Facebook request
I just got a Facebook friend request from a girl I was friends with during my year as an exchange student.
Hello Vera. Do you remember smoking pot outta an apple in my garage? I do.
Why I do too, Tanya!
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.: posted by Vera 
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Movement inspiration
Events have been co(i)nspiring lately to get me to explore new types of movement that I am really enjoying.
I have been going to Ecstatic Dance on Wednesday nights. It's a three-hour-long sober event for people who love to dance. It features some of the same DJ's who play at underground parties, and some of the dancers are the same as well. Both times I went, there were lots of familiar faces.
My dancing there is a lot more uninhibited than at late-night clubs or parties. I think that is true for other people as well. People at Ecstatic Dance really shake their sillies out. It is very playful and childlike and can even involve rolling around on the floor--one of my favorites. You'd think that alcohol and drugs loosen people up, but it seems that sobriety does even more. Or maybe it's just that the setting/context is different.
Right before Ecstatic Dance, there is a one-hour free introductory contact improv class, which I have also been attending. I had been curious about contact improv for a while, especially since knowing Kean because our physical interactions have always naturally included elements reminiscent of contact improv, such as playful pushing and pulling, play-wrestling, body-rolling, etc. Plus, it's a kind of non-verbal, intuitive communication, and sometimes lately I am looking for alternatives to being verbal.
Kean and I also went to an Acroyoga class on Sunday. It was one of my birthday presents for him (and me). Kean and I had started flying each other tentatively at a party right after we met. Ever since then I have been wanting to get better at it. In the class on Sunday we learned several different flying poses that we can now play with. I am not a very stable base yet. I think it is a matter of balance and trusting myself. Kean is a great base though and never drops me.
The cool thing is that there is this guy who attends Ecstatic Dance and spends most of his time lying on the floor, flying people. I approached him this week. I looked at him, stretched out my arms as if I was a plane and then brought my hands to my heart in prayer position. This was my way of asking him to fly me. He held up his hands, non-verbally asking me to "hop on." (There is a no-talking rule on the dance floor at Ecstatic Dance.) He flew me for several minutes, adjusting my position every thirty or so seconds. He is very skilled at this and can turn my body around from facing him to having my back to him with a few simple moves and without ever losing balance. I was extremely grateful for what he did with me and also proud of myself for having enough courage to ask for this from a complete stranger.
Then, last night, Justin, Kean and I went to a small warehouse party in Oakland. We didn't really know what to expect from this party but this is what we got: Lots of playtime on the dance floor! There were some circus school people there including a contortionist. I know a lot of circus people and have seen contortionists, but I had never seen any of them bring their circus skills to the dance floor. But that's what I saw last night, and it was very inspiring. Limbs were flipping and flopping, people were picking up and dropping each other, and again, there was lots of rolling around on the floor. I probably did more watching than playing, for now, but I took away lots of inspiration for how I want to move.
Perhaps next year I shall attend the Movement Play campout.
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.: posted by Vera
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Christiane F. and I
When I was 10 years old, I devoured a book called Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo , a true story by Christiane F. My friend Mone let me borrow it. It's about a 14-year-old heroin addict in Berlin.
When I was 14, I watched the movie for the first time. I was deeply impressed by her beauty as well as her struggle.
When I was 16, I wanted to look just like the actress that played Christiane F. in the movie. She was tall and skinny and had long red hair. Everything about her was long. She was my idol, even if I had no aspirations of becoming a drug addict.
 I never knew what Christiane looked like in real life. I only knew what the actress in the movie looked like. But today I found this picture of her from the 80's. I think she looks amazing, and the photo reminds me a little of what I look like today.
I watched the movie again last night with a friend, and I am still deeply impressed by it. It might be different if I watched it for the first time now, but you can't take away the impression it made on the littler me. My favorite scene is one of furious desperation where she comes home to her mom's apartment, shaking and with snot dripping down her face, and makes a mess out of the entire apartment looking for money.
Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo was my first book about addiction. My most recent one was Rolling Away: My Agony with Ecstasy by Lynn Marie Smith, which I also devoured. It also inspired me to take a break from alcohol and other substances for a while. I am now on my fourth week. (I still do caffeine though.)
What I am seeing now--and maybe this is obvious--is that at the root of any addiction (or even regular use without addiction), whether it is to drugs, alcohol, sex, love, attention, or being thin (anorexia), is a lack of self-love and self-acceptance. This realization is actually very frustrating to me because self-love has been one of my main focuses for the last three or four years. I guess the project is still not complete, and maybe it will be an ongoing project for the rest of my life.
I never thought I was an addict, but as long as I am lacking self-love and self-acceptance in any way, I feel like I am because I will be looking for something else to fill that void. Maybe Christiane Vera F. and I (Vera F.) have more in common than I originally thought.
So, now I am thinking, again, about working as a rehab counselor or alcohol and drug counselor or eating disorder counselor. The first step would be to become a Registered Recovery Worker. When I left my full-time job in 2005, I fantasized about working with drug users or anorexic girls, i.e. addicts, but then I ended up becoming more of a spiritual counselor than an addiction counselor. You could say that as a spiritual counselor, I help people with emotional addictions and relationship patterns, which is similar, but perhaps it is time I look more seriously at working with professed addicts. It's definitely something to think about.
