Wednesday, January 20, 2010

b

It's cool and wet in california at the moment and it's winter, though "winter" is really something that happens in places where they cut holes in the lakes to fish. people in southern california put on sweaters and panic when it's damp and chilly. not exactly a robust hearty people. this could be projection. i do have on a sweater and i am feeling a little like i'm falling.
the past few days i've been compiling my now list and when I held it up against the trip I want to take i was beginning to think my guide was telling me to scrap the whole project. go home. you're not ready for the big time. find a tour company that does trips for seniors. bingo night on the bay. indian casino day trip. the rose show weekend. then I realize that's not the Guide. it's the sack of story bits i call "my life" that i've collected over the years then made into a blow up bitch buddy who whines a lot, is scared shitless and likes pretend she's the boss. the envelope that lays out the now is thick and full of her complaints. I say this while feeling tired, aching and ..have i said tired? Tired. it's exhausting to take inventory and do it accurately, but i'm tired from years, not from days and if I get all the things I'm asking for, it will be more appropriate to give a thank you card to whatever powers sent it to me. Which leaves my birthday gift for myself. The card has one simple thing handwritten to myself under the preprinted greeting. b. That is the gift I give to myself.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Good-bye, feet!

Things have evolved beyond the scope of the original project, which sounds a little bit like something Alice might have said after the tea cake started to kick in, but that would have been more of a confirmation than a new developement. I mean, the guy with the pocket watch was a rabbit, and honestly, after the "Drink me" thing didn't she really have to know "Eat me" was questionable advise? In any case, what started as one card that lays out where my life stands now and a gift I thought to give myself on my milestone birthday has clearly turned into a treasure hunt where the first clue is the card and the treasure is..well, the treasure. It makes sense though because what is a treasure hunt if not a guided tour.

I've never actually been on a treasure hunt before and I've been a little bitter about that until now. But I've forgiven my mother for teaching me the joy of warm chocolate pudding eaten right from the pan while you sit in the middle of your bed, WHICH I might add, is a really good time I don't recommend, so I don't see why I should hold a grudge over the treasure hunt thing. Besides, I have a feeling the ones she planned for my spoiled and evil younger brothers and sister would have paled in comparision. It's bad karma to say this, I'm sure, but I hope they would have paled because the loot at the end of them certainly would have, and for the record,my siblings are not evil,nor are they spoiled though I have no idea who pod peopled my parents by the time the younger two came along aaaand I happen to love them. Stuart, dude.. call me.

A program update seems in order for those of you keeping score, and well look! Oh my goodness, there are just none of you!! (Before, back when I wasn't taking the Guided tour, because I din't need no stinkin' guide and I'd also decided that maps, money, id, shoes and a clue were also unecessary overhead, you know, back when I was a crazy person, I would have never started until I'd done something goofy, as in "Hark! Now, I must plan me for the web server to handle the load of mine GIANORMOUS following that must surely become my adoring public." I'm better now. Now I listen more than plan.)

Er.. yes.. The program.

One truth in advertising declarations: the "now" as of the next post sealed in an envelope. Semper veritas.
One birthday present in the form of the treasure: A list of what would truly be a miracle should it manifest, given the starting point.
One treasure map that will document the path TO the treasure: This bit of binary benediction

Clue number one: The envelope that holds a description of my present reality as I see it, which I'm not sharing until I've found the treasure, but it's the only clue I won't share. I know all none of you are white knuckling your keyboard in frustration, but this card, into which I'm placing the description, pretty much says it all and I don't wanna talk about it...



Arnold Palmer, meet Ben Hogan

4 part Wild Turkey 101 Bourbon
8 parts sweet tea
juice of two lemons
1 part agave nectar
lemon twists


Add agave to tea and lemon juice until the agave is disolved. Pour tea mixture, crushed ice and bourbon into a shaker. Shake and pour into four martini glasses or one quart mason jar. Add a twist and enjoy.


Tuesday, January 12, 2010

I feel it's only fair to blame all this on my husband.

Several months ago he became concerned that I was spending my life hidded in either a computer screen or a book. The problem was, and to some extent still is, that I'm happy enough not to want to fight for anything different. I'm just slightly bored. That's fine for me, but boring was beginning to become an issue. Not that Flynn told me a I was boring, he enjoys breathing too much, but he did suggest a ) I should get out of the house more often b) I should do something with my time. I came up with law school and bought some books to prepare for the lsat at which point he let it be known he wasn't thrilled with the notion of being the husband of a lawyer. Though he didn't get all Shakespearean and talk of killing them all, he did say,

"I'd hang myself."

I'm quoting.

Needless to say this was hyperbole, and he only felt that way about being married to a lawyer not a law student but I didn't have a such driving passion to practice law that I wanted to cause my husband to take up knot tying just in case, though the idea of arguing all day had appeal, no pun intended. Bottom line, the end result was that I was back to square one. At this point I figured I'd make a game of it and tell him what I really wanted. Serves him right. They ask. We tell. You almost feel bad for them.

To lay out the parameters, I am preparing a birthday card and a gift for myself. The card will contain a few pages of truth about my current life and photos to verify that I am in fact a mess who's very far from where I'd ideally like to be at this point. The gift will contain detail description of my desired destination, a prayer if you will or maybe a san serif pair of ruby slippers that will show me I did have it all along. I'll either open them on my milestone birthday or I'll cringe as I throw them both away someday and think of what I never was been able to bring myself to do. That sounds so fatalistic I might have just depressed my own damn self. I will tell you, I haven't even fleshed out point B and there's already a lot of ground to cover from point A. I just don't want any passenegers to jump off the train. (*hides the rope)

Monday, January 11, 2010

The story...




...is more of a huge life experiment that may end badly or it may simply fizzle, but the question I'm going to attempt to answer is: Can an ordinary human being change their life radically by living as though it were already changed. All the great sages, not to mention Glinda the good witch, teach that wanting something is a result of not seeing you already have it. I do not see the life I want and after having realized a few months ago that I really am going to die at some point, I've decided to do something about it. Living, not dying. I don't expect death to come from a terminal disease, unless you count aging as an illness. It is pretty sick if you ask me, but that's another philiosphical discussion. The point is, I'm NOT dead and unless I want to get that way with my only thought being, "That was rather disappointing." I'd better do something. My plan is to see if I can alter my reality by the time I reach a milestone birthday, several years away.



Honesty or humility or good vision require me to admit that while I'm not terrifically fulfilled and my life is a spam sandwich with mayo on white bread, no crust, cut into neat little rectangles served with a juice box and a moist towelette, I'm very lucky.


I do have plenty materially, because it's morally irresponsible to whine about not being able to shop at Nordstroms when there are people dying because they cannot get enough food to feed themselves. Nor can I complain about where I live. I have a roof over my head and have never been forced to write a prayer on a piece of cardboard paper hoping someone I don't know will be moved to answer it. I have a loving family, an enviable marriage, caring friends and THE dog. So why change anything and what would I change if I did?









Saturday, January 9, 2010

Don't forget the story...

Several months ago I knew I wanted to tell a story. In telling it I wondered how much about myself and what brought me to this story was important. Context, I decided wasn’t important at all if the point was to tell only truth because truth binds uncommon experience into a shared understanding. Suddenly, the value of my small history was minimal and I understood what the real point is. Eventually the truth will always be apparent and we will all always have the same reaction.

"Of course…"