Oooooo sexy!

I’ve been back on Bumble for less than 24hrs and already I want to get off! There has to be a better solution to finding someone I want to climb mountains with, eat Scooby snacks with, have great conversations with, ride bikes at the Burn with...and so much more. This evening I started the usual (boring) texting with someone I swiped right on. (I find the whole premise of swiping right disgusting...but I'm at a loss as to what else I can do‽) So anyway, I started texting and here's how things proceeded...

Now don't get me wrong! I'm happy to be called all kinds of pet names once we've met and we're both into each other. I'm cool with "babe, sunshine, nibble" (yep, I've been called that one!) "sweetie, ma'am" (though this one sometimes makes me feel old...) "sugar, sexy, boo..." and the list goes on. I am honestly not at all fussy about pet names! I'm not someone that finds terms of endearment offensive. When I see the look in someone's eyes, that tells me this name they've chosen for me means that I mean something to them...that they like me...then they could call me "snarkelpuss" and I'd be thrilled! But when you've never met me and we've only exchanged 10 fragments of a sentence, don't, just don't, say "Oooooo sexy" at me!

Thank you and goodnight!

ps - Also, I should not be something you get up to just cause you're bored!

Jr. High All Over Again

*WARNING! Long post* 

I remember Jr. High, maybe not like it was yesterday (because it certainly wasn't!)...but I remember it well. I remember going into 7th grade as an uncomplicated, somewhat oblivious kid who liked to climb trees, make art, run around bare foot and, given the opportunity, hop into any body of water no matter how cold it was. My classmates were rather different that I was. 

I was lucky enough to be a part of a class that made dedicated, seasoned teachers want to retire. The girls were 13 going on 21 and the boys, well the boys were boys...but if you played a classical instrument, weren't into New Kids on the Block and were more into art and being a tomboy, than into makeup and gossip, you were labeled as totally lame. In 8th grade I became less oblivious and realized that my class was a toxic environment, petty, cliquey and not a place where I felt I fit. Lucky enough, I said, to be a part of this class, because it taught me a few very good lessons.

One, I am not someone who thrives in a cliquey environment and staying in one will, in the end, make me very unhappy. Two, you can always do something else/remove yourself from a situation. Three, true friends will stick by you even if you walk away from the friend group they are a part of (because let's be honest, toxic cliques are more of a social group dynamic rather than toxic individuals).

So why the trip down memory lane, after all it was longer ago than I care to admit... I guess it's because currently, I'm dealing with the same bullshit in my professional life, but unlike my Jr. High classmates, who had their age, hormones, etc. as an excuse, this entity, this professional clique, has no excuse. So I am, yet again, faced with a decision and need to choose a direction for myself, professionally speaking...

For the past five years I've quietly put my heart and soul into my work for a festival. This year is the first year I won't be back. This was not my choice, and to be honest, I'm heartbroken. I tried my best...but I guess (ironically) my best just wasn't good enough...it would have been nice to get some constructive criticism (as a painter I'm very familiar with this method of learning). In most cases I'm not just a hat rack or a pretty face. Growth comes from seeing or being shown what your shortcomings are and having a supportive environment so that you can take steps to improve, to grow, to flourish with this knowledge. 

Not only is the loss of this collaborative artistic endeavor painful, but it also hurts that this job was integral to the flow of my personal artistic life. It afforded me the time to paint, while also being able to (mostly) pay my bills...I will miss that freedom of being able to create in the space of time surrounding this work. I will miss the visual and sonic inspiration this event gave my artistic practice. I will also miss leading a team. One of the most rewarding (if not the most rewarding) jobs I've ever had, was leading this team and many of you made the experience such a pleasure. I still look forward to working with you again, elsewhere in the future.

I'm choosing not to dwell on the hurt or confusion of this, because it does not make any sense. Any failings or short comings I had could have been easily solved with a constructive, open, honest and genuine conversation. Having reached out for months to try and set up this meeting and been completely ignored, I am at a loss as to what else I could have done. I am an intelligent enough person to be able to listen, learn and grow...but not being given that chance makes me feel like I am being seen as disposable. 

