SO, no need to apologize... Right? No one is looking. The fact that I took an unintentional hiatus went altogether unnoticed, I'm sure. SO, here we go!
First day of fall today. Felt like if I jumped up in the air, the wind might just carry me forward a bit. It was so windy, I thought I saw the Sears Tower swaying a bit.
Lots of exciting bits and pieces, but most of all I am happy for fall. Sweaters and scarves, Hot chocolate and punkin spice coffee make my day in a way that nothing else really can. In honor of the pure happiness of a hot spicy/sweet drink on a truly blustery day, I'm going to begin creating my list of "favorite things". Why? because I have just as much of a stake on a tiny corner of cyberspace as a thousand silly cats eating spaghetti, or a million pop up ads. In other words, why not?
MOVIES*, one of a kind scarves that are actually fully functional, a very cute pair of socks, highlighters with a stack sticky post-it strips built into them, a bus that doesn't smell, finding new songs on my own ipod, family and friends who are really interested in knowing me,
the soft spot of my cat's armpit, well dressed men, overhearing an interesting conversation, a day without anxiety, chimeneas, fire pits, bonfires, the smell of cedar smoking, perfectly shaped booths in restaurants with good food, seeing my best girlfriends for cocktails or movies or just catching up, waking up on vacation and knowing i am going somewhere new today, good cheese, bread and wine when it's chilly out and I have no where to be for an few hours, a fantastic book of chick lit, understanding what Shakespeare meant to say, when a kid asks me a question, ivy covering my window and light filtering through, seeing the same shadows over and over again (like the shadow that the name of the restaurant I used to work at made on the opposite wall about an hour before the night shift started- every day for so many years!), when my husband laughs in his sleep, when my mom texts me, when my friends say they love me, A walkway lined with trees who's leaves are all bright golden yellow, new erasers, those black and white composition books, ellipses and my own mind.
*(just a few)
Party Girl
Heathers
Secretary
Gosford Park
Clue
Shakespeare in Love
City of God
Parent Trap (original with Haley Mills)
Never Ending Story
the Rescuers
Freeway
Okay. Of course there's more. but the name of the game is make regular posts, so that's what popped into my head and that's about th attention span I have today for talking with myself. Anthony Bourdain is staying in a fantastic resort in Patagonia and I have a paper on God:Nature in Pope and Wordsworth's writing to chip away at.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Saturday, August 23, 2008
eminem was right
didn't eminem say something about "you gotta lose yourself in the music..."
well, I am notorious for getting song lyrics wrong, but I'm choosing to go with my own personal interpretation of what I think he said. (didn't I warn you that my middle name was "myinterpretation")
so while my trial run to check out the new route to the new school was exhilarating, it also included a very VERY long walk. and some rain. and an unbearable ache in both my shoulders from my bag that seems very durable and also painfully heavy, even with nothing in it!
(If the bag isn't going to fall apart due to it's own self loathing at what an un-ergonomic mess it is, then I'm going to have to put it out of its misery myself- Hello expensive and comfy OGIO in a pretty burrberry plaid...)
how did i survive such adversity? I took eminem's advice- he's always wearing tracksuits, I imagine he walks a lot. I untangled my earbuds, turned up the volume and embraced the fact that being over thirty makes it possible to look a bit odd in the name of ignoring all present pain.
Yeah, that was me marching down toward the Clinton Blue line, all swagger while I stepped to the cadence of Phillly Phil's "get buck in here"remix. I wanted to cry just a little because my shoulders felt like i had been doing chestflys at the gym for about three years straight. oh-shutup. i just multiplied what my 30 seconds of chestflys last month felt like by, well, too many. that's how I know what that feels like!
I have to tell you, by the time I'd made it through my shakira/ani difranco playlist, i was feeling no pain. I was even lip syncing along to juanes and TLC!
It looks like I am not only going to be shelling out over $100 a month for a train pass, but I will also be walking about 2 miles a day once it's all said and done. Although, thanks to eminem's wise advice, I will not be whining about it much! (who said wearing velour gets in the way of being taken seriously)
!
well, I am notorious for getting song lyrics wrong, but I'm choosing to go with my own personal interpretation of what I think he said. (didn't I warn you that my middle name was "myinterpretation")
so while my trial run to check out the new route to the new school was exhilarating, it also included a very VERY long walk. and some rain. and an unbearable ache in both my shoulders from my bag that seems very durable and also painfully heavy, even with nothing in it!
