kellementology

life according to me

Category: Plans & Schemes

  • Fooled

    Do you ever have days where you’re up early and feel as if you can do just about anything?  That was me today with the sun not more than a glow behind the mountains and everyone still fast asleep.  But that was three hours ago, and all I’ve accomplished is consume two cups of a very dark Brazilian coffee I found at a local Latin market, and a rather large bowl of Wheeties.

    I’ve flitted from the website of a cooking group I belong to expecting to see this month’s challenge posted (it wasn’t…) to a photography site where I continue to read about how to improve the lighting in my photos and how to build my own lightbox, wondering if any of the boxes in our garage are large enough to work so I don’t have to get in the car before it’s absolutely necessary today.

    I gaze through the stats on my food blog and wonder how it’s possible for the number of page views its recorded are possible since my last check and where they’re coming from.  That takes me to who is so I can research an IP address even though I know that never really tells me anything helpful.

    All the while, I’m making a mental list of what I’ll accomplish today and the time is steadily ticking.  Always ticking.  And to make matters worse, I’ve activated the voice on my Mac to let me know the time on the hour and half hour because I lose track of it so often now, engrossed in too many things all at one time, wanting to do them all, and able to finish only one or two.  It’s truly annoying.

    I’ve wasted at least a half hour searching for an article I saved not too long ago knowing I had something to say about it and now  can’t find it.  It’s no wonder since I bookmark extensively using delicious, Evernote, and Firefox.  I’ve searched, and it’s just not there.  So then the wind goes out of my sails, and I scan my sidebar to visit someone — anyone —  arriving there and marveling not only over their writing, but the lots and lots of people who comment there.  I even visit some of the commentors, thinking about the little community this person has built.  Or is it acquired?  No matter.  It exists.  People take the time to stop and say something instead of, “Nice.”  or “Looks terrific.”

    I remember those days.

    It’s what I get for defecting almost permanently to foodland.

    Goodness.  I’m here so infrequently now I even get spam telling me they can’t figure out my posting schedule.  How hilarious is that?  Um, can you tell us what your posting schedule is so we can spam you more than we already do?  kthxbai.

    It’s almost 10 now, and so I must make some decisions about this chilly, grey….wait.

    It’s April Fools Day!

    Clearly, the joke is on me.

    Thinking I’d actually accomplish something.

    Right.

  • And so I begin again.

     

    In the last many days, I’ve had time to think about this space in my life and its accumulation of nearly two years of what passes for me these days — me in writing, that is.  Whenever I run through the archives and skim the content,  so many thoughts come to mind about when the piece was written — the season, the weather on a given day, what I was preoccupied with or annoyed about.  It’s been more and more difficult to write here and so the frequency has decreased and I’ve found myself adjusting to that, but not particularly enjoying it.  I’ve taken the time on my occasional walks to make mental plans where I’d whip myself into writerly shape working on one project at this point in the day and another later on, somehow fitting it all in.

    The implementation lasted one day.

    One.

    I’d decided to do some admin work related to my sites and busied myself in all that it entails, which is a lot when one might consider that I currently qualify for the old dog aspect of the whole can’t teach new tricks classification.  Bound and determined to prove it wrong, I spent ridiculous amounts of time reading codex and phoning and thinking and whining to get everything moved and it just never worked.

    With every piece I had nearly worked out, another arose and on a computer screen it looks like two window open with several tabs to access in each one.  My head spun with angst over root directories and files, php and FTPs, domains and DNS.  Having much experience in the area of reading research, I can tell you that when content is dense, even proficient readers default to subvocalizing in order to digest and comprehend new information.  It helps — but only if one is also willing to repeat the process over and over with little or no distraction.

    Ahem.

    I Twittered much.  I wallowed in Bubble Bazinganess.  I bonded with Facebook finally, and satisfied my creative spirit cooking, shooting photos of what I’d cooked, editing those photos, and then finally writing about what I’d cooked.  *insert note regarding food obsession here* It only fills the hours, but it never quite fills the spot that this space fills and the longer it was unavailable to me, the more I realized that although I could live without it, I just didn’t want to.