...and I am not disposable. 

As one of my favorite sayings goes, "you may be the juiciest, ripest peach in the world but there's always gonna be someone who doesn't like peaches." The small, hurt person in me wants to lash out, to shout angry truths, to expose unprofessionalisms, to elucidate rampant nepotism/cronyism, but the person I try to be (and somewhat fail to be, by including that last sentence) knows it's not worth it...that in doing that (as pleasant as it might feel) I would become a person I could not respect. I refuse to stoop to that level. As Michelle Obama said. "When they go low, we go high." That is my goal, anyway. So instead I will say this...

I'm sorry to all of you I reached out to, back in January about being on the team this year! I think it would have been an amazing team with you all on it! I had so many exciting ideas - new furniture to build, creative, warm and inviting new lighting schemes to design, not to mention resurrecting Oscar the Couch (and maybe adding a Burt and Ernie). I'm truly heartbroken that we won't be working to make some festival magic together.

My hope, in the face of this, is that I was a good coworker to those of you who did work along side me these past five years. I hope that I gave you a chance to grow and flourish as a fellow human being, colleague and friend. I hope that I made you feel seen and appreciated, and not overlooked. I hope that you enjoyed those moments as much as I did. I look back with love at all the amazing moments I've had with you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I hope we have more opportunities elsewhere to create and grow artistically together in the future.

Bookends

The hills outside San Jose are dotted with a particular tree in full bloom. Their color is that of a forsythia bush, but they are tall, the blooms a yellow puffball the size of a grapefruit or large navel orange. The color bursts out from a sea of lush green as they dip and wave in the breeze. It must be spring, now, here in this timidly familiar place.

Pylons criss-cross the verdant surroundings as we approach the city...moved forward in a luminous pink bus. I've given Costa Rica two months of my life now, slowly inching up the list of other geographical contenders for my attention. The slender bodies of the bamboo that frame the highway are yellow too, but softer. Broken up by their leafy tops, they do not smack in the eye like the "Costa Rican forsythia" does.

Our pink bus plunges down the hill into the suburbs of San Jose. My two bags (one holding all my art) and I will soon be expelled from this rosy air-conditioned cocoon into the bustle of the city for my last forty-eight hours here...ramping up to the level of home, LA.

Reflective, as one might be on, say, New Years Eve, I circle around this thought...I do not believe in transformational festivals, an irony not lost on me, since I spend the better part of the year bringing these festivals to fruition...but there it is. For me, life is transformational. Life, that is so much bigger in scope than a tiny sliver of time in the jungle, or in the dessert, or the mountains...but in this particular instance the festival has served as bookends to my year. Highlighting my transformation in the year that was wedged in-between.

"What a difference a year makes!" This common phrase is spot on for this last year. My experience of this festival, as well as my changed response to the city of San Jose have served well in highlighting this shift. Confusion, heartache and loneliness have faded away, like darkness with the approaching dawn. This year I am "me" again! Happy and interested in life all around me. Invested in my art and hopeful again that I will find an adventure partner that shares my passion for life rather than kills it...what a difference a year makes...

While you, my dear (few) readers, may find your festivals to be transformational (and I'm happy for you if they are, as I LOVE creating that magic)...I will be happy if my life continues to be a source of learning and transformation.

Can't Wait for the Awesome!

You know when you look back on something you thought was awesome but really turned out to be just totally shitty...and you wonder how you could be such an idiot, cause for the most part, you're a smart cookie?!

...and you find yourself wondering, why did that have to happen? What was even the point? To see how terrible you can feel and still survive? I mean, who needs that?!

...but then you realize that when awesomeness comes around again and this time it's some realdealMFingbananaswoohoothatsit awesome...the comparison is going to blow your mind!

Yep! Can't wait for that AWESOME.

