Pimps and Hos

On Friday, one of the other houses at the music festival threw a party with a costume requirement. For admission, everyone was required to dress up as a pimp or a ho...

Normally, in my real life, if something like this was going on, I simply wouldn't attend the party...and I'd sit at home and watch a movie and be perfectly content. But here, there isn't much choice. There are only 25 people, so if anyone doesn't show, it's not much of a party and everyone thinks you're the loser who didn't attend. Plus, I'm one of two people who have a car in my house, so I'm needed to drive most of the time.

But I didn't want to drive this time, so I made a friend from another house come to pick us up...and then I proceeded to be a stick in the mud at the party and not drink anything besides a solitary jello shot which did nothing besides make my stomach burn.

Jello shots, guys...it's like a return to being 18. And it actually is, because a lot of these people are younger than me...or they just aren't lame old souls like me anyhow. Even when I was 18, I felt like I was 40. So now, amidst all these actual 19-25 year olds, I feel like a senior citizen.

In any case, getting dressed up was actually fun. I tried, and realized that JCrew and Banana Republic had simultaneously puked all over my closet and I was completely unable to use anything I own to attempt to be a ho. Khaki pants and a matching tank top just don't cut it, no matter how hard you try.

I guess this could be considered a good thing, but in the context of the night, I just felt pretty damn lame.

After finally coming up with something that I thought worked, I walked downstairs and tried to pass the boys' inspection.

'Umm...if you wore that on a normal day I wouldn't think anything of it.'

I guess I didn't do as well as I thought.

And so my girl roommates helped me and lent me clothes and I ended up with something that worked. I should get some of the pictures off of other people's cameras...they're pretty funny. SHORT skirt and a naked shirt, high heels, and hair blow dried bigger than Paula Abdul's in the 80's. It was awesome.

The party wasn't really fun at all, so I only stayed for a little over an hour...but the experience of acting my age and getting dressed up was pretty great.

50 Miles!

I know it's not a big deal to most of you out there, but until yesterday, 36 miles was still the most I've biked since IM last year.

And so yesterday morning, I woke up with a mission. I was going to ride at least 40 miles, and hopefully closer to 60. And so I ate breakfast, suited up, and got on the road before I had a chance to negotiate myself out of it.

I rode 25 miles out and ended up near Rutland, in a little community where everyone in town was having a yard sale. And so I walked to a few houses with my bike and looked around and drank my Accelerade and enjoyed the absolutely gorgeous day before heading back.

I didn't bring enough food, so miles 42-50 were really freaking painful. I was turning my legs, but I wasn't really going anywhere. I forgot that you need more than a banana when you ride 50 miles. But, I still averaged 16 mph and I still finished feeling triumphant.

When I got back, my roommates were lying on the grass in front of the house, and so after inhaling the majority of a pint of Ben and Jerry's, I [easily] convinced them to come with me to a nearby lake. So, we drove up the mountain, I did a quick .5m run-off, and then swam about a mile.

It was the best day I've had a long time, both triathlon-wise and otherwise. I love feeling tired physically but not mentally. I practiced a little when we got back from the pond and my brain felt settled and I could just play (even though I dropped my flute on Thursday and the poor thing is in desperate need of repair, but that's another story).

There was a barbecue arranged for us in the evening, and I just sat and ate way too much without ever getting full and enjoyed the people around me. It was a perfect evening completed by a beautiful sunset and peach cobbler with homemade whipped cream for dessert.

I came back from the dinner and collapsed on the couch, listened to music with my roommates, and just relaxed.

I feel like me again, and I love it.

Remember my friend, the Beat Box Flute Player?

Now he's in the New York Times...

A Flute With a Beat, and You Might Dance to It

By DAVID K. RANDALL

Published: May 22, 2007

Classically trained floutist Greg Pattillo can beat box as he plays his instrument, a technique he hopes will make the flute cool again.

Competition

This time I'm not going to go into one of my tangental, neurotic rants about the music world or the triathlon world or even the world in general.

