Embarking on adventure...

I'm too excited to think tonight! This will be my last blog posting for a while. For, tomorrow I will be embarking on my trip to Oaxaca, Mexico for the Day of the Dead festival! I cannot wait! Mexico is my second favorite place after St. Augustine. In fact, they have a lot in common, from their shared deep histories to their feels to their smells. I am so ecstatic to experience it again. Not to mention being surrounded by the sounds of Spanish and the colors of the culture. Hopefully I will be coming back with a camera full of pictures and a mind full of stories. Those are my two goals. Of course, I also hope to get a lot of reading and relaxing done too. But, I'm sure I will have tons to fill my blog with when I return, so please be sure to come back and check it out. I will return to my posting on Monday, November 9th, so until then...


A window in St. Augustine.

Creating myself...

One thing I've learned in my process of becoming a writer and artist is that in order to determine what you are, it is sometimes helpful to first determine what you aren't. So, here goes.

I am not... someone who stands still. I said I wanted to go to Oaxaca and that I wanted to see the Day of the Dead festival, and I am.

I am not... afraid. I said I wanted to do art shows, and I did.

I am not... alone. I have had lots of support with my art, my writing, and this blog.

I am not... unable. I have kept up this daily blog for over four months, even on days I think I have nothing to say.

I am not... boring. If not true for anyone else, I like my blog, I like my photos, and I like my writing.

I am not... a procrastinator. I may not have a novel together yet, but I am moving forward in my work on being a writer.

I am not... unrealistic. I know how to shape my dreams into modes that are completely possible, like this blog.

I am not... doubtful. If the saying, I think, therefore I am, is true, then I write, therefore I am a writer.

All these things I am not are exactly the things I once feared most that I was. Perhaps the thing I was most afraid of, though, was the fact that I can shape who I am. It's a frighteningly large responsibility I had long left up to other people. Or at least what I thought other people would choose. Now I am no longer afraid to take on the responsibility of creating myself.


Interesting person #5.

Questioning motives...

"Men will never voluntarily consent to being slaves and they cannot be held in slavery by physical power, unless they are first reduced to such a deplorable state of ignorance and consequent helplessness, that they shall neither understand their rights, nor be able to defend them."- Elijah Porter Barrows, A View of the American Slavery Question, 1836

I posted about the idea of helplessness earlier this month. After reading this quote in The Ties That Bind, I went back and reread my earlier statements in an attempt to help me understand its connection to life in general. Ignorance to me is more than an IQ score, more than a racist attitude. Ignorance to me means one thing- being self-unaware. There is a danger behind not questioning the motives behind not only others' actions, but your very own. When you don't ask yourself this important question of why, you become helpless- to your surroundings, to your condition, to your situation, to your emotions.

It takes work and a lot of digging, but once you know why you act a certain way, why you feel a certain way, you can then ask yourself the most important question. What does this do for me and/or for others? If it has a positive effect, great, continue doing it. If it has a destructive effect, or just no purpose at all, then you make strides to stop it. Like my example of the lady who wanted a room for $40. Had she asked herself why she was so angry- because her grandkids didn't get the room they wanted, then deeper- because I didn't get what I wanted, and deeper- because things didn't turn out the way I expected them to, ok- she might have then asked, does comparing life to the expectations I have in my head produce positive or destructive effects? Well, let's see, I'm standing here arguing in front of strangers; I'm upset; the manager's not happy; the front desk girl is not happy; and my grandkids get a poor example of how to handle life when it doesn't go the way you pictured. I'd say destructive. This woman, just like the mom who spanked her child for accidentally hitting her, was self-unaware, or ignorant, lending her to helplessness- their feelings did the leading, not them, and they, consequently became slaves. In this case, slaves to their own minds. They weren't aware of the thoughts their minds were telling them, or the fact that they weren't true, so they became helpless to their situation and their emotions. Perhaps had they asked themselves why am I so upset, they would've realized their anger was based on falsehoods, and was better left unfelt.
(Yes, I am creating my own words here. Just go with it!)


Interesting person #4.

Eluding illusions...

Yesterday I watched my favorite movie three times in a row. Yes, three times. Our new VCR is the kind where once you rewind the tape, it automatically starts playing again. I was knee-deep in an art project and didn't feel like finding something else to watch, so I just let it keep on going. Those of you who follow this blog will not be surprised to hear that it was Jurassic Park. Everyone knows I am in love with Ian Malcolm, and if you didn't, well, I am. Him, and Laura Dern. I met her once. Well, not really met her, but hung out with her. Well, not really hung out with her, but beside her. She did talk to me though. We kept passing each other going through door ways and up and down the stairs, and she said to me, "Sorry, I seem to keep getting in your way". I offered a nervous laugh, and a "no, you're fine" instead of the "Oh my God, I LOVED Jurassic Park, you don't understand" that was raging in my head the whole night.

One of the great things about watching a movie three times in a row is that you pick up on things you never really paid attention to before. There's a scene where Dern's character is having a conversation with the creator of the park, Mr. Hammond. This time, well the second and third times, her words stood out to me like they meant something larger, only I couldn't figure out what. So, I didn't blog about it last night. Tonight upon thinking about it more, I found it fits into the realization every sign lately seems to point me to. Maybe it's just me, or it's just what I need right now, or maybe it is because it is an absolute truth. But when Mr. Hammond tells her character, Ellie, about his first theme park- a flea circus (with a "wee trapeze"), featuring motorized attractions giving the illusion of actual flea performers, he expresses his sadness that his attempt to create something real with Jurassic Park has failed. When he claims he will regain control and fix the problems, Ellie comes back at him with these words:

"It's still the Flea Circus; it's all an illusion. You never had control! That's the illusion. I was overwhelmed by the power of this place. But I made a mistake too. I didn't have enough respect for that power."

The illusion of control. We can't control our world. The lady I wrote about last night can't control what room she gets. The little girl couldn't control the fact that she accidentally hit her mom. We can't control the people we love. And, when that becomes apparent, we lose it. We yell, we hit, we cry. But not having control does not mean being powerless. We can still do things to impact our world. But we have to do them with an understanding that what we do will never control our environment or the people in it. It's important to look beneath our actions at our underlying motives and ask ourselves why we are doing what we are. Is it to control our wife? Our husband? Our child? Our friend? Our church? Our school? People in general? Or is it to bring about goodness and positive impact?


Interesting person #3.

Cutting anger off at the pass...

So this morning this woman came to the front desk all bent out of shape over the room she got, demanding (for no good reason) that she pay only 40 dollars for it. The room rate was at 108. Her reason was that the kids were seriously hurt by this room and that was her selfless concern. I wanted to say, honey, I think your grandkids will be more hurt by the fact that you are setting the example that it is ok to be rude and obnoxious. It got me thinking about money and what money has done to us. Almost anyone these days is willing to be a jackass if it will cause them to have more money. Later, I was looking over these forms we have to have people fill out when they rent equipment from us, you know the ones with the small writing that no one reads anyway. And, I thought how the only reason forms are overly abundant is that at some point money became more important that self-respect. Forget about the fact that you're not respecting the other person when you scheme in the name of money, you are making yourself a smaller person. But nobody cares about that anymore. They have to get manicures and buy their kids every toy on the shelf, etc, etc. Can you tell today is my day to rant on parents?!

