I’m funnied out.
At least that’s how it felt up until about an hour ago.
I could relate funny stories over breakfast with my AP to the point of snort and immaturation (losing maturity with every passing minute), but transferring my funniness to paper was out of the question unless I could siphon the visuals from my brain on to the page. And I don’t think anyone’s invented such a device yet.
Today I literally stared at the screen, reading, rereading, looking, revising and fiddling with the dozen or so pages I had already written on one of my last chapters - the male profile. Even the title sucks.
In the last couple of days, I actually questioned whether I was going to toss the whole project into the fireplace and be done with it - except that I don’t have a fireplace and even if I did it’s summer so why would I burn a log?
Plus I have stuff on a jump drive so really it was a moot threat. I was just being a drama queen because it felt good. And writers aren’t allowed to have all those tantrums like movie stars unless you’re also working on a movie set and do something like throw a phone book at somebody because they changed your script AGAIN and nobody’s listening because nobody gets it and nobody cares because everyone wants things done their way in Hollywood. Sheesh.
But I digress.
I wrote six pages of opinions on the male profile until I realized something vitally important that changed everything...
Nobody gives a shit.
Once again, the truth of this statement hit me as I absentmindedly watched an episode of The Dog Whisperer, (laptop sitting where its name implies it should), and writing more crap than the backyard of a humane society when I heard Cesar Millan tell someone how utterly simple it was going to be to rehabilitate some vicious, cat-eating canine.
I thought wtf is he talking about, rehabilitate? Put the god damn dog down and be done with it!
Holy crap.
That’s what was wrong with my chapter. I forgot to keep it simple.
I looked up at Cesar with those white teeth and that faint leftover halo glow from his previous life as Saint Bernard, looked back down at my screen and promptly deleted eight pages of useless material.
Damn but it felt good.
In writer language, it’s called: killing your babies
Every writer develops an emotional attachment to the words he puts down on paper. The more he invests, the greater the attachment, until the thought of altering or deleting material - even when he knows it’s no damn good nor serves any purpose - becomes impossibly difficult.
You’ve birthed this new thing that can’t go on living because it doesn’t fit the purpose of your work and yet... you defend its right to be there by forcing it to fit in because you've invested so much you just can't let go.
And that spells disaster.
The only thing you can do... is kill it.
So I did.
Now I might actually stand a chance to get it right.
As for being done by the 1st of September? Not a chance.
I’ll give myself one more week.
Because there’s only one thing worse than killing your babies - meeting a deadline but handing in crap to 'git 'er done'.
I’ll keep you posted.
-----
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
August 28, 2009 - To err is human, to drink divine, cuban cigars and hockey legends
Alright. I admit it.
I haven’t done a whole helluva lot of writing in two days. Well, more like one. But it feels like it’s been a bloody week that’s how hefty the guilt tracker is. Go Catholic upbringing!
A couple of days ago, I hit a real writer’s wall. I knew what I had to write, I had an idea of how I should start, but I had been working on it so much that every time I looked at the next chapter of the book I wanted to cough up a lung. That used to be my clue to stop when I was on a roll. I know it well.
I remember taking all of spring break to work on the book. My goal was to pull together three months of information into something that might resemble something that I might actually want to finish because it now had teeth instead of gums. So while some people over the break were sunning in Cuba smoking cigars and drinking Mai Tais, (and others were doing the same at home), I was givin’ er every day from morning ‘til night until there was no room left in my brain to jot another word down. I stopped at the end of every day when I literally felt like puking.
It reminded me of when my boys were little and I used to drop them off at Ponderosa every Wednesday when their all-you-can-eat buffet was only $1.99 (including soft drink) and then picked them up three hours later when they rolled out the door. Those were the days when I worked for minimum wage and realized I could never afford in my kitchen what this surrogate franchise mom was pulling off.
I would drop them off at the door and say:
“Don’t call me to pick you up until either you can’t move or they kick you out. I mean it.”
That’s what the writing was like. I only stopped at the end of every day when I literally felt like throwing up. It was great. That’s when I knew I had reached my limit. Every day was like going to an all-you-can-write buffet knowing this might be my only chance to grind it out because once that break was over I was back to juggling my time.
That was the wall I hit two days ago.
So when a friend of mine called to meet for a drink, I went gladly.
But what I thought was going to be a couple of hours on a patio turned out to be a helluva lot more.
By the end of the night, I had had a variety of drinks, smoked a stogie with hockey legend Thomas Steen and talked about ‘the good old days’ with Bobby Hull back when I knew his oldest kid. I still don’t think he remembers giving me a ride home at the age of fifteen and calling me “Frenchie” but he did kiss me on the cheek and told me in so many words that Bobby should have paid closer attention when we were kids because I turned out all right.
Needless to say, it was a good time.
Steen’s girlfriend was the bomb and although I didn’t know it then, I had engaged in conversations about love and life with some hockey greats as I floated around the room, always with a drink in my hand.
I still don’t know who half of them were and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever remember their names but I do know they were people just like me, with opinions and experiences, hopes and dreams - some fulfilled and more in progress.
It never really ends.
But there was one difference...
They had experienced the satisfaction of fulfilling a big part of their destiny because they had used their talents to the fullest - being great athletes.
And that underlying satisfaction, even though they don’t know it, permeated the room. It’s what draws people to them. Its energy is infectious.
Erma Bombeck once wrote:
When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me".
That’s what I’m aiming for. That’s what the Six Month Experiment is really all about. And that night was a good reminder.
I woke up the next morning with a hangover, wondering how in the hell I was suppose to get any writing done today, suffused with the guilt of a looming deadline. But then I paused mid-thought to track down some god awful smell and the source of my oncoming nausea.
And there it was in my purse.
An oversized half-smoked Cuban cigar.
Fuck it.
It was worth it. Thanks Schindler.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
August 26, 2009 - The One Month Mark. Tally up!
This is it.
It’s been one month since the start of the Six Month Experiment and it’s time to take stock of my progress. (Gulp)
Granted, it started off slowly. Cheating on good eating habits and sticking to a strict information diet (ie; limited Internet surfing and email) has not always been easy.
Though I’ve actually managed the former, the latter has honestly been like pulling healthy teeth that have no business leaving your mouth except that someone’s gotta pay for your dentist’s kids’ private school tuition.
But I sort of forgive myself. Part of it has to do with the work I’m doing (and the necessary research that goes with it) as well as emails commiserating with another writer on the ins and outs of life in the blogosphere.
We give each other kool-aid and band-aid, providing sips of information on how to make a kooler blog and then covering up blisters and blunders as we see them. We tell each other how to set up Adsense and then wonder how in the hell “Green products” ever make it on to our blog when really, we never recycle anything except our feelings.
And now, with no further ado, if you’re interesting in following the real-time adventures of Hollywood screenwriter Jim Makichuk as he tries to get his new indie movie made, go to:
http://www.myfilmproject09.blogspot.com/
As Jim puts it, “It’s all about making movies the hard way” adding quietly, “like there’s any other way.”
And after being up and running for only two days, he’s already got more followers than a diva wearing bling in Central Park at midnight. I’ve been up and running for a month and I’m getting about as much action as a coin-operated vibrating bed in a fishing lodge in the middle of winter when the lake is frozen. But then, I’m just getting started... give me time darlin’... give me time...
And I’m about to bet him that he’ll have all the funds he needs to make his film before the year is out. If I win, I’m offering myself a job working on his movie set. Everybody needs a girl Friday and I’m gonna need some new material for this blog. What better place to get the goods on stars, then make a few extra bucks selling information to Vanity Fair or The Enquirer eh Jimmy?
Just kidding. My kids have student loans. I don’t need the money that badly. Not like my dentist. No siree. I’ve got good old fashioned integrity.
Speaking of which. Back to my one month tally.
I’ve had a helluva run since my last blog entry.
Knowing the end is near (not of the world, of my book), and that I have to ‘report’ following completion of my first month, I put a hemi in my attitude and shifted into high gear on the writing.
As a result, I successfully completed two and half chapters in just four days and succeeded in alienating everyone I know because I’m not answering phones or returning calls.
Such is the life of a writer.
Okay that’s not true. It just sounds better than saying everyone has given me unconditional support and space to do my thing because they know better and I’m no fun to be with right now anyway because I get whiny after a day of trying to be funny on paper with no end in sight and it’s been FOUR.
Save yourselves people, save yourselves.
And now... (drumroll please)....
I am going to list the 7 areas of Success Principles and review my progress in each area to see where I’m at.
I’m nervous. Someone hold my hand. (Where's Miss Universe when you need her)?
1. Money: I have none. Perfect. But I’m not really going out either so I’m in a holding pattern. Which is good. I’ve got my Maslow’s hierarchy of basic needs met so that I can concentrate on writing the book and surviving until subbing kicks in. And it’s working. Beautiful. CHECK!
2. Career: I have one. At least I used to. Teaching. Sort of. At least that’s what I did last year. I’m in transition to being a full-time writer and working diligently at it. I’ve been working on this book (gathering data, research, writing, etc.) since January while also working full-time and then some.
At the start of this experiment (July 26th), I had about 60% of the book complete. One month later, I am at 80%.
My goal is to finish the book by Monday, August 31st, which is somewhat unrealistic, but I’m going to do it anyway. To hell with bad odds. Or bad breath for that matter. Or body odor. Showering is not exactly a priority right now. But I don’t care, because this part is the biggest piece and I’ve got my priorities straight.
All systems go. So far, so good.
Oh yeah, and I started this blog. Nice. Love the blog. Love you guys for reading it.
3. Relationships: What relationships? I don’t even answer my phone half the time. Kids? They don’t complain. They know better. Dating? I’m taking the 5th on that one. Not ready. No siree and none of your business. Not that there’s been any funny business. There’s no time. Besides I got that whole showering thing working against me.
4. Health and Wellness: So far, I’ve been at the gym a minimum of four days a week since this project began. I might not know how to use all those machines yet but I swear that twenty minute workout is helping.
Interval training rocks!
I am like the energizer bunny. Though I must admit to having strange bursts of conversations with perfect strangers who do things I would normally consider impossible with medicine balls and then I say things like, “Holy **it! I didn’t know the human body could DO that! Nice job there Atlas.”
As for that little meditation thing I was suppose to start? Not so much. I did however, set up a chair in a corner and look at it longingly. It’s a start.
5. Recreation and Fun: All the time. But it’s low maintenance fun. I don’t really do anything except watch the odd movie for relief, cook, and go to the gym. But I do laugh every chance I get. And that seems to be quite a bit - especially with my AP and usually at myself. And I’ve been on a few dates. I admit it.
6. Personal Goals: I still have to sign up for Spanish II this fall. And I did get that new little car - the Silver Bullet. Feel way safer in it and am confident it will make it through our gruelling winters.
And I did learn about blogs. So that part’s cool.
I don’t know where exactly I’m going to fit in surfing lessons but I’ll figure that out as I go along.
7. Contributions to Society: I smile at everyone on the street. Does that count? I can’t help it. They always look me in the eye. Sometimes I think I must walk around with spinach stuck in my teeth or something but it’s bigger than that. Maybe it’s black pepper.
Thus marks the end of the first month of the Six Month Experiment.
All in all, I’d say it went pretty darn well, wouldn’t you?
I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll let you know where I’m at with the book by Sunday, August 30th.
Until then... keep a chin up. It’s only gonna get better and easier from here on out....
I bet my blog on it...
------
Saturday, August 22, 2009
August 22, 2009 - Blog withdrawals, big moments and loving the accountability partnership
It’s been a few days and I’m going through blog withdrawals.
But I’m happy to report I have already been to the gym four times this week. It feels great. Have I said how much I love having an accountability partner?
I love my AP.
She called the other day and we were both avoiding the gym issue (the white elephant in the room in the midst of a completely meaningless conversation) when in the middle of a sentence she said:
“I’ll be there in 5. Be downstairs.”
“FINE.” I said irritated but secretly pleased that someone had called me on it.
Because we have an agreement.