Nope, instead I'm directing you to a competition. Give your best tips on the 4th sport of triathlon--the transition, and you can win some awesome prizes from Nuun--a years supply and more...worth the point, click, and type, don't you think?

And oh yeah, I'm a judge, so it better be good!

PRs

Earlier today as I was scanning through my blog (admit it, you look at your own blog too...), I looked at the races I've done this year.

And I realized that I haven't met any of my time goals for the year. I've still finished every race, and I have made certain improvements with a few PRs, but overall, I just haven't raced the way I thought I would.

Now, that means that I'm either picking goals that aren't realistic, or that I'm not training hard enough. One mediocre race is understandable, even expected...but a whole year of them? That's not really a coincidence.

But of course, nothing is black and white, and so it's most likely a combination of the two reasons. Some of my goals have been unreasonable (but I should have been able to finish a marathon in under 4:00), but others I just didn't work hard enough towards.

And that's a little scary for me because it's not who I am. I work really hard, and I do what I set out to do.

And so where is that resolve these days? Part of it has to do with the upheaval of moving and getting adjusted. But, that was a year ago now and it can no longer be an excuse.

I think that more of it is that I don't have regular people to train with...or people that I'm excited to train with. In Cleveland, I couldn't wait to get up and ride my bike or go for a run because most of my best friends would be there...

I know that there is a big portion of triathlon training that has to be by yourself, and I actually really enjoy that. I enjoy the solitude, the independence, and I enjoy the feeling of self-satisfaction when you finish a long run or ride or even swim by yourself.

But I guess I like the balance of sometimes having someone else to help me get out of bed for an 8am Sunday race. It's all too easy to turn off the alarm and tell yourself you'll go for a regular run later in the day...[afterall, you'll save yourself the race fee and the world some car pollution...]

And of course that rationalization can be dangerous as it starts to assume no limits and before you know it you're putting off workouts from day to day...and then to the next week, and then they disappear altogether. It's all too easy to take a nap on a rainy day instead of getting your butt to the pool.

And so who cares, right? It's not like I'm training for the Olympics; it's just little goals for a race, and I'm still out there, and that's enough.

Except that it's not. And if I want to finish that IronMan next year, I'm going to have to figure out how to do better. I'm going to have to be more motivated myself, and I'm going to have to train with people.

I don't mean to insult my NJ tri/running friends out there. You're all great, but somehow the connection has been low when it comes to training, and perhaps better on the computer? And I'm taking pretty much 100% of the responsibility because I've been pretty stubborn about adjusting to the New Jersey tri-scene.

So, my computer battery is dying and I have to get to rehearsal, but here's the deal...keep me accountable, okay? I'll do what I'm supposed to do, but if I start playing the bum-in-bed game, call me on it. I might be grumpy and defensive and pissed, but I'll appreciate it come June 22, 2008.

In general,

Last night was the second concert of the festival, which means I'm a third of the way through my time here.

I played really well at the concert, but more than that, I felt like I was immersed in the music; I was making music instead of just playing the flute. I haven't felt like that in a while, so it was definitely a refreshing performance experience. And the really rewarding part is that it made a difference to the audience--I got comments about how moving the pieces were. Of course it's not all because of me; it's amazing how much the groups matured in the past two weeks of playing together. I'm excited to hear what we'll sound like at the end of six...

In tri-related news, I ran 10 miles yesterday and felt great. I haven't ran that far or long in a while, so that was definitely a confidence booster. My swimming is feeling fine (although I keep getting kicked out of the pool because of thunder; today I'm determined to complete my entire 3000 yard workout), and my biking of course just needs more volume. Tomorrow will be a 30 mile bike ride, with a 50-60mile ride on the weekend. I just have to change the stupid flat tire again...

As I was heading out the door to the concert last night, I fell flat on my face, twisting my right ankle yet again. It's all swollen and angry and so I think I need to chill on the running for a couple days. Biking and swimming should be okay. If not, I'll just have to chop the damn thing off because I'm too annoyed to deal with it. Then I'll get the disabled athletes sympathy, so it wouldn't be all bad, right? And yes, I'm going straight to hell with that last sentence.

