Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Life, Outlines and Ideas

Over the course of an hour or so, I went into kinesthetic mode and now I'm back after running around, driving my mom female roommate to work, running some errands for her and myself and I've just finished reading Dame Devon's post. Whew, I'll have to do some serious medictating and playing with what's popping in my head.

It's huge, for me anyway. Near the end Dame Devon writes,

"Whatever works, works. The important thing is to use whatever tool you need to keep WRITING."

I needed to read that. Thank you Dame Devon.

I'm starting to believe writing just might be more than a novel outline for me.

Ideas about 'the novel' also inform our life. This is paraphrased, with my own thoughts tossed in, from the Literary Dictionary.

Novels offer permission to pursue a fuller, subtler development of characters and themes having no established minimum or maximum length, making them long enough to justify themselves. Sounds like birth, death and all the stuff we do in between the two to me.

The ability to distinguish novels by their structure (give me a label so I know what to call myself) and the incorporation of a "greater degree of realism" is expected of it. Hello, be practical, believable but seriously is life practical? Really?

However I disagree with the precept that it is inappropriate to associate a novel with romanticism, because I believe romanticism is based on choosing a specific perception, you know like wearing rose-colored glasses.

The novel is an amalgamation incorporating ideas from multiple characters, creating changes in those ideas and within thoughts, within actions all within social relationships.

Novels are arranged around a course of narrated events. Might that be societies insistence on certain customs and mores?

Anyway these are only some of my thoughts in a rambling format.

I lifted some of the general verbiage from Answers and their nicely consolidated answers to the word 'novel'. I'm certain I'm nowhere near the first nor will I be the last to start connecting these particular dots.

Do you have any ideas you would like to share about 'our novel lives our outlines and our ideas'?

Me As A Novel Outline

Novel is being used as an adjective used most between the 15th century is defined as 1. new and not resembling something formerly known or used or 2. original or striking especially in conception or style

This from Deadline Dames and Dame Devon is about outlining for novel-length fiction. Only when I read it, it felt more like me outlining my life.

1. A character
2. In a context
3. Has a problem
4. S/he tries to solve the problem
5. And fails — tries and fails with greater stakes, tries and fails with even greater stakes (this is known as the try/fail cycle, and there are usually three major try/fail cycles)
6. Victory or death
7. Validation (denouement)
A character - that's me Minna, Minerva F. Bryant. I've always been a character or a charicature whatever. I tend to be chameleon like which is good if I'm with good people having good productive peaceful loving thoughts and not so good when I am with the opposite of good productive peaceful people having loving thoughts.

In a context - this particular context happens to be me striving to find who I am without all those people around and then continuing to project that once I am around any set of those people. Of course I would prefer being around the good people having productive peaceful loving thoughts and not their opposites, but I don't always control that and sometimes to my detriment can't distinguish the two because I'm not clear on who I am.

Hmm, editing that I heard in my head the refrain from Johnny Cash, "I walk the line". Hmphf, not dismissing it just reporting the facts.

Has a problem - the problem is that I've never defined myself. Never had the mind to define myself for myself without the input and pressure of whomever I happen to be with at the time. That undeveloped ability is hurting me. I mean deep down under layers and layers of other people's stuff, is me. I want to find her.

She tries to solve the problem - yeah that would be me not working, hermitting myself in an abode pretty far away from much of anything. Sure I get out and I go places but most of the time it's alone or with someone I'm dropping off and then I interact briefly with other people. There are only two places where I've had long term interaction (more than an hour) with people. It's hasn't turned me off to interacting except. . .

And fails - I've caught myself becoming like them, mirroring them, speaking with their accents, subscribing to their thinking even though I don't want to. I call that a fail because when I step away I'm no longer even aware of some things I've said, that's my caricature thing. I don't like it and I don't want to do it anymore hence, (it's good job noticing and reporting in but since that is not being measured) it's a fail.

I started the isolation by getting a job that required 14 to 16 hours of my day on purpose. It was a job I could do easily and without too much stress or strain. Or so I thought. I lost the job. Which was my fault and am now using the lack of a job as an opportunity to isolate further, on my terms mostly.

I'm learning what I think and feel and how I respond. Then I'm noticing how close or far away I am to what I think, feel and how I respond when I'm with other people. Had I read any of the philosophical stuff or esoteric stuff I might call it awareness, conscious awareness or something like that, only I haven't read any of that stuff, so I won't give it a name.

Even though I'm noticing more, it still feels like a fail because I've yet to reach congruency and I've yet to determine congruency with what exactly.

Victory or death - Even though I'm noticing more, it still feels like a fail (that's a feeling, it is not in fact, FACT) it's just an energetic impression based on previously held responses to not getting exactly what I expected to receive. I'm not sure I stated that very clearly. Saying anything with two dimensionality which is then translated into 1's and 0's sent through cyberspace and then re-translated back into two dimensionality for you to read, isn't very 'well rounded' is it?

Validation - I'm learning and growing and that is life. That's enough (not nearly enough really) but it's what is right now. So it validates my attempt to solve, what I perceive(d) as a problem.

All that sounds really good to part of me, really corny to part of me and just plain out there in some other far away world to part of me.

So I'm going to go read the rest of Dame Devon's post now. And find out more about the outline process from Algis Budry's "Writing to the Point".

Hah, I just looked at the url for Budry's book and it's under Non-Fiction. Just noticing.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Animal Instinct | Fiction

Murphey straightened his tie. She had smiled. She was coming over. He always got nervous smiling at pretty women. I'm not that bad looking he thought.

His therapist always told him, "Murph, you gotta just do a little bit at a time and stop thinking so far ahead." He was taking that advice tonight. Stuck in the First Class Lounge sipping a complimentary Dewars on the Rocks, he noticed her, engrossed in a magazine.

She glanced up momentarily and smiled his way. Murphey thought "this is it. She's coming over." He lifted his glass and cocked his head slightly to the left, a subtle hint for her to fill the empty seat beside him. Then she looked down again.

Oh, feeling deflated, he stared down into his glass. The shimmer of the light amber Scotch and the crystalline structure of the V shaped ice cubes grabbing his attention. Contemplating ordering another, Murphey heard the howling.