It isn’t enough just to have an accountability partner. When they call and suggest something you should be doing, you have to do it. If they call to ask you that question the answer to which informs them whether you’re actually doing what you’re suppose to be doing, you can’t lie. Because you are accountable to them. And on some cosmic level, you’ve signed a waiver granting them full permission to be the official ball-buster of your life.
Some days this person you’ve just entrusted to kick your ass on a regular basis starts to feel more like an AB (Accountability Bitch) than an AP but that’s the beauty of it. It’s like making a pact with the devil. You know what the deal is and you’ve promised to sacrifice the one thing that means more than anything to see your goal through to the end. With the devil it’s your soul. With an accountability partner it’s giving up that inherent desire to be a happy sloth doing what you do best on days when you “just don’t feel like it” - nothing. (Damned be to anyone who tells you, you can’t enjoy a movie marathon with enough pizza, coke and popcorn at your side to satisfy a room full of teenage boys).
And the worst part (or best depending on how you look at it) is you have to take it in the chin because it’s meant to be constructive - ie; without a hint of dagger - and therefore said with your best interests in mind. But at least it works both ways.
One day, my AP asked me:
“Do you think I’ve been neglecting... you know... my work... and avoiding my clients...just a little?”
“Yes” I replied unhesitatingly, “and A LOT, not just a little.”
(sigh). “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get right on it.”
Now that’s what I call a true friendship.
The coolest part in all of this (as I rehash once again the importance of an AP) is I know it works.
Now that the dust is settling, the honeymoon period is over. That’s the real test. And we’re still at it.
In a few days, it will be one month since the Six Month Experiment began and the next journal entry will be aimed at tabulating my progress so far in all areas of my life.
The glory is gone, the excitement is waning, but the habits are slowing changing - and hopefully for good.
I once read it takes 21 days to change a habit. In another text, I read it takes 30, and yet another one, 3 months to ensure a permanent transition.
I think it varies. Personally, I believe it takes 21 days to get the momentum going and set a good foundation where you start to see the potential benefits of your new habits.
It then takes four to six weeks to notice positive results.
Three months to feel entrenched enough in your new routines that skipping begins to feel worse than actually sucking it up and doing it even when you don’t feel like it.
Six months to solidify your patterns.
One year to make a permanent life change and tally up drastic positive results in all areas at which time you will never be able to go back to your ‘old ways’ of being.
Time will tell... time tells all... the proof is in the pudding... the end justifies the... no wait, that’s not right... in this case, it’s more like “the means procreates the end”... anyway...
... the book...
I wrote the last chapter this week.
Now that doesn’t mean I finished the book. It means exactly what I said. It means I wrote the last chapter (and now I have to go back and finish the others).
But it FELT like I was DONE when I finished it. And it was the most AMAZING feeling. So much so, that I started quoting Batman while cracking open a bottle of wine to celebrate:
Well, I think this calls for a cup of char at venerable Ireland Yard (says Superintendent Watson in a bad Irish accent).
Robin: Char?
Batman: Yes, Robin, a colloquialism for tea.
I thought I was hysterical, but I think it was the wine which influenced my own self-perception. Although my AP thought I was pretty funny too. She kept saying:
“Isn’t your mom funny?!” to my kids who were quietly watching us and eating their dinner as two grown women shared a bottle of wine and did the happy dance, each one firmly stating the other was the "true comic genius" of the two, possessing enough talent to make a living doing stand-up.
Which leads me to my suggestion this week:
If you’re in the middle of a project and can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, do the last part first (if possible) and then go out and celebrate (or stay in and celebrate - trust me that works too).
This method may actually give you the momentum you need to move forward again.
But it’s all about the feeling. You have to hang on to that feeling. To know what it’s like to complete something. And then hang on to that feeling and use it to your advantage.
It’s all about illusion anyway.
If you think it, you are.
So use it.
...see on the 26th for a one month update...
-----
But I’m happy to report I have already been to the gym four times this week. It feels great. Have I said how much I love having an accountability partner?
I love my AP.
She called the other day and we were both avoiding the gym issue (the white elephant in the room in the midst of a completely meaningless conversation) when in the middle of a sentence she said:
“I’ll be there in 5. Be downstairs.”
“FINE.” I said irritated but secretly pleased that someone had called me on it.
Because we have an agreement.
It isn’t enough just to have an accountability partner. When they call and suggest something you should be doing, you have to do it. If they call to ask you that question the answer to which informs them whether you’re actually doing what you’re suppose to be doing, you can’t lie. Because you are accountable to them. And on some cosmic level, you’ve signed a waiver granting them full permission to be the official ball-buster of your life.
Some days this person you’ve just entrusted to kick your ass on a regular basis starts to feel more like an AB (Accountability Bitch) than an AP but that’s the beauty of it. It’s like making a pact with the devil. You know what the deal is and you’ve promised to sacrifice the one thing that means more than anything to see your goal through to the end. With the devil it’s your soul. With an accountability partner it’s giving up that inherent desire to be a happy sloth doing what you do best on days when you “just don’t feel like it” - nothing. (Damned be to anyone who tells you, you can’t enjoy a movie marathon with enough pizza, coke and popcorn at your side to satisfy a room full of teenage boys).
And the worst part (or best depending on how you look at it) is you have to take it in the chin because it’s meant to be constructive - ie; without a hint of dagger - and therefore said with your best interests in mind. But at least it works both ways.
One day, my AP asked me:
“Do you think I’ve been neglecting... you know... my work... and avoiding my clients...just a little?”
“Yes” I replied unhesitatingly, “and A LOT, not just a little.”
(sigh). “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get right on it.”
Now that’s what I call a true friendship.
The coolest part in all of this (as I rehash once again the importance of an AP) is I know it works.
Now that the dust is settling, the honeymoon period is over. That’s the real test. And we’re still at it.
In a few days, it will be one month since the Six Month Experiment began and the next journal entry will be aimed at tabulating my progress so far in all areas of my life.
The glory is gone, the excitement is waning, but the habits are slowing changing - and hopefully for good.
I once read it takes 21 days to change a habit. In another text, I read it takes 30, and yet another one, 3 months to ensure a permanent transition.
I think it varies. Personally, I believe it takes 21 days to get the momentum going and set a good foundation where you start to see the potential benefits of your new habits.
It then takes four to six weeks to notice positive results.
Three months to feel entrenched enough in your new routines that skipping begins to feel worse than actually sucking it up and doing it even when you don’t feel like it.
Six months to solidify your patterns.
One year to make a permanent life change and tally up drastic positive results in all areas at which time you will never be able to go back to your ‘old ways’ of being.
Time will tell... time tells all... the proof is in the pudding... the end justifies the... no wait, that’s not right... in this case, it’s more like “the means procreates the end”... anyway...
... the book...
I wrote the last chapter this week.
Now that doesn’t mean I finished the book. It means exactly what I said. It means I wrote the last chapter (and now I have to go back and finish the others).
But it FELT like I was DONE when I finished it. And it was the most AMAZING feeling. So much so, that I started quoting Batman while cracking open a bottle of wine to celebrate:
Well, I think this calls for a cup of char at venerable Ireland Yard (says Superintendent Watson in a bad Irish accent).
Robin: Char?
Batman: Yes, Robin, a colloquialism for tea.
I thought I was hysterical, but I think it was the wine which influenced my own self-perception. Although my AP thought I was pretty funny too. She kept saying:
“Isn’t your mom funny?!” to my kids who were quietly watching us and eating their dinner as two grown women shared a bottle of wine and did the happy dance, each one firmly stating the other was the "true comic genius" of the two, possessing enough talent to make a living doing stand-up.
Which leads me to my suggestion this week:
If you’re in the middle of a project and can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, do the last part first (if possible) and then go out and celebrate (or stay in and celebrate - trust me that works too).
This method may actually give you the momentum you need to move forward again.
But it’s all about the feeling. You have to hang on to that feeling. To know what it’s like to complete something. And then hang on to that feeling and use it to your advantage.
It’s all about illusion anyway.
If you think it, you are.
So use it.
...see on the 26th for a one month update...
-----
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
August 17-18, 2009 - availabilty, knowing your true nature, and taking back control
August 17-18, 2009
In honor of my son’s birthday, there will be no blog today.
Just kidding.
Alright, so I admit it. I’ve been avoiding a number of the elements Jack has lined up in his 7-step-program-to-overhaul-your-life Success Principles. I’m starting to feel like I need to form some sort of AA group for people like me who keep cheating on the program.
I need an accountability mob never mind partner, willing to lynch members with enthusiasm at the slightest infraction. There’s nothing like a little torture to get the ball rolling again.
What is this resistance I suddenly feel towards being a successful person? Why am I feeling so darn heavy?
Ah, frak it. I’ll eat cake and sleep on it. I’ll know in the morning.
***
August 18, 2009
Okay, I slept on it.
I was woken up by my landlord at 7 am. Usually I’m up already but this morning I was lollygagging in bed contemplating what to do with the rest of my life if I couldn’t get this book finished.
Anyway, apparently I did a crappy parking job and the guy beside me couldn’t get in. Nice.
Normally I would be mortified because consideration of others (and their space) is big on my list of what constitutes a good human being. But this guy made last winter miserable for me by having no qualms of parking in such a way that I had to get into my car from the passenger side one too many times. It only stopped after I wrote him a scolding type note.
A scolding type note is different than writing something that says:
“If you keep parking like an asshole, I’m gonna key your door.”
Those never work. It might be what you’re thinking, but they never work.
All that would have done is incite a full-on mental war with this guy.
He would have tested the waters to see how long he could get away with being an asshole until a full confrontation would conveniently occur the morning after he had a big fight with wife.
Knowing this about human nature, I prefer to appeal to one’s sensibilities without being meek and mild about it.
“Hi there. Please be more considerate in your parking habits. You are probably not aware of it, but I am unable to get into my car on any given day and this is causing me a great deal of inconvenience. Once I even hit my head trying to get in because you were too close. Thank-you and have an awesome weekend.”
I always write these things on a Friday because I know they'll go home knowing they can't run into me the next day (and feel angry or embarrassed).
Monday, they can begin again, with a fresh slate. And if they don’t move over enough, I write another note that says:
“Would you mind giving me just 6 more inches? It would make a world of difference. Thanks!” (big smiley face).
And when they finally do it right - a final note:
“I really appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Have a great rest of the summer. Cheers.”
It works every time.
The first note is direct. It’s a thinly disguised way of telling them they can’t park worth a damn (shame) but maybe they didn’t know it (benefit of the doubt). That they have made life uncomfortable for another human being (guilt), and I hit my head because of them (threat - because if it happens one more time, I’m calling either a tow truck or their mother).
Then comes the polite follow up note if they move over, but not enough. Chances are they will acquiesce to your second request because by moving over in the first place, they are in fact, admitting guilt.
So there it was this morning. A slight inconvenience for the original parking perpetrator. And I didn’t even have to move my car.
My landlord (who loves me) took my keys from me and said:
“He can move it himself. I’ll bring back your keys. So sorry for disturbing you”.
“On the contrary Roberto. Sorry for the inconvenience to you, my friend.”
With that little morning scenario pleasantly behind me, I made tea secretly hoping that when he turned the car on, one of my kids had left the hard rock station on full blast.
And now, I think I can work.
***
After tea and contemplation, I figured out what the problem was with regard to this haze I had been feeling for the last three days.
I had lost control and forgotten my true nature.
I went too far down the rabbit hole. I felt like Alice in La-La Land.
It’s like Cesar Millan (the Dog Whisperer) says about the animals he rehabilitates:
You must honor a dog’s true nature in order for it to be happy. Every dog must fulfill what it was meant to do and follow its true nature.
I love Cesar.
Following Cesar’s philosophy is like having my own personal kung-fu master. All I have to do is put "Dear grasshopper" in front of every sentence that comes out of his mouth and I'm good to go.
Here's how it works.
A dog is happy serving, behaving in a capacity that his genetic predisposition requires (guard dog, sheep herder, etc.) and following a pack leader it respects (the owner) for balance and security.
My true nature is to be light-hearted and find joy in most everything - and to get to a common sense truth about things.