(If the bag isn't going to fall apart due to it's own self loathing at what an un-ergonomic mess it is, then I'm going to have to put it out of its misery myself- Hello expensive and comfy OGIO in a pretty burrberry plaid...)
how did i survive such adversity? I took eminem's advice- he's always wearing tracksuits, I imagine he walks a lot. I untangled my earbuds, turned up the volume and embraced the fact that being over thirty makes it possible to look a bit odd in the name of ignoring all present pain.
Yeah, that was me marching down toward the Clinton Blue line, all swagger while I stepped to the cadence of Phillly Phil's "get buck in here"remix. I wanted to cry just a little because my shoulders felt like i had been doing chestflys at the gym for about three years straight. oh-shutup. i just multiplied what my 30 seconds of chestflys last month felt like by, well, too many. that's how I know what that feels like!
I have to tell you, by the time I'd made it through my shakira/ani difranco playlist, i was feeling no pain. I was even lip syncing along to juanes and TLC!
It looks like I am not only going to be shelling out over $100 a month for a train pass, but I will also be walking about 2 miles a day once it's all said and done. Although, thanks to eminem's wise advice, I will not be whining about it much! (who said wearing velour gets in the way of being taken seriously)
!
Saturday, December 22, 2007
be still and know...
While usually a devotee of The Food Network, today I watched a favorite cooking show on local tv. Its a Scandanavian cooking show where this guy, Claus, goes out to remote and beautiful locations and cooks. He hikes out to wherever with this efficient little portable kitchen he has and there, in front of a real sunset, or ancient castle, he cooks a gourmet meal.
Today he made something that looked amazing, but what really got me thinking was the way I felt when the camera panned to the scenery.
He was god-knows-where in Scandinavia, with icebergs floating past and the sun gently setting behind them. I felt an instant stillness as I watched, through the tv, such a broad open setting. I wondered, why is it that wide open places make us feel quiet, even calm?
This winter I have been reflecting on my time in Vermont in 1995/96. On top of the mountains in Craftsbury Common, I was allowed one cycle of all the seasons in real, honest to goodness nature.
I was an irreverent little know it all, and its a wonder the townspeople didn't vote me off the mountain after a week. Eventually I left of my own accord, sure that I couldn't get back to civilization fast enough. Now, with a little more clarity and a great awareness of how rare that kind of setting is, I'm almost embarrassed to admit how little I appreciated that time when I was there.
I remember walking from the bungalow dorms where I shared a room with a girl from Maine, nicknamed by the lumberjacks "Munchkin Wingnut".
The trek to campus was about a half mile, and from where we lived, it was a windy path cutting thru the woods and a field where the sheep would graze in the spring and summer. That path would take you out onto the main road which didn't have a name, just a number, although you could send a letter to Main street, Craftsbury Common and it would end up at the little post office on that road anyway.
It wasn't just the long walk, or the 3 story pine and spruce trees waving down at you, Mostly I remember the snowdrifts at night. I was 18 years old and prone to restlessness. If there was nothing going on at the dorms or on campus, wherever I happened to be, I would set off walking and after a few minutes I would find myself in the depths of a whole other realm of consciousness.
There is a stillness I would feel,walking that snowy path with stars and moonlight high above me. Its not just a feeling of calm, its an overwhelming sense of purpose and acceptance. For the next mile or so, I would be dedicated to quietly trudging through the nearly knee deep snow. But it wasn't a chore at all, no matter what kind of mood I was in. I would wrap my scarf and button my coat high and just set off, one step at a time.
Usually the snow would still be falling, silently. The sky would seem full of powdery tears and the wind would have blown the snow into layers and drifts along the path. The dunes of snow, created by the wind, resembled the folds of bed linens or a warm blanket. Sometimes there would be absolutely no wind at all, and the snow would fall as it it were just air.
However I felt, or whatever the temperature, I had to take this walk at least 6 times a day. I may have complained then , but not much that I remember. Even then I knew that I was feeding off of that feeling of something larger, grander than everything else I knew.