(in the meantime I'm gonna keep painting and baking and riding my bike)

Laters!

The Power of Tiny

Painting walks a fine line between meditation and inner contemplation...after this last Burn I dove straight in and sank so deep that I was a day late in returning my rental car (oops!). While there have definitely been meditative moments, on the whole, the process of working on this latest painting has been a very contemplative process...digesting internal experiences that took place for those two weeks in the dust. (my navel runs deep 😉)

Today I had a moment where a physical/visual occurrence dovetailed with my inner monologue (so it makes for a tidy example).

The painting I've been working on contains some blocks of letters on red. They are bold and stand out in a sea of (mostly) monochromatic tones. They are the visual equivalent of the grand gesture...and they were at odds with the rest of the painting...too bright...too much...to there...but I knew that they had to be a part of the painting...a part of the bigger picture.

This afternoon, I made a tiny gesture. A tiny visual gesture. I added five matching red shapes, the largest of which is no bigger than the fingernail on my index finger...and the whole painting just popped into togetherness.

You wouldn't think such a tiny element would have such a big impact, but it does. This tangible example mirrored what I have been mulling over in my head, during, and since the Burn.

So much in our lives focuses on the grand gesture (and don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan, it makes for a good story) but what inspires me more is the tiny gesture...the tiny pebble that is tossed into a pond and the subsequent ripples that reach the other side and then reflect back.

Maybe some slightly less esoteric examples will paint a better picture.

I went to the Burn this year wanting, seeking the grand gesture, the epic adventure, the sparkle...and for the most part it remained elusive...

In a mid-week lull of whatthefuckisgoingonIwashopingforadifferentnarrative, a tiny moment presented itself. Not a grand adventure. Not a chance to have a magical make-out session under the stars, nor a letscommandeerbikesandgetlost or a letseatallthefuckingcandy* ...but rather a moment that said, stop, sit outside your tent and a small but worthy conversation will come your way.

It did.

Change radiated out from that tiny conversation and back in...

Tiny gestures...

Of course the power of tiny gestures goes both ways. You can take two seconds to pick up a mooped sequin or two second to brush off someone in need of inclusion...

I think in the face of big events (and there are so many happening around us constantly) we feel a need to respond with a big gesture, and we forget that even the tiniest act, can have a profound effect...

I guess what I'm really trying to say, is thank you, to all you bringers of the tiny gesture...you made my Burn... x

Dic Pics and Foot Fetishes

Dear Boys on the Internets,

Hi! Nice to make your acquaintance. I will shortly be writing to you individually I would imagine. Opening with something generic like, "hope you're having a lovely day!" Please feel free to return the sentiment. Following this banal exchange of pleasantries we can arrange to meet up in person, because, let's be honest, all bets are off until we've done the human equivalent of dogs sniffing each other's butts.

However, before we proceed, let me offer  a little suggestion. Something you really should know by now, unless you were raised by wolves, or something, because any rational human being with the minimum of brain cells needed to breathe should know this...

No, I do not want to know about your fetish before we've even shared a cup of liquid legal stimulants.

(I'm happy for you that you have found something that hits your "yes" button, and should we proceed to something beyond the aforementioned liquid stimulants, I will be happy to discover if this is a "yes" button for me too! Yay! Everybody wins!)

Just not yet...let me finish my cup of coffee first!!

Also...

Yes! Hurrah! You have a penis! I'm glad you've discovered this! I've known for quite a while that boys have penises... (I don't, being a girl and all). While I'm so happy that you love your penis, it is, after all a part of you...no matter how proud you are of having this extra appendage, now is not the time to show it off.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this letter. Just incase you are still at all confused...

No dick pics and the fetishes can wait!


Sincerely,

A generally very calm and rational girl who's patience as been sorely tried today.

Home is Where the Hollywood is...

I woke up this morning
and you were on my mind.

A hangover from a dream.
(my subconscious still converses with you)

One turn and out of bed,
the canyon air, perfect.

The kind of day you only get in LA,
in spring, before the heat.

