It's just that everything is happening so quickly, and I am, at once, so determined to capture it just perfectly that I am actively avoiding my writing, and so worried that in the end I'll fail to capture it at all.
Things are so good, though.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Welcome Home
A list of interesting(-to-me) things I saw on my drive last week:
1. a great skyline under a hazy sunrise (bye, Chicago! See you later!)
2. the biggest American flag I have ever seen, flying over farmland, no less
3. clouds in a horizontal cylinder that stretched on for miles (I know - I wish I had taken a picture. Sounds boring, but it was actually kind of fascinating.)
4. world’s largest cross (I am not sure if this is its official title, but man, there is a lot of Jesus in central Illinois)
5. the mighty Mississippi, as I crossed the border into Missouri (and there’s a surprise: um, didn’t actually realize I would be driving through Missouri. Geography lesson!)
6. dead coyote (you know, interesting to me)
7. a bright yellow bi-plane flying over a farm in Arkansas
8. dead armadillo (getting close!)
9. 3 hitchhikers (well, two were definitely hitchhikers, one woman was walking along talking on her cell phone, which just seemed out of place for someone who would ask strangers for a ride)
10. red pavement (why are the highways in Arkansas red?)
11. a Texas-shaped stone set into a brand new overpass in Texarkana (and then there were some tears)
12. a billboard with a photo of George W. Bush, and the caption, “Miss me yet? How’s all that hope and change working out so far?” (oh shit, did I make a mistake?)
13. this note, tucked into a gift basket by my dear friend, Angie, welcoming me home
I’ve fallen down on the job of writing over the past couple of weeks. I can’t help but feel guilty. Why, I’m not exactly sure - it’s not as if anyone’s out there hanging on my next word - but I suppose it feels like I’m failing myself somehow. The world has been changing so quickly over here, and I can allow myself the out that more important things have required my focus, but I’m still a bit sad that I didn’t make the time to record at least some of it out here in the open. So. Let’s call this a renewed commitment.
With that, I think I need to remind myself that I can’t catch it all on the page, and that’s okay. Lately, there’s a story (or two or three) running through my mind every day, me thinking of how to phrase it as I wander on a walk or sit in my car or even lay on a blanket looking at the sky. It’s strange, how writing will do that to you - always thinking of the story, sometimes to the exclusion of enjoying the moment. Rest assured though - the moments, on the whole, these days, are being enjoyed.
It’s so good to be home.
1. a great skyline under a hazy sunrise (bye, Chicago! See you later!)
2. the biggest American flag I have ever seen, flying over farmland, no less
3. clouds in a horizontal cylinder that stretched on for miles (I know - I wish I had taken a picture. Sounds boring, but it was actually kind of fascinating.)
4. world’s largest cross (I am not sure if this is its official title, but man, there is a lot of Jesus in central Illinois)
5. the mighty Mississippi, as I crossed the border into Missouri (and there’s a surprise: um, didn’t actually realize I would be driving through Missouri. Geography lesson!)
6. dead coyote (you know, interesting to me)
7. a bright yellow bi-plane flying over a farm in Arkansas
8. dead armadillo (getting close!)
9. 3 hitchhikers (well, two were definitely hitchhikers, one woman was walking along talking on her cell phone, which just seemed out of place for someone who would ask strangers for a ride)
10. red pavement (why are the highways in Arkansas red?)
11. a Texas-shaped stone set into a brand new overpass in Texarkana (and then there were some tears)
12. a billboard with a photo of George W. Bush, and the caption, “Miss me yet? How’s all that hope and change working out so far?” (oh shit, did I make a mistake?)
13. this note, tucked into a gift basket by my dear friend, Angie, welcoming me home
I’ve fallen down on the job of writing over the past couple of weeks. I can’t help but feel guilty. Why, I’m not exactly sure - it’s not as if anyone’s out there hanging on my next word - but I suppose it feels like I’m failing myself somehow. The world has been changing so quickly over here, and I can allow myself the out that more important things have required my focus, but I’m still a bit sad that I didn’t make the time to record at least some of it out here in the open. So. Let’s call this a renewed commitment.
With that, I think I need to remind myself that I can’t catch it all on the page, and that’s okay. Lately, there’s a story (or two or three) running through my mind every day, me thinking of how to phrase it as I wander on a walk or sit in my car or even lay on a blanket looking at the sky. It’s strange, how writing will do that to you - always thinking of the story, sometimes to the exclusion of enjoying the moment. Rest assured though - the moments, on the whole, these days, are being enjoyed.
It’s so good to be home.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
More evidence that I am kind of an old person...
I've been finding more articles about photography lately. Not that I believe there are more articles out there than there were before; with a new camera in my hands, I'm just seeing them more than I used to. And I don't really think I am a Polaroid person, but there's something I really like about living vicariously through the instant photographers - Hula's blog, in particular, gives me a consistent stream of inspiration. There's coolness there to strive for.
Probably once a week, I'm tempted to buy some contraption related to this new interest: a Diana+ here, a Holga there, today it was a Polaroid SX-70. And in my efforts to distract myself from finding an online retailer rightnow, I found this article. Outdated at this point, what with the Impossible Project in full, successful swing, but I loved this part of it so much, it made me feel so nostalgic, and at the same time, so supported in my worries over why-does-everything-have-to-be-so-fast-and-impersonal, I knew I would want to read it over and over. Here's the part I'm talking about:
'Because that was part of the beauty of the Polaroid. Mystery clung to each impending image as it took shape, the camera conjuring up pictures of what was right before one’s eyes, right before one’s eyes. The miracle of photography, which Polaroids instantly exposed, never lost its primitive magic. And what resulted, as so many sentimentalists today lament, was a memory coming into focus on a small rectangle of film.