I don't know if I'm just being nostalgic, and that could very well be true as my heart twists in a lovely pain every time I think back to those days. I am just thankful that my memories of the walk, and the sense of being in the presence of the earth as it is- untouched, are still available to me now.
Sometimes when I'm sitting in my car, waiting for it to warm up in the parking lot, surrounded by dingy grey snow and hundreds of other cars and people, I try to close my eyes and remember the feeling and sound of my feet scrunching along in the snow, surrounded by silence and a permission from somewhere to be silent myself. Even now, more than 10 years later, those moments are the best definition I have for the word grace.
Today he made something that looked amazing, but what really got me thinking was the way I felt when the camera panned to the scenery.
He was god-knows-where in Scandinavia, with icebergs floating past and the sun gently setting behind them. I felt an instant stillness as I watched, through the tv, such a broad open setting. I wondered, why is it that wide open places make us feel quiet, even calm?
This winter I have been reflecting on my time in Vermont in 1995/96. On top of the mountains in Craftsbury Common, I was allowed one cycle of all the seasons in real, honest to goodness nature.
I was an irreverent little know it all, and its a wonder the townspeople didn't vote me off the mountain after a week. Eventually I left of my own accord, sure that I couldn't get back to civilization fast enough. Now, with a little more clarity and a great awareness of how rare that kind of setting is, I'm almost embarrassed to admit how little I appreciated that time when I was there.
I remember walking from the bungalow dorms where I shared a room with a girl from Maine, nicknamed by the lumberjacks "Munchkin Wingnut".
The trek to campus was about a half mile, and from where we lived, it was a windy path cutting thru the woods and a field where the sheep would graze in the spring and summer. That path would take you out onto the main road which didn't have a name, just a number, although you could send a letter to Main street, Craftsbury Common and it would end up at the little post office on that road anyway.
It wasn't just the long walk, or the 3 story pine and spruce trees waving down at you, Mostly I remember the snowdrifts at night. I was 18 years old and prone to restlessness. If there was nothing going on at the dorms or on campus, wherever I happened to be, I would set off walking and after a few minutes I would find myself in the depths of a whole other realm of consciousness.
There is a stillness I would feel,walking that snowy path with stars and moonlight high above me. Its not just a feeling of calm, its an overwhelming sense of purpose and acceptance. For the next mile or so, I would be dedicated to quietly trudging through the nearly knee deep snow. But it wasn't a chore at all, no matter what kind of mood I was in. I would wrap my scarf and button my coat high and just set off, one step at a time.
Usually the snow would still be falling, silently. The sky would seem full of powdery tears and the wind would have blown the snow into layers and drifts along the path. The dunes of snow, created by the wind, resembled the folds of bed linens or a warm blanket. Sometimes there would be absolutely no wind at all, and the snow would fall as it it were just air.
However I felt, or whatever the temperature, I had to take this walk at least 6 times a day. I may have complained then , but not much that I remember. Even then I knew that I was feeding off of that feeling of something larger, grander than everything else I knew.
I don't know if I'm just being nostalgic, and that could very well be true as my heart twists in a lovely pain every time I think back to those days. I am just thankful that my memories of the walk, and the sense of being in the presence of the earth as it is- untouched, are still available to me now.
Sometimes when I'm sitting in my car, waiting for it to warm up in the parking lot, surrounded by dingy grey snow and hundreds of other cars and people, I try to close my eyes and remember the feeling and sound of my feet scrunching along in the snow, surrounded by silence and a permission from somewhere to be silent myself. Even now, more than 10 years later, those moments are the best definition I have for the word grace.
Monday, November 12, 2007
thirty moments?
Ok, I know I am supposed to be too young for heated conversations about hot flashes or stammering statements about forgetfulness, but I swear, I am losing my marbles. I feel like if something isn't written down, in sharpie, I can't be sure that I will remember it.
I managed to miss out on a meeting today that I was actually excited to go to. I got caught up in something that was actually a bit of an emergency, but even afterwards- I didn't even think about the fact that I had stood someone up, completely without warning or explanation.
I'm not sure If I feel worse about wasting someone else's very valuable time, or that I seem to be approaching my grandmother's dementia at a rapid pace. htis is not entirely a joke either. Both of my grandparents (on mom's side) have Alzheimer's diagnoses. I think its a bit more complicated than that, but either way, there is some obvious mental deterioration for both of them- but AFTER 80, not at thirty!!
