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

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!

The Onion Girl or DIY: Mix and Match-Doll Parts

I find it interesting that Catherine Zeta-Jones is in the news this week for going to a mental health facility for Bipolar 2, the same day I decide to write about my own recent bout with some highs and lows.  Why is it that celebrities can make mental illnesses the newest trend- along the lines of Loboutin  shoes, purse chihuahas (or little pigs)? How do I get the commiseration of a nation for the mental blow outs we all have every once in a while? I'm not saying I'm mentally ill (though I have my  days and there are people who would disagree), but I don't think it would be wrong to say that we're all getting sicker as a nation mentally, or maybe just showing it more. It doesn't seem right to have days when I'd rather hide in a closet than face the world, and even if I am a girl, and I fully believe that every now and again every girl needs a good nose honking cry, I can't seem to escape the notion that the world is simply too much today. Not that there's too much wrong,--it's just too much all together.  I've spent the week feeling like I could tear my nails to shreds trying to pull off all the layers and masks I wear just to get through an ordinary day and at the same time feeling like I could break my own heart, slamming it against a wall, adding layer after layer of scars, and feeling like it's all right if my heart gets harder every time, because you just can't make it in this world with a tender heart anymore.  I'm tired of feeling tired, and broken inside. If I could replace whatever it is that's missing in me- just replace my parts, like we used to do when we were kids- remember? When you could just switch heads (and even genders- how 'bout  mutant Barbie G.I. Joe, huh?) If I'm a doll with broken parts, I wish I could just switch out all the stuff that makes me insecure, and mean, and most of all, most of the time, just...sad.  I don't want every day to be a burden or a duty. I want to be happy for more than a few minutes at a time.  I don't have the time to check into a mental facility (and I'm pretty sure my salary wouldn't cover it anyway- don't those people know how much better I could do my job if I only had the right drugs?!), so I guess I'll just have to keep doing the best I can, and posting the struggle here for all the world to see.  Guess Catherine and I have something in common after all, huh?

“The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you.”

Rita Mae Brown quotes

3-2-1- Cognition or DIY: It's My World, Everyone Else Just Lives In It

Do you know the feeling you get when you have deja vu? You know, when you feel, all of a sudden, like you done this, been here before? (whatever or wherever this or here is.) It's the feeling that everyone is wearing a mask that you can't quite see behind...or that you are, and your wish that someone would see behind your mask almost overcomes your terror that they will.  It's the realization as you cross the street for just a moment, that the street doesn't exist, that you're moving through something else, be it time or space, where nothing is quite solid or real..until the car beside you hits its brakes.  Reality has always been an illusion to me- often times an unpleasant one. I hate feeling like everyone one else got all the directions to the game of life but me.  Cognitive dissonance is defined (by Wikipedia no less, the blueprints to the universe) as  an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding conflicting ideas simultaneously.   In other words, when what you believe should be happening contradicts what you perceive to be happening, you could have cognitive dissonance.  Good examples include the Wikipedia example of buyers remorse- you buy something expecting to feel good about it- a new dress, a car ... and instead you feel dread or anger. "The I can't believe I spent so much" syndrome.. It could also be when you expected to feel happy about something- like a birthday, but instead feel depressed. Maybe you're like me and you eat an entire pizza expecting to feel satisfied, and instead just feel sick and disgusted.  (If you're whispering out there that of course you expect to feel disgusted when you eat a whole pizza, then you're not suffering from dissonance--you're just a  smug prick. Pizza is supposed to make you happy, dammit!)   
Dissonance is a feeling I am too used to lately- and I think it's contagious.  I feel like too many people in the world are the same as me- wondering what's wrong with them that they can't join with the consensus, the reality that other people seem to have no problem sharing- it's like being Picard when he joined the Borg (If you don't know what I'm talking about, non scifi geek, just press on to the next paragraph.)  You want to be part of the group, but some vague sense of dissatisfaction, of not belonging, of discontent keeps you from fully joining in.  You know you should be happy, but you aren't. And nothing makes it worse than people telling you how lucky you are or how happy you should be.  Screw that.  The realization that I'm unhappy about my situation does not automatically equal that I'm selfish, or unpleasable-it simply means I'm smart enough to realize that where I am is not where I want to be.  The corollary to that equation- not being happy, I mean= I should do something about it. That's all. Just do it. (swoosh).  It's not that I can't be happy where I am, but no one should have to settle for less than their perfect reality. If finding my happiness means checking out of the communal reality and creating a new one just for me , then that's okay. If this world is not enough for me, that doesn't mean I'm an awful person- maybe it just means  (to quote John Mayer, and not the racist stuff, I mean come on John!)  that "I'm bigger than my body."  If the world is not enough for you either, then make your own- reality after all isn't really reality at all---it's the stuff of dreams. Make yours come true.

Question reality, especially if it contradicts the evidence of your hopes and dreams. 

 ~Robert Brault

My (Al)Chemical Romance or All That Glitters Is Not Gold (Yet)

