NaBloPoMo Up All Night

There are times I cannot go to sleep. It's late, but yet there are one or two more things I just have to do. Read a book, read a blog, write a blog, fold the laundry, sort the dishes, have a snack, write that email, write that book, think that thought, make a list. One more thing, one more thing.

But it all comes back to me in the end. All those hours stolen from late at night must be repaid in the morning and throughout the day. A promise or a threat? And when will it ever get paid back? Sometimes I cannot allow myself to lie down and rest until I am swaying on my feet, exhausted. When I can fall into bed and be engulfed in sleep almost immediately, it's less painful to let the day go. All the things left undone. All the dreams left unsung. All the tasks piled up for another day.

Daily I chip away at my list. Daily, I fail to do it all. I know this is impossible, but still I try.

Before bed, I sit down with a cup of tea, and I make another list. It's soothing to make a fresh list, to see the possibility of a few more things checked off.

To sleep with things undone is a hazard of parenthood. Oh, yes, of adulthood, of life! Where do I snatch a few moments her, a half an hour there? It's stitching together a meaningful life, a full life.

No need to fret about tasks undone just now. It'll be a new day soon, a fresh list, fresh light, a new start.

--

To Do is To Be

Just do it, the slogan says. So simple, it's a cliche. So simple, it's annoying.

However, sometimes one does not need to worry about "being" something as much as "doing" that thing.

In Buddhist thought, it does not matter what one professes or claims. There are no creeds to recite. Well, there are precepts, but my understanding is that if you follow Buddhist practice, that's all you need to do to be a Buddhist. No declarations necessary.

A writer does not need a book deal or an office to be a writer. Nobody hands out cards that will proclaim you or asks you for your credentials. To be a runner, you don't have to race or undertake a marathon, or if you do run a marathon, you are not required to show your time at the next meetup. To be a runner, you simply have to run.

To be an artist, one needs to create. One does not need an art degree, or the best materials, or a separate studio, or the approval of ones spouse (although most of that doesn't hurt, either). One shows up and does the work.


On the other hand, I myself did not always avail myself of opportunities and encouragement to become more. My professors encouraged me to apply for that grant, enter that show. It had not even occurred to me that I could do those things, much less should do those things. I didn't feel like a "real" artist, and therefor, what? So any little nudge was good. You could really do something with yourself. I didn't hear that one, or I didn't notice I had heard that. I was afraid to be ambitious.

But that's a different problem. When the idea of something intimidates one into doing nothing, that's a problem.

To be a thing is different than to be the person who does that thing. I'm thinking of writing, creating art, running. It's sometimes a bit like love. it is not enough to say "I love you," although of course, that is nice too! Some days, the feeling is not prominent, but it does not matter. What matters is that you act out of love, act in ways that express love, creating love out of your actions.

And sometimes being an artist, a writer, a photographer, is like that too. It's not enough to say "I am an artist;" what matters is that you create art. Well, sure, it can be powerful to claim those labels and say (declare/admit, depending on your feelings about it) that you "are" a runner, a photographer, a writer. But the label is not as important as the doing. You create your state of being out of your actions.

Be (act) the change you want to see in the world, as Gandhi said. To be the person you admire, it is not necessary to say "I am such-n-such." To be that person, act. To be that person, do. In the act of doing, one becomes the person who does.

Yes, I am an artist. I will occasionally admit to that. I am one who sees and creates, who conceives and creates. And so, I write. I photograph. I don't run; I hike. I used to paint, and shape clay; now I make dance programs and shape the flow of an evening. Yes, I have standards for myself, but that is not the point. I create the thing I want to be by doing. Or often, I do what speaks to me and the label finds me later.

Thus I write and find myself a writer. And for now, that is enough.
--

No-Edit Practicing Practicing

A little experiment to hack out a post. NO editing except for spelling errors (if I can find them).

So I've been practicing practicing. Quite interesting.

Some of the things I've been practicing were not on my original list. That's okay. The important thing is that I am persevering at things I am not so great at.

Among other things, I've been practicing being more generous, getting back into my paper decluttering and learning to play a new instrument. A little bit of everything: psychological, physical/environmental and tautological. (Is that what i mean? Probably not! There's another word more accurate... pedagogical? Yes.)

