Culture Shock

Papa and I in our canvas 'tennisses'

I'm sick again. This never happens. I almost never get sick. This winter hasn't been particularly harsh, and I can't ever remember a time when I took better care of myself in terms of diet and exercise, and yet here it is. I do get it though. I've been having nightmares pretty regularly too, and the tone of them is always the same. Sometimes the dream is about people I love joining a cult that does terrible things. Sometimes it's about people I love having friends that kill and torture people, but they have no issue with it. In my dreams, I always try to talk to my loved ones, and they either answer me in a foreign language and then laugh when I don't understand, or they tell me I need to get over it. Sometimes during these conversations there's screaming in the background. Sometimes it feels like I'm in hell and I can't find the way out. That feeling stays with me into the waking world sometimes, when I remember what the world is now. That's why I'm writing this. I won't stop getting sick until I acknowledge that what I really am is heartsick. What I feel is disconnected, because they changed and I didn't, though they think it's the other way around.

There's all this talk about going back to 'what was', but that's not the direction we're going. We're going in a direction that is as anti 'what was' as it is anti progress. I know what it's like to grow up in one world, and suddenly find yourself in a world that you don't really fit into anymore. I grew up in a small town. I knew and loved everybody. I would ride my bike to the library and know who lived in every house on the way. I always had quarters in my pocket (courtesy of my grandfather) so I could stop at Mr. Alberghini's store for a chocolate bar or some peanuts. If I picked up the mail on the way home, I always made sure to say "Hello" to Mr. McIntyre at the post office. There were dirt roads, farms, cows and horses. There was a roving pack of dogs that spent their days together (our dog was one of them), and who all were home by dinner time. I used to have brand new, homemade hats and mittens to wear to school every year. The town was overrun by kids riding bikes and horses every day in the summer. I went to church every Sunday and to catechism, and sometimes the priest would have dinner at our house. I sat on the front porch in a rocking chair watching it rain while my grandfather sang "Pennies From Heaven" (our family liked to sing), I played pick-up softball with the neighbors in the summer, sometimes until the sun went down. I was a girl scout, and learned to care for the planet and our natural resources. I was in 4-H and learned how to take responsibility for my animals. I learned that no man is an island, and that we are part of a community and in that way are responsible for each other. I watched westerns with my grandfather, and I wanted to be a cowboy (or an Indian. Either one, as long as I got to ride FAST) We went ice skating in the winter. We had a phone with a cord, and if you wanted a private conversation you had to sit at the top of the cellar stairs and talk quietly. We used to wait until it was dark, and then play hide and seek or tell ghost stories. I rode in the back of pick up trucks, my long hair usually in a ponytail and covered by a bandana. I went to drive-in movies and drive-up eateries. I remember when TV would end the broadcast day at midnight.

Back then, kindness and respect were the norm. We didn't have to legislate it or talk about it, because it was just a part of life. People who had respect for themselves treated others respectfully. It's just the way it was. It was part of the fabric of everything I knew. I said "Thank you" to my school bus driver and the lunch ladies every day. I always called folks who were older than me "Mr.", "Miss", or "Mrs." unless told to do otherwise (still do), out of respect. My grandparents weren't just real Republicans, they were real Christians. They always put people before money, and they were generous. When somebody needed help they were there if they could be. Most of the neighbor children had at least one toy fixed by my grandfather, or a boo boo tended to by my mom or grandmother. I learned that 'fiscal responsibility' meant spending carefully, and taking good care of things so that they would last a long time. That way, you'd have the money when you needed it for something important, like people, especially family. I learned that when you help somebody you do it without strings and without need of recognition. My grandparents helped me a lot financially, and they would refuse repayment (Nana: "I'm not taking your money. Do I look that cheap?"). But we grew up understanding that we were very, very fortunate to have the money, and that not everybody was. The lesson was that, as adults, we should be just as willing to share our good fortune with others should we also be so blessed. We also learned to love everybody. We didn't have to like them, but we did have to love them. We learned that it wasn't our place to judge other people, and that hating others was like poisoning yourself. If I came home talking smack about somebody (rare), my grandmother would say something like "Nevermind! You just worry about you!" I didn't really know anything about gender equality issues because my mom did whatever the hell she wanted, and didn't feel any need whatsoever to explain herself. It was through teachers and school that I learned how "scandalous" that was and how difficult my mom's path really had been. I admired the hell out of her because I saw the toll it took sometimes, but she kept on going.

Compared to the world I grew up in, the world I live in now seems cold, crass, tactless, selfish and often cruel. And it's getting worse, on purpose. I think it's part of why I have such a hard time with the current version of the Republican party. I'm an Independent, but will admit to leaning heavily to the left by default. I go where my inner morality takes me, and much of that morality was shaped by my grandparents who helped to raise me. My grandparents were REAL Republicans, when it was the party of the people, of workers rights, of empowerment of the individual through fair and ethical employment, and of fiscal responsibility. If you had asked them which party was more important, they would tell you that they both were important in order to create balance. I was too young to really grasp the specific political beliefs of my grandparents, but I knew and respected their personal values, and have tried (and continue to try) very hard to emulate those values in my adult life. I have to wonder what they would think of today's political climate. I know a lot of wonderful, decent people who still support the Republican party by default, despite it's departure from the party's real values. I have often wondered how that's possible. But I heard a story (parable, tale, whatever) the other day that sort of explained it for me. I can't remember where I heard it (TV?), but it was about how to boil a frog.  As the story goes, if you drop a frog in boiling water it will simply jump out and be on it's way. But if you put the same frog in cool water and turn up the temperature very gradually, the frog wont realize it's being boiled. Kind of a gross analogy, but you get the point. We've slowly, so slowly, given ourselves over to financial priorities. We have reality TV and cable news keeping us complacent and entertained. We've allowed ourselves to be divided and conquered for profit. And I'm so damned angry. I remember 'great'.  Great was ethical, kind, respectful, reasonable, inclusive, and GOOD. It was humane and careful and responsible. That's not where we're headed, not at all. And those good values I grew up with are being erased and made a mockery of. The truly Christian values I was raised with are being twisted and used to punish and hate. We're being sold an enormous lie and we are just going along with it, selling out what's important and to our own detriment. No wonder I feel sick. I wish there was a way I could shake people awake and remind them of who they are, but I don't know how. We're boiling. We're boiling like crazy, and people are cheering about it.

Poverty and Homelessness

A work in progress

There has been a lot of talk among my friends about poverty and homelessness lately. It has all been really constructive, positive and loving "What can I do to help the cause" sort of talk, and it's all good, but it's brought up a lot of things for me that I still really struggle with. Once upon a time, I thought some time and distance would fix the emotional wounds that are caused by poverty and homelessness, but I suppose it isn't that simple. Yes, I have been on welfare. My daughter and I have been homeless twice. We couch surfed so we were lucky, but luck is relative, I suppose. I grew up thinking, no, believing with my whole heart, that God never gives you more than you can handle, that adversity makes you stronger, that if you are polite and kind and do the right things, then bad things can't touch you, and that family will always be there for you. I believed that our lives are as positive or negative as the choices we make, but that we always had a choice. I know better than all that now. I wish I didn't, and maybe that's why I don't really talk about it, but if I can make just one person understand, or if I can take the self-hatred out of someone else's experience, then this difficult and painful disclosure is worthwhile. Sometimes things do the most harm if they're allowed to fester below the surface and never allowed exposure to the light of day. And it IS a new day, but nothing can erase what we've been through.

Poverty is one of those things that's extremely misunderstood. There's this idea that there is a solid safety net, that a person has to err egregiously to find themselves struggling financially, and boy, if you end up homeless,  then certainly you must have done SOMETHING to deserve that. I'll tell you what I did: I had a child. Even though it was the best, most positive and straight up honorable thing I've ever done with my life, it meant I was automatically living below the poverty line. I didn't get any child support. It happens. I hadn't finished college yet, so the amount of money I could make was negligible. I depended on welfare and the money I could make either working at home (I was a sculptor) or at jobs I could bring my child to. My grandmother helped me out a lot for awhile and we were okay, but then she died. My parents tried to help inasmuch as they could too, but the whole structure of my family had dissolved and my personal safety net was gone. Then, everything changed.