My mind melds the dream with reality,
and I want to continue that conversation over lunch.

I mentally pack a picnic basket,
food binds us where little else did.

Soon I'm feeling the wind in my hair
with you in front of me.

Dreams are beyond the need for safety,
we're flying...

Reality begins and ends in dreams.
Though not real, Facebook smacks of reality.

Post on my home feed
of how to love yourself more.

I am confused.
This is not the problem, it never has been.

I love me and have the capacity to love you,
but you don't, not me or (I have a sneaking suspicion) you.

This perfect late morning in the Hollywood hills,
it should be a movie.

My subconscious makes it a movie,
"You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for [fuck] sake!"

The setting may be right,
but the players are not.

Obviously I have not reached the arc.
My plot is still being written.

Until then, I will be kind to myself
and remember that reality begins and ends in dreams.

Traveling Light...

So, there's been a (not so fun) recurring theme with the past few men I've given my heart to, and I've been struggling to unpick what is going on...but I think I may have figured it out. (Thanks, Erin, for the reiki and reminder that I have a light heart).

I've somehow been attracted to men who find women with excess baggage interesting. I found myself thinking back to an early high school boyfriend, in combination with some more recent and current interactions with men in my life and a pattern emerged.

I've been stepping into these connections with an open, uncomplicated heart (having been so blessed with a loving and supportive past...everyone should be so lucky!) but I think this lightness of being has backfired on me. I think, because of this lack of heavy, lack of drama, I'm being perceived as both boring and possibly not engaging the subconscious male animal's protective instincts...a one-two punch that is cultivating disengagement.

The tricky part is...how to I go about solving this? How do I break this cycle? How do I find a man who understands that after a while all that baggage gets heavy, it becomes a burden that gets in the way of the adventure that is life. I travel light, and traveling light is great for adventures.

I know that at some point I may acquire more baggage, hold more sorrows...that's a natural part of life...but I don't think this will make me anymore authentic or interesting than I am now...so...

I know there is an adventurous man out there somewhere that wants to run out into the world with me and do all the THINGS!! Someone that can stand tall next to me...both of us with light hearts, open. [and maybe (at least for now) only a carry-on between us...😉].

Happy 12yr Anniversary...

What do You Call a Blonde...

"What do you call a blonde with pigtails?"

       ~ "A blow job with handles." 



NOTHING about this "joke" is ok...especially giving the setting...

I (with my hair in pigtail/buns) had just stepped on to the Red Line in Hollywood. I'm use to the crazies, the homeless, the rando's chatting you up and all the other medley of people I encounter on the subway in Los Angeles, but having someone say that to me, out loud, in public, was kind of the last straw. This man was not crazy (though he might have been drunk) ...and not a single person on the fairly busy train said a word... not. one. word.

...at the time I was wearing my black biker style boots and I wanted to kick him right in the face. I am not a violent person, but this kind of treatment is not to be tolerated...but I, unlike at least one person on that train, know how to restrain my impulses. Fortunately for me, I had my ear buds in and though no music was playing through them at the time, I was able to ignore this person that was not worth a millisecond of my time.

...but the real trouble is, I have given more than a millisecond of my time to guys who think it is ok to treat me like garbage. Oh, they haven't done anything like the guy on the train, but in many ways what they have done is much worse. Worse in its subtlety, so that I don't realize I'm being sucked into a black hole of communication. They open the door for me like a gentleman but when I step through the door they disappear. These men lacked the directness of my subway encounter and, as shitty as it was, I'd prefer a direct asshole any day to the slippery ghosts I've had to deal with for the past few years...at least then I would know immediately that they needed a metaphorical boot in the face, kicking them out of my life swiftly and effectively.

I like "me" and in general I like other people. I try to be direct, honest and kind when dealing with people even when we don't see eye to eye and I really don't fucking understand why others can't try and do this as well...