Today, I had a bit of a fog about me, I just knew something was going to get lost in the mix. of course I had just hoped it was going to be the typical laundry or homework. I feel like as a student, I really do work on "sharpening my mind" as everyone says a possible Alzheimer's patient should. But maybe the type of sharpening I do is far to emotional, meandering and not enough finite, calculated memorization. In Psych 101 I learned about how learning is a combo. of properly encoding information and then being able to effectively retrieve it. I think I am maybe missing something in both of those departments.
I don't think there is enough sudoku or L- Carnitine in the world to make me a natural savant or even a little less attached to my day planner, but perhaps if I recite my to do list using a catchy cadence I might be a little less likely to feel like I'm 30 going on 85.
pass the prunes, grandma, I think I might join you for some bingo tonight.
I managed to miss out on a meeting today that I was actually excited to go to. I got caught up in something that was actually a bit of an emergency, but even afterwards- I didn't even think about the fact that I had stood someone up, completely without warning or explanation.
I'm not sure If I feel worse about wasting someone else's very valuable time, or that I seem to be approaching my grandmother's dementia at a rapid pace. htis is not entirely a joke either. Both of my grandparents (on mom's side) have Alzheimer's diagnoses. I think its a bit more complicated than that, but either way, there is some obvious mental deterioration for both of them- but AFTER 80, not at thirty!!
Today, I had a bit of a fog about me, I just knew something was going to get lost in the mix. of course I had just hoped it was going to be the typical laundry or homework. I feel like as a student, I really do work on "sharpening my mind" as everyone says a possible Alzheimer's patient should. But maybe the type of sharpening I do is far to emotional, meandering and not enough finite, calculated memorization. In Psych 101 I learned about how learning is a combo. of properly encoding information and then being able to effectively retrieve it. I think I am maybe missing something in both of those departments.
I don't think there is enough sudoku or L- Carnitine in the world to make me a natural savant or even a little less attached to my day planner, but perhaps if I recite my to do list using a catchy cadence I might be a little less likely to feel like I'm 30 going on 85.
pass the prunes, grandma, I think I might join you for some bingo tonight.
Monday, October 22, 2007
meet me in St.Louis
A road trip!
It's undeniable that you are supposed to b excited when you hear those words. Road trips are supposed to be a shot a freedom, for a weekend. I picture Thelma and Louise picking up Neal Cassidy and maybe Mark Twain. Three of them have the most amazing jukebox when they combine all of their Ipods play lists. Of course mark twain doesn't have an Ipod, he's above all that newfangledness, and he offers a mix tape, but the car doesn't have a tape player- its a 2000 hybrid, so - what are you going to do?! I'm not sure where they go, definitely not off a cliff, but not necessarily into the sunset, either. Perhaps I'll send them to St.Louis, after all- thats where I went this weekend.
I went to St.Louis to visit friends and vanquish demons. I didn't really run into any demons, just realized that I can't hang as late or as hard as I used to. I got to meet the entire 3 and under set, as everyone has had at least one child since I left. I guess that means I'm some kind of anti-fertility charm. interesting...
I was really hoping that J and do would name their son Lou (their last name is Reid) but he's cool all on his own, doesn't even need a hip, pop culture reference as an ice breaker. L. Rose is literally a pink rosebud, she curls and unfurls her limbs like she's the flower subject of a stop- motion film on the nature channel. and Gretta, oh Gretta. Only a kid with eyes like yours could get away with eating whole sugar packets for lunch! I'm happy to say, I'm still not jealous of my friends turned parents. I want one of my own, but this test proved that I'm really not a candidate yet. (thank god)
I had major yearnings for my girlfriends this summer. I'm glad I finally took the road trip, Bear fit in just fine. Even NJ's wicked ways didn't phase him. What a great man! He seems to see what I see in my friends: embarrassingly cool ladies, with very strong opinions and hearts of gold.
When NJ got a little teary over her last love, I felt like I wanted to send her in a time machine about 18 months into the future. I know she knows the rules; it hurts like hell, the bandage keeps ripping off every time you turn on the radio or drive past your old haunts. and then, when you feel like the only peace comes from forgetting even the good times, the grass just starts to grow like early springtime again. all the dry patches even out and new people fill in where the old perennials used to be. I resisted the urge to give her too much advice or soothing, we all know how much of a temptation that is for me. but NJ, well, she just doesn't work like that.
