I am past the halfway point of this book, sneaking short reads at work on an e-reader device. I actually love Elizabeth Gilbert's writing style. Perhaps because I hear a lot of my own thoughts in her writing voice. She is very skilled at taking a thought that is normally written in two sentences and spreading it out over two pages. This is something I am striving for, but blogging formats aren't the best place for such a practice.
Peut-etre when I write my spoof of Eat Pray Love (which shall be called Sleep, Pray, Take Some Pills) I can streeeetttttch out my split second thoughts into two dozen paragraphs.
Je cherche un editor.
And an actress to portray me in the film adaptation.
Seriously, when Liz heads to the ashram in India and achieves an essence of divinity, I was thinking, "Holy Guacamole, that's what schizophrenia is like too!"
I was always told Mary Stuart Masterson should portray me in a film. She plays, you know, quirky characters.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Autumn Days
Leaf-crunching footsteps and slight chills in the air.
Sweaters and deciding which weight of coat to wear in the morning.
Tall boots and the click click click of the steam heater switching on for the first time.
Salted caramel hot chocolates and soups and chili.
I do believe autumn has quickly won as favorite season in my heart. Despite the mild illness that always takes over at the change of the season, I absolutely love the change. That's what it is about autumn...the visible, tangible feeling of change.
I haven't been keeping up on the writing, and I honestly don't even think anyone reads this blog. But for those who have found me, thanks for reading. I want to resurrect my writings and focus on the craft of blogging in the chilly months to come. So it is imperative that I find the time to do so.
I promise to come up with some fascinating topics, treating each one as a school writing assignment. I work well with structure.
Happy Autumn, everyone!
Sweaters and deciding which weight of coat to wear in the morning.
Tall boots and the click click click of the steam heater switching on for the first time.
Salted caramel hot chocolates and soups and chili.
I do believe autumn has quickly won as favorite season in my heart. Despite the mild illness that always takes over at the change of the season, I absolutely love the change. That's what it is about autumn...the visible, tangible feeling of change.
I haven't been keeping up on the writing, and I honestly don't even think anyone reads this blog. But for those who have found me, thanks for reading. I want to resurrect my writings and focus on the craft of blogging in the chilly months to come. So it is imperative that I find the time to do so.
I promise to come up with some fascinating topics, treating each one as a school writing assignment. I work well with structure.
Happy Autumn, everyone!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
fin de l'été
i have been a terrible blogger as of late. feeling generally uninspired. booo!
i spent a lovely Sunday just the other day at the Maxwell Street flea market downtown. i love perusing a buncha junk while sipping a bottle of pure cane sugar Coca-Cola imported from Mexico. the food vendors were yummy and it is a great way to soak up a different culture or three to break the monotony from a boring, civilized life. we also strolled through the shops in Wicker Park and sat for hours in a sidewalk cafe sipping mimosas and bloody marys and munching snacks.
after that sunny day, i am officially ready to kiss summer goodbye.
HELLO SEPTEMBER!!!!!
i spent a lovely Sunday just the other day at the Maxwell Street flea market downtown. i love perusing a buncha junk while sipping a bottle of pure cane sugar Coca-Cola imported from Mexico. the food vendors were yummy and it is a great way to soak up a different culture or three to break the monotony from a boring, civilized life. we also strolled through the shops in Wicker Park and sat for hours in a sidewalk cafe sipping mimosas and bloody marys and munching snacks.
after that sunny day, i am officially ready to kiss summer goodbye.
HELLO SEPTEMBER!!!!!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
uplift
the long days of commuting and dead-end work and financial strain and 'being stuck' can be unbearable for a number of reasons. for starters, one is not creating any new great memories to bank on during the hard days.
if one approaches each day with the idea that a New Memory Shall Be Created Each Day, then life is not thrown into the vast wastelands of what is called a RUT. this can be challenging with no extra money to spend nor access to those places and things that create new fond memories, but it can also be part of the game of spinning hope.
i recall back in my early twenties as adulthood fast approached being confronted with a plethora of ideas and options. i certainly can't go back and take a different road, nor can i confront those who used me and my energies to their advantageous prosperity. but i can take a deep breath and know not to make any further mistakes. there is some sick sort of strength to be found in that. maybe even a sense of pity that those stronger than me contributed to another's mental downfalls and illnesses. perhaps they feel shame. perhaps not.
'it is not my fault.' that's what I'm trying to say. i am not laying blame, but i am holding Those Who Were Stronger Than Me in my youth accountable for my terrible pitfalls.
the game-players, the never apprehended bosses, the tricksters of the 'art' world and even the doctors or practicioners who let me down rather than built my hope.
but i have a memory of climbing away to Paris and roaming those streets in solitude and thought. i conquered the bullies of my yesterdays and didn't let them defeat me and Paris had my back 100%. i picked myself up there and the universe brushed the debris from my back. they didn't win. i would never let them win.
Paris is no longer an option in my new life as hard-working wife and lower-middle class lifestyle in a beat-up apartment in Chicago. but the memory i made there, the LIFELONG memory i made there will always pull me out of a funk.
we'll always have Paris, as they say.
if one approaches each day with the idea that a New Memory Shall Be Created Each Day, then life is not thrown into the vast wastelands of what is called a RUT. this can be challenging with no extra money to spend nor access to those places and things that create new fond memories, but it can also be part of the game of spinning hope.
i recall back in my early twenties as adulthood fast approached being confronted with a plethora of ideas and options. i certainly can't go back and take a different road, nor can i confront those who used me and my energies to their advantageous prosperity. but i can take a deep breath and know not to make any further mistakes. there is some sick sort of strength to be found in that. maybe even a sense of pity that those stronger than me contributed to another's mental downfalls and illnesses. perhaps they feel shame. perhaps not.