In the wake of this, it is difficult to find the desire to push myself to find someone to date...I know there are many kind and honest men out there... I know a few...many of my friends are dating and/or married to some exemplary men.

I don't think it is too much to ask, to want someone who is both kind/honest and exciting... but for some reason I can't seem to find someone who excites me (and I them) who also wants to open that door, step inside, and stick around...

The Rise of Ghosting

There's been a lot of talk about ghosting recently..."maybe, maybe too much talk..."

I'm as close to black and white as I ever get, when it comes to ghosting (ok, so maybe I'm slightly charcoal). If you have some insane stalker, by all means, walk away without another word, but in the world of average dating, ghosting is about the shittiest thing you can do to someone. 

There has been quite a bit written about ghosting recently. So, I don't think I need to discuss it at length... I'll keep it short and sweet (there's nothing sweet about ghosting).

As a recipient of ghosting (multiple times) I have to disagree with Jezebel's point that the recipient is deserving of this treatment. I was in no way deserving of the ghosting that I found myself on the receiving end of...I even had one of the men who did it to me subsequently say "You don't and didn't deserve the way I just let it go, totally not fair to you..." 

What it really boils down to (at least as I see it) is a lack of respect for someone and a giving in to fear...fear of having a difficult and potentially uncomfortable conversation. When did we become so afraid of raw, real feelings and open, honest communication?  Are we so universally afraid of not being totally adored that when we feel we might upset someone, we choose to shutdown, to disappear? This shutting down is not the way forward... Is "no" really that difficult to say? I respect "no"...but I have no respect for individuals who think that it is somehow better to never say no, who would rather say nothing at all.

While there will always be cowards when it comes to being open and honest in relationships, what I find more disturbing is how ghosting has spilled over into other arenas. I've noticed a worrying trend of ghosting becoming a part of everyday life. I have been ignored by businesses, clients and prospective employers. What has happened to our manners?

I'm not writing this necessarily to change your mind, but rather, at least, to invite you to take a moment and reflect on how you like to be treated... Does this run parallel to your thoughts on ghosting, parallel to your own behavior?

For those of you who are chronic ghosts, I invite you... 

Own your own bullshit! It's ok to be terrified of a real conversation. Admit you're terrified, make that part of the conversation. Shit, you don't even have to say it. Just get some little business cards printed up that say "I'm too fucking scared to communicate. I'm sorry. Goodbye." and hand them out to whomever you want to end something with without a genuine conversation. Then you can continue on your merry way knowing that you'll never have to change and you've at least minimized the crushing agony of "what-the-fuck-just-happened?" that is playing in circles in your recipient's head. 

...but if you want to be the better version of you... have that conversation, face to face.

Stop ghosting.
Start talking.

(Everybody) Be Somebody*

It seems that I keep having people in my life, friends and acquaintances, who are working so hard at being somebody. Who are looking externally for what makes them somebody. Who feel as if they are not somebody because they haven't made some kind of mark on the world around them.

I want to reach out somehow, place my hands on their shoulders and say "you are somebody!" You have been somebody all your life.

You may want to do more of something and less of something else, but that is simply the trajectory or path of your life's activities.

It is not you.

History (your past) does not make you somebody.

Success does not make you somebody.

Failure does not make you somebody.

"Likes" do not make you somebody.

Happiness does not make you somebody...

neither does sadness.


While all these things, experiences, may give you a deeper understanding of your "somebody", they are not you, they do not define the quintessence of you.

You always are and always have been somebody. Stop trying so hard. Accept that you are somebody. Love that somebody. Hold those who know your "somebody" close...those ones who mirror back the true quintessence of you. 

Let those who don't, fade away.

Some people will never see you, see your "somebody"...let them go. It is not their job to see you. You see you. That is your job...it is your only job...the rest is just activity.




(*for those of you who had the distinct pleasure of knowing the magical beauty that was Sweat, Sir Henry's...EVERYBODEEEEE, BE SOMEBODEEEE! EVERYBODEEEEE, MOVE YOUR BODEEEE!!!!)

