tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12348497801599902632024-03-13T04:51:39.971-07:00the world is my oyster on the half shell"Why, then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open."
The Merry Wives of Windsor. William Shakespearedaniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-55518729003917616912011-07-15T16:11:00.000-07:002011-07-15T16:11:16.441-07:00mary, mary, quite contemporary, how does your garden grow?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"> </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ah, the lushness of summer. You sit at the poolside of your beautiful mansion, sipping a maitai as you admire the garden of Eden you have created: the trickling of the fountain, the rose bushes in every shade of pink, the vegetable plot at the back of the house teeming with fresh herbs, heirloom tomatoes and spaghetti squash. You laugh at the thought that most of your friends don't even know what spaghetti squash is. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3560/3359020931_5cfd686fd2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3560/3359020931_5cfd686fd2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">Then back to life from your daydream. There is no mansion, the jardin de utopia is just that- an imaginary place of perfection far beyond your currently reality. You live in a flat, in a large city with a tiny balcony that overlooks a crowded street. No waltzing out to your garden to pick fresh lemons, no luxury of fresh herbs to sprinkle on your meals, no plush flowers. Yet one can take a trip to Europe and see the ridiculousness of this, in every tiny balcony life springs eternal in every color and fragrance. Little old ladies walk over to their window to pluck fresh rosemary, or a lemon. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We are becoming so far removed from the earth that most kids have never experienced gardening/planting and growing. Plants can bloom from anywhere, so we see from truck farms crossing the US to educate kids on how their food is grown, and how you can grow anywhere, even from the back of a truck.(<a href="http://www.truck-farm.com/">http://www.truck-farm.com/</a>)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blue-kitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/truck-farm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.blue-kitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/truck-farm.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So perhaps now is the time to consider bringing a little green into your life, a live flower here, a bush of mint and cilantro there, maybe even a dwarf lemon tree to really make you feel you're living the life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have promised myself for a YEAR that I would get two things: a herb garden, and a few plumeria plants. A year later, I finally sucked it up and started both and added succulents (near impossible to kill desert flowers) ,<span style="background-color: white;">and jasmine.</span> I made two trips to the nursery at the Home Depot, a gardening guide for the hip and young called "You Grow Girl", (check out <a href="http://www.yougrowgirl.com/">http://www.yougrowgirl.com/</a>) and a small balcony that finally is getting some love. Cilantro for my eggs, rosemary and thyme for rack of lamb, mint for my tea and rice, how divine! Even my little Buddha sits outside, contemplating the universe underneath his plumeria tree. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/?attid=0.1&disp=emb&view=att&th=1312fd9b06aab35f" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/?attid=0.1&disp=emb&view=att&th=1312fd9b06aab35f" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"> </div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-37187928449069485662010-10-11T21:44:00.000-07:002010-10-11T21:44:30.888-07:00The Paleo Promise: how to drop 10 pounds before christmas and keep poop out of your bloodstream<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"></span><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fine-tooning.com/Post-Christmas_Weight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://www.fine-tooning.com/Post-Christmas_Weight.jpg" width="467" /></a></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>In order to change we must be sick and tired of being sick and tired. ~Author Unknown</i></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's October folks. Yup, you might not have noticed the halloween junk in all the drugstores yet, but be sure of it: the holidays are just around the corner. There is just over a month before thanksgiving, and a shy two before christmas jingles around, tiding in the next 5-10 pounds to add to your body, along with the 5-10 you haven't worked off since last christmas. Oh yes, the years are now flying by, and like bad credit card debt, your freshman 15 has compounded into something of a little monster. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Mon </i><i>petit monstre </i>reared its ugly head this past year with a few changes in my lifestyle: the "snuggle weight" that slowly piled on from having a very handsome man to nap on the couch with every weekend (very low on the caloric burn rate but great for oxytocin levels), the corporate expense account used when I traveled (which meant I was in restaurants at least 70% of the time), poor nutritional knowledge, the ill effects of constant jetlag and changes in sleep schedule, severely reduced amount of exercise, and the very difficult issue of finding food that supported my body on the road. Yeah, shit happens. All these factors created the perfect storm for my gradual descent into "why the hell can't I fit into my jeans" syndrome. I know a few of you are rolling your eyes at my size 2-4, and my fractional weight gain, but hear me out on the jeans: who the hell likes wrestling with buttoning up those $170 premium denim jeans that you splurged on because of muffin top? Muffintopland is a destination I would rather not go. Disneyland, however, is. But my last visit was far from utopia from what I saw: child obesity everywhere. No longer is the one fat kid in class made fun of, the entire class is a morbid joke. First Lady Michelle Obama announced combating child obesity to be her biggest priority (www.letsmove.gov). Even the US department of health (gasp) is finally revamping the very outdated (and lobbied) food pyramid. (mypyramid.gov) Face it folks: we have an epidemic. We are getting fat and sick, and disneyland is being overrun by jellydonut-fueled fat potlickers. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Serendipitously an email made its way into my inbox from a friend's blogpost: </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.fourhourworkweek.com/blog/2010/09/19/paleo-diet-solution/"><span style="color: #45818e;">Tim Ferriss - How to Keep Feces Out of Your Bloodstream (or Lose 10 Pounds in 14 Days)</span>.</a> The thought of how poop might end up in my bloodstream and how it is connected to losing weight definitely was thought provoking and down right gross. The post was about a guy named Robb Wolf, </span>a former research biochemist who then opened his own gym: <a href="http://norcalsc.com/" style="color: #45818e;" target="_blank">NorCal Strength & Conditioning</a>, one of the Men’s Health “top 30 gyms in America.” He’s also a former California State Powerlifting Champion<span style="font-size: small;">. </span><span style="font-size: small;">He then went on to write t<span style="color: black;">he NYTimes best seller </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Paleo-Solution-Original-Human-Diet/dp/0982565844/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1286829445&sr=8-1" style="color: #45818e;"><u>The Paleo Solution</u></a> and this book was the subject of the post. </span><span style="color: black;">The Paleo Solution unearths the story of the original human diet by uniting the anthropological knowledge of our hunter-gatherer past with the latest, cutting edge disco</span>veries from genetics, biochemistry, immunology, and life extension research. His book completely changed the way I view food and lifestyle, along with a host of other paleo websites and nutritional sites that pave the same road.</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Enter: the Paleo Lifestyle</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span class="hw">Drop the bagel</span></i></b></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span class="hw"></span><span style="font-size: small;">In fact, drop the croissant, the potlicker's jelly donut you stole, and the cinnamon roll. Put down the pasta. No more </span>Brüno-esqe <span style="font-size: small;">carbicide.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I know, I know, you're screaming bloody murder because you can't imagine your life without bread, just like how you said you couldn't live without that good for nothing ex- you'll get over it. That crap is killing you. </span><span class="hw">Gluten is a </span><span class="pronAll"><span class="pointer" style="color: blue;"><span class="pron"><span style="font-size: 15px;"></span></span></span>protein found in wheat, rye oats, barley. </span>READ: (from Latin <em>gluten</em><b> "<em style="color: black;">glue</em>"</b>). Other grains such as corn and rice have similar, but less problematic proteins but still wreck havoc on your system. <span style="font-size: small;">Grains, just like poison oak on your skin, do everything they can to make sure they don't get eaten. Here is what Robb says in his book:</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Grains contain lectin, a protein that does not get broken down in your body and attaches to receptors in the intestinal lumen and are transported <em>intact</em> through the intestinal lining. Certain lectins “fool” transport molecules in an effort to gain entry into our bodies intact. These large, intact protein molecules are easily mistaken by the body as foreign invaders like bacteria, viruses, or parasites. It’s perhaps unpleasant to think about, but the intestines are not the nicest place to hang out. This area is a major source of infection by bacteria and viruses, and the immune system lies primed, waiting to pounce on any invading pathogen. Not only does lectin enter the system intact, it damages the intestinal lining, allowing other proteins (danielle's note: and just about anything else like viruses, bacteria, and poop) to enter the system. Why is this a problem? Our immune system mounts an attack on these foreign proteins and makes antibodies against them. These antibodies are very specific to the shapes of these foreign proteins. Unfortunately, these proteins also tend to look like proteins in our body." Which means we start making antibodies against our own body. We fight ourselves. Fight club, anyone?