    I thought about people who have lost posessions in a fire, or who have had property vandalized.  I morbidly recalled my trauma induced by the loss of my hard drive on my beloved MacBook and all the glorious photos of our trip to the UK and several years of my son’s boyhood.   I conjured up all the images of loss I could to add to my incessant mulling over of not having this space because I may have been careless.  And if I had, nothing could be done other than start again, because that’s what I do.  I’m good at it.

    So that’s what I was ready to do this morning when I sat down.  Start again.

    And metaphorically, that’s what I’ve decided to say I’ve done, because clearly my archives are in order and everything is up and running.  But I have perspective I didn’t have a week or so ago and need to put it to good use.

    It seemed appropriate to make a few visual changes to celebrate moving on with new purpose.

    Ahhh……

    If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.

    Be satisfied with what you have.

    Every cloud has a silver lining.

    Dude, make it a double.  That was a close call.

  • Making a plan for myself, maybe.

    Yesterday, I avoided coming up here to sit at the keyboard, to sort through emails, to sip my coffee while scrolling through the early morning cacophony that is Twitter.  I’ve been doing this for more time than I like to acknowledge.  Instead, I straightened things up around the kitchen and the rest of the house, started some laundry, and pulled a stool up to the kitchen counter to make a plan of sorts.  It was a scary concept, but I was armed with a pad of paper, stickies, and a sharp pencil.  It was going to happen, or else.

    I also silently vowed to get in the car to get groceries before noon — something I resist doing like one might resist jumping into an ice cold pool buck naked just because it was there.

    (more…)

  • Walk, write. Just get off your ass.

    I should go outside today and walk.

    The cold isn’t quite as bracing as it’s been the last week or so for my west coast bones, and I’m tempted to stretch them in the warm, bright sunlight somewhat like a fat, old lazy cat.

    Tempted would be the key word there.

    But if I ventured out to traipse back and forth through my old walking course in the neighborhood across the street, what would I think about?  The thought is almost as scary as being stuck on an airplane without a book — nothing to occupy my busy brain.  Nothing to worry about or to plan for, to gossip with a friend over.  Just quiet.  Well, and the occasional home owner who seems surprised to see a human walking down his street after his garage door opens just enough to allow him a line of vision.  Interloper that I’d be, my presence would put him in the awkward position of making eye contact and possibly uttering a greeting, or more commonly, have to avert his gaze so as not to invite one.

    I could use the time to prod myself over writing if I went for a walk.  Or organize my plan of attack on the area of our house that is supposed to be a garage and is more like a junkyard right now.  Or make some kind of a schedule for something.  Anything.  You know, so I can have one.

    Aren’t people supposed to have schedules?

    I think people have schedules to have them — not because they’re necessary.  It takes time to plan them, and keep them, and check things off as you complete them. It fills the time in a day so that when your head hits the pillow at night, you can feel like you’ve been a good productive human instead of a lazy ass.

    If I had a schedule, I would be well into it today, have my grocery list made, probably already have purchased and put away those groceries, and be up to my very sore elbows in some new recipe.  (Minestrone sounds heavenly right now in case you’re wondering, but I’m struggling to decide whether that lentil recipe with orzo would be better….)

    But I’m here instead, thinking about next week, yet another new year, and the overwhelming possibilities that come with that inevitable flip of a single calendar page.

    All I have to do is reach out and choose.

    It’s amazing, isn’t it?

    For instance, I could write a book.  I keep threatening to, but know that I’ll get around to it some day — after I have a schedule.  The world needs another book about yet another human who overcomes challenge and adversity and still has a positive outlook on life, right?  I’d definitely need a schedule to complete this daunting task, and would absolutely need to walk every single morning to get it done.  I know this.  Walking helps me sort out the tiny details as much as it also helps me unravel huge structural knots.

    I could finally upgrade this site to 2.7 because I should have a long time ago.  But where would the spammers get to park their disgusting crap?