Nothing's Fair in Love and War

...so in other words, we're all fucking addicts.



Happy Valentine's Day.

Meaning-full

In the wake of confusion that comes when someone decides, for whatever reason, that they are no longer into you, I always find myself asking the big questions...like, "what is the point?" and other such ruminations. During this last fallout period, I ran across a quote from Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. It struck a chord. So I ordered the book and began to read it between bouts of self-indulgent mopey-ness. I haven't finished it yet, but so far it has been a good and thought provoking read. It has made me think around my own ideas of the meaning of it all.

Here's what I've come up with, for me, personally. 


     The meaning of life is to have a life full of (lived) meaning.
      (I like how that is kind of a verbal palindrome) 



I'm sure I'm not the first (nor will I be the last) person to have this idea, but what I do like about it is that it's a blank slate or in my case, a blank canvas. The blank canvas has no judgements, it simply sits there, waiting for you to choose a color and start to paint. Meaning or meaningfulness is a bit like painting, you have to approach it with intent. Without intent you will produce mud...

I also like the universality of this idea. That, if you pay attention to what your genuine needs are for fulfillment, then this idea should provide a path to finding meaning in life that fits perfectly with you, and only you. It does require some thought about what genuinely gives you meaning, but it is fluid and can accommodate most needs and can change and develop over time. I hesitate to use the word "needs" as there is a lot written about setting yourself free of need. However, in my mind these are not "needs" that make you needy, but rather less concrete aspects of life that bring you fulfillment. Ok, I'm starting to ramble...examples, right, good idea!


For me, the things that give my life meaning are - 


     People. The people I choose to surround myself with... 
     (both friends and family)

     Creating. Or creative expression, in all its forms. 
     (painting, baking, ceramics, photography, dancing, etc!!)

     Adventure. Travel...seeing what is around the next bend, 
     whether that bend is on the other side of the world or the 
     view from my bike in an unexplored neighborhood of LA, or   
     around the corner of time...as well as the adventure of 
     discovering new people, new creative pursuits, new stories, 
     internal exploration, etc...the adventure of life/living, 
     as it were.


Those are my three. What are yours? What feeds your soul? What fulfills you?

While, not being wanted, can knock me on my emotional ass for a minute or two, it never really takes the meaning out of life for me, it just pushes me to reflect, reassess, lick my wounds and then get on with living, with intent, purpose and meaning!

An Anniversary

Ten years. 

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be single for ten years, I would not have believed them. 

Ten years...I lived it and I still don't believe it.

Oh, I've had some casual dates and some hopeful moments, but nothing has stuck. I've had people tell me that I'm too picky, but honestly, can you be too picky when it comes to someone you want to spend the adventure of your life with? 

I don't think I've been too picky. I mean the last person I was (and still kinda am) interested in isn't tall or classically good looking, though I find him very attractive. He doesn't have a fancy degree from some Ivy League school or a high powered job, but he loves what he does and that is incredibly appealing...that passion for a life that is being lived. He's old enough to have had many life experiences that might make one pause...ten years ago it would have made me pause... But you see, in ten years I've gotten less picky, and more, at the same time. What then would have made me hesitate is now what makes someone interesting. Their life. History. What has built them into the "them" they are today.

Ten years ago I might not have seen beyond some of these superficial things. Not enough of my "boxes" would have been ticked...but now...now I have no little "boxes". Instead I have a gut feeling that says pay attention...

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not some desperate creature that needs someone to "complete me" (or save me or any other nonsense of that ilk). I am perfectly happy with the "me" I am today. I have a pretty good handle on who I am and what I'm looking for out of life...I'm not perfect and I don't expect or want perfection, for me or from someone else. But, as much as I love my life, I do want to share it with someone...and if the last ten years are anything to go by, something has got to change.

But what?

The day is coming, when I will be able to let go, let go of the "might have been" and heart in hand, take a step forward again. 

But where?

