I am a rather Ironic Maiden...

Okay, so this won't really be ironic. Please refrain from Alanis Morriset references while pointing out flaws in my use of the proper English language. The pertinent information is that I am a thorough product of my generation.

Unlikely but fun metal head that I am (I think headbanging-hippie was a well-coined term), I take great delight in exploring a most impressive CD collection, which was left in my foster care, while its owner resides in Boise. With this joy, comes a wondering at why it has taken me so long to appreciate some of the great metal classics. I'll take this moment to stroll through a recollection of my heavy music fandom.

Indeed, an enjoyer of the metal music I've been as long as I've been grown enough to make conscious music choice. I think that happened somewhere around the time I heard my angsty teenage big brother listening to The Black Album (yes, that Black Album), and decided that was the kind of cool I wanted to be. Then, once my own teenage discomfort hit, Korn was the primary order of the day, followed by the logical metal-fusion bands of the late 90s like RATM, Limp Bizkit (how however they spelled it), SOAD, Slipknot, and The Deftones. I sincerely apologize to anyone who's refined 90's music sensibilities are offended at my including all those bands in one sweeping generalization. I acknowledge it's an oversight, but it's sufficient for my low-level of musical snobbery.

College brought an added level of sophistication, as college tends to do. My tastes deeped into more symphonic black metal like Cradle of Filth, and Dimmu Borgir. Looking back, my exposure to that genre, as cherished as it was, was mostly through one person (like I said, isn't it always a guy?), and they faded from the front of my time and consciousness as he did. Though, I should note, both those bands and that lovely man still hold huge warm places in my heart, and will always simmer like dark, macabre, potpourri in the back burners of my mental existence.

The later college years called for something more trippy, as college tends to do, and I came to cherish the ear-gasm of combining the satsfying dark crunch of heavy guitar driven riffs with the "Du-Must-Danz-Now" throbbing pulse of good psytrance. (It doesn't work unless its through a German accent.) I'm always on the lookout for artists who do this consistently - X-Dream does occaisionally, as does GMS.

Old metal, I thought, was not quite dark enough for my metal sensibilities, not quite light enough for my hippie sensibilities, just not quite me....

Until Iron Maiden became my driving companion.


Seventh Son of a Seventh Son lasts exactly as long as a drive from Santa Monica to Simi Valley in medium traffic (which I do twice a week), and hasn't left my CD player for the last several weeks. I could indulge in a rant about why its just so good, but that's been done for decades, and I'm not sure I'd have anything to add to the totality of human knowledge on that front. What I do have is an admission. An admission that, despite my attempts at cooleness, I am a kid in my 20s in 2008.


My confession is this...
.
.
.


I can't listen to Bruce Dickinson's dramatic spoken verses, without hearing Jack Black.



There, I've said it.

Maybe it's because there are some Maiden songs in contention for the title of Greatest Song in the World... No, it couldn't be that. That was just a tribute.

It's just all the joy bubbling forth under the darkness. It could be Mr. Black has simply impersonated ole lovable Bruce Bruce in his stirring musical numbers, but that would be disappointing, and no fun, because it would invalidate my coming point entirely.

I think these men LOVE metal. And while I definitely could be giving The Tenacious half of the D way too much credit for comparing him to a legend of the genre, I can't help how my ears hear it. I think the melodramatic darkness is full of such enjoyment for both these crooners, that you can't help finding yourself simultaneously wanting to stir up a cauldron of fend-off-the-inquisition, and laugh at it's silliness. I think they do too. I think under all the silliness, and blood on stairs of famous relics, there's a boyish delight that can't help but spring out of the voices of these two men.


... or, I could just be brainwashed to hear everything through the filter of my decade's music. But I like my explanation better. Do you guys ever hear songs this way too?




"Rock music should be gross: that's the fun of it. It gets up and drops its trousers. " - Mr. Dickinson

"There's nothing you can really do to prepare to rock. Do you prepare to eat a delicious meal? Are you hungry? Then you're gonna eat it. " -Mr. Black

Going From Broke #3 - Gone Overboard

I'm frikkin tired. I feel like I've been running a marathon.... and really, in my terms, I haven't been doing all that much. What I have been doing a lot of is examining my financial picture, and digging into core values and assumptions around oh, little questions like, um... only my worth as a human being.

One of my books seems to shame readers into realizing they shouldn't live on credit, spending above their means. Of course, logically I agree with this assertion by all means. However, it's only been a few months ago that I, realizing I'm trying to build a new business, and bound to see a lull in income, accepted that maybe it's okay to live a stint as young and broke, and let myself accumulate a little credit debt. Well, with my allowance from old Uncle Unemployment Insurance running out, I got scared last week, and thought maybe I should just learn how to live within my means, whatever they are at any given moment. So, I budgeted the rest of the month, and have been trying to nurse $48 to cover life in LA for 2 weeks.

