PodCandy is going on break over Christmas and New Year's and will return in 2011.
The blog has no plans to take a break or not to take a break -- it'll be what it be :-).
Happy Holidays from the PodCandy half of this operation, since it won't see you for a while!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Reversing the Polarity
For about as long as I can remember, I've had a sweet tooth. Several sweet teeth, really. Just a few teeth that weren't sweet teeth, really. I'm known for it. It's kind of my thing.
Over the last few years, I haven't been able to hold my sugar like I used to. Your body starts to let you down as you get older, and mine has been letting me down by getting headachy or otherwise icky when I eat more than three times the amount of dessert a normal person would eat in a day. The injustice!
Now, something even more frightening is happening. A shift in the tectonic plates at the core of my being: I've been craving salt more than sugar.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek!
It's a change in my identity -- in the way I perceive myself, and my place in the world. Who am I if not the girl who can be counted on to eat her weight in chocolate and peanut butter?
My tenuous grip on reality may be the next thing to go.
Over the last few years, I haven't been able to hold my sugar like I used to. Your body starts to let you down as you get older, and mine has been letting me down by getting headachy or otherwise icky when I eat more than three times the amount of dessert a normal person would eat in a day. The injustice!
Now, something even more frightening is happening. A shift in the tectonic plates at the core of my being: I've been craving salt more than sugar.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek!
It's a change in my identity -- in the way I perceive myself, and my place in the world. Who am I if not the girl who can be counted on to eat her weight in chocolate and peanut butter?
My tenuous grip on reality may be the next thing to go.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Nice Boss
My boss is so nice, it makes me cry. I've had to miss work for some weird-ass reasons this year, and she's been nothing but supportive. It's especially striking when contrasted with the distrustful nature of other people.
That was vague, wasn't it? Let's see if I can get a bit more specific without getting myself or anyone else into trouble...
There were lawsuits. Yeah. I wasn't directly involved, but I had to go to court a couple times to support someone who I thought was being treated unjustly. It meant missing work. And instead of wondering what kind of illegal nonsense I was into, my boss completely understood that it wasn't my fault. She trusts her workers, and she trusted me. Compared to the folks who launched the lawsuits, she was like a shining star.
Then, yesterday, she helped me finagle different kinds of days off in order to use up some time that I'd lose at the end of the year (e.g. sick days) and save some vacation time for later. I was the one who'd entered it wrong in the system; she didn't have to straighten it all out. But she was happy to do it. Nice boss. Teary Holly.
It's usually nice things that make me want to cry. Like, right now, I'm listening to Ella Fitzgerald's Christmas album. Her "Joy to the World" sounded so joyful I almost couldn't handle it. How does a person make their voice sound so joyful? I dunno, but she sure did it. And man, that lady could sing.
I want that kind of joy.
Nice bosses help.
That was vague, wasn't it? Let's see if I can get a bit more specific without getting myself or anyone else into trouble...
There were lawsuits. Yeah. I wasn't directly involved, but I had to go to court a couple times to support someone who I thought was being treated unjustly. It meant missing work. And instead of wondering what kind of illegal nonsense I was into, my boss completely understood that it wasn't my fault. She trusts her workers, and she trusted me. Compared to the folks who launched the lawsuits, she was like a shining star.
Then, yesterday, she helped me finagle different kinds of days off in order to use up some time that I'd lose at the end of the year (e.g. sick days) and save some vacation time for later. I was the one who'd entered it wrong in the system; she didn't have to straighten it all out. But she was happy to do it. Nice boss. Teary Holly.
It's usually nice things that make me want to cry. Like, right now, I'm listening to Ella Fitzgerald's Christmas album. Her "Joy to the World" sounded so joyful I almost couldn't handle it. How does a person make their voice sound so joyful? I dunno, but she sure did it. And man, that lady could sing.
I want that kind of joy.
Nice bosses help.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Today I Learned
... that it hurts my feelings when other people complain about snow. I suppose it's because I identify with it. They may as well insult my family, women, America, the trombone, and anything else that makes up my sense of self. When folks start whining about how a few inches ruined their awesome plans, what I hear is, "The things you like are inconvenient and stupid, and I'm not going to shut up and let you enjoy it."
But I'm determined to enjoy it anyway.
Also, consider geography, people. I wouldn't move to Florida and complain about the sun and old people. I live up North and I have a right to snow a few months out of the year.
I'm not telling anyone that they shouldn't feel what they feel. If they're naturally averse to snow, then that's their prerogative. I just ask that they don't act as if their feelings are the only right way to feel.
And I wonder: Do people start out hating snow, or is that something that comes with adulthood? Do you know any kids who dislike snow? I've never met one. And if loving snow is something that we grow out of, then I wonder if it's actually something precious and worth reclaiming.
Adulthood ain't always best.
I'm still praying for some white stuff to fall.
But I'm determined to enjoy it anyway.
Also, consider geography, people. I wouldn't move to Florida and complain about the sun and old people. I live up North and I have a right to snow a few months out of the year.
I'm not telling anyone that they shouldn't feel what they feel. If they're naturally averse to snow, then that's their prerogative. I just ask that they don't act as if their feelings are the only right way to feel.
And I wonder: Do people start out hating snow, or is that something that comes with adulthood? Do you know any kids who dislike snow? I've never met one. And if loving snow is something that we grow out of, then I wonder if it's actually something precious and worth reclaiming.
Adulthood ain't always best.
I'm still praying for some white stuff to fall.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
The Notes I Pretended to Take in the Meeting I Just Snuck out Of
Uh-oh. This meeting might be for [another department]. Was I invited by mistake? Should I not be here? Any way out now...?
Why do I choose to attend these optional things? I know why. 1) I'm not sure they're optional when I responsd. 2) I want to get away from my desk. 3) Hope of snacks.
I so should not be here. Maybe I can get out at the half hour. Lord, please help with that.
Funny, I instinctively tune out as soon as the speaker starts talking. Please bring better work my way, Lord.
Wow, this is meaningless to me. Hilariously meaningless. Am entertaining myself by noticing the culture in this room, and the boomy quality of this guy's voice. It almost hurts my ears.
I don't know who these people are.
The things they're discussing creep me out. Always clawing forward. "Learning paths" and "learning units?" Five more min. and I'll make a break for it. This makes me glad I'm not even a student!
Get boots repaired. Cut nails.
Why do I choose to attend these optional things? I know why. 1) I'm not sure they're optional when I responsd. 2) I want to get away from my desk. 3) Hope of snacks.
I so should not be here. Maybe I can get out at the half hour. Lord, please help with that.
Funny, I instinctively tune out as soon as the speaker starts talking. Please bring better work my way, Lord.
Wow, this is meaningless to me. Hilariously meaningless. Am entertaining myself by noticing the culture in this room, and the boomy quality of this guy's voice. It almost hurts my ears.
I don't know who these people are.
The things they're discussing creep me out. Always clawing forward. "Learning paths" and "learning units?" Five more min. and I'll make a break for it. This makes me glad I'm not even a student!
Get boots repaired. Cut nails.
Here's How Smart I Am
Everyone at work was given an aluminum water bottle upon moving into this office two years ago. I use it every day. Now that it's colder, I've taken to putting hot water in it, since I don't drink coffee or tea, and don't think it would be good for me to drink six cups of cocoa per day just to keep warm. Because metal conducts temperature so well, I burned my fingers twice yesterday alone, just from holding a bottle full of hot water.
Here's the dumb part: I own a mug.
Here's the dumb part: I own a mug.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
How to Lose Friends
1. Assume the worst about their motives.
2. Tell them what you know their motives to be, and refuse to believe otherwise.
3. Rinse and repeat.
4. Enjoy your isolation.
2. Tell them what you know their motives to be, and refuse to believe otherwise.
3. Rinse and repeat.
4. Enjoy your isolation.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Inspired Searching
The subtitle of this blog is In Search of Inspiration. In this season of gift-giving, I'm in search of the inspiration to buy gifts. It's helpful, when the shopping centers are crowded and the days fly by, to be excited about what you're going to give each person. So I'm hoping it'll hit me.
Any day now.
Any day now.
Any day now.
Any day now.
Monday, November 29, 2010
I Broke Science
On Thanksgiving, my little nephew and I hung out in my parents' library, by the fire, looking through books. He pulled them off the shelves, crawled onto my lap, and flipped the pages, while I explained what we were looking at.
I didn't actually know what we were looking at, because we mostly went through old Time/Life books about nature, so I had to read the picture captions and do my best to sound authoritative. Because he's used to storybooks where all the characters say things, including the animals, he would look at each picture and ask, "What he's saying?" And I'd quickly skim the caption and translate it into something incredibly clever, like, "I'm a lizard. I sit on rocks."
He liked the reptile book so much that he asked to go through it again a couple days later, and kept asking for the "poop picture." Except there was no poop picture. There had been a picture of a snake laying eggs -- could that be what he was talking about? How had I managed to convey that laying eggs was similar to pooping? If I were asked to clear up the confusion right this minute, the best I could do would be to tell him that eggs are white (mostly).
Better leave the science to his dad. If the kid ever decides he needs a melancholy metaphor for the futility of existence, then he can come to Aunt Holly: Work is like pooping. No matter how much you've done, you'll eventually have to do more.
I didn't actually know what we were looking at, because we mostly went through old Time/Life books about nature, so I had to read the picture captions and do my best to sound authoritative. Because he's used to storybooks where all the characters say things, including the animals, he would look at each picture and ask, "What he's saying?" And I'd quickly skim the caption and translate it into something incredibly clever, like, "I'm a lizard. I sit on rocks."
He liked the reptile book so much that he asked to go through it again a couple days later, and kept asking for the "poop picture." Except there was no poop picture. There had been a picture of a snake laying eggs -- could that be what he was talking about? How had I managed to convey that laying eggs was similar to pooping? If I were asked to clear up the confusion right this minute, the best I could do would be to tell him that eggs are white (mostly).
Better leave the science to his dad. If the kid ever decides he needs a melancholy metaphor for the futility of existence, then he can come to Aunt Holly: Work is like pooping. No matter how much you've done, you'll eventually have to do more.
Monday, November 22, 2010
PodCandy: Runs in the Family
My latest podcast is up. This one features the brother who often makes his way into this blog.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Points for Honesty?
A couple months ago, several members of my family went hiking. There were points where we had to cross a stream, finding the dry and stable rocks to step on. My brother managed to do this not only with ease, but while holding my two-and-a-half-year-old nephew. At the first crossing, The Neph was nervous, but Bro was reassuring: "Don't worry, I won't drop you. Or, at least, there's an eighty-five percent chance I won't drop you."
Hmmm.
I wonder if that was the scientist in him, wanting to be accurate (though how one quantifies the chances of dropping a nephew is beyond my ken). Is it better than promising that nothing bad will happen, only to have Junior bewildered when it inevitably does? Does it not really matter, since it's unlikely that the kid has mastered percentages? Or is Bro just saving up the lies for when he can come up with something awesome?
Example of an Awesome Lie
What do you mean, you don't want to eat the stewed beets on your plate? I don't see any stewed beets. I just see what I got at the park yesterday. Did you know there was a dinosaur walking through the park two nights ago? I know because he pooped on his way, and I shoveled up some of the poop and brought it home and heated it up. That's dinosaur poop on your plate. We can't be sure, but there's a chance that, if you eat it, you'll gain a hundred pounds overnight, and grow green skin and a tail. There's no way to find out whether it will happen unless you eat it and go to sleep right away.
There's an eighty-five percent chance that that would get me to eat stewed beets.
Hmmm.
I wonder if that was the scientist in him, wanting to be accurate (though how one quantifies the chances of dropping a nephew is beyond my ken). Is it better than promising that nothing bad will happen, only to have Junior bewildered when it inevitably does? Does it not really matter, since it's unlikely that the kid has mastered percentages? Or is Bro just saving up the lies for when he can come up with something awesome?
Example of an Awesome Lie
What do you mean, you don't want to eat the stewed beets on your plate? I don't see any stewed beets. I just see what I got at the park yesterday. Did you know there was a dinosaur walking through the park two nights ago? I know because he pooped on his way, and I shoveled up some of the poop and brought it home and heated it up. That's dinosaur poop on your plate. We can't be sure, but there's a chance that, if you eat it, you'll gain a hundred pounds overnight, and grow green skin and a tail. There's no way to find out whether it will happen unless you eat it and go to sleep right away.
There's an eighty-five percent chance that that would get me to eat stewed beets.
Gary: Landlord of the Flies
I had a chance to read it, because I was at work, and what else was I going to do?
Verdict: Funny.
And cathartic. if you've ever had the pleasure of interacting with someone who's mentally disturbed, and not even in a fun way. Not everyone with psych issues is quirky and adorable. How could the movies be so wrong about this? Often, these folks make their problems yours, and you're left making your way through a lawsuit and blogging about it. Not that I would know anything about that.
Anyway, here's the link, to save you the trouble of Googling it yourself and wearing out your fingers:
http://strangerthaneviction.tumblr.com/
Verdict: Funny.
And cathartic. if you've ever had the pleasure of interacting with someone who's mentally disturbed, and not even in a fun way. Not everyone with psych issues is quirky and adorable. How could the movies be so wrong about this? Often, these folks make their problems yours, and you're left making your way through a lawsuit and blogging about it. Not that I would know anything about that.
Anyway, here's the link, to save you the trouble of Googling it yourself and wearing out your fingers:
http://strangerthaneviction.tumblr.com/
Thursday, November 18, 2010
This Chick is Funnier than I
And using "I" instead of "Me" in the title is my feeble attempt to make up for it. Is that a predicate nominative? I don't even know.
Her site is called Hyperbole and a Half: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/. I've added a link in the right-hand column, too.
Jealousy aside, I've only read one post so far, and I'm already willing to recommend it to everyone. I also want to check out one of the blogs she has a link to, because it has the best name ever: Gary, Landlord of the Flies.