But aside from my destination of eternal misery in Dante's circles, things are going well. I'm feeling better about the Half IM in August, and my flute playing is starting to come together too. My family is starting to arrive in Vermont next weekend, so I'll get to go up to the cabin more, and they'll be able to come down to my performances.

And I've made some good friends here, which is a nice, unexpected surprise. Hopefully they'll be the kind that keeps in touch, because they live mostly in the Northeast; it would be fun to have more friendly musician contacts in the area.

And so if someone could just fix my love life I'd be all set. In time, people keep telling me...but what if that isn't the case? What if I'm destined to be lonely forever? Sometimes things don't work out, and that's the possibility that scares me.

But for now, I'm just not going to think about that and I'll plod along as planned; there aren't any quick or not-quick wait and be happy with yourself fixes...yes, we should all be happy with and by ourselves, but that is absolutely no guarantee, and you know what? I really feel like I have reached that point.

So meanwhile, I'll read Cosmo, keep a generally good attitude, and try to keep myself out of trouble...emotionally, physically, and mentally. I guess that's about all I can do, right? And oh yeah, I'll try to stop obsessing about all that is wrong with me. That would probably help too...

And god, I want to apologize to all of you out there because I'm impossibly behind on reading posts and responding to emails--the lack of easy internet access makes me crazy, but in exchange I'm living in the mountains. So, take what you can get right? I promise to catch up little by little...hope all is well...

Chasing the Impossible

For me, it seems like chemistry only exists with the wrong people. Undeniable, animalistic, chemistry with every single guy who is completely wrong for me. Wrong for me because the timing is off and they're dating someone else--and I refuse to be a homewrecker--or else simply because we're in different places in our lives.

Ashamedly, there are too many people who could be reading this that probably think I'm writing about them. But, the truth is that I'm really not thinking of any one person in particular.

It's more that I'm admitting I go for the wrong guys. I go for the ones that are unavailable because I'm afraid of out-right rejection, and I go for the ones that are in a different place in their life because it's an easy out. And worst of all, I go for the ones that will never result in a happy, easy relationship because deep down, I thrive off of the drama.

And all of this disgusts me. I really do want to be settle down with someone eventually, but how is that to happen if I never even let myself be interested in the right type of person?

I realized this a couple nights ago after getting yet another drunken back-rub from some guy here at the festival who of course has a girlfriend 'back at home'. It's not his fault, it's not my fault, but why do I repeatedly find myself in that type of situation? There has to be a reason for that...

And so even though all people do at music festivals is practice and drink, I'm swearing off alcohol for the time being...of course not just for the sake of finding a decent guy, but more so that I have a chance in hell of keeping my boundaries firm and not waking up being pissed at myself and the world. Mind you, I seldom let things go any further than an 'innocent' back-rub, but it still isn't right, and it's not ever going to end up with any kind of happy result.

I don't know if it's a good or bad thing to put stuff like this out into the world, but I guess I am because I really do want the feedback this time around. There must be other people who have a similar problem, and perhaps they have some advice that will hit the right button and I'll be cured.

It's probably partially a self confidence thing, but nowadays I actually don't feel like I'm especially lacking in that department.

It's interesting that we really have no idea what other people feel and see, so all we can rely on is our own perspective...and that's obviously quite biased and skewed. How do we really, truly relate to someone else? It's hard; I wish I were better at it.
Maybe I'm too egocentric, maybe I'm just immature...but what's that saying? 'Knowing is half the battle', right? So maybe I'm a glass-half-full away from self-enlightenment and a happily-ever-after story.

But yes, I know there is no triumphant finale, and more than that, I know 'the end' doesn't exist. And so once again, I'll just try to keep my eyes wide open and see through the fog of being in my 20s.

into the sky

Fitting In

Another thing happened on the last day of work, something that ultimately ended up okay, but that consumed much of my worry-power for the majority of the last week.