"Oh god, not again" he whispered. "Not tonight. Not tonight."

Murphey was five years old lying in the loft of the cabin, sound asleep when he heard the howl. He had no idea where it was coming from or why it sounded so sad and alone. Grandam Ev was downstairs listening to the radio. Murphey snuggling back into the goosedown mattress topper listening to the howl as tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt like that howl tonight, alone in the world, totally friendless.

Snapping back Murphey saw the burl veneer through his empty glass.

Something, someone was standing on his left. He looked over and realized it was her, the beautiful woman he'd smiled at, what was it 10 or 15 minutes ago.

He didn't have time to think ahead. His therapist would have been proud. Although he remembered something else from the vision. He recalled the howl stopping abruptly.

He turned his attention to the woman as she said, "Hi, I'm Janney." Before Murphey could respond with his name, the bartender was there. Janney told the bartender, "Scotch - Dewars if you have it, neat."

They both looked at each other and in unison said, “Respectability is the state of never being caught doing anything which gives you pleasure.” They each looked at the other, shocked and then smiled.

They were both thinking this night might not be so bad after all.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Rinse and Repeat | The Relationship Edition

I think I may finally be having a "heart-of-hearts attack". You know that place really deep down where you know what you know you need and notice it before the mind takes over rationalizing and justifying.

Only sometimes, I don't so much want to know because I am invested in what is 'right now' even if what is 'right now' is crappy and uncalled for and almost insanely ridiculously unnecessary because of wrong beliefs. Except that some part of me wants it to be, so I don't have to have these "heart-of-hearts attacks" and so I can remain consistent with an idea of myself that is no longer true.

I'm invested in the status quo. I know what to expect. I'm committed dammit. And I'm blatantly good at justifying it. No. Matter. What.

The best example and it's the best for me because I have been outside of it for 4 years. The example is from my relationship box.

I was 90% of the time in a relationship that was completely, totally wrong for me. And too many times I stayed in ones that were physically dangerous. I would not or could not extricate myself immediately because I had already told my friends, "I love him girl. He is just soooo good. You know what I'm talkin 'bout. Toe. Curlin'. Good. I'm not going to find that anywhere else. He's my soulmate. I know we are meant to be together." Now I know I didn't know shit. But at the time, he filled my need.

I even heard myself say once,"he promised not to do it again." And I knew then for a fact, I didn't know what I would do without him. I couldn't even think about being without him or someone like him or just without someone, anyone.

My friends would tell me that I knew in my 'heart-of-hearts' what I needed to do. I knew I needed to leave him. I would nod in agreement, tell them they were preaching to the converted and then head home, to him. Where I would proceed to shower my love over him, to make up for all the bu!!$#^t fluff my friend girls were filling my head with.

They didn't even have a man or their man was a dog too, so why would I, why should I listen to them?

I wanted someone elses love so badly I was willing to put up with just about anything, for a while, to get it. And I wasn't about to lose it because of some bu!!$#^t.

I always eventually left that one and almost always ended up involved with another one who had the same issues in varying degrees.

I knew the only way out permanently meant being alone for a long, long, long time, years, possibly alone forever until I die amen.

Believing I might possibly be alone until I died, kept me from dealing with the core issues. The very core issues leading me to be consistent with a learned pattern and keeping me in my rinse and repeat relationship cycle.

Here's what I'm learning about beliefs. Beliefs are typically untested assumptions mixed with ungrounded expectations, tricking us into actions good or bad, beneficial or not. Beliefs are tricking us because we don't question them. Don't want to question them.

From the relationship example above, I believed love = attention. Therefore if name calling provided attention, then name calling = love. I know, looking at it in print I can see the flaw, but who puts this stuff down in print. And who's to say I would have seen the flaw then, if I had put it in print? Remember I didn't know shit then.

Yet that belief, though totally wrong, I held it, even in the face of evidence to the contrary, I continued to hold it.

I even went so far as to incorporate the belief into the words I used to describe myself and the thoughts I had about myself. I would call myself names, instead of him calling me names because it all equaled love.

No, no it doesn't. It never did. It equals manipulation. It equals suppression. It's intimidation. It's abuse.

Even when you do it to yourself, especially when you do it to yourself. It's worse then because you are the only one who can stop you from manipulating, suppressing, intimidating and abusing yourself. No one has the power to step in and do anything about it. Unless and until you become a danger to your physical body or the physical body of others around you.

I also found it interesting to learn that's why I was afraid to be alone, specifically the 'without a significant other' third wheel type of alone.

Alone I can't justify manipulation by my hands. I can't justify suppressing and intimidating myself. I can't excuse abuse by my own hands. This "heart-of-hearts attack" hurts.

My beliefs are changing, slowly and ever so carefully. But I'm noticing this rinse and repeat pattern in many, many places, not just in my relationship, jobs, money patterns, desires.

What I'm enjoying more is believing that even though right now, my "heart-of-hearts attacks" hurt, they won't always, hurt this badly. And that my Right significant other Person is out there somewhere. It's my intention to be ready for him when we finally meet.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Banks Just Aren't That Into Property Management

I was going to write this really great post all about context and learned habits and some other stuff. Only I watched the news.

I didn't mean to you see. I was reading and The Biggest Loser was playing in the background of my reading and it went off, but I continued reading. The news came on. I was still reading until . . .

What I heard was disturbing at least to me. It also smacks of utter stupidity.

Dear Bank Foreclosure Lawyer,
cc: Mortgage Holding Bank Asset Manager/VP/SVP/President
CC: Mortgage Holding Bank Vice President
CC: Mortgage Holding Bank Senior Vice President
CC: Mortgage Holding Bank President

Does this scenario sound remotely common sense to you? Investor procures loan from your bank for multiple rental property. Investor locates tenant. Tenant pays rent with regularity and has proof. Investor gets in over his head, doesn't pay mortgage loans to your bank. Bank forecloses and kicks out rent paying tenant. WTF?!!!?

See how this doesn't actually get you any money? Don't you realize another investor is more likely to purchase a property if it's already generating income? Don't you realize you lose less money by contacting the current tenant and having her transfer her regular on-time monthly payments to your bank and into an escrow fund for this property. Because you do have an escrow fund for the property don't you?

