Irony, defined.

On this balmy January morning in New England, (FYI: "balmy" means it was 26 degrees since that felt like "spring" compared to the minus 4 we've had) I was on my way to start the car and examine the trench my son dug in our front yard. We were talking about the process of using something to remember something else. All I could think of was "acronym" and while I know that an acronym can be this "thing," I could not remember the term itself: mnemonic device.

Vinyl Ninja Conquers Keepsake

No, the ninjas have not taken over my blog. I asked them to come as ambassadors for my ninja because we keep our batteries outside of the digital camera. I am too tired tonight to go get the camera, find the rechargable batteries, put them in the camera, take a photo of my ninja and then upload it to iphoto to finally copy his picture here...only to then remove batteries...you get the point. My ninja is blue, like the one on the far left of this sample, except that he's in the pose of the one shown in red, the third from the left.

I know, now you're tired after all of that description, right? "Why does this vinyl ninja matter so much?" "Get to the point, Kate!"

My theme has been my continued organization, with a transition to writing about what I have and why I have it. The "stories of my stuff" as I called it in the last post. My blue vinyl ninja has a story to tell. Since I know all about ninjas after my son took a class about ninjas (he's home schooled, so yes, there is a class about ninjas*), we'd better let the tale be told, lest we make them mad at us. Otherwise we might find a poisoned meal, be stabbed while walking up stairs, or be eviscerated while using the outhouse. (It's a good thing for indoor plumbing--one less place to worry about a ninja attack. Since we're not in Japan prior to the industrial revolution, I guess we're pretty safe anyway.)

As I examine what I own, I think about the fact that when I was going through my possessions a couple of years ago, I tossed out a keepsake that had been given to me by a dear friend. For years, the keepsake held an honored spot: a dust-free, uncluttered place, on my bedroom shelf. I loved it when I was first given this gift. It reminded me of my friend each time I saw it. It represented something I used to like a lot. Years pass and we grow (hopefully) and change. Some things come to mean more and others mean less. After many years, this particular keepsake lost its charm. It didn't speak to me in the same way it did when it first came to my home. My friend has given me subsequent gifts that speak to the person I've become. Thus, it was time for the keepsake to go.

Now, this was no mere bauble. It was something hand-crafted by an artist. It was expensive. Some would say that I should have kept it for its value. However, it was no longer serving the life I live. After reflecting a day or so with the keepsake in a bag, I gave it away. I found someone who liked the type of object it was and they were thrilled with the "gift" from me.

The keepsake "has left the building," (as used to be said about Elvis) and yet the vinyl ninja remains? Yes. It's not that I justified keeping the ninja, which anyone would say is a junky child toy made from a substance that is polluting the earth. It's that blue ninja tells a story, he tells several stories, thus he conquers the keepsake and wins my heart.

What IS the blue ninja's story? This particular blue ninja was part of the "survival goody bag" for the Milford-Bellingham-Franklin group that participated in the 2009 NaNoWriMo event. Being writers, most everyone in the group is good with puns, and the ninja was our "plot ninja" thrown in like a metal star to liven things up a bit. (My little allusion there is to "throwing stars," a ninja weapon.) I "won" NaNo my first year out, so blue ninja's first story is about accomplishing something to which I put my mind and effort. The point of NaNoWriMo is to write a 50,000 word novel in a month, specifically, November each year. I set the goal, sat down to the laptop at various book stores, coffee shops and hotel lobbies with my fellow Milford-Bellingham-Franklin Wrimos (the nickname for people who do NaNoWriMo) and wrote a book. Blue ninja reminds me that I'm capable of such feats of wonder. Blue ninja is a reminder of the friends I've made through NaNoWriMo, too.

Blue ninja has another story, too. However, I'll save that for another day. He conquered a keepsake, so he's tired (and so am I).

What are some of your "stranger" treasures? Will you share the story of any of them with me? Feel free to share in the comments or email me directly.

