millimeters

I'm nearly to the end of a book entitled The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen. It chronicles his expedition through a remote region of the Himalayas (maybe that's redundant?) with a fellow scientist. He also goes into detail about his concurrent spiritual/meditative journey. Highly recommended for anyone interested in eastern religions, presence, and nature. I've gotten a little bogged down in some of the history (true confessions: I've skipped about three pages because I just couldn't handle the dry facts and the change in pace). Right now I'm reading about his descent back to civilization, which isn't going very well. Mood swings and culture shock that have shaken the equanimity he built during the expedition's stay at a remote monastery village high in the mountains. There's a sense of futility that I can relate to. The throw your hands in the air why bother kind where you try to so hard to build a skill (like patience), and then when the shit hits the fan, you react in the knee-jerk way you always have. It makes you question the point of trying, but maybe the explosions get a little smaller or they take more kindling to provoke. I'm sure there's some incremental change that is just too hard to sense when you're in the throes of reacting while simultaneously feeling like a failure. The more I learn about therapy (both giving and receiving), the more I realize that change happens in the increments. You can't hold out for some sudden transformation because it doesn't work that way. Movement happens when you keep showing up in whatever little way you can manage. Sometimes I use the analogy of filling a sink: it will happen even if you're just adding one drop at a time. Granted, you have to make sure the plug fits, but that's a whole other metaphor. And now for the other exercise of the day:

i stood in the rain
listening to the chorus
of puddles filling

//

that burned bridge may not
be the only way to cross;
build another one

picture: a bridge in Portland, OR (sorry, can't remember which one), October 2011, cross-processed slide film, Canon Tlb 

progress?

There's a line from the Scott Jurek book Eat & Run that has really stuck with me: "Sometimes you just do things."

I'm not really in to just doing things.  In fact, part of what contributes to my eternal stagnation is that I can't just do things.  I always have to ask "why" or "what's so important about this" or "what is the point of doing that," and look how far all of that rumination has gotten me.

It seems like such a simple statement, but you'd be amazed at how useful it is when you're 8 miles into an 11 mile run, and the humidity is 127%, and you think maybe your toes have turned into little ginsu knives.  Other useful statements at such a juncture: "this is what I want" "I choose to be here" and "I will eat my face off when this is over."

Because choice is important, isn't it?  Feeling in control is a creature comfort.  Although it becomes less of a comfort for other creatures when you decide to try to control them, but overall I would say that feeling like you are your own master is an important element to happiness.

I turned 32 last week.  32!  Which I know won't seem like much to some of you, but it feels like a big deal.  People in their 30s own things.  They have paths.  They are in charge of stuff.  Or so it seems.  I've decided to embark on my own 30-something avenue that will be kind of a big deal if I see it through.  Naturally I don't plan on sharing it with you yet (not for quite awhile really), but I have to say it feels good to decide to just do something.  Because why the F not.  

*and sometimes 2 people in the course of a day ask you to write more blog posts, so you just sit down and do it 

blahttes and crappucinos

Remember when I used to write some stuffs?  Yeah, me neither.

There are so many things I could try to use as an excuse.  Post marathon depression.  Holiday Hangover.  February flops.  Mental hay fever.  The real reasons are so existential and wiggly that I can barely figure out how to describe them.  I tried to explain the problem to an old friend today, and it sounded like I was quoting a Portlandia script, minus the quirky coolness.  

I'm not sure people with my grab bag of neuroses are supposed to have blogs.  Being torn between wanting attention and gold stars (comments! thumbs up! like me!), not wanting attention (don't ask me questions about myself!), and not understanding the point of anything makes for a difficult first draft.  But why does everything need to be injected with meaning?  Why can't something just be a collection of stories for the sake of storytelling?  I spent over 30 minutes this evening scrolling through Humans of New York (non-Facebook version here), completely enthralled by the snippets included with each photo, and would have kept going if I hadn't promised myself I would write something tonight.  

So I'm not breaking up with you internets.  I'm merely trying to define our relationship and figure out how to make this space something I look forward to inhabiting instead of this thing that needs to be Great and Noticed.      

frozen apple pie

It's snowing. AGAIN.

In an effort to self delude, I'm posting a picture from last summer's apple picking expedition. We spent the morning sweating and eating our way across the picking area and then we took a fortuitous trip down Skunk Lane where we found this beachside park on Little Peconic Bay.

