Words and Things

I am currently reading three books. This is not uncommon.

The first is the current Book Club book, which happens to be "Sweet Valley Confidential." Say what you will; those of us who grew up on Francine Pascal's fairytale stories of blonde twins in Southern California were chomping at the bit for this latest incarnation which sees both girls in their late twenties, Jessica already married and divorced, Elizabeth living in New York City and working as an off-Broadway reviewer. The writing is absolutely, undeniably horrible. Jessica prefaces every sentence with "Like," and Pascal seems to have schooled herself in the Harlequin School of Literature when it comes to cliches and descriptions. The story is predictable, the characters laughable. But it's perfect summer reading because it plays on nostalgia and, well, it's completely brainless. The kind of thing you can easily process after a three-martini happy hour.

The second is Junot Diaz's "The Brief, Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao." And it is utterly fantastic; hands-down one of the best books I've read all year. This book has been following me around for years- literally. I was gifted a paperback copy, and it sat on my nightstand from 2008-2010. I finally donated it in a fit of ridding my life of things that made me feel like a failure: unread literature being chief among them. Almost immediately afterwards, Joel gifted me a second-hand hard copy of the book, and I decided that the Universe really wanted me to read it. It had come highly recommended, but for some reason it was just one of those books (like my copy of "A Moveable Feast" - another potential life failure on my part, unless I get cracking soon) that sat around and never got opened. Eschewed for a new Jane Green or the Book Club book I was supposed to begin three weeks ago.

The third is my lunch break book, "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. It's a delightful piece of nonfiction that I nibble away at in thirty-minute increments, when I don't have errands to run or have to work through lunch, that is. I embarked on my own Happiness Project a year or so ago, and now find clean delight in principles I'd come up with on my own that I see reflected in Rubin's research. Reading this book now is a reminder to return to the constant practice of those principals, for which I'm grateful. If I had tried to read this book in the past, I fear it would have struck me as preachy or, worse, unrealistic. But having carved my own path to some steady flow of happiness in my life has opened my mind to other peoples' journeys as well. Sure, I might have thought, Rubin has the resources to go about studying her own happiness: she's not a twenty-something bartender laid off from her freelance job due to the media outlet's pending bankruptcy. She probably even has luxuries like "health insurance" and a retirement plan. What audacious wealth! Those years are, blissfully, part of my past now. It's a little easier to contemplate happiness when you're involved in a job that brings you fulfillment, and living a lifestyle that blends much better with your personality.

I go back and forth on the subject of writing my own book. Part of me wholly believes that I lack the life skills and determination to come out with a solid body of work at this point, and part of me sees this as procrastination. The things I learned in my twenties could certainly fill a book, and a funny one at that, but humor requires a certain amount of distance from life experience. I am just now coming around to the idea that decisions I made at 22, 23, 24 are downright comical in how uninformed and dramatic they seem now. But to parse through all of that and come up with a solid plot line requires a little more tying together of loose ends; something that I'm still dealing with.

I will say, I am no fiction writer. Real life is too rich, too amazing, too eerily coincidental for me to make things up. Certainly, I see a definitive value in dressing up the truth as fiction (because, let's face it, I'm also a consummate over-exaggerator-slash-storyteller), and I have a feeling that at some point whatever work I come up with will be a curious blend of the two, if that's possible. I fiddle around with word choices, with story ideas, but nothing yet has compelled me to sit down and churn out a solid book.

I've been told multiple times to just compile all the emails I write for trivia and turn them into a book, but I fear that my audience would be...two hundred individuals living in or around Baltimore City. Which is nothing to sneeze at, but in terms of royalties...not ideal.

The "Thursday Night" Of Your Life

"The path to enlightenment is not a path at all- it's actually a metaphor for the time it takes for you to allow yourself to be happy with who you already are, where you're already at, and what you already have-no matter what."

I was on my undergraduate campus this past weekend, in town to see a play in the theater where I spent four years of my life rehearsing, building sets, sewing costumes, arguing, auditioning, defending, creating, acting, stretching, feeling, and engaging in one epic game of hide-and-go-seek. I walked past the dorms where I'd lived, the buildings where I'd attended classes each day, the Commons where I'd eaten all of my meals. This place, now populated by strangers and changing all the time, was home to me at one point.

Mostly what I felt, underneath all of the nostalgia and remembrance, was a pretty solid happiness that I am not twenty years old anymore.

We all did a lot of growing up in college, and some of us faced further growing up outside of it. Some of us are still in the thick of it. Some are never out of it. The things that I know now...well, there's no use postulating how anything could have been different were you to have been gifted with knowledge and foresight at the time. It was fun, awkward, hilarious, and often painful. It was everything it needed to be.

