Not the same ACL without him

Almost a year ago, I lost the friend that told me to never take Advil for a hangover, especially during the 72-hour ACL binge. To do so was "sending my liver into a gun fight with a knife." I lost a friend that, even though I knew him only briefly, was one of the most precious of my new Austin friends.

I still think about him every day without fail and wonder what things would have been like had he been around to offer direction. Things, I believe, would have been so very different.

After Travis died, I was never able to console my now ex-boyfriend, Travis' best friend, who was devastated by the loss. In turn, he offered me no comfort either. I was told I was a failure because I could not take the pain away. Bringing him back was the only solution, a task I was indeed quite incapable of performing.

A failure, however, I am not. I try, just like everyone, my hardest. I miss him, just like everyone...with an intensity that is unspeakable, with a sadness in which I dare not even indulge.

If I could have lessened the pain for my man, my friends, Travis' family, the state of Texas, the universe, believe me, I would have. But that isn't how these things work. We all take a piece of the pain and carry it whether we are strong enough for the extra load or not. That is the burden you accept when you love someone like we all loved Travis. Like all things we love, to have them taken is a risk we must be prepared for, a weight we must be ready to bare without warning.

And so I try to carry my grief with gratitude. I don't always do it gracefully. I don't always do it right. But I do it, always. Because like I said a year ago, there is no greater thanks for the sadness I feel because I'm one of the lucky ones that gets to miss him.

I miss you, my dear friend. ACL won't sound the same without you. I wish you could be there to sing along to Avett Brothers with me. But, I have my tarp ready and I've chosen Jack White instead of that old guy. I know you'll be listening. 

Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise by The Avett Brothers

Thank you, beautiful friends

It's official. I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Today is my birthday and I'm overwhelmed by the love sent my way.

Beginning yesterday, because some of my friends live in hemispheres where everything is done a day early, I started getting love notes and it has been heartwarmingly constant since. With a midnight knock on my door for shots and the best shih tzu snuggle alarm clock, my special day has been too good to be true, and it is only lunchtime. My phone has been buzzing every few minutes all night and morning long and I'm quite overwhelmed by my beautiful pack members; old, new, close, and far. Thank you all so, so much. You amaze me to tears. There is nothing more precious to me than friendship.

Mum is arriving in a few hours for a packed weekend of music, fishing, overeating, and (knowing the Queen of Pirates) mischief. It is going to be a weekend (um...maybe more like a month) of memories for sure. I'll post photos of my fishing catch...with the luck I know I have for being friends with all of you, I know I'm going to catch a whopper.

Worth It

I recently heard a story about Pablo Picasso. He was asked by a fan at a café to sketch a drawing on a napkin. He did and then asked her to pay him $10,000. Shocked and unwilling to pay, she retorted that the drawing had only taken him a few seconds. He replied, “No, my dear, it took me 30 years.”

Self-worth of this magnitude is impressive, possibly even valid. But it isn’t self-worth that is important to me in this story. It is that worth takes time, hard work, even failure. Worth isn’t arbitrary, it is earned. Worth doesn’t declare itself. It is given and taken based on a complex formula of needs, wants, and perceptions.

Of course, there are things in life that are monumentally undervalued and foolishly overvalued. Look at the wage divide between teachers and NFL players. Look at the price of an engagement ring and the price of a divorce…ironically similar, huh? And if you can pay for both in less than two years, perhaps they should both cost more. Even taking into account my own “values”, I’m almost ashamed to admit I spend more on alcohol than I do on groceries. Almost.

Clearly, there can be a binary between what something is worth and its value or cost. For example, friendship. In my opinion, friendship is one of the most valuable things a person can posses. But adults treat it cheaply, at least in my early-30’s world. This is one (possibly the only) place highschoolers have it right. Death is preferable to hurting a friend in highschool. Adults do it all the time.