Then, this evening I was walking my dog, enjoying the cool weather, and thinking about my friend's blog about the cute kid she saw on her walk interacting with his cute father. I was smiling at all the kids I saw with their training wheels, feeling breezy, when all of a sudden, right beside me I hear one of these cute kids screeching, as her mother beat her in broad daylight. She had hit her mother with a toy accidentally. So, the logical thing to punish someone who hurts you on accident is to hurt them on purpose. That ought to teach her a lesson. A lesson on how to be an angry person. Good job ladies!

I may not have kids, but I do get angry. And, I know that spreading that anger around, especially to children, does not make the situation any better, or the world a better place. And, what is the point of doing anything if one of those two doesn't hold true? I have been trying to be more conscious of my anger lately. Like tonight when I spilled a whole container of Aunt Jemima on my kitchen floor. I literally stopped for a moment, looked at the mess, and made the decision not to be mad about it. What good would it do anyway? And, like that, any anger that may have arisen dispersed. The focus doesn't necessarily need to be on "controlling" anger, but recognizing it in its early stages until you are so aware that you can stop it before it even starts. Anger schmanger, I say.


Interesting person #2.

Learning my lesson...

To continue musing about my new inspiration, M. Night, it seems a bit absurd to me the fact that I am having to go back and rewatch movies that I have hated in the past. Garden State, The Green Mile, and now Signs. I find it more than interesting that when I first watched them I had the exact same eyes that I do now, I saw the exact same images, heard the exact same sounds, yet, took from them a different vision. In remembering my initial experiences, I noticed that I took one thing from each movie- a specific thing, and used it as my reasoning that the movie sucked. With Garden State, it was the gross sex scene; The Green Mile was completely unrealistic with the bugs flying out of the dude's mouth; and with Signs, I didn't like that they showed the aliens. I thought they should have had more of an invisible mystique. Each of these individual things that I chose to pull from these movies lasted a matter of seconds, compared to the entire movie's length. And, that is what I chose to take from them.

Now, going back and watching each of these movies, I don't take specific scenes or even characters with me. I take lessons. Each of them has a theme interwoven among its words and imagery that is more powerful than any one part of it. It's the whole thing that makes it beautiful and meaningful. No longer will I look at the tiny; I will focus on the big.

I think it is the same thing with people. When you take one tiny thing, maybe something they did or something about their personality or belief system, and make that who they are, you miss the lesson. We are each so much more than any one slice of ourselves. To learn from each other, we have got to see the whole. We all have a lesson to teach. The way we teach it does not matter. The specifics do not matter. It is the lesson that is important. And, we must make a conscious effort to take these lessons from each other.


I spent the afternoon roaming the streets of St. Augustine taking photos of "interesting" people. Here is number one.

Wanting to be right where I am...

Lately, I feel like that scene in Look Who's Talking when Albert's head bursts in a poof of smoke and confetti. Or the one in The Upside of Anger where that loser boyfriend's head explodes at dinner and his nose lands in the mother's soup bowl. I started this blog because I felt my creativity being held in. I was unhappy in my happy life, and I wanted to make it better. So I focused more on my photography. That led to a focus on my writing, which in turn led to a focus on my thinking. The point was to quell the rushing tides inside. Instead it seems it has stoked them.

Last night, listening to M. Night discussing his medium, I was taken in. I watched him travel through the process from beginning to completion. I was jealous of his ability to walk an idea through from start to finish. I start cramping at the front door. In one single quiet moment today, I asked myself, why is the destination so important? Like when I was a teenager, and I wanted to be married and have a kid so badly. Why did I need to rush it? I'm married now and it's great, but it's now. That was then. I'm afraid that I'm wanting so badly to be at a point in my creative life that I'm not at yet that I am missing the place where I am. This place is just as important as whatever place I end up. I'm tired of expecting the overnight "success". I'm tired of wanting a fast forward button for life. Soon enough, it will be over entirely. I want to want to be right here right now. And right now I am writing.

Uncovering what's beneath...

"When I'm editing a movie is usually when I go ahh... that's the idea. As The Sixth Sense came out I was writing Unbreakable on the computer, and Unbreakable I was deep in thinking about Signs. I don't know what I'm gonna do next. I'm waiting for something. I don't know what it is. I'm waiting for something. Maybe to see how this all turns out. I wanna become something else. I have a few good ideas and I'm just not physically writing them right now, I don't know why. This is the first time that's ever happened. We'll see how- what that means in the whole picture of things."

I love M. Night Shyamalan. No, seriously. I love him. I remember once in college my roommate's friend was in our dorm room, glancing around at the walls covered with No Doubt posters, and asked me why I liked No Doubt. I don't know, I just do was my answer. When I think about it now, I realize it is because of something behind the eyes. Behind the music. Behind their performances. I think its called passion. Or maybe its hope. Or maybe its a view of the world as a better more beautiful place. I don't know, but there's an energy behind, not them but, what comes out of them. I feel that energy when I watch M. Night's movies, as I did tonight watching Signs. A passion. A hope. A beauty. I can't describe it, but man, it inspires me. So, tonight I speak in the words of M. Night Shyamalan...

I don't know what I'm gonna do next. I'm waiting for something. I don't know what it is. I'm waiting for something. Maybe to see how this all turns out. I wanna become something else. I have a few good ideas and I'm just not physically writing them right now, I don't know why. We'll see how- what that means in the whole picture of things.


Miss Luna Part Two. She was so beautiful I had to use both photos.

Taking unexpected turns...

Today was a typical day. Get up, get ready, go to work, come home. But halfway through I got a text from a friend who was in town visiting from Virginia, asking if I wanted to go out and see my husband play tonight. Departures from the norm are always initially frightening for me, but then I thought- yes, I would like to go. So instead of sticking to the plan, I came home, got ready to go out, drove to pick her up and headed to the beach. Once we arrived at the Dog, I had the most amazing cheeseburger I have ever eaten- ever, and, watched my husband live out his dream. All while spending time with one of the coolest people I know. Later, after coming back to my house to watch a movie, I drove her back to her friend's house all the way in Switzerland.

When I woke up this morning I had no idea that at 1:30 that night I'd be driving through Switzerland along darkened lonely streets. It was great. I blared my oldies and rolled the windows down and enjoyed the lightened air of fall. The movie we had watched was called Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, a teenage tale of a night of unexpected turns. It was a fun movie. It made me laugh. But most importantly, it breathed life back into my hibernating desire to explore the world. It made me want to hop a plane to New York City, where it took place, and just wander the streets at night. But Switzerland was just as good. Any place I have never been or at least am not familiar with is exciting to me. To see all the houses, the buildings, the businesses, the churches, the people, the ways of life. I love it. I love the feeling of being a stranger surrounded by a strange land probably more than being comfortable in my own habitat. I think because it mimics what I love about this world. The world is so big. And, I tend to forget that when I get caught up in my day to day schedule. I like that feeling of awe. Feeling like a tiny speck in the midst of an enormous planet teeming with beauty and life. Being someplace different awakens this in me. Whether it's Podunk, USA or posh Paris, it doesn't matter. I love being in the world.


I never expected this morning that I would meet a Luna moth today, either. I had never even heard of such a creature. But, man its beauty caught me off guard and I had to capture it.

Identifying with the world...

