We forget the negative when we've been away from a place, a person, a situation. Time heals and absence makes the heart grow fonder. I've lived in rural East Texas for almost six years, and most days I find reasons to dislike it and pine away for the big city, any city. It's amazing to me that one region can be so completely devoid of culture, food, and size 2 garments. I am constantly frustrated and preoccupied with what my locale doesn't offer that I often forget to sit back and think about what I love, and why, ultimately, I really am happy. If I wasn't, I would have found a way to leave by now.
I recently finished a Nicholas Sparks book about a man who leaves his fast-paced Manhattan life for love, moving to a no-name North Carolina town. A loft apartment overlooking the city is traded for a rented room full of taxidermy. The apex of all things literary and culinary, walks in Central Park, the excitement and tension of New York streets, is exchanged for a local diner and a sad local paper. As I read the first chapters, even before the character's desolation was revealed, I felt it. I live there. In the end, the character comes to love his new home. He is even given the chance to return to Manhattan and passes it up, choosing the slow and simple saunter of southern life.
Driving home tonight, passing wooded areas and pastures made lush and green by days and days of East Texas rain, I had a flashback to my teen years, when I started driving. I grew up in Boise, Idaho, a fairly good-sized city. Not a New York, not a Chicago, not a Houston or Dallas, but big enough. Beautiful. Varied opportunities for experiencing culture, museums, street markets, shopping, entertainment, food, food, food, and recreation everywhere - skiing, river sports, hiking, biking. . .a wonderful, wonderful town. And I remembered on my peaceful drive home tonight, the traffic. As a young driver, the back-ups on well-traveled roads infuriated me. Granted I was young, extremely immature, and had no semblance of a walk with God. All the same, I didn't like the traffic.
Toward the end of my 19-year stay in the Northwest, I became disgusted with the mentality of the people, who grew more and more. . .I won't go into detail, but my political views are no longer the norm in that part of the country. In fact, looking back, it appears that God was dropping hints, setting it all up, making it miraculously easy for me to leave my childhood home, my friends of a decade or more, my golden college experience. Everything I sometimes long for now, was mine, and I had grown sick of it. It no longer mattered, I wanted John Deere Green, cowboy hats, belts with big buckles and names on the back, magnolia trees, chicken fried steak, okra, banana pudding, and Blue Bell on the front porch. I wanted to drive from my house to the post office and back and know what 80 percent of my family and friends were doing and where they were at. I wanted to find love and raise children within 15 miles of the final resting places of my great-great grandparents.
Humans are fickle. We are forever dreaming of the green, green grass that's in our line of sight, but out of our reach. Then, it seems when we finally have a moist, muddy handful of it, we want to throw it down and wipe our hands.
I often wonder what I would miss about East Texas if I were suddenly transplanted into a metropolitan area. There's no way to know for sure, however, I am confident the layered sounds of crickets, frogs, and distant birds all painted onto a background of tranquil silence would be missed when I attempted to sleep among busy city streets. In the spring, the wafting fragrance of wisteria, in the summer, the first aromas of barbecue, when those were replaced with the smells of culinary choice on a busy downtown street mixed with exhaust, I would miss my lakeside home. And, at the end of a day spent in a building built tall as a monument to mind-numbing, soul-sucking commerce, I am confident I would long for the days that my only charge was to please God, to find a way to plant one more seed, and then wait for HIM to give the increase.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
On leadership
This blog is not political, although I am a very political person. However, I recently witnessed a prominent politician (who shall remain nameless) display a ridiculously defensive attitude. And, it made me worry, more than I usually do, about the people in charge of our nation and by default, my future.
I've learned (read: try to remember) to compare the situations of others to my own before passing any kind of judgment, not that I should be passing judgment at all, but I am human, nonetheless. Being in a position of authority, at any level, opens a person up to ridicule and makes them the target of the finger of blame. That's just the way it is, leadership is a mixed blessing. I learn this more and more every day in my own life. The one in charge is most often seen as the bad guy, the fun hater, and when those they oversee spin out of control, it is most often the leader that actually slides off the cliff. Unfortunately, these incoming opinions are often transferred and become a part of the leader's opinion of themselves. I can see how that could make a person defensive, but I also know from personal experience that a defensive attitude usually comes from a lack of confidence in either the decisions one has made or one's ability to perform the job.
Needless to say, when I saw this trait in this politician, it made me fearful because it illustrated that this person is not confident in their decisions, is not pleased with the job their currently doing, and does not trust in their own ability to do a better job in the future. Disturbing.
