Nostalgia

I want to be here.

There are so many reasons I have Mexico on my mind, but ultimately it's my upcoming trip to Phoenix that's brought this on. I started thinking about the life I had in Arizona, and a little bit of it is coming back to me every day that I'm closer to being there, including everything about the many trips to Mexico. A wave of memories and nostalgia has hit me and I can feel this place, smell it and taste the salty, humid air and in my mind I'm there already. This photo may not portray the image of paradise for many people, but for me, there are few places in the world I'd rather be - a narrow view given my limited travel experience. But I think, at the end of the day, this place feels like home - and I wish I could be there again.

Success & Other Lofty Dreams

I've been thinking a lot about success. I don't even know what it means. I don't know when I'll know that I've achieved it, because I can't define it. I've been kicking around a couple of ideas, jokingly, with friends - but the other day, I started wondering why we were kidding around so much, when we could so easily turn our ideas into reality. With a little application, dedication and narcissism (harder to come by than the former two) we could potentially be as "successful" as anyone else out there, if only by our own definition of having given our ideas a shot.

Probably by anyone's standards (particularly in a recession) I've achieved a measure of success - but I don't feel it, or see it. There's always something more I could be doing, and somehow the hardest part is not actually completing the task but finding the motivation - and I don't know why. Why is it so difficult to just get moving and put a couple of ideas in motion? I think it's that the gap between my own definition of my success and the perceived level of success achieved by others is so great that to reach that "other" level seems completely out of the question, and thus causes me to quit before I've started.

I've got to stop thinking that, and just get started. Here's the thing: I don't know where to begin.

Change Has Come to America

I am:
happy
excited
exhilarated
moved
thoughtful
reminiscent
and
in awe.

The winds of change blowing through this country are warm, strong and bear on their currents a hope that I'm not sure I'll see again in my lifetime. Regardless of party affiliation, race, gender or color of skin, Americans today can and should rejoice in their freedom as citizens of the United States of America and embrace their ability to speak, act and live that freedom without fear of persecution. It is an historic day, and I thank my fortune to be a citizen of this fine country, and a proud supporter of our 44th President. Welcome, Barack Obama.

There's a Reason I'm Not an Artist

I hate my blog colors and layout, so bear with me while I try out new looks. I've been overly obsessed lately, as I feel the color scheme and design should be reflective of my personality - and, discovering that I can't find any one look that feels truly "me," I've been a little bummed out, because I feel like not being able to hit the nail on the head with my blog design reflects an indecisive and uninspired persona.

Perhaps my ever-changing blog more accurately represents me than I thought.

Luck & Delightful Surprises

On my morning walk with the dog last week, I saw this stick on the ground:


To me, it looks like a wishbone. So naturally, I tried to make a wish and pull off one of the tines, and discovered after much concerted effort that it couldn't be done. It would have been easy to think of that as unlucky - I made a wish, which by superstitious definition now cannot come true because I did not manage to pull off the bigger (or "lucky") tine from my wishbone stick. But I chose to think of simply finding the wishbone stick as a positive occurrence in my day. It wasn't about the ultimate outcome (a wish coming true) but more about what level of importance I personally placed on the situation. For example, if I think I am "lucky," then I will manifest luck in my life by simply recognizing positive events, which I choose to call "delightful surprises". A delightful surprise is can be anything - saving $1.50 on bus fare when someone offers you a ride instead, or finding a full bottle of shampoo in your cabinet just when you thought you were out (and running late). Delightful surprises are everywhere, in forms big and small, and when you have a positive mindset they can be overwhelming in their abundance.

I used to think I was unlucky - I always caught the catfish when my brothers and sister were bringing up silvery salmon, and I never found money on the ground the way my younger bro is prone to do (even now). But in my adulthood, I've realized that when we were fishing as kids, I always had less patience than everyone else (choosing to read a book rather than jig the line), which is why I never brought up the big one. And I never find money on the ground because I always look up or around me instead of down. So there's no lack of luck in my life, only a lack of dedicated attention when it comes to searching for dirty dollars on the city streets. I choose to find delightful surprises in every day - they might not come in the form of a tasty fish or loose change, but they're out there, if I only I am diligent in looking for them.

Succincticity

"Succincticity" isn't (obviously) an actual word; however, if it were, I think the definition would go something like this:

su-ccinc-ti-city: brevity of description and phrasing for optimum clarity of communication

Which, in itself, would be an oxymoron of descriptions, as clearly the description above is neither brief nor particularly clear. Which amuses me, as I created it. Sometimes I enjoy being deliberately obtuse. (Also, note that you couldn't even make this word in Scrabble - there aren't enough C's.)