I'm not certain why we are allowing our money to be used to bail you out when you can't handle small regular payments from a tenant for a property you are about to have in your ever expanding inventory of foreclosed homes. No, I'm no Bank President and I may not understand all the complicated laws created to keep you in business but that scenario doesn't sound like any company I would want to do business with.

I do understand you want an empty and prone to vandalism asset which has most likely been de-valued because of all the other empty assets surrounding it. You would rather have that then my money.

So while I don't pretend to know all the circumstances in Lisa Browns case, the fact that your bank and your lawyers believe a foreclosure should trump rental payments, is ridiculous. Even Fannie Mae suspended the practice of evicting tenants when the owner went into foreclosure in January of this year.

Maybe you don't want to be in the Property Management business, however, the property you are managing if only for a short while, is Your Property. You took it back from the lender. You own it and you aren't managing it very well.

If the eventual purchaser of the asset doesn't want the tenant in the property, deal with it then. Until that day comes put the funds into an escrow account. You are, after all a bank with a lot of lawyers, I'm certain you could put together an escrow account and not break any of the banking laws.


Gladly paying my rent to someone else.

Embedded video from CNN Video - Lisa Brown's money is too good for the Bank

We will return to our regularly scheduled self analysis and inner growth later this week.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Animal Instinct | Fiction

She looked up and smiled. You think she's coming over but she hesitates. You are a little nervous about approaching gorgeous women, or even making eye contact.

Janney glances down again, hiding her eyes behind the glossy cover of the unread magazine.

She knows the magazine hides tea stained teeth and puckered bottom lips. She pretends it's waiting for a kiss, except really it's swollen. A blackish blue circle spreads down her chin across her jaw and below her sleeveless mock turtleneck.

Wondering why it's called a turtleneck, Janney retreats even deeper into her mind. Turtle's necks don't look like this or do they? I've only seen turtles on The Discovery Channel on my Black & White Sony.

Revelation, B&W Sony shattered on the bedroom floor. No more Animal Kingdom, Wild Discovery or National Geographic on TBS. That one started this whole thing. I'm addicted to that one, she thinks. Almost like a soap opera but those are stupid. Fake people, fake glamorous lives and melodrama.

I like the real world. I like animal instincts, pure nature and the outdoors. I'm gonna miss watching my animal shows. My release, my time to exhale. Shattered. No more 8pm Monday through Friday on channel 44. No more Saturday and Sunday on TBS. No more hour of freedom every day.

She tries to bring herself into the present. She's got to work to do but the memory won't let her go.

Eyes closed head tilted back, way back the howling, oh the deliciously plaintive howling, howling at the moon. Family packs, hunting together, feeding frenzy. Only the Alpha female can have pups and will kill any others. The alpha bitch is in control.

Janney sits on the floor enthralled by the flicker of the B&W and the wolves. She gives in. She gets carried away and into freedom with the howling. She momentarily forgets. Anthony makes her remember. Janney's howl wakes him up. Anthony's hard right hook brings her back to reality and pushes her body, face down into the tattered rug.

When she looks up, his back is already moving sluggishly away from back to the living room and the sofa bed he shares with her mom.

Tears stream down her face. "Mom's gonna kill me".

The memory fades, finally letting her go as she notices the chiming of a clock. Janney practices what she gonna say to the man who smiled at her, "Hi, I'm Janney. Why don't you buy me a drink. I need a little release."

I'm finally free. She puts the magazine down and stands up, smiles and approaches the man who smiled at her just a few minutes ago.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Don't Fence Me In

So I'm in the yard with the dogs, tossing the ball to one and intermittently petting the other who is lounging in the warmest spot she can find and I get this really crazy idea about a blog for the two of them.

Because they have such opposite personalities. The one when we are outside in a fenced in area will not leave my side for very long, if at all. She will follow me if I pace. She will sit or lie down if I'm still. She doesn't chase balls, although she does try to chomp bumblebees and dragonflies.

The other dog when we are in fenced in area only has one thing on her mind. Where is the ball? Did you throw the ball? Are you hiding the ball? Is the ball under there? Do I smell a ball? Are you thinking ball? You are, aren't you? Okay I'll find the ball, ball, ball, soccer ball, ball. You get the idea. Ball. Fetch. Ball.

Two very different expressions of their personalities when they are fenced in.

However, free them and the one who stays beside me as I pace, will head off not to be seen, so quickly it makes my eyes blur and the one who is only concerned with a ball will run a distance, look back, come back, run a further distance, look back, wait for me to catch up and repeat the process. She will eventually explore but doesn't let me too far out of her sights for too long.

I thought it through outside and I don't think it's very sustainable in it's current form so it went into the idea vault.

Anyway, that also started me wondering about how my expressions of my personality differ when I'm fenced in as opposed to when I'm roaming free.

That line of questioning prompted me to define "fenced in" and "roaming free".

Roaming free I defined as waking up without an alarm clock. Taking my sweet time out enjoying sunshine, rain, snow, cold, bird songs, blue jays being chased by swallows, whatever without fear that some boss is timing my breaks or that I'll get written up for leaving the corporate campus without clocking out. Yay for no time clocks.

Roaming free means having a thought and having the space to follow it's thread to the knot, the completion, a bigger thought, an assumption or where ever else it leads me and be able to write it, sing it, paint it. To have the time to play with it or take the time to unravel it, replace it, discard it, converse with it.

Where I believe I am fenced in surrounds cash-flow, previous incomplete obligations and future planning.

What I've come to realize is the very moment I received my first store credit card, cash-flow no longer fit into the roaming free category. So it's been 20 years of living an illusion. Those illusions include:

Money now is better than money later. Immediate gratification outweighs future planning.

The weight and scope of debt determines the current need to earn money, lifestyle needs and wants not withstanding.

The means must now fit within an as yet undefined moral/ethical parameter, therefore justifying itself.

Currently the third illusion trips me up the most. The ends, pay off $130,000 in debt without losing the means to "roaming free", which is really me ignoring the second illusion. I'm working to 'not lose'. That's the illusion. Not losing. Not losing explicitly demands inflexibility and unyielding.

