Dear Nine Year Old Self

Are you the one who looked longingly at the older girls. Willing yourself to skip to 30 immediately? Or was that 11 year old you?

In any case here you are. 30 year old you. It really does get better by the way. Just the way you thought it would. 28 was when you stopped looking forward waiting for what was next. And just being here. Now. Loving almost every minute of crazy. Not without bumps but mostly smooth sailing.

Today 30 year old you had an early breakfast meeting. Doesn't that sound glamorous and a little important. Well it's kind of great. For the last 5 years you worked really hard, you're career driven but I'm pretty sure you already know that by nine. Or at least the idea of success and what you expect from it. You've built some great relationships in the industry. It's what you love best about your job….so don't worry about all that awkward time in junior high or high school. I guess elementary school was a little bit tough too. Well don't worry about any of it. The friends came late but strong and plentiful.

After your work breakfast you had a job walk for a project you are going to run and after that you hopped on one of the old school trains that run on the Market St. corridor to the next meeting at the a company whose headquarters you just built.

By the way you run the next meeting. You influence and direct and keep it on track. You answer questions. You ask the right ones and maybe try and tell a joke because sometimes it gets a little serious. Honestly…they only laugh sometimes but actually you're not too worried about it. You're right where you wanted to be for so long and maybe even a little ahead so you're kind of ok with most of it.

Two more meetings and at one o'clock you grab a quick lunch and walk back to your office. It's sunny and warm out. You're wearing a grey silk tank, black skinny jeans and a black blazer. You have a cute black leather bag with your work files flung over your shoulder and ok you are wearing flats, not the heels you always planned to live in but you wore the 4 inch ones yesterday and need a break. And anyway these are cute. I'm sorry to tell you despite all endeavors to have straight hair this morning a slight humidity in the air has you all in curls. But you're kind of over it. That's what 30 is about.

You're 30 and just rocking it because right about now is when you realize perception is reality. It means as long as you are perceived as confident that's everyone's own reality of you. They don't know any different. Good. The hair, we kind of knew around 16 probably we weren't ever going to get it right.

But the skin gets better…and then it gets worse. But you can afford real makeup so no worries.

You did get your first $20 off botox email offer today. Scary.

After work you grabbed a drink with a coworker and then walked home through Hayes Valley to your apartment. You're eating leftovers for dinner and about to settle in to watch the West Wing (it's been kind of a thing lately). And during all this reflecting on a good day. One of many. Right now you're thinking everything will be better when you have you're drivers license. If you had different clothes. More friends. But all that gets better.

I'll be back but today was kind of kick ass so I wanted to share it with you, because I know you're having a tough time right now.

xoxo

30 year old you.

PS The movies where the popular kids are losers later in life is about 75% true. So for now take solace in that.

Lusting for Wanderlust

It may be rainy and cold in San Francisco, I may be sick going on two months and the couch may be buckling under the weight of my permanently planted sloth like self. But I'm doing my damnedest to channel, summer -peace love and lulu. And so I revisited this post....and immediately signed up for my day pass to Wanderlust. This years menu includes 3 non local teachers who I've been wanting to practice with for a couple years now and I really can't wait.

In the meantime re-reading the post below that I wrote for Mountain Lotus Yoga really reminded me how very happy I was that entire weekend. And how much my body wants more yoga!

Peace, Love and Lulu

Last weekend’s weather couldn't have been more beautiful for the Wanderlust Festival in Squaw Valley Village. Warm breeze and nothing but sunshine gave way to yogi’s flowing through their vinyasa’s in sunglasses, straw fedora’s and hopefully an extra layer of sunscreen. With anywhere from 11 classes per time slot, held at different locations throughout the village, it was never an easy choice. Especially considering the amazing teachers that came from all over to take part. I got to watch but not sweat through Kerri Kelly and Suzanne Sterlings “Off the mat and into the world: Flow of intention class” live drums and limited shade in the meditation dome got everyone warmed up and ready for the weekend.