When I get too serious, I get bummed out and then I can’t fulfill my destiny (which is to write humorously and share what I see with others in the hopes that it may benefit them as well).
I am also happiest when organized, facing what needs to be done head on, and accomplishing all the things I have written on my list.
And I am miserable when I procrastinate and cannot enjoy myself unless I have tackled the largest goal on my daily list FIRST.
This method is also recommended by Jack, who refers to a guy by the name of Brian Tracy (who himself wrote a book called Eat That Frog! 21 Great Ways to Stop Procrastinating and Get More Done in Less Time). Just identify one to five things you want to accomplish every day. And attack the biggest (and ugliest) one first.
It’s not about taking the path of least resistance, it’s about getting what he calls, the ugliest frog out of the way first to make breathing room for the rest. This sets the tone for the rest of the day. And he’s right.
For most of us, it’s dealing with the little things - making those unwanted calls, paying bills, looking at and figuring out your budget for the next month, etc.
And I discovered when I did this stuff first thing in the morning, I was less inclined to procrastinate on the rest.
It’s like cleaning your closet and making room for new clothes! So that’s what I did. I made those phone calls, did some banking online, looked at my budget, set up my subbing profile and felt GREAT.
I was no longer in the rabbit hole. With this new lightness of being, (and my humor back intact - thanks in part to my morning incident), I could see the world once again through fresh eyes.
Why? Because I became my own pack leader.
And then, I wrote an email where I had to set up a meeting and did not offer up my time freely - I now have parameters of availability that show self-respect. I did not offer a myriad of options, I did not haggle, I have no desire to haggle and I have no time to haggle.
“I have one hour on Friday to meet anytime after noon, but preferably over the lunch hour. Otherwise, it’ll be a while before I can reschedule.”
And I truly meant it.
Mind you, this was something where if I couldn’t make it, I wasn’t going to lose out (frankly I could care less) so I wasn’t playing risky hard ball, but man, did it feel good! I recommend using this method in areas where you don’t have a whole lot to risk losing. It's great practice.
And the pay off is, once people get the idea that you’re not always readily available, you go from an ‘average in importance’ category to a ‘her time is valuable so be prepared to make good on whatever time you can get her’ category.
And that ROCKS.
I feel like a new woman. I am the pack leader. I determine where I go, with whom I spent time with and for how long. I make no apologies for it because honey look out! I’m in a program to rehabilitate myself of old, worn out habits even if it kills me.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
On that note, I hereby declare that I will be posting twice a week from now on so I can actually get some work done in the ‘real world'.
Thanks for tuning in. Over and out.
In honor of my son’s birthday, there will be no blog today.
Just kidding.
Alright, so I admit it. I’ve been avoiding a number of the elements Jack has lined up in his 7-step-program-to-overhaul-your-life Success Principles. I’m starting to feel like I need to form some sort of AA group for people like me who keep cheating on the program.
I need an accountability mob never mind partner, willing to lynch members with enthusiasm at the slightest infraction. There’s nothing like a little torture to get the ball rolling again.
What is this resistance I suddenly feel towards being a successful person? Why am I feeling so darn heavy?
Ah, frak it. I’ll eat cake and sleep on it. I’ll know in the morning.
***
August 18, 2009
Okay, I slept on it.
I was woken up by my landlord at 7 am. Usually I’m up already but this morning I was lollygagging in bed contemplating what to do with the rest of my life if I couldn’t get this book finished.
Anyway, apparently I did a crappy parking job and the guy beside me couldn’t get in. Nice.
Normally I would be mortified because consideration of others (and their space) is big on my list of what constitutes a good human being. But this guy made last winter miserable for me by having no qualms of parking in such a way that I had to get into my car from the passenger side one too many times. It only stopped after I wrote him a scolding type note.
A scolding type note is different than writing something that says:
“If you keep parking like an asshole, I’m gonna key your door.”
Those never work. It might be what you’re thinking, but they never work.
All that would have done is incite a full-on mental war with this guy.
He would have tested the waters to see how long he could get away with being an asshole until a full confrontation would conveniently occur the morning after he had a big fight with wife.
Knowing this about human nature, I prefer to appeal to one’s sensibilities without being meek and mild about it.
“Hi there. Please be more considerate in your parking habits. You are probably not aware of it, but I am unable to get into my car on any given day and this is causing me a great deal of inconvenience. Once I even hit my head trying to get in because you were too close. Thank-you and have an awesome weekend.”
I always write these things on a Friday because I know they'll go home knowing they can't run into me the next day (and feel angry or embarrassed).
Monday, they can begin again, with a fresh slate. And if they don’t move over enough, I write another note that says:
“Would you mind giving me just 6 more inches? It would make a world of difference. Thanks!” (big smiley face).
And when they finally do it right - a final note:
“I really appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Have a great rest of the summer. Cheers.”
It works every time.
The first note is direct. It’s a thinly disguised way of telling them they can’t park worth a damn (shame) but maybe they didn’t know it (benefit of the doubt). That they have made life uncomfortable for another human being (guilt), and I hit my head because of them (threat - because if it happens one more time, I’m calling either a tow truck or their mother).
Then comes the polite follow up note if they move over, but not enough. Chances are they will acquiesce to your second request because by moving over in the first place, they are in fact, admitting guilt.
So there it was this morning. A slight inconvenience for the original parking perpetrator. And I didn’t even have to move my car.
My landlord (who loves me) took my keys from me and said:
“He can move it himself. I’ll bring back your keys. So sorry for disturbing you”.
“On the contrary Roberto. Sorry for the inconvenience to you, my friend.”
With that little morning scenario pleasantly behind me, I made tea secretly hoping that when he turned the car on, one of my kids had left the hard rock station on full blast.
And now, I think I can work.
***
After tea and contemplation, I figured out what the problem was with regard to this haze I had been feeling for the last three days.
I had lost control and forgotten my true nature.
I went too far down the rabbit hole. I felt like Alice in La-La Land.
It’s like Cesar Millan (the Dog Whisperer) says about the animals he rehabilitates:
You must honor a dog’s true nature in order for it to be happy. Every dog must fulfill what it was meant to do and follow its true nature.
I love Cesar.
Following Cesar’s philosophy is like having my own personal kung-fu master. All I have to do is put "Dear grasshopper" in front of every sentence that comes out of his mouth and I'm good to go.
Here's how it works.
A dog is happy serving, behaving in a capacity that his genetic predisposition requires (guard dog, sheep herder, etc.) and following a pack leader it respects (the owner) for balance and security.
My true nature is to be light-hearted and find joy in most everything - and to get to a common sense truth about things.
When I get too serious, I get bummed out and then I can’t fulfill my destiny (which is to write humorously and share what I see with others in the hopes that it may benefit them as well).
I am also happiest when organized, facing what needs to be done head on, and accomplishing all the things I have written on my list.
And I am miserable when I procrastinate and cannot enjoy myself unless I have tackled the largest goal on my daily list FIRST.
This method is also recommended by Jack, who refers to a guy by the name of Brian Tracy (who himself wrote a book called Eat That Frog! 21 Great Ways to Stop Procrastinating and Get More Done in Less Time). Just identify one to five things you want to accomplish every day. And attack the biggest (and ugliest) one first.
It’s not about taking the path of least resistance, it’s about getting what he calls, the ugliest frog out of the way first to make breathing room for the rest. This sets the tone for the rest of the day. And he’s right.
For most of us, it’s dealing with the little things - making those unwanted calls, paying bills, looking at and figuring out your budget for the next month, etc.
And I discovered when I did this stuff first thing in the morning, I was less inclined to procrastinate on the rest.
It’s like cleaning your closet and making room for new clothes! So that’s what I did. I made those phone calls, did some banking online, looked at my budget, set up my subbing profile and felt GREAT.
I was no longer in the rabbit hole. With this new lightness of being, (and my humor back intact - thanks in part to my morning incident), I could see the world once again through fresh eyes.
Why? Because I became my own pack leader.
And then, I wrote an email where I had to set up a meeting and did not offer up my time freely - I now have parameters of availability that show self-respect. I did not offer a myriad of options, I did not haggle, I have no desire to haggle and I have no time to haggle.
“I have one hour on Friday to meet anytime after noon, but preferably over the lunch hour. Otherwise, it’ll be a while before I can reschedule.”
And I truly meant it.
Mind you, this was something where if I couldn’t make it, I wasn’t going to lose out (frankly I could care less) so I wasn’t playing risky hard ball, but man, did it feel good! I recommend using this method in areas where you don’t have a whole lot to risk losing. It's great practice.
And the pay off is, once people get the idea that you’re not always readily available, you go from an ‘average in importance’ category to a ‘her time is valuable so be prepared to make good on whatever time you can get her’ category.
And that ROCKS.
I feel like a new woman. I am the pack leader. I determine where I go, with whom I spent time with and for how long. I make no apologies for it because honey look out! I’m in a program to rehabilitate myself of old, worn out habits even if it kills me.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
On that note, I hereby declare that I will be posting twice a week from now on so I can actually get some work done in the ‘real world'.
Thanks for tuning in. Over and out.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
August 14-15 ENTRIES
August 13, 2009 - Excuses are so yesterday.
I am off my writing schedule because I've been too busy with…
Damn. I just busted myself making excuses.
Let's try that one more time shall we?
I am off my writing schedule. Period. I have no excuses since the time I waste on the Internet doing market research for a book THAT ISN’T EVEN FINISHED YET would be better spent finishing the book. Period. If this were the middle ages and I was an undisciplined monk I would be summarily whipped. Period. Or cracked over the back with a bamboo pole if I were a Buddhist monk in Tibet. Period. Are you enlightened now monky boy?
And if this were the Wild West, that message would be a telegraph. Stop.
I am blogged down with more excuses than a white collar criminal. This madness has to end.
However, in spite of this self-abnegation I am making strides. It’s just that when I’m steeped in the research end of it, it doesn’t feel like I’m working because I’m printing, reading and highlighting - not writing. It’s terribly deceiving and a largely inaccurate view of my actual progression. Then suddenly one day, BLAM! POW! Just like in the old Batman show - everything comes to a head and it’s DONE. And I say “Holy novel batman, how did that happen?”
Voila! (Or as my Anglo-Saxon friends say, Walla).
I just wish that day was tomorrow because I feel like a liar. Here I am, making a commitment to the universe - for all the world to witness (or at least whoever reads the blog) - and I can’t even get past my own set-point.
Frankly it’s kind of embarrassing. (At least it would be if I were prone to be embarrassed).
So… while I keep working… I will post PART II of Chapter 6 manyana.
August 15, 2009 - a little blurb, the day inbetween and CHAPTER 6
I realize I’m off my blog sched but does anyone really want to hear about what’s going on in my life every single day?
Suffice it to say since I have made you all my accountability partners in crime you will, (whether you like it or not) get an update on my progress.
So here’s that list for yesterday:
1. I finished one big section of chapter 1 (3 of 4 sections are now complete). All stats were derived by rummaging through a whack of ezines I receive regularly on the business end of Internet dating. Mucho interesante but overwhelming to sort through and pull together in some sort of tangible format. But it’s done. And you know what I learned? The Brits love Internet dating.
2. I went to the gym. Against my will. Every fibre of my being fought it. Yesterday, I admit I hated every second of it. And you know how everybody says, “yeah, but once you’re done you’ll feel great and be happy you did it”? That’s not true. I felt just as crappy afterwards as I did before. And I regret going. Okay, maybe that part isn’t true, but I was miserable on that treadmill and God help anyone who tried to make polite conversation. But that didn’t seem to be a problem as I was projecting evil and therefore had a clear space all around me the whole time I was there. It was perfect.
3. I picked up the little silver car I talked about way back in an earlier blog. I am now the proud owner of a less old, older vehicle. Instead of it being old as dirt, it’s as old as pebbles. I love it. And it has a cd player in it so now I can blast whatever music I want, devoid of radio commercials. But what I mostly feel is relief. Now I can take various jobs this fall without worrying about whether I will get there or not. When the guy I bought it from asked me:
“What are you looking for?”
