10 minutes.

I’ve decided to spend the next ten minutes writing.  It’s part of WordPress’ Daily Post Challenge. I have to write anything I want, but I have to do it for ten minutes.

Nine minutes to go. I’ve just finished my lunch, reflecting on the afternoon ahead of me.  There are a few interesting folks coming to see me.  I called one young woman in because she has an STI (sexually transmitted infection).  It’s the second one she’s had in 6 months.  She admits she’s not using condoms (really? I would never have guessed!), and I really hope this time she’ll take my advice more seriously.

Seven minutes left. Ten minutes is a long time.  I’ve started running 10:1 (run:walk) intervals and it can sometimes feel like an eternity.  I am finding though that it’s getting easier and easier.  I am working my way towards being able to run for a solid 30-45 minutes and to do this I am introducing something called the fartlek.  It’s a Swedish term for “speed play”.  By running, or sprinting, for a specific time (say, 30 seconds) or distance (say, to that hydrant, or 100 m), it trains muscles to work harder and lung capacity to increase.  After a few runs this week where I have incorporated fartleks, I can already feel my stamina improving.

Five minutes left.  That’s how long it took for me to realize that she was going to be a friend for life. We had only ever met as acquaintances but one day, I invited her over for drinks with her husband, and we hit it off immensely.  That was a few years ago, and today she has reached a birthday milestone.  I think she’ll be reading this later, so I wanted to wish her, again, a most wonderful birthday.  The best, my friend, is yet to come.

Three minutes left.  This morning, my baby woke up happy and talking up a storm.  Most of it is still gibberish, but he has started saying “Momma” and “Mommy” a lot more and is even pointing at me when he says it.  It isn’t the first time a child has called me Mommy, but damn if it doesn’t still feel so utterly special and thrilling to hear it again from this little boy.

One minute left.  Wow, that wasn’t hard to do at all.  Thank you, Daily Post!

One Question

Litmus, Litmus on the Wall

If you had to come up with one question, the answer to which would determine whether or not you could be friends with a person you’ve just met, what would it be? What would the right answer be?


At first this seems pretty straight forward, right?  I thought so too, which is why I decided to give it a shot.  But it’s actually a lot harder than I thought.  What would the question be? I’ve learned so much about friendship in the last few years; I’ve learned that you can’t will someone to be happy for you, to want to spend time with you. You can’t expect someone to do for you what you’d do for them. I’ve learned that you need to actually communicate with someone face to face to really know them.  I’ve learned that if you can’t be honest with yourself, you can’t expect others to be honest with you.

So, what would my one question be?

It would be this:  “Can you let go of your ego if you had to?”

And the right answer would be: “What ego?”




Moved by Music

Day 4.

Inspiration struck me when I saw this post come up on my Twitter feed.

The challenge is to write something about music; a song that represents you — that you could consider as your “intro music.”  As it turns out, this is pretty easy to write about.

This post is dedicated to an old friend.

I grew up with an older brother who was heavily into heavy metal.  Coming home for lunch meant I was listening to the likes of Iron Maiden, Motley Crue, Judas Priest, you get the drift.  This was the early-mid 80’s.  Glam rock was just starting, but new wave was well on its way and it was music that I really didn’t care for at the time.  With an older brother constantly blasting rock and roll music, it’s not hard to see how I became a metal head. 

Ah … the metalhead.  I wish I had looked like that in high school.  While most of my friends were listening to the likes of Madonna, Whitney Houston, and New Kids on the Block, I was deeply entrenched in the metal scene.  Well, actually, that’s not true.  By the time I was in high school I was listening to a lot of glam rock. Poison, Slaughterhouse, Ratt, you name it.  I was known in high school as the metal head.  Dance music and “pop” was not my style at all.

Eventually the glam scene died out and was replaced by the Seattle “grunge” scene.  I was a huge fan of Nirvana and Pearl Jam for many years.  The death of Kurt Cobain hit hard, so hard in fact, that I actually wrote a letter to the editor of Time Magazine (which was published) after his suicide.

I remember the later 90s being somewhat devoid of music for me.  Shockingly, only one song sticks out – “Tubthumbing”.  Don’t laugh!!!    It was a big hit for me in 1997.  I remember it so well because at the time I was living on my own with my then best friend and just starting to discover who I was.  We were two girls on our own, going to school, living  in the city.   It was a great time.

The very-late 90’s was a major turning point in my taste for music.  I was a graduate student in Physiology.  A fellow grad student made me listen to something called “trance”.  I told him repeatedly that I wasn’t into dance music.  He persisted. I’m so glad he did.  The album he put on for me was Paul Oakenfold‘s Tranceport 2 ( below is track 1 only).

I know this will sound cheesy and cliché, but my life changed that day.  Music suddenly made sense to me again, the rhythm, the beat, the hook – it moved me, it spoke to me. It was a profound moment. I got goosebumps.  I am forever grateful to my friend for introducing me to trance/electronic music. I still listen to it today.  I am introducing my children to it as well.  Walk into our house on any given Sunday and you just might find a little dance party going on.