From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters

I just returned from the most splendid of vacations over my Spring Break. I went with some friends to stay in a cabin by the Russian River. Blessed with sunshine, we did a day of hiking in Armstrong State Park. The random tendon/ muscles in our legs screamed and our feet whined in protest, but we trudged on through mud and rocks to see beautiful views, mossy trees, and numerous javelina traps. Ok, maybe not javelinas, but forest pigs. Like in Princess Mononoke! Ok, maybe not gigantic god-pigs either.

We also ate extremely well, cooking fantastic dinners each evening and glorious breakfasts. Culinary Therapy. Strangely, the trip turned into a social work retreat in a way, with all of group processing, checking in, and assessing each other throughout, half in jest and half in seriousness. Yet, the formality of structured discussions did create a space for us to talk about how we got along with each other and process our various experiences in social work school so far. Highly beneficial. Highly strengths-based.

Afterwards we also visited an aunt of one of my friends and saw her children and horses. We watched a movie with her family and played air hockey, pingpong, and cards. So welcoming and warm.

If anyone should need an intervention for relaxation and pleasantry, I will refer you to the Russian River.

You don't know me! I don't know you!

I was walking home today and talking on the phone with a friend. Granted, I guess it is rude to walk around in public while talking on the phone, but I walked by guy ranting to entertain his friends and encountered another incident that makes me think Berkeley is no haven from racism. This guy, perhaps homeless, was mouthing off about how he had to live under the white man until he was seventeen, then seeing me added that the Japanese need to get off the phone. Japanese! Do I look Japanese? If you can't tell the difference between a Korean and Chinese person then don't make assumptions. Grr, I was seething afterwards. When these things happen I also get crazy mad at myself for not starting a scene and mouthing back. Do I perpetuate the stereotype of submissive Asians by not talking back? But you know, that is not me. I don't want live in a world where racial outbursts result in streetfights and neither do I want to be such an instigator. And I don't need to be the object of my anger either.

Why won't Spring Break just arrive already?

Over easy

I went to a diner-ish eatery on Telegraph Ave. for breakfast today. I found myself standing in line behind a row of guys each three-times my size. A quick inspection of their t-shirts revealed that they were the Cal football team. Ah, this explains their orders of full breakfasts with sides of bacon, sausage, pancakes, and cheeseburgers. I can't even comprehend how much food they must all consume. A village worth.

At one point, two of the guys were mocking the English of the Korean owner at the cash register. But a team member called them out saying, "What, you think that's funny?" Hooray for football players with senses of social justice!

I enjoyed a glass orange juice, a scrambled egg, and a stack of blueberry pancakes. Yum! Come visit me -- I know where to take you for breakfast.

Namaste

This week has run me to the ground. Assignments piled on assignments. Sleep deficit upon sleep deficit. I don't think I've been more stressed than at any other time in my life.

So I decided to take a self-care holiday this afternoon after my field placement. I went running out in the sunshine. Then napped on the floor of my room. And, on a whim, attended my first yoga class, which ended up having the whopping attendance of one: me! If was a free class through the coops. This was the second. The first had only an attendance of two. Having never done yoga before, I've always been intimidated by the prospect of having to "perform" in front of a group of experienced people, so this was actually the perfect setting for me. The instructor, unfortunaley, was rather disappointed at her tiny class and could not keep the disappointment out of her voice for some time. I rather enjoyed it, in any case, and found that I'm pretty flexible. I surprised the instructor as well. Three cheers for the lotus position!

Afterwards, I attended an interfaith peace ceremony that my friend's roommate was performing in. It had religious leaders representing Native American spiritualism, Judiasm, Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam. In some ways moving. In some ways incongruous. It ended with everyone joining hands and dancing in a circle to the beat of a Native American drummer. I watched but did not partake. I was not moved as I needed to be to really participate in the circle of qi, though I did pick a river rock that was annointed with water blessed from all the represented religions. Lucky rock? Holy rock? I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but hopefully nothing blasphemous or sacrilegious. Like partaking of communion, if my purpose in keeping it is not pure, it will be a blight, not a blessing.

I've done more "spiritual" connecting with myself and others than I have done in a long time. But I don't feel anymore whole for having done anything. I think my mind body, and soul just need more sleep.

Sage words.

I'm up late trying to finish my reading for class tomorrow. Found a sentence that stuck out and popped me out of zombie-reading mode. Don't know if it is the choice of words or its message, but here it is.

To expect cures is irrational; to expect to impart wisom that, through experience, will fascilitate adjustment is sage.

Also interesting, the ratio of positive to negative thinking in normal individuals is 62:38. So normal is set at about 2:1. Depressed people have ratios of 1:1. To be optimistic more than 2:1 may also indicate unrealistic thinking.

[From Kendall, P.C. (2000), Child and Adolescent Therapy: Cognitive Behavioral Approaches, 2nd Edition, New York, NY, Guilford Press Chap 1 (pp. 3 – 27)]

Melts in the sun, not in your freezer.

I opened up a box of chocolates I received as a gift. There was a small paper inside that reads the following:

Hot summer day?

Chocolate melting?

Just freeze for a few minutes,

peel away the foil,

and enjoy this perfectly fine, but

somewhat misshaped high-quality confection!

Heehee! Funny and tasty.

International House of Pusillanimity

Did you know that today was National Pancake Day? It may be no more than a marketing ploy by IHOP (Natl. Pancake Day:IHOP::Mother's Day:Hallmark) but some friends and I decided to take up the call to enjoy free pancakes for the carbo-happy goodness that they are. Well, having traversed San Pablo into Emerryville, we found that our nearest IHOP had a sign that bore the words "NO FREE PANCAKES" in pink highlighter. Not taking this poor attempt at sign-making too seriously we entered to investigate. Ah, there behind the cash register was a marker board that also read the same, yet there on the counter was a welcoming sign declaring free pancakes in celebration of the day. Uh? We asked to see the manager. The host went to inquire on our behalf. He came back. He told us that the manager had told him, "The sign should be enough." One of my friends, with violent tendancies, took pictures of the signs and the host called us cheap. She snapped back that we were poor students and shouldn't be expected to pay for pancakes when they should be free. In an case, it was a good thing that we left, otherwise IHOP might have had an intermittant explosion on their hands. We were all a bit stunned at the injustice of how rudely we had just been treated. We later relocated at Mel's and enjoyed excellent service and tasty, if not free, pancakes. What was the lesson that we learned from this?

IHOP is the man?
Everything comes at a price?
or maybe...

Friends don't let friends pay for pancakes that should be free.

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In unrelated news that have nothing to do with pancake day besides having occurred on the same day, I've been trying to return all the books from inter-library loan that I have checked out for my research assistant job. The borrowing services office called me not to long ago to tell me that I have stuff checked out that was due back in November and the school has been paying fines on all my overdue books. When I went in to check on my status they asked me my last name and when I furnished it the librarian replied with my first name. Eek, you know it's bad when the librarians recognizes your name.