DJ Hero (not the game)

I was listening to one of our radio stations here in town last night Power 96.5  and one of my friends was on there about 16 hours ago and I was musing today on how much I admire him. He is currently on the BET show Master of the Mix  .  Danny or D.J.P (as he as known as in his profession) has always been focused on his goals and this has lead him to achieve his dreams. It's a great lesson in what pure determination and focus can do for you.
I first remember meeting him in Junior high he lived across the railroad tracks from me, this tall, bit hyper, skinny, dark headed white kid who was always getting in trouble on the school bus. Our bus driver was a cowboy boot wearing , pearl button plaid western shirt wearing woman named Marge. Marge had a voice rather like Mrs. Crabtree off of South Park. She said a lot of the same things too. Her favorite one was "DANNY SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" or something along those lines. Danny had (and still does) the ability to perfectly mimic her voice. Which would set all of us into uncontrollable laughter and her into uncontrollable rage.  I like to think of that as one of his first public performances.
Danny always has talked about being a professional DJ from the time I first met him. He has always been very good at marrying rhythmic bits and improvising on the go. He demonstrated this ability in a high school during a talent show (there is a great clip of this on his you tube channel) where he won the thing by performing a kick ass drum solo.
He and I were in band together on the percussion drum line. He was a snare drum player and snares (in our band) lead the cadences.  I was on the bass drum holding down the low end.   He was very creative in coming up with the cadences that we would play in between songs during marching band season. You could always count on him to improvise above the bass line and make it interesting. As we would walk the parade route everyone would always start moving and dancing as we passed by.
The first time I ever got to see him really DJ was at our senior Project Graduation. I sat up by him at his DJ booth all night long while he beat-boxed, scratched and mixed songs so that we could all dance. He of course demonstrated his mad breakin' skills. It's one of my best memories ever me an him talking, laughing and him displaying his talent for picking out just that right moment for transitioning over to the next tune. I remember asking him what he was going to do after graduation. He looked me straight in the eye and said " I'm going to be a DJ. I'm going to travel with guys who are on tour and be their DJ." He never wavered , he never doubted it.
After high school I went to college, got married and lost touch with Danny as he had traveled on to pursue his dreams. I next ran into him after I started working at DFS passing out public assistance. I was in my normal lunch spot, a tiny food place called the Rickshaw, when he spotted me and called out to me. I gave him a huge hug and he told me about his work space in a nearby downtown building. "I have thousands of records now" he said. "I've been traveling ."  I think he also mentioned the Rock Steady Crew .  I was in awe.  I said we should go out and have a beer. "You can have a beer" he laughed "I'll have a coke. I don't drink."   He invited me to come over to his work space sometime and being as I had an extremely jealous hubby I accepted the invite but never took him up on it. I kick myself a bit for that choice made out of fear now a days.
I followed him as he played around Springfield at the clubs and admired how he always stuck to his goals. I never went to see him play many times as my spouse was not into rap or that style of music at all. We would briefly reconnect in passing, fleetingly keeping in touch.
We really got back to it at our last class reunion( #20). Good god are we really that old? Anyway, we started off at Club Vegas on South Campbell he was spinnin' for us and of course he and the guys got out there and were break dancing. He still was full of energy. He was still a great dancer.
 He gave me a huge hug and now that I didn't have a jealous spouse I could accept it with comfort. We exchanged numbers and he let me and a couple other girls hang out with him up in the DJ booth.
 The next night we had our "fancy dinner" and about 10 or so of us from the old neighborhood caught another friends set out at Cody's south. If you haven't seen the ABC band with the Bedell's you are missing out .
 The whole gang went to breakfast where I sat with Danny and his assistant and caught up on things. He told me about the last 10 or so years of his life that I had missed out on . How he had migrated to Tulsa OK, Vegas and now was back in Springfield helping out his family, who ironically, still lived across the tracks from my grandma's house.
Then he linked me a the message about being on Master of the Mix . He's living his dream. I watch him on TV and I see that guy who looked me in the eye at Project Graduation our last night in high school and said "I'm going to be a DJ."  and I smile and think " You made it homie, you really did ". 