    I could flip the switch on my food blog since it’s been ready and waiting for the domain I’m paying for and haven’t used so far, needing a week to work out all the kinks I never quite understand.  Actually, I will be doing that next week.  Yikes!

    I could make a list of resolutions to consider, but I’m never very good at that, so wouldn’t take it very seriously and would struggle not to put something on it like, “I will make sure I change out of my pajamas every day all year before 2PM.” What’s the point of taking off flannel bottoms if all I’m going to put on is yoga pants?

    I could get a job, but then I’d have to have a schedule, right? And clothes, and, and, and…I’m still removing suit coats and trousers I no longer wear.  Why would I want to start that all over again.  God forbid having to worry about whether my sweater is five years old, or my shoes are not quite fashionable.

    I could go on a health-nut get-into-shape change-my-life type permanent binge, but then what would I do with a new body?  Write a new blog so I could tell others how they, too, can have killer abs?  I know mine are under my middle age spread somewhere.

    I’d rather say, “Let’s not and say we did” to it all right now.

    But that walk is sounding kind of nice about now.

  • Carly Simon and Memories about Choices

    Carly Simon and Memories about Choices

     

    Yesterday was a marathon of driving from one end of the county to the opposite and in weather more conducive to July than November.  To be more accurate, it’s cooler in July here than it has been the last many days.  I’ve given up wishing and hoping for weather that smells and feels like Fall, let alone the winter that is barely four weeks away.

    But when I’ve got a task to do that should have been completed weeks ago, I set my route and try not to think about it.  I just go, like I’m on auto pilot.  First one store, then the next.  Speak with one salesperson, then another — all the while taking mental notes and feeling my brain ready to explode with so many others’ opinions.

    I’d say that it’s because I’m thorough, but it’s closer to being an approval problem.

    Carly Simon helped.  Helped with the searching — not the approval problem.  I rarely listen to music while I’m in the car preferring quiet more, but felt I needed something to get me in and out of the car with each stop I made.  So Carly it was — and only because I sadly do not carry CDs in my car, let alone an iPod.

    My afternoon of driving was saturated with memories of the who and what I used to be when “Anticipation” and “You’re So Vain” could be heard on the radio when people actually listened to music on radios.  But my favorite was  “That’s the Way I Always Heard it Should Be,” the haunting melody something I loved even though at that point in my life, I wouldn’t have been able to relate to the words — a giving up of one’s self to something others did just because that’s what was done.

    I was too naive to see things that way.  I was too busy looking for fairy tales of my own and thinking they were something that existed instead of something created.  It takes a few mistakes to arrive at that conclusion.

    “But you say it’s time we moved in together/Raised a family of our own you and me/Well that’s the way I’ve always heard it should be/You want to marry me/We’ll marry…’

    I had no remorse about the eventuality of marriage because all of the other strings attached to the decision  were far more interesting, like having an engagement ring, choosing fabric for a dress I would make myself, selecting perfect invitations, a just right location.  You’re thinking there’s a minor problem with that line of thinking, yes?  The matter of “choosing to spend my life with someone who would never have understood me” type of a problem.

    “The couples cling and claw/And drown in love’s debris./You say we’ll soar like two birds through the clouds,/ But soon you’ll cage me on your shelf — I’ll never learn to be just me first,/By myself…”

    No, we didn’t get married.  The invitations were never ordered and the ring was given back.

    Funny what a song can make you remember, isn’t it?

    But I did end up finding what I was looking for on my marathon search yesterday.  It’s a vanity of sorts for part of our home renovation work.  I know you may not quite “see” it the way I do, and that it’s different than what you might put in your home.  I’m used to that.

    It’s because somehow along the way, I’ve learned to be just me first, by myself.

    Or — that I’ve already polled a zillion people on the choice since gawd forbid someone besides myself will have to look at it while they’re sitting on the toilet and think, “What in hell was that woman thinking?”

    But I’m used to people not seeing what I see in life and understand.

    You can still throw in your two cents worth on the vanity if you want.

    Yes, it's for the bathroom.

    Still not convinced?