I said, “I don’t care, as long as I can drive it to California and not worry about breaking down where some redneck can get to me.”
Without blinking, he said, “I’d say you have an 80% chance of making it with this little silver one.”
“I’ll take it.”
4. I took the night off writing. Not because I wanted to, but doing the tennis balls thing on my back took precedent. I write with a cynical edge when I have a headache. Not good. Health first.
And now, here’s the next part of Chapter 6 as promised....
PART II - WHAT THE EXPERTS HAVE TO SAY
Though you may think ignorance is bliss when it comes to love, trust me, knowledge is power. All of the extremely useful information for this chapter was derived from two social psych textbooks: David G. Myers & Steven J Spencer’s Social Psychology – with specific information derived from a chapter entitled Attraction and Intimacy: Liking and loving others, and An Introduction to Theories of Personality by B.R. Hergenhahn & Matthew H. Olson and its chapter on Sex Differences: Mating Strategies.
Disclaimer: please keep in mind that any correlation I have made between attraction in the ‘real world’ as described in the above texts and its application to cyberspace is strictly based on my own observations. Anyone who cares to call me incompetent regarding such observations is free to either challenge me to a duel or send comments void of profanity to cyberlovemuse@hotmail.com.
***
CHEMISTRY
Our genes predispose us to like the opposite sex for certain attributes.
Men prefer rosy-cheeked fertile-looking women and women prefer men who can support and protect their future children.
While this sounds like a black and white proposition that eliminates virtually everyone who isn’t virile and rich or fertile and healthy, that isn’t what bothered me the most when I first read about it. What bothered me was that it completely ignored any romantic notion of true love because it’s simply based on what’s good for the continuation of our species.
How very scientific. Nothing could piss me off more.
But how this translates via Internet dating is this: our genes predispose us to be attracted to and contact someone if they appear to possess the above attributes. And that’s okay. As a matter of fact, it’s great. Remember, in this chapter we’re just trying to establish the things that will get us out of the gate faster and eliminate some faux-pas along the way to sustain that initial attraction long enough to go out on a first date. And social-psych research just gave us a clue on how to do that.
The above information is great fodder for setting up effective profiles (which we’ll get to later). And there is good news for those cursing me under their breath while wiping their eyes because I just mopped the floor of their fairytale castle using Darwin’s theory of social evolution.
After contact is initiated and a relationship has begun, beauty really does lie in the eyes of the beholder. In other words, the more a man loves his mate, the more he think she’s the cat’s meow and no one, not even Raquel Welch herself wearing that animal skin bikini in One Million Years B.C. will turn him on more. His attraction to others diminishes as the love for his gal grows. The same is true of women in love. The more she loves her guy, the more attractive he becomes and the less so, other men. Either love is blind or it has blinders on. But that usually occurs later, when you’ve both used the L word at least twice and meant it.
In the meantime, if you want to increase your chances of finding that special someone with whom there will be mutual attraction, concentrate on presenting the above attributes in your profile and then look in the mirror. Attraction also lies in your own reflection (or some facsimile thereof).
We are most attracted to those with whom we resonate physically or who have similar physical characteristics. And they will also be more comfortable being attracted to us. At least initially. This is known as the matching phenomenon – to be attracted to someone whose facial features are similar to ours is natural. It’s the feeling of familiarity that comforts us.
What does this mean? If you’re an average Joe (like most of us), unless you have oodles of security to offer a woman (and are willing to admit to yourself that you may be exchanging security for beauty - nothing wrong with a barter system according to our genetic predisposition), chances are you will achieve greater online success by addressing profiles of women who most closely reflect your level of attraction. Research shows that just as love sees loveliness, like attracts like.
I can practically feel you getting all offended. Don’t. Before you start thinking I’m yanking your chain or shooting down your dream of dating your polar opposite all I’m saying is like generally attracts like because it’s more comfortable with it. And if you still don’t believe me, check this out.
Did you know:
- More people named Virginia are likely to move to that state. And Virginia Beach has a “disproportionate number” of people who share that name.
- More people move to Georgia named Georgia than any other state. And people there are more likely to name their children George or Georgia!
- Philadelphia has 10 times as many people named Philip.
- Jacksonville has twice as many people named Jack.
- California has more people with last names that begin with Cali. In Toronto, it’s Tor.
- St. Louis has almost fifty percent more people named Louis than anywhere else in the U.S.
- If your last name is Rock, Park, Hill, Beach, or Lake you might just pick a city or street that has your name in it like Hillside, or Park City.
And that’s nothing. The same goes for careers:
- More women named Denise and men name Dennis are dentists as opposed to people with names that are just as common.
- More Georges and Geoffreys are geologist, geophysicists and geochemists.
And the kicker...
-More people whose last names start with B contributed to the Bush campaign over giving money to Gore. And G people gave to Gore.
It’s called ego-based preference.
I think this is great. As far as I’m concerned it means we all genuinely like ourselves deep down inside. Otherwise we would gravitate towards the opposite.
I’m not saying there aren’t tons of exceptions to the rule - my dentist’s name is Christine. But research shows that human beings are comfortable with and attuned to people with whom on some level, they have things in common (looks, similar hobbies, values, etc). But the most obvious, is looks.
I am the first to admit (and personally experienced) attraction to people for a plethora of reasons beyond the physical (none of them had anything remotely in common with each other physically). Nothing - and I mean nothing if you’d seen some of my choices - can be explained logically unless you want to explore the possibility of past life connections or personality clicks that feel so right nothing else matters, or even charm that makes one feel so warm and fuzzy inside we no longer notice the ginormous nose behind the poetry.
All I’m saying is if you are in the process of exploring your options online, you will meet with greater success (and more favourable responses to your emails) if you keep the above social observations in mind. And it has nothing to do with self-esteem or insecurity. Familiarity simply breeds comfort and therefore attraction.
Lesson Learned: When setting up a profile use the above research information to put your best foot forward. Women? Look healthy and write like you are - mentally and physically; Men? have your act together - be confident. And both parties? Look for complimentary physical ‘matches’. You may find your odds of finding someone compatible will increase.
And remember, it’s not set in stone. It’s just a start.
***
Stay tuned for: BEYOND CHEMISTRY - coming soon in next week's blog
I am off my writing schedule because I've been too busy with…
Damn. I just busted myself making excuses.
Let's try that one more time shall we?
I am off my writing schedule. Period. I have no excuses since the time I waste on the Internet doing market research for a book THAT ISN’T EVEN FINISHED YET would be better spent finishing the book. Period. If this were the middle ages and I was an undisciplined monk I would be summarily whipped. Period. Or cracked over the back with a bamboo pole if I were a Buddhist monk in Tibet. Period. Are you enlightened now monky boy?
And if this were the Wild West, that message would be a telegraph. Stop.
I am blogged down with more excuses than a white collar criminal. This madness has to end.
However, in spite of this self-abnegation I am making strides. It’s just that when I’m steeped in the research end of it, it doesn’t feel like I’m working because I’m printing, reading and highlighting - not writing. It’s terribly deceiving and a largely inaccurate view of my actual progression. Then suddenly one day, BLAM! POW! Just like in the old Batman show - everything comes to a head and it’s DONE. And I say “Holy novel batman, how did that happen?”
Voila! (Or as my Anglo-Saxon friends say, Walla).
I just wish that day was tomorrow because I feel like a liar. Here I am, making a commitment to the universe - for all the world to witness (or at least whoever reads the blog) - and I can’t even get past my own set-point.
Frankly it’s kind of embarrassing. (At least it would be if I were prone to be embarrassed).
So… while I keep working… I will post PART II of Chapter 6 manyana.
August 15, 2009 - a little blurb, the day inbetween and CHAPTER 6
I realize I’m off my blog sched but does anyone really want to hear about what’s going on in my life every single day?
Suffice it to say since I have made you all my accountability partners in crime you will, (whether you like it or not) get an update on my progress.
So here’s that list for yesterday:
1. I finished one big section of chapter 1 (3 of 4 sections are now complete). All stats were derived by rummaging through a whack of ezines I receive regularly on the business end of Internet dating. Mucho interesante but overwhelming to sort through and pull together in some sort of tangible format. But it’s done. And you know what I learned? The Brits love Internet dating.
2. I went to the gym. Against my will. Every fibre of my being fought it. Yesterday, I admit I hated every second of it. And you know how everybody says, “yeah, but once you’re done you’ll feel great and be happy you did it”? That’s not true. I felt just as crappy afterwards as I did before. And I regret going. Okay, maybe that part isn’t true, but I was miserable on that treadmill and God help anyone who tried to make polite conversation. But that didn’t seem to be a problem as I was projecting evil and therefore had a clear space all around me the whole time I was there. It was perfect.
3. I picked up the little silver car I talked about way back in an earlier blog. I am now the proud owner of a less old, older vehicle. Instead of it being old as dirt, it’s as old as pebbles. I love it. And it has a cd player in it so now I can blast whatever music I want, devoid of radio commercials. But what I mostly feel is relief. Now I can take various jobs this fall without worrying about whether I will get there or not. When the guy I bought it from asked me:
“What are you looking for?”
I said, “I don’t care, as long as I can drive it to California and not worry about breaking down where some redneck can get to me.”
Without blinking, he said, “I’d say you have an 80% chance of making it with this little silver one.”
“I’ll take it.”
4. I took the night off writing. Not because I wanted to, but doing the tennis balls thing on my back took precedent. I write with a cynical edge when I have a headache. Not good. Health first.
And now, here’s the next part of Chapter 6 as promised....
PART II - WHAT THE EXPERTS HAVE TO SAY
Though you may think ignorance is bliss when it comes to love, trust me, knowledge is power. All of the extremely useful information for this chapter was derived from two social psych textbooks: David G. Myers & Steven J Spencer’s Social Psychology – with specific information derived from a chapter entitled Attraction and Intimacy: Liking and loving others, and An Introduction to Theories of Personality by B.R. Hergenhahn & Matthew H. Olson and its chapter on Sex Differences: Mating Strategies.
Disclaimer: please keep in mind that any correlation I have made between attraction in the ‘real world’ as described in the above texts and its application to cyberspace is strictly based on my own observations. Anyone who cares to call me incompetent regarding such observations is free to either challenge me to a duel or send comments void of profanity to cyberlovemuse@hotmail.com.
***
CHEMISTRY
Our genes predispose us to like the opposite sex for certain attributes.
Men prefer rosy-cheeked fertile-looking women and women prefer men who can support and protect their future children.
While this sounds like a black and white proposition that eliminates virtually everyone who isn’t virile and rich or fertile and healthy, that isn’t what bothered me the most when I first read about it. What bothered me was that it completely ignored any romantic notion of true love because it’s simply based on what’s good for the continuation of our species.
How very scientific. Nothing could piss me off more.
But how this translates via Internet dating is this: our genes predispose us to be attracted to and contact someone if they appear to possess the above attributes. And that’s okay. As a matter of fact, it’s great. Remember, in this chapter we’re just trying to establish the things that will get us out of the gate faster and eliminate some faux-pas along the way to sustain that initial attraction long enough to go out on a first date. And social-psych research just gave us a clue on how to do that.
The above information is great fodder for setting up effective profiles (which we’ll get to later). And there is good news for those cursing me under their breath while wiping their eyes because I just mopped the floor of their fairytale castle using Darwin’s theory of social evolution.
After contact is initiated and a relationship has begun, beauty really does lie in the eyes of the beholder. In other words, the more a man loves his mate, the more he think she’s the cat’s meow and no one, not even Raquel Welch herself wearing that animal skin bikini in One Million Years B.C. will turn him on more. His attraction to others diminishes as the love for his gal grows. The same is true of women in love. The more she loves her guy, the more attractive he becomes and the less so, other men. Either love is blind or it has blinders on. But that usually occurs later, when you’ve both used the L word at least twice and meant it.
In the meantime, if you want to increase your chances of finding that special someone with whom there will be mutual attraction, concentrate on presenting the above attributes in your profile and then look in the mirror. Attraction also lies in your own reflection (or some facsimile thereof).