Okay, so being "naturally" generous is hard for me. My cousin might call that a "scarcity" mentality. I am nervous about having enough for myself. Some of that is habit, part of that is not *taking care of* myself. Part of that is worrying that I will have enough money/energy/mental head space to feel good. So it's a defensive maneuver with some just cause. However, I am experimenting with doing things differently. I admire generous people. My husband, for instance, is a naturally generous person. He'll give time, money, attention to lots of people who need it and to some who don't. He's just wired to want to pitch in and contribute. So cool, eh? So myself is wanting to be more active in my own social relationships... and part of that, I feel, is giving of myself. Not so much as to give myself away but certainly MORE than I do now.

(pause to think of some examples)

Here's a list of things that might qualify:

I showed up at an art opening of a friend and former co-worker. I made that effort to show up despite other things on the schedule. Sometimes I just can't make the openings, but this time I could and I did. I can be supportive and appreciative and enthusiastic. And I enjoyed myself too!

I went to a memorial service. Okay, this was more for me, but I really wanted to be there and bear witness to the stories and the memory of this friend, even though I didn't know him well nor had reached a deeper friendship phase.

(I am having to brainstorm this list, so it's not perfect, okay?)

Ah yes. I bought some lovely earrings for my mother's birthday and contributed a huge platter of veggies and hummus. So often I cannot decide on the best gift for a person or event and I find myself paralyzed. This time I just went out and made it happen. The food was to help out my youngest sister who was coordinating. I already had this especially delicious hummus in mind, so when she responded enthusiastically to my idea, I went out and found an especially delectable selection of raw veggies.... sugar snap peas, for instance. It was goood!
I helped care stuff down stairs. And afterwards, while various clumps of people scattered to talk or play games or had to leave, I made trip after trip between the downstairs room and the kitchen to help clean up; I did not want my sister OR certainly not my mother! to have to do the larger share of the clean up.

(Okay, so this might sound trivial; I am celebrating what I CAN do.)

I've been trying to contact my friends more frequently for getting together for lunch. Rather than wait for them to call me, I'm trying ot be more proactive. It's been really nice in the last several months.

I took care of my friend's cats while she was on a 10-day trip to Europe. We do this regularly, trading cat care, etc, but here I practiced giving a generous amount of time and then MENTALLY not grousing about any of it. Not that I usually complain about helping out my friend at all! I am practicing not complaining.


Oh wait.... did you notice that? I AM PRACTICING NOT COMPLAINING! This is huge, ya'll. Not that I am good at abstaining, no. I am an accomplished complainer. But to give my attitude and karma a boost, I am *consciously* working on not grumbling so much in my everyday life. My reasoning is that I can do something happily or I can do something grudgingly, and it's usually more pleasant for EVERYONE if I don't verbally blow off steam about whatever trivial inconvenience I must endure. I tell you, I am mostly quite proud of myself and the progress I am making. I'll say that the people most positively affected by this change is my husband and myself. ATTITUDINAL ADJUSTMENT - woot!


Back to my list...

Okay, so I am working o the huge amount of paper clutter in the office. I am "sorting with extreme prejudice*. I am taking out all sorts of gar-bage. I am getting back on the FlyLady bandwagon. SO nice.

Aaaaand, yes! I am learning to play a new instrument! I had another instrument in mind as well, but my local string shop did not have one free to rent while I determine whether I am into it enough to buy one. But they did have lots of great ukuleles! And they are a modest investment, so I bought one. Not the most cheap model, but a step up, a nice little instrument. And I have myself a book, and I found a uke tuner online, so I am set.

I've had this a few weeks now, and I am really liking it. I've learned a basic set of C chords and nearly every day, I get it out and play a little. Play and sing, rather, since I am singing to the baby a lot. Being about to play chords to my singing is a lot of fun.

Once I even figured out how to apply a chord to a singing note that was not the note but a complimentary one. I was tickled with my discovery.

My strategy here is slow but steady. I am finding all kinds of songs in this self-instructional book to practice different strumming rhythms and chords. I am practicing holding my fingers and thumbs correctly. I'm not convinced I have the strum position down well (correctly), but I'm experimenting.

