Where The Magic Happens: Sociology of Fiction

Taking a bit of a sociology lesson out of my conversations with the Writer, we have recently been discussing reasons behind common themes in books:

Human nature responds most strongly to desire, conflict, risk, and change because that is the pattern of growth within our lives… what helps us to overcome fear and become stronger. The only way to grow is through desire and risk, to go outside of our comfort zone and experience something unfamiliar that will break us out of what is beginning to hold us back/suffocate. Something commonly sought is also the thing we somewhat loathe; stability. It is the boredom that sets in when nothing changes; life becomes stagnant and stale.

Despite the benefits of knowing each day will be the same as the last, we begin to see through repeated days upon days that “stability” is keeping us from progressing. We start to sniff out new things that will awaken our senses and remind us to be alive and present. Some people do this through changing partners, some through traveling, having kids, jumping out of planes, some through moving to a new country or career shifts. It is especially true in American culture where we are accustomed to being able to do a full upheaval into a new avenue of living without fatal consequences.

When someone is smart enough to know that they must have at least some stability to survive, they can seek out risk through fictional events…by escaping into an alternate reality that is not theirs.

Fairy tales and fiction both convey messages that are a part of our life cycle. Where fairy tales provide a hero, other fiction questions why a hero is necessary. Fairy tales give shape to both the enemy and the enemies’ enemy (it is a powerful reassurance to have something exist in the universe that is more powerful than darkness). Likewise, it is an interesting and unsettling realization to end a book and feel different because of the conclusion, or lack of conclusion.

I think we do desire a certain amount of resolve to a story that we’ve invested hours of imagination into and have built therein a small escape from reality. We want to know that it all works out somehow, and that those characters have grown as a result of the events and consequences that they face. Many times a story is compelling because the reader of the book may not have the courage to actively take the sorts of risks the fictional character can take… so the reader identifies with the character’s desire and gets to partially experience what may happen as a result of pursuing it. We are always seeking out knowledge, and learning about what happens-as a result of a murderous rampage, or what goes through a psychopath’s mind, or how it feels to be swept up in a star-crossed love affair-without actually having to partake in the event. A book can satisfy the reader’s curiosity. Gaining bits of knowledge about lives outside of our own is advantageous to being able to withstand changes in our reality, should they happen. It is easier to adapt to something that is not foreign.

You will laugh! And then you will smile :)

Let's get one thing straight: I do not intentionally injure myself! These things just seem to happen to me. I actually stopped skating in the two week lapse that I had between health insurance policies because I KNOW myself. My name is CALAMITY. I am aware of my shortcomings.
So I returned to practice on the 4th of June, three days after my new insurance policy kicked in. 20 minutes into practice during a very fun episode of on-skates dodgeball, I took a knee to slide over and grab a nerf ball to take out some fellow skaters... and slid right into a fence. My skate wheel got caught in the mesh, my leg twisted, my knee... popped. Torn MCL.

So yeah, that part of my life is sucking eggs at the moment, but I guess I should be happy that I've been playing derby as long as I have without any major knee injuries outside of the loss of cartilage behind my kneecaps (minor, I swear). It was apparently my turn to have a crippling knee problem (a staggering 80% of all derby injuries), and as I lie there cursing like a sailor and vehemently denying any sort of EMS involvement, I was incredibly grateful that I listened to my inner girl scout and stayed off skates for two weeks. I've seen a lot of doctors and have now begun PT, but it could've been worse and I could've needed surgery. Instead I have 6-8 weeks of PT recovery. Imagine how in debt I would have instantly become had I needed knee reconstruction. Wow.

I tried hobbling around with a cane for a week and experimented with what it might feel like to be an old woman on the metro transit, needing a little extra help on and off and gratefully accepting seats at the front of the bus. It was humbling. I looked longingly at the youthful girls with their tanned and perfectly functioning knees sitting across from me, and dreaded my stop as it approached... knowing I would have to walk 1/2 a mile to work from my bus stop. Oh yes, it sucks to be a cripple. At least I'm not in a wheelchair.

The best news has happened within this setback, however.

I got a super rad interview and then was offered a super rad job at an art museum!! This has all the potential of being my dream job. I am so absolutely excited that I'm scared to tell anyone for fear of it falling through before I start. It will set me up in many ways and pave the road to a promising career in the arts in a prestigious museum that mainly handles public art projects! I will be able to apply all of my degrees and challenge myself in a multitude of extremely awesome ways such as Curatorial and Art Event Planning, and I couldn't feel luckier. The Executive Director is throwing me a bone and giving me the opportunity to prove myself. I am nervous but very much ready to move on to something that has golden potential. I have given my notice at the Coalition and although I feel a little bad about leaving them in such a short time frame, they remain understanding in light of the other shifts within their organization and recognize that sometimes opportunity knocks.

I feel so lucky right now, and I'm so grateful to be given this chance in the art community. I have been away for so long. I am so glad I didn't give up.

