training nearing its end, I found I had become part of a small family I am eternally grateful for. All that I've learned from my months of training and through my friendships with those eight people is irreplaceable. Not sure what I would have done without them.

April brought me to England, where for the first time in my international travels, I found myself with a deep affinity for America. (You'd think squatting over a hole in Beijing would have inspired that same emotion, but not so much.) There were times walking around Leeds I nearly went up to other tourist-looking people to ask if they were from the states. I managed to refrain from quizzing strangers, and continued to wander around with not so much homesickness, but a feeling of disconnect.

A few days after coming home, I, for the first time in my life, was laid off. Which, like many people said to me at the time, may have been the best thing that's ever happened to me. My life veered off course and the road less traveled has been a really great, albeit sometimes extremely stressful, one. With a lot more time on my hands, I got to focus on yoga and finishing up teacher training strong. I felt, for the first time since graduating college, that I truly owned my life and my time.

By July, I was freelancing and finding that I could get by on my own. I took time to figure out what I "really wanted to do when I grew up" and found that it's what I've always loved doing—writing. Though money-wise it wasn't quite enough, I started making a small living writing and designing. I was, though, working from my kitchen table, casting aside years of a hellish commute, which was fantastic. I dabbled more in the "do things that scare you" arena and found the payoffs to be huge.

August brought me new clients and a bit of a breather from worrying about money and bills. I made some amazing new friends through my new gigs that I am inspired by and look up to. But just as quickly as I felt I had started moving in the right direction, I did fall off course for a bit, which brought with it health problems and headaches (not to mention BILLS — thank you overpriced and lackluster health insurance plan). But that too was a gift.

In November, I made the decision to go to India for 14 days. Still not working full-time, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to go since I didn't have to ask anyone but myself for the time off. I struggled with the decision for awhile because, well, it scared the crap out of me. Despite having been all over the world, this was out of my comfort zone. I'm going with strangers, it's the longest trip I've ever taken, and hell, I don't have a full-time job so handing over that credit card wasn't easy! I so wanted to be the girl that could just pick up and go to India. But then I realized...I could. So I am.

This year I learned that I need to listen to my gut. Not I should...I need. I learned that my intuition is pretty spot on, I just need to learn how to trust that feeling better...and breathe. Even for the little things like that voice in my head that said, "I think you may have dropped your glasses on the bus," that I ignored, when, in fact, I had dropped my glasses on the bus.

And now that 2014 is coming down to its last hours, I'm excited for the new year and what it holds for me. One of the most valuable lessons for me this year has been learning how to be grateful. Even in those moments when it feels like everything is falling apart, to try to find the purpose in them and be grateful. I'm grateful I had the time I had in teacher training; I'm grateful for the lessons I've learned in losing my job and perceived security; I'm grateful I've been able to earn a living doing things that make me happy; I'm beyond grateful for the people in my life; I'm grateful that for the times I took one step forward only to take two back, that I was given the chance to do so.

I'm not saying I've by any means mastered this, because if you know me, you know I can be quite the little stress ball, but it's something I'm going to continue to work on in 2015 and beyond. One of my yoga teachers posted this earlier today and I think it sums up the year (and all years) beautifully:

Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful - Gautama Buddha

So cheers to what we've learned, have yet to learn and what we can teach each other. Happy 2015.

Green Week, Day 4

But Jen, it's only Wednesday. Yes, I know. I started "Green Week" on Sunday, so today is day four. So far, I've seen a bigger improvement than on any of the antacids I've taken, double strength or otherwise. 

I've been starting the day with a shot of wheatgrass and a green juice. The wheatgrass isn't getting any easier to get down. In fact, yesterday it wasn't all juice, there were still pieces of grass. Blech. But, if it works, I'm in. The green juice isn't so bad...except for yesterday when I was convinced to throw a shot of wheatgrass in it. Otherwise, I'm pretty down with spirulina.

I've also been looking at alkaline versus acidic foods and following (as close as possible) an 80/20 diet (80% alkaline/20% acidic). It's only been four days, but the difference is noticeable. The prescriptions didn't make a dent. Food really is the answer. 

That and managing stress. I'm becoming more tuned into when I become anxious, even when it's just a tiny bit. My body responds right away which allows me to notice and react and necessary steps to not let it grow. I'm able to ask myself, "Why am I feeling this way? Is it a real issue or imagined? What can I do right now to alleviate some of the stress?"

This is four days in. I'm excited to see what a week, two weeks and even a month of 80/20 eating does for me!

Dr. Jen is Taking Charge

People have asked me my whole life how I stay so skinny. I always joked and answered, "Malnutrition." But really, I may not have been completely wrong in that statement. After dealing with years of stomach problems that my doctor feels can only be solved by taking a pill that may cause me to have "involuntary tongue movements," I'm taking a good look at what I'm putting into my body. 

I've eaten like a five-year-old pretty much until I was 31. I didn't want to try anything new and if it was green, dear god, get it away from me. When I started suffering from agonizing stomach pains due to stress, I started making some changes. But once my belly was better, my old eating habits came back quickly. 

Over the next few years, I slowly got more and more into yoga and more aware of the food I was eating. I started trying things—even salad! I thought I had been doing well at balancing my food intake, with the exception of the ridiculous amount of ice cream I ate. But hey, I was working out a lot, so it was okay right?