Still, comparing their situation to my own, I tried to think of what I would do. It's taken much time for me to learn to do this, and I sometimes still forget, but in most cases I step back, evaluate, and then ask for help. The latter is a huge shot to the ego for some, it used to be for me. Why do we feel there is shame in asking for and getting help when the hand we're dealt gets to be too much?
Strangely enough, leaders who have asked for help have gone down in history as heroes. For instance, Winston Churchill asked for the help of the U.S. in WWII (although it took much coaxing before FDR agreed), the result was victory over an evil man and the salvation of millions. I give you Winston Churchill - household name.
Eventually, even the wisest leaders screw up. In fact, it's safe to assume that leaders do not approach wisdom until they've fallen down in the mud a few times. When mistakes are made, the best we can do is learn from them. It doesn't make the sickening swell you feel in your stomach go away any sooner, and it is often hard to fight the urge to punch people in the face when they tell you to "learn from it", however, it is the best advice, and the only way to turn a negative into a positive.
Don't trust someone who is afraid to be wrong, or hasn't made any mistakes. Because we've all made mistakes. It's impossible not to and people who claim they've made none - have. They just refuse to take responsibility for them.
I've learned (read: try to remember) to compare the situations of others to my own before passing any kind of judgment, not that I should be passing judgment at all, but I am human, nonetheless. Being in a position of authority, at any level, opens a person up to ridicule and makes them the target of the finger of blame. That's just the way it is, leadership is a mixed blessing. I learn this more and more every day in my own life. The one in charge is most often seen as the bad guy, the fun hater, and when those they oversee spin out of control, it is most often the leader that actually slides off the cliff. Unfortunately, these incoming opinions are often transferred and become a part of the leader's opinion of themselves. I can see how that could make a person defensive, but I also know from personal experience that a defensive attitude usually comes from a lack of confidence in either the decisions one has made or one's ability to perform the job.
Needless to say, when I saw this trait in this politician, it made me fearful because it illustrated that this person is not confident in their decisions, is not pleased with the job their currently doing, and does not trust in their own ability to do a better job in the future. Disturbing.
Still, comparing their situation to my own, I tried to think of what I would do. It's taken much time for me to learn to do this, and I sometimes still forget, but in most cases I step back, evaluate, and then ask for help. The latter is a huge shot to the ego for some, it used to be for me. Why do we feel there is shame in asking for and getting help when the hand we're dealt gets to be too much?
Strangely enough, leaders who have asked for help have gone down in history as heroes. For instance, Winston Churchill asked for the help of the U.S. in WWII (although it took much coaxing before FDR agreed), the result was victory over an evil man and the salvation of millions. I give you Winston Churchill - household name.
Eventually, even the wisest leaders screw up. In fact, it's safe to assume that leaders do not approach wisdom until they've fallen down in the mud a few times. When mistakes are made, the best we can do is learn from them. It doesn't make the sickening swell you feel in your stomach go away any sooner, and it is often hard to fight the urge to punch people in the face when they tell you to "learn from it", however, it is the best advice, and the only way to turn a negative into a positive.
Don't trust someone who is afraid to be wrong, or hasn't made any mistakes. Because we've all made mistakes. It's impossible not to and people who claim they've made none - have. They just refuse to take responsibility for them.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Mail Issues
I miss getting mail. Real, hold it in your hands mail, and e-mail. . .legitimate e-mail. Now, in the gloomy shadow of a cancelled trip, I need the pick-me-ups of everyday life even more than usual. When you have something really huge and exciting to look forward to, and then it’s not there anymore, (even when it’s by your own action. . .or inaction, nonetheless) your normal life loses some of its luster. That’s why I need my mail. Mail holds such possibility.
I have a Blackberry synced with my personal e-mail and every time it buzzes, my heart leaps a little. What kind of news is it? I can’t tell you with any certainty what I’m hoping it might be, I just want it to be something. Okay, yes I can, I want it to be an agent writing to tell me she’ll represent my book, or better yet, that she’s already got a publisher waiting for someone with just my tone and she’s faxing over a 10-book contract with a $50,000 advance.
