the ‘S’ word

August 27, 2014August 28, 2014 / jane in training / 2 Comments

An Ingmar Bergman Production.

I’ve been participating in a photo sharing group called August Break 2014, moderated by Susannah Conway. We are receiving daily prompts for the whole month and it’s been fun taking photos, being creative, sharing them.

And then came the Selfie.

I don’t publicly display many selfies. They simply never turn out that well. I’ve only really tried to take a good one for: (1) Match.com (I no longer have an account, so don’t try to find me and trick me into flying you in from some distant country); and (2) my avatar.

It’s supposed to be a good idea to use the same image, preferably your own face, across all social media and other sites in order to be identified as the same person. I don’t know what’s wrong with being identified as different things, like a typewriter, a pigeon, a pizza. For the longest time I was a pair of running shoes. At some point I might have been a piece of pie, too. I like pie.

My wingspan is not that lengthy, so most selfies that I’ve taken are way too close for comfort. I honestly don’t want to see my own chin hairs that closely. Too vulnerable a thing to share with the general public.

For the photo prompt, I decided to use my camera’s self-timer so that I could be a safe distance away. It’s gosh darn difficult to balance a camera on some rocks and then walk on said rocks. Whose idea was this?? On top of that, I had to squint menacingly in a sweet way. It’s my signature look.

I had ten seconds to get into place, but sometimes I didn’t know where the place was or I counted too slowly:

I like how some people are so comfortable with their selfies. I mean, so many of them are taken in bathrooms where a lot of intimate, personal stuff happens. But I sense their shyness, too, what with the sunglasses, fuzzy focus, and toned abs. I wonder what their outtakes are like. There are so many things I wish would not enter my mind.

For a retired ninja, it’s a big deal to put my face on the Internet. I hid one recently on my About page !shameless plug! since no one really goes to it. But it’s a year old and unlike the photos in this post, I prefer to look freshly showered for my avatar, depicting the mature, adult-ish girlwoman that I am. Besides, I got new glasses.

A friend recently took a photo of me in some very good light. I see how important light can be. Nice light…goooood light. So it’s now my avatar. Don’t zoom in on it, for goodness’ sake. The chin hairs, remember?

It’s another small step in being seen.

If you’re trying to build a dream, you gotta show up for it, right?

a breath away

August 19, 2014August 19, 2014 / jane in training / 2 Comments

A few nights ago, I held a friend’s two week-old baby girl in my arms.

A few nights ago, my ex’s father passed away.

The fact that life and death is just a breath away from each other does not escape me.

“That nothing is static or fixed, that all is fleeting and impermanent, is the first mark of existence. It is the ordinary state of affairs. Everything is in process. Everything—every tree, every blade of grass, all the animals, insects, human beings, buildings, the animate and the inanimate—is always changing, moment to moment.” ~ Pema Chodron

“…I now feel more awe and wonder than dread of death, and the knowledge of its inevitability gives me permission to do more and more of what matters, less and less of what doesn’t.” ~ Martha Beck

I’m not there yet. I still dread it. But I’m working on it.

wake up, wake up…the time is now…

Dude Looks Like a Brady

August 16, 2014August 16, 2014 / jane in training / 4 Comments

“Duuudes…”

“Who’s that lady??” My friend asked, pointing at someone in one of my photo albums.

I peered over at the lady in question.

“That’s me.” I kindly informed her.

That’s a lie. I mean, it was me, but I wasn’t kind about it. I screeched at her like a really angry chimpanzee. No, I didn’t throw my own poop at her. You guys are disgusting.

If there is one thing I know for sure: I am no lady (see screeching and talking about my own poop).

At the time of the photo, my hair was growing back in and it had decided to grow in curly. Really curly. Like the Brady-Bunch-in-Hawaii curly.

I was the envy of all the older women who volunteered at my place of work, which was troubling, yet flattering at the same time. I even let some of them pet my head. And just like the Brady boys, I had to convince them that it was completely natural and not a perm.

Girl. Chick. Woman. Lady.

