I'm Totally Scared- First Descents For A Second Time

I did a stupid thing. I sat up on top of the Cliff Lodge and pretended it was like I was back in high school where I could stretch out on a lounge chair, flip through a Cosmo and soak up the sun. Less than an hour later my upper thighs are on fire. Even my chest got fried despite the SPF 50 I slapped on. I needed this morning of chill. I blew up at Ryan, and Sage was hitting the back of my leg in response to the anger. I snapped her up and forcefully plopped her on my bed, making her cry. All hell was swirling. I feel like I can't get in front of the 8 ball. Ever since Punta Cana I've been playing catch up without success. Looking ahead 10 days I'll be back home and can breathe again. I will do nothing but hunt for a new laptop, write and climb. Maybe kayak too. I don't see me pulling a C to C on account of the ATV crushing my ribs but at least I can paddle.
I wonder if I'm doing the right thing going on another First Descents trip; not because I'm taking advantage of the offering- an all-expense paid whitewater kayak adventure on the Flathead River in Glacier National Forest- but because I may not be welcome. That 'chat' I had with Whitney (one of the FD organizers) questioning whether FD was the right place for me really rattled my ego. Like a breakup from a guy when I thought things were going well, I thought, "Huh?" I wouldn't have signed up for a second camp if I didn't get something out of the camp last year. It was my feedback. It's got to be. Perhaps they're used to only hearing raves. Who would say anything negative when they get it for free? But I was critical- like I always am- not in a bad way or so I thought- but I offered up some constructive feedback that a company looking to forever improve should want to hear. I'm guessing they took it as me attacking their program; which I wasn't. I explained that of course I had an amazing time why else would I want to attend again? My sole gripe was that I felt forced to bond and share emotions. I just wanted to meet new friends (who have something in common) and learn to kayak. I wasn't looking for therapy.
This is the first year in 11 that FD will host camps for 2^nd timers. The first year- just get them down the river. Young cancer survivors testing their determination and living in the moment instead of dwelling on cancer. Many were introduced to something they never in their life thought they would be doing. Now, the second year- turn them into kayakers. The staff is excited about the new offering and so am I. To start up where I left off. Physically, not emotionally. To hone in more time on the river. But I may be entering hostile waters…and Konvict is our leader again. History. It may not be a good thing in this case. It was his job last year to force bonds and make us all share with those nightly campfire chats and I'm pretty sure he told Whitney that I often checked out. She called and we talked. She said that maybe this time around I should tell everyone that I'm an introvert when it comes to sharing emotions so no one takes it personally. I'm more nervous about the group stuff than I am about the paddling. Gulp.

Welcome To First Descents or My Week At Summer Camp

So this part sucks. I can’t find a pen and have to type! 4 women in a tiny cabin, no bath, all with varying thermal temps and everyone but me trying to sleep. I want to write. Damn! Where’s that pen?
The light tapping of keys sounds more like footsteps in this dark silence. I’m exhausted yet inspired to write. I came on FD so I could have just one time in my life where a trip was for me- not work, not family- and just languish in it. But then there’s the part of me that can’t help but document this experience. I’ll say it’s for Sage. So one day she’ll understand why I left her alone with Daddy for a week while I went whitewater kayaking in Montana.

A year ago today, I was sitting on the roof of Ryan’s car, watching the Park City fireworks and wondering what having cancer means to me. At that time I had no idea what stage I was, what my treatment would be, whether I would see my daughter grow up. I was numb. I watched the lights in the sky and blanked out. I told myself not to think about it because there was nothing I could do over the holiday. On July 5, however, the wheels burned rubber. Like a leopard focused on his prey, I pounced on this cancer thing. I stopped contemplating a future (or better stressing about one) to deal with the here and now. The summer swirled down the drain- flushed like bad poopy as Sage would say.

One year later, I’m here, I’m strong, I’m ‘surviving’ and I’m about to punish myself in freezing waters for five straight days in the woods. First Descents out of Boulder, Colo., is a non-profit org that puts on something like 15 adventure camps a year for cancer survivors. Idaho, Jackson, Washington, Colorado, Montana, Utah. Rugged places if you’re up for a challenge.

