So good to me

It’s Monday and I’m starting over. I do that every Monday, just like I do every morning, every month, every birthday, and every year. The new week is another shot at getting it right, at having a fabulous time. It is fresh and shiny and new without any mud tracks on the floor. And yes—I know—it’s a Monday.

Most of us are back to work today, and some of us are not in ideal situations. I’m working towards that perfect job, but in the meantime, I work on relaxing into the one I have. My forty hours starts today, and I’m going to be here whether I’m having fun or not. I may as well try to enjoy myself, because I’m on this bus until Friday.

I’ve done a lot of work for temporary agencies, and I’ve found there’s always something to appreciate about a place. Right now I have amazing views. I’m close to the Pike Place market and the Seattle Art Museum, and I’m gaining some insight into the legal system. These are all good things.

I’ve also got some really nice co-workers. I find people I like at every place I work, and yes, frustrating people, too. I’m not happy one hundred percent of the time, and of course I notice the discontented little sods who hang out in the corners. Occasionally I am one of them. I come out of my funk as quickly as possible and I don’t engage with the negative types more than I have to. Why waste my energy? I’m going to need it for the week ahead.

I’ve got things to do—I’ve got that food and shelter addiction to satisfy, and things to learn on the job. My book awaits during breaks, and the outside beckons at lunch. My nights will be full of dancing and other activities. Sometimes I just sit home and do nothing. I love those evenings, too.

Monday is one of the days of my life, and I intend to have the best time available to me at this moment. It may not be sand and ocean, but I’m not likely to get any sun burns. Sometimes that’s enough.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

67. Have fun at work today. Enjoy the company of the people that you only see there. Seek out the interesting and unusual where you are even if you are not yet in your ideal situation. Did it make your day go more smoothly?

Look! Up in the air!

I gaze out each window, and I am surrounded by snow flurries. Pellet-sized snow is thick in the atmosphere. The clouds have been dusting us with this sky sugar for at least an hour. Everyone is abuzz—some panicking, some delighted. It’s the end of March, and we live in Seattle. We haven’t seen snow all year, except for a few tablespoons up on Capitol Hill. I think that was placed there by gremlins. The current storm is nifty. 

Context is everything. In Minnesota, a similar atmospheric outburst would be greeted by jeers. By the end of March everyone has had more than enough of that sort of thing, and they are quite ready to move on to rain and heat. In Seattle, people stand in the cold winter air, complaining when the thermometer dips below fifty. They lament, they moan. They do not know how they will survive. In Minnesota, when it’s above freezing they roll the windows down, blast the car stereos, and do everything in shorts. It all depends on your perspective. 

This sudden snow shower reminds me of a meditation retreat I went to in St. Paul, Minnesota. We were in the last hours of seven days of silence, and the strict rules about not interacting with others were starting to relax. Another participant tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out the window, excited. It was starting to snow. I remember being annoyed, thinking about the mess it would make on the way home. I didn’t know what he was even pointing at. It couldn’t be the weather. Could it? I gave him a confused shrug, and he mimicked the falling flakes with his fingers, delighted. I found out afterwards that he was from California, and he’d never seen snow before. The miracle was new to him. 

I feel like that now. Snow is a rare commodity in Seattle proper, and I cherish what little I do see. I don’t want to go back to the frozen north, but I do appreciate the small glimpses I get of the white fluffy stuff. Seattle snow is snow globe snow. It blows around for a bit and looks pretty, and then settles safely out of the way until the next shake up. I’m perfectly happy to live in our pretty glass bubble. It feels like home.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

66. What’s cold to you? What’s your perspective on the weather, and where do you think you got it? Is it helpful or not?

Who needs a shovel?

Today I am thinking back to college, to an archaeology class I took. Our final assignment was to treat a dorm room the same way an archaeologist would treat a dig site. We had to grid the room in squares, and list every object in each square, describing its details. This came to mind because I noticed a little sign on a business I walk past every day. It said: “Are you ready for Spring?” I am, little sign, I am. I knew the answer to the question but I wasn’t sure how long the sign has been there. What else haven’t I noticed?

 

I’m planning to spend some time this weekend exploring my neighborhood. I think I’ll start with the area right in front of my apartment building. I’d like to try to catch a glimpse of those birds that are right outside my window every morning. I want to know what they are. I know they sing sweetly, they are small, and there are a lot of them. If I stand still for a few moments I might just be able to see one in all its glory. I bet my cat could describe their every feather—he watches them all day long.