After 15 years, I still have no idea what she really needs when she's hurting. I need pizza and beer and badtv. the closest I've ever come to understanding her is when she once explained that an out of town trip was what had helped her come to terms with a bad situation. She said she just needed the different surroundings to help her find a new perspective.
So, on the advice Of NJ, I took the road trip. I wasn't trying to fix any bad situation, but I was trying to jiggle some inspiration free on a few issues I've been just sitting on lately. Not sure what, exactly, I accomplished, but I feel like Mark and Thelma and Neal and Louise would be proud that I let loose and cut town for a bit- And what more could a girl want than to impress that crowd!
It's undeniable that you are supposed to b excited when you hear those words. Road trips are supposed to be a shot a freedom, for a weekend. I picture Thelma and Louise picking up Neal Cassidy and maybe Mark Twain. Three of them have the most amazing jukebox when they combine all of their Ipods play lists. Of course mark twain doesn't have an Ipod, he's above all that newfangledness, and he offers a mix tape, but the car doesn't have a tape player- its a 2000 hybrid, so - what are you going to do?! I'm not sure where they go, definitely not off a cliff, but not necessarily into the sunset, either. Perhaps I'll send them to St.Louis, after all- thats where I went this weekend.
I went to St.Louis to visit friends and vanquish demons. I didn't really run into any demons, just realized that I can't hang as late or as hard as I used to. I got to meet the entire 3 and under set, as everyone has had at least one child since I left. I guess that means I'm some kind of anti-fertility charm. interesting...
I was really hoping that J and do would name their son Lou (their last name is Reid) but he's cool all on his own, doesn't even need a hip, pop culture reference as an ice breaker. L. Rose is literally a pink rosebud, she curls and unfurls her limbs like she's the flower subject of a stop- motion film on the nature channel. and Gretta, oh Gretta. Only a kid with eyes like yours could get away with eating whole sugar packets for lunch! I'm happy to say, I'm still not jealous of my friends turned parents. I want one of my own, but this test proved that I'm really not a candidate yet. (thank god)
I had major yearnings for my girlfriends this summer. I'm glad I finally took the road trip, Bear fit in just fine. Even NJ's wicked ways didn't phase him. What a great man! He seems to see what I see in my friends: embarrassingly cool ladies, with very strong opinions and hearts of gold.
When NJ got a little teary over her last love, I felt like I wanted to send her in a time machine about 18 months into the future. I know she knows the rules; it hurts like hell, the bandage keeps ripping off every time you turn on the radio or drive past your old haunts. and then, when you feel like the only peace comes from forgetting even the good times, the grass just starts to grow like early springtime again. all the dry patches even out and new people fill in where the old perennials used to be. I resisted the urge to give her too much advice or soothing, we all know how much of a temptation that is for me. but NJ, well, she just doesn't work like that.
After 15 years, I still have no idea what she really needs when she's hurting. I need pizza and beer and badtv. the closest I've ever come to understanding her is when she once explained that an out of town trip was what had helped her come to terms with a bad situation. She said she just needed the different surroundings to help her find a new perspective.
So, on the advice Of NJ, I took the road trip. I wasn't trying to fix any bad situation, but I was trying to jiggle some inspiration free on a few issues I've been just sitting on lately. Not sure what, exactly, I accomplished, but I feel like Mark and Thelma and Neal and Louise would be proud that I let loose and cut town for a bit- And what more could a girl want than to impress that crowd!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
you didn't do anything wrong...
have you ever talked to someone who is on the brink of a big change?
It almost seems like the hope of great new things is looming like a big prize. At first, you're giddy and optimistic along with them. They move excitedly through all the possibilities out on their new horizon. Call me a buzzkill, but isn't that always when the grandeur begins to look a little far fetched The better you know the person, and the closer you are to them; the more likely you are to worry about how they'll survive if they don't succeed at this new adventure. What if she's shooting to far beyond the mark? or what if he's just not ready for all that?
I had to catch myself recently. I really want to be the eternal optimist, but I realize as I get older, how precious a good therapist with some tough love can be, even if they're not the real deal. Now I am not necessarily that good, but sometimes, I'm available , and that's often good enough for government work in my little world.
