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.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
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.
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