Battle Royale
As I sit here, beaten, sore and bruised I couldn't be happier. The way I feel (and quite possibly look) this morning reminds me a line in one of my favorite movies, Accepted: "BATTLE ROYALE!!!"
Here is a run down of my current state of affairs:
Scratches over 4 fingers - apparently there is a right and wrong way to fling a fish back into the water. chucking them by their gills (or teeth...?) will result and scraping (something) across your hand. I am astutely aware of said scratches every time I use our waterless hand sanitizer at work.
Bruise on left thigh - these are called 'Halibut Hickeys' by Cap'n Steve and this results from misplacing your fishing rod when you are reeling in that biggan...just think of how you bruise the crap out of your shoulder if you hold a shot gun the wrong way, same concept. clearly i was holding the rod the wrong way (that's what she said).
Although invisible, my left forearm and shoulder are KILLING me. I hardly ever, probably never, work out my upper body. I just hate the feeling of trying to push something away. It's a very vulnerable feeling to me. Now my legs, they can dead lift a small Volvo, but I just hate having to use my arms. And fishing requires using your arms more than your legs, hence the soreness.
Now onto the right forearm...I love fire. Just ask my parents, I was the kid burning sh*t at 10am when we would go camping at Kerr Lake. When it was 96 degrees. I just saw so much potential with all that shrubbery! and sticks! and logs! and pallets! So needless to say when my friend Ben said he was going to have a fire to burn some of his decking Friday night- I was in there like swimwear. Even though I love fire, I am still blond to my core and when I pick up things and put them in a fire, I tend to forget how hot they probably are. Needless to say, the wrong end of the metal pole was picked up and now approximately 8 freckles on my arm are rocking the blackened look.
Last but not least is my most epic injury of the weekend - the hole in the bottom of my left foot. As mentioned above, I love fire. I am blonde. I make irrational decisions often and with record speed. Luckily Ben doesn't judge me for my ill decision making skills, rather he sits back and waits for the show to begin. As we are burning the pieces of decking I come up with the grand idea of putting one of the 20 foot boards across the fire. So I do. And it burns, and as its almost in half, I decide we need to expedite this process and jump on the ends like a see-saw to snap it (and possibly send flaming debris into the air-but it would look so cool! right?). So, Ben stands on one end gingerly weighing it down, and I (of course) JUMP onto the other side. Board snaps. Success. Just as I am reveling in my perfectly executed plan - the bottom of my left foot starts burning and as I lift up my heel in my white flip flop I see a nice stream of blood filling up the shoe...Whoops. Boards from decks usually come with nails. Rusty nails. A rusty nail that so kindly made its way from the board, thru my flip flop and now had a new home in my foot.
I'm guessing I've had my tetanus shot in the last 10 years...but seriously, whoever died from tetanus?
So I guess the point of all I stated above, is that despite the beating I'm feeling right now, I am happy. Most of the injuries incurred are from my very first halibut fishing adventure in Alaska, one that I had to take on my own due to the lack of space available on the boats (another nod to my procrastination). So after a 3.5 hour drive to Ninilchik, I boarded a boat with 5 other fishermen, 1 captain and 1 deckhand. I was the only girl and the only one who didn't know anyone else on board. I was slightly apprehensive/nervous but I did my best to not be the quiet awkward one and started conversations as quickly as possible. Luckily all the guys were super nice and did their best to teach me how to fish and I'd say we all had a really good time. I caught 5 total but AK law is you can only keep 2, so now my freezer has a decent stash of halibut steaks just waiting for some marvelous recipe. Also had a moderate crush on the deckhand by charter's end, and I'm not gonna lie when I handed him the tip afterwards I felt slightly trashy like I was paying him for something other than his charm...
I am extremely proud of myself for going fishing! It isn't going to be a new past time of mine by any means, but who can say they've been halibut fishing in the halibut fishing capitol of the world? I can. And I'm damn proud if it.
Now this isn't just another fishing tale...but going on the trip reminds me to never stop the adventure. Take risks. I have done many (many) stupid things, but its the things I didn't do that pop in my mind more so than those dumb things I did commit to do. I'll probably always remember that I chickened out of singing "Jackson" by Cash & Carter at the karaoke bar on a first date. I should've asked that deckhand out for a drink after fishing but I wussed out. (Don't get me wrong, the hour I spent going over what I should've said on the way home made the time pass in the car, but I'm sure it would've made for a much more interesting story if I had just tried.) What was I going to lose? I will surely never see any of those people again, who cares if I crash and burn. But alas, I didn't. Heavy sigh...