    After all, it’s just a bathroom vanity, right?

    But when I look at it from now on, I will most likely hear Carly Simon’s melody reminding me that I have made some amazingly good choices in life.

  • Dear President Obama

    Dear President Obama:

    I can’t tell you how much I’ve anticipated your Presidency.  Thank you so much for taking the time to throw your hat in the ring to run for the highest office in this land.

    Now that I’ve made the perfunctory niceties, let me get down to business.  I have much to say…

    1.  I hear everything you say.  Now I want you to do what you said you’d do.  I know that it will take some time, and I’m more than willing to wait since I’ve waited for eight seemingly endless years for someone to save us.  I have faith that you’ll begin your work as soon as possible.

    2.  So there are quite a few Democrats in Congress who are probably rubbing their hands together just waiting to let the rumpus begin.  As seen by us all for the last eight years, a rumpus is not a fun thing to watch, let alone be on the receiving end of.  I have an inkling of an idea that you’ll give everyone a show with respect to NOT taking advantage of the majority in congress.  In fact, I believe you’ll hold your ground and work toward what you believe matters to the country, and not generally to a party line.  Right?

    3.  Sure those Dems will be pissed off.  Too bad.  Nobody wants to have the sweet bird of paradise crap all over their birthday cake.  And pissing them off will most likely put the brakes on quite a few things you’ve got on your agenda.  But hold your own.  They’ll get over it.  It’s not about them, after all, is it?  It’s about us — the people who voted for you.  I know you listened to us, didn’t you?

    4.  On the taxes issue.  I hear all kinds of crap about taking money away from the rich and spreading the wealth.  Poor souls don’t understand they aren’t the ones with the wealth you’re talking about.  But when I think about it, it’s kind of cool that people who earn a very good wage think they’re “wealthy.”  Only in America, right?  Those are the people you’re talking about strengthening, right?  They already pay quite a bit of their income in taxes, and I know it seems like they’re rich to those who make less, but at some point, just because you make more than those who make less doesn’t mean you need to pay even more.  Percentages are always good as far as I’m concerned.  So I’ll keep my eye on this one.  I am worried about how you’ll pay for the debt we’ve incurred in Iraq.  Somehow, that not so minor issue has been effectively swept under the carpet by many people who don’t love you as much as your voters do.

    5.  It has been suggested to me that being the white woman have been since birth, I voted for you because I feel guilty that I’m white and you’re black.  I’m not sure what to say about this other than I voted for the person I thought was the smartest and had the most clear vision of what was possible for our country.  I noticed you were black and that your father was from Africa, and that your middle name was something that sends some people into some kind of a panic, but I decided you were smart and that’s more than I can say for the person who has served for the past eight years.

    6.  You represent so much of what it means to be an American to me, giving hope to those who have come from similar backgrounds to know that they, too, with persistent effort, rise beyond their challenges in life.  It’s important to provide that hope, as much as it’s important to exude the hard work and effort it takes to achieve one’s dreams and goals.  Thank you for continuing to stress the importance of diligence.

    7.  Could you please get on the health care issue?  I truly think this is the most important aspect of your work.  Having a system that is about whether an employer pays for insurance or whether one can “afford” it herself isn’t efficient.  Do what you can, please, to help people understand that waiting in line isn’t all there is to a different more effective health system for us all.

    8.  I’m kind of sleepy so will make this short.  Well, short for me.  But I’d say that second priority is energy.  Something radical has to happen to steer us in the right direction regarding energy.  I love having choices, but I know the time is gone for me to continue to blithely say that I can afford whatever I have to pay for energy.  It’s not about that.  It’s more about what matters to the planet.  I’m tired of paying for foreign oil.  I’m tired of funding not being available to sustain the progress important to the development of alternative solutions.  Yes, there are people who will find problems with any alternative, but what are our options?  We need wind energy and solar energy, and nuclear energy, and…well you know.  Can you please keep all the oil mongers in line?  They seem to be quite the tough customer and only interested in themselves.  Shouldn’t it be illegal for an oil company to record $14 billion in profits for one quarter when consumers are paying astronomical prices?  They’ve made us all clowns while they’re on their way to the bank.  THOSE are the wealthy you’ve been talking about, right?

