One Month Down...

End of January and hitting all my numbers. Which is good. When you are already not hitting them in January it makes for a really big struggle year. 

I read the bio, read the self help book, read the Stranglings book, cleared a couple of books off my Kindle and a couple extras. 

Writing I hit the one fiction piece a week, two pieces to Dana, three nonfiction plus a few more. I sat down and wrote more days of the week than I didn't. 

Working out, that was a start and stop stutter step get it going thing. I worked out 17 times last month which means on more than half the days so that's not terrible. 

Did Picture of the Day again and made some progress around getting the house settled and sorted out. 

So now I'm looking at February. 

The reading and writing stay the same. That's a yearly overarching goal so that's steady. In fact at some point today I need to sit down and start on Dana's piece. I've been sending her something that is a little different than what I typically write, at least the part I'm writing now it is. It's a weird thing. Started as a flash in my head of a scene then automatically started filling in this super wholesome backstory that did not fit with the original scene at all. So I'm trying to figure out what the bridge is. Where does it all go so terribly wrong...or does it never go there and that first scene will never play out?

If you're thinking it's mean of me to talk about it and not post it, first off, thank you for liking what I do, and secondly I'm keeping it in my pocket for the weeks that will surely come where I'm too busy, stressed or out of pocket to write something new and then I'll post it as my weekly fiction piece on the blog. Planning...I can do it. 

Workouts I'm switching up a little. Which I do every month. Even though I wasn't as consistent last month as I could have been I'm still doing a little shift this month. I'll finalize tomorrow but for right now it's weights on Monday and Friday and cardio Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Thinking of doing the little 3-12-30  (3 mph, 12% incline, 30 minutes) one day a week, maybe two. It's supposed to really get your heart rate up so I'm thinking of testing it out. If it's too hard on my knees I'll go back to flatlandering at a higher speed.

I'm not going to do Picture of the Day this month. The list just didn't really grab me. I mean I'll still post way more pictures than anyone ever really wants to see but there just won't be that one themed one. Though I added back in Selfie Saturday on a whim that first Saturday in January and I'll keep that up for awhile. So at least one day a week it was kind of a wash. 

Still thinking about that word of the year idea. Ocean. And staying in that flow feeling. Doing what I need to do to get in to that feeling of balance. I've been trying things here and there seeing what feels good. Trying to make sure that I don't get stuck doing things just because they are habit. Mindful floating. The ocean will drown you if you don't pay attention after all.

But I'm pretty pleased with how January went. Though as I mark my progress on those yearly goals I am looking ahead wondering what the hell I was thinking. I've got 11 more months of four blogs a week and two nonfiction slow reads a month. It seems a little daunting right now, not going to lie, but it's why I do it right? I like that feeling at the end of the year when my boxes are checked and my tallies are marked. Can't get there without this part.

I hope your first month went well. And also, as a side note, I figured out how to make January not seem so long. Skip Dry January. Honestly, Brent and I were talking over the weekend about how crazy it was that it was already almost February and how fast it went. Then realized we didn't do Dry January this year. I could count the number of drinks I had on one hand and have fingers left over so it was a barely damp January but just not having the YOU CANNOT hanging over our heads made it much more bearable.

Life of the contrarian...

Face the Truth...

It was a good gig. It wasn't strictly legal, but it was a good gig. And because she was more protected than the people who used her service she felt fairly confident that she'd never get caught. Or at least it would be hard to get caught. 

When the technology first became available, the combination of CRISPR, 3D Printing, and Nanotech, very few people understood the possibilities. Hollywood was there first, of course, with some fabulous facelifts. Instead of looking rested, celebrities suddenly looked like they did 20 or 30 years ago. Their own faces, just de-aged. Then you saw the spread into wealthy communities, facelifts and plastic surgery that really did change you into the version you always wanted to be. 