'it is not my fault.' that's what I'm trying to say. i am not laying blame, but i am holding Those Who Were Stronger Than Me in my youth accountable for my terrible pitfalls.
the game-players, the never apprehended bosses, the tricksters of the 'art' world and even the doctors or practicioners who let me down rather than built my hope.
but i have a memory of climbing away to Paris and roaming those streets in solitude and thought. i conquered the bullies of my yesterdays and didn't let them defeat me and Paris had my back 100%. i picked myself up there and the universe brushed the debris from my back. they didn't win. i would never let them win.
Paris is no longer an option in my new life as hard-working wife and lower-middle class lifestyle in a beat-up apartment in Chicago. but the memory i made there, the LIFELONG memory i made there will always pull me out of a funk.
we'll always have Paris, as they say.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
ain't no cure for the summertime blues
Commute. Work. Commute. Veg out. Sleep. Do over each day.
This weekend in Chicago hosts a myriad of events: Lollapalooza, various street festivals and parades, concerts, etc. I shall be working and missing them. C'est la vie.
Had a great visit with French relatives visiting my city a few weeks ago. Always a pleasure being a tourist in one's own town.
Have put away the paints until the weather cools down a bit. Have a hard time regulating the tempurature in my makeshift studio aka the Living Room during these humid months. But I do plan to pick it back up come autumn.
Have been uninspired to write. Also blame the humidity.
I could make excuse after excuse but my creative outlets will always slap me on the wrists. Sometimes a little voice inside of me can really start beating me down to pick up the pen or paintbrush or guitar. I try to listen to it, really I do. But you know, those summertime blues. Working all the time yet no money to take spare time and turn it into adventure.
The hospital and doctor bills have been weighing me down as well. I have a pile of them sitting on the kitchen table and I pick them up every so often and pay a little on each one. Major headaches and stress.
This, too, shall pass. As they say.
Time for a song.
Maybe if I find some spectacular outfit, like, say, a cape, all the blues will go away.
This weekend in Chicago hosts a myriad of events: Lollapalooza, various street festivals and parades, concerts, etc. I shall be working and missing them. C'est la vie.
Had a great visit with French relatives visiting my city a few weeks ago. Always a pleasure being a tourist in one's own town.
Have put away the paints until the weather cools down a bit. Have a hard time regulating the tempurature in my makeshift studio aka the Living Room during these humid months. But I do plan to pick it back up come autumn.
Have been uninspired to write. Also blame the humidity.
I could make excuse after excuse but my creative outlets will always slap me on the wrists. Sometimes a little voice inside of me can really start beating me down to pick up the pen or paintbrush or guitar. I try to listen to it, really I do. But you know, those summertime blues. Working all the time yet no money to take spare time and turn it into adventure.
The hospital and doctor bills have been weighing me down as well. I have a pile of them sitting on the kitchen table and I pick them up every so often and pay a little on each one. Major headaches and stress.
This, too, shall pass. As they say.
Time for a song.
Maybe if I find some spectacular outfit, like, say, a cape, all the blues will go away.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Le Retour
it wasn't as glamourous as i imagined it would be. my return to work, that is. i had hoped for a triumphunt trumpet sound as i entered the building and a deluge of happy and promising thoughts from coworkers.
i was absolutely brain-dead today. it was like walking in a haze, and not some majestic purple haze or anything of that nature. it was more like a dulling, zombified glossiness of everything i came in contact with. some coworkers offered support and praise, while others asked a million questions of 'Where Have You Been.' I am always so careful to answer this question, while at the same time I find I want to educate people.
It's about building that filter. There are those I can speak frankly too about goin' away to the crazy house and they can banter a few lines all their own back to me. Then there are those who are still left in the dark. The ones who ask question upon question and still not pick up on one's discomfort in reply. But I shall manage this, just as I have managed two other hospitalizations and a total of FOUR 'breaks' now.
A break occurs in a strange fashion, almost like a panic attack but more intense than one could imagine. it's as if life turns into Film Noir. at least in my own personal experiences. trust shifts, strangers are suspicious of me and I of them.
But this, too, shall pass.
And how could I possibly survive without these gems:
i was absolutely brain-dead today. it was like walking in a haze, and not some majestic purple haze or anything of that nature. it was more like a dulling, zombified glossiness of everything i came in contact with. some coworkers offered support and praise, while others asked a million questions of 'Where Have You Been.' I am always so careful to answer this question, while at the same time I find I want to educate people.
It's about building that filter. There are those I can speak frankly too about goin' away to the crazy house and they can banter a few lines all their own back to me. Then there are those who are still left in the dark. The ones who ask question upon question and still not pick up on one's discomfort in reply. But I shall manage this, just as I have managed two other hospitalizations and a total of FOUR 'breaks' now.
A break occurs in a strange fashion, almost like a panic attack but more intense than one could imagine. it's as if life turns into Film Noir. at least in my own personal experiences. trust shifts, strangers are suspicious of me and I of them.
But this, too, shall pass.