Now, tired, hungry, and lonely, I say "f*c& this."

Living within my means right now would require moving back in with my parents, which would prevent me from two other financial keys in this process: 1) building a client base on the Westside, and 2) stepping into adulthood and acknowledging my real value as a human being. Neither of those things can I do from my messy childhood bedroom in Simi Valley.

So, with caution, and awareness, but a healthy-dose of much-needed self love, I say "Welcome back, citicard! I missed you!"

Rule 5 for Newbs

So its Oct 9, Game 1 of the NLCS. I've been gradually becoming a casual Dodgers fan over the past 2 1/2 years (why that amount of time?...it's always some dude, isn't it?), and it's my first time, to my knowledge, ever watching the Phillies play.

<<<--- This man made me sad. He's friggin good. Then, aforementioned "some dude" tells me Victorino was a Dodger, till he got stolen..... what? Rule 5 Draft? What's that? Upon hearing it was too complex for texting, which seems, dishearteningly, to be my primary means of communication with most people these days, I set out to find the answer for myself. And now, in terms other casual fans and those us of rocking estrogen won't mind hearing (shit, I know.. my Berkeley degree just got revoked again... it happens often... bad feminist....) here's a little rundown of

ye ole' rule 5:
1.Boy plays baseball
2.Boy is good, but young, gets recruited to minors
3. Boy shows promise, but not good enough for 40-man roster (Major league team, plus backups that can be "called up" from where they play meanwhile in the minors), he still plays minors
4. To prevent hoarding talent in the farms (where attractive young ball players are fed and watered), after a certain number of years (depending how old he was when he caught that special scout's eye), another team can take roster-less boy as their own.
5. Stealing team doesn't actually steal boy... they have to pay $50,000 for him. (Or they can do the same thing for lower-levels of their own farm, at cheaper rates). They also have to have an open space for him.
6. Boy has to be part of the major league "stealing" team (with only 24 of his partners in crime) for the whole season, or else they have to give him back, if they don't want him anymore.

Victorino, it turns out is a fascinating case.
1.Dodgers grew him, pouring water and fertilizer on the little Shane seed.
2. 3 years later, Padres rule 5 drafted him. F@ck you again, Aaron Kiefer.
3. Padres changed their minds... fickle, fickle team. Gave him back.
4. 2 years later, Phillies rule 5'ed him.
5. Our little Dodger Shane seed has grown up to kick ass for the Phillies.

This could be our grass-skirt wearing Bobblehead, LA --->

Actually, nevermind. That wouldn't be cool at all.

But I do think it's cool to make sure kids get a chance to get out there, even if it might kind of suck for the team that's cultivated them.

Meanwhile, much to Danny's chagrin, I think I'm taking a big step in my personal fan-dom.
I'm about to start following my second team, casually. The Phillies impressed me. I know I'm not allowed to say that in LA, but *Cartman voice* I do what I want!*end Cartman voice*

Yes, folks, I'm making the transition... from being a half-assed Dodger fan, to being a half-assed baseball fan. Hats off to me!

Technology Meltdown...

I, in the electronic sense, which I say because I realize how sadly my identity was wrapped up in my addiction 1s and 0s on my harddrive, have been largely erased. Virus? AVG didn't find anything. Circuit fryage? Not that I can tell. I'm bewildered.

I see this as clearing room for a fresh start. And maybe encouragement to not spend so many damn hours in front of this screen.

That said, back up your junk, kids.

Going From Broke #2: Revving Up...

So there's several posts swimming around in my head right now, but I've just been catapulted into the 2nd year of my master's degree program, and holy crap, is my life changing. Namely we have a big second year project, and I have a question for anyone who'll brave an answer: actually, a choice of questions either (1) What supportive beliefs about money have helped you bring in enough to support you in a thriving life, or (2) What limiting beliefs do you hold about money that keep you from ever having "enough"?

I'll start with one of mine... I caught myself subtly, barely detectably thinking "If I'm financially successful, I'll be alienated from the people I love." Then, I realized I kinda already have alienated myself. (When was the last time I saw you in person?) So, here's a little virtual act of reaching out in bloggy friendship.

The next year of my life is based around researching and restructuring money beliefs and practices, so let the games begin!

Ball of the Bases

So, to my friends out there who have followed baseball longer and closer than I (thankfully?) have put the time into yet....

What does it mean for us (Go Dah-yers!) that we're up against the Phillies in the NLCS? What can we expect to see, and what needs to happen?

Going From Broke #1

The first installment of the chronicles of entering financial adulthood, and stuff.

I realized something today. My Spiritual Psychology education will make me question this statement later, but I'll just say it anyway: Making a living is hard.