Today I started learning a couple of new chords. Oy. My brain is slightly confused. But I have confidence that my brain and my fingers will figure it out with enough exposure and practice.


And now I must close down for the night and see if everyone else in the house is actually going to bed for the night or are going to get up for one last round.


Thanks for listening. I'm hopeful that my practicing practicing will improve. Go me. :)
--

Reposting on Those Teeny Tiny Bottles

I been indulging in a bad habit recently, that of writing half a post in the guise of a comment on someone else's blog. After several occasions of this, it occurred to me that I should just write for my blog, already! I guess it doesn't cross my mind that I could write about this or that. So often I sit down to write and can only think about the boring drudgery in front of me. I need writing prompts so as to avoid endless poop reports. I am pretty sure that noone wants to read about that, tho I could be wrong.

On Twitter, one can retweet or RT an especially pithy tweet. So I'm thinking I need to RC? RP? i.e. repost and expand my verbose comments. Ya with me?

So here's one recent comment expanded into a whole post. I was responding to Mama Non Grata offering pointed suggestions on how to improve the sucky packaging of children's medications, especially small bottles, small type, and inadequate and unhygenic retrieval systems (i.e. the eyedropper that gets used over and over but can't manage to suck up the last bit of the very expensive medication).

Oh hell yeah I am with you, sister! I have been through those teeny tiny bottles with the Mylic0n (anti-gas), which my daughter goes through at a good clip. Who needs only 1/2 an ounce bottle? Insane! And for an even more outrageous price per ounce. Bottles for wealthy elves with magical sucking powers to retrieve every last little drop that clings to the bottom.

I am especially worked up about the size/price difference depending on where you find it. At some drugstores, only the 1/2 ounce bottle is available. If there is a larger, more economical size, they often seem to hide it. At a certain grocery store I frequent, the section of children's products has ONLY the expensive 1/2 ounce bottle. But if you go to the regular aisle where the children's meds lurk amongst the adults', lo and behold, there is a (slightly) less expensive 1 ounce bottle available. Not only that, but they give you an option of a dye-free med. Ya think maybe they are trying to take in more money from the less-observant consumer?

A related lesson might be that anything marketed for a specific demographic is sometimes marked up since it is "special" when in fact one can obtain the same or similar product for less if it's packaged for a different or general demographic. I'm guessing that anything targeted to a narrow demographic is overpriced. But still I get the stuff specifically for baby. I am very impressed with the Baby Aval0n Organics products, for instance. Yes, I bought the wee tiny package of wee tiny emory boards instead of finding the big ones somewhere in my cabinet. And the rather overpriced photo album that coordinates with the baby book, oh geez, I stepped into that one.

But maybe they could be less blatant about taking advantage of the new mother who is so sleep deprived that she barely has the time to blow her own nose, much less search for the more reasonably priced item. I could use a pint of the Mylic0n at a time, thank you very much.

And speaking of sleep deprived, one of my goals is to get to bed earlier. Like before midnight. I just hope I dream of something other than my baby crying or those ridiculously teeny tiny bottles. wuzzat?! ow, my breasts.
--

Glimmers and Glue

"You turn me right round, baby, right round/
like a record, baby, right, right, round, round"

These are my thoughts. This is my typing on pregnancy hormones. It sucks, this brain shrinkage. No patience at all. I got some brain-mutterings for you, that's all.

So this is my post, such as it is.
-------------------------------------------------

What is the glue that attracts friends and keeps them together?

I've been thinking about this more recently what with the who-liked-me-who-didn't stories of BlogHer and with my own recent visits with friends. It's interesting to muse over which friends stick around through all sorts of years and changes and which ones drift away.

Then there was a debate on a forum I follow, how two people bonded over waiting for children to be matched, how one person changed to special needs for her second child without telling the other (who is still waiting), and now the other doesn't want to be friends any more even though their first daughters are friends.

I was surprised that all the sympathy was with the first person saying Wah, she doesn't want to accept my apology and be friends any more, and how many people were saying that if the other were a "true" friend that she would get over all it already. I wanted to say that a "true" friend should have told the other woman *before* she was matched and that now she's being pretty insensitive to the fact that obviously the other woman is not ready to "get over it" and needs time alone with her pain. Jeez. but i digress.