I won't get into all the details because they are tedious. But the reality for the average poor person looks something like trying to pay $800 worth of bills with $600 every month. Month after month. It fluctuates up and down periodicity depending on what you yourself are able to make (Congratulations on your new job. You are now losing your food stamps and have less money to work with.) I had a lot of nice things (I'm so lucky to have had good stuff to start with. I'm so lucky I came from a good family). I had to sell a lot of them at ridiculous prices, but at least I had them to sell. I was even able to start a business boarding dogs, and we did okay for awhile there too. But the thing about limited resources that is the most terrifying is the inability to absorb the impact of other peoples' decisions. You are quite literally at the mercy of people who care more about the bottom line than they care about you, or more about who knows what. I just know that when my basement flooded (the landlord had removed the pump before I moved in. I couldn't afford one of my own), my landlord got married and moved away, leaving her son in charge. He didn't take care of the basement (as promised), he didn't bring back the pump. When holes rotted through the floor and toxic mold grew in the walls, my daughter and I started getting sick (just get a spray bottle with bleachwater) and finally the place was condemned. It's what you can expect when the rent is "affordable", unfortunately. We couldn't find another place.

My parents rallied, my boyfriend at the time and his mom did too (Not my boyfriend anymore, but I still love them both). The plan was a house for my daughter and I, and an expanded business plan. I had this. I had people. We were going to be okay. We had it all worked out. And then we didn't. At the last minute, everything fell apart (My own family doesn't believe in me. I must be a terrible person). We scrambled to find something, ANYTHING. But rents are high and sometimes on purpose. Gotta keep the riff raff out, ya know. We lost our home and my business in one fell swoop.

There's something about packing your things when you know everything is going into storage (I can't believe this is happening). There's a disbelief (This can't be real) that goes with it until those final moments (at least my dogs are okay in my friend's kennel). It feels like a train is coming, and you're tied to the tracks. It feels like like screaming for help in a dream where nobody can hear you. And worse, your child's fate is inextricably tied to yours. It's what you think of in that moment when you load up the last of your things on the truck (I'm so lucky to have help moving my stuff), the moments when you are putting everything you own (at least I have stuff and a place to keep it) into a storage locker; your bed, your child's bed, your books and your child's toys. Then that slam of the door sliding shut on your whole world, and the click of the lock.  But the worst moment is that one when you get in your car (at least I have a car) and your child looks at you, and all you can think is "What do we do now?" (Oh God, don't cry. If ever you needed to hold it together it's now. Do it. Be strong. You failed. You failed. You're a failure. You failed your child, so you better HOLD IT TOGETHER YOU LOSER.) It's weird that life just keeps going. I'd bring my daughter to school, fortunate that she had that stability (Thank you, B&T), then go to the kennel to take care of the dogs (I'm so lucky to have a safe place for them), and search day after day for a place to call home. I would go pick up my daughter after school (Act normal. Keep it together. Nobody wants to hear about your embarrassing problems. Failure Failure Failure. Don't forget to smile. All these people get to go home and have dinner. They get to relax and go to bed. I wonder if they know how awesome that is.)

A lot of people have a lot of misunderstandings about poverty and homelessness. There's so much propaganda floating around out there that's very enticing. If you believe the poor are okay, you don't have to do anything. If you think the safety net works, YOU are off the hook.  If you believe that the poor and homeless did it to themselves, it allows you the triple advantage of 1) getting to pass judgement 2) getting to feel 'better than' and 3) you have the opportunity to feel good about turning your back on other human beings. I think very few people would knowingly do that, but the misinformation that's spread around has made poor-bashing acceptable and normal. It's disgusting. If you seriously believe that there is any advantage to being poor, I strongly encourage you to be in touch with local organizations who deal with poverty issues. Or, you know, talk to poor people. Perhaps even more important, set aside your personal bias and LISTEN.

Having said that, some of the LEAST understanding people I have ever met are social workers. Some are amazing, some just want to get through the day, but there are a surprising number of them who just want to talk down to you, talk at you, tell you how to live your life and talk to you about choices. They have the right intentions, but they are coming from their own place and not that of the client. They can't relate at all but they think they understand perfectly. It's a very dangerous combination, and likely the source of the perpetuation of misinformation so prevalent in the media today. They dispense a lot of advice that folks don't want or need and really can't take. To be clear, the REAL choices are: Food or rent, food  or gas, food or electricity, food or cleaning supplies, and when it gets toward the end of the month, food for me OR for my child (obviously a no-brainer). If I had a nickel for every person who wanted to talk at me about my "budgeting issues" or similar subjects (you just have to learn to be POSITIVE!), I would have had no more financial problems. My biggest budgeting issues were that I didn't have enough money, and lacked a magic wand.

So what DO the poor need? The short answer is more money. It takes a shocking amount of time and energy to wake up every day wondering how to feed you family, and to traipse about (if , in fact you are fortunate enough to have the ability to traipse), all over town to access random services, hoping to piece together enough money to keep the light on. It's energy that would be much better spent elsewhere. No matter what Fox "News" and their ilk say, nobody wants to be poor, poverty isn't lucrative, there is no advantage and nobody is doing well on subsidies. NOBODY. Pardon my French, but that is bullshit. I tried to come up with a better word, but there isn't one. On the rare occasion that somebody attempts fraud, they are caught and prosecuted. The second thing people need is opportunity. People who have opportunities take them so for granted that they can't even kinda understand that they aren't available to everyone, or conceive of how different life might be without them. It makes a huge difference when mommy and daddy pay for your education and sign off on all the big purchases so that you can build something positive for yourself right from the get go. It changes everything.

The other thing to remember is that homelessness isn't the problem, it's the symptom. If ever there was proof that the poor weren't getting what they need to help themselves and stop being poor, it's the alarming rate of homelessness. Homelessness happens when you have done everything you can do and it doesn't work, and have asked for help that doesn't come. It's a point of utter helplessness and hopelessness. I can't speak for everyone, but for me it was that moment when I realized that everything I believed in was bullshit. It was the moment when I knew to whom I mattered, and to whom I didn't. I realized that God most definitely gives you more than you can handle, and when it happened something broke so profoundly inside me that I've never been the same. Over the years I've worked hard at gluing all the little pieces together, but I don't think I'll ever be the same. I'm seriously agoraphobic. I mean, seriously. The panic attacks are so embarrassing, but it is what it is. I get nosebleeds whenever I get correspondence from my landlord, even though it's always benign. So no, adversity doesn't always make you stronger. Sometimes it fucks you up irrevocably. But I'm working on it. Even so, I can't help but believe it happened for a reason. I have yet to discover what that reason might be, but I'll know it when I see it.

It's over for us now, the 'living it' part. My daughter is an adult and we share household expenses. But every time I hear somebody trash the poor I get angry, because they are trashing me. Every time somebody disrespects and dehumanizes the homeless, they are dehumanizing me, and worse, my daughter. Those families are us, those children are my child. Anybody can end up there. It took me years of scraping and clawing to forgive myself for the sins that I was held accountable for but never actually committed, but I did do that much. I believe in myself, but very few others. My cynicism was well-earned. I wish I smiled more, that I was calmer and less emotional. I'll get there. In the meantime, I will always defend and advocate for those who can't do it for themselves, because I know they can't. I won't judge because nobody can be harder on a person than they are on themselves. But mostly because I understand that sometimes, people don't need a lecture or a pep-talk; what they need is real, tangible help.

Stop the Bus

When life would get to a point somewhere past ridiculous, my friend Dawn (AKA "Donna") used to say "Stop the bus, I want to get off".  It was silly, but somehow, nothing was quite able to sum up that particular state of mind quite so well as that statement. It just fit. I am currently experiencing one of those days. I wish there was a bus to stop. Figuratively, anyway, the bus I'm currently riding feels like it's careening down some random embankment, driven by a zombie, and I'm its hapless, helpless passenger just trying to hang on until it comes to a stop. My greatest hope is that when it does, it's still upright. Ahh...there are few things I like better than getting overly dramatic about bad days, so if you don't have the stomach for that sort of thing, you may want to get off this particular bus now.