Oddly enough, it’s usually some hacked to death attempt at English telling me I’m the sole benefactress of an Ethiopian ivory fortune. I am well rehearsed in the deletion process. Spam mail is such a let down. The people responsible for spam mail should get bonuses for the fits of temporary depression they bring on. Not only are they phishing for identities and breaking down secure servers, they’re also playing on the emotions of poor freelance writers hoping for book deals. I can only assume they’re conspiring with pharmaceutical companies and other entities involved in the creation and distribution of drugs like Xanax, Wellbutrin, and Paxil. I think Little Debbie, and maybe Blue Bell, are also involved as my personal consumption of their products has increased three-fold since Sunday evening last.
On the USPS front, I’m only getting bills, small white envelopes symbolic of balls and chains. Reminders of responsibility and mistakes. This is one area that I am expecting something of value, I am a writer that gets paid, so every now and then my lust for mail is positively reinforced in the form of monetary gain. I could use some of that monetary gain about now.
To twist the knife ever so slightly, I did get a Membership Reward postcard from American Express today inviting me to redeem points for a fabulous stay in. . .where else. . .Paris!!!
For the record, as I seem bitter, I stand by the decision I made not to travel last week. It was not the right time, I know the difference between lack of peace and fear, and what I felt was an absence of peace. However, I am very disappointed that it didn’t work out, that I wasn’t able to do it, and for that matter, that I hitched my wagon to such a far away (literally) star. I really, REALLY needed a vacation, a disconnect, which I could have accomplished much closer to home. Or perhaps, that would have been scratched, too. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. I try not to question it too much, it’s best to just trust and wait for the perfect opportunity.
While I'm waiting, maybe I'll do some internet shopping where I can get some really exciting mail. New shoes, handbag, a red patent leather belt (basic item, yes, yet impossible to find). However, this will no doubt lead to the continued delivery of the aforementioned bills. Vicious cycle.
I have a Blackberry synced with my personal e-mail and every time it buzzes, my heart leaps a little. What kind of news is it? I can’t tell you with any certainty what I’m hoping it might be, I just want it to be something. Okay, yes I can, I want it to be an agent writing to tell me she’ll represent my book, or better yet, that she’s already got a publisher waiting for someone with just my tone and she’s faxing over a 10-book contract with a $50,000 advance.
Oddly enough, it’s usually some hacked to death attempt at English telling me I’m the sole benefactress of an Ethiopian ivory fortune. I am well rehearsed in the deletion process. Spam mail is such a let down. The people responsible for spam mail should get bonuses for the fits of temporary depression they bring on. Not only are they phishing for identities and breaking down secure servers, they’re also playing on the emotions of poor freelance writers hoping for book deals. I can only assume they’re conspiring with pharmaceutical companies and other entities involved in the creation and distribution of drugs like Xanax, Wellbutrin, and Paxil. I think Little Debbie, and maybe Blue Bell, are also involved as my personal consumption of their products has increased three-fold since Sunday evening last.
On the USPS front, I’m only getting bills, small white envelopes symbolic of balls and chains. Reminders of responsibility and mistakes. This is one area that I am expecting something of value, I am a writer that gets paid, so every now and then my lust for mail is positively reinforced in the form of monetary gain. I could use some of that monetary gain about now.
To twist the knife ever so slightly, I did get a Membership Reward postcard from American Express today inviting me to redeem points for a fabulous stay in. . .where else. . .Paris!!!
For the record, as I seem bitter, I stand by the decision I made not to travel last week. It was not the right time, I know the difference between lack of peace and fear, and what I felt was an absence of peace. However, I am very disappointed that it didn’t work out, that I wasn’t able to do it, and for that matter, that I hitched my wagon to such a far away (literally) star. I really, REALLY needed a vacation, a disconnect, which I could have accomplished much closer to home. Or perhaps, that would have been scratched, too. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. I try not to question it too much, it’s best to just trust and wait for the perfect opportunity.
While I'm waiting, maybe I'll do some internet shopping where I can get some really exciting mail. New shoes, handbag, a red patent leather belt (basic item, yes, yet impossible to find). However, this will no doubt lead to the continued delivery of the aforementioned bills. Vicious cycle.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I'm back...from the airport
If you’ve read my blog at all the past few weeks, you know that I booked a trip to Paris, France, for Spring Break. If you read this blog Friday, you know that I was supposed to have left on said trip yesterday. And, if you’re reading this blog now, you know that I am in fact in the United States, and you are probably wondering why. So am I.
That’s not entirely true. I know why. I couldn’t get on the plane. For a long time, I have been living under the idea that I am a worldly, independent type, destined to see and explore every crevice of the earth. Turns out, that’s not who I am at all.