It's not to say that the inaction of those two examples caused traumatic consequences in the grand scheme of Stephanie's life, in fact it affected nothing, but that's the point, I'm finding the regret of inaction far outweighs my regret of the actions I did make.
Every action creates an equal and opposite reaction. Simple law of physics. So it's safe to say that inaction creates nothing. Without reactions, where does the growth, progress, insight, dare i say- happiness- come from? Sure, without reactions there would be no bruises, rusty nail holes, or sore appendages. We would all be in pristine, perfect, flawless shape like those Barbie dolls kept in their boxes in mint condition.
Our bodies would have no scars or aches.
And even more damaging, our hearts would have no scars or aches.
I read something last night that reminded me that our bodies are made up of semipermeable membranes. Letting some things in and keeping some things out. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Spirituallyl.
We are our own gatekeepers.
No one is guarding our moat. It is up to us to make those actions and fully embrace the reaction.
I'm quite impressed with how I have handled the reactions of my actions in the last few months to be honest. Definitely showing some positive growth and that makes me feel really good. It's an indescribely wonderful feeling to know that what you are today is slightly better than what you were yesterday. Be it going fishing by myself and getting physically dinged or opening my heart up to let someone in (which I haven't been able to do in a very long time) and welcoming all the consequences of those emotions with the comfort of knowing yes, they are still there, yes i can still feel, emote, connect.
Let's not let the could've would've should'ves haunt us.
Let's not sit in that nursing home in 60 years regretting our inactions with no grand stories to tell the youngsters - becuase after all, if I learned anything working with the geriatric population, is when you're body is failing, all you have left are the memories you've made. Nothing else.
Let's not go to Camelot. 'Tis a silly place.
Let's get out there, get hurt, scraped, exhausted, and love and embrace every bleeding, aching second of it.
-S
I can't even begin to explain how happy I was to have my BFF Erika come up and spend a week with me. We did so many amazing things together and further solidified why the two of us are meant to be in each other's lives. She supports me in ways she will never know and I will always cherish our friendship.
Here is a run down of my current state of affairs:
Scratches over 4 fingers - apparently there is a right and wrong way to fling a fish back into the water. chucking them by their gills (or teeth...?) will result and scraping (something) across your hand. I am astutely aware of said scratches every time I use our waterless hand sanitizer at work.
Bruise on left thigh - these are called 'Halibut Hickeys' by Cap'n Steve and this results from misplacing your fishing rod when you are reeling in that biggan...just think of how you bruise the crap out of your shoulder if you hold a shot gun the wrong way, same concept. clearly i was holding the rod the wrong way (that's what she said).
Although invisible, my left forearm and shoulder are KILLING me. I hardly ever, probably never, work out my upper body. I just hate the feeling of trying to push something away. It's a very vulnerable feeling to me. Now my legs, they can dead lift a small Volvo, but I just hate having to use my arms. And fishing requires using your arms more than your legs, hence the soreness.
Now onto the right forearm...I love fire. Just ask my parents, I was the kid burning sh*t at 10am when we would go camping at Kerr Lake. When it was 96 degrees. I just saw so much potential with all that shrubbery! and sticks! and logs! and pallets! So needless to say when my friend Ben said he was going to have a fire to burn some of his decking Friday night- I was in there like swimwear. Even though I love fire, I am still blond to my core and when I pick up things and put them in a fire, I tend to forget how hot they probably are. Needless to say, the wrong end of the metal pole was picked up and now approximately 8 freckles on my arm are rocking the blackened look.
Last but not least is my most epic injury of the weekend - the hole in the bottom of my left foot. As mentioned above, I love fire. I am blonde. I make irrational decisions often and with record speed. Luckily Ben doesn't judge me for my ill decision making skills, rather he sits back and waits for the show to begin. As we are burning the pieces of decking I come up with the grand idea of putting one of the 20 foot boards across the fire. So I do. And it burns, and as its almost in half, I decide we need to expedite this process and jump on the ends like a see-saw to snap it (and possibly send flaming debris into the air-but it would look so cool! right?). So, Ben stands on one end gingerly weighing it down, and I (of course) JUMP onto the other side. Board snaps. Success. Just as I am reveling in my perfectly executed plan - the bottom of my left foot starts burning and as I lift up my heel in my white flip flop I see a nice stream of blood filling up the shoe...Whoops. Boards from decks usually come with nails. Rusty nails. A rusty nail that so kindly made its way from the board, thru my flip flop and now had a new home in my foot.