For those of you are are not as educated in the esoteric arts, alchemy was the study of elements- dedicated to trying to perfect things to their purest state.  A common example would be (for you Harry Potter fans), the Philosopher's stone-believed to to able to purify poisons, turn lead to gold, etc, etc. It was, to be succinct, some some powerful mojo.  Now, why should any of that be important to you? Well, recently while reading Eat, Pray, Love (another story from a traveler afar-amazing how travel turns everyone into a philosopher isn't it?), I started reflecting on the idea of a soul mate, the one person who is our soul's other half- who know us like no other, so "they" say- (and you know we hate the ubiquitous "they"-damned autocrats). Anyway, "they" say this soul is out there, waiting for every one of us.  And I believe it's true..but I also believe thanks in part to EPL that they are to be avoided at all costs. Okay, maybe not really, but Elizabeth Gilbert, author of EPL put forth an idea that I'd not really considered before- that soul mates are not people we're supposed to be with forever-they are not the  person you marry who makes you whole (you're already whole and if you marry someone who is your "other half" that means they're really you and God knows you don't need to marry yourself-though some people try.) Your soul mate is not a prize to be won, but more like a phase to go through. They're a scourge, a whip which forces you to be a better person.  I believe I have met my soul mate many times, in many bodies and will again, because I am far from being the completed person I want to be.  My two halves haven't met so far- my alchemical "wedding" hasn't happened yet or maybe it has and is still happening even now, again and again. I certainly have felt somewhat "challenged" lately.  But my journey from the mud into perfect form, my transmutation, if you will, has been informed by so many people in my life-all of whom held a mirror to my better side, while scourging my baser nature- my selfishness, and fears.  The touch me briefly, but powerful-siblings, parents, friends and lovers.  Dear reader, you have all of them  to blame for who I am today and who I'm still becoming...and I love them and you, for it. That's right, you wonderful mofo b******s, thank you for making me better every day (and yes, I's aware that perfected human beings probably don't call their loved ones mofos- you're still working on me, remember? >=)  
The idea of changing lead to gold, of purifying the human soul, is an age old one-prefaced by the idea that change is possible and necessary, to bring about closeness between human beings, to help us create or recreate a unity of spirit, a place of belonging for which we all long.  Like the image of the lotus flower rising from the mud, the symbolism of turning lead into gold is understandable to all- we all want to overcome our frailties, our impurities, and weaknesses and be transmuted into something valued and love.  We none of us are there yet, me most of all-but still and all,  the evolution continues.

Through love the devil becomes an angel. Through love stones become soft as butter. Through love grief is like delight. Through love demons become the servants of God. (Quote by - Mevlana Rumi) 

What Is Love? Baby, Don't Hurt Me No More

So once again folks, it's time for my annual Valentine's rant- no, not quite the right word. Discussion? No. Lecture? Umm, no. How about verbal eruption? That's it! That's perfect. Now that we've got that straight,  let me preface by saying that I have no problem with the underlying idea of the holiday of St. Valentine- expressing your love and admiration for someone  with the purchase of cheap gimmickry, gew gaws and surf and turf. I quite happen to like gas station velvet roses.  But really, what I want to talk about is the kind of love celebrated on this day- romantic love, the perfect love Disney taught us to expect when walking through a forest surrounded by birds,  which some how leads one to, oh pick one: (eat food from strangers causing you to fall into a magical sleep;  pick roses from stranger's gardens resulting in your parents having to sell you into slavery; or my personal favorite, making  a wish that transforms you and leaves you feeling like you're walking on knives) whereupon a handsome stranger alike to a Ken doll arrives to rescue you  from the terrible fate your own decisions brought you to. (And yes, I know that second one was the father's fault, but really, Beauty couldn't have developed some Thatchers and run away? Really?)   And also -wait for it- is it possible that Mattel and Disney are plotting together in some massive conspiracy to control the romantic lives of American women? Huh? Um- you all already knew about that?  (Sigh, always behind the curve.) 
Well, anyway, sometimes I feel like we should celebrate all loves- not just the "pure" ideal of love, but the weird loves- like the recent guy who Facebooked me and wanted to be my friend- who happens to have a foot fetish.  (I think I need to re-do my privacy settings- there were some pretty good feet pictures in one of my albums- I could develop a cult following!) Or how about my own weird love of corsets- and yes, I know there will be two camps telling me; one, corsets are beautiful and sexy ( and I ain't talking about those pieces of Victoria's secret crap); or two, how terrible it is to want to distort my body that way- to which I respond, how long have you been a woman? ( and/or reading this blog!? All I talk about is wanting to change myself.) Or how about that new show on TLC which celebrates weird addictions like- eating soap, or the insides of sofa cushions? There's weird love for you.
Or weird love  classics- like Nabakov's Lolita- a book I read in college which steal squicks  me out to this day- how can you sympathize with a guy who's in the end, a fairly pathetic pedophile? You sympathize because the kid's a b***h who leaves him, if I recall correctly, in a roadside hotel for another man. So, he's morally disgusting- at some point haven't we all been? (And if you start that "at least I never" thing- you will be banned forthwith from the conversation- morally speaking, all sins are equal- it's just that some are worth killing for as punishment and others, your punishment is that you have to live with yourself after. The verdict is still out on who should be the judge. [ I think it should be me!])
In the end, love is just a weird thing.  A combination of chemicals in the brain? Maybe. An eternal soul connection with another? Maybe. An intense appreciation of  a personal standard of beauty-e.g. my feet? Could be. In the end, whether you're chemically imbalanced, or shot by the golden arrow of love, you've got to dance with the one who brung ya and love the one you're with- even if it is inanimate, leather, or cushiony. (Hey, some of my best dates have been with inanimate wooden blocks- nice guys, all :)


We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.  ~Author Unknown


*Join the weirdvolution!  And, Happy V-day everyone

P.S. I Love You or DIY: My Confessions

The thing about secrets is that, good or bad, they add a kind of tension to your life that can be addicting.  Some people are all about the drama, the gossip, creating secrets to keep themselves occupied. Others are completely bland--at least externally, the kind of people one couldn't imagine having secrets. But we all know still waters run deep. A secret is by its nature something that can keep people apart or hold them together, creating relationships you might never have under other circumstances. They can cause you to be, and do, and act completely out of character. How many of us have secrets from each other, about each other that'd we'd never share because having a secret gives us- even if only in our own sight, importance?  I have secrets- not always good ones, juicy ones- some that are just sad, and some that are only important to me and might not even be worth the determination I hide them with. Some of us share the same secrets- a feeling  of invisibility, or loneliness. But who wants to be told that everyone feels that way some time? Secrets are part of our identity- of who you are. But, while your secrets might identify you, they shouldn't always define you. Who you keep a secret from or share it with- what you do with it, and how you handle it tells far more about who you are as a person than you know. No matter how well you think you know someone or yourself, you can always be surprised. And that's what's surprising, sad  and sometimes lovely, about us all.