But she grasped that you could use it to become someone else. Over and over again. She hadn't yet found the limit and she'd done it a few hundred times. Changed everything she could to match a provided ID card. Eye color, face structure. She didn't really worry about body shape and height, those could be faked with shoes and clothes as long as they weren't too far out of her normal range, but the face? She could, and had, changed that so many times she wasn't even sure what she would look like now if she hadn't started altering years ago.

But she liked what she did and didn't mind seeing a different face in the mirror every few weeks.  And she felt like she was really doing the world a favor. 

She was a professional jurorist. Nobody liked jury duty. Well nobody normal at least. But she loved it. The stories you heard. The chance to make a difference in someone's life. The power. She was good at it. She believed that too. She was really good at being a juror. She didn't have a lot of preconceived ideas about who people were. Except that they didn't like jury duty. That one she could almost guarantee. But she had been so many people, seen so many different things, that she had a deep understanding of how you didn't know anything about someone until you spent a few days wearing their face. 

People contacted her through a webpage that was masked and hidden and buried so many times there was no way to trace where it originated. She ran fairly extensive background checks on potential clients. Most of the time wondering why they were willing to go through as much trouble as they did to get out of jury duty when just showing up and doing it would probably take about 4 hours of their time. Most people didn't get called to sit on a jury. She usually did, which was part of why she was so sought after. If you sit on a jury you are cleared from being asked to serve for 5 years instead of just 1 if you don't actually get on a jury. 

And the first time she met someone in person she made sure she looked like their mother, or their sister, or their best friend. If they were trying to set her up it would make it very uncomfortable when their own loved one was called in by the police for questioning. 

But, for the most part, she didn't worry about that. She just donned her face and showed up at court for the selection process. Her favorites were the big cases. She normally only took federal summons but would take a state or local if there was a big case working its way through the system. Just to see if she could get lucky and serve in one of those trials. 

She had to make sure she didn't act too excited when she got to the court houses, or too familiar with the layout and the people. Because nobody liked jury duty. 

Except her. 

Bad Dreams...

I had a doozy of a nightmare last night. One of those that is so bad when you wake up you are a little apprehensive about going back to sleep again just incase it's still there. I had to reach out and put a hand on Brent's back so I could relax enough to fall back asleep. Just awful.

It's always weird how dream logic and dream reality works. I mean I knew when they pulled the canister out of the bog with the other supplies that it was a bad idea. I could feel the dread in my body. That heavy feeling you get in your chest when things are about to go really badly. I tried to keep the diver from opening the jar and releasing the contents and then...man when they got out and started exploding everywhere? Just so scary. 

And as I was telling Brent about it this morning he laughed out loud. I mean, I don't know why he didn't think weaponized crickets sounded terrifying but for some reason he just didn't. 

I mean, I can still see it in my head now. And...

Well yeah, it's a little ridiculous. 

But at the time...terrifying. 

Just that feeling of dread.

I imagine that's what people who suffer from anxiety feel. The rest of us see nothing to be worried about and they see weaponized crickets. 

--------

I've been sitting here staring at my screen for the past half hour. I was going to go someplace else with this piece when that part about people with anxiety fell out of my brain on to the screen and sort of derailed everything. I mean how do you go into something else when you've just stumbled into something like that?

I have friends and family members who suffer from generalized anxiety. Which sounds like not a big deal right? I mean all of us have been generally anxious for the past 6-8 years. With things ebbing and flowing, better and worse. But things have been tense. So we've all been a little anxious. 

It's kind of like when you are depressed about something so you think you understand how someone with Depression feels. You know, you were sad and then you weren't so they should just try not being sad and see how that works for them. 

You were anxious about the pandemic and then you got vaccinated or bought new masks or decided that you were going to get it at some point so you just stopped worrying about it so they should try just not being anxious anymore. 

I mean, it's just some bugs, it's not like they are weaponized crickets.