</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">He goes on. </span>Grains cause malabsorption issues. They do damage to the gut lining, which means we do not absorb nutrients-protein, carbs, fats, vitamins, minerals, the whole lot. Grains damage the gall bladder and bile production. If you do not absorb fats and fat soluble nutrients such as vitamins A, D, K, and other nutrients, you will have problems utilizing any minerals you do absorb, to say nothing of the nutrient deficiencies from inadequate essential fats. Grains also consist of nasty Phytates which tightly bind to metal ions and make them unavailable for absorption. This is not a good thing for bone health or iron status. Grains basically open door for autoimmunity and cancer. Once the gut lining is damaged, we are at exceptionally high risk of autoimmune disease and several types of cancers. The pancreas is assailed by grain-induced inflammation due to cholecystokinin problems- cholecystokinin usually sends the “on” switch to the gall bladder and the secretion of pancreatic digestive enzymes. When this signal is blocked, we do not properly digest our foods, particularly fat and protein. Not to mention elevated insulin levels. Well, shit, Shirlock! how does that bagel sound now? Let's add dairy and legumes to that mix. Say cheese! When we factor in their anti-nutrient properties, and potential to wreck havoc on our GI tract, consider dairy and legumes in the same category. That's most beans, soy and all the dairy including icecream, butter, milk, yogurt, etc. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://getbetterhealth.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/carb511.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://getbetterhealth.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/carb511.gif" width="400" /></a></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Recap of the "do no pass go, do not collect 200 dollars" list:<br />
<div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">no grains, no gluten. No corn, very little rice, but absolutely nothing with wheat. No processed anything: no croissants, no bread, no pasta, no pancakes, no cookies, biscuits, none of it. No dairy: no butter, milk, cheese, yogurt, morning lattes, ice cream, pudding, etc. Look closely at labels. Everything contains gluten and you have to make sure that none has been added. Most salad dressings, soy sauce, soups, and condiments have gluten in it. No soy except when fermented and gluten free (asians who are crying over soysauced rice-i feel your pain). No potatoes. Let's add the rest of the crap we're hurting our bodies with: white/brown sugar, high fructose corn syrup, no artificial sweeteners, no agave, no pop, soda, and..men... brace yourselves...no beer. Beer is possibly one of the worst things you can put into your body because of the amount of gluten in it. Since my body keeps telling me to add more things gleefully to the list of things she hates, let's put all alcohol into this category as well since it's horrible on your liver. Try and keep away from coffee( i know i know! I had coffee for the first time in weeks and I B-lined it at the coffee shop for the bathroom and let me tell you it was not pretty!). Okay, phew, I think that's it. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>What the hell can I eat then? </b></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Vegetables! kale, one of my new favorites is super high in protein, tomatoes, avocado (though both technically a fruit), cucumber, all herbs, broccoli, mushrooms, peppers, zucchini, asparagus, the list continues endlessly. You can go for sweet potato and any squashes, but beware the carb count if you're still in the reducing phase. (potatoes are out!) </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Then comes your meats: beef (grass fed), pork, veal, lamb, chicken, buffalo, duck and whatever else you can think of, all organic and fed their natural diet. Seafood galore of shrimp, fish, mussels, clams, octopus, squid, sea urchin if you are feeling adventurous...the whole lot. I'm going to throw in omega 3 eggs into this bunch as well.</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Let's not forget fruit, though you want to go easy on fruit as they are high in sugar, and stay away from fruit juice. Stick to the berries the most as they have the least amount of carbs in them. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Nuts: stay away from peanuts and cashews, but go for almonds, sunflower, pine, macadamias, etc. A favorite new thing for me is almond butter, get it from trader joes, raw. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Oils- oh good old olive oil, sesame oil, and, brace yourself: coconut oil. In droves. Bath in the stuff, and put it in everything. It's super good for you. My mother makes virgin coconut oil in Indonesia- if you're interested let me know. My crowning glory now? truffle oil. truffle aroma that is melded into olive or grapeseed oil is like the elixir of gourmet gods. Angels orgasm when you use it. Heck my house is like an orgy to them, i use truffle oil on EVERYTHING! Also make sure you're eating enough salmon, or take fish oil. They balance out your n-3/n-6 ratio in your body. Really really good for you. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rule of thumb: Just shop organic around the perimeter of the grocery store. For the visual learners of you lot, here is a handy-dandy diagram:</span></div><br />
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</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Still sounds boring and tasteless to you? Try my dinner from last night :</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">sliced spiced peaches </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Danielle's paradise poke: ahi, mango, avocado, shallots, furikake, truffle oil</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">iced lime young coconut drink (fresh coconut people- hack it yourself at home!)</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">organic rosemary thyme rack of lamb with traditional english apple mint jelly</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">roasted butternut squash with apple pie spicing</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">raw kale salad with olive oil, fresh lemon juice, heirloom tomatoes and avocado (massage the kale, it is 40-50% protein, it will break down a bit and be much much softer)</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">lavender chocolate fudge- lavender, cocoa powder, maple syrup (pure), coconut oil</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> raw refresher: apple juice, frozen banana and basil smoothie</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">booyakasha. I'm from the paleo massive. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Wooooooo saaaaaaaaaaaah.</b> <br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Take a chill pill, man. Back in the day say 500,000 years ago, we weren't stressing out every minute. Sure, when a beast charged us and we had to run, we had spurts of cortisol release. But it was not a i-have-a-deadline-for-the-rest-of-my-life sort of stress. Our cortisol levels now are high and <b>constant</b>, low in the morning due to lack of sleep and higher at night because of the enslaught of concerns: omg, how am I going to pay my $600 lease car payment? How am I going to deal with me overworking myself at the job I hate? I see you now, medicating at night to shut your ever noisy mind clatter, and medicating with coffee in the morning to keep you awake till the donut sugar kicks in. Taking the time to get enough sleep (that's 8-10 hours or whenever your body wakes you up), reducing and streamlining your life so you don't create more havoc will keep you alive longer, and stop pumping cortisol into your system. Cortisol is a hormone that has the job title of "pump more sugar into bloodstream so body has fuel to run away from charging beast". Constantly give the charging beast signal and that extra sugar will be stored around your midsection. Hello michelin tire.</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Without proper sleep your body does not have time to rest and when you wake your insulin levels will be so damn high that even if you're eating perfect paleo, it won't do jack because your insulin will counteract any good that you did that day. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, go straight to fat jail for the day. Do invest in heavy blackout blinds, turn off with any sort of light in your room, and for God sake, take out the night light in your kids room. Wait till little Bobby finds out all this. If he's scared of the dark because of monsters, make him watch monsters inc. 300 times. </span></div><br />