I'm guessing I've had my tetanus shot in the last 10 years...but seriously, whoever died from tetanus?
So I guess the point of all I stated above, is that despite the beating I'm feeling right now, I am happy. Most of the injuries incurred are from my very first halibut fishing adventure in Alaska, one that I had to take on my own due to the lack of space available on the boats (another nod to my procrastination). So after a 3.5 hour drive to Ninilchik, I boarded a boat with 5 other fishermen, 1 captain and 1 deckhand. I was the only girl and the only one who didn't know anyone else on board. I was slightly apprehensive/nervous but I did my best to not be the quiet awkward one and started conversations as quickly as possible. Luckily all the guys were super nice and did their best to teach me how to fish and I'd say we all had a really good time. I caught 5 total but AK law is you can only keep 2, so now my freezer has a decent stash of halibut steaks just waiting for some marvelous recipe. Also had a moderate crush on the deckhand by charter's end, and I'm not gonna lie when I handed him the tip afterwards I felt slightly trashy like I was paying him for something other than his charm...
I am extremely proud of myself for going fishing! It isn't going to be a new past time of mine by any means, but who can say they've been halibut fishing in the halibut fishing capitol of the world? I can. And I'm damn proud if it.
Now this isn't just another fishing tale...but going on the trip reminds me to never stop the adventure. Take risks. I have done many (many) stupid things, but its the things I didn't do that pop in my mind more so than those dumb things I did commit to do. I'll probably always remember that I chickened out of singing "Jackson" by Cash & Carter at the karaoke bar on a first date. I should've asked that deckhand out for a drink after fishing but I wussed out. (Don't get me wrong, the hour I spent going over what I should've said on the way home made the time pass in the car, but I'm sure it would've made for a much more interesting story if I had just tried.) What was I going to lose? I will surely never see any of those people again, who cares if I crash and burn. But alas, I didn't. Heavy sigh...
It's not to say that the inaction of those two examples caused traumatic consequences in the grand scheme of Stephanie's life, in fact it affected nothing, but that's the point, I'm finding the regret of inaction far outweighs my regret of the actions I did make.
Every action creates an equal and opposite reaction. Simple law of physics. So it's safe to say that inaction creates nothing. Without reactions, where does the growth, progress, insight, dare i say- happiness- come from? Sure, without reactions there would be no bruises, rusty nail holes, or sore appendages. We would all be in pristine, perfect, flawless shape like those Barbie dolls kept in their boxes in mint condition.
Our bodies would have no scars or aches.
And even more damaging, our hearts would have no scars or aches.
I read something last night that reminded me that our bodies are made up of semipermeable membranes. Letting some things in and keeping some things out. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Spirituallyl.
We are our own gatekeepers.
No one is guarding our moat. It is up to us to make those actions and fully embrace the reaction.
I'm quite impressed with how I have handled the reactions of my actions in the last few months to be honest. Definitely showing some positive growth and that makes me feel really good. It's an indescribely wonderful feeling to know that what you are today is slightly better than what you were yesterday. Be it going fishing by myself and getting physically dinged or opening my heart up to let someone in (which I haven't been able to do in a very long time) and welcoming all the consequences of those emotions with the comfort of knowing yes, they are still there, yes i can still feel, emote, connect.
Let's not let the could've would've should'ves haunt us.
Let's not sit in that nursing home in 60 years regretting our inactions with no grand stories to tell the youngsters - becuase after all, if I learned anything working with the geriatric population, is when you're body is failing, all you have left are the memories you've made. Nothing else.
Let's not go to Camelot. 'Tis a silly place.
Let's get out there, get hurt, scraped, exhausted, and love and embrace every bleeding, aching second of it.
-S
Some of the most fun I've had in Alaska were the two weeks I spent with this guy.
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it. "What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.
But the Skin Horse only smiled.