We are most attracted to those with whom we resonate physically or who have similar physical characteristics. And they will also be more comfortable being attracted to us. At least initially. This is known as the matching phenomenon – to be attracted to someone whose facial features are similar to ours is natural. It’s the feeling of familiarity that comforts us.
What does this mean? If you’re an average Joe (like most of us), unless you have oodles of security to offer a woman (and are willing to admit to yourself that you may be exchanging security for beauty - nothing wrong with a barter system according to our genetic predisposition), chances are you will achieve greater online success by addressing profiles of women who most closely reflect your level of attraction. Research shows that just as love sees loveliness, like attracts like.
I can practically feel you getting all offended. Don’t. Before you start thinking I’m yanking your chain or shooting down your dream of dating your polar opposite all I’m saying is like generally attracts like because it’s more comfortable with it. And if you still don’t believe me, check this out.
Did you know:
- More people named Virginia are likely to move to that state. And Virginia Beach has a “disproportionate number” of people who share that name.
- More people move to Georgia named Georgia than any other state. And people there are more likely to name their children George or Georgia!
- Philadelphia has 10 times as many people named Philip.
- Jacksonville has twice as many people named Jack.
- California has more people with last names that begin with Cali. In Toronto, it’s Tor.
- St. Louis has almost fifty percent more people named Louis than anywhere else in the U.S.
- If your last name is Rock, Park, Hill, Beach, or Lake you might just pick a city or street that has your name in it like Hillside, or Park City.
And that’s nothing. The same goes for careers:
- More women named Denise and men name Dennis are dentists as opposed to people with names that are just as common.
- More Georges and Geoffreys are geologist, geophysicists and geochemists.
And the kicker...
-More people whose last names start with B contributed to the Bush campaign over giving money to Gore. And G people gave to Gore.
It’s called ego-based preference.
I think this is great. As far as I’m concerned it means we all genuinely like ourselves deep down inside. Otherwise we would gravitate towards the opposite.
I’m not saying there aren’t tons of exceptions to the rule - my dentist’s name is Christine. But research shows that human beings are comfortable with and attuned to people with whom on some level, they have things in common (looks, similar hobbies, values, etc). But the most obvious, is looks.
I am the first to admit (and personally experienced) attraction to people for a plethora of reasons beyond the physical (none of them had anything remotely in common with each other physically). Nothing - and I mean nothing if you’d seen some of my choices - can be explained logically unless you want to explore the possibility of past life connections or personality clicks that feel so right nothing else matters, or even charm that makes one feel so warm and fuzzy inside we no longer notice the ginormous nose behind the poetry.
All I’m saying is if you are in the process of exploring your options online, you will meet with greater success (and more favourable responses to your emails) if you keep the above social observations in mind. And it has nothing to do with self-esteem or insecurity. Familiarity simply breeds comfort and therefore attraction.
Lesson Learned: When setting up a profile use the above research information to put your best foot forward. Women? Look healthy and write like you are - mentally and physically; Men? have your act together - be confident. And both parties? Look for complimentary physical ‘matches’. You may find your odds of finding someone compatible will increase.
And remember, it’s not set in stone. It’s just a start.
***
Stay tuned for: BEYOND CHEMISTRY - coming soon in next week's blog
Thursday, August 13, 2009
August 13, 2007 - Difficult Decisions and Taking Control
Yesterday I was faced with many difficult choices.
1. I could either eat perogies or choose a salad. I had both. But I did it using a logic so simple that it made my choice kosher even though it contained evil carbs.
I once read that if all you did was make sure 80% of your plate had high water content foods (or more), every meal would be nutritionally sound forever and you would never have to diet.
Just look at your plate and pretend it’s a clock. Then think ten o’clock. Your denser foods have to fit between those two hands. Simple.
Think about it. Tiny steak, big salad or... small piece of garlic bread, one spaghetti noodle, big salad or... two perogies, big salad! (And it doesn’t always have to be salad, I’m just not feeling creative).
And the reasoning behind it goes something like this:
If your body is 80% water, then the food you put in it should also be 80% water. Makes sense to me. But then again I’m not a nutritionist. I’m just lazy and this is easy to follow.
But no matter how many ways you try and apply this rule in such a way that you don’t break it but still cheat, you can’t (and trust me I’ve tried) because you have to use a regular sized plate.
And it works. So I’ll give it a shot because it takes virtually no planning and now I don’t have to figure out how to make a sandwich between two pieces of romaine lettuce. That always makes such a mess.
FYI - alcohol-based bevvies do NOT qualify as high-water content foods even if mixed with lemonade. Which brings me to my next dilemma...
2. I could either go to the gym or drink Mojitos with my stepmom. This was a much more difficult choice.
I knew I couldn’t do both because once I had a couple of Mojitos I wouldn’t feel like going the gym. I’d spend the afternoon reminiscing my favourite episodes of The Dog Whisperer, while dissecting his wisdom. Then I’d ponder how I could apply his methods in my future dealings with difficult human beings all the while wishing there was someone around I could practice on.
So I went to the gym.
In terms of difficulty (the decision, not the workout), I’d say it ranked as high as the concert at Woodstock. The workout itself? - about as hard as a soft-boiled egg.
But I was pleased.
I pranced around on that treadmill like I had more discipline than a Catholic priest at a camp for boys.
Wait, that’s not a good example.
Whatever.
The point is I made the right decision. And for the first time, I actually based the choice on whether it was going to move me forward or set me back in my goals.
It’s all about building self-esteem so you feel like you’ve earned the right to be whatever you want, no holds barred. The irony being of course, that no one has to earn that right, they are born with it.
But I’m not there yet. I still have a lot of work to do in that respect.
So when I falter, I can live with it but frankly, I just don’t want to anymore. And that, was a breakthrough.
As for that chapter I was suppose to finish...
-----
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
August 12, 2009 - A Chapter on Attraction
I will not post until chapter one is completely finished. Give me 24 hours.
In the meantime, here’s a little something from Chapter Six on ATTRACTION...
Chapter SIX
Attraction: How it works, what it means, and how to apply it to your profile
PART I - ATTRACTION
Ah yes. That touchy subject attraction.
In this day and age, we’ve all become a little defensive of our need to admonish the stereotype that men want women for their youth and beauty while women want men for their physical strength and finances (more so finances in this post-neanderthal era, right ladies?)
It’s the ‘doesn’t anyone love me for me?’ syndrome we all suffer from, deep down inside even if we never admit it to anyone else.
The good news is, yes someone does. There is someone out there for everyone. And just when you’re feeling down and you think the universe is making a cruel joke of your love life, something comes along to remind you that we are all capable of loving and being loved. At least that’s what happened to me.
Just today I was watching a television show where they interviewed Siamese twins who were joined at the head in a diagonal sort of way and each facing a different direction (if you can picture that). When one of them was asked if she’d ever been in love, not only did she say yes, she admitted to having had 4 full-blown relationships of which the last one was “very serious”. There was no doubt in my mind. The woman was confident. And on top of that, she was in her 40’s. (Talk about kicking a stereotype right in the ham n’ eggs).
I know what you’re thinking. But nobody married her did they? Maybe not yet, but I bet the ball’s in her court on that one. Just look at Siamese twins Eng and Chan. They married two sisters back in 1843 in spite of (literally) being joined at the hip. And between them, they fathered twenty-one children. So don’t tell me there is no one out there for you. (At least that’s what I told myself after watching this program).
But what initially attracts people to one another?
While there will always be exceptions to the rule right off the bat and dramatic changes in affection can occur once people get to know each other, (cut to someone’s soul and it’s a different ballgame), that is not the focus of this book. We’re just trying to get out of the gate.
Internet dating is that window of opportunity you have to capture someone’s attention in the hopes that they will be interested long enough to want to get to know you. And that’s a pretty small window. Your profile is the best, if not the only shot you have - at least online.
And from what I’ve read, the old adage is true:
Men are initially attracted to women for their looks (which translates as a ‘favorable assessment of their procreative potential’) and women are initially attracted to men for their pocketbook and guts. In other words, their ability (or potential ability) to support and protect a family).
And if you’re interested in finding a relationship, then your profile better be attuned to the unmitigated fact that in spite of our evolutionary gains, our first impressions are more closely related to the biological programming of our species than our modern minds would care to admit.
Sounds shallow doesn’t it? And whether it is or not is irrelevant because that’s just the way it is - at least at the beginning. Mate selection is based on evolutionary standards. In other words, our instincts tell us to choose whoever we think is most likely to propagate our species successfully. We are simply hard-wired that way.
Once you get past the gate and begin the process of really getting to know someone the criteria for what we find attractive changes in a multitude of ways. But our initial reaction to a person of the opposite gender is surprisingly primitive.
The focus of this chapter then, is to explain the phenomenon of attraction as seen by experts and to dispel the offensiveness of stereotypes we talk of as being so demeaning. It isn’t. Rather, we will use that information to get out of the gate by applying what we’ve learned to both profile design and the early stages of cyber courtship.
And as pedantic as it all sounds, it’s going to be a whole whack of fun.
Stay tuned for PART II - What the Experts Have to Say.
***
In the meantime, here’s a little something from Chapter Six on ATTRACTION...
Chapter SIX
Attraction: How it works, what it means, and how to apply it to your profile
PART I - ATTRACTION
Ah yes. That touchy subject attraction.
In this day and age, we’ve all become a little defensive of our need to admonish the stereotype that men want women for their youth and beauty while women want men for their physical strength and finances (more so finances in this post-neanderthal era, right ladies?)
It’s the ‘doesn’t anyone love me for me?’ syndrome we all suffer from, deep down inside even if we never admit it to anyone else.
The good news is, yes someone does. There is someone out there for everyone. And just when you’re feeling down and you think the universe is making a cruel joke of your love life, something comes along to remind you that we are all capable of loving and being loved. At least that’s what happened to me.
Just today I was watching a television show where they interviewed Siamese twins who were joined at the head in a diagonal sort of way and each facing a different direction (if you can picture that). When one of them was asked if she’d ever been in love, not only did she say yes, she admitted to having had 4 full-blown relationships of which the last one was “very serious”. There was no doubt in my mind. The woman was confident. And on top of that, she was in her 40’s. (Talk about kicking a stereotype right in the ham n’ eggs).
I know what you’re thinking. But nobody married her did they? Maybe not yet, but I bet the ball’s in her court on that one. Just look at Siamese twins Eng and Chan. They married two sisters back in 1843 in spite of (literally) being joined at the hip. And between them, they fathered twenty-one children. So don’t tell me there is no one out there for you. (At least that’s what I told myself after watching this program).
But what initially attracts people to one another?
While there will always be exceptions to the rule right off the bat and dramatic changes in affection can occur once people get to know each other, (cut to someone’s soul and it’s a different ballgame), that is not the focus of this book. We’re just trying to get out of the gate.
Internet dating is that window of opportunity you have to capture someone’s attention in the hopes that they will be interested long enough to want to get to know you. And that’s a pretty small window. Your profile is the best, if not the only shot you have - at least online.
And from what I’ve read, the old adage is true:
Men are initially attracted to women for their looks (which translates as a ‘favorable assessment of their procreative potential’) and women are initially attracted to men for their pocketbook and guts. In other words, their ability (or potential ability) to support and protect a family).
And if you’re interested in finding a relationship, then your profile better be attuned to the unmitigated fact that in spite of our evolutionary gains, our first impressions are more closely related to the biological programming of our species than our modern minds would care to admit.
Sounds shallow doesn’t it? And whether it is or not is irrelevant because that’s just the way it is - at least at the beginning. Mate selection is based on evolutionary standards. In other words, our instincts tell us to choose whoever we think is most likely to propagate our species successfully. We are simply hard-wired that way.
Once you get past the gate and begin the process of really getting to know someone the criteria for what we find attractive changes in a multitude of ways. But our initial reaction to a person of the opposite gender is surprisingly primitive.
The focus of this chapter then, is to explain the phenomenon of attraction as seen by experts and to dispel the offensiveness of stereotypes we talk of as being so demeaning. It isn’t. Rather, we will use that information to get out of the gate by applying what we’ve learned to both profile design and the early stages of cyber courtship.
