Photo Update

The story so far (in photos)

Trapped on a plane for 11 hours...trapped in an airport for 29. We went from hostages to refugees.

We camped.

And camped.

And slept. I love this photo.

Shocked as shit to be in L.A. and already texting.

Going to my folks' house or going to the prom?

Rock star times two.

Is it happiness or delirium?

A little overtired and not even there for 4 hours yet and we're already headed out.

Never thought I'd see pale East Village boy on the beach. He's actually starting to get a little color.

I nullify veto power. Cuz I LIKE this pic.

Spooooky.

Wonder what tomorrow will bring...

What A Long Strange Trip It Still Is

I have pictures pictures pictures But not yet not yet not yet.

That's the problem with this house...my laptop to internet connection kinda blows.

You know what else kinda blows? The fact that I was stuck on the runway at JFK for almost eleven hours. Yeah, ya heard me. Joie and I were on one of those horrible JetBlue flights. JetBlows. Then we spent the night on the floor of the airport. Mmmm...JFK carpet. THEN we spent the next morning fighting through more lines (the lines the lines oh god so many lines). We gave up eventually and headed back to my place. Got some sleep thanks to Benadryl and then headed out in the cover of darkness for Maryland. Maryland! Because THAT WAS THE ONLY FLIGHT WE COULD GET. We went from Maryland to LAX. Fiasco is one word. Dumbass is another.

You've never lived until you've heard a pilot announce over the intercom:

Uh, folks? Our toilet tanks are at about 99% capacity right now. So, if you don't mind...anything less than "Number Two", PLEASE DON'T FLUSH.

Dude.

But we made it. I think my bodyclock is still adjusting. It's not even jetlag. It got to a point where my entire sense of time and place was fucked. Time was just a number. (Age ain't nothin' but a number, man.)

But now we're in LA LA Land. Strange place, this. Strange stuff, this. Here I am helping my friend do what I don't want him to do. I don't want him to move. Not at all. I want him to stay in NY and be my friend and live happily ever after. But what am I going to do, throw roadblocks in his path? No. I want the people I love to be happy, even if their choice is not my choice. So I'm helping. It's a bit of a mindfuck, though.

We've done so much already and we've only been here two and a half days. And there's still so much to do. Plus now my own opportunities to explore. I'll be sittin' with swag at the Kodak theatre Thursday and Friday. And I'm more determined than ever to develop the next workshop. The standalone.

But there are multiple conundrums. Conundri? Priorities and timelines are kicking my ass a little bit. Then we get into the essence of it altogether: what the fuck is it, even? Because I don't know what I'm working towards and it sure as hell don't spark me. Sometimes it does. Little sparks. Glimpses of the sparkly possibilities. But just...not.

Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
And anyone can hurt me
And they do
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?
Call in three months' time and I'll be fine, I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and faces of this sad occasion
But that's no consolation here and now
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?

Okay, that's not exactly appropriate and it's not exactly the whole song, but there are a few lines in there that fit really fucking well. See if you can figure out which ones. You get a lollipop if you guess right.

Practice Makes Possible

This has been a most interesting time. I feel in a way like I'm in rehearsal. This is practice for something else later on. I'm doing the prep work, that's for sure

I do believe that I'm setting the energetic stage - on more than just one level, too. Let's hope I'm not just spinning my wheels and that there is something else coming my way. I've grown far past effusive navel-gazing and intellectual masturbation. Well, maybe not the latter. I am writing this, after all.

But this better not be another pointless act. There's only so many times I can stomach that.

So. Working towards something, then? Oh bloody hell. What? Fuck the vision board, though, at least. That kind of claptrap makes me so frustrated. Perhaps its the cynical mind talking, but I just don't see how I would find it inspirational. It sounds demanding to me. Demanding of me.

You know what? The only thing I want right now is everything. That's not too much, is it? Or perhaps at the very least, my own table. My own space. Sometimes that IS too much to ask, though, I'm finding.

