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Post #39: Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone

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Welcome to the thirty-ninth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone. If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.

Post #39: Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone

The Great Writing Challenge 2012 has already been a great opportunity to stretch my creative muscles, and I am grateful for your feedback and your support. And so I want to pay it forward. My friend, Carolyn, has set herself a challenge of a different kind, and I wanted to share it with you.

Each weekend, Carolyn has set herself a goal of doing one thing she has not done/gone to/experienced before in the ‘Stop Procrastinating’ Challenge (alternatively called the ‘Get Off Your Damn Ass and Do Things’ Challenge). There’s so many cool things to do in this city, but it’s so easy to let inertia take over. So each weekend, she’s going to be out, trying something new and meeting new people. And I say good for her!

As expats, we tend to have a much smaller circle, particularly if you gravitate to other expats. If you stick around in a particular place long enough, your social circle gets smaller and smaller as many of the expats either move home or move on to the next adventure. It’s the nature of the beast: it’s quite a transitory existence, but that’s also be part of the appeal.

Social anxiety is something that so many of us can relate to and it’s so much easier to not put yourself out there. But doing new things and meeting new people is cool, even if it’s a little unsettling at first. There’s so much about our existence in modern cities that serves to alienate us from our fellow twenty-and-thirty-somethings. We’re great at interacting online, but not in the flesh. I really haven’t met too many people here, but keeping up with my German classes has helped. I am getting a lot more comfortable with actively engaging with people, even in a language I’m not too good at.

What are we all searching for? Probably just people to share parts of our lives with. A beer, a play, a hike. Hear their stories and thoughts, and have a chance to share ours. Interaction and acknowledgement.

Maybe we should arrange a picnic in Golden Gate Park?

[Source: Pinterest]

I think Carolyn’s brave to set herself this challenge that’s outside of her comfort zone, and I know I’m looking forward to doing some of the new stuff with her and reading her wrap ups on her blog, [Insert Cool Name Here].

Post #38: Life List No.68 – Be a Jedi for a Day

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Welcome to the thirty-eighth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone. If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.

Post #38: Life List No.68 - Be a Jedi for a Day

It has been a sad few days for my American family here, and I shall not go into too much detail for fear of trivializing things. Life can sometimes be so damned serious as an adult, and it sucks to lose people you love. But this is a fantastic, loving family, and I am so lucky to be a part.

So in light of monumental changes and reevaluation of my own life, I want to focus my attention this evening on happy things: my Life List.

When I first saw Maggie’s Life list, I was really inspired. This was more a collection of moments and experiences, and less of a Bucket List. The Life List is about the anticipation and joy of experiencing things you have always wanted to (but often didn’t know that you really wanted), and about connecting with others who can help you achieve something. It’s collaborative, and I love helping others achieve their dreams and have just had two people this week offer to help me with mine. Sweet!

Number 68: Be a Jedi for a day.

Last Sunday, the Canadian and I rocked up to a warehouse in Soma for a lightsaber choreography class. As a massive fan of Star Wars (well, the original ones), I was pumped when The Canadian told me about it. We had no idea what to expect, but ‘go we must’.

And what is involved in a lightsaber choreography class, you ask? Surprisingly, it proved to be quite the workout! The first half hour or so was some cardio and stretching to limber up before we attacked each other with lightsabers. We learnt how to do flourishes and spin the lightsaber around in our hand, and around our body. In much the same way as in dancing classes I took when I was a kid, some of the moves were fine on one side of the body but I struggled to repeat them on the other side. Sometimes left, sometimes right. Bizarro.

The force is strong with this one...

About halfway through the class, we started the saber-to-saber contact with the six initial moves. This is where things really started to get interesting. We switched it up and practiced with different participants, and some were a little more progressed in their saber-to-saber contact. But the Canadian and I held our own (when we weren’t beaning ourselves in the head or the shin…).

We learnt the initial 21 or so moves from the Empire Strikes Back fight scene between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, and then ended with meditation. We sat cross-legged in a circle in the darkened performance space, our faces illuminated by our multicoloured sabers.

“There is no self. Only the Force.”

Showing off our new Jedi skills after the lightsaber choreography class

All in all, it was pretty cool experience. Our instructor was dressed in full Jedi get-up and he owned it. He aims to gather a group of people to recreate fight scenes from Star Wars to perform for sick kids in hospitals and what not. I wasn’t as uncoordinated as I had imagined, and had fun geeking out. The only crazy thing was just how sore we were the following day. Beyond sore!

Battered and bruised... but worth it!

We’ll probably head back again next month with some other friends. I can’t have ‘Jedi Master’ on my business cards without a few more Sundays under my belt…

Chairman Bao: the best food truck in SF!

