Through the Single Moments

I think it's great to take on a philosophy of living in the Now. I have done enough Zenmaster reading and thinking to feel it is a suitable mindset. I'm going to immediately launch into a life-altering moment. Actually, I have several, but right now I'm just going to tell the one that touches me the deepest and carves out my pathway today. Several revolve around death which I don't find to be too much of a surprise, as it is a truly awesome moment (and by that I mean inexplicable):

Not even a year after my grandmother died of breast cancer, my aunt (48 yrs old at the time) was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. She was a rather modest individual (conservative in dress and spirituality), and she was very private (didn't talk about feelings or insecurities or sex). This cancer, in addition to being a devastating diagnosis, was deeply embarrassing to her. Over the course of two years, I watched her struggle with the reality she was facing and how she tried to keep her composure and dignity-the wrath of chemo and radiation, coming to grips with all she would never accomplish, how she explained to people that she had terminal cancer, and her fights with my mother (they had always fought as siblings do, but these were even worse).

I watched her slowly die.

It was not a quick and painless death. It was an evil, crawling-up-your-leg-and-gnawing-at-your kidneys type of death. I would take off days of work when she was having a "single moment" as she called them, just to sit with her or take her shopping to distract her. She would buy me a latte and talk to me about her positive spiritual approach to overcoming this terrible cancer. She tried hard to believe she would be spared. She was weak from chemo and pale as sheets. Her hair had almost completely fallen out, but before it did, I sat with her while she had Glamour Shots taken at ProEx camera. She said she wanted to look nice in her obituary photo. When they gave them to her and we left the store, she laughed and cried as she told me stories about all of the horrible obituary photos people put in of their loved ones, and how she wanted to go out with a bang and be remembered as beautiful. She had a sense of humor about it, which helped ease the tension.

My aunt was the mother I thought I should have had growing up (I think we all wish we had other mothers at challenging times... though I am certainly glad for mine now). She was funny as hell and always the rowdy one at family gatherings. She was in a theater rodeo in South Dakota in her 20's, was a flight attendant that hawked goods from Seoul, Korea, sold pagers back when those were a big deal, bought a house all by herself, became a realtor and made big money off of house sales to the very end (she actually sold a house from her death bed)... and she totally "got" me. More than my mother. She loved travel, she was in the dating scene, she went to concerts and liked to bend rules.

She was a free spirit that didn't want to fall into the typical steps of women. She wanted to explore and have adventures. She struggled with those "traditional" desires, though... which I also relate to. She wanted a husband and family, someone to love and nurture and share the joys of life with. She was hopelessly single and tried every sort of dating scheme out there... with no luck. What I admired about her most is that she never let it stop her from doing what she wanted to do.

When she was financially ready, she invested in a few properties and bought a beautiful 1904 Victorian. Everything she ever dreamed of in a house. English garden in the back (that I helped her build), million dollar view of downtown St. Paul and the Mississippi, and all of the prestige that goes with living in a historic neighborhood. I think she made choices along her path in life that brought on her singledom (she was very picky about men and unwilling to bend about quite a few things), but she didn't deserve to die with such agony and struggle, and certainly not feeling so alone. Sadly, that was her end. She had her sister and her sister's family, and we included her in everything... but it was not her own. We made due, but the ache was always there for her.
I watched her pass through the stages of death and held her on the couch. Her last conversation with me was painful and heartbreaking. I asked her if she was satisfied with all she had accomplished in life, and she told me "no." It shocked me. It wasn't what I wanted to hear from her. It was the truth. She told me she "needed more clarity," and "it wasn't fair." It haunts me. I never told my mother about that conversation because I thought it would break her heart.
I don't ever want to die knowing that I didn't do everything I wanted to do. Of course, It would be impossible to check every thing off of my bucket list since I keep adding to it, but I intend to pursue things. I don't want to end up feeling like I didn't give life my all. I don't want to die alone. I don't want to hold back because of guilt over how it's impacting other people, and I don't want to settle for less than I deserve.