*Ninja class: a local historian and former teacher runs classes for home schoolers. She offers things like folklore but calls them more engaging titles like "Zombie and Vampire History" as those titles appeal to teens, to whom her classes are geared. The ninja class was "The History of Ninjas" and actually explored a fascinating time in Japanese history, the development of the military in Japan, and examined the modern-day equivalent to "real" ninjas: special operations forces. Thus, the course covered history, folklore, Japanese art, culture and government, and the students then synthesized this information to make modern-day connections to the topics they explored. The course required a written paper each class session based on reading assignments in high school and college level history texts, and a final project with a paper. I read the books my son was assigned and found them fascinating!


P.S. If you ever find yourself in need of such a gumball-machine-type item as the vinyl ninja, Oriental Trading Company sells these toys, as do several other online party stores. 

How about 50 stories instead?

As I began going through everything I own (again), attempting to cull possessions even further in a quest to remove those "invisible barriers" as well as "stuff," something occurred to me. All of the books on organization and making changes in your life relate to tossing things out or giving them away. What we keep, we never hear about. Because I've been a "practicing" organizer for years now, I really don't have much hanging around that is not used, or otherwise gets in the way of the life I want to live.

Looking at what I have in drawers, closets and various rooms around the house, I thought about answering "why I keep what I keep" in lieu of just listing stuff I throw out. Peter Walsh and Gail Blanke write about keeping only what feeds our vision of our ideal life, but we never hear about what they keep and what it means to them. I'm not talking about justifying keeping things like a broken radio that you think you might fix one day or that you think would be good for parts. And, I'm not talking about keeping the broken radio because your best friend gave it to you as a graduation present fifteen years ago and when you happen to come across it on the shelf in the basement you think of your old friend. I'm talking about real reasons. I'm talking about stories.

There is an online video entitled "The Story of Stuff" that traces the origin of the things we own from the ore that is possibly mined to create them and the fuel that is transported to vehicles for shipping to the factory to the store to our homes and then the landfill, ultimately. While I am not worried so much about the story behind my stuff, I think the story (or stories) of the stuff we own is a great theme to explore.

What do you keep? Why? Does it serve a purpose in your life? Is it kept dust-free and protected in an honored place? Share the story of some "stuff" you own if you'd like. I'll be sharing a few stories in upcoming posts myself.

Attack of the Muse

Often, she leaves us adrift. We are in the doldrums with no wind in our sails. Writing prompts don't work. The canvas before us is white and glowering. The clay is but a lump on the wheel. We pluck at the strings, but no melody is born of our efforts. The muse is not with us. 

Then, without warning, she strikes. Like a plague or a stealthy creature, she thrashes out of darkness and attacks. All at once, we are overtaken with ideas, creativity abounds. She throws gems at us as we drive, while we're in the shower, when we absolutely cannot be late for an appointment or work. She calls to us like an imagined person to a schizophrenic. We jot notes on sticky pads at the office. We pull over the car and write on a scrap of receipt or napkin. She keeps us up late at night. She is an old friend visiting for the weekend, and we lose sleep and feel awful on Monday morning because we didn't do the laundry, our voice is hoarse and we're so tired we forget our coffee in the to-go mug on the counter at home. 

The muse is all or nothing. She is the new lover or the old lover. We are either in her throws or reeling from her disdain. How might we have a marriage with her instead? Is it possible to have that comfortable, long-term exchange? Can we tame her wild, demanding ways or will she forever ask too much of us, only to withhold what we need when we find time and she has turned her attention away?

How do you deal with the attack of the muse? Have you found a way to balance creative inspiration with the responsibilities of life? Might the muse be domesticated? 

Moving Mountains

Last year, I read a terrific book entitled Throw Out Fifty Things, by Gail Blanke. I kept track of what I tossed and created a newsletter out of it for an organization business I wanted to get off the ground. As Peter Walsh says, organization is not something you do that is then done, it is a process, something ongoing in our lives. Besides Peter Walsh's books on organization, this Throw Out Fifty Things book is just as effective, as the author gets to the root of clutter rather than suggesting we spend weekends buying plastic bins in which to store things. As I look at my goals for this year and see there are "things" in my way that keep me from accomplishing them, I think back on Gail Blanke's book and believe another go-round will help me clear what stands in my way.

