Thursday, August 19, 2010

Reconstruction

I have heard it said that “If you do not stand for something, you fall for everything.”

Last night I had a dream where I was sitting on a rug, presumably babysitting some small children. In front of me was a group of plastic toys, all broken. I was taking them apart, piece by piece, and it was utterly imperative that I handle and feel each plastic primary-colored piece.

My mother said on the ride to work this morning that perhaps this is because I am handling my life exactly how I handled those broken toys. I have separate parts of my life that are each not whole, not fully planned. And each plan, each possibility I take apart piece by piece and feel it out – the rough edges, the smooth surfaces, the weight and how it fits into the rest of the plan.

I read this article today by Kelly Grey: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2010/08/the-downside-to-down-dog-by-kelly-grey/ that ends with the questions ‘ “ “What is yoga?” I believe the more appropriate question is what is your heart? Your voice? Your essence? What is your love, your deepest most personal truth?’. The article makes the point that anything you follow is nothing at all unless it is the answer to those questions.

I know nothing of what my life is. I know I am bored at this job. I know I am in love. I know I enjoy my family’s company and that when I am bored I struggle with exercise. The date of departure rests in the first week of January. Denver bound we will leave in our 17’ 1976 Yellowstone Trailer (purchased last week in a campground in Pennsylvania). There is more room in there than my junior year dorm room. As this adventure moves closer with the ending of summer I am pulling the plastic pieces apart, trying to find what I stand for, looking for my voice, my essence, my love and personal truth. Which piece keeps these treasures? Or, better question, which toy that I deconstruct keeps them?

I feel that when I put the pieces back together they will form some strange toy. Like how my brother put Ken doll pieces on my Barbies, or like interchangeable transformer parts. I can see robot legs on a plastic pick-up truck in my future. Not one path to follow. No perfect toy that must be kept on the shelf. A reconstructed future.

Maybe I was studying the pieces so intently so that I knew how to fit my favorite ones together again. Whatever it is I learn to stand for, I’ll stand with two different legs.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Dog Days

.. the dog days of summer traditionally refer to what I associate with late evenings on concrete porch steps, creating shapes out of fallen ginko leaves and eating popsicles with lemonade and listening to olsen twins on tape with grass stanes on my knees.

this weekend was kind of like that - long walks and brunches with the puppy, G&T's while measuring the boat for a later-than-now boat cover, miles-long walks across downtown that leave us with sunburned noses loud enough for the neighbors to comment, and legs so mosquito bitten we choose to wear sweat pants to lounge outside.


august is hear my friends, and it is time to make plans for our future year. As for me - I know where I will find my A+ and it comes in the form of ingenious Great American Road Trip planning. The map is in place. The vehicle is being secured. The memories, if any bolder than life right now, are immaculate.

Friday, August 6, 2010

DC, You Make Me Horrible

Along the same lines as my last post, DC has made me a horrible person. Not only do I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to convince myself that what I am doing right now in life is justified, as opposed to using that energy to say, oh do something fun, Washington DC has made me terribly judgmental. There is a marked difference in my demeanor since moving back here a little over a year ago. I am wound much tighter, to be sure, but there is something about the city that breeds judgment.

I have always believed that judging people is a primary reason for why, as some people say, the world craps on you. If we were all more accepting, then we would be much happier, and have a lot more friends. Judging other people does absolutely nothing but bring that negativity into your own countenance and emotional landscape. I was never a judgmental child – I was the one who befriended the outcast and could never understand what people did not like about them.

But, as stated, DC is a Type A Town, and as I fought to maintain satisfaction with my Type D goals, a bit of the world crept in. High school is a more discriminate time, and my high school was a particular school. All-girls, Catholic, and wealthy, if anybody was not quite as feminine, or athletic, or wealthy, or even Catholic, you were just wrong. Somehow, by being judged, it made it okay for me to judge others. And somehow, by being judged, I felt like I should be doing such to others to find what little was left of my own self esteem.

Not that that is okay at all, in any way. And Annapolis made it a lot better. There is a lot less judging on appearances at St. John’s – which is the judging I was used to. But unfortunately, a lot more quickfire opinions – which I was not used to. This judging of opinions lowered my intellectual self esteem to a stupid degree that I apparently still struggle with. But it did help me lose some of the DC appearance judgment. So I became a St. John’s grad, living in Annapolis- I had learned not to judge either on opinion or on appearance.

And then I moved back to DC. And here I am a year later, finding myself judging others on their appearances again. This judgment includes judging myself just as harshly, though, and that is not pleasant. And I of course judge others on opinions as well because it is a political town and judgment flows in the streets like water. My judging found itself at a place where I was judging someone else who was judging someone else yesterday at the corner of Connecticut Ave! If I have any hope of redeeming myself – and liking anybody ever again (including myself) – I think I need to leave.

That being said, dear friends, I am friends with you because I got to know you at a time when I did not live in DC. So I have never judged you. Nor will I, because judging people I actually LIKE is useless. So live without fear of the wrath of my inane Washingtonian influence!