Warning: It might make you snort with laughter at work if you read it at work like I read it at work, so you'll want to keep that in mind if you read it at work.
Her site is called Hyperbole and a Half: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/. I've added a link in the right-hand column, too.
Jealousy aside, I've only read one post so far, and I'm already willing to recommend it to everyone. I also want to check out one of the blogs she has a link to, because it has the best name ever: Gary, Landlord of the Flies.
Warning: It might make you snort with laughter at work if you read it at work like I read it at work, so you'll want to keep that in mind if you read it at work.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Super Holly
Like Super Grover, only whiter and less furry. I am defending your eyes from the spammy comments that have been plaguing my blog lately.
And to the machine that's trying to post them: I do not need Levitra, and I'm not sure what Propecia is for. If I one day require them, I'll Google it myself, thanks.
And to the machine that's trying to post them: I do not need Levitra, and I'm not sure what Propecia is for. If I one day require them, I'll Google it myself, thanks.
And in the Days to Come...
... I may play a few hands close to the chest. But I'm becoming ever more confident that while I may not know what God is up to, I've got a pretty good idea of what He's up to. Ha ha!
Monday, November 08, 2010
Saturday, November 06, 2010
So, What About Nov. 4?
It came and went. Even if I had the date wrong, and it was really Nov. 6 on which I moved to Maryland, we hit that day today. My circumstances have not changed over the last two days. And the truth is that Nov. 4 is the date that I had set.
The big point of praying a prayer with a date was that I wouldn't be able to let myself or God off the hook. If I'd simply prayed, "Lord, please do this soon," and it didn't happen in six months, or a year, or twenty years, then the fact remained that to God, a thousand years are as a day, so maybe in His eyes we hadn't outrun "soon." But I prayed for changes by Nov. 4. I know when that is.
I also wanted changes that were unquestionable, not open for interpretation. If I continue to take classes and pursue interests outside work, the way I've done for the past 2 1/2 years, does that count as the change? If I've got a guy or two who might like me but hasn't really asked me out yet, does that count as the change? It could, but it wasn't the kind of change I'd asked for. I'm still single and I'm still in the same job. I wanted those things to change.
That's not to say that I don't see God at work, and that I don't believe He's got things going on that I can't see. I do, on both counts. But I wanted to be honest as I blogged this process, whatever happened or didn't happen, and the honest truth is that I didn't see the changes I'd hoped for. Now that I've passed Nov. 4, I don't plan on changing the terms of the prayer retroactively, to try to make things fit. It's entirely possible that I crested some kind of hill on Nov. 4, and that change will happen quickly from here; but that's not what I'd asked for. It's possible that this whole process, with the praying and hoping and blogging, was great for me spiritually and changed me on the inside; but while I did want those internal changes, they are not all I'd asked for.
I'm confident that God can handle His own reputation. He's knows what I prayed. He knows what I blogged. He knows what He's up to. It's not up to me to spin it, or act as His PR rep.
What is up to me is to try to find that balance of honesty and discretion. Being honest is hard, not just because there's a temptation to present a certain kind of story, but because my thoughts and emotions are complicated, and the very act of trying to sort through them, put them into words, and place them in some kind of comprehensible order for people, necessitates some simplification. But I'm trying to simplify honestly :-).
So, the fact is that I didn't see the concrete, undeniable changes in my circumstances that I'd hoped for. But at the same time, the truth is that I'm fine. I'm even fine with the being fine, which had been a point of concern for me. You may remember that I was tired of absorbing disappointment as if it were my lot. I don't feel like I'm doing that here. I feel hopeful for my future, even if I'm back to wanting changes "soon." I do wonder what the whole Nov. 4 thing was about, in God's eyes, and perhaps I'll spend some time asking Him and see what He says. In the meantime, my dreams haven't gone anywhere. I'd still like to go on dates and have fun, and eventually meet the guy who adds so much to my life that I can't not have him. And I still want to spend my days doing work that feels purposeful and enjoyable and suitable to me.
Thanks for sticking with me through the ride.
The big point of praying a prayer with a date was that I wouldn't be able to let myself or God off the hook. If I'd simply prayed, "Lord, please do this soon," and it didn't happen in six months, or a year, or twenty years, then the fact remained that to God, a thousand years are as a day, so maybe in His eyes we hadn't outrun "soon." But I prayed for changes by Nov. 4. I know when that is.
I also wanted changes that were unquestionable, not open for interpretation. If I continue to take classes and pursue interests outside work, the way I've done for the past 2 1/2 years, does that count as the change? If I've got a guy or two who might like me but hasn't really asked me out yet, does that count as the change? It could, but it wasn't the kind of change I'd asked for. I'm still single and I'm still in the same job. I wanted those things to change.
That's not to say that I don't see God at work, and that I don't believe He's got things going on that I can't see. I do, on both counts. But I wanted to be honest as I blogged this process, whatever happened or didn't happen, and the honest truth is that I didn't see the changes I'd hoped for. Now that I've passed Nov. 4, I don't plan on changing the terms of the prayer retroactively, to try to make things fit. It's entirely possible that I crested some kind of hill on Nov. 4, and that change will happen quickly from here; but that's not what I'd asked for. It's possible that this whole process, with the praying and hoping and blogging, was great for me spiritually and changed me on the inside; but while I did want those internal changes, they are not all I'd asked for.
I'm confident that God can handle His own reputation. He's knows what I prayed. He knows what I blogged. He knows what He's up to. It's not up to me to spin it, or act as His PR rep.
What is up to me is to try to find that balance of honesty and discretion. Being honest is hard, not just because there's a temptation to present a certain kind of story, but because my thoughts and emotions are complicated, and the very act of trying to sort through them, put them into words, and place them in some kind of comprehensible order for people, necessitates some simplification. But I'm trying to simplify honestly :-).
So, the fact is that I didn't see the concrete, undeniable changes in my circumstances that I'd hoped for. But at the same time, the truth is that I'm fine. I'm even fine with the being fine, which had been a point of concern for me. You may remember that I was tired of absorbing disappointment as if it were my lot. I don't feel like I'm doing that here. I feel hopeful for my future, even if I'm back to wanting changes "soon." I do wonder what the whole Nov. 4 thing was about, in God's eyes, and perhaps I'll spend some time asking Him and see what He says. In the meantime, my dreams haven't gone anywhere. I'd still like to go on dates and have fun, and eventually meet the guy who adds so much to my life that I can't not have him. And I still want to spend my days doing work that feels purposeful and enjoyable and suitable to me.
Thanks for sticking with me through the ride.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Taste the Rainbow
You know that bit at the beginning of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, where Richard Dreyfus is making a mound out of his mashed potatoes and telling his wife, "This means something"?
Stay with me.
My favorite color has changed. Again. First it was green. Then it was red. Now it's a completely different green.
This means something.
I decided in the third grade that my favorite color would be green. Just decided it. Don't know why, although it might have been because everyone else seemed to like blue and purple. Whatever my reasons, it stuck. The kind of green I liked shifted a bit over the years -- kelly green, then throughout the 90s it was hunter green, but I always preferred greens that were closer to blue than to yellow. You know those little tests young people give each other, where they'll say, "What's your favorite color? Your favorite animal? Your favorite body of water? Why do you like them?" and then they'll tell you what it means? Someone did that to me once in college, and they said that the color was how you see yourself. (For the curious: The animal was how you think others see you, and the water was how you thought of sex.)
My reasons for liking green? It goes with everything. It's nice, doesn't put itself forward. Hmmm.
Then, ten years ago, as I was leaving the realm of perpetual student-ness and heading, finally (or so I hoped), into my adult life, I found myself liking red. Deep red. Dangerous red. I may still have been as obscure as ever, but it wasn't because I wanted it that way.
Over the last few weeks, maybe months, I've been drawn to colors that I'd always considered plain ugly: Spring greens, velvety pea soup greens, mossy greens, dusty pale celery greens. Like dense, jungle-like flora.
Hey, I just realized that the font I chose for this post is called Verdana.
This means something.
Stay with me.
My favorite color has changed. Again. First it was green. Then it was red. Now it's a completely different green.
This means something.
I decided in the third grade that my favorite color would be green. Just decided it. Don't know why, although it might have been because everyone else seemed to like blue and purple. Whatever my reasons, it stuck. The kind of green I liked shifted a bit over the years -- kelly green, then throughout the 90s it was hunter green, but I always preferred greens that were closer to blue than to yellow. You know those little tests young people give each other, where they'll say, "What's your favorite color? Your favorite animal? Your favorite body of water? Why do you like them?" and then they'll tell you what it means? Someone did that to me once in college, and they said that the color was how you see yourself. (For the curious: The animal was how you think others see you, and the water was how you thought of sex.)
My reasons for liking green? It goes with everything. It's nice, doesn't put itself forward. Hmmm.
Then, ten years ago, as I was leaving the realm of perpetual student-ness and heading, finally (or so I hoped), into my adult life, I found myself liking red. Deep red. Dangerous red. I may still have been as obscure as ever, but it wasn't because I wanted it that way.
Over the last few weeks, maybe months, I've been drawn to colors that I'd always considered plain ugly: Spring greens, velvety pea soup greens, mossy greens, dusty pale celery greens. Like dense, jungle-like flora.
Hey, I just realized that the font I chose for this post is called Verdana.
This means something.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
PodCandy: Stand by Your Moment
Hi, Everybody!
My second podcast is here. It's my Most Embarrassing Moment story.
Powered by Podbean.com
My second podcast is here. It's my Most Embarrassing Moment story.
Powered by Podbean.com
Monday, October 18, 2010
Feed Me, Seymour!
That's my ego talking.
As you most likely know, I just starting posting podcasts! That means that I've also started sitting on the edge of my seat, looking for responses to my podcasts. You know how some performers are notoriously insecure? I'm one of those. [See: 30 Rock character Jenna Maroney.]
I heard that Philip Seymour Hoffman is insecure, to the point where his need for reassurance becomes annoying to other performers. And how many accolades has this guy won? This actually scares me a bit. If you can be that good and still not know it, then where is the hope for the rest of us? I don't even have an artsy beard.
It's interesting how much you have to push past in order to put yourself and your creative work out there. I don't want to come off as some kind of tool, saying "Hey, watch me sing I'm a Little Teapot!" but if I don't publicize at all, then anyone who could potentially enjoy my work won't find it. It's hard to toot your own horn. And then when I do, I wonder if the world will want to put its hands over its ears.
I've gotten positive feedback on the podcasts so far. (Thanks for not being jerkwads, guys.) Yet I still feel all weird about it. I wonder if that goes away, or if it's just always going to be there.
This post isn't just a thinly veiled fishing expedition for compliments (at least, not more so than any other post). It's just another attempt at being honest about what's going on in my head and my heart while I put more polished, performance-y stuff out there.
Wouldn't want to be discreet or anything.
As you most likely know, I just starting posting podcasts! That means that I've also started sitting on the edge of my seat, looking for responses to my podcasts. You know how some performers are notoriously insecure? I'm one of those. [See: 30 Rock character Jenna Maroney.]
I heard that Philip Seymour Hoffman is insecure, to the point where his need for reassurance becomes annoying to other performers. And how many accolades has this guy won? This actually scares me a bit. If you can be that good and still not know it, then where is the hope for the rest of us? I don't even have an artsy beard.
It's interesting how much you have to push past in order to put yourself and your creative work out there. I don't want to come off as some kind of tool, saying "Hey, watch me sing I'm a Little Teapot!" but if I don't publicize at all, then anyone who could potentially enjoy my work won't find it. It's hard to toot your own horn. And then when I do, I wonder if the world will want to put its hands over its ears.
I've gotten positive feedback on the podcasts so far. (Thanks for not being jerkwads, guys.) Yet I still feel all weird about it. I wonder if that goes away, or if it's just always going to be there.
This post isn't just a thinly veiled fishing expedition for compliments (at least, not more so than any other post). It's just another attempt at being honest about what's going on in my head and my heart while I put more polished, performance-y stuff out there.
Wouldn't want to be discreet or anything.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Picky Facebook Addict
I just read an insight into what makes Facebook addictive: It's the fact that you don't know when you'll get correspondence or a response to a post, but it could happen at any time. I know that, in addition to clawing desperately at distractions from my job, I compulsively check to see if anyone liked what I said. That's my addiction.
At the same time, over the last couple days I've been "hiding" most of my Facebook friends. Partly because I realized that the things a lot of people say are contentious and make me sadder rather than happier, and who needs that? It's also because, with so many posts, I found myself thinking, "Wow. I am SO not interested." It turns out that unless someone has something funny to say or a video to post, I really don't need to know about it. It's interesting to learn that a dude from high school hosts a radio show or that some improv buddies are making it in L.A. But your work hours today? The fact that you hung out last night with a friend I don't know? The fact that the weekend is coming up? Good gosh, I have a calendar for that.
You know what makes me want to put a bullet in my head? Reading about what somebody just cooked and/or ate.
Says the girl who assaults your eyes with blog posts about her own internal minutiae. But at least I put some interesting big words in there.
Siderolite.
At the same time, over the last couple days I've been "hiding" most of my Facebook friends. Partly because I realized that the things a lot of people say are contentious and make me sadder rather than happier, and who needs that? It's also because, with so many posts, I found myself thinking, "Wow. I am SO not interested." It turns out that unless someone has something funny to say or a video to post, I really don't need to know about it. It's interesting to learn that a dude from high school hosts a radio show or that some improv buddies are making it in L.A. But your work hours today? The fact that you hung out last night with a friend I don't know? The fact that the weekend is coming up? Good gosh, I have a calendar for that.
You know what makes me want to put a bullet in my head? Reading about what somebody just cooked and/or ate.
Says the girl who assaults your eyes with blog posts about her own internal minutiae. But at least I put some interesting big words in there.
Siderolite.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Ursa Major
I suspect that I am a bear.