This whole "true" friend got me thinking. What is the glue that keep friends together or crumbles up and falls apart?

Granted, I think some bonds are more fragile to begin with. Maybe you are friends out of proximity and convenience. Sharing a job location, neighborhood, interest, or activity leads to a deeper association, or at least more conversation. But there's no guarantee that the friendship will survive when one of you gets another job, moves away or decides to spend more time doing other things.

Same thing when you form bonds when you are a youngling. Maybe it's based on common outlook or the need to hang out with someone, preferably someone you can talk to and have fun with. Or maybe you each have insecurities or a wild sense of humor or an outsider status that needs that other person. Or maybe someone is a friend of a friend and it's just fun to hang out all together. Group bonding is also pretty cool.

The particular weakness of youth relationships lies in our tendency to change and grow up. You and your friends may or may not change in the same direction. It can be distressing, but it's inevitable that some differences will arise. A little respect and caring can go a long way, but it can't make up for major cracks and divisions.

An even greater threat to the glue is lack of interest in keeping in contact when you are out of convenient range. Again, I've been lucky that some old friends have enjoyed corresponding (this was before email, yo!), and/or visiting/calling, at least enough to keep up with each others lives. Now with email and things like mytwitterspacefacebook, it becomes even easier. But some friends can not bring themselves, for whatever reason, to keep up with a correspondence. Or others who do correspond, but only in a compulsive, shallow way (okay, sometimes that still works!). Or sometime a correspondence will die out despite the best of intentions. It's work to keep up with far-flung people, maybe too much work. A sense of flexibility and forgiveness helps. Do we all really need to always relate the same way forever? Either way, some friendships survive and others die out.

Friendships may dissolve because it's only after you get to know someone better that you realize you don't actually like them very much, or more distressingly, that they are really no friend at all. Oy, I have had a few of those, both with and without drama. Or perhaps an otherwise wonderful friend fails to come through during a stressful time and the disappointment and hurt is enough to kill it off. I've had at least one of those. And maybe like the other woman in the forum, one might need some time away for self-protective reasons, to deal with the rest of ones life.

Oh, are all these reasons that friendships fall apart? There are other reasons why the glue still holds.

Maybe the friendship survives because you have a little glimmer of fondness that transcends the inconvenience factor. I've been lucky to have had friends that persist through years of changes. The kind of friends who it's still wonderful to talk to and share with after months or years of little contact.

Maybe the friend has that mysterious spark that makes you giggle or makes you think, or gives you solace in a cold world. Maybe they offer you a breath of fresh air, the smile that lifts your heart, the mutual interest that recommends books and goes with you to make sure you really leave after you break up with your boyfriend. Or who spends all afternoon helping you shop for wedding dress fabric, who says, "I know it!" when you complain, who shares ideas and dreams and even pain, and tells you your creations are wonderful and to keep doing more of that thing you love!

Here's where I get all ethereal and sweeping with emotion, I suppose. I will try to not get all Rogers and Hammerstein on you.

As in any relationship, sometimes it's the small things that keep you going, that keep the friendship tended whether in the early mid or late stages, and even when you are too busy to even email for a while, it's still wonderful to hear from that person. Of course, some friends are hothouse flowers, needing gobs of attention and care, and others can survive dry spells and pop out again when it rains. Either way, we must, almost by evolutionary default, find the people who match up with us, who match glimmers and maintenance levels within acceptable tolerances. We find, as one friend likes to say "our people." The people who love and appreciate us. It goes without saying that this is a two-way street, sometimes a four-lane highway!

Glimmer, glimmer. I see glimmers. Friendly glimmers. At whatever stage of relationship, it's all good. " 'Cause I'm (uh-uh) stuck on you."

Identity and Persona

I return to the idea of identity and persona periodically. This is more Stream of Consciousness than Shaped Thought, but here it is.

Ones persona is made of many different aspects. We each wear a variety of masks and faces in our lives that may reveal or hide those aspects. Sometimes we tailor those masks or faces for different circumstances. We have our work face with the boss, with clients, with our partner, friends, or family members, when we are the leader or when we are a participant. Maybe our choice depends on the task at hand, or who others expect us to be. Maybe it depends on our reasons for doing something. Maybe it depends on who we *want* to be or who we think we *should* be.