Well, sprinkle in a lot of stress over a short amount of time and I found myself battling heartburn. Every day. Every day for three months. I tried every over-the-counter remedy. Nothing was helping. So I started experimenting. I cut out dairy. Overall I felt better, I was even able to run some because the inflammation in my knees was going down. Great! But my stomach was still pissed. And it was only getting worse. 

After an endoscopy and no real issues, my doctor landed on telling me to double both of the meds he prescribed me for a week. If that didn't work, he'd put me on a med that would help regulate the muscles in my esophagus and potentially cause several muscle spasms, including uncontrollable tongue movements. I don't want that. 

I spent the weekend watching documentaries about juicing and reading about proper body pH, alkaline and acidic foods, and planning how I was going to eat as best I could for one week. That would include daily wheatgrass shots and focusing on alkaline foods to try to help balance my stomach...and my body. 

What bothers me is that my doctor doesn't seem to be interested in the root cause. He didn't recommend foods to eat, or ask deeper questions about my diet other than, "Do you drink coffee?" He just offered prescriptions—prescriptions that have side effects that I'd likely need to take more prescriptions for. 

So I'm going to spend the next couple of weeks spending some more time experimenting with food and taking in as much green as I can to see if it makes a difference. A shot of wheatgrass everyday certainly seems like a better option than having a spastic tongue. Let's see how it goes. 

When Life Punches You in the Face, Punch It Back

I am definitely one of those people who, when one thing goes wrong, it triggers a whole series of events that leave me feeling like I'm buried under a ton of bricks. Like the Universe pulled the wrong Jenga piece and they all just toppled on me. For those of you "when it rains it pours" people out there, you know what I'm talking about. 

This has been a banner week of "What the fuck is happening?" And it all just culminated with me witnessing a cat get run over by a car. Seriously. "This can't be happening," I thought as I watched her lift her dying head up, screaming in pain. 

As I stood there wondering what evil spirit is making all this shit happen around me and what I could do to help the cat, a man got out of his car, stopped traffic and ran into the road to pick up the dying cat. As he carried the cat's limp body to the sidewalk, I stood there to meet him, amazed that he did what I wanted to do but was too stuck trying to figure out if I actually should. 

He put her shaking body down on the ground and we stayed with her, petting her little paws until she passed. The stranger/cat superman said he would come back and bury her since the cops told me they would just call DPW for "removal".

I called my boyfriend as I walked away and asked him how I could get rid of this black cloud over me. He said that maybe we need to start remembering to focus on the positive. I reminded him that doing that is kind of hard when I'd just watched a cat get run over. 

But he's right. It's so easy to get caught up in the bad and let yourself mentally spiral into the negative. Especially weeks like this where the bad is pretty large and constantly punching you in the face. But there is good.

• There's the guy who jumped out in traffic to keep any more cars from hitting that poor cat. I mean, that's pretty freaking awesome. It didn't even occur to me NOT to do that, where as I was standing on the side of the road still trying to figure out what to do.
• There's my boyfriend who can stick with me through the good times and the bad. That in and of itself is a great thing. And I've done the same for him. Getting through the bad moments really does make the good ones much sweeter. 
• There's the wonderful lunch with my father yesterday, giving me some quality Daddy/daughter time in. Those moments are too rare and I cherish them. 
• There are my friends who constantly offer support, wine and exercise company. And they don't even think twice when I say, "I want to sage my apartment to get rid of the badness." They just show up with sage. I love them. 

Life can constantly remind us that it's hard. Sometimes we forget to fight back and remember that there is good. But it's a fight worth having, because if we give up, what's left?

Finding My Place in His Place

So I moved into my boyfriend's place, which means it's not a new place that we've deemed as ours and are both starting fresh. It was his place, with his routines and his memories that I'm trying to figure out how to make ours without stepping on toes, taking over too much, or just confusing the hell out of him because nothing is where it used to be. I'm trying to figure out the best way to fit. 

This is hard to do—period—when one is moving into another person's place, but even harder when he's not even in the country. So I can't ask him what he thinks of the shelves being hung there or hanging family photos over there or putting the kitchen table just so. And that kind of sucks because I want him to feel at home in his home that is no longer just his home. 

Before he left for his five-week sojourn the place was in a rather unbearable state of chaos. There was a giant mound of things in the kitchen that had to be moved to storage and there was everything else—all over the place. He was frustrated. I was frustrated. I think even our stuff was frustrated. 

Now that I am starting to get settled and the apartment is pretty much only a hint of what it used to be, I wonder if he will like it. I can't imagine what it would be like if I went away for weeks and came home to an apartment that looks nothing like the one I left. I mean, I think it looks pretty nice, but that's because I did it. And hell, after living with mounds of stuff piled on other stuff, just having a bit of order would seem nice. But really, it looks nice.

I tried to find balance throughout the place between his things and mine. I imagined conversations with him about what his thoughts were on each piece and where they should go. I tried to free up space for his art supplies, which I know he was sorely missing before he left. I tried to get my always-too-large collection of knick-knacks up without taking over the walls and shelves. I think I only partially succeeded on that second one. 

But mostly I miss him and just want him to come home. To our home. And the rest can be figured out along the way.  

Today's Blog Post Brought to You by Incompetence and the Letter F

I've had my share of doctors visits. Actually I've had more than my share. I've probably had yours too. You're welcome. Anyway, I've met outstanding doctors and I've met those doctors where you think, "Well I guess someone had to graduate last in their class." And behind every great (or terrible) doctor is their office staff.

