Found Wisdom and Ferris Wheels

Ever say something accidentally profound? Maybe you were just being goofy or funny or random, but as soon as they were out of your mouth, you knew you were on to something? That's found wisdom, and it is one of the great gifts of the universe, as far as I'm concerned.

So the other day, I had something bad happen to me. Not horrible, not emotionally crippling, just bad. The details might be TMI,* though you're welcome to highlight the text below if you really must know.

In a cruel confluence of allergies and hormones, I sneezed hard enough to shift my tampon. Which was tremendously unpleasant, not to mention panic-inducing.

Moving on: After I bleated out my pain, the Songwriter said: "Could be worse. You could be on a Ferris wheel." And we laughed, because, well, yeah.

And over the next couple of days, anytime something went wrong, we responded to it with "Could be worse. It could be happening on a Ferris wheel." Which was still funny, because we're goofballs. But it was also still true. How bad we feel about a given moment or situation is so much about perception. And we're in control of our perspective.

My perspective? Most day-to-day bad things that happen to me would, indeed, be worse on a Ferris wheel. Some of them, MUCH worse. So I am grateful that, whatever else is wrong, I am not trying to deal with it in a swaying bucket, 50 ft in the air. Days when I remember that are happier all around.

The next time a piece of found wisdom falls from your lips, write it down somewhere - on a post-it, in your Twitter feed, wherever. Just the act of doing that will help you remember it, help you use it to make life a little funnier and maybe a little less painful.

*How have I had a blog this long and only JUST NOW needed a TMI tag?! I have been supremely disciplined up to now. Thank god that's over!

Lucky Bastard: John Scalzi Edition

I have a not-so-secret affinity for John Scalzi, author of science fiction, procurer of sinister black velvet paintings, and a source of much amusement on the internet.

Firstly, we share a birthday, and we used to freelance for the same newspaper. Secondly, I enjoy the hell out of his books and his company, in person and online. And thirdly, he moved from SoCal to Southwest Ohio, while I did the reverse. Frankly, Ohio got the better end of that trade. California just got me and about fifty of writers-to-be-named later.

Also: cats.

Relevant to interests around these parts, he's doing 30 days of gratitude for the month of November. From his always-entertaining blog:

I’m a lucky bastard, and sometimes it annoys me when people don’t acknowledge that fact. ... What is luck? At the end of the day, it’s the good things that happen to you that you simply don’t or can’t control. Stepping away from a curb the second before a car you didn’t see barrels right over where you just were. Finding a $20 bill on the sidewalk. Stepping into a restaurant for a bite to eat and seeing an old friend you lost contact with years ago just before she steps out the door.

He goes on to lay out all the tiny occurrences that had to line up just so in order for him to have the (admittedly pretty awesome) life he has now. The chain of happenstance that led his first novel, Old Man's War, getting published is pretty crazy. But even more jaw-dropping is the unlikely sequence of chance moments that ended with him meeting his wife, Krissy. There a bonus link to the first song they danced to (spoilers: awww!).

I often reflect on how damn lucky I have been. The child of an unwed teenage mother, raised in violence and poverty, a high school dropout from the sweaty backside of the rust belt. And here I stand, a happily married, college graduate, pursuing my career of choice in a city I used to think was a pipe dream. Sure, I worked hard. But I have also been incredibly fucking lucky. And one doesn't take anything away from the other.

Putting in the work is noble and needed. It allows us to hold our heads up and sleep soundly at night. But luck plays a part in all our lives, and it's good to step back, look at how unlikely it all is, and say. "Wow. I'm really grateful things turned out this way." When you look at it that way, we're all lucky bastards.

The Thanksgiving Advent Calendar, Day 3: Luck [Whatever]

All Saints. All Souls.

Death may seem like a strange topic for a light little better-living blog, but yesterday was Dia de los Muertos, as well as All Saints' Day, and today is All Souls' Day. And if there are two things I'm drawn to, it's rituals and seasonal observances. (Guess who was raised Catholic. Yeah, you can take the girl out of the Church, etc. etc.)

[Check out This Side of Typical's Dia de los Muertos post. Beautiful. Just like the altars she builds every year.]

Today I reflect on those souls that I love and miss, and give thanks for their time in my life.

This is my grandmother, Helen. 

Her daughter, my aunt Mary Lou.

And Twyla, the best mother-in-law a girl could ask for.

More than anyone else, three women are responsible for helping me shape my life into something I could be proud of. They're all gone now, but every good act, every charitable thought, every small kindness that I do is a direct extension of their care for me. I am their legacy, and damn proud of it.

Try Something New. Then Try It Again

We went to an art show in a hair salon, because,
well, why not. And discovered this little guy.
Photo by Steven Gullett, art by Kelsey Dyer.