See, a couple of weeks ago, the father of one of my good-friends-from-growing-up came into the restaurant and sat with the table of 'regulars'--the people who get there before we open every single day and are oftentimes given the honor of unlocking the doors.

And so of course my friend's dad (meaning well), starts talking about me...how he knows me and how I'm getting my Doctorate in New Jersey, and how I'm a flute player. 'The 5th best flute player in the US', was how he put it, I believe. Us flute players aren't ranked, so that statistic is completely made up, but his intention was good: I'm more than a waitress at Piccadilly, and he wanted those regulars to know it.

But the outcome of his bragging was kind of disastrous for me. The consequence was that every single day, this group of elderly people would ask me to play for them. As I continued to refuse, I even got a lecture from one lady about how I 'have a gift from God, and it is my duty to share it.'

And the funny thing is that I have no problem playing for people. I love to perform. I admit it; I love the attention. But even more than that, I love being able to share something with other people. I love having the ability to portray something of myself to others. I hope I never take that for granted.

But, playing while I'm working at the Piccadilly Cafeteria is just inappropriate. There are many reasons why it's a bad idea, but the main one is that I had a hard enough time attempting to fit in with the other waitresses as it was. I know I've been brought up in a different way; I've had different experiences and different advantages and disadvantages. But, while we're working...we're all the same. I do the same job of cleaning up other peoples' food and sweeping up the broccoli from the floor. I don't get better tips because I'm white and am only working there temporarily. There (and maybe only there) we're equals.

And so the thought of my having to bring my flute in and play Classical music just made my stomach turn. And it really wasn't because I was above playing while people are eating or anything like that; I've played in much worse scenarios, and I know perfectly well that musicians are oftentimes simply the hired help.

So it wasn't me being snobby; it was the exact opposite: I didn't want any special treatment. I'm sure those other girls have talents and things they could share, but they weren't asked, and so there is no reason why I should be. I might be more than a Piccadilly employee, but so is everyone else who works there.

But, the regulars didn't relent, and they finally asked the manager to make me play, and then when he did, I didn't have much of a choice. I could 'forget' my flute, but that's just lame.

And so I played. It was fine. It was 5 minutes; everyone liked it, and then I went back to my job. The other girls were impressed and gave me high-fives and even danced to the CPE Bach Sonata I played. I loved it.

And so maybe I underestimated them; maybe by trying not to be different, I was being even more of an elitist than by simply being who I am. Yes, we all had the same job, and yes, we were equals there...but the truth is that we are different from each other in real life, and who am I to pretend to hide that? Those girls have their own lives that they're happy with, and I was pretty presumptuous to think they would be intimidated by a silly white girl with a flute who might just be a career student. Hell, they probably think they have it made in comparison.

It was a great thing to learn; it made me one step closer to understanding the world we live in, and how to find my place in it. The most important thing? Not denying who you are and what you can do, no matter what the circumstance. Fitting in when you're pretending to be someone else just doesn't work.

And when you think about it, it's pretty damn cool.

One day it'll all be about the bike.

On Sunday, I went out for a 40 mile bike ride with Phil, who had come up to visit me for the weekend. He's gotten increasingly involved in both biking and running, which has been totally awesome--it's great to be able to go out for an afternoon ride or run with him.

Anyway, to make a long story short(er), the big event of the ride was that I got my first flat tire.

And I was pathetic. Sitting on the side of the road, staring at the wheel, pathetic. Phil helped a little, but the tire was so damn tight around the rim that together we were only slightly above pathetic.

Then some biker-dude came along and saved the day. He cursed at the thing too, so it wasn't just me being helpless, but I still felt pretty silly sitting there with my Zipp wheels, admitting I had never before used a CO2 cartridge.

And so then we go on our way, and ride most of the way back...but then 4 miles from the car, I heard that stupid sound of air leaving the tire again. Another freaking flat. I didn't have another spare, so I just gave up and sat by the side of the road while Phil finished the ride and then came back to get me.