Standing in a place where one has stood countless times before and coming to it with fresh perspective and advanced knowledge always brings about the hovering question of what sorts of wisdom and understanding you'll someday bring to the table if you should chance to visit the places you frequent now. Imagining myself as a college freshman, ten years ago, and then imagining viewing my life as it currently is, ten years from now, does offer some pretty stultifying perspective in terms of what's important and what isn't.

And mostly what I wish I could have leaned over and whispered to myself all those years was this: It. Gets. Better. In every way. The challenges are new, the pain is deeper, the losses bigger, but monumentally life just gets better as it goes on. Especially when you're comparing the late teens/early twenties to the onset of thirty. My God. How I would never want to be 19 again. Honestly.

Which made me think, randomly, in this fashion: what is the best night of the week?

Normally, everyone says "Friday" or "Saturday." Some really energetic person might throw a "Sunday" out there, just to throw everyone off the game.

But the answer, at least in my mind, is Thursday. All of the really good stuff, Friday night, the weekend, an end in sight, etc. is still yet to come. There's still work ahead of you, for sure. But it's work you don't mind doing - this Friday work - because the end is so close you can taste it. Thursday nights have all of the relaxation of a weekend night, but on more dialed-down terms. It has anticipation. It's when you know the best is still yet to come, and you've come so far already.

Which got me thinking...I'm in the Thursday night of my life.

(This is all a truly meandering train of thought, I know, but this is where my mind goes when I'm doing things like writing all the time and running. Your brain just starts clicking in weird ways. Bear with it. Or...enjoy it. Who knows? I like to think it's some logical stretch but sometimes I say these things out loud and once they hit air, I find myself being gaped at with blank stares. Perhaps some things should just reside in my head.)

But, really. Thursday night. Work still yet to be done, but really good stuff ahead. Starting to put all of these lessons learned and experience gained into some kind of real-world context. I see my friends going through this, when all of the bullshit of their first terrible jobs, and their many terrible failed romantic encounters, and the cheap shoes and bad dates and sketchy decisions; all of that just sorts to fall away, and what takes its place is the fulfilling career, the hard work that feels more fruitful in the doing, the real relationships, the more solid decisions.

This is not, in any way, to say that mistakes don't still happen or things don't still fall apart. It's not to say that life becomes perfect after a certain age. I just see how the anxieties and uncertainties and things that fall through tend to fade away in time. And what takes its place is a calmer, more genuinely stable outlook and feeling. Confidence, perhaps, might be a way of looking at it. A belief that things will turn out the way that they should, eventually, and a faith and trust that everything that is happening is unfolding just as it should. A genuine belief that answers reveal themselves in time. Not a constant, panicked worry that because things aren't working out according to plan, total devastation is the only terrain left.

I guess that's the sweetest part of the whole deal. You get older and start to understand that what feels like complete and utter failure at the time, in retrospect turns out to be some bullet dodged or lesson learned that came in sweet handy at another juncture. You start to see how what feels like a missed opportunity maybe wasn't the best option, that wrong turns sometimes lead to the opening of very right doors, and that all of the twisting and turning was configuring you into something better and more satisfying. Perhaps that's an idealistic, optimistic way of looking at things. And, to be fair, there are some things that have happened in my life purely, I believe, to be fodder for some memoir later on down the road when I have twenty five years of distance from it. But, for the most part, I've seen more and more that things almost universally turn out the way they are supposed to, no matter how wrong or right it's felt at the time.

Maybe Thursday night is the anticipation that, regardless of what happens, this is the magic moment when you believe the best. When the experiences are still phantoms and hopeful ghosts and not yet concrete things that could be weighted with disappointment. There is no disappointment in anticipation.

Mostly, it's just a general appreciation for all that's happened and an excited anticipation of all that is yet to be. That's the Thursday night. That's the "Thursday Night" of your life.

Or maybe I just need to start keeping my thoughts confined to notebooks that don't see the light of day. It is possible I am simply becoming eccentric and slightly insane in my old age.

This Is Ourselves Under Pressure

My alarm went off at 6:10 yesterday morning. As usual, I hauled myself out of bed, feeling approximately one million years old, with legs and back aching. Dark out. Of course. Chillier now, in the mornings. A jacket was needed, and I could see my breath. When I first started this, there were mornings when I would be sweating before I even got out of bed. Somewhere in there, there's been a transition of three seasons: spring to summer to fall. In another handful of weeks, it will be straight-up cold in the mornings but this day marks the last official day of Training.