I stumble

Sometimes I stumble upon things that really touch the center of my being. This blog post is an important message to me. It has taught me, once again, that the way I am navigating through life is always going to shift and change and morph, that all external values are in constant flux. If I am craving challenge/change/variation/exploration/adventure/excitement, it is mostly due to the inner turmoil and unrest within my own person. I must find a way to "soften into" my own being-accepting all for what it is-instead of constantly wanting more or to do something else. I must learn to be content with now. This realization is not bound simply to physical existence but also to spiritual development. I must be content with who I am inside, who I have become, and who I am becoming. How do I do that?
There is no easy path. Why am I always so lost?

Dog Forgiveness

For reasons unknown, I have a habit of taking on just a little more than is comfortable... overstepping my boundaries by jussst a hair... changing so many variables at once that I can barely tell which way is up...
So, I am starting to "settle" into my new job. I am starting to "settle" into my new place, and all that single living entails. I am starting to get into a routine. So what's the big deal in that? Well... let's just say it didn't take long to take on a little more.
One fine morning, three days after purchasing a Walmart cruiser bike

to commute to work (because my bus commute was ridiculous on the way home and involved multiple transfers), I discovered that my bike had it's first flat tire. As it was too late to catch the morning bus, and as I had just started my new job a week earlier, and worrying about how bad it would look to come in late on my second week, I sprinted out of my apartment in hot pursuit of a different bus line a mile away. As I illegally jaywalked across the street in front of my building, an ex I haven't spoken to in YEARS came driving up. We exchanged hellos, I thanked him for not hitting me, and we each asked how the other was 3 or 4 times. Then he gave me a ride to work. I had time for coffee, even, so we caught up a bit for about 15 minutes. This led to dinner later to get the rest of the very lengthy story that he had to tell about the many, many, events that had transpired since we last spoke. After he gave me a ride home that night, he asked me to dog sit for him. Well... House sit. and Dog sit. He offered me his car to use and gave me gas money. Amazing situation, right?
Until he called me the next day to tell me he had adopted a second dog. Who does that? Who adopts a second dog and then leaves town a week later? This guy. This guy is pretty spontaneous. This guy... well, it doesn't matter. I have no stake in his affairs. I'm just a friend.
It should've been easy. Feed them, play with them, make sure they got lots of love. I discovered what I was in for upon arrival.
The dog immediately peed on the living room floor. Then she tried to chew my shoe. When I took the shoe away, and sat in a dining room chair, she went for the chair leg, my toes, the table leg. This dog was not to be trusted! Very well... the dogs stay outside all day, so I can handle household supervision. I can guard the house. From the dog.

Sophie and I assembled his dining room chairs, which was actually my distraction from being completely pissed and rageful towards the animal. After all, she needs something else to chew on.
The dog turns out to be full of other surprises, a few of them sweet (we took showers together, and played silly games of hide and seek, tag, and learned some tricks). She's cute enough... but cute gets pretty ugly when you zone out for a minute on your laptop and look down to see her gnawing on your $100 Power Cord. I wanted to strangle her. All of those feelings I had in sleep-deprived, puppy-parenting moments with my boy came back to haunt me... the feelings of seeing red and contemplating dog murder. At least when it was MY dog, I knew how much the investment was and his baby cuteness showed through his naughtiness. With this dog, I had no investment. I was furious. I couldn't even look at her. She got a pretty awful scolding, and then went outside for an hour. I had to talk myself into letting her back in the house. I had to pretend I loved her anyways. I had to pretend that she represented unconditional love that I needed to nurture regardless of how ugly I saw her. It was incredibly difficult to let her on the bed that night, but it had to be done or she would have destroyed everything else in the house by sunrise. I had to make amends even though I was right and she was wrong. I had to forgive her.
It was a good lesson. When someone gives you money and a car just to stay at their place and take care of their dog(s), there may be a catch. All of that money went towards gas into town and back and the replacement of my power cord. Was it really worth it, outside of helping out a friend? Questionable.. but I it's nice to help out friends that have helped you out in the past. I think that sometimes it's really weird how people come back into your life randomly when you had just about forgotten them. I would have been late to work but otherwise gone about my routine and my "settling in," but I guess it's kind of nice to have him as a friend again. He has a lot of great stories and a LOT of energy, which is good. He's going to need it for that dog.
Mental note: DO NOT BUY ANOTHER DOG until I'm ready for the inevitable training period that comes attached. It actually made Oscar look pretty good! I miss my boy. I also miss my boyfriend.

The Good, The Bad, and Disco

I used to avoid Disco like the plague (it was right up there with Country). But I have to admit... it grows on you. Now there is something in my soul that stirs when I hear that downbeat of the BeeGees or see a flitter of glitter and sequins. Maybe it alludes to the ancient quest to turn lead into gold... or symbolizes the fountain of youth flowing through smooth, feathered hair and frosted lipstick... but whatever it is, I turned my nose up at it until now.