And how could I possibly survive without these gems:
Thursday, June 24, 2010
atmosphere & a return
i am looking forward to returning to an ordinary life come Monday. being on medical leave for mind predicaments is not what one might imagine it to be. it's NOT a vacation. it's alarming to be faced with What To Do With Oneself With No Scheduled Routine.
but come Monday, I'll be back.
the thoughts in my head are atmospheric.
atmospheric.
fingers crossed this rotation of medication will be the cure for my schizophrenia.
fingers crossed.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
a simple life
i don't know who reads this or who monitors my internet activity, but may i just say another prayer for a simple life?
one in which my mind is not afflicted by haunting voices and i don't have to explain mind hospitalizations to groups of people who pass judgment on me for being DIFFERENT!?!?!?
i can't even cry anymore.
where's my song?
one in which my mind is not afflicted by haunting voices and i don't have to explain mind hospitalizations to groups of people who pass judgment on me for being
i can't even cry anymore.
where's my song?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Today and Everyday
I pray for a kinder and gentler public. I pray that we will all try and understand one another.
It's really that simple.
Peace.
It's really that simple.
Peace.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Je suis mon propre guide.
"I am my own guide."
I often think about the journeys of others, and while that may not always be a healthy activity, I do wonder about many-a-things.
Sometimes I wish I were Philip Glass so that I could compose all that must be said without actually having to say it. My paintings I am working on are small and ordinary and do not properly convey what is inside of me. But it's there, and I know it, and it has taken me a long time to realize that it does not matter if others cannot see it.
My relationship with God gives me great comfort. I find myself alongside atheists and fanatics and opposing religions and righteous Bible thumpers each day and subsequentally feel my own relationship with God even more calming.
In the arena of Mental Health, there is a tendency among some patients to think they ARE God. And conversely, there are actually some professionals within the field that may even behave similarly. I still feel stress when I think about the admitting nurse during my 2nd round at the hospital and how JUDGMENTAL she was of me during my 10 day stay. This was all based on the fact that I said something about 'not sure what to believe at the moment.' She stood up and metaphorically spit in my face when I answered one of her examining questions. My heart felt like it was going to stop beating at that moment. And that is when I learned that Doubt was a metaphysical force.
In any moments of Doubt that I encounter in the future, I shall close my eyes and meditate on some of the purest moments I have ever felt. I have encountered more than enough moments with God to make me a great believer that there is something beyond us....
Some people find this frightening and scary and too intense to contend with in their daily lives. Not for me. It is something that lives inside of me.
And I know that the 'delusion' of the Mexican janitor who came to talk to me in a waiting room of a hospital when I was all alone was merely there to comfort me in a time of need when he pointed to his name tag and it said "Jesus." I didn't ask him to come talk to me. He just simply appeared. When I told him my story and asked him what to do, he answered me by throwing his arms around as if to lift the air up all around him. He also was feeling a little down on himself for simply being a Mexican janitor and that nothing important or significant ever emerged out of Mexico. I even counseled him and told him about Frida Kahlo and her important contributions to the art world.
So even if my mexican janitor friend was merely a clinical delusion that must be stopped with MEDICATION MORE MORE MORE MORE MEDICATION, I will NEVER forget him walking down the hall as I went on to write foreign alphabets on the chalkboard with fellow patients, looking back at me with a big smile on his face and waving...
Delusion or not, dear doctor, my imagination did not work entirely on my own to create that experience.
God is with us. I no longer have any doubts about that.
I also think Jesus may have even had a comical side to him that people never knew about. He is also a fantastic wedding cake designer.
I often think about the journeys of others, and while that may not always be a healthy activity, I do wonder about many-a-things.
Sometimes I wish I were Philip Glass so that I could compose all that must be said without actually having to say it. My paintings I am working on are small and ordinary and do not properly convey what is inside of me. But it's there, and I know it, and it has taken me a long time to realize that it does not matter if others cannot see it.
My relationship with God gives me great comfort. I find myself alongside atheists and fanatics and opposing religions and righteous Bible thumpers each day and subsequentally feel my own relationship with God even more calming.
In the arena of Mental Health, there is a tendency among some patients to think they ARE God. And conversely, there are actually some professionals within the field that may even behave similarly. I still feel stress when I think about the admitting nurse during my 2nd round at the hospital and how JUDGMENTAL she was of me during my 10 day stay. This was all based on the fact that I said something about 'not sure what to believe at the moment.' She stood up and metaphorically spit in my face when I answered one of her examining questions. My heart felt like it was going to stop beating at that moment. And that is when I learned that Doubt was a metaphysical force.
In any moments of Doubt that I encounter in the future, I shall close my eyes and meditate on some of the purest moments I have ever felt. I have encountered more than enough moments with God to make me a great believer that there is something beyond us....
Some people find this frightening and scary and too intense to contend with in their daily lives. Not for me. It is something that lives inside of me.
And I know that the 'delusion' of the Mexican janitor who came to talk to me in a waiting room of a hospital when I was all alone was merely there to comfort me in a time of need when he pointed to his name tag and it said "Jesus." I didn't ask him to come talk to me. He just simply appeared. When I told him my story and asked him what to do, he answered me by throwing his arms around as if to lift the air up all around him. He also was feeling a little down on himself for simply being a Mexican janitor and that nothing important or significant ever emerged out of Mexico. I even counseled him and told him about Frida Kahlo and her important contributions to the art world.
So even if my mexican janitor friend was merely a clinical delusion that must be stopped with MEDICATION MORE MORE MORE MORE MEDICATION, I will NEVER forget him walking down the hall as I went on to write foreign alphabets on the chalkboard with fellow patients, looking back at me with a big smile on his face and waving...
