What happens when you bake an iPod for for 12 mins at 350 degrees.
A word to the wise: If you write a gooey blog post about how you love people, and not money, and how you are so so good at not spending any money, you will throw your water bottle in your bag with the cap partially unscrewed and destroy your books, notes books, New Yorker and Ipod. Now, I know you can read the New Yorker online. But since I’m trying to make a statement by having the damn print version in the first place, you can understand how frustrating it is to lose it in a flood. But more importantly, my beloved red Nano drowned.
For several hours today, I really thought that I was being punished for my public display of thriftiness. But before I discounted my dewy new-found love of humanity completely, a figure from the past, my Special Advisor of Music, (SAM) reappeared. Many moons ago, SAM was integral in the creation of a feature callled 5 Great Jazz Trumpet Solos. He stoked my interest in Jazz, opening a door to whole new genre. But before he could do that, I had to throw a major hissy fit to my editor, roommates, desk toys, etc, about how I didn’t know enough about Jazz to do the feature. I didn’t even like Jazz. Basically, he caught me in the midst of a JazzFAIL.
Today, it was an ipodFAIL, but either way, he completely fufilled his role as Special Advisor of Music to a) restore my faith in humanity and b) make sure that there was music in my life. He offered to send me his old iPod as a Karmic gift. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t learned the art of patience.
Despite knowing that there was a possibility my iPod might dry out on its own, I decided to listen to a (not-quite-certain) co-worker’s advice and bake it. Yes. I put my iPod on a plate and baked it. As you can see above, it was a highly unsucessful endeavor.
Just as I had reprimanded myself for throwing an open water bottle into my bag, I now berated myself for taking someone’s advice without doing research. (Research? Oh, yeah, that thing I do for a living.) So I flipped out, something I do extra-curricularly.
Unfortunately, the problem seemed to be that I don’t cook. My Good Friend explained, “when she said ‘warming temperature’ she didn’t mean 350 degrees.” Unfortunately, having never used an oven for anything other than a few batches of cookies in college, I had no idea that 350 degrees was “hot.”
Sounds like a lifeFAIL to me! Incidentally, lifeFAIL was something I had been thinking about earlier as I struggled to get through a short, beginner yoga class at Crunch. Somewhere in the middle of class, I came to the happy realization that everything I’d worked so hard towards, in the physical sense, was gone. Two months ago I was in an immersion, and today, I was immersed in discomfort, weakness and disorientation. (Read: YogaFAIL!) Luckily, the great thing about yoga is that sometimes, even after your body fails you, your mind can still make the shape of a “practice.”
I realized that while building, growing and developing are obviously desirable, in the event that you simply have to throw in your cards and start a new hand, you should still try to do it in a way that allows you to open to grace. (first principle of anusara.) There are many wonderful, exhilarating essential things about being a beginner. (Remember how much fun it was to put the first album on your brand new iPod?)
Plus, what we tend forget is that if we do have some kind of major FAIL that lands us back where we started, there were a few loose stones in our yellow brick road. Feeling like you’ve lost a lot of hard work (and/or several songs you stole off your ex-boyfriend’s roommates computer) completely stinks. But it’s also a chance to do it better, and it probably the result of some major operating flaws.
For example, today in Yoga, I had to cope with the fact I was nowhere near the best in the room, a preoccupation that has always unhealthily dominated my practice. Instead, I was left with no choice but to stay on my own mat and try to just be a good beginner. And that was both more difficult, and more fun, than the uncomplicated drive for Awesomeness.
I really hope that I can take that wisdom and bring it to some cooking classes. Seriously, what’s a ‘warming temperature’?