Tinder? (<click on Tinder..I'm laughing hysterically) OkCupid? Match? eHarmony? A set-up from well intentioned friends of my parents?

My little romantic heart doesn't want to shop for love online, but what else can I do...?

(he did...I did)

For now, I've used up all my sticky tape to keep my heart in shape and I'm working on having "the courage to start all over again." 

About a Boy...

I met a boy this summer.

I call him a boy because he made me feel like a girl in all the best possible ways...that exhilarating high, that you always want, but don't often reach.

I will admit, I had stars in my eyes and hope in my heart.

I knew from the beginning, like all relationships, that we might try and see and it might not work...and while I knew this would be painful, the "not working" part, I was willing to take that risk because I knew I would be able to live with it. That the pain of something that has run its course is something I can handle, that is ok, because I and we have given it our best shot. It is a natural, if difficult progression. 

The spark that has never been given the chance to burst into flame...how do you live with that? How do you live with something that never got the chance to "not work"? To me that is one of the saddest things of all...


     "Over time, the ghosts of things that happen start 
     to turn distant...they wear thin. The ones that slice 
     like razors forever are the ghosts of things that 
     never got the chance to happen."

                                              ~ T. French


Stars no longer sit in my eyes, but I still have hope in my heart, it's ripping at me...the ghost flame of what might have been or could still be... Only time will change that...

I met a boy this summer...and I can't seem to let him go...

New Years...

Ok, so I had planned to do a post about New Year's resolutions...original, eh?! Here was my rough start... 

"Boys? Fecking Houdini's...I've been dating magicians ...all magic and then poof! like fuckin' Houdini they disappear. My new years resolution...NO MORE FUCKING Houdinis!!!! ...now I just have to figure out how to sort out the real magic from the cheap illusion!

This year I have two resolutions. To floss my teeth everyday (root canals suck) and to stop falling for magicians.

get sucked into the magic, dazzled by the spectacular..."

However, instead of that kind of "meh" post, I'm going to write what I've already learned this year!

"Maybe" means "No" and henceforth I will be treating all "maybes" as such! ...and done!

Oh, and dancing 'til I am drenched in sweat to deep house music is still the best (temporary) cure for all ills!

Happy 2015 everyone!! 

My Week Without Facebook

The first step is admitting you have a problem... Hello. My name is Heidi and I am a Facebook addict. 

This last week I decided to take a break from Facebook. I had read a few studies and was feeling unhappy about some aspects in my life, so I decided to take a break and see if Facebook was to blame. 

Before I went on this Facebook break I assumed (based on things I had read and heard) that I would feel better after my week off. Having never been addicted to anything in my life before, it was weird to go through the experience of withdrawal. The first couple of days were definitely the most difficult, but by day three, that constant twitch to check my news feed was decreasing to just an occasion itch that wanted scratching.

So now my week is up and in actuality I don't feel any different. Those aspects of my life that are making me unhappy still are...because what affects my mood comes directly from my reality, not simply from the digital representation of my world. It is not what is on Facebook that affects my mood, but rather my pattern of behavior in how I engage with it. Doing things I know will make me unhappy on Facebook is the same as doing something in reality that upsets me. If I have the ability to be aware of my destructive behavior patterns and the will power to modify those bad habits, then both my online life and my real life will reflect those positive changes.(I hope)

While I feel that the study I read did make a valid point, for me personally, happiness is tied to what is going on in my real life and Facebook tends to mirror that. What I mean is, if something is bothering me in real life, it will bother me on Facebook too. 

One thing I did notice during this break is that Facebook sucks you into being a spectator of your life rather than experiencing it first hand. So, while I don't think Facebook makes me any more unhappy, I do think it can take me away from doing the things that make me happy...like dancing or working on a creative project.

So, as an addict, I have to say it was glorious to plunge back in to the digital world of Facebook, but I'm going to try and be mindful of both my time and behavior patterns in regards to my digital world. We'll see how I do...and if I succumb to binging again, maybe I'll do a month next time...just saying that makes my hands twitchy.