Monthly Checkups ...IEC contact calls

For those of you who have been following me (or those of you just joining me) I wrote that I was hosting an exchange student from Italy this year. That is going totally well and I am enjoying having my student living in my house he's a great guy.
My other involvement in international exchange is my duties for EF Foundation for Foreign Studies as an International Exchange Coordinator. Sounds very glamorous doesn't it? Among the many duties this volunteer job has is checking up with our students and their host families in an every four week ritual that I call the monthly checkup.
Last year it was easy. I could just hop in the car and go see the A team and my student Lars who were only a few blocks away. I had one student and it allowed me to get used to the reporting system where we record our monthly contact logs.
The process should go like this. I speak with the student, alone , and ask whether or not things are going well and see what exciting things the student has been up to. Getting enough to eat, making friends easily , grades ok etc. Then I speak to the host family separately from the student. Similar questions. Is your student settling in to the family. Are they understanding your house rules. Are things going like you expected? etc. The goal of this is to keep the kids safe while they are here and head off any possible misunderstandings that might be brewing under the surface. Much easier to talk to me sometimes that host mom or dad.
I am that students first line of contact. If something is going down then I play mediator in the situation.
The reality (once you have more than one student) is far more hectic. I play a lot of phone tag. Trying to get everyone called or seen (we have to see the students at least two times per year after we greet them 30 days after they arrive) should be an easy task. With our busy lives that we lead now a days it's pretty hectic. Throw in a holiday and wowie !
Luckily All my kids are great and enjoy talking with me so they always call me right back. I am usually timing my calls between shift work, dinner and bedtime.
Some of the great things I am hearing this semester are : My student from Spain is doing so well with her studies they want to switch her to honors classes this next semester, My Japanese student is taking dance classes and loves them. My student from Hong Kong got to go to state with her Cheerleading team and my student from Thailand went deer hunting for the first time ever.
I love my second job ! 

Let's get ready to ruuuummmble !