For the past 10 weeks, since nearly the beginning of August, it's been six days a week of training for the marathon relay this Saturday.Six days a week, some in the early mornings and some in the evenings when I limp through the door from work. Running before or after work doesn't seem to make any particular difference in terms of energy levels: forty minutes of alternating jogs and sprints is exhausting regardless of whether it's at 6:30am or 7:30pm.

I originally signed up for the marathon relay back in June, when running was still a fairly new activity to me.

Let me make one thing clear: I'm no runner. I ran indoor track for one season in high school, but mostly I found the whole ordeal so boring I eventually quit for the more interesting pursuits of theater and for sports that involved a little more action and ball-hitting, like tennis. I'm a very active person, but I also get routinely bored and so tend to change it up between running, elliptical, yoga, and Pilates.

The running thing just kind of happened. One day last spring, my muscles were itching to do something and the gym was closed. I so rarely have the urge to run, and even more rarely do I want to run outside. I was always a treadmill kind of girl, preferring to watch syndicated episodes of Friends while listening to Thievery Corporation. But this particular day, the gym was closed and I was in serious need of a sweat session. I laced up my crappy New Balances, strapped the iPod to my arm, and went for a run.

It was fairly short at first, just a couple of miles through the Inner Harbor, maybe. A mere jog pace. But it felt so good that, the next day, I found myself reaching for the running shoes again.

It became an addiction. Two miles turned into three, then four, then timing became more of an issue. Everyday, until my quads hurt so badly I had to take a day off. All that day, I felt itchy. I couldn't sit still. I had a trainer teach me better stretches. My parents bought me new shoes for my birthday, and I traded in my badly-worn trainers for shiny new shoes that actually fit. My miles pared down from 11 minutes to 10 to 9 to an epic 8. I signed up for the Baltimore Womens Classic.

Running a 5k would have been, in the past, a horrifying prospect. Challenging yourself to physical feats in the privacy of your own mind is one thing. But putting money down, getting a timing chip and a bib, and performing this in a venue with a thousand other women is an entirely new arena. As I said before, I'm not a runner. Or, at least, I wasn't until I crossed the finish line in 26 minutes and 33 seconds- a very decent time for my first 5k.

My second 5k I shaved nearly two minutes off of my time. And it was on a hill course in the pouring rain. I was hooked.

Signing up for the marathon relay was a definitive turning point in my life. Not only did it mean that I would have to commit to my new hobby for a distinctive period of time (commitment being a difficult agenda for any Gemini, this one in particular) I have a nasty habit of jumping on board with some activity/passion/hobby/

project, getting my life all up into it, and then slowly becoming bored or less disciplined or otherwise drifting away. It's not something I'm proud of and, in fact, Jackal and I adopted as our New Year's Resolution for 2010 the mantra: Finish what you start.

I knew it would be hard, I knew I would get discouraged, but I also knew that if I signed on the dotted line and made a promise to a team that I would be there- fit and ready for action- that I would follow through. Because, apparently, I can't keep the promises I make to myself (I WILL finish all of those projects I started...someday), but I'll go through hell and high water and a whole lot of other crap to keep promises I make to other people. One of my biggest pet peeves is flaky individuals, and I often damn near kill myself attempting to never come off as such.

And, the thing is, this year has been a whole lot of "put your money where your mouth is" in terms of following through on what I say I'm going to do. Running the marathon relay- and doing it in a decent time- is a huge point of pride for me. After having spent a couple of years floundering around, not really sure what I wanted to do, I'm pretty damn proud of saying that in 2010 I went to New Orleans and helped build some houses; found my passion in life and subsequently found an awesome job that routinely allows me to engage in all the things that make me happy; ran four 5k races and will run a 6-mile marathon relay with an awesome team. It's been a busy year.

So, along with about several thousand other people including many of my friends who have also risen to the challenge, I'll be running through the streets of Baltimore on Saturday morning. Even if I come in over my projected goal time, if I finish then I will finally have seen something through to the end. And knowing I can do this, knowing that the power to take responsibility and discipline into my own hands, is endlessly empowering.

Now, about that novel I'm gonna write....maybe if someone makes me sign up for a deadline....

Don't Forget To Breathe

we're all lifers here
no eleventh hour reprieve
so don't forget to breathe
keep your head above water
but don't forget to breathe
just breathe
- alexi murdoch

Dinner with Nickle tonight. Plates of tapas, a pitcher of sangria, a change of locale, a bottle of wine, a beautiful evening. The sky laced with purple to hint, ever so gently, that summer is winding down and, slowly but surely, on its way out.

I think I got pretty caught up in the moment a few too many times there.