I don't know where my car is. My daughter took it to work last night, and both the car and kid are still AWOL. Some days, I don't even feel like I actually own a car, unless it's time to pay one of the many car-related expenses. I said "You can use my car for work" She heard "You may take over my car, and my need for it will always be secondary to whatever you have going on". This is totally my fault. I hate playing taxi SO MUCH that it was a relief. But it has now reached the point of sublime ridiculousness. I don't like bringing the thunder, but if I don't I'm going to explode. Badness. I just have to keep reminding myself that yes, I actually DO own a car. MY car. MINE.

Don't get me wrong, my daughter has been in touch. This morning, at 4:00 AM. Then again at 6:00 AM. Then again at 9:00 AM. Ask me how fabulously I get on when I haven't slept. To say I feel prickly today is an understatement (and what an adorable little euphemism prickly is). I have decided to remain in my apartment for the safety of others. Well, except when I have to take my dog out, which happens. I will do my level best to NOT unleash the tides of doom on whichever unfortunate neighbor I happen to encounter en route. No promises though.

Did I mention that today was also 'sprinkler-test' day? That means the the sprinkler company is here all morning, setting off the alarms over and over again at random intervals. If that noise isn't enough to do in that last nerve that I hope I have, my screaming Doberman might just do it. When the alarms go off, the dog screams. AWESOME. Dobermans are a big dog and most people will tell you that they have a big, booming bark to go with their large size. But, (and all Doberman owners are very aware of this) they also have what I call 'tea-kettle' mode. They have a high-pitched, piercing shriek in their arsenal of sounds that is simply not to be believed until you experience it personally. It almost has a paralyzing effect on the nervous system in some odd, apparently supernatural way. My preference would be to get in my car and maybe take the dog somewhere until they are done, but ya know, I don't know where my car is.

Today is also one of those days when the folks I need to hear from are not getting back to me, and the folks I DON'T need to hear from won't leave me alone (and somebody keeps leaving voicemail messages on my cell phone, which is kind of new, and I don't know how to retrieve the messages). It's not a super day for chit chat. Trust me, you are SUPER psyched that I'm not answering the phone ;-)


Okay, so here's the game-plan: I'm going to hole-up until the storm passes. I can do this. I know that with a little bit of something chocolate and maybe a mocha latte, this day need not be an utter crisis. I promise I will not call you today, and I will not call my Mom. Her nerves and my nerves have a similar intolerance for utter madness. And yes, you may laugh as I am sure to do myself in a day or two. Until next time!

Empathy

Photo: rapidlikes.com

I'm in an uber-weird place today. I blame the moon. I like to be funny, but today I'm just not feeling it. I've been a bit hyper-sensitive to the "ugly" in the world lately, and I don't like it. I know it exists; it always has and it always will.  Most of the time I choose not to focus on it. There's a lot of things in this world that are exceptional and amazing too, and I think the more we look at those things, the more we can shape our outlook to something positive. Even so, sometimes I feel like I live in a world devoid of empathy. I don't want to be part of that. Easier said than done.

I know what it's like to be around unsympathetic people. I know what it's like to be humiliated and judged. I think we all do. I know what it's like to be marginalized, verbally abused and physically assaulted too. It's a smaller group that I belong to, but not small enough. I know what it's like to be so betrayed by people I've loved and trusted that I was never the same again. I know what it's like to grow up and realize that nothing I believed in was true. I know what it's like to be told, over and over and over, "You need to figure this out by yourself." I've heard it when I was having the rug ripped out from under me, I've heard it when I was drowning emotionally, I've heard it when I was desperate and asking for help. I drove myself to the hospital in labor. I raised a child to adulthood without a dime of child support. There have been times in my life when just the smallest gesture, just the most minute amount of faith from another person would have made a world of difference, but it wasn't there. I have had to "...figure this out by myself" so consistently that my challenge these days is learning how to trust and work with other people. I'm not complaining! It's new, I've earned it, and it's kind of awesome. But nobody should have to "figure this out" by themselves. That's not why we're here.

But I know what it's like to be angry. Okay, not just angry, but so angry I thought I could be eaten alive by my own rage, and almost was. I can almost understand why people hang on every word of the "news" that tells them who to blame, who to hate and how to feel. And of course it works. If someone is "other" and we get to hate/blame/whatever them, then not only do we get to feel "better than", but it absolves us of  any responsibility for our fellow human beings. We can watch people struggle and feel nothing. We get to be selfish, and feel perfectly justified. Of course it's easy to hang on to that, to believe the lies, to be 'us vs. them'. To develop and cling to a paranoia so intense that we arm ourselves so that we are able to put fatal holes into other human beings as we see fit. Into them. That other created by the hate-factories called "news". How are we okay with this? I mean, HOW ARE WE OKAY WITH THIS?!

I know I'm not the only one who sees it or feels it. I am so grateful for that. But what if we all woke up tomorrow, and decided to trade in our judgement and hatred for empathy? What would things look like then? What if we could be human beings instead of Americans, Canadians, Russians, black, white and brown? What if we recognized that ALL religions (well, maybe not satanism) are, at their heart, based on love? What if we embraced our differences instead of using those differences to kindle fear and paranoia within ourselves or others? What if we saw people struggling, and instead of blaming them, we offered a hand? I know it's possible. In my very own life I have met people who do just those things. Some of them for me. Sometimes, that person has BEEN me. That's how I know we have a choice.

I have been angry and blamey. I know what it feels like. I know how easy it is to just exist in that. But the good people (my mother especially) who have come into my life have allowed me to see something else. We can all be that person for somebody if we want. I choose to be the kind of person I can have respect for. For all of us, it's a choice. You can hate and judge; you can turn a blind eye. It will be your sin to live with. No matter what other people do, the behavior we are responsible for is our own, always. How we treat people isn't about them, it's about who we are. We don't have to be the same to have empathy for one another. If we all had empathy, all the problems in the world today would disappear.

The New Normal

Photo: weknowmemes.com

Let me tell you a story. It's sort of what I do. I don't make any promises about it's entertainment value, but here goes nothing just the same. Okay, I'm going to make a confession: It's 11:30 AM, and I'm a little (just a little), um, tipsy. I don't drink. Like, ever. I get high on life and the weird sort of awesome of other people and I don't want to miss a single second of any of that. Ergo, I stick to non-alcoholic beverages. But this morning, at a most crucial, time sensitive moment, my printer died. Okay, lame as AM drinking excuses go, but for today it will suffice. In the big scheme of things it's not such a big deal. Yes, there is a bunch of time-sensitive stuff that needs tending to fairly immediately, but what they hell. As my Mom would point out, as long as I can still move my arms and legs all is right and good with the world. I'm doing that right now just to prove to myself that I can and it is, indeed, the sh**. Who needs a printer when you can just get down with your bad self, right?

Oh, but I promised a story. Once upon a time there was a writer who very badly wanted to make her living doing what she loved to do. It seemed quite far fetched; very few are fortunate to be in such a position. But wait...is that really true? I mean, if you WANT to do something badly enough, can't you just DO it? Are we not only limited by our imagination and the strength of our will? Or is that Green Lantern? I forget. Either way, it works for us mere mortals as well. Or so it would seem. So once upon a time I was stressing about car repairs, a roof, food. Yes, boys and girls, sometimes even food was a scarcity in a past so recent I prefer not to think of it. And while I'm not exactly out of the woods yet, I can feel the tenacious tendrils of scarcity losing their grip and getting ready to fall away while I keep my eyes trained steadily (albeit a bit blurrily, currently) forward in my characteristically stubborn way.

So, YES my printer failed me at a crucial moment. YES I need it for some TV related stuff. The point is I NEED IT FOR TV RELATED STUFF. It is a new problem, and one that is indicative of my impending freedom, tangible proof of accomplishment. Even better, I am getting paid to do what I love. Holy Sh**, when did that happen?!