Delusion or not, dear doctor, my imagination did not work entirely on my own to create that experience.
God is with us. I no longer have any doubts about that.
I also think Jesus may have even had a comical side to him that people never knew about. He is also a fantastic wedding cake designer.
Friday, April 30, 2010
inner peace
Sometimes life can feel overwhelming, particularly when an overabundance of people with VERY different ideas and opinions about you try to step in and anchor you in all sorts of different places.
Nobody knows me and what is best for me except for ME!!!
Wish I had that free yoga & meditation class to monitor again. That stuff was the best for mind, body and spirit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhLJY3DiDBU
Peace.
Nobody knows me and what is best for me except for ME!!!
Wish I had that free yoga & meditation class to monitor again. That stuff was the best for mind, body and spirit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhLJY3DiDBU
Peace.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
In Memory Of....
Had a sad crying spell at an annual perinatal loss memorial service today. We were supposed to have a tree ceremony in the courtyard and place our flowers on a tree but alas, il pleuvait. (it has been raining all day...)
But it was followed by ice cream and some new music.
You really never, ever, ever, ever forget.
(That is a real scan of the little angel's little footsies. I also have a picture of her in her little March of Dimes crocheted hat but that will not be plastered on the internet. Some things must remain sacred.)
She would have been 2 years and 3 months today.
Sigh.
But it was followed by ice cream and some new music.
You really never, ever, ever, ever forget.
(That is a real scan of the little angel's little footsies. I also have a picture of her in her little March of Dimes crocheted hat but that will not be plastered on the internet. Some things must remain sacred.)
She would have been 2 years and 3 months today.
Sigh.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
wide awake
i'm not sleeping.
these moments of lost sleep due to a particularly loud upstairs neighbor have a lot to do with my well-being. especially when i have to get up in three hours for an early work shift of my own.
yet i am stuck. s-t-u-c-k. due to financial restraint. torture. i wish all the stress would just go awaaaaayyyy.
in moments like these, i drown myself in stories.
i love this version of this old tale: (disclaimer: this is the ending)
and i just want to know. are there REALLY happy endings out there? people sometimes whisper of them, but it gets harder to believe them to be true.
especially in the dark hours of awakened slumbers like these.
thanks to a few of our nation's government employees like Big Bafoon upstairs.
these moments of lost sleep due to a particularly loud upstairs neighbor have a lot to do with my well-being. especially when i have to get up in three hours for an early work shift of my own.
yet i am stuck. s-t-u-c-k. due to financial restraint. torture. i wish all the stress would just go awaaaaayyyy.
in moments like these, i drown myself in stories.
i love this version of this old tale: (disclaimer: this is the ending)
and i just want to know. are there REALLY happy endings out there? people sometimes whisper of them, but it gets harder to believe them to be true.
especially in the dark hours of awakened slumbers like these.
thanks to a few of our nation's government employees like Big Bafoon upstairs.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
awakenings
in my overwhelmingly creative thought processes lately when i write in my journal or paint canvas after canvas turquoise and splashes of word-related things, i pray for a day when it will flow from me the way it is supposed to.
the way God intended it. the quintessential story that i want to write. i want to write a Jane Eyre, or a To Kill a Mockingbird, or perhaps a small poignant fable. i would even write a children's book if i felt so inspired.... i know i have it in me, but....
.....WHY WON'T IT COME TO ME!?!?!
perhaps it's the pressure of having to move and create at a rapid pace so it can go through the big machine gun hands of 'getting it out there' and perhaps it just completely overwhelms and stresses me out. i have tried many different approaches and discussed many things with people in my research i.e. living-my-life. when i explained to an old coworker friend (whom i no longer talk to) about my plans to take my time and gain enough life knowledge to WRITE THAT BOOK THAT I HAVE IN ME, she said something that doesn't leave my mind and plagues me. It was a big mumbo jumbo escapading conversation about living for the NOW and answering that call NOW. Life is too short to wait for a perfect moment.
And now I suffer from intense creative anxiety.
I am working on some short stories in the meantime to at least just practice the craft. But I am not pleased at all with them.
Awaking from a big long dream can be quite torturous.
And the face of Mr. Rochester to my Jane Eyre is so clouded over with all the other bullshit that clanks from behind his high-speed out-of-control rabid horse-drawn carriage. Seriously, my muse or destiny or love or WHATEVER THE HELL IT IS is just like Pigpen from Peanuts.
Maybe one day he'll clean up to be Charlie Brown.
My god, life is so strange.
the way God intended it. the quintessential story that i want to write. i want to write a Jane Eyre, or a To Kill a Mockingbird, or perhaps a small poignant fable. i would even write a children's book if i felt so inspired.... i know i have it in me, but....
.....WHY WON'T IT COME TO ME!?!?!
perhaps it's the pressure of having to move and create at a rapid pace so it can go through the big machine gun hands of 'getting it out there' and perhaps it just completely overwhelms and stresses me out. i have tried many different approaches and discussed many things with people in my research i.e. living-my-life. when i explained to an old coworker friend (whom i no longer talk to) about my plans to take my time and gain enough life knowledge to WRITE THAT BOOK THAT I HAVE IN ME, she said something that doesn't leave my mind and plagues me. It was a big mumbo jumbo escapading conversation about living for the NOW and answering that call NOW. Life is too short to wait for a perfect moment.
