Fear and Dread

Sorry for the dramatic titles of the last two blog posts, but I thought this would be the perfect sequel to "Indecision and Inertia," in which I likened myself to an anvil.

After writing that last piece while my family was out of town, tooling around San Francisco and having a wonderful time on Google bikes, etc., I decided to dedicate a few hours to understanding inertia better. I collected six pages of notes on the subject. My favorite: someone asked an expert,"How do you overcome inertia?" His two word answer was very scientific: "By force."

Armed with a new understanding, I forced myself into motion in my bedroom, which has long been a difficult space for me to organize. I have a lot of heavy pieces of wood furniture there: a corner desk unit (3 parts), a rather tall dresser, two bedside tables, a very large headboard and footboard framing a king size bed, a bookcase, a treadmill, a filing cabinet with a roll top structure above it, and, last but not least, an armoir.

I know what you're thinking: a bedroom should only be for sleeping and associated acitivities. Get rid of all of that stuff! But it isn't the furniture stuff that was bothering me -- it was the stuff within the stuff, like clothes I never wear, other family members' clothes that need mending or hemming, etc. etc.

I've cleaned and organized this space many, many times over the years, only to watch it deteriorate into chaos again. But I am apparently a master at repacking. I take everything out and put everything back in...instead of tossing everything that should be tossed. Oh, I'm not a hoarder! (Doth I protest too much?) Really, I am not, but I must be really good at sorting and putting away, so that it looks neat and tidy, for a while at least. I amaze myself sometimes with how much content I can condense into a small space.


So this time, recognizing that my room in general and my closet in particular were areas that awakened within me fear and dread, I took courage and plunged in. It took me a couple of hours to convince myself to do this, picturing in my mind the image of a giant train rusted to an unused stretch of track.It took a tremendous amount of force to turn the wheels an inch, four inches, one complete rotation, the track groaning, the train grinding and heaving. After I had been going a while, and could see the carpeted floor of the closet, I actually used a garden rake (the kind with flexible steel tines) to gather bits and pieces from the closet floor. (A certain daughter has been using this cloistered space for some time as a sleeping/reading/snacking place.) I employ unorthodox methods sometimes when cleaning house.

I had to reach a stopping point that night -- it was not to be a one day project. I have returned to it twice since. But the train is in motion. I have broken through the inertia, at least in that one area. And I am giving things I never use the heave-ho this time. Why store it in the unlikely event I will ever need it again? Part of having faith in the future is letting go of the artifacts of the past.

Everything in life analogous to something else. Lessons everywhere!

Indecision and Inertia

January...a month 'pregnant' with possibilities, an  'expectant' new year...Where best to spend my time?

Indecision has been the boon of my existence in recent weeks, months...years? Since turning 50, I have been frantically warming up for something, but I am not at all sure what it is. I puzzle over this every day, occasionally working myself up to a mild level of enthusiasm for this plan or that.

It feels like I am waiting by myself at the starting line of a one-woman marathon. The gun signaling the beginning of the race sounded hours ago in the distance, almost beyond my consciousness. I was not aware of it until moments later, when I recognized its meaning. I am having a delayed reaction, but I am still running in place for all of the reasons a runner might run in place: to keep my muscles warm and supple, to psyche myself up, to visualize a course of action leading to victory. This constant state of agitation and anticipation has resulted, inevitably, in  frustration, because I am inert. I am not a marathon runner. I more closely resemble a giant anvil on a pier that is used to hoist ships from water. There is really nothing more inert than that.

Maybe I am in the doldrums of life, adrift at sea without power and without wind. Unwilling to propel myself toward a hospitable port somewhere by paddling, I float along, hoping not to be overtaken by pirates or have my vessel toppled in a storm. The current, though slow, will carry me somewhere, and I will be on a new adventure.

First Take on Friday, January 9th

After not writing anything on this blog for almost a year, I truly hope to write every day going forward as a daily stretching exercise for my writing. Subject matter will be the issue -- what will I find to write about every day? Well, there's always something.

I just watched U.S. Senator Barbara Boxer's "interview" conducted by her grandson announcing her retirement and I was struck by one quote: "I have a thousand accomplishments." What must that feel like?

