The Gurly Life

The class clown

Before I tell you what I was going to tell you, I will tell you that I haven't been updating because I was swamped at work and stressed out and writing writing writing writing all the live long day, and just had nothing left in me at the end of the day. I had so much work that I *had* to work this past weekend, because the mere thought of starting the week with all that crap to get done was ruining my weekend. As it turned out, it was helpful that I did the extra work, because between errands that took about 4 times longer than anticipated (4 hours versus 1 hour - thanks, Bank of America!) and unexpected emergency-like stuff at work, I would have been underwater this week too. At least for the first 2 days of the week, I have avoided that. That is a good start.

Now on to what I was going to tell you before I told you something else.

The other day I got my annual review. I used to stress about this. I mean, how do I know if I'm messing up if I only get one review a year? I mean, what if I start messing up a week after my review, and then I don't find out about it until the next review, with one whole year minus one week of accumulated fuck-ups? I only recently figured out that I only need one review a year because I'm doing well.

For a supposedly confident person, I'm surprisingly insecure. Maybe the self-doubt is what makes me not a psychopath? I like to think so.

Zebigboss told me several times how good for office morale I am, and that when I'm in the office, people are happier. In my review he wrote that I bring much joy and happiness to the office. Huh. Did you know this about me? Because here's the thing about how we impact people around us: we have no idea what that is. Of course we can sort of tell if we're sucking the life out of people (I notice when I'm tired, within minutes everyone around me is drooping), and we can sort of tell if we're super happy and we bring up the tone of the room, but it's hard to tell if there's a subtle shift when we're around versus when we're not.

My boss also told me that I have a style that is ... quirky. My friends find this laugh out loud funny, I think it's the laughter of recognition.

So, I continue to be weird and dress funny, and people think I'm charming. Now if I could just carry this over into my romantic life, I'd be set!

 

I don't care if you read this

Have you ever noticed how when you get really invested in something, it sometimes doesn't work out? For me, it's because I get significant about it and then I get all weird and try too hard, and then obviously blah.

So it is with this blog. For reasons that are too boring to go into here, I lost my mojo for a long time. Over a year, actually. Oh yes. It's true. No, no, it's true. I would get inspired every now and then, and then blah again. I thought, well, I guess I have nothing more to say. It's like reaching the end of the internet, or the Spanish Inquisition - no one actually expects it.

I considered for a while shutting down the blog. Maybe starting a new one, a totally anonymous one, so that if I write a post about my vagina, for example, I don't have to worry about my boss being embarrassed, being fired, or never hired by anyone again. Not that I write many posts about my vagina, I think I did that one time (this one doesn't count), but still! I want the artistic freedom, damnit, the Founders owe it to me.

Considering that I'm not sure which of my friends (I think there's a few who occasionally read a post, and a couple who read almost everything) and family (my mom and dad, and that's pretty much it) even read this anymore, and that it was intended to keep them updated on what I'm doing, I wasn't sure if I should continue.

Then I realized I wasn't just blogging for the fun of it anymore, but for readership. I was all, I wish I was a good enough or funny enough writer to have a wider audience. Moan, groan, blah blah vampire emergency blah (just checking to see if you're paying attention). So stressful to write a post and have 3 people read it.

To sum up: no readers, not fun to write. What's the point?

The point is that I like to write my stupid little posts. Sometimes I say something that reaches someone, and that's awesome. And often I don't, I just have mediocre thoughts that I express in a mildly amusing way. Occasionally I hit the jackpot and write a good post.

Occasionally, someone will tell me they read the blog and enjoy it, and then I'm chuffed for a month. Seriously, every reader, every comment, is like a little diamond in my mailbox.

So I continue with my little blog, for no reason at all other than it's fun for me. If no one reads, so be it -- it will just be fodder in the public domain to bring me down one day when I am feeling a smidge too arrogant. But if you do read it, know that you contribute to my creative expression. Thanks for that.

Some deep(ish) thoughts on my birthday

Today I was listening to the podcast from Krista Tippett's ON BEING, and in particular I was listening to her interview with Richard Davidson. The blurb from the show says this:  

Once upon a time we assumed the brain stops developing when we're young. Neuroscientist Richard Davidson helped overturn this idea by studying the brains of meditating Buddhist monks. Now he's working on conditions like ADHD and autism. He focuses not on fixing what is wrong, but on rewiring our minds with life-enriching behaviors.

It's a very interesting interview because Davidson talks about cultivating kindness and compassion, and what that does to the brain of a person, as well as the effects of meditation. Rather than focusing on eradicating the negative mindsets, he focuses on cultivatin the positive ones.It reminds me a little bit of the law of attraction, that what you focus on is what shows up in your life, either positive or negative.

I also wonder, what is the line between positive thinking, and what is commonly referred to as a Pollyanna-ish view of life? Is this even a question worth asking? This is a fascinating podcast that I strongly recommend, especially if you subscribe to the notion that word creates world, in other words, that what we say creates our reality, how we perceive and experience the world. I am 100% convinced that this is so. Other than the basic reality of physical objects, I am more and more certain that the conscious shaping of our toughts, the words we speak, what we focus on, gives us how our lives turn out, irrespective of circumstances. In many cases, even circumstances are shaped by who we're being and what we say.

Of course, there is a difference between a positive mindset and faking it. The first will get you through the hard times, the second will just make things worse for you.

Which just reminds me that life is damn good. And that all those workshops at Landmark Education and all the transformational work I have done, and continue to do, were worth every second of time invested in them.

Enjoy!

At long last, another breakthrough

I know you've all been wondering: where have those posts gone, the ones where I have some epiphany about myself, and then write about it like I have no sense of decency?

After years of Landmark Education and PAX Programs and various other personal growth stuff, I think I sorted through most of the shittiest stuff. I don't mean to suggest I couldn't use some improvements, the remodeling never really ends, but the focus has shifted from lifting barriers to building skills that I either don't have, or want to improve.

Naturally, as I build skills, I come across a few barriers. After all, if I didn't have the barriers, I'd already have the skills, right?

So here's a really juicy one. I don't like to admit this one because it makes me look very bad, and I don't like to look very bad - just bad enough to be interesting. This has been brewing for a few weeks, and it's probably rambly.

As you know, I have specifically been doing a lot of work in the relationships realm. My goal is to (one day while I'm still young enough to chew my own food) be in a relationship that is empowering and fulfilling. Much of the work I've done in the last few years has been to that goal. In the recent past, my focus has shifted away from my own individual stuff to partnership. I've been looking at what partnership skills do I need, would I like to have, and so on, especially since partnership skills translate really well in every area of life. I figured even if I have no romantic partnership, I still have friends, family, work, neighbors, and so on. Can't hurt, right?

Of course, though, the focus is relationships.

Imagine if you will the setting: it is early evening in Los Feliz, I am going for a brisk walk in the neighborhood, enjoying nature and listening to music on my iPod. I'm feelin' pretty special, with all my partnership skills, and I'm all, check me out I'm totally fabulous, that's me, yup, yup (nevermind that I'm still single, don't use facts to confuse the issues, please, you know how I hate that).

I'm bouncing along thinking about how great I am (this is always a red flag) and how superior I am to all those other women, poor dears, who are actually in relationships that work, and it suddenly hits me, like a turd between the eyes: that I'm often calibrating who I am in order to catch the right guy (not just any guy, mind you, the right one, whatever the heck that means). I suddenly noticed how I watch myself when I interact with men to see if I'm doing it right. And really, what it comes down to is that I haven't been doing all this personal growth stuff to be a better person, but to manipulate the right guy, when I find him, into being with me, because I'm so awesome. Urgh.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing inherently sleazy about proactively looking for a partner -- it's just that there was something, I don't know, weaselly about how I've been doing it. It's hard to explain, though as you read this you might be thinking, yeah I see it too, but the place I was standing to set my intention was a crappy place. It was like putting ice cream on poo and trying to sell it like a delicious banana split. No, that's not poo, it's chocolate. NOT delicious.

So I walked along a bit more, and thought to myself, what if I do all that I'm doing for no reason at all, just because that's who I am and being a good person is important to me? What a fucking idea!

But that's not all. What also became evident is why I have in the past (thankfully not anymore) been a magnet for married guys. It's a mechanism that I had sort of identified, it had to do with how I engage with men (obviously!), but I hadn't seen the mechanism's agenda. And while I was on my walk, I saw it, and recoiled at the ugliness of it all. Thankfully, it was night, no one could see the grimace on my face, or the gagging. What causes that shift in who I'm being that attracts married men is a voice in my head that says that I want that man to risk something for me, because that means I'm worth something.

What. The fuck. Is that?????

Until I saw that, the best I could is notice when a married guy would start being interested, and bring down the shutters. Not a very empowering defense mechanism, by the way, I don't recommend it. Now I can see it before it even begins. I can hear the voice in my head like I'm some schizo patient off her meds, and I can feel my body shift and my face take on a different expression, it's really weird and creepy. Sooo gross.

All this I saw several weeks before I even left for vacation. I think it was some time in March or April. The first thing that happened was that the emotional charge in the realm of relationships fell away. All of a sudden, I wasn't emotionally invested in getting a relationship. For several weeks, I just didn't care at all about this part of my life. At. All. I forgot to get online to check my profile for weeks at a time, and when I did remember and found no messages from anyone, I'd think, meh, I have to work on my profile anyway, whatever.

Since then I have been noticing immediately when "the married man bomb" activates and have been easily able to disarm it. Over time it is activating less and less and has almost disappeared.

So ... yikes, right?

Now that I've settled, and the married guy issue is disappearing, I'm back doing my work on partnership, and still looking for an awesome guy, sans frustration and disappointment. Thus far, no flopping between white-knuckling it and giving up in resignation.

Now I can get back to the business of playing with my camera, preparing my Guide to Egypt: A Pictorial Representation, and standing on my head for 5 minutes at a time.

Life is good.

I survived Valentine's Day

Actually, I made out like a bandit.

As I mentioned in a rather popular Facebook update, it was difficult to keep my grumpy pants on when I was surrounded by great people who sincerely wished me a happy Valentine's Day. Ok, the update was popular because I said I was pantless, but that's besides the point. Don't get me wrong, I am not a fan of V Day or ever will be. What I am a fan of is people. And when people bounce into my office wishing me a happy V Day with a big silly grin on their face, and give me cards like this one:

and by the way, the card is giant, it reaches up to my knees. Which I did not include in this photo.

and Cat-A-Pults (look it up) that they picked up in a little store somewhere while off on a romatic weekend that had nothing to do with me but then they saw this thing and thought of me and here it is, well, how can I resist? How can I resist when a good friend who was itching to get me a card and flowers resisted the temptation because he knew I wanted to do things my way? I can't. I have to surrender. Have. To.

Here are some pics of Maliboo Kitty with the Cat-A-Pult.*

Maybe it was all the photo taking (sorry, ma, we're not done yet) that dragged me into the loooove mood, kicking and screaming, or maybe it was the actual love, but this was definitely the most enjoyable V Day ever.

* If you're still wondering what in the heck a Cat-A-Pult is, it's a toy with rubber arms that you can fling across the room, and it meows as it hits the floor. It's a very loud, annoying meow. Someone in my office took it to babysit it, and I had to retrieve shortly thereafter because she was annoying the whole office. Eh hem.

Where does the time go?

The last few weeks I have not blogged often. There are reasons that have stifled my creativity, but I won't really go into them in any detail. I know, shocking, right? I will say this: I'm stretching into bigger and more complicated stuff at work, and feel out of my depth most of the time. I feel like I'm going to screw up any minute, and it will be a huge screw up, and then it'll be really bad. I feel uncertain, and not entirely safe.

This uncertainty, in turn, affects my confidence that I have something to say that anyone will want to read. So I don't write. The less I write, the more I feel pressure to write something funny/wise/interesting. It's like when it's 1am and you have to get up at 5 and you have a big day ahead of you and need the sleep but can't get to sleep because you keep thinking and stressing about how you really need to go to sleep and can't. Ack. Like that.

I've been so uninspired that I haven't even had one single idea for a Pictorial Representation. Remember those? Yep. Nothing.

I will make a pledge right now: to write something every day from today until the end of the year. Anything. Long, short, silly, boring, whatever. Writing comes with writing.

Check in again tomorrow, when I will have something profound and life changing to say. Or not.

The trunk of my car

This is what the trunk of Pixie the Prius looks like right now.

I have 2 yoga mats, a yoga towel, severable recyclable shopping bags, a 30lbs tub of kitty litter, a container with a picnic blanket, a baseball cap, a Dodgers blanky, a couple of makeshift dog leashes (for the occasional dog I end up rescuing off the street), a David Letterman sweatshirt, an umbrella (which I use maybe less often than the makeshift leashes), and a couple of "it fits, it ships" US Post Office boxes. Often my tripod will be in there, too.

As an aside, I almost tidied up before taking this picture. I thought if I stuffed the bags inside each other and folded them properly, it would make the trunk much tidier looking. But having decided to reveal my mini hoarding corner, I cleaned up after I took the picture instead.

I used to look at people's packed trunks and think, really, it's not that hard to keep your trunk clean. Well, it turns out I was right, it's not that hard. But the point is not whether it's easy, the point is, is there any point to it? The inside of my car is pretty clean. I have a Thomas Guide in there (really, I do, though I can't think the last time I used it), and maybe a roll of toilet paper (you never know), but other than that it's passenger-ready.

The trunk on the other hand seems like the perfect mobile mini-storage space to me. Why take the yoga mat out of there when I have to bring it with me every single time I go to yoga, which happens to be several times a week? The box with the picnic blankets and various and sundry bits is in there precisely for those times I go somewhere picnic-y and I forget a towel to sit on, my hat, or what have you. The leashes - well, that's self-explanatory. The kitty litter is temporary - it's just that it's heavy and I always wait till the last possible minute to bring it upstairs because I hate to carry the thing. The recyclable bags: again, why take them out of the car, when I only ever use them when I go shopping in my car? And so on.

You might say: if you were a better woman, and perfectly organized as good women should be, you would have a place for everything and everything in its place, and you would take your yoga mat from your closet each and every time you go to yoga class and return it to the closet when you get home. And you would not forget your hat or your picnic blanket or your umbrella when you might need it.

Alas, I fall short of the good woman in more ways than I can count, so I ask myself, why should I keep the trunk of my car always perfectly empty and clear? And I can't think of a single good reason.

Oh that's just perfect

So you know how just about every time I see my hot, soap-opera star neighbor, I'm holding my underwear in my hand? Well. Today, I did one better. In fact, I have added another tag/category, Groan!, just for this sort of thing.

First, I will explain why I am always holding my underwear in my hand, and it's nothing to do with my neighbor or anyone else. I wash my panties in the washing machine, but I air dry them because the dryer wears them out too quickly, and pretty soon they get tight and stiff and I feel like I'm wearing a chastity belt. I also have to tell you, even though it's none of your damn business, that I mostly wear g-strings - there's a practical, unsexy reason for this, which is that normal panties give me wedgies. Frankly, rather than having a thick wad of underwear bunched up in my crack, I decided to just go with the intentional wedgy - own the wedgy! And please don't bore me with your issues about boundaries at this point -- it is far, far too late to get all TMI.

So, to make a long story even longer, this morning I did laundry and on my way back to my place I dropped a pair of said g-strings in the hallway. Naturally, I did not notice this until I went down to get the rest of my clothes out of the dryer. Meanwhile, my hot neighbor walked by said g-string panties in the hallway - I know this because I stuck my head out of my door as he was walking up to his own door, looking very amused. I remember thinking, wow, he's in a jolly mood, must be Christmas cheer.

When I realized he must have seen the underwear, at first I thought, well, he doesn't know whose these are. Except, you know, they could not belong to anyone else, given the position of the panties (near his front door, NATCH!), the layout of the floor and who lives where. In short, there is no way that danged underwear was anyone else's. Good luck trying to explain that one to the cops.

Merry Christmas, hot neighbor!

A vitamin deficiency, perhaps?

So I had an awesome time in Florida and DC, took LOTS of pictures, some of which were pretty good, blogged every last word I had to blog (you might have noticed a dearth of blog posts lately, it's almost as though the rest of my life is too humdrum to blog about now, after the whirlwind that is two weddings and two trips).

Then I had this flurry of dates, which have been fun but have also taken some energy. I will say that the whole dating thing is not as frought with the anxiety and panic it once was (Willow, I think you remember the madness), but I find myself mired by moments of cynicism and hopelessness. Mmh. Well, I'm sure that will be fodder for yet another blog post about the never-ending saga that is the work I'm doing in this black hole area of my life. See what I did there? I made a cynical comment.

Cynicism not so much about the men I've been meeting, because while they might not be right for me (or are, not sure yet), they seem like very nice men. But mostly because I seriously do wonder whether I actually want to be in a relationship, or if the true truthiness is that I'd really rather not, thank you very much. Again, a subject of another blog post in a few more weeks. There's only so much deep soul searching I am willing to do at any one time, nowadays.

But the main thing I've been dealing with lately is that I just feel really run down. I've been getting plenty of sleep, and have not been running around like a headless chicken. Busy, yes, but not nutty busy. My hips seem to be doing pretty well, so I'm not dealing with any serious pain issues, only the occasional Achilles tendonitis.

Yet somehow, I feel burned out. It occurs to me that it could be one of two things: 1. I'm burned out (sometimes the most obvious answer is the right answer); 2. I have some vitamin or mineral deficit.

We shall see. For now, the remedy is to write blah blog posts because I'm too worn out to do anything about it. Blah. [Flops weakly like a dying fish. Pant, pant. Flop, flop. Lies still.]

Three weddings and a funeral

Yeah. MY funeral.

Ok, I exaggerate, I admit it. But since there is no pictorial representation (stop pressuring me!!!), I have to get creative. More pictorial representations will come soon, but for now there are words, words, WORDS!

As I recently mentioned, I have had a lot going on. A lot. So here's a recap of what went on this weekend.

1. Dating and such, i.e., 3 weddings

A few months ago I made the decision not to blog about specific dates and men much because having the blog as a background made it more interesting for me to be on bad dates than on good ones. Be careful what you ask for and all that.

I am still doing lots of personal growth work in this area, it just never seems to end. That I can talk about in more detail.

To the point: this weekend I went on 3 dates with 3 different men. One of these guys was Bob, who I've mentioned before. And yes, he's aware of my other dates and being a very cool and generous guy he thinks it's great that I date, thankyouverymuch.

All three men are terrific, and it is the first time in a long time (ever?) that I'm not operating from scarcity. The point being that I recently managed to dislodge yet another crummy belief about me and relationships that had been stuck like a barnacle on the ass of my fabulousness. I know, vivid, right?

The barnacle was that single men my age are not interested in me (and the flip side of that, which is that only unavailable men are interested). What strikes me about this little nugget of joy is that it is VERY specific. Mmh. I have been forced to give up the more generic "men are not interested in me" because it so obviously isn't true as to be bordering on insanity. So I went more specific, this way I got to keep it. Sweet.

I was doing an exercise from Calling In The One (see the What I'm Reading list in the right panel), and I had to look at what I get out of keeping certain beliefs, and being single. This is not the first time I have looked at this question, but I haven't looked at it in a significant amount of time. I've uncovered all kinds of crap since, so it's not too surprising that the inquiry was almost a new one for me. What I saw was that I get to be safe. Because as much as it frustrates me to be constantly circled by unavailable men, and sometimes pains me, there is really no chance that I will really, truly put myself at risk with any of them. Even if I want to (or say that I want to, because really, I don't), they make sure I get shut down. So then I'm all mopey and hurt, but safe.

Even if I find a great guy, I soon find something about him that I cannot possibly put up with so I can continue to complain about how there are no great guys, and the great guys don't like me, blah blah blah. And on it goes.

It's very likely that I've seen this before, and shared it before, but this time it hit me like a ton of bricks. I proceeded to call myself a lot of names, including a fucking liar. Don't worry, it wasn't one of those woe is me kind of things. It was like looking for my keys for hours and they were on the table the whole time, in plain sight, and I wasted all this time being blind. Like that.

I also noticed I do something sneaky to men who are available: just as we get close and all is going well, I drop-kick them. It's not a very obvious thing, because I'm somewhat subtle about it, but that's what I do. That way, I get to push them away first and I get to be right about how I'm not important or unwanted or unlovable, or whatever the self-flagellation of the moment is.

But it's not over. I then got to see how when I'm found out, I have an overwhelming sense that I need to walk from this relationship. I make up excuses like, who is this person to point out that I do such and such? How dare they? Pshaw! What is underneath this is that I'm very invested in looking good and doing it right, and I'm unwilling to be human and imperfect, i.e., look bad. In other words, I'm unwilling to be vulnerable. So rather than simply address the issue, I walk.

Wow, right? I mean, what a fucking racket. I mean, this is like trying to surf the entire internet - it can't be done, you don't get to the end of the internet. You just keep finding interesting stuff and thank goodness for the internet.

And all of a sudden, I get more interest from single and available men in one week than I've had for the past 7 years (I exaggerate, but really, not that much - ask Deirdre, she'll confirm).

We shall see what comes of this.

As an aside, I seem to have an unusual number of people in my life who have no qualms telling me when I'm full of shit and/or when I'm being a jerk. You know who you are. And I want to take this opportunity to tell you that YOU ROCK!! I have very few friends who enable me, thank goodness, they mostly call me on my shit all the time and force me to grow, as uncomfortable as that may be for me.

2. An event, i.e., the funeral

Not really a funeral, not even close. On Saturday I helped out at the Brown Club of Southern California's annual GaLA Bruno, which is our annual membership drive. We had an awesome event, at the home of Matt Miller '83 and his wife Jody Miller. Matt is the host of Left Right And Center on KCRW, one of our local public radios.

We even had a string quartet!

This was the view from their house. I know, right??

Matt said something very interesting: that we can't move forward in politics because special interests on both sides pressure the politicians not to talk about certain things. Thus, the dialog is not honest and open. No open dialogue, no progress. I'm curious to know what these things are that are not being discussed.

A great event, but the temperatures finally dropped (well it IS November, for heaven's sake) so I was freezing for about 5 hours. My feet were so cold I was in pain. I know that in the grand scheme of things it was not very cold. Don't judge me. Needless to say, I was dead at the end of the day - get it? dead? funeral? ha ha. On Sunday I worked out and met a friend for coffee, then basically went back to bed. Och. I slept a lot. And now I'm fine.

The end [curtsies].