The Space Between Lazy and Crazy

I’ve recently found myself with the desire to take naps. This is something that has never happened to me before. I could never work with naps - I would wake up more tired and I would be especially frustrated that I had to get up and still be awake. My conclusion, therefore, was it was not beneficial to give my body a little extra rest if I condemned myself to being an unpleasant zombie the rest of the afternoon. Since I’ve made this move, however, I’m not only finding extra time in my life that I didn’t remember existed, but I’m wanting to spend some of that time taking naps. They still don’t feel as though they give me a store of energy that will last me another 12 hours, but my body is certainly thankful. 

The distress I’m feeling is in relation to laziness. Given that naps aren’t historically in my schedule, and since taking a nap can’t involve checking e-mails or running errands, the critical voice in my head is yelling at me that I’m going to become excessively lazy. So I’m feeling guilty that I’ve accepted the Way of the Nap. The way I’ve been living has involved taking bags of clothes/shoes/books/papers/computer/toiletries with me when I leave my house in the morning because I’m going from work to the gym to a meeting to rehearsal and then back home by 11, midnight, if it’s an early night. Then when I’m home, if I’m lucky I’ll get a chance to read for 5 minutes before I pass out from exhaustion. Then I wake up the next morning and do it all over again. It’s finally becoming fully clear that wasn’t healthy either. 

So I’m looking for the balance, as we look for a balance in most everything in ourselves. Moderation, harmony. I have pretty good physical balance. Too bad I can’t just transfer that skill over into my mental faculties. And stressing about taking naps kind of defeats the purpose that my body is calling for - to relax my body. 

I’m good at holding my body up, keeping it going when it feels like it’s going to fall. I started that in school, when classes were so dull and I had to fight to stay awake. I’m sure everyone’s experienced this - it’s extremely unpleasant. Then, I had a job in sales where I had to drive an hour and a half to my territory every morning quite early - so I had to drink caffeine or other energy beverages and was still fighting not to fall asleep at the wheel. And of course on the weekends I would get a migrane from Red Bull withdrawl. This intensity of trying to do something every minute of every day continued and I made a habit out of being the warrior who could do as much as possible and keep her eyes open. Aside from my sales job I have only had  short bouts of energy supplement dependencies - normally I go it alone, without caffeine. So there was a sense of pride in that, too. 

Taking pride in squeezing activity into every moment, when it wasn’t necessarily creative or useful to my life in any way, wasn’t really worth it. Or that impressive. It brings up the issue of my pride in general. Naps? Caffeine? Ha! They are for the weak. I will stay up FOREVER and the only thing to aide me will be my WILL. 

Not sure who’s impressed by that, but I’m realizing I’m not. 

So I’m thinking I’ll make a commitment to work very hard when I’m in work mode, but also allow myself to have rest mode and creative mode. Creative mode didn’t exist for awhile either, but I seem to have found it - or at least I’m scraping at the door. 

In between lazy and crazy, there seems to be space. 

Adsurb

You can find hundreds of these all over the Internet, but I thought my blog wouldn't be complete if I didn't include a few of my favorites:

The creepy look on her face makes me think more about a bloody piece of toast for baby Cannibal, rather than the excitement of see-through, cellophane bread bags. 

But....why???

How soon is too soon to encourage diabetes and addiction? 

Tough question. 

Yes, you absolutely will feel much better about your toothache. 

Maybe if the man learned to put a stamp on a letter, he wouldn't feel so helpless 
and he could ignore the woman's stubborn drama.

Banished. I absolutely love that it will 'banish' your fat. Those sanitized tapeworms will usurp your insides and exile your fat. Or...the tapeworm eats the fat and stays in your system, and your body gets destroyed by a tapeworm and the enemy that is shortening your life has only become the enemy that is less of a threat to your life than the tapeworm you just ingested. 

And the winner...

This needs no commentary. 