It's not as if opportunities haven't presented themselves. I've stopped me from taking them and I'm not sure I trust the reasons why. I tell myself, it doesn't feel right but what is the feeling based on? Unexpressed and unacknowledged emotions from events long past? Misperception, assumptions, societal conditioning? Habits? Those definitely fall into the fenced in category as well.

Seeking information from outside myself and not trusting what comes from within. Big heavy duty, barbed wire, electrified fence.

So it occurs to me, expand the roaming free space requires elimination of the fenced in space.

Isn't all that what I just said in several thousand words?

Yes, yes it is. Now define that moral/ethical thing and get on with it hun. You aren't getting any younger.

Who are you?

I'm higher you, almost all knowing you. That thing about not trusting what comes from within usually mutes me out. We've met before. Only you couldn't, didn't want to hear me. You called me a mediator. Only that's not what I do. I'm sort of inspired you but even I don't know it all. I'm a guide of sorts. I don't know the subtleties of the world around you, I can just see beyond the horizon a little more than you can and give you hints and ideas about things you can do now to get you to where you want to be although you keep resisting imagining that place.

Because you don't trust me, you can't hear me clearly or the parts that don't want to do what you feel inspired to do resist the doing. Either way, it's still all you and all about free will.

Oh. Sigh. Yeah.

Oh sigh yeah. That's all you got for me?!? I give you an idea like the blog for the dogs and you say oh sigh yeah. I shake your world last night while you are reading The Mind Control Missing Chapter and you say, Oh sigh yeah. I inspire you to edit Cariene McDonald's audio for her. It takes you 30 minutes and you don't send it because you can't attach it in an email. Honestly hun, thoughts, actions, results. You aren't following. Again that's okay but don't talk to me about wanting to tear down fences when you don't take action.

The ideas are all coming to you. It's up to you to see them through. This isn't mad. This isn't frustration. You came to me to work with you on your, 'roaming free' and gaining 'self authority'.

It's first thought based, then action based. Then you see results. The truth is your actions aren't matching your thoughts and the results aren't keeping you motivated or moving. Your actions are still based on external ruling authority, although your thoughts have moved far beyond that.

It doesn't work that way. Get your actions congruent with the thoughts and work with trust in yourself.

I'm all clenched up and hankering to reach for my weapons of choice - avoidance and denial. I mumble something like, "I need a little time to sit with all this."

No, hun you don't, but I can't override free will. Just be easy, listen and do. Stop looking around out there for something and look inside.

She starts walking away, turns around smiling and says, "Hun one last thing, just don't fence me in.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Say It Ain't So | Epiphanatic Moment While Driving

Slightly unrelated to my feeling bad, but not really . . .

I drive a 10 year old, 5-speed pick-up truck. It needs some work that my current budget and financial situation does not allow. Mostly it's work that, not completely and totally necessary, would allow for better gas mileage, better steering and things of that nature.

Still, it drives from point A to B, unlike the vehicles owned by my housemates. Since one of them can't, doesn't want to re-learn to drive a manual transmission vehicle, I drive her around, to her part-time job, to hair appointments, on errands, etc. I don't mind. I usually learn something or have epiphanies while I'm driving her.

This morning I noticed the truck driving towards the right. I, however, was attempting to go straight and I had to grip the steering wheel harder than is normal to keep it from pulling off in an undesired direction. The pull was completely and totally noticeable, even to my passenger.

I've noticed it before, only it was 'me, being too sensitive to the subtle vagrancy of steering a 1 and 1/2 ton vehicle.' That is what I was told. Okay fine that's what I heard when I mentioned it to my dad male housemate. What he said was, "It's fine. You should check your power steering fluid."

Uh okay, whatever. It's not fine, but if you want to pretend it's fine, fine by me, for you, but, as I shook my fist mentally, I know something is wrong.

As I stated, as long as it's drivable, right now financially, there is nothing I can* do about it in the way of repairs. So I compensate and apply more tension and attention to the steering wheel, don't drive with my knees, the basic, safety stuff required by most driver's licenses most anywhere.

What I realized today though, the weight of a passenger, causes it to pull noticeably to the right. No, not the actual weight but yeah the weight. Does that make sense? because it's important to my current self-identity and ego that it make sense. Which is really just me asking myself if I make sense to myself, while I stand by and notice that, none of this has to make any sense to an identity which is being shed.

Driving on.

This is not the epiphany. It's what I noticed while driving. The weight of others in the vehicle pulls the vehicle off course, but only when something is wrong with the steering/guiding mechanism.

During the milliseconds it took me to have that thought, I became the vehicle. The weight of others became the reason I'm being pulled off course and the reason I'm having to use so much of my strength to maintain a grip on the steering wheel of my life to get and keep it on course.

This feels like an epiphany. My life is off course because of the weight of others. It's their fault. If they weren't around me, my life would be on course. It would have to be on course because I wouldn't keep getting pulled off course by their weight.

Said another way. If I was alone all the time I wouldn't have to use so much of my strength to try and stay on course.

Still another way to say it. I don't want to acknowledge, access, or use my strength to stay on course and I would rather lay the blame on the weight of someone else for guiding me off course.

OH boy, the epiphany. It's my life. I have a continuous choice. I guide it on a course or I give over to some other power to guide it on a course. Either way, it's guided, and driving on.

I'm feeling bad emotionally because I'm perklempt.

I'm standing at a fork in a road where both forks end abruptly. There are no slightly overgrown less trodden foot paths. There are weeds, briars, trees, a funny smell and denseness.

My 'feeling bad' is really a bad feeling that I've traveled the wrong road and didn't heed any of the hidden curve ahead signs along the way.

I had this idea of what being my own authority looked like. I didn't realize it would become me seeing a trail no one else can see. At least I got here with understanding and compassion, not fear and blame.

Clearing the path is going to take many tiny steps, along with some gigantic leaps and bounds.

This isn't a closing paragraph.

*not true but because of where or how I've been sitting it sure feels like there is nothing I can do, immediately about it.