It's kind of cool how life can turn into a game of dominoes sometimes. I get an idea to write a novel about a runaway slave, so I do some research. I read the book, The Ties That Bind, a discussion of slavery and its effects on society today. It is written by a sociologist. I suddenly remember that I really liked my one sociology class in college, might've taken more had my professor not been a rambling drunk. Then I remember that I liked my textbook from that class so much, I had kept it. I go back to my parents' house and grab it off the shelf. Today I pulled it out and started reading it. Just reading the title and description, I am filled with excitement about its contents. The Birth and Death of Meaning. It's all about life and purpose and the history of man as a species, all things I love to discuss in my blogging. I am stoked.

In reading the preface, I was reintroduced to a number of well-known sociologists, psychologists, and philosophers. One of these was Mr. Otto Rank. I liked a short snippet of a quote of his that was included in the preface, so I got online and looked for more of his words. Many of them got my brain churning, but there was one passage in particular that I liked the most. The simplicity and organization of it caught my attention.

“The richer–that is, the more varied and complete–the individual’s emotional life, the less is he driven to projection, and the more will he incline to identification. His outlet and satisfaction comes in identifying himself with the emotions of the other. On the other hand, the narrower and more restricted the individual’s emotional life, the more intense will be his fewer emotions, the less will he be inclined to, and capable of, identification–the lack of which he has to compensate for by projection. Projection thus proves to be a compensatory mechanism that adjusts for an inner lack. Identification, on the other hand, is an expression of abundance, of the desire for union, for alliance, for sharing."

When I think of projection and identification, as Rank discussed, I think of a similar finding by Mr. Ben Folds, though he worded it a bit differently in his song, There's Always Someone Cooler Than You.


Smile
Like you've got nothing to prove
No matter what you might do
There's always someone out there cooler than you

I know that's hard to believe
But there are people you meet
They're into something that is too big to be

Expressed
Through their clothes
And they'll put up with all the poses you throw
And you won't

Even know
that they're not sizing you up
They know your mom fucked you up
Or maybe let you watch too much TV

But they'll still look in your eyes
To find the human inside
You know there's always something in there to see

Beneath
The veneer
Not everybody made the list this year
Have a beer

Make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall
But there's always someone cooler than you
Yeah, you're the shit but you won't be it for long
Oh, there's always someone cooler than you

Now that I've got the disease
In a way I'm relieved
'Cause I don't have to stress about it like you do

I might just get up and dance
Or buy some acid-wash pants
When you don't care then you got nothing to lose

And I won't
Hesitate
'Cause every moment life is slipping away
It's ok

Make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall
But there's always someone cooler than you
Yeah, you're the shit but you won't be it for long
Oh, there's always someone cooler than you

Life is wonderful
Life is beautiful
We're all children of
One big universe
So you don't have to be a chump

We are swimming in an ocean of projection. When I look around and see how distracted people are with stuff, looks, money, I feel like we are in a current state of emergency. Our species is stuck in this emotionally stunted phase. Though Rank may have been more specifically discussing projection and identification in the psychological sense in his work, I like to apply it on a wider scale. Because that's how it makes sense to me. Those who have varied emotions and are aware of those emotions have the ability to identify. Not just with other people, but with themselves and with the world, whether it be through art, medicine, math, what have you. Those, on the other hand, who don't acknowledge their emotions and are unaware of them, have fewer, and because of that, focus their energies on stuff. Both of these are cycles. He who focuses on identification is reinforced to continue by experiencing a strong relationship with the world through his medium. He who neglects to identify projects himself onto outer things, which bring empty fulfillment, causing a greater lack of emotion, thereby causing them to continue to project. Whew. So now the question is, how do we as a species break out of this collective funk? Unfortunately, I don't know the answer to that. But I do feel that the moment reality tv dissipates, we will be on the right track.


I identify with the world through nature, my photography, my thinking, and my writing, as well as my relationships with others.

Seeing through Brand New Eyes...

Tonight ended up being a late night working on a photo project, so instead of my usual random thoughts, I leave you with the lyrics to my favorite Paramore song off their new album, Brand New Eyes (number 2 on Billboard, by the way!). The words are powerful, but the emotion behind her voice, as well as the music, just grabs your soul. I highly suggest a listen.

Playing God

Can't make my own decisions or make any with precision
Well, maybe you should tie me up so I don't go where you don't want me
You say that I've been changing, that I'm not just simply aging
Yeah, how could that be logical?
Just keep on cramming ideas down my throat

You don't have to believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger... I'll point you to the mirror

If God's the game that you're playing
Well, we must get more acquainted
Because it has to be so lonely... to be the only one who's holy
It's just my humble opinion, but it's one that I believe in
You don't deserve a point of view, if the only thing you see is you

This is the last second chance
(I'll point you to the mirror)
I'm half as good as it gets
(I'll point you to the mirror)
I'm on both sides of the fence
(I'll point you to the mirror)
Without a hint of regret... I'll hold you to it

I know you don't believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger... I'll point you to the mirror



So good.


Water the music, plant the seeds in the pot. Music's the life flowing through, is it not? Don't forget your roots, but also don't rot. Move on, move on, move on.

Another good one from No Doubt.

Understanding wisdom...

When I was in my last stretch of high school, our yearbook staff got the less than brilliant idea of adding superlatives to our yearbook. They had the typical "Best Dressed" and "Most Athletic", etc., etc. I always hated these and any other distinctions when I was in school. Principally because I never got any of them, but mostly because it was the same people who received them over and over, leaving the rest of us to feel unworthy of recognition. I still hate these "awards". But the one I had the biggest problem with was the superlative, "Most Intellectual". The person chosen had the highest grades without question, because she had the equivalent of a good memory (and a rehearsed tear-laden speech for teachers who dared give her less than an A+). But she had no ability to apply her knowledge. She could spurt off Shakespeare or the Periodic Table at a moment's notice, but could not put together a well thought-out argument about anything other than her moral stances. Intellectual to me means having wisdom, but also original thought, and the ability to connect the two. It has nothing to do with grades.

This memory was rekindled as I read about Bertice Berry's experiences in her childhood church, hearing her pastor's words concerning a lesson in Proverbs that states, in so many words, that "wisdom is the principal thing, but we must also get an understanding". I think this one line sums up what is wrong with our country today. We have wisdom coming out of our ears, but no understanding of the effects of our actions, of other people's situations, of our own situation. One example that comes to mind of this is the fact that lawyers now advertise on tv to those who are suffering from medical problems, offering the ill the enticing path of revenge by suing the doctor who "caused" their malady for amounts nearing the worth of Britney Spears' mansion. Everyone wants the satisfaction of someone to blame. Sure, we have the wisdom to win the fight, but we're missing the war.

Tonight I forced my husband to watch one of my all-time favorite movies with me, Switched at Birth. It is an old tv movie about a court battle over a little girl who was unknowingly switched at the hospital following her birth. The family whom she was taken from, once they found out their daughter was not their own, immediately launched into a press-covered lawsuit battle against the hospital, and later, against the father of their child. While I understand the wisdom behind their actions- they had a legal right- and I would never assume to know what being in that position consists of, they chased on the heels of their wisdom, not their understanding. There are certain things that require more from us than our brains. It's the old, "just because you can, doesn't mean you should" argument.

We, as humans, are able to pretty much contort any argument to fit our purpose or intent, but we must do so with an understanding of the consequences. Otherwise, we are walking blind.


An evening walk. (I had to wear my thick sweatshirt and sweatpants!!!)

Accepting doubt...

Tonight I saw the antithesis of Magnolia in a movie named, Doubt. This movie, like Magnolia, did not lay out the typical beginning, middle, and end plot line that we have grown so accustomed to. But, unlike Magnolia, it clearly led the viewer on a journey, though without spoon feeding it to us like we are idiots. It bore thought. It was another tic on the why I love Philip Seymour Hoffman chart.