Sadie Nardini’s “Be a yoga ninja” workshop got my abdomen a little more than iced (I was sore for 4 days after), and Duncan Wong’s arm balance workshop with 200 other wanderlusters was entertaining, humbling and as did everything else at Wanderlust, started late and ran over. But there wasn’t too much rushing going on anywhere. The low-key positive vibe that pulsed throughout the four days was stepped up a notch by Shiva Rea’s “Fluid Power” class; A highlight of the weekend for me. It’s unlike any class I have ever taken and no explanation would do it justice. For live feeds that were taken from her classes check out shivarea.com. It’s probably worth watching if you’re at all curious what her popularity is all about. You’ll also get a new take on the traditional flow.

3 more classes on Sunday (with Les Leventhal and another Shiva Rea class) left me strong and sore and with little energy to rally for the music. I did catch the Yard Dogs Road Show and without knowing what to expect I can say I was surprised and impressed by the mini-variety show they put on. It doesn’t explain why they were running around the festival all weekend in shiny 70’s lycra bodysuits, starting impromtu conga lines but then again that wasn’t the only bizarre goings on at the festival. Check it out next year for yourself, it’s at the Squaw Village again and as smooth as this year went I can only imagine the third year running will be even better!

-Mya

*Image of Duncan Wong and Shiva Rea's classes by tinywater. For more festival photos click here. Wanderlust Festival Website

Memories from the Greyhound

I rode the greyhound down the East coast of Australia, listening to Blind Pilot's Oviedo - The thrill here is quicker than you'd think- and sleeping on my sweatshirt, beach towns made for backpackers with nothing in between except a coastline lunch spot, fish and chips I never ate wafting through the gas station area. Not a local in site except the fry cook and cashier. Greyhound city. Population 2.

My trip was planned by a backpacking travel agent expert. One of a million my trip was exactly the same but different than everyone else's. - I left all my doubts on the airplane -

Pull into Rainbow Beach. Unload from the bus. Food bag from overhead compartment. Check. Backpack. Check. Carry on suitcase. Check. Do I walk to the hostel are they picking me up?There was the Yongala Dive, no one else got off the bus. I sat at the depot on the outskirts of the agriculture town. Dusty roads and a shaded bench I sat reading. Wondering. Listening to Blind Pilot - I didn't know, I didn't know I'm not in control - thinking what brought me here? I got here by greyhound but how did I get to this town, Aire, where no one is on the street, going to do the 7th dive of my life in the middle of now where Australia. By myself. The truck pulled up and Dave from San Diego threw my suitcase in the back and drove me to my accommodation, a house converted to a dive shop/hotel. We ate roasted chicken, 7 of us, and walked through the neighborhood in the warm night air. Strangers. Friends. We dove together the next day, drank around an old picnic table under a yellow light listening to electronic music on speakers hooked to the dive instructors ATV. And the next day Dave drove me to the bus depot, dropped me off with well wishes and memories for life. Except I can't remember if his name really is Dave. And the greyhound pulled into the depot out of now where and a new driver loaded my suitcase into the under car storage, checked my ticket and let me on as another girl got off. - I didn't know, I'm not invincible - And I sat down rested head on sweatshirt and listened to Blind Pilot.

Listen, it's Monday and I just don't know. I feel like pirates today maybe something to do with the sudden urge to wear a head scarf and an eyepatch.

Apologies all. I went missing. Forgot to write....actually didn't forget to write, thought about writing everyday then didn't. It was a big week out here. I did a little running, caught up with the cousins over some cardio immediatly counteracted by an Indian carb fest. Did some laundry and on a whim cut all of my hair off. Which hopefully as I mention it sounds casual. It was, really I had to do something. The need for change, a healthy cut, a reinvention...instant. And it was. She ripped the band aid off, grabbed a chunk and there was no turning back and I put on a brave face that translates into a frozen smile in which I go over and over in my head why I told her to do this. She straightened my hair, I left and the day was magical. Blustery but warm. I, like a child who is brave and gets a reward for being so, treated myself to a Brulee tart. Strawberry vanilla - heavan on earth. And skipped along forgetting the recent loss I had just suffered. Half my hair...until I glanced in the mirror and didn't recognize myself. I found a cafe. Unmarked and empty but for a Bob Dylan type sitting on the leopard print upholstery among crates serving as tables and an old green chenile sofa with a round back (See him here). A vegetarian cafe that serves beer. Ah I am home. Not because I am vegetarian or particularly wanted a beer but because the two thoughts don't seem to go together, which is so like me. Schizophrenic. Contradictory. Which one of these things is not like the other? I feel like that.