Here's the thought of the day: sharper, clearer, more directed communication. This stems from several conversations I've had lately in which I've felt rather good about the dialogue at the time, and have second-guessed the hell out of my intended (or perceived) meaning after the fact.

So. I will attempt to shorten the content of this blog moving forward, for several reasons - but mostly because if I have something to say, I may as well get to the point.

The Senate

Last night, I ventured to the U District (feeling about 100 years out of my league, BTW - a tribute to my impending 28th birthday) to see The Senate, a folk-rocky, harmonic, acoustic group with incredible talent. The venue, Cafe Solstice, is a coffee shop that (blissfully) serves beer and wine as well. Stella in hand and just feet from the stage, we enjoyed an energetic show peppered with light humor between bandmates and a truly memorable version of The Band's "The Weight" at the end. You can't help but tap your toes, stomp your feet and clap your hands along with this group's rhythmic tunes - my current favorite being "Ocean Song," the folk version of John Mayer's "Your Body is a Wonderland," though the comparison doesn't really do The Senate justice. For a group so young, they have a backwoods melancholy that belies their age and brings to mind Southern plantations and Appalachian mountains, and the truly heartfelt voice inflection in some of their more personal songs is a tribute to their songwriting capability.

The Senate, rocking their "face-melting acoustic riffage".

Moreover, I was so happy and content just to be out, frosty beverage in hand and surrounded by string-plucking melodies. At the end of the day, sometimes, it just don't get no better'n that.

The Great Fire of '09

Let's refer to this incident as The Great Fire of '09. Perhaps that sounds a little dramatic, given that the most damage done was to my poor lampshade (below), the ceiling (which I haven't been able to properly clean) and Baylor's paws, which became black with soot almost instantly. However, I'm hoping that by referring to this relatively small blaze as the "Great Fire" I will consequently be spared similar incidents in the future. Of course, probably a little more attentive caution exerted on my part would contribute to my personal safety as well.

So here's what happened: on a dry but gray Sunday afternoon last week, I was attempting to return to a semblance of normalcy after the holidays by cleaning, organizing and preparing for the week ahead. With the ubiquitous laundry mostly put away and an evening ahead in which to relax, I lit a few candles, including a lovely homemade beeswax taper given to me by a coworker. This was my first mistake, as I generally don't like to light tapers to begin with (too easy to knock over and start fires, as well as often drippy and waxy). My second mistake was in not trimming the wick quite enough. And my third mistake was in placing the taper several inches from my favorite kitchen lamp, which ought to have been far enough away, but for the lack of wick trimming. So, taper burning merrily, I turned away for a short time - probably 30 seconds - and suddenly began to smell smoke.

My first thought was that the taper was just burning more pungently than my other candles, and as I turned around to check on it, I discovered that both the top of the taper and my lamp were engulfed in flames! Not wanting to electrocute myself, I attempted to unplug the lamp - and unplugged the computer in my panic instead. Running around into the kitchen, I managed to yank the lamp cord out of the wall, drop all the burning items into the sink and attempted to douse the fire with water. By this time, the ceiling of the whole apartment had filled with roiling black smoke, the fire alarm was beeping incessantly, the dog had retreated tail between legs to the bathroom and the fire was still burning, and in fact, getting larger. Frantically looking for a towel to pat the fire out with (ha), I continued running water over the lamp, which finally succumbed to the cool wetness and died.

My place was still filled with smoke (and I was more terrified of the fire department showing up and getting in trouble than my own personal safety) so I ran to open the windows, turned on my floor fan full bore and began madly waving a towel around to get the smoke out. I managed to hit the reset button on the fire alarm, and thankfully, avoided the wrath of of those more fire-savvy men (though truthfully, it was a little disappointing - I mean, what girl doesn't want the fire department to show up?).

All in all, the whole episode lasted about 5 minutes, start to finish.

Here, the blackened remains of my faithful lamp, which provided warm light in 6 apartments across 3 states 1999 - 2009:

The most alarming part was simply how quickly it all happened - even in my 720 square foot studio, had I been even in the shower at the time, it could have been SO much worse. I laughed about it immediately after (with shaky relief) but fully recognize how fortunate I am. What I think happened was that the taper's wick simply burned much too quickly, causing a large flame that somehow caught the lamp next to it (which, let's face it, after almost 10 years of travels can't possibly have been particularly flame-retardant). This incident made me truly appreciate and respect the power of fire - and caused me to think twice about the candles I choose to light in the future.

So, my "relaxing" evening was spent cleaning the soot that fell over everything, and comforting the dog, who refused to come out of the bathroom for several hours. However, at the end of the day, if that's the worst that happened...well, I am very fortunate indeed.