Texting Is Dangerous

I have a new roommate! First time I've had a houseguest for longer than a few days in...years! Good thing he's the bestest. And a sound sleeper! I always worries that my kitties (well, Willa) will wake guests. She meows so frigging loudly in the mornings. I'm good at ignoring her when I'm the only one here, but when someone else is in the apartment, I'm hypersensitive to her caterwauling.

Appropos of nothing: I'm...er...lonely in a specific way.

Texting is dangerous.

Oy.

Four On The Floor

I rehired one of my old trainers.

I've gone through 5 a half trainers in the last 5 years. Number two I was with for over two years. I only stopped with him because his schedule changed. Number one was the guy I was working out with when I hurt my back and ended up needing surgery, so that's understandable. Number three went batshit crazy. Number five was just a strange dude. He made working out...not fun anymore. That's no good. And the "half"? Well, I only worked out with him a couple times. He seemed to think we were on a more committed basis than we really were. I told him from the beginning that I was going to test out a few people, and I wasn't committing to him. He's a sweet guy, just not what I'm looking for when I go to the gym.

So why did I rehire number four? First and foremost, he's a good trainer. And I had fun with him...WHEN things worked. When they didn't, well, let's just say we could clash. But I was thinking about that today as I found I had run out of trainers to try at my gym. I recognized that he and I never clashed until "douchebag" entered the picture. Douchebag (or DB for short, as I will now refer to him) planted all these niggling little thoughts in my head that led to greater and greater dissatisfaction with number four. Cuz DB was a fucking MASTER at that. The guy is a genius at mental manipulation. Seriously fucking good.

So let's see how it goes with "four" this time around. I think we'll do just fine. There's kind of a sibling vibe there, and I think we both had enough of our time outs.

Oh So THAT's What Happened!

According to Dr. Jennifer Crocker from the University of Michigan,

Some people think kids can’t stand to hear anything negative so they only give them praise, but research shows that those are the kids who are the most vulnerable when they experience a setback.

Yup. That about covers it.

Cool Kudos

Someone I've never met before (but who also got certified through IIN) sent me this message:

Hi Trish,
Just wanted to say hello, and tell you I looked at your website, and woweee, young beautiful woman, you have done some major changes in your life.
What a challenge and struggle, I am sure.
I am very impressed with your website, and all you have done.
My sincere congratulations to you. It never ceases to amaze me the struggles people overcome and the brilliant work that follows.
As a long time health care Registered Nurse in every walk of health care, I say, indeed it is a pleasure and welcome event to have you in the wellness arena.
Thanks for your solid and strong efforts toward change, for the many lives you have changed and the many more to come.

Wowzers, yeah?

Yeah. That was pretty cool. Between that and the kudos I got form a client earlier today, my inspiration is ticking along nicely. It's easier to cope with a reduced client schedule and light workshop signup when the people I do reach appreciate my efforts like this.

It's easy to get swept up, isn't it? So easy to drown in the tasks of the day. It's so easy to think only about the problems that need solving, rather than celebrating what has already been accomplished.

Let that be a reminder to you. You aren't going to sprain your shoulder by patting yourself on the back once in a while. It's allowed and well deserved.

Slimy Noses

It's really nice to have friends like this. Even though they're crazy. Or maybe especially cuz.

That's All? That's A Lot.

There are so many things going on...where to start?

I've been having houseguests lately. Well, just one repeated houseguest. And it's easy! First, they are a very good houseguest. But also, I'm not the neurotic control freak I once was. I recall far too easily the anxiety that would rise up when the possibility of a houseguest was in the works. "How would I have my morning? How would I watch TV? How would I go to the bathroom? (Okay, that one is still a problem. I get potty-shy.) Would they eat my food? Would they be messy? My life was going to be totally disrupted and I would never recover and I would die!!!!"

Yeah. I know. But that was the least of the craziness going on in this noggin.