I think understanding the difference between being a little of something vs. having something that dictates your behavior is hard for people. Like when people say they are OCD because they straighten a picture on a wall. Not understanding that they like the way that picture looks straight but if they had been in a hurry they could have left the house with it crooked and might have even possibly forgotten about it until the next time they saw it. Instead of having to get the level from the garage and make sure it's straight and all the others are straight and then possibly having to rehang everything anyway because they aren't spaced correctly and if you don't fix it it feels like your brain cannot focus on anything else. At all. Like there is an itch deep in your skull that cannot be scratched until all of the pictures are fixed. And maybe you just should take them all down because they are never going to be perfect but then you will need to patch and paint and now you're late for your appointment...

One is a preference. You like things to be tidy and neat. One is an obsession. The obsessive part of OCD. You HAVE to do it. It HAS to be done. You HAVE to wash your hands even though you just washed your hands and if you wash them again they are going to get so dried out they crack and bleed. But you still have to. You HAVE to touch that sweater and see how it feels. If you don't you are going to be distracted from the entire conversation happening around you. You are going to stand there trying to figure out if you can subtly touch a sleeve without seeming weird and would they notice and oh crap they've asked a question and you have no idea what they were saying...

I have a few friends  who suffer from various forms of OCD. I get small flares when I'm manic. That need to touch things is strongest on an upswing. I've talked before that I'm lucky. My swings are small. I get a little manic (usually) I get a little depressive (usually). I don't medicate because I don't have the debilitating form. I can manage through diet and exercise to regulate my moods. When that doesn't work I generally can ride the wave in either direction until it ends. But a sign of a coming manic phase is an uptick in OCD like behavior. I HAVE to touch that sweater, shirt, wall, flower, whatever it is. And if I don't I can literally feel my hands itch to do it. I have had to sit and hold my hands together to keep from touching things that aren't mine. And I'm lucky, the urge passes. It's small. I have friends who if they weren't taking medication to help would HAVE to touch, or talk, or wash, or straighten.

I have a few little bugs, they have weaponized crickets.

I've talked more than once in this blog about how we don't take mental illness seriously in this country. How we like to blame it for things that we don't want to deal with otherwise, like our problem with gun violence. And I think this is one of the ways that we justify not dealing with the problem of not making it easier for people to get treatment. We minimize the issues. We co-opt the language. We talk about it all like it's funny or not a big deal. I don't think most of us do it maliciously, but I do think that if you catch yourself doing it you should stop. 

I don't really have a wrap up for this piece, or even a place I was going. Like I said I had a different idea in my head when I started and then was just struck by how awful that would be to deal with awake. It was bad enough in a dream. 

So yeah....

Pride...

Last night the Winterhawks did their annual Pride game. They started it about three years ago. It's actually an initiative through the NHL and down to the WHL called "Hockey is for Everyone" Part of it is about being more inclusive because it's the right thing to do and part of it is making sure your customer base keeps growing because capitalism. 

So basically just like all Pride now. A bit of actual pride and a bit of overt consumerism. Take the good, take the bad...

I think most of us know that if you ever doubt the need for continuing Pride days, parades, and festivals all you have to do is look at the comments underneath a public Pride post. Yup..there is it. Bigots on parade. 

This year there was a lot more than there had been. And a lot of the old talking points. Calling homosexuality a mental disorder, for instance. Wow, haven't seen that one in a bit, but I guess the classics are classic for a reason. And then the whole "Stop shoving this down my throat!" which just makes me wonder why they are so fragile that a shirt is the same as, oh I don't know, having references to a god I don't believe in on my money, my country's anthem, the pledge, and every ending of a political speech. Wonder why you are so freaked out by a rainbow jersey while you don't even notice how many people wear crosses on a daily basis. It's constant. 

Still hasn't made me convert though, so I think you should understand that that rainbow, and even the acknowledgment that there are gay players, isn't going to somehow convert (or sorry, I guess the new nomenclature is groom) you or your kids.