What's this got to do with mountains you ask? Well, I don't have "mountains" of stuff or even much clutter. I've been a fan (Chris would say I'm a convert) of Peter Walsh for several years now and after my first time through Throw Out Fifty Things I paired down significantly. It's not "stuff" that looms like a mountain in my house. What this has to do with mountains is my metaphorical way of getting to my point. I'm a storyteller at heart, so bear with me. Grab a cup of tea or cocoa and settle in for a spell.

As if you couldn't tell already from various posts, I am a voracious reader. That said, I want to tell you about Tracy Kidder's book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, which is about Dr. Paul Farmer and his work in Haiti (long before any earthquake "moved" people to turn their eyes south of the U.S. to peer at the conditions there). The title of the book refers to a saying in Haiti, a very mountainous place, that there are literally mountains beyond mountains and this forever climbing is the life of a Haitian. Dr. Farmer went to Haiti during medical school to assist in their hospital. He found conditions deplorable. It was not that conditions in the hospital were so bad, but rather the fact that the road to the hospital itself could hardly be called a road. In order to improve healthcare, supplies and patients needed to be able to get to the hospital! On one trip, Farmer describes watching people die by the roadside as they cannot traverse the distance in such conditions. To picture it, conjure in your mind a road AFTER an earthquake. This is what that road to the hospital looked like a couple of decades before the earthquake that just happened!

Thus, in order to help anyone at the hospital, the road needed reparation so that it might function to efficiently bring supplies, physicians and patients to the same place. Since most healthcare and medical non-profit organizations won't fund infrastructure projects such as roads, Dr. Farmer created Partners in Health, an organization that looks at underlying and extended issues that hinder healthcare and addresses those as equally as providing actual physicians and medicines or supplies to people in need. If you ever wanted to give to an organization (started in Boston, no less!) that uses very little to fund its operations and administration, yet provides significant international aid on big issues, this is one that could use your check.

I digress. However, you're used to that by now if you've been reading this blog.

Oh, I see your tea or cocoa is just about finished and what lies in the bottom of your cup has grown cold. Back to the mountains! When I consider my goals this year and examine what has and hasn't happened in the past three weeks of this month, I think about two things this morning. I think about going through the Fifty Things book again to see what mountains lie in my way, what roads need reparation so that I may smoothly make my way to my destination, my goal. Sometimes, it's the road to a place that needs clearing before we can make our way toward our goals, dreams or whatever other place we're trying to reach.

I picture the road to the hospital in Haiti and use that as a metaphor for my 2011 goals. I see the misshapen ground, unpaved, full of potholes that are more like sink holes, debris lying across in places. Of course, aesthetically, I keep in mind the symbolism of Robert Frost's "road less travelled." So, while I might not pave this road into a superhighway because I like the quiet and slower pace an unpaved yet smooth-packed dirt road provides, I need to make sure there's nothing hindering my way. I need to throw out some things that get in the way of the life I want to live.

As you consider the places you want to be in life, what mountains must you climb? What paths or roads to that place need to be evened out before you may pass along them without jostling your very bones so that you are left bumping along to your goal? To mix metaphors further, what needs to be clear so that you have smooth sailing on your road? When you take hurdles out of the way, you really can move mountains!

In upcoming posts, I will share what I throw out and hope that if you check out Gail Blanke's book, or one of Peter Walsh's, that you share with me what you toss out of the way as you move toward the life you want to live!

January mid-point Goals Check-in

We're just over two weeks into 2011. The year has been challenging (that's the word I chose before, right?) to keep it brief. I won't get into the gory details as while blogging is a bit like being able to leave a really long FB post, this isn't really supposed to be "all about me" but rather an ongoing connection with others. This is why artists paint, collage, draw, sculpt and why writers write. We seek a connection, whether it is ever realized personally or not. We hope to reach others. We are, in turn, influenced by those who write back or comment and by the art we see, with which we interact and by what we read. I hope that as you read this, you gain a sense of shared experience of there being pitfalls, tangents and detours and yet realize your ability to wend your way back to the main road, or at least to arrive at the intended destination, even if by a different route than planned.