My only luxury is Internet. We have to walk 5 minutes to the showers and toilets. There’s no running water nearby and no TV. It reminds me of my eight grade retreat to Yosemite.

Just yesterday I was bombarded by high-tech gadgetry. I had an MRI yesterday. The experience sucked. That’s about right. Took two nurses, several shrieks and three tries to get the IV in. An hour and 40 minutes later, both boobs were scanned and I was dressed and out the revolving door. I won’t have the results until Tuesday or Wednesday; I see my doctor a week after that. Will I be back at square one, don’t pass GO, Don’t collect $200 or will I be able to relax and feel like I’ve poked my head out of the woods? In other words, will I have to repeat last summer or not?

In a way, this trip is my last week before the news. Like a deathrow inmate getting his last meal….Or it’s a celebration of the new – I can’t say ‘me’ because I’m the same me only a little less cocky and a lot less immortal- so I’ll say it will be my homecoming. My new year; my Cancerversary. Please let it be this and not the former! All of us here – at this First Descents Camp – have some form of cancer. No one talks about cancer here. Not yet anyway. Not on our first day. Maybe we never will. This is emotional therapy by way of the physical. We get to kick our butts on the river, feel strong and come home with skills. We don’t need to deal with cancer this week. We have better things to do.

One year ago today, I wondered how my life would look. Today, I’m still wondering. Tomorrow, however, I’ll be stuffed into a plastic torpedo, forced to roll it over and swim in water only penguins appreciate. I won’t have time to think about the good or the bad of my test results. I’ll only have time to “be”.

You don’t get those kinds of opportunities that often, Sage. So I’ll understand if you choose to do something completely selfish and extreme when you’re older. Leave me alone for a week with your Daddy and do everything you can to squeeze life by the balls and make it scream in your face. You scream back, dammit! And for just that moment feel like you can control your fate.

What Should I Do?

Ok, so maybe I'm the biggest bitch on wheels but I can't stand the fact that Ryan can't think or act for himself. It's like he assumes I've replaced his mommy but I'm not his mother and never will be. I don't exist for him; I don't exist to coddle him and make life easy for him. If I wasn't around, sure, he would find a way to handle trials on his own but because I am around and I'm good at navigating life, he sits back and lets me drive. I DON'T WANT TO DRIVE when he can. And, in this case, he can!

His car broke down tonight and he had it towed to a shop that told him it might be fixed tomorrow afternoon. So he spends all night playing hockey and drinking beer with buddies instead of finding a way to get to work in the morning. Why? Because he expects to take my new car and leave me at home all day. Sometimes I never leave the house so I wouldn't miss my car - but that's by choice. The fact that he had plenty of time to contact a co-worker who lives right around the corner from us and who could have given him a ride, leaves me livid. All because he doesn't want to get his ass out of bed a half-hour earlier in the morning?! If I was in the same sitch I would do whatever was easiest for everyone. I would, in fact, get up and catch a ride.
Of course, those who know me are saying, "Riiiight, Jill does what is easiest on her." Yes, to an extent that's true. But I also figure out a way to deal with a situation that makes the most sense for everyone. For example, I don't ask random people for a ride to the airport. I ask around to see if someone is already heading in that direction. If I couldn't get him to the airport, Ryan would park his car at the ParknJet even if it meant paying for a week there before he would try to find a ride. Instead of borrowing Ryan's car all the time while mine was getting fixed, I rented from Enterprise and they picked me up. If I'm hungry, I make myself something to eat. If Ryan's hungry, he'll order delivery or drive somewhere and buy himself dinner before he'd make even a sandwich or can of soup. He's wired to expect me (or women in general) to take care of him.

It would have been easier for Ryan to simply get a ride from someone who is already going in to his office but he's being selfish and expects me to enable his laziness. He'd rather assume I'll come to his rescue than for him to go out of his way and make some phone calls.
This is the same sh*t he did when he got his DUI and lost his license FOR THREE YEARS. He expected me to chauffeur him around instead of trying to catch rides from those heading in the same direction. In fact, there were more than a few times when I called MY friends and asked them to give him a ride because he "didn't want to impose on anyone." But it's ok to impose on me? Why is it that being a girlfriend means getting the raw end of the deal? Is it too much to ask to be treated the way he might treat a friend? With concern over imposing? Granted, the definition of "relationship" is 'never feeling like you're imposing' but that attitude truly sucks.