I've suspected this for a while -- that I'm not as tame as I appear to be. That lurking somewhere inside is something big and dangerous, and I've spent the past few decades working hard to be nice because I know I could do some real damage if I wanted to. Not that I'm not genuinely nice. It's just that I'm not as safe or as easily trod upon as one might think, based solely on the goofy exterior.
This bear is not a bad thing. It's good, and it's what I was meant to be. And I'm slowly growing into it.
It's not often that I'm visibly upset. So when I get to the point where it is visible, it's time to take me seriously. It's not time to question me as if I haven't thought through the issue, or as if I don't have good reasons for feeling what I feel. It's not the time to play devil's advocate. I'll just get meta-angry at the fact that my anger is not being respected. And while a person could still probably presume upon my self-control and poke me with sticks, I suspect the day is coming when I'll learn to stop apologizing for being big and having claws and eating meat, and when I rear up and roar they're gonna feel real dumb standing there with that stick in their hand.
A growl begins, deep and low.
Grrrr.
I've suspected this for a while -- that I'm not as tame as I appear to be. That lurking somewhere inside is something big and dangerous, and I've spent the past few decades working hard to be nice because I know I could do some real damage if I wanted to. Not that I'm not genuinely nice. It's just that I'm not as safe or as easily trod upon as one might think, based solely on the goofy exterior.
This bear is not a bad thing. It's good, and it's what I was meant to be. And I'm slowly growing into it.
It's not often that I'm visibly upset. So when I get to the point where it is visible, it's time to take me seriously. It's not time to question me as if I haven't thought through the issue, or as if I don't have good reasons for feeling what I feel. It's not the time to play devil's advocate. I'll just get meta-angry at the fact that my anger is not being respected. And while a person could still probably presume upon my self-control and poke me with sticks, I suspect the day is coming when I'll learn to stop apologizing for being big and having claws and eating meat, and when I rear up and roar they're gonna feel real dumb standing there with that stick in their hand.
A growl begins, deep and low.
Grrrr.
Shithead Is as Shithead Does
Pets and kids are adorable.
Bad behavior is not.
If you are a child or animal, and you act like a shithead, then you are a shithead.
If you are a kid-parent or pet-parent and find bad behavior adorable in your little one, that makes you a shithead, too.
Take note, Philip the Cat. My room is not your Jungle Adventure Playland. You will be sorry when I buy a Supersoaker and a python.
[For the record, Philip's owner isn't a shithead. He's more of a hapless, working, single pet-dad. Philip is still a shithead.]
Bad behavior is not.
If you are a child or animal, and you act like a shithead, then you are a shithead.
If you are a kid-parent or pet-parent and find bad behavior adorable in your little one, that makes you a shithead, too.
Take note, Philip the Cat. My room is not your Jungle Adventure Playland. You will be sorry when I buy a Supersoaker and a python.
[For the record, Philip's owner isn't a shithead. He's more of a hapless, working, single pet-dad. Philip is still a shithead.]
Monday, October 11, 2010
Columbus Day
We don't officially have this day off at work. What we have are some "floating holidays," which we can use as we choose. So I chose to take today off. And I've realized that this day is not about rest, or about getting things done that I might feel rushed doing on a workday. Today is about avoiding a job I've come to dread.
Since I joined publishing 4 1/2 years ago, I never planned to stay. I wanted something better. But that's the thing -- it had to be better. And I'd had worse, so I knew that my present situation wasn't too bad. Most of the time, it was neutral. It paid my bills and paid for some fun classes that helped me explore my real interests. It required little of me but my time. And my bosses and coworkers have been wonderful.
Most of the time.
Sometimes, it would get stressful, and I would want out. I've hit that point again, and have been there for months. I may get used to these new tasks and settle back into neutral mode. But I don't want to. I want out. I just don't know where I'd go or what I'd do. I don't know what other job I could get that I would hate less. I have no desire to deal with the stress of unemployment. And I'm still thinking of quitting. It's that bad.
I'm actually considering retail.
Since I joined publishing 4 1/2 years ago, I never planned to stay. I wanted something better. But that's the thing -- it had to be better. And I'd had worse, so I knew that my present situation wasn't too bad. Most of the time, it was neutral. It paid my bills and paid for some fun classes that helped me explore my real interests. It required little of me but my time. And my bosses and coworkers have been wonderful.
Most of the time.
Sometimes, it would get stressful, and I would want out. I've hit that point again, and have been there for months. I may get used to these new tasks and settle back into neutral mode. But I don't want to. I want out. I just don't know where I'd go or what I'd do. I don't know what other job I could get that I would hate less. I have no desire to deal with the stress of unemployment. And I'm still thinking of quitting. It's that bad.
I'm actually considering retail.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
May the 4th Be With You
Less than a month till I hit November 4th, the tenth anniversary (or thereabouts) of the day I moved to Maryland, and the day by which I prayed God would bring long-awaited changes in both the career and romance departments. So far, I've mostly had lots of roommate drama and upheaval instead.
There were times where I'd get anxious, knowing that the date was drawing nigh. I didn't think that was quite how God meant me to feel, but I didn't want to be complacent, either. One of the big reasons I prayed a prayer with a date on it was so that I couldn't let God or myself off the hook. I wasn't just tired of waiting and disappointment; I was tired of being OK with the disappointment. And being anxious was a way of proving that my heart was still invested.
The other end of the spectrum -- resignation -- didn't seem like the right feeling, either. I wasn't sure how not to feel one or the other, anxiety or resignation. What other option was there?
I'm feeling all right today, though. Hopeful, but not desperate. Like things could still happen, and that even if they don't, there's a way to be OK without simply absorbing disappointment as the norm. God must have gotten me here, this feeling-fine place, because I wouldn't have known where it was or how to find it. And I don't know if it will last. But I'll take it.
I could hit Nov. 4 and feel awful or feel nothing, neither of which is very appealing. But right now there are still 3 1/2 weeks, and because I don't know what will happen, I shouldn't be planning my feelings prematurely. So I'll go with the Feeling OK as long as it lasts. And that side dish of hopefulness ain't bad, either.
There were times where I'd get anxious, knowing that the date was drawing nigh. I didn't think that was quite how God meant me to feel, but I didn't want to be complacent, either. One of the big reasons I prayed a prayer with a date on it was so that I couldn't let God or myself off the hook. I wasn't just tired of waiting and disappointment; I was tired of being OK with the disappointment. And being anxious was a way of proving that my heart was still invested.
The other end of the spectrum -- resignation -- didn't seem like the right feeling, either. I wasn't sure how not to feel one or the other, anxiety or resignation. What other option was there?
I'm feeling all right today, though. Hopeful, but not desperate. Like things could still happen, and that even if they don't, there's a way to be OK without simply absorbing disappointment as the norm. God must have gotten me here, this feeling-fine place, because I wouldn't have known where it was or how to find it. And I don't know if it will last. But I'll take it.
I could hit Nov. 4 and feel awful or feel nothing, neither of which is very appealing. But right now there are still 3 1/2 weeks, and because I don't know what will happen, I shouldn't be planning my feelings prematurely. So I'll go with the Feeling OK as long as it lasts. And that side dish of hopefulness ain't bad, either.
Love, Hate, and All That Skate
I saw the better part of a figure skating program on TV this afternoon. I'm never sure whether I like skating or not. I mean, I like it. But these people's dreams sometimes hang on the thinnest of blades. It's easier to watch the showcases, where it's all about fun and showmanship instead of technical perfection and competition. But still, it's hard to watch.
Is it because, like so many other girls, part of me wanted to be a skating princess, and longs for that glittery dream that I'll never have?
Yep. Of course that's part of it. But I think it's more than that. I think there's also a feeling that creeps up whenever I watch a classical performing art form, like ballet -- there's a world of beauty and discipline that I relate to, and while part of me wishes I could do the beautiful things I'm watching, I'm confident that, had dance or skating been my focus instead of music, I would have grown to hate it just as much. Because it wasn't music's fault. It was me. Or rather, all that discipline didn't mesh well with my temperament. Or too well. A perfect storm of legalism.
So I won't be doing any serious skating anytime soon, then.
Is it because, like so many other girls, part of me wanted to be a skating princess, and longs for that glittery dream that I'll never have?
Yep. Of course that's part of it. But I think it's more than that. I think there's also a feeling that creeps up whenever I watch a classical performing art form, like ballet -- there's a world of beauty and discipline that I relate to, and while part of me wishes I could do the beautiful things I'm watching, I'm confident that, had dance or skating been my focus instead of music, I would have grown to hate it just as much. Because it wasn't music's fault. It was me. Or rather, all that discipline didn't mesh well with my temperament. Or too well. A perfect storm of legalism.
So I won't be doing any serious skating anytime soon, then.
Saturday, October 02, 2010
Serious Comedy
I've been taking a class on writing comedy sketches -- the short bits you see on shows like Saturday Night Live. It's a fair bit of work, and I'm always tense about getting my homework done, until I finally have it ready to email in. But there are upsides. Today's upside is that I got to have the following thought while revising: I kept the sister faking her death and the seeing-eye turtle.
Man, if I ever have a job where creative decisions sound like that, that will be the answer to countless prayers.
Man, if I ever have a job where creative decisions sound like that, that will be the answer to countless prayers.
Coming Soon... Podcasts!
They're in the works! My friends, Ben and Anya, have been helping me record, edit, and otherwise set up Holly's PodCandy, which will hopefully make its debut in the coming weeks. I'll let you know when they're here, but for now I wanted to give you a heads-up. Soon, you'll be able to hear the dulcet tones of my voice, should you so desire.
Please desire :-).
Please desire :-).
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Things I Am Not Above
Obsessively checking Facebook to see if anyone likes my posts.
Obsessively checking Facebook to avoid issues at work that I don't understand, which happens every five minutes or so.
Feeling like an awkward thirteen-year-old when I'm at weddings and they play a slow dance.
Blogging at work.
Fart jokes.
Obsessively checking Facebook to avoid issues at work that I don't understand, which happens every five minutes or so.
Feeling like an awkward thirteen-year-old when I'm at weddings and they play a slow dance.
Blogging at work.
Fart jokes.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I Don't Want Advice.
I get asked questions I don't know the answers to.
I go to my boss to get answers that I barely understand.
I try to remember what I'm told well enough to communicate it to other people, but it seems silly to have me as the middleman in these exchanges.
I don't care about this stuff. I don't care whether compositors get their files in Word or PDF format. Apart from being concerned for the trees, I don't care whether an Instructor's Resource Manual is printed or only released electronically.
I don't want to be here.
I go to my boss to get answers that I barely understand.
I try to remember what I'm told well enough to communicate it to other people, but it seems silly to have me as the middleman in these exchanges.
I don't care about this stuff. I don't care whether compositors get their files in Word or PDF format. Apart from being concerned for the trees, I don't care whether an Instructor's Resource Manual is printed or only released electronically.
I don't want to be here.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!
My new niece is on her way into the world as I type this. I've been given an update regarding centimeters. I had to ask for an explanation, though (assuming my brother has the opportunity to do a lot of texting during this process, which, understandably, he may not). Not having had any children myself, nor having had detailed discussions with friends who have, and not having grown up on a farm, there's still a lot that I don't know. I mean, hearing just about any number of centimeters sounds like a lot, considering what it is that's dilated, but does that mean things are coming into home stretch? Does it mean that, after 8 hours, you're finally getting to the hard part? I don't know.
Fortunately, you don't have to know squat to pray things like, "Yes to a healthy mom and baby!" And, also fortunately, I don't think God needs prayers to be hyper-detailed and articulate before He responds. So I think I'm doing OK in that department. But when it comes to the biology, I'm not much better than a 1950s dad pacing around the waiting room with cigars in his pocket.
And I'm several states away from the center of activity. It'll be a week or so before I get to meet Babygirl. So I'm looking ahead to that, and visualizing successful interactions in which I do not break the baby (though my brother reassures me that those soft spots on their heads are for shock absorption).
OK, so there's one tweak to the above prayer: Lord, I pray both mama and baby will be perfectly healthy, and that none of that will be undone when I come on the scene. Amen.
Fortunately, you don't have to know squat to pray things like, "Yes to a healthy mom and baby!" And, also fortunately, I don't think God needs prayers to be hyper-detailed and articulate before He responds. So I think I'm doing OK in that department. But when it comes to the biology, I'm not much better than a 1950s dad pacing around the waiting room with cigars in his pocket.
And I'm several states away from the center of activity. It'll be a week or so before I get to meet Babygirl. So I'm looking ahead to that, and visualizing successful interactions in which I do not break the baby (though my brother reassures me that those soft spots on their heads are for shock absorption).
OK, so there's one tweak to the above prayer: Lord, I pray both mama and baby will be perfectly healthy, and that none of that will be undone when I come on the scene. Amen.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
The Customer is Always (Convinced They Are) Right
I meant to take a train to visit family this weekend, but the trip -- and all trains for the rest of the day -- got canceled because of downed trees and lines farther down the the tracks, thanks to Hurricane Earl. Bummer, and I'm sure a major inconvenience for a lot of people. No picnic for Amtrak, either, who must have lost buttloads of money on a high-travel holiday weekend. I can understand being annoyed. I can understand not being thrilled with the long line to get your ticket refunded. What I have trouble with is people abandoning all reason simply because they're a customer, as if "customer service" is a value that can overcome otherwise insurmountable obstacles.
Perhaps I still bear some scars from my years behind the counter, but I will tell you flat-out that I do NOT believe the customer is always right. Sometimes the customer is both a jerk and a moron, and is only free to let loose this lethal personality combo when faced with someone who's paid (not nearly enough) to take their shit.
Example: Dude behind me in line wanted to know if the trains would be running come morning (bear in mind that it had only been determined a half hour before that our train should be canceled). The employee at the train station said it depended on the hurricane. Made sense to me; not being intimately acquainted with hurricanes, I nonetheless understood them to be unpredictable. Yet Dude said, "Hurricane's don't last forever! It passes, you fix the damage, you move on!" Perhaps. But that doesn't mean that the employees on the ground in Boston are supposed to be able to predict exactly how that will play out in advance. They got into a longer discussion which I did not care to hear, and I wondered if this customer really thought, "Amtrak doesn't want my money. They'd rather punish me, personally, than try to fix the train tracks. Therefore I must go on the offensive!" Why else would you treat the representative that way? Did he expect Amtrak to somehow thwart the hurricane? Some things are still beyond human control, Dude.