Now, in the midst of some sort of major tectonic plate shift in my world of ID, my soul strikes a chord with Disco. It isn't trying to be real. It's a dream of soft lighting, sparkle, and curves. A true harmony of suspended belief. It is about love and the seduction of a moment, frozen in time.

My life is the frozen coast of Lake Superior, patiently breathing with the tides and waiting out a Spring thaw. I am Disco, on the brink of a new direction. I am not the birth of Rock and Roll, I am not Synthetic 80's pop or stinky, raw Grunge. I am sexy hotpants on their last night out before they are retired to the closet. I have nothing to lose.

Enough with saucy metaphors.

I got the job with the non-profit to advocate for tobacco-free legislation and enforcement. I'm going to be a full-time employee with full benefits and paid vacation. I also found an apartment for a pretty good rate in town that has a dated, early 70's feel. I will finally be independent and free from roommates. I will be on my own for what feels like the first time (I know it's not true... I've been on my own for a while, but somehow this feels different).

I just went through a major issue regarding my current job and a derby tournament that I trained and fundraised for for months-I had received an approval to go to the tournament months ago, but I asked the wrong person. It ended up being not an issue of whether or not there was work for me to do, but a matter of being there in case something went wrong. I didn't go to the derby tournament in favor of keeping my job. It was the first time I have ever felt that my job was more important than derby.
I also managed to salvage my relationship with my boyfriend by the skin of my teeth through this (there are some overlaps that are kind of complex), perhaps more due to patience and some hard work on both of our parts to see the other's perspective. It was hairy. I actually packed two suitcases, thinking I was going to be kicked out. I don't know exactly how the whole thing patched up, but I think it might have something to do with both of us coming to the realization that we love and need each other. It's both upsetting and wonderful. I'm internally at peace with knowing that I depend on him for companionship and horrified that I am admitting that. I guess we all learn about ourselves as we go?

Much like Disco is dependent on John Travolta and it's eventual death, I am dependent on the love and respect of this man that is moody, difficult, and brilliant. He is the smartest person I know and I can't imagine my life without him in it. I guess that's how I know he's the one for me-honestly, who else could I talk to about Alchemy, Resurrection Deities, and the archetypal pattern of all human behavior, then find bliss holding his hand as we take a walk at dusk? I just don't think anyone else like him exists, and I can't risk losing him to find out just to go to a roller derby tournament. My perspective must have changed.

The best part of a really bad argument is the peace that comes with resolve. I am happy to at least grow from each painful transition and look forward to May when my metamorphosis really takes place. God damn, I think I've grown up! Scary.

Calm Before the Storm?

Life is a tightrope walk, delicately poised above a smoldering lava pit. One small gust of wind may whisk me to the inferno...

I have shipped Mr. Piggles to MN for the companionship he deserves, with his loving grandparents. Although it was pretty straightforward in the send-off, I had a hell of a time with it at home. It created a lot of domestic disturbance and I was almost cast out, all because I wanted a hug. I may never understand men. Since I do not understand women (myself included sometimes), that means I will have to conclude I don't understand people. Sending off my dog was really hard. He was my security blanket. Perhaps us women think we are entitled to consoling when we undergo a major trauma... but I have a hard time believing that a man wouldn't also expect consoling in a troubled time. Do men need emotional support? It was my understanding that ALL human beings needed it. Perhaps I am mistaken.

I need to find a place to live in May and another job, since this one ends and this living situation must end as well. Every time I talk to my dad, he is chuckling about yet ANOTHER interesting kink and turn in my road. It's flabbergasting that I can even function emotionally. What helps is to look at all of the mentally unstable, homeless people in Chinatown. They remind me that I've got it pretty damned good. In better news, I have a job interview tomorrow for an interesting advocacy coordinator position with a nonprofit I actually care about, and I'm curious about what they have in mind. I am somewhat excited and simultaneously wary. I guess it's better to go in optimistic. In best news, I was named the game MVP for Saturday's bout, and I'm slowly getting into the groove of work and derby. It's been a pain in the ass, but I think all of that is starting to come together.

When times get tricky, you are forced to make sacrifices. I have left a trail of belongings from MN to NC to MN to HNL to LIH to HNL, and now I have dug my toes into the dirt and will be DAMNED if I lose my footing in May.

Dog-gone it.
Pun intended.

I am perfectly aware that everyone has struggles in their life creating chaos, and I am trying my best to quell the storm before it destroys my house. I am a peacemaker, not a flipping drama queen. I am acutely aware, however, that I cannot control the actions of others and whether or not they choose to be emotionally available. I am a living daily newspaper, my headlines constantly shifting, my news sometimes bad sometimes good, my weather cloudy then sunny then full of tornadoes. I am still resolved to practice my zen ways of living in the moment, perpetually caught in a present state, tracing a circle of breath through my nose, into my belly, and out my mouth. I am not going to scream. Yet.

Surrender

i must surrender
i must endlessly explode
pulse with the flame
that lights the candle
move with the wave
that pushes the sea