Or maybe not. Digital technology now excuses our mistakes all too easily — the blurry shot of Aunt Ruth fumbling with a 3-wood at the driving range; or the one of Cousin Jeff on graduation day where a flying Frisbee blocked the view of his face; or of Seth in his plaid jacket heading to his first social, the image blanched by the headlight of Burt’s car coming up the driveway; or the pictures of you beside the Christmas tree where your hair is a mess.
Digital cameras let us do away with whatever we decide is not quite right, and so delete the mishaps that not too often but once in a blue moon creep onto film and that we appreciate only later as accidental masterpieces. In fact, the new technology may be not more convenient but less than Polaroid instant film cameras were, considering the printers and wires and other electronic gadgets now required, but at this one thing, the act of destruction, a source of unthinking popularity in our era of forgetfulness and extreme makeovers, digital performs all too well. Polaroids, reflecting our imperfectability, reminded us by contrast of our humanity.' (Kimmelman, Michael. "The Polaroid: Imperfect, Yet Magical." The New York Times 27 December 2008.)
I'm not buying a Polaroid today. That's not really what I'm after. I just want to bring back the humanity.
Probably once a week, I'm tempted to buy some contraption related to this new interest: a Diana+ here, a Holga there, today it was a Polaroid SX-70. And in my efforts to distract myself from finding an online retailer rightnow, I found this article. Outdated at this point, what with the Impossible Project in full, successful swing, but I loved this part of it so much, it made me feel so nostalgic, and at the same time, so supported in my worries over why-does-everything-have-to-be-so-fast-and-impersonal, I knew I would want to read it over and over. Here's the part I'm talking about:
'Because that was part of the beauty of the Polaroid. Mystery clung to each impending image as it took shape, the camera conjuring up pictures of what was right before one’s eyes, right before one’s eyes. The miracle of photography, which Polaroids instantly exposed, never lost its primitive magic. And what resulted, as so many sentimentalists today lament, was a memory coming into focus on a small rectangle of film.
Or maybe not. Digital technology now excuses our mistakes all too easily — the blurry shot of Aunt Ruth fumbling with a 3-wood at the driving range; or the one of Cousin Jeff on graduation day where a flying Frisbee blocked the view of his face; or of Seth in his plaid jacket heading to his first social, the image blanched by the headlight of Burt’s car coming up the driveway; or the pictures of you beside the Christmas tree where your hair is a mess.
Digital cameras let us do away with whatever we decide is not quite right, and so delete the mishaps that not too often but once in a blue moon creep onto film and that we appreciate only later as accidental masterpieces. In fact, the new technology may be not more convenient but less than Polaroid instant film cameras were, considering the printers and wires and other electronic gadgets now required, but at this one thing, the act of destruction, a source of unthinking popularity in our era of forgetfulness and extreme makeovers, digital performs all too well. Polaroids, reflecting our imperfectability, reminded us by contrast of our humanity.' (Kimmelman, Michael. "The Polaroid: Imperfect, Yet Magical." The New York Times 27 December 2008.)
I'm not buying a Polaroid today. That's not really what I'm after. I just want to bring back the humanity.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
As if I needed a reason...
'The daily activities most associated with happiness are sex, socializing after work and having dinner with others. The daily activity most injurious to happiness is commuting.' (Brooks, David. "The Sandra Bullock Trade." The New York Times 29 March 2010.)
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Career Counseling
Lloyd Dobbler is on my mind today. You know that part where he’s talking to Diane’s father about his future? Where he says he doesn’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed? Did he find some resolution in that before the end of the movie? I think a viewing might be in order, if only for the comfort in knowing I’m not the only one who feels like this.
Either that, or I need to get on a plane.
[32 years old, still looking at the world like a senior in high school. This is a bad thing, huh?]
Either that, or I need to get on a plane.
[32 years old, still looking at the world like a senior in high school. This is a bad thing, huh?]
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Story of Doggy Poggy
(I know, "The Tale of Doggy Poggy" is so much more clever. (Cleverer?) I'm saving that for the real story, and that comes later.)
This has been hanging around, taking up space on the mental to-do list for over a week now, so I figured I'd better just catch it on the page already. If your life was written into a book, would you read it?
Not an original thought, by any means. (Mary Oliver alone has said it better a hundred times.) It's one that's taken on new meaning, though, greater weight for me these last couple of weeks. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I need to make the most of my life. Yes, it's the only shot I've got. Do I want to be interesting? Of course. But lately... well, what am I waiting for?
Would your life make it as a bestseller? Would it be a novel or a biography? Beach read or literary success? Thriller, romance, coming-of-age story? I fear that mine would be a textbook, dry and matter-of-fact, collecting dust on a shelf in the back corner of the fifth floor of the public library. The part where all of the books have the same color spine, and plain gold lettering. "DOGGY POGGY: 1977-2059".