It’s harder to diagram a dynamic environment than a dorm room. Things in my neighborhood are moving all the time. The seagulls shift around, the beggars on the corners change spots. I can only see what’s there in the moment I look. That would still tell me a lot. That’s one of the reasons I like to draw. Drawing something forces me to consider all the specifics. I know how the African masks at the art museum are attached to the wearer’s head. I’ve had to sketch those details in. I know how the piano lid is hinged and the way that the marquee bends in front of the theater across the street. Once I’ve seen those details, I tend to remember them. This helps my writing, and it also helps me to understand my universe. I never know what will inspire me, and the more I look, the more I find. There are myriad treasures to unearth and it’s time to dig in.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

65. Explore a small area in detail. Try to catalogue it, to notice its every nuance. Did you learn something? Were you surprised in some way?

Knock knock

Today I’d like to tell you a joke, or at least the first line of a joke. I think you may have heard this one. It starts, “A dog walks into a bar. . . .”  I’m going to interrupt the joke now. Sometimes I’m like that, but you should know that I would never interrupt a joke unless it was very important. It is. I want to talk about writing.

That joke’s first line could be a lot better, but I know how to fix it. What kind of a dog is it? A Dalmatian would create different humor than a French poodle. I’ll laugh harder if I can see the dog, picture its fur or spots. I also want to know how it is walking into that bar. A galloping Dalmatian would look a lot different than a striding bulldog. Would Pekinese parade? Would golden retrievers waltz? I need to know that.

I also need to know what kind of a bar it is. A disco is a lot different than a honky tonk. A dive bar and a fern bar are miles apart in clientele. If you show me all that in a few words you can tell me a whole story in a few sentences. I will be ready for that punch line. Now I’m ready to let you have a little more dialogue. Listen in with me. . . .

           “I’d like to tell you a story,” she intoned.

            “Please do,” he whispered.

             “I shall,” she imparted.

             “And I shall be grateful for it,” he opined.

Are you getting annoyed yet? I was starting to feel aggravated even writing it. If I’d been reading this I might have hurled the book across the room. I think it’s very important for writers to choose every word carefully, but the word “said,” is sacred. Use anything else in dialogue, except as an occasional seasoning, and you too shall write prose worthy of becoming a projectile. Know your limits, and don’t overdo it with the thesaurus. Some words should blend in to the sentence, and some should stand out. Practice will teach you which ones are which. I’ll tell you more another time but right now I have a German shepherd with a ripped tutu. You know how they get—I’ve got to go.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

64. Find an old joke and modify it by being more specific, or by changing the specifics. Go tell it to someone. Did it work? Why or why not?

Sign me up

Tonight I’m going to a speech contest for my local Toastmasters organization. I will be greeting observers, supporting my competing friends, and helping to get the work of the evening done. I’m really looking forward to it.  

Some people are not joiners, but I am. Writing is solitary in some ways, and I need time alone each day to think and to create. I also need the company of others who are trying to achieve the same goals, who are striving to become better. We help each other out. Writing groups increase the learning curve as long as the people in the groups write and share their work. Some groups are all talk and no pen on paper.  That doesn’t help anybody.

I joined Toastmasters for my writing. It helps me with poetry performance, and I want to be ready for those book tours later in my career. I was already a good speaker, but I knew I could become even better with the feedback of others. Toastmasters has a proven training program, and I’ve learned a lot by watching my fellow speakers. The polished orators within the group are great teachers, and so are those speakers who still need improvement. Bad speakers teach you what not to do. Badly-written books do the same thing—they alert you to what doesn’t work.

People with the same interests understand each other’s needs and desires. I’ve joined a local country dance group, and we were meeting in a church rec room the other day. One of the more practiced dancers was helping me with my two-step. I was doing okay, and he said “now we’ve got to get you into some cowboy boots.” The slippery bottom will help my foot slide properly during a waltz, and the heel will make a more satisfying stomp when I’m line dancing. He told me where to go find them, too. I’d never even envisioned myself in cowboy boots—I wouldn’t have made that leap on my own. I was excited, and shared that with another dancer. She proudly showed me her first pair, now scuffed by the year’s dancing. I can’t wait to scuff my own.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

63. What are your interests? Check out groups devoted to that interest and see about dropping into a meeting.

All aboard

I spend my days being randomly delighted. A lot of these little joys happen while I am walking or riding the bus. This morning, waiting at my stop, I heard a homeless person urging one of his friends not to feed cheddar to the pigeons. “They don’t like cheese,” he said. “Gives ‘em gas.” Who knew? I’d never think to feed cheese to a pigeon, but next time I’m grilling up a Swiss on rye I’ll know not to share it with my feathered friends. Of course, he could be wrong, but I’m not taking any chances.