Part I of My Confessions

1. I  have never been in love with someone who was also in love with me.
2. I have been skinny diving twice... and plan to do it again, because it's one of the only times I feel happy.
3. I have never seriously considered marrying anyone, because I believe any one who would marry me would have to be crazy.
4. I have seriously considered how I would commit suicide... and decided not to only because I didn't want anyone to be bothered with my remains.
5. I often dream of drowning in the ocean- it is one of my most peaceful, recurrent dreams.
6. I am more afraid of making bad decisions in my life than I am of dying.
7. I am afraid that I am the worst person I know.
8. I  have few male friends because men scare me.
9. I love cooking because it is a way to show people I care about them.  It is also why I rarely cook good things for myself.
10.  When I am alone, I often talk to myself. I am never surprised when the voice in my head sounds different from my everyday voice. The voice in my head is way smarter than me.

Take the challenge and send a post card to PostSecret- a really great community project where people can mail in their secrets anonymously and share their secret selves with the world. Send your postcard to  the address below, then check out the website for some seriously moving confessions.



Post Secret
13345 Copper Ridge Rd
Germantown, Maryland 20874 
Postcard size requirements- 4X6 inches

Trade your secrets and become who you are.

Frank Warren- Post Secret

P.S. - one secret I'm glad to share.  I love all of you- thanks for sharing my adventure.

I'm Ok, You're Ok...Aren't We???

     Maintaining relationships takes a lot of...well, maintenance.  And the question is always whether or not it's worth it.  Let's be honest. The relationships a lot of us have in our lives are not ones we have chosen. Or at least not directly.  If you decide to take a job, you have to have a relationship with your boss and co-workers. If you go to any group; church, sport, book club, whatever- you create, instantaneously, relationships with those folks that you've joined.  Even when you shop, move house or travel- you're creating relationships, albeit maybe not eternal ones.  And all relationships come with responsibilities, which we can fulfill or not.  The hardest thing is deciding whether or not to fulfill those responsibilities.  Say you're at the grocery, buying more wine (or you know, whatever)- for a brief moment, you make eye contact with the cashier and chit chat ("Can I use my VIC card for this?" Oh, sure. Like you've never tried to use Greenbax stamps or card rewards on wine...or cake..or whatever.  Look, don't judge me.)  For one brief moment, you are forced to acknowledge another person as a human being... or you do if you're a good person. (And yes, this time I'm judging you.)  But sometimes we don't acknowledge people- not the grocer, not our co-worker, not a good friend, not that person we wanted to be a good friend. Because sometimes we just can't decide if it's worth it.  Let me explain- being aware of other people is hard. It's hard because, in the main, we are selfish, egotistical, narcissistic people, people! (or...it could just be me...but no, I think it's you guys too.)  We also happen to be loving, faithful, extremely sensitive people who don't want to be hurt and can be hurt by the most ridiculous of causes.  The cut direct can be a simple as not receiving a phone call,  an email or not having someone show up on time, but it still hurts. And therein lies the dilemma, the hedgehog's dilemma, to be exact. To summarize, it basically states that people are like hedgehogs (I can totally understand this simile.  People really are like small, prickly mammals who forage)  who want to come together to share warmth. But once the hedgehogs are huddled (nice alliteration, huh?) they can't help but prick each other with their quills. So, while they may want to be close, some hedgehogs (I mean people) may ultimately feel that the  more loving act is to stay away from other hedgehogs to prevent hurting them...and themselves. It is both intrinsically introverted and loving- because loving people don't want to cause pain in anyone, including themselves.  So are you a hedgehog or aren't you?
Well, at heart we all are- only we have it a little more difficult- both because some relationships are involuntary and because some are worth it- but only by our own estimation.  If you've been having to think and re-think some relationships recently , maybe it's time to take a point from the hedgehog and figure out, how much pain are you willing to put up with, to be in the relationships you're in?  How willing are you to deal with the fall out if you decide they're not worth it?  Yelling at your boss equals both the possibility of being fired...and never having to kowtow again.  Standing up to your family equals maybe being written out of dad's will...or maybe gaining his respect.  Standing up to pushy friends may mean having to find new ones or deciding that the old ones other qualities are worth keeping quiet.  Sometimes it means making that phone call or sending that text or email that says either I'm still really interested in getting to know you or asking the hard question -why are we still together?  Not every relationship is meant to last forever, but they're all meant to have an impact.  Do you curl up in a little ball when it comes to relationships or are you willing to stick it out and work for the intangible rewards good relationships can bring, and the freedom that comes with ending negative ones?  In the end, you've got to love the ones you're with, so make the right choices. Then--- get to work on being loving and loved.  (Now, if you'll excuse me...I've got some calls and emails to make.)

Some people come into our lives and quickly go.  

Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, 

and we are never, ever the same.  