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.: posted by Vera
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Adventures in Oregon
I got back from Mutant Fest (Autonomous Mutant Festival) last night. I had started hearing about it within the last couple of years, I think, because a lot of my newer dark-clothed friends like it. Last year, Kean had suggested going to Mutant Fest instead of Burning Man but that didn't happen. This year, Kean really pushed for going to Mutant Fest and, while I suggested he go by himself because I am not a big camper, he finally convinced me to go with him. I went not so much to enjoy the party, but to enjoy the nature.
The festival goes on for ten days, this year from June 28 to July 8. It is always somewhere in the woods in either Southern Oregon or Northern California. The location is different every time. This year it was near Glide, OR, more specifically in the National Forest near Toketee Falls.
We were originally going to go from Monday, July 6 to Wednesday, July 8 to be there for the full moon but it turned out that Kean had asked for the "wrong" week off of work, which was this week. So, rather spontaneously, we left for Mutant Fest on Tuesday, June 30. I liked it better that way because it didn't leave me with much time to worry about getting ready.
It was a long drive of about nine hours. We arrived at the camp site around sunset on Tuesday. We were immediately greeted by some people we knew, and we were also immediately greeted by a swarm of mosquitoes. Apparently sunset is mosquitoes' favorite time to bite.
That night we mostly tended the fire in our camp's fire pit and had conversations with passers-by. Later, we also walked around and checked out some of the sound system camps. I was surprised by the large scumfuck factor present. I guess that's because Mutant Fest is free. I also sensed a certain "fuck it all" apathetic attitude, which isn't really my thing. People were friendly but didn't strike me as particularly positive. There was a feeling of "the world sucks, thank goodness we can create our own little haven here in the forest." It felt less hopeful than Burning Man, which suggests that "the world is beautiful, and our own little haven here in the desert is an example of just how beautiful." I prefer optimism and hope to pessimism and resignation. I felt I was being transmitted the latter at Mutant Fest.
My beetle was very low on gas, and we knew there wasn't a gas station nearby, so we decided it was necessary to try to procure some gas from other campers. So the next day we set out to do just that. Some people from our camp had suggested two camps to us that usually bring more than enough gas for their generators. So we went to visit them. It was actually a fun project because we got to meet a lot of people that way. We scored about two gallons from one of the major sound camps in exchange for a bottle of sake. This example of barter and solidarity made me happy and lifted my original somber impression of Mutant Fest. A little later, we also found somebody who was going to drive an hour into town to buy a few things, and we gave her $10 and an empty canister we had borrowed. A few hours later, we were able to pick up our gas from her. The beetle now had almost half a tank of gas. Mission accomplished.
That day we made new friends and bonded with existing friends. We explored the entire camp site, which included a lovely meadow perfect for frolicking. It was hot but since we were under very tall trees, we were able to keep relatively cool. That night we spent some time on a rug under a chandelier, which one of the sound camps had set up. We also danced to a couple of drum'n'bass songs we serendipitously stumbled upon. Since it was still early in the week, there wasn't a whole lot of partying and dancing going on anywhere. This was fine by me but Kean was a little disappointed. When we were done exploring, we tended our camp's fire again, had some delicious dal soup one of our campmates had made a gigantic pot of, and then we laid in our tent and looked at the stars and eventually went to sleep.
Kean didn't have to go back to work until Saturday, so we had the option of staying in the forest one more night or splitting up the long drive back over two days. We decided to leave on Thursday, drive to Mt. Shasta and camp there one more night before heading back to the Bay Area on Friday. I got up early on Thursday to get us directions to the hot springs we had heard about. I wanted to visit them on our way out.
We packed everything up and left the campsite around noon. It was about a ten mile drive to the hot springs (Umpqua Hot Springs). They were not easy to find but we did. It was hot out so it didn't make too much sense to sit in some hot springs but I enjoyed it anyway. I was naked, I had climbed up and down some rocks with bare feet, and I was splashing around in a natural pool of water. I was feeling very much alive and happy.
After about an hour and a half of feeling real, we hiked back down and took the precarious log bridge over a raging river back to the parking lot. I changed out of my moon boots into my flip flops.. and that's when the car wouldn't start. It kept turning over and over, but the engine wouldn't ignite. A nice family nearby helped us push the beetle onto and then down the road to see if it just needed a push. No, it needed more than that. Another couple stopped and asked if we needed help. Neither of our cell phones had reception, so I happily accepted the lady's cell phone to call AAA.
The AAA lady told me that since I was on a National Forest road, I wasn't covered. But she said she could send a tow truck anyway, I would just have to cover the part on National Forest roads myself. I knew that it was only a couple of miles to Highway 138 so I wasn't too worried. But then I found out that the nearest mechanic wasn't until Roseburg, which was an hour away. My basic AAA membership only covers a tow of up to 5 miles. A tow all the way to Roseburg was going to cost me almost $300. But what other choice did I have besides getting towed to the nearest mechanic? So I requested the tow truck and agreed to pay.