These Are My Spoons Full of Favorite Things Yeah

I've always loved Mary Poppins, the soundtrack. I still have it floating around my house on LP (that's a long playing record for ya'll youngin's).

No, I don't have it on CD or DVD because, well just because. Anyway, I love Mary Poppins but this song isn't from Mary Poppins. I just realized that. It's from the other movie I love, which I cannot think of right now and it reminds me of the song from Mary Poppins called, "Spoon full of Sugar".

I mean I would love a song about sugar seeing as how I'm a sugar/carb addict and I grew up in the south. Sugar goes in everything down here. Grits. Cornbread. Turnip Greens, seriously if you get the older Turnip Greens they are going to be bitter and require sugar. Hell, the famous, drink, Mint Juleps have sugar floating around in the bottom of the glass.

Okay what was I say. Yeah, the song from the movie I can't remember the name of right now that reminds me of Spoon Full of Sugar. It's where they are in the Austrian mountains.

Yeah I know you're thinking dang why doesn't she just google it? Because I don't want to, I'll lose my train of thought and then I'll start googling other things and I won't finish this post and that will be my procrastination pattern showing up and I'm doing my best to not give in to that. I do however keep losing the train of thought.

Okay, the song. My Favorite Things. That's the name of the song that reminds me of the song from Mary Poppins called a Spoon Full of Sugar. Still can't think of the title of the movie but I bet you know what it is. I bet you knew from before the forays down other mental trails.

Anyway, that's what I'm looking for, Some of my favorite things because then I won't feel so bad. Only I want to feel bad because it's what I'm feeling right now and in my half awake state of being this morning while I was trying to write down my dreams, I distinctly saw the two words, emotions and weight.

Then I realized my emotional health was and continues to effect my weight. When I feel bad, I eat or I don't eat. It depends on how bad I'm feeling. Either way, since this particular pattern has ensued, my pants have gotten tighter. Not good. No budget for new pants and I refuse to purchase any size higher than what I have right now.

I can't accept that I'm 'this big'. No I'm not telling you how big that is. It's bigger than I'm willing to accept and it's causing more consternation than I'd like.

So I'm looking for my favorite things, only I have so few of them. My favorite 'things'. I don't have lots of things. My favorite places, check. My favorite people, check. My favorite people writing my favorite blogs. Check. My dogs. Yes but no things. I'm thinking that song isn't really going to help me.

I need a Spoon full of sugar to help the medicine go down, in the most delightful way. Thank you Julie Andrews because how else would we get medicine down?

I need medicine and sugar and some favorite things or maybe I need to sit with this feeling bad and see what it's about. What it wants to share with me, show me.

If I keep writing, I'll procrastinate on that too so we are done. For now.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Curiosity Killed the Mad

On Sunday and Monday, I helped a friend set some things up with her blog. After we got clear on what she wanted, meaning after I shut off my "I want you to do this because I want it" voice and started listening to what she wanted, we got down to the business at hand.

After spending some time, because if you have no money then you must invest time, after spending some time making sure all the free pieces worked as they were meant to work, we hung up our respective phones and did other things we needed to do, like eat.

So far no mad. I'm excited by completing something and seeing it work and knowing I had a hand in it. Yep, this is good.

Wait, I'm getting to the point about where I got curious.

While I was eating, I thought about how we put all this together and how every thing we used was totally free and wondered, hey would this be a good tutorial.

Are there lots of folks who want to start offering a services online? Who don't have money to invest and believe building a simple website will cost a fortune, so they don't bother.

I'm thinking it's not that uncommon. Anyway, still not mad. I thought about all this while eating and I came back to the computer and thought, I can put some sort of report together or a tutorial on the blog, something.

Only, wait. How do I do that? I mean it needs to done for free. How do I do that for free? So I'll have to research that too? No, this is too much. How is it that I don't know how to do this already?

That's when I started to get mad at myself for not knowing how to do that already. Mad at me.

The me who just spent 10 hours on the phone with someone who didn't know how to do any of the things she wanted to do and I didn't get mad at her during any of that time. Now I'm going to get mad at myself?. No, unacceptable.

Instead I got curious.

I realized I wasn't mad. I was tired. I was having a serious sugar/carb craving even though I had only just finished eating and I was frustratedly trying to push myself to do more, be better, because I believed I hadn't done enough or well enough already.

That's when I realized it was also funny, ironically funny. I've just helped someone do something I've never done before and it only took us together on the phone 10 hours over the course of two days to do it and we didn't spend a dime doing it. We spent fewer hours than we would on a part-time job, doing it.

I wasn't mad anymore. I celebrated. We just spent 10 hours doing something neither of us had ever done before and it works.

10 hours and no dollars.

Use what you've got.

So then I asked myself, "Is the solution good?"

Well the solutions all work together and now she has a paypal button up to receive payments for her services.

So is the solution good?

It meets the constraints given.

Is the solution good?

Who's idea of good do you want, some authority figure who would hire someone to set up the solution in the first place?

The solution is good to start with, because it's about starting where you are with what you have. It is not about hoping to start one day after. . .

It is about being.

That makes it a good solution. Perfect, no. Viable, usable, Yes.

I've mentioned this friend before. She offers Distance Healing Reiki Services.

And I'm still not mad.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Tricks to Congruent Myselves

I'm actually really excited. I finished writing something. No, it's not a bio-box. Although I have an idea about why that isn't getting done.

And sadly I can't share what I've finished writing with you because it was for someone else. The down side, I'm not really getting paid. Which is okay, although I would like to get paid for writing. It was more an exercise for me to see if I could finish writing something.

Now the copy that I wrote is going to be "tested" it and if it brings in sales then I'll get to write more with payment from the group.

I guess that makes me an unpaid copywriter. Woot! or maybe woot because it is unpaid. But I FINISHED WRITING SOMETHING!!!!!!

The bio box though, that's difficult and different. I realized as I was rummaging around in my brain this week that I don't want to put my name or any name on anything that has to do with writing unless it's here on the blog.

I started wondering about that. Questioning myself and I realized here, on the blog, I'm having fun. Not to say I'm not having fun with other writing things, uh yeah it is. I'm not having fun with those other writing things I'm trying to do with pen names and the such.