<div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Becoming a new person: change your body through gene expression</b></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">You can literally change who you are by what genes in your DNA are "on". Your cells choose based on your activity what genes to express: stay in active and seditary and you'll get just that. Burst into movement and you'll become that. Think about when you first broke a bone and had it cast, or signed someone else's cast. The muscle surrounding that bone wilts down to nothing while it is out of use, and springs back up to size and strength again after the cast is removed and your muscles are worked again. You need to be moving: </span><span style="font-size: small;">long, low impact cardio like a long jog, or 14 hours walking around disneyland like I did a few weeks ago. Ontop of that you need to lift heavy things for your body to say "holy poop batman! we need more muscles!" (women- this includes you! the higher the weight and less reps, you will NOT swell or bulk I promise). Do compound moves that build core muscle groups: do bench, bulgarian split squats, lunges, anything that includes full muscle groups and not just isolates. Also, sprint intervals that will build your fast twitch muscles. Play- have fun, go on hikes. Play helps dissipate the negative effects of stress hormones from the day. Just keep moving. I try and have a dance party with myself before I start work just to get my body moving, it can lift depression! move move move!</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">So where am I today on my new lifestyle?</span></b></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've been paleo for a month now, meaning I have no had dairy nor wheat or anything else but coffee on the list I gave you before. I have dropped back down almost to fit my clothes again. My skin has cleared, that "mental fuzziness" has disappeared and I am no longer bloated. The muffin top that had started to rise on me is disappearing, I never feel exhausted after I eat, and, here is the big one... the cellulite that was starting to form on my body that i was freaking out about, is going away. I feel amazing, I'm learning so much about cooking and I feel proud to treat my body like the temple it is. I bought really good running shoes, a new gym bag and I have workout clothes that I feel cute in. My boyfriend expertly taught me how to bench press and all the compound exercises mentioned above and I am hurting right now deep inside my body in places i never knew could hurt. This is good. I go to cooking classes at whole foods and learn all sorts of neat cooking skills and recipes, and am an Alton Brown "Good Eats" fan. I even have a happy dance to his opening showtune.</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">So go for it. Try it for 30 days and see what results you get. But I caution you to fully be 1000% into this: cheating "a little bit" on paleo is like cheating "a little bit" on your spouse. Be fiercely loyal. Your gastrial-monogamy will pay off. As the year rolls by and you rewrite your new years resolution, think about what you really want for yourself. Take a chance, and an inventory of your life, your health. I urge you to take a blood test before hand and see how your blood work improves. Read the book, and go to a multitude of other sources that I will list below, and look good this winter, and into the next year. If you want to sneak in some holiday cheer:Try some <a href="http://crossfitcda.com/paleo/">paleo pumpkin muffins</a>.</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Happy holidays in advance, everyone.</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">some resources:</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Robb Wolf: <u>The Paleo Solution,</u> www.robbwolf.com</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mark Sisson: <u>The Primal Blueprint</u>, www.marksdailyapple.com</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Loren Cordain, Ph.D, <u>The Paleo Diet,</u> www.thepaleodiet.com</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> http://whole9life.com/9-blog/</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">http://everydaypaleo.com/</span></div><h2 style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</span></div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-62714022631792550232010-03-08T21:56:00.001-08:002010-03-08T22:13:11.387-08:00big bad apple<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/S5XjOwMp3oI/AAAAAAAAC0U/FgApwywyUWE/s1600-h/IMG_1071.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/S5XjOwMp3oI/AAAAAAAAC0U/FgApwywyUWE/s400/IMG_1071.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446509166970134146" border="0" /></a>This is Atlas, with the world on his back, bowing down before grace. That is Saint Patrick's cathedral, and these two beauties are in Rockefeller Center, New York City.<br /><br />On my recent trip to NYC, I took this photo after deciding a year ago that I was going to come back and take it. Last year my team and I were walking the streets of new york and without a blink of the eye, we walked past this. I urged we stop and look, which we did, before hurrying off to the next store.<br /><br />I remembered this. I remember wanting to back and see, remembering to go back and go into the church this past week. I just did some research and looked at close up photos and I realize that all I was looking for was to take a photo and really did not LOOK. I did not see he was made in the art deco style, or that his abs or trunk seemed much thicker than his arms, or his cool hair. Nor did I see the constellations and stars and moons on his banner, signifying that he was carrying more than just our planet. What was wrapped around his thighs? I did not see that the way the axis crossed, that it was pointing to the north star. How did his toes grasps around the edge of his platform? Here, this colossal titan... and I don't remember his face.<br /><br />In three months I will go back and really meet poor Atlas, whom I so rudely snapped a photo of without a proper introduction.<br /><br />It is amazing to me how quickly we adapt and allow ourselves to be completely unconscious in our daily lives, and even when we travel. We all have treasures of beautiful things in our back yards that people travel the world to see... let's make an effort to SEE them, in every detail, in all glory. The present is all we have.<br /><br />This photo will last forever, but because I was not truly present... I was never really there.daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-51065142298628801332009-12-13T22:44:00.000-08:002009-12-13T23:43:03.521-08:00back to the drawing board...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SyXnk4T1D6I/AAAAAAAACyQ/BoGtI9RQUAg/s1600-h/Scan_Pic0011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SyXnk4T1D6I/AAAAAAAACyQ/BoGtI9RQUAg/s400/Scan_Pic0011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414988747759751074" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I returned to drawing studio again today, two weeks in a row. Thanks to Aaron and Jessica who came along for the ride and ate dark chocolate with me during studio time.<br /><br />I was not in the mood to draw, which made this experience perfect for me, because "the artist's way" says that your creative flow should be at anytime, not a notion to wait for her creative highness to arrive before you can start flowing (Aaron took this idea to greater lengths and gave his figure a imaginary crown, bravo!)<br /><br />Sketch after sketch I found nothing prevailed to me as "beautiful". I then remembered showing my sketches from last week to my darling boyfriend, who then asked why none of my drawings had a rather important male appendage. I was more interested in his shoulders, I said... and ran out of time since those were quick sketches, and also his poses were conservative. We laughed to think that if the role was reversed, a male artist drawing a female nude, the first thing he would draw would be her breasts. Another artist today said he had a teacher who refrained them from drawing nipples, because students would draw them even if they weren't there...such is the hypnotic power of the female body.<br /><br />I thus followed the inspiration I was given, in the form of masculine admiration for the female form...I over exaggerated curves. I drew the right nipple, which I could not see. It was a delight to celebrate the female figure... it made my own insecurities disappear as everything about her body I found beautiful to draw. We as women need to truly remember the power that we have, as captured so eloquently by Paulo Neruda in the last line of his poem <span style="font-style: italic;">oda a la belle desnuda</span> (ode to a beautiful nude):<br /><br />Debajo de tu piel vive la luna.<br /><span><span><span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:78%;color:navy;" ><span style=";font-family:times new roman,times,serif;font-size:100%;color:black;" >(The moon lives in the lining of your skin)</span></span></span></span><br /></div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-8005658374490552362009-12-07T15:14:00.001-08:002009-12-07T15:18:38.978-08:00the artist within<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/Sx2Mrt7VLkI/AAAAAAAACx8/EhxWeUpC88I/s1600-h/Scan_Pic0010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/Sx2Mrt7VLkI/AAAAAAAACx8/EhxWeUpC88I/s400/Scan_Pic0010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412637009859915330" /></a><br /><br />I started reading a book called the artist way a few months back, which is about feeding your inner artist and becoming creative again. I realized that I had become so judgemental of myself that I became afraid of trying anything new in terms of creating, because I believed I was not good enough or worthy enough to create.<br /><br />In celebration of my artist within, I decided to do a three hour studio figure drawing session. I just did not pay attention to the critic i got in my head, and instead made the event about artistic expression...that nothing would be wrong. Here in these two drawing that I share, I did not let the pen lift off the paper...and I used pretty colors. I actually quite like them. who cares if i drew an extra leg, or maybe his head was a big too big? <br /><br />So everybody, go out and do something creative! I promise, you'll feel really good about yourself.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/Sx2Mf0NvUFI/AAAAAAAACx0/f59NAKqYZdY/s1600-h/Scan_Pic0009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/Sx2Mf0NvUFI/AAAAAAAACx0/f59NAKqYZdY/s400/Scan_Pic0009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412636805389307986" /></a>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-63201015398689836792009-07-23T02:10:00.000-07:002009-07-23T02:20:54.823-07:00Your money, miles, or your life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/Smgql8EN2VI/AAAAAAAACu0/twrdnDanLwU/s1600-h/n10720115_42457394_7721773.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/Smgql8EN2VI/AAAAAAAACu0/twrdnDanLwU/s400/n10720115_42457394_7721773.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361582187651914066" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5Cwindows%5Ctemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There I was, sitting at egoistic gunpoint staring at the screen. 50,000 miles to <st1:place st="on"><st1:state st="on">Florida</st1:state></st1:place>. 50,000 miles that I’ve spent the last year building, building in hopes of reaching elite status, and of exotic trips to I do not know where with what time I do not have. Along with hoarding time I was hoarding miles. Do I save them? For what greater reason do you have to hoard them Danielle? I looked down at my mass of self development journals and flipped to my list of things that bring me pleasure and meaning to my life, and number one on the list: family.