Can you really not buy love? Yes, you can. The good stuff costs kindness, patience, flexibility, and love back. You can and you must invest. This shit is NOT free. I’ve also met my fair share of golddiggers in Texas who would argue to the grave that you can buy it. I’ve contemplated becoming one of these people but decided the karmic payback is just too terrifying.

Self-worth is another tricky one. After you determine what you’re worth, are you confident and proud when you reveal the price? Alternatively, are you red-line pricing things that should never be discounted? Picasso sure knew his worth. He knew because some valued him as much as he did. He also felt he had earned it.

Worth may not be arbitrary but it is definitely relative. It can stand alone, but alone it just might be. Worth that isn’t worthy usually gets forgotten anyway. I’m going to try to remember that the next time I have to determine worth or the next time I negotiate my own value. I’m going to try to make sure that worth = value which means it isn’t that complex of a formula after all.

My Dad Gets Around

Today is my Dad's birthday. He's 55 which makes him nearly ancient. I'm shocked how close in age we seem to get every year I get older. Hmmm.... Anyway, my Dad once gave me a very useful piece of advice:

The best way to get from where you are to where you want to be is to not stop moving.

As the owner of a trucking company and one in a long line of successful farmers, he knows a thing or two about getting from here to there. He argued against the popular advice that a "straight line" is the best path. Being an arrogant teenager, I'm sure I argued him right back and like most cerebral arguments with my parents, I learned in hindsight he was correct all along.

The path, quite frankly, is never a straight line. There are bumps, turns, potholes. The whole damn path could be washed away or simply end abruptly without any signage. You yourself could experience a blowout or just run out of gas. If it goes in a straight line too long, assume you are going in the wrong direction and start worrying.

I have used his advice countless times in life, from schoolwork to break ups, from my career to the purchase of my first home.  In fact, I pretty much live by it. I haven't really ever stopped moving and have a string of hometowns and families to show for it.

I'm not quite sure yet if either of us has ever gotten from here to any sort of final there. I'm not sure either of us are even sure where "there" is. But, Dad and I have definitely gotten around and that is pretty awesome.

Thanks for teaching me to keep on truckin', Dad. Many more happy birthdays!

Hi. I'm Crazy.

Giving my phone number to strangers is risky business. First, I rarely like anyone so being on the hook to respond to phone calls and texts is a massive chore for me. Second, most people are crazy.

Exhibit 1: Gave phone number to ok-looking male at neighborhood convenience store. He immediately texts that it was good to meet me. Now I have his phone number. Makes sense. He had also given me his card. Very professional and polite. I'll refer to said male from this point on as "Crazy."

Crazy: Why do you have a Colorado phone number? Ha!

My internal monolog: I realize some folks in Texas have a difficult time grasping that there are places outside of Texas from which someone might be. I also realize that many people in Texas find it very difficult to leave Texas. I do, however, feel a bit befuddled by the acute shock that I'm from another land so far away and exotic as Colorado. Furthermore, the fact that I have a Colorado number can really only mean one thing: I once lived there. Further furthermore, why is it funny?

My actual response: I went to undergrad at Boulder.

Crazy: I thought I'd send you a completely random photo of me and my friends at a burger restaurant that also sells cupcakes. Ha!  (I'm not exaggerating. He actually did this. I'd left the convenience store about 10 minutes ago.)

My internal monolog: Um, thanks...(I'm still wondering what is so goddamn funny.)

My actual response:

Crazy: Would you like to go to happy hour on Friday? (This is the morning after meeting at the store.)

My internal monolog: Yeah, probably, as long as nothing more fun comes up. I appreciate you asking a few days in advance. I'll respond when I get off work.

Crazy (a few hours later): Why are you avoiding me? Yes, I'm calling you out.

My internal monolog: You're effing crazy and I never want to meet up. I'll respond to your texts when I'm good and ready and not a second before, maybe not at all. And that's perfectly alright. So there. I hate that shit.

My response: I just got home and actually I think you might be a bit full on for my taste. Please lose my number.