And what good outing with the Canadian is complete without eating amazing food? I am a terrible influence on her. From Soma, we hiked up Van Ness to Fort Mason to enjoy the delights of our favourite food trucks. We had tofu bao with miso greens from Chairman Bao (my favourite of all time!); fried plantains with honey, as well as Peruvian cookies with dulche de leche from the Canadian’s fav truck, Sanguchon.  YUM! I had not tried the food from Sanguchon before, and the cookie was so amazing I was quite literally lost for words. I can’t wait until we head back to Fort Mason there for Off The Grid on Friday nights.

Heaven on earth!

Shortbread biscuit with caramel filling... YUM!

Tick! Number 68: Be a Jedi for a day has been completed. Kudos to the Canadian for suggesting it and for letting me twist her arm into eating our heads off at Fort Mason.

Post #37: Umbrellas

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Welcome to the thirty-seventh post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
 Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone.
If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.

Post #37: Umbrellas.

Umbrellas. I can’t stand them and I categorize people who use as impractical and weak. If there is one thing you will never see, it’s me with an umbrella.
There, I said it! 

It’s both a little ridiculous and a little unfair, but hear me out.

I am a girl who has always been a little more practical than the next, and this was only encouraged when I lived in Ireland. And if there’s one thing you should know about the Emerald Isle, is that the locals know how to deal with crappy weather. Umbrellas cannot help you in Ireland. The cyclone-level winds that blow in off the Atlantic teaches foolish tourists who dare to open one pretty fast.

And umbrellas are a pain. They’re a hassle to carry around, they take up too much valuable real estate on crowded, rainy streets and they’re beyond dangerous. I am the perfect height to have my eyeballs poked out and have the scratches on my glasses to prove it. So I wear my all-weather rain proof jacket. 

All weather jackets: practical, lightweight, responsible.

Seeing as though inclement weather is returning to the Bay Area, it’s the perfect time to share with you my survival tips for staying dry and actively valuing the sight of your fellow men and women:

  1. Check the weather forecast. I never used to care about what the day had in store for me, but now I check the weather app on my iPhone as soon as I get up. It helps me dress accordingly, a must for those of us who rely on public transport.
  2. Invest in a good raincoat. I have a goretex jacket I bought over six ago from Kathmandu, and it’s still serving me well. Make a commitment to preparing yourself for any kind of weather from rain to snow.
  3. Keep a small raincoat or poncho handy. I keep a lightweight one in my handbag, It squishes down into a little pouch – much smaller than a regular umbrella.
  4. For people who wear glasses: fear not! The secret: add a hat to the ensemble! It keeps your glasses dry, and keeps the droplets away from your face. If you wear the SF Giant hat, you’ll get bonus points.
  5. Ladies, have a practical handbag, backpack or satchel. If you can’t get it wet, then you shouldn’t be wearing it. Same applies to shoes, clothing.

    Should you wear a rain jacket instead of using an umbrella, you will get kudos from world travellers like me when we see you on the street. Just like this:

THIS.

[Source]

Join the school of practicality. Say no to umbrellas!

Post #36: The One Where I Shirk My Responsibilities

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Welcome to the thirty-sixth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
 Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone.
If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.

Post #36: The One Where I Shirk My Responsibilities.

This is the post where I shirk my responsibilities and tell you just how sore and tired I am.

I AM SO SORE AND TIRED!

I cannot possibly sit here and tell you all about it because that would be super boring for all concerned. So I am going to make myself a cuppa, lay on the floor to stretch out my back and watch the final episode of Downton.

I know, I know! I promised. But I can’t. We have walked miles today, eaten at Off The Grid (Chairman Bao is the best food truck in San Francisco!) and cavorted around like jedis with lightsabers. Oh, yes. It was a brilliant day. But rest assured, you shall hear about it very soon!

But something is better than nothing, right?
Here’s something that still makes me laugh, more than a decade later.
You’re welcome, internets.

Post #35: The Intimation of Life

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Welcome to the thirty-fifth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
 Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone.
If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.

Post #35: The Intimation of Life

Post #35: The Intimation of Life

This morning, we enjoyed slowly waking up and adjusting to the day. We made a breakfast of oatmeal and bagels, with a cuppa tea for me and coffee for the American, and switched on Fox Soccer. It was Bolton v Tottenham game from White Heart Lane. Little did we know what would happen next, live on television.

The 23-year-old Bolton midfielder, Fabrice Muamba, had a heart attack. Right there on the pitch. The looks on the faces of the players from both sides said a thousand words. Muamba had apparently stopped breathing and they were resuscitating him on the field. It was horrendous.