I'm not talking about self-esteem here, or worrying about what other people think (I suppose the bestseller part may have been a bit misleading). I mean: would I want to read this book? And the answer (would I be thinking about this otherwise?) is no. This book is boring! And I'm not just talking about the last couple of pages here, we're at least a chapter into the boring stuff, and I'm pretty sure I would have put it down by now in favor of another one on the night stand.
So what am I waiting for? I'm a writer - write something interesting! Put something good on the page. Because a plot twist is long overdue...
This has been hanging around, taking up space on the mental to-do list for over a week now, so I figured I'd better just catch it on the page already. If your life was written into a book, would you read it?
Not an original thought, by any means. (Mary Oliver alone has said it better a hundred times.) It's one that's taken on new meaning, though, greater weight for me these last couple of weeks. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I need to make the most of my life. Yes, it's the only shot I've got. Do I want to be interesting? Of course. But lately... well, what am I waiting for?
Would your life make it as a bestseller? Would it be a novel or a biography? Beach read or literary success? Thriller, romance, coming-of-age story? I fear that mine would be a textbook, dry and matter-of-fact, collecting dust on a shelf in the back corner of the fifth floor of the public library. The part where all of the books have the same color spine, and plain gold lettering. "DOGGY POGGY: 1977-2059".
I'm not talking about self-esteem here, or worrying about what other people think (I suppose the bestseller part may have been a bit misleading). I mean: would I want to read this book? And the answer (would I be thinking about this otherwise?) is no. This book is boring! And I'm not just talking about the last couple of pages here, we're at least a chapter into the boring stuff, and I'm pretty sure I would have put it down by now in favor of another one on the night stand.
So what am I waiting for? I'm a writer - write something interesting! Put something good on the page. Because a plot twist is long overdue...
Friday, April 16, 2010
It's easier than it looks.
This is the second time in a week that a Picture Spring photo has fallen into my lap, so I figured I should say something. Today's prompt was as follows: 'Today, beyond the obvious objects that might catch your eye, look for the shadow shapes they leave behind.'
It's been a long week. I'm tired and grouchy. Thankfully, I was able to kick out of work a little early today and beat the Friday commute, but when I got home, all I wanted to do was settle in with an adult beverage and stare out the window. It was the perfect time to get out into the neighborhood and find some shadows, but I just didn't want to. So I poured a glass of gin, grabbed the Crate and Barrel and Athleta catalogs from the mail, and cozied into my chaise in the living room (oh, CB2, you sadden me, but at least you're entertaining) (also, am I the only one who does this? Reading catalogs from which I will allow myself to buy nothing definitely ranks in my top five everyday, nothing's-really-going-on, after-work activities. This is way better than TV, or the treadmill, for that matter.).
Anyway, the point is, I'm sitting here with the gin and the magazines, and what do you know? There's my photo. Twice, in fact (this is my "official selection" for the project, but you can see a couple more on my flickr stream). I look up, and think, "huh. that's a pretty good shot." And, you know, the reason I think it's worth writing down is this: it's right there in front of you. It's easier than it looks. Right there. Everyday.
This is why I signed up for the class, right?
PS: Pretty sure that fantastic shadow is courtesy of my fantastically dirty windows.
It's been a long week. I'm tired and grouchy. Thankfully, I was able to kick out of work a little early today and beat the Friday commute, but when I got home, all I wanted to do was settle in with an adult beverage and stare out the window. It was the perfect time to get out into the neighborhood and find some shadows, but I just didn't want to. So I poured a glass of gin, grabbed the Crate and Barrel and Athleta catalogs from the mail, and cozied into my chaise in the living room (oh, CB2, you sadden me, but at least you're entertaining) (also, am I the only one who does this? Reading catalogs from which I will allow myself to buy nothing definitely ranks in my top five everyday, nothing's-really-going-on, after-work activities. This is way better than TV, or the treadmill, for that matter.).
Anyway, the point is, I'm sitting here with the gin and the magazines, and what do you know? There's my photo. Twice, in fact (this is my "official selection" for the project, but you can see a couple more on my flickr stream). I look up, and think, "huh. that's a pretty good shot." And, you know, the reason I think it's worth writing down is this: it's right there in front of you. It's easier than it looks. Right there. Everyday.
This is why I signed up for the class, right?
PS: Pretty sure that fantastic shadow is courtesy of my fantastically dirty windows.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Not dead.
I guess I've been a bit absent lately, though, huh? No surprise, I've been distracted by my other new project, and there just aren't enough hours in the day. Well that, and the fact that I haven't been able to pull myself out of bed at my usual writing hour (4 in the morning) with even a hint of inspiration for over a week. There's a lot buzzing around in my head, just haven't been able to catch it on the page. In the meantime, you can check out my foray into photography over here, and if pictures aren't your bag, could I interest you in a little Jen Gray? She spoke to me in a big way this week; it's not the first time.
I'll be back. Promise.
I'll be back. Promise.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
First Photo
That's right, folks. The first shot on my brand-spankin'-new EOS 450D:
Hm. It's not so great, is it? But that's okay! I'm just learning! (Actually, thanks to the editing in iPhoto and the fact that everything looks so stinkin' clear on this Mac screen anyway, it's not all that bad...)
Please forgive me for the page layout - I'm learning on that front, too. The Blogger Help makes it sound so simple, and yet here I am trying to de-code code, for goodness sakes, just so this pic isn't all smushed up over to the right side. Know that in my head, the picture was centered on the page, with text at the top and bottom. (Really, just know that in my head, this entry looked more like a page in O Magazine, and less like the webpage I put together in college in 1998.) (Also, it didn't feature a picture of Target.)