Digging Deeper

One of the reasons for creating my blog was that I wanted to express my thought processes and struggles.  I wanted to be able to resonate with others and maybe even clarify things for them that they hadn't seen before, while also learning about myself. However, I then imagined going into deep, rambling analyses of myself that wouldn't be interesting for others to read at all. So I came up with the idea of a little section I would like to call "Digging Deeper"
(until I come up with something more poetic :-p)

The idea is to share different characters - that aren't completely me, and aren't completely unlike me either - and analyze what they say and what they mean. So often, people are triggered when speaking to someone, and they respond defensively in order to preserve some element of themselves. Ironically, it might be that they are protecting the very thing they dislike about themselves and that has just been triggered. This happens when the thing they hope to change about themselves has become such a deep habit that they don't realize what they are protecting. Consequently, what results is a response that doesn't really get to the heart of the person's fears and emotions. 

Of course, there are a lot of instances in our social dynamics where we do say what we mean. Those are the times that we aren't feeling in question about our most insecure crevices. But, when we are not saying what we mean, we usually think we pretend pretty well and other people can't see the truth. Generally, though, we are more transparent than we realize.

So what I wanted to do was take different elements of myself and other people, how they respond and react to what is true, and share a little dual-commentary. The first is what the person would say to the world, and the second is what they really are worried about being true. It's just for fun. And it's about no one specific. Just a little literary cognitive analysis. 

The Disrespected

It’s amazing how disrespectful people can be - I’m talking consistently, and without cause. So often I will try to have a conversation with someone and they will interrupt me and start talking about themselves without even acknowledging what I’ve been saying. They are all so self absorbed, and it doesn’t seem worth it to open myself up to people and talk to them at all. At this point, the only time I'm willing to interact with them is when I have to, in regards to work, or going to the store - that sort of thing. Other than that, I have no interest in wasting my time trying to talk at selfish, robotic minds. It’s shocking because I certainly think it’s important that humans communicate with one another. And you would think that people would get that and try to hear one another, rather than be disrespectful and wallow in their personal dramas. It isolates us all, and I think that’s pretty ridiculous. 

The Unheard

I feel like I’m not being listened to. It really upsets me when no one hears me - when they interrupt me and start talking about something else. It makes me feel as though what I’m saying is irrelevant. It’s happened enough that I’m not really interested in speaking up. It doesn’t feel worth it because everyone seems to think that I’m not worth listening to. What’s important to me must not be relevant to most other people, and so what I’m saying is offered with less and less confidence. How can I feel confident if people aren’t receiving the words I am giving? It really helps to have a sounding board - someone to give me feedback and acknowledge that I’m thinking thoughts and that they mean something to someone else. Without that feedback, I feel like I’m nothing. People are supposed to seek out connections and strive to understand one another, aren’t they? I don't know how to feel justified in speaking anymore.

Roombots

I recently came across a fascinating new project in the robotics world that I am excited to share: http://birg.epfl.ch/page65721.html. They are called Roombots, and they are being developed by the Biologically Inspired Robotics Group, from the educational institution Ecole Polytechnique Federale De Lausanne. Basically, what we’re talking about here is furniture that reconfigures itself. Self-reconfiguring modular robotic machines, if we’re going to be technical. And when it’s not functioning as a piece of furniture to rest your tired feet, it can assemble itself out of the way as a random box or part of the wall.

I’m not sure about the aesthetic beauty of the first round of Roombots -  I imagine they would be pretty bulky. Unlikely they could stand against the wall with their eyes closed and not be seen. Nonetheless, this is a pretty interesting concept. No need to buy a whole furniture set - buy a few Roombots and have only the furniture you need, whenever you want to relax/recline/eat dinner/take a breather/use the toilet.

It’s looking like they may not yet be able to hand over their pieces to another Roombot if one needs to become significantly larger for it’s next trick - it might be manual for now. But, sharing robotic parts and autonomous repair is definitely in the works. They are pretty darn smart already, though  - their locomotion and store of knowledge regarding the types/shapes/sizes of furniture they can configure into would be unknown a-priori - they would learn over time, as they got familiar with their new homes, what they could and were requested to turn into. 

