Shhh, just be still

We all handle critical situations, frightening news and tragedies differently. The trick, I'm learning, is to not judge the way we process, and don't react defensively. Pain is pain. Judgement doesn't help anyone's coping.

The Magician Theory

A colleague and I began a marathon last month--a T.C. Boyle marathon. To say this writer is prolific is putting it mildly.

I started with "The Inner Circle," then moved to "The Road to Wellville." She is also on her third. But strangely enough, we are both having the same phenomenon happen.

Friend and I are both voracious readers. We can cruise through multiple books a week. (Do not judge social life. Other than walking sheepdog and hosting really fun conversations, reading is about all I want to have time for.)

And yet, despite our voraciousness, despite how we happily salivate at the amount of pages being above 400, we trudge through TC Boyle novels. Not because they are not engaging--quite the opposite. His books are quirky and well-written and thought-provoking. But when we retire for the day and pick up our TC Boyle paperback, whichever one we are currently on, the pages seem to multiply. The chapters become longer, the page number increases.

My theory is this: Boyle has cast some sort of spell on the books. Have you seen his photo? He resembles some sort of magician, so I don't think I'm that far off.

If anyone out there is a Boyle scholar, and has the answer to why or how the stories linger, please post a comment below. In the meantime, I stick to my Magician Theory.




by Pablo Campos, Los Angeles CA, 2000

When on a mission to gather wits, I look for good love stories. Like this one. And this.

the pursuit of happiness and other coping mechanisms

There are times I lean to describing myself as minimalist. This blog layout is a good example--very few images, soft blue template coloring, no videos or hyped-up attachments.Sometimes I use correct capitalization, but usually stick with the unassuming lower-case letter.

And other times I feel like one big room of dusty clutter.

I don't imagine this is different from how many feel--traveling through our days with constant, random thoughts in mind, making lists, erasing them, adding and subtracting, adding and subtracting.

Today, however, thanks to a psych faculty member here, I learned one of my coping mechanisms: Research. This is apparently what I do when marrying the clutter with the minimal, tossed with a sprinkle of avoidance.

I became Calvinist when I researched his philosophies while procrastinating on a Jane Austen paper; Lutheran after being enamored with the image of Martin himself nailing 95 papers to 95 doors, rather than finishing a book review due, and now, Lockean after performing research for a grant proposal. Long story about the thread of thought that led met o him. Suffice it to say it had to do with the pursuit of happiness as an unalienable right.

So today I am:

And, adding to my list of enamorations (yes, made word up. It's my blog, I can. Not bound by any brand awareness concerns in this corner):

Never fear, the grant will be sent off shortly. I've just picked up a few new philosophies along the way. To add to the clutter as only a minimalist can.

idealists and ice cream

What's the solution when feeling depressed, getting over a tragic event, staying away from a gallon of ice cream and sedatives?

Giving. The more we give, the more we get out of ourselves and contribute, the better we feel. (Although, I still say a bite or four of ice cream is still necessary no matter the mood.)

If you don't have an altruistic job and want to remedy that, or if you are just looking for volunteer opportunities, check out this website.

epiphany

When epiphanies arrives it is not during some intense or celebratory occasion. There is no large fanfare,  no great spotlight shining from behind.

Rather, epiphanies pull in and park, and these little ideas, thoughts, solutions, begin to reveal themselves dullest, seemingly insignificant moments. But after, oh the trail of gold and star they leave.

Epiphanies come and go in the dull and grey so that after they depart, we are able to see with so much clarity and brightness it almost hurts--all that wisdom we temporarily hold. We don't even mind that the sensation isn't permanent.

opportunity

IwantthisopportunityIwantthisopportunityIwantthisopportunity ... and there it goes, out into the great big universe, the wish and self-fulfilling prophecy combined.

excels in the art of laughter

What my eyes saw on the Human Resource job board:

"LOL Administrator with advanced MS Excel skills."

This advertisement makes perfect sense to me. Even the fact that one would have to be very Excel-proficient to accomplish Laugh-Out-Loud endeavors.

Fuel For Helicopters #3

She

We have no voluntary control over the beating of a heart. This morning I took the CPR renewal class at the Y. And this fact is all I can remember. It’s on repeat in my head. Going to pool. With my involuntary beating heart. If only I could concentrate on the beats rather than Rihanna over at the “Sanctuary.” Should have done a bit more research before taking this job. Smitten with pool: Check. Researched neighbors in case the nearest house is a televised Keiger: no check. Shoot.

Here’s something you may want to know about me: I fall asleep writing letters in my head; solving the universal conundrums; world peace. And I wake up void of even the simplest thought of the night, the plainest solution, the perfect verb. So, the only thing that makes sense is to swim. Despite the ruckus from next door. Forget going to bed early. I’m going for a walk.

Fuel For Helicopters #2

Jopsef

I made my fortune in cartography. I do love a map. Especially if it’s to a place that doesn’t really exist. Pretend maps—a GPS to nowhere.

In college, I befriended a computer geek whose capstone project was a video game about a lost city. Think Indiana Jones meets Men in Black. He needed a map for players. I drew many—enough for all the levels of jungle and skyscrape cities and space. Space maps are my least favorite. I like to keep my feet on planet earth, or at least within the atmosphere. Google Play bought his game, and I was paid a lump sum and continue to earn royalties every time it’s purchased. His capstone was the game; mine was the business plan and the contract. Neither one of us work much anymore.

