Time Keeps Running, Even When You Want It To Stop

You never know when it will be the last time you see someone.  I unfortunately learned a few days ago that a good friend and colleague of mine passed away.  She'd been battling cancer for several years.  In fact, she came to the Master's program for Creative Writing in order to write her memoir about her struggle with it.  She and I started school together, we were in the same advising group together for our first two semesters, and the school I attend is very small.  We're a tight knit group.  We all complete our work from wherever we happen to live in the US and abroad, but for one full week, twice a year, we attend residency together where we live together, eat together, attend workshops together.  It's very intense and life altering.  I highly recommend low-residency programs, particularly the one at Goddard College.

She and I also ended up taking the same semester off.  Yet, we both returned and for the same reason: that, doing this program is a gift to ourselves.  Regardless of money or anything else superfluous to completing the degree, the act of pursuing it is essentially the gift.  She didn't attend this past semester because the cancer came back.  I know she fought very hard.  I also know that, the last semester we attended together, she said something along the lines of, "I'm tired about writing about this - I want to write about life!"  She did start writing about her family and all the things that were most important to her rather than this thing.

I've been in shock since I got the news on Monday.  It's hard to accept that she's gone.  I keep saying to myself, "But I knew her!"  Not just like I knew her name, I mean, I knew her!  She was a very sharp, positive, supportive person.  And funny!  She had a great sense of humor.  In our second semester, I read the beginning to my novella about a cat, and it's a disgusting hairless cat that is described by its new owner as 'a beast.'  Later she was talking about having to wear wigs or hats during chemo, and she said, "Because if I didn't I would look like, well, The Cat!"  Then she busted up laughing.

She always wore shirts with Peace signs on them.  She bonded much more with some of the other girls at school who I know knew her better than I did, but she was still a friend of mine.  It's been sobering.  And sad.  I'm re-evaluating things in my life, as you do when things like this happen, and more than realizing, but I think remembering, what's important and wherein the true gifts of this life reside.  That's with family and friends, trusting yourself enough to follow your heart, indulge your passions: Let yourself live. 

In memory of Katy Zirbel ~ because she did indeed live.

Extra Sugar Recommended

It's days like today that I have to remind myself that, "If you love someone, let them go."  And hope they come back.

It's also days like today where bad dates can be just a little too disappointing I wish I'd stayed home.  I suppose every bad date just puts me one step closer to being with the right person.  But, I wonder sometimes...

I see a person I have a crush on be with someone else.  I see a person I used to date be with someone else.  What can I say - some days just plain stink!  But I know that tomorrow will be better, and the day after that, and the day after that.  I think of days like today as a way of re-centering.  When things get so dark, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I know it's there - I've been here before.  It's not about being happy 100% of the time - it's about accepting your faults and weaknesses and sometimes we just need to indulge in a crap day.  It's refreshing!  Moves that stuff out.  Detox.

So for now, looking forward to the rain letting up and seeing the sun tomorrow.

Sweet dreams xoxo

Signs

There are signs that tell us where to go, when to go, how to go.  Mechanically anyway, there are signs.  There are Stop signs, there are stop lights, go lights, slow lights.  There are traffic revision signs.  Detour signs.  Don't feed the raptor! signs.  All sorts of signs. We live with signs and don't think much of them.

What about other signs along the way?  I had the experience today that I was thinking about, actually I had a running dialogue in my head, about this worry I've been having, whether it's going well or isn't.  Am I being too optimistic or is this real?  What is real?  Is pessimism more real than opti-?  And then a red bug flew past my face and landed on the wall next to me.  It was a ladybug.

I take things like that as signs.  Which might mean I'm just crazy, but that's how I roll.  I see a ladybug fly past my face as I'm having a heated internal dialogue about something, and I take that as a sign for, "Luck."  Maybe, maybe not - but the feeling inside at least is, everything's okay.  Babe, you're on the right track.

I can't imagine this doesn't happen to other people.  At the very least, we've all experienced the kneejerk reaction when we hear a song that used to be "our" song - or at least the song that made you think of someone special.  You're immediately flooded with emotion that would match how you'd react if the person were actually standing in front of you: happiness, sadness, anger, irritation, whatever.

I also recently experienced, while debating about whether I should go this direction or that direction in my life, should I join this group or that group, that's when I looked up and saw an ad for one of the groups I'm debating joining.  I didn't take that as a full throttle 'answer' but it definitely added to the sway of that group.  And why?  Just because I happened to look up and see their poster?  Well... yeah.

I think the answers are out there, we just have to pay attention.

Because It's Friday... And We Want What We Want

And I'm feeling a bit lazy and slightly melancholy, I don't have anything terribly witty to write today.  I could tell you that I ate pho last night and burnt my tongue, I rode my bike to the cupcake shop and spent about two hours staring at some pages that needed editing of which I think I got through, oh... half a paragraph?  I could also tell you I booked a massage for myself tonight... which reminds me, I was actually going to write a little something about that.