And as pedantic as it all sounds, it’s going to be a whole whack of fun.
Stay tuned for PART II - What the Experts Have to Say.
***
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
August 11, 2009- The Nuts and Guts of Internet Dating
I’m up early - my energy was a bit low this morning and I was feeling kinda bummed out so I thought I’d hit the research section of the book since that doesn’t formally require my sense of humor. At least not until I pull it together.
The first chapter of the book is (logically) about stats and facts - or as I like to call it, the ‘Nuts and Guts’ of Internet dating.
I get this great e-zine with a gazillion social networking articles and from there I scour the references online for further information. Everybody needs a main portal or they’d go out of their minds surfing the net. So far so good. But I’m still bummed out.
I’m sipping my Bojemni Tea (did I tell you I quit coffee too? Ugh), and wondering again why I’m alive and what am I doing on this earth when I casually go to the Rubixx.com website (using one finger) to find out what’s the deal and if this site is any good.
Turns out Rubixx is a service that culls profiles from various dating websites into one central portal. And according to their tag line:
“Finding someone will be easier than finding a hooker in Thailand.”
BRILLIANT. I just found Dating Central.
So I plug in my information in a format that looks something like this:
I’m a (woman/man) __ (adjective)___ ___(noun)___
I want a (woman/man) ___(adjective)___ ___(noun)___
In ___(zip code)___ GO!
I click on what gender I am and what gender I want. They fill in the adjective and noun component. Simple.
And the descriptors change with each search.
Apparently, I’m a:
Fantastic Model, looking for a Horny Shizzle in Beverly Hills
(Beverly Hills was my idea).
Love it. My mood is lifting. So I do it again.
This time, I’m an:
Erotic Broad looking for a Far-Out Mate
And again.
Stunning Sex Machine looking for a Diesel Gentleman (okay, maybe they dropped the ball on that one)
And my personal fave:
Sparkling Bunny looking for a Scandalous Chap
Now that's me (although Sadistic Senorita came in a close second)
But I have a smile on my face. And I’m convinced I’ve found the Internet Dating jackpot.
There are apparently 30,096,407 profiles online. So far.
And when I plugged in big cities like L.A., Chicago and NY, they gave me almost 300 profiles to choose from.
Just like being at Sub-way.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I got a sandwich to make.
-----
Monday, August 10, 2009
August 10, 2009 - Carbs and Tortillas - A love story
My accountability partner did exactly what she was suppose to do yesterday in such circumstances - she let me off the hook.
Even though her main function is to be the bee in my bonnet, the sliver in my finger and the hot poker up my --- all she did was take one look at me, bleary eyed, suffused with guilt, and bloated from eating too many salty chips and fake chocolate pudding and say:
“You look like shit. Take the day off and for GOD’S SAKE WOMAN, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”
Okay, that’s not exactly true.
What she really said was:
“WOW, you look great! Why don’t you take the day off anyway? You deserve it.”
But I prefer my interpretation because it helps to ease guilt.
Just goes to show you, you can do anything you want with the past because it doesn’t really exist except in your own mind. But I digress.
And so we begin again.
In spite of this setback, I did actually manage to get some work done before bed and set my writing goals for the following day. An extremely important habit to get into. And it actually works. That way when you get up in the morning, you’re ready to go without thinking about what you’re suppose to be doing. That’s another little tidbit from the book. (I think that was in Tim’s).
AND... Starting today, for exactly four days, I’m going carb-free. Wish me luck.
The first three days are going to be torture because when you eat carbs you crave them. Kinda like sex. If you don’t have it for long enough you don’t miss it but once you start up again you think to yourself ‘how did I ever live without this for SO LONG’?
But I always feel better when I limit my carb intake. My body is happier.
I should probably try becoming gluten-free but I still can’t figure out exactly what that means and it looks like WAY too much work. Gluten sounds like something that’s deposited in your butt cheeks. Isn’t that where your glutes are? And if you’re gluten-free, does that mean your butt starts to shrink? I wish.
And you’re wondering why just four days? This weekend we’re having a Mexican birthday party at my place. Mojitos, Margaritas, and enough authentic food to make a real Mexican jump the border and risk being deported just to attend.
Trust me, I’ll make up for it with the tortillas at that little gathering. And you can relax about the comment. My stepmom is Mexican. And I’ll put her up against anyone from Central America in a cook-off and win. I’ll even bet you the proceeds from my new book. You know, the one that isn’t finished yet. The one I should be working on right now.
Crap. Alright, I’ll make this short.
Low-carb is part of my new health regimen. And while I’ve been good about going to the gym (for two whole weeks now), I haven’t really cut back on carbs and portions all that well.
But one thing at a time. At this age, I realize that if I try and do too much all at once, I will feel overwhelmed and throw in the towel. If these changes I am incorporating are to be permanent, they must be done gradually.
Except for finishing the book...
So... whatever I blog next, may actually be a tidbit from the new book:
The Cyber Love Muse: A Common Sense Guide to Internet Dating.
Read it and weep (from laughter, not depression)... I hope. Okay, maybe it's more of a smirking book.
In any case, that’s all she wrote.... (for now)
-----
Even though her main function is to be the bee in my bonnet, the sliver in my finger and the hot poker up my --- all she did was take one look at me, bleary eyed, suffused with guilt, and bloated from eating too many salty chips and fake chocolate pudding and say:
“You look like shit. Take the day off and for GOD’S SAKE WOMAN, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”
Okay, that’s not exactly true.
What she really said was:
“WOW, you look great! Why don’t you take the day off anyway? You deserve it.”
But I prefer my interpretation because it helps to ease guilt.
Just goes to show you, you can do anything you want with the past because it doesn’t really exist except in your own mind. But I digress.
And so we begin again.
In spite of this setback, I did actually manage to get some work done before bed and set my writing goals for the following day. An extremely important habit to get into. And it actually works. That way when you get up in the morning, you’re ready to go without thinking about what you’re suppose to be doing. That’s another little tidbit from the book. (I think that was in Tim’s).
AND... Starting today, for exactly four days, I’m going carb-free. Wish me luck.
The first three days are going to be torture because when you eat carbs you crave them. Kinda like sex. If you don’t have it for long enough you don’t miss it but once you start up again you think to yourself ‘how did I ever live without this for SO LONG’?
But I always feel better when I limit my carb intake. My body is happier.
I should probably try becoming gluten-free but I still can’t figure out exactly what that means and it looks like WAY too much work. Gluten sounds like something that’s deposited in your butt cheeks. Isn’t that where your glutes are? And if you’re gluten-free, does that mean your butt starts to shrink? I wish.
And you’re wondering why just four days? This weekend we’re having a Mexican birthday party at my place. Mojitos, Margaritas, and enough authentic food to make a real Mexican jump the border and risk being deported just to attend.
Trust me, I’ll make up for it with the tortillas at that little gathering. And you can relax about the comment. My stepmom is Mexican. And I’ll put her up against anyone from Central America in a cook-off and win. I’ll even bet you the proceeds from my new book. You know, the one that isn’t finished yet. The one I should be working on right now.
Crap. Alright, I’ll make this short.
Low-carb is part of my new health regimen. And while I’ve been good about going to the gym (for two whole weeks now), I haven’t really cut back on carbs and portions all that well.
But one thing at a time. At this age, I realize that if I try and do too much all at once, I will feel overwhelmed and throw in the towel. If these changes I am incorporating are to be permanent, they must be done gradually.
Except for finishing the book...
So... whatever I blog next, may actually be a tidbit from the new book:
The Cyber Love Muse: A Common Sense Guide to Internet Dating.
Read it and weep (from laughter, not depression)... I hope. Okay, maybe it's more of a smirking book.
In any case, that’s all she wrote.... (for now)
-----
Sunday, August 9, 2009
August 8, 2009 - I need help!
It’s 10:45 am. And I have to stop writing.
I went to bed at 2am and got up at 7. Chapter six has suddenly grown two other limbs and turned into chapters 6, 7 and 8. Six is now done, but seven and eight are morphing into unrecognizable masses before my very eyes. And I need help.
Here’s the part I’m starting to understand about writing.
If you let it take over, she will dominate your life much to the detriment of everything else. And right now, the writing has personified into a Nazi dominatrix, inflicting every manner of pain on me while cracking a whip over my neck and shoulders and whispering, “You like it don’t you” to which I gleefully respond, “Yes, oh writing Muse, YES! Give me more... more I say, MORE!”
Right now I’m fluctuating between writing at my desk and lying on tennis balls to take the knots out of my back and neck. I spent so much time on tennis balls in the last three days, I now have the equivalent of rug burns from those little yellow balls that are also, by the way, becoming bald from overuse - and I’ve never played a lick of tennis.
But this is a great trick if you’re suffering and can’t get to a massage therapist.
Lie on your back and put those little balls wherever you think the tension is greatest. When you scream, you’ve got the right spot.
And then just lie there until either you can’t feel it anymore (because it’s gone numb), or all bets are off and you’ve cried enough from the pain to fill your sink to do dishes in saltwater.
And if you have the kahunas, you can amplify your experience by angling yourself in such a way as to bear more weight on the round torturous objects beneath you.
But it works. Trust me, it works wonders if you can take it.
I must do this on a regular basis. Part of it is because I got whiplash (and squished a couple of vertebrae together in my neck) when I was about twelve. It was a riding accident. And every time I saw Superman Reeves in his wheelchair for the same accident that left me ambulatory but not him, I would think, “There but by the grace of God, go I”.
So what I go through is manageable. It sucks sometimes but I can handle it.
To some extent (and in some sick way perhaps), I’ve learned to embrace this experience. Do you want to know why? Because it’s not just writing at a desk that triggers it. If that were the case, my body would suffer evenly. But for me, it triggers an entire right side phenomenon.
My whole right side, from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, starts to go numb. Then it gets a dull throb and tightens up. I can’t feel as well on my right side, I can’t hear as well, I’m not as flexible and I swear there are more cellulite pockets on my right thigh than on my left. It’s really weird. And I think it’s because it lacks Chi.
But... I find when I’m fully relaxed, balanced and centered, it diminishes to an almost non-existent state. It’s amazing.
Which tells me - it’s a trigger. And a message. When it starts to escalate, it’s time for me to take a deep breath, take stock of what’s jamming me up and back the hell off.
So that’s what I’m doing. I’m backing off of the writing today. I’m recognizing that I’m jammed up, both creatively and physically and I need help.
It’s time to call...
My accountability partner.
---
I went to bed at 2am and got up at 7. Chapter six has suddenly grown two other limbs and turned into chapters 6, 7 and 8. Six is now done, but seven and eight are morphing into unrecognizable masses before my very eyes. And I need help.
Here’s the part I’m starting to understand about writing.
If you let it take over, she will dominate your life much to the detriment of everything else. And right now, the writing has personified into a Nazi dominatrix, inflicting every manner of pain on me while cracking a whip over my neck and shoulders and whispering, “You like it don’t you” to which I gleefully respond, “Yes, oh writing Muse, YES! Give me more... more I say, MORE!”
Right now I’m fluctuating between writing at my desk and lying on tennis balls to take the knots out of my back and neck. I spent so much time on tennis balls in the last three days, I now have the equivalent of rug burns from those little yellow balls that are also, by the way, becoming bald from overuse - and I’ve never played a lick of tennis.
But this is a great trick if you’re suffering and can’t get to a massage therapist.
Lie on your back and put those little balls wherever you think the tension is greatest. When you scream, you’ve got the right spot.
And then just lie there until either you can’t feel it anymore (because it’s gone numb), or all bets are off and you’ve cried enough from the pain to fill your sink to do dishes in saltwater.
And if you have the kahunas, you can amplify your experience by angling yourself in such a way as to bear more weight on the round torturous objects beneath you.
But it works. Trust me, it works wonders if you can take it.
I must do this on a regular basis. Part of it is because I got whiplash (and squished a couple of vertebrae together in my neck) when I was about twelve. It was a riding accident. And every time I saw Superman Reeves in his wheelchair for the same accident that left me ambulatory but not him, I would think, “There but by the grace of God, go I”.
