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Really? You don't look 25

by Kristin Collins

Saturday I woke up by the gentle sunlight that drew me from an interesting night sleep.  I've been gushing sweat puddles every night, and May 12th was yet another action packed night alone in my bed.  A while ago, I realised that I was exercising in my sleep- not up on two feet, but laying down.  I dont think that I exercise all the time, but I woke up, in tree pose that night.  My balance was phenomenal. I  think my daily sweat pour is caused by some extra special convulsions that I haven't figured out yet, but sometimes they are so intense that I wake up to go to the bathroom, stare at my reflection and notice that whatever I am sleeping in is dark, saturated in sweat, and my hair is matted with moisture.
On the 12th I went to bed after realising I was way too tired to finish the turquoise unitard that I had started to make.   With my living room coated in an array of underpants, fabric remnants, and tangled webs of black thread, my shoulders curled downward and I sloped away to dreamland adventure.  The first was about an affair with my lover's younger brother in NY.  The second, involved my great grandmother and my grandmother.  Aligned on a slice of wood about the width of a diving board and the length of three of us, we layed still, together, until my grandmother noticed the increasing vibrations coming from my great-grandmother.  Protecting me as she always had, she curled up next to me.  Focused on staying calm, she came nearer to me, craddleing into my body.  My great grandmother convused, her face collapsed, and she darted up off the plank that we three had been resting on.  I was frightened, and helpless, but I also completely understood what was happening.
I was raised by the two of them.  In fact, I was raised by three women- four if you count all the times that I rebelled and thought I needed to raise myself.  My mother stuck around until I was 13 because the heart she was born with only lasted 33 years.  My grandmother became captain from then onward, and my great grandmother was always there to offer her support and gentle persuasion.  My great grandmother died when I was a sophmore in college, and my grandmother died in my senior year.  Without much positive support from my father, or the other men in my life, I was 21, and truly on my own.  I had thought at 14 years old, 3 months after my mother died that I was alone.  Well, when I was 21, I faced staggering solitude.  Thereafter I faced everything on my own, or with the support of incredible girlfriends.  It became difficult for me to turn to my boyfriend, Joshua, and our relationship grew more complicated and less pure smooth velvety soft silk love and sunshine.  It's amazing that with the many trips that this life has taken me on, I feel blessed all the time.  This life-so-far might not have been about gigantic family adventures, turkey dinners, and all the good things that you can share with your family, but it has most certainly been about sharing such a deep love with other people that I am often surprised and can't help but feel blessed time and time again. 
When I rode to Caroline's house after prepping myself for the day, dropping off my half finished turquoise cat-suit, and cruising along on my bicycle, mother nature shared something extra special with me.  As I bolted, the wind blew, shaking a tiny dead bird from a tree above.  The little creature plopped onto the bell of my bicycle and then fell directly into the basket which was filled with a rose from the ayi who was making my turquoise jumpsuit, and my lesport sac purse.  At first, I thought that I had been granted another run- in with bird poop comparable to a day in June 10 years ago.  Then I thought she was just a lump of rotten leaves.  Seeing her little leg squatted up into her body, I realised that I had infact become the pallbearer for a little dead birdie.  Moaning, nervous, I attracted the attention of those riding beside me, but of course, I was just a strange wai gua ren and noone could see the cause for my alarm.  Caroline insisted it a good sign, I insised it a curse, and eventually the little birdie, filled with maggots finding life in her death, could finally rest after one last cruise through the streets of Shanghai with a birthday girl Mei Gua Ren. 
Caroline and I ran around, finishing up our Birthday Party preparations, then I zapped off to a special yu jia workshop.  Matthew Cohen and his Sacred Energy Arts, transformed the once cavernous yoga studio into a warm cauldron and invited our emotions to gush.  Mine did.  Even the nasty lady who I noticed bitching at the reception was split wide open.  Quietly returning home, I slipped into my now finished catsuit, shredded the seam in a few places, patched it up, and finally worked my way back to Ms. Caroline's house for the beginning of the ultimate birthday celebration.  Flanked with cupcakes extroidinairre, but nervous that noone would show up ...I arrived a little luny and disappointed with the space we arranged to celebrate in.  Eventually it all turned out just wonderful.  Drinks around the house, and around the house, and around the house.  I hope you enjoy my pictures and get a sense of what May 13th had in store.  What a May 13th indeed.  Happy Birthday Caroline and Kristin!



Our invite, designed by the one and only.




In Caroline and Josh's bathroom half dressed, working out the perfect balance of the tiara that only lasted a couple of hours before I mistakingly broke it while I thought I was fixing it.  In fact, it hadn't been broken to begin with...



Josh checking himself out again and again. My granny creepers.


Josh looking super, as in ready to go to disney land.


I tried on this silver ring with Caroline a couple of months ago but convinced myself that I shouldn't buy yet another thing for myself no matter how much I liked it, and no matter how much I feel like I am doing my grandmother's will everytime I buy a piece of jewlery.  Remembering my admiration, Ms. Caroline, surprised me with a forever birthday gift.  It's heavy, all silver, and the triangles jangle.




Caroline, Josh, Brendan ( Brandon?), guy, and Chris.



Caroline and Josh.  She's the baby sitter, lets call her Jenny, and he's the 9 year old





Julya looking sublime with a tan.



Heaaay! Yeaah!



Who's bad?


  Melanie, Amit, Mua, and Caro!



Again, with the Pi Gu...Nice grannies



Linda and I




Yvonne, Linda, Kristin, Melissa, Betty



Yogic friendship.



Linda, Brooks ( Plural, like books, but with an r), and Matt getting down at the Hut.  Outside that place, the neighbors were tossing water down onto the people standing outside to get fresh air.  Apparently they were too loud, so the neighbors blasted buckets of water over their balcony.



Linda's hands, my legs.



Betty, KC, and Plural.  We used candles that Yvonne sent to me from Mei Gua to light the cuppercakes that Caroline baked earlier that day.




mmmm.  Cuppercakes!  Chocolate with homemade icing ( butter, yogurt, powdered sugar, and coconut)



Like woah, we had an awesome time man.




Caroline's awesome 30 Yuan ( $3.50) shoes.  The heels lasted an hour.






Caroline!



Getting down, biting my lip even.  Nerdulus Fantabulus



Julya and Tommy...the other good couple.



Lindala and I got down.



In case you didn't understand the outfit before. Scarey.



Matt, money, and a hand gun.



Bar back



Holy Moly


I was home at this point.  Drunked, I missed out on the shirts off, Marky Mark theme party.




Caroline: " Thats yoga"



"  I felt like a student, no cares, nothing boring, just fun."



We left the original party on Dingxi Lu and headed to the Hut where we actually should have had the whole party to begin with.  Down from about 80 participants to around 40...we still managed to get down.



Josh got decked mistakingly by Tommy.  Good couple #1 takes a hit from Good couple #2.





Comments

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"You are hysterical with that outfit. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! P.S. Its true you dont look 25!! I think its in the Collins DNA!! Hehehe."

by kelly collins 

"Dear Kristin, Happy birthday! Life goes way too fast. I love reading your thoughts and your wonderful words. I'd use some perfectly chosen adjectives here, but they might diminish my admiration for you as a writer and a "fellow pilgrim." Don't you think Chaucer had it right? We are all pilgrims trying to figure out what life is all about (believers, non-believers, agnostics). Who knew? You have a true gift. I still feel like a 7-year-old (even though my stories on Commontales say I'm 10. In October, Ill be 60. I still feel like a 7-year-old. Keep on telling your stories. I love, love, love them. Beth"

by Beth Kane