I have given some crappy advice over the last 30 years. By fluke I've also been in the right place, at the right time, just having come off a great Pearl Cleage novel, and I've spouted wisdom that would make the price of an 89 Rothschild Bordeaux look reasonable. I mean its been valuable, useful stuff that real people have patched up real woulds with. Those miracles have given me some clout with some folks, thank you Pearl. Today, however, I found myself offering a little gem of unsolicited advice that I'm not quite sure about. All I know is that it is either genius or bullshit, no chance at anything in between.
Today I told a dear friend, someone at a crossroads that has been a long time coming, that she didn't do anything wrong, she just hadn't done anything right. I probably should have been slapped; she has wisdom and grace and even wigs that are older than me. but, at the same time, there she was- standing at that new doorway. she was happy and a bit nostalgic. I remembered some of where she had come from along with her. Then She started to sound overwhelmingly confident. and I just froze. I worried, all these new ideas, they're great, but she's moving so fast. I know this is a positive direction, but she's going to hit some stumbling blocks. I can't let that happen. What if she hits that first, tough roadblock and gives up. I know this road is going to be full of obstacles. Oh god!
If you have ever been standing there, frozen, listening to what sounds "great on paper", and you've felt the desire to be a human lasso, to pull someone back from the edge when they are aiming "too high"... If you have ever witnessed, someone you love venture out onto the gangplank of their own free will- May I suggest that you give them a good send off.
Some things obviously require alot more restraint and thought, but if you know the person really wants what they are moving towards. Let them have it. Let them decide. If you find it necessary to pipe in, just so no one says you didn't, then simply that they have a real shot at the prize.
just remind them that actions in the past have taught them alot. remember that yourself too.
I found it really hard to let my friend open that door. I didn't want her to fail, or get hurt, or even find out she was in the wrong room and have to back out again. But then I reflected( in my frozen state). If I knew that everything she had done in the past hadn't gotten her what she wanted, and everything I had always said hadn't necessarily helped, then maybe it was time for us both to try something new.
While my dear friend imagined all the great things behind that door, I didn't hold her back , I told her- go for it. I'll be here.
Well, at least that's what I meant. I think it sounded more like I said it before. I told her, "so far you haven't done anything wrong, you just haven't done anything right, yet, either." thankfully she's used to my backwards thinking and I think she understood. I meant that this new approach was really worth trying out, after all- this could be the right way to do things, finally!
I think today's lesson, for me, is : if you can't stop and think before you speak... then for now, practice by freezing up. Go with that.. it seems to almost work as well as thinking.
It almost seems like the hope of great new things is looming like a big prize. At first, you're giddy and optimistic along with them. They move excitedly through all the possibilities out on their new horizon. Call me a buzzkill, but isn't that always when the grandeur begins to look a little far fetched The better you know the person, and the closer you are to them; the more likely you are to worry about how they'll survive if they don't succeed at this new adventure. What if she's shooting to far beyond the mark? or what if he's just not ready for all that?
I had to catch myself recently. I really want to be the eternal optimist, but I realize as I get older, how precious a good therapist with some tough love can be, even if they're not the real deal. Now I am not necessarily that good, but sometimes, I'm available , and that's often good enough for government work in my little world.
I have given some crappy advice over the last 30 years. By fluke I've also been in the right place, at the right time, just having come off a great Pearl Cleage novel, and I've spouted wisdom that would make the price of an 89 Rothschild Bordeaux look reasonable. I mean its been valuable, useful stuff that real people have patched up real woulds with. Those miracles have given me some clout with some folks, thank you Pearl. Today, however, I found myself offering a little gem of unsolicited advice that I'm not quite sure about. All I know is that it is either genius or bullshit, no chance at anything in between.
Today I told a dear friend, someone at a crossroads that has been a long time coming, that she didn't do anything wrong, she just hadn't done anything right. I probably should have been slapped; she has wisdom and grace and even wigs that are older than me. but, at the same time, there she was- standing at that new doorway. she was happy and a bit nostalgic. I remembered some of where she had come from along with her. Then She started to sound overwhelmingly confident. and I just froze. I worried, all these new ideas, they're great, but she's moving so fast. I know this is a positive direction, but she's going to hit some stumbling blocks. I can't let that happen. What if she hits that first, tough roadblock and gives up. I know this road is going to be full of obstacles. Oh god!