All of that said, I was to inherit her house and all of the things within it were divided between myself and my two siblings. Most of the furniture stayed there. It was a beautiful house with an original mural of a forest/swamp scene around the perimeter of the dining room, a fully stocked kitchen that had heated floors, leather embossed paneling on the walls leading up the spiral staircase to upstairs. Seriously, this house was a dream. What I couldn't shake, though, was that this was someone ELSE'S dream. I wasn't me there-I was living out her life. My mom still referred to it as "Kim's house" and "Kim's couch" and "Kim's garden," and I knew, after trying to afford the mortgage for a year with roommates, that I needed to let go and get out. I was living in a museum and it would never leave my mother's mind. Leaving was the key. It was the only way for me to truly be happy. So I ditched it. Let my mom and dad sell it, quit my job and moved to Hawaii... my aunt's favorite place.

So here I am, three years later from when I first packed up that house and moved to Hawaii. I'm a little more certain I made the right choice. I think about my aunt all the time. I wish she was here today to share in my trials. I want to thank her for pushing me to get out there and do something with myself, instead of taking the easier path. It has been lonely and it has been uncomfortable, but I have grown in the most amazing ways. I have learned to love myself and to earn my way. I have suffered and I have gained. All from remembering that life is short.

Life IS short, and life is beautiful. Carpe diem.

I have no idea what I am doing. Is that normal?

There are endless possibilities when you do not know what you are doing.
When you admit you don't know everything, you don't have to defend your actions.
You travel lightly without expectations.
You can relax, and just BE.


a space for mystery
a space for new adventures
a space for growth
a space to truly learn

So I humbly ask myself, who am I? And what am I doing?

Antarctica at Work

Like any good novel, the character has made a choice that has altered her future... and there is no turning back.
I'm figuring out how to maneuver towards the center of the earth with an ice pick for a weapon. Might as well have been Antarctica today at work (and no, it's not actually cold in there). I would love some human interaction right now. I spend 8 hours alone at work, and come home to an empty apartment.
Now come the questions, and the sleepless nights.
It was the right thing to do, right? To quit work at a safe job in the industry that I found tolerable but not terribly inspiring, that had full benefits and good pay,
to risk everything for a museum job (in my field and using my degree), with no guarantees and no benefits? Have I made yet another terrible mistake?

I'm applying for COBRA. My school loans are due, my check is lagged in the transition for a full month, I only have four stat doses of medication left for migraines. I just drained my savings account to pay rent. I have really gambled. It's all in the pot.

What am I doing with my life? Why? Does it matter? How am I this old and still have no fucking clue?!!

I've felt that way since I lost my aunt and moved to Hawaii. Except with this huge risk, I thought I was really going to work some magic in the career gap of my life. Now in week three I'm doing a thorough self-interrogation, questioning my motives, my goals. I feel very uncertain and childlike.
It's that insecurity you feel when you're unpopular in junior high.

• it's shitty that my "dream job" can be ruined by some really entitled state workers with a chip on their shoulder
• this is supposed to be my big opportunity of a lifetime, and they're ruining it

But then, they only ruin it if I let them... and maybe they will get fed up and quit. 

I'm a chess piece. I'm an external hire, which is the equivalent of being the company rep that comes in to evaluate which departments to consolidate and who to fire.

So you see the game we play now.

But there is so much more that is important in life. For instance:

we will inevitably die before we get to do everything we want to do.

The lessons on repeat in my world over the past few years have revolved around patience, acceptance, compassion, and being grateful. Patience is really hard. Especially when you're within an arm's length of the prize. 

I promise to let go of the bad and be grateful for what I have.
I promise to stop and see the world around me.
I promise to stop worrying about the future, because it may never come.
I promise to be kind, and to think before speaking or doing.
I promise to stand up for myself, and for others.
I promise to trust my gut instincts.
And I promise to remind myself that I am a lucky bitch.

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.