The film served as a pure definition for the title. It depicted what is perhaps one of our worst flaws and sins as humans, but what also may be our greatest asset. We know nothing. The human mind is engineered to doubt, to question, to wonder. Because of this and the fact that we are not God, no one of us has each and every answer to the questions of the universe, and the ideas we do have hold no certainty. No one knows. So why people argue points as steadfastly as they had created them themselves I will never understand. Feeling guilty for questioning religion or the Bible or other people is futile. We are wired not just to ask why, but when? How? What? Where? Who? For real?

And, we will keep asking because none of us will ever bear all the insight. This is where doubt as our greatest asset arises. We need each other. Each of us has our own piece of the puzzle that I so like to refer to. Without each other, we have no hope of even coming close to putting it all together. So instead of fighting against each other and each other's beliefs as though we know we are right, we will not move forward as a people until we come together and share our insights, each taking the other in as surely as if it were his own.

There was a quote in my reading today, uttered by Bertice Berry's graduate school advisor, Dr. Elizabeth Mullins,

Discipline your mind to yearn for the whole picture, and you will always be successful.

Of course, in this case, she was referring to statistical research, but I, as well as Berry, feel it has a higher application. The whole picture cannot be seen without the participation of all. In Berry's case, she lived most of her young life under the assumption that all whites in her great-grandparents era were slave-holding evil villains. Until the day she heard the name of the man who owned the farm her great-grandfather had worked on spoken on a tv special about the abolitionist movement. It was then that the whole picture came into view. Her great-grandfather had not been a slave, as she had assumed. He and his boss had worked with the Underground Railroad, helping carry several slaves to freedom. White men weren't all the enemy, after all. And neither are all Catholics, all Canadians, all Republicans, all lawyers, etc., etc. We each carry a piece of the puzzle. So we each deserve a chance to be heard.


There is something different about the sunlight in autumn. Maybe it's a difference in the air. All I know is that it makes even my ratty old couch look beautiful.

Following my joy...

Tonight at work I was reading over the newsletter for my other work, when I came across an interview with Carol Greider, winner of this year's Nobel Prize in science. She received the award for a discovery she had made back in 1984, regarding telomeres and a substance called telomerase that could help with diseases including cancer. But it wasn't the description of her discovery that caught my attention. It was her discussion about how she got there.

I never planned a career. I had these blinders on that got me through a lot of things that might have been obstacles. I just went forward. It’s a skill that I had early on that must have been adaptive. I enjoyed biology in high school and that brought me to a research lab at U.C. Santa Barbara. I loved doing experiments and I had fun with them. I realized this kind of problem-solving fit my intellectual style. So in order to continue having fun, I decided to go to graduate school at Berkeley. It was there that I went to Liz Blackburn’s lab, where telomeres were being studied.

Who ever heard of going to graduate school to have fun?! Ha! Nobody is supposed to enjoy school. Nobody is supposed to enjoy life. Are they? I think a lot of people have lost that concept. The focus is on doing what's smart, what's stable, what's most financially rewarding. I love the simplicity she shows of following your joy. I think it is such a freeing idea to just do what you love without even thinking.

It's funny to me that it is so hard for me to do what I love. I almost feel guilty doing things that I enjoy. I can't stop thinking of other, more important, things I should be doing. But look where following her joy got Greider. A perfect example of the chaos of positivity. One person following her joy leads to others' lives being saved. When positivity is involved, the possibilities are infinite.


Following my joy means being surrounded by thoughts- words, books, movies. These are a few of my favorite books from when I was young.

Steering clear of fear...

Today I got the very rare treat of some unexpected me time. So I ate it up with some reading. I'm still working on The Ties That Bind. It's an interesting book because it makes me think, something I highly value. But, at the same time, I am not affected by the words. They don't excite me, the way I sat in my driveway this evening for 10 minutes because I just couldn't get myself to turn off The Hour I First Believed. I finally had to force my hand to the power switch so I would go in and let my dog out. But as I spent my surprise 15 minutes reading, I was caught up in one line:

The thing we fear most will always happen. That's because we spend so much of our energy fearing it.

Those words, fear and energy, caught me up in a spiral of thought. What is the thing that I fear most right now other the the usual death and destruction? Not being a real writer. This fear consumes me at almost all moments of all days. In fact, it does so to such an extent that I probably have associated the idea of writing more with negativity than positivity. How backward is that. It is true, therefore, for me at least, that the thing I fear most has become true for the simple fact that I have been feeding it with my fear.

To relate this to the situation described in The Hour I First Believed, the boys responsible for the Columbine tragedy were full of fear- fear of not belonging, fear of not having a future, fear of being different, fear of disappointing their parents, themselves. They were living so deeply in these fears that they allowed themselves to become completely consumed by them, getting pulled down into a completely imagined world of pain and anger- a world that soon became reality for many. It is so easy to just discard these kids as crazy; it is much harder to look at the power that fear holds over us all.

Thinking about this on a more global scale, it becomes true in all realms. People who fear, no matter what the situation it is directed toward, feed their energy into a giant coop of negativity. The resulting mass of negativity spreads through conversations with friends, blogs, email forwards, attitudes, driving choices, and soon it has affected the energy of numerous others. Luckily, positivity spreads just as easily and quickly, though it may be less easily detected. It's just like the Chaos Theory I examined last week. The butterfly flaps her wings in Brazil, a tornado happens in Texas. One person lets fear pull them under- negativity and darkness can cross oceans- and people worldwide suffer pain. I think we do a serious disservice to ourselves and each other by giving into fear.

True fear serves its purpose. It can protect us from harm. But imagined fear only serves to hurt us. The trick is telling the two apart. Can I get hurt from crossing a busy intersection? Quite possibly. Can I get hurt from writing horribly and having other people see it? Not likely.


Ok, so this isn't one of my most photographic photographs. But I couldn't think of a better depiction of fear. Setting one half of one foot onto a glass box 1,353 feet in the air over the streets of one of the busiest cities in the country for one half of one second is as close as I ever hope to get to real fear. (Especially when the box next to it has yellow tape in front of it because it has a giant crack in it!)

Desperately seeking purpose...

Last night in the dark before being carried away to sleep, I read this passage from Mary Baker Eddy:

"The place you seek is seeking you. The place you need is needing you. Divine Principle brings need and supply together for mutual good. God wisely, intelligently and lovingly controls, guides, protects, prospers, and blesses the union of man and his [purpose].

All that you need to do is to see that your consciousness is fully prepared, enlarged, uplifted, joyous, expectant of infinite good, so that no sense of limitation may hinder the manifestation of God's will for you. You know that God's will for you is perfection, nothing less. All we need ever to change is our sense of discord to the consciousness of harmony..."

And, I slept soundly- knowing that my purpose is looking for me as desperately as I am looking for it. It's just like my prayers, not so long ago, full of blessings for my future husband, whoever he was, wherever he was, fully confident in the fact that he was searching for me as much as I was searching for him. And, my confidence flowered into truth mere years later. I too believe that I will be united with my deeper purpose one day in the not-so-distant future.


I know my purpose is just to be me, the question is who is that? The only way to find out is to experience all that I can, to live fully.

Ooo eee ooo, looking just like Buddy Holly...