I reserve the right to call myself anything I like at any time. I detest pigeon-holing-descriptives, even though we need to use them sometimes. Don’t you hate being labeled? You are so much more complex than way-too-many-purses-girl or turkey-sandwich-no-mayo-guy.

If I were to get lost in a crowd, my friends would frantically describe me as: “…really short! Her hair is short, too, and wavy. DO NOT ask her if it’s a perm. She looks like an old girl – does that help? Asian, glasses, sarcastic…if she looks at you suspiciously, that’s her!!” Or perhaps they wouldn’t look for me at all. I’m very suspicious of my friends.

In any case, I don’t think it matters to me how I’m addressed as a female (except the obvious ones). It’s the context and spirit behind it that matters. I’ve accepted: “Duuuude!!!” I’ll even allow “Foxy Lady”. But, please, it has to come from the heart. Nothing is worse than a meaningless and sludgy, “Hey there, Foxy Lady…” from the wrong person. I can’t seem to stop saying Foxy Lady. You know those words that sound stranger the more you repeat them? This is the opposite of that. But it’s starting to get creepy, so I’ll stop.

In some ways, I think how we define ourselves is much worse than what others think of us. We can be hell on ourselves. It makes me crazy when I realize I’ve called myself a failure even before I begin something. While I was drafting this post, I was using words like unfeminine, boyish, and former band geek. That’s my perception of myself and I can be those things, but it doesn’t define who I am. You, like myself, are uncontainable. We stay the same, yet we are constantly changing. We are everything inside. It’s a trick, this life, to keep true to yourself yet still be open, forever expanding in all directions.

Today, I go out into the world as an athlete, a seeker, and friend. At some point I might be a Brady, Foxy Lady, and an inconsolable baby. At the end of the night, who knows?

That’s another trick: Can you imagine what life would be like if we didn’t keep trying to write the endings first?

The Day I Asked Butter to Marry Me

August 12, 2014August 12, 2014 / jane in training / 5 Comments

This is not a food blog.

I bake occasionally, yet have never felt moved to post anything about my clanking around in the kitchen. There are so many food bloggers out there sharing beautifully delicious information. Leave it to the professionals, right? I didn’t want to muck up the Internet with my measly offerings. Until this happened:

Folks, I knew I had to blog about this as soon as I started browning the butter over the stove. It totally made me grumpy. Why do I have to brown this butter? Is it browning yet?? Now? Is it brown now?? Hey, it looks like it’s going to explode and splatter, leaving me with butter-filled boils on my arms!!!

And then, the butter bitch-slapped me and started getting groovy. And then, I wanted to guzzle it like ice cold beer on a hot day.

BrownButter, will you marry me?

Look!

These Peach Cobbler Muffins were made from the Joy the Baker Cookbook. She doesn’t have the recipe on her blog, so BrownButter told me to type it out instead of grumping about it. BB also instructed me not to cut and paste from some other site. Respect the muffin. Anything you say, BB…sigh…

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peach cobbler muffins
courtesy of joy wilson | joy the baker cookbook
makes 12 muffins

for the muffins:

1 ½ c all-purpose flour
½ c granulated sugar
¼ c packed brown sugar
1 ½ tsps baking powder
¾ tsp salt
½ tsp ground cinnamon
¼ tsp ground nutmeg
7 Tb (almost 1 stick) unsalted butter
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/3 c milk
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 ¼ c diced peaches

for the topping:

3 Tb unsalted butter, cold
½ c all-purpose flour
¼ c packed brown sugar
Pinch of salt
Pinch of ground nutmeg
¼ tsp ground cinnamon

Place a rack in the upper third of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Butter and flour a 12-cup muffin pan and set aside. You can also use cupcake papers for this recipe.

To make the muffins: in a medium bowl, whisk together flour, sugars, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

Place butter in a small saucepan, and melt until browned over medium heat. Remove from the heat and cool slightly.

In a medium bowl, whisk together egg, yolk, milk, and vanilla. While whisking, slowly drizzle in the warm butter, making sure to scrape any brown bits into the egg mixture as well. Whisk until well incorporated.

