Archive for the ‘Labrum’ Category

My take away from AWP and a mini-Hollins reunion? Travel as a Need.

March 10, 2013

Yesterday, I listened to writers discuss their craft at the AWP convention. I jotted down snippets on a legal pad out of habit and in the middle of listening to a panel discussion on writing in translation (for a very cool and free literary journal check out It really wasn’t about writing in translation but about bringing the writing to translation. I think. It’s not the fault of the presenters; they were muses at that point. I realized there was passion. Artists, in general, receive the stereotype of passionate. As some point, and with great apologies, I lost track of the discussion and realized what I was hearing was passion OF career, something that is and has been lacking in my world.

I’m done. Not in a suicidal rage done, merely done. At the point of exhaustion, I see what the causation. Living without passion is not living. It’s survivalism. I have a few things I have to get done (notably that pesky shoulder surgery in exactly 37 days not that I’m joyously counting down). And then I’m leaving. On a jet plane. Ok, there are some very real steps in between: sorting through a few decades worth of junk to what will fit into a small storage unit in the town my parents reside, figuring out the where I want to go, where I need to go and uh, how to translate “I’m deathly allergic to shellfish” in every language known on the planet. I plan on leaving in roughly a year after I’m done with my shoulder rehab.

I am a huge proponent of knowing needs versus wants. I need to travel. I don’t need Disney; I don’t need turn down service. I need my backpack, my passport and well, the aforementioned card that says please don’t serve me anything with shellfish. Travel, of me, is activism. It’s the part that allows me to say to the world “no, not all Americans are like that” and to hear “No, xxx really isn’t like that.” I need to see the world, to take in the sights, the smells and show, if even to myself, that the world is much better and far less hateful than media outlets make it out to be. Travel is my idealism. Travel is hard; there is nothing worse than being curled up in a hotel room, in a foreign country 14 time zones from home where you don’t know the language or anybody and are miserably sick (ok, there are a LOT of things that are worse) without a common alphabet in common to figure out what medicine you might be taking (Ah, Tokyo. I really want to visit you again!). There is nothing more wonderful than being surrounded by a gaggle for elementary school students in Hiroshima practicing their English in the shadow of the destruction your country created peppering you with questions because they’ve found a ‘real’ American from Boston (where apparently a Japanese player was playing for the Red Sox) to pepper with questions about baseball, Boston and lots of questions that were not on the list.

I know when I plan to leave. I don’t know when I’ll be back. But I know, for probably the first time, I will be following my passion. And (almost) everything else is irrelevant. Of course, all of this is completely dependent on my mother agreeing to cat sit world’s dumbest animal. Completely open to ideas on where to visit anywhere on the planet outside of Western Europe, good travel blogs and volunteer stops along the way.

Torn Labrum + Lack of REM = Mr. Toads Wild Ride

February 23, 2013

So, I have a torn labrum. It sucks. Ok, what sucks the most is the never ending lack of sleep. I’ve been stuck in a vicious cycle of no sleep, crash, no sleep, crash. Last night was a major face plant to the bed. A thirteen hour (impressive even by my own lofty standards) snooze provided a major catch-up in REM sleep.

It was one of those nights that I remember thinking WOW these are beyond weird experiences. Then realizing when I woke up that yeah, I can totally see how The Wizard of Oz and Newhart were created by REM movements. Really.

What were some of the more bizarre highlights? I’m glad you asked:
1) Two kale loving essentially pacifist friends fighting (like fist fighting) over who could make a dish that would have me love kale. Somehow, the kale became ruined and I was relieved. Not at the end of the fight, but that I wouldn’t have to eat kale.
2) Having a brief conversation with President Obama on the merits of Greg Luzinski’s play as a White Sox member vs. a Philadelphia Phillies player. (I mean of all the things to talk to POTUS about? I pick a 70/80’s baseball player?)
3) Going running with Hilary Clinton the morning of her inauguration and realizing I had her driver’s license. The ensuing drama of getting it back to her, getting stuck on the beltway and thinking “It’s a good thing I know this short cut”, winding up on the metro where I debated jumping between trains and thought, wait, that’s too Hollywood, I’ll stay on the train. I handed her license to a Secret Service agent who knew the code word of the day. (Never mind I’m fairly certain Secretary Clinton doesn’t run, I know I don’t).
4) Watching a neutral pulpit that involved Santa falling on me breaking my wrist. (I’m pretty certain that must have been related to a cat moving around on the bed). Better? Santa was preaching.

Maybe I should learn to eat kale?

I’m starting pre-rehab Monday. Expect a few blog posts about the fun times only because I’ve noticed a lack of information on the internet about rehab, surgery, etc. Sorry to bore everybody. . .