I have a theory. My brother was a biology major, and he confirms that this theory holds weight: Many customers are able to fit their heads so far up their asses because they themselves are, in fact, gigantic assholes.
And here I thought I wasn't scientific.
Perhaps I still bear some scars from my years behind the counter, but I will tell you flat-out that I do NOT believe the customer is always right. Sometimes the customer is both a jerk and a moron, and is only free to let loose this lethal personality combo when faced with someone who's paid (not nearly enough) to take their shit.
Example: Dude behind me in line wanted to know if the trains would be running come morning (bear in mind that it had only been determined a half hour before that our train should be canceled). The employee at the train station said it depended on the hurricane. Made sense to me; not being intimately acquainted with hurricanes, I nonetheless understood them to be unpredictable. Yet Dude said, "Hurricane's don't last forever! It passes, you fix the damage, you move on!" Perhaps. But that doesn't mean that the employees on the ground in Boston are supposed to be able to predict exactly how that will play out in advance. They got into a longer discussion which I did not care to hear, and I wondered if this customer really thought, "Amtrak doesn't want my money. They'd rather punish me, personally, than try to fix the train tracks. Therefore I must go on the offensive!" Why else would you treat the representative that way? Did he expect Amtrak to somehow thwart the hurricane? Some things are still beyond human control, Dude.
I have a theory. My brother was a biology major, and he confirms that this theory holds weight: Many customers are able to fit their heads so far up their asses because they themselves are, in fact, gigantic assholes.
And here I thought I wasn't scientific.
Monday, August 30, 2010
An Unset Diamond
If each person is a jewel, then maybe each of us has a setting in which we're meant to shine, a context in which all we have to do is be ourselves, and the light will shine into us and out of us and the effect is brilliant.
Not that we aren't useful outside of that setting. Diamonds are hard, so I bet you could use one to hammer away at nails if you wanted to. The nails will get hammered, the job will get done, and it will be fine. It just won't be brilliant.
That's how I feel. I'm not in my proper setting yet. Maybe the past ten years have been a matter of God cutting me and working on my facets. Good heavens, I hope so. And my current situation isn't bad. I'm getting my job done. It's not killing me.
But it's not brilliant. I'm out of my setting, and I'm useful enough for the work I'm doing now. It just feels like a waste, is all.
Not that we aren't useful outside of that setting. Diamonds are hard, so I bet you could use one to hammer away at nails if you wanted to. The nails will get hammered, the job will get done, and it will be fine. It just won't be brilliant.
That's how I feel. I'm not in my proper setting yet. Maybe the past ten years have been a matter of God cutting me and working on my facets. Good heavens, I hope so. And my current situation isn't bad. I'm getting my job done. It's not killing me.
But it's not brilliant. I'm out of my setting, and I'm useful enough for the work I'm doing now. It just feels like a waste, is all.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Nebulous Music
I've noticed something about my own music-listening habits. You know how you tend to like songs that are familiar, or that are at least catchy so that they become familiar quickly? That's certainly true of me, but I also have the opposite desire, at least in certain genres. I find that sometimes I just want music to be atmospheric, and it's hard to let it settle into the background when you're following the rhythm and the melody closely. I don't want it to become familiar. I want it to remain nebulous sound.
This means that I'll use a different set of criteria for determining how much I like an album, or how many albums I want to buy. For an artist that does a more popular style, like pop, rock, or country, I like it when they mix things up, show some range, and develop from album to album. If every song on every album sounds the same, then you have to really, really like that sound to buy more than one song. But for the atmospheric stuff, that sameness is exactly what I'm looking for. That doesn't mean that there's no substance to be appreciated if one were to listen closely; it's just that I'm not always aiming for a deeply analytical listening experience.
So, for example, I just bought a couple Lisa Gerrard albums off of iTunes. I'm liking them. But I don't necessarily want to become overly familiar with her songs. I want to have them on in my room, when it's clean and the scarves hanging from the ceiling look exotic and not like an extension of the piles of clothes on my bed and floor. I want the sound to go with the low lighting and the scented candle and the deep colors in my rug, without any particular melody jumping out too much.
I don't have more of a point than that. I was just noticing it.
This means that I'll use a different set of criteria for determining how much I like an album, or how many albums I want to buy. For an artist that does a more popular style, like pop, rock, or country, I like it when they mix things up, show some range, and develop from album to album. If every song on every album sounds the same, then you have to really, really like that sound to buy more than one song. But for the atmospheric stuff, that sameness is exactly what I'm looking for. That doesn't mean that there's no substance to be appreciated if one were to listen closely; it's just that I'm not always aiming for a deeply analytical listening experience.
So, for example, I just bought a couple Lisa Gerrard albums off of iTunes. I'm liking them. But I don't necessarily want to become overly familiar with her songs. I want to have them on in my room, when it's clean and the scarves hanging from the ceiling look exotic and not like an extension of the piles of clothes on my bed and floor. I want the sound to go with the low lighting and the scented candle and the deep colors in my rug, without any particular melody jumping out too much.
I don't have more of a point than that. I was just noticing it.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
The Price of Fame
My pastor has a blog (Not the Religious Type, found in the right-hand column here). It includes links to some of his readers' own blogs, and yesterday I sent in a link to my own. Because there's now at least a small chance that folks will be wandering over here (even if it's just out of morbid curiosity), I've deleted a number of the posts that had been written because I needed to vent, and might not be that helpful to the population at large.
Just wanted my current readers (both of you) to know what was up, and to declare that I've done more writing and posting than the adjusted numbers would indicate. I still want credit for all that.
Just wanted my current readers (both of you) to know what was up, and to declare that I've done more writing and posting than the adjusted numbers would indicate. I still want credit for all that.
Fun Was Had. By Me, No Less.
If I'm going to whine about not enjoying enjoyable things, then it's only right that I should acknowledge the joy when it comes. So, a couple positive things since that last post:
I did my Hamlet piece again for my acting class. Did I tell you I'd done it a couple weeks ago, and was told I sounded way too upbeat? That was (ironically?) a bummer. And an eye-opener, to realize that what I'm thinking and what people hear and see from me doesn't always line up. Good to know, as an actor. So last night I did it again and was told I seemed much more unhappy, which was awesome. It was the last in that round of acting classes, and my teacher told me I was really good. Hooray!
And today I ventured out of the house to meet up with a friend to hang out and discuss the possibility of turning some of these here blog posts into little podcasts. Yep, you folks may be able to hear the dulcet tones of my voice in the not-too-distant future. Won't that be fun, kiddies? I think one of the best things about this whole meeting, apart from the fact that I like my friend (props, Anya!), is that I was able to enjoy the little things surrounding it, instead of worrying. The walks there and back, the timing, the food we ate -- all of that could have been a source of stress if I'd let it, but I woke up feeling pretty good, prepared to accept my own choices, and so far the feeling is sticking. Again, hooray.
I think that's a biggie, that bit about choosing to accept my own choices, instead of worrying that I could somehow have done better -- gotten up earlier, worked harder, allotted more time for transportation, whatever. Big fun-suck. Who needs that? Not I, said the blogger.
I did my Hamlet piece again for my acting class. Did I tell you I'd done it a couple weeks ago, and was told I sounded way too upbeat? That was (ironically?) a bummer. And an eye-opener, to realize that what I'm thinking and what people hear and see from me doesn't always line up. Good to know, as an actor. So last night I did it again and was told I seemed much more unhappy, which was awesome. It was the last in that round of acting classes, and my teacher told me I was really good. Hooray!
And today I ventured out of the house to meet up with a friend to hang out and discuss the possibility of turning some of these here blog posts into little podcasts. Yep, you folks may be able to hear the dulcet tones of my voice in the not-too-distant future. Won't that be fun, kiddies? I think one of the best things about this whole meeting, apart from the fact that I like my friend (props, Anya!), is that I was able to enjoy the little things surrounding it, instead of worrying. The walks there and back, the timing, the food we ate -- all of that could have been a source of stress if I'd let it, but I woke up feeling pretty good, prepared to accept my own choices, and so far the feeling is sticking. Again, hooray.
I think that's a biggie, that bit about choosing to accept my own choices, instead of worrying that I could somehow have done better -- gotten up earlier, worked harder, allotted more time for transportation, whatever. Big fun-suck. Who needs that? Not I, said the blogger.
Friday, August 06, 2010
I Want to Have Fun
Duh.
Here's the thing: I do fun stuff, but don't necessarily have as much fun doing it as I'd like to. I always want to go back home and do nothing. That's what I look forward to most. A couple weeks ago, I took a couple vacation days to do just that -- or at least, a nice combination of Nothing and at-home chores that I don't always get to on weekends because I'm out doing said "fun" things. I found myself thinking, "I'd like to take some time -- at least two weeks, perhaps a few months -- to just be myself," and I realized that, at least in that moment, my idea of "being myself" was just staring at the wall and letting my mind wander for hours and hours.
So, I guess I want a couple things: I want time to do a lot of Nothing, and variations on Nothing (e.g. read, watch TV, nap, write in my journal, post stupid comments on Facebook), and I want to be able to enjoy all the activities I have on my plate when I'm not doing Nothing. Really, most of these activities, at least on paper, ought to be frigging awesome -- acting classes, going out with friends, stuff I'd probably be sad not to do. But there's something slightly off in my brain, I think, that makes almost any and all activity feel like obligation and work. What's that about? I don't think it was always this way, or at least not to this degree. I think some synapse got out of whack somewhere along the line, and it's messing things up. Stupid synapse.
The statement keeps running through my mind, "I want to have fun." And I don't really mean that I want to do fun things, because that's happening. I mean that I want to have fun doing them. And because that change would have to happen somewhere deep inside my gray matter where I can't see it or take a bread knife to it, it's harder to change.
But the desire is there.
Here's the thing: I do fun stuff, but don't necessarily have as much fun doing it as I'd like to. I always want to go back home and do nothing. That's what I look forward to most. A couple weeks ago, I took a couple vacation days to do just that -- or at least, a nice combination of Nothing and at-home chores that I don't always get to on weekends because I'm out doing said "fun" things. I found myself thinking, "I'd like to take some time -- at least two weeks, perhaps a few months -- to just be myself," and I realized that, at least in that moment, my idea of "being myself" was just staring at the wall and letting my mind wander for hours and hours.
So, I guess I want a couple things: I want time to do a lot of Nothing, and variations on Nothing (e.g. read, watch TV, nap, write in my journal, post stupid comments on Facebook), and I want to be able to enjoy all the activities I have on my plate when I'm not doing Nothing. Really, most of these activities, at least on paper, ought to be frigging awesome -- acting classes, going out with friends, stuff I'd probably be sad not to do. But there's something slightly off in my brain, I think, that makes almost any and all activity feel like obligation and work. What's that about? I don't think it was always this way, or at least not to this degree. I think some synapse got out of whack somewhere along the line, and it's messing things up. Stupid synapse.
The statement keeps running through my mind, "I want to have fun." And I don't really mean that I want to do fun things, because that's happening. I mean that I want to have fun doing them. And because that change would have to happen somewhere deep inside my gray matter where I can't see it or take a bread knife to it, it's harder to change.
But the desire is there.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
This Supernatural Business
A week ago, I almost bumped (literally) into a guy at my local grocery store. I recognized him as a guy I'd had a crush on in music school, fifteen years ago. He'd changed a fair bit, but I recognized him anyway (a helpful combination of crush-intensified memory and some light Internet stalking done in more recent years). He was busy not crashing into me and moving on, so he probably didn't get a real look at my face, much less recognize me. If any, "Hey, you're that person I knew!" was going to happen, it was going to have to come from me.
It didn't. I saw him twice more, but was all self-conscious -- I have a zit on my lip! I'm wearing frumpy clothes! What on earth would I say beyond, "Hey, I recognize you after fifteen years, but that's not a reason to be scared!"? -- so I watched him leave the store and got teary on my way to the bananas.
This story exemplifies the fears I have surrounding my Nov. 4 prayer: If I can't do things like this for myself, then the things I want may never happen. I spend a fair bit of my life ping-ponging between fear, and beating myself up for that fear. Even at the little amusement park I went to this past weekend, I was afraid. I'm afraid of heights, so roller coasters and some other rides scare me. Sometimes I'll try to be brave and get in line, but I'll spend all that time feeling scared and icky. The ride may be followed by the thrill of accomplishment, but that's quickly chased by more fear as the prospect of another ride looms. Sometimes I just won't go on the ride at all, and I'll be disappointed with myself for not confronting my fear. I did have a mini-revelation this last time, that the whole reason these rides exist is to play on our natural (and worthwhile) instincts, and therefore my fear of them is not some moral failing. But again, the whole experience is an example of how my mind works, and how thoroughly it tends to un-fun activities you might think it impossible to un-fun.
I know not everyone who reads this blog believes in the whole God/prayer thing, so it's embarrassing sometimes to talk about my hopes that God will come in and do things that I can't or don't do for myself. I feel like I should be able to hold up documentation and say, "Look what I've done on my own behalf!" so that you can then respond, "Good for you! Keep it up and things are bound to happen!" And it's not like I don't do anything for myself, ever. I do try. It's just that I see a huge chasm between where my efforts get me and where I want to be. Part of me feels like I have no business asking God to fill in that gap, even if He's God and He likes people and He fills gaps for them. Another part believes He likes it when we include Him in our lives this way. Either way, I'm very conscious of my need for help. Lots of it.
And I still want God Himself. Sometimes I take for granted that an experience of God will come with any gift He gives me. I want that. And that makes sense. Any gift is ultimately about the relationship between the giver and the recipient.