This afternoon was movie day. I had the day off again- what magic- and since it was pretty cloudy outside and I couldn't read in my hammock, I just left the screen door open and had a movie marathon as I worked on files. As I think I have mentioned on here before, I have been going back in time and checking out some of the classics I have always heard referenced as far as movies and books. So I recently added Sweet Dreams, The Buddy Holly Story, and La Bamba (as referenced in Look Who's Talking!) to my netflix queue. Anyone who knows me knows I love the music of the 50s and 60s, thanks to the guidance of my father. So, today watching The Buddy Holly Story was great. So many amazing songs came out of that man's head in such a short amount of time. He had such a unique sound in his vocals and his melodies.

But, unlike love, his success didn't come easily for him. Although the scene depicted in the movie of Buddy's pastor defaming his music as being of the Devil never actually happened, it is true that he lived in a time when rock 'n roll music was new territory. Though fictional, I am sure the scene was based on some truth. There is also a scene where his own girlfriend tells him that being a musician is just a childish hobby and not a real profession, that he needed to find steady work so that they could marry. (You know I had a good chuckle at that.)

But, Buddy was true to his instincts. He listened to his Source and let the music flow through pure, simply disregarding the labels and producers who tried to change it. And, because of this, he is recognized as one of music's greatest influential leaders. And, he couldn't even read or write music.

What if he had been afraid to release his creativity? What if he had told himself he wasn't good enough because he couldn't read music? What if he had worried what other people would think of him? Look at all we would have lost. Not only his music, but that of the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and The Beach Boys- all artists who claim Buddy as a significant influence. Music itself would not be the same.


Still don't know what aperture and focal length really mean, but still taking pictures...

Mirroring symbiosis...

To be clear about my posting from last night, I don't feel that we as humans are truly helpless. We may not be able to control a lot of things about life, but there are things we can do. Therefore, the greatest way to alleviate our overwhelming fear, as individuals and as a nation, is to turn our helpless feelings around and instead become helpful. If we focus our energies on helping each other, maybe we wouldn't be as afraid. And, maybe this is why other countries don't suffer from paranoia the way ours does. This actually goes along with the Canadian ideal of the "we're all in it together" mindset. We are all Americans; we are all humans; we are all in need of the same thing- each other.

But how do we do this? Stop locking our doors? Go up to complete strangers and ask if we can help them? No. I think it's more about an open willingness to help than actively looking for ways to help. A lot of people volunteer at soup kitchens or homeless shelters for the wrong reasons. It doesn't aid your conscience when you are just doing something so that you will be able to say you did it, or so that you feel like a better person. The purpose behind true helping, I think, is to help the other person feel better. But if we have a mindset open to helping, and an opportunity comes up for us to help, we will be better able to recognize it and take action. If we continue with this individualistic focus, we will miss our chances to help other people, thereby continuing the vicious cycle of helplessness and fear.


Again, we can look to nature as our teacher. The flower helps the bee by providing it with honey; the bee help the flower by pollinating it. These symbiotic relationships are what make the natural world work. If only humans would mirror them.

Unlearning helplessness...

When I found out I was required to take a communications class at the University of Rhode Island, I was pissed. I am not one for talking in front of large (or small) groups. Luckily, I found out that there was one course that didn't require public speaking, so I immediately signed up. My professor was a young woman who was tall and slender with dark hair. I don't remember her name. I don't remember anything I learned in her class. But I do remember her praising the writing of Wally Lamb. I remember scribbling it in the margin of my notebook because I thought his name sounded like Wooly Lamb, and I thought it was funny. I had it in the back of my mind to check him out, but not until recently did I finally follow through.

Last week, I picked up an audio copy of his latest- The Hour I First Believed- to listen to in my car. The Stephen King book I'd listened to was 7 cds, The Kite Runner- 7 also, The Joy Luck Club- 3, Wally Lamb's is 20. All I could think was, this better be good. And, now on cd 6, I am captivated. It is a novel about a couple who were working at Columbine High School in 1998 when the shooting occurred. As always, I prefer surprises and so read nothing about the storyline before checking it out. I had not followed the case of the shooting when it happened, either. So this is all unraveling before me as though it just took place. Moved by the description of the day's events in my ears on the way to work this morning, I decided to research the incident online in between check-outs. It was interesting to me how organized, and yet completely unorganized, the killers were. I wanted to know more, so I decided tonight to watch the movie Bowling for Columbine. Again, something I'd been wanting to see since it had been released to such high accolades.

Surprisingly, the movie dealt more with the underlying fear in America than the actual events at the school. The most heart-breaking part of the whole movie for me was the outlined statistics concerning gun-related deaths in several countries. Japan, England, Canada, Australia, Germany and others ranged from the 20's to the 200's. America's score was over 11,000. The movie then goes on to question why this is. In the end, it is not guns, video games, or rock music that is thought to be the culprit, but our overall tendency to answer problems with violence. After interviewing several Canadian citizens about their thoughts on the subject, Michael Moore, screenwriter and director/producer, summarizes their answers this way: Canadians have a "we're all in this together" mindset, while Americans are more of the "every man for himself" precept. This was pretty eye-opening for me. I myself am in pretty much constant fear of being impinged upon. I have my door double locked at almost all times of day, a bar in my sliding glass door, an alarm system in almost constant use, and am nearing OCD about being aware of my surroundings. I've always attributed this to my consumption of true crime literature over the years- I know what is out there. But in thinking about it, I realized I was the same way when I was a kid. Why is that?

I started thinking more about fear. And, remembered in Lorenzo's Oil, which I watched last night, how the families who also had children dealing with ALD were afraid to try new treatment options. What were they afraid of? What am I afraid of? And, then it hit me. We are not afraid of robbers, of illness, of death and harm. We are afraid of being helpless. People in America feel helpless to change the high crime rates. People in America feel helpless over not just their homes, but their own bodies. They fear not being able to control the situation, their own lives. I wonder if this is why Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris felt they had to shoot up their community. Maybe they felt helpless about their futures. It is certain that they wanted a feeling of control. But, the most frightening thing of all is that we have no control.

I started thinking about my discussion of time too. As the day of the Columbine shooting was laid out for me, minute by minute, in both the story and the articles I read, I kept thinking, as I'm sure many have, what if that teacher had just waited one second more or one less second to walk down the hall. Then they wouldn't have seen him and shot him. Then he'd be alive today. What if they hadn't decided to turn to that specific table and shoot at that specific direction? The what ifs could go on for an eternity. But it all points to our collective helplessness. We can't control each other; we sometimes can't even control ourselves; we can't control life; and we can't control time. That is what scares us and that is what makes us paranoid. Why do other countries suffer from this less? Well, that is the answer I will continue to search for.


Nature doesn't feel a need for control. It is like a symphony, blooming and perishing under God's conducting baton. In the years since the Columbine incident, psychologists have proposed that at least one of the killers may have had a superiority complex. I wonder if we don't all have one to a certain extent. Otherwise why would we think we could conduct life better than He who created it?

Experiencing moment by moment...

A day off is a wonderful thing. So, today I allowed myself to do whatever I felt like. And, when my plans didn't work out exactly perfect, I allowed myself to be okay with that. And, I ended up having a great day of friendship, adventure, and inspiration. Three of my favorite things. I also spent a lot of time outside, which I have been lacking lately.