It was magic and Bob Dylan, long silver hair, sunglasses in the dark interior had his guitar and played - soulful, acoustic, rock - for me and the bartender. Magic I tell you and then he stopped to read the newspaper so I stopped to order another beer (Hunter's Ginger Beer which you should know once me LK and LM wend on a Sunday Saga to find ginger beer...not brew... beer in San Francisco. Alchoholic ginger beer. 4 hours, 3 beers and $12 later we had found one we didn't like at all. But Hunter's is refreshing and delicious. To be sure I will be back for it.) and took up my trashy novel I am reading which is allowed every once in a while. And when he resumed his one man show I stopped and watched but the place started filling up and I was a different person sitting there with no hair. Okay, some hair, chin length hair. And I wanted to leave and sit in front of a mirror and reintroduce myself to me. Find a way to fix it maybe? If this sounds melodramatic it probably is. But it is how I feel and when we don't recognize ourselves in the mirror, and we are at the same time in another country trying to learn ourselves and we go into a salon and tell the girl to cut off our hair so it can be healthy and give her creative license to make is edgy so one side is short, the other side longer - angled in the back - we can become confused because me, maybe not you, but me who wishes she weren't defined by her curly, frizzy now very short hair clearly is. At least a little but, And maybe you wouldn't realize this yourself until you one day without thinking cut if off. Anyway, I guess that was the point. To redefine. Rediscover. So here I am. Hairless. Okay not hairless but there's nothing past the chin so in my world I guess that's the same thing. I think I deserve another brulee tart. And I want my mom. And she's coming, not because of the hair...just because and I can't wait. She'll tell me how stupid I am being and then I'll realize she's right and I will quietly count down the days till my medium length hair is back and pretend like for a moment, I am the kind of girl who can rock any haircut, even if it is totally different lengths in front, Angled in back and still defiantly curling at the end despite no humidity and straightening. A yogi who shops a runner who smokes, a vegetarian cafe/bar and constant rewards of brulee tarts and ginger beers. This is me. Today I am fragile but tomorrow I will be strong, unreadable, laughing and reminding myself why I did this. But today I am leaning on you, expecting you to bring me a brulee tart and cofffee cause I know you would if you could.
*PS Pirate mood might also be instigated by lust for Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow. Also he has nice long hair. Suspect is wig though. Maybe I could borrow it....

On something. He looks like he's walking a tightrope holding a plate of food precariously perched on one hand. Shoveling food into his mouth. This might be the last square meal he has for a while. He probably won't remember it. And I can't help staring. His friend is following carefully after him and I watch with a smile frozen on my face. There isn't any other look I have for what I am feeling and it isn't until his friend comes over to me, leans across the dessert table and hugs me with a tight grip, an open heart and a foul smell that I feel like crying. He calls me smiles and says, with regret, they won't be coming back for seconds and looks at his friend. And I am still frozen in a smile and I hate myself because I want to go shower. It hurts to think about even now.

Serving the homeless food on Christmas eve leaves me feeling hopeless and spoiled. Glimpses of relief come with gratefulness in the form of a homemade ornament gifted by a little Asian woman who walks quickly and with command hands me the origami goose she made. It's only when there is no room for pity, or in this case the trading of goods, a goose for a brownie, that I don't feel hopeless. Every year I decide to do more, in the hopes that eventually I can breath more freely knowing I am making a difference. Every year I completely forget by Christmas day. This year, 2011 I am making a pledge to actually do some more volunteering. Remind me in a week okay.

So sorry to overwhelm you. But I'll leave you with this. Today I went to get coffee and as I was walking back to my apartment I saw a homeless man. I usually make eye contact and say hello although we know this can backfire sometimes. He was perched against his shopping cart, cigarette in one hand newspaper in the other I smiled and said good morning and you know what sometimes it pays off because he looked up from reading his newspaper, smiled and in what I imagine was a cockney accent said "Ello darling" and went back to reading the paper. So there is it, this world is crazy, sad, and sometimes hopeless but then pleasant surprises come at the most unexpected time and stay with you the whole day.