Lately these people have for the most part just made me shake my head. Maybe I shouldn't say lately, I should say again. Look, I'm not a genius and there's plenty I don't know, but I also don't work in a doctor's office. I write. But if you work in a doctors office, and are in charge of asking medical questions you should need to have some sort of semblance of medical knowledge.

Generally if you're at the doctor, something isn't quite right. When I'm in these situations I'm usually tense, nervous, sometimes a little sad, but mostly, I want to feel like I'm surrounded by competent people who are going to be able to help me. If I tell you I had a pituitary tumor, I feel like the person asking whether or not I've had any surgeries should know where the pituitary is. I'm not asking you know the function, just know that it's in the brain. It's kind of an important gland. 

But then my mind flashes to all those TV commercials about how you too can become a medical assistant in no time at all! Well it should take time! Let's get some basic anatomy in there. Perhaps some biology. Anyone can read a script and type in my answers. But I'm not paying out the ass for Obamacare and copays to have "anyone" interact with me when I'm waiting to find out what the fuck this lump is in my breast.

Also if you're going to ask, "Are you related to the Minchins?" You're going to need to be a little more specific because the answer would be, "Obviously.  It's my last name."

The End of an Era

Five years ago I moved to Hoboken. Today I moved out. I'm beyond happy to be moving, especially since I'm moving in with the boyfriend, but starting a new chapter is always bittersweet. 

As I stood in my empty apartment this morning, I looked around and the past five years played like a movie reel through my mind. There were countless happy times, some of the worst of my life and a smattering of drunk after parties. I've done yoga, thrown my back out moving an air conditioner, accidentally set my kitchen table on fire, worked from my fire escape, waited out two hurricanes, wrote my book, baked muffins for Thorton the squirrel, had friends from out of town, partied with my family, waded through grief, stayed up with the lights on all night afraid that aliens were in my apartment, called the cops on my neighbors, made friends with other neighbors, became a whiz at parallel parking, fostered new friendships, practiced for teacher training finals, learned how to collect unemployment, woke up at 2 a.m. every Tuesday and Thursday for "bottle night", had my heart broken, fell in love, came home as the sun was coming up, and just all around really got to know myself. 

My life has changed so much since I step foot in that third floor walk up. I think of all the five-year increments of my life, I grew and learned the most in Hoboken. I have a million fanastic memories and some amazing new friends that I know I will have for the rest of my life. For that I am eternally grateful. Closing my door for the last time today was hard. Change is hard; but change is good. 

Remember to Enjoy the Transitions

I've been thinking, talking and writing a lot lately about transitions...because I'm in the middle of one. I finally made my way to a yoga class tonight and interestingly enough, the theme was—transitions. She spoke about the transition from summer to fall and how so often we're looking to get from point A to point B (be it a season, a destination, or some other point in time) without enjoy the middle, the now, the transition. 

That's one of the things I love about yoga...that somehow the class lesson applies to exactly what's going on in my life. It made me stop and think about how a month ago I was starting to be able to enjoy the "in between." I wasn't working full time, but I knew that one day I would be, so I was enjoying the moment. I had more time to get to the gym, I was free of a schedule, I owned my life in a way I never had before. Tonight's class also made me realize that I have stopped doing that entirely. 

This slow transition from living alone to moving in with my boyfriend had become so stressful I have been missing out on the middle. For example, instead of enjoying waking up next to the man I love and having a lazy Saturday last weekend, I was wide awake, assembling shelves and rushing off to my apartment to move boxes—because I wanted to the move to be done. I wanted to get to point B. In that, I missed relaxing with him the last weekend before his five weeks of travel.

I'm pitta to the core and most of the time I can't sit still if there is "stuff" to be done. I need reminders, like tonight's class, to remember that in rushing to get things done I miss the process of getting them done and sometimes the beauty in not getting them done at all. I overlook the small moments, when those are exactly the ones that should be cherished. 

I'm Not Sure This Was a Good Idea

Remember yesterday when I said I was going to write every day? Well, I'm starting to second guess that. See, I wrote stuff all day at work. Now it's 9 p.m. and I still have a bunch more stuff to write. So that totally counts, right?

Actually, this totally counts! Look at me, I'm writing. Tra-la-la. Type type type. Okay, I'm really tired and I seriously need to get some freelance work done. And I need to eat my soup before it gets cold. All right then. Good talk. Good night Internet.

I Just Spent 3 Hours with an Energy Healer

I love reiki, so when my friend said she had recently gone to a lady in our neighborhood and it was a great experience, I set up an appointment with the woman right away. I've been stressed, I've been slacking on yoga, and I've been feeling like old stuck Jen, so I thought this could be a good kickstart to getting me back into the right headspace. 

It was supposed to be an hour and a half, but three hours later I walked out with tears in my eyes, heart hopeful and determined to reapply myself. That alone is a lot to take in. So, what was my takeaway?

First, it can no longer be a coincidence that I need to be creating to be happy. If one person says it, it's easy to brush off; two can be a coincidence; three maybe you start to pay attention; but after several people in various fields from all walks of life have told me the same things over and over, it's pretty hard to ignore. I've always been a writer at heart. Whether I'm awesome or I suck, it's what I love. And I need to do more of what I love. In the spirit of a painter friend of mine who just completed 365 days of drawings, I challenged myself to 365 days of writing. Maybe it won't happen...but I won't know unless I try. Here's to day one. 