I have been making conscious efforts to slow down. It's impossible at work- which is OK- but it's a discipline I am attempting to forge in the rest of my life. Slow down, relax. There's no hurry.

And there's no way to remind you to slow down than lovely conversation with a dear friend over rockfish fritters, confit of organic chicken wings, and cinco leches almond cake for dessert. Oh, Centro, how I do love you.

Friends bring your feet back down to the earth. They remind you of how you are rooted, where you are planted, the choices you have made and the choices you will make. In a good way. They stand as landmark measurements from whence you came and where you are headed and any good friend will say things that are helpful, critical in a proactive way, and ultimately healing.

I can feel my mind start to slow down as the first licks of the end of summer make themselves known. I went for a run this morning, early morning; through the Inner Harbor and down past the new expensive condos to Key Highway, and then threaded the back streets of Federal Hill. The Harbor is quiet in the morning, salty and earthy and slightly oily. It's late enough in the summer that there are already leaves drooping ever so slightly on the struggling young trees planted alongside Rash Field. There is one tree in particular that sports gold and red; like some too-early-to-the-party fashionista wearing Ugg boots in August. We mock that tree. Who does she think she is? But, ultimately, if she wears it long enough, it will come back around. She'll be one step ahead of the rest.

There was the slightest edge to the rising sun this morning. Not a chill, but...a memory of what a chill might feel like, and a little hint that perhaps it will be sooner than I think before mornings will bring chill again.

Just as the weather is shifting in ways that seem minute but are marked nonetheless, so too am I unclenching my fists and letting go. I got a little caught up there, I got a little too focused and a little too intent. For a moment there, I thought I had a little too much control. I release that now. I let go of the things I cannot change and accept responsibility for what I can.

Which brings me to #4 on the Happiness Project List.

Have meaningful goals.

My goals shift and change like the seasons, and each one carries the slightest whiff of nostalgia for the one before it and the one to come next. They segue into one another, bleed and merge and collide, but ultimately they are all the same. Be the best person I can be. Find meaning in life. Find peace. Cultivate understanding and knowledge. Encourage a healthy curiosity. Know your limits. Plan for the future. Don't scrap the present in the process. Don't dwell overly on the past. Face forward, young one, and listen carefully.

You know. Just....live a good life. Isn't that what it all comes down to? Do the best you can? Forgive the shortfalls and praise the accomplishments?

That's not to say that all goals are meaningful. My goal to, in some way, exacerbate Lee in every way possible is certainly not meaningful (but fun.) My aim to watch all of the recorded episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report on my DVR are ambitious and fun, but not, in the long run, particularly meaningful. (NOT that these shows are not meaningful; just that there lacks a certain brevity in forcing myself to watch EVERY EPISODE of anything.)

But it is to say that the big ones, the ones that stick around and guide all of the smaller goals, are meaningful. I changed up a lot of what was/is meaningful to me in the past year, and it has forever altered the way I look at the world. For the better. Having meaningful goals has provided me with a map, a path, a way of being that I lacked previously.

But, you know, don't forget to breathe. There is so much peace and solace to be found in those moments where you are not attempting to cram something meaningful in. Where you find that you haven't checked your watch in two hours, and you have no idea how many times your sangria has been refilled, and you don't care that you have laundry to do or mail to open or that email to answer. You've spent the last howevermanyminutes/hours/whatever deep in conversation and time has slipped by and you forgot to savor the moment, and that's ok. You're savoring it by being in it, by participating.

It's like running in the morning. I forget, sometimes, that I'm running. I'm looking at the sun coming up over Harbor East and the masts of the boats bobbing gently, and the work boats heading out towards the Key Bridge. I remember that, a few months ago, I was running this path towards a finish line with people cheering and summer was young and I was focused only on that finish line. And now...I'm focused on that weird fish-type thing that just lept up out of the water, and the trucks delivering food to the Rusty Scupper, and the other runners out here early like me, pounding pavement and lost in iPods.

Have meaningful goals. And don't forget to breathe.

#3- What You're Worth

OK, enough politics for now.

My day was all spilled coffee, error messages and wrong turns. I got lost trying to find something in an unfamiliar neighborhood and wound up having to make three U-turns to correct it. This doesn't sound mathematically (geometrically?) possible, but it's true. Baltimore, like any city, is full of one way streets and no left turns. I'm used to this.

Last year I interviewed for an internship position with a very large non-profit. They ended up canceling the internship program for various reasons, but the woman with whom I spoke kindly offered to answer any questions I had about non-profits when I told her I was looking for a career change. She said, "There is one main thing you should keep in mind when pursuing a career in non-profits: work very hard for many hours for very little money."