Nearly every source of my earthly joy is in a 30-square-mile radius and I am a very content person, a trip overseas was not going to add anything. Well, it might have and I know there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with me going, in theory. But, I couldn’t do it. I made it all the way to the airport and was within 90 minutes of taking off and I could NOT do it. Many people reading this probably think I’m a complete fool for not going, especially if you know me and have heard me rant and rave about wanting to travel and about this trip in particular. However, none of you were inside my head at the critical moment. None of you felt the lack of peace. None of you have to look at the credit card statement.
This is a lesson learned, that’s how I view it. God can use any means He chooses to teach us, to mold us. And, He may very well have used this to teach me, to show me, exactly what my life is supposed to be, what it is supposed to be about.
If I were in Paris right now, I would be one of several places. I could be touring Notre Dame, I could be on a bus familiarizing myself with the city, I could be exploring the Quartier Latin, or I could be crumpled on the bed in my hotel room in tears wishing I could go home. Although it seems preposterous, I could still be wandering through Charles de Gaulle looking for my baggage and/or shuttle driver, or there’s a small chance I could be stranded in Amsterdam. The crumpled on the bed is probably very likely. I am a strong person, but the people God has blessed me with are what make me strong. I am not brave, not on my own. If I have someone else to lead, guide or protect, I’m there, I’m on it, the responsibility drives me. Conversely, when it’s just me, I fall apart. I am a social being. Sure, I enjoy the occasional afternoon or evening of solitude, but for the most part I like having people with me, I like having someone to share with. When I am away from home, even on short trips, I always want the people I care about most with me. Especially my sister. A few months ago in Houston I walked through the Galleria wishing she was with me. That’s probably why I bought her the overpriced dinosaur t-shirt from Urban Outfitters.
My aunt told me last night: “You can do anything you put your mind to.” That’s true, but everything I’ve accomplished in my short life has been possible because of the support and love that’s always been present. Not one of my family members or friends told me not to go on the trip, but once I decided against it, nearly every one of them told me they were relieved. They hadn’t been comfortable with me going by myself, but they weren’t going to stop me because they knew it was something I had desired to do for such a long time.
I lost my peace and excitement over the trip more than a week ago. I woke in the night in a sweat and pulled out the travel documents ready to cancel. I didn’t, but I never felt much but anxiety from that point on. I prayed and prayed and prayed some more, only to get short periods of peace. Those brief instances were always quickly dashed away. What does that mean? I have no idea, and I probably never will. It was probably pre-trip jitters that even seasoned international travelers experience. Mine took many forms. Ultimately, the hurdle in the forefront yesterday was the flight. I woke this morning and turned on the news to discover that there were no plane crashes. I would have arrived safely. Everything other than that will probably forever remain a mystery.
Lessons learned:
**Nothing in haste – I thought booking this impulsively, as opposed to having seven months to wait like last time (oh yes, I cancelled a trip a few months ago, check the archives) would be good for me.
**Know my limits – solo travel is not something I can do, not that great a distance.
**Pay attention to past experiences – New York and Houston, when the former ended and the latter commenced, I knew I didn’t really like being away from home. I’m an east Texas girl. I’ve thought for a long time that I’m not, but I am. It’s a simple life, not that glamorous, not that exciting, but that’s the hand I’ve been dealt and I am grateful for everyone and everything that I have.
**Praise Him in tribulation – thank you God for a family and friends that are supportive of my decisions and of me, no matter how foolish. Thank you for forgiveness, provision, and a plan.
That’s not entirely true. I know why. I couldn’t get on the plane. For a long time, I have been living under the idea that I am a worldly, independent type, destined to see and explore every crevice of the earth. Turns out, that’s not who I am at all.
Nearly every source of my earthly joy is in a 30-square-mile radius and I am a very content person, a trip overseas was not going to add anything. Well, it might have and I know there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with me going, in theory. But, I couldn’t do it. I made it all the way to the airport and was within 90 minutes of taking off and I could NOT do it. Many people reading this probably think I’m a complete fool for not going, especially if you know me and have heard me rant and rave about wanting to travel and about this trip in particular. However, none of you were inside my head at the critical moment. None of you felt the lack of peace. None of you have to look at the credit card statement.
This is a lesson learned, that’s how I view it. God can use any means He chooses to teach us, to mold us. And, He may very well have used this to teach me, to show me, exactly what my life is supposed to be, what it is supposed to be about.