And now I suffer from intense creative anxiety.
I am working on some short stories in the meantime to at least just practice the craft. But I am not pleased at all with them.
Awaking from a big long dream can be quite torturous.
And the face of Mr. Rochester to my Jane Eyre is so clouded over with all the other bullshit that clanks from behind his high-speed out-of-control rabid horse-drawn carriage. Seriously, my muse or destiny or love or WHATEVER THE HELL IT IS is just like Pigpen from Peanuts.
Maybe one day he'll clean up to be Charlie Brown.
My god, life is so strange.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
sometimes it snows en avril
while staring at my blank canvases wondering what to fill them with and watching the PBS Buddha special, the following thought came to mind in regards to my own life journey:
was i in the wrong place at the right time?
was i in the right place at the wrong time?
was i in the wrong place at the wrong time?
OR
was i in the right place at the right time?
was i in the wrong place at the right time?
was i in the right place at the wrong time?
was i in the wrong place at the wrong time?
OR
was i in the right place at the right time?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
lucky
(originally begun as a short story of sorts for Al, yet turns into a letter to little brother. inspired by true events in my little brother's life)
they say there's this thing called luck. pots o' gold, end of rainbows, lucky charms cereal, winning the lotto, and the ever-so-ubiquitous Finding A Four Leaf Clover.
some people experience it daily in their lives, as if it's truly some kind of good ol' magical karma coming back to them in spades. some people have a few lucky moments throughout the course of their lives.
and then there's the flipside....
there are those who face setback after setback, work hard their whole lives but with no real reward, have bad things happen more than a handful of times, are put innocently in harm's way, can't get a break or move forward and seem to lack Luck.
without delving into fragmented philosophies or eastern thought or getting into an argument with Oprah, i am just going to take that thing called LUCK at face value.
because Luck is just Luck.
I grew up as the older sister of one of the luckiest boys I've ever known. Little Ryan O'Patrick Brother Leprechaun.
While running around the green summer grasses at the Indiana homestead, barefoot and carefree, imagination planted its roots firm in the ground. And when the clover patches worked their ways into our path, that kid had an eagle eye.
In a little 3-year-old Ryan voice: "I think I saw a Four-Leaf-Clover back there."
And a 10 year old big sis said, "Where?" and begins frantically looking everywhere for it as she has spent a good portion of her first decade trying to locate one of her very own.
And I'm sure while Ryan O'Patrick was singing a whimsical song or la-la-la-ing I would follow him and he would walk right up to it (dressed in my pink skirt) and pluck it from the earth with a dramatic 'Ta-Da!!!!" .
AAAAAAGH! Cursed AGAIN I was.
And he went on to find THREE MORE in his lifetime!
Maybe he had someone watching over him. Maybe it was that cat who kept climbing into his windowsill. We thought it was an imaginary cat he was envisioning as tumbling off to dreamland until we saw him with our own eyes. A little tabby cat just perched on a 2nd-story windowsill staring at Ryan with wonder as he slept....
And maybe that was the dawn of his Lucky Life as he knew it. Who else would Ann-Margret want greeting her at the stage door? Escorting her to her dressing room during a Chicago theatre run at the early dawning of Ryan O'Patrick's adulthood?
Former Winnetka-area New Trier high school classmate shouts from the commotion: 'Ann-Margret! Ann-Margret! Do you remember me???'
As Ryan O'Patrick leads Ann-Margret into the back halls as she blows kisses to the wind, 'I remember EVERYONE! Mwah! EVERYONE! Mwah!'
And he moves to New York City and everything continues to fall magically into place.
Ryan O'Patrick, four-leaf clover finder, the only boy to mystify the mystical cat, Ann-Margret tamer, roamer of lucky New York streets. All around Lucky Guy.
Ryan, I hope that incredible job lands on your doorstep soon. get back in touch with that LUCK. And if you ever find you have too much luck, remember how awesome your big sister is and share...
XOXO!
they say there's this thing called luck. pots o' gold, end of rainbows, lucky charms cereal, winning the lotto, and the ever-so-ubiquitous Finding A Four Leaf Clover.
some people experience it daily in their lives, as if it's truly some kind of good ol' magical karma coming back to them in spades. some people have a few lucky moments throughout the course of their lives.
and then there's the flipside....
there are those who face setback after setback, work hard their whole lives but with no real reward, have bad things happen more than a handful of times, are put innocently in harm's way, can't get a break or move forward and seem to lack Luck.
without delving into fragmented philosophies or eastern thought or getting into an argument with Oprah, i am just going to take that thing called LUCK at face value.
because Luck is just Luck.
I grew up as the older sister of one of the luckiest boys I've ever known. Little Ryan O'Patrick Brother Leprechaun.
While running around the green summer grasses at the Indiana homestead, barefoot and carefree, imagination planted its roots firm in the ground. And when the clover patches worked their ways into our path, that kid had an eagle eye.
In a little 3-year-old Ryan voice: "I think I saw a Four-Leaf-Clover back there."
And a 10 year old big sis said, "Where?" and begins frantically looking everywhere for it as she has spent a good portion of her first decade trying to locate one of her very own.
And I'm sure while Ryan O'Patrick was singing a whimsical song or la-la-la-ing I would follow him and he would walk right up to it (dressed in my pink skirt) and pluck it from the earth with a dramatic 'Ta-Da!!!!" .
AAAAAAGH! Cursed AGAIN I was.