Walking during lunch I saw a cool acoustic guitar in a pawn shop window. It had inlaid silver stars on the frets, and the sides of the body were bright red. The front of the guitar had a picture of a man on a horse. The man was on a butte, and he was looking down at a Hispanic beauty in a flared skirt. I instantly got music in my head. “Down in the old Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl. . . .” The guitar was depicting a scene from a Marty Robbins song I’ve loved since I was a child. How marvelous. 

Nearby the pawn shop was the Showbox theater, a venue that gets all sorts of musical acts. A group called The Cult is playing there soon, which inspired the sign on the door: “The Cult is sold out.”  This cracks me up. It’s a surreal kind of sign. To me this says: “The end times are coming, but all the tickets on the space ship are reserved. If you would like to put your name on a waiting list for the next apocalypse, please sign here. We apologize for the inconvenience, but the rapture is very popular.” 

I suppose these little things delight me because of what my brain adds to them, and that’s part of how I write. I love this, because one vintage handbag or funky guitar could inspire a whole book of essays. Each writer brings his own baggage to the train. I’d love to look in that compartment, wouldn’t you? 

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

62. What interesting little tidbits did you overhear today? Did you see something nifty? Share these experiences with someone else. You can share them in all their raw glory, or use them as seeds for something else entirely.

No bonnet required

This weekend was Easter, and I had a great holiday. I did nothing—absolutely nothing. It was perfectly blissful. No errands were run, no papers got filed. Nothing was crossed off my to-do list. I watched DVDs all morning with the cat on my lap. Three of the movies were not good, but the fourth was wonderful and will become a new favorite. It didn’t matter, really, because I was awash in the bliss of sitting still, sipping coffee.

I will tell you about the fourth movie, rather than waste our time here lodging a complaint about the others. The movie I liked and adored is called Kinky Boots (Julian Jarrold, 2005). This quirky gem is based on a true story of a British manufacturer of men’s shoes. The company needed to find a niche market to survive modern economic conditions. They were successful, and started to make a line of footwear for drag queens and transvestites. The film covers their rocky transition from brogues to boots. This movie is thoughtful and fun fun fun. Chiwetel Ejiofor—I have no clue how to pronounce his name—plays Lola, a drag queen who inspires the project. Lola sings her own music, rather than lip-synching, as so many screen queens do. I was charmed.

That afternoon I had a holiday feast with my friend. We had Easter pizza. He had Canadian bacon, and I had pineapple. It was yummy, and there was no cooking involved. We spent the evening watching Six Feet Under. This HBO series is intense, entertaining, and it provides a lot to think about. I’m watching it for the first time. The entire five-season run is on DVD, and my friend and I are stretching it out, watching a few at a sitting. The cat kept us company in our relaxation, and we gave a big tip to the pizza delivery guy. I don’t have a television, so I really enjoy these occasional forays into foreign territory.

Outside, spring showers guaranteed the continued flourishing of the flowers. Inside, relaxation guaranteed the continued flourishing of the people. I feel renewed and resurrected. Isn’t that what Easter is all about?

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

61. Do nothing, and revel in it. Do not be productive, do not get things done. Put your feet up and relax. Isn’t it marvelous? Ahhhhh. . . .

Tiny boxes

Happy Easter Sunday! I’m a Buddhist, and my family is scattered across the country, so I’m not doing anything major in the way of celebration. I think my housemate will be cooking a nice dinner for us all, but I am otherwise planning my normal Sunday indulgences. I shall sleep late, and be lazy. I will spend lots of time drinking coffee and leaning back in my chair, and I will pull out my pencil and battle the New York Times crossword puzzle.

I love doing crossword puzzles, and only the New York Times puzzle will do. If I had more leisure time in my day, I would do it daily, but it currently falls into the category of delayed pleasures. The Times crossword has been with me for a long time. I remember doing it as a kid, scoring my effort by the number of boxes I had to leave empty at the end. Now I can often finish, although I do allow myself permission when done to look up those things I could never guess with my own knowledge. That’s how I feed my brain new trivia. One day I couldn’t figure out a word. The clue was “explosive”, and the answer was “petard.” That’s how I learned that “hoisted by his own petard” means “blown up by his own bomb”. I always thought a petard was a stick.