And why Target, you may ask? Well, I knew that the camera didn't come with an SD card, so I made sure to order one from Amazon at the same time I ordered my camera from B&H. Amazon's cards were cheaper. And slower to arrive in the mail, apparently. I practically ran down the stairs of my apartment building to meet the UPS guy this afternoon, then I get everything unpacked and... oh, hell. Can't do a whole lot with a digital camera if you don't have anything with which to store the images, now can you? So: Target -> SD card -> furious unwrapping of said card, sitting in my parked car (why didn't I bring scissors???) -> glamour shot of a big box in North Chicago. (The clerk was a total dick, by the way - so dickish that it warrants mentioning - but that is a story for another day. Seriously, it involves my new camera bag, so it's all related, and I think you will enjoy the DIY tutorial that is still to come.)
Hm. It's not so great, is it? But that's okay! I'm just learning! (Actually, thanks to the editing in iPhoto and the fact that everything looks so stinkin' clear on this Mac screen anyway, it's not all that bad...)
Please forgive me for the page layout - I'm learning on that front, too. The Blogger Help makes it sound so simple, and yet here I am trying to de-code code, for goodness sakes, just so this pic isn't all smushed up over to the right side. Know that in my head, the picture was centered on the page, with text at the top and bottom. (Really, just know that in my head, this entry looked more like a page in O Magazine, and less like the webpage I put together in college in 1998.) (Also, it didn't feature a picture of Target.)
And why Target, you may ask? Well, I knew that the camera didn't come with an SD card, so I made sure to order one from Amazon at the same time I ordered my camera from B&H. Amazon's cards were cheaper. And slower to arrive in the mail, apparently. I practically ran down the stairs of my apartment building to meet the UPS guy this afternoon, then I get everything unpacked and... oh, hell. Can't do a whole lot with a digital camera if you don't have anything with which to store the images, now can you? So: Target -> SD card -> furious unwrapping of said card, sitting in my parked car (why didn't I bring scissors???) -> glamour shot of a big box in North Chicago. (The clerk was a total dick, by the way - so dickish that it warrants mentioning - but that is a story for another day. Seriously, it involves my new camera bag, so it's all related, and I think you will enjoy the DIY tutorial that is still to come.)
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Do I walk too fast?
Okay, here's where this is coming from. I am a fast walker. I walk With Purpose. I am On A Mission. I am the woman whose quiet and impatient sigh you hear as you and your jogging partner are do-dicking around and taking up the whole sidewalk in front of me. I could win an Ultimate Fastwalking Championship, if it came down to that. And today, it occurred to me that this might be a serious impediment to my new hobby.
You see, over the weekend, in a burst of tax-refund-fueled impulse, I ordered myself my first real, grownup camera. And I am so excited! So excited, in fact, that I even signed up for an e-course that I'm hoping will (1) give me some instruction in this extremely new-to-me art form, and (2) keep me motivated through that tough stage of a new hobby, where you're inevitably a bit disappointed that your very first efforts aren't in any way comparable to those of the professionals in the field (surprise!).
There's a third part that piqued my interest in this class, though, and here's where my speed-walking comes in. Here's what Tracey highlighted as her intention for the course: 'The goal with Picture Spring however, is to not only prompt you into taking a photo each day, it's to help elevate that click into a mindful meditation, an act of gratitude, a narrative of your heart.' Um, not entirely sure what that's going to entail, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to stop walking so stinkin' fast. I have the feeling this is going to be kind of an uncomfortable space for me, at least at first. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am mindful when I'm walking around the neighborhood. I'm taking in the houses (the houses, I love the houses in my neighborhood), looking for the first shoots of flowers coming up, trying to greet passers-by (oh, that's a whole other story, for a different day). But stopping? And really looking?
Hm. I suppose this might be why I was drawn to the camera in the first place.
You see, over the weekend, in a burst of tax-refund-fueled impulse, I ordered myself my first real, grownup camera. And I am so excited! So excited, in fact, that I even signed up for an e-course that I'm hoping will (1) give me some instruction in this extremely new-to-me art form, and (2) keep me motivated through that tough stage of a new hobby, where you're inevitably a bit disappointed that your very first efforts aren't in any way comparable to those of the professionals in the field (surprise!).
There's a third part that piqued my interest in this class, though, and here's where my speed-walking comes in. Here's what Tracey highlighted as her intention for the course: 'The goal with Picture Spring however, is to not only prompt you into taking a photo each day, it's to help elevate that click into a mindful meditation, an act of gratitude, a narrative of your heart.' Um, not entirely sure what that's going to entail, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to stop walking so stinkin' fast. I have the feeling this is going to be kind of an uncomfortable space for me, at least at first. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am mindful when I'm walking around the neighborhood. I'm taking in the houses (the houses, I love the houses in my neighborhood), looking for the first shoots of flowers coming up, trying to greet passers-by (oh, that's a whole other story, for a different day). But stopping? And really looking?
Hm. I suppose this might be why I was drawn to the camera in the first place.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Job Suckage, Days 1 & 2
(Obviously, we're using "day" loosely here.) I did actually get started on the Challenge in January; I got my perfect day down on paper. I don't mind sayin': it felt good just to get that part nailed down, and to tell you the truth, the calm that came out of getting some clarity on what's really important to me was probably what stopped me from moving on to the next step. The worry didn't seem so urgent after that.