So here I am again, God, asking for big things. Feel free to do some showing off here.
It didn't. I saw him twice more, but was all self-conscious -- I have a zit on my lip! I'm wearing frumpy clothes! What on earth would I say beyond, "Hey, I recognize you after fifteen years, but that's not a reason to be scared!"? -- so I watched him leave the store and got teary on my way to the bananas.
This story exemplifies the fears I have surrounding my Nov. 4 prayer: If I can't do things like this for myself, then the things I want may never happen. I spend a fair bit of my life ping-ponging between fear, and beating myself up for that fear. Even at the little amusement park I went to this past weekend, I was afraid. I'm afraid of heights, so roller coasters and some other rides scare me. Sometimes I'll try to be brave and get in line, but I'll spend all that time feeling scared and icky. The ride may be followed by the thrill of accomplishment, but that's quickly chased by more fear as the prospect of another ride looms. Sometimes I just won't go on the ride at all, and I'll be disappointed with myself for not confronting my fear. I did have a mini-revelation this last time, that the whole reason these rides exist is to play on our natural (and worthwhile) instincts, and therefore my fear of them is not some moral failing. But again, the whole experience is an example of how my mind works, and how thoroughly it tends to un-fun activities you might think it impossible to un-fun.
I know not everyone who reads this blog believes in the whole God/prayer thing, so it's embarrassing sometimes to talk about my hopes that God will come in and do things that I can't or don't do for myself. I feel like I should be able to hold up documentation and say, "Look what I've done on my own behalf!" so that you can then respond, "Good for you! Keep it up and things are bound to happen!" And it's not like I don't do anything for myself, ever. I do try. It's just that I see a huge chasm between where my efforts get me and where I want to be. Part of me feels like I have no business asking God to fill in that gap, even if He's God and He likes people and He fills gaps for them. Another part believes He likes it when we include Him in our lives this way. Either way, I'm very conscious of my need for help. Lots of it.
And I still want God Himself. Sometimes I take for granted that an experience of God will come with any gift He gives me. I want that. And that makes sense. Any gift is ultimately about the relationship between the giver and the recipient.
So here I am again, God, asking for big things. Feel free to do some showing off here.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
To Improvise or Not to Improvise?
Why is it so hard to quit you, Improv?
I know why. Because you encompass so many of the things I'm drawn to and want very much to be good at -- being funny and witty and quick, performing live. And things that I'm not so great at right now, and want to grow in -- spontaneity, freedom, having fun.
Having fun. Aye, there's the rub. I went to an improv workshop on Monday night, mostly because I thought the guy who was leading it was cool; I was aiming for proximity, and if improv was the price I had to pay, so be it. It turns out the guy is an amazing teacher (and probably gay). During one of the scenes I did with another woman, he said, "You're not having fun, so we're not having having fun watching you. You're just focused on getting it 'right.' " Up until that point, I hadn't even realized I wasn't having fun; fun wasn't on my radar. Trying to "get it right" is just how my mind works. Dude didn't just diagnose my scene; he diagnosed my life.
The question then became: In my quest to learn how to enjoy things that are meant to be enjoyable, do I keep doing improv in the hope that eventually I'll learn not to be uptight, or do I keep letting it go, in spite of its siren's song that so often leaves me on the rocks? I've decided to let it go. Again.
So, what now? How do I find stuff I like to do? How do I enjoy said stuff and not make it all worky in my head? I dunno. It's usually pretty hard for me to determine whether I want to do something or not. You'd think "Do you want to?" would be the easiest of questions to answer, but for me it's one of the hardest. But I might practice saying "no" to things when I'm unsure. That takes a lot of work, because it involves letting other people down, and I tend to let other people's desires figure heavily into my decisions.
So, I'm not going to a dance party tomorrow night. And I didn't join someone else's improv group. And there are a few other things I won't be doing, either.
It's a start.
I know why. Because you encompass so many of the things I'm drawn to and want very much to be good at -- being funny and witty and quick, performing live. And things that I'm not so great at right now, and want to grow in -- spontaneity, freedom, having fun.
Having fun. Aye, there's the rub. I went to an improv workshop on Monday night, mostly because I thought the guy who was leading it was cool; I was aiming for proximity, and if improv was the price I had to pay, so be it. It turns out the guy is an amazing teacher (and probably gay). During one of the scenes I did with another woman, he said, "You're not having fun, so we're not having having fun watching you. You're just focused on getting it 'right.' " Up until that point, I hadn't even realized I wasn't having fun; fun wasn't on my radar. Trying to "get it right" is just how my mind works. Dude didn't just diagnose my scene; he diagnosed my life.
The question then became: In my quest to learn how to enjoy things that are meant to be enjoyable, do I keep doing improv in the hope that eventually I'll learn not to be uptight, or do I keep letting it go, in spite of its siren's song that so often leaves me on the rocks? I've decided to let it go. Again.
So, what now? How do I find stuff I like to do? How do I enjoy said stuff and not make it all worky in my head? I dunno. It's usually pretty hard for me to determine whether I want to do something or not. You'd think "Do you want to?" would be the easiest of questions to answer, but for me it's one of the hardest. But I might practice saying "no" to things when I'm unsure. That takes a lot of work, because it involves letting other people down, and I tend to let other people's desires figure heavily into my decisions.
So, I'm not going to a dance party tomorrow night. And I didn't join someone else's improv group. And there are a few other things I won't be doing, either.
It's a start.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Healthy Lifestyle Choices, the Holly Way
The key is to realize what you probably won't do.
I worked out pretty hard in 2006, because if I went to the gym at lunch time, I could get my butt kicked by a trainer without paying extra. Free. I can do free. And I could do lunchtime, because if I then ate at my desk, it meant I got to go to the gym without adding any time to my day. And I had someone outside my own head telling me what to do. I'm good at taking orders.
Now, a few years later, in a different office in a different part of town, they've just added a fitness center. I can go there for free, right in my building. Easy. I can do that.
I've learned that if I'm going to get myself to work out regularly, and I don't have anyone else kicking my butt, then I need to enjoy it. And to enjoy it, in addition to liking that it's convenient and free, I don't push myself too hard. I'll work up a sweat and I'll move and I'll lift things and push things and pull things, but I won't kill myself. If I did, it wouldn't be fun and I wouldn't want to do it and I wouldn't do it. You can always say that something isn't good enough by comparing it to something "better" -- e.g. sending someone a text message isn't as good as calling them, or having a leisurely workout isn't as good as really pushing yourself (yes, I have managed to find a way to work out leisurely -- jealous?). But what if, realistically, that's not the choice before you? What if you're not likely to contact that person at all if you can't do it from a safe distance? What if you're more likely to go home and eat brownies than go to the gym if going to the gym means being your own drill sergeant? If that's the case, then a text message and a low-key workout may be better than nothing.
I read that humans can only discipline themselves so much. There may be a handful of all-around, highly disciplined people out there, but I suspect most folks just don't have it in them to sustain discipline in every conceivable arena for a long time. (I believe I mentioned this in a blog several months ago.) For example, you may eat well and exercise, but not have control over your temper. You may be a hard worker both at the office and at home, but you're messy. You may be political but not spiritual, or vice versa. (For the record: I don't always eat that well, I'm messy both at home and at work, and I'm spiritual but not political. But I'm nice.) When we choose to tighten one thing, we allow ourselves to loosen another because there aren't enough brain cells or hours in the day to keep all those plate spinning. So I'm trying to find a reasonable balance to the disciplines, and not to beat myself up for the parts that get loose when I'm busy tightening something else.
I've learned to play my vices off each other, too. If I bring fruit and a V-8 to work, then I have to choose between eating them or getting up, heading to the cafeteria, and spending even more money on something else. Cheapness and laziness get me to eat fruit. Yay me.
Or perhaps you get most of your work done, then allow yourself twenty minutes to blog in your cubicle.
Oh, who am I kidding? What kind of asshole does that?
I worked out pretty hard in 2006, because if I went to the gym at lunch time, I could get my butt kicked by a trainer without paying extra. Free. I can do free. And I could do lunchtime, because if I then ate at my desk, it meant I got to go to the gym without adding any time to my day. And I had someone outside my own head telling me what to do. I'm good at taking orders.
Now, a few years later, in a different office in a different part of town, they've just added a fitness center. I can go there for free, right in my building. Easy. I can do that.
I've learned that if I'm going to get myself to work out regularly, and I don't have anyone else kicking my butt, then I need to enjoy it. And to enjoy it, in addition to liking that it's convenient and free, I don't push myself too hard. I'll work up a sweat and I'll move and I'll lift things and push things and pull things, but I won't kill myself. If I did, it wouldn't be fun and I wouldn't want to do it and I wouldn't do it. You can always say that something isn't good enough by comparing it to something "better" -- e.g. sending someone a text message isn't as good as calling them, or having a leisurely workout isn't as good as really pushing yourself (yes, I have managed to find a way to work out leisurely -- jealous?). But what if, realistically, that's not the choice before you? What if you're not likely to contact that person at all if you can't do it from a safe distance? What if you're more likely to go home and eat brownies than go to the gym if going to the gym means being your own drill sergeant? If that's the case, then a text message and a low-key workout may be better than nothing.
I read that humans can only discipline themselves so much. There may be a handful of all-around, highly disciplined people out there, but I suspect most folks just don't have it in them to sustain discipline in every conceivable arena for a long time. (I believe I mentioned this in a blog several months ago.) For example, you may eat well and exercise, but not have control over your temper. You may be a hard worker both at the office and at home, but you're messy. You may be political but not spiritual, or vice versa. (For the record: I don't always eat that well, I'm messy both at home and at work, and I'm spiritual but not political. But I'm nice.) When we choose to tighten one thing, we allow ourselves to loosen another because there aren't enough brain cells or hours in the day to keep all those plate spinning. So I'm trying to find a reasonable balance to the disciplines, and not to beat myself up for the parts that get loose when I'm busy tightening something else.
I've learned to play my vices off each other, too. If I bring fruit and a V-8 to work, then I have to choose between eating them or getting up, heading to the cafeteria, and spending even more money on something else. Cheapness and laziness get me to eat fruit. Yay me.
Or perhaps you get most of your work done, then allow yourself twenty minutes to blog in your cubicle.
Oh, who am I kidding? What kind of asshole does that?
How to Buy Cigarettes without Gaining ANY Street Cred
Be afraid to make the purchase because it feels like you're being bad.
Ask for "one pack of the absolutely cheapest" brand they have.
Give too much information by explaining that you're buying them to use as a prop in an acting scene.
When the young man behind the counter says he doesn't know what's cheapest, lean over and say, "BASIC sounds cheap. Gimme that."
When asked which variety of BASIC you'd like, say, "I like green. That's pretty."
Ta-da.
Ask for "one pack of the absolutely cheapest" brand they have.
Give too much information by explaining that you're buying them to use as a prop in an acting scene.
When the young man behind the counter says he doesn't know what's cheapest, lean over and say, "BASIC sounds cheap. Gimme that."
When asked which variety of BASIC you'd like, say, "I like green. That's pretty."
Ta-da.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Hot Mess
Good golly, is it hot here in Boston. I slept with ice packs last night. It was weird. The combination of hot air and a couple cold spots was like being sick with a fever.
Up till now, I've managed to avoid buying a window fan or trying to lug an air conditioning unit up to my third-floor room and trying to fit it into my small, oddly proportioned window. That would be work. And I didn't want to use even more energy than our house was already using. But the heat is sapping all my energy, so I may cave. I had Monday off, and I could barely stay awake because the heat was so stifling. I can see now why people die in heat waves. Apart from the fact that it's probably slowly cooking us, it saps your will to live. "You know what would be nice right now? Being unconscious and staying that way." "You know what's really hard right now? Sitting upright."
It's that kind of heat where you don't want to lie on your own bed because it's too hot to have that much of yourself in contact with a matress.
As much as I whine about how cold I get in other people's air conditioning, I'm not complaining about it right now.
Up till now, I've managed to avoid buying a window fan or trying to lug an air conditioning unit up to my third-floor room and trying to fit it into my small, oddly proportioned window. That would be work. And I didn't want to use even more energy than our house was already using. But the heat is sapping all my energy, so I may cave. I had Monday off, and I could barely stay awake because the heat was so stifling. I can see now why people die in heat waves. Apart from the fact that it's probably slowly cooking us, it saps your will to live. "You know what would be nice right now? Being unconscious and staying that way." "You know what's really hard right now? Sitting upright."
It's that kind of heat where you don't want to lie on your own bed because it's too hot to have that much of yourself in contact with a matress.
As much as I whine about how cold I get in other people's air conditioning, I'm not complaining about it right now.
Monday, June 28, 2010
That Middle Part
Mondays, between work and my sketch class, are the perfect time for blogging. It would be a waste of time to travel home and then back again, so I kill time at my desk, and maybe walking to class in a slow, roundabout way.
So, here's how the whole Nov. 4 prayer thing is going: I'm in that middle place that I thought I might end up in. The long stretch of highway on a road trip. The initial excitement has waned, and the end is still far enough away that I'm not too worried about it yet. Just over four months left. I know the kinds of changes I'm hoping for happen all the time, but they don't always happen to me. They seem huge, like asking to win $20 million in the lottery, or for snow on a particular day in July. Part of me has, almost against my will, already prepared for nothing to be different come Nov. 4. Which is why this whole thing is bigger than me. It can't just come down to my effort, my faith, my whatever.
Well, we're almost in July. So come on, Snow, come to mama.
So, here's how the whole Nov. 4 prayer thing is going: I'm in that middle place that I thought I might end up in. The long stretch of highway on a road trip. The initial excitement has waned, and the end is still far enough away that I'm not too worried about it yet. Just over four months left. I know the kinds of changes I'm hoping for happen all the time, but they don't always happen to me. They seem huge, like asking to win $20 million in the lottery, or for snow on a particular day in July. Part of me has, almost against my will, already prepared for nothing to be different come Nov. 4. Which is why this whole thing is bigger than me. It can't just come down to my effort, my faith, my whatever.