So when one of the producers of “A Season of Bachelors” flew to Austin and found us sitting in Acoustic Café drinking lattes and planning the evening, he propositioned us to be contestants. Chuck, Computer Geek, said no. I just laughed. So the producer handed me his card. Later that night, Chuck bet me fifty grand I wouldn’t make it past week 3 in a game like this. Glitz, and fake boobs, and booz. What guy, introverted or not, wouldn’t take that challenge?

Game on.

I wonder if I can draw a map from this café to the “Sanctuary”—A Season of Bachelors stationed house for all the contestants—located somewhere in Hollywood.

Chuck thinks I’ll fail because I have too many rules. This, my friends, may be true, but we want what we want, and cannot help the attributes which irritate us.

Rule #1

Don’t date anyone who changes the traditional spelling of their name for the sake of trend. Examples: Britanee, Brandi, Lizzee. You get my drift. Basically replacing the “y”s with “I”s and “s”s with “z”s. If the image of a heart floating above the straight line indicating a lower-case “i,” walk away in a brisk manner.

Rule #2

Don’t date a girl who wears a thick stripe of blush across her cheeks. It’s distracting and implies a lack of bone structure or insecurity about it.

Rule #3

Must be somewhat knowledgeable in the subject of geography. If they talk about the state of the country of Africa, make a polite toast and walk away.

Rule #4

Should be able to run at least 2 miles. Three is better.

Fuel For Helicopters #1

She

The truth is not all of us have extraordinary stories. We are not all born brilliant or particularly talented in the arts, physically strong, or high jumpers. Our dreams, like our abilities, are nothing more than common. For me the lifetime goal is simple: remain kind and swim in four places. Oh, and I would like to know what it feels like to be loved.

In the meantime, I spend late spring in a house with a large pool up in the hills of Hollywood. House-sitting for the owners while they are in Europe. Or South America. The deal was sold when I saw the pool. The salary is nice, will help with living expenses … don’t worry … the sort we all have. But it’s the pool that sold me.

I could teach you how to swim. Feet should kick six small times in between each stroke. Breathe out while head submerged, tilt to side to inhale. Rotate shoulders so that as the arm enters the water, not the tiniest of splashes is made.

Quiet and pretty.

Weightless and strong.

Like pearls.

Like beginner’s love.

I shall go in now and then get out and walk the usual evening walk. Please do not interrupt me. I am trying to be kind. And quiet.

connection

The hurricanes from the south are causing rocky seas near Iceland. Interesting, isn't it, how everything is so minutely connected--how waves are caused by storms thousands of miles away.

faith

If you don't maintain faith that the world will turn in your direction, it simply never will.

pretending french

On a quiet weekend afternoon, she can be found sitting outside contemplating her true loves in life: novels, big, long-haired dogs, languages (particularly French. Although she is not fluent, that does not stop her from pretending), and far-off foreign places.

holes

When people give you advise, outsiders whose intellect, expertise or personality somehow qualify them, it is important to keep in mind that what they tell you is based only upon what they know. The entire story, all of the pieces, emotions, experiences big and little, are left out for the sake of conversation.

So remember, while the adviser may be wise and adept, it is you who hasn't expressed every detail.

Take the advise you can use and forgive the reset. It came from a place of holes.

Don't be swallowed

Really, it's all doable. Just calm down and paddle.

Alaska - The photo was taken at the entrance to Katlian Bay at the end of the road in Sitka , Alaska . The whale is coming up to scoop up a mouthful of herring. The kayaker is a local Sitka Dentist. He apparently didn't sustain any injuries from the terrifying experience. All I could this was "Paddle Man--really fast!" The whale's mouth is fully open with the bottom half under the boat. Look at the picture again - He is in the whale's MOUTH! by Mark Tennant.

Believing in fate while being pro-active: this is the key.

"Do not be afraid of money."

I read this sentence over and over again from the article on my desk. It's on repeat in my head, and it looks like a small piece of paper from a fortune cookie.

"Do not be afraid of money."

Ok.

Secret to Prayer

I only pray the Rosary on the "Joyful Mysteries" days because, well, there is joy involved. I figure if I choose to have an official form of request on a day of sorrow than I am surely to only focus on that.

The way, of course, to get around this, is to not adhere to the Rosary calendar, and chat with Mary as if everyday was a Joyful Mystery, which really, they sort of literally are anyway if you think about it.

The perfect blend

While I do love a countdown, and I do normally feel the inevitable involves great celebration, there is no way at this juncture to use real numbers as the timeline is a bit blurry to me. Still, I have faith that the incredible and the good is coming. And soon. I can just feel this. Now, if we can mix hope with a little practicality, all shall be well, no?

Until this actually happens in a way I can see, and not some mysterious message from the heavens, than I shall write everyday on this small corner cyberspace has granted me. And when said miracle does happen, this corner will be the first to know. Or maybe the second.

The time is now

"Why hasn't Gen X stepped up yet?" asks my Boomer friend, my very progressive, intelligent Boomer friend. "I keep waiting," he adds.

Good question. Some responsiblity--mine now in consideration.

Do I begin with grant-writing? Or, how about that foundation that has been in the head since my three-year love affair with a foreigner?

Is it time to write a proposal and send it out to all who believe in love--one that asks for donations to get star-crossed lovers legally on the same island or in the same country with ease, and less intimidation?

All who want to weigh in, now's the time and below is the comment box ...

Prayers and Wishes

Dear Universe, Mary, Joseph, Jesus, Ghosts, Buddha,

If you could please make a way for me to get on that boat, I'd really really really appreciate it, and promise to work very hard making it up to you for the journey.

Please and Thank you,

Girl in Love