I didn't mind sitting by the side of the road, but I was pissed my ride got cut short. Somehow 36 miles just sucks in comparison to 40.

But, it was still an absolutely gorgeous ride, with good company...plus, I learned a little about the bike. Like, how to change my tire. And, that if you sit by the side of a Vermont highway for a half an hour, 4 cars and 2 bikers will stop to ask if you're okay.

So, all in all, a good training day at the end of a good week. The biking is coming along, and it feels great. My new wheels are awesome; the faster you go, the more they help. Three rides last week in the Vermont hills and I actually had fun; I feel like a superstar.

24/7

Living with 5 other musicians is really freaking intense. It seems like everyone only feels validated as a musician if they're talking about music 24 hours a day. In my house, a conversation about what to have for dinner can easily be switched into a conversation about musical intent and the need for sublime music. Sometimes it makes me feel good, like I am actually doing something special, and that there are other people who are right there on the same wavelength.

And then other times, it's just too much. I want to shout 'IT'S JUST MUSIC. GET A GRIP AND TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE, ANYTHING ELSE, FOR JUST 5 STUPID MINUTES.'

But I don't. I just tune out, feeling frustrated, but also kind of down about myself...like I'm not a 'real' musician because I am interested in other things, because I want other things in my life to be more than a supporting role.

I've spent such a long time figuring out what's important to me and how to make music and triathlon and family and friends and relationships all form a functional balance...and so to have it shifted, to suddenly feel like maybe I'm not musically obsessed enough just makes me feel really insecure.

And that's frustrating because in every day life, I'm not insecure. I finally feel good about who I am and what I'm doing and what I think I will be doing...and so I'm working very hard at not having this 'music-24/7' atmosphere challenge that attitude. It's as though I'm back at a music conservatory again, and that's definitely the last place I want to be.

That's been the really great thing about being at Rutgers; that people there actually care about academia and acknowledge that even if you're not the best in the entire world, you can still legitimately call yourself a musician.

And so that's my new Number One goal of the summer--to not loose the sense of perspective that I've gained over this past year. Tonight is our first big performance of the summer; I'm appropriately excited for it; we'll have a good time and hopefully other people will enjoy it, but it's not life or death. It's music; it should be fun.

Religion is sexy.

When my sister's not-boyfriend came to visit, I realized something. I realized that very few people actually really, truly believe in something. For Ezra, his belief is in God, and Judaism. It is a pure, whole belief, and it is clear he isn't acting out of expectation or in order to prove anything. He honestly believes, and it makes him who he is.

And that belief makes him radiate like few other people I've met. Belief does something to a person. It makes you comfortable in your own skin, it makes you understand who you are.

I don't think the belief has to be a religious belief; I think that the important thing is to have something that makes you, you.

And so of course the next thing I thought about was my own beliefs. What is it that makes me radiate? What is it that makes me comfortable with who I am?

And the answer was obvious...kind of depressing, but also kind of inspiring.

Put simply, I don't know. Or better said, I don't know yet. I'm still figuring it out, which can be frustrating and scary and everything else bad in the world. But, it also means that there is more to look forward to. I don't have it all figured out. And really, I don't expect to have everything sewed up and put in a little box for quite a while.

And while I know that believing in something isn't the ultimate destination (there is plenty more to life after that), I do know that the road to that feeling of peace can't possibly be bad. I know what I'm looking for; I'm sure to find it if I just keep my eyes open.

And meanwhile, I know I can recognize the sincerity in other people, and that'll enable me to surround myself with the right people, and it'll lead me in the direction I want and need.

So whether this state of nirvana that I saw in Ezra will for me be accomplished through religion or music or writing or something altogether new, it's definitely something for which to strive.

Tips

This is why it's my favorite place in the world...

I'm ready.

Here's part of the new post I just put up at Zipp Cycling.