Well, we're almost in July. So come on, Snow, come to mama.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Master Thespian
I had my first acting class Friday. It's very small -- only four students were there, all women. There's a chance of a fifth student -- a 25% increase in population! -- but we'd still be small. Fine with me. That means more attention and chances to try things and try them again, and that's perhaps what I need more than anything: experience.
The other women have done more theater in the past than I have, which is my solace as I consider how well they did, compared to my beginner performance. I committed one of the acting sins which I most abhor in others: I didn't enunciate enough to be clear! In an effort to be authentic instead of stagey, my words didn't come across. Noooooooo!
But it was only my first class, so it was unrealistic of me to think I'd be on par with Ian McKellan. And I'm there to learn, not to be perfect, as much as my pride wishes I were, and as close as I may be in every other area ;-).
The other women have done more theater in the past than I have, which is my solace as I consider how well they did, compared to my beginner performance. I committed one of the acting sins which I most abhor in others: I didn't enunciate enough to be clear! In an effort to be authentic instead of stagey, my words didn't come across. Noooooooo!
But it was only my first class, so it was unrealistic of me to think I'd be on par with Ian McKellan. And I'm there to learn, not to be perfect, as much as my pride wishes I were, and as close as I may be in every other area ;-).
Monday, June 14, 2010
Some Things I May Choose Not to Think About
Since thinking about them endlessly has only led to thinking about them endlessly.
-- How to forgive people, and all the intricacies thereof. I've chosen to forgive countless times, but I'm quite fuzzy on what forgiveness is, exactly. I'm just pretty sure I haven't done it. But thinking about it usually involves thinking about what they did that I need to forgive, and that stirs up my desire for justice rather than an impulse toward mercy and charity.
-- Whether my Nov. 4 prayers will be answered, and my participation in those answers. I get all tense and angsty. And worried. And then I brace for disappointment. But really, if it all comes down to me learning to be myself and having life flow from that, then it won't be so much about me trying to Be Good, or be good at something, or Be Something. Try? There is no "try." Only do. Y'all can let me know if I got that Yoda quote right.
-- Whether my risks will pan out. I can't know what response I'll get to the assignments I'll write for my sketch comedy class, or whether I'll the positions I audition for, or whether guys will ask me out after I talk to them at parties. I tend to feel like it's the responsible thing to be hugely invested in every little thing I try, but that puts a lot of pressure on each of those little things.
OK, gotta run! Even if I hold it lightly, there's no need to be late for that sketch class!
-- How to forgive people, and all the intricacies thereof. I've chosen to forgive countless times, but I'm quite fuzzy on what forgiveness is, exactly. I'm just pretty sure I haven't done it. But thinking about it usually involves thinking about what they did that I need to forgive, and that stirs up my desire for justice rather than an impulse toward mercy and charity.
-- Whether my Nov. 4 prayers will be answered, and my participation in those answers. I get all tense and angsty. And worried. And then I brace for disappointment. But really, if it all comes down to me learning to be myself and having life flow from that, then it won't be so much about me trying to Be Good, or be good at something, or Be Something. Try? There is no "try." Only do. Y'all can let me know if I got that Yoda quote right.
-- Whether my risks will pan out. I can't know what response I'll get to the assignments I'll write for my sketch comedy class, or whether I'll the positions I audition for, or whether guys will ask me out after I talk to them at parties. I tend to feel like it's the responsible thing to be hugely invested in every little thing I try, but that puts a lot of pressure on each of those little things.
OK, gotta run! Even if I hold it lightly, there's no need to be late for that sketch class!
Ah, the Heady (or Not) Days of the Brain Fast...
A night or two ago, I found myself waxing wistful for the Lenten Brain Fast I did a little over a year ago. It was such a hopeful time, where I wasn't worried because I didn't allow myself to dwell on worrisome things. I wasn't discouraged, because I didn't allow myself to dwell on discouraging things. I wasn't consumed with endless negative what-ifs, because that would have involved thinking, and I was fasting from that.
[Disclaimer: Most folks who know me will agree that a brain fast was a good idea, and that if anyone ever needed to think less, 'tis I. But for anyone who reflexively gets concerned, let me assure you that making rash, life-destroying decisions was not even a remote danger for me. Even without all the thinking, I still had sense.]
I'm not sure how to describe the time since that fast ended. Do I think less than I did before the fast? I'm not sure. I think I learned a valuable skill, but one of the reasons I was able to do it wholeheartedly was that I knew there was a time limit. What if I were to live the rest of my life that way? It might turn out to be a good thing, but it's a far bigger risk than 40 days.
Here I am, though, thinking about it again. I wonder if it would suit me now, as I live with my Nov. 4 prayer and it's fraternal twin, the summer 40 Days of Faith prayer. If one of my big goals is to learn to enjoy myself, and in order to enjoy myself I need to live in the moment, and if I wouldn't be able to enjoy other answered prayers without these abilities, then thinking less might once again be just what the doctor ordered.
I'll have to think about that ;-).
[Disclaimer: Most folks who know me will agree that a brain fast was a good idea, and that if anyone ever needed to think less, 'tis I. But for anyone who reflexively gets concerned, let me assure you that making rash, life-destroying decisions was not even a remote danger for me. Even without all the thinking, I still had sense.]
I'm not sure how to describe the time since that fast ended. Do I think less than I did before the fast? I'm not sure. I think I learned a valuable skill, but one of the reasons I was able to do it wholeheartedly was that I knew there was a time limit. What if I were to live the rest of my life that way? It might turn out to be a good thing, but it's a far bigger risk than 40 days.
Here I am, though, thinking about it again. I wonder if it would suit me now, as I live with my Nov. 4 prayer and it's fraternal twin, the summer 40 Days of Faith prayer. If one of my big goals is to learn to enjoy myself, and in order to enjoy myself I need to live in the moment, and if I wouldn't be able to enjoy other answered prayers without these abilities, then thinking less might once again be just what the doctor ordered.
I'll have to think about that ;-).
Friday, June 11, 2010
Chill, Baby, Chill
I had my first comedy sketch-writing class on Monday, and I could feel all the old things coming up from improv -- wanting to get laughs, wanting to be good at this, feeling like there's only so much success to go around and I have to be better than everyone else.
You can guess how much fun that was.
So I think my goal for this class will be, as much as possible, to take a step back, relax, and try to just enjoy it. Try to enjoy the assignments, instead of trying to anticipate every possible criticism and account for it. Try to listen to other people's ideas and what the teacher has to say, instead of being all inside my head, thinking about what I'll say when it's my turn.
Trying to let this class just be whatever it is, and let myself be myself, instead of hoping, hoping, hoping it will all lead somewhere bigger.
Much easier said than done.
You can guess how much fun that was.
So I think my goal for this class will be, as much as possible, to take a step back, relax, and try to just enjoy it. Try to enjoy the assignments, instead of trying to anticipate every possible criticism and account for it. Try to listen to other people's ideas and what the teacher has to say, instead of being all inside my head, thinking about what I'll say when it's my turn.
Trying to let this class just be whatever it is, and let myself be myself, instead of hoping, hoping, hoping it will all lead somewhere bigger.
Much easier said than done.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Stop This Brain, I Want to Get Off
Anyone who's known me for seven minutes or more will know that I have a tendency to over-think, and often to over-over-over-over-think. And it happens almost before I can stop it. Example: I get out the Cray-Pas to do my daily scribbling, and I pick a few colors I like. Before one of them even touches the paper, my mind will go through the following gymnastics: Have I already set a rule by choosing these colors? Should I try to avoid making lines to color within? Am I unnecessarily restricting myself in the opposite direction by trying NOT to draw lines? Would I be able to counteract all this planning and control by using my left hand instead of my right? Now that I've started drawing one set of lines, do I stick with it?
All this takes place within a second or two, much less time than it took to type it out just now.
I've learned to ignore my own thoughts in these instances, but I have to be careful that they don't lurk beneath the surface, making me unhappy for reasons I can't pinpoint. That happens a lot.
I also notice that I make assumptions about everything being my fault (which would mean that somehow everything ought to be under my control). I've had a lazy day so far today, and I took a nap just because I felt like it. I woke up with a headache, and immediately felt guilty, because somewhere in my head I assumed that I wouldn't have a headache unless I'd made a bad choice -- oversleeping, undersleeping, eating poorly, eating too little, whatever. You may remember that I've had headaches pretty regularly throughout my life, so you can imagine how many opportunities I've had to feel guilty without even realizing that it may be groundless.
It's been a long process of noticing these goings-on within myself, and realizing that it doesn't have to be this way. (The brain fast I did last year was great for this.) It makes sense that recognizing unhelpful assumptions and over-thinking for what they are would be a big part of learning to live in the moment and enjoy life a lot more.
At the same time, I'm practicing not apologizing for who I am, even if it's hard to understand or annoying. The little hamster in my head, who spends so much time running on his wheel, is what makes me a writer, and I'm hoping that as I write about all this stuff, it'll be helpful to somebody. For all the folks who read it and think, I don't relate to that at all, but I'm glad I'm not you, perhaps there'll be someone else who says, Have you been transcribing my diary?
So, fellow over-thinker, at least you know you're not alone. Spend a few pleasant minutes thinking about that, if you like :-)
All this takes place within a second or two, much less time than it took to type it out just now.
I've learned to ignore my own thoughts in these instances, but I have to be careful that they don't lurk beneath the surface, making me unhappy for reasons I can't pinpoint. That happens a lot.
I also notice that I make assumptions about everything being my fault (which would mean that somehow everything ought to be under my control). I've had a lazy day so far today, and I took a nap just because I felt like it. I woke up with a headache, and immediately felt guilty, because somewhere in my head I assumed that I wouldn't have a headache unless I'd made a bad choice -- oversleeping, undersleeping, eating poorly, eating too little, whatever. You may remember that I've had headaches pretty regularly throughout my life, so you can imagine how many opportunities I've had to feel guilty without even realizing that it may be groundless.
It's been a long process of noticing these goings-on within myself, and realizing that it doesn't have to be this way. (The brain fast I did last year was great for this.) It makes sense that recognizing unhelpful assumptions and over-thinking for what they are would be a big part of learning to live in the moment and enjoy life a lot more.
At the same time, I'm practicing not apologizing for who I am, even if it's hard to understand or annoying. The little hamster in my head, who spends so much time running on his wheel, is what makes me a writer, and I'm hoping that as I write about all this stuff, it'll be helpful to somebody. For all the folks who read it and think, I don't relate to that at all, but I'm glad I'm not you, perhaps there'll be someone else who says, Have you been transcribing my diary?
So, fellow over-thinker, at least you know you're not alone. Spend a few pleasant minutes thinking about that, if you like :-)
Permission to Speak Freely, Sir?
One of my big fears, for years, has been that I won't speak up when it's necessary. That I'll be one of those good people who remains silent, thus allowing evil to prevail. I've always been shy, and don't like conflict, and up until a terrible event forced me to rethink the issue, I assumed other people knew what they were talking about more than I did. Speaking up for myself was hardest of all.
I've been having to get over that, largely for my own sanity. When other people make terrible assumptions about me that become terrible accusations, I need to know for myself that they aren't true. I'm getting better at that.
I was also intimidated by verses like the following, from Psalm 40:
9 I have told all your people about your justice.
I have not been afraid to speak out,
as you, O Lord, well know.
10 I have not kept the good news of your justice hidden in my heart;
I have talked about your faithfulness and saving power.
I have told everyone in the great assembly
of your unfailing love and faithfulness.
With all this blogging about my recent prayers, and the way I'm telling people about it in conversation, I feel like I am speaking up. And I'm excited, because I'm doing it during the process and the waiting and the uncertainty, so everybody can see it for what it really is, and not some polished version at the end.
I don't know how things will play out. But I keep coming back to the feeling that I've done a good thing just by asking.
I've been having to get over that, largely for my own sanity. When other people make terrible assumptions about me that become terrible accusations, I need to know for myself that they aren't true. I'm getting better at that.
I was also intimidated by verses like the following, from Psalm 40:
9 I have told all your people about your justice.
I have not been afraid to speak out,
as you, O Lord, well know.
10 I have not kept the good news of your justice hidden in my heart;
I have talked about your faithfulness and saving power.
I have told everyone in the great assembly
of your unfailing love and faithfulness.
With all this blogging about my recent prayers, and the way I'm telling people about it in conversation, I feel like I am speaking up. And I'm excited, because I'm doing it during the process and the waiting and the uncertainty, so everybody can see it for what it really is, and not some polished version at the end.
I don't know how things will play out. But I keep coming back to the feeling that I've done a good thing just by asking.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Doubling Down
Most years, during the season that more traditional churches call Lent, my church does something called "40 Days of Faith." There are several components to it, including the opportunity to pray for others more, and to fast. Because of my history with legalism, I choose to focus more on the part where we're supposed to ask God for something really, really big for ourselves -- scary in both its boldness and apparent selfishness. We're encouraged to ask not just for something surface-y -- e. g., "I want a spouse" -- but for the need behind the need -- e.g., "I want to love and be loved in the context of meaningful and intimate relationships."
This year, I prayed for the ability/capacity/grace to enjoy myself. This does not come naturally to me. I think a lot about the past and the future, and find it hard to live in the moment. When I do think about the moment at hand, I'm often analyzing it rather than enjoying it. And what is there to enjoy, really, when you're not enjoying the present? What good will it do me to get everything else I've ever imagined wanting -- husband, career, ancient castle with modern plumbing -- if I'm not able to enjoy it when I have it? So that's what I asked for. Not concrete, but rather practical, I think.
Since then, as you know if you've been reading, I prayed a more concrete prayer: That God would bring the big changes I've been waiting for in both the career and romance departments by Nov. 4 of this year. Still not uber-specific, as those changes could take any number of forms, though I'm also praying that I'll be able to recognize and enjoy them when they get here. The date is darn specific, though.