So today at noon I have a hair appointment with my stylist. I say let's rumble because my hair and I haven't always gotten along on the best of terms. We have a war on a daily basis to make it look good.
First of all every stylist I have (after starting to wrestle with my mane) always says "wow your hair is different. It's not doing anything like how we learned in cosmetology school."   "Yep I say that is why I am turning this over to a pro because I can't do a damn thing with it."
My hair is fine like silk, but there's a lot of it.  I have three different cowlicks in my hair that make it naturally want to look like someone took their hands and gave me a really bad noogie.  It is also completely straight. My natural color is an unimpressive ash blonde color with a slightly green tint (my grandma used to joke it's the Irish blood in my mom's side of the family while she cackled that it looked the color of dirty dishwater). I bemoan the fact that the red undertones didn't come out more.
When I was little my parents insisted my hair be long. Even though I would plead to cut it because every time I moved it seemed to snarl itself in knots that would cause little tears to come out of my eyes while my paternal grandmother raked a comb through my hair.  Yep I was a tender head and she was determined that if she just kept yanking eventually it would go away.  All it did was overload the nerve endings in my head and cause me to have temporary numbness from the pain.
The efforts to control my long hair were laughable. My mom quickly gave up on it. My Dad's mom picked up the battle after she had retreated from the field saying I needed to look like "a little lady".
Elastic ponytail holders would slip right out after a few minutes of horseplay in the yard. My grandmother's solution was to pull my hair back so tight into the holder that the corners of my eyes were permanently relocated back by my earlobes. In non-politically correct terms we used to say this "made us look Chinese". This would allow the ponytail to last a whole 15 to 10 minutes before flyaway tendrils of hair would burst free of their bonds and swirl in the breeze around my head like Medusa's coils.  Ragamuffin was a term thrown around very often as she would chase me around the yard in an effort to re-do the original torture.
Her second attempt was what she deemed "puppy ears" . This was double the torture as my hair was parted down the middle into two sections causing each eye corner to sit at a slightly different angle. After all it was important for the hair to stay in the holder not for me to look normal. None of my friends had to wear puppy ears. The effect was cute and gave Mary Shockley handholds with which to pull my hair in Kindergarten class. Once again my hair always found a way to escape.
A couple years later, my mother in a fit of revenge against my father( whom she had divorced two years earlier)  cut my hair into a very stylish "Mary Lou Retton /Dorothy Hamill bob in my 2nd grade year. I think that was one of the first times I ever saw my father cry, he loved my long hair.  Looking back on the pic I think it actually made my hair look better.
Of course it was grown back out, after all,little girls have long pretty hair so that they aren't confused with little boys.  That was when my paternal grandmother (whom I was living with full time by now) staged her third attempt at making my hair behave. Shirley Temple Curls. She decided to do this on school picture day and despite my best efforts at undoing her efforts. The horror was captured for posterity.
Junior High marked my attempts to become more of an individual herd member. I wanted to fit in after all. So I decided I needed wispy bangs. The hairstylist my grandmother took me to at this time was the same one that did her and all the old ladies hair in the small town of Ava Mo.  She was the queen of the blue hair mushroom do. When I said wispy bangs and showed her the picture of Cindy Lauper she responded by cutting my bangs in the same Bettie Page straight across manner she always had. My grandmother refused to even allow me to put layers in my hair. I was a smart kid and I hatched my own plot to get what I wanted.
In my first fit of rebellion I got out the pinking shears and attempted to give myself wispy bangs. The horrifying result was again captured for posterity in my Jr. High school picture.  After that my stylist decided that perhaps she should study up on the latest styles if only to prevent people from thinking that she had murdered my hair.
That was when I decided that my "straight as a string" hair needed some curl to make it "do something". It was the 80's I wanted hair that stood up and out not flopped down.  Thus began my love hate affair with permanent waves.  I took a picture in of Madonna and pointed out her wavy hair and asked if my stylist could do that. Sure she said we can give you curls. I ended up with a traditional Hailey Mills in the movie parent trap perm a do.  I wanted to crawl into a hole as I slunk onto the school bus that next Monday.
On the next try the new stylist in the salon took a crack at my hair. She got the spiral stacking down but she over processed me and I ended up looking like Roseanne Rosannadanna.  I will never forget the hour and a half she spend with the thinning shears trying to get my hair to calm down.
This cycle of "good perm bad perm" continued off and on throughout my high school years. I kept my hair long even though I hated it because my father begged me not to cut my hair. I also was not allowed to cut it any shorter than shoulder length and being as my grandparents controlled my access to the stylist. I ended up with a mullet for most of high school.
My senior year my stepmother snuck me out to a different stylist and I got to get my hair "colored" for the first time. This stylist added honey blonde highlights and layers to my hair. I was in love with my hair for the first time ever.
I made peace with my straight hair and ended the bad cycle of perms when grunge music came into fashion. It was ok to be straight.  My hair was healthier than it had ever been and was looking pretty darn good.
I then started making mistakes with home hair color. I was searching (and suppose still am) for that perfect color that perfect thing that will express how I feel my hair should look based on how I see it on the inside of my mind.  Unfortunately my first foray into experimentation happened to be a "knee jerk" reaction to try and keep the attentions of my soon to be husband.
He had a not-so-secret fantasy for red headed women. I was a blonde. After two weeks of hearing and seeing him leer, pant and praise every red headed woman in the two weeks leading up to his birthday, I decided to give him a birthday surprise. I would become the red head of his dreams. I got a box of Ms. Clarol temporary home hair color went into the bathroom at my dad's house and walked out an hour later as an auburn haired beauty. "This " I smirked "should be good" . My father cried for the second time "what did you do?" then he frowned at me. "It's temporary Daddy." I said .   Yeah, temporary color my eye .. what was supposed to wash out in two weeks was being cut and colored out by my stylist 9 weeks later.
I hadn't learned my lesson yet. I decided that since coloring my long hair was so expensive I would do it at home. I dropped down to just hair cuts at the local cosmetology school. Poor college students can't afford to go to fancy stylists.  I let the color go back to its natural ash blonde.
After I got married I started using different shades of blonde home hair color to try to give myself natural looking highlights. We were poor and I was trying to save money.  I ended up with tri-colored hair ash blonde roots, perfectly colored middle section hair and dead straw like ends that killed the bottom six inches of my hair. I cried when my husband remarked that I had given my self a skunk stripe. I slunk back to my stylist friend who was now supervising and teaching at the cosmetology school. She scolded me and smacked my hand "Promise me you will never EVER touch home hair color again!" I ducked my head and promised. To this day I don't even flirt with the idea of home color.  She fixed the top part of my hair. The last six inches of hair had to come off. She cut it into a shoulder length bob. My husband, who loved my long hair, was less than pleased.
However I was pleased I noticed it had more bounce, tangled less and was easier to take care of. I've always been a bit of a tomboy and hated having to spend a lot of time styling my hair. I kept it shoulder length and pondered going shorter.
My husband and my father had resigned themselves at this point that I was never going to have long hair flowing down to the middle of my back again.
 My dad got over it . My husband didn't.
As my marriage deteriorated over the next 13 years. I started cutting my hair shorter.
Six years into the marriage he said he felt trapped. I got angry and Snip ! the hair shrank to chin length and stayed there.  Years seven and eight I experimented with color different hues of blonde and red.  He was still unhappy with me. I threw everything I had into not failing at marriage.   Years 9-12 it was color, cut (all chin length) asymmetrical, bob, poofy, same length. I was finding my own way externally and internally.  Realizing that life is too short to be miserable. I got divorced and proceeded to shave the back all the way up leaving the sides chin length.  New life =new hairdo for the new me.
My current length of hair was decided on by a casual post-divorce conversation with my buddy S. whom I met at OTC and his best friend A.  Earlier that day I had been helping him move stuff out of his parents house and he had shown me a pic of himself in high school where he had long hair. I say long hair because currently he practically shaves his head. I had exclaimed that it really didn't look like "him" to me and that I preferred him with his current hair style as it was "just him" that "it suited his personality".  Later that day I had shared with him that I was considering going back to my long hair.  "Hmm" he had said looking me over "I don't know if I can picture you that way. "  "I can fish out some pics of me with long hair so you can give me your opinion."  and so I dipped into my old picture stash and produced a couple of pics where I had my long hair styled relatively well. Carefully he looked them over and then showed them to A. who smirked a bit  but didn't say anything.  S. paused and then said. "Like you said to me earlier. I just don't think it looks like "you" . The short hair looks good on you."  Pushing him for a definite yes or no grow it out or not answer "I said but do you like me with long hair?"  With almost Herculean effort he slowly smiled and said. " I like you with short hair."  A. who was standing behind him smiled and nodded his head in agreement and then said " It's your hair just decide."
So I started thinking about what "suited me" for so long I had to squelch my inner voice that I really decided to think over why I was so ready to hop back to something that caused me so much grief. I decided that if I ever really want long hair I can go buy a wig. Short hair fits me and my personality. It's quick to style, looks good on me, works with the natural way my hair lays and all in all makes me happy. Now if I could just get that color combination down ...but where would be the fun in that ?