Would Ryan do the same for me?
The answer's yes. If I needed his car- for whatever reason- he would have me drive him to work (at 5:30 a.m.), drop him off and take his car. He wouldn't think twice about it. Wait a minute! Would he call and get a ride in to work and leave his car for me? Uh Uh. So I guess we can't say he'd do the same for me. Anyway, back to the analogy- he lends me his car when I won't lend mine. If it were that simple (and it NEVER is), of course he could take my car and I stay home for a day. The point I'm trying to make is that it's not about the car. It's about his unwillingness to use anyone but me. If he had made even a little effort to find a ride, I would have been willing to help. But no, he goes out and f*7ks around all night then comes home and asks for my car keys.
I've never been much of a sharer so you can't take my stuff without my permission and assume it's cool and you can't guilt me into giving it over. (Which he is now relentlessly doing.) I have to want to share.

He wants - and expects - me to carry his ass and it drives me nuts. Why are the men I date so unresourceful and ineffective?? I guarantee you that he plans to call in sick tomorrow rather than get up early and call his friend for a ride; just to try to make me out as the bad guy and subsequently blame me for the reason he lost a sick day. After six years, I know that program.

5 minutes later:

Looks like I was right (of course). He just walked into my office to announce he's "going to be hanging out" with me tomorrow. He's calling in sick.
What do I do, people? Let him lose the day and forever be the crappy girlfriend? Or give in and enable him to pull this act yet again?

Sundance. Bring it!

Mary and Max

Live in Livs

I headed to the New Frontier on Main at noon today with the promise of a 'luncheon' and a ticket to the Fest's Opening Press Conference. We journalists love our free food and the promise of easy entry into the party. The lunch consisted of sandwiches slathered with dressing so I opted for a tiny cup of squash soup and half a brownie- enough to take the edge off while I canvassed the underground venue at the top of Main Street. The space under the Main Street Mall has been transformed into an underground techno nightclub looking place with performance-art-meets-the-web exhibits. It's free and open to the public so you should definitely stop in. There were journalists from every corner of the world sneaking bites in between note-taking. You could feel the buzz as we anticipated the Fest's kick off. How eventful will the next 10 days be? Will the celebs come? Will no-name films sell for millions? Who will create the wake Paris Hilton used to at the parties? Will there be big parties during this celebration of American independent film?

Most of them were friendly; a little reserved, maybe, but willing to mingle after a bit. As I scooped ice into a glass, I turned to see Sean Means, a local film critic from the Salt Lake Tribune. He gave me a quick nod before gazing down to my pass. Guess his Express Pass trumps my General Press Pass and he quickly backed away, afraid he might catch what I have. It's funny how some press actually think theyre more important than the subjects they cover. Or maybe I intimidate him. Yeah. That's it. But I'm not the one who stands up in front of a crowded theater and yells for everyone to use library voices because "some of us have to work here." We're all just doing our jobs and I'm sorry, reviewing films is not the same as solving the world's economic crisis or inventing the next Facebook. It's simply a fun, cool way to make a living.

Whoa Is Parking

15 minutes until the Opening Conference across the street at the Egyptian. The clock was ticking. I had hustled up to Main thinking to grab a vacant spot on the street when I saw the no parking signs everywhere. Both sides of Main are loading only and lower Main is pedestrian only. Sure, you can park in a lot on Swede Alley -if you can find a spot and are willing to pay $20. Luckily, the Wasatch Brew Pub lot was still the normal $1/hr today (Thursday) so I slimed in. Tomorrow, when the Fest hits third gear, it'll be a different story. You probably shouldn't try to get creative this year with your parking. The City needs revenue so they'll be out for parking ticket and towing blood. Best bets are to park in the City Park or ski resort lots and ride the bus to Main. Hitching is also an option, and you get to meet some pretty cool people along the way. If you're coming up from Salt Lake, don't even bother treading past Redstone. Park in the Park n' Ride near the Olympic Park and catch the free Express Bus.Today's calm makes you wonder whether turmoil will ensue or we're over-estimating the sitch. What I mean is, maybe it won't be crowded this year. Maybe the economy, Prop. 8, the brilliant sunshine baking what little snow we have will keep the east and west coast hoards at bay. Someone asked Robert Redford at the conference about the economic climate and its effect on Sundance. "Art will always find a way," he said prophetically. Geoffrey Gilmore, the event's director said that ticket sales were ahead by substantial numbers and that they were pleased with the sponsor dollars they've received. "We're weathering the crisis," he added. The times certainly didn't stymie filmmakers. A total of 118 features (chosen from 3,661 submissions) will screen over the next 10 days.