Still, I would like to move on to actually bringing that life into existence, plus at this point the calm has completely evaporated and left in its place the awful and entirely irrational worry that oh my god this is all there is and I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life if I don't head into my boss's office and quit right this minute.
Right. So. I'm leaving off the story, for now at least. It's a good one, but rather long, and probably something I would post if I could figure out how to do that thing with your webpage where you can truncate the entries to, like, five lines and people can click to Read More... if they're really that enthralled with the perfect day of a total stranger. For now, I'm keeping it to my prioritized list of 10 qualities or feelings that stand out from my perfect day.
On this day, I feel or have:
1. well-rested and healthy.
2. balance: enough time to write, cook, work out, plus some social/family time.
3. engaged: I'm interested in what I do for a living.
4. valued.
5. clear goals or intentions.
6. energized.
7. tired at the end. (I know, sort of in contrast to feeling energized. It's a good tired, though - that feeling of having worked really hard and accomplished something that has meaning.)
8. little stress.
9. respected.
10. successful. (And... what does that mean? Still workin' on it...)
Still, I would like to move on to actually bringing that life into existence, plus at this point the calm has completely evaporated and left in its place the awful and entirely irrational worry that oh my god this is all there is and I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life if I don't head into my boss's office and quit right this minute.
Right. So. I'm leaving off the story, for now at least. It's a good one, but rather long, and probably something I would post if I could figure out how to do that thing with your webpage where you can truncate the entries to, like, five lines and people can click to Read More... if they're really that enthralled with the perfect day of a total stranger. For now, I'm keeping it to my prioritized list of 10 qualities or feelings that stand out from my perfect day.
On this day, I feel or have:
1. well-rested and healthy.
2. balance: enough time to write, cook, work out, plus some social/family time.
3. engaged: I'm interested in what I do for a living.
4. valued.
5. clear goals or intentions.
6. energized.
7. tired at the end. (I know, sort of in contrast to feeling energized. It's a good tired, though - that feeling of having worked really hard and accomplished something that has meaning.)
8. little stress.
9. respected.
10. successful. (And... what does that mean? Still workin' on it...)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Girls Are In Charge
"All I'm saying is, when boys are writing the stories, the percentage of strippers is bound to go up. And real stories about real women kinda don't get written at all." {Katherine Center}
So, I'm accomplishing a couple of things here. One: I just embedded a movie on my blog (woo! OMG, seriously, I know it is so simple, but this is by far the most technologically savvy thing I have ever done EVER). Two: props to Katherine Center for creating this awesome and inspiring little short - who knew a commercial could make you feel so empowered? And three: giving myself easy access to these words I need easy access to. I first saw this video over at Ordinary Courage while I was on vacation in January, and wrote out the stripper piece in my journal - you know, for safekeeping. I found those words again when I was re-reading last night (looking back for my Job Suckage notes), then spent 15 minutes this evening trying to find the clip again (this is why people have weblogs, after all, isn't it?). (By the way, am I the only person who thinks "a couple" refers to two or three? I believe this is a Midwestern thing, as people in Texas will certainly argue with me that it means two. Just two.)
In conjunction with the journal-reading last night, this article showed up on Marketplace this evening, and everything felt very coincidental, forcing me to stay up past my bedtime searching for Kirtsy commercials and writing a blog post. I'm sure there's more to be written here about What It All Means (To Me), but (in the words of Will's girlfriend, Skylar) I'm tired now and I have to go home.
Whew, I'm awfully link-y tonight, guess that youtube situation really learned me.
So, I'm accomplishing a couple of things here. One: I just embedded a movie on my blog (woo! OMG, seriously, I know it is so simple, but this is by far the most technologically savvy thing I have ever done EVER). Two: props to Katherine Center for creating this awesome and inspiring little short - who knew a commercial could make you feel so empowered? And three: giving myself easy access to these words I need easy access to. I first saw this video over at Ordinary Courage while I was on vacation in January, and wrote out the stripper piece in my journal - you know, for safekeeping. I found those words again when I was re-reading last night (looking back for my Job Suckage notes), then spent 15 minutes this evening trying to find the clip again (this is why people have weblogs, after all, isn't it?). (By the way, am I the only person who thinks "a couple" refers to two or three? I believe this is a Midwestern thing, as people in Texas will certainly argue with me that it means two. Just two.)
In conjunction with the journal-reading last night, this article showed up on Marketplace this evening, and everything felt very coincidental, forcing me to stay up past my bedtime searching for Kirtsy commercials and writing a blog post. I'm sure there's more to be written here about What It All Means (To Me), but (in the words of Will's girlfriend, Skylar) I'm tired now and I have to go home.
Whew, I'm awfully link-y tonight, guess that youtube situation really learned me.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Job Suckage
Did I give up on the Stop the Job Suckage Challenge? Me? How could I have forgotten about this? How on earth could I have forgotten, sitting here, as I am, armpit deep in the suck? (Today has been a particularly wallow-ful day; I'm certain that's what drew me back to the Challenge, and what got me back over here to take some action.)
