Archives for July 2016

It’s Not The Piece, but it is A Piece

July 26, 2016 by

I have fallen into a pattern over the years where I have a certain time of the day I like to write. It started, I think, because the super early mornings are the quietest time in my house. Everyone is asleep. There is nothing to distract, there are no people to entertain, there is no guilt about other things I could be doing…I just write.

The hours of writing are pretty rigid. 0400 until about 0800 is it. If I am up any earlier than that, I use that time to do whatever until 0400 because seriously, I cannot reward getting up earlier than four in the morning with extra writing time. It would seriously get out of hand. After 0800, the guilt starts to creep in around the other stuff that I should be doing. I fall straight into “oh my god you big piece of shit you aren’t even getting paid to do this so get up off your ass and wash a dish, cook a meal, pick up a sock, or something productive” mode.

While this time frame has served me well, there are some real drawbacks to it.

First, the obvious. Sleep. I like laying around in the bed as much as anyone else. I have to make the choice. Sleep or write. When I started running, the choices became even harder – sleep, run, write. It becomes pretty daunting to a schedule when three wonderful things are all fighting for the same time slot.

Second, I have a lot of unfinished stuff. Worse, I have stuff I just say fuck it and delete. The time slot feels like a deadline. If I can’t produce in the amount of time given to me, it just isn’t there (or so I have conditioned myself to think). Usually I just hit delete. Sometimes I will save it, but honestly, I rarely go back to any of it. I write in the moment so often, it is hard to put it down and go back to it later.No greater agony

The third thing is akin to the second. I don’t have a large project and I would really like to. But I never feel like I have the appropriate time to devote to a larger writing project. I also am afraid to commit to a theme that I feel today but won’t feel tomorrow and then what am I supposed to do with that? It’s almost the same way I feel when I am registering for a long race. This is so far out in the future. How will I ever be able to plan for this? What if something happens? Can I really be ready? What if I spend this money and then I just can’t get there? Won’t that be a waste? Won’t that make me feel like a failure?

Let me tell you that all those things happen in the brain of writers and runners. It really does provide a compelling argument to choose sleep.

writing garbage

Finally (at least for right now) is I think I have the misfortune of conditioning myself to both writing at this time,  and also to ONLY write at this time. If I don’t make those hours for whatever reason, I’m not writing. Even if I really need to. This is not productive. If an idea comes up outside of those hours, it gets very little attention paid to it. I don’t even make a note of it. I have become so accustomed to the time parameters that I have justified in my brain that all worthy ideas will happen during those times and any ideas outside of that time will not be worthy once I get around to them. I then further conclude that because those things are true, I am only creating mess and clutter by attempting to preserve these snipets of worthless thoughts and really, who needs that in their life?

Me. I need that in my life. I need to be more open to the words that come into my head, the ideas that rattle around in my brain.

Me. I need to be more flexible with my reception to ideas and times to just put words on paper. So writing at night feels different than writing in the morning. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe there is something there I have never discovered, a groove I’ve never explored because I have convinced myself that it just isn’t “the way I’m wired” or whatever.

write it down

Me. I need sticky notes every where. Journal pages scribbled on. Every where. Half formed ideas and snippets of thought snatched from a moment of time to be revisited later when their full worth or lack thereof can be better measured. My ideas, my thoughts, while not all spectacular, are at least worth more than a passing throw off because the timing wasn’t optimal.

Write for yourself

Me, I need bravery in the process. That it won’t all be good and that’s okay. That it won’t all feel good and that’s okay. That it won’t all be true and that’s okay. That it won’t all be my voice rather another that I am trying on because I have never walked that way before and how can I explore all the pieces of the world if I only take the same trips over and over again?

#nobow

 

Tennessee Williams Quote

Tennessee Williams Quote

Filed Under: Writing

Writing, Running, not pushing Post

July 23, 2016 by

The last few months have been pretty interesting for me. I spent a good bit of time nursing a running injury. The injury, which I have struggled with before, took way more time to heal than I originally anticipated. The rehab process, while doing much better now, was slow going. An unintended result of the extended timeline was a whole lot of time to consider my injury in a broader sense – were there underlying causes, what do I need to do differently, is it a natural consequence of age, is all this running just fucking crazy, should I hang up my shoes?

I came to a few conclusions. I have a very limited idea where this is going this morning so my conclusions maybe in some kind of cohesive flow and you may just have to shake and shimmy through them just like I am 🙂

writing monster

I run for the same reason I write. It keeps me sane. I have a tendency to pull towards the high and low extremes emotionally. When that happens, my brain tangles up and ideas get hitched. I am not always really sure what I think. When I am, I am not sure that I really think that. Maybe one day I will be able to explain that better, but for today, that’s just going to have to do.  For a while in the beginning, we worked on bringing that back towards the middle with meds. I won’t go into all that here, but suffice to say it was not optimal.  If fact, it became so counter productive that I ceased taking anything at all.