Sundance's "Housing" Market
Rumors, on the other hand, speak to a lower volume of film sales in 2009. Variety Magazine predicts that film acquisitions will fall below last year's $15 million mark and that was significantly lower than the $45 million spent on independent films at the 2007 festival. Walking Main Street today, there also looks to be quieter times for what Sundance organizers call 'ambush marketers '. "In recent years, Sundance Film Festival has been overwhelmed by organizations without an official relationship to us who target festival attendees with their swag houses, lounges and nightclubs," said Sarah Pearce, Director of Festival Operations, Sundance Film Festival. Sundance nabbed a prime location once called The Village at the Lift on Lower Main Street and turned it into "The Sundance Lift". The area will provide space for press junkets and filmmaker events, free from gifting suites and other non-film-related activity. "Our hope is that it will send a message to those hangers-on who do not support the Festival," said Pearce. With VAL gone, that leaves The Village at the Yard (Anderson Lumber's space on Kearns Blvd.), the Style Lounge, The Hollywood Life House, Moving Pictures Magazine Media Lounge, House of Hype, Sephora Lounge, Gibson Lounge, and the Rock Band Lounge. About half the players of last year.

But those gifting suites are so cool! How else would I stay 'up' on the latest rocker fashions and hip gear? Certainly not by living in Park City where 'dressy' means 'no jeans.' Those suites happen all the time at Hollywood events like the Golden Globes and Academy Awards; even at the Superbowl and the X Games. I understand that Sundance is meant to be free of issues like the bottomline but those of us fashion don'ts like to see what walks our streets of Utah in January. I poked my head into the House of Hype today on an invite to visit their sponsors. Livs (livs.biz), the original crochet boot that UGG apparently blatantly copied, was in full gifting mode and I picked up a pair of cute and extremely comfortable pink boots with buttons down the middle. Even with the 'venting', my feet stayed warm and dry outdoors. I kind of felt like I was cheating though by wearing slippers as shoes- that's how cush they feel. I met with members of the Philadelphia Film Commission in the back room. About six films at the Fest were shot in Philly, they figured this would be a good year to draw more attention to their location. True Philly cheese steak sandwiches will be flown in for VIPs Friday- Sunday. Downstairs, I checked out WiiMusic, Wii's version of Rock Band without the instruments but with the hand controllers, and was handed a hat designed by a woman with a boutique company called Contraband (mycontraband.com). She had been to Sundance as a guest before and decided to make hats and tanktops for the rocker market. Upstairs, I snagged a seated massage and had the girl work in some Nivea lotion. Our dry air brutalizes my hands. Nivea and its brother Aquaphor are in the House showcasing their products; perfect for our climate. One, a new body firming gel called Silhouette, I can't wait to try.I thanked everyone for their hospitality, grabbed a cup of Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf coffee imported from L.A. and headed over to the Yarrow for the opening night film. Mary and Max was a somewhat warped, funny and sad tale of a 44-year-old, obese New York Jew with Aspberger's Syndrome who befriends an 8-year-old penpal in Australia. Done entirely in claymation animation, this is no Disney film. Not even close. Mimes die from falling air conditioners, gold fish get toasted in a toaster, moms drink embalming fluid and Max farts. Still, the message of friendship and acceptance in a bleak judgmental world will touch many hearts and the painstaking craft of animating this 92-minute feature won't fail to astound audiences.

It's late and I'm back at it again tomorrow. Did I mention that I saw the members of Hoobastank as I left the House of Hype? Bet they're playing in town somewhere this week. Later!