I think fun needs no justification, but puzzles of this kind have side benefits. Word play sharpens my writing skills. I appreciate the wit and the skill involved in constructing them. I did one myself—it took eight hours to make. I bow at the feet of those who do this work so that I can have my fun. It builds my patience, too, as I wait for my brain to find the right word. I also feel good because I know that crossword puzzles will keep my mind sharp as I age. I don’t want to grow old and lose my ability to form a coherent thought. It’ll get pretty difficult to write the blog, and then who will tell you about the glories of pigeons?

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

60. Do a crossword puzzle. If you want to try the Times puzzle, and I highly recommend it, I’ll share a little tip. The puzzles increase in difficulty from Monday to Saturday. If you are afraid of Sunday’s crossword, have a go at Monday’s. You can do it!

Right there on the wall

I walked over to Cafe Ladro the other day for a cup of coffee to bring back to work. I looked up, and there was a sign from above—literally. The sign was part of an art display and it said something very important in big letters. The sign said LUCKY YOU. Wow. I was running back to work, so I didn’t get the artist’s name. I want to go back, because I want to know who to thank.

LUCKY YOU. Lucky me, indeed. I’m like most people, in that there are a number of things in my life that just aren’t perfection, and I’m working on adjusting that. I do not yet have the ideal job, and I’d like to be more fit. These are goals I’m working towards. While I struggle with these daily issues it’s nice to have a little reminder of those things I do have to be grateful for. The list is long. I have the best friends, and I’ve been going dancing. I live with a marvelous cat. Apparently the universe loves me, too, because I rode the bus this morning holding my phone number, and my missed connection from yesterday was riding again. We were both so happy to see each other, and we’re going to meet for coffee soon. The sun is shining, and the only clouds in the sky are those fluffy, friendly-looking ones. I am so lucky I don’t have enough words to describe it.

Sometimes I get so bogged down in details that I forget to look up and appreciate things. I’m going to make my own little sign for my bedroom. I want to remember. It’s only polite to give thanks. That cup of coffee was a bigger pick-me-up than the caffeine it contained.

Seattle is considerate to me. She posts these little signs in my path, much like people put love notes in their partner’s lunch bags. When I was too busy with life worries to work on my novel, Seattle reminded me by leaving little stickers all over bridges and telephone poles that said “Daphne” in Gothic lettering. Daphne is the name of my main character. I appreciated the hint, and I made some time for my writing. It’s nice that the universe reminds me to put joy first. I thank her.

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

59. Make your own LUCKY YOU sign, and place it somewhere where you will occasionally look up and see it. Why are you lucky? Make a list.

Something in the air

Today is all about fabulous. The world is bright and shiny, and the sun is peeking its little yellow head over Seattle’s cloudy sky. Square dancing was amazing! I had so much fun learning the steps and trying to get things right with the other dancers. We giggled when we messed up. Someone would grab the wrong hand and all of a sudden the pattern would break and people would try to scramble back to home base as a person was left out of the circle. When we got a complicated step right we all high-fived. It was glorious, geeky fun. Golly Gee Whiz Girl rides again. Yee haw! I love that woman.

I was telling my friend about it this morning on the bus, and I got chatting with a cute stranger. Sparks flew, but—not awake—we forgot to exchange phone numbers. I will be searching the bus for my missed opportunity. She says she lives in my neighborhood. Perhaps we’ll meet on the street? I think the universe will give us a second chance. I’ll be ready. 

Seattle is full of these fun surprises. I walked out during lunch and another cute stranger handed me daffodils. The Pike Place Market is celebrating spring by giving us all flowers. Yay daffodils! Yay spring! Today it’s flowers, Tuesday it was hugs. I was walking home from the bus and a trio of strangers blocked my path. They weren’t begging for cigarettes or money. They wanted to know the tune to an Abba song. They couldn’t remember the melody, and they’d asked everyone who came by. It was driving them nuts. I became their hero, because I was able to sing a few choruses of Fernando. Hugs all around, and they offered to buy me a drink. My couch was more appealing than the liquor, but the hugs were marvelous. 

Tonight I’m revisiting the Romans at the art museum. My friend wants to go, and I can get him in for free. He’s buying me dinner at the Polynesian restaurant nearby. I haven’t had Polynesian for years. It should be fun. Seattle is a smorgasbord, and the little treats keep coming. Have I mentioned lately how much I love her? I kneel at Seattle’s feet with daffodils, and I know she loves me back. Life is sweet. 

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it:

58. Interact with your environment, and keep track of all the fun little experiences you have in one day. Do you love your town? Why or why not?