Happy New Year! See you in 2011 for what's sure to be another great year.

Festival Opera Pop's Up in the Ferry Building

Here and gone and back again. Something about hearing Steely Dan's "Hey Nineteen" on the radio yesterday, the chill in the air and the sun shining on the clean rain clouds that were slowly retreating to rain on someone else's day made me want to write to you. Don't ask me. Steely Dan doesn't usually illicit such a response. But that's the power of music yo.

After the warm and rainy Queensland Christmas I had last year (I was in fact driving a tractor on a banana farm December 23, 2009) it's particularly festive to have a real Christmas Tree and imagine santa in something other than board-shorts. They don't really suit him.

In the works since I left for Australia last fall has been a certain surprise opera at the Ferry Building. An effort that my brothers Opera teacher came up with, as inspired by this -Opera en el Mercado - to raise money and excitement for Walnut Creek's Festival Opera which, as many of the arts are, is suffering. My favorite part by far is people's expressions as they take in the music and surprise of the moment. It's a short three minute song but I imagine the smiles people had from it lasted the whole day, hopefully longer. He caught some of the reactions that give me chills. Particularly the guy filming with his Iphone. I love this guy and hope he shared his video with someone who missed it and I hope you will too!

Warmth, and well wishes await you and if you're naughty a platter of cheese does too.

Merry Christmas!

In all seriousness...It a little bit bothers me that my brother gets hit on by men more than me.

Lindsey says I am haven't been blogging lately which is mostly true. I have been thinking about it. Dreaming about what I am going to write to you. The skateboarders who barrel down our hill then wipe out. I laugh. The Kiki incident at Safeway in which I am running late and the tranny in front of me at the castro safeway decides to haggle the price of produce, needs her groceries triple bagged and then has a cab called for her only to solicit a $10 ride from the guy parked right next to me preventing me from getting into my car to drive over a cliff. I was going to write about all of these things but life got in the way.

The girls came over for pumpkin carving pre-Halloween and I thought I would make something the night before that I could just heat up. Failure. In that it wasn't ready when anyone showed up. That being said the Squash soup was a great success. So here I will share the recipe with you. It is easy but be warned cuttting an acorn squash with a mediocre knife is not only life threatening but you'll need almost as much patience as if Kiki was in front of you haggling the price of produce...at Safeway.

Squash Soup w/ gryuere croutons and Sage

(Loosely translated from a fine cooking recipe amalgamated with some recipe online) you get the point. This yields 1 large batch of soup to serve 5 people. I had leftover squash so I made an entire second batch but it will depend on the size of your squashes? Squash? Squashi?

1 Acorn Squash - the green one -

1 Butternut Squash - the big yellow oddly shaped one -

1 large onion

4 cloves of garlic

Fresh Sage - 2 to 3 tablespoons

32 ounces of Chicken or vegetable broth (one carton) this can be adjusted for consistency

Salt, pepper, ground ginger to taste

Cream (optional) but recommended

Gruyere (technically optional but how boring are you if you skip the cheese)

Cut squash in halves, peel and cube. Try not to loose a finger. It is not easy. Working in sections should help. Rumor has it you can make this easier by roasting it in half a little bit first but I can't attest to this. I did it the hard way. You need 2 cups of each squash.

Sauté onion and garlic in 1-2 tablespoons olive oil or butter. Add all (4) cups of squash. Add Broth. Add sage. Season as desired. Bring mixture to a boil and let it simmer till the squash is very soft. Turn off the heat and get ready for the messy part. You're going to blend the mixture in the food processor unless you are lucky and have an immersion blender. If you have my medium size Cuisinart this takes about 3 or 4 batches. Transfer blended mixture back into pot. Heat it back up and add cheese and or cream to taste. Et Voila. Croutons and/or crusty bread with melted cheese are highly recommended.

Also I added Chopped up sauteed spicy Italian sausage as a garnish in the second batch. It was delicious. Let me know how it goes or thoughts on whether you think perhaps adding a little wasabi powder to spice it up might be a bad idea? I can't decide.

Peace and gruyere croutons!