So what I go through is manageable. It sucks sometimes but I can handle it.
To some extent (and in some sick way perhaps), I’ve learned to embrace this experience. Do you want to know why? Because it’s not just writing at a desk that triggers it. If that were the case, my body would suffer evenly. But for me, it triggers an entire right side phenomenon.
My whole right side, from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, starts to go numb. Then it gets a dull throb and tightens up. I can’t feel as well on my right side, I can’t hear as well, I’m not as flexible and I swear there are more cellulite pockets on my right thigh than on my left. It’s really weird. And I think it’s because it lacks Chi.
But... I find when I’m fully relaxed, balanced and centered, it diminishes to an almost non-existent state. It’s amazing.
Which tells me - it’s a trigger. And a message. When it starts to escalate, it’s time for me to take a deep breath, take stock of what’s jamming me up and back the hell off.
So that’s what I’m doing. I’m backing off of the writing today. I’m recognizing that I’m jammed up, both creatively and physically and I need help.
It’s time to call...
My accountability partner.
---
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Entries August 5 - 7: A Secret Entry, Horoscopes, Excuses, & Freud
August 5, 2009 - secret entry
I’m noticing a shift - I can actually feel the fact that I'm holing up (for the sake of writing) while remaining positive about the possibilities.
And it feels good - even with the ups and downs a big writing project triggers. This year is my window and I must use my time effectively (she says to herself bravely and repeatedly throughout the course of each day).
But that doesn't necessarily mean everyone understands. It's something they'll have to get used to.
The boys get it - they like the fact that my life doesn't just revolve around them. They’re practically guilt-free (very unusual when you have a reformed Catholic for a mother). As for my accountability partner? She’s even stricter than I am about this little experiment. Bless her Olympic trainer heart.
But other people just don’t get it and I can feel the cold shoulder even when it’s draped like a sofa cover. And ever notice the same people who tend to give you the cold shoulder when you’re trying to achieve something out of the ordinary are also the ones who regularly embrace drama in their lives? And eat it up? What would life be without drama?
Bloody awesome, that’s what.
So I've decided to limit my interaction with such folks - even though I love them - because I need to sustain this energy as long as I can - like the rest of my life. Lucky for me, that accounts for a very small percentage of people. Very small. Tiny. Almost insignificant. They’re like ants.
And besides, I don’t do drama. I’m more of a comedy person. Drama is so yesterday.
Ever notice how some people are at their best when they see you working too hard or suffering because you’re overwhelmed, or in physical pain- like from migraines? Not that they want to see you suffer. And to prove it they will offer you that leftover T3 from last year’s root canal and give you a glass of Chardonnay to down it. But to some extent - even with people you know love you - misery loves company and they’re way more comfortable if you’re all in the same boat.
And if they like to gossip and you don’t? They pull a disappearing act and vanish faster than a prairie dog that spots a hawk right before your eyes because there goes your common ground.
And if you call them on it like a ref at a soccer game? It’s over before you know it like a day at the beach or good sex.
That's the only part of this whole thing that's tricky. And it's becoming impossible to deny the fact that I don't want to live my life with any more self-imposed limitations and no amount of bitching about it is going to change that fact.
Only 'doing' does the trick. And that seems to alienate some people.
You can find way more company if you only talk about what you want to do and about what bugs you. And though I think venting is an important part of being a healthy person (cause that's what I'm doing right now), an excessive amount of it never gets anyone, anywhere.
So I’m limiting my bitch sessions to five minutes.
And time’s up.
-----
August 6, 2009 - Horoscopes and other necessities
Yesterday I did nada. Nada damn thing.
Except go to the gym where I hurt my knees because apparently it’s not a good idea to do knee presses using one leg at a time.
Whatever.
But today I’m on it. And check out my horoscope!
Aug 6th, 2009 -- Restless emotions could raise your anxiety level today, but they might also be accompanied by a fantastic idea that has the potential to change everything. Don't worry about the details yet. There's no need to be concerned now with whether or not your stroke of genius will even work. Just revel in the light of your own cleverness and imagine how a clean break from your routine might feel.
Does that rock or what? And I always ignore the negative aspects of a horoscope. As a matter of fact I pretty much ignore the negative side of most things unless of course my life would be at stake if I didn't.
Just look at the two Cap images I've uploaded here. Guess which one I think I am? It's all relative darlin'. Einstein was right. You see what you want to see, you feel what you want to feel, and by golly if you think life sucks then it does.
So as far as I’m concerned ‘restless emotions and anxiety levels’ are living somewhere in Oz. Matter of fact, I don’t even open my horoscope if the tag line reads something like, A dark cloud hangs over you warning of impending doom. Frak doom.
Ever hear the song “I feel lucky” by Mary Chapin Carpenter? In the lyrics she gets up in the morning and reads the paper:
It only took a minute for my finger to find, my daily dose of destiny under my sign... My eyes just about popped out of my head it said, ‘The stars are stacked against you girl, get back in bed’ (chorus)... I feel lucky... oh oh oh... i feel lucky.. yeah. No professor doom’s gonna stand in my way.... yeah, I feel lucky today....”
Needless to say she plays hooky from work and wins the lottery.
That's how I feel.
And I know what you’re thinking. For your information I didn’t scour the web for my horoscope (thus breaking my rule of no more surfing the net looking at dumb stuff).
It comes daily to my inbox.
And it’s darn good thing too. How else was I suppose to know that I must “revel in the light of my own cleverness”?
-----
It’s still August 6th and only 9 am.
I’ve already checked my email twice. This information diet is going to take some discipline. Rats.
The good news is, I’m writing. Which reminds me...
-----
Aug 7, 2009 - Please excuse my excuses & Freud was weird
I got some writing done.
Sort of.
I edited my book proposal, reworked my table of contents and thought about writing more on chapter six.
Yeah, the writing sucked.
Yesterday was a 5 out of 10 kind of day. (I never dip below 5 - it’s bad for morale).
But, I had a tiny bit of a (somewhat) valid excuse... gee, I feel guilty even saying that. (Jack would not be pleased). Gulp.
At this point, if Jack were headmaster at a school for wayward girls in England and I was his student, he would take out a riding crop and rap me across the knuckles with the venom of a psychotic jockey pissed at his thoroughbred for losing a race. NEVER MAKE EXCUSES! he would say, wearing that gorgeous navy jacket he wears on the cover of his book The Success Principles. (And yer welcome for the plug dude.)
It’s against the first rule of following your dreams which is: take 100% responsibility for your life and everything that happens to you from now on.
Which really is a nice way of saying - get off the pitty pot.
Okay Jack, I will. After I wallow a bit in these feelings wondering if I’m good enough.
‘Cause today, I was distracted by those pesky things called memories. And not the good kind. And those were triggered by dreams. And not the good kind either. And it matters not what the content was, or even what the memories were. Because I know that Jack is 100% right.
But the fact remains that even though you can deny, transmute, change, alter, even fix everything you knew in your past, sometimes when issues creep in (like they often do in your dreams), it temporarily paralyzes you from moving forward. And the worse thing you can do, is deny it.
Rather than ignore what you’re feeling, your best bet is to accept it, let it wash over you and do something completely different to shift your energy. And it doesn’t have to be complicated. But doing something physical or outdoors usually does the trick.
So I went to a soccer game. Then for gelati. (Lemon and raspberry). It was the bomb.
It’s damn hard for me to escape my dreams. I remember them all. Thanks to Freud.
When I was about 14, I started reading Freud. Not such a good idea since alot of his theories revolve around subconsciously wanting to have sex with your parents. I couldn’t look at them for months after that. The sick bastard. “He used the Oedipus conflict to point out how much he believed that people desire incest and must repress that desire” (thank-you Wikipedia).
In any case, use what is useful and discard the rest right? So I discarded that part. But, he was pretty good at interpreting dreams using archetypal images and I for one, learned how to do that. He also taught a method for waking yourself up at night so you could write them down and proceed to analyze them in the morning. (And hopefully they weren’t all about wanting to have sex with your parents).
What he didn’t say was if you did this enough times (it took me about three months), pretty soon you wouldn’t have to wake yourself up but you’d remember your dreams anyway.
It’s like hitting the pause button on your dvd player because you want to get some Chubby Hubby chocolate covered pretzel ice cream with caramel and nuts before you get to the best part of the movie.
I can do that. With my dreams I mean.
I put my dreams away into a memory box that I can retrieve later for analysis. As a result? My sleeping moments are as full as my waking ones. That’s not always great. Sometimes sleeping wears me out. Especially those dreams where I’m Rambo.
And like I said, the content is irrelevant. What’s relevant is how quickly you learn to process that crappy feeling so you can get back to what you’re suppose to be doing. And that process is different for everyone.
You know what happens to me? My arms get heavy. They feel like lead. And I sigh alot. And when people ask me if I’m okay because my eyes look glazed over, I say “yeah yeah, sure sure” like some broken record.
Then, I usually try to ignore it and do some work. But that NEVER works. And if I’m smart enough to figure it out before bedtime, I can get rid of it pretty fast. Then I can get back to the business of being alive instead of a zombie.
Today, it took me about five hours to shake it off even after soccer and gelati. But I was good to go when I got home.
And that was good enough for me. Sometimes it has to be.
Part of this process is about being human.
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Wednesday, August 5, 2009
August 5, 2009 - The Information Diet Challenge
I’m sorry Tim. Really I am.
I’ve broken the cardinal rule of cutting out the fat in my diet - and I don’t mean diet diet. (That’s another story that practically needs its own blog). I mean information diet.
Useless, time-wasting, net-surfing information like who-is-George-Clooney-going-out-with-now-and-why-can’t-it-be-me? kind of diet. I mean, stop-checking-your-email-fifty-times-a-day-to-avoid-writing diet. Let me just check it once more IN CASE I MISSED SOMETHING SO VITALLY IMPORTANT THAT READING IT WILL HAVE A POSITIVE IMPACT ON TENSION IN THE MIDDLE EAST.
Uploading another pic on Facebook are we? from that birthday party we attended last year? You know, just in case that photo is the one that makes everyone think I deserve to be on the cover of TIME magazine as the world’s most interesting person?
And how are we feeling today? Make sure you let everyone know so they can get updates in their feed. Nicole is watching tv. Nicole is reading her book and enjoying the rain. Nicole is having the best day EVER (insert Valleygirl accent).
Nicole is this, Nicole is that, Nicole is going to lose her frakkin’ mind and fail her Six Month Experiment if she doesn’t adhere to a strict information diet!
TV was never the problem.
Streamlining those things that are time-wasters to free up real time to do more important things is the first thing Timothy Ferris talks about in his book. And he’s right.
And if you’re reading this and laughing, (yeah I’m talkin’ to you, you know who you are), then you know exactly what I’m talking about and that makes you just as guilty as me.
Don’t believe me? You’re reading this blog this aren’t you? Busted.
So starting tomorrow, I will reduce my email activities to three times a day (for my main account) and once a day for the others. I know what you’re thinking and don’t be so judgmental. That’s still like cutting out a whole pack of cigarettes for a three a day smoker.
And I will COMPLETELY eliminate surfing the net except for information that’s vital to the book. That's gonna hurt.
And I will reduce my Facebook activity to responding to comments and queries only. I will NOT go on there of my own accord.
(sigh) Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.
Back to the book...
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I’ve broken the cardinal rule of cutting out the fat in my diet - and I don’t mean diet diet. (That’s another story that practically needs its own blog). I mean information diet.
Useless, time-wasting, net-surfing information like who-is-George-Clooney-going-out-with-now-and-why-can’t-it-be-me? kind of diet. I mean, stop-checking-your-email-fifty-times-a-day-to-avoid-writing diet. Let me just check it once more IN CASE I MISSED SOMETHING SO VITALLY IMPORTANT THAT READING IT WILL HAVE A POSITIVE IMPACT ON TENSION IN THE MIDDLE EAST.