And he went on to find THREE MORE in his lifetime!
Maybe he had someone watching over him. Maybe it was that cat who kept climbing into his windowsill. We thought it was an imaginary cat he was envisioning as tumbling off to dreamland until we saw him with our own eyes. A little tabby cat just perched on a 2nd-story windowsill staring at Ryan with wonder as he slept....
And maybe that was the dawn of his Lucky Life as he knew it. Who else would Ann-Margret want greeting her at the stage door? Escorting her to her dressing room during a Chicago theatre run at the early dawning of Ryan O'Patrick's adulthood?
Former Winnetka-area New Trier high school classmate shouts from the commotion: 'Ann-Margret! Ann-Margret! Do you remember me???'
As Ryan O'Patrick leads Ann-Margret into the back halls as she blows kisses to the wind, 'I remember EVERYONE! Mwah! EVERYONE! Mwah!'
And he moves to New York City and everything continues to fall magically into place.
Ryan O'Patrick, four-leaf clover finder, the only boy to mystify the mystical cat, Ann-Margret tamer, roamer of lucky New York streets. All around Lucky Guy.
Ryan, I hope that incredible job lands on your doorstep soon. get back in touch with that LUCK. And if you ever find you have too much luck, remember how awesome your big sister is and share...
XOXO!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
the games we play....
i suppose we are born thinking games are a part of being human. we play pat-a-cake as babies to improve our eye-hand coordination, invent mechanisms of learning via games and competition throughout grammar school and beyond. we participate in sports. we invent contests at work to increase sales and productivity. games are designed to challenge us and make us strive for more.
but when do games turn sour and malicious?
i have held a career in retail my whole working life. starting at age 16 i began selling shoes. and by now i've sold just about everything except cars and insurance policies. i don't particularly enjoy it and it brings me uneasiness because i am living my 40-hour a week ritual among the games of humanity. i have worked for large corporations, father/son businesses, non-profit museum shops and mid-sized rapidly-growing (and a few rapidly-declining) companies. while there are the games among competitive coworkers in any field, it is an overwhelmingly difficult task to deal with the public at large.
shoplifting is the worst as they come. just a few weeks ago i was tied up with two demanding customers who required urgent attention. a man, about 40-50 years old, well-dressed, very 'normal' looking stood at the counter waiting for my assistance. let's call him 'Larry.' i told him i would be right with him as the first two customers continued rattling their 'needs' to me. i paged for assistance. a coworker arrived and asked the Larry if he needed help. she showed him the location he was looking for and we continued to juggle all of our customers, bouncing between them all and answering questions as they came up. i checked on Larry and he posed a challenging question which i went to the computer to research a bit. i walked back to ask some more follow-up questions because i wasn't finding the right answers and he began to get a little 'short' with me. i researched some more and he slowly stepped over to my computer and frustratingly said, 'forget it. i'll go somewhere where they know what they are doing.'
fast forward two days and one of my employees, during my day off, began to locate cut and torn security tags around the department. 9 of them total. my suspicions immediately went to Larry and after spending 2 hours viewing surveillance tapes from three different cameras, i see him sticking things in his pocket, keeping his hand there as he wriggles it around and gets the tag off, then shuffles them in between other items.
and there are a million more stories like this one, and others of outlandish customer expectations, arguments (some involving people screaming at me), people blaming me for corporate policies, trying to barter, etc. perhaps it would be different if i were running that dream shop of my own and there was the pride of ownership involved, but for the time being, i am merely a vessel for the many strange behaviors of the consumer world. until something more lucrative comes along, i have no choice but to put on my happy face and simply take it...
but what about the GAMES among all other aspects of society? the vampire feeding frenzies of the arts, the strange 'fake' relationships that people create with those holding some sort of information they want, the game of PSYCHOLOGY, and of course that ubiquitous game of LOVE.
games are a part of the natural order of all things human, but i feel the notion of good sportsmanship flew out the window once GREED constructed a new high-rise in the latest developing community.
but when do games turn sour and malicious?
i have held a career in retail my whole working life. starting at age 16 i began selling shoes. and by now i've sold just about everything except cars and insurance policies. i don't particularly enjoy it and it brings me uneasiness because i am living my 40-hour a week ritual among the games of humanity. i have worked for large corporations, father/son businesses, non-profit museum shops and mid-sized rapidly-growing (and a few rapidly-declining) companies. while there are the games among competitive coworkers in any field, it is an overwhelmingly difficult task to deal with the public at large.
shoplifting is the worst as they come. just a few weeks ago i was tied up with two demanding customers who required urgent attention. a man, about 40-50 years old, well-dressed, very 'normal' looking stood at the counter waiting for my assistance. let's call him 'Larry.' i told him i would be right with him as the first two customers continued rattling their 'needs' to me. i paged for assistance. a coworker arrived and asked the Larry if he needed help. she showed him the location he was looking for and we continued to juggle all of our customers, bouncing between them all and answering questions as they came up. i checked on Larry and he posed a challenging question which i went to the computer to research a bit. i walked back to ask some more follow-up questions because i wasn't finding the right answers and he began to get a little 'short' with me. i researched some more and he slowly stepped over to my computer and frustratingly said, 'forget it. i'll go somewhere where they know what they are doing.'
fast forward two days and one of my employees, during my day off, began to locate cut and torn security tags around the department. 9 of them total. my suspicions immediately went to Larry and after spending 2 hours viewing surveillance tapes from three different cameras, i see him sticking things in his pocket, keeping his hand there as he wriggles it around and gets the tag off, then shuffles them in between other items.