Picture a girl who's down in the dumps, no specific reason, just stressed and worried - she's been fixating for awhile on a certain issue and frustration (I realize I'm being vague, but it's so you can input yourself here too) - and she has a momentary realization, which is this: I've been fixating on the lack of something, but what would it feel like to have it?  Well, it would feel like this!  Happiness.  We don't have to punish ourselves because we don't have the things we want, we can actually have them now, just maybe not in exactly the precise form we're hoping for.  If you're lacking in love, you can give that to yourself (that sounds perverted, but you can take that any way you want).  I'd like to be getting flowers, well I can buy them for myself - I'd like to be giving someone a massage, well, I can get myself a massage.  I'd like to be going to dinner with someone, I can take myself out.

Same applies for things we want or people we'd like to be.  I want to be a superstar (insert whatever - author).  There's no harm in writing the words: I am a famous author - on a piece of paper and putting that in your wallet, is there?  And, you can tag on whatever else you want.  Rich... I've published thirty spy novels and won 11 Edgar Allan Poe Awards, or whatever.  I'm the awesomiest awesome paraglider to ever fly the friendly skies. 

Hmmm - and I was just going to post a link as my cop out for the day, which is this guy's blog I stumbled across.  He has a lot of great motivational and inspirational articles, and what I liked is that his articles are easy to relate to, they're not preachy or glaringly Tony Robbins'ish - instead, they're actually helpful!

So take a look: http://howtotrulylive.com/

Have a great weekend!

Take 2

Positivity can be a struggle, and because writing is all about revision ~ just like life ~ the revised 'Sacrificial Introduction' would read like this:

I've started this second blog and I hope you like it! because my "writing" blog is supposed to be more stuffy I guess and have less personal crap on it.  I'm fine with that - especially considering I haven't posted much to it and honestly, I should have a web site rather than a blog.  I think that's the 'correct' way to go?  But that's neither here nor there.

I want to talk about personas right now.  There are many I wear, some more realistic than others.  Some are just in my head, let's face it: the one where I hacked the FBI database to prove Leonard Peltier's innocence (novella forthcoming - since that's as close to reality as I'm going to get on that one); or the one where I was born into some sort of Yugoslavian royal mafia that I'm trying to escape; or where I'm an aerialist for Cirque du Soleil and I have a twin sister named Mona - for some reason I'm Japanese in that persona?  Anyway.

These are all just escapes from the reality that is me, and I think we all do this, unless maybe you're one of those people born with self-esteem or chutzpah or arrogance or an overly abundant sense of righteousness that our American culture just adores and pushes us to have that makes you look at yourself in the mirror and say, "Hot Damn!  I'm awesome!"  I might squeak this, to myself, in my head, a few times a year only because my therapist ordered me to.  And then spend the rest of the day feeling like an arrogant bastard.

I'm working on this, cuz Hot Damn!  I'm awesome!

I've been told I'm nice.  Yup, that's right nice.  What the fuck's wrong with nice?  Nice.  Who wants that?  People say it like that's a bad thing.  Maybe it is.  I could attempt to be an asshole, but I just don't really care enough.  I have a quiet voice.  People don't want quiet - they want LOUD, FERFUCKSAKE!  That's what America's built on - LOUD!  Death to quiet people, right?  I might not be able to scream as loud as you at the bar - and if I yell your name down the street you'll keep walking because you didn't hear me - it takes awhile to get to know me because I don't wear a suit made of survey questions I answered - that's the way it is.  And here's the thing about us quiet people.  We heard everything you said... think about that.



Personas: Truth is we're never happy with who we are (at least I'm not), hence the use of personas.  Not like J. Edgar Hoover or anything, but there is a vision we hold of ourselves.  We can't actually see ourselves, so we hold onto some sort of image.  I want to be liked.  We all want to be liked.  The trouble is when it feels like you're pulling out a different persona to try and impress this person, then that person, etc.  I do it too because I can't really believe that so-and-so would find me interesting or desirable or whatever, so I tend to try and create that image of myself that is frankly, unrealistic.  It's not really me anyway.  I have a day job (that I'm not really proud of, I feel like a sell out - but it's a good job nonetheless), but I'm also in grad school completing a Creative Writing degree because I made the decision to devote the time and money to something I truly love - so there's that; I'm not very tall, but who the fuck cares?  Most people I like or "look up to", are not very tall - probably taller than me!  But still...  apparently I'm supposed to be tall, it makes your legs thinner, your hair straighter, and your skin tanner (according to this incredibly sane logic); there are things about my face that are imperfect, but imperfection is far more interesting if I could only tweak them just a tad, even by like 1 degree, would make the whole package that much prettier; I've never been in trouble with the law, I'm a do-gooder by nature, which naturally makes me I'm not a rebel (Everyone loves a rebel!  And artists are naturally rebels) - I do think I stole a Dum-Dum out of a candy bin when I was little; not loud (already said that); repeats oneself (1 demerit!); self-deprecating (You're not supposed to be doing this! 2 Demerits!!!)...  Well, you get the idea.