I now have another dimension to add to the mix. Last week, I discovered that a writer whose blog I read, Trish Ryan (http://trishryanonline.blogspot.com/), has been leading her own online 40 Days of Faith for the past couple of summers (http://fortydaysoffaith.blogspot.com/2010/05/40-days-of-faith-2010.html). I decided to be obnoxiously bold and join in. I prayed a big 40 Days prayer earlier this year, I prayed the Nov. 4 prayer, and now I'm doing another 40 Days -- who the heck do I think I am? I'm somebody who's had enough experience being meek and unassuming and is trying shamelessness instead. I'm betting that God can handle it. It's not like He doesn't know what I want anyway.
My new 40 Days prayer is similar to my Nov. 4 prayer, but the specifics shift to the other foot. What I'm asking for is more defined -- a husband, and a job that I love so much that I practically run/skip to work every day -- but without the Nov. 4 deadline. (Good heavens, I'm not even dating anybody -- I do NOT want to be married by Nov. 4!) And I'm doing the fasting part this time... sort of. Instead of abstaining from something (food, TV, alcohol, swearing), I'm adding something on: Scribbling! I bought some oil pastels and a blank pad, and the plan is to draw/scribble every day, to get myself out of my heady, verbal world, and be messy and free and color outside the lines, literally and figuratively. It's an interesting discipline for someone like me, who, when presented with a blank piece of paper, will usually draw lines of my own before coloring them in with precision. That's gotta be a massive window into my psyche, right there.
These latest prayers are risky, because I'm investing a lot in them. I'm investing time, effort, and money, as I head into the classes I've recently joined. I'm investing my heart and my hope, as I allow myself to ask and keep asking. I'm investing my reputation and my pride, as I tell everybody and their uncle about what I'm doing. Eek. EEK!
But I'm not apologizing.
This year, I prayed for the ability/capacity/grace to enjoy myself. This does not come naturally to me. I think a lot about the past and the future, and find it hard to live in the moment. When I do think about the moment at hand, I'm often analyzing it rather than enjoying it. And what is there to enjoy, really, when you're not enjoying the present? What good will it do me to get everything else I've ever imagined wanting -- husband, career, ancient castle with modern plumbing -- if I'm not able to enjoy it when I have it? So that's what I asked for. Not concrete, but rather practical, I think.
Since then, as you know if you've been reading, I prayed a more concrete prayer: That God would bring the big changes I've been waiting for in both the career and romance departments by Nov. 4 of this year. Still not uber-specific, as those changes could take any number of forms, though I'm also praying that I'll be able to recognize and enjoy them when they get here. The date is darn specific, though.
I now have another dimension to add to the mix. Last week, I discovered that a writer whose blog I read, Trish Ryan (http://trishryanonline.blogspot.com/), has been leading her own online 40 Days of Faith for the past couple of summers (http://fortydaysoffaith.blogspot.com/2010/05/40-days-of-faith-2010.html). I decided to be obnoxiously bold and join in. I prayed a big 40 Days prayer earlier this year, I prayed the Nov. 4 prayer, and now I'm doing another 40 Days -- who the heck do I think I am? I'm somebody who's had enough experience being meek and unassuming and is trying shamelessness instead. I'm betting that God can handle it. It's not like He doesn't know what I want anyway.
My new 40 Days prayer is similar to my Nov. 4 prayer, but the specifics shift to the other foot. What I'm asking for is more defined -- a husband, and a job that I love so much that I practically run/skip to work every day -- but without the Nov. 4 deadline. (Good heavens, I'm not even dating anybody -- I do NOT want to be married by Nov. 4!) And I'm doing the fasting part this time... sort of. Instead of abstaining from something (food, TV, alcohol, swearing), I'm adding something on: Scribbling! I bought some oil pastels and a blank pad, and the plan is to draw/scribble every day, to get myself out of my heady, verbal world, and be messy and free and color outside the lines, literally and figuratively. It's an interesting discipline for someone like me, who, when presented with a blank piece of paper, will usually draw lines of my own before coloring them in with precision. That's gotta be a massive window into my psyche, right there.
These latest prayers are risky, because I'm investing a lot in them. I'm investing time, effort, and money, as I head into the classes I've recently joined. I'm investing my heart and my hope, as I allow myself to ask and keep asking. I'm investing my reputation and my pride, as I tell everybody and their uncle about what I'm doing. Eek. EEK!
But I'm not apologizing.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Summer Un-Vacation
I've just signed up for a couple classes that ought to keep me out late on school nights: An acting class, and a comedy sketch-writing class at the theater where I learned improv. Should keep me busy, especially since the writing class will involve -- of all things -- writing assignments. Like, school or something!
Holly will coherent sentences make have to.
Holly will coherent sentences make have to.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Headaches in Hiding
I've had so few headaches over the last month or two! Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles. Hurrah!
The Exploration Stage
I've got acting on the brain. It's been several months since I did improv, and that comedy troupe I got into appears to have fallen through, so I'm now looking into other options. It's even occurred to me that I could go to grad school to study this stuff, which is funny because I've steadfastly avoided school since I got my postgrad diploma in '99. I wanted to be out there, living life, instead of just preparing for it. But the idea of diving into the deep end and being completely immersed in All Things Drama-Related for a year or two certainly holds its appeal.
It's also occurred to me that I could go back to the UK to do it. What's better than being immersed in acting? Being immersed in acting and Scotsmen.
Of course, there are all kinds of issues with the practicality of adding an acting degree to music degrees (unemployable in two artforms!), the matter of finances, and the reality that if I did head back overseas, I'd once again be foreign and unable to work, both of which rather stink. And this time I'd be old enough to be everyone's mom. (Did you know you can go to university at 16 over there? Good grief, I'd be older than half the professors.)
In the meantime, I've signed up for an acting class at the local center for adult ed. Maybe I'll sign up for another class or two, as well. I occasionally toss my hat in in response to requests for local actors, like I did with that comedy troupe. Lots of exploration. Not quite sure where it will lead or how. But I'm dipping my toes in again. I still think I can do this. I still want to do it. And along with all those annoying practicalities, I have this God fellow who seems to think that I could use some fun.
I've come to agree.
It's also occurred to me that I could go back to the UK to do it. What's better than being immersed in acting? Being immersed in acting and Scotsmen.
Of course, there are all kinds of issues with the practicality of adding an acting degree to music degrees (unemployable in two artforms!), the matter of finances, and the reality that if I did head back overseas, I'd once again be foreign and unable to work, both of which rather stink. And this time I'd be old enough to be everyone's mom. (Did you know you can go to university at 16 over there? Good grief, I'd be older than half the professors.)
In the meantime, I've signed up for an acting class at the local center for adult ed. Maybe I'll sign up for another class or two, as well. I occasionally toss my hat in in response to requests for local actors, like I did with that comedy troupe. Lots of exploration. Not quite sure where it will lead or how. But I'm dipping my toes in again. I still think I can do this. I still want to do it. And along with all those annoying practicalities, I have this God fellow who seems to think that I could use some fun.
I've come to agree.
But Probably Not Bunjee Jumping
I'm heading into The Risk-Taking Zone. Where if God doesn't come through or things don't work out, I'll fall on my face in spectacular fashion.
Spectacular.
Spectacular.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
11/4/2010: Save the Date
How do, folks!
I'm in transition -- or at least, I hope I am -- and thought it might be good to let you in on the process.
As you can see in the blurb at the right of this blog, I've been in a time of Serious Waiting for going on a decade now. In 2000, I returned from a second year in England, moved to D.C., and planned to head into my grown-up life: a music career with, hopefully, a comfortable income (it is possible!); an apartment of my own; a church; some long-term friendships; and meeting and marrying the right guy.
Well, I got the apartment, anyway.
The rest of it either crashed and burned or never quite got off the ground at all. There have been some changes, most of them slow. I believe God has been at work, both in me and behind the scenes in my life, but I'm still waiting for some of the big things that I've wanted my whole life.
So, 4 weeks ago, while praying, I found myself asking God to cap this season of waiting at ten years. If I remember correctly, I moved to D.C. on Nov. 4, 2000. As of today, that leaves just over five months. Yikes! I don't know if that sounds like a long time to you, but after ten slow years, it sounds incredibly short to me. I prayed that God would bring the big changes I've been waiting for in both the career and romance departments, and that I'll recognize and enjoy these changes when they come. I'm not letting God or myself off the hook with this one! The prayer is prayed, and it stands.
I know that in letting the world in on what I've done, I open myself to all kinds of opinions, advice, and concern: What am I doing to make this happen? What if it doesn't happen? If it does happen, how can I say it's God and not me? I'd ask you to trust me, since I've had years and years to wrestle with these issues, but you don't have to trust me. I'd ask you to trust God with it, but maybe that's not your thing. Whatever happens, I think this is an important risk in my relationship with Him, and I'm just trying to walk it out. And I'm sharing it here to give Him a chance to show Himself to be big, and to show myself to be... well, whatever I am in relationship with Him.
I'm both afraid that it all won't happen, and afraid that it will. After all, I'm used to things being slow and quiet, and I've asked for things that are new and scary.
But I'm also hopeful.
I'm in transition -- or at least, I hope I am -- and thought it might be good to let you in on the process.
As you can see in the blurb at the right of this blog, I've been in a time of Serious Waiting for going on a decade now. In 2000, I returned from a second year in England, moved to D.C., and planned to head into my grown-up life: a music career with, hopefully, a comfortable income (it is possible!); an apartment of my own; a church; some long-term friendships; and meeting and marrying the right guy.
Well, I got the apartment, anyway.
The rest of it either crashed and burned or never quite got off the ground at all. There have been some changes, most of them slow. I believe God has been at work, both in me and behind the scenes in my life, but I'm still waiting for some of the big things that I've wanted my whole life.
So, 4 weeks ago, while praying, I found myself asking God to cap this season of waiting at ten years. If I remember correctly, I moved to D.C. on Nov. 4, 2000. As of today, that leaves just over five months. Yikes! I don't know if that sounds like a long time to you, but after ten slow years, it sounds incredibly short to me. I prayed that God would bring the big changes I've been waiting for in both the career and romance departments, and that I'll recognize and enjoy these changes when they come. I'm not letting God or myself off the hook with this one! The prayer is prayed, and it stands.
I know that in letting the world in on what I've done, I open myself to all kinds of opinions, advice, and concern: What am I doing to make this happen? What if it doesn't happen? If it does happen, how can I say it's God and not me? I'd ask you to trust me, since I've had years and years to wrestle with these issues, but you don't have to trust me. I'd ask you to trust God with it, but maybe that's not your thing. Whatever happens, I think this is an important risk in my relationship with Him, and I'm just trying to walk it out. And I'm sharing it here to give Him a chance to show Himself to be big, and to show myself to be... well, whatever I am in relationship with Him.
I'm both afraid that it all won't happen, and afraid that it will. After all, I'm used to things being slow and quiet, and I've asked for things that are new and scary.
But I'm also hopeful.
Skype Lessons
Don't pick your nose.
Do wear clothes.
Don't take it into the bathroom. For the love of Pete, this ain't a phone call.
Do wear clothes.
Don't take it into the bathroom. For the love of Pete, this ain't a phone call.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Moving from Depressing to Creepy
After that last post, I got an ad for a Hoveround in my email inbox. Not only is Big Brother a creepy freak, he thinks I'm a frigging grandma.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
My height: 5'6"
Other things I'm up to:
--Still experimenting with eye makeup. Getting OK at the eye shadow. Eyeliner still scary. If my life depended on my ability to accurately apply eyeliner, I'd be shot on sight. Also, I start to look a little like I have a black eye. Or two black eyes. And Emo.
--Sung along with a worship music CD tonight. Haven't done that in yonks (to use one of my favorite British slang terms, though I'm told most Brits find it dorky).
--I prayed a big-scary-crazy prayer.
--I mentioned the honesty and trombone already. These are biggies.
Taken all together, I'd say strange things are afoot at the Circle K.
--Still experimenting with eye makeup. Getting OK at the eye shadow. Eyeliner still scary. If my life depended on my ability to accurately apply eyeliner, I'd be shot on sight. Also, I start to look a little like I have a black eye. Or two black eyes. And Emo.
--Sung along with a worship music CD tonight. Haven't done that in yonks (to use one of my favorite British slang terms, though I'm told most Brits find it dorky).
--I prayed a big-scary-crazy prayer.
--I mentioned the honesty and trombone already. These are biggies.
Taken all together, I'd say strange things are afoot at the Circle K.
I Am a Horrible Person. Also, I Played My Trombone
Today, I was finally honest enough to get somebody good and mad at me.
In other news, I've taken out my horn a couple times now. I expect it will be a long, slow process, getting back in shape. My breath is shaky. My left hand and wrist (which bear all the weight) are weaker. My tongue is slow. But the great thing is that I don't have to do any of this. I can spend the next year doing nothing but warm-ups, without the pressure of making a piece of music sound good. Or, I can focus only on the music I find fun, and not be accomplished in all styles for the sake of being a well-developed musician. Or I can just learn one song and play it everywhere and be absolutely dreadful at everything else. At this point, I don't think any of my local friends has heard me play, so anything they hear will be revelatory, even if it's just some simple honks.
And truth be told, my honks ain't sounding too bad.
I'm finding my voice in more ways than one :-).
In other news, I've taken out my horn a couple times now. I expect it will be a long, slow process, getting back in shape. My breath is shaky. My left hand and wrist (which bear all the weight) are weaker. My tongue is slow. But the great thing is that I don't have to do any of this. I can spend the next year doing nothing but warm-ups, without the pressure of making a piece of music sound good. Or, I can focus only on the music I find fun, and not be accomplished in all styles for the sake of being a well-developed musician. Or I can just learn one song and play it everywhere and be absolutely dreadful at everything else. At this point, I don't think any of my local friends has heard me play, so anything they hear will be revelatory, even if it's just some simple honks.
And truth be told, my honks ain't sounding too bad.
