Total Knock Out or DIY: Haterz Gonna Hate

My new thing is to not let other people get under my skin- to, if I have to "wash that man/woman/those people" right out of my hair - those people who like lice are determined to to get in there, burrow in and stay for the long haul, sucking out my precious nutrients. I've got to figure out a nice way, in effect, to be a b**ch. Maybe a shirt that  says I'm not as young or as nice as I look- to those who doubt my professional abilities or overestimate my naivete. This has always been a problem for me- I'm young, nice and usually have a position of responsibility. Here's the problem for others-those who are older, "not so nice" and have earned no responsibility, but feel they deserve mine and most importantly, any perks that come with them. There are people who apparently can tell just by looking at me that my life has been  a bed of roses, and so have decided by comment consent to be thorns in my side. I wish I were a person who didn't care, who could flip the world the bird and keep going. Because contrary to all sense, the world seems to admire people like that. It seems, in fact, sometimes to encourage that kind of bravado, machismo ( I don't know a feminine word for machismo-note to self; I must find that word and use it in conversation at least once.)And I want some of that swagger.It's not enough to tell myself that people don't know better, don't know my issues, don't know my sorrows (can you hear singing in the background? "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen.....) Ok, maybe I don't really have it that bad, or maybe, just maybe I've just been really working that hard.  Yeah-----I  think that's it. And a little recognition is so little to give when it means so much. I know I can't expect others to appreciate what I'm going through, but every once in a while, it would sure be nice if the world would give me a break. Or failing that, that I had enough Thatchers to take one for myself. Ok, so maybe I don't have enough spite to tell the world to bite the big one, but I can surely strike back at those who keep taking rabbit punches at me. There's one surefire way to do it- and it's guaranteed to make the haterz crazy. I'll keep doing what I'm doing- succeeding, one jab at a time, giving it all I've got and leaving it all in the ring. They can't stand that or anyone who doesn't have time for the bile. Life is too short to focus on the negativity, and I'm too far ahead to let someone pull me down. It seems like such a simple thing, but in the end that's truly all it takes to mark the winners from the losers- just check which direction they're looking in.  It's already been decided. I'm in it for the long haul. I just have to work to  believe that the fight is already won.

"Criticism is something we can avoid easily; 

by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing." 

Aristotle

Don't know about you, but that's not my style, so I'll have to keep on keepin' on. 
Hope you will too. 

I've come back from the nowhere land of not writing after a break, or rather a break down. After not blogging for a few weeks I quickly came to realize how much blogging has helped me to maintain my equilibrium despite some harrowing personal and work experiences. Without it my personal compass tends to spin even further from true north than normal and leave my head spinning. It's strange to realize that blogging is something of a ritual for me and when I don't do it, everything just seems off. Sometimes I struggle to produce something I consider "worthy", but the point should be that any time I reflect on life ,I'm doing something worthy and necessary for me. The idea of rituals has other echoes for me as well. While I am not an overtly religious person, I do hold some beliefs quite dear, but have struggled to figure out how to incorporate them more fully into my life-to realize them in a way that has a real, substancial emotional and spiritual impact for me. I think we all feel like sacredness is something that comes from outside us, something from "beyond"-which makes it something we can never hope to achieve. But doesn't every philosophy say somewhere that we are special-whether made in God's image, or just part of the Creation, or just fundamental pieces of the universe? Heck, even He-man cartoons taught us that "We have the power!" So, I've decided that maybe my rituals should be just that-mine. Designed by me, for me and surely packing a bigger punch when I stray from them. I've decided that my rituals should be simple-whether a whispered prayer during the drawing of a deep breath (something I've realized I do not do nearly often enough), or the smudging of my home with burning sage,( a cleansing ritual I've also done with remarkable success). The point is to do things everday with intention- with the intention of realizing my own power and my own connection to not only the world around me but the one within me, as well as my own power to control my fate. I want to become my own wisewoman, my own power worker, my own conduit to the powers that be and be a power myself. I can do that-I can make my own path, and while I am certain that I will get lost again, once I know that I am my own center, it will never be too hard to find home again.

Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again.

