With a Little Help From My Friends

It’s hard to describe the excitement of having a creative idea and writing it down on paper. It’s somewhat on par with solving a puzzle. This puzzle, though, is invisible and your stomach tells you whether the pieces fit or not. The pieces fly at you fast and you have to put them together before they start to evaporate, which they do, even as you are using them. A lot of times it gets a bit messy, which leads to editing, but that’s a whole other type of board game. Every once and a while, though, the pieces click just right and it’s beautiful—when beautiful is an emotion, that’s good writing.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt like that. Recently, writing has been a chore. It’s something I’m supposed to do on a regular basis so I get better at it. You know, like keeping plants or sit-ups. When I consider what to do for the day, writing is not my first inclination. It falls somewhere after do the laundry but before water the plants. (At least, it will always beat sit-ups.)

I hate it when I feel this way. Most of the time I love writing and it is my excuse for not doing chores. I don’t know why sometimes ideas come to me and sometimes I’m blocked. I don’t know when I entered this latest malaise. All I know is sitting down to write this blog entry seemed hard enough without considering that great American novel I’ve been meaning to get to.

So, what’s the cure? It’s the same cure as for everything else: practice. So, I make myself sit down and write the non-puzzle like writing until that great sweep of inspiration hits me again. Hence, writing starts to feel like chore. It’s a bit of a Catch-22 (but without all the fascinating stream of consciousness).

The last time I felt this type of block, wanting to write but nowhere to go, I discussed it with my friend Aedee. She pointed out that we were always writing in college. It’s easy enough to see why: constant exposure to other art forms and philosophies, big gaps of time, and that college student’s self-importance that creates the need to share your specialness with the world (because that’s what the world’s been missing all this time!). There was something else, too. Aedee pointed out to me that we were constantly sharing our work with one another. We had our own small community of writers and it fostered creativity. It gave the boost of encouragement and feedback that is so often missing when you sit down to write alone and you’re not sure it’s worth it. The group atmosphere really did impact the joy of writing. Upon further discussion of the matter with our friend JS, we decided to form a writer’s group. It was informal, to say the least, but it was just enough of a nudge that my writing and, most importantly, my enthusiasm for writing improved. We called it Last Saturday based on the monthly meeting day.

Finding myself in the same writing predicament, but this time with Aedee and JS in Vermont, I enlisted Rae to help me re-form the group. We’ve only had one meeting so far and it was just the two of us, but it was a great meeting. It got me to write, it made me think about writing, and it sparked something. During Last Saturday, I couldn’t help but notice a small inkling of excitement, a slight sense of possibility, like when you click the first two pieces of a puzzle together.

Could Play a Guitar

My friend Rae asked me the other day if I was still playing guitar. Apparently I’ve stopped bringing the conversation up every five minutes. Though my adventures as a Guitar Goddess have not been exciting enough to post, they have not ceased. In fact, I consider “Teach Myself Guitar” to be one of my more successful endeavors.

Though I cannot, as of yet, play anything that the world at large would call a “song,” I can hear a difference in the way that I play. I have a respectable six chords to my name (okay, maybe five; I can’t really play C but I know how I’m supposed to be able to play it if I had Gumby-fingers). I’ve moved strumming with chords from the “Impossibly Hard” category to the “I’m Not Too Bad at This” category, and I’m happily chewing through the guitar lessons on about.com.

The lessons are structured so that you practice the basics before you get to the real music (crazy, I know). The first couple of lessons feature scales and strumming exercises so that you can learn to move your hands around a guitar. This skill becomes important when you have to change chords mid-word during a song. Right now, my chord exchange time sounds something like this, “Take it ease.......................................................y.” Though the Eagles seem like a laid back sort of band, I’m sure they never intended that audience members would be able to make a cheese sandwich in the time it takes to play half of one of their lyrics. Thus, I practice the scales and strumming patterns daily.

Luckily I enjoy the technique practices. While, yes, they are rote, I do hear a difference in my attempts at playing songs. I’m confident that playing that one scale yet again will someday result in intricately-fingered guitar solos. I’m sure that if I just keep strumming a C chord, eventually it will sound like a C chord (even if my contorted fingers are callused and bleeding).

I like to think of it as the Karate Kid method. I just need to wax on/wax off enough and someday I’ll have crazy ninja guitar skills. Until then I shall play beautiful scale patterns and “take it ease...............................................y.”