I started my day by reading my writing book, then once I got up and ready, I went out to visit my neighbors who were participating in our neighborhood garage sale and passed out cupcakes that I had made for my niece's canceled birthday party. Then it was off to Mandarin to meet my friend at a craft show. It was fun being the customer instead of the vendor for once. Then we went to lunch and I left there to meet my other friend at an art show in Switzerland at this beautiful historic orange grove. It had an old barn with an amazing rusted roof, an old shed, and two of the most beautiful antique houses. I wanted to move right in. I was bummed you couldn't go inside. So we walked through the environmental booths, getting info on the Sierra and Save the Manatee clubs, then walked down to the river. It was a perfectly beautiful day. The sky was a bright blue, the clouds a puffy white. It was hot, but the breeze was blowing over the water and felt nice. All we needed was a front porch, a swing, and some sweet tea. After that, I dropped my friend off and came back to the city. Though it was only a short visit, I always love being in the country.

Once at home, I wished my puppy a happy 9th birthday and he hung outside with me while I weeded our overgrown garden. It didn't take long, so I spent the last few remaining minutes of sunlight on our back porch finishing my writing book, which was great. I didn't bother adding it to my book list on here because I knew I'd finish it over the weekend. Now, back to The Ties That Bind. After that, I made my dinner, gave my dog his birthday meal (beef stew with rice, mmmm...) and watched the movie, Lorenzo's Oil for the first time. I've been wanting to see it since it came out 17 years ago, but just now got around to it. What a wonderful story. If anyone deserves the Nobel Prize in Medicine it is Augusto Odone. I had never heard of anyone earning an honorary medical degree before. And all for the love of his son and his wife. Amazing. (Though I could have lived without hearing Nick Nolte fake an Italian accent.)
As I watched the movie, I got to work on an art project I'd been bouncing around my head for the past few months. It's always exciting when a project turns out better than you had imagined. That is a rare event. It will take me some time, but I can't wait to see the finished product and see it hanging in its rightful place. Hopefully I will make more and post them on my etsy site eventually.

So, I am thankful for a satisfying day, and looking forward to the next. But, as for tomorrow, it is back to work for me.


Alpine Groves.

Exemplifying the homonym...

This morning my life coach led me through an exercise to increase my inner peace by quieting the voice that tells me that I am less than I am. Having that kind of inner peace is more than just something cute to do. It is necessary for a person to become what they were put here to be. During this process, I could feel the rush of the tides within me, but could see that it was all inside, none was getting out. By following in line behind the silent rules of society that place the ownership over self on you- a mere person, instead of giving up ownership over self to God, I fell victim to the farce that it is bad form to admit that you have something wonderful to offer. That would be considered conceit, or worse, pride. So instead of releasing and celebrating the gifts we're given, they become stifled and wasted. I can't imagine anything worse than wasting a gift from God Himself.

Peace, though, is a tricky concept. Most people understand it in "human" terms, as some idealistic theory. But I noticed something today. In order to truly understand peace, you have to pull back, all the way back, and just observe. For the past, well thirty years I guess, I have been trying to be a writer by trying to be a writer. The result has been my knocking into wall after wall, frustrated and full of doubt. But, today, in pulling away from the situation, myself, "reality", I saw the whole. I saw that I have been filled with this overwhelmingly large and beautiful gift and that, in order to take my place in the universe, I have to let it out, or risk spitting in the face of the One who gave it to me (meanwhile living my life in misery and not in truth).

This realization illustrates why I was so filled with joy at the announcement of President Obama's honor of receiving this year's Nobel Peace Prize. Obama does not look at the idea of peace with blinders on. He has the blessed ability to see things from afar and work within the realm of the whole. He is not tied to sides, to country, or to the desire to be right. He is tied to one thing only- peace. I think the best example of this is his handling of the argument between Sgt. James Crowley and Harvard professor, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., who were entangled in a serious dispute over one of the most sensitive subjects in America today. Obama was castigated by the public for a comment he made related to the case. Did he waste time defending himself? No. Did he waste time explaining himself? No. Did he pick one of the gentlemen's sides and argue it? No. He apologized for his wording, yet stuck to what he had said, and invited the two men to his home for a beer to settle their concerns. And, the result? The men apologized and made peace with each other, Mr. Gates realizing that, "in the end, this is not about me at all".

It's not. At all. And Obama, unlike many of us, sees that. He doesn't just consider the effects of his actions as President on himself, or on his "party". He takes into account the effects on all people in all countries and all generations- current and future. This brings to mind a line from one of the best songs I have ever heard, entitled Playing God: "You don't deserve a point of view if the only one you see is you."

People may try to tear this down, making claims that it is wrong. But those are the people who see peace in human terms. They are not looking at the whole. They are looking for specific tangible physical things, like scientists who claim evolution simply because they cannot see God. These people can't see the whole, and that the whole is what we need most. Anyone can pass laws or change numbers, but how many people, how many presidents, would invite two men to his house for a beer to settle a problem? One.

Obama doesn't hide, make excuses, or try to defend his gift, and because of that, he is my inspiration to better reveal my own. Because that is the only way to create peace in this world. If we were all true to our place in this life, putting responsibility over our paths in the hands of our Creator, instead of foolishly thinking we as humans could handle such a job, every piece of the puzzle would come together, and all would be at peace.


If I'm not being whom I was put here to be, I am like an invisible ghost just roaming the Earth with no direction.




Lucky day, you get a bonus photo! I had to add this one, cause I'm just so excited! Though, I did not take it myself, of course. Props to my friend Tim who took this on my trip to Chicago last summer. Obama is looking kind of shiny, isn't he? Hmmm.

Falling in love (I hope)...

There's this amazing song by Jimmy Eat World called "A Praise Chorus". It has a line in it, I wanna fall in love tonight, that I remember listening to when I was younger, really hoping that that night would be the night. Little did I know at the time that it was still another year off. But it was such an exciting feeling to think maybe my life will change this very night.

I read an interview today with an author- Drew Lamm. It's in a book on writing. The book, entitled How Writers Work: Finding a Process That Works for You, called out to me from my boss' shelf and I snagged it. It is gold. It is written for children, but no matter the age, writing is the same. And, this book is a great how-to, as well as a great comfort, in that it confirms that others are going through the same troubles I am. There are several amazing lines I could pull from this book, but Lamm's first quote is the truest, most beautiful description of writing I have heard yet.

"Writing is the possibility of falling in love. Every time I pick up my pen there's the chance that I'll have that astonishing feeling. Because I never know when a story will emerge with a perfect fit. And I'll be delighted by it. Love it. Want to read it over and over again. And feel amazed that it's here somehow because of me."

I love her description of the story/storyteller relationship. It's beautiful, true, exciting. Just like real love. It brings back that element of suspense I used to feel. As far as real love, I'm lucky enough to now know that I will fall in love every night. But with my writing, it remains unknown. And, I kinda like it that way.


Socks my love brought me from Japan.

Wandering amongst dead frogs...

Tonight I watched the movie Magnolia for the first time. I was bored from moment one. But because it had Phillip Seymour Hoffman in it, I was certain it would get better, so I kept watching. It didn't. I know part of the reason I didn't attach to it was because of the dark matter that it portrayed. Now anyone who reads this blog knows that I am attracted to dark things, but when it comes down to the dirt of everyday reality, I can't handle it. So I was aware that this made me extremely uncomfortable throughout. But my main complaint is the fact that I believe a storyteller's job is to lead the audience to their own conclusion, and I didn't feel that was done properly. I could read a book, you could read the same book, and we could come to two completely opposite conclusions. But if the reader carried us to them, then he did his job. With this story, I just didn't feel carried. I felt forced to an empty field. Whether this is true, or it is just a reflection of where I am in my life is unclear. But I felt angry with the writer for manipulating me. I don't mind being manipulated to a certain extent if it hides a certain purpose. But in this case, I felt he threw several bits at me and made me do all the work to put them back together. But after three hours of being pelted, I really didn't have it in me to care.

