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.

Austin > Most Everywhere

This week marks the 2nd year I've managed to stay on alive the great planet of Texas. I've survived insane heat, one of the worst droughts in the history of the state, countless hangovers, immeasurable auditory overstimulation, one legislative session, one mortgage, and one broken heart. And I still think I'm going to stay.

Just as expected, music has become my boyfriend, my best friend, my happiness, my only dependable thing. I'm forever grateful and in constant awe of the musical talent in this town. I will never tire of it.

I continue to be head over heals for Texas men. They are handsome, furry, rowdy things that talk kinda funny. And I'm essentially helpless against their charms. I love their beards and their trucks and their pet names and their boots. Even things like meat and football seem somehow sexier when done by a Texan man. Most males from the Lonestar State are also trained to treat women very kindly...the good ones anyway. They are lovely (fortunately plentiful) creatures.

(DC friends...sit down before reading this next bit.) I've become outdoorsy. Moving even beyond drinking on patios and "hiking" to martini bars greater than 10 blocks away, I now enjoy such activities as boating, swimming, and exploring places without sidewalks. I have my own tent and I joined a kickball team. I sometimes wear flats. Gasp! Olive has also taken to sunbathing in the dust and hunting. It is remarkable, albiet truly, truly unexpected and strange.

I still struggle to feel at home here but it has gotten easier I suppose. Missing my people is the hardest. People in Texas don't leave Texas. For that reason, they all have the same people they've had since pre-school. Gypsies are often looked at with suspicion or ignored completely. Being a gypsy, this is tricky territory. Being a super-social gypsy that hates to be alone, it is downright rotten for me sometimes. I often find myself puzzled by the unfair perception of the cold, hard, dangerous streets of DC, which to me were the most open, reliable, and loving I've lived.

I moved here for a reason though and it remains the same...I belong here better than any other place. Not perfectly or effortlessly. But, better.

I'll celebrate my 2-year likely with the usual whiskey shots and almost riding the mechanical bull at Rebels. And there may be tears like last year. Hopefully a few fewer.

Solid Ground

Going home to Nebraska was incredible. I hadn't been back for a year which is the longest I've ever been away. For the first time in a long while I was I looking forward to it. When I go home, there is a ritual...sweet corn, breakfast and exploring barns with Grandma, boating, Kelly's Fish Market, boutique shopping (and, somehow, always Walmart) with Mum. It is a great time.

I had some strangely sentimental moments. I sat very quietly looking at the Missouri River go past me on the new boat thinking about how lucky I am to have this and them and it. Maybe it was those swigs out of the Fireball bottle Dad talked me into but I felt so grateful to call Nebraska home. The corn fields looked so beautiful. Just being on the farm calmed me and assured me that the rough time I've had in Austin lately doesn't matter. I have everything I'll ever need just a short trip away.

Not so long ago, someone told me after meeting my family that they wanted to be part of that. "That" meaning the fun, chaos, love, and closeness of my family. 

Further defining the "that" is difficult and entertaining. We have our shit, like any other family, but I've truly never met anyone like us before. We drink and dance and carry on all night. My folks have a beautiful farm and lots of cool stuff. We are unstoppable at Flip Cup and my parents kiss a lot. Sure, "that" is pretty awesome. But the "that" is so much more than one might see from the outside. It is protection, commitment, tradition, and solidarity. It is reliable. It is forever. It is the feeling you get when you lie down on soft green grass in the sun...held up by the most solid thing ever but comfortable, playful, and beautiful. It felt really, really good to be home surrounded by "that."

I was honored when the person said it a while back and I noticed the same sentiment on this trip a few times. Turns out, lots of people want to be part of our pack. When I paid attention to how people react to us, I saw sparkles of envy in more than one eye. That kinda feels good too.

To that end, applications are now being accepted for pack membership. Competition will be fierce but membership has quite a list of perks (sunburn and hangover notwithstanding). Thanks for all the fun you guys!! I'll be back again soon.

♫ Back Where I Come From by Kenny Chesney

The Impossible Question

As an Air-sign cowgirl, I struggle constantly with keeping one toe on the ground and my thoughts lassoed. That's why I'm so glad there are other people.

I was touched by a recent blog post by Robin Anderson, a friend and colleague who regularly awes me with mindfulness and insight. This chick may have one full foot on the ground, maybe more! With severe honesty and frightening rightness, she asks about the thing we are most unable to define: love.

There are lots of different sorts of love, none any more or less understandable. Romantic love, love of God, familial love, self love...we know them when we feel them but like so many things, the exact sensation cannot easily be put to words. As a very small child, I used to test my love by asking myself if I would care if the object of my affection died. If I would care, then, yes, I loved them. Now, of course, things are much more complex. I've even tried to simplify it to love is the absence of hate. Not so. Love can exist with hate, turns out. Love can exist in spite of hate even. Fucking bizarre world we live in!

The part about Robin's post that I liked the best was that a repeated broken heart has taught her to love and be loving. Personal failures may very well be my forte, but learning from them is a strong-suit as well. I don't just hurt, rinse, repeat. Analysis and self-reflection (of both sides, however forcibly) is no fun, but it must be done, just like drinking water and sending thank you notes.

The point of love for me is strength in numbers. It is propping each other up so we don't have to sleep with our heads in the mud. It is why I cried in Moonrise Kingdom when the boy tells the girl, "I'm on your side." Good things can happen alone, but great things can happen when we are together.

Erich Fromm also has amazing insight on the sociology and science of love. This isn't your typical fluffy "love is everywhere" bullshit. This is separating the molecules of love to their atomic level. Has it helped me answer Robin's question? A little. But what has and will help even more is to keep doing what I'm doing: trying (and sometimes failing), flaws, fears, and all.

♫ Flaws And All by Beyonce