and there are a million more stories like this one, and others of outlandish customer expectations, arguments (some involving people screaming at me), people blaming me for corporate policies, trying to barter, etc. perhaps it would be different if i were running that dream shop of my own and there was the pride of ownership involved, but for the time being, i am merely a vessel for the many strange behaviors of the consumer world. until something more lucrative comes along, i have no choice but to put on my happy face and simply take it...
but what about the GAMES among all other aspects of society? the vampire feeding frenzies of the arts, the strange 'fake' relationships that people create with those holding some sort of information they want, the game of PSYCHOLOGY, and of course that ubiquitous game of LOVE.
games are a part of the natural order of all things human, but i feel the notion of good sportsmanship flew out the window once GREED constructed a new high-rise in the latest developing community.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
roadtrip to cleveland
i took a few consecutive days off from bookslave-land and hopped in the passenger's seat of my mother's car and drove 7 hours to cleveland, ohio. we saw the rock and roll hall of fame and the cleveland museum of art (which was amazing and FREE!) and the house from the Christmas Story movie.
we drove the toll roads through northern indiana, through toledo ohio and saw all the landscapes that are permanently etched into my mind. farms after farms after farms. cornfields, amber waves of grain and not much more than that.
(john rogers cox's gray and gold 1942)
these visuals growing up are what made me ponder and think and wonder and, essentially, chip away at boredom.
hours in the schoolbus, winding around old country roads for an hour to and from school, my mind jumpy and anxious for the next time i'd see something spectacular and amazing and new.
open lands. vastness. solitude.
until you arrive into the next big midwestern town with a museum or two and you peer at sargeant pepper outfits or zztop drums or mick jagger's jumpsuit or flavor flav's clock. and in another building you see thousands of damien hirst's dead butterflies and another roomful of shining armor and impressionists and realists and more rodin sculptures and another excerpt of picasso's blue period you missed in paris and just when you though monet made you yawn you discover something different....
and then you're back in the cornfields all over again. with plenty of time to think about what just flashed before your eyes.
and then, if you're not in a rush, you can take the scenic route back to chicago through amish country.
and when i get stuck in that cornfield again, i reflect on these trips and assure myself that life does not breed constant chaos. it's just a perpetual journey through cornfields to cultural deluge and back again.
i'm not sure where i fit into the grand scheme of things nor where i belong, but i always know that kind of cornfield thinking will see me through.
OHIOOOOO!
we drove the toll roads through northern indiana, through toledo ohio and saw all the landscapes that are permanently etched into my mind. farms after farms after farms. cornfields, amber waves of grain and not much more than that.
these visuals growing up are what made me ponder and think and wonder and, essentially, chip away at boredom.
hours in the schoolbus, winding around old country roads for an hour to and from school, my mind jumpy and anxious for the next time i'd see something spectacular and amazing and new.
open lands. vastness. solitude.
until you arrive into the next big midwestern town with a museum or two and you peer at sargeant pepper outfits or zztop drums or mick jagger's jumpsuit or flavor flav's clock. and in another building you see thousands of damien hirst's dead butterflies and another roomful of shining armor and impressionists and realists and more rodin sculptures and another excerpt of picasso's blue period you missed in paris and just when you though monet made you yawn you discover something different....
and then you're back in the cornfields all over again. with plenty of time to think about what just flashed before your eyes.
and then, if you're not in a rush, you can take the scenic route back to chicago through amish country.
and when i get stuck in that cornfield again, i reflect on these trips and assure myself that life does not breed constant chaos. it's just a perpetual journey through cornfields to cultural deluge and back again.
i'm not sure where i fit into the grand scheme of things nor where i belong, but i always know that kind of cornfield thinking will see me through.
OHIOOOOO!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
In Another Time...
In another time
from Sade's new album Soldier of Love
(currently playing on rotation at work and this song fills my mind when the day is long....)
You'll be surprised girl,
Soon they will mean nothing to you
They will fall into their own brew
And take down some of the boys
With them too
There's nothing
nothing that you have to do
In another time girl
Tears wont leave a trace
In another time girl
In another place
You were down girl,
Their whispers are hailstones in your face
So tired of waiting
For something to change
They don't know what to do with
something so good
But you wouldn't hurt them,
you wouldn't hurt them if you could
One of these days they gonna fall into their brew
And they will know exactly what they did to you
Darling I just want you to know
Your tears wont leave a trace,
In another time girl,
In another time girl
in another place
from Sade's new album Soldier of Love
(currently playing on rotation at work and this song fills my mind when the day is long....)
You'll be surprised girl,
Soon they will mean nothing to you
They will fall into their own brew
And take down some of the boys
With them too
There's nothing
nothing that you have to do
In another time girl
Tears wont leave a trace
In another time girl
In another place
You were down girl,
Their whispers are hailstones in your face
So tired of waiting
For something to change
They don't know what to do with
something so good
But you wouldn't hurt them,
you wouldn't hurt them if you could
One of these days they gonna fall into their brew
And they will know exactly what they did to you
Darling I just want you to know
Your tears wont leave a trace,
In another time girl,
In another time girl
in another place
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Hmmmmm...