Joseph Campbell

Find more on personal power and try the ritual ideas at http://www.higherawareness.com/manifestingabundance/personal-rituals.html

It's Not You, It's Me or DIY: Death Become Her

Since I was a kid, I've been very conscious of death.  Conscious of a lot of things actually- body conscious, self conscious, etc, ad nauseum. But I really became aware of life the day I became aware of death.   It remember it clearly; I was maybe four or five, in kindergarten at least, crossing the street with my mom.  Picture me, a kid with braids and glasses, walking to school when suddenly...  I noticed the cars. So many cars, it seemed, all around me and I don't know why it had never occurred to me before that they could hit me and I could die.  Actually, I think I do know- before that I had never really thought of myself as a person, a separate organism.  I know it seems strange, -surely I knew I was alive- but honestly, I don't think I remember much before that age-don't know if I even remembered my own name really (developmentally lagging, that was me, I think). And you know what they say- "Cogito ergo sum." I think therefore I am.  I know I wasn't really present until that moment, and then suddenly I was, just in time for a car to blow by me.  And that's when I knew I was real, that I could be hurt.  It's a lesson that reverberates with me to this day.  So much of the time I try to be a good person (whatever that means), someone loving, someone intelligent.  I give myself to people, and I know you're not supposed to ask for anything in return...but sometimes I need something.  I need to be appreciated. I need to be touched.  I need to feel like I'm doing a god job living this, the one and only life I've been given. I hate that I walk around sometimes thinking that that moment, whatever I happen to be doing, will never come again because how many of us are living in our purpose in every moment? Ordinary life takes up so much time.  It's necessary, but sometimes it fills me with regret.  It makes me feel like less that I'm not living a super powered life every minute of every day. But I'm not a flame. I'm a candle, and you know what they say about burning a candle at both ends. I don't want this awareness of death to make me depressed (ironic, I know).  I just want it to give those moments when inspiration does overpower "real life" even more of an edge.  I want to dedicate myself to creating something, if not lasting- after all, writing and art don't always last past their creation or creator- but something, if not lasting, at least beautiful. I want to spend my time with people and things, in places,  that acknowledge me and make me happy and make me treasure life the bitter sweetness that underscores it.  I don't want to squander it.  So I've got to focus- on me and my one life and my story and creating something- leaving my legacy, whatever it may be, behind.   There are some people who would call that selfish- who don't want to be  part of my story. To them  I say, you're not wrong.  It's not you; it's me.  I am being selfish and I going to stay that way.  It's my life after all and I've only got one.  I've got to make it count.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life.  A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.  

Mark Twain

It amazes me how two people's thoughts on anything can be light years apart-even, maybe especially, on things they agree on. The process of how people come  to an agreement is like watching a Mandelbrot fractal being born-you start off with chaos and make...chaos-just in a beautiful form, because even once we agree, we can never really understand each other's thinking processes or motivations. How do people ever come together when our interior landscapes span mental continents? How do we explore each others mental terrain and decide this person is my friend, my lover, my enemy- or even "this person is just like me!"-when the truth is, you have no idea. We will never truly know what another person is thinking, or why they do what they do. The rules of society help us make our decisions-but they aren't absolute and they change constantly. What's popular, right, moral- all decided, it feels, on a whim. And I'm an outsider loking in, who can't figure out the rules of the game. Some people are experts at moving through life, despite it's unpredictability. I think it's akin to being a mathematical savant who's never studied algebra- you can intuit an answer and be right, but never use the same process twice to get to the final answer. Which means when I try the very same thing that worked for you or even worked for me the last two times, the third time-Kaboom! When talking to people I feel, always and forever, a stranger in a strange land. I have no idea how to navigate the pitfalls of interpersonal relationships and usually wish I could just say "Screw it!", and not obey those damn unspoken rules of society everyone else seems to know so well at all. But I want to be a part of something. And people who don't try don't get too far in any direction.  And...I have to admit I'm not strong enough to bear society's censure for long. I wish there were an easier way to overcome our mental chasms. But maybe that's the point. Chasms can be overcome when people cooperate-when we strive to understand each other. Sure,I usually don't get it-but I am striving. I think we all are. And maybe one day, we'll all get it. For right now though, what I want is for someone on the other side of my mental divide to lend a hand and throw me a rope. Any takers?

"Sometimes it is the person closest to us who must travel the furthest distance to be our friend."