In conclusion: if any robots are going to develop artificial intelligence, I’m happy with it being my furniture. Besides being moody and not ‘feeling like’ being a couch one day, awareness doesn’t pose too much of a threat from my coffee table. Although, it does begin an uncomfortable thought process regarding servitude - using intelligent, aware beings as our footstools. Maybe when it gets to that stage we’re going to have to reconsider and decide how badly we need our furniture to spontaneously manifest, rather than reliably lounge around with us in our homes. 

The Existentialist

The existentialist believes that every person is uniquely isolated in an indifferent universe. There are a lot of negative associations with existentialism (such as the world being hostile and thwarting every intention you try to bring into being), but there are certainly some positive elements to it. Self-reliance, setting intentions, being responsible for shaping your life - to extrapolate a few. Taking responsibility for personal choice is of the highest import, because accepting it is accepting there’s no blaming someone else for the way your life unfolds. All of these are powerful for individual growth and can be found within the general ideologies of existentialism. 

The ironic and often negating element that edges its way into these positive factors is the hostile/indifferent universe. Why offer anything into the universe, when it could care less, or it will only make you doubt the worth of what it is you are offering? The near impossible struggle of understanding yourself and just what it is you are speaking out into the universe becomes that much more beyond reach. Many times, the natural response when we recognize the universe in this way is to go inward.

I deeply resonate with this. I’ve considered myself an existentialist for the better part of my life - there aren't too many in recent generations who haven't. It’s pretty popular these days, and not just because it seems ‘cool’. With the increased hostility towards the religious structures and a variety of institutions more loudly advocating focus on personal intention and choice, its natural to slide into. Even moreso when you are at a particularly frightening crossroads into the unknown. When I was young, and I put myself out there only to be immediately rejected, I took the easy way out. I might have fought a little at the start, but once I realized I could escape into my isolation and offer nothing to the apathetic universe, there didn’t seem to be a reason why I would do otherwise. 

But I also acknowledged that being depressed in isolation was an entirely unsatisfying way to exist, even in my solo universe where I had complete control. Therefore, I developed my existential motto, “If nothing means anything, then I should enjoy everything”. Why criticize and loathe what’s around me, when I could just laugh about it and do my best to see the good in my present moment? It seemed a great motto, and I claimed to live by it. What I didn’t realize was twofold: first, my motto was rather intelligent and spoke more deeply than I yet realized, and second, I only acted on my motto in the external world - I didn’t at the time realize that ‘enjoy everything’ included myself. Self-loathing could still exist. So I was stuck in a cycle of claiming to enjoy everything when I didn’t like myself. Therefore I didn’t actually enjoy the world around me, and I became frustrated that I wasn’t happy even though, “I have the right motto!” 

Gotta talk the talk AND walk the walk. Yes, of course. So although I can’t say I don’t still criticize and yell at myself, I have a better vision of enjoying my present moment - in it’s entirety. And seeing it brings me one step closer to actualization. The full conclusion I’m coming to, which debunks the above negativity and I felt was worth sharing is: If I enjoy everything, in spite of it not having a ‘bigger’ meaning, the most complete way I can be in enjoyment is to radiate my enjoyment, whether I am alone or in the presence of others. That enjoyment is what people will most deeply resonate with. It is my gift. I don’t have to somehow filter the gift that I will offer, and sit back biting my nails, wondering if they will enjoy it. When I speak, create, dance, love in the moment and enjoy it for the simple fact that it is my moment and I am fully there, that’s when I’ve offered myself - that’s when I’ve been expressed. 

That’s certainly worth putting my faith into. And encouraging others to do the same. 

The Interview

The Interview

I recently had an interview for a job. It was to be the potential main source of income for my new, more expensive locale on the west coast. It seemed to align with my skill set and offer the casual scheduling that would integrate well with my intent focus on creative works. Turns out, I didn’t take the job. Although I decided to leave before the end of the application ‘production’, I came away with a very fascinating story from Act 1. 