Which brings me to #3 on the Happiness Project: Put money low on the list.

If I had a nickel.

No, seriously.

The thing is, more stress in this world comes from money and the having or not having of it then pretty much anything else I'd imagine. Mo' money? Mo' problems.

It's true, and I've witnessed it first-hand. I always think that I would be a happier person, a more complete person if [insert goal here.] I were ten pounds thinner. I were ten IQ points smarter. I had a few thousand dollars lying around.

And, over the years, all of these things have fluctuated. Aside from the IQ points. No, actually, maybe those too. I think I'm quite smarter during the times when I limit the vodka intake. I have been thinner, fatter, richer, poorer, smarter, dumber, and any given mark on the spectrum of these. And- let me tell you, while it certainly can be less stressful to be in the black on these terms, it doesn't guarantee happiness.

I have figured out that I am a person who values experience over material things. I didn't find this out through some deep, spiritual process. I took a long hard look at my finances and discovered where the bulk of my money goes (outside of bills):
1. Food.
2. Bar tabs/general alcohol purchases.
3. Travel.

I don't spend excessive amounts of money on things. This is not to say that I do not like things. I have more books than anyone I know. (Except maybe Jackal.) I love shoes and bags and big earrings.

(I recently purchased my first Coach bag. For the record- it was a very practical black wristlet. Purchased at nearly 50% off from an outlet. Does this count?)

The point is, I apparently spend 90% of my expendable income on experiences. Dinners out. Nights out. Traveling to new locations.

Wealth, to me, is measured in experiences. In moments with friends and family, in countries I've visited, and in what I choose to do with my time. I choose to work in a profession that espouses the values I embrace, and I have the luxury of having an education and a background that has built the framework for this life.

Also, and this is never, ever to be underestimated: I measure my wealth in health. I have been laid up with mono, with Lyme Disease, with broken bones and, I can tell you, I am eternally grateful that all of those things were curable and temporary. For those who are healthy, I think it's an easy thing to take for granted. Do not. You have essentially a million dollars in the bank if you have your health and, if you don't believe me, ask anyone with a permanent or terminal illness to show you their medical costs and the cost of time taken away from their work, their life, their loved ones.

Money is money. It comes and goes. It's problematic and stressful, it's not talked about in polite society, and there will never be enough. Yes, it can grease the wheels in certain circumstances but without the wealth of love, of health, of an appreciation for life it means next to nothing.

So, despite my day of frustrations and my pitiful bank account and the fact that I am desperately lusting after a plane ticket to either Greece or San Francisco (can't decide which one I want more...) I consider myself wealthy. I was born a middle-class white girl with a loving family vested in my success and at-least-average smarts. I consider this instant wealth.

Do I wish I had a couple thousand dollars lying around? You better believe it. But you know what I'd spend it on? I'd fly to San Francisco and take Snickers and Snap out to a lavish sushi dinner with bottomless wine glasses. And then buy a bunch of books at City Lights. And then go kayaking at Pebble Beach.

OH- and then a wine tour.

OH- and I'd buy a pair of killer winter boots.

To wear when I buy my plane ticket to Chicago.

OH- Chicago...I want to go there too.

I digress.

Measure your wealth in ways other than monetary, Glitteratis. Yes, money is important. But so are all of these other things.

And may I suggest www.LivingSocial.com to assist you with the purchasing of experiences at a discount. I recently got a $35 bar tab for $15, and an entire day of kayaking for $18. Win.

It's Not Fair

I think we've just about wrapped up Savoring The Present/Everyday Moments on the Happiness Project list. Which means it's time to move on to item number two:

2. Avoid Comparisons

If there is anything in this world that will make you feel worse about yourself, it's comparison. There's a bifurcation to this point:

a.) You feel inferior. Which sucks.
b.) You feel superior. But this superiority comes with a price.

If you look around, or even if you just sit still and watch the world pass by, you can find plenty of both. I think it was in graduate school that the Rules of Life first began to actually sink in, and one of the first I learned was this: of every room you will ever walk into in your life, there will always be someone smarter than you, someone prettier, someone kinder, or someone who in some way seems vastly superior to you. It may not be overt. It may be far more subtle, but the fact remains that however smart/pretty/kind/amazing you think you are, you will always be able to find someone who's got you bushed in some department.

It's a pretty hard lesson to learn, but an excellent perspective to have in your arsenal.

God help you if you are an ugly girl, Ani DiFranco wrote; 'Course too pretty is also your doom / Because everyone harbors a secret hatred / For the prettiest girl in the room.

You can't win.