But no matter how vile they got in the comments, and some of them went full bore vile, The Winterhawks did Pride. They had new t-shirts and hoodies and replica jerseys in the team store. We went down early to make sure we could get what we wanted. And even then I have a larger hoodie than I would have bought because they were already sold out of my size. We stood in line at the team store for 20 minutes before we could check out. Which is amazing because according to a lot of people in the comments "Nobody wants  this." Hunh...just me and my nobodies hanging out in line. 

There were people at the game having a great time that we don't normally see. Seems like if you advertise that this is a space for you, people feel freer to come. Kind of wrecks a lot of the "Why do you even need a Pride night, nobody said they couldn't be there" argument. 

And then the Winterhawks did something that I thought was brilliant and Brent thought was actually really bold too. Drag Queens. Right at the entrance. Three local queens in Rosebud (the cheer team) outfits greeting everyone as they came in. Drag Queens are such a flash point right now. Somehow I'm supposed to be scared one of them might sit me down and tell me a story... But as a middle aged, white, lady, I am powerless in the face of a Drag Queen. Seriously, just like catnip! YASS QUEENS! When they changed into their sparkled finery to ride the Fanboni during the first intermission I was THRILLED. 

And I am glad the Winterhawks and their new ownership have gone further than just a little bit of rainbow tape on the sticks during warmup and a new t-shirt. I'm glad they have had people come talk with the players about what it's like to be gay in a sport that hasn't been traditionally open, and quite frankly has had a lot of homophobic rhetoric used towards players. (Which is probably most men's sports) I'm glad that there was a good sized crowd last night and that the new merchandise was pretty. 

I'm glad they had representatives there from local groups that support the LGBTQIA2S+ community. I was able to make a donation to a group that is working with trans youth to help give them much needed support right now. 

I'm also glad that I recognized one of the nasty posters from the comment section at the game and that he and his wife both looked miserable. What a shitty moment for them. Posting about how nobody likes this, how nobody needs this, how if you go woke you go broke and then to be surrounding by so many people smiling and laughing and having a great time all while wearing the new merchandise, or their own rainbows. I hope it burns the hate right out of them, or at least, you know, burns. 

It was a good night. The special jerseys looked sharp. The new merchandise was fun and colorful. And we won 6-3. Just a good night all around. 

Go Hawks!

They even had pretty stickers.

 

Permission...

Grief is weird. 

I've talked about it a lot over the past few years. There has been a lot to grieve. Personally and as a society. And we all grieve in such different ways and on such different timelines. And grief is one of those emotions that people seem to think they know how you should react. What the appropriate timeline is. What the basic steps are. 

We've all had those stages drummed into our heads for so long that when you read about how they came to be and find out that they are nonsense you feel betrayed. There are no steps. There are no stages. There is no universal stages of grief.

Grief and grieving is personal. 

Now, all that being said...

I am giving you permission right now, blanket permission to use as needed, to find moments of joy even if you are grieving. 

Keep it tucked in your pocket for the day you need it, because odds are, sadly, some day in the future you will need it. 

Lately there seems to be a rash of people who stop themselves from joy because they are grieving. And I get it, there is a flash of guilt that can happen as you find yourself laughing at a joke or appreciating a sunset and almost (but not quite) forgetting for a moment that your world is torn apart. You get that moment of "I shouldn't be laughing, I'm too sad, what will the neighbors think?" and I'm here to tell you that it's okay. You can do both. 

I come from a family of inappropriate laughers. I've talked about it before. So this hasn't really been an issue for me. We tell jokes and laugh as part of the grieving process. But not really been an issue isn't the same as never been an issue. Though the problem I've had is people telling me things like "You seem really happy for...(insert recent tragedy)"

Do I? What should I seem like? Torn clothing and ashes on my head? Performative grief? 

Because that's what it would be. For me. Performative.