Here is my exploration space. I've been living by societal conventions for so long, just doing what I'm told to do by whatever authority figure happens to be intimidating or impressing me at the moment is automatic.

I feel like the Ella Enchanted

I wanted to stop being intimidated and impressed. Mostly intimidated and I want to think for myself about what I want to do and then do it.

So when I found the bum marketing idea, I became my own intimidator. Eek, I'm my own authority figure and my little girl is all, "whoa there kimosabe, I'm here to experiment and have fun. I ain't doin' none o that writin crap for money cause makin it make money makes it not fun anymore."

She pouts and that's when we write the 100 word fiction. She thought that was fun. I thought that was fun. Yet when we went to use that process in the bio-box, the screeching brakes left skid marks in my brain.

So a case of rubber burning and us getting no where. The only reason we got what we got written was the adult me tricked* little girl me. But the trick is really on adult me because uh hello, payment?, that money thing that makes the world go round, not so much forthcoming. So who's tricking whom in this scenario?

That's why the bio box isn't written yet. Adult me wants it to be completely and totally professional. Little Girl me wants it to be a fun flight of fancy. I'm trying to find an internal mediator but I think she went of vacation. Or their is a wonderfully wonderful person who can write something for me, pretend I didn't think say type that.

Adult Responsible me - write the damn bio box
Little Girl Me - the bio box is boring, write more 100 fiction
Mediator Me - . . .

This isn't about me getting someone else to do the work. This is about me being my own authority figure doing what I need to do and trusting that I will do it. Oh and trusting that I know what I need to do.

That's what all this is about.

Re-learning how to trust myself, my intuition and taking responsibility for my life.

I know I'm not alone but I am The One.
That sounds so corny because of the The Matrix.

Heidi Fischbach says so eloquently, "I am the one I fall asleep and wake up with in sickness and in health, so help me God. No matter who else may come along or go away, I’m the one that stays. And if I can’t be OK with me, who can, I ask, who can?!"

I'm working to gather all the parts of me and get them on the same page at the same time, congruentme, or something like that.

*It's really a sad thing that I have to trick any of the parts of me to do things but we all do it, could someone confirm that for me, you probably just don't 'think' about it as much as I do. Which is cool. I think, I think too much sometimes.

Friday, March 13, 2009

I Think I May, I Think I Might

I think I might, I think I may, yes here's what I want to be today:

a copywriter
a blues singer
a published author
a marathon runner
an amazing race contestant
an Architect
a friend
a wife
a mother
a business owner
a rescue dog foster parent
a vegetable gardener
a land owner
a scuba diver
a world traveler
debt-free and financially secure
a polyglot
a mentor
a speaker
an artist
a marketer
a dream builder
a radio broadcaster
a talk show host
a race car driver
a vintage car owner
a real estate developer
a vegan

and the thing is I want to do it all by the end of the day. Yes, today, not tomorrow, not next year. Not in a decade. By the End of the Day.

So I go find other people doing those things. I imagine I am them doing those things.

And since the body doesn't know the difference between a really well imagined day dream where you're imagining all the sensations, sounds, smells and emotions and actually doing those things, I have done all those things by the end of the day. Haven't I? In my mind. In my imagination. Yes.

Only when I come out of the really fantastically imagined day dream, of being a copywriter, a blues singer, a published author, a marathon runner, an amazing race contestant, an Architect, a friend, a wife, a mother, a business owner, a rescue dog foster parent, a vegetable gardener, a land owner, a scuba diver, a world traveler, debt-free and financially secure, a polyglot, a mentor, a speaker, an artist, a marketer, a dream builder, a radio broadcaster, a talk show host, a race car driver, a vintage car owner, a real estate developer, a vegan.

The weeds are still growing in the plot for the garden, the copy is half written and the bio box is still simmering. I don't understand the woman speaking Spanish behind me.

Reality, I am her bitch. She's cold and harsh and I'm trying to be loving and compassionate with myself.

I go back to my daydreams because they are easy.

I don't finish bio boxes. I write short fiction instead. I read Havi, Steve, Jen, Joely, Seth, Naomi and many, many others and I daydream and live vicariously through them for just a little while. Fuel for the fire, I call it but sometimes it's just another from of procrastination. They share with me their emotions and I accept them, meaning to convert them into my own dreams.

My problem. I really do want all this by the end of the day. I don't have Someday Syndrome. I have Todayolism. Am I a todayolist or a today-o-holic?

When I want to be a blues singer, I can put on some Bessie Smith and sing with her inside the walls of my room and the window becomes a stage. The dogs, the trees, the birds, the grass, flowers and bees become an audience.

I'm here floating along and I'm appreciating it all most of it, especially the freedom. The lack of clarity, not so much appreciated. The opportunity to explore with an adult mind and a child's curiosity, immensely appreciative.

Still, I don't yet know how to fake it till I make it, with pretending I am debt-free and financially secure. I think it requires more than my imagination and more than pretending. Unless somehow I can turn grass and air and sounds of nature into currency.

Wait, isn't that what they already are? Current see and free, available to anyone with a willingness to spend a little time enjoying them.

Only they won't pay my student loan bills.

I believe there are people further along the road than I am. I mentioned them. They may even be talking to you already.

I know that to gain the real experience takes time, effort, energy, focus, persistence and tenacity all led by desire. Once the desire fades, even a little, usually time, energy, effort, focus and persistence fade, significantly.

I don't want to drown desire in words and imagination only. I don't want the desire to be overtaken, swallowed by a tidal wave of reality.

I want to ride the wave, propelled by time, effort, energy, focus and persistence. I want to swallow life, wholly and fully. So it's question time. . .

I think I might, I think I may, Yes here's what I wanna be today and now I say, in just what way, what one small thing can I do today, to bring my wanna be's my way?
If I listen to the advice of many, I'll choose one and move forward, leaving the others behind.

When I think about that I notice it feels like I'm abandoning all the other parts of me. Is this what a Renaissance woman feels like?

Instead I'll focus a little time on each desire and take whatever step I can take to achieve each of my 'wanna be's'.