Here's what happened: I took a vacation at the end of January. I knew I'd have a fair amount of quiet time, time to sit in the sun in my most favoritest of all places (home, after all), and get really clear on where I was going to go next. And I did - I sat in the sun and wrote out my perfect day. And after that, the safety and comfort and sunshine of this place made its way into my heart and my bones, and I didn't feel so upset about things anymore. And then I forgot about the Challenge.
How I didn't remember immediately upon returning, I don't know. I think I spent February thinking I would need to pack up at a moment's notice (having something to look forward to is such a powerful mood elevator). And over the last couple of weeks, I've been sinking and sinking, and now it feels like I'm in it deeper than ever. The Suck.
So! An assignment! Someplace to redirect this energy, and hopefully, get moving in the right direction. Dig out. So I'm three months late. No better time for a fresh start than spring, after all.
Here's what happened: I took a vacation at the end of January. I knew I'd have a fair amount of quiet time, time to sit in the sun in my most favoritest of all places (home, after all), and get really clear on where I was going to go next. And I did - I sat in the sun and wrote out my perfect day. And after that, the safety and comfort and sunshine of this place made its way into my heart and my bones, and I didn't feel so upset about things anymore. And then I forgot about the Challenge.
How I didn't remember immediately upon returning, I don't know. I think I spent February thinking I would need to pack up at a moment's notice (having something to look forward to is such a powerful mood elevator). And over the last couple of weeks, I've been sinking and sinking, and now it feels like I'm in it deeper than ever. The Suck.
So! An assignment! Someplace to redirect this energy, and hopefully, get moving in the right direction. Dig out. So I'm three months late. No better time for a fresh start than spring, after all.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Okay, stop.
Okay, stop. Enough of the list making, the constant comparing of this place to that place, the endless row of tick marks under “Con”. I’ve been in limbo for so long over whether to stay here or move there that I think the list has truly become a habit. But I’ve made the decision now. I shouldn’t need the list anymore.
One, because I need to stop holding the door open, covering all bases, making sure I won’t really lose – I need to stop telling people that I’ve put the house on the market but we’ll see nothing’s set in stone who knows what will happen in this market. Sometimes I even add, maybe I’m meant to stay here and in that case I suppose the house won’t sell. Well, that may very well be and I can worry about that when I get there. But today, I have decided I’m moving away and I am doing everything in my power to make that happen.
Secondly – and really, more importantly – I need to stop gathering support for this decision as if it’s not something I’m convinced of myself. Another $400 for the mechanic because I put 20,000 miles on my car this year. Four days have passed since my last real, in-person conversation. God, it’s cold. I haven’t had sex in x years for goodness’ sakes. (I’ll leave that one to the imagination, but let’s note that it is measured in years. With an ‘s’.) What am I doing at this job? Almost everyone I know here is married; almost everyone I know there is single. Men don’t even know how to buy a girl a drink around here. ... Alright already! We get it! You don’t like it here! So move.
I know how this started, and I needed it – for a time. I needed to go through my logic checks, make the list so that I could know I’d given it a fair shake, that I wouldn’t leave just because it was too hard. But I don’t need it anymore. Last night I re-read a journal entry I’d made almost two years ago. Notes really, from some time I’d spent with a therapist in Dallas. I wrote, ‘It’s normal to feel “bad” when in limbo – the longer it drags on, the more certain depression is’. Huh. Well, if that ain’t the truth. My limbo has dragged on for far too long. In some ways it’s still around – there are, after all, some things that are out of my control, and I’m doing my best to be patient with them. But I have (finally, finally) made a decision, and that is cause for celebration. Those lists no longer serve me, and it’s time to put all of the minuses for this town to rest. Focus on the next big thing. Get ready for what’s to come. Clear out all of this clutter and make room for all of the good stuff to move in. (And man, the good stuff had better weigh less than the bad, ‘cause I’m starting to worry about moving all of this stuff down the stairs.)
One, because I need to stop holding the door open, covering all bases, making sure I won’t really lose – I need to stop telling people that I’ve put the house on the market but we’ll see nothing’s set in stone who knows what will happen in this market. Sometimes I even add, maybe I’m meant to stay here and in that case I suppose the house won’t sell. Well, that may very well be and I can worry about that when I get there. But today, I have decided I’m moving away and I am doing everything in my power to make that happen.
Secondly – and really, more importantly – I need to stop gathering support for this decision as if it’s not something I’m convinced of myself. Another $400 for the mechanic because I put 20,000 miles on my car this year. Four days have passed since my last real, in-person conversation. God, it’s cold. I haven’t had sex in x years for goodness’ sakes. (I’ll leave that one to the imagination, but let’s note that it is measured in years. With an ‘s’.) What am I doing at this job? Almost everyone I know here is married; almost everyone I know there is single. Men don’t even know how to buy a girl a drink around here. ... Alright already! We get it! You don’t like it here! So move.
I know how this started, and I needed it – for a time. I needed to go through my logic checks, make the list so that I could know I’d given it a fair shake, that I wouldn’t leave just because it was too hard. But I don’t need it anymore. Last night I re-read a journal entry I’d made almost two years ago. Notes really, from some time I’d spent with a therapist in Dallas. I wrote, ‘It’s normal to feel “bad” when in limbo – the longer it drags on, the more certain depression is’. Huh. Well, if that ain’t the truth. My limbo has dragged on for far too long. In some ways it’s still around – there are, after all, some things that are out of my control, and I’m doing my best to be patient with them. But I have (finally, finally) made a decision, and that is cause for celebration. Those lists no longer serve me, and it’s time to put all of the minuses for this town to rest. Focus on the next big thing. Get ready for what’s to come. Clear out all of this clutter and make room for all of the good stuff to move in. (And man, the good stuff had better weigh less than the bad, ‘cause I’m starting to worry about moving all of this stuff down the stairs.)