The divisions between different faces seem to show up particularly well online or other public venues, maybe because others see only a certain slice of who we are, who we present. Online, it's very easy to show only what you want to show. One can try on a different face or persona, or let out or indulge aspects that don't get much play in real life. Sometimes just playing out another aspect of oneself can be very freeing, regardless of who sees or reads it. Blog as confessional! Or as inspirational. Or as venue.


Here's where the audience and its impact comes in. I've seen lots of ways this plays out in blogs and on Flickr and other online communities. There are lots of permutations, but basically, we all like acknowledgment. When someone throws something out there for the rest of the world, there's always that fear that we will be seen as lame or boring. We write and photograph and "present" with more intensity in anticipation of the audience's reaction, for good or bad. And when something gets a reaction, well, we adjust. There's the glow, rush, or inspiration of a positive reaction, or the chagrin, humiliation, or anger of a negative one. Or maybe a thoughtful reaction evaluating what you liked or didn't like about what you did. And then... well, we adjust ourselves like sunflowers following the sun. Feels sooo good to get a positive reaction! Yeah, you know it does. Nothing wrong with that.

If we do this often enough, though, our audience may come to expect us to be a certain way, the way they have come to know and love (or hate) us. It's not bad. One can be spurred by that attention to do more, create more, shape more. But then, maybe you want to write or photograph or create something a little different than you had before... and your fans may be "like, uh, that's interesting, but..." And the aspects of your persona that attracted some people may shift.

Maybe this is where the concept of "selling out" could be footnoted, because yeah, we want to please our audience if they've been good to us. Ones audience may become a little demanding that you are not giving them what they want--more writing, more art, more funny stories, more cool stuff, more things for them to get upset about, more news of note, more quality entertainment, more mindless entertainment(!). Anyway, more of something. More of yourself, your product. Your product may BE yourself. Or at least that self that you put into your work. Oy! Gotta keep up.

One feels a responsibility to one audience. We may feel compelled to live up to that (whether to follow our inspirations or to ride the wave of feel-good attention), or reject it (as too much responsibility or as an energy suck or as brainless demanding), or...

I don't know about you, but it can be a little much. Since I don't have much of an audience, I mostly write for myself, even though I could just as easily write in a private journal. But hey, I like the extra motivation of a potential audience, however mythical or inconstant.


Online, I am several people. They are all me, but most times I don't want to share all aspects of myself at once. I do cluster around some topics of interest. Sometimes those interests lead me to show a different persona depending on how I am when I work with a topic.

Innocent-cynic, I sometimes say. I am sensitive to many disgraces of society. I feel things maybe a little too keenly at times. I can be grouchy and morose, even morbid. I sometimes feel caught in railing against prejudice and injustice and unfairness. To counter-balance that tendency to get caught in the dark stuff, I also let out my breezy, enthusiastic side. That is as much "me" as the grouchy side. In fact, it may be *more* me, even though I get the feeling that the happy stuff is not always as interesting as the dark stuff. From some people I get the attitude that it's uncool to be so enthusiastic. If that is a problem, just bite me! *smiley face!* I am sometimes sunny and enthusiastic. Deal. (This would be me rejecting the selling.) And then there's the sarcastic side. The high-verbal literary side. The insecure pretentious side. The formerly-known-as-artist side. The logical side. The friendly and helpful side. The impatient side. The go-hide side. The lateral thinker. The touchy bitch. The compassionate Speaker-for-the-Dead. The quirky-humorous side that eventually bleeds into any public persona. To name a few.

Even in real life, there's the part of me who enjoys being on stage, orchestrating the program, the participants, enjoying the result of all my hard work of preparation and practice. There's also the part of me who doesn't want to be known, to stay inside and keep my thoughts to myself. Blogging or Flickring allows me to play, to explore, to let some of my personas out to play. Whee!

And then sometimes I have to withdraw and take care of my real life and my INNER life. I like, though, how blogging lets me play with both the inner and outer life at once, motivating me to shape a little more of myself and send it out in the world. File that under outer persona in the service of inner work. Pretty cool, huh? Who do you want to be in the world?