How does one deal with this crap?

It's true.  Positive thinking does wonders.  It's the little steps.  I keep a little diary (like an asshole) documenting my little accomplishments.  I'm returning to a sport.  I document little things I do that contribute toward my skill set there.  I document what I do every day with my writing, what I worked on, where I got to.  And, yeah, I've finally given in on keeping track of 'feelings.'  Mostly to help keep me from careening into the big black sinkhole that I can often take myself to.

Oh christ.... and I've also started meditating.  That shit helps!!!  There I said it.  I meditate.

Maybe one day I'll stop cursing in my writing, but let's hope that day never comes.  Fuck!

Sacrificial Introduction

I've started this second blog because my "writing" blog is supposed to be more stuffy I guess and have less personal crap on it.  I'm fine with that - especially considering I haven't posted much to it and honestly, I should have a web site rather than a blog.  I think that's the 'correct' way to go?  But that's neither here nor there.

I want to talk about personas right now.  There are many I wear, some more realistic than others.  Some are just in my head, let's face it: the one where I hacked the FBI database to prove Leonard Peltier's innocence (novella forthcoming - since that's as close to reality as I'm going to get on that one); or the one where I was born into some sort of Yugoslavian royal mafia that I'm trying to escape; or where I'm an aerialist for Cirque du Soleil and I have a twin sister named Mona - for some reason I'm Japanese in that persona?  Anyway.

These are all just escapes from the reality that is me, and I think we all do this, unless maybe you're one of those people born with self-esteem or chutzpah or arrogance or an overly abundant sense of righteousness that our American culture just adores and pushes us to have that makes you look at yourself in the mirror and say, "Hot Damn!  I'm awesome!"  I might squeak this, to myself, in my head, a few times a year only because my therapist ordered me to.  And then spend the rest of the day feeling like an arrogant bastard.


I've been told I'm nice.  Nice.  Who wants that?  People say it like that's a bad thing.  Maybe it is.  I could attempt to be an asshole, but I just don't really care enough.  I have a quiet voice.  People don't want quiet - they want LOUD, FERFUCKSAKE!  That's what America's built on - LOUD!  Death to quiet people, right?  I might not be able to scream as loud as you at the bar - and if I yell your name down the street you'll keep walking because you didn't hear me - it takes awhile to get to know me because I don't wear a suit made of survey questions I answered - that's the way it is.  And here's the thing about us quiet people.  We heard everything you said... think about that.

Personas: Truth is we're never happy with who we are (at least I'm not), hence the use of personas.  Not like J. Edgar Hoover or anything, but there is a vision we hold of ourselves.  We can't actually see ourselves, so we hold onto some sort of image.  I want to be liked.  We all want to be liked.  The trouble is when it feels like you're pulling out a different persona to try and impress this person, then that person, etc.  I do it too because I can't really believe that so-and-so would find me interesting or desirable or whatever, so I tend to try and create that image of myself that is frankly, unrealistic.  It's not really me anyway.  I have a day job (that I'm not really proud of, I feel like a sell out - but it's a good job nonetheless), so there's that; I'm not very tall, apparently I'm supposed to be tall, it makes your legs thinner, your hair straighter, and your skin tanner (according to this incredibly sane logic); there are things about my face that if I could only tweak them just a tad, even by like 1 degree, would make the whole package that much prettier; I've never been in trouble with the law, I'm a do-gooder, I'm not a rebel (Everyone loves a rebel!) - I think I stole a Dum-Dum out of a candy bin when I was little; not loud (already said that); repeats oneself (1 demerit!); self-deprecating (You're not supposed to be doing this! 2 Demerits!!!)...  Well, you get the idea.

How does one deal with this crap?

It's true.  Positive thinking does wonders.  It's the little steps.  I keep a little diary (like an asshole) documenting my little accomplishments.  I'm returning to a sport.  I document little things I do that contribute toward my skill set there.  I document what I do every day with my writing, what I worked on, where I got to.  And, yeah, I've finally given in on keeping track of 'feelings.'  Mostly to help keep me from careening into the big black sinkhole that I can often take myself to.

Oh christ.... and I've also started meditating.  That shit helps!!!  There I said it.  I meditate.

Maybe one day I'll stop cursing in my writing, but let's hope that day never comes.  Fuck!