I interject with a moment of Heidi history (feel free to skip ahead, if you're feeling impatient) : I know I haven't reached the stage where I don't struggle with it yet, but I figured that was because up until the last couple months, I've still been sorting out what I want to be "when I grow up". Well, after a year of philiso-psychological unpacking of that question, I finally (like in my last post) just let it go. I gave myself permission to not know, and not be "successful" (whatever that is), and to be a broke kid for a while, if that's the life experience I seem to have been supposed to be having. I also removed the burden of my entire fulfillment from the shoulders of my career, where I'd placed it years ago. In doing so, I freed myself up to be open to what I really want to do know. Which is Integrative Personal Training, or Mind-Body Coaching, in case I haven't already told you. (No, there won't be a shameless self-promotional plug in every post, I promise).

Follow all that? It's the Cliff-notes version of about a year of self-work, so I don't expect it to make sense. It's tangential to the matter at hand anyway. The matter at hand is that life is expensive, and paying for it... (again, my inner life-coach is trying to get me to rephrase as I write, but) paying for it blows.

I've been toying with the idea of working in food-service lately. Never done it, I'm just barely charming enough to be able to handle myself well in a tip-driven job, I bet, and working in a cool hippie-fueling vegan joint could be rad. I notice myself delaying applying though, for fear that working the kitchen at YMCA camp won't be sufficient experience to get the job.

Fuck, I think.. I'm a grad student, with a degree from a top-tier university, who gets paid to jump off buildings and crash through furniture, and helps people change their lives on a daily basis (well, okay, on good days), and I'm afraid of not being good enough to get some crappy waitressing job that I'm sure to use as a good source of complaining down the road? Well, yeah. I don't have much experience.

A buddy of mine is looking at taking a job hanging Christmas lights this holiday season, to fill the gaps between stunt jobs. He has extensive foodservice work history, so I asked him... "you'd make so much more money, why don't you get back into that for a while?" So get this... he tells me it's too competitive. He'd have to spend months pounding the pavement to get a waiting job. Which strikes me as not too different from stunts. Or building my training client base. Or landing yoga classes. Or selling paintings. Or booking singing gigs. Or any of the things I've considered doing with my life. Shit, parents pay thousands of dollars for SAT tutoring for their kids, cause this crazy competitiveness makes the average teenager "not good enough".

I used to think that was frustrating and stupid... why does everything seem to be so much harder to succeed at now than I imagine it for previous generations? Why does the majority of my age group have to go back to live with their parents during at least one point in their supposed "adult" lives? There's some actual statistic I could cite, but you'll just have to take my word for it.

Now, I've changed my mind. I like that everything's so fucking hard... it means you had better damn well love what you do. I think it was tempting for earlier generations to get stuck in jobs they didn't really like, because landing and keeping those jobs was easier than having to put the immense energy required to carve out their own paths. Now, it seems to me that going one's own way hasn't really gotten much harder, but there are fewer and fewer easy default paths. At least with Southern California costs of living, just hoping for "whatever" in terms of work won't pay rent. Anything is going to take ridiculous amounts of energy. So, its like the forces-that-be have sweetened the "be true to ourselves" pot, by removing some of the allure of living by default. We're left to make the choice.

So I'm taking one of my favorite sage's teachings, and above all, having fun. I might go work my ass off to get a waitress job, and stay there as long as its fun. I will most definitely slave away creating my marketing machine for my business, because working with my clients just feels damn good inside. I'll put the energy out... cause damn it, it's becoming clear I'm going to have to. But I'm only going to give it to what makes my life joyful.

Think it'll work?

(next time on Going From Broke... does it really have to be hard?)

Stills from an Inspirrupted Cerebellum

With the first post out of the way, and the pressure to make some grand entrance off my back, I thought I'd explore a little what this blog is all about.

I love people who write themed blogs, like my classmate and a wonderful Life Mastery Coach, Rob Gruber, or eco-chic MacGuyver Danny Seo. But I suspect my consciousness will take a more random-spewing approach.

I'll probably get caught in Danny's thematic momentum, and do some chronological narratives of the past. I'm planning to borrow a page from Ryanne, and spread the love in a series of appreciations for the kickass people in my life. I suspect I'll share some vegetarian/vegan cooking discoveries, and probably a martial arts training and stunt story or two. (Working Desperate Housewives next week, so watch for tales...) Of course, with Spiritual Psychology coursework providing an undercurrent for much of my thought, I'll probably have a lot of philisophical musing, perhaps ala some of Josh's posts. I'm certain to lapse into discussion of ways to facilitate growth, as I build my Integrative Personal Training/ Mind-Body Coaching practice.

Will there be a uniting theme? A character arc? Will an autobiographical image develop enough to build suspense in the audience when there's a hit on my life in act II? I don't know. I'll launch this blog, with the biggest life lesson I'm finding now: freedom for joy and accomplishment rests largely on letting go of attachment to outcomes. Know what I mean? Like the cliche'd story of finding love as soon as someone discovers they're happiest single, or... well, you tell me. What outcomes have you let go of lately?

Hello World!

That is all.



...for now.