Add the milk mixture to the flour mixture all at once. Fold together with a spatula. Once no flour bits remain, fold in the diced peaches. Divide the batter between the muffin cups.

To make the topping: combine all the ingredients in a small bowl and blend together with your fingers until crumbly. Butter will be the size of oats and small pebbles. Divide the topping among the muffin cups on top of the batter.

Bake muffins for 15 to 18 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the center of one of the muffins comes out clean. Remove from the oven and cool in the pan 20 minutes before removing. To remove, run a butter knife along the edges of the muffin pan and gently scoop out.

Muffins will last, well wrapped, at room temperature for up to 3 days.

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Those are the instructions, verbatim, and I followed them verbatim. The muffins took longer in my oven than the recipe stated, and unfortunately, I’m not sure how long I baked them. I did one of those “three, then two, then three more minutes” until I forgot the total time in the oven. But I know you’re smarter than me because you are at one with your oven and know its temperament well enough to outsmart it.

They turned out wonderfully. I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve already had two and plan to have another, warmed, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

By the way, BrownButter turned down my proposal. After all the typing I did, it said it just wanted to be “friends”.

With a heavy heart (and tummy), I carry on.

retired ninja

August 7, 2014August 7, 2014 / jane in training / 3 Comments

image courtesy of chris spooner (http://blog.spoongraphics.co.uk/tutorials/illustrator-tutorial-create-a-gang-of-vector-ninjas)

Image courtesy of blog.spoongraphics

“You’re a ninja!!”

Apparently, this was the only logical explanation for how I came to be standing next to him without him knowing it.

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According to Wikipedia, ninjas were covert agents or mercenaries in feudal Japan. Their special talents included espionage, sabotage, infiltration, and assassination. In a quote attributed to historian Kiyoshi Watatani, he states that ninjas were trained so that an opponent “does not know of one’s existence, and for which there was special training.”

Curious for more information, I also checked with MommaPedia and this was her ninja checklist:

– black clothing
– only out at night
– stays in the shadows of darkness
– individualized, special skills
– jumps high, runs fast

Oh…then I was raised to be a ninja, except for the jumping and running fast bit.

I could also be a vampire.

I was trained in these skills: not to cause waves, not to stand out, not to think too highly of myself, and not to burden other people with – well, anything. I took my training to heart. I became very good at being…unnoticeable. And I really believed I could make myself invisible.

People have walked over and stood right in front of me while I’ve been waiting in line. “I didn’t see you!!” is a common exclamation. One time, someone placed themselves directly behind me while I was facing the cashier and paying for my groceries. You don’t have to stand five feet away from me, but I don’t want you spooning me in public, either.

Pet peeve, Reader. Reader, pet peeve.

The reality is, I’m often in peoples’ blind spots – I guess even when I’m in front of them. I’m 4’ 11”. Kids, you know what I’m talking about. When I wear heels and stand at the top of a ladder, the view is incredible.

I can see peoples’ bald spots. People can’t see mine. Everyone looks really different from this majestic angle. Then it occurs to me that maybe being short gives others my best angle. hm.

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“I don’t want to be a ninja.” I had harumphed at him, thus dashing all of his dreams of having a ninja as a girlfriend. “I’m tired of not being seen.”

And there it was. I hung up my ninja duds and soon after that, the boy was the one who became invisible.

For many years, I had been trying to erase myself, yet I longed to be significant. How in the world was I supposed to be seen if I was trained to please others? Deprogramming. Constant Retraining. Those learned pathways are deeply ingrained.

But I know this: If it’s possible to feel invisible from the inside out, then it’s possible to release that light inside you, too. It’s there, chomping at the bit to get out. And if you’re worried about being a show-off like me, there really is nothing to worry about because if you’re worried about it, you most likely won’t let yourself take a nude selfie and tweet it to the world.

As Marianne Williamson wrote:

Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do…And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

And I never thought I would quote Jim Carrey, but here is some profoundness coming from him:

Like many of you, I was concerned about going out into the world and doing something bigger than myself, until someone smarter than myself made me realize that there is nothing bigger than myself.

And there it is. Go out there and do Big things, y’all.