In thinking more about it as I watched the credits roll, thanking God that it was finally over, I thought how much it resembled true life. God throws us all these scrambled pieces and expects us to do all the work putting them together and trying to make some semblance of order without so much as an instruction manual in Korean. I thought about the story I just finished, Hiding in the Spotlight, and how many normally wonderful people of God's creation banded together to torture two little girls. I thought about the slaves in the book I am currently reading, The Ties That Bind, and the people who took their lives away from them, made them living robots. And, then of all the people in the movie, of David Letterman cracking jokes on national television about his wife's broken heart, and I felt sick to my stomach. I felt manipulated. Here are all these tiny messed up distorted defunct pieces, now put them together to come to some conclusion. No wonder so many people get frustrated and angry with God. We are beings of order in a chaotic universe. How is that supposed to work? And why were we put into such an impossible position?

Mind you, I am not angry with God. Because I happen to believe that there is a higher purpose that we can't understand. But I must admit I feel a little lost most of the time wandering through all the dead frogs.


Drifting along like driftwood...

Theorizing about chaos...

Tonight I picked up a thought on 2nd Avenue after picking up some dinner at Campeche Bay. While waiting for my food at the bar, I saw several fruity drinks waiting to be consumed. Those look good, I thought. I wish I could drink one. I went back to reading my book and right when I hit on a good part, my food was up. I walked it back to my car and thought how nice it must be to be able to just go out to dinner. Suddenly I was caught up in an inner dialogue with myself.

>But don't you go out to dinner, sometimes?
>>Yes, but it's not the same as those people.
>Why?
>>Because I can't just order whatever I want.
>But don't you?
>>Well, I guess, but I don't order drinks, because I don't need the drinks. I only order food.

Then I thought about Starbucks. Starbucks for me, apart from the rest of America, is not a need. It is only a luxury, therefore whenever I get it it is considered a treat, and is accompanied with a side of guilt. (I am starting to notice a pattern here.)

Without making myself seem too crazy, I hope, I continued:
>When will you be able to actually go out to eat and order whatever you want without feeling guilty?
>>When I have paid off my credit card and what I am ordering is paid with actual money in the bank. It's just like with watching tv. I can't enjoy time sitting watching tv unless the house is straight, the dishes are done, the bathroom is clean, etc. etc.
>So, basically, a,b, and c have to be in precise order for happiness to result.
>>Yes.
>And will the house ever be completely clean?
>>No.
>Will you ever have nothing that needs to be done?
>>No.
>Uh-huh. So, basically you can never be happy.
>>I guess not.

Once I got in my car, my CD of The Hour I First Believed resumed mid-conversation. The main character had just boarded a plane and was speaking with the nut job beside him. The nut job turned out to be a professor who teaches mathematics and philosophy and who immediately broke into a full-fledged lecture on Chaos Theory. Chaos theory. The theory that one tiny change in an environment causes greater effects down the road, effects that are not predictable. "Order", nut job says, "breeds habit. But chaos breeds life." It is called chaos because of its inherent unpredictability. Life is also unpredictable. Therefore, chaos is life, life chaos. So, there is no a + b + c = happiness. Things are always changing, tasks are always reproducing like rabbits, money is always disappearing and then showing up in unexpected places. People are always disappearing from your life, new ones showing up in unexpected places. Waiting until things are precisely right before you decide to enjoy life means you will spend your whole life waiting.

>Do I then splurge? Spending money I don't have, consuming things I don't need?
>>No, you simply take life in abundantly. Life is free.

P.S. I wrote tonight. 8 pages front and back. About two, two and a half hours worth. No stops. In the past it's been a cause for celebration, something to blog about, pat myself on the back for. Tonight it was quieter than that. I wanted to write and I wrote. No biggie. You know how several people can tell you the same thing in different ways, and you fully comprehend what they're telling you, but not until one day, with the stars perfectly aligned in the sky, does it click. I think that's what happened last night. My husband said just write, and I just wrote.


Could a flap of this little guy's wings cause an earthquake in Thailand? I don't know, but I like the idea that we're all linked.

Dusting myself off...

"And the worst part is before it gets any better, we're headed for a cliff. And in the free fall I will realize I'm better off when I hit the bottom."

Perhaps a dramatic quote for what I'm referencing here but this line from Paramore flirts with the idea of happiness resulting from ups and deep, deep downs. Tonight was a down for me. Most days I'm up, positive about my future, my goals, my dreams. But it's days like today when I wonder if my struggling to be so positive isn't masking the fact that I'm clueless. I hope not.

I watched the movie version of The Kite Runner tonight and it was awful. But it brought back the connection I felt to those characters. And it broke my heart. I have never felt that connection to any character I have given life to. And shouldn't that relationship create a greater feeling of connection? Then the most dreadful thought crossed my mind, maybe I'm not supposed to be a writer.

I spent the next two hours covering the coffee table in kleenex and getting a pep talk from my husband. He says I'm putting the cart before the horse. I really haven't written for real in about 18 years. The last short story I remember writing was in the 6th grade. So though I feel like I've been writing all my life, I had quite a hiatus there. I guess it's gonna take a while to get back on that horse. And I guess, as I did tonight, I am bound to fall off a few times, to beat a metaphor to death. So, I guess this is me picking myself up and dusting myself off.


Self explanatory.

Thinking in narration...

I've been to Mexico two times. The first was to Villahermosa and the surrounding area. I traveled there with my parents and visited a number of ruins, touching each part of them with the thought that I was touching the same spot that my ancestors touched thousands of years ago. The second was to Merida, where my dad grew up, where we visited more ruins, the beach where my grandfather was born, and the shop where I found my wedding dress. My third visit is in 27 days. This time I will be seeing Oaxaca with my parents and, for the first time, my husband. I can't wait.

Every time we go we spend a week there. Though I took a total of 7-8 years of Spanish in high school and college, I am far from fluent. But every time we go I use it as an opportunity to practice and learn more. The first day or two I am intimidated and let my dad do all the talking, but I warm up as the days go on and start to order my own food and go in shops by myself. By the time we board the plane to leave, I find myself thinking in Spanish. I translate in my head not just every thing I say, but every thought I have. Or at least I try to. Both times during the plane ride home I remember not wanting it to end, because they make all the announcements in Spanish, and then translate them to English. I like that. The sound of the language is soothing to me. When I'm feeling low or stressed sometimes I put on my old Julio Iglesias album or some mariachi music. It's calming.

Well today I noticed another kind of change in my thinking. I noticed that instead of just picturing thoughts in my head as images, they were coming through with narration. I was thinking the thought in my head in the form of a third person description. It was crazy. It was good too. So good I thought I should make it into a book. This must be how writers think. It makes sense, I guess. Science and math whizzes probably think of everything in numbers. Or maybe I've just been listening to too many audio books. I have been inundated with words recently. I have been digesting book after book, listening to myself read them in my head as well as having narrators read them to me as I drive.

Regardless, it was a pretty cool feeling, like another rite of passage or something. One more step in the right direction. One more source of inspiration.