Robert Brault

You Don't Know Me And Neither Do I

I had a strange day yesterday. My multiple personalities came out to play. It started when I woke up feeling hipsterish, so I got dressed in tunic and tights, the whole nine yards, despite the fact that I was going to be doing a bit of semi-professional speaking that day. Call me crazy, but I don't think people respond respectfully to other people when they look like they're about to head out to a rave, but I decided to go with it and to hell with the consequences. Besides, I ended up as an elephant that day and no one minded that at all. I went out to do a puppet show for a group of kids and instantly turned into Miss Perky-you just can`t be mean to a bunch of little kids when there`s a puppet on your hand and they`re all smiling at you going "Do it again!" It was a good start to the day. Then I went into my office and suddenly morphed into office lady, checking email, scheduling meetings, taking requests. Still dressed like a college hippie, but now a manager who just happened to have an elephant puppet on her desk. Surreal has been my byword for some time now-my life taking roads I never could have imagined-never knowing who I`ll have to be when I get up that day, and never knowing who I`ll bring back home with me that night. I sort of wish I could use that puppet everyday. I get the feeling all my conversations would be a lot more honest and fulfillin that way. I always thought one day I would figure out who I was, who I was meant to be. I didn`t realize how much impact other people`s perspectives would have on me or how I would worry about it all-about not meeting those expectations. I almost wish I were an actor-given a set of lines and a character description that spelled the whole thing out-where a character lived and how, where they were coming from, and all their motivations. Sometimes I even want to know the end of the story. But that's not how it works. Some stories may be exciting, some predictable-but when it's your own you still have to live it out to the very end, to live through the climax and make your own resolution.I haven't left the house yet today, so don't know what role I'll be starring in,but I hope it's a good one-I'll make it a good one. Maybe a recurring part that I can come back to again and again.

"Many of us go through life feeling as an actor might who does not like his part, and does not believe in the play."

Mignon McLaughlin-The Neurotics Notebook,1960

The Game of Life or DIY: I'll Take Life for A Thousand, Alex

I've written a lot about how life seems like a game, with rules that I've never quite understood. While friends and family are getting married, starting families,buying homes, and settling into their adult lives, I seem to still be.... not drifting, exactly- but not matching up to some societal norms. But, then who says that society knows what's normal? Normal has changed so much over the years-feminism givng rise to a backlash, macho guys becoming stay at home dads, equal marriage rights for all- why we almost had a female president! Things are not the way they used to be and normal it appears, is far more fluid than we give it credit for. So who's to say that my normal isn't exactly the right thing for me right now? I have been an educator, a care giver, a world traveler even, while still remaing the same small town girl ( and yes, I really do still think of myself as a girl.)-Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be a fully grown woman. I imgaine myself still worrying about acne and having crushes at age eighty, but perhaps having grown up enough not to worry who knows it. I have not yet been a wife or mother and who knows if that's to come? Maybe I'll delve back into the past and be a hippie in my next incarnation. You never know- and that's an important realization in the Game of Life. You never know what will happen next- whether the milestones you hit are taking you along the "right" path. You never know if you're winning---unless you can say this- I have been proud of what I've accomplished, eager to see what I'll do next, grateful for the people who have journeyed with me, and humbled by the realization of both my own inadequacies and my own power. This is what it means to be human, to be normal- to realize that the journey takes you as much as you take it. And no matter where it takes you, as long as you keep moving, you're winning. So it all comes down to this-you spin the wheel, take your turn, make your choices- and hopefully you enjoy where the game takes you.

Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game. 

Voltaire

Same To You, Buddy!

So, I was driving to work today, coincidentally enough, thinking about writing this blog, and I nearly sideswiped another car (which just goes to show how deeply I think about these blogs before I send them out to you in the world-so, respect.) Now, of course, the other driver cussed me out and deservedly so,  and I would have done the same.  But it occurred to me that that person was from then on going to have not only a terrible morning, but an erroneous idea of who I was. Unless you're the sweetest person on earth, you know that road rage makes you think the worst of humanity, and so do lots of other things- the person who cuts you off at the grocery line, who's rude to you at the corner sandwich shop- the list goes on and on.  But  these little snippets of a person's personality that we get (in my case, they didn't even get to see) are like, like the many layers of Martin Lawrence's fat suit in his movies (which one?- ALL of them). They're there, but they're  not all that's there, and you have to peel through the layers to get to the kernel and find out if there's anything there worthwhile (that's a lot of theres!).   I often feel like the people around me don't know the real me- that they know my circumstances, and think that they're all that defines me. I am someone's daughter, sister, friend- and I have certain behaviors for each of these  that  other people who don't see me in that light would find astonishing. I'm sure my mother would be surprised (at the least) if she knew some of the things I discussed with my friends, and my friends would be surprised if they  knew what it is I do exactly as a job (no one really thinks I'm  very responsible in any of my relationships), and I.. I just let people think what they think because their first impression isn't going to change.  A science fiction truism is that psychics don't  exist in great numbers because they couldn't deal with the multiple pyschoses people carry about in their heads... (another is that people in scifi novels almost always have a hate on for psychics and invariably end up killing them to protect their own [sometimes measly and sometimes grisly] secrets- not great options for building a race of super humans.)  At any rate, I felt bad for cutting someone off, and wished they could see into my head to know I was sorry, but knew they never would. So one more version of me (the idiot female driver one) is  out there in someone's head, but it's not the real me.  Being fully known is one of my greatest fears and greatest desires- I want to pull off my own fat suit (the real one too) and stand in front of the world, someday- but for now I'll hide behind my glasses and wait for someone who is psychic or just really really patient to find the best version of me, the absolutely amazing one, and pull me out of the shadows. Who knows, it could even be me.

Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul.  

~Henry Van Dyke, The Prison and the Angel

Through The Looking Glass

Getting my thoughts together to send out into the world (specifically to you three guys still paying attention) has been a little more difficult recently. I've been living a quote unquote "normal -life"- albeit even I realize how un-normal (yes, I know that's not a word- it's my word, deal with it!) things are in today's America.  It's so surreal in fact, that I've kinda been facing a hit of nostalgia for Japan.  I miss my beach, and my apartment and the freedom to travel (even though, yes, I suck and didn't do it enough. I do regret that actually...a  lot).  But life in our America just seems so odd right now- debt ceiling limits, the news about Norway (contrasted oddly or disgustingly enough this morning on Today by a segment about mommyrexia- trying to be thin through pregnancy). And it goes on. The famine in Africa (which one, some of you quip- to which I say, don't be a douche), the horrendous tornadoes- need I explicate more?  And yes, I know that Japan has suffered horribly, even though that news seems to have been quietly dropped (well before they kicked our butts in the World Cup -but is anyone surprised that the news pundits haven't touched the ish since (that's ish as in issues, not the "other". If you don't know what the "other " is- don't worry about it.) So, yes, my nostalgia is not based in reality, but nostalgia never is.  I feel like dealing on a national level with our problems, and a personal one with my own is just a leeetle frustrating right now- my weight (America has been trying to kill me with fast food), my indecision- stay at a job I love in a town I don't? (not really don't, just one I've already done.  A sad case of Manifest Destiny maybe?)  Heck, I'm still waiting for my prince to come...and make me dinner, love me passionately and tell me I'm pretty!  (Any time now, dude). I don't know-sometimes I feel I just need to get back to basics- and my island was pretty basic. But I know that I'm seeing it all through a mirror darkly, as they say. (You remember, the ubiquitous "they"). So, I guess I'll just have to concentrate on making my own wonderland here..or finding a bargain basement pair of rose tinted glasses.  Any one got some to spare?

*New postcard series coming soon!

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Yes, I know how ironic the title of this latest blog is considering I promised to get back to writing on a more regular basis- buuut, a sister has to sleep sometime you know!  The Great Work-i.e. my job, has been going well lately and keeping me on my toes. I'm  feeling really productive which has always been a factor in happiness for me- you know I've said it before ( a lot), but having a purpose is so important to getting through the day, let alone life.  That being said, the getting through life thing started to poke at me a little recently.  When I work I'm kind of like a terrier- I dig my head in and get to work, and it can take a hard pull to get me to back off and look at the bigger picture. Recently a lot of really great things have been happening ...just to other people. My family and friends have gotten married, had children, moved houses, moved towns. I thought about it, and thought about it, and started feeling a little like I might be a little..late, developmentally speaking.  While everyone else seems to be hitting the milestones society tells us are so important, I haven't been able to get anywhere near them with the hopping I've been doing.  Looking back on my life has been a little bit of a disturbing realization- from high school to college, to a job, to..another job, across the world and back.  On paper I'm not sure I've accomplished that much. Sure I've traveled, but having to start at the bottom again at each new job, having to find a whole new community every time I left the last, living in places that while cute  didn't quite feel like home, (but not being ready to settle anywhere  permanent yet, just because... nothing has felt quite perfect enough). Ehh, it's not the kind of life you can bring to the table when you start to think a future with someone, with a community, with anything that demands a long term relationship. Heck, even my cats aren't so sure I won't desert them to world hop again. Every time you leave it's another chapter and sometime the people left behind don't care about your new story. They've got their own lives and sometimes they revolve around smaller, but no less powerful poles. It's probably just me not being quite perfect enough for anywhere I've been,  or where I'm at ( or where some of the people I've met are) in life.  All I really want is to be settled- in myself, in my place in the world. And I don't feel quite there yet, don't feel like I'm measuring up to some invisible but powerfully felt standard.  And then I realized that just because everyone else is walking that path, doesn't mean I have to.  I'm happy to be a part of their lives, to have those true friends who share those milestones with me, because I'm a part of their lives. To realize that even if I haven't decided where to settle and nest for myself, I have a spiritual home with them that allows me the luxury of roaming. So I'll kiss the babies, and celebrate the anniversaries, and send housewarming presents from around the world if that's where my path takes me, knowing that any  milestone I reach is an achievement, not a millstone around my neck or a measure of my failure if I don't. Maybe life will slow down for me, or new adventures will come, one by one as I walk the path I've chosen... either way, it's my journey and my choice and that makes all the difference.