Why the tears? Well, why not the tears. I am stressed. I went from four months of doing whatever the hell I wanted to working full time again. I went from doing yoga almost every day to not at all. I also went from being settled to somehow thinking that slowly moving into my boyfriend's apartment would be way better than doing it all in one day and getting it over with. (Opposite. The opposite is true. I'm currently typing with my laptop on an ironing board and using it as a table for dinner as well. Why? My table hasn't made the painfully slow move yet.)

But it's not just that stress. It's taking all of the keepsakes I have of my grandmother's and deciding what should go into storage and what should come to the new place. Everytime I tried to pack something away, I'd burst into tears. So that means that 99.9% of the stuff made the move. Except for a giant portrait of my grandparents. And it breaks my heart that it's in a box right now. So when the energy healer asked if I was close to my grandmother because she got a sense that an older lady with a great sense of humor was hanging around, I lost it. But again, being the third person who knew nothing of grams to tell me that, it's good to know grams is hanging around and looking out for me. But god I miss her with every fiber of my being every day. 

Through all of this, I'm ever hopeful because, yes, transition is hard. And this has certainly been the year of transitions. I am exhausted, but this too shall pass. With each massive change my life has only gotten better. So if I can manage to finish this move, get my ass to a yoga class, and stick to doing what I know I love, life will start to feel a lot lighter again. If I can sprinkle some meditation in there, even better. But right now, I could really just use some sleep.

Musings from an Airplane

I'm sitting on an airplane on my way to Florida. I didn't have to ask anyone's permission. I didn't have to take time off. I was just able to go. And when I got an email alert saying that I should change my travel plans to a day earlier to avoid bad weather, I could do that without thinking twice. I started to think about a quote from the HBO Series Six Feet Under. Nate said, “I work at a job which was also supposed to be temporary, until I figured out what I really wanted to do with my life, which apparently is nothing.” Throughout my 20’s and even early 30’s, I felt like that quote summed up my career situation because I had a constant feeling of being lost. It wasn’t until I lost my job in April that I started to really figure out what it is I want to do with my life.

There are so many things we do because “we should.” We follow certain paths, because that’s the way it’s always been done and it’s what is expected of us (broadly speaking). For a lot of people the journey from school into adulthood means landing that coveted 9-5 job when you end up sitting under fluorescent lights 40 hours a week, in most cases more, collecting a paycheck, and your life passes you by. But hey, at least you had stability.

I can’t count how many times over the past decade I would sit at my desk feeling lost and empty thinking that there had to be more than this. There had to be more than getting up, sitting in traffic, spending my entire day at a desk, doing a job I never liked because I couldn’t figure out something else—was too scared to figure out something else—and then I’d have a few hours in the evening to myself. There was yearning, it was deep, and it seemed unfixable.

I felt trapped, but I think the worst part was, I didn’t know how to fix it. Each year I got older and felt further away from ever figuring out what I wanted to be “when I grew up”. Because I had grown up, and I was starting to feel like I missed it. So I justified it. This job that made me miserable let me travel; it gave me health insurance; it gave me a comfortable living situation. And though I managed to get everywhere from Hong Kong to Honolulu, and loved every second of every experience, I was still missing something. I was traveling the world searching for…something. 

But then things started to change. I remember clearly sitting at a friend’s kitchen table this past March feeling like I was being pushed out of my life. Nothing felt like it fit anymore and I felt that something big was coming. I just didn’t know what. Things were changing at work, as they generally did that time of year, my boyfriend was about to leave the country for three months, and my yoga teacher training would be coming to an end soon. I was nervous but interested to see what the end result of my gut feeling would be.

When I lost my job shortly thereafter, I thought about it and laughed. I knew things were going to change, but that’s certainly not the way I thought things were going to happen. My favorite reaction to telling someone I had gotten laid off was, “Congratulations!” I hadn’t been happy at my job for a long time. I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until it was gone. Everyone kept saying, “Now you can do what you really love.” But I was terrified because as far as I knew, I didn’t know what it was that I loved. Eventually the magic started to happen.

It took a long time to get past the strange emotions that came with unemployment. It took even longer to settle in to the new transitional period of my life. The more I started to think about what my options were, the most I started to remember how free I used to be feel in my early 20’s, before corporate life, when I still had dreams about being a professional photographer—when I still had passion for creativity and self expression. I wanted that passion back, that freedom, that sense of actually owning my life and time.

I realized that I love writing—and that I always have. I used to write long stories, short stories, songs and poems as a child. I also realized that I could earn money doing what I love. Maybe not enough yet to really pay the bills, but I’ve had a handful of freelance jobs since that fateful day in April, and not one second of it has felt like work. That’s the dream right? My perspective on so much of my life has so drastically changed over the past 60 days. I’m more in touch with myself than I have been in over a decade. I’m happier. I’m calmer. And hey, I’m a little poorer, but I’m figuring it out.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to have this time to explore pieces of myself that have been dormant for way too long, for the friends that have supported me from day one through every emotion—good and bad, for happiness and for opportunity.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe I will end up back in a corporate job to make ends meet. But at least this time around it would be with a clear head and direction. For the moment I’m excited to have the opportunity to try the alternative. I’m excited to remember that getting a “real job” doesn’t have to mean feeling my soul die a little each day in a tiny cube in business garb at a job I can’t stand. It’s okay to want different things. It’s okay to wear jeans. It’s okay to work in my underwear at my kitchen table. It’s okay to be different, and it’s okay to be me.

I’ve missed me. I’m glad I’m on my way back.  