~Flavia Weedn,Forever, © Flavia.com

Beware the Jabberwock or A Simple Kind of Life

I'm so ashamed, I've been so mean

I don't know how it got to this point
........................................................
Now all those simple things are simply too complicated for my life

How'd I get so faithful to my freedom?
A selfish kind of life
When all I ever wanted was the simple things
A simple kind of life

No Doubt- Simple Kinda Life
Lyrics and Vocals - Gwen Stefani


Beware the jabberwock, my child, the jaws that bite, the claws that snatch-Lewis Carroll

Life can be a lot like a jabberwocky- a kind of cage that encloses you in imaginary what ifs. What if I had chosen a different path, what if someone had chosen me, what if, what if, what if. And sometimes you can’t even remember what choice you made that led you here, or what dream you had that disappeared. I often wish I had had bigger dreams for myself as a kid. That someone had had dreams for me. I wish I had had dreams at all. Most of my life has been spent working, nose to the grindstone, and looking up every now and again to realize that I had no idea where the grindstone was rolling to. I have felt trapped in that hardworking, but oblivious persona. And every now and again, when some blinding flash of the obvious hits me, I realize how little time we have, and yet I still can’t seem to use it well enough. I never wanted to be the person who scaled Everest- I simply wanted to see it happen, to know that it could be done. I have accomplished some things in my life, simply by plodding away at them, but I’ve never felt the bursts of inspirational fire that the people I admire have. I will never see in the way of Picasso- in bursts of color and abstract shapes. I will never write in the way of Neruda, cool, honeyed, exotic words. I never wanted to. Then I did. And it was too late. I thought the simple life was all there would be for me and now I find that even the simple life may be beyond me. There are so many things I don’t understand. I want to be inspired by real life, and the imagination both, and find myself existing in one, wishing for the other, and not really feeling either. Where have all the Muses gone? And why did they never touch me? Life can feel a lot like a jabberwocky- a cage that encloses you in neverending “ I wants”. I want to be special. I want to be creative. I want to be loved. The simple things in life. Is there anyone out there who knows the answer to it all? Does anyone have the key? Tell me. I want to know what would happen if only......

Can't Get There From Here or After The Wreck, I Picked Myself Up, Spread My Wings and Flew Away

     Desperation has a bouquet all its own. It’s the scent of the hunted, of rage and fear, adrenaline pumping from your pores. Desperation is an outstanding evolutionary culling tool, because it separates the quick and the dead, predator from prey. It sometimes feels like the world is designed to make you desperate, to place you in perilous situations- (the truth is we do it to ourselves, adrenaline junkies, drama queens that we are. We act like it makes us feel alive. By definition you’re alive, dope- the question is whether you’re living. And most of us aren’t.)
       Desperation has a tendency to force you to make choices, to act. It focuses you, makes you more of what you are. If you were smart before, it sharpens your wits, sometimes enough to slit your own throat. If you were (ahem) less than stellar, you tend to get dum ber while under the wire. Desperation is like the Sword of Damocles swinging over your head. Jump one way or the other, you live or you die. Really, you live and you die. But maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. In life, the thing is, you have to realize that those desperate moments are just that..moments. They can be overcome. Life is like a tunnel and depression is like plaque in your arteries. It can make you sick, squeeze the breath out of you, make you wheeze and shake like a user in rehab. But if life is a tunnel, you are a conduit (to extend the metaphor)- you can expand. Life flows through you and in desperate times, that is when you need most to enbiggen (thanks Simpsons!) yourself, not to seal yourself in. You need to open yourself to the flow, to hope, to inspiration. If the Sword hangs above you, cut through it like Alexander. Trying to force down a big knot of pain, is like trying to swallow one of those horse sized tranquilizer pills that doctors often prescribe for “stress”. It will choke you and it won’t really solve the problem, only exacerbate it. It numbs you and makes you afraid to feel anything- and if you can’t feel anything, what’s the difference between being alive and dead? When you figure that out, it makes all the difference in the world. You can’t get where you want to be in the world by being desperate, or afraid. Desperate rats in a cage may scramble and climb, but they never get anywhere. You are not a rat- you are a conduit, a pipeline for the essence of all things. Don’t close yourself off. Don’t beat your head against the walls. Be still and listen and feel. Then move. Whatever direction you move, you’ll no longer be huddled under the knife. And even if you still don’t know where you’re going, you’ll go straight and proud, walking on the edge.

I do believe that most men live lives of quiet desperation. For despair, optimism is the only practical solution. Hope is practical. Because eliminate that and it's pretty scary. Hope at least gives you the option of living.

Harry Nilsson



Waltz For Life Will Born
I like the idea of waltzing for life- how 'bout you? Shake off your desperation today and dance!

Fight Club

     No positivity today. Every so often, people fall into a slump.  Unfortunately, today my slump happens to be a million miles deep. I sometimes feel like I'm on the outside looking in at life, but whenever I try to get inside, I then find myself desperately wishing I hadn't gotten caught up in the whole mess. It's almost like life is a fight- a go the whole nine rounds, knock down, drag out fight, and right now life is kicking my ass. It's slamming me on the ropes, and pile driving me to the mat and I kinda feel like it would really just be best to tap out. But I don't. No matter how hard life is slamming me in the face, no matter how much I wish I could just go to the mat and let life whale on me until the blood, sweat and mucus runs down my face, (how's that for an image?), no matter how much I want the bell to ring so I can go down for the count... I don't give up.  Stupid me.

  
      I am terrified about my future, nauseous, stressed out, and would like nothing more than to be unconscious for longer than the, barely,  six hours of sleep I get every night. I would like to be led by the hand to the next job, my future,  whatever is coming, because right now, I simply can't see it on my own. There are too many variables, and every one feels like it is so crucial, that if I make the tiniest mistake, I will forever, explosively,  f***  up my life . If I were a mouse,  the future would be a snake, hypnotizing and petrifying me, and right now, licking its chops.  I have never felt more like the underdog.  (Ok- not true, I often feel like the underdog. Then I get over it till the next crisis. Which happens to be now.)

  
     All I can do, is what I can do. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, take the punches like (if you'll pardon the metaphor) like a man.  I feel like Homer Simpson in that episode where he gets into boxing. Dumb as he is, he simply couldn't be knocked down- (mostly because he had a layer of fat around his brain, which protected him from too much brain damage. I know. I find our similarities quite startling as well). 