We are still in the single digits for January and Christmas has been put away. The tree and all its trimmings, our burgeoning collection of nutcrackers, our village, our santa shelf, the wreaths and garlands...all safely stowed in the basement ready for, well, later this year. It's nice to have my house back. It always feels much larger when Christmas is gone.

Today I am excited about (of all things!) polishing our piano. It's a 118-year-old concert grand, 7 and a half feet long, made of rosewood with elaborately carved legs -- absolutely beautiful, but severely neglected. It is played on a daily basis, but it is so large and so old it really needs its own maintenance schedule. I wonder if Barbara Boxer would consider polishing the piano an accomplishment? Probably not.

Mrs. Sanders Has Been Found!

I have not looked at my blog (this blog) for several months, but when I went to look at it tonight, I saw that a comment had been received and was awaiting my approval to post. Frequently, such comments are from non-English speaking cons in other parts of the world who want me to invest or think we may be related, etc. so I am used to reporting them as spam and moving on, but tonight...and every night since Nov. 27th, apparently...there was a comment by (or at least about) my all-time favorite teacher, Mrs. Ann Sanders. I've been searching for her for decades now to thank her for being such a HUGE part of my life.

The comment said that my "beloved" Mrs. Sanders is now Dr. Sanders, and she is the assistant superintendent of the Kansas City, Missouri School District. With that information, I soon found an article praising her many accomplishments before, during, and after my eighth grade year, when she taught Social Studies at Broadmoor Jr. High in Overland Park, Kansas. She was fantastic! (I encourage you to read my earlier post in this blog about my quest to find her. Another of her former students found my post and joined my quest.)

So, for the moment at least, all is right with the world. Just knowing that Mrs. Sanders is out there and that she is still involved in education makes me happy. If all teachers could be as informed, as enthusiastic, as respectable, as professional, and as demanding as Mrs. Sanders, we would have the best education system in the world, bar none.

Movie Review: The Lego Movie (2014)

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I very much enjoyed The Lego Movie. (And I think that may be a gross  understatement.)

Scott and I saw it with our two daughters (yes, girls!) on Friday night. All of us had to talk ourselves into seeing it (I bribed the girls with popcorn), but we all more or less LOVED it. We may have enjoyed it so much, in part, because our expectations were extremely low, but three days later I find that I keep thinking about it and singing the ridiculous, irresistable, and aptly named theme song, "Everything Is Awesome!"

I had read one review in advance with a spoiler alert about the ending, which I will not reveal. The review intrigued me enough to compel me to see it, though. Almost all of the reviews have been over the top in favor of the movie. This Lego Movie (as opposed to others that have been released directly to DVD) is targeted to all age groups and both genders. It was not made just for little boys who currently play with Legos.

Some of the things I loved about it:

• lots of humor and almost no potty humor
• the inclusion of all of the major types of Lego sets -- Wild West, Star Wars, astronauts, skyscrapers...
• the inclusion of a little romantic intrigue (always a plus when it's well done)
• Batman's personality
• Morgan Freeman in a semi comic role
• the whole premise
• the fun twist at the end, which brought clarity to the whole film
• no cursing of any kind, which is quite amazing for a Will Farrell movie (and I do not usually like Will Farrell movies. Despised 'Elf,' for example.)

The Lego Movie is all about creative freedom and individuality. No wonder it was so great!

My only complaint about it is that the special effects were a bit off-putting, but the story made up for it, as a compelling story always does.

25 Days of Success with the Red X Method

I should probably wait until I've officially gone a full month, but I have to tell the world about the "Red X Method" (for lack of a better term), which I have been using for the past 25 days without fail.

I learned about this method from a link to a link online. The first snippet I read had been published at entrepreneur.com. It related the story of a comedian who crossed paths with the great Jerry Seinfeld at a comedy club. He knew that Seinfeld had been extremely successful at everything he had ever done in comedy -- stand-up, sitcoms, movies, etc. One year he made over 200 million dollars. So he asked Seinfeld the same question hundreds of others have probably asked Seinfeld: How did you become successful in the business?

Seinfeld told him that years ago when he was first starting out he posted a one-year calendar on the wall (January through December, all on one page) and every day that he wrote jokes he could mark a red X over the date. In order to mark the red X he had to actually write jokes -- not just research jokes. (I know from experience it is easier to retreat into 'research,' which may be interpreted as surfing the web.)