So go ahead Mr. Printer. Do your temperamental thang. You can't throw a damned thing at me that I haven't already survived, for you are merely a tool. Yes, I called you a TOOL. Don't worry, I still love you. I'm just annoyed. And I plan on having a spectacular day just the same!

FIN

The Cult of Newer is Better

Photo: wallpapers.fansshare.com

Some days I feel old. I know I'm not, really, but things can change rapidly. Some things that went away come back again. It feels like I'm constantly dealing with some update or another with my electronics. You know, the ever-shifting landscape of the average, first-world Joe's life. I'm not that old, but in many ways the world is a completely different place from the one I grew up in and was prepared for.

Okay, let me be clear; I am very much like Sheldon on the Big Bang Theory. I don't handle change well, I love my routines, I'm socially awkward and I have a 'spot'. While I look forward to happy changes, the unhappy ones (or even the neutral ones) are generally devastating and send me reeling for some time.  Hell, even happy changes that I've sought out and pursued can take a long time to assimilate and accept. Having said that, I think I do okay. I like new information, I love to learn new things and I love to study the hell out of the things that interest me. New information is brain-fodder; it keeps the flames of intellect extra flamey (which is sorely needed) and sometimes new IS better. Having said that, I know all too well how fads and trends come and go, so I try to apply common sense and a bit of objectivity to all new endeavors. I think the older you get, the more this approach makes sense. Unfortunately, you can't really apply this to electronics.

One example of things that have changed a lot for the better is dog training. There was the popularity of the Koehler method, then we had The Woodhouse Way, and of course, we cannot forget the Monks of New Skete. Each one of these systems had strong advocates (some still do), a closed-minded adherence to method over all and almost a cult following (sound familiar?). Each was based on experience and learning theory. Things changed for dogs when John Fisher came along. To this day, if I could be said to have a dog-training guru, it would be this fellow. He was the first one who said "Hey, wouldn't this work better if we tried to understand what motivates dogs and tried to understand them a little better?" The first dog-training book I ever bought was "Think Dog" and it was awesome :-) He introduced the reader to pack theory, the idea of positively-motivated behavior change, how food/nutrition can influence dog behavior (he advocated Eucanuba), and how a dog's behavior could be positively influenced by the right combination of Bach flower remedies. And he was the SHIZIT. I'm not saying that with sarcasm either (in spite of the fact that most of what's on the aforementioned list is largely irrelevant now), he really was the best. I even still have a set of Throwing disks. When Mech recanted everything we knew about pack theory, Mr. Fisher didn't just go away with his tail between his legs. He did what no well-known dog trainer has ever done before or since: He admitted he was wrong, dug into the research some more, and came away smarter and better for it (and WE benefited greatly for it too, as did our dogs). These days, the owner gets blamed, the dog gets blamed, EVERYTHING but the method gets blamed. 'Cause, science (and everybody knows we've never applied science to animal behavior until just now, of course). Speaking of, I think it would be interesting to do a study to determine how many systems involving living creatures of ANY kind are actually infallible. I'm guessing not many. It's a sad commentary on egotism, but highlights what a special sort of man John Fisher was. Mr. Fisher was more interested in the dog in front of him than in promoting a specific protocol, and for that he will always have my respect (even though he passed away some time ago). Most importantly, he changed the system for the better, and then he changed it again. I'm noticing a cultish sort of trend occurring around training theory again, but I've been around long enough to understand how this works.

Speaking of things coming around again...so, rope halters for horses! Yup, they made the rounds in the 70's. I even remember seeing the ads in the old magazines. They were touted as being "the cool and lightweight alternative". They fell out of favor because they were kind of dangerous and irritating to the horse's face. Now they're back, and they have knots. We put them on, connect a heavy rope, and then SHAKE the rope to get the horse to...I'm not sure what. Then we call it natural.  This is one of those things that falls into the category of "things Kristel doesn't know enough about to speak from an educated viewpoint", so I can only opine based on observation. Is Natural Horsemanship a humane alternative to 'cowboy breaking'? To tying a horse to a sturdy post and flogging it until it gives in? Saddling it up and riding it until it stops fighting? Ah, yeah. I think that goes without saying. But as an alternative to a centuries-old system that always put the feelings of the horse first, always left the horse's temperament and personality intact and never put the horse at risk of physical or psychological damage? Not so much. There are hacks in all systems, and lots of different ways to get the job done. I guess my point here was "Hey, rope halters are back? Didn't we already decide we didn't like those? Maybe we forgot. Part of getting old is that we forget a lot of things, then somebody repackages it and markets it as something new and we get all excited again. C'est la vie.

What set off this mini-tantrum? You're going to laugh. Seriously. It's simple: My computer updated itself. It does it a lot, it does so without my permission, and every time it does it I just want it to go back to the way it was. Sometimes, new is better. I know this, as highlighted above. Sometimes, it's complicated as hell, and new for the sake of new is crazy-making. Sure, I took a computer course in college. It was MS Dos. How many of you even know what means? I don't know what that means. My I-pod is now obsolete and I can't play Dragonvale anymore. Do you know how upsetting that is? No, you probably don't. You probably have new ipods, or ipads, or you don't give a rat's furry bottom about dragons. I miss my dragons. The solution is to get a new device (which is totally what they intend!!!) but then I have to learn how to use it. It reminds me of the time I found my mother sitting on her couch in a quiet house, staring at a basket full of remote controls that was sitting in her lap. When i asked her what was wrong (she looked mildly distraught), her response was "I just want to watch channel 3, and I don't know how". I know how you feel, Mom. I'm right there with you. I know the demoralizing pain of having to ask my child to sort out my electronics. It shouldn't have to be that way. As fun, innovating and interesting as new information and new things can be, they are much easier to take when I seek them out. They are far less appreciated when they are thrust upon me.

Time Travel

Photo: www.electronicproducts.com

Okay, I haven't really traveled through time (except forward, obviously), but it's felt a bit like I have. I had a book signing last weekend. It was awesome, but as many of you know it's a book about a past experience, and I discussed it at length. Truth be told, it was pretty cool and the folks who showed up were pretty great. Interestingly enough, The book is doing really well. Well enough that I can look into my future with hope, and have to do some financial maneuvering in order to assimilate my shiny new income without wreaking any havoc on my overall financial...stuff (for lack of a better word).

Of course the past is gone, and the future is yet to come, which means it is still the present which can be the most troublesome. So I have one leg in the past, one in the future and one in the present. I'm no math whiz, but I'm pretty darned good at biology and I know three legs are just not normal. No wonder I'm tired. It is what it is, and all the great stuff that's going on keeps me buoyed and optimistic most days. I'm uber grateful for that, and for the surprising (and kind of wonderful) amount of support I have been getting. Some days, the gratitude is overwhelming in an awesome way that is entirely new to me.

Having said that, I have been dealing with something unbelievably frustrating and dehumanizing the last few weeks. I won't go into it because it's all solved now and the "what" is less relevant than the effect it had on me. I've felt like I was in a nightmare where I was screaming for help but nobody could hear me. For weeks. I'm happy for the insight the situation provided to me: it gave me some clarity around where I would someday like to put some of my energy in the interest of helping to make the world a better place. Nobody should have to deal with what I've gone through the last few  weeks. And make no mistake; I am an assertive person who has no trouble at all advocating for myself or persisting until a problem is solved (if that weren't the case, the problem STILL wouldn't be dealt with). I am actually tenacious as hell. Not everybody is, and some people could sorely benefit from somebody advocating for them. There needs to be something in place for that purpose. Something to think about.

I'm grateful it's over and grateful for the insight provided, but it has still left me feeling, oh, I don't know. I guess the best way to put it is injured on a psychic and psychological level. I'm exhausted and it feels a bit like there's still a hole in my soul. How very dramatic, lol, but I know some of you will know what I mean. Essentially, I've had the psychological sh** kicked out of me, and it left a mark. I had a boss many years ago that created that sort of feeling, like a psychic vampire who made me face every workday with a dread so intense it caused physical symptoms. Yeah, like that.