I'm not a powerhouse. I can't give life a roundhouse blow. I'm about as powerful as a kitten batting a piece of string. But at least I can stand. It's the best thing I can do- maybe the only thing I can do right now, till I get a better feel for the ring. Life is a struggle, a fight to the death. Maybe I couldn'ta been a contenda' (notice my Rocky accent), maybe I'm a small fry. But even the best has been known to choke in the clutch and let the underdog win.  I'll stay in the fight. I'll take those odds. I'll keep going- it's the only thing I know how to do. It's the only way to win.*

“Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.”

William Barclay 

* Hmm, a little positivity slipped in there after all!

Make A Joyful Noise

        Spent a bad weekend curled into a fetal ball eating pocky. That's leetle  Japanese chocolate dipped pretzel sticks for you folks not in the know. It was a rainy weekend, but that wasn't the source of my angst. I just suddenly got the feeling that nothing was quite right in the world and nothing could make it better. Not even two boxes of pocky and that usually solves everything. I had taken a walk earlier in the rain, which normally I love, but which in this instance only made me wet, and cold. I came home feeling anxious, lonely, and unaccountably tense, almost like I was having a breakdown.  Even my skin itched.
Have you ever gotten the feeling that somewhere just out of sight, behind the sets, and the bright lights that fool us into thinking we live in "reality", somewhere the real world is just falling apart? It's a consequence of being separate. Of feeling like other people aren't really real. It's that I'm the only real person in the universe, "One is the loneliest number" feeling you get when depression looms over you and you wish one person would acknowledge you.
     I think other people are better about combating this feeling than I am.  It has always seemed to me like every one else is just so happy (hawk, spit- ptooey!). And I'm not- not all the time, not exuberantly happy like some people. It quite literally makes me want to go to sleep and not wake up some days. I sometimes have the feeling that if I just went to sleep in my bed one night and didn't wake up, my body would just evaporate. And I would be okay with that.
     Feeling that disconnect is not a modern problem, but it is a growing one. It's so easy nowadays to be apart from people physically, and emotionally. Here in Japan, it's a legitimate mental illness with an "exotic" name. People who refuse to leave their homes here are called hikikomori- literally  "pulling away",  or "to be confined" (wikipedia.org). Suffering from acute social phobias, they withdraw and repel any attempt to bring them out  of their isolation.  I felt a little taste of that this weekend . It's a horrible, cramped, suffocating feeling to be cut off from the rest of the world. But I was lucky- just when I needed it, someone noticed me- I got an email, a smile from a neighbor, the rain stopped- all at once. As bad as my two days were, I can't imagine  how someone else who is struggling to live that way now, has been struggling, will still be struggling in a few years, feels. I made a choice a few years ago to do whatever it took to overcome my own depression- but for one weekend, I almost let it get the better of me. In the end, by luck, happenstance, pure coincidence- I didn't. (And those of you who know me, know I don't believe in any of those things.) It wasn't luck at all. It was love- love for myself. I didn't want to lose who I have become. Love from  my family- who sent that email just in time. Love for life- because I'm not done here yet, and I don't want to miss out on anything ever again. You don't have to believe that what I suffered was "bad"- I'm sure some people won't have anything but condemnation for someone who spent a "weekend" depressed. It was my battle- not yours. I fought it- not you. More important than your measurement of my pain, is my measurement of my success. I didn't give in , (or at least not for long). This morning I got up, and went to my job, and spoke to friends and the world didn't wobble. That's my victory. And yes, it was one weekend...after years of being numb, unable to sleep in my own bed because of panic attacks and being  unable to go to work without medication. One weekend.  I am truly more blessed than I can know or appreciate. Today I heard a song I had never heard before that said exactly what I had been feeling, and miracle of miracles, I was here to hear it.   Tomorrow, maybe I'll be able to sing a song, rusty voice and all- and be glad that I am here to sing it.  There are no coincidences. The war is never over, every battle spawns a new one. But victory can be won. Hope can live in the heart again in spite of the dark spaces. For today, I will whisper my gratitude that one weekend wasn't a year, or a decade, or a lifetime alone. Thank you to everyone who "spoke" to me then - by email, a smile, whatever.Tomorrow, I will raise my voice, or lift my pen, or write one more blog, so that someone else will be able to win their own battle. There are no coincidences- only connections, and consequences. If you have the time and the heart,  make a joyful noise today. You won't  be the only person who hears it.

"I like living. 

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, 

racked with sorrow, 

but through it all I still know 

that just to be alive is a grand thing."

--Agatha Christie

Music of the Spheres or Songs in D(ee) Minor

Music hath  charms  to soothe a  savage breast, (and yes, that quote is right. I researched it. "head nodding emphatically"). And it must be admitted that sometimes I do feel a bit savage.  When I was a kid (waaaaay back when) the music of the time was The Mommas and The Papas, America, Abba, the Supremes, The Four Tops, Gladys Knight, and Gawd bless her, Aretha Franklin.  Then it changed, and suddenly it was BoyzIIMen and Soul II Soul (and what was up with all the II’s I don’t know), but it was music that had rhythm and soul, a little bit of romance, ( and a little more sex).  Then it changed again and it was Guns N Roses, Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails and Black Sabbath (and yes, I’m mixing genres, but don’t kill me- I’m getting ready to make a point here.)