I'm finding my voice in more ways than one :-).
Monday, April 19, 2010
HVAC Blogging
The latest in blog posts designed to help me vent a little.
First, I've finally begun hiding the Facebook friends whose posts consist of little but "It's Friday!" as if it's not true for the rest of the world. As oblivious as I can be, I do not need other people to tell me what day it is. It's insultingly boring.
Also, I'm not sure whether someone was grateful that I turned off the fire under their food while they left the house for an hour, or whether they were upset that I touched it. It just never entered my head that anyone would do that on PURPOSE.
When the day comes that all my media outlets come under the heading of my full name, I'm going to have to delete some of these posts, along with some tweets.
But not today.
First, I've finally begun hiding the Facebook friends whose posts consist of little but "It's Friday!" as if it's not true for the rest of the world. As oblivious as I can be, I do not need other people to tell me what day it is. It's insultingly boring.
Also, I'm not sure whether someone was grateful that I turned off the fire under their food while they left the house for an hour, or whether they were upset that I touched it. It just never entered my head that anyone would do that on PURPOSE.
When the day comes that all my media outlets come under the heading of my full name, I'm going to have to delete some of these posts, along with some tweets.
But not today.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
It's Too Darn Hot
The temperature's risin'
It isn't surprisin'
She certainly can Can-Can.
It was in the 80s today. This is inconvenient. I get most of my exercise from walking, and if it's hot the instant I step out the door, it ain't gonna be pretty after I've been moving for half an hour. In work clothes. With my hair getting frizzy. The alternative is to take the (sometimes) air-conditioned bus, and get no exercise. Holly no likey. I'd much, much, much rather trudge through the snow. I spend all Fall and Winter listening to people whine about the fact that we have weather. Well, now it's my turn.
All the Winter Whiners can kiss my sweaty ass.
It isn't surprisin'
She certainly can Can-Can.
It was in the 80s today. This is inconvenient. I get most of my exercise from walking, and if it's hot the instant I step out the door, it ain't gonna be pretty after I've been moving for half an hour. In work clothes. With my hair getting frizzy. The alternative is to take the (sometimes) air-conditioned bus, and get no exercise. Holly no likey. I'd much, much, much rather trudge through the snow. I spend all Fall and Winter listening to people whine about the fact that we have weather. Well, now it's my turn.
All the Winter Whiners can kiss my sweaty ass.
Easter Weekend
Friday: The menfolk fly the model airplane around.
Saturday: The family spends a couple hours dislodging the model airplane from a very tall tree.
Easter Sunday: They fly the model airplane again, and also shoot off some bottle rockets. Because it's Easter, duh.
Noteworthy: My nephew is becoming way fun. He learned to say my name (sounds the same as when he says "Hi"). He's also a budding mash-up artist. When you add the sounds he knows to the words we grown-ups were singing, you get, "Jesus Christ is ris'n today, E-I-E-I-O." He's also arranged the Beach Boys. "Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, 4-0-9" has been simplified to, "Clip clop, clip clop, NINE!"
The original was a bit wordy, if you think about it. And surely two-year-olds are nothing if not economical.
Saturday: The family spends a couple hours dislodging the model airplane from a very tall tree.
Easter Sunday: They fly the model airplane again, and also shoot off some bottle rockets. Because it's Easter, duh.
Noteworthy: My nephew is becoming way fun. He learned to say my name (sounds the same as when he says "Hi"). He's also a budding mash-up artist. When you add the sounds he knows to the words we grown-ups were singing, you get, "Jesus Christ is ris'n today, E-I-E-I-O." He's also arranged the Beach Boys. "Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, 4-0-9" has been simplified to, "Clip clop, clip clop, NINE!"
The original was a bit wordy, if you think about it. And surely two-year-olds are nothing if not economical.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Things I Like
God. He's nice.
walking
watching TV
eating
reading
9 hours of sleep. in a row.
stretching, even though I'm not very flexible
applause
the way I look in my long leather jacket. you should see me in it. really.
not having to go anywhere
funny YouTube videos
furry, friendly dogs
walking
watching TV
eating
reading
9 hours of sleep. in a row.
stretching, even though I'm not very flexible
applause
the way I look in my long leather jacket. you should see me in it. really.
not having to go anywhere
funny YouTube videos
furry, friendly dogs
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Vatican's Chief Butt-Kicker
I'm not Catholic, but in a comment on another blog I read, someone referenced articles about Gabriele Amorth, for years the Vatican's head exorcist. Some fun facts:
The Exorcist is his favorite movie.
He shares some theology with Verbal from The Usual Suspects ("The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist").
Some links to interviews:
http://www.vaticans.org/index.php?/archives/61-An-interview-with-the-Vaticans-chief-excorcist,-Father-Gabriele.html
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/religion/1260364/posts
Mostly, I just love that this guy sticks it to the Devil on a daily basis.
The Exorcist is his favorite movie.
He shares some theology with Verbal from The Usual Suspects ("The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist").
Some links to interviews:
http://www.vaticans.org/index.php?/archives/61-An-interview-with-the-Vaticans-chief-excorcist,-Father-Gabriele.html
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/religion/1260364/posts
Mostly, I just love that this guy sticks it to the Devil on a daily basis.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
More Acting, Less Drama
Shit been goin' down.
As one might expect when sharing a planet with other sentient creatures, there is occassionally tension. And sometimes outright conflict. And sometimes high drama that makes living as a hermit in a cave for the rest of my earthly existence look like an extremely attractive idea.
I'm trying to navigate it all as best I can, because lessons unlearned are repeated, and no more fun the second/third/fifty-seventh go 'round. But as frustrated and angry as I get with other people, I'm more frustrated and angry at myself for not being better at dealing with the confusing mess. And it's not encouraging to think that even if I weren't messed up and were perfect in every way (which, alas, I'm not -- I know, shocker!), everyone else would still be messed up and it would still be hard.
Hard is hard. Why can't all difficult situations be condensed into a movie montage with a rockin' soundtrack, so I could feel awesome?
And why can't I have more upper-body strength so that throwing and punching things would be worthwhile?
As one might expect when sharing a planet with other sentient creatures, there is occassionally tension. And sometimes outright conflict. And sometimes high drama that makes living as a hermit in a cave for the rest of my earthly existence look like an extremely attractive idea.
I'm trying to navigate it all as best I can, because lessons unlearned are repeated, and no more fun the second/third/fifty-seventh go 'round. But as frustrated and angry as I get with other people, I'm more frustrated and angry at myself for not being better at dealing with the confusing mess. And it's not encouraging to think that even if I weren't messed up and were perfect in every way (which, alas, I'm not -- I know, shocker!), everyone else would still be messed up and it would still be hard.
Hard is hard. Why can't all difficult situations be condensed into a movie montage with a rockin' soundtrack, so I could feel awesome?
And why can't I have more upper-body strength so that throwing and punching things would be worthwhile?
Friday, March 19, 2010
You Have Been Warned
I have decided that I am not pale; I am white hot.
You'll want to wear sunglasses if you come to Boston this summer, though. Wouldn't want to go snow-blind should you catch me in shorts.
You'll want to wear sunglasses if you come to Boston this summer, though. Wouldn't want to go snow-blind should you catch me in shorts.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Things I Would Do if I Had the Money to Be as Eccentric as I Want to Be
Wear costumes
Get a giant trampoline and/or moon bounce
That's all I've got at the moment. I'm a simple woman.
Get a giant trampoline and/or moon bounce
That's all I've got at the moment. I'm a simple woman.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
It's My Brain's Fault
I may have figured out why I cannot, for the life of me, stay awake in meetings and training sessions: There are no Attention Triggers.
I've made this up, but it makes perfect sense to me, so you can't disagree even if you disagree.
Here's my theory: Our minds, as we grow up, become conditioned to pay attention to certain triggers -- someone calling our name, a raised voice, the mention of subjects we're interested in. As a musician, my ears perked up at the mention of "trombones" or "brass," and tuned out when other sections were being spoken to. Parents learn to pick out their children's cries. Without being fully conscious of it, we probably know when the commericials are done and we need to get from the kitchen to the living room to watch more of our favorite show, or we can tell when a family member has pulled into the driveway.
The meetings at work have a complete lack of Attention Triggers for me. They don't discuss things that I'm interested in, or even fully understand, and they're usually explained in a drone by people who are perfectly nice and perfectly knowledgeable but not exactly on their way to winning Entertainer of the Year. I try to pay attention, but every ounce of gray matter floating inside my skull is convinced that there are at least a dozen other things worth thinking about, so it does that instead. OK, there is one small part that cares about being good, but the rest of my brain seems to believe that, to quote Dark Helmet, "Good is dumb."
I've made this up, but it makes perfect sense to me, so you can't disagree even if you disagree.
Here's my theory: Our minds, as we grow up, become conditioned to pay attention to certain triggers -- someone calling our name, a raised voice, the mention of subjects we're interested in. As a musician, my ears perked up at the mention of "trombones" or "brass," and tuned out when other sections were being spoken to. Parents learn to pick out their children's cries. Without being fully conscious of it, we probably know when the commericials are done and we need to get from the kitchen to the living room to watch more of our favorite show, or we can tell when a family member has pulled into the driveway.
The meetings at work have a complete lack of Attention Triggers for me. They don't discuss things that I'm interested in, or even fully understand, and they're usually explained in a drone by people who are perfectly nice and perfectly knowledgeable but not exactly on their way to winning Entertainer of the Year. I try to pay attention, but every ounce of gray matter floating inside my skull is convinced that there are at least a dozen other things worth thinking about, so it does that instead. OK, there is one small part that cares about being good, but the rest of my brain seems to believe that, to quote Dark Helmet, "Good is dumb."
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Mutual Anger. Nice!
I was annoyed at my roommate for not being like me. I just found out he was annoyed with me for the same reason. Somehow, that made me feel a whole lot better. I think that, more than anything, I'd been struggling with my own anger, and how it made me feel like a bad, judgmental person. Now I feel like we're even, and have a mutual understanding about our mutual misunderstanding.
Being a messy human is awkward and gross, but getting it out in the open can be relieving and fun*. The rest of this day will be much better now.
*That's what she said.
Being a messy human is awkward and gross, but getting it out in the open can be relieving and fun*. The rest of this day will be much better now.
*That's what she said.
Four Out of Five Ain't Bad
Change, baby!
The tiniest things make the difference between happening and not happening. Over the last few weeks, the right tiny things fell into place and look to be bringing about the kind of change I've been waiting for for the last ten years. I'm not making any predictions yet, but am instead determined to enjoy the present and enjoy the process. But I can't pretend it hasn't occurred to me that this could change everything, and hoo boy, is that exciting.
It would allow me to be an Actress, Musician, Writer, and Comedian. No Princess promises yet, but the thought that I could even get to have all four of those creative outlets at once is amazing enough. I'll take it!
And I'll keep you all posted. Sorry for being a bit vague about it at the moment. I may be approaching the point where I have to ditch the anonymity, and let my blog, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and personal selves meet. I'll be Out There, last name and all, for the world to see and judge, and I may have to delete some of the posts and tweets that could hurt people's feelings. I'm up for letting myself look ugly as long as it's real, but there's a lot to be said for consideration and discretion. That should be an interesting balance to strike.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. For now, just know that fun is a-stirrin' in Hollyland, and the world at large could benefit (or be appalled) in the near future!
The tiniest things make the difference between happening and not happening. Over the last few weeks, the right tiny things fell into place and look to be bringing about the kind of change I've been waiting for for the last ten years. I'm not making any predictions yet, but am instead determined to enjoy the present and enjoy the process. But I can't pretend it hasn't occurred to me that this could change everything, and hoo boy, is that exciting.
It would allow me to be an Actress, Musician, Writer, and Comedian. No Princess promises yet, but the thought that I could even get to have all four of those creative outlets at once is amazing enough. I'll take it!
And I'll keep you all posted. Sorry for being a bit vague about it at the moment. I may be approaching the point where I have to ditch the anonymity, and let my blog, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and personal selves meet. I'll be Out There, last name and all, for the world to see and judge, and I may have to delete some of the posts and tweets that could hurt people's feelings. I'm up for letting myself look ugly as long as it's real, but there's a lot to be said for consideration and discretion. That should be an interesting balance to strike.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. For now, just know that fun is a-stirrin' in Hollyland, and the world at large could benefit (or be appalled) in the near future!
Friday, February 12, 2010
I Don't Like Phone Calls
I've figured it out.
I've always been a little afraid of the phone, especially when it comes to making calls. Receiving can be OK, but I've found I'm not always a huge fan of that, either. Yet texts are fine. I've also learned that I hugely prefer e-mail to instant messaging. And I think I've finally figured out why.
I feel interrupted when contacted via a medium that demands instant reponse; whereas things that can sit for a while, for which I can take my time to process and think about my responses, are fine. And I get really, really scared at the thought of interrupting somebody else, not knowing whether they'll be free or in the mood to interact with me, and I'll have to navigate a potentially awkward situation without the benefit of facial expressions or hand gestures and all the reciprocal communication contained therein. Yikes!
Some of you are probably worried now, but don't be. I don't always hate calls or messaging. It is interesting, though, what accounts for our preferred methods of communication.
I've always been a little afraid of the phone, especially when it comes to making calls. Receiving can be OK, but I've found I'm not always a huge fan of that, either. Yet texts are fine. I've also learned that I hugely prefer e-mail to instant messaging. And I think I've finally figured out why.
I feel interrupted when contacted via a medium that demands instant reponse; whereas things that can sit for a while, for which I can take my time to process and think about my responses, are fine. And I get really, really scared at the thought of interrupting somebody else, not knowing whether they'll be free or in the mood to interact with me, and I'll have to navigate a potentially awkward situation without the benefit of facial expressions or hand gestures and all the reciprocal communication contained therein. Yikes!
Some of you are probably worried now, but don't be. I don't always hate calls or messaging. It is interesting, though, what accounts for our preferred methods of communication.
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