This season won't be any different than I previously planned. I still have a Half IronMan in August to prepare for, and I'm still going to ramp up from there to the 101 distance in November. Then, I'll give myself a little bit of recovery time before starting IronMan specific training at the beginning of the year.

As the fact that I signed up for another IronMan settles in, I'm getting more and more excited...and excited mainly about the training.

Transitions

I'm here in Southern Vermont, where I've been spending at least part of my summer every year since forever...

But this time I'm not living in my family's little cabin by myself or surrounded by millions of relatives. Instead, I'm living at the bottom of the mountain in a house that I have no connection to...and with musicians that I just met for the first time.

How many people can say they've been put in a situation where they're forced to live with 5 strangers for 6 weeks, with 2 bathrooms and 3 bedrooms. Yeah, I have to share a bedroom.

I'm not complaining. I'm getting paid to play, and being put up in a beautiful area of the country in a vacation home.

It's just an adjustment; I'll be in transition for a bit, and while I'm good at transitions in triathlons, in real life they're not quite my forte. I like to be comfortable; I like to be places. I enjoy seeing the new and learning, but I really dislike traveling, and the feeling of being unsettled. I've been cranky and out of sorts lately, and to any of you that I've taken that out on, I'm sorry. I didn't even really realize it until last night, but I've just been nervous about getting here; I had no idea what to expect, and the possibilities made me anxious. What if my housemates were nerds...how could I handle that?? (Yes, it's a joke. All musicians are complete dork-heads through and through...there's no avoiding it.)

Although we don't have video cameras and a whole world watching to keep us in check, it's all kind of 'Real World'-esque...we're just here, in this house, and we have rehearsals with each other and the people from the 3 other houses around town...and then we come back to the house. Even last night, on the first night here, we were all at a bit of a loss as to what, exactly, we should do with ourselves. Hopefully as we get to know each other better, we'll have an easier time with the entertainment aspect. There's no internet access in the house, which made all of us realize how addicted we are. It's not that big of a deal; I just have to head over to the bookstore in town, where they have free access, but there was definitely a feeling of desperation last night. I felt like the movie of my life suddenly paused and the chapter was called 'This is me, without internet.'

I was worried about the prison guard mentality; the emails I was sent made it seem like we would have chaperones and would be confined to staying in Manchester. I can't yet say for sure, but it seems like that won't be the case. I did sign saying I wouldn't leave without the 'express consent of the festival director', but how are they going to really know if I go on a 50 mile bike ride or drive and half hour up to my cabin for an afternoon or evening? I'll just do what I need to do and not ask questions. Don't ask, don't tell.

I'm not allowed to have visitors spend the night here, but the good news is that I do have access to that cabin up the mountain, and so the option of people coming is definitely still a possibility. And considering the living quarters here, I understand the no overnight guest rule...if they allowed it, everyone would invite their significant others or whoever else, and 6 people with one refrigerator is already quite enough without any additions.

Today my only obligation is an orientation meeting at 11. After that I plan on going for a long bike ride...during which I'm sure to curse my brains out because I'm living in the midst of the freaking mountains and there is no way to ride on level terrain. But, it'll be good for me, and even if I don't manage the distance I intend because of those freaking mountains (FMs, as they'll henceforth be named), it'll still definitely be beneficial. Hell, at this point, any ride would help.

It seems like we're going to have plenty of free time. My rehearsals are from 1-4 in the afternoons on the weekdays, and then sometimes there are evening commitments, but other than that we're basically free. There is, of course, the mandatory practicing for the performances (which are at Monday at 7:30) and for life, but even with a 3-4 hour practice routine (plus 3 hours of rehearsals=more than enough playing) I really should be able to have plenty of time to train and read and write and do everything else that makes me sane.

There is definitely the possibility that it'll all spin out of control as 'education week' (when we help 75 kids learn the rudiments of basic instruments and general music) gets going and perhaps I'll be way busier than I think.

Then I might cry and curl up in a ball and die...but I also might just handle it and wake up early to practice and train and enjoy the fact that I am here in Vermont, my favorite place in the world.