    9.  Okay, it’s time for bed.  Thanks for listening.  I’ll be back routinely just to let you know what’s on my mind.  I’m just one of hundreds of millions, but I’m willing to talk in a civil manner which is quite challenging for others like my brother who insists upon calling you “Barry.”  You’ll have to forgive him.  He’s a bit cranky, but down deep he sort of gets it some of the time.

    Thank you from the bottom of my heart for running for President.  You have restored my weary heart and have given me so much to look forward to.

    Sincere Congratulations,

    Kelly who happens to live in Paradise

  • I should make a list.

    It’s official.  I’ve finally gotten to the point in my life sans former profession where I feel like I need an additional six hours a day added to my clock.  I’m happy to say that in contrast to my former need for six hours extra *delete rant that was to have been inserted here…*, I’m happily feeling that I not only need to get all that I have to get done…done…I want to.

    It does not mean, nor will it ever, that I am perky, however.

    It does mean that I just may have to blow the dust off my calendar, or more realistically, use my cyber calendar more effectively.  The way I feel right now, I could become a compulsive list maker with the very first order of the day being, make a list, which has never made much sense to me.

    My very non-perky giddiness is being fueled by so many different aspects of life right now — and it’s an interesting one to me, if no one else.

    With the election just around the corner, I’m successfully undistracted by everything the media has to say about Palin, or Ayers, or the Dewey effect, or just about anything that’s coming out of their mouths right now.  They’re on overdrive and have me wondering what in Hell they’ll talk about after it’s all over.  I feel like I need to organize a party for election night.  When Obama crosses that goal line, we should be able to jump out of our seats and scream just like we do when any of our sports teams win.  Yes, I said when — not if.

    I.  Can’t.  Wait.

    In other news, my mother has a boyfriend.  She’s 70, you know.  But there’s something wrong with calling a man who’s well into his sixties a boy, and man friend sounds strange.  Man cake?  She says they giggle about silly things, email back and forth, and go to the kareoke sessions at their complex together.  Sounds like camp doesn’t it?  She also just garnered one of the coveted garden spots, inheriting some established rose bushes and will no doubt have it transformed into a veritable botanical nirvana before spring.  What does this translate to?  The guilt I’ve been carrying around not spending more time with her has eased up a bit, and I’m right in line to have her tell me she’s too busy the next time I ask her if she wants to go shopping or something — which happens once every blue moon or so.

    You go Mom.  What does he call you?  Blue Eyes?  Oh, my.

    And then, of course, there’s the remodel the economy tried to squash, but couldn’t.  In fact we started the process yesterday and now I’m feeling like I need to pinch myself over it all and then snap out of it.  There’s so much to do.  Do you have any idea just how many bathroom vanities, pedistal sinks, vessel sinks, over mount, under mount, wall mount, porcelain, stone, hammered copper, wooden, antique, modern possibilities there are?  It’s sort of Heaven and Hell all at once.

    Like hot flashes.  Raging heat, then freezing cold.  Okay, so maybe not. *looks at watch wondering just how long menopause actually lasts when one has no equipment left*

    Then there’s my food blog which has begun to feel like a business.  That’s a good thing, but I’m a bit slow on the uptake and need to sit down and think about it all while I’m not in front of my Mac which is beyond distracting.  I know I’m the only person on the planet who feels that way, of course.  Or better said, the only person who has no resolve, no will power, no stick-to-itiveness.  Actually, I’m great at all those things as long as they’re connected to my Mac.  I finally decided to take on my own domain with my food blog and having my memory refreshed about the process is less than thrilling.  But I’m relentlessly persistent and will figure it out…

    …after I’ve sucked it up and decided I can no longer put off creating a weekly baking schedule and menu plan.  Gina is a pro at this and posts it like clockwork. Impressive.