My friend Kylee's Facebook bio reads, in part: "I try everything twice, just to make sure I really hated it the first time."

Smart lady.

Life holds a whole lot of options. Thousands, millions. It makes your head hurt if you think about it too long. We burn a ton of energy trying to parse them out, separate the signal from the noise. We try something once, declare it "not for us" and go on about our day.

But as we get older,we become set in what we know we do and don't like. Or rather, what we think we know. We let our capacity for novelty slip away, we take fewer and fewer risks, and our sense of wonder and joy begins to atrophy.

Some things in life, you know right away that once was more than enough - like getting cancer, or taking a group vacation, or watching an internet video featuring twice as many girls as cups.

Novelty is good for us. Trying new things causes our brain to build new neural connections. Couples who try new experiences together report greater long-term satisfaction with their relationships.

But too often, we  carry around ideas about who we are and what makes us happy based on a single experience that happened decades ago. When, if you're like most people, you were a completely different person. One who didn't like broccoli, but also one who thought acid washed jeans were awesome. You were wrong about the latter; maybe it's time to revisit the former.

Today, try one new thing. Or, try one old thing you thought you didn't like. Could be black and white movies. Could be cranberry juice. Could be performing stand-up comedy or doing yoga.

Maybe you still don't like it. Once a year, the Songwriter confirms all over again that mushrooms are an invention of Satan himself. But maybe you'll discover something new about yourself or your friends or the the world, and either way, that's good enough for today.

The Destructive Myth of Effortlessness

No matter how down on myself I have gotten in my life (and there have been some pretty black-dog days. And weeks. And months. And etc.), the feeling has always been tempered with another idea: That I am awesome.

Or rather, that I SHOULD be awesome. And not only awesome, but effortlessly so. 

I should be able to do everything, and make it look easy. As an employee, I should be the rock, the most well-oiled cog, so reliable you don't even have to think about what I'm doing. Oh, and creative, innovative, supportive, and all the other -ives they want you to have on your resume these days, without looking like I'm trying too hard.

As a friend, I should always remember your birthday, always get you the exact right thing, know when you're down and what to do about it. If you come to my home, I should know exactly how to set you at ease, without appearing to try to, because then you would know I was trying and that might make you uncomfortable, which would make me try harder, and from there it just gets meta and messy.

As a woman, I should be able to stay fit without appearing to diet or be seen working out (don't even get me started about body hair). As a wife, I should be able to keep the house so well as to be invisible, as if elves put out clean towels and take out the trash.

Basically, I think I'm mostly a smart, competent person. So I should be able to do everything that is asked of me, with grace and good humor, and not the slightest sign of struggle.

The magic of a great dancer is that they make intense discipline look like weightless ease. What's wrong with applying that model to my own life? Plenty. And before you suggest this is merely Superwoman syndrome run amok, this same problem nearly cost one of my dearest male friends his identity and his sanity. 

This idea that we, that I, should be effortlessly awesome, at all times and in all contexts, leaves me wracked with guilt and shame when I fall short. And I frequently fall short. 

It makes me struggle, stubbornly and stupidly, alone and in silence instead of asking for help. It makes me push everything to the brink of crisis, and sometimes over it, before I say "I think I have a problem here."

The other nasty little surprise in the myth of effortless is this: If you make it look easy, people will assume it is. And this leads them to take your achievements for granted. And this leads you to anger, resentment, and generally hating their guts.

I've seen it with moms who want to know why no one appreciates all they do, but don't want to seem too invested in "doing it all." And I've seen it in bands when one person shoulders all the not-fun-bits (booking shows, making flyers/t-shirts/website, PR -- basically anything that is not playing music and drinking). The other guys don't see it happen, they just get a call that there's a show. I've seen it in myself, and I'm here to tell you, that WILL boil over, and it won't be pretty.

But I've had an epiphany. I was watching So You Think You Can Dance this summer (I know, but I love it. Don't judge!). After a moving performance, judge Lil' C told the dancer, "Don't be ashamed of your struggle." And that about broke me. Because I recognized myself in that, recognized how I felt like effort, or struggle, having to try, made me a failure before I'd even begun. 

And that is less than a myth. That is a damn lie. And I am not going to let it stand a single day more.

Back In The Saddle

Hello, poppets!

As you can probably tell from the cobwebs and dust around here, I've been insanely busy in other parts of my life. Which is good, because it means our little family business has been booking work and keeping the kitties in high-end organic treats, now with extra calming compounds. Manuscript got formatted. Books got edited. Websites got built. Rock shows were attended and Zombie Radio went to Vegas.