My preparation for the interview involved bringing my computer to a cafe where I could be on the computer as well as on the phone (the place I’m staying can’t guarantee both reliably). I was feeling relaxed on my way to the interview, but a little later, I was sitting in an entirely full cafe except for one seat along the little bar next to me.  I was directly behind the smoothie blender (and therefore periodically being deafened), not knowing what the phone interview was going to entail and if I’d be able to hear my interviewer, and not knowing what specifically I would need the internet for (it had been a pre-requisite). To top it all off, I was 2 minutes to the time we were supposed to connect, and I had just run over from another cafe that had decided to mention they were closing in 15 minutes right after I had bought tea and a cookie and had gotten myself settled in. Beyond that, my cell phone was receiving no service even this far into town, so I turned it off and on again, hoping the ‘what the hell! we’re in a serviceable area!’ jolt would do the trick. And so it did. Less than 30 seconds after I turned it on, I received the call from “Blocked”. Good start. 

The reason my phone interview was fascinating has to do with the structure as well as the content. Immediately after the standard pleasantries, I was told to open up a Word document and begin transcribing our conversation - verbatim. Interesting. So I open up Word and she continues talking - rife with ‘likes’ and ‘ok, so’ and ‘ums’ - Am I supposed to write all of these down? As she’s speaking somewhat circuitously, a man taps me on my shoulder. Frantically, I look over as I’m still trying to type and listen, while the man points to my bag on the seat next to me and says, “Can someone sit there?” in a way that was probably friendly enough, but the shock and frazzle that was swelling in me took it as an angry demand. Now I’m hastily nodding to him, pulling my bag from the chair, dropping it beside me, shifting my smoothie and computer over a few inches, trying to type as she asks me a question that I’m not sure I remember the beginning of, and I’m trying to catch enough to write something that is at least in the ballpark.

By the time she stops talking, the man is comfortably beside me, on his computer, giving me the ‘look’ because now I’m the rude woman on the phone. My voice drops a few decibels, to be more respectful - I don’t doubt that it’s raised a bit since this all started. I begin answering her question, from the last thing she said. As I try to work backwards, I realize that I don’t at all know the first thing she asked - its not in my memory or on my Word document. I clumsily taper off with a response that seems open-ended enough to potentially answer her question but opens the door for her to ask it again in another way if there was something left unsaid. She moves forward. I take a breath, but I’m not inhaling much relief. 

She immediately tells me that I will need a separate e-mail account if I am to work with them. Ok, I say. The phone then cuts out and I sit in about twenty seconds of awkward silence followed by her saying, ‘Let me know when you have it set up.’ I frantically type “Let me know when you have it set up” as I try to will Gmail to open simultaneously and sign out of my current account so I can get to the form to sign up for a new one, since I’m obviously behind and she’s been waiting for me to get my new e-mail address. Does she have a stopwatch on the other end, seeing how long it takes me to set up the account? Did I somehow just become a puppet that she’s ordering around and making a little crazy? It’s clear that the answer to both is likely - yes. Nonetheless, I decide to accept it, largely out of sheer curiosity to see where this is going. I continue typing.

Create the account, open Google Docs and find the documents she’s dropped in. Open one to make sure I have access to the file. The tests of my competancy, it seems. And of my ability to be puppeted. I’m in strange water at this point. I know what she’s doing and we’re certainly on the path to nowhere, but I’m so very curious. And as a reward for my curiosity, things are about to get stranger. The file she has me open as a test? Regards allergies and a scent-free environment. 

Now, I myself have a number of allergies, so it isn’t much of a lifestyle change to avoid an environment with lots of perfumes and strongly scented deoderants - although I do have a love of sage and incense (my allergies have been kind to me in that regard). This, however, is not exactly the environment they are talking about. 

Three day detox, and a list of usable, unscented products that I must use before I even show up to my face to face interview. I can use only a washer and dryer that do not use other detergent or fabric softeners, and I have to shower in baking soda. And since I’ve got dyed hair, I get to wrap it up in a baking soda soaked towel when I come in for the interview - and that’s all before my sniff test. 