I’m Just a Kid From the Milky Way

I have added “saw a shuttle launch in person” to my Life List. A Life List is a list of those things that you’ve always wanted to try or do, or places you’ve always wanted to visit. I have also heard it referred to as a Bucket List after the movie of the same name where Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson play two old guys trying to do all the things they’ve always wanted to before they kick the proverbial bucket. There are two parts to the List: things I want to do, and things I’ve done.

I used to refer to crossing things off my Life’s List but then a friend pointed out that this made the list sound static, as if there were only so many things to do, they were set as is, and once they were done the list was over. If there is something that your Life List shouldn’t be, it’s static. Though the List must end at some point (buckets and all that), I much prefer thinking of my Life List as something that will grow and change as long as I continue to do so.

Things do change on the List. “Climb a mountain” has fallen away, I must admit. On the other hand, “eat squid cooked in its own ink” has been added. Then there are the things on the List that you didn’t know were to do’s until they were done. I knew I wanted “go on a whale watching tour” for quite a while before I did it, but I didn’t realize “seeing a roseate spoonbill in the wild” was worth being on the List till it happened. Truth be told, I didn’t even know what a roseate spoonbill was before I saw one. I recommend it as a worthy addition to anyone’s List. It came about for me as part of a larger Life’s List item: “see as many national parks/wildlife refuges/preserves as I possibly can.”

Last year at Thanksgiving my Mom said the classic List-triggering phrase, “I’ve always wanted to...” In this case, the second half of the sentence was “see a space shuttle launch.” I knew instantly that I too wanted to do this. In further conversation we discovered that my Dad also “had always wanted to.” We decided, then and there over turkey, that we would see a shuttle launch in the upcoming year because it was our last chance to see one.

Rule of thumb: a Life’s List item is more easily accomplished with a deadline. (“Go to Australia” has, for instance, has no deadline and has sat there for quite a while.) NASA is retiring the shuttle program and there are only so many flights left to see. So, if your Life’s List includes “see a shuttle launch,” you’ve got till the end of 2010. If your Life’s List does not include “see a shuttle launch” may I humbly suggest you reconsider.

To see the shuttle launch from the Astronaut Hall of Fame, my family and I left our hotel at 11:00 pm. The launch was scheduled for 6:00 am. We were told by the nice lady on the NASA hotline we needed to leave so early so as to beat traffic. The nice lady on the NASA hotline wasn’t kidding around. We were glad we got there when we did as we watched the traffic for seven hours, sitting outside in Florida swampland, waiting for a shuttle to launch. Though a balmy night, we got colder and colder as the dew descended and the breeze blew. The breeze was a disguised blessing, though, as it kept the mosquitoes at bay. Someone said something about the crowd scaring off alligators. I thought this was a joke until I took the official Kennedy Space Center tour and counted five alligators just from the bus. We tried to doze but, sitting in lawn chairs in an ever-growing crowd of excited people, it proved impossible. So we waited, shivered a little, and waited and waited for seven hours. Afterwards we waited in three hours of traffic, without having slept, to get back to the hotel. Why am I telling you all this? So you will believe the truth behind what I’m about to say.

GO SEE A SHUTTLE LAUNCH! It was all totally worth it! Seven hours of waiting for five minutes of adrenaline and it was worth it! It was so awesome! In every sense of the word, it was awesome! If you have the means, please, for me, go see a shuttle launch!

It happened right before dawn so we were staring into the dark. Then came the 30 second (if that) sunrise; except the sun was leaving a trail of smoke behind it and clearly twisting as it went up into the night sky. It’s at this point that the sound caught up with us. Remember, light travels faster than sound so we saw it before we heard it. Imagine the loudest, most window-rattling thunder you have ever heard in your life. Now imagine it at ground level and, instead of rattling windows, it’s rattling your insides. Then silence. Well, then silence except for all the birds going nuts from the crazy loud sound wave that just went by. We could still see the shuttle as it moved into orbit position and gradually became smaller and smaller so that it seemed as though it was becoming another star. As those of us Earth-bound chattered with the sudden influx of adrenaline, the real Sun began to rise in a more graceful manner without the fanfare. As it did, the light caught the twisting rocket trail and illuminated it with all the colors of a sunrise.