For every memory  I have, there is a sound- a song which just hearing it, makes me remember a time, and place, sometimes even a smell that brings up memories and shocks me into realizing just how far I’ve come. But while my memories revolve around music, I still find thattoo  often I don’t dance to the beat of my own drum.  I encompass a generation of changing music and changing ideals- and I realized that most of the music I like is some of the saddest, angriest music of my generation. In musical language, I am a minor lover (not like that, perverts!)  I like songs in the minor key- think wistful, wailing, keening, songs or broad power ballads. I like Enya, Riverdance, wailing Indian sitars, Gladys and “The Midnight Train to Georgia”, and rock anthems all at the same time, because somehow they touch me. As if I’m the instrument being played by the music, some songs reach inside me and pluck a chord. But usually, not always, but usually- it’s a sad chord. I’d like to think I’m not a one note wonder, but I wonder if “Another Sad Love Song” (Toni Braxton, folks- before your time, I know) is all I’ll ever be able to play.  

So, I figured I’d try channeling a little bit of that melancholy into a love song for an lonely black girl. Writing songs, poetry, prose- anything set to music is a good way to psychoanalyze yourself. You have to force yourself to get into a rhythm and you never know what will come out of your pen or your mouth. But whatever comes, will be your song, the song of yourself (to plagiarize..ahem, [ paraphrase] Walt Whitman).
Try your hand today at writing the music of your heart. Then, more importantly, share it with someone you love. Whatever comes out, I’m sure, will be music to their ears.


So, I wrote this song on a sad, rainy day, and believe it or not, did not use a rhyming dictionary.
I just followed my thoughts, around and around and around aaaand they came out here.
Still in a minor key, but that’s where my head was at.
Imagine, if you will, Celine Dion or Sarah Mclachlan singing this timeless classic....
or just read the poem and leave it at that.
Maestro, if you please....

Time and Silence

If I loved you like the burning sun, would you run from my harsh gaze?

If I loved you like a stormy day, would you stand out in the rain?

Can I love you like an ocean wave, drowning in the undertow?

Guess I’ll love in time and silence, and I’ll never let you know



Could you love me like the starlight, bathe me in your crystal glow?

Could you love me like the desert, stretching on forever more?

Could you love like time is nothing, say your love will never die?

Will you love me like the dawning, pure and new with each sunrise?



I could say my love is perfect, but you ‘d know that that’s a lie

I could say my love is peaceful, but my heart shifts like the tide

I could wish my love were simple, but it’s willful and unclear

And though it breaks my heart to pieces, still the remnants I hold dear



If you loved me for a moment, though it’s all you had to give

I would love you for a lifetime, though your heart I’d never win



I still love you like a river, flowing to an end unknown

I still love you like a flower, like a bud that has not bloomed

I still love you like a memory, haunting wherever I go

I love you still in time and silence, and I’ll never let you know

Turn on, Tune in, Drop out or DIY: Zen and the Art of Self Maintenance

It occurred to me recently..-er, um, scratch that. I've used that opening a bit much recently. How to start? Ok, how about-two monks walk into a bar...ummm, nooo. Totally un PC.  "Deep breath."
Ok-let's try this.

I don't know where my head's been at recently. I've been battered by thoughts both disturbing and enlightening and it's all because I've been thinking about my future....and my past. One of my favorite Zen sayings is

  "watching unruly thoughts come and go is the essence of meditation." 

(Have no idea who said it or if I quoted it right. Let's just go with it.)  

Well lately, unruly thoughts have been coming at  me left and right, and completely swamping me in their wake. They revolve around "where am I going?" , and "where have I been?", some "what's the point?" and lot's of "I can't handle this!!!"    And when it got to the point when I found myself thinking, "It would be so nice not to have to think sooo much" or "Sometimes I just wish I wasn't...here", I decided to step back from the edge and find a way to save myself. 

I worry about the future..a lot.  I worry about the past and the mistakes I've made. I worry that my wants are selfish, that I don't have enough ambition, that I'm not loving enough, and will never find a love of my own. I dream restless dreams and wake up tired and glum. My thoughts are a terrible, weighty burden and quite frankly, I've grown sick of them. So how to turn on, tune in and drop out?  Take a page from a Zen master (not me)- and feel the Ohm.

Rule #1- There are no rules     
(but if you insist)

1. Be still- "We cannot see our reflection in running water. It is only in still water that we can see." Being still is so hard... and so worth it. We constantly feel that we have to move at the speed the world is moving. We don't - if you stop and sit, the world will keep spinning- and believe it or not, you won't fly off. 


2. It's okay to doubt- "Where there is great doubt, there will be great awakening; small doubt, small awakening, no doubt, no awakening." It's okay to question- the world and yourself. Just don't disappoint yourself by insisting on an answer. 


3. Know what you're looking for- "Only the crystal-clear question yields a transparent answer." If your thoughts are cloudy, your life will be messy. Don't confuse the issue- I'm lonely doesn't mean you're worthless- it means you're lonely. Ask the real question and again- don't look for the world to answer.  That's your job. 


4. You have the privilege (not right- note) of  feeling bad- "Do not permit the events of your daily life to bind you, but never withdraw yourself from them." Don't fake the funk. If you feel bad, feel bad. And don't let people cheer you up if you're not ready. Don't be a secret martyr. Get it out in the open.  Then get over it- because, conversely-  you have the privilege of feeling good. (And let's face it- generally, that feels  a lot better.) 


5. You're not in charge- and that's a good thing!  -"If you understand, things are just as they are; if you do not understand, things are just as they are."  If you figure out your life's path in an instantaneous flash of explication (look it up) that's great. If you don't,  the planet will not explode. You'll just keep going until you do- or until you realize that sometimes it's simply enough to be on the path, never mind where the end of said path is. 


In those moments when you want to scream, to cry or to die- you have to realize that the maelstrom is not all there is. That life can be a burden, but that you can put it down sometimes and take a breath. That sometimes all there is to life is that one breath, and the next and the next. You can do it- you can breath, and walk, putting one foot in front of the other, putting all distracting thoughts aside for one moment, and in that moment lies eternity. Don't think----breath... and live. 

Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own unguarded thoughts.
 the Buddha

Red Thread of Fate or Tangled Up in You

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,

regardless of time, place, or circumstance.

The thread may stretch or tangle,

but it will never break."

Wikipedia

There is a belief here in Japan that everyone is tied to someone else, someone important in their lives, by a red thread of fate. A bond that exists whether you are aware of it or not, and will eventually draw the two of you together- for good or bad. Tied to your smallest finger, this blood red cord connects you, ties you intimately with someone else and while it can be broken, it is dangerous to do so. Defying fate is a treacherous business. I don’t know if I am tied to anyone- I don’t know if the hand of Fate is upon me, but lately I have begun to feel that I am desperately in need of some direction.  From on high? Perhaps. From friends and family-thanks, but no. You’d have me spinning like a needle in a compass. From my own thoughts-? Maybe- if I could ever get them straight. At times like this I feel the need of something to tell me where to go, what to do. Something that would pull me toward my goal, like two magnets, pulled together through the power of attraction. But there is no one who can make my choices for me but me. And indecision is still a decision in and of itself. At some point, whether sooner or later, I will be leaving this place, this time. And I don’t know what I will be going to. I’ve traveled halfway across the world, cut all sorts of ties, cast myself loose....and I’ve experienced great things. Times of great beauty and terrible loneliness, and the awakening of my own inner strength. I needed to live this adventure- to be taken outside myself, to live a life bigger than what I was before. But now...where do I go? It’s one thing to travel away from something- to leave a too small chrysalis behind and to move forward. But what’s the next step? Where do I go from here? Who am I still becoming? A needle needs a lodestone to find a direction. A sailor needs a star to find the shore. I know the future is out there waiting, that something new, someone new is waiting too. I choose to believe that my red thread is real, connected to someone in a new place, waiting for me to be ready for a new life. It’s a tangled skein and I don’t know how long it will take to unravel, but when I do, I’ll be in the place I belong, living the joyful life I have dreamed of endlessly. I believe that. I believe that. So I won’t lose faith. Just, if I forget for a little while...if I get stuck and don’t know where to turn next,  I ask the universe, my family, my friends...don’t give up on me. We too, are connected by that precious thread.   I know. Just, every now and then...give me a little tug. I might be lost, but I’ll still be there, waiting to make my way to you. 

“Accept the things to which fate binds you,

and love the people with whom fate brings you together, 

[and] do so with all your heart.”

Marcus Aurelius quotes

Relationship 101-They're Just Not That Into You or DIY: Relationship Reality Check

“Some of the biggest challenges in relationships come from the fact that most people enter a relationship in order to get something: they're trying to find someone who's going to make them feel good. In reality, the only way a relationship will last is if you see your relationship as a place that you go to give, and not a place that you go to take.” Anthony Robbins



Why is it that when we see a guy approaching we either assume he’s interested or worse, assume he’s not? Why isn’t he neutral? Why do we assume anything about the person approaching us at all? (And yes, I know I’m using the royal we, and yes, I’m speaking from a girl’s perspective- but this means you [guys] too!)

Ahem. Because. We’ve been trained to believe that how others respond to us is important. Men should be admiring, women should be bitchy- (which secretly means they’re admiring) if you’re a girl. If you’re a guy- other guys should want to be you or at least be your friend, and women should be throwing themselves at you. If we aren’t admired, it means we’re not worthy. If others don’t care, it’s because we’re not worth caring about. Has there ever been a truly neutral relationship between the sexes? Isn’t every girl-guy friendship just a tacit battle in the war between the sexes? If a guy and a girl are friends, the conventional wisdom says, it’s only because one of them is trying to get into the other’s pants. And how about the rest of your friends? Your BFFs- your “boyz” (for guys), your b*****s in friend’s clothing? Think they’re not in it to get something? While every relationship has its give and take, how many of us are in relationships where we give more than we take, but are afraid to leave because “they’ll talk about you”, or “you’ll be alone?” Relationships define us as human beings- who we know, who knows us- who acknowledges us and by their acknowledgement, gives us status. Relationships are about connections, and power...or are they?

I don’t know how many relationships I’ve sabotaged for myself, by second guessing myself. I didn’t know what I was offering to someone else- I didn’t know that in myself I was valuable, and that people might just want to know me- not take something from me. I thought they wanted what I could do, what I knew, who I knew- but it honestly never occurred to me that some of them just wanted to know me. I don’t even know me. I have not yet begun to plumb the dark depths of my psyche (nice use of alliteration, huh?) and couldn’t understand why anyone else would want to take the journey.

But there is a light in all of us that draws us to each other. We learn lessons from everyone whose life we touch. And sometimes we just want to be close to one another’s warmth when we feel most alone. And sometimes we just want to be close to one another’s light, because "joy shared is multiplied."  (Spider Robinson)

It can be hard to find someone you want to be close to, when you can’t understand why they would want to be close to you. But like all relationships, sometimes it just takes a leap of faith. It takes believing that another soul can see your light and want to come close to it, and admire it, without taking anything away. Now, don’t get me wrong- there are light suckers out there (suckers-“smirk”) who will come close and try to drain your light and joy away. The only way to get rid of these parasites is to burn them away with more light than they can handle. Don’t let Debbie Downer make you sad- be happier than you were before. Find something that makes you happy on a bad day, and do it until you feel better...then keep doing it. While bitter people are attracted to happiness like moths to a flame, they burn just like moths and they won’t, can’t trouble you for long, if you keep being happy. Recognize the poisonous people and relationships in your life- recognize that your own assumptions may be keeping you in those relationships and away from happy ones. Recognize that the relationships in your life should only define you if they are making you better, healthier and happier.

Give the stranger on the street a fair shot- give the people in your life a hard look, and give yourself a little credit. There’s more to you, and them, than meets the eye.