    But what about world peace you say?  Well, there has never been a time that I haven’t realized my freedom to have the quality of life I enjoy isn’t something to be taken for granted.  I know this.  I know there are people who haven’t had the opportunites I’ve had, or the health and food we enjoy.  I know there are people who have to deal with war every single day.  No, I can’t imagine.  The peace I enjoy is not something they understand…What did Cat Stevens sing about all those years ago?  Something about a Peace Train…

    **start copy**

    Join The Revolution
    Here are the rules and the story.
    (1) Copy this into a post (2) ADD YOUR NAME to the bottom of the tag list
    (3) Tag at as many people as you’d like.


    The Peace Globe project began in the fall of 2006 with a simple post from one blog, Mimi Writes. The post ignited a flame in the blogosphere. The flame became a passion. The passion became a movement. It amazingly traveled from blog to blog to blog across the globe. Bloggers wrote passionate articles on what peace means to them, along with the promise of three Latin words scribbled on a globe – Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) – branded with the integrity of their names or blog names. It was positively inspiring to watch. And it began to happen all over the world – from Singapore to China to Afghanistan to Brooklyn.

    It was simple. And powerful.
    In less than three weeks bloggers from all across the globe will blog for peace.
    We will speak with one voice. One subject. One day.
    Won’t you join us?
    November 6, 2008

    How To Get Your Peace Globe In 4 easy steps!

    1. Right CLICK and SAVE the peace globe below or choose from other designs here.
    2. Sign the globe using Paint, Photoshop or a similar graphics tool. Decorate the globe anyway you wish. You can even include the name of your blog. Click     here for hundreds of inspiring examples from previous BlogBlasts.
    3. Return the peace globe to me via email ~ mimiwrites2005 at yahoo.com – Let me know your blog’s name and url by leaving a comment     here and signing the Mr. Linky. Your submission will be numbered and dated in the official gallery . Your globe and post will be listed on the Official BlogBlast For Peace website and The Peace Globe Posts page.

    Here’s the most important part.
    4. On November 6, 2008 DISPLAY YOUR GLOBE IN A POST. Title your post “Dona Nobis Pacem”. This is important. The goal is for all blog post titles to say the same thing on the same day. Write about peace or simply fly your globe.

    Go HERE for the other 3 globe template choices!)


    If you’d like to help spread the word, take this button to your site. The code is in my sidebar.


    I, Mimi Queen of Memes, hereby royally tag the following…….

    (Before you copy this list on your blogs, ADD YOUR OWN NAME to the bottom of the list. )

    ………………………………………………………………………………………………YOUR NAME HERE.

    YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE TAGGED TO PLAY.

    Please passing this meme through the blogosphere. Peace + Power
    This is Mimi Pencil Skirt reporting from the lovely land of the Peace Globes.
    Memeing the Movement.

    **End Copy**

    I’m officially tagging (and I NEVER do this…) Scott, Gina, Jerry, Ben, Meleah, Ritzy, Francis, paisley, ladybanana, Phil, Mike who are all lovely people and will probably think, OMG, what is she doing?  By all means, consider yourself tagged if you’re in the mood.  Maybe even try to write a better post that I have about world peace…

  • Crickets. I hear crickets…

    I sit at my Mac on an enormous grey exercise ball scanning all of my open windows.  There’s twhirl in the upper corner — not nearly as noisy as it has been, but there, its colorful avatars proudly displaying each person’s thoughts, comments, responses, and taunts to visit yet another link.  And email is open, too, even though it shouldn’t be considering an audible reminder lets me know when I have a tweet, or more junk mail.

    Blurb is open too, as I’m compiling a friend’s family recipes into a cookbook.  But I’m here instead.  I swore I heard crickets coming from the general vicinity and thought I might fill the space a bit with words that don’t add up to much more than my thoughts, which I suppose are something.

    I’ve learned that in order to write more than what I’m taking up space with at this moment, I’ve got to read and be involved.  To do something other than what I’ve been doing.  I’ve also learned that I can’t wake up at 4am and expect to function at this point in the day.