Anyhoo, the point is to heal, I suppose. It would be much easier if the winter would relent and I could spend more quality time outside. I'm kind of an "outdoor kitty" and the long confinement of winter can really make me feel a lot more vulnerable to the shenanigans of the way of the world. My natural springiness is a bit compromised, and that means I'm internalizing more. Scary thought! It's getting better though. I have work, and walking a little close to the dark side certainly helps that, lol. I also have prayer, chocolate and Rescue Remedy, a fairly infallible combination :-)

To those of you who have ever felt like I have these last few weeks, who have ever felt like nobody could hear them screaming for help, don't resign yourself to taking it. Never do that. You're worth fighting for, so do it! Remember, if people treat you like crap, it isn't because you ARE crap, it's because they don't know how to treat people. Feel bad for them, and hope that they learn what they need to so they can become decent folks.

On that overly dramatic and emotional note (I really resent it when I feel compelled to emote. I'm an Aquarius, dammit!) I will leave you with a bit of shameless self-promotion in the form of a shiny new updated book trailer :-)

Christmas List (post 100!)

Norman Rockwell

So, this isn't going to be my best Christmas ever. I miss my family, we just got hit with an ice storm, my daughter and I have the flu and my ex is trying to shoe-horn a last-minute person into our "family dinner" at Kotos. I have usually spent hours making gifts and ornaments to send to family members, and am enjoying the knowledge that they are done and sent by now, but not this year. Have I mentioned we've had the flu? Nothing is done. I just spent the last 20 minutes or so walking/sliding/falling down the same 20 feet of sidewalk with an under-exercised (98 pound!) dog trying get him to "do his business" before I coughed both my lungs free from my chest, ejecting them forcefully onto the icy sidewalk. So no, not the best Christmas ever.

But so what? Christmas isn't our only chance to be happy, to get it right. Through this understanding, I've reached a level of acceptance and even the ability to laugh at what a monumental mess things are this year. It has freed me from any and all expectations, and I'm going to call it "The Blessing of Freedom from Expectations" and turn it into a good thing instead of the real f***arow that it has actually become. Come on guys, this couldn't have gone more pear-shaped if I had planned it! It really IS kinda funny.

How would things be if my Christmas wishes were granted?

First of all, my parents would be here. I would have a house to host the festivities and I would have spent the last few days enjoying their company, making cookies, drinking hot chocolate and the like. I think it goes without saying that my daughter and I wouldn't have the flu. Our dogs would take themselves out into their yard, where they could get their frolic on without taking down any people. My gifts would all be sent, and I would be really excited to hear about what folks thought of them. My tree would be surrounded by gifts for the loved ones enjoying Christmas at home.

Dinner would be a fun meal cooked with love by those of us who were sitting down to enjoy it. My ex would still be there, but would have some social perceptiveness. Christmas would be a day to look forward to, not a day to grin and bear it and remember my manners (my new mantra; be polite, remember your manners).

Gifts for me would be simple: a gift card to my favorite clothing store or book store. A Vermont Teddy Bear (silly, REALLY silly, but I've always wanted one. This one, actually, with honey colored fur and blue jammies). A pair of LL Bean Wicked Good slippers. And you know, a pony. Some things never change :-)

But there are days that come after Christmas too, and in fact, endless possibilities to make good things happen all year round. The flu is going away, and the ice storm is behind us already. There's a start. I can do this. WE can do this. Please refer to my previous post about gratitude, because it's still true.

I hope everyone has a blessed and wonderful holiday, and that at least one wish comes true for you this season!

The REAL Zombie Apocalypse

The calm before the storm...

I spend a lot of time people-watching. I don't mean in a creepy, voyeuristic sort of way, but just observy.  I am my daughter's ride to and from work so I spend an inordinate amount of time just sitting in my car and waiting. I pass the time by listening to the radio and watching folks to-ing and fro-ing about their lives. This time of year, I am struck by the large number of people who accessorize their cute, woolen hats and puffy coats with incredibly sour faces. I get it, I really do. The frost sets into my bones right about this time of year and doesn't fully thaw until sometime around mid-May or so despite my best efforts to keep warm. I've lived in Vermont my whole life (except for three years I spent in Maine) so you'd think I'd be acclimated by now. Oh, I suppose I am. But 'acclimated' and 'happily adapted' are two very different vibes. Mostly, I suck it up and deal, just like the folks I watch on an almost daily basis.

Early mornings are the most entertaining time. Many people have yet to imbibe their morning caffeine and the combination of lack of coffee AND puffy clothes is pretty amusing. The usual winter shuffle is accentuated significantly when folks are still half asleep. These slow, lurching and only half-aware folks that I see on a regular basis have given rise to a theory: The zombie apocalypse will not be brought about by reanimated corpses, but by bundled-up, pre-coffee Northerners on their way to Starbucks.

Imagine if you will, the frozen North if not a cup of Joe (not even at Starbucks!) were to be found. It would be disastrous, the casualties immense. It would start at local Starbucks locations, but it would spread from there as even the (usually very caffeinated) baristas join in the desperate, lurching mob. The words "coffee", "tea" and "latte" would be grunted repeatedly with ever-decreasing enunciation as the now mindless hoard overtakes the city. Those few who had stockpiled their coffee and were therefore coherent run screaming in confusion as the slow but relentless mob continues on their tenacious course to find the one thing that sustains them...a cup of coffee. I can picture the scene: Glass breaks as Abercrombie and Hollister employees (who subsist almost entirely on Starbucks) break free from their respective pods and join the lurching mob.

Where will it end? It could end several ways I suppose. The best case scenario is that someone, somewhere is able to provide these "zombies" with their much-needed caffeine before too much damage is done. But the most likely conclusion is all manner of mayhem and shenanigans occur causing much damage and destruction, and then everyone falls asleep because they didn't have their coffee.

My daughter really needs her own car.

Facetubeinstatwit#$%-what?!

Photo: www.theguardian.com

I don't usually feel old or outdated. My daughter would happily tell you I'm like a dinosaur, but from a personal perspective I don't feel much different than I did when I was twenty. With one exception: All the tech-stuff baffles me.

Let's be clear here; I am a reasonably intelligent person who is capable of learning new skills and integrating them into my life. The fact that I have this blog that I almost know how to use correctly AND I'm accessing it through a computer I sort of can make work is proof of that. But it isn't easy for me, or comfortable. And now I'm really trying to utilize social media to promote my book, and it's creating quite a stir within my psyche. I feel like I'm trying to learn a new language, and in a way that's almost exactly what I'm doing. Historically, my language-learning hasn't gone so well. I used to know a fair bit of French (of the Canadian variety. I grew up on the border.) but forgot most of what I knew just by moving a couple of hours south and never hearing/using it. I tried to learn Russian for a minute, but couldn't retain any type of motivation so I put it aside and didn't go back to it. Not the most excellent track record. But this "new language" is about marketing and survival in a technological world. It's a language that the kids innately know, and when new things crop up they assimilate them at an astounding rate. I may not feel like a dinosaur, but I suppose in some ways that I am.

To be fair, I grew up in a very different environment. I was born in 1969, I was a child in the 70's, a teenager in the 80's. I also grew up in a small town in rural Vermont, so however behind the times were, my part of the world was even more so. I remember being really stoked because we had a color TV with three channels. I remember how awesome it was to have our own, private phone line (vs a party line). I remember telephones with dials, the long, twisted cord that held the receiver to the body of the phone (which was screwed into the wall.) and fighting over it because there was only one in the house. There was no such thing as an answering machine. People were home to answer or they weren't. There was no call waiting, just a busy signal. I remember in the 80's when VCR's first came out. The idea of being able to watch a movie in your own home was mindblowing. You could rent a VCR with your evening movies. They were really expensive so very few households had their own. There was also something called "Beta" that was like a smaller VCR tape, but they didn't last long. I remember playing "Pong" and "Pac-man" on my uber-modern Atari video game. The first portable phones were enormous car-phones that only the very important and the very wealthy had. They were sort of a status symbol, and I only ever saw them on TV. They were big, blocky things with antennas. When I was older and took my first computer course, the discs were actually floppy and what we were learning was MS DOS. I'm telling you, the world was an entirely different place.