What I desire most is to do, with love and compassion, one thing, today, even if it looks infinitesimally small, especially if it looks that small, to move me closer to all of of my long and growing list of wanna be's.

I think I might, I think I may, Yes this here's what I can do today.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Funny This . . . Barbershops and Libraries

Funny this, I'm at the library and twice already I've heard people exclaim - "How'd you do that?" and the person working with them, says just go to Google and type what you want here in the little search box and it will give you the results.

I then hear an "Oh, okay." And it sounds like they don't believe the speaker. It sounds like they think it's magic. So now I'm listening to the sounds coming from their computer stations and one of the women just did it and said, "wow, okay" under her breath or in her head, I don't know I can't see her, only hear her.

The other person is actually a couple and they are happily using what they've learned. I'm hearing their "oh this is so cool that it works" moments.

I'm typing this blog post with my headphones on and noticing how that feels to not be a part of their learning but hearing them learn none the less.

And a conversation I had a few months ago with a friend comes to mind. She's telling me about how one morning she
"woke up with an image of a 'website' that had the pix that were meaningful to me and that I could write about the things that were meaningful to me--of course, I hoped those things would be meaningful to others also."
As soon as she says it, I ask her if she wants a blog? She's never heard of a blog.

And I'm all seriously, you've never heard of a blog. Really, okay and I go on to explain blogs to her. Yes, she wants one and yes, I'm helping her it now and I'm learning more too.

Then this dream makes sense from last night. . .

Two old men sitting in a barbershop are patiently waiting to get haircuts. They are from the old school of barbershoping, show up, wait, converse with each other, enjoy the scene and gossip the way men gossip. (Because yes men gossip.)

These two men are in a barbershop owned and run by two young barbers. The young barbers set appointments for their clients, even have a receptionist and a lounge area. The two old men being from the old school of barbering have appear resigned to waiting. But they haven't set an appointment.

The receptionist asks them if they want to schedule a haircut. The two old men look at each other and say, "No, we'll wait."

The receptionist tries several times to set an appointment. The two old men say the same thing each time.

The young barbers check their appointments via their i-phone and seeing none scheduled, decide to go to lunch.

The receptionist tells the two old men the young barbers are going to lunch and asks again if they want to make an appointment. The two old men still refuse.

The receptionist is at a loss.

The two old men sit in the lounge, on the sofa in the barbershop and wait. And wait. And wait.

The curtains close and the lights dim.

No seriously in the dream, the curtain closes and the lights dim. Then every one is in line making sandwiches with Artesian breads and fresh veggies and processed meat. Uhm why is processed meat showing up in my dreams?

I wasn't sure where this dream was leading me when I had it this morning.

I'm still not totally certain but if I wait for certainty, I'll be waiting and waiting and waiting. Nope I'm not waiting for certainty.

Remember I'm in the library typing this because I didn't want to be at home typing it and I don't have a laptop, so the library is where I go.

The library offers computer literacy classes and I don't necessarily need the list of classes but I wonder, how does one become a teacher for one of those classes or propose a class?

I've got some books to check and I'm going to find out the answers.

Libraries rock.

Go to your local library.

Use everything your local library has to offer.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

100 Words

A giggling 7 year old with long fiery red curls splashed into the pool.

I smiled, splashing back and saying, "hey y'all" as all southern born and bred children do.

Her "hello" was lyrically melodic, fascinating to my virgin ears. I just met Pippi Longstocking, I thought.

"Everyone out of the pool," squawked the loudspeaker, before I knew her name.

A flash of lightening rippling silently overhead, ended our hesitation.

Scurrying us to safety, our mothers exchanged mailing addresses.

Two weeks later, A Union Jack in the left hand corner of her letter revealed everything.

Thus began a British fantasy.

Supposed To. . .

I am supposed to be writing articles and putting them up on article directories and pointing them to affiliate programs, because that is what I told myself I would do, oh I don't know, two/three weeks ago. I like to eat food and pay for things and doing the bum marketing/article marketing thing seemed, well easy, sort of, relatively. Gahh anyway . . .

I started. When I say I started I mean, I signed up for one article directory as an author and sort of half way filled out my profile and then I got to the Bio Box and I froze.

Geesh, you know the one thing I like and dislike about myself at the same time is my ability to make something overly dramatic that is really simple, simple, simple.

I recall a whipping incident from childhood.

My mom liked to sit at the end of one of my twin beds, while I jumped between them and out into the hall, to avoid her lashes. To hear her tell it, she received as many of the licks as I did. I'm not sure I believe her.

After this jumping and running bit, she finally cornered me in the hall way, finished the whipping and started walking away.

Oh no I wasn't done. I fell on the floor, moaning, tears streaming down my face and at the top of my lungs screamed, "See what you've done! I can't walk!" as I pulled myself down the hallway with my hands, legs hanging useless behind me.

Did I mention it was summer time and Every. Single. Window. Was. Open.

Since my mom couldn't let me see her laughing, she calmly walked away as though nothing was wrong. I dragged my lifeless legs down the remaining hallway and into my room, where I promptly grabbed a book and curled up on the bed.

So what does that have to do with a Bio Box in my profile for an article directory?

Drama with a Bio Box as in I don't know what to say about myself and I want someone else to do it for me because that's easier and much more dramatic than me doing it.

No, that's not really what I'm saying.* Yes, yes it is but I don't want to say that's what I'm saying because then it's just another way for me to avoid doing what I need to do.

Doesn't it say over there near the upper right hand corner something about 'Authors - Minerva F. Bryant . . . doing what I need to do?'

Yeah I suppose it does. So instead of writing the Bio Box, I chose to write a 100 word fiction story, which I will post in the next few minutes.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Life Off Course or OF Course

Yesterday, talking about how Life Gets in the Way, I posited a theory. I thought it was an abstract, untested theory.

I posited the theory that life isn't really getting in the way, it's asking for our attention and asking us to use the very same energetic vibration when we are in flow, making connections, seeing the patterns, the details and loving it.

Yes you know that feeling when the world recedes and we are alone, invigorated, involved, caressing the essence of an idea in our desired format.

We or me because I can only really speak for myself, I literally tingle when I'm there because all the blocks disappear for a while, it's jut me and 'my thing' in that space.

I mentioned it was a drug, right, a legal, self contained drug. The theory I posited I really like that word posited, the theory was we are to take that feeling and move it to 'the life, that is getting in the way'.

This theory has been tested by many people, Havi is one, Jen Louden, Denise Hart, Mark Silver, every single child under 13 I know or have ever met and most of the ones I haven't, you - you've tested this theory haven't you? I realize I've been testing this theory for about one week now.

I would definitely say I'm a creative type, with an analytical mind. I write. I've struggled with the writing process since childhood. This struggle, my struggle with writing, I created it, so when I start to write and I get in the flow of writing and something interrupts me like 'life', I used to get upset and irritated and then lose the flow. I blamed 'life' for interrupting.

Only in being honest with myself, I've been choosing upset and irritation.

In the last week, I've noticed the irritation and upset when they show up. I've acknowledged them both, even told myself it was okay for them to be here.

It was only after I didn't shift over into the upset and irritation that I realized, all the times I had shifted into them was when I ultimately blocked the flow of writing and writing became a struggle, again. For weeks at a time. I would dread the process of beginning to write. It didn't matter what type of writing, journaling, dreams, ideas, notes, whatever, I didn't want to write anything.

When I'm stepping into the irritation and upset with the interruption, I struggle.

When I notice and acknowledge the upset and irritation, leave it and go be with 'life', I'm able to go back into the flow of writing and being creative. In many instances, if the break is short, I never leave or lose the flow.

As an added benefit, I'm finding joy in the break as well.

The writing, the idea, the plan, the creative work is no different when I return to it however I'm different. It's as if 'life getting in the way' opens me up to more information to better inform what I was doing before.

I'll keep testing this in other ways as well and let you know what I'm finding.

If you've been testing it, what are you finding is true for you?

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

When Life Gets In The Way | What's Really Happening

"When there is light in the soul, there will be beauty in the person. When there is beauty in the person, there will be harmony in the house. When there is harmony in the house, there will be order in the nation. When there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world." ~Chinese Proverb~
James - The Dancing Geek said it most recently. We've all heard it, used it, believed it and generally acknowledged that 'life' gets in the way.

Life makes me mad, sad, frustrated, unhappy, moody, melancholy, pissed, unmotivated and generally all around miffed when it 'has gotten in the way'. Okay life doesn't make me feel anything, it's life after all, intent on replicating and reproducing itself in all manners and forms because that is Life.

I will take all responsibility for the fact that I allow myself to feel irritated, frustrated, moody, unmotivated, etc. when 'life gets in the way'. I use it or my ego uses it because it wants to control things, like how, when and why I get caught up in my own stuff, doing my 'thing', on this high energy level so I can get that rush of endorphins baby, cause it's a drug and feels real real good and it's legal and I control it with a switch - oh yeah and then 'life gets in the way' and starts to harsh my mellow and bring me down, hard.

Life is withdrawal man.

See here's what happens to me when the dream mojo, the dream muse and I begin to dance and I lose myself in doing the work to make 'The Dream' come true and I'm caught up in it, swept away by it and loving being in that space, then BAM 'life' shows up.

Arrrrggghhhh. 'Life' why are you showing up NOW, right NOW when I'm vibrating at my highest energetic level inside with my purpose being filled completely and I'm running over and spilling and filling and . . .

Oh, ah, a vessel which is full can contain no more and must empty itself of it's contents.

Really profound insight, but could you 'life' please stop blocking my legal, self contained drug of choice here?

It's when I realize I am high from that legal drug of choice that this comes to me.

"So life you really aren't getting in the way, what you're asking from me is to empty what I've received back into 'life' by paying attention to what just showed up and giving what just showed up that same vibrational energy I've been swept up in, filled with that is now spilling over and start giving so I don't make this mess of overfilling this bodily vessel through which 'life' is running."

Hmmm ok so that means I have to view the interruption which frustrates and miffs me as welcom and take the energy vibration and pour it into whatever you just interrupted me with?

Free will and my three year old me show up, shouting no, No, NO, NOOOOO, pitching a tantrum on the floor all the while I'm thinking . . .

That sounds so profound in theory and my fingers type the letters and as soon as they are typed my head starts pounding.

Aha, life is interrupting my train of thought and so now I get my chance to practice. Noticing and applying the energetic vibration of noticing.

Noticing the pain in my neck. Noticing the twitching of my fingers and my heads desire to roll . Noticing the itch in my right ear and how all I want to do is scratch it. Noticing how noticing the itch makes it feel less like an itch and more like air or floss clearing the debris. Still with eyes closed, fingers moving on the keyboard, head lilting, tilting to the left side.

Noticing the pain that is showing up in my right arm, the cold air across my fingers, the nails as they tap on the keyboard. Noticing my head now tilted to the right still feeling the itch, the floss, the tickle of something whispered.

Noticing the warmth emanating from my legs and the cold air as it mixes with that warmth. The slight twitch of my head, the itch in the rear of my skull on my scalp, on my neck, hearing, feeling my chest and abdomen rise with each inhale of the breath of life.

Smelling the dust in the air around me and pine resin of the new wood of unpainted windows and feeling the sneeze build to release the trapped particles bringing me those smells and that is life tooo and I am lost in it.

I am thankful, grateful for its' existence. Now to remember that when I am lost in a project and lost in doing.

Noticing the itch, feeling it in my left ear and taking the time to stop the itch by engaging it. A cold chill shakes me momentarily. More to be told, more to hear and I break out of the energy of noticing because that is part of my life too free will.

I can't life (yeah that was a typo yet it fits) I can't life is what I want to moan when ever it nudges me to share my new found energetic vibrations.

I can't life. I'm working on something too important to be bothered right now, feeding and stroking my ego, seeking that high.

Then we wonder why life gets in our way, because life is the only important thing and has to remind us of that fact.

I'd like to give life another response. Something like Oh hey life, what's up? I got this energy thing going on and I want to share it with this other life and you want me too, too. Okay, life I can life. I can.

That's what I want to say with a straight face and in all silliousness.

I can life. I can.