My path has not been determined. I shall have more experiences and pass many more milestones. 

Agnetha Faltskog

THIS..IS..SPARTAAAA! or DIY: Stoicism- Bend Over And Take It Like A Man

Okay, so first let me say mea culpa, mea culpa- which for you Phillistines means "I suck"- it can also be translated as "My bad, yo!" I promised to write after we reached 2,000 visitors to the site (Yeaah boyy!)...but then I didn't. So, mea culpa.  I have, I am bemused to say, been busy- beyond my wildest dreams.  First I needed a job, then I got the job, now I am the job's b****.  My hours have been crazy, the people surreal (not my staff- they're cool... and remind to tell you in a bit how I got a staff.) And I've been loving all of it when I haven't been feeling like I need to go howl on the mountain.  ( Yeah, I know- no mountains here-sigh.) I am really feeling challenged here for the first time in a while- there are constantly programs to plan, schedules to do, staff to oversee (Yessuh, Boss!) and what I love and have missed the most- kids to interact with.  My job is to help people read (and use the internet, copy, do research, volunteer, and occasionally teach parents how to be better parents-an awesome gift and responsibility.) And I'm loving it, except when I'm so tired I can't breathe, have anxiety attacks, and feel the need to drink. (But more than  half the bottle of vodka remains in the fridge-go me! okay, maybe a little less than half.)  Playing the role of adult, consultant, expert is really, really hard. And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to realize that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and boot me out the door- kind of like when I first started teaching.  Everyday I waited for someone to realize I had no experience and ask why the heck they had hired me? I endured long hours, and training, and seminars trying to make myself a better teacher- trying to be what the job needed me to be.  And I'm still doing it- training and all, seminars, trying to be a leader to a staff I wasn't supposed to have (my manager got promoted, y'all- yay for her!  Oh sh*t! for me)- Suddenly I have a staff, a department and I'm interviewing another employee this week. I hate that kind of stuff.  I'm used to being in the background and I'm okay with that. All I jwanted was  to do puppet shows for kids!  And tell them to read Susan Cooper books-(great books about wizards before Harry Potter was a brain storm in Rowling's head. Before the death threats come, I love Harry too, but the series is over! Live with it!) 
Suddenly, I'm responsible, again, for something bigger than myself- to people other than myself- not my bosses-- but my kids. I get to be a teacher, without a lot of the limitations teachers have.  But with freedom comes responsibility.  If I want to create great programs for tweens, teenagers and kids and infuse them with a passion for reading, I have to make schedules.  I have to plan, and program, and beg for funds. I have to act like a clown for little kids, and figure out how to make books cool for older kids  and do it all on a budget of hundreds of dollars-like 200 dollars, folks. That's just enough to pay for program materials and bookmarks and suckers for after.  I have to be a politician again, and position myself on committees, when I'd rather just talk to kids about books.  Having a purpose again is so hard..but meaningful.  I don't want to be in the limelight, be a boss, be the Man...I really don't- but if it lets me inspire one more kid to read, I guess I'll learn if not to like it, at least to hack it with the best of them.

Put your heart, mind, intellect and soul even to your smallest acts.  

This is the secret of success.  ~Swami Sivananda

*Again, sorry for the late posts. I'll do better, but don't try to guilt trip me- you're still not the boss of me!
okay-maybe a little  :)