Writing has always been a great untangler of the brain snakes. I think we’ve discussed before the therapeutic benefits I experience in putting words on paper so I can consider whether or not they are mine.

answers four hour run

Running has the same untangling effect. Christopher McDougall has a great quote. “If you don’t have the answer to your problems after a four hour run, you ain’t getting them.” Folks have often asked me if I get a runner’s high. I don’t. I do get a runner’s level which, for me, is even better. Because I have high/low tendencies, running is a perfect tool. The endorphins keep my low end elevated and the run burns off the energy at the high end. It is a beautiful thing.

I have also fallen into the same mistakes running as I do writing. Most notably is ancillary work, consistency, and common sense activity.

I know I should stretch more. I know I should read more. I know I should should should….but I don’t. If it isn’t writing exactly, if it isn’t running exactly, it’s placement on my priority list goes way down. In case you were wondering, this is probably the worst idea ever. Okay, so maybe that’s overstated just a bit, but it’s a bad idea. Writing is hard. It is an emotional endeavor that leads to places I am not always ready to go and it changes me every time I do. As I look at that last sentence I realize I can say the exact same thing about running. It’s hard. It takes you places. It changes you. Shoring that up with the ancillary activities that support and care for that is important – maybe most important because it allows me to keep doing the main things longer with more effectiveness.

writing ink blood

I know I should be more consistent. I will go months without writing a word. Weeks without running a mile. Then I will explode into the gotta write every day and I gotta run 20 miles this week. This doesn’t work. The mind doesn’t function that way. The body sure as hell doesn’t function that way. It needs some warm up, it needs training. It needs consistency. Otherwise, the dormant / balls to the wall flip flop causes substandard performance with counter productive results.

I know that doing something, anything, is better than doing nothing. I know that. I know that. But I don’t always know that. I’ll look at my 20 minute training run and think, “Why in Sam’s hell am I even getting out of bed for 20 minutes?” Or I’ll look at the available time I have to write and think,  “There isn’t enough time to get this whole thought out and formatted. I just won’t write.” Or even worse is the, “I can’t post that so I won’t write.”

That’s probably the worst – I can’t do what I think is the natural outcome so I won’t start the journey. Maybe I can’t finish the race. Maybe that piece of writing will get too personal, too convoluted that I can’t publish it. So I don’t. The problem with that way of thinking is I never start and therefore never know what could have been…that’s no way to be.

Filed Under: Health and Wellness, Writing Tagged With:

Bubble Poppers

July 14, 2016 by

Unless you have been hanging out in Siberia (and maybe not even there), Pokemon Go has come into your field of vision. To say that it has been popular is an understatement. Since it’s July 6th release, the augmented reality game has boosted Nintendo’s shares by over 50% with $9 BILLION boost in value – in about a week. Reports show that hunting little Picachu is more popular right now than Tinder and Twitter. It would appear that catching them all is more important than trolling and sex. Who knew?

I was born in 1976 – I am not the target Pokemon demographic. However, when my two older (read “love the wifi”) children and their friends (read “also love the wifi”) asked if they could borrow a cooler to pack drinks and snacks because they had plans to spend the entire day walking around outside in downtown Savannah (GTFOH!), I became curious. I downloaded the app, and while it isn’t my thing, I can definitely see the appeal.

I caught my first Pokemon and texted the screenshot to my daughter. I was an instant rockstar. She wanted to text, talk, and damn near sit in my lap when she saw me. I’ve since deleted the app (like I said, not my thing) and she still loves me. She’s a little disappointed, but she has assured me that her love is unconditional and she is sure we can get over this little hiccup in our relationship. After all, I did birth her and she is responsible for my very first stretch marks so that has to count for something, right?

Evidently I was not the only parent experiencing this phenomenon of sunshine deprived couch children suddenly emerging from the basements and bonus rooms equipped with long distance hiking travel supplies.

Suddenly, there were people…everywhere. Walking around, exploring new places, talking to each other, interacting…everywhere.

And it took exactly from Saturday to Tuesday for the bubble poppers to show up in my social media sphere.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not talking about the funny meme folks. I am not a humorless twit. Some stuff, while snarky, is funny.

Batman Pokemon

I am talking about the assholes. The ones who don’t play, don’t care, don’t know, don’t have any skin in the game at all – except when it comes to popping your bubbles.

Bubble poppers have come into my field of vision lately. I can’t quite put my finger on how the idea gained solidarity in my brain, but it’s there. I have vague recollections of watching children blow bubbles, having that create immense happiness, watching a bubble pop, and the look changing from delight to crestfallen.

Something about that recollection at some point was triggered when I experienced this played out in real life. I can’t remember when or how. I can’t even tell you if it was me.

But I can tell you I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, and, admittedly, I have been guilty of doing it.

Bubble popping – that moment when a thing is bringing you utter joy and someone decides to just stick a finger in it and deflate the whole experience.