The Greatest of These Is Love

“Love is patient, Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It is not rude, it is not self –seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It protects always, trust always, hopes always, perseveres always.”



“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love.



God’struth - love is pushy, bossy, cruel.

You can’t slap it away or turn your back.

it buzzes in your ears,

and if you land a hit,

you find your hands covered in a stinking residue.

It won’t wash away.

Love is envious- a greedy bitch who needs an audience-

even if it’s one lonely clapper in the stands- the one who lingers on

long after every one else is gone.

Love boasts- I came, I saw, I conquered

and in the dust that remains,

your remains have been trodden.

The dust cloaks my throat,

jus gi’ me a cool drink of water befo I dieee

Love is rude,

smack talkin,

lip tossing,

hip throwing them bows- hit you dead center,

white hot lightning in your bones

turns you to dust

Love rages,

destroys your peace,

Kali dancing, flays your skin,

leaving you exposed

Love leaves its mark both hidden and not,

 the knot in your tongue, in your heart, in your throat

If you choke on love, will you rise again?

It’s such a heavy weight

Love lies  in other’s eyes

It looks so real but so does fool’s gold

Are you such a fool to believe?

Love leaves you bare,

hopes exposed to jeers ,

trust – broken shards beneath your knees,

will you crawl?

Love is the only thing we yearn for endlessly,

‘cause love makes fools of us all

Dream Deferred or Dream A Little Dream Of Me

When I was young I used to dream about boys. (Oh, stop it. So did you...or maybe not? Ooh, tell Aunt Dee all!) Ahem, I used to dream about boys- my first kiss, my wedding, my first house. Somehow I skipped all of the relationship stuff in between the kiss and the wedding, and the house. And too often, the dream guy in my dream was either faceless, or some celebrity... and once, Will Smith. (That’s right, Will Smith. Look at that man and tell me the Fresh Prince didn’t grow up fiiine!) But I never dreamed about boys I knew and I never dreamed about what a real relationship, let alone marriage would be like. When you’re young they sell you dreams about happy endings- (Oh, who’s they? You know, the ubiquitous “they”- corporations, advertising execs, Disney.) You sing songs about how “One day, your prince will come.” It wasn’t until I got to high school that I learned what kissing really entails, and what comes after-(first of all, did anyone of us really like the idea of French kissing when we first heard it? Or saw it? Remember that couple in the corner whose tongues were constantly in each other’s mouths? Ewww. But, to be honest, still somewhat fascinating- in a can’t help staring at a car accident kind of way. ) Anyway, first comes the kiss, then comes...well, what follows naturally. (You out there, Mom? No? Okay. ) Sex. Sex, sex, sex. There. I said it. (Still no Mom, right? ) While I didn’t indulge in high school, I certainly got an education about sex- mainly because that’s what high school is for after all. To get information about the opposite sex. We’re not there to get an actual education- My god! I mean, have you been in a high school recently- or ever? These are not institutions, in the main, which are dedicated to the uplifting of the human race. They are in fact, well kept (well, some of them- get me started on that rant later) prisons where hormonally crazed wild animals roam the halls. You can force them to sit in little desks for certain measured periods of time, but no longer. Or they erupt. In some cases, literally. (Don’t ask me about my teenage years- suffice to say I am still traumatized, and scarred. Proactive didn’t exist yet, and the Jheri curl was in. ‘Nuff said.) A person doesn’t learn about love in high school. They learn to lie, to be sneaky- they learn lust, and if they’re not smart (or don’t have smart, and caring parents) they learn regret. In high school my dreams weren’t about love or princes, my dream wedding, my first child. And they haven’t really gotten back to that yet. Intellectually, I know that I want children, that I want a happy marriage, and a happy life. But the truth is I don’t know how that works. I don’t know many happily married couples, so no role models. I don’t know many guys- so no princes. I taught high school, for goodness sakes- so definitely don’t know many happy kids. And if you don’t know it, haven’t seen it- how can you dream about it? I want to see couples who have been married for fifty years. I want to see a man look at his wife in awe- the same way he did when he met her, wooed her, and won her- I want to see that look on his face that says he still can’t believe how lucky he is. I want someone to look at me that way. I want to not have to look at other people’s kids (who, face it , just aren’t that cute. Really) , but have my own perfect, little angels- you know, the kids who are so beautiful, it makes you feel like someone’s squeezing your heart when you look at them, and know that they’re mine. I want a little contentment. I want the perfect wedding and the perfect marriage. (And I really want the right wedding dress. I know, so superficial. But it’s your wedding dress! You only get one- well, you used to only get one. Nowadays....) I want the dream I had when I was twelve- when my prince showed up in my dreams with flowers, and a soft kiss on the cheek. When he held my hand, and that was enough to make me tremble. When I still believed that there was a, the “One”- and I didn’t have to be anything special in order to get him. I didn’t have to chase him, email him, search E-harmony for him or beg friends to set me up with him. (Note- this is for emphasis- I have not and never will ask a friend to set me up. That’s just pathetic. Unless…unless you know someone really nice. Then…I guess it might be alright. Just note- I didn’t ask. You offered. ) I want to go back to dreams where my prince came to me and held my hand and I knew that as long as I had been dreaming about him, he had been dreaming and waiting for me. Maybe it’s time to go back to sleep, back to dreams, and away from soft core porn on Cinemax (no, I do not watch Cinemax, Mom!) – back to romance and away booty calls, and “hook ups”. ( And no, no hook ups either, Mom. Sheesh) Maybe I’ll go back to bed for a little while, and try to find that one dream where someone wonderful took my hand... and never let go. Good night, goodnight sweet prince....I’ll see you in my dreams... I hope.





Check out this sweet video of Dream A Little Dream by the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Now that's love. *sighhh*