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Remember? You can do this.
I'd say I wish I'd found her sooner, but I think today was the day we were meant to meet - just read The Word Cellar's current post, and I am hooked. These are words to live by, especially for someone who's just starting to find her own voice. What are you waiting for? Go read her!
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday
Friday is my favorite, I think. Not that it has a lot of stiff competition these days. But still, it’s got something special. Not because of the concert at Lincoln Hall. No new restaurant to check out, no friends to meet at happy hour. No. Pajamas are on at 6:30. Something delicious is on the stove. Not anything complicated. Tonight it was good pasta with broccoli and olive oil. Some parmesan, lots of pepper. Something that’s already waiting in the cupboard; no shopping, but time enough to cook. The ipod sits inside its little kitchen speaker, the speaker purchased years ago to fill in a lonely space not unlike this one. Time to sit, sip a good glass of gin, enjoy the music. Ray LaMontagne this time, maybe Sam Cooke next week. This space feels comfortable. Friday is no work in the morning. Friday is okay to skip the gym, if you don’t want to go. And it’s not yet lonely; it’s okay to sit here in the kitchen, with the gin and the pasta, in pajamas at 6:30. Unlike Saturday. Saturday is the worst sometimes.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
I am worthy.
Yesterday, Brene Brown (of Ordinary Courage) kicked off a writing prompt on self-worth in support of her new DVD, and she asked her readers to add a link to their own blog entries on the topic. Seemed like reason enough to sit down and write. For those of you just joining from that link: welcome! Please visit often! I promise the house will be cleaner next time ;)
I am worthy of love and belonging now. Is that true? Intellectually, I know that I have to say that I believe it. If I say otherwise, people will be too kind and comforting. You can hear their collective sigh, and feel their rush to interrupt and argue before I’m even finished with my sentence. “Ohhh, how can you say that? You’re beautiful and strong. We love you.” I would listen, and think, well, this is why I don’t say things like that out loud.
Last night, our Kundalini practice was focused on positive energy. During meditation, our yoga teacher told us, “the world needs who you are.” (How’s that for coincidence?) Our meditation started with some visualization: tap into what makes you, you - as you breathe in, imagine yourself expanding into that space, creating light all around you. I sat there in gyan mudra, legs crossed, fingers outstretched, focusing on my third eye, and worrying. I couldn’t come up with what it was that I brought to the world anymore. I used to know who I was – confident, smart, funny, articulate. I brought those images to mind, struggling to make them expand the light around me… and the light just wouldn’t stay on. Instead of the warm, glowing comfort of the sun, I got that awful flickering of the fluorescent bulb in the closet. Those images of my “worthy” self just seemed so far away, left in the past.
So here I was, still meditating, failing at even that, since I certainly wasn’t bringing any positive energy into my space. And that’s what it’s like to be in my current mental traffic circle (“look kids… Big Ben… Parliament…”). I worry over who I’ve become. I remind myself that I’m being too hard on myself, to stop being such a perfectionist. Then the fear starts to build because what if I can’t stop being a perfectionist? And then I worry over who I’ve become... I know this sense of worthiness has to come from within. It was just so much easier when I was surrounded by external validation. Or maybe... wait. That’s not what I mean. It’s not that the praise and reassurance have disappeared; it’s that lately I want to argue with it. Where I am today is not where I want to be. I know that confidence, intelligence, and wit are still inside, but I’m not showing that to the world these days. I’m not where I want to be, and there’s pain in that, but if I let that struggle go... what will I become?
The up side of all this (because there must be an upside, you can’t have read this far only to be knee-deep in self-loathing): I do know that growth and compassion will come from this time. And of course, I fear that this is not at all what Brene had in mind when she asked for pieces on worthiness. But this is what’s true. Intellectually, I know that I have to say I believe I am worthy. But the actual belief - well, hopefully that comes back to me real soon.
I am worthy of love and belonging now. Is that true? Intellectually, I know that I have to say that I believe it. If I say otherwise, people will be too kind and comforting. You can hear their collective sigh, and feel their rush to interrupt and argue before I’m even finished with my sentence. “Ohhh, how can you say that? You’re beautiful and strong. We love you.” I would listen, and think, well, this is why I don’t say things like that out loud.
Last night, our Kundalini practice was focused on positive energy. During meditation, our yoga teacher told us, “the world needs who you are.” (How’s that for coincidence?) Our meditation started with some visualization: tap into what makes you, you - as you breathe in, imagine yourself expanding into that space, creating light all around you. I sat there in gyan mudra, legs crossed, fingers outstretched, focusing on my third eye, and worrying. I couldn’t come up with what it was that I brought to the world anymore. I used to know who I was – confident, smart, funny, articulate. I brought those images to mind, struggling to make them expand the light around me… and the light just wouldn’t stay on. Instead of the warm, glowing comfort of the sun, I got that awful flickering of the fluorescent bulb in the closet. Those images of my “worthy” self just seemed so far away, left in the past.
