Nothing here is normal

Or rather, the chances of a seemingly normal thing turning out to be not entirely normal are much higher. That's more like it.

Case in point. Turns out that not only did I have a mystery virus that felled me for a week, but then when I pushed myself a bit too hard after my immobilization, opportunistic strep jumped right in and laid me low again. So this afternoon I dragged my sorry ass over to the library to get some light reading and light watching -- while I understand why the West Hollywood library would have 5 copies of Shortbus (for real), I do wish they'd had at least one copy of Strictly Ballroom, which is really what I'm in the mood for (and also ostensibly popular with the gays). Anyway, after the library I went to get some pho nearby, figuring that the effort of staying upright would be repaid by the healing nature of chicken broth and noodles. Unfortunately, the pho was pretty mediocre, which I guess I would expect given its location adjacent to one of the fanciest malls in town (which is saying something), and also it was hard to relax given that everyone around looked like an actor/model wannabe, with smooth, evenly tanned skin, doe eyes, and rippling muscles (both sexes here). Except for the big, not so young guy just to my right, who was loudly and laboriously detailing his recent home renovations (copper pipe replacement, reroofing, the felling for some reason of tall linden trees, etc. etc.), and whose voice was both grating and familiar. Because, I realized, he's this guy. And he has not aged well. All this reminded me that Ferris Bueller also would have been an excellent movie to take out of the library. But for the fact that they didn't have it.

And there you have an "I'm sick, let me go to my local library and then get the nearest soup" excursion when it's in West Hollywood. Shortbus and foiled principals from 80s teen movies. It's all very silly sometimes.

(K)not what I expected

I have yet to write up my recent Sierra adventure, which was profound and lovely in many important ways, ways that may not be well-suited to the light-hearted blogging one finds here. But I want to take a moment now and touch on something that I didn't quite expect from the trip, which was that it made me feel really strong and competent. In physical ways!

Upon recent reflection, I see that I have considered myself awkward, clumsy, physically inept, and kinda weak for basically my whole life (not to even start on the whole topic of self-perceptions of physical appearance). But in point of fact, although not so much the epitome of grace, I'm actually not any of those things. I joined a gym in July and have been taking cardio/resistance classes there and also doing some interval training on the treadmill. The first of these classes nearly killed me - it's called Metamorphosis, and the next morning, I did indeed feel a lot like Gregor Samsa, lying immobile on my bed, staring at the ceiling as I flailed my tiny arms and legs about to no avail. (I'm assuming they didn't have Kafka in mind when they named the class, although you never know.) But things have been looking up since then, and even though I haven't yet lost the weight I've put on since moving to Los Angeles (who the hell moves here and gains weight? absurd) my body has obviously been changing.

Because our trip involved packing into a campsite, which I had known and prepped for, except what I hadn't known or prepped for was that our packs would be FORTY POUNDS and we'd be hiking up to 9500 feet. It was harder than I expected, but as it turned out, I was mostly at the front of the pack. And took on some extra weight from someone who was having a harder time making it up the mountain. And didn't feel like I was dying at the end, just really wiped out. And then after we got there, I made my own tent-like thing out of tarp and twine. Because I now know how to tie some knots! Knots that have fancy names (though god knows I can't remember them) and real functions. Like this one here,
which is a fancy slipknot, good for attaching your tarp to a tree or rock or some such, because the tension can be adjusted. Two weeks later and I still got it. Wheee!

So now I'm trying to rethink things, and see myself as a powerful, cardio-vascularly strong person who carries pack-mule sized loads, ties fancy knots, and can go to the bathroom in the woods for a week. Although I must say that downside to that is my lower-back mosquito bites ("Nature's tramp stamp!" said Mr. Monster), which are still itchy after 2+ weeks. As I type even. Alpine mosquitoes also apparently some powerful female types...

Life is full

of learning experiences. Last night, I (re-)learned that if you're out for an evening and part two of said evening involves avant garde music, you should reposition yourself from your up-front seats to easy-escape by-the-door seats. I remembered this just a few seconds into the performance, but it was already too late.

Just passing on some hard-earned wisdom...

Invitations

I arrived home from my Labor Day travels (which should end my jet-setting for the time being, unless you Chicago people have a good invitation heading my way) to find a letter addressed to Mrs. [Pangea] (seriously, people, in 2008 to an unknown woman?) inviting me to join this charming establishment (please do check out the Board of Governors on the right-hand side of the screen).

Said club is apparently a "haven and refuge" for industry executives and personalities, which is SO what I'm looking for these days. Plus I'll have the chance to develop quick camaraderie and maybe even life-long friendships, facilitated, in part, by their computerized tennis-pairing system. And they'll take care of all my Pilates needs.

What made me happiest, of course, is learning this: "[Fancy Shmancy Country Club] is not for everyone one nor every family. If it were, it would not be a privilege to belong. Membership to our fine club is exclusive, but not exclusionary, and is by invitation..." (Apparently "it is also much more affordable than you might think.") Not only do I wonder how in the hell they got my name and ostensible marital status, but this all begs the question, of course, put forth by one of my vaudevillian and metaphysical ancestors: do I want to join such a club that would have me as a member?

That being said, I'm seriously considering going on a tour sometime soon, before classes start...