If I were in Paris right now, I would be one of several places. I could be touring Notre Dame, I could be on a bus familiarizing myself with the city, I could be exploring the Quartier Latin, or I could be crumpled on the bed in my hotel room in tears wishing I could go home. Although it seems preposterous, I could still be wandering through Charles de Gaulle looking for my baggage and/or shuttle driver, or there’s a small chance I could be stranded in Amsterdam. The crumpled on the bed is probably very likely. I am a strong person, but the people God has blessed me with are what make me strong. I am not brave, not on my own. If I have someone else to lead, guide or protect, I’m there, I’m on it, the responsibility drives me. Conversely, when it’s just me, I fall apart. I am a social being. Sure, I enjoy the occasional afternoon or evening of solitude, but for the most part I like having people with me, I like having someone to share with. When I am away from home, even on short trips, I always want the people I care about most with me. Especially my sister. A few months ago in Houston I walked through the Galleria wishing she was with me. That’s probably why I bought her the overpriced dinosaur t-shirt from Urban Outfitters.
My aunt told me last night: “You can do anything you put your mind to.” That’s true, but everything I’ve accomplished in my short life has been possible because of the support and love that’s always been present. Not one of my family members or friends told me not to go on the trip, but once I decided against it, nearly every one of them told me they were relieved. They hadn’t been comfortable with me going by myself, but they weren’t going to stop me because they knew it was something I had desired to do for such a long time.
I lost my peace and excitement over the trip more than a week ago. I woke in the night in a sweat and pulled out the travel documents ready to cancel. I didn’t, but I never felt much but anxiety from that point on. I prayed and prayed and prayed some more, only to get short periods of peace. Those brief instances were always quickly dashed away. What does that mean? I have no idea, and I probably never will. It was probably pre-trip jitters that even seasoned international travelers experience. Mine took many forms. Ultimately, the hurdle in the forefront yesterday was the flight. I woke this morning and turned on the news to discover that there were no plane crashes. I would have arrived safely. Everything other than that will probably forever remain a mystery.
Lessons learned:
**Nothing in haste – I thought booking this impulsively, as opposed to having seven months to wait like last time (oh yes, I cancelled a trip a few months ago, check the archives) would be good for me.
**Know my limits – solo travel is not something I can do, not that great a distance.
**Pay attention to past experiences – New York and Houston, when the former ended and the latter commenced, I knew I didn’t really like being away from home. I’m an east Texas girl. I’ve thought for a long time that I’m not, but I am. It’s a simple life, not that glamorous, not that exciting, but that’s the hand I’ve been dealt and I am grateful for everyone and everything that I have.
**Praise Him in tribulation – thank you God for a family and friends that are supportive of my decisions and of me, no matter how foolish. Thank you for forgiveness, provision, and a plan.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Random Tid Bits
It's Spring Break. My students left about 45 minutes ago, and I am leaving on Sunday for Paris. I think this calls for a laid-back sort of blog, not that all of my blogs are profound tomes of wisdom, but this one is going to be really relaxed. I'm just going to mention two very random things that have happened to me and a person close to me as of late.
1. My cousin, who lives in California with her Marine husband, recently had 12 pairs of underwear jacked from a laundromat. Who steals underwear? Yuck. (I mean this as a general comment, my cousin practices very good personal hygiene...awkward.) I'm a germophobe, so I have a bias, but I think most people should have some sort of mechanism in their brains that tells them it's not okay to, number one steal, but also wear a stranger's undergarments. I get the heebee-jeebees when I see slips at a Good Will. It ain’t right. The heartbreaking part is, her underwear was Victoria's Secret, and at a minimum cost of $8 a pair, that's at least $100 worth of panties gone in the night. Horrible, and...random.
2. Last night my sweet tooth got to aching and there was nothing in the house. We do that on purpose. However, I did find some chocolate chips, toffee bits, and chopped pecans. I mixed them together in a bowl and ate the concoction with a spoon. Don't judge me!! Now, that in itself is random, but, there's more. After this act of desperation, I of course needed to brush my teeth because one without dental insurance does not go to sleep with toffee stuck to one's teeth. I brushed well and set my toothbrush back in the thing that holds my toothbrush (I don't know what else to call it). It bounced out, slid off the counter (as almost everything in my bathroom has done at least 46 times - the room has an altered gravitational pull or something) and landed. . .on the toilet brush. Yuck, again. This is the reason I was in Wal-Mart at 7:40 this morning, on Friday the 13th no less, buying a toothbrush and nothing else. That’s random, too.