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I clicked the button. I can’t believe I even thought twice about it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Grandpa, after many years of struggling with cancer, has decided to cease all treatments, and is in hospice at home. I am convinced he is going to live till 130 because he promised me, but just in case, the entire family is flying to <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Florida</st1:place></st1:state> to spend some time with Grandpa. I will see half brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces I have never met, and my father whom I’ve not seen for a year. Here, after eight years of not seeing him, I finally am making time for the number one thing on my list of importance in my life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">How is that so, that we can live our lives so incongruent to what our actual values and priorities are? How could I<span style=""> </span>think twice about spending something as intangible as miles for the experience of seeing my grandfather in his time (or my time) of need? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am sitting on a plane on the way to <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state>, having spent the first three hours working away at reports, sales analysis and making incentive plans. When in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Seattle</st1:place></st1:city> last week I picked up a book called Happier, by Prof. Tal ben-shahar, phd. A professor of <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Harvard</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>, he created a course called positive psychology, on learning the secrets to daily joy and lasting fulfillment. It soon became the most popular class at Harvard. Im on page 53 so far. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I just read about reorganizing our lives to make time for the things that matter most, that gives us a sense of enjoyment, meaning. This means that we have to be diligent in making rituals of these events, or when the calling comes, to act on that impulse and not to put it off in fear of it not being “perfect.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Which is why I just whipped out my notebook and wrote this. I’m not going to edit it…change it, I’m going to leave it be. There. I made time for my family, used miles to see them, and made time for a hobby that brings me great joy, writing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman";">Go ahead. What is on your list of things that bring you pleasure? Go do one of them. Give this day…TODAY… Tuesday, July 21<sup>st</sup> a little bit more meaning, make yourself a little bit happier.</span>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-90592680449247650912009-05-08T23:56:00.000-07:002009-05-08T00:39:49.477-07:00top ten things i learn in college<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOlajrbCdSI/AAAAAAAABh8/xXR1BD5AYNQ/s1600-h/concourseboard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 241px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOlajrbCdSI/AAAAAAAABh8/xXR1BD5AYNQ/s400/concourseboard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253830009302447394" border="0" /></a>"Beauty fades, dumb is forever" reads the title. Amusing what you find on the clearance shelf at half price books. Author? Judge Judy. Explains it all. Yeah, start rolling your eyes, but she's right, isn't she? I gave up my last few prime modeling years to be in class with an army of sorostitutes, pimpled computer geeks, and dirty beer-stained frat boys. I still remember the long, tedious hours of doing math homework on the floor of my college boyfriend's room, and thinking how cool his special edition semi-frosted silver T1-86 was. I wanted one.<br /><br />Wait, back up...what? I left fashion shoots in bank vaults, photo op in the glossy "what's going on" section of Harper's Bazaar, and free clothes to wanting a calculator? (but it was special edition...) BUT IT'S A CALCULATOR. Special edition Fendi spybag, okay. Special edition TI-86, where you still can't figure out the graphing function, yet alone doing discounts, NO. What the hell was I thinking?<br /><br />So this is what this blog post is about: what did I gain from going to school instead of continuing down the modeling road? How will I apply the skills I learned in business school to position myself for what I want in my future?<br /><br />Let's start with economics, and a bit of accounting. What would the opportunity cost of NOT going to college be? We could do complicated future cash flows on aggregate salaries of college grads in my field to come up with a number, and compare that to how much I would have made modeling in the same time frame. Yet, as I learned in business school, numbers can be distorted and bent, there is a very grey area in numbers (it's called accounting). We learned that a great asset a company possesses is its brand value, yet it cannot be accounted for on the balance sheet. This is the same way that my GPA, CV and and other quantitative metrics can't represent the synergy of ME, Inc.<br /><br />Oh finance. I had a wonderful finance tutor who was so passionate about the subject. He tried so hard to enlighten me on the graces of CAPM, mortgage rates that had balloons and arms, two, four, eight of them, like Shiva...and all sorts of other weird things, hoping that I would see the light. We locked ourselves in the dungeons of underground Balmer (business school building) like passionate secret lovers might, but the only love affair I had was trashing aside my finance book to proclaim my undying love for his marketing book. So... let's look at me as a portfolio, a collection of investments. Beauty, I found out, is a exponentially depreciating asset. Not a great investment, if it is your only one. In finance we learn that increasing your return on an investment is safest when you do three things: diversify, diversify, diversify! The rationale behind this is that a portfolio of different kinds of investments will, on average, yield higher returns and pose a lower risk than any individual investment found within the portfolio. So a woman who is diversified is what men call "the whole package." So I decided to diversify into my brain.<br /><br />So four years and $40,000 of mostly YOUR tax dollars later, what did I learn?<br />Here is my top ten list of what I learned in college:<br /><br />10. <span style="font-weight: bold;">We won the citizenship lottery</span><br /><br />Fellow students in one class presented on Nike one day, and handed each of us an envelope. In mine was 32 cents, and a piece of paper that read:<br />"My name is Santi. I live in Indonesia. I work at the nike factory and make 32 cents a day. " I sat there with the 32 cents in my hand and completely broke down, right there in class. I easily could have been Santi had my father not been American. Here I was sitting at a university, tuition and expenses paid for by taxpayers and sometimes feeling like life was unkind. I am blessed. I am damn lucky. So my goal now? do something for women like Santi.<br /><br />9. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Always put things into perspective</span><br /><br />The previous pearl of wisdom directly relates to this one. Everything is relative to something else. There is no single way of looking at things, and if you look at things in perspective, you might not worry as much. For example, the stress of operations management and so boring. I never learned anything in class. So I stopped going to class, read the book and crammed like a crayon for the final. Perspective? 4 credits out of 200+. don't sweat the small stuff.<br /><br />8.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Beauty can only take you so far</span><br /><br />Ever taken a final from hell? The hardest son of a bitch final that ( i quote from a classmate), "you check to see if your balls are still attached as you leave" kind of final? Dean Sefcik would have that honor.Walking into his accounting final was what i think walking into the bowels of hell would be like. It was the first time I walked in somewhere and thought, wow. For the first time in a long time, the way i look, the way i present myself will take me nowhere. The only thing i have to get me through this is the squishy material between my ears. I know some of you are rolling your eyes, but this was a revelation to me. I had finally learned again, to use my brain.<br />P.s. hard finals usually mean damn good teachers. Dean Sefcik is among the elite, and one of the best teachers I've ever had. Find those hard professors. They will push you and mold you into grand things you never could even imagine you could be. Don't ever let schooling get in the way of you education, go for the hard class with a lower grade. Once you're out of school, you wont remember what grades you got, let alone care. Promise.<br /><br />7. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Don't forget to talk to yourself once in a while<br /><br /></span>Ever been in one of those classes where you don't know the name of the person sitting next to you, and it's already a week from the final? The failure to communicate is even greater than ever now that we don't even communicate with the most important person: ourselves. In the acting series at the drama school (if you are still in school, take it) We would do exercises where we would ask, "hey Danielle, this is yourself speaking. How are you doing today? How are you feeling?". As we all embark into work life, being lured by money and expense accounts, frequent flier programs and hotel points, don't forget to truly sit down and ask yourself what you're feeling, and what your heart really wants.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6.Seek only the best</span><br /><br />Don't ever start at mediocre, or half way...it's easier staying at the top than it is getting there, so never settle. Go for gold. Never settle.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. You will use calculus again at some point in your life </span><br /><br />Maybe not actually perform calc, but the general understanding of how it works and how to apply it to certain situations is helpful, especially stats. Even in economics. If all else fails, you can use it at the bar in a knowledge contest against bankers who think you're stupid. Ask them for the derivative of 2x^3. I did this in London. Hysterical.