I will share how hard things are. I write about it, as you all know. I will tear up as I talk about it. I even know that there are times and things that are harder to deal with than others. Like August. August just sucks. 

But August can also be really lovely. The weather can be gorgeous. The cake can be delicious. 

Both can be true. It can suck because waiting around for your mother to die leaves a mark that doesn't go away. And it can be lovely because life is often lovely. And neither one cancels out the other. And neither one is the wrong way to feel about it. 

So if you are right now in the newness of grief, or even feeling stuck in a grief that doesn't want to let go, and you have a moment where you feel that deep solid joy, don't talk yourself out of it. Don't tell yourself that you cannot possibly be happy right now because you are grieving. 

Just check your pocket and look at your permission slip. 

Denise says you can be happy and grieve at the same time. 

Anyone who disagrees can take it up with me and I'll give them grief over it. 

Teach Your Children Well...

Brief exchange with a friend this morning about high school drama (as in plays not as in whatever it is that Becky thinks she's doing) and realized that I would hate school now. 

I didn't quite hate it when I was in high school. I would have had to care more to hate it. 

It's always one of those regret things. I wish I would have handled it differently. I wish I would have advocated for myself a little more, gotten into classes that were more challenging and interesting. I wish I hadn't had prerequisites that had to be filled before I could take the more interesting things. But I'm also really grateful that I missed what we do with school now. 

See the only thing that really kept me engaged at all was the plethora of English credits I accumulated by taking Drama and Speech and Journalism. I was able to sample a few of those things and I enjoyed them. Also since I needed to be at the school to work on whatever play we were currently doing I might as well make it to a few classes. If it hadn't been for that I'm not sure I would have graduated. I could imagine getting my GED and moving on. 

Like I said, hate would be strong, but I was apathetic to the point where I couldn't bother to make it to class very often. I still was able to keep my grades up (the boredom issue) and it wasn't until our class graduated that the mandatory attendance numbers were put in place (one of my lasting legacy moments, though to be fair our entire graduating class was not so diligent about attendance). 

But now? Now that all of the classes are geared toward the standardized tests? And if you are testing well then you get to do AP classes that are geared toward another test? Oh my gosh I cannot even imagine how much I would hate that. 

Because why? Why do I need to learn the things on that standardized test? Why do most people? Why are we teaching test taking instead of how to learn? How to process information? How to actually figure out what you believe and why?

I know none of this is new. We all complain about it a lot, but today was one of the first times I stopped and thought about it as it pertains to me. To who I was in school. To the fact that I would have been lost to the system. And I was a bright student. I was not the student that you think of as faltering. The ones who struggle. But it would have been a struggle for me. It would have soured me on school forever. I mean high school when I went almost did that, I cannot even imagine how much worse it would be now, testing from elementary school on. No chance at all to explore other areas to find things that are interesting and engaging. 

How many people are we losing in the system right now? I already know from my friends how many teachers we are losing. The burn out level is high. They are facing it daily. Administrations that are rigid in how and what has to be taught. Kids who listen to their parents talk about how teachers are overpaid and get so much time off and why are they complaining about their jobs and so the kids treat their teachers with the level of respect that sort of talk breeds. And the kids who are BORED out of their fucking minds having to learn to a test that they could ace right now, or have no need to ace ever. 

For kids like I was our education system has been stripped of the things that make it worth being there. It has been narrowed down to a space that doesn't even make sense for the majority of people. Not everyone needs to know calculus, but everyone needs to know how to process information. Not everyone needs to learn geology but we should all have a good handle on geography. Not everyone needs to speak a foreign language (though it's a good one to encourage) but we should all have a good handle on our actual history. And we should have art, drama, music, shop, mechanics, creative writing, A/V, all of those extras that capture a kid's imagination and then springboards them into more.

I mean if you are loving music and you find out that math is just music you are going to have an easier time. If you are loving your art classes and realize how geometry will make your art better you will study it much more willingly. If you are interested in being a fine actor and realize having a multitude of accents at your disposal will increase your odds then foreign language study becomes very exciting. 