The snare my husband snared me with. If writers think in narration, I bet musicians think in music. What language do you think in?

Bending with life...

Well, I did it. Today, I wrote. And it felt real. I was listening to the new Paramore album the other day, which is amazing by the way, a definite recommend, and I was inspired by one of the songs. Suddenly, I had an idea for a story. Something I felt connected to, something I felt others would connect with, and something that didn't feel ominous. But best of all, it was something I got excited about! (That is my clue that I am on the right track, when I am so excited my stomach hurts.) It was the first time I really had an idea for a story come together the way my ideas for my photography and artwork come together in my head. And, it was because someone or something else inspired me. Makes sense. That's how it always works with other projects for me. Could be a tree, could be garbage. But something jumps out at me and my imagination flies with it.

So I had this evening free, and though I was close to calling up a friend to hang out since I never have nights free, I decided this would be a great time to write. So, I came home from work, and took a nap first. But when I woke up I realized I didn't feel like being stuck in my office. I had been stuck inside all day. There was still a bit of sunlight left in the sky, and so I decided to write in my favorite place of all- my hammock. So I set out to the great outdoors with a brand new clean notebook, a pencil, and my idea.

To my surprise, the first sentence came to me as I was gathering my things. Once I started writing, it started to flow. Beautiful words poured out. Words I was immediately proud of. So I wrote for a while with the sounds of the birds cheering me on. After a few pages, I went blank. I couldn't decide where to go next. So, instead of staring at the paper and chastising myself, I picked up my new book, The Ties That Bind, and read for a little bit. When I felt ready to return, I picked up my notebook and wrote another couple pages. It was the definition of blissful. It was easy. It was- dare I say it- enjoyable.

In the midst of my writing, my phone rang. It was my husband. I answered it. When he asked why I was answering my phone while writing, since I normally don't, I answered, "too many rules". Besides there's no better inspiration than the most beautiful voice in the world.

So I learned something from following what I want today. I learned that hard-fast rules do not equal fast easy results. Just because Stephen King writes in seclusion at a desk doesn't mean I have to. Just because some writers get distracted with phone calls and planes buzzing overhead doesn't mean that I do. So I decided to meld my writing and my life. They are one and the same. Not like my current jobs where I have work and then after I'm off, I have my life. All things separate. Writing is my life. Writing is me. If I want my life to be more flexible, it only makes sense that I be more flexible with it. No more rules.

I want to add a quote here from The Ties That Bind by Bertice Berry that I began reading today, as it fits my recent posts so well. She is actually quoting her other book, Redemption Song. The quote is pulled from a narrative written by her character, who was a former slave.

"Y'all done traded one form of slavery from another when you turned your back on wisdom. You ain't free to do what you want to do; you free to do what you supposed to do. Find out what you here for, what you were sent for."

That line about what you want and what you're supposed to do just holds a mirror up for me. It's almost identical to my recent post. It's as if I am pulled to certain books at certain times for certain reasons, unknown to me. I believe they are clues on my journey.


There are all sorts of bridges we have to cross to get to what we want. But you can't be afraid of heights.

Living in my feet...

I sent an email to my life coach last night, exasperated at myself for not moving forward with my writing. I've analyzed all my fears; I've taken advice from the pros; I've set up my own secluded office space which I've filled with supplies. I've no excuses left. So, why have I not started? She responded by sending me a questionnaire to complete. One of the questions asked: what stops you from having accomplished your goal (of writing)? Well, normally I would answer with a regurgitated list of fears, but I have given them names. Therefore, they have lost their grasp on me. It is no longer them that is stopping me. Now it's just me.

It started me thinking about my post from last night. How I am a planner, how I operate within the boundaries of tomorrow. When I was young, from five to twenty-five, I always lived in the distant future. All I cared about was getting married and having kids, things I knew were light years away (which must be a long time considering light years isn't even a measurement of time). In the past few years, I have realized I can't do that anymore. I'm kind-of close to the vicinity of possibly being perceived as an adult now, which I still haven't grown accustomed to and probably never will, so I can't really afford to live in the distant future. So I packed up my bags and moved to the near future, focusing on the days to come- tomorrow, next week, next month.

I guess this was a subconsciously shocking transition because I am now learning that I have attached myself to that near future with the suction of a starfish. As I wrote last night, I plan every bit of it. Any time that I allowed myself to just relax, just be with my husband, just watch tv, I felt horrible afterwards, like I'd gone on some kind of binge. Only the opposite.

Time is probably the greatest invisible, non-existent sorcerer of all. It plays tricks on you. Humans have set up these delineators of second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year in hopes of creating some semblance of order in an open and free existence. These constructs tempt us to live in our brains and not in our feet. In my mind, I could be living in 2045, but my feet are here, now. And, it's my feet that are going to take me places. There's so much talk of the dangers of living in the past, but living in the future is just as harmful. In order to be a writer, I have to be in the present. I can't hope I will write tomorrow. I have to write right now or it will never happen. Writing is my blessing. Writing is what is going to bring me into the present. The only place I can live in peace.


Today I had great fun photographing my friends for their "pre-baby" shoot. They had me laughing the entire time so much my chest hurt. We turned out with some really amazing shots. Please check out the rest of the batch on my flickr page tomorrow night: flickr.com/dewindesigns And stay tuned for future shots of the baby!!! (haha, a new victim!)

Wanting more...

I was thinking more about my post from last night. I decided that some of the items on the list weren't necessarily bad, apart from that one word- should. So I changed it to want and restated them to myself to see if they were true. For example, I want to sleep- yes; I want to work on my current project- maybe; I want to drink less Coke- no. Simple enough, right? But it was this enormously eye-opening experience. Before I went to sleep, my brain automatically went about its usual task of dividing each minute of the following day practically down to bathroom breaks. I immediately stopped it. Instead of planning out what I should do tomorrow, maybe I will just see how I feel when I wake up. Now, this may not seem a big deal to you, but to me, just seeing how I feel is the most ridiculous idea. I always plan ahead, and not just a thing or two, but always more than my time allots just in case I can actually accomplish it, which I never do, which of course ends up making me feel guilty.

Ok, so the eye-opening part- I wake up this morning and ask myself, what do you want to do, dewin? What do I want to do? What do I want to do? I did not have a single clue. I sat up in bed for several minutes trying to figure out what I actually wanted to do. I could come up with a million things I should do. But what did I feel like doing? Not a clue.

Again today I read an interesting passage in my SAT prep session. This one was a short untitled excerpt. It more or less stated that humans are the only animals who laugh and cry. The reason: because no other animal has the ability to visualize both what is and what ought to be. Animals only see what is. But because we are capable of imagining what "should" be, we feel emotion. A pretty cool thought. So, if only I could imitate the animals a bit and just deal with what is, right now, instead of comparing it to the way I ought to be living life, maybe I could be chill like the penguins, calm like the platypus. And maybe I'd actually get more done, like the busy beaver.

I want to add a brief notation here that I apologize if I sometimes sound like I am repeating myself with this blog. I feel like the first couple months I had all these new thoughts to process, and now that I've outlined them all here, it's like my brain is going back to each one involuntarily and digging just a little bit deeper. So, I know I wrote a similar blog to this in the past. But I think it was more discussing my desire to give up the shoulds. Now I am ready to actually map out a plan and do it. Because I want to.


I may not know what I want, but I do know that I don't want my life lined up in picture perfect order. First of all, it's boring, second, impossible.