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />4. Become the man of your dreams</span><br /><br />There is something called the cinderella syndrome, the feeling that a woman is so stuck (in her life, situation, position) that women yearn to be rescued (emotionally, financially) by a man. Men, friends, family, even yourself will at one point or another disapoint you, but I learned that there is a lot of goodness in people, and most importantly in myself. In the end, only I can rely on myself to be happy, to provide shelter, to feed myself, to make a difference in my life. Rescue yourself, doesn't mean that your hero won't come along. He will. But until then and even AFTER then, live your life.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Read. </span><br /><br />Tim Ferris, of 4 hour work week fame spoke about a student who wrote for advice from Warren Buffet. He wrote back: "read, read, read". Reading extends your ability to think dynamically and expands your depth. I am a different woman because of books like The power of Now, The Prophet, Gourmet Nutrition. Go to a used bookstore. Breathe in the wisdom.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Travel.</span><br /><br />I thought I was well traveled before I went to college. I was well jetsetted...but not traveled. I went to Cyprus for a program with the American University of Beirut and American University of Cairo, and two weeks of intense debate and study on the tension of US and Arab identity later, I had chemically reacted to be someone completely different. I am now part Lebanese and part Eygptian. GO travel, but travel to learn...plan to learn something!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Be passionate about what you do in life</span><br /><br />You live once. I know there is an economic crisis going on..but this is good, turmoil is good because it will and has shaken us up to think what is really important! Shake yourselves of the golden handcuffs and when you wean yourself off the desperate thoughts of losing that much money, think... well, now what? What do i really really want to do in life? This is my chance. Go. Play. Fall in love, make that dream bakery, go become a salsa nut in Argentina. GO GO GO!!! Your life awaits you.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">- President Abraham Lincoln</span>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-45949369930163192272009-05-01T12:10:00.001-07:002009-05-01T13:32:34.152-07:00all you need is love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SftJznS3BdI/AAAAAAAACMg/Vxntli8ZDmg/s1600-h/Scan_Pic0002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SftJznS3BdI/AAAAAAAACMg/Vxntli8ZDmg/s400/Scan_Pic0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330935734993356242" border="0" /></a><br />There are some stories that rip down through you to the core of your soul. This is one I heard last night at a seminar I went to, and I had to share with all of you.<br /><br />The man who told it is Mat Boggs, who for six years went around the country interviewing couples who have been (happily) married for 40+ years. Inspired by the love of his grandparents for each other... he went to seek what makes love continually grow.<br /><br />One woman's husband was terminally ill. They had been married for 55 years or so. During their marriage they used to write little notes to each other and hide them around the house. He would write one "i miss you" and put it in a cupboard. Months later she would find it, and write one back: "thinking about you" and put them in his sweater drawer, in the mid of summer. Fall would come before he found it.<br /><br />They always went to bed at the same time. As he got sicker, he would start to go to bed earlier and earlier, to the point he was crawling into bed at 4:30. He would always ask her to come to bed with him. After a while she got a bit frutrated because she would be half way through her day. So she would lay with him and hold him till he fell asleep, then get up and finish her day.<br /><br />He got sicker and sicker, till one day she was laying there holding him, and slowly felt his breathing go slower and slower, until it stopped. The love of her life died there in her arms, slowly, as each breath took him from this realm into the next. She laid there sobbing and holding him, holding him so that she would never forget what it felt like...<br /><br />She said that the those 60 yeas went by so fast. All she wished for was one last chance to feel that again, to feel him there. The average life span of a human is 77 years. That's it. 77 thanksgivings, 77 birthdays, 77 hari rayas, eids, life is finite.<br /><br />She went through her drawers to put on something, and she felt a piece of paper.<br />He had, in his terminal illness and failing health, got up and in shaky writing, wrote on a note:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">love you</span><br /><br />that is the note that you see above.<br /><br />Their love spreads across from this world to the next.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Love is transcendent across all relationships... breathe that into your lives.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">here is a list of the love I see, and what sticks by me:</span><br /><br />Grandpa & Grandma: I often think of the many times I watched you both dance in your kitchen. Your love is an inspiration to me.<br /><br />Mama and Papa Townsend: Mama T lost her diamond bracelet, and Papa T made an appt to replace that one<br /><br />Mom and Dad Demarest: Jan dropping his clothes out the window to hint that he needs to put it into the hamper LOL<br /><br />Mak and Ayah: love note Ayah wrote on a record, "I'm in love i'm in love" sent it from london<br /><br />Mr. and Mrs. Hamid: arranged marriage, and grew to fall in love with each other<br /><br />Jay and Fernanda: Jay running home to be there to share Fernanda's first snowfall(she's brazilian)<br /><br />Jovi and Jorg: met and flew back and forth between germany and london. getting married in july!<br /><br />Estelle (my sister) and Teo: fixed her car when the starter was broken, used to push it to start it for her. Both very young but mature and loving in their relationship<br /><br />Riani (twin) and Julien: He let her get pet turtles to put in their garden in a highrise...to have one of them die a horrible death of getting stuck in an elevator door. My sister is still traumatized.<br /><br />Mr. and Mrs. Reyes: you did everything together, watching you when i grew up was a very positive message.<br /><br />Nenek (my indo grandma): hasn't remarried to keep the honor of her husband's name for her children. Still cuts chicken on the floor with a machete. My Grandfather died many years ago.<br /><br />Ujing Butet and Uncle DB: uncle DB, when we were cooking and messed up the pressure cooker, your main concern was that Ujing didn't burn herself, and not that we were destroying the kitchen with hot oil and meat flying everywhere.<br /><br />Uncle Steve and Tante Ruby: you both love so much, not just to each other, to long lost daughters of old friends. Watching you juggle an odd work schedule, children, and have you tante ruby tell me stories till late morning about what you and my parents did when i was too young to know (complete with sound effects and dance moves) will stay with me.<br /><br />Cookie and Micah: he makes recipe manuals for her since she loves to bake bread.<br /><br />Trish and Tony: your patience with each other is amazing.<br /><br />Sarah and Chris Couhault: You probably barely remember me, but i remember you Chris piggy backing sarah back in highschool in Jakarta. I remember thinking, that is what love should be.<br /><br />Mama Panda and Poppa Panda: mama P, you sat at the window with me while watching your husband sift through the dirt, telling me about how you read sifting soil will make growing near impossible... you just let him be.<br /><br />Mama and Papa Roo: You are so supportive of each other, love so much.<br /><br />MOM and DAD: they aren't together anymore, but my childhood was filled with so much love. When we moved to Indonesia, my father kept going to go buy plants because my mom liked to garden. Our back patio looked like a jungle. My mom used to spend so much time and care to MAKE cereal that my dad liked....from scratch, the same way his mom made it for him.<br /><br />Love is beyond relationships. Give it to everyone. Spread it.<br /><br />GO LOVE TODAY.daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-31892964268590761922008-10-06T21:09:00.000-07:002008-10-06T23:17:19.134-07:00Hari Raya: the day of forgiving<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOrwUMSmX7I/AAAAAAAABjU/AnzecA0wKKI/s1600-h/raya+photo"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOrwUMSmX7I/AAAAAAAABjU/AnzecA0wKKI/s400/raya+photo" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254276144968392626" border="0" /></a>Forget Christmas, and the morning of waking up excited for material gain, still drunk on eggnog from the night before. Okay, I take that back. The Townsends (sans extra h) have taken us in for years now and shown us the true spirit of Christianity: sharing their love and family with us less fortunate to have our own home base here in Seattle. I love them for that. And the cinnamon buns.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">But what about my religion? Islam, the beautiful faith i grew up with that got a bad rep? Ramadan, the month of fasting came to me on a Magellan type day in London: I went exploring. Did i wake for Sahur and eat? No, of course not. My poor host, Caroline thought I would pass out. I spent the day dozing under a tree in Hyde park, before walking around for six hours. Where did I decide to go? Of course Harrod's, to see if the urban legend of a Krispy Kreme in their basement was true (it was). Also to Fortnum and Mason to pick up special jam for a brilliant, yet eccentric UW professor. Label reads: lovely with hot buttered toast. Dude anything tastes good with hot buttered toast. You have to put it on the direction label?<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">But I made it through, and broke fast and prayed at a grand masjid near an old friend Alex's house in Saint John's Wood. Back stateside, I celebrated actual Eid on Wednesday with all the lovely ladies of the University of Washington Muslim Student Association. My uncle was out of town and therefore in true family spirit, my aunt postponed Eid for his return.<br /><br />So saturday night, I gathered the troupes to march through the gates of food heaven: a house in West Seattle where the wafts of food coming from the kitchen called to us like the melody of the piped piper. RENDANG!!!! WE ARE COMING!!!!