This is interesting.
http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/02/11/the-accommodating-point-2/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+PauloCoelhosBlog+%28Paulo+Coelho%27s+Blog%29
I know exactly when my 'accommodating point' occurred.
http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/02/11/the-accommodating-point-2/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+PauloCoelhosBlog+%28Paulo+Coelho%27s+Blog%29
I know exactly when my 'accommodating point' occurred.
mystery
i am often amazed, and i don't know why, that mystery and intrigue is such a mandatory sensation (is that the word i'm looking for?) in many people's lives. whether it is through the films we watch or books we read or simply the LIVES we choose to live, it is always the element of the unknown that keeps people clinging for more.
i'd even go so far to say that i think there are people walking this world who simply cannot be satisfied without mystery in his or her life.
i bring this up for several reasons. the main reason due to an ongoing conflict i have going on mentally with one person in particular in this world. while i consider myself to be a very exploratory person and even perhaps seek inspiration in the UNKNOWN, i am just rattled to the point of CREATIVE BLOCK in my lack of clear vision in regards to this ONE PERSON.
and another reason i bring it up is that i often wonder how much mystery in the world is created with full intent. manufactured mystery.
and yet another reason i ponder all this is that why is there such great fear among some folks to let this mystery fade?
i suppose i grew up as a child and have lived a life thus far never feeling quite certain of really anything that probably seemed quite simple to others. was i loved? was i ill? would i ever succeed? would i ever have enough money to assert a comfortable life for myself? in turn, would i ever have a family of my own? and even more questions and uncertainties plague me each day...
so i suppose that is where the line must be drawn...between MYSTERY and UNCERTAINTY.
i won't even pretend to know science but often wish i did so i could apply some sense to the wackiness that my mind sometimes creates. this is an interesting concept:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncertainty_principle
i'd even go so far to say that i think there are people walking this world who simply cannot be satisfied without mystery in his or her life.
i bring this up for several reasons. the main reason due to an ongoing conflict i have going on mentally with one person in particular in this world. while i consider myself to be a very exploratory person and even perhaps seek inspiration in the UNKNOWN, i am just rattled to the point of CREATIVE BLOCK in my lack of clear vision in regards to this ONE PERSON.
and another reason i bring it up is that i often wonder how much mystery in the world is created with full intent. manufactured mystery.
and yet another reason i ponder all this is that why is there such great fear among some folks to let this mystery fade?
i suppose i grew up as a child and have lived a life thus far never feeling quite certain of really anything that probably seemed quite simple to others. was i loved? was i ill? would i ever succeed? would i ever have enough money to assert a comfortable life for myself? in turn, would i ever have a family of my own? and even more questions and uncertainties plague me each day...
so i suppose that is where the line must be drawn...between MYSTERY and UNCERTAINTY.
i won't even pretend to know science but often wish i did so i could apply some sense to the wackiness that my mind sometimes creates. this is an interesting concept:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncertainty_principle
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Greetings from the year 2010
Hard to believe how much life has passed by. I certainly thought by the year 2010 we'd all be riding around in hovering space cars and wearing lots of metallic. Although if you stop for a moment while in the midst of a public place like a bus or subway car and actually look up only to find the world around you tapping on infinite numbers of electronic gadgets, it's really not a far cry from what I thought 2010 might have been like as a little girl....
I'm still a bit lost at the moment for any sort of creative focus. I thoroughly enjoy catching up on darling Amanda's photography adventures. Years ago we used to write silly stories on the internet and what a gorgeous friendship root planted itself back then. She has found her expression through photography and it suits her well. :)
I sometimes poke around the world of Mr. Coelho for a new thought. I refrain from participating in the discussions, mostly because they tend to cultivate a worship of sorts rather than the introspection in each of us as individuals as (i believe) they are intended to do. But then again, an introspection dpesn't really need to leave the self now does it?
While the husband works (happy 'cotton' anniversary Mr. T) I filter through the years of friendships and acquaintances via Facebook and take the silly quizzes and find out what punk rock star i am (patti smith) and look at pictures of everyone's travels, families, new homes and new toys and wonder what it is about Farmville that entrances the masses the way they do.
I screen the NPR Songs of the Day that I collect in my inbox daily and sift through YouTube's that make me smile like this one:
And just like everyone else in the world from time to time, I feel happy, sad, secure, uncertain, proud, shamed, lonely in public places, overwhelmed in solitude, angry, empathetic and forever wandering.
Happy 2010, everyone.
I'm still a bit lost at the moment for any sort of creative focus. I thoroughly enjoy catching up on darling Amanda's photography adventures. Years ago we used to write silly stories on the internet and what a gorgeous friendship root planted itself back then. She has found her expression through photography and it suits her well. :)
I sometimes poke around the world of Mr. Coelho for a new thought. I refrain from participating in the discussions, mostly because they tend to cultivate a worship of sorts rather than the introspection in each of us as individuals as (i believe) they are intended to do. But then again, an introspection dpesn't really need to leave the self now does it?
While the husband works (happy 'cotton' anniversary Mr. T) I filter through the years of friendships and acquaintances via Facebook and take the silly quizzes and find out what punk rock star i am (patti smith) and look at pictures of everyone's travels, families, new homes and new toys and wonder what it is about Farmville that entrances the masses the way they do.
I screen the NPR Songs of the Day that I collect in my inbox daily and sift through YouTube's that make me smile like this one:
And just like everyone else in the world from time to time, I feel happy, sad, secure, uncertain, proud, shamed, lonely in public places, overwhelmed in solitude, angry, empathetic and forever wandering.
Happy 2010, everyone.
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