The Post Office

Yes, it's a great book by Charles Bukowski, but that's not what this story is about. It's a short tale of a girl and her overnight mail, in a land far, far away called Hoboken, New Jersey. It's a tale of one of those "things that make you go hmmm..." (Anyone remember that song? Anyone?) 

Anyway, I had to overnight a letter for Sir Richard. So I did this. The post lady asked if I wanted a signature required; I told her I did not. As far as post office visits go, this one was pretty painless. It's still incredibly confusing trying to figure out exactly which Express envelope to use, but hey, no trip to the post office is without some sort of issue. (For all of you Express mailers, the hard envelope is $3 more than the soft envelope, though there is no indication anywhere of this difference.)

I tracked the letter yesterday to make sure it had gotten to Rich's landlord on time. Lo and behold—not so much. They didn't leave it because no one was there to sign. Even though that's the opposite of the situation we all had agreed to. I called customer service this morning and the gentleman on the phone let me know that this situation was ridiculous. His word, not mine. Actually, he was way more upset about the situation than I. He gave me the number of the local post office. 

Next phone call. The post master tells me, yep, it was their bad and it would be delivered today. I asked about a refund since it wasn't so much overnight delivery, she said to go to my local office. And so I ventured on down to my post office. 

There was no line when I entered. 

"It can't be this easy," I thought. Alas, it wouldn't be. 

I tell the post lady my story.

"You have to go around the corner to the customer service window," she said. 

Ok. Sure. So I walk around the corner to the only window. Its blinds are drawn, which in and of itself, made me pause for a moment. Above the window was a sign that read, "Passports." Every piece of additional signage around the window also gave information on passport requirements. 

"Clearly, I'm in the wrong place," I thought, logic leading me to believe this was where passport things took place. So I meander back over the first window. Now there's a line. So I wait and get the same post lady as the first time.

"There's no one over there," I told her.

"Did you ring the bell?" 

"At the passport window? Is that what we're talking about?" I asked, still a bit perplexed at the blind situation. What's going on back there that they don't want us to see?

"Yes."

I meander on back over to the passport/secret customer service window and ring the bell. Up go the blinds and I meet the next post lady. I tell her my story. She said she'd look into it and walked away. At the same time, a man popped out a side door, looks at me, says, "Hi!"

"Hello!" He seemed excited, so I returned his enthusiasm.

"Are you being helped?"

"Yep."

"Are you the girl with the Express mail?"

How did he know? Where did he come from? What's happening? I went with, "Yes."

Enter the post master. Master of all things postal. He swings around to the secret customer service window and tells me that he has to make sure the item was deliverable.

"Paramus already said it was their fault. They had a new carrier and apparently he was confused," I told him.

"Oh they said that?" He was surprised. "I have to check with them."

There's now a line behind me and two postal people working on whether or not the letter should have been delivered. I continue to text a friend and laugh at how my phone refuses to use the word "dull" and will only send the word "full." The post lady comes back with a form and sends me in search of a table with a functional pen to fill out said form. A mail carrier actually laughed when he saw me trying to find a pen.

"Good luck!" he laughed and left the building. 

Eventually I find that the third table has a pen and all of the required bits to make it work. I fill out said form and head back to the window. The post lady tells me she can no longer help me; I have to wait for the post master. Alrighty. I wait. 

After a few minutes the post lady motions me back over. At this point, I question our relationship. She tells me to stay, then go, but wait, come back. My emotions are not to be toyed with post lady! She takes my form and tells me to follow her around back to the front window. And so, I head back to the first line.

The first lady rings her bell to let me know she's open. I tell her that I'm meeting the other lady up here. She sends me back to the line. When the secret customer service lady emerges, she tells me to go back to the first lady, who just sent me back to the line.

I stand there for a few minutes as four people behind the window consult on the paper I had handed over. When the post lady comes back she asks if I have change for a $20.

"What? Can't I just get the credit put back on the card I charged it with?" I asked, once again misplacing logic. 

"No. So you don't have change?"

"No."

But then she took out exact change and paid me my refund in cash. Well, hell.

All's well that ends well, I suppose. Happy mailings. 

The Many Changing (and Unexpected) Emotions of Unemployment

I used to joke about losing my job and how it’d be better than being stuck in an office all day long. There had to be more. I didn’t work in the healthiest environment, so surely anything would be better than that, right? I’d have unemployment and severance so I would be fine. I really had myself convinced that my type-A, need-to-be-doing-something-at-all-times personality would relish the time off. More than that, that I would be able to take the time off, sit back, and enjoy the summer. Well, here are the things I’ve found after one month of “freedom.”