Uploading another pic on Facebook are we? from that birthday party we attended last year? You know, just in case that photo is the one that makes everyone think I deserve to be on the cover of TIME magazine as the world’s most interesting person?
And how are we feeling today? Make sure you let everyone know so they can get updates in their feed. Nicole is watching tv. Nicole is reading her book and enjoying the rain. Nicole is having the best day EVER (insert Valleygirl accent).
Nicole is this, Nicole is that, Nicole is going to lose her frakkin’ mind and fail her Six Month Experiment if she doesn’t adhere to a strict information diet!
TV was never the problem.
Streamlining those things that are time-wasters to free up real time to do more important things is the first thing Timothy Ferris talks about in his book. And he’s right.
And if you’re reading this and laughing, (yeah I’m talkin’ to you, you know who you are), then you know exactly what I’m talking about and that makes you just as guilty as me.
Don’t believe me? You’re reading this blog this aren’t you? Busted.
So starting tomorrow, I will reduce my email activities to three times a day (for my main account) and once a day for the others. I know what you’re thinking and don’t be so judgmental. That’s still like cutting out a whole pack of cigarettes for a three a day smoker.
And I will COMPLETELY eliminate surfing the net except for information that’s vital to the book. That's gonna hurt.
And I will reduce my Facebook activity to responding to comments and queries only. I will NOT go on there of my own accord.
(sigh) Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.
Back to the book...
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August 4, 2009 - I really worked on chapter six
I didn’t do a whole lot today.
I didn’t go to the gym. I didn’t clean my place or do errands. I don’t think I even cooked. And I sure as hell didn’t work on my spirituality unless you call mumbling Please God end this misery or shoot me now whenever I had writer’s block a religious experience.
But I did work on chapter 6. And I mean I really worked on chapter 6. It was a bitch, but after ten hours, I was in the flow.
One of those two guys - either Tim or Jack or maybe both, (I dunno and I’m too tired to care) - said that if you knew that you were only going to accomplish that one thing today (whatever it was you were doing that was occupying all of your time), would you be satisfied?
If the answer is yes, then you’re good to go because it means you have your priorities straight.
Well, I’m satisfied.
There’s still lots to do... but by golly, I’m satisfied.
I didn’t go to the gym. I didn’t clean my place or do errands. I don’t think I even cooked. And I sure as hell didn’t work on my spirituality unless you call mumbling Please God end this misery or shoot me now whenever I had writer’s block a religious experience.
But I did work on chapter 6. And I mean I really worked on chapter 6. It was a bitch, but after ten hours, I was in the flow.
One of those two guys - either Tim or Jack or maybe both, (I dunno and I’m too tired to care) - said that if you knew that you were only going to accomplish that one thing today (whatever it was you were doing that was occupying all of your time), would you be satisfied?
If the answer is yes, then you’re good to go because it means you have your priorities straight.
Well, I’m satisfied.
There’s still lots to do... but by golly, I’m satisfied.
Monday, August 3, 2009
August 3, 2009 - Not to Ayuhuasca, that is the answer
I have decided not to Ayhuasca. For now.
It came after I had a spiritual experience watching an all-day marathon of Cesar Millan, Dog Whisperer.
I’m sure by now you’re thinking that all I do is watch T.V. but I assure you that is not the case. It goes completely against any advice given by Ferris on reducing television intake to a maximum one hour a day as a means to unwind and I have no intention of contravening any of his recommendations (after all, he’s the one with the four-hour work week, not me). And he further recommends never, ever to make that hour of idiot box entertainment, the news. And FYI, Jack is of the same opinion. As a matter of fact a lot of happy, successful people are. (Notice how I didn’t just say ‘successful’)?
I don’t want to be a miserable, overworked success. I want to be a happy one with lots of free time.
So while it is commendable to remain abreast of what’s happening in the world around us (lest people think us callous, uniformed and barbarous human beings), subjecting ourselves to negative, depressing, chaotic, fear-inducing news, is not. If the news carried with it an objective view of world events, balancing good news with the bad, I might tune in once a week. But sadly, that is not the case because drama sells. And the more shocking the delivery, the better. Negativity in any form depletes your emotional resources and taxes your ability to remain focused. The solution?
Don’t watch it.
Ferris says if you want to know what’s going on in the world, just ask someone anywhere - a newsstand, by the office cooler, in the coffee shop - you’ll get an update of all the most important events in less than five minutes. People love to share how informed they are. In exchange, you’ll get the Coles Notes version of world events faster than you can sing the National Anthem. Think of how much time you’ll free up.
But watching an inordinate amount of television was never a problem for me as my standard M.O. is to watch less than an hour per day, if at all.
So where does the Cesar Millan marathon come in you ask?
Extenuating circumstances dictate there will always be occasion when rules are broken. Having a post-surgery house-guest with whom you sometimes ‘just want to hang out with while also being entertained’ is one of them. Let it go.
As luck would have it, in six hours, Cesar Millan and his dog-reforming, owner-training ways, reminded me of everything I needed to know to live my life fruitfully.
1. Leave the past behind. Animals do with each other. They don’t care if the dog next door or the one they share space with was a victim of abuse. As far as they’re concerned it’s just another dog. So they never, ever suffer from a symptom that people often do - enabling others (and therefore disempowering them) because they feel sorry for them. Animals don’t feel sorry for each other. They just react to the energy the other animal projects. If it projects a victim mentality, then that’s how they treat it. The past does not exist. Don’t be a victim of it. And don’t keep the story alive that helps others to remain a victim either.
2. Live in the moment. Whatever happened five minutes ago is OVER. Let it go. RIGHT NOW is a new beginning. Just because you failed to do something 5 minutes ago, 5 days ago, 5 months ago, or for the last 5 years, doesn’t mean you’re going to fail at it now. A dog who has been misbehaving for years can behave differently now because he doesn’t carry baggage with him, owners do. Live each day as if you’ve never failed in the past. And never believe rumors. An old dog really can learn new tricks.
3. Be calm and confident. Conduct yourself with dignity at all times. Dogs feel everything you feel about yourself and respond in kind. People will too.
4. To be fulfilled, every dog must be what it was born to be and every owner must support its true nature. If it’s a shepherd, it must expend energy in a manner that satisfies those genetic instincts. If it’s a guard dog, it must be calm enough to discern real danger from people just passing by. Discover what you were born to do, pursue it, and surround yourself with people who support and understand you.
5. Be the Alpha dog. (‘Nuf said).
While trying Ayuhuasca may prove to be an amazing experience, it is not a necessary step to fully embrace my Six Month Experiment.
But Cesar’s Millan’s wisdom is.
Repeat after me:
I am an Alpha dog that lives in the moment. I display a calm and confident demeanor, leaving old patterns behind. I am pursuing what I was born to do with no reservations from past failures because the past does not exist. I surround myself with people who love, understand, and support me in my quest to be fulfilled.
And if they don’t, frak ‘em.
Thing accomplished today:
1. I worked on chapter six (finally - wahoo!)
2. I cleared a space for daily meditation (doing it regularly however, will prove to be another challenge but it’s a start).
3. I got rid of everything in my place that might even remotely reflect poverty mentality (more on that later).
4. I got a new mantra. (See above).
All in all, it was a fab day.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
August 2nd, 2009 - To Ayuhuasca or not to Ayuhuasca, that is the question
So according to Jack, there are 7 areas one should work on. And if you are serious about experiencing a complete life change, then all 7 must be addressed some time during the course of your first year. (and preferably on a regular basis and done simultaneously to assure progress of the whole person).
Under my physical health and fitness list, I placed meditation and ‘attempting to access the powers that be’ as one of my goals. I realize the second of these is a lofty proposition but lowlier beings than I have attained such heights of spiritual magnificence so I figured my odds were pretty good.
And it just so happens there is a real deal Ayuhuasca ceremony taking place in my neck of the woods and providing there is space, I too can experience its benefits.
A-ya-huas-ca is a woody South American vine, Banisteriopsis caapi, of the malpighia family, having bark that is the source of harmine, a hallucinogenic alkaloid used by Amazon Indians.
Do not try this at home. Taking Ayhuasca should only be done in the presence of, and guided by, a qualified individual. In other words, a shaman. There are tons of trips to South America specifically geared towards an authentic experience and people travel from all over the world to experience its medicinal benefits. But beware. Some shamans are charlatans. www.biopark.org/peru/shamanrisks.html
With some of these guys, your spiritual experience will amount to nothing more than swallowing a disgusting green mixture guaranteed to make you vomit. All you will experience is regret and an ungrantable wish that you were back home in bed instead of spending those next five hours “working through your shadows” by divesting your stomach of every last remnant of food and fluid.
That’s what I said. Five hours. It can be dangerous.
According to true accounts however, an authentic experience can be other-worldly. But just as scary. For an amazing trip through the ayhuasca experience, just read Kira Salak’s account in National Geographic called Peru: Hell and Back. www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/0603/features/peru.html
Now there is no guarantee that this plant concoction from South America won’t ignite visions of fiery dragons, slippery snakes and a kaleidoscope of colors complete with visits from Satan himself having tea with the Mad Hatter, yet it is tempting in an Eve-take-a-bite-of-this-apple kind of way. Within this 5 hour ceremony, lies in the possibility of peeking through a stain-glass window to the ‘other’ side.
I’m not scared of what I might see. “Bring it on!” I say, in my bravest, most devil-may-care voice. But the problem is I’ve never been a drug user. When I tried pot (on more than one occasion thinking I kept missing the point), I found it relatively ineffective and dull. I remember once I had the uncontrollable giggles, then I had the munchies, and then it put me to sleep. All within about 15 minutes.
As a result, I have never been a recreational drug user of any kind. I’ve never even tried mushrooms. And the hard stuff? The first time I even saw two people doing coke in a bathroom was last year at a pool hall where I was celebrating a friend’s 50th birthday. They offered and I declined: “No thanks. I’m full.”
Therein lies my dilemma. On the one hand, I want it to be worth my time and money. (I don’t want just another boring experience). On the other, I’ve never ingested anything even remotely like this substance (and taking a shot of Demerol in the ass prior to giving birth does not qualify).
The way I see it, it could go one of two ways. It’ll either dull my senses and I’ll take a nap in which case I’ll be choked. Or I will experience what I’ve always wanted - the divine (perhaps along with the not-so-divine but I’m willing to take that chance).
Or am I?
The truth is I’m not worried that this drug will put me over the edge. I’m more worried it’s going to piss me off to no end because I’m a control freak.
Because it’s FIVE HOURS LONG.
That’s all I keep thinking. IT’S FIVE FRAKKIN’ HOURS LONG.
And if you want out during that time because you’ve had enough, you can’t have it. Sucker.
That’s the part that messes with my head.
What if, after a couple hours of navigating through Dante’s Inferno and finding the answer to how many angels dance on the head of a pin (in your face St. Thomas!) I want to go home? Well guess what Dorothy? You’re not in Kansas anymore. And no amount of clicking of those red Converse shoes will stop the process.
Where’ my accountability partner? I need to go to the gym and think about this.
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Saturday, August 1, 2009
July 31, 2009 - Blog Me a River
This morning I worked on the ‘about me’ intro to my blog and navigated through various blog blogs for a better understanding of how it all works.
But what exactly is this blog universe I have so wholeheartedly adapted as my second home?
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Word Origin & History
blog
1998, short for weblog... from (World Wide) Web + log.
Joe Bloggs (c.1969) was British slang for "any hypothetical person" (cf. U.S. equivalent Joe Blow).
(I love this!)
The "blogosphere" is the online universe of blogs.
If I ever get arrested for anything I’m going to have some fun with this new identity...
Name?
-Josephine Bloggs
Where did you come from?
-Nowhere. I’m a hypothetical person
Where do you live?
-Blogosphere
What do you do?
-Blogger
Where were you last seen?
-On the World Wide Web
Where were you on the night of July 31st 2009?
-Lost in Cyberspace
What were you doing there?
- Sitting on a log in a fog with my dog reading a Blog
Are you always this smart-alecky?
-I dunno. Read my blog and decide for yourself.-----
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It’s midnight and I'm all blogged out.
Tomorrow is another day.
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