<br /></div><br />There are three essential F's to a Hari Raya gathering: family, food, and forgiveness.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Family was in abundance, even the adopted bestfriend type. If you lack in numbers, then invest in bestfriends like Steve, a.k.a Panda, who in his households accounts himself for THREE PEOPLE when figuring finances for food for the house. Always come to a muslim house with someone who can eat, to please the host.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOruvZ9C40I/AAAAAAAABjM/9y_KoNasNDM/s1600-h/foooooooood"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOruvZ9C40I/AAAAAAAABjM/9y_KoNasNDM/s400/foooooooood" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254274413469295426" border="0" /></a>Food, oh glorious food. My aunt wasn't ready when we arrived, and jetted off to the bathroom to shower. I took charge of the Lumpia, lovely spring rolls with meat, potatoes and yumminess. Eh hem, my folding technique is expert, I promise you, but I decided to make them all different shapes and sizes, and even fry them so they were in a multitude of color...white, slightly beige, tanned... and BROWN. This was my interpretation of our diverse demographic. I have a lovely bunch of<br />lum-pee-yahhhhhh...did la dee dee.. there they are all standing in a row....bump bump bump! fat ones, skinny ones, some as big as your head!<br /></div><br /><br />Food down, a cup of coffee to prevent comatose later...we come to the most important part of the night, the last F...forgiveness.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOrhOJiKybI/AAAAAAAABi0/I17ZEOC2yQs/s1600-h/hari+raya"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/SOrhOJiKybI/AAAAAAAABi0/I17ZEOC2yQs/s400/hari+raya" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254259548474755506" border="0" /></a>This more of an Indonesian/ Malaysian tradition than a global islamic one...though islam spread the world of tolerance and forgiveness. In our family, we get around in a circle and each member of the family, from youngest to oldest, asks for forgiveness from each other. Here is a photo of my little sister and I embracing and asking for forgiveness for all our wrong doings in the past year. At times like this when you sister cries with you, it is not the fights and the diagreements that you remember. You remember the times when she drove you around like ms.daisy, or when she bought you a new camera because your old one died, or single-handedly sorted out your graduation party because you were too stressed to even think about it. You remember the love and caring behind the tough words on the importance of choosing good friends, and the get better cards and balloons on the countless times you're sick in one year. Asking for forgiveness is also expressing your gratitude, knowing that everything your little sister does for you and herself comes from the heart. Nothing else. Then there is my twin sister who this past year flew half way across the world for me in my dire time of need, who cleaned up the mess I made after throwing my potted plant across the room in frustration at life. I am technically the eldest of three, but always feel like the youngest because it is my two big sisters who always are there to literally pick up the pieces...big as life. Riani, Estelle, you are my life. My everything. I love you both.<br /></div><br />Selamat hari raya everyone.daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-27792719768423268222008-06-04T00:20:00.000-07:002008-06-04T00:52:11.981-07:00Ode to friendship<div style="text-align: justify;">The last week of classes are drawing to a close, and i have my first final on Saturday. Looking back at to what was probably the hardest few months of my life, I realize that I have been given the events in my life for a reason, as my good friend BJ wrote:<br /><br />You are loved and honored for the beautiful person you are. I know things have not been easy and I know that there are choices that are made that will stick with you for a lifetime but honestly there are the tough choices we make that strengthen us and teach us who we want to be. When we ask the higher power for strength he will not give us the easy road.. he will give us the difficult road that shows us how to be strong. When we ask for peace, he does not give us tranquility, he gives us a battle in which we must find peace within us. When we ask for forgiveness, it's not because we've taken perfect steps in life, it's because we've wandered from the path and treaded on sacred ground. When we ask for love, he shows us hatred so that we may truly know what love is when we get it. We learn nothing from an easy life, those that face challenges and learn from them and the ones that are equipped to make the difficult choices in life. You lead a tremendous life and give so much to those around you. You are loved on this day as you were loved the last.<br /><br />Thank you, to all of you who have been there with me through this journey. Thank you for showing me what love is, thank you for the honor of your friendship. To one: thank you for showing how me to love again. I bleed joyfully and willingly.<br /><br />Take this video with you, give it time to load as it is chok full of life. The life you have brought to me.<br />I love you all,<br />Danielle<br /><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='420' height='366' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyZktBthaYwxunkP2F8Mv1-HbOV-257EEeEIw43iqDviAwjnNHwDn_KcbW3b6ME_6CxKv9JrZTyJiz_LdTg8w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-84744125404150802582008-02-09T01:27:00.000-08:002008-02-11T18:18:34.776-08:00finding beauty<div style="text-align: justify;">I realize that I can deal with the cold. As long as it is a brilliantly clear day with sunshine and clear skies, I don't mind. This was the reality of a few mondays ago. A good friend of mine Panda Bear (also less known as Steve) calls me to ask what my plans are for this beautiful day, which is a holiday none the less. Off to Agua verde for some lunch in a colored greenroom where we are sucking in sunlight like orchid plants. Halfway through lunch Capt. Roo (also less known as Andy) and Riani call to ask us to come on a ferry ride to Bainbridge island. Oh....p.s, it leaves at 3, and yes, it is 2:40. It's shovel time at this zoo, as a mad mouth stuffing of fish tacos and a race to the piers renders us defeated as the ferry pulls away. We didn't want to go on a stupid ferry ride anyway. So....off to what we REALLY want to see...the olympic sculpture park.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R7D7h_fAipI/AAAAAAAAAIs/NlEIQJ9t7_w/s1600-h/life+256.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R7D7h_fAipI/AAAAAAAAAIs/NlEIQJ9t7_w/s400/life+256.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165905333989706386" border="0" /></a>We ventured to the SAM (seattle art museum) Olympic sculpture park, braving the sub-arctic temperatures. No worries, my undefeated zeal for life and art at the moment races me through the park like a kid hungrily eating cold watermelon after a hot day of playing soccer: I can't get enough. The beautiful puget sound is stained with the mountains in the back -ground, absolutely stunning. Panda refers to this photo as his favorite, not because of the photo but the sequence in his memory of me running down the beach, stopping to kick my shoes off, running more...climbing through the rocks to get to the place I stand. Mind you, it was almost cold enough to snow. If you look close enough, i got about a foot of air off the rock i jumped off. Sweet.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />One of my favorite pieces at the park is called the wake. A beautiful piece by <b>Richard Serra </b>(2004, Overall installation: 14' x 125' x 46'). Coming up to view, the five strong steel structured looked like a relic school of battleships, or the tidal waves coming in.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v170/0/31/10720115/n10720115_36925211_545.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v170/0/31/10720115/n10720115_36925211_545.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R7D83PfAiqI/AAAAAAAAAI0/ORaf0iRCbuE/s1600-h/life+198.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R7D83PfAiqI/AAAAAAAAAI0/ORaf0iRCbuE/s400/life+198.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165906798573554338" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The Sam says: "For Richard Serra, space is a substance as tangible as sculpture. He uses materials and scale to alter perception and to engage <span class="nfakPe">the</span> body, encouraging consciousness of our relation to space. <span class="nfakPe">The</span> towering, curved-steel forms of <i><span class="nfakPe">Wake</span></i> were achieved with computer imaging and machines that manufacture ship hulls, including a demilitarized machine that once made French nuclear submarines. <span class="nfakPe">Wake</span> is composed of five identical modules, each with two S-shaped sections positioned in inverted relation to one another—gently curving serpentines of convex and concave parts that suggest tidal waves or profiles of battleships. <span class="nfakPe">The</span> surface of acid-washed, weatherproof steel reinforces this industrial effect. <i><span class="nfakPe">Wake</span>'s </i>powerful silhouette belies a complex configuration of parts; <span class="nfakPe">the</span> whole cannot be known at once, but can only be experienced with movement and in time."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">It is the coolest piece you'll ever see, fun to play tag in, to run around and feel like you are a part of the piece, as you can see from the video of me acting like i'm five. When did it become not ladylike and grown up to run around and feel the earth around you, and to interact with the space that surrounds you? Here in America we worry about our stock options, about the direction of our economy (yes i am worried too), but we have failed to remember the grander things in life, like play. Like grass stains, like playing hide and seek with yourself. I lived in this moment.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='519' height='382' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzXoZjx-fSZVKcl-lIR4S5t3LtBWFpW0-FJes-ODXH--KPjACOYeUdlV2a2okjeEW3iI_0NH18V55FtG0gcaA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R619pffAigI/AAAAAAAAAHk/yIgpqyCL8TU/s1600-h/life+277.