• I really do need to be doing something at all times. Within the first two weeks of losing my job, I had landed a part-time temp job, and started learning how to build websites. Granted, I was using template sites, but my knowledge of HTML, CSS, layout, and website things in general went from zero to 60. It’s the moments when I am still that… 
• I am terrified. There are a couple of emotions that rise to the top and I can’t really distinguish which is the most overpowering. But fear is a big one. Yes, I have always been good with money and have savings. That is a great thing. But what I don’t know is how long I will need to sustain myself without a steady income. How long will I need to pull from savings to pay rent? How long will it take me to find work? Will I find work? I’ve always been a planner and having so much up in the air is downright terrifying. 
• There are many ways to earn a living and they don't all involve sitting in an office. I've had some fun experiences in the past few weeks which have really been eye-opening. I may love the stability of working 9-5, but it's not the only way to be. I am still trying to figure out if I have the stomach for inconsistency. (If you know me you're thinking, probably not Jen, probably not.)
• Stress can cause cold sores. I guess this is common knowledge for a lot of people, but I have never in my life had a cold sore. When my doctor friend responded to my text of, “What the fuck is on my face?” with, “Looks like herpes,” I was half ready to jump through the phone and ask my boyfriend what the hell?! But she explained that no, no, it’s just a cold sore. Super. With no health insurance, that little beauty took a solid 15 days to go away. I have friends who say they get them all the time. Dear God. 
• The government stole my severance. Well, it pretty much got taxed like a bonus since it was paid in one lump sum. So about 45% of that money I never saw, which really doesn’t leave a lot. I finally understand all the stories you hear about people saying, “Eight years of my life and this is how I am treated? This is what I get?” It’s hard to see a value put on your time. Especially when that value is not a lot. 
• I am sad. No, I didn’t love sitting in traffic for upwards of four hours a day and then spending the bulk of my life underneath fluorescence. But it allowed me to bring something to the table. This emotion took awhile to hit me, but not working has left me feeling lost, confused, and of very little value. What am I adding? The ego has kicked in big time and it is not a happy camper. This is probably the worst of the unexpected outcomes.
• Unemployment can suspend your money for weeks at a time. When I am stressed or upset, I don’t process information well. That led to me filling out my unemployment forms wrong. Which led to them sending me a letter saying they’re not sure I will qualify and they will talk to me about it in three weeks. In the meantime they’d be holding all my benefits. And the part-time job I had, well that project is over. All of that is awesome when you have to pay $400 a month in insurance premiums. Which leads me to… 
• The Affordable Care Act is not affordable. Not in New Jersey anyway. I still can’t wrap my head around how $400 is considered affordable when living on unemployment and supporting yourself completely alone. Granted, the month of May when I was in between work insurance and my own has been a stress ball until itself, so I am glad to be covered, but without money coming in, it’s hard to see how I can continue to pay for rent, food, and insurance. 
• There is happiness, but it’s definitely hiding under the layers of stress, fear, and panic. The prospect of defining my own future is exciting. And there are moments when it seems like the world is exactly as it should be and things are awesome. But there are also moments when I have no reason what so ever to put on pants. I guess that’d be a plus in some people’s books. 
• It’s a roller coaster. I’m a woman so I know what it is to be moody. But the past few weeks I’ve been amazed at the breadth of emotions I’ve had and the frequency at which I cycle through them. I’m beyond grateful for my friends who listen, talk me down, and just overall deal with, and help, me through this time. And that definitely goes on the plus list… 
• I have some amazing friends. It really is through the hard times in life that you find who is really going to stand by your side and help you. I’m honestly blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life right now. I just want to hug them all—all of the time. 
• I am going to be super fit. The last time I had this much time to go to the gym and yoga was when I was 22, not working, and living in California. At least then I had someone paying rent. My diet may have gotten worse because, let’s face it, crap food is way more affordable than health food, but I am working out everyday, most days twice. 

So basically, pick any one of the emotions above and I could be feeling them at any given moment, sometimes two at a time. It’s exhausting. I try to breathe and meditate and tell myself that I need to enjoy this time off, this time to myself, because it won’t be like this forever. In the meantime, I’ve launched a yoga project, have attended webinars, went to a yoga talk, attended free yoga events, built several websites, designed business cards, written articles, but today, for instance, I’m having a hard time putting on pants.

To Stress or Not to Stress—Is That Really the Question?

repostedfrom the (yoga) posers blog

Lately, when I get stressed, I think of this story one of my yoga teacher told me about the effects of stress on the bodies of mice. An experiment was done in which one set of mice were given everything they needed to survive and the other group of mice wasn’t. They were put into stressful situations, that I guess would be a mouse’s parallel to losing a job, a car breaking down, or wondering if they’d be able to afford their rent and grocery bills. Whatever that is in mouse-terms.

After the mice went to mouse heaven, autopsies were performed and the stressed out mice’s organs had turned black. I think about this when I feel a knot in my stomach. Is that my stomach turning black?

After going through more than my fair share of life changes in the past couple of months, changes I didn’t choose, I do wonder what effect all of the stress is having on my body. The cold sore on my face is one quite obvious example of how stress can present itself physically. So I wonder if I am doing enough for myself to manage my life stressors? I think I could always do more, but I definitely have a good base.

So what do I do? How do I get through it? Well, it’s times like these that I really get to see how my yoga practice is affecting my life and mind. Now, I remember to breathe. Before yoga, stress would lead to shallow breathing, which after a while, would lead to a panic attack. Now, I know that while this present moment may not be the greatest—hell, it might be downright awful—I remember that not all moments will be like this one. And all I have to handle is what is happening right now. Before yoga, my mind would leap into a downward spiral of what-ifs and why-is-this-happening-to-me moments. I’d feel like a victim instead of someone who has the right to choose how she reacts to situations.

Don’t get me wrong: my car nearly caught fire this morning, and I definitely shed my share of tears. I felt myself beginning to fall into the old pattern of spiraling. But then I remembered yoga sutra 2.33, translated as, “When disturbed by negative thoughts, opposite (positive) ones should be thought of. This is pratipaksha bhavana.” 

So I take a breath, and I start there. I needed to move my car before tomorrow’s street cleaning or a I get a ticket. So I became thankful that I tried to move it today and not tomorrow before rushing off to my temp job. I wouldn’t have been able to get things done quick enough in the morning to manage the car situation and still get to work. I was thankful that I tried to move it early so that my brothers could drive to my town and fix it for me (which they did at a fraction of the cost a shop would have charged me). Had I tried to move it tonight, I wouldn’t have access to as much help.