Within 24 hours of meeting him I got 12 texts (compared to my 2 responses). The final few were comically insane. I was scolded for being adverse and unresponsive to so many texts when anyone else would simply find them friendly. I was also chastised for not using his business card to stalk him online. If I had I would have known that I was lucky to have received so many texts from him because he is such an upstanding citizen and generally awesome guy. Very kindly, his final text apologized that he had led me to so presumptuously think he was into me. He was just trying be friendly to a neighbor and hopes someday I'll be a normal person. Whew...what a relief?! Now Olive and I don't have to wear wigs and sunglasses to the convenience store.

If he's normal, I'm so glad to not be.

Smile Therapy

When I taught yoga a million years ago in Boulder I used to do a guided meditation with my students called the Inner Smile. You simply closed your eyes and visualized all your bits smiling. And by "all," I mean it literally, from your brain all the way to your toes, allowing your organs, limbs, every cell to radiate what is typically delegated only to teeth and lips. After about 7 minutes, I would ask them to open their eyes. Without fail, they would all have this strange (almost creepy) smile on and they would slowly lumber out into the world, my guess is to give someone a hug. It was awesome.

Fast forward a few million years in DC where I saw What The Bleep Do We Know!?, a documentary about quantum realities and the interconnectedness of our emotional world and our actual world. 

One of my favorite parts of the documentary was when they showed how words like "love" and "patience" create beautiful ice crystals from water while words like "hate" and "war" create jumbled crystal patterns. (This is research done by Emoto.)  I'm not saying I believe every word. In fact, I'm a natural skeptic. But, pleasantries and blind hope keep me from flinging myself off national landmarks so I try to go with it. This was an interesting concept especially considering humans are 70-80% water. I also liked in the film that she draws smiley faces all over her body with marker. I've always wanted to do it because it reminds me of the Inner Smile meditation. 

The other day I decided to document my smiling patterns, mostly because I realized I hadn't done it much lately. I didn't try to pinpoint why (that's easy...left all my best friends in DC, emotionally vacant relationship with latest boyfriend, a stranger in a new town with little direction, job on the fritz, etc. Nothing especially unique here.) I wanted to conscientiously smile at every single person I saw for a whole day and see what happend, both to me and to them. 

It was a pretty cool day. I got invited places, flirted with, kissed, serenaded, and asked for my phone number, all in about 4 hours time, all by different people. I was certainly on a cloud and I appeared to cheer up everyone in sight. This is an experiment I suggest everyone try right away. I wasn't smiling out of my ear or kidneys but my mouth seemed to suffice.

I'm not sure if smiling can change the universe but it certainly can't hurt. It is infinitely more useful than pouting, scowling, or flipping the bird. So I am on a new mission of smiling, much like that dude in Ally McBeal, even if I don't feel like it. If nothing else, a wise friend of mine told me recently over martinis that "sometimes, girl, you just have to fake it till you make it." Indeed.

Air will take the shape of any container. It can be compressed or it will naturally expand as far as it is allowed. Air plays nice with most other elements. It lives side by side with Earth. It is a integral, yet nonreactive component of Water. Fire requires Air. This need is rapacious, however. Fire uses up Air until there isn't any left. To be, Fire must destroy Air in a way it cannot other elements. It is in this complex relationship that Fire exists at its strongest. But where does that leave Air?

Gone. Running for the hills, hiding in dark corners or up high, hoping Water comes to the rescue. It is not a pretty sight.

Fire must be careful not to use up all the Air, even though the supply seems infinite. Just like Water better not put out all the Fire, just like Earth should not confine Water, Fire should be mindful of its strength and appetite. It may not mean to, but Fire can really fuck things up with the one thing it needs. Both end up nonexistent.

Air may be invisible but it is everywhere and pretty darn useful. It has to try really hard to be noticed, but take it away and you'll be sorry. So folks, be extra nice to Air the next time you run into it (which will be now. And again now. And now.) Listen, even though the voice may be tiny and see however the transparency. It can't carve canyons, it doesn't hold your highrise up, and it can't cook you a steak, but it is good and deserving anyway.