If you have ever been standing there, frozen, listening to what sounds "great on paper", and you've felt the desire to be a human lasso, to pull someone back from the edge when they are aiming "too high"... If you have ever witnessed, someone you love venture out onto the gangplank of their own free will- May I suggest that you give them a good send off.
Some things obviously require alot more restraint and thought, but if you know the person really wants what they are moving towards. Let them have it. Let them decide. If you find it necessary to pipe in, just so no one says you didn't, then simply that they have a real shot at the prize.
just remind them that actions in the past have taught them alot. remember that yourself too.
I found it really hard to let my friend open that door. I didn't want her to fail, or get hurt, or even find out she was in the wrong room and have to back out again. But then I reflected( in my frozen state). If I knew that everything she had done in the past hadn't gotten her what she wanted, and everything I had always said hadn't necessarily helped, then maybe it was time for us both to try something new.
While my dear friend imagined all the great things behind that door, I didn't hold her back , I told her- go for it. I'll be here.
Well, at least that's what I meant. I think it sounded more like I said it before. I told her, "so far you haven't done anything wrong, you just haven't done anything right, yet, either." thankfully she's used to my backwards thinking and I think she understood. I meant that this new approach was really worth trying out, after all- this could be the right way to do things, finally!
I think today's lesson, for me, is : if you can't stop and think before you speak... then for now, practice by freezing up. Go with that.. it seems to almost work as well as thinking.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
users manual
so, if I were to admit that I have been wanting a blog for a long time. I wonder would that make me a 'cool library-thing hipster geek' or just a big fat procrastinator.
both, in my book. because I'm pretty much electronically declined, or reclined, or afraid.
I have assumed that if I tried to create a blog, I would make some miserable mistake and would end up losing it somehow. (the blog, I mean)
Can you believe that. I still manage to lose things online, not just because of passwords,even.
I have a myspace page, and I can't find it. I'm lost among the other sabrina's i guess.
sigh.
so, yes, I write about all that I think about. and that makes me just like everyone else sort of. but I may take quite a while to figure this thing out. (the blog, i mean)
I still have a little trouble absorbing the essence of digital things that don't really exist.
like if the power went out, would I still "have" a blog? I guess, i would , I just couldn't show it to you. that's a little weird, but I'm going to try to own it anyway.
which brings me to my inspiration in this matter (the blog, i mean)
if a tv fell in the woods. I don't know how to link it, or even direct you to it, but you found me- so you are much more capable than I.
Go& find the blog! this woman watches all the bad tv for me, I think she's like the badtv godmother I never knew existed!
I know I'm being vague here, but that is one of the cardinal rules for being a great writer. embed a message in your rant that only the few can find.
thats how you stay an underground phenom, then you just hope and pray that Oprah picks up your second book, so that you can somehow separate your international phenom-self from the underground one.
okay- now you know one secret.
go watch tv.
both, in my book. because I'm pretty much electronically declined, or reclined, or afraid.
I have assumed that if I tried to create a blog, I would make some miserable mistake and would end up losing it somehow. (the blog, I mean)
Can you believe that. I still manage to lose things online, not just because of passwords,even.
I have a myspace page, and I can't find it. I'm lost among the other sabrina's i guess.
sigh.
so, yes, I write about all that I think about. and that makes me just like everyone else sort of. but I may take quite a while to figure this thing out. (the blog, i mean)
I still have a little trouble absorbing the essence of digital things that don't really exist.
like if the power went out, would I still "have" a blog? I guess, i would , I just couldn't show it to you. that's a little weird, but I'm going to try to own it anyway.
which brings me to my inspiration in this matter (the blog, i mean)
if a tv fell in the woods. I don't know how to link it, or even direct you to it, but you found me- so you are much more capable than I.
Go& find the blog! this woman watches all the bad tv for me, I think she's like the badtv godmother I never knew existed!
I know I'm being vague here, but that is one of the cardinal rules for being a great writer. embed a message in your rant that only the few can find.
thats how you stay an underground phenom, then you just hope and pray that Oprah picks up your second book, so that you can somehow separate your international phenom-self from the underground one.
okay- now you know one secret.
go watch tv.
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