I feel a world of gratitude for my brothers right now, which is a way better feeling than being mad about my car. And that’s a choice. It’s one that I don’t know I could have made before immersing myself in yoga and self-study. And I’m hoping it’s one step closer to not ending up like those poor little stressed mice.

Is THIS Why People Label Their Lunch?

I always laugh when I see lunch in the office fridge labeled with the owner's name. I mean, if someone's going to steal your lunch, I feel like knowing whose lunch they are taking would give them even more pleasure. I've had my lunch stolen and I don't think that having my name on it would have made a difference. But it occurred to me today that labeling lunch may be for the owner's sake more than the rest of the office. 

Here's the thing—I have a terrible memory. Last week when I went to get ice out of the freezer for the soda I shouldn't be drinking, I noticed a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl and paused wondering, "Is that mine?" I quickly let it go realizing that other people probably like and purchase these things just like me. But today I came back from running errands and went to throw a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl in the freezer, saw the other was still there, and realized it's a very real possibility that it's mine and I just forgot that I had it in there. Had I labeled it, I would know.

So now what? Do I leave a note? "Fellow office mates, I cannot remember if this is mine or not, so kindly write back if it's yours." Do I give it another week and if it's still there eat it and hope it was mine in the first place? Do I eat it and leave a note that I have eaten it because I thought it was mine but if it wasn't I am sorry and let me know I'll give you $2? Do I try to forget about its existence in those moments I am super hungry in my office at an odd time? See, this all could have been avoided if I had just labeled my lunch, or if I didn't work in an office in the first place. But seems the former is the much more viable option at the moment. (Clearly though, I did not learn my lesson because I didn't label the new one I just threw in there either.) 

This is likely why I will never create world peace. I'm too busy trying to remember if I bought myself food. Well, that and the laziness. To eat or not to eat? THAT is the question.

Stay Present. Staying Sane. (A Repost from Tumblr.)

I started a Tumblr. account a few months ago because someone said I just had to. He was so adamant I figured I'd look into it. I decided I'd use it for shorter blog posts and mostly yoga musings. Shorter posts, okay, but longer posts, well this site has been my brain dump for a lot of years, so I feel that this particular post so live here. So here's a post from about a month ago that actually ties in nicely to the dharma talk post I just put up. Or maybe I just talk about the same things. Either way...here you go:

“If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present.” ― Laozi

Yoga philosophy talks a lot about staying the present moment. It’s part of yoga’s basic purpose - to stop the fluctuations of the mind (yoga chitta vritti nirodha). It’s a fact that this is pretty hard to do, but like many lessons in life, they are only truly learned when experienced. You can tell me all you want that I should stay present, that living in the past or the future is not going to do anything to help my mental state now, but last night, for the first time, I really truly felt this. (Not to say I am going to be any better at it, but the universe painted a nice picture for me.)

Battling an epic week of the ever-fun PMS, last night I sat across from a man that I am in love with, in tears. There was no rationalizing away the emotions, my hormone-soaked brain was going to do as it pleased. But when I woke up this morning, I realized that the two things I was upset about were not happening right now. I was anxious about something that happened in the past and sad about something looming in the distance. (So, opposite of Laozi’s quote, but same-same in the end.) If I had just stopped at looked at my present situation, I would have seen everything was good in that moment. 

We can’t control what the future holds. We can try to affect it, be the best people we can, and hope for the best, but that’s different than attaching yourself to a certain outcome. Life is going to hand you what it hands you and it’s how you deal with it that makes who you are. And hey, not every present moment is good. So it’s not to say that if you can manage to live in the moment you are always going to be a perfectly happy person. Sometimes the present is hard. But it’s where you are and it’s what you have. The past is gone. That doesn’t mean it’s forgotten, but it’s not meant to be clung to either. 

Hormones aside, I could have saved myself a bit of heartache last night. But the best part about life is that we get to try again each day. :)

My First Dharma Talk

I’ve been doing a lot of reading on the ideas of non-attachment and non-possessiveness. They talk about how suffering comes from clinging to possessions, people, or even a thoughts; how you’d like something in the future to turn out, or reliving how something in the past did turn out. These things, people, and emotions can start to define who we think we are. And when life changes and circumstances change, as they always do, it’s this attachment that causes us to feel like we’ve lost something, that we’ve lost a part of ourselves, or that we are somehow less than we were before. And we suffer.

A lot of depression is said to come from looking to the past and anxiety from anticipation of the future, which is exactly why the right now is so important. What we should try to do—which is difficult at best—is to let go of expectations, of the idea that if we get the next iPhone or a new outfit that we will be happier, or that someone else can make us feel complete. Sure, you might feel a sense of excitement after a shopping spree, but as time goes by you find that those things that at one time made you so happy just don’t anymore.

Non-attachment does not mean to stop caring but it does mean to not depend on someone or something external as a necessary condition for our own happiness and contentment. But the great thing about that is that everything you actually need to be happy is inside of you. I read a great quote that sums all this up succinctly, “Detachment is not that you should own nothing. It’s that nothing should own you.”

So take a moment and think about something that is owning you at the moment. Your job? A relationship? A new car? A fight with a friend? As you in inhale think, “let,” and as you exhale think, “go.” Let. Go.

It's Just...I Mean...Really?...I Can't.