Thursday, August 5, 2010

DC - You and I need to have words

Washington is not a terribly friendly place to grow up. It has the highest concentration of Type-A Over Achievers in, probably the world, and the money to prove it. We have wrangled ourselves up lists to one of the Most Expensive Places to Live, one of America’s Best Food Cities, and Americas Most Fit City, among many others. We love climbing ladders of any kind – political, social, financial, and editorial. If you’re not the best, you might as well be dead.

This mindset permeates all the way through to elementary school. A student must be top of the class, best athlete, pretty, and popular, while their individual interests are rarely praised but often exploited until whatever novelty existed for the child dies in a heap of social expectation. And its not the parents necessarily, that are all to blame. The schools are at fault too, but mostly, all the other kids. We pick up some weird vibe that pushes ultra competition. It is not the moving home with mom that has made me a social failure, it’s my lack of a higher degree than Bachelor, and/or my seeming relegation to an overly simple job. I have not published a book yet. Nor have I won any races. I am not Top Anything. Yet.

However, I was a Type D personality growing up. It is little known, and here is a description:- The typical "D" personality doesn't like change, preferring instead, to have a set of guidelines from which to follow and they won't mind doing the same thing over and over. They are usually more motivated by security and benefits and are likely to get the "gold watch" if the company can provide the security they seek. "D" types are very supportive of others and are often the type that others turn to when they have a problem. Their compassion level is usually quite high and often seem very happy and content with themselves and life in general. They are usually punctual, and consistent. They add "balance" and support in the workplace and may be the champion of the "under dog". - Type A is opposite to Type D. I was constantly fighting the world around me telling me to push to be the center, the controller, to embrace change and adventure, when all I needed was stability and support. I was loyal and steady and consistent, and all the world wants is for me to be exciting and exceedingly excellent.
It seems however that this is changing as I grow up. I am embracing more of the Type-A ideals as parts of the adult world require me to be satisfied with my supporting role and just have a family and be happy goddammit.

Sometimes the Type A mindset gets to me. I start to read into all the success around me as the polar opposite of my current life. The rewards that others are reaping elude me and therefore I have completely failed at life. And then I come up on article after article about the merits of napping, family time, gardening, cooking food, sleeping in, taking days off, and wandering aimlessly. I can read these and say “hey – I’m doing that!”. This is the world reminding me that there IS a middle ground. I may not be in a high-intensity law program, but I am learning quite a lot about social law. I may not be earning mega-bucks, but I am learning how to save. I am not running around the globe competing in super marathons, but I have long delicious walks with my boyfriend and really wonderful drives to work with my mother. I am doing just what everyone says they wish they had done when they are old and almost dead – spending time with my family, living slowly.

This is a theme that occurs often here – how I struggle to mitigate the feelings that I am wasting my days with the knowledge that here is where the world put me. I keep feeling that very little exciting happens in my life, but the past two months of weekends have included this: a long trip to the Outer Banks, the largest free arts festival on the east coast, visits to several museums, 5 mile walks, dinners with friends, planning galore, farming, surprises, and lots of joy. What is not exciting about that?! Thanks for bearing with me as I struggle to balance my life.

Who knows, DC and I may just have to break up.

Back to school?

August has come in with muggy heat and bright loud storms. The same energy accompanies it that it always has; although I am no longer in school, I feel myself preparing for the change and resolutions that September brings.

Yesterday I made all the wrong turns, I gave all the wrong answers. I went down the wrong streets on my way to work. I said the wrong words when speaking with my boss. I wrote the wrong numbers. I was seemingly stuck, and it seemed I had been this way all summer. An exercise slump has followed me through July, and the slow creep of despondence has found its way into my world, fueled by stories of ultra-marathoners, hugely successful former classmates, wandering friends, proposals, goals, and great successful smiles. My world, compared to the fast moving people I am surrounded by, seemed to be stuck in the remedial classes, getting lost. I wanted to be skipping a grade.

While all this has been going on, I have the strange need to take inventory. I used to count out all the colored pencils, the blank notebooks, the backpacks and pens, and see what I needed to start the year fresh. I still love the smells and aisles of Staples, Office Depot, the Container Store – all huge spaces dedicated to a neat and hopeful future. The process of school supply shopping promised I would do better, because I was outfitting myself for success. I have been doing this with my wardrobe – if I wear professional and successful clothing, perhaps the satisfaction of a full career will come too? None of these thoughts are grounded by logic, but by a students’ hope of re-dedication and a new perspective.

And then somewhere in my yesterday I was hit with this thought, that perhaps I have been so frustrated with my summer’s laziness because I have not accepted its natural “vacation” state. There is a reason schools let out for a while, in the thick heat when your sweat is an extra layer of clothing. I may not be in school anymore, but my summer is not meant to be productive, to meet goals beyond reading new books and making dioramas, or sipping cocktails in a hot tub at sunset.

Autumn is my time instead, where I decide to dream big and gather my moxy to push forward with new hope. Last fall I decided to train for a marathon. I tackled a few very difficult questions with myself, and I succeeded. I guess it is time to spend the cool hours of morning making plans for the fall, and the last remaining sticky hot hours napping and dreaming big and relishing the last of vacation before the effort of all those right answers.