Biking Around the Road Blocks

Sometimes life throws things at you and you've got nuthin'...each way you turn you seem to encounter a road block. I've got a couple solutions when life sends me down a dead end. The first is dancing. 

While dancing is awesome, sometimes the clubs are closed and dancing around in your room just isn't going to cut it! That brings me to my second solution. Biking! 

Today was such a day, where I was again facing something that has (at least at the moment) no solution. I'm very good at falling down that rabbit hole where my mental wheels will spin and I won't actually get anywhere. When I feel that I'm falling into this trap, it's time to get the other wheels spinning. So, I put on my happy t-shirt... 

...and went for a ride.

While neither dancing nor riding actually solves anything, it does allow me to push a personal reset button...and now I want another happy t-shirt that says "Bicycle Doggy Chariots Make Me Happy!"

Happiness, A Two-Part Invention

There's a lot of stuff out there that says you have to find your own happiness, follow your bliss and choose to be happy, blah, blah, blah...but they leave out an important point, happiness, is often, a two part invention. Unless you are a hermit living alone on a mountain top, your happiness will be linked, in part, to your interpersonal relationships (and I don't just mean romantic relationships, I mean all relationships with other people).

Now don't get me wrong. I do think you are ultimately responsible for your own happiness and if you are searching for happiness in others, it's time to stop and figure out what you want to be happy and satisfied with your life...but this is not what I set out to write about.

To get to know someone, whether it's a romantic relationship, a deep friendship or a family member, you have to put some of your happiness into their hands...to fall into happiness with someone. To be able to have this kind of deep resonant happiness you have to trust and be vulnerable. This is your gift to them and their gift to you. This doesn't mean that you're not responsible for your own happiness. What it means is, initially (and continually) in any relationship you have to let go a little and put some of your happiness in someone else's hands to see if it is valued, cherished. 

If you take that risk and fall into happiness with someone and they do not value your happiness, you'll keep falling and hit the ground with a thud. It is ok to thud, maybe even a couple times, (the person you are falling with is human after all, and we all make mistakes, we all drop someone's heart at some point). But, if every time you leap you hit the ground (thud), then it is time to stop falling. They are not falling with you into happiness and they are not going to catch you. It is time to step back from the edge and take back the responsibility for your happiness again.

I think one of the most tricky things is to be able to hurtle yourself off that cliff into happiness again after you've had a few thuds (though it can also be equally as hard to stop jumping with the same person if you are hopeful they will change). 

So here's my point, I guess... Don't be afraid to let go and leap off the edge into happiness with someone, but stop falling if you keep on hitting the ground. 

 

Magic, damn it! (part 2)

Has it really been a year since my last post on this topic?! What a difference a year makes!! ...er, maybe not. Still looking for magic...more than that, I'm looking for someone who embodies this quote.


     "Happy, smile. Sad, frown. Use the corresponding face 
      with the corresponding emotion."  

                                    -Meg Ryan, French Kiss.


I strive to be real, honest and genuine with all people who come into my life (it's not always possible, but I really do try!) ...and I don't think it's too much to ask that people try and do the same in return. 

I seem to keep finding magic with people whose outside doesn't match their inside...and in trying to navigate such interpersonal relationships, I feel like I am being forced to not live up to this quote. I find in this is vacuum of genuineness and honesty my ability to honestly convey the genuine me is diminished. (Could I squeeze in any more derivations of the word honest and genuine into that sentence?!! ;-) )

I don't want to be diminished, I don't want (to be) less, I want (to be) MORE, damn it!! 

It's disheartening, banging my head against a metaphorical wall, and makes me feel like I'm somehow doing it wrong...like that little sign I always see at festivals "you're doing it right" is somehow wrong and does not apply to me... I am trying very hard to be optimistic and have hope. For nearly ten years I have had hope...but hope is beginning to wearing thin...

Words aren't always sufficient in conveying thought. This song, however, is hitting the mark pretty well.