It's been awhile since I've done a Jen-rants-like-a-lunatic-post, so yea, we're due. Here's the thing. I have a lot going on in my life right now. Like big life change type of things. Not like, I need a pedicure and I hope I get to yoga later. I'm sure (hopefullly sooner than later) it will all sort itself out and I will go skipping into the sunset yelling, "Weeeee! Life is just dandy!" and then I'll do a dropback into a backbend because that would just be pretty freaking awesome. But that's not now. Now is me having a near meltdown in a Verizon store.

But what did Verizon do? Let's go back to...yesterday. Yesterday I decided I no longer wanted my work phone and personal phone to peaceably coexist together. So I requested my phone number back from my company. Easy. But they informed me that I would need to pay full price for a phone since it's the same contract and I'm not due for an upgrade until July. Le boo. I called Verizon this morning and they told me that's not the case, it's considered a new contract and I could get the new contract pricing. Yay!

At lunch time I trucked on over (well I Honda'd on over) to the Verizon store where they informed me that the lady on the phone was mistaken, I would have to pay full retail price. This after he assured me that there's no way a company would so easily hand over a phone number. Well Negative Nancy, or well, Josh, was wrong about that one. But not about the price thing. He checks with the manager who says the same thing. I figured I would just get a new phone number which is a big pain in the butt, but hey, sometimes change is good. Let go of the past, right? But first I called Verizon back to see if they could help. And then did. Yay!

Back into the store I went and Josh (I don't even know if that's his name but go with me here) says, "Just because they added something in the notes doesn't mean I can do anything." Why so negative Josh? Why? But alas, my upgrade date was changed and all was right with the world again. Then I had to spend twenty minutes on the phone with another gentleman who was helping Josh transfer over my number because he stuck. 

"Do you want insurance?" he asked.
"Nope."

Ok done. Onto phone selection. I wanted the iPhone 4s 16gb because it'd be cheap. And I like cheap. Josh tells me no bueno, not available. After some mulling it over, "I just said, eh screw it, let's do the 5s." Josh then informs me about the Verizon Edge program. Except, 90 percent of the details he gave me weren't even a little bit true. His fantasy version sounded fantastic, so I went with it. Now I've got a new phone...hooray! 

On the drive back to work, I realize both of my phones are working, which is, weird at best. So when I got back to the office I called Verizon to find out why. The first thing the guy says to me is, "You've got insurance, great!" 

"Hold up there - I specifically said I did NOT want insurance."
"Oh, well I'll take it off. It will go into effect next month, so you'll just pay the first month."
"But why would I do that? Why would I pay for something I specifically said I didn't want?"
"Oh, ok, I'll give you a $10 credit then."
"Ok..."

After being transferred twice, the nice lady on the other end knew exactly what was wrong—they never told me to shut down the first phone when they set up the second. Easy fix. Great. I asked her to confirm the insurance had been removed. It hadn't. I explained my previous conversation and she agreed, "That makes no sense, I will just delete it." Great. 

Fast forward to getting home from work and me sitting down to make the new iPhone just like the old iPhone (part of the reason I stuck with iPhone, easy peasy). While I waited, I started thinking, "Hmmm...I'm paying $17 a month for Verizon Edge. Sure I can upgrade after a year but I will have paid $204. If I keep it for two years that's $408." (You like that quick math?) That's when I started to realize that for someone like me who would just as soon still have her old Nokia and be playing snake, Verizon Edge is fucked. 

I once again call the 800 number and explain that Josh didn't so much base any of his information in reality and I'd just rather pay the $200 and be done with it. Sure, she said. But I'd have to go back to the store and return the phone and start over. Ugh. So I walk on over to the store near home and tell them the situation. What do I encounter? Another Negative Nancy. But we'll call him Joey, because he's got that thick New York accent and he's just probably a Joey. Or Anthony. Tony, sorry. Joey Tony tells me this is a big hassle, it's going to take him like two hours to complete this. Straightfaced I said, "Ok."

This is when manager steps in and tries to explain to me all of the reasons Edge is great. And look, I get it. I know people who upgrade wheneverthefuckpossible. Or pay out of pocket because they just NEED the newest phone. As I previously mentioned...not me. So this "discussion" I will call it, went on for about ten minutes. Now I'm just so frustrated I am near tears and just softly asking him to make it stop, I just want a regular contract.

After he agrees, he continues to try to sell me insurance. The woman behind the counter started the process and informed me I'd have to pay a restocking fee. How about...no? Yea, no. So she figured out a way I wouldn't have to after I asked why, why, can two Verizon employees not tell me the same story? Why? She continued working. But here's where they got me. Here's where I felt like I was absolutely going to lose my mind. After an entire day of dealing with misinformation, miscommunication and some bad math on my part, the manager says to me, "Do you have an iPad? Because we are having a really  great sale on iPads right now."

Seriously? You're seriously trying to sell me an iPad after I tell you the day I've had with Verizon, after you argue with me about cancelling Edge because Joey Tony doesn't want to I don't know, do his job and help me out, try to charge ME fees for the happy Edge story Verizon gave me, then you're going to try to sell me an iPad. What. The. Fuck. 

The lady behind the counter got it all sorted it out. I paid for the phone. And one last time manager reminded me I had thirty days to buy insurance. (BTW Joey Tony, it only took 20 minutes to get everything sorted. Not two hours.) I headed out and thought, if there's a god, I will NOT drop my phone in the toilet tomorrow and have to go back to Verizon.