    None of this is unfortunate, however.  In fact, it’s how I’ve always wondered life might be if I had the choice to do what I wanted and when from one day to the next.  My house is even clean.  My cupboards organized.  The last bit of cat crap sprayed on the wall in her last explosion decontaminated.  The nasty white carpet I’ve complained about for the past year and a half soon to be torn from the floor and replaced by indescribably beautiful wood.

    And we’re going to Las Vegas this weekend.

    Like how I slipped that one in there?  You’re thinking we just went, right?  Actually it was a year ago, I think.

    This means I have to go shopping you know.  Maybe a few tops to wear with my jeans.  Pretend I know how I’m supposed to dress…

    Like I could pretend even if I wanted to.

    It’s more fun to watch the the twenty somethings doing their party thing — from afar, mind you. *remembering that twentysomething girl barfing in a trash can last time…*

    But it will be relaxing as it always is, and there’s sure to be good food on our agenda.  What?  Like that’s a surprise.

  • Middle Aged Anomaly Tucks in Ass Each Morning

    I click “Write” on my WordPress dashboard, waiting for the spinning wheel that is my brain to slow knowing that it won’t and that focusing on a single stream of steady thought on any one idea will seem impossible.

    No, be impossible.

    In 20 minute’s time, I’ve gone from thinking about working out a recipe for apple cinnamon nut ice cream, to worrying about the huge bowl of bread dough I have fermenting in the fridge, then mulling over tonight’s debate between Palin and Biden before reading through most of this Slate article and being completely distracted by a list linked inside that article. Or maybe it was somewhere else on the page…can’t remember.

    I don’t normally spend my time reading these types of articles, but once in a while, one will catch my eye because the writing is good and it actually feels as if there’s a person behind that writing. Quite a concept, yes?  Aspects of it will get me thinking, of course, and the entire time, somewhere hovering above it all (at least today) are Natalie Goldberg’s words about writers I scanned over this morning in the bathroom:

    Writers live twice.  They go along with their regular life, are as fast as anyone in the grocery store, crossing the street, getting dressed for work in the morning.  But there’s another part of them that they have been training.  The one that lives everything a second time.  That sits down and sees their life again and goes over it.  Looks at the texture and details.

    Okay, so Natalie, I haven’t been “training” because that would imply that this living twice business is something I choose to do.  You don’t choose it.  “It” chooses you.  For example, not only have I thought about what I’ve described just now, but I’ve thought about it many times since, and am now thinking about it again.  And yet again when revising this paragraph.  Still thinking…

    I do this all day long.

    It’s like watching myself live my life and even though it’s odd, it provides me quite a bit of time to think about how and why I do what I do.  As much as I can say there’s a soothing (insane) aspect to it, unfortunately it doesn’t lend itself to improving my productivity.  Bills are sitting in front of me, there are quite a few piles of recipes I’ve torn from magazines ready to be recycled sitting in the middle of my family room floor (where they’ve migrated after being on the kitchen counter for several days), and I need to get off my derrier to go for a walk today.

    But I’ve arrived at the conclusion that the bloggosphere can be quite the brutal place — at times, what I imagine it would feel like to go through a carwash without my car, each spray of water or rotating brush pushing me first one way, and then another and never quite making it to the end.

    I’m tired of it but have no one to blame but myself.  I think much of it stems from the fact that who I am and what I have to say here doesn’t exactly fit anywhere.  This conclusion isn’t earth-shattering, nor is it meant to be accompanied by a whine. I don’t whine.  I have been known to climb up on a soapbox and metaphorically flip the world the bird, however — just not as much as I used to.

    *sigh*

    I am a middle-aged woman.  That I enjoy who I am at this particular point in my life doesn’t really change the fact that I’m somewhat of an oddity in the Bloggosphere.  Sometimes, it’s overwhelming to be surrounded by twenty and thirty somethings with toddlers, techies with jargon I never completely understand, snarling, snarking political junkies, celeb gossip mongers, and the increasingly less than attractive you-too-can-make-money-at-home crowd.