So here I was, still meditating, failing at even that, since I certainly wasn’t bringing any positive energy into my space. And that’s what it’s like to be in my current mental traffic circle (“look kids… Big Ben… Parliament…”). I worry over who I’ve become. I remind myself that I’m being too hard on myself, to stop being such a perfectionist. Then the fear starts to build because what if I can’t stop being a perfectionist? And then I worry over who I’ve become... I know this sense of worthiness has to come from within. It was just so much easier when I was surrounded by external validation. Or maybe... wait. That’s not what I mean. It’s not that the praise and reassurance have disappeared; it’s that lately I want to argue with it. Where I am today is not where I want to be. I know that confidence, intelligence, and wit are still inside, but I’m not showing that to the world these days. I’m not where I want to be, and there’s pain in that, but if I let that struggle go... what will I become?
The up side of all this (because there must be an upside, you can’t have read this far only to be knee-deep in self-loathing): I do know that growth and compassion will come from this time. And of course, I fear that this is not at all what Brene had in mind when she asked for pieces on worthiness. But this is what’s true. Intellectually, I know that I have to say I believe I am worthy. But the actual belief - well, hopefully that comes back to me real soon.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Cherry Bomb
That’s when a sport was a sport
And groovin’ was groovin’
And dancin’ meant everything
We were young and we were improvin’
Laughin’, laughin’ with our friends
Holdin’ hands meant somethin’, baby
Outside the club “Cherry Bomb”
Our hearts were really thumpin’
Say yeah yeah yeah
Say yeah yeah yeah
Mellencamp, John. “Cherry Bomb.” _The Lonesome Jubilee_. Mercury Records, 1987.
I used to hate this song. Hated it. God, it was on the radio all the time. I suppose my hatred had something to do with the time of its release: in 1987, I was 10 years old. Too young to understand what it meant, plus I couldn’t stand all of those country fiddle parts.
When I hear that song nowadays, my heart aches. Of course, it aches for what’s there on the surface - the loss of youth, of innocence. Dancing was everything. That was before things got complicated, in the world of relationships and everything else. I’ll tell you a secret, too. Until I looked up the lyrics for the purpose of posting this today, I thought he was saying “That’s when a smoke was a smoke” - you know, before the temptations of hard core drugs set in. (Not for me, of course. I just imagine John Cougar Mellencamp’s life to be so much more exciting than my own.)
More than the Glory Days stuff on the outside, though, my heart aches for the simplicity that’s there in his small town. It’s funny, but now that fiddle is part of what I love about this song. It makes me think of my home in the South, sitting on the back porch with a couple of good friends, drinking margaritas in plastic to-go cups and laughing about something stupid. That wasn’t high school for me. High school has its own glory days stories for me, but the good life set in after I’d moved away from Michigan and settled into my own fit. It happened after dancing was no longer everything and smokes were - well, let’s say there was more than one option. But things were simpler then. Slower, and easier to take.
I crave that simplicity every day now, as I sit in traffic for the hours to and from my job, as I worry over what Fun I should take in this weekend, as I feel so far away from the true connections in my life. Part of me wishes I’d learned to love this song a lot earlier. And then another part says: that’s what this time is for.
[I know, I kinda just jumped right in there. The blank page was killing me. I figure we can get to know each other over time, rather than giving you the whole back story at the beginning. Does that work for you?]
And groovin’ was groovin’
And dancin’ meant everything
We were young and we were improvin’
Laughin’, laughin’ with our friends
Holdin’ hands meant somethin’, baby
Outside the club “Cherry Bomb”
Our hearts were really thumpin’
Say yeah yeah yeah
Say yeah yeah yeah
Mellencamp, John. “Cherry Bomb.” _The Lonesome Jubilee_. Mercury Records, 1987.
I used to hate this song. Hated it. God, it was on the radio all the time. I suppose my hatred had something to do with the time of its release: in 1987, I was 10 years old. Too young to understand what it meant, plus I couldn’t stand all of those country fiddle parts.
When I hear that song nowadays, my heart aches. Of course, it aches for what’s there on the surface - the loss of youth, of innocence. Dancing was everything. That was before things got complicated, in the world of relationships and everything else. I’ll tell you a secret, too. Until I looked up the lyrics for the purpose of posting this today, I thought he was saying “That’s when a smoke was a smoke” - you know, before the temptations of hard core drugs set in. (Not for me, of course. I just imagine John Cougar Mellencamp’s life to be so much more exciting than my own.)
More than the Glory Days stuff on the outside, though, my heart aches for the simplicity that’s there in his small town. It’s funny, but now that fiddle is part of what I love about this song. It makes me think of my home in the South, sitting on the back porch with a couple of good friends, drinking margaritas in plastic to-go cups and laughing about something stupid. That wasn’t high school for me. High school has its own glory days stories for me, but the good life set in after I’d moved away from Michigan and settled into my own fit. It happened after dancing was no longer everything and smokes were - well, let’s say there was more than one option. But things were simpler then. Slower, and easier to take.
I crave that simplicity every day now, as I sit in traffic for the hours to and from my job, as I worry over what Fun I should take in this weekend, as I feel so far away from the true connections in my life. Part of me wishes I’d learned to love this song a lot earlier. And then another part says: that’s what this time is for.
[I know, I kinda just jumped right in there. The blank page was killing me. I figure we can get to know each other over time, rather than giving you the whole back story at the beginning. Does that work for you?]
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