Friday, May 21, 2010

9 things I like

Here's some awesome things I like not necessarily in order of importance:

Thing 1: My friend s. She's the best brainstorming idea person I've encountered. We're like Gilbert and Sullivan or Rogers and Hammerstein or Connie and Carla. She's like the lightning bolt to my thunderstorm. The Tic to my Tac. The... um, this is starting to take a weird turn I wasn't shooting for. All that to say. We've got something fun cooking. And I don't mean pot roast.

Thing 2: A while back my brother found one of those plastic wrist bands like the one Lance Armstrong wore that said Live Strong and he wears it all the time. It says, "Noah White 2032" My brother's name is Noah White. He found a bracelet with his own name on it. Found it. Isn't that one of the most awesome things you've ever heard?

Thing 3: Sitting in the sun.

Thing 4: This girl's daily affirmation:

Thing 5: Talking with my mom.

Thing 6: Planning trips.
Thing 6 addendum: Taking trips.

Thing 7: Being so involved in a book that I can't put it down even when my eyes are shutting on their own and I can barely turn the pages because I've stayed up hours past my bedtime. HOW WILL THIS END?!

Thing 8: Laughing so hard that my abs hurt the next day. This has happened at least twice in the past couple of months during conversations with my younger sister. Talking with her is like doing a 20 minute core workout. Thanks, girl. I don't need a gym membership because of you.

Thing 9: The fact that my dad sent me a jetpack. I dare you to top that.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Book Memory

My parents used to read out loud to us kids a lot. What a treasure of memories. Speaking of treasures. My mom read us this one book called Treasures of the Snow. Near the end, of course, the tension builds, one of the children breaks a leg and nearly dies on a mountain top. There was skiing and cold and fear. Maybe snowshoes. My older sister and I couldn't stand the wait. The chapter ending left us hanging from a literary cliff. So she and I sneaked the book, hid away, and she read the ending to me. The children were saved. No one died. At least I don't remember anyone dying. World order was restored. Our curiosity was assuaged. We no longer had to agonize over the story events and bite our nails while waiting for our mom to collect us all together again for another reading session. It was a book whose ending needed to be devoured. After all we were hungry. Whew. I don't know which of us leaked out that we'd read the ending to my mom but we got in trouble. Big trouble. Now I realize it was because we ruined the fun for my mom. At that time, when my sister and I were finishing off the book our actions seemed totally justified. Having read aloud to my younger brothers and knowing the joy of suspense and relating a story I can truly say, "Sorry, Mom."  Since that time having also discovered many more books with hooks and tension I can say, "Oh man, what a book." I'm sure somehow that book helped shape my childhood. I know for a fact that because my parents read to us so often that I have to this day a love for literature, words, stories, language and above all Books.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Crazy? Who me?

I've been pyschotic lately. Actually not. Not according to the definition for psychosis on Wikipedia. But I've felt like I'd like to be pyschotic. The definition says psychosis is, "a mental state often described as involving a 'loss of contact with reality.'" For the past couple of weeks I'd have really benefited if I'd lost some contact with reality.
Most people know I have noise issues. They've seemed magnified lately. And I've had extreme thoughts such as selling my house, quitting my job, and moving to some place called Quietville. If it existed - I'd so be there.
So then one day after I made a moderate rant on Twitter about my neighbor breaking the sound barrier with his Television (or something) my mom retweets saying, "I just googled Noise Sensitivity Disorders.... yikes!"
Thanks, Mom, that's encouraging.
So I google it too.
And believe it or not! There are people out there who have way bigger issues with noise than I do. Like they nearly go insane if they hear people eating. That makes me feel better. A little bit. I mean, it doesn't solve my noise problems; dualing sound system booming from both my neighbors or the three or more neighborhood dogs who are like the energizer bunnies of barking. They keep going and going and going (and going). But I don't have small noise sensitivity, just big noise. So far. Also I don't have anxiety attacks. This also is good. Very good. I'm feeling more normal all the time. Knowledge is power. And other cliches.
One of the sites I scanned about NS (noise sensitivity) said that some NS issues can be traced back to autoimmune disorders. Ah ha. This makes sense. I have one, it's called Rheumatoid Arthritis. RA and I are in the process of terminating our relationship. Currently we're working out the details on who gets the house after the divorce. If I sell it quick and move to Quietville RA is gonna be SOL. But no, really, I do notice that when the arthritis flares up loud, persistent, invasive (tell me how you really feel?) noise bothers me more and I feel more irrational to it.
So maybe the trick is to acknowledge these subtle flare-ups and learn some techniques to create quiet even when it's noisy. My dad suggested EFT and I think that's a good idea. Thanks, Dad.

While I'm totally self-analyzing here let me also say I think that I let myself sink into a slump. Today my mom said, "Even baseball players have slumps. Maybe you're just having a slump too." I can understand that. Great conversation, and I was all about the baseball analogies until we got onto chewing tobacco and ball scratching.
So yeah. Moving on. Math has never been my strongest subject but here's a basic equation:
Noise issues + slump = bad news.
Normally I'm all over my goals. Listing them and taking names. But for about two months I've been a little meh. Most of the time when I encounter a lack of motivation I can fix it by giving myself a good figurative kick in the pants. Lately I haven't felt like it. My kicker musta gotten broke. Or more to the point I've been a slacker. True. Sad, but true.
This doesn't exactly mean I haven't been doing anything but sitting on the couch watching TV and eating potato chips. It doesn't mean that at all because number one I don't get television service, not even the Spanish stations since the networks switched to digital, and number two I don't eat potato chips.
But what it does mean is that I haven't been sticking with my goal of writing at least one hour every day.
Finally last night I ignored the tempting pile of books I have out on loan from the library and went upstairs to work on my own novel. Which I hope will be loaned out to other book lovers (aka readers) one day.
The thing is, I love writing, but like exercise, often times getting started back up is the hardest part. Sometimes turning the computer on can be the hardest part. Sometimes I just need a slump buster or a good old kick in the pants. Last night was my Slump Buster SWAT team's first strike. Tonight Slump should be retreating in fear. Adios, Slump, I'm getting back to work!