Comparisons lead you nowhere. Sure, that girl might have a tighter stomach, bigger boobs, better boots, and a boyfriend who is hopelessly devoted. So what? You think her life is any bit easier than yours? You think she doesn't fight the same battles, face the same daunting things that are out there to make life difficult?

It's one of our worst habits, this comparison. This idea of equality and justice has somehow bred in us the idea that we're all deserving of some overly large slice of some pie. (And yet we supposedly take pride in individualism and uniqueness. The paradoxes of this society are baffling.)

A more slippery slope is the idea that you are somehow superior to someone. Unless they have proved themselves to be nasty, bitter, angry or cruel, chances are you've got nothing on them. So what if you're thinner, or you volunteer more, or you know the value of keeping a secret? You can't possibly know all the intricacies of someone's heart, and you cannot ever get ahead in this world by thinking you're better than others. Because the moment you do- I promise you- you will fall from that little self-built pedestal. Thinking you're better then someone is ten times worse than thinking you're less. It's a dangerous position of self-inflicted power, and this overblown sense of ego is the source of (I would wager) close to 90% of the problems in the world.

But comparisons don't always have to come in this fashion. Sometimes comparisons are more subtle. For years, I watched as things happened for my friend. Jobs, raises, relationships, new houses, accolades....I watched and I felt myself becoming angry that these things didn't happen for me. I couldn't understand why everyone around me seemed to be just GETTING and GETTING and GETTING and why my life was so stuck and why I myself was floundering so very badly.

The thing was, I spent so much time comparing myself to these people that I neglected to see the hard work they put into these milestones and moments of happiness. I thought they were things that just happened, not things that were worked for.

And the second I realized that was the moment I regretted all those wasted years of wondering why happiness seemed to come so easily to other people and not to me. I could have spent that time, you know, being happy. Working towards my own goals instead of waiting for someone else's happiness to light up my life.

"Life's not fair," my parents used to chorus. It's not.

But this whole comparison thing can really start to get you down when you look at it from the perspective of a middle class white girl with above-average education, good health, and straight teeth. Go ahead....start comparing. Go down that road. Point out all the things that are wrong with you, and then turn around and look at the other 90% of the world's population that are struggling with addictions, bad health, limited choices, no access to good education, no family model to follow, no friends, no hope, maybe not even clean water or readily-accessible food and shelter. Go ahead and bemoan the fact that some people don't ever seem to have to work for their wealth or their health, and then turn around and realize how good you've got it. Makes you feel...for lack of a better term....schmucky.

Avoid comparisons. You have no way of knowing the complex issues of someone else's life, and you are only responsible for your own. Taking charge of your own behavior and understanding that whatever may come as a consequence is yours and yours alone to deal with doesn't leave too much time for comparison.

I will admit, it's something of a human condition though, isn't it? Sometimes it's impossible not to compare. All around us are people who are more disciplined, who seem to make better choices; people to whom happiness just seems to gravitate.

But comparisons breed room for resentment.

And comparisons also drain us of gratitude for what we do possess. Whether it's a unique character trait or a flaw that, twisted in the right way, becomes an asset; or a gift or a goal achieved or hard work that eventually pays off or a random stroke of luck that lands some golden little slice of life right into our laps. If you're so busy wondering why your neighbor has such a magical life, you're not really taking part in your own life, are you?

Life isn't fair. But before you think you've got the short end of the stick, look again.

Although....I do have to say here that people with naturally high metabolisms should just all congregate amongst themselves. I mean, honestly. Or at least refrain from mentioning it in public. Can I get some support on this one?

I digress.

Don't compare yourself to others. Because it's bad.

Witness

Savoring everyday moments is a practice towards happiness, but my proclivity towards over-sensitivity occasionally takes it in the wrong direction. Embracing the reality of the present involves an "attitude of gratitude" (gah- when did New Glitterati become so....New Age-y? She should buy herself some healing crystals and call it a day. And by "buy herself some healing crystals" I mean, of course, that she should place them in the freezer for an hour and then pour vodka over them and let them do their magic. This is the only purpose I can think of for healing crystals- straight-up vodka on actual cold rocks.) But it can also involve this: the understanding that there are bad things that happen in the world, that often there's nothing you can do to prevent them, and that catastrophes unfold around us on a daily basis.

The cab driver probably wasn't looking when he gunned through the intersection, T-boning the SUV turning right from the other direction. The impact was so loud that everyone in the vicinity came outside to see the cars, crumpled up on one another and occupying a curious space in the no-man's land that is the middle of an intersection.