It was sort of a trade off I suppose. I miss people actually looking into each others faces when they talk. Now, everybody always walks with their heads down because they are looking at their phones. Manners and people-skills have completely disappeared. THAT feels like a real loss. Nobody really connects anymore, but I've kind of gone off on a tangent I hadn't intended to go on.

Connecting in today's world means being proficient with all the social-media options available. And it's not enough to be proficient with just one. You have to be able to navigate most of them, AND make them talk to each other to reach the maximum number of people. YEAH for how small the world has become as a result of all the new ways there are to connect, but woe to those of us who struggle with the logistics! I think I sort of did it though. I figured out how to post this blog on Twitter and have it automatically post on my fan page on Facebook. I like the fan page idea, because it gives me a place for my shameless self-promotion without bombarding my friends who may not give a rat's furry behind about my book. Cool Beans :-) But I realize that the small bit that I've managed is just that; the tip of the iceberg. There is much left for me to tackle, and I feel like a tyrannosaur trying to do it with my ineffective, tiny arms.

 Don't worry about me though. I'll figure it out :-)

Focus

Photo: diabetes.niddk.nih.gov

You may have noticed that I changed up the blog a bit. No worries, I'm not going rogue and getting all serious. I've decided though, that I should probably focus on making the lighter side more consistently lighter. I may have mentioned that I'm doing this thing around creating a public persona (which, unfortunately, is likely to be much like my private persona, but RIGHT OUT THERE). That's all well and good, but I'm realizing that I can't suddenly pretend I'm all businessy and pulled together. For one thing, I could never pull off such a monumental fallacy, for another, I suspect I would seriously strain something if I tried.

The truth is, I'm kind of a train wreck, and furthermore, I'm kind of okay with it. I may fantasize about being as creative and pulled together as Martha Stuart, as brilliant as Stephen King with all the innate kindness and ability with animals of St. Francis of Assisi, but...not so much. The cucumbers in my garden grew in corkscrew shapes to squeeze between the weeds, I can't grow a pea to save my life, my greatest culinary accomplishments usually involve following directions on a box and remembering to remove plastic wrap from things BEFORE they go in the oven. Stephen King I am not, and my patience and tolerance is...variable. The closest I come to sainthood DOES involve animals, but as accomplished as I am in that regard, I have still been dragged down an icy sidewalk on my belly by an enthusiastic Doberman, and I have started a ride on a horse only to end it in a pucker brush. My favorite clothes are my pajamas and my most beat up T-shirts. My favorite music is 80's hair bands. I read EVERYTHING from "Gray's Anatomy" (yes, it's a book) to "The Dirtiest Toilet Humor Book Ever". I love watching nature documentaries and sometimes I cry when animals get eaten. Nobody's perfect. But fortunately, you don't have to be perfect to be your own kind of awesome, and that's sort of what I'm counting on. Really, really counting on.

So, will there still be rants about irresponsible dog owners? Posts about dogs and horses? The occasional, long-winded, meandering and pensive brain-dump? Um, probably, yeah. But I do promise to work very hard at keeping my content more light-hearted while remaining honest.

Thank you, and stay tuned!

Paradox

Photo: en.wikipedia.org

The difference between reality and fiction? Fiction has to make sense. -Tom Clancy

What Mr. Clancy said is great thing to keep in mind, especially when you're writing fiction. But human beings really seem to be the most comfortable when their reality makes sense too.

Sometimes I drive myself crazy trying to solve puzzles that apparently have no solution. I don't mean the physical kind like the little wooden balls and cubes that come apart or the Rubik's cube (which also comes apart with a little determination;-). I had a handle on those a long time ago. And really, if you solve them or don't, what difference does it ultimately make? The puzzles that intrigue me the most are the ones I can't seem to sort out no matter how hard I try.

One of those apparently unsolvable puzzles is the basic premise of the things I write about: The paranormal. As I'm beginning to do the research for my next book, it's easy to understand where legends begin and how they persist. There is really no mystery there. What I DO find mildly baffling though, is the consistency of information from widespread and seemingly unrelated sources. I might even be able to explain that much without straining myself; stories pass from one generation to the next, but people don't stay on one place. That's the simple answer, and most likely the right one. But the stories are just so darned consistent.

Let's make something clear; I don't believe in the paranormal because I want to. I have a very uneasy relationship with the paranormal world. I was just an average, relatively normal person, minding my own business and living my life the best I knew how when this happened. It's easy to read books like mine, to hear stories and to dismiss them outright as total BS. I know because I've done it. I've nodded politely, made the right noises (something along the lines of "Oh, how interesting...") but secretly thought to myself that it was a monumental crock of sh**. But I wrote this book, I was there and I know it's not a crock.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. said "One's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions."  

Okay, that's all well and good, but what do you do if your mind is blown? What if you have seen with your own eyes, things you can't possibly explain? And things that have never been adequately explained by anyone? Well, I know what I'm doing: I'm throwing myself into it in the hopes of finding some answers while carving out what I hope is an entertaining niche for others. It's fun, and let's face it; it helps me to embrace the illusion that I have some kind of hold on this stuff and therefore some manner of control over it. Now that is a crock. But it helps me to sleep at night.

But here's a hell of a question to throw out there: HOW can this stuff be explained? Oh, I've seen all the 'investigative' shows and heard about all the spiritual aspects, but what is the real, tangible explanation? Is it possible, given all we know about the world in general, to find real answers? As much fun as it is to tell stories and speculate, and as much as I hope my scary book is a success, my sleep would be much improved if I knew that real answers were on the horizon.

Jarring

Photo: en.wikipedia.org

I think I may be going through an over-sensitive period of time in my life. Either that, or circumstances are conspiring to converge on a singular point in time with the express aim of making me profoundly uncomfortable. Don't get me wrong: I am on the verge of success. No matter what happens or how it ultimately plays out, I am about to be a published author. That is reality. No matter how much money is involved or how much criticism I might receive (which is 'none' on both counts, currently), I have accomplished that much. I am proud of that, especially in light of the obstacles I have needed to plow through to get there.

I love writing. In person I don't express myself frequently or well. I have difficulties with emoting. Part of it is vulnerability, I do realize this, but part of it is that I just don't know how without sounding like I have some form of Tourette's. It is what it is. Sometimes I come across as unfeeling though, and that has been to my detriment. But on the rare occasion I express emotion, I have often been told that "I shouldn't feel that way because"...fill in blank, or "It could be worse so consider yourself lucky", so why bother? And why give people the tools to hurt me, anyway? Any one thing might not touch off this little crisis of confidence, but when they pile up a bit (which they sometimes do...what IS that?) it can feel like a football tackle. Metaphorically, of course. Well, mostly. But I'll get to that.

I love the people in my life. I usually feel loved, too. No small accomplishment considering how isolated I am, but I'm fortunate to be surrounded by good people. Sometimes I feel left out, and sometimes I feel left out and lied to. And sometimes people I care about unwittingly promote viewpoints that are actively harmful or insulting and they are so far removed (read: lucky, fortunate, etc.) from the reality of others that they can't even see HOW their opinion is harmful and insulting. How do I handle that? Most of the time I keep quiet. I know these folks are good-hearted people and just don't know any better. Lately, I can't keep quiet. I didn't go so far as to say "That point of view might make YOU feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it kills dogs" or "Pretending to be poor for a couple of weeks and writing about how awesome you were at it is insulting to folks who are actually struggling and don't have the choice", so kudos to me for having at least that much restraint. I'm working on it. Yeah, I know. It's MY behavior I need to worry about, nobody else's. Someday when I have the resources, I will actually be able to DO something about the things that drive me bananas and not just whine impotently to myself.