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R619pffAigI/AAAAAAAAAHk/yIgpqyCL8TU/s400/life+277.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164922499443493378" border="0" /></a>The park opened last year as an extension of the 75th anniversary of the SAM and it's new collections. At least i think so. The <strong>Olympic Sculpture Par</strong><strong>k</strong> transforms a nine- acre industrial site into open and vibrant green space for art.<br />Pulling away from the park, i took this photo of the same piece i looked through when walking down the path. It is called cloud cover, a piece with tiny holes through it, where you could see the landscape of Seattle. From a distance you can see the sunset catch up on the piece that literally transcends across the highway. It is quite stunning to drive by.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R7D-5ffAisI/AAAAAAAAAJE/oV0bdJrPciY/s1600-h/life+274.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R7D-5ffAisI/AAAAAAAAAJE/oV0bdJrPciY/s400/life+274.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165909036251515586" border="0" /></a>As we made our way back up to the car, we hit this piece. It is a beautiful stunning tree, which looks normal here in midwinter, except for it is a piece of art, made out of steel. You can see the welding in the trunk, and the glimmer of sunlight hitting off of it.<br />This brings me to question, what is art? The first and broadest sense of <i>art</i> is the one that has remained closest to the older Latin meaning, which roughly translates to "skill" or "craft," and also from an indo-european meaning "arrangement" or "to arrange"(wikipedia).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Art to me, is anything beautiful that brings me unconditional happiness. Being a part of it, with it, makes me happy. Without having to promise dinner, without thinking am i good enough for it, without thinking. I just am happy. We can learn a thing or two about ourselves from art, like the fact art is in the word eARTh. Look around you. You can find happiness in everything around you, we just have to look and listen.</div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-79072608690889914662008-01-18T23:04:00.000-08:002008-01-19T01:32:55.177-08:00terms of endearment<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R5GnEb-gDAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/uA700sGrmtU/s1600-h/fat_cow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R5GnEb-gDAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/uA700sGrmtU/s400/fat_cow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157086742987148290" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I have been called many, many things in my life. I have e been called a wild orchid that yet has to be tamed. I have been coined sugarbowl by my grandmother after a little cute teapot twisted story that Natalie Hannaford introduced to me. Sky girl was my first screen name on the internet. My nickname in basketball was bigmama.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Recently I have achieved two new identities...both of which i had to have explained to me.<br />McCall, my lovely neighbour jokingly called me heffer. Which is best described in the picture to the left. Quite a lovely photo.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The other one is an angler fish, named to me by my darling twin sister. (Ria you know what this says about you, right?) A angler fish is an evil lurking fish that dwells in the deep lairs of the ocean, with a lure hanging infront of its mouth. (see photo to the right)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R5Gm3L-gC_I/AAAAAAAAAGo/fLSBnk0w2r8/s1600-h/angler_fish.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R5Gm3L-gC_I/AAAAAAAAAGo/fLSBnk0w2r8/s400/angler_fish.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157086515353881586" border="0" /></a><br />Do I take offence? Of course not, both animals here have such great character that make me laugh hysterically. But maybe a more important lesson could be learned here..<br /><br />What is in a name? What does it signify about us? I remember my father once telling me that even if Riani and I were switched by birth, and I was given the name Riani, I would still be the same person. I would still be me. I would still be a heffer-fish.<br /><br />What is important here about names is that we allow it to limit us. We are afraid of them (he would cannot be named in Harry Potter), we use them against each other (them, us), we even label each other as to hurt each other. Even names such as old, thin, fat, young, naive, these all limit us to realize what potential we can see in others. What does a name hold? As said by Juliet:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Tis but thy name that is my enemy;<br /> Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.<br /> What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,<br /> Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part<br /> Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!<br /> What's in a name? that which we call a rose<br /> By any other name would smell as sweet;<br /> So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,<br /> Retain that dear perfection which he owes<br /> Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,<br /> And for that name which is no part of thee<br /> Take all myself.<br /></div><br />So what is your name? What holds it true? what backbone have you given your name? What vault of gold do you have to verify the currency of your name? We all have names, but it should all be spelt in one way....L.O.V.E.</div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-47047137936793927252008-01-09T12:04:00.000-08:002008-01-14T21:27:54.402-08:00The Alchemy of Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R4UsI7-gC7I/AAAAAAAAAGI/n4R9J45naLA/s1600-h/55093.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R4UsI7-gC7I/AAAAAAAAAGI/n4R9J45naLA/s400/55093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153573880645815218" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">There are times when God comes down and causes an apocalypse...ending widespread pain and brings such bright, amazing light that all you can do is let this light consume you. We hear about it in our Qu'Rans, Bibles and Torahs, as well as on the news and in popular movies.<br /><br />Now I've been through, let's say a little soul searching era of my life, and I was at the darkest place I've ever been. So I thought to call on the powers of heavens for another apocalypse, help heal and end this pain. AND, none of this fluffy interpretation crap, I want hard scientific proof.<br /><br />So God, being the kind loving fella He is, got me going on a little search for the truth.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Today was the first day of school, and i ran into a phd bioengineer friend, randomly...and we got talking about atoms. We got on the subject of electron shells, because i was looking at a molecule structure at his lab. He said that the white bubbles would probably be hydrogen binding to an atom because in the loss of an electron, hydrogen would bind to the atom.<br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;" class="Ih2E3d"><br />I argued that there were already eight electrons in that last shell, so there shouldn't be a hydrogen....because atoms have a electron shells that were in a 2-8-8 formation...two electrons in the firstshell, and eight for each shell thereafter. (remembering this from middle school!) I looked it up tonight, and we were both wrong. it's highly complex.<br /><br />The most amazing thing i realized in my readings was:<br /><br />Most of the physical and chemical properties of atoms, and<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">hence of all matter</span>, are determined by the nature of the electron cloud enclosing the nucleus. The nucleus of an atom, with its positive electric charge, attracts negatively charged electrons. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">This attraction is largely responsible</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">for holding the atom together.</span><br /><br /><br />if i read correctly...it is attraction of the nucleus and the electrons that holds the atom together.<br />attraction: the process of drawing one body toward another.<br /><br />you could argue that attraction is a byproduct of love of the highest form. Just as this force brings us together, somehow at 5am. I could be a negative electron whizzing around in space, and feeling your force, draws me in.I stabilize you. You in turn, make me whole, make me an important part of the fundamentals of our existence.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We can apply this theory to relationships. Either two people attract each other because they bring different elements to the bond, or there is something out of balance...an extra electron here...which causes a reaction to occur for that electron to go off into the world until it<br />meets the right nucleus that needs it to be balanced, to be neutral. The split causes a great amount of energy, but it the greater scheme of things, it balances things out.<br /><br />There is negative everywhere. Without it there would be no positive. Without the both working together, there would be NO LIFE. Attraction holds us together.<br />Love. it is love....love in its purest, smallest form.<br />Love is all we need by the beatles is ringing in my head right now.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br />it is this very force which holds the world together, the entire universe. without it, the universe would cease to exist. oh my god that is such a huge concept.<br /><br />all i had to do was look inward, to the smallest part of me for the simplest answer,but this answer...is the answer to the most complex ideals. We are all one.<br /><br />apocalypse means unlifting of the veil, of god coming down and showing us the heavens, to end all pain we know. To end suffering.<br /><br />When i asked God for this, what i meant was for Him to...i dont know. Not this.<br />Instead, he showed me the heavens, and everything I could possibly be, and beyond.<br /><br />Bring love into your lives, and to everyone you meet, because it is love that brings us together.<br /><br />Love you all, Danielle</div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-35791748476214600482008-01-06T17:09:00.001-08:002008-01-06T17:56:22.577-08:00the greenland problem<div style="text-align: justify;">A friend of mine, who is an actor, shared with me a monologue that he is working on. It hit me like a ton of bricks, brought tears to my eyes. I feel as if i should share it with you.