We need to look at our reasons for what we are teaching, and beating the Chinese in standardized testing is a lousy reason, and we need to look at how we are encouraging our kids to learn. 

I know, we all have varied ideas on what school should be, but for me? What we are doing right now? It wouldn't have worked. I wouldn't have made it. 

Would you? 

The Notebook...

Or maybe I should have titled this THE notebook.

Every writer I know has a soft spot for notebooks. I have, right now, at this very moment six different, wait no, seven different notebooks going. And that's not including the binders I use to store printed versions of my blog because I want a physical copy someplace I can search when I'm looking for something I've written before.

I've got two spiral bound lined paper notebooks for temporary quick notes and lists. I've got one moleskine style but hard covered notebook for story notes and goal setting year to year. I've got one moleskine style but has unprinted calendar pages that I was going to use this year instead of a calendar but then realized I really want an actual month and weekly preprinted calendar with room for notes as well, so now I use both. And then two notes programs on my phone. One for lists and one for lists, links and notes. 

And even with that many notebooks I am always half searching for a new one. 

I wrote about getting rid of my Ravenclaw notebook when I finally just ditched all HP stuff because Rowling got too toxic for me to have anything associated with her around. It was the hardest thing to let go. One, because it was a gift and it was such a great gift. Two because it was a great notebook. Fancy but not so fancy you were scared the pages were going to disintegrate when you wrote on them. (Onion Skin pages look so pretty but are so not practical) And three because I had some great ideas started in that notebook. They turned into stories or blogs or goals but they got their start on those pages. I took some comfort in reading over them and knowing that no matter how it feels on that day on another day I made good art. 

When I was younger, before smartphones and apps and even computers that were more than just word processors, I always had a notebook stashed in my purse and in the glove compartment of the car and on my desk at work. I wasn't writing at the time but just incase I felt the need to take a note on something I wanted to make sure I had a notebook. I tended to use steno notepads. The spiral is along the top so no worries about trying to warp my hand and wrist to keep it out of the way. I was really particular about which kind as well. When we would get someone new ordering office supplies I'd have to give them the wrapper from my last pack. I want these. Not the ones that are like them but not them. I want these. I will make you take them back if they are the wrong ones. Don't care what's on sale. Don't care what you like or someone else likes. These are the notebooks I use. Order these. 

Even not writing I needed the perfect notebook. 

The other thing that happens with most writers I know is if we find a notebook that we think might actually be the perfect notebook, the cover is perfect, the pages are the exact right weight, the line spacing is perfect, the color is exquisite, this is THE notebook, well we have a hard time writing in it. I know! I mean that's the whole point of finding THE notebook. It is going to be the magical book that unlocks all of our creative genius and we are going to make the most wonderful art because of THIS notebook.

But...

What if we write something lame in it? What if we take this perfect notebook and ruin it with our ideas? Our sketches? Our outlines? What if it becomes a beautiful piece of promise filled with shit? What then?

I mean, then, obviously, it wasn't THE notebook, it was a pretender and we need to keep looking. 

Couldn't be us, that would be crazy. 

I've stopped hoarding blank notebooks. Finally. A few years ago I pulled all of my stashed supplies out and started working my way through them. They became notebooks full of notes. And when I reached the last page I would flip through and decide if they were done. Had I expounded on all of the ideas? Had I used all of the information I'd stored? Did anything need followed up on? And if there was unfinished business I would copy those ideas into the next notebook on the pile and start again. I didn't keep all of the filled notebooks. Though I know a lot of people who do. I only keep the notebook as long as there is room for new things to be written in them.

And now I'm at the point where if the notebook I'm using fills up I have to find a new notebook to replace it. 

Which means I get to keep hunting for the perfect notebook. 

I swear it's out there someplace. And when I find it? Watch out world...