This blog will in all likelihood remain silent next week. But, I will have Paris experiences to share when I return.
1. My cousin, who lives in California with her Marine husband, recently had 12 pairs of underwear jacked from a laundromat. Who steals underwear? Yuck. (I mean this as a general comment, my cousin practices very good personal hygiene...awkward.) I'm a germophobe, so I have a bias, but I think most people should have some sort of mechanism in their brains that tells them it's not okay to, number one steal, but also wear a stranger's undergarments. I get the heebee-jeebees when I see slips at a Good Will. It ain’t right. The heartbreaking part is, her underwear was Victoria's Secret, and at a minimum cost of $8 a pair, that's at least $100 worth of panties gone in the night. Horrible, and...random.
2. Last night my sweet tooth got to aching and there was nothing in the house. We do that on purpose. However, I did find some chocolate chips, toffee bits, and chopped pecans. I mixed them together in a bowl and ate the concoction with a spoon. Don't judge me!! Now, that in itself is random, but, there's more. After this act of desperation, I of course needed to brush my teeth because one without dental insurance does not go to sleep with toffee stuck to one's teeth. I brushed well and set my toothbrush back in the thing that holds my toothbrush (I don't know what else to call it). It bounced out, slid off the counter (as almost everything in my bathroom has done at least 46 times - the room has an altered gravitational pull or something) and landed. . .on the toilet brush. Yuck, again. This is the reason I was in Wal-Mart at 7:40 this morning, on Friday the 13th no less, buying a toothbrush and nothing else. That’s random, too.
This blog will in all likelihood remain silent next week. But, I will have Paris experiences to share when I return.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Clutter
Goodness, it's been almost a week since I posted. I've been down with a demon sinus infection, but still working, planning, and doing a bunch of other things. Being sick has catapulted me into a wariness of sorts concerning my trip, which begins in four days. I don't know about you, but when I'm sick, I don't want to be anywhere but home. I was like that in college. Even after being away from "home" for more than a year, when my throat began to ache, I instantly longed for my parent's house. So, having been ill these past few days, it has been impossible to fathom being anywhere but my cozy, comfortable, familiar home.
The sickness (or the medication I'm on to get rid of it) has made me so foggy, I can't think straight about anything, although things have improved greatly today. The aches and pains and fatigue have closed in on me and pushed away my desire and ability to do other, more important things, which brings me to my topic and today's title, clutter.
I look at my desk right now and it is covered in various stacks. Each of those stacks is a project I'm working on. I know the deadline and requirements for each, some are big, some small, but what they all have in common is their cluttering up of my life. This is my desk at the school, so I can shuffle things around and limp through my days. At home however, it doesn't work that way. Most of my writing is done at home, from a small red desk under the window in my bedroom, save this blog that I usually eek out during a lunch break. The red desk is the birthplace of “The Hatpin Killer”, it is where articles on architecture, construction, church sound systems, bridal sizes, and ski resorts are created, and it must be a clutter-free environment. For whatever reason I cannot sit down with the intention of writing anything (good) with the same stacks around that I allow at the school. This means laundry must be folded, hung and put away, the bed must me made, the books and DVDs must be straight on the shelf, the floor must be vacuumed, my stack of bills must be neat (and preferably paid) and the desk itself must be free of STACKS!
Why is this so? I don't know. Again, the stacks on my desk at the school don't bother me so much. Maybe it's because I have more space in that office than I do in the home office. Maybe the need for neatness at home is just subconscious procrastination. “I have to do this load of clothes before I can get started.” I have to change the sheets before I can read over that interview.” Maybe I'll never know, but I do know this, once the room is clean, I can always sit down and get busy with an article, whatever the topic may be.
The same goes for mental clutter. There is nothing worse than having an article due while I have some pressing personal issue on my mind. In fact, it’s dang near impossible to churn out anything but oatmeal-like dribble. This is why I become a peacekeeper when I’m on deadline, I clear my life of the possibility of personal drama.
As I write, the medicine is finally doing its job and I feel the fogginess lifting for good and I’m looking forward to a clutterless, unclouded day. Ironically, it’s supposed to rain cats and dogs tomorrow.
The sickness (or the medication I'm on to get rid of it) has made me so foggy, I can't think straight about anything, although things have improved greatly today. The aches and pains and fatigue have closed in on me and pushed away my desire and ability to do other, more important things, which brings me to my topic and today's title, clutter.