Ok. I understand chemical allergies and I would hate to cause anyone suffering. Nonetheless. And, you know, what I don’t understand is that my ‘employer’ is pretty active in the world. Lots of traveling - hardly home. I can’t imagine everyone my ‘employer’ encounters has had time to do a 3 day detox before meeting. Perhaps it’s an effort to keep my employer’s home a safe haven and it really isn’t as severe as they make it sound. It’s just a little intense for me, who has just moved out here and is staying with her boyfriend and his roommates. I can’t demand they use certain laundry detergents - or baking soda. I won’t, in fact. And I won’t change into randomly donated garments that have been detoxed and live in the garage of my employer’s house every time I come to work.

We have gone quite beyond our crossroads already.

But I continue with the conversation. And once it’s been asked of me to respond to 15 different documents that are on Google Docs, pasting them into the body of e-mails and writing questions or comments on them, BEFORE I meet with them for the official face to face interview in three days, WHILE I am doing the detox process and buying new toiletries - I’ve pretty much lost the will to type this inanity verbatim. But at that point the conversation is over, and I am able to stare at the computer screen, at my frantic, misspelled notes, and then throw my stuff together and escape from the noisy, crowded 
cafe. 

I felt a bit like I had just been hit over the head with a rubber chicken. I wasn’t sure if it hadn't hurt me and I was fully oriented, or if I was totally out of whack and actually on the ground, looking at the kaleidoscope of colors crossing my vision from the rubbery assault. Yet I made it back to my car, and arrived home. After a wonderfully entertaining discussion with my boyfriend where he deduced I was in the midst of a cult initiation, I chose to forgo work on my hours of homework (my interviewer assured me some files would take 3-4 hours by themselves) and detox procedures. 

I gave up a gem, there, I know  :-p Thanks, craigslist. You bring something fascinating into my life. 

I find myself...

I find myself far from where I’ve started. I am sitting at my computer - excitedly dreaming and worrying  -  and also realizing that I’m home. I’ve come this far for a reason - a noble one, at that, if I may say so. I’ve come here to fully release the me who I’ve been fighting to keep hidden for so long. I feel so much possibility. I feel the first wisps of Relief’s breath. But she’s followed me. That nasty little voice in my head that renders it almost impossible to discern exactly what I’ve hidden. She’s still perched on my shoulders, criticizing every choice I make. And as she babbles in my ear, I realize that I had lost sight of who I am. Although I could sometimes see myself when I looked in the mirror, in fits and starts, she certainly made it inconsistent enough that I had trouble remembering what I was looking for. In fact, despite knowing that I was here and had a lot to say, I hadn’t been able to find myself at all...

This blog was and is meant to seek out and communicate valuable insights and inspirations. To encourage discussion about the ironies we face as we slowly succumb, with intention, choice and power, to our human nature. And of course, to laugh. The ironic situation where I've found myself, in the search for 'me' that I am now undertaking is that I wanted to begin this blog fully informed, fully inspirational, and fully me. I was ready to claim myself as a writer, but I wasn’t prepared to be expressed, or offered into the public domain, until I was ready. How amusing, you may say. Or, how true it is that we fear, almost to paralysis, what we do not know for sure that we will be successful in doing. I seem to have some coherent thoughts running through my head - isn’t it better to put them out into the world rather than hope for their instantaneous evolution into already published, professional prose? 

Well, despite all of my stubbornness and her nagging, my loved ones’ wisdom stood firm: If I wait until I’m ‘ready’, I’m going to let my whole life pass by before anyone has seen me. And I’m not willing to let that happen. The things I want to express in here will fall within the context of a person who is still exploring herself and the world. And I think a lot of people will be able to resonate with that and be able to offer insight as well as gain some personal understanding. So I am beginning the discussion now. I’ve got things to say - and it’s worth hearing. 

Hello, welcome to my blog.