Lazy Saturday mornings

Part of hearing terrible news is the about-face you encounter in terms of perspective. It forces you to face your own mortality, to rethink what you’re doing, how you’re treating people, how you’re living. What does it all mean? Why am I obsessing over my bank balance when I can’t take it with me? Am I living in a way that is true to myself? What does this all mean? It’s the intimation of life.

Living here in San Francisco is not bringing me the satisfaction I imagined it would. It’s physically stunning in parts, but the beauty (and my patience to seek it out) is fading.

I work in a place where people stay. For decades. We just farewelled a woman who had been there 39 years. And next week, we’re saying farewell to two more who have stayed 37 years. It’s just bizarre. A colleague gave this piece of advice to me the other day, as she approached her 20 year anniversary there,“If you want to do anything else with your life, just go do it. Inertia will take over and before you know it, you will be celebrating 20 years in this office”. The thought petrified me. This is not at all what I want, and it’s just not making me happy. I love some of the people I work with, and I really believe in what we’re doing, but the time is nearing for me to move on. My feet are restless, but now is not the right time to push on to the next adventure. But soon. So I am trying to focus on my own happiness and building a work structure in my off-time that will hopefully serve me well in the future.

Sometimes, people see you just need a (chocolate) hug.

I think a lot about happiness, and about choices I can make to make myself happy/happier. By living a life in which I strive to be the happiest version of myself, I have thought it rather selfish. Selfish is so often used as a negative word – but no one else is looking out for my happiness. They’re looking out for their own. And that’s the way it needs to be. With the events of today and after reading this, I should not feel bad about wanting to be happy. And neither should you.

Sometimes it’s not about the big moves (packing a bag and setting off around the world is not a practical solution for everyone), but about the little things that can bring you enjoyment. So I try to focus on the small things:

  • Seeing the American work it on stage last night, and have his family understand what he does (he got third place and went through to the next round!)
  • Catching the end of the St Patrick’s Day Parade down Market Street
  • Spending some quiet time in my apartment as the rain falls outside
  • Listening to some Irish trad music as I write this
  • Dinner plans for tonight with a DVD double-header: The Big Lebowski and Encino Man
  • Lunch and Lightsaber Choreography classes tomorrow with the Canadian
  • No designated bed time tonight, and I have only two episodes left of Downton Abbey.

Today, I’m thinking of the family, friends and teammates of Fabrice Muamba. Hoping for the best.

What are you doing each day to make yourself happy? Are you taking the time this weekend to do something you enjoy?

The tail end of the San Francisco St Patrick’s Day Parade down Market Street.

Post #34: It’s Bracket Time!

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Welcome to the thirty-fourth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
 Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone.
If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.

Post #34: It's Bracket Time!

Hurrah, it’s bracket time! It’s that time of year where I get to fill out my Bracket for the NCAA basketball tournament.

I just watched the President fill out his bracket (the ‘Barack-ket’, as ESPN was calling it). The Pres knows his basketball! He tipped the Tar Heels to win it this year, but I went for Georgetown. I went there on my exchange/study abroad program, so I have to pick them to win. Hoya Saxa!

NCAA Tournament Bracket 2012: Duke v Georgetown.

At the moment, professional Basketball is really lacking that je ne sais quoi. The NBA has suffered a great deal from the lock out, and the Golden State Warriors are perennial cellar dwellers. There’s just something about professional basketball that feels so… 1994.

But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I adored basketball growing up in the 90s. Unlike other girls, I did not take up shopping. I took up basketball. I was ALL about the Sydney Kings and the NBL.

When teen girls have posters of the heart throbs from Dolly magazine on their walls, I had the D-Train and K-Mac, Leon Trimmingham, and Greg Hubbard. I was so starstruck I couldn’t speak when I met my favourite player, Damian Keogh, at a book signing at Bankstown Square. Steve Carfino was constantly visiting our school to teach us basketball fundamentals (and our PE Teacher would just about faint with excitement – she totally had the hots for Steve). I would peer through my fingers anytime Tim Morrissey touched the ball, and have done much the same for his post-basketball writing career with the Telegraph. The Kings were a massive part of my life.

I played the game as though my life depended upon it. And in a sense, it did. My goal before leaving school was to make the rep squad for our athletic association, IGSSA. All of the girls from our school picked for an IGSSA representative squad had their name painted onto a merit board in the school hall. I desperately wanted my name on that board. It meant everything to me.

In year 11, I was picked for the IGSSA basketball ‘B’ team, and I was over the moon! But after a falling out with a PE teacher, my name was omitted. I fought this for a year, but they wouldn’t budge. So I turned around the next year and made the ‘A’ team. Vindication! And when the time came for names to be painted on the board for 1998, I stood there and watched the bloke paint until my name was on that bloody board! I may not have had enormous talent for the game, but I lived it and loved it. And to a degree, I still do.

Hoya Saxa!