<br /><br />It is from a play about two gay men. One owns a map shop. Map shops have an emotional connection with me, the last one i went to was in Maui. For these men though, their shop is just as painful, because they are living around the reality that all their friends are dying from aids.<br />have a read. The owner hasn't left the shop in months, and the other keeps leaving chairs all over the shop. These are the chairs of their friends that have died. He wants the shop owner to stop pretending that nothing is happening, and to be a part of the solution.<br /><br />This is a monologue that the shopowner gives about a particular map we are all familiar with, the mercantor map.<br /><br /><br /><br />Any talk of maps ultimately comes around to one very specific, lingering issue: The Greenland Problem.<br />Now, you may know this, but Greenland is actually about the size of Mexico. However, on the well known Mercator projection map -- the one hanging in front of your classrooms in grade school -- Greenland appears to be roughly the size of South America and twice the size of China. Clearly a world power to be reckoned with, if it were, you know, habitable.<br />The Mercator map also shows most of the earth's land mass to be in what we consider the "north," when, in fact, the "south" is more than double the size of the north. Scandinavia seems to dwarf India, though India is three times as large. And the old Soviet states appear to be twice the size of the entire African continent. In reality they are smaller. Smaller by, oh, about four million square miles.<br />A map maker takes a messy round world and puts it neat and flat on the wall in front of you. And to do this, a map maker must decide which distortions, which faulty perceptions he can live with -- to achieve a map which suits his purposes. He must commit to viewing it from only one angle.<br />The Mercator map, developed in Germany in 1569, was a great aid to navigators since, for the first time, all lines of longitude ran perpendicular to the equator -- or straight up to the top of the map -- rather than converging toward the poles. This meant that all the lines of longitude and latitude intersected at right angles -- and this meant that, for the FIRST TIME, a sailor could draw a straight line between two fixed points on the map and steer a constant course between them. The map had accounted for the curve of the earth -- the sailor did not have to.<br />To accomplish this, Mercator had to accept a distortion: the parallel lines of latitude would have to be spaced progressively further apart as they moved away from the equator. This, in turn, would progressively distort the sizes and shapes of land masses -- from zero distortion at the wquator, to absolute distortion at the poles... the Greenland Problem.<br />Mercator was a brilliant man. He freed the art of cartography from superstition, from the weight of medieval misconceptions. And his map revolutionized global navigation. He never intended it as a tool to teach the sizes and shapes of countries. He never intended to make Greenland a global behemoth.<br />But, nearly four hundred and fifty years after Mercator, we still think the earth looks like this. It doesn't. It never has. But we've come to accept the distortion as fact. We've learned to see the world from this angle.<br />I like this map. I sell this map. I don't wan people when they buy it that, like any good newspaper, it contains a few lies. And I've grown accustomed, when i feel the tug of a perplexed child on my sleeve, to turn and patiently say: "No, it's not really that big."<br />Maybe it's comforting to us because we, too, have our blind spots. We, too, have things on the periphery of our lives that we distort -- in order to best focus on the things in front of us. In order to best navigate through our days.<br />Sometimes, though, these things on the periphery, these things that we do not understand, these far away things grow to massive proportions -- threatening to dwarf our tiny, ordered, known world. And when they get big enough, we are forced to see them for what they are.<br />People I know are dying.<br />This is my Greenland Problem.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">----Jody, Lonely Planet by Steven Dietz.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R4GFbL-gC6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/cdUZ50CjgwU/s1600-h/petersprojection.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R4GFbL-gC6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/cdUZ50CjgwU/s400/petersprojection.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152546150806457250" border="0" /></a><br /></div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-4584878886759179942008-01-04T22:57:00.000-08:002008-01-05T02:22:05.106-08:00fish balls on a stick and other grocery list essentials<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>“Maybe we can snack on these!” BJ jokes, handing me a packet of chili-fried baby crabs. It is a college party snack joke waiting to happen. “Hey people, Abu over here brought the stuff camel, and for the ladies, BJ brought the crabs.” It is always such a circus to go to Uwajimaya, an Asian supermarket here in the international district of Seattle. <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now here is a place that combines the best of both worlds: crazy things only Asians would eat, and an American assortment, which in turn translate to a night of pure entertainment of products I would like to bring to some of my marketing classes. Tell me, dear professor, how do I market <span style=""> </span>fish balls on a stick to the American consumer?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""> </span>The sheer selection was mind boggling: the tea section was an entire aisle. There were at least 30 types of green tea, black tea, oolong, you name it. <span style=""> </span>Fruit? Forget your apples and oranges, we got mangoes, manggis, rambutan, and the king of the fruit, the mighty durian. Even the bread has a selection with pandan (banana leaf), santan (coconut milk), and many others. There is a warzone in the middle of the store: rice bags piled up on either side, trenches of food large enough to feed an entire army. I can see a solider running back and forth in my mind screaming urgently: “rice cookers! We need more rice cookers!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> Food plays such a major part<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R38r97-gCtI/AAAAAAAAAD4/MtXFLu2PCxE/s1600-h/144014667_03e2b93518.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R38r97-gCtI/AAAAAAAAAD4/MtXFLu2PCxE/s320/144014667_03e2b93518.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151884841806990034" border="0" /></a> of our lives, nourishing our bodies (or not), comforting us when we’re sad, or even showing our economic status. For me, food is almost like a looking glass that reminds me of my roots and the complexities of being a third culture kid. My parents always told me to try everything just once. How else would a six year old kindly ask for chicken feet soup in Singapore? How do I know that the fish eye is the best part of fish head curry? Aquariums were awesome to go to, because my mom would tell me how to cook the fish that just swam by. Then there are the stories of the durian nights of drunkenness. When home in Medan with my family, we would have a durian party, usually on the tiles of the garage. My grandmother, 80-something with machete in hand would with one swoop hack the spiky fruit apart to reveal the treasures of a perfect seed: covered in the rich yellow meat of the durian that to me has the most amazing velvet texture to it. Durian has a bit of fermentation; you can get awfully giddy eating it. I, on the other hand, <span style=""> </span>get DRUNK off of durian.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“How about these?” I walk b<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R38tr7-gCwI/AAAAAAAAAEo/HQm-OrPKzQE/s1600-h/DSCF4729.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_NCgP-Ym0ck8/R38tr7-gCwI/AAAAAAAAAEo/HQm-OrPKzQE/s320/DSCF4729.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151886731592600322" border="0" /></a>ack from memory lane and stare at what BJ has put in front of my eyes. Lactic Acid bars. I’m still confused. It looks like those tubes you put in the fridge and freeze. Who made the name for this thing? Lactic acid fruit bars? Seriously? I jotted down the email address on the back to email the company to ask them if they need a new marketing intern. The best one yet: Birds net and white fungus dessert soup with red beans. This is quite a lovely dish from Singapore, light and served cold to ward off the heat. I was doing a marketing project for a dessert shop with a bunch of Singaporean exchange students, and they couldn’t understand that this was not going to work here in Seattle. “Yes, waiter, the white fungus birds nest soup with red beans please. Vanilla ice cream is just sooo passé.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">You have got to love globalism, if anything to make it easier for people to exchange ideas, try new things, and be more open minded, and you can do without trekking through the outer parts of Mongolia. Just start small in your own local Asian grocery store.<span style=""> </span>I learned a lot about myself today, where I’ve been, who’ve I become, and what new things I will try in the future. Remember, you are what you eat, which means eating just about anything shows you are open to an ever changing world. That, and you’ll be surprised how comforting shrimp crackers can be on a Friday night. </p>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1234849780159990263.post-47578028974756615202007-12-27T02:57:00.000-08:002007-12-27T03:06:44.837-08:00happiness is a posture towards life<div style="text-align: justify;">Hello friends,<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">as the new year rings in and Christmas came and left like a short weekend in Paris, I decided that life is too short not to document. We go through so much and at time when things aren't quite as peachy, we don't have something to go back through and see where we've been, and the great memories we have. Here then, I start anew, even before new years, and share my life with you.</div>daniellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18200790323032310231noreply@blogger.com0