I look at my desk right now and it is covered in various stacks. Each of those stacks is a project I'm working on. I know the deadline and requirements for each, some are big, some small, but what they all have in common is their cluttering up of my life. This is my desk at the school, so I can shuffle things around and limp through my days. At home however, it doesn't work that way. Most of my writing is done at home, from a small red desk under the window in my bedroom, save this blog that I usually eek out during a lunch break. The red desk is the birthplace of “The Hatpin Killer”, it is where articles on architecture, construction, church sound systems, bridal sizes, and ski resorts are created, and it must be a clutter-free environment. For whatever reason I cannot sit down with the intention of writing anything (good) with the same stacks around that I allow at the school. This means laundry must be folded, hung and put away, the bed must me made, the books and DVDs must be straight on the shelf, the floor must be vacuumed, my stack of bills must be neat (and preferably paid) and the desk itself must be free of STACKS!
Why is this so? I don't know. Again, the stacks on my desk at the school don't bother me so much. Maybe it's because I have more space in that office than I do in the home office. Maybe the need for neatness at home is just subconscious procrastination. “I have to do this load of clothes before I can get started.” I have to change the sheets before I can read over that interview.” Maybe I'll never know, but I do know this, once the room is clean, I can always sit down and get busy with an article, whatever the topic may be.
The same goes for mental clutter. There is nothing worse than having an article due while I have some pressing personal issue on my mind. In fact, it’s dang near impossible to churn out anything but oatmeal-like dribble. This is why I become a peacekeeper when I’m on deadline, I clear my life of the possibility of personal drama.
As I write, the medicine is finally doing its job and I feel the fogginess lifting for good and I’m looking forward to a clutterless, unclouded day. Ironically, it’s supposed to rain cats and dogs tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Sleepless in East Texas
I did not sleep last night, not real sleep. It was that altered-state-of-consciousness business. I began reading a book about Marie Antoinette before bed, and consequently, had waking dreams of the Dauphin and Dauphine and approaching revolution, and became very concerned about my taxes (I have to pay in this year - first time ever - because of my writing income).
Amidst my tossing and turning, I thought about the trip and my finances. I prayed. I panicked about my arrival at Charles de Gaulle airport, fearing it will be too intimidating and I will have to fight the urge to walk straight up to a ticket counter and pay an exorbitant amount of money to fly home immediately. I prayed some more. My worries and fears are always more concentrated at night.
Today, I am zombie-like, so I apologize if this post is less than brilliant. As a result of my nocturnal financial panic, I got up at five, an hour earlier than usual, and looked for some writing work. I've not been sending queries out because I've been focused on the book. Now that it's finished and now that I have a more clearly defined schedule at the school, I have time to look, and more importantly, will actually have time to do the work should I get it.
Yet another outcome: I drove to work terrified because I was behind a truck loaded down with steel beams. If you've seen "The Descent", you know what's up. Horrifying. My mind does not WORK properly when I am sleep deprived. However, it does lend a surreal quality to the day.
I just can't take it any deeper than this today. . .
Amidst my tossing and turning, I thought about the trip and my finances. I prayed. I panicked about my arrival at Charles de Gaulle airport, fearing it will be too intimidating and I will have to fight the urge to walk straight up to a ticket counter and pay an exorbitant amount of money to fly home immediately. I prayed some more. My worries and fears are always more concentrated at night.
Today, I am zombie-like, so I apologize if this post is less than brilliant. As a result of my nocturnal financial panic, I got up at five, an hour earlier than usual, and looked for some writing work. I've not been sending queries out because I've been focused on the book. Now that it's finished and now that I have a more clearly defined schedule at the school, I have time to look, and more importantly, will actually have time to do the work should I get it.
Yet another outcome: I drove to work terrified because I was behind a truck loaded down with steel beams. If you've seen "The Descent", you know what's up. Horrifying. My mind does not WORK properly when I am sleep deprived. However, it does lend a surreal quality to the day.
I just can't take it any deeper than this today. . .
Monday, March 2, 2009
Riding the Shopping Cart
Standing in the parking lot of Sam's the other night, I saw a man, probably my dad's age, run full speed while pushing an empty cart. He then jumped onto the cart and rode it until he ran out of steam, then repeated the process. I also saw a bright orange monster truck with suicide doors, but that's for another post.