While I was on the phone with AAA, two trucks had pulled up behind my beetle. When I turned around, I saw about fifteen young men standing all around me, ready to help. My jaw dropped. The plan was to push the beetle all the way down to where the paved road starts (we were on a gravel road), so that the tow truck would be able to find us more easily. And that's exactly what they did. Kean and about fifteen young foresters all pushed my car while I sat in it and steered. Sometimes all it needed was a little push, and it would coast for a while. Kean and the other guys would then run to catch up with me. I couldn't stop laughing, it was such an awesome experience. I felt like a queen in a cabin being carried.
Sometimes the car would go so fast and coast for so long, that I didn't see any of the guys behind me anymore. I would wait, and after a couple of minutes, I would see Kean and a few of the guys running after me. Kean was always among the first few guys to catch up, it warmed my heart.
When we reached the paved road, everyone was panting and sweaty, and my car had dirty hand prints all over it. They gave me one last push to let me coast down the road as far as possible, and I coasted for at least another mile downhill. One of the trucks gave Kean a ride to catch up with me and the car. We waved good-bye to the helpful foresters, and then we sat on the side of the road and waited. The tow truck was going to take at least an hour and a half.
Kean and I were both impressed with how well we were handling the situation. We just saw it as an adventure. We didn't fight or blame each other or even get impatient. We just sat on the side of the road, had some snacks and enjoyed the quiet nature all around us. The sun was shining, and we were in the shade. There were hills and evergreen trees all around us, and a small lake was right in front of us. There were dragonflies everywhere. It was beautiful and peaceful. There was nothing we had to do but sit there and wait.
Of course I wondered what was wrong with my car. I wondered if there had been something wrong with the gas we had put in. I wondered if my engine was completely wrecked. I wondered how much more this adventure was going to cost me, in addition to the $300 for the tow truck. But, I decided, all of that is just money. Life was just going to give me some new work in the near future, and I was okay with that.
The tow truck arrived about two hours after we had called it. It had to come all the way from Roseburg, where it was now going to tow us back to. "There you guys are," the guy said. "Yep," I said. It was a bumpy ride through beautiful scenery. Just like I expected, the tow truck driver was able to tell us lots of interesting tidbits about the area. For instance, he told us that he had personally known the last living Umpqua native, who had died a few years ago.
We arrived in Roseburg around 7pm. The mechanic he took us to was right next to a hotel. How convenient! Luckily, even though the shop was closed, a mechanic was working late and I was able to leave my car key and phone number with him. Kean and I grabbed a few things out of the car and then checked into the reasonably priced hotel. We were exhausted and went to bed early.
Around 9:30 the next morning I got a call from the mechanic asking me to stop by so they could talk to me. I was told they had found water in my gas tank. Kean and I walked over there. The mechanic showed me a container of liquid they had sucked out of my gas tank. It had a dark liquid at the bottom (gas) with a clearer liquid floating on top (water). Luckily, it didn't look like the water had done any damage to the engine, it just need to get out of the tank. He said that he would have to remove the gas tank from the car, flush it all out, replace the fuel filter, etc. It would take all day and cost me about $550. I said "Woo, I get to stimulate the economy!" and I thought to myself 'It could have been worse.' It really could have been. I just accepted my fate. Kean gave me a big hug, and we started planning our day in Roseburg.
I wondered how the hell water had gotten into my tank. I didn't want to think that one of the two people that had given us gas could have possibly known that the gas was mixed with water. It must have been an accident. Blame wasn't going to get me anywhere. For some reason, life had decided that I should have this experience, and so I was just going to have this experience.
Kean and I stayed in the hotel as long as we could. We checked out at noon, and then we walked back to the mechanic to see if we could leave our bags with them until they were done. And that's when we got some good news! The project was easier than it had seemed: The mechanic had been able to empty and flush the gas tank without removing it from the car, and after doing that, the car had started right up again! Now he just wanted to test drive it for at least ten miles to be absolutely sure that it was okay, and then we would be on the road again. Since it had taken a lot less time to fix, it was going to cost me a lot less than what I had originally been quoted. He said to come back in 40 minutes unless they called me to tell me they had found something else wrong.
We went to a nearby park by a river and were glad. When we got back to the mechanic, my car was indeed ready. It cost me $280, and we were back on the road at 1:30pm. Thanks to the water in my tank, I was now short almost $600, but that's better than $850. We had spent the night in unspectacular Roseburg instead of by spectacular Mt. Shasta, but at least we had a running car again! I was pleased and relieved.
We were back in San Francisco by 9:30pm. My body had at least 100 mosquito bites on it; Kean's about 50. They were just now starting to itch. We watched ?on Flux the live-action movie while taking turns putting anti-itch cream on every single mosquito bite on the other person's body. It was a delight. I never knew mosquito bites could be so pleasurable when being lightly touched.
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.: posted by Vera
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