So anyway, I don't feel that anymore. What a frigging relief! The ease is what makes me so happy. Of course having someone new in your house is a disruption...but it isn't a DISRUPTION. It's doable, manageable, and actually quite a bit of fun. I must say, I am more productive when someone else is around. I'm far less likely to be a lazy lump. Because it's embarassing.

Okay, what else...

Oh yeah...IT WAS ALWAYS HIM AND IT WAS NEVER ME!!! What a douchebag. Had a conversation yesterday with someone I should really try and avoid at all costs. Toxic doesn't even begin to describe him. But anyway. I always fall into a position of defensiveness and justification when I speak with him. What still pisses me off to no end is that when I first see him (or even someone who looks like him) my heart skips a little beat. But the very next second the words "giant cocksucker" float into my consciousness, so that's okay then.

I have so many things on my mind right now, it's hard to boil it down. And it's hard to remember to do everything that needs to be done. A partial list:

• Write back to the myriad friends who have emailed or myspaced or texted me
• File my DBA in NY (only a year late)
• Fix my finances
• Advertise (build a brochure, network, set up tables, utilize my connections and resources)
• Find and rent office space
• Find a buy a new apartment
• Do my bloody errands (lame shit like buying toothpaste)
• Shop for clothes (not fun. I don't like to shop but I have no clothes.)
• Research and prep my workshop (this entails so many steps I don't even want to think about it)
• Clean/straighten/organize everything
• Go food shopping. I have some old broccoli and kale in the fridge and that's about it.
• Try to remember all the other things I keep forgetting to do and finally do them so I don't stay up until 3 in the morning worrying about what I'm forgetting to do.

That's all.

Gingerbread House 2006!!!

Awwwwwweeeeee Yeeeeeeaaaaahhhh!

It's Gingerbread House time again.

If you'll remember...Lisa and I have a long-standing tradition of Gingerbread House-ery. It doesn't usually happen prior to Christmas, but as long as we tackle it before the New Year, it counts. Last year's effort was a "House of Debauchery". (Previous efforts included "Alien Crash-Landing" and "Santa in a Mack Truck"). This year was less subversive and more...pastel. Please remember, however, that the purpose of building the gingerbread creations is not great artwork...it's all about the sugar high.

Without further ado, I give you...

The Gingerbread Carousel of Wonder!!!

Here we have Lisa kneading the dough for the gingerbread. Yes, this is the first year we've made our own and didn't just trim some pre-made panels from a kit. It was surprisingly easy. Actually, I think it was easier, as we were able to make exactly the shapes we needed. Please note how she divided and shaped the dough as an exact replica of her ta-tas.
Her large, brown, crumbly ta-tas.

Again with the Lisa and the sexy things. Seriously, girl...control yourself! Sheesh...

Finally she gets down to work!

We've barely begun and we're already taking horrible self-portraits under the influence of Devil Sugar.

Top view of the Carousel in mid-construction. Those tiny pastel colored non-pariels were soooo good. They were white chocolate and minty with just a little bit of crunch from the little white sprinkly thingies. Candy? What candy?

Rock on. Last year it was me with gummy coke bottles up my nose. I'm so proud of Lisa for carrying on this year with dual nostril candy cane poles plus the lipped arch. Nice.

And here's the pretty pretty carousel. The final product had candy cane poles with circus animal...well, animals...aaaand candy cane fence with a sugar wafer walkway and a big Santa at the carousel controls and a gummy sugar santa sitting on a bench watching and a mommy gingerbread lady looking on and a gummy sugar tree and another bench aaaaaaand...that was a kick-ass run-on.

Imagine you are a teeny tiny gingerbread kid walking up to board the ride. Fun, right?

Overhead shot.

Closeup near Santa at the controls.

Yes, Rocky Horror was playing while we constructed. That was only after we watched Disney's Sword in the Stone. Hockety-pockety.

Gratuitous anatomically correct gingerbread people in the rack shot! Yippee!

Gratuitous sugar gummy Chimney Santa in Lisa's rack shot! Sweet!

So goes another year of yummy architectural goodies. Tummy aches can be worth it sometimes.