I was going over these sorts of thoughts in my mind the other night, sitting at a red light in my car and listening to the radio. My thoughts were a gazillion miles away (it's a real number, I swear) when WHAM; I was rear-ended by some dirtbag. We were at a busy intersection, so when he came swaying up to my window, smelling of booze, I told him to pull ahead, out of the traffic (and under some lights). What he did instead was just take off. It was jarring. It was jarring on both an emotional and physical level. Yes, my car is damaged. No my insurance won't cover it (all I can afford is liability). So now, I will just drive around in a broken car until whenever. Thanks dirtbag, for slamming into me, for hurting me and breaking my sh**, and failing to take any responsibility for it at all. I know, I "shouldn't feel that way", so I'll just do what I usually do and lick my wounds by myself, and put the rest of it 'in the vault'. You can just go about your life slamming into people and taking no responsibility for it whatsoever. Lucky you. Okay, that got a little deeper and a little more 'inclusive' than I intended, but it is what it is.

Okay, that concludes this pity party for one. Onward and upward!

Equilibrium

I'm realizing that it doesn't take much to throw me wildly off my game. I am a creature of routines, and anything that veers off course from the norm has a serious "ooh, shiney!" effect on me that it's difficult to recover from. It's been a couple of months since my car and computer bit the dust, and I'm still reeling from the experience. My car is up and running again, better than before, so that's all right, and a huge weight off my shoulders. My computer though, well, that's a different story.

My daughter generously (if a bit fearfully) allows me to use her laptop. I am uber-grateful for the use of the laptop, but it still feels like trying to make a meal in someone else's kitchen or trying to sleep in a strange bed...it's wicked awkward. My files and programs are notably absent and I'm not super sure about how anything is organized. I just can't get comfortable. Comfy enough to write this blog, perhaps. Comfy enough to re-re-re-edit my book so I can move forward on the damned thing, not so much. Certainly, there are things I can be doing, but my brain derails me. I think "well, I could do that interview" or "I could explore that publishing avenue" but the next logical step always involves having access to the book, which I don't. I feel like I will be stopped dead in my tracks (mentally-BAD brain) until I can put my hands on the subject of my focus. I suppose it makes sense to be frustrated by my inability to make progress on a project I don't have access to, but the more time goes by, the louder my internal clock ticks and the more aware I am of time being wasted.

Don't get me wrong. A waste of time isn't always really a waste. Sometimes 'think time' is the most important time of all. I had to learn that the hard way. Sometimes external action is nothing more than the mechanical manifestation of lots and lots internal work. And hey, that's cool. But right now I AM wasting time. I am idling in park, sitting in limbo, twiddling my thumbs and rattling around my space like a singular pea in a multi-pea pod, and waiting. Unfortunately, the downside of being a thinky-person is that my brain is voracious. If I don't give it lots to do and feed it well, it starts to cannibalize itself. Soon, I fear, I will find myself staring at a wall and drooling. Or maybe it's just because it's February:-)

On the upside, the hard drive is ALIVE (thanks to my talented and computer-savvy step dad). I could have lost the whole works, but I didn't. That alone is worthy of celebration. But there is still something wrong with my computer. If you read my blog you know that I am literally plagued with computer problems, I've lost large sections of the book on two occasions and I can't seem to keep things doing what they are supposed to do long enough for me to make much headway at any given time. Ergo, my daughter's understandable trepidation in allowing me to use her laptop. I see her watching me furtively from the corner of her eye while she prays that whatever computer-killing curse I possess remains directed at only my machines. But I digress:-) (is that possible considering the meandering nature of this particular rumination?)

But it will be okay. Things work out in the end, sometimes better than expected. I just need to find a productive way to utilize my time until it's all sorted out. Till next time...

Paying it Forward in 2013

I'm a huge fan of the concept of paying it forward. I've done a lot of things for a lot of people, hoping for that result. I'm not someone who does things for others with strings attached though. Strings make me very uncomfortable, and whenever someone has bent over backwards to repay a kindness it's felt...awkward. I believe in Karma and in the cyclic nature of energy and life and I don't want to negate good Karma by expecting something in return. It doesn't make me awesome or special, just human. Okay, and I DO dig the 'warm and fuzzy' that comes from being nice; I find it very reinforcing:-) It doesn't make me a bad person.

Having said that, it's been a long time since I've done anything really nice. I just haven't had the resources emotionally or financially, and sometimes that's just the way it is. And that's okay too. It's okay to say "no". In fact, it's much better to say "no" than to say "yes" with negative intent. If you say "yes" with resentment, strings or expectations, if you have to tell everybody about the favor you're doing, if you think it somehow puts you above the person you're helping or if you fantasize about ways to take it out of that person's time or hide, than you aren't doing the other person a favor. You are doing a favor for YOURSELF. There is no good Karma attached, and there is no positive ripple of energy outward and forward. You just trap all that energy into a swirl of clinging selfishness. You don't just hurt the person you are "helping", you ultimately hurt yourself too. No warm fuzzy for you. Blah.

I am very familiar with being "helped" in this manner. It is this kind of situation that I referenced in Saying Thanks when I said "some of you have done so [helped me] by making my life hell..." It has changed much in my life and the way I do things. I will do almost anything to avoid needing any kind of help with anything, and only ever ask if it's the11th hour and I'm at the outer limit of desperation. I only mention it because I'm going through a bit of it right now, but I can handle it. It's a good reminder, and it continues to teach me how to treat people who may need my help at some point. Sometimes the best way to learn the right way is to witness and experience the wrong way. Life's funny like that sometimes:-)

It doesn't negate my gratitude, or my desire to be kind. It DOES reinforce my desire to increase my resources so that 1) I'm in a better position to be self-sufficient,  and 2) I'm in a position to do nice things for other people.

I think I can do that:-) I learned a lot in 2012. I learned how to say "no" without guilt, I learned that having less money does not make me less of a person. I am not less intelligent, less important or less relevant. My opinion doesn't count less and my abilities and experience didn't disappear just because my bank account is smaller. I know all of that sounds like a great big "Duh" but believe me, you don't really get the whole 'money is power' bit until you don't have any. It took a long time, but my power is back. And I'm going to use it to increase my resources:-)

I look forward to 2013. Thirteen is one of my lucky numbers, so that alone bodes well:-) I can't send cash, but I CAN send out ripples of happy, joy, success, love, gratitude, good intent, good results, and straight-up AWESOMENESS for all of you in the year ahead, because that is my wish for you.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Tradition

The word "tradition" has been thrown around quite a bit lately, and it's a word I both adore and despise. I think tradition can be wonderful and warm; it can provide security within its familiar parameters. I love family traditions, especially those that center around holidays, and I'm completely and endlessly fascinated by the rich and myriad traditions around carriage driving and fox hunting. But tradition can be stifling. Some horrible things have been perpetrated under the guise of tradition. Like anything else, there is usually something very negative to be found in fervency.

Where people are concerned, traditions need to remain flexible. Humanity is fluid; our ideas and ideals grow and change as our understanding of the world and our place in it evolve. Pathological adherence to tradition can interfere with natural progression if it's allowed to. Inflexibility is often cast aside, shed like tight and dessicated old skin, left by the wayside to go extinct like the dinosaurs: Evolve, be flexible or become obsolete. It's not a new concept. It's an idea that exists in history, religion, nature. Yet it's so hard for human beings to grasp. We fumble about the dark, mistaking our intelligence for superiority and worse; we define our personal value by our ability (or the ability of others) to acquire stuff. And then we fight about it. We destroy and kill each other over it. We make stuff and currency more valuable than people. I don't want to fight, but I don't want to understand, either. I wonder what operates under and within a society that puts money before people, self before others. I wonder but I don't really want to know. No religion in politics, I agree with that. But...

I believe in the spirit of humanity. I believe the spirit within me gives me structure, morality, an innate sense of right and wrong. To be a person of morality means it carries forward into all things. To be a bastard in business, the bastard must exist. There is no excuse for treating people badly. None. I don't believe selfishness is worthy of emulation. It's not an example to follow, or something to be proud of. I don't believe we secure our rights by denying the rights of others. I don't believe in denying the rights of others in order to adhere to outdated and outmoded traditions. I don't believe in peace through intimidation. Maybe I'm the dinosaur. But I'm not alone.