Understandably, in the real world, there are some ideas and situations that need to be attended to. Not all happys are healthy and sometimes you need a little poke of reality in the midst of the joy. Admittedly there are real issues with Pokemon Go frenzy. Safety needs to be discussed. Personal space needs to be remembered. Respect for where you are and the people around you does not take a back seat catching them all.

But haphazard bubble popping is a bullshit move.

However, I am adult enough to know that this phenomenon is not going away. Bubble poppers either don’t know or don’t care that they are being assholes. Or maybe popping bubbles is their bubble and this will pop their bubble. I dunno. And frankly, I’ve decided I don’t care.

What I do care about is learning to better protect my bubble.

#nobow

Tennessee Williams Quote

Tennessee Williams Quote

Filed Under: Chrysalis

Defining Truth (ish)

July 7, 2016 by

One of my favorite byproducts of regular writing is the exercise I get in the word department. I love words. I love discovering what they mean and how that can be the same or different from what people mean when they say them.

This has proven exceptionally important when attempting to answer the question, “What is your truth?” This is a concept that has eluded me for quite sometime. The idea is just too big and small and squirrelly and hard. And then I am convinced I must be “doing it” wrong because if I was being my “authentic” self then I would just “know” and my “truth” would “resonate in my being.”

There’s enough trigger in that statement that I need a shot in my coffee now. Honestly I am a tad disgusted with myself that I just used the word “trigger.” I’m sorry for that. But here’s what I think. I think I am not the only one who has been completely overfuckingwhelmed by all of that. I think that this idea of discovering truth has become One. More. Fucking. Thing. that we are dying to make folks feel inferior at. Motherhood anyone? Work Life Balance folks? Yeah, you hear me.

However, just like raising my children and figuring out the work:play ratio that suits my life, having some idea of my truth is necessary. The older I get, the more I feel the call of adventure and life. The fact that our days are very, very limited grows more apparent to me every day and has created in me a desire to explore all the things. But maybe not ALL the things. Maybe just MY things. But what are MY things? Is that an okay MY thing? Or is that YOUR thing that I want to be MY thing? Is that a socially acceptable thing? Do I care? Who the hell decides anyway?

And four days later when I am able to get out of bed from the complete crisis of life and introspection, I am still no closer to scratching this itch that is nagging my spirit. So I go where I always go – to the words…

Truth ~

~ fidelity, constancy
~ sincerity in action, character, and utterance
~ the state of being the case…fact
~ the body of real things, events, and fact…actuality
~ often capitalized…a transcendent fundamental or spiritual reality
~ judgment, proposition, or idea that is true or accepted as true
~ the body of true statements and propositions

There is a lot here in this singular word. When I turn that around and attempt to decide how that applies to the way I see myself, it is damn near paralyzing and I think maybe I’m just gonna go back to bed…until I hit that very last point…

The body of true statements and propositions

In other words, to me, a person’s truth, my truth, is pretty flexible. It is not a limited scope of ideas, but a body of work. And while there are some steadfast ideas (true statements), there is also my beloved wiggle room.

Proposition ~

~ a statement or assertion that expresses a judgment or opinion
~ a suggested scheme or plan of action

And there it is…opinion, suggestion…which I totally translate in this context into adventure!

My truth is that I am a constantly evolving creature. I have always known this. But I assumed that this was too simple, too small, and too obvious. I am learning that maybe it isn’t so much. There are those who are more steadfast and constant. I think I have always admired that. I think there has been a part of me who has always tried to be that. I think I am not so much that. And I think I am okay with that.

To flesh out a different way, I think I have always judged harshly my inner gypsy. I have always assumed that tendency suggested flaky, untrustworthy, irresponsible and, therefore, undesirable and unacceptable. I have been really ugly to her. I have been unfair. I judged her without really getting to know her. She is honest and true because she is me. She’s simply a bit more free spirited than the other Many. That doesn’t make her wrong, it just makes her different.

My truth is I am rooted in adoration. It is my base point. I prefer to adore and be adored. So it’s no wonder my spirit is consistently unsettled around this idea of personal truth. My adoration circle conflicted directly with my self scourging of my gypsy circle. There is no Venn.

If I had treated somebody this way, I would owe them an apology. Today I apologize to me. I am sure I will be abusive to myself again. Unfortunately it is a habit at this point. It’s just going to take some time to change. But I love me and I have patience with me. I have the amazing good fortune of knowing my intentions for myself. I have forgiven others more while knowing less. I can afford to offer the same to The Many…to the Me.

The forgiveness and acceptance of self is so important. There is more truth there, just like the gypsy, looking to be accepted and appreciated. There are all the adventures. There is adoration in all the things…

This is not the post I set out to write, but it is what was birthed. So, again, I am left with no bow, no witty wrap up…just a burning house.

Filed Under: Chrysalis Tagged With: