13 posts tagged “free-floating crazy”

I've just survived my 4th move in 5 years and I have a couple handy observations for those who want to undertake this kind of quasi-permanent lifestyle:

1. Don't.  It will mess with your head.
2. If you must move, hire movers.  Completely worth the price. 
3. Do not be fooled by the notion that packing is somehow more painful than unpacking.  I know this to be, largely, a personal preference.  But I'm kind of amazed at how arduous unpacking is.  Find a place for all that stuff.  Who needs it? I wonder if this is a marketable service?  I know I, surely, would have paid for the privilege of someone else setting up my apartment.  There are just so many decisions to make.  And I'm not qualified to undertake those. I don't knowI'm barely qualified for a Super Saver card at Dominick's.
where the tupperware should go...
4. Stairs, no matter how they are arranged, are always a nightmare.  Good lord. 
5. Ikea is my new friend.  I've always loved Ikea but only aestetically.  Turns out they're functional too...in that they've given me new places to put said stuff.  Like  yellow dresser that's moving into my bedroom this very afternoon.  It's excited.  I'm excited.  We're one happy little pre-fab family here. Although, said dresser almost killed me on getting it up the aforementioned stairs.  That box weighed roughly 400 pounds.  Before assembly.
6. Moving into an apartment previously occupied by friends is good.  All the colors work. It was clean.  And I don't have to worry about the potential serial killer that may have lived in the space and dirtied its karma.  This has possibly been the most brilliant part.

My list could go on but I'm really just interested in going and enjoying looking at the uncluttered, bare floor boards completely without a majority of the boxes that were here just days ago.  This might be the first time in 10 years that I'm not living out of a box. It's...different.

What you're witnessing here is the breaking of a bad habit.  Exciting isn't it? Here's what happened...

The other day I started a new blog.  [Insert joke related to the number of blogs I'm currently authoring here].  My thought was that I was sick of looking at this huge long list of archives, this stale design, this old and tired conversation that just kept happening in the same way all the time.  So I wanted a clean start.  I ambled over to Word Press and started me a blog. 

And then I got itchy about it.  I couldn't get it to look right. It didn't feel right.  I labored over the design only to be brutally rebuffed by the fact that you have to pay for the privilege of writing your own code.  Nothing was right.  And I found myself missing my little beach tent here.

But the realization of what I was doing hit me at Ikea, the jumbo house of overstimulating home improvement possibilities.  I took a trusty friend with me (hi Monica who doesn't read blogs) to help me stay focused. And as I stood before a blinding array of dressers, discussing whether I should get the six-drawer brown black or the three-drawer yellow, I said out loud, "Well, I wonder where else I'd be able to use this."  I was buying new furniture for my new place and thinking about how it might fit in the next place.  Monica (and this is the reason she got the Ikea nod...okay, actually she drove me there so that was probably a huge factor as well) just look at me like I was an ass and said, "Yeah, no." And then I saw the light.

For some reason, I am just uber-resistant to settling in anywhere.  I am a chronic re-starter...this may be directly linked to my perfectionistic tendencies...if it's not perfect, then I have to start over. I don't like to dwell on my past messiness or re-live the pain of it.  Somehow, the joy of it always gets lost.  I'm like that dog in Alice in Wonderland whose tail functions as a broom, sweeping up the path he just made.  I keep erasing my footprints.  And then I sit, head in hands, wondering how I have no history to lean back into when the times get tough.

So, the beach tent stays.  I am going to move it to it's own domain name so I can re-design it to be it's most glorious, tent-tastic self.  But the structure will remain.  As will the history that it represents.

Wow, it's been a long time.  I only realized this when Kaye, friend and Alto II extraordinaire, mentioned that her RSS feed hadn't lit up with my stunning and evocative discussions of real-life issues (see specifically any posts tagged "free floating crazy"...which I have to admit is my most favorite tag I've ever come up with...) This month has been a rough one and so my witty observations have taken a back seat to what I thought was more intense introspection which then, as it does, turned into brooding.  Eh...can't win 'em all.  But, I did have some deep down, essential conversations with myself on a couple key issues of existence and I'd like to share with you what I've learned.  In no particular order:

1. I love Kelly Clarkson.  Go ahead and judge. I cannot explain it.  I hate American Idol.  I hate other American Idols (excluding Carrie Underwood who I just mildly disdain).  But when this girl sings, so do I.  I have been belting out "I Do Not Hook Up" for DAYS and I intend to continue that trend.  I have really always loved her.  I'm just more comfortable saying it now.

2. Alternative titles for #1 could be "I Love Lady Gaga," "I Love Gwen Stefani," "I Love Pink," or "I Love Christina Aguilera." These I'm actually not ready to be judged for so they didn't get the nod, but it's true.  I can listen to "Hollaback Girl" 27 times in a row and never tire of it. I've talked about this before but I'm still working through it.

3. #s 1 and 2 are directly related to this: I can't believe I've lived without an Ipod for this long. Admittedly, I've been something of a Luddite when it's come to music.  I've always listened to the radio and when my last walkman broke I just never replaced it.  But this Ipod business has changed my life.  Not only can I have 4789372 songs with me at all times...but I can arrange them however I want.  And then rearrange them.  This is revolutionary to me.  However, with that power comes the need to choose.  When I was listening to the radio, I could blame them for Kelly Clarkson.  My Ipod, in all of its green wonder, has forced me to come to grips with my schizophrenic music tastes.  All on the same playlist I have Grayston Ives (contemporary choral), The Mamas and the Papas, Moby, and Beyonce.  I feel dirty about this.  But also soooo good. Mmmmm.

4. Bea Arthur is one of my heroes. I never wanted to admit it.  But it's true.  I've just rediscovered "The Golden Girls" because WE tv, god bless their hearts, are running these enormous GG marathons everyday.  She was the heart of the show and it was funny. And it still is.  Then, I caught Maude on ME tv and she was the heart of that show.  And it was funny. And it still is. I feel this same way about Elaine Stritch who's surfaced as Jack's mom on 30 Rock.  These baudy, bold, brassy broads--that's who I wanna be.

5. I do not hate Sociology. The lack of blogging can be directly attributed to the fact that I've begun to write in the first time in over a year.  It's always a relief to be revived by the ideas. What's even more rewarding is having taken this year to regroup, I can synthesize my experience and these ideas much more insightfully.  Wait, hear that? Oh, it's just me breathing again...I forgot how lovely fresh air can be.

6. I operate on a see-saw that swings between fear and fearlessness. Never before in my life have I been so aware of this dichotomy.  I'm either paralyzed by fear or shocking the hell out of myself in being bold. I've tried to change this for a long time.  That's a stupid struggle.  I will not change.  But what I can do is learn how to manage that transition better. I'd love to explore the world of moderation. That's my next big challenge.

7. If you allow them the chance, worthy people will surprise you in great ways. I'm always amazed by this. But I've become very aware of the importance of the first clause.  So much of our lives are about perception.  I'm now convinced more than ever that if we want change we have to allow for it.  The stage must be set.  Once that's done, amazing things can and often do happen.

8. Fuck Napanee. This one's for Kaye too.  But that trip deep into the wilds of Amishland in Indiana was a breath of fresh air.  Much like the Garage Mahal that I fully intend on swinging by next year.

I'd love to round this up to 10 but this is what I got for now.  Life's too short and I haven't laughed enough yet.  I'll get back to ya on the other two before too long, I'm sure.

Thanks Kaye for re-lighting this blog's spark just a little ;)  

You ever been there?  Ever done something that seemed hilarious at the time but, given the ability to use the keen powers of hindsight, you realize that you just really looked like a huge ass? Yep.  That's where I'm sitting right at this very minute.  I'm always surprised at how novel or surprisingly new and uncomfortable this feeling is considering the fact that I'm comfortable knowing that I've become something of a clown in my almost middle age (and by almost I mean, my thinking  I'm middle-aged when in reality that's still a ways off...unless I'm destined to live only until I'm 66.  In that case, I'm right on target).  On a regular basis, I do things that cause my friends to turn to me and say, "Oh my god...aren't you so embarrassed?" I'm usually able to respond, "Um...no." There's a kind of freedom in embracing life in a bold, unconventional way.  I've grown completely used to laughing too loud or saying something completely true but with no tact whatsoever or exploring what can be a very zany, wildly creative side of myself.  All of this is done with a measure of my own moderation.  I decide who, I decide when, I decide...WHO! (That's a movie quote, by the way...if you can guess who said it I'll give ya...well, a well-deserved, validated feeling of accomplishing absolutely nothing...)  I think I feel dumb because I failed to moderate myself and know it.  So now I've left myself out there, hanging by a thinly veiled shroud of "Oh my god...I am so embarrassed."  These are the times when I wish that time itself was not forever etched in stone.  The past is done.  I'd like it not to be today, thanks very much.

Am I going to confess to you this most egregious social error?  Um...no.  The truth of the matter is that it doesn't matter.  I can almost guarantee that what you're thinking might have caused this feeling probably goes well above and beyond the actual event...probably.  What you're speculating happened most likely is not even remotely close...most likely. Truth be told, the details of the situation are immaterial at this point.  All you need to know is that I feel dumb.  And I think the only remedy is to try to forget it happened.

But since I can remember with pinpoint clarity the exact outfit I wore on my first day of school (that's right...kindergarten...) down to the socks I sported and how they felt on me (they were horizontal striped knee socks...the elastic band at the top was too tight...), I've got a long road ahead.

Ah well.  Se la vie. 

You should see what I'm wearing today.

I didn't intend to be the 67 inch Rainbow walking down Clinton Avenue this morning on may way to United Way.  But I realized well after I'd left the comforts of my little Rogers Park hovel that I was destined to be known as such for the rest of the day.  Here's how it happened:

I think I've pretty impressively and longitudinally documented my morning murkiness.  This is a chronic condition, always requiring some kind of caffeine to lift the fog.  This morning was one of those special days on which I absolutely knew I had to get downtown earlier than I have been.  So when 7:30 jangled, I shot out of bed and into the shower.  This action does not (DOES NOT!) mean that I am mentally awake.  It just means that for a short 30-40 minutes my body gets to run the show while my brain is still snoozing.  I put myself together and got out the door in time to catch the train I needed and as I sat down I felt pretty darn good about myself.  I even blew dry my hair this morning and remembered to brush my teeth (a rare coincidental pair). As I strode out of the train station and onto the sunny street I lightly remembered yesterday's melancholy and thought, "Huh...I knew today would be better."  And then I caught sight of myself in a massive pane glass window sported by one of the buildings on Clinton and now I knew exactly who I was going to actually be today: Johnny Depp in Willie Wonka. 

Allow me to paint you the picture.  Standing before me in the glass was a girl with longish blonde hair, black sunglasses, a red jacket with a brown lining covering up a partially buttoned egg-yolk yellow cardigan and an orange silk scarf.  Under the yellow sweater I have on a azure blue tank.  At this point, I thought I was wearing black pants which would have "grounded" the top portion of my outfit, but no.  My pants are a reddish brown color which somehow enhances the colors up top.  Oh, and I'm wearing khaki shoes.  I look like a bowl of Trix.

It was only yesterday that my friend Kristine told me that I'm one of two of her friends who has the potential to wear green pants to work.  I objected, challenging her to name the last time I worse anything that even resembled green pants.  I don't even own green pants.  Clearly, today, I see that's a good thing.

Because if I did, I'd surely be wearing them.

This is a first.  In some ways, it's very exciting. In others, I feel a little defeated.  But I think not for long.

Usually when I write about finding Zen I do so in a reflective state; I've had hours to think about something and Zen helps clear me.  But I am having a moment in which I need Zen right now.  I'm not sure why but I just hit this moment that made me enter the early stages of panic.  Honestly, I'm beginning to think this is a Sunday night thing.  I get all caught up in that and the scope of the week which leads me to the scope of the year which leads me to the scope of my life and the scope of the universe.  I was just thinking that I wonder how far down in my lineage (should I end up having kids) that my (not existing right now) prodigies will encounter the end of the world.  I'm not kidding.  This was my thought.

So I did 20 minutes of yoga and I feel better...at least I'm headed back onto the right track.  But what's so amazing about this moment is how fast my brain gets away from me.  It's also being evil in an inter-personal way.  I've been nothing but surrounded by people for the past 5 days including today.  Today I even was surrounded by people all doing things we absolutely love.  It was a great day.  All of a sudden, my brain starts suggesting that I might feel lonely.  That my friends don't really like me.  That people are making excuses to not spend time with me.  WHAT?!? Where is that even COMING from?!? That couldn't be even farther from what has transpired over the past couple days. Shut up, brain.

I think that has been my new insight into Yoga that I've never had before but that has really taken hold this time around.  This is not a linear activity.  You don't reach a certain stage and then "graduate" to the next level.  It's catching yourself at every moment that this starts happening and going back to "letting go."  If I can manage to take things one step at a time and concern myself with only one step at a time then my whole world becomes much more manageable. Expectations, good or bad, cease to exist. That becomes a much more relaxed and able way of being.  That I can handle.

Courtesy of my moment of Zen. 

Why is it that climbing up the stairs is so hard?

A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine challenged me by example to start taking the stairs more often.  Knowing that every day she climbs up 9 flights of stairs and I absolutely do not was driving me crazy.  I could climb up that far but I wasn't.  So I decided to make a more concerted effort to do it.  I haven't really caught my breath for about a week and a half now. But I'm trying to figure out why.  While I'm not the picture of health in every way (I just realized this morning that it's been almost six months since I've been to the gym...and I don't miss it AT ALL)...i.e. I consider beer a food group...there is no way that I can be SO out of shape that climbing up 5 measly flights of stairs renders me nearly un-functional for roughly 20 minutes.  It hasn't stopped me, but I'll admit it has slowed my resolve.

So here's the head scratcher for me: I can walk for roughly 27 miles without getting tired.  If I went to the gym this afternoon (which I won't, but if I did) I could get on the elliptical and do my thing without much thought.  Why are the stairs my greatest nemesis?  I have to believe there's a huge psychological factor involved.  I generally associate stairs with chest pain.  Maybe this is partially responsible.  I also don't like to sweat in my work clothes...so maybe this has translated itself into physical rebellion.

I don't know.  But whatever it is, I've never appreciated elevators so much.  Even the one in Damen Hall.

There are days when I wonder what people who legitimately have the power to change the world are thinking.  Let's take for instance, oh, the Pope. As we know from the Mike Myers juggernaut So I Married An Axe Murderer, the Vatican is part of the Pentavirate (along with the Queen, the Gettys, the Rothschilds, and Colonel Sanders with his wee beady eyes before he went tits up) who are the wealthiest people in the world who run everything including the newspapers and meet tri-annually at a secret country mansion in Colorado known as "The Meadows." 

In summary: The pope is powerful.  So when I see the headline in USA Today "OMG! Italian Catholics asked not to text during Lent," I'm bothered.  Now, I could jump to the time-tested argument of "The Vatican is so horribly out of touch with current day reality that this is typical and will be written off immediately by Catholics all over the world."  It's true, it's happening, and I say good.  The Pope might actually be losing his stronghold on the Pentavirate, at least in this country.  But, I have a different bone to pick today.  It's about this line from further in the article. The Pope's henchmen spokesman in the Modena diocese comments:

 

"It's a small way to remember the importance of concrete and not virtual relationships,"

I used Hotmail as my free, web-based e-mail for 10 years!  It's the longest commitment I've made in my life.  But when the spam filter on Hotmail became woefully inadequate and the themes were the equivalent of "pick pink or blue," I decided to check out this mystifying world that my friends were just raving about: Gmail.

I was reluctant.  I'm not sure why.  Would it accept my old username and password?  Would I have to put 12 digits worth of numbers into my new password?  Would it be set up the same? Could I import all of my contacts? Could I still effectively communicate online?  Would my world fall apart?  Being that I'm hopelessly connected to my e-mail, sometimes checking it in a way that others might fight pathologically obsessive, this was a re-creation of identity.

It's now been just about a month since I converted and I'm kicking myself.  It's true.  I ask myself daily, "WHY DID I NOT DO THIS BEFORE NOW?!?"  Because the truth is that Google rules.  No.  Google roogles. Allow me to list the ways that Gmail and all of its subsidiaries are so far superior to Hotmail, it makes stupid Hotmail look like scratching on the interior of a cave wall:

1. Inter-stellar pictures of planetoids currently wallpaper my inbox. I'm not kidding.  Yesterday it was a picture of Saturn, today a close-up of a star being born.  Regardless of the focus, the rest of the inbox is stars. It's a galactic inbox.  Even better: It used to be underwater pictures that would change as the day went on--you could watch the sun set from under the water...IN YOUR INBOX.  I've also used one (a popular choice) that shows the current weather in your city.  If it's sunny outside, so is your inbox.  Thunderstorming? Yep, you get it.  So is your inbox.  This gives me so much unmitigated pleasure, I can't even tell you.

Inbox

2. I now subscribe to *roughly* 13 blogs. Thank you Google Reader.  It keeps me updated on what blogs have new entries so I don't have to do that daily surf of all the blogs that don't have new entries.  It's blog management.  In my intergalactic inbox.  Who knew this was even possible?

3. I now make tasks (and check them twice). This little task list stays open all the time, so every time I long in, there it is: all the ways I can feel good about myself that day by doing something.  I can put in dates and details and when you check it off, it draws a line through the task.  A true sense of accomplishment.  I LOVE IT.

4. My (social...ahem...I mean work) Calendar is full.  How do I know? Google Calendar.  Which I can access from the interstellar inbox.  Which is so fairly intuitive, I can type in to the quick schedule thing, "Blog 10am" and it puts it in correct order relative to the other stuff going on.  It's color-coded.  And can manage multiple calendars at once! And it will invite people to things...only if appropriate...

5. I almost forgot the Greatest One:  DESKTOP NOTIFICATION. So, GoogleLabs (which is all of this beta testing) allowed me to download a little bit of software that sets an icon in my start bar that lights up and "dings" when I get a new e-mail.  This has absolutely set me free and here is why: the days of obsessive checking of e-mail only to be crushed when I have nothing new are over.  If I don't hear the ding, I keep doin' my thing.  If I do hear the ding, I drop ev-er-y-thang.  And go check e-mail.  Of course, in the days of Facebook notifying you if a friend in another country sneezes, this could potentially become totally annoying, but it isn't for now.  DING = A-MAZ-ING.

For people used to using Microsoft Outlook, this probably seems so not exciting.  For people without an e-mail obsession (who I inherently DO NOT understand), this might seem crazy.  But I was living for too long in the sub-standard haze of Hotmail.  Now, the only thing that could make Gmail better would be a background with daisies that waved in the wind.  But I'll languish happily in my Lost In Space Inbox for now.  This system makes me feel like I'm in "Flight of the Navigator" in that awesome, sleek silver spaceship...and I. am. the. Navigatorrrrrr....