What Seinfeld discovered was that he did not want to have a date without a red X, so he wrote jokes every single day in order to avoid breaking the chain. It became essential to his daily routine.

Seinfeld believes that consistency, day in and day out, has kept his comedy fresh and relevant and has been one of the secrets to his success.

So the very day that I read this story I started writing consistently, every day. I began with the book I was closest to finishing, and within a week it was done (I had worked on it for months a couple of years ago before giving it up for some reason.) Twelve days in, I was sending it off to an agent in New York with a newly written query letter (still waiting to hear back, still hopeful, also realistic).

Since sending that book off, I have written every day, but I have floundered a bit in deciding which book to work on next. (I have started and finished at least a dozen fairly serious projects.)  I've chosen a book now and I am making slow but steady progress. New book ideas have been coming at me left and right, too, like they used to when I was writing more frequently. I'm a conduit again for the writing muse, and it feels great.

Of course I've known forever by reading dozens of books on writing that you have to do it every day, but the red x method has been the best motivation I have found. On at least two occasions over the past 25 days I have wanted to bag it and leave the date un-exed, but then I have convinced myself to open up the file and do a little writing. Soon I am absorbed in the work and glad that I didn't miss the opportunity.

Of course the Red X Method can be applied to any endeavor, not just writing or writing jokes. Anything you  want to be doing every day but never seem to find the time for -- mark it with an X!

Why does EVERYONE love telephones except me?

I had my love affair with the telephone when I was in junior high in the latter half of the 1970s. You paid by the phone jack then, and our house had two: one in the kitchen on the wall with a corkscrew plastic cord that stretched to the floor, and one in the master bedroom sitting on a bedside table. We felt fortunate to have push buttons instead of dials, and life was good.

My best friend, Shawna, and I would talk, giggle, and sing for hours on the telephone, though our homes were only about a half mile apart down the street and across a school yard. I distinctly remember singing a Campbells soup commercial over the telephone: "How do you handle a hungry man? The man handler's!" We were the 'man handlers,' though neither of us had ever had a boyfriend. Oh, we laughed and laughed.

Phones were fun then and not complicated. If you were away from home and needed to call someone, you had to find a payphone and insert a dime for local calls, but that was no problem because there were payphones on every street corner and inside most businesses. Making a call from a payphone was a rare event. Almost everything could wait to be communicated until we were home.

I remember seeing my first cell phone -- a literal brick in size and weight attached to a self-important, technologically advanced co-worker's hip so that he could be reached anywhere in the event of an 'emergency.' (We were librarians, and I don't recall any serious library emergencies, but I guess we could have had one.) The first car phone I ever saw was in a BMW on 700 East in Salt Lake City. You could tell that the car had a phone because it had a little stinger above the back window. I was mildly impressed by the novelty of it.

But this phone thing has gotten out of control. Who really needs to be in constant communication, as though they or their potential callers are on life support of some kind?

I realized the phone thing had gone too far in the freezer section of my local grocery store where a man was talking in a loud voice (apparently to himself) about which vegetables to buy. The debate was getting kind of heated when I realized he was wearing a device of some kind above his ear and actually communicating with someone who was not in the store. What would have happened if he had brought home corn instead of peas, or both corn and peas? He was not authorized to make such decisions without placing a phone call.

I may be the only adult I know who does not want and does not have a data plan on a smart phone. The four other adults in my own household have the latest technology and wouldn't want to be without it, but for me the added convenience of having GPS and a digital phone book in my purse pocket holds absolutely no appeal. I have never used an app and do not want to. Something must be terribly wrong with me.

We pay handsomely each month for all of this instantaneous entertainment and information.  There's never a dull moment when you can watch a movie or television or shop or read a book in the palm of your hand.

Maybe I've stumbled onto something here. I like having dull moments to think my own thoughts. I like the fact that if I want diversion, I have to go out of my way for it.

My co-worker with the prototype enormous cell phone all those years ago called it his 'electronic leash,' and that is how I see all of them. What marketing genius convinced civilized people everywhere that they must invest in high tech tech status symbol phones, then pay monthly for the privilege of using them?

In the interest of full disclosure, and since payphones have all but disappeared, I do keep a very simple cell phone in my purse in case of emergencies (my own or others'). A cell phone is a necessary evil.