I've seen my own father ride the shopping cart through parking lots, and I've done it myself, although not since high school. Seeing an older person engage in what seems to be a childish diversion got me to thinking: Now that the world appears to be breaking down, now that everything we've accumulated as a nation or as an individual may soon be worthless, isn't it time to just chuck it and have fun?
The Bible says to occupy while we're on Earth - I've often taken that to mean we're not supposed to take anything too seriously or get too wrapped up in our Earthly lives and what they offer. However, I went to a wedding this weekend where the pastor instructed the new couple to live life, enjoy life. This seems to be an issue of balance. Enjoy the fruits of your labor, but don't put them in a place they don't belong, like before God.
God didn't put us here to be miserable, we have a purpose and we also have access to joy and peace that surpasses all understanding. God is in control. We are not. That's where I live. In fact, booking the trip to Paris was ultimately a control issue for me. And, I know if I had given into that urge and need to be in control, I would be unhappy for not going, and it would be a giant step toward leading a life full of worry and missed chances.
I seem to be writing about the trip a lot, but naturally I'm excited, and it being such short notice, I am spending the majority of my free time planning and preparing. I am not allowing myself to stake out a minute-by-minute itinerary, but I am planning some things, like which neighborhood I would like to visit each day. I'm trying to allow myself time to wander, which is what Paris is for. It's going to be good for me.
It's amazing to me, and once more, evidence that I serve an awesome God, that a still small voice keeps reassuring me when I have doubts about my travel plans. (Incidentally, these pesky doubts are coming fewer and farther between.) I was reminded the other day that Jesus was a traveler, that France is still a part of God's world, and that ultimately, I need to find a way to be strong on my own, with God as my only companion. This seems to be taking on a pretty serious tone for a brief spring vacation, but nonetheless, it's where I'm at and this is my blog. . .
The more serious and sinister the world we live in seems to get, the more important it is to just run as fast as we can and jump on. If you get the chance to run and jump again...take it. And, that's what I plan to do. I will carry on with my responsibilities, and I will live my life the way I'm supposed to because that's my insurance, but when and if it all comes tumbling down around me, I plan to be cool as a cucumber. The trick is being ready to park the cart when the time comes.
I've seen my own father ride the shopping cart through parking lots, and I've done it myself, although not since high school. Seeing an older person engage in what seems to be a childish diversion got me to thinking: Now that the world appears to be breaking down, now that everything we've accumulated as a nation or as an individual may soon be worthless, isn't it time to just chuck it and have fun?
The Bible says to occupy while we're on Earth - I've often taken that to mean we're not supposed to take anything too seriously or get too wrapped up in our Earthly lives and what they offer. However, I went to a wedding this weekend where the pastor instructed the new couple to live life, enjoy life. This seems to be an issue of balance. Enjoy the fruits of your labor, but don't put them in a place they don't belong, like before God.
God didn't put us here to be miserable, we have a purpose and we also have access to joy and peace that surpasses all understanding. God is in control. We are not. That's where I live. In fact, booking the trip to Paris was ultimately a control issue for me. And, I know if I had given into that urge and need to be in control, I would be unhappy for not going, and it would be a giant step toward leading a life full of worry and missed chances.
I seem to be writing about the trip a lot, but naturally I'm excited, and it being such short notice, I am spending the majority of my free time planning and preparing. I am not allowing myself to stake out a minute-by-minute itinerary, but I am planning some things, like which neighborhood I would like to visit each day. I'm trying to allow myself time to wander, which is what Paris is for. It's going to be good for me.
It's amazing to me, and once more, evidence that I serve an awesome God, that a still small voice keeps reassuring me when I have doubts about my travel plans. (Incidentally, these pesky doubts are coming fewer and farther between.) I was reminded the other day that Jesus was a traveler, that France is still a part of God's world, and that ultimately, I need to find a way to be strong on my own, with God as my only companion. This seems to be taking on a pretty serious tone for a brief spring vacation, but nonetheless, it's where I'm at and this is my blog. . .
The more serious and sinister the world we live in seems to get, the more important it is to just run as fast as we can and jump on. If you get the chance to run and jump again...take it. And, that's what I plan to do. I will carry on with my responsibilities, and I will live my life the way I'm supposed to because that's my insurance, but when and if it all comes tumbling down around me, I plan to be cool as a cucumber. The trick is being ready to park the cart when the time comes.
Breaking News
I got two e-mail acknowledgements from the agent. So, it would seem they received ALL three of my submissions. L. . .O. . .L
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