WZMB LIVE, NOT UNDEAD: Craig Sabin, Barri Willerford, moi, and James Mathers

I love this picture, except for the way my eyes and lips disappear. Seriously, I need to remember to wear makeup more often. Oh well.

At any rate, I've missed the blog, and I've missed all of you, and I've been thinking about TONS of things to post about. So I am happy to report that regular posting will hereby resume. In the meantime, have a 2-minute rock song.



The Henry Clay People - The Honey Love He Sells from Jam in the Van on Vimeo.

What Are We Waiting For?

I believe way too many of us live our lives in the conditional mood. This is another one of my core principles. To illustrate what I mean, I want to talk about computer programming. No, I know, but it'll make sense. Sorta. I promise.

Back when I was a wee little tot, they brought a bunch of Commodore PET computers into my tiny Catholic school. We were the first class in the history of Corpus Christi to be learn computer programming, the wave of the future!(TM)

Once a week, we learned to do simple problems and animations in BASIC (we saved our work to cassette tapes, that's how old school I am - none of your fancy floppy diskettes here!), and to be honest I only remember two things. Every line of code must begin with a multiple of 10, and how to construct an "if/then" statement.

Life before USB

photo by Toni Saarikko

Simply put, you told the computer that "if" the result of a certain line of code was X, "then" the computer should do Y. Like, "if" the answer to a math problem was input correctly, "then" the screen should display my crudely animated fireworks. Hey, math was not my strong suit, so every right answer was cause for celebration.

So. What do DOS computers and their antiquated programming languages have do with better living? Simple. Too many of us (including me way more often than I'd like) go through life shackled to "If/Then" thinking.

• If I get a promotion, then I'll be able to work on that project/issue/area I really care about.
  If you care so much, why don't you try to work on that project/issue/area now, promotion be damned? Seriously, you're going to spend AT LEAST 25% of your entire time on this planet engaged in "work." And if you drop dead of work or stress related ailments, that number only goes up. Maybe you should think about how you could be happier there, rather than dreading it.


• If I make $X-thousand a year, then I'll think about having kids.
   I know kids are expensive. I really do get it. And I would never in a million years want to raise a kid the way I was, in poverty and worse. But life is crazy. And uncertain. And no time is the right time, no reason is the right reason. If you want something as demanding and fulfilling as children in your life, and you feel like you're psychologically and emotionally as ready as you can be, just freaking do it. The money, the house, the vacations - that stuff will come or it won't, but you'll always have your kids and you'll always be their parent. Trying to put a financial metric on jumping off a cliff is crazy-talk.


• If I could just get a chunk of time off, then I could write that book I've always talked about.
  This one is particularly debilitating, and really, fill in the fulfilling pursuit of your choice: painting, acting, learning Japanese, building custom hot rods. It's one of those lies that feels true. I know, because I clung to it for a long time. Too long. Life is short. We all have to make choices about what to do with our time. Choose your choice. If what you're doing is more important than what you say you want to do, great. Awesome. Own that and stop arguing with reality. But if the other thing, the thing you keep putting off, if that is really what you want to be in the world, then for the love of all that's holy, do it. And not when someone hands you the time; when you TAKE the time with your bare hands, like some sort of creative Viking marauder. You'll feel better, you'll live better, and you'll love better. Trust me on this.


• If I get married, then I'll think about where I want to live and in what kind of home.
  I know that this may sound skewed towards women, but I have known a number of men who used the same logic to live in miserable squalor. Contrary to stereotypes, they didn't revel in it, either - it dragged them down, body and soul. But I've also known women who put off seeking their highest ambitions because quote-I don't know where my husband's job might take us-unquote. Some of these women were married. Some of them weren't even seeing anyone. The mind, it boggles. This life, this is the one you have. The only one. Planning is good. I love to plan. But planning will only take you so far. Sometimes, you have to plunge or you risk being carried away on someone else's current. Create the life you want now, and when change comes, you won't have to mourn that you never had it.

Creative Vikings Unite!

You can see how destructive this kind of thinking is. But it's so a part of us, so crucial to the ways we justify putting off our own happiness, that most of the time we shy away from it, like a horse wearing blinders.

The second half of each of those statements is a thing you could actually have, if you just stopped fiddle-farting around and got out of your own way. The first half? Sure, those would all be nice. But what do they all have in common? They are things that, to one degree or another, are NOT within your control. So what you've done is ceded your heart's desire to outside circumstances. And when you don't get the promotion, or the time off, or meet the perfect partner tomorrow, you haven't just lost out on one life-enriching thing; you've lost part of your deepest dream. And that, my friends, is corrosive. It eats away at all the good things in your life. You know that spiel about a dream deferred? Turns out he wasn't kidding.