Call me what you like. Call me irresponsible, lazy, pointless; tell me I don't matter and that it's okay if I starve and my children starve and my parents starve. Perpetuate the myth, it doesn't matter, because it IS a myth. I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who's been cast aside, lied about, vilified, scape-goated, disenfranchised, dismissed, alienated, insulted...underestimated. And we know the lie for what it is.

Good people live in this world. There is hope for humanity if we reach out in united and honorable purpose, with both ourselves and each other in mind. Or we could keep doing what we're doing; wasting our time, energy and resources to useless purpose, snapping at each other over ideology and ultimately, irrelevance. But I have to wonder; how long will we glorify acquisition above all? Selfishness as a worthy trait? How long will we pride ourselves on our propensity for violence? It doesn't matter. It's not for me.

I pray for this world and this humanity that I love.

Going "Postal"

Maybe "going postal" isn't the most PC way of describing what I'm doing, but I suppose it's as accurate a description as any (without the semi-automatic firearms and bloody, unfair deaths, of course!). I went back and forth about writing this entry: I'm in a really crappy place and that's not exactly the stuff I want to be projecting outward into the world. But I'm nothing if not honest, and life is a process. It's easy, when times are great and smooth, to forget how tough things can be. It's not a place to wallow and revisit in a tangible sense, but remembering difficulties can be a good barometer at times. I write this fully anticipating the day when I can look back and say, "wow, look how far I've come".

There's no shame in having a tough time. It's not the 'tough time' part that's shameful. The shameful part would be the "Whaaa, poor me, I'm having a tough time and I'm going to just sit here and whine about it...Whaaa!". Doo doo happens. It isn't realistic to walk around all lilty and cheerful when there are real-world things to freak out about. It's okay to acknowledge, "hey, this is kind of sucking and it's really, really difficult. I need to take a moment to process and assimilate this." But something needs to come after, and sooner rather than later. Oh, and BTW, there's nothing new and major, I'm just feeling especially overwhelmed by more of the same ol' same ol' and frustrated to tears (like, for real) by my current inability to move past the same ever-present and stubborn stumbling blocks. The world is a wheel, and sometimes my discouragement is too: My financial situation makes it nearly impossible for me to sort out my panic/anxiety issues, and my panic/anxiety issues make it nearly impossible to sort out my financial woes. I'm not talking a bit of nervousness here folks, we're talking sometimes paralyzing, debilitating fear that makes no logical sense (despite my dogged determination to try to find some logic, and by doing so attempt to control it) and has been a problem for so long that it affects me physically in several...inconvenient...ways. I've lived with it so long that most of the time I have just gone forward doing what I could and pretending not to even notice the things that are beyond my capabilities. And when I throw phrases out there like "beyond my capabilities",  there's never a period after that phrase in my understanding of it. I mean "beyond my capabilities for right now". I'm wallowing today, no doubt, but it's a pity PARTY, not a pity way of life. It has a brief shelf-life because I said so.

As Zen and positive as I'm trying to be about my irrational negativity (see what I did there?), there has been some amusing fallout. I think I scared the CRAP out of another dog owner at the park this morning. He had not one, but TWO loose dogs, neither of whom had any recall and both of which made a beeline for my dog upon sighting him. Don't get me wrong, I am never warm and fuzzy to the "he/she just wants to say hi" crowd (click large DINOS badge at right if you can't imagine why), but this guy hit me at the worst possible moment and I completely unloaded on him. Not that he didn't have it coming. Seriously...TWO untrained loose dogs in a public park with a leash ordinance. WTF?!  But I usually at least manage to get through one of these exhaustingly-frequent exchanges without shouting things like "you inconsiderate GIT!" at people. In fact, I find firmness and assertiveness far more effective than anger and shouting. Oops. C'est la vie.

But a couple of coffees and some deep breathing later, I have at least reconnected with the logical part of myself that manages all of the problem-solving functions. Logic is much cooler than my Irish temper, and I embrace it's return with gratitude, even if it doesn't have any immediate solutions. Not digging a deeper hole is as good a temporary-fix as any;-) Logic likes to perseverate. Not always a good thing, but when it perseverates on finding ways to adjust my attitude, it can be very helpful indeed. It's Sunday. I have the time.

I think if you don't want to be miserable, you won't be. I also think if you are determined to be miserable, nothing can stop you. I know (believe me I KNOW) that misery visits us all; but I would rather turn it away at the door than invite in for tea. I spent my day reading blogs. I read the blogs of all the positive, uplifting, strong, gifted and determined people that I could absorb, and I let their words permeate the veil of  boo-hoo-ness and whaaa and reach the parts of me that they needed to reach. I did my level-best to do away with the "but"'s and allowed myself to be absorbed by the "what if" 's. I still feel like crap, but it's better crap. It's a step forward. If you keep facing and moving forward you can stay ahead of the ground crumbling beneath your feet. Well, at least in theory, right?

So this is the 'gratitude' part; I am grateful to have the tools I need to pull myself out of a hole, and even more grateful for the people, knowingly and unknowingly,  who reach their hands out to assist in that endeavor. Tomorrow is a shiny, bright new day:-)

For want of new feet...

Sexy:-)

 

If you know me, you know I am a walkaholic. I walk for my sanity and I walk to burn off the excess physical energy that builds from my current, unnatural state of horselessness. I walk just to stir the mental pot; there's something about doing a calming and repetitive physical activity that stimulates the mind in a positive way. I walk because it's less frustrating than pacing, because I feel like I'm doing something, getting somewhere. Sometimes I walk because it's all I can do. Except now, I can't.

Apparently, there are consequences (who knew?) to walking obsessively. I suppose there didn't have to be, but I guess I never entertained the possibilities until it was too late. I've always been able to walk forever, and I totally took for granted that it was all good. Enter: plantar fasciitis. The first time I heard those words, I was all "planter wha?". I damaged the muscles in the bottoms of my feet. How stupid is that? I had never heard of such a thing, and now I'm hearing that it's really common. Maybe if I had heard of it before, I could have prevented it. Wearing 'dead' shoes and having high arches (and a big ol' rear-end) are all contributing factors. I could have at least done something about the shoes, maybe. But I didn't. So now it's all about dealing with the "after-ness" of the damage. Damn.

Unfortunately, I also tend to subscribe to the "work through it" notion of dealing with physical pain. I have had pain in my feet for a year. I iced them after walking. I bought good shoes with special insoles. I took Advil. But I did NOT stop walking. Now, the pain is excruciating and I have no choice. DAMN. Now, I have special shoes to wear when I sleep and I am in physical therapy. Yes, I screwed my own self up that badly. Who does that? Me, apparently (well, and my daughter. She runs and isn't great about taking days off. She ran herself into a stress fracture a couple of years ago. Apparently it's hereditary;-) But as painful as it is, I can't help but think it's kind of funny, too. It's the usual kind of weird and twisted sort of situation that I tend to find myself in. And as if I'm not drop-dead-sexy enough, those special, night-time boots just make me that much hotter. You should see me struggle into them at night. Even better, I'm not supposed to walk on them, so if I have to get up to use the bathroom in the night, I have to take them off first and then struggle into them all over again. Because I'm not my sharpest in the middle of the night, it's no easy task and one that I am thankful there are no witnesses for. The limping around my apartment saying "ow ow ow ow" isn't exactly what I had in mind, either. I am not enjoying myself.

Physical therapy might be a bright light in the distance though. I've had one treatment that was more of an assessment, but they promised it would help...and that I could use the stationary bikes. I am being diligent about doing my stretches and wearing my special shoes, and maybe I can take out 'the crazy' on the bikes. Maybe, just maybe, I can get through my unfortunate incarceration with the shred of sanity that I possess, intact. I am pretty used to being crazy, but not at all used to any kind of physical limitation, and I gotta tell ya, I have no intention of getting used to it.

Until my feet have healed, I will make the best of it, do what I'm supposed to do, and continue to sing "I'm too sexy" to myself every time I boot up for the night, just to remind myself that in spite of current, outward appearance, I'm still fabulous:-)