So tonight's topic is one that has fascinated me ever since I watched an hour long program on the PBS show NOVA . It's called the "String Theory" http://superstringtheory.com/basics/basic4.html.  check it out.  

I wasn't ever interested in basic physics, but this branch sorta "sings" to you (you'll get that once you read the article). 

It's an incredible way to really dig into the question of matter, space and time. Plus it talks about those tachyon particles they mention in the Star Trek series. 

Viva Italia

Well it's been awhile since I have felt inspired to put pen in hand (or fingers to keyboard ). I now am a "mom" of sorts. I have an exchange student living with me from Italy. I so enjoyed interacting with Lars last year that I decided I would like to host this year. Andrea  is a very "sport oriented " guy.  He loves Soccer (of course) , American Football (Pittsburgh steelers fan), baseball, etc.  So ESPN Sportscenter has become very popular of late in my house.  He also is into cars. So I plan on getting him out to some car shows in the area.
Some new things for me .. getting him registered in school , picking out classes, being a taxi, explaining our complex nuances and slang, having someone living with me in the house, and in general not being so work focused and the big one being involved in high school sports.
Of course he decided he wants to play soccer . He also wants to be an MMA fighter too, but I think that needs to hold off until soccer season is over.  The team will play up to three games a week and practice at least 5 days per week. WHEW ! Plus he signed up for two periods of PE. He's actually passed out asleep as I write this.
I also got my first Italian cooking lesson from him the other night as he was homesick for pasta so I got the pot out and he showed me how to put the water and salt in the right ratio. You must stir the pasta every one to two minutes when cooking it ... and surprisingly it cooks in about 8-10 minutes. Throw a bit of marinara on to lightly cover the pasta and voila' .. dinner. He also likes to eat about 8 or 9pm at night which is perfectly in tune with my normal schedule.
I also had LASIK surgery this past week on my eyes and I didn't realize how much I was missing with my glasses and contacts until I started healing up from the surgery. I had an excellent nursing student taking care of my aftercare (thanks so much)  and while putting in multiple drops several times a day is annoying let me tell you it was the best $3800 bucks I have shelled out in my life!
I am really enjoying being a host mom and gaining better sight. Since my seven days has passed since surgery I am allowed to start wearing Mascara again tomorrow ! YAY !  With that I am going to end this because my energy has gone right out the window. 