I watched as the drivers got cautiously out of their vehicles, watched as passengers came crawling out and it was ascertained if injuries had been inflicted. The passenger in the cab was claiming some sort of bruising but, for the most part, everyone was OK.

But I looked at the cab driver. His shoulders were tired and hunched as he began removing his personal items- a cell phone, a water bottle, and a leather briefcase- from the wrecked cab. He was shaking his head. The police were questioning him, the passenger irate and talking loudly to the EMTs that had arrived. Someone from the cab company showed up to inspect the damage. I just kept watching that driver and thinking that there are moments when you realize you are witnessing what could be the worst day of someone's life.

Most likely there will be an investigation, a ticket will be written, and the passenger could sue. It is probable, although I don't know how likely, that the cab driver will lose his license, his job, or both. What, then, is a foreign-born middle-aged man to do to feed his family? I'm speculating here--I know nothing of this cab driver or his situation. But I watched the events unfold, I watched the crowd gather and I couldn't help but wonder what it is that draws us to drama. How the execution of everything else- the pressing errand, the phone call, the lunch date- is paused to allow for rubber necking of something ugly, scary, or otherwise a rude interruption from the ordinary.

My inclination towards over-sensitivity can be hard to deal with sometimes. I become so emotionally attached to situations that I have trouble disassociating and find myself turning it over and over in my mind. In the months after 9-11, I had to seek counseling for PTSD because I couldn't stop having nightmares about being inside a building on fire with nowhere to go. And when I see bad things happen; a fight, an accident, an injury; I cannot help but become somehow emotionally invested. I start thinking of all of the possible story lines for that moment, and how that could ultimately pan out for each individual. I see a car accident and I see months of injuries, expensive repairs, depression, possibly the loss of a job.

Being in the moment can sometimes trap you. You forget to step back and away, you forget to gain a broader perspective.

Happiness, as I said, is a choice. It is not a random circumstance. It does not just "happen," but rather is the result of how you choose to deal with the world and the world, undoubtedly, is going to throw some pretty heavy things at you sometimes.

To be happy all of the time is impossible, and not desirable in any way. It negates the idea that happiness is its own separate entity, and delineates pain. If you do not, from time to time, allow yourself to slip into moments of fury and upset and hurt feelings and insecurity, then how can you ever choose happiness? How can you work your way out of it again?

I watched the car crash unfold and I felt myself getting sucked in and wanting to do something to help. (This tendency of mine is as golden as it is bitter. It has led to my career choice, but it also gets me ensnared in places and situations I have no business being in. I am learning to choose more carefully when to let this character trait loose and when to reel it back in.) I started thinking about how everyone involved now had a ruined day, a ruined car, possibly ruined health if injuries showed themselves. Possibly a ruined career.

But then I also saw that no one had been standing close enough to be hit or seriously injured. I saw how the cab had hit hard on the passenger's side where no one was sitting. I saw how the police and ambulance showed up within a few minutes and had everything cleared shortly after. I saw the hundred things that could have been so much worse and realized that while you can spend a lot of time bemoaning the fact that the car crash happened in the first place, you could transfer that energy into gratitude that a, b, or c HADN'T happened.

Maybe this is a little Pollyanna.

Maybe Pollyanna just needed a good dose of vodka and Dorothy Parker.

The point is- if you're in the moment, that moment may not necessarily be a good one. But allowing yourself to see it through to the end and feel everything that needs to be felt is just as important as remembering that it's just that- a moment. One that will pass. And on the other side of it might be something amazing, or funny, or just average but still different in some fashion. It's like embracing hunger with the knowledge that it will make everything so much more appetizing.

We bear witness to so many things everyday that happen outside of us, but we only really pay attention when it's a spectacle of some kind. It brings the focus out of ourselves and into the reality of the moment, and this is not something to write off.

No one was critically hurt. That's the most important thing. "Thank God no one was hurt," the onlookers kept saying. Not "Why did this happen in the first place?" But an acknowledgment that damage, overall, will eventually be minimal. Because sometimes it isn't.

Because There Is No Better Company Than Yourself....

What Makes Us Happy?

I suddenly realized that four days had passed and I had yet to update this blog. This is the problem with this whole New Initiative. I've started too many New Initiatives recently and it's going to have to be a whole separate New Initiative genre to involve keeping all of these New Initiatives organized and managed in a timely fashion.

So....the question of the week is supposed to be "Savor everyday moments" in the happiness quest. And, in the spirit of this question, I will say this: I'm working on it, but the process of truly savoring everyday moments has left me with little time to actually blog about it.

This is ok. I've made peace with this, and you should too. Right? Right.