    I’m an anomaly.  And I guess that’s the most annoying part of this since I always have been, so why should my persona here be less so?  One would think I’d get used to being reminded that I’ve always been a square peg.

    I have no stories to tell about my toddlers, my Satanical boss, my commute, my gigabytes, and there is no way in hell I could ever sit down here and try to be funny every freaking day because people want a cheap laugh.  But I’m also not going to wallow in the bathos of my life (liar, liar, pants on fire…), lamenting about mistakes and missed opportunities. No, really.

    What I will do is continue to look in the mirror each day, and after taking more than the normal minute or so to scan my body and realize it doesn’t exactly look like it used to even five years ago, suck in my stomach, tuck in my ass, smile and know that I am me.  Still.

    Sounds like a warning, doesn’t it?

    Heh.

  • Alive, Exercising, and So Not on Main Street

    Well, hello.  Remember me?  I’m the one who used to write here quite regularly.  I’m never quite sure how it gets to be Tuesday after it seems that Thursday was just yesterday, but that’s how it goes.

    I think I’ve figured out that if I had a way to hang on to my thoughts while I was out walking, or putzing around during the day, I’d have no problem sitting here and downloading them.  But the time passes, and then whatever I thought was so pithy has evaporated.  You know, kind of like that bailout the House was trying to get passed?

    I could spend all kinds of time writing about that, but everyone else seems to be handling that quite well.  I’m sure my opinions aren’t needed.

    I did notice on my walk this morning, that everyone seems to be sharing theirs, however.  No matter whom I passed, I heard comments regarding “credit,” or “Wall St.” and the beyond annoying “Main St.” reference that is supposed to be us, I guess.  You know.  Average Joes?   This isn’t Kansas, and I don’t live on Main Street.  In fact, does anyone any longer?  I just want to yell, “Snapoutofit!” to all the talking heads.  Ugh.

    What a train wreck.

    Instead of getting up at the crack of dawn to walk this week, I’ve been trying to think about wondering if I might possibly consider attempting to somewhat establish a new routine.  The old routine, walking with my VBF, has been an excellent one that has lasted fairly well for more than two years now.  But she’s quite the busy person, and her appointments have been getting earlier and earlier.  How sad is that?

     

    Clouds at Dawn

    Although neither one of us is too thrilled with the idea of getting up to exercise that early,  it gets it over with and I know I feel good about that.  Plus, I can have bed head hair and clothes that I wouldn’t be caught dead in at any other time of day, unless you count that I leave them on the rest of the day.  Let’s call it conserving water, shall we?

    So today, after I dropped my carpool charges off at school, I continued down the street to park and try my routine near the beach.  Sounds motivational, doesn’t it?  The goal here would be to do this twice a week so I wouldn’t have to think about it.  I’m in the car already, so why not?
    Early Morning Beach

    It goes something like this:

    I park at the beginning of my route, walk about 20 minutes in one direction, then turn around and go back.  Allowing for issues such as feet that ache, a shin that stings, and a butt muscle that is mysteriously aching, the entire effort takes 40 minutes — about the time it takes my friend and I to complete our route.

    I can’t figure out what the aches were all about today, because I haven’t had those problems for quite some time.  Walking by myself has never been a thrill a minute, so who knows.  Maybe I wasn’t walking as fast as my friend and I walk.  Her dog usually drags her on the leash, and that keeps us hopping.  But, we do have some hills that have me gasping for breath and I didn’t have to deal with anything like that today.  Maybe I just feel like complaining.  Wonder of all wonders.
    Waves at Wind-n-Sea

    The nice part about this route is the beauty.  The sun still hadn’t made it over Mt. Soledad, so the beach was cast in shadows.  Here and there, as the sun rose, the light shot through the side streets, coloring the water as it pushed up onto the sand. Very nice.   It looked like there would be blue skies forever today — so different from yesterday’s unusual thunder and pathetic sprinkle of rain.

    A thrill a minute, everyone.

    Totally.

    Now, I only have about five more days of the week to fill with exercise.  I can’t tell you how unexcited I am by this prospect.

    It challenges watching dirt cover the ground.