My instructional design course, listed as goal one, has been postponed due to budgetary constraints. I'm not too bummed out by this. I'll move my web design self-study into this slot and see if funds are there for a summer course or for two classes in the fall. This is a practical matter and not me failing to rise to the occasion of completing the course, so I just let it go. Herein, I "miss the turn" on the road yet may still meet that two-course goal before December.

I've been studying Spanish. I think the real way to learn the language is to just sit with my Spanish translation of The Godfather and a Spanish-English dictionary, and possibly a notebook, and read in Spanish to learn to speak and write it. Memorizing vocabulary feels futile. No matter how many times I review the picture book of the yard with the fence and hose and potted flowers, unless I'm using these words in everyday life, they're just not going to stick. I can almost guarantee that the translation test required in PhD programs will not reference potted flowers watered with a hose that sits near a fence. While the "mob" may not figure into the test either, I think that the usage of verbs and the actual language in action will be a better way to learn. (If anyone has learned a language and can offer some tips on effective ways of doing so, feel free to post/email.)

Where the scale is concerned, the red line still lies on the same small black one. This is o.k. with me as I've been eating consciously and exercising with some more regularity.

My feminist reading is moving along. I'm questioning everything Susan Faludi is saying now. She keeps tearing apart studies that may indicate some worsening of the female condition as the result of "women's rights," while not providing the reader with the same criticisms of methodology for studies that come from women-friendly sources...although the Virginia Slims tobacco company is hardly "woman-friendly" in the real sense of that term. This reminds me of the vaccination argument that gets tossed around in parenting circles. The "good" of vaccinations cannot be examined without acknowledgement of the development of germ theory and anti-bacterial and anti-viral medications. Our survival of disease is not merely predicated on vaccination, but also on hand-washing and the availability of anti-biotics and  anti-virals. I digress. I'll devote a full post (or more) to the feminist studies as I'm fascinated and love questioning what I read and applying critical thinking and Mills's sociological imagination to my studies. (Have I become a total academic, or what? It's 7a.m. on a Monday and I'm going on about methodologies, making analogies to esoteric subjects, using words like "esoteric," espousing buzz phrases like critical thinking, and scholarly ideas like the sociological imagination.)

My exercising and eating have been in line with my plans for hiking the White Mountain 4k's this summer and fall. I've been reading more about hiking the various peaks, drooling over maps and routes and patting my thick hiking socks in my drawer when I pull out the sports bras to jump onto the elliptical in the house. There's always the Mount Washington observatory website to help me realize why I will not be winter climbing. (Today, at this moment, it is -5.1 Fahrenheit and -29.5 with the wind chill at the summit. As a comparison, Mt. Everest's summit temperature is "only" -32 or so at its coldest, which is January. This is why those preparing for Everest often winter hike Mt. Washington.)

I made time to make artist trading cards with my friend, Jill. I'm attending the New England ATC meetup this coming Saturday. So far, so good on the art front!

My house is clean and organized. I've been watching movies and playing games with my husband and children. Chores have been made into family time and we've consciously taken time for fun, too. We've been playing pinball as often as possible. (Yes, that is an owl you see on my shoulder. "Owl?" you ask. Yes, because I am THE pinball WIZARD!) Of course, if I'm honest with you, there have been lots of family arguments, tears, yelling, teenagers storming off to their rooms and all that "normal" family crap. There have been baskets of laundry that sit for three days without being folded. There are those nagging little "things" that need doing and somehow remain on to-do lists undone. Overall, however, it's working.

Lastly, the volunteering, or, non-volunteering. Wow, is this hard! I've re-written this portion of my post fifty different ways. The guilt that plagues me needs a lot of further consideration. I need insight here, so if you're willing to share, let me know: do you volunteer? In what capacity? Does anything else in your life suffer for your volunteer hours? Are you able to strike a balance between giving of yourself and your time? How do you manage this?

Eat a sandwich/Skip a Meal? No. Just glow!

Just yesterday, a friend posted on FB her frustration with radio and magazine personalities and their comments on women's bodies. Specifically, she was commenting on a radio DJ who made a comment