So this project is going to be a little more stretched out than I anticipated. But that's ok. It might take us a couple of months to get through these happiness points. But hey- that's just more happiness, right?

In other news, I can't believe it's the last weekend of July. This summer has been dominated by change and fun and lots of outdoor activities. Tonight is AVAM's outdoor Flicks on the Hill (King Kong) and this weekend is a kayaking trip with Ye Olde Book Club. Last night, Book Club destroyed about eight sushi rolls and a somewhat obscene amount of baked goods while watching Mansfield Park. Our summer agenda has been "Movies made from books." Mansfield Park is a bit more palatable to watch over dinner then our last movie, Precious: Based On the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire.

In other news: why is the cast of the Jersey Shore on the Today show? Seriously?

More to come on this savoring everyday moments thing.

Two Months Later

I've not written a whole lot about New Orleans lately, mostly because I had so many things percolating in my mind that I needed to give the entire thing some space and time before extrapolating anything of value.

The question that has been repeated to me, by others and myself, is "What did you get out of the situation?" And, at first, the answers were fast and many, disorganized and scattered thoughts and rage about social injustice, and feelings of inspiration and hope.

Two months later, I feel I've come up with some sort of generalized, definitive answer which also addresses the question: "Why did you go in the first place?"

The past few years have been quite scattered ones for me, as evidenced by this blog, and a period of a lot of questioning and "figuring things out." Seeking to do something like volunteer for a week in New Orleans sort of didn't make sense at the time; rather it was something that called out to me during a period of time when I was seeking direction, and I jumped on the opportunity. It wasn't what I had in mind for a transformative experience, and it certainly was never something I c\would have dreamed up on my own.

I couldn't even have articulated what it was I was seeking at the time, or to what gain, only that my heart was open and inquisitive.

And what it found was this: seeing how big, complex, and unpredictable the world is showed me what things I can and cannot control in my own life. Far from feeling stultified and helpless, it led me to feel proactive. Releasing my worries about what's out of my hands and staking a claim on what I CAN manipulate and alter (primarily my attitude towards life in general) opened up a new world for me.

For the first time in my life, I realized that happiness is not something that falls out of the sky or is waiting behind the right door. It's a choice. It's an active choice, it's a constant choice, and it's mine.

For the first time, I choose happiness and while it's constantly threatened (by things like complicated job issues, money worries, and tense interpersonal relationships, to name a few), I find that consistently choosing happiness over time leads to more happiness. The choice becomes more instinctual. I choose it over defensiveness, self-centeredness, pessimism, fear, doubt, and a host of things that kept me in the dark for so long.

So many things are out of my control. But this one thing I can have power over. And it's life-changing. Cancer patients choose it and it can improve their chances of remission. Athletes choose it and performance improves. And victims of disasters, both natural and man-made, choose it and find new means of coping.

Happiness, in my mind, is synonymous with hope, with humor, and with the genuine and concrete belief that things happen for reasons, and that those reasons are ultimately good.

I don't know why this never occurred to me before. I suppose, like anything else, it was a lesson to be learned. A hard lesson, to be sure, but with sweet, sweet results.

How did this come about? Because for every story of devastation and destruction, every horrible tale of dead bodies and loss and damage, there were gleaming little stories of hope, humor, and happiness.

I see how cataclysmic events lead to life-altering things like artistic reactions, volunteers, hope, hard work, and a call for re-structure. I see the cause-and-effect of negative occurrences and how the best reaction is its opposite- positivity. Because then you can't separate the negative and positive because one couldn't have happened without the other. So, ultimately, the negative becomes in itself a positive thing. Propelling you forward. Moving on.

Please do not misunderstand and think for a moment that I am selfishly capitalizing on the suffering and misfortune of others. I cannot, for an instant, downplay or trivialize the horrible, horrible things that happen in this world. I am simply pointing out that my experiences led me to a new way of viewing the world.

Happiness is a choice. It's a lens through which you view the world. It's not a job, or a car, or a relationship, or money, or any of the trappings of our lives. It's an attitude. It's how you receive all of these things. And if you're waiting for any one of those to bring you the clarity or buoyancy you crave, you will undoubtedly be disappointed.

I'm letting all of these things marinate and watching as fantastic little moments unfold in my life. The world is such an easier place in which to live when I'm not being defensive, "Why me," or shouldering the negativity I was carrying around for so long. That's not to say I don't have bad days or misfortune like everyone else, just that I know that these things are transitory, and their long-lasting effects depend primarily on how I choose to let them effect me. I am in control here, for the first time, of what I CAN control. And the things that I can't? I let them go.

I couldn't have asked for a better life-changing experience, and my gratitude is immeasurable.