Emotional Cysts

I have been reading more about the topic of memory and emotions in relation to fat retention.  Look up the term "emotional cyst" and you will find some interesting pages.  Some folks liken the process of losing weight to that of "peeling an onion" losing the layers of fat until they reach the skinny person hidden deep inside.  I am starting to liken it to healing a bunch of cyst.  Even though the skin on the outside looks pretty good, go deep enough and you will find a pocket of icky infection lurking in different places. 
For me my commitment to a healthy lifestyle has been less than stellar.  Gung Ho and energetic at first I have usually been easily sidetracked by some distraction dangled like a diamond ring in front of my face on a fishing pole about 7ft in front of me just out of reach. I could rattle off the things that caused me to backslide, but the real reality of it all is that buried in little hidden pockets are things that due to my past are sealed over with a nice layer hiding the true "infection " underneath.  As I think back the whole thing probably was implanted in my mind as a teen maybe earlier , but as I'm new to this process this was the first clear memory I have about being aware of my weight...I was very skinny in high school and could pretty much eat whatever I wanted because I was so active. One of my memories from this time is my grandmother (meaning well I'm sure) watching me scoop fried apples and baked beans on my plate going .."you better watch out when you hit 30 you are going to get fat".   Pair that with the fact that I was an extremely sensitive child who was constantly being told I needed to have a "thicker skin"  when I was teased or left out  instead of being shown a healthy way to release that frustration and develop that thicker skin the message my befuddled brain received was that "you just don't talk about it swallow it down keep it inside. "  As I got older my food got richer and my activity level decreased due to office jobs and I remember the despair I felt as I watched the scale climb 130, 140 , 150 , 160 at my worst and lowest point I was close to 190 and it was awful. 
So after reading some of this material after hitting one of those plateau's at 161lbs on this latest journey I figured what the heck couldn't hurt and I started going back trying to remember my childhood. My childhood is a collection of bits and pieces of fleeting pictures , sounds and smells with lots of blank spots ..things really don't become whole for me until I was in junior high which coincidentally is when a lot of the "turmoil " settled down.  I started with a journal that my grandmother kept for "evidence" purposes (long story which i might get into later) I took one entry and read it and tried to think really hard about what I remembered or if i remembered about that day.  It was a good day where me and the neighbor kids were out playing tag in the neighborhood.  I hadn't thought about it in a long time I remembered how fast I was and how good i was at hiding and how I could bend and weave and dodge to make it back to "base".  I really focused on what I felt which was happy and warm and safe.  I took another entry that wasn't so good .. and while I was reading it I felt like I was reading a story about someone else not me ...but I found myself welling up with tears and after awhile the memory did come ... and I let the emotion go I said out loud the things that needed to have been said then and I felt better ...I felt lighter..I felt drained .  I stopped because it made me tired and I went back about my workout program for the week at the end of the week I stepped on the scales and wow I was at 159 lbs.  It was almost like something toxic was gone.  As the weeks have gone by I have explored other things and am working on letting them go ..things that have irrationally colored my relationships with others. I only hope that this time it will help the weight loss stay permanent.

Affirmations !

Well today I have reached a great milestone with all my training I am now down to 152lbs and it feels awesome!  Was having a conversation with my Bliss girl the other day about how our /"spare tires:" are kind of a sheild from intense emotions.  The past few months I have been going through old things I have kept around as objects are powerful memory triggers for me.  Exploring and really looking at the emotions associated with the items (good and bad) has really enlightened me on a few things about my emotional and mental perspective.  All of these have been incredibly uplifting , a little hard at times but the end result is that I am really letting a lot of things go or changing them into something else.  I am proud to say I have gifted things to others who can use or need them more than I do right now and the feeling is very liberating. 

I also realize since we are halfway through 2010 that its a good time to revisit my affirmations for the year.  Put myself back to center and reface the goal. So here goes :
I am not a victim and I will stop acting like one and be assertive.
I am not your "dumping ground" for problems I will support you as you work through them but I will not "own " them.
I will put myself first because If I don't take care of myself I can't help anyone else.
I am not "your toy" "your backup girl" "your holla back girl" and will not accept being treated as such .
I am a smart, beautiful , intelligent woman and deserve to be treasured by a partner who is starstruck to be with me.
I will make responsible purchases and prepare for my future --because I have to take care of myself and not expect anyone else to do it for me.
I am a good and loyal friend who considers my friends part of my family .
I will cut out of my life things and people that make me feel bad, useless and ashamed of who I am and what I feel.
I will work on being healthy and fit and realize that once this is achieved the weight will come off.  
I will look at my past and strive not to repeat mistakes I have made but to learn from them and change my behavior to what I want it to be.
and lastly just for fun ....In 2010 I will get back in a string bikini and I will rock it !