It was amazing. I would go again to the next one if it were more fiscally possible. I would go again to the one after that. I would go see every possible one I could until there were no more because it is like nothing else there is and I got to see it. My Life's List includes seeing a shuttle launch.

When Everything’s Lost, The Battle is Won

Quite a bit of life has occurred between now and my previous post. On the shortlist, I’ve moved, been to a new part of the world, added a big check to my Life’s List, and broken another mirror before my previous gloomy seven years was up. As usual, when I have lots of things to write about, I’m too busy actually doing those things to write about them. I know I can always write about them retroactively, but do I write about them chronologically, by degree of interest, by importance in the grand scheme? If I went solely by momentary inclination, I have to admit that this would be a very whiny post about how I can’t believe I broke another stupid mirror. (I imagine such a post would be peppered with sound effects such as grrrrrrrr, argh, and harumph.) I have chosen to resist such a post, but I still find myself with a surfeit of topics.

This is a common theme in my life right now. I have a lot to do. Post-move I find myself with a quickly growing to-do list of projects around the house. First of all, I’m fairly certain that absolutely everything needs to be reorganized. Again. Then there are the little fix-its that accompany living in a duplex that I had not experienced in apartment dwelling. This is not a complaint, I like little fix-it projects because they are quickly managed but seem to contribute to my sense calm quickly. Flipping the fan blades so the white side is down rather that the fake wood-grain side still makes me happy and I did that a couple of weeks ago. It’s just that when there are fix-its everywhere and all you want to do is alphabetize your DVDs, it’s hard to know where to begin. (Strangely enough, it never seems to be with the DVDs.)

I have also returned from a vacation where I took lots of pictures and I’m a photo organization nut. I want to organize, remove red eye, print, post, and scrapbook! That takes a lot of time in a house where there are no towel bars. Worse yet, I’m two scrapbooks behind in terms of vacations and my scrapbook supplies may or may not be in the back room closet. Then there are the frames—oh, the frames!—which not only need to be updated and dusted, but actually hung.

You’d think that’d be enough wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, I insist on having a social life. When I could be switching doorknobs this weekend, I’m forced to attend Fiesta events with friends. An opportunity to write a post about Florida will be squandered on a birthday brunch. It’s all so much sometimes. (Imagine a dramatic sigh here.)

Isn’t there something else that I have to do? What is it again? I’m sure there is something that takes up a lot of time. Oh yeah, I have to work. A job sure cramps a gal’s schedule. It’s almost every day, takes like seven to eight hours at a time, and can really wear you out. It’s no wonder I’m not entirely sure what happened to all my washcloths. However, if I want to buy more of them, I have to keep going to that job thingy.

One of my friends (the one with the birthday this weekend, in fact) gave me permission to wait until my birthday in June to host a housewarming party. That was such a relief that I have decided to give myself permission to write about all my exciting life events later. I figure as long as I get the posts in before 2011, I’m good. Until “later,” however, I’m afraid I just don’t have time to write a post.

If It Makes You Happy

I had a good day today. Why?

Well…

—I was presented with a series of small challenges all day long that required concentration but were still quickly surmounted.

—I did something that made me uncomfortable, but was thanked for it.

—I gave someone the answer she wanted.

—I completed a task with the confidence that I did it well.

—I erred on the side of hope rather than caution.

—Something I’ve been patient about, did pay off.

—One of my bigger problems remains unresolved but I know that I’ve done everything within my power to bring about its resolution.

—I wasn’t able to finish everything I had to do today, so I know I will have something for tomorrow.

—I reconnected with a friend I haven’t seen in a while.

—I organized my to-do list on color-coded sticky notes.

It really doesn’t take that much to sway a day into either the good or bad category. I’m glad that, today at least, I seem to be steadily moving toward good.

Homeward Bound

When travelling in Alaska, a park ranger told us that the native tribes used practical place names. For instance, the direct translation of the name of one area was “Place Where it Floods in Spring.” The tribe always knew, then, they shouldn’t camp there in the spring because that is where it flooded when the snow melted. As I find myself looking for a new place to live, I can’t help but appreciate this system. How nice it would have been had that last duplex I looked at been called “White Trashville” rather than “Oak Wood,” I would have saved some gas driving to go look at it.

I don’t have to move. I live in a perfectly nice place. I am hoping, however, that I can find someplace better…maybe someplace a little bigger…maybe someplace without upstairs neighbors…maybe someplace where I can have covered parking…maybe someplace with two windows so I can get a cross-breeze.