Today's mantra: it's summer somewhere, damn it.

immaculate intelligence

Every now and then I take a trip into crazy land and read Penelope Trunk's Brazen Careerist blog. It's like a jar of pickled okra for your brain. Healthy, but soaked in brine. Her latest article on perfectionism contains the following statement: "The other huge problem with perfectionism is that people stop learning when they're constantly afraid of being wrong."

Hogwash.

Oh wait. She may have a point.

But you see, I have this strategy for learning that involves checking out as many library books as I can cram onto the bookshelf (a hodgepodge of fiction, non-fiction and what can only be categorized as self-help), and then I renew them as many times as I can until another patron puts them on hold. But I don't usually read them. I like to call it immaculate intelligence.

Okay, I admit it. I've stopped learning because I'm constantly afraid of being wrong or of being held accountable for information (equally as scary). One of Penelope's strategies is to allow yourself to be wrong in front of others, but I'm so petrified of looking like an imbecile that I rarely even start to formulate an opinion or a stance to throw out into the ether because I'm so entrenched in survival mode. When people ask me what I think about something, I freeze. Must.not.stand.out. Must.sound.intelligent. Must.make.it.look.like.I.know.what's.going.on. These are the things that go through my head on a regular basis.

The other problem with that stack of library books, or newspapers, or cursed New Yorker magazines is that I see them as a threat to the zero-sum game of maximizing time. If I sit down and read the newspaper, I am informing myself (with the exception of the highly political articles that I often skip or skim halfheartedly. sorry, friends). If I read a book about dogs, I'm giving myself a stronger knowledge base for my business. If I read a New Yorker, I'm giving myself an opportunity to actually join in on conversations that start with "hey did you read that article about X in last week's new yorker..." (this happens on a weekly basis, and I feel like a dunce every time because there are gobs of New Yorkers sitting around the apartment).

The point, in case I haven't beaten it to a pulp yet, is that these are all useful activities. Yet when I'm sitting at home deciding how to spend my time, I feel guilty about reading because it feels like a less than optimal pursuit. Do you know what I do instead? I dither around on the internet. And the whole time I think "I could be researching this book or writing that web content for my business site, but then I won't have any time to do those other 7 things I should be doing."

Oh the irony of maximizing. Because I'm so concerned about spending time on the best (i.e. most useful) activity, I avoid all activities and waste my life sitting on the couch covered in drooling cats and staring at this idiot box. Combine maximizing with a compulsive fear of failure and what do you get? A rambling blog post and a hefty late fee at the library.

self-monitoring specialist

"Ordinarily I don't like to be around interesting people because it means I have to be interesting" -- from LA Story (great steve martin movie)

On a scale of 1 to 10, I would clock in somewhere around a 15 for self-monitoring (it is what it sounds like). Do you know how hard is it to be interesting when you're checking constantly to see if you're being interesting?

I would say more on the subject, but I'm too worried about boring you.

wisdom from the bleating bandits

Okay, here's what the goats had to say:

1. they said Write. something. anything. it doesn't matter. they said you like to read pointless shit, so the chances are, someone else will want to read your pointless shit. they said if you keep waiting for a band of people to emerge from the internet clouds and say Please, write more pointless shit! before you put together 6 words and add a period, then you will never write. And forget about writing past the pointless shit into anything worthwhile because you'll never get there if you don't start stomping around in the muck of shitty first drafts. this blog isn't about precision; it's about habit. considering this space the home of a polished polemic is handicapping, and in practice has turned it into an abandoned playground. i don't have platforms. i have pictures and observations and bad metaphors and run on sentences and questionable tense continuity.

2. they said stop making excuses and start training dogs and for god's sake, earn some money. they said there will always be someone who knows more about dogs than you so there's no point in waiting until you feel like you know enough to play with the big boys. you will always feel like you need to know more, and there will always be more to know, so stop waiting for the bear hug of proficiency because you can't get there without screwing up first.

3. they also said clean your damn apartment. to put it bluntly, they said hey idiot, stop reading books about being productive and simplifying your life and think about maybe putting some of that jargon into action.

4. they said if you're going to write a list of goals to accomplish before your next birthday, maybe consider looking at that list every month and picking one thing to focus on. they said there's no way you can accomplish things like learning basic german if you buy a workbook and then let it collect cat hair on the bookshelf for 8 months before you pick it up and say "wow that book is dusty" and then reshelve it for another 8 months.

5. they also said not to share any of their wisdom with the outside world. excuse me while I run from the bleating bandits that are ramming into the front door. good thing I locked it.