It’s amazing the little things that contribute to our sense of happiness. I remember, a few years ago, looking for a new apartment that had its own washer/dryer connection. Oh the wonderment I felt at being able to wash my laundry in my own abode. No more laundromats for me! Such was the basis of my joy at the time. Now, it’s the lure of a second bedroom that causes me to explore the wilds of “Doorway to the Garage is in the Carpeted Master Bedroom” and “View of Auto Parts Store.”

I am the modern American nomad. I can’t afford the house I want, but I might be able to rent someplace a little bit nicer than I have now, so I must look. I must hoard the empty paper boxes at work, I must critically eye my belongings’ lug-worthiness, I must risk one more odd-smelling bathroom. There’s a chance I might fine, “Perfectly Nice Place to Rent While You Save Up For What You Really Want.”

You Could Have it so Much Better

I was reading a friend’s blog earlier today. She is in the middle of pursuing what can only be described as a life calling. As she nears the resolution of whether or not this dream of hers will come true she wrote out the question that, no doubt, haunts her throughout this process: what will I do if it doesn’t go the way I want? The simple honesty of this question did not strike me as much as the sentence she wrote immediately after it. She told us, her readers, that the question was only rhetorical and that we shouldn’t respond with answers.

As someone who has received a lot of advice lately, I couldn’t help but empathize most with that second statement. At times, it seems I can’t utter a sentence without someone immediately offering me a suggestion. In complete fairness to my friends, most of the sentences to come out of my mouth lately have been complaints and laments. Such statements are open invitations to the world that I need help, are they not? The fact that my friends are so quick to offer me solutions only shows that I’ve communicated my problems well.

I truly believe this free advice is given to me in love, because I was ready to answer my fellow blogger’s question as soon as I read it with that same sense of love. I know exactly what I would say to her had she not, so helpfully, pointed out that she didn’t actually need a response to her question. In fact, the more I consider the topic of advice giving I am aware that, in happier times, I was the grand champion of advice giving! I couldn’t wait to hand out my oh-so-useful knowledge to anyone who needed it, whether they knew they needed it or not.

Happy people love to give advice. Why shouldn’t they? They want to spread the happy! We all want to lose weight, make money, find a trustworthy contractor, answer the big philosophical questions. We all know this, so, if one of us is successful, we want to share it with the others. Yet, somehow the sharing of our happiness ways transforms into instructions. “I found Jesus!” becomes “He’s right over here!” “Joe does my tile work,” evolves into a “Have you called Joe yet?” “I went back to school,” eventually leads to, “There are plenty of online classes available, you just have to look.” “Weight loss is hard,” sympathy can even turn into the accusatory, “You’ll never use that gym membership, will you?”

In a life naturally filled with ups and downs are we doomed to conversations that are naturally filled with complaints and suggestions? Is your level of happiness defined by what side of the advice you are on? I know I gave people a lot more of my opinions when I had more confidence in my own little space in the world. As I struggle now with doubts and worries and, evil so horrible, boredom, I don’t spread my philosophies so freely. I moan and bitch a lot. I get a lot of advice.

The happy try to spread their joy to the not so happy. What’s wrong with that? As my friend so succinctly stated in her own blog, the advice is not always required. Sometimes the statement of doubt is enough. Sometimes we just need to voice our worries and woes to the world, without comments. Sometimes we just want to be understood, not rescued. I know the obvious, but do you know the frustration?

I had two conversations with two different friends. I told both of them the same thing. My job is unfulfilling. One gave me a list of tasks to fix my problem and ended this list with, “There, I’ve given you your homework assignment.” The other one listened. When I was finished she said, “That sucks.” Both of them love me and said what they said because they care. They both said what they thought I needed to hear. One I walked away from still frustrated and slightly resentful. One I hung up the phone with, feeling better and missing her presence in Texas terribly.

Is one friend better than the other? Of course not, that’s not what I learned. I learned what made me feel better. I’ve been given some wonderful advice in my life and using it has led me to happiness. At this particular moment, though, it didn’t make me feel better. The next time my life is all sunshine and flowers and I’m happy as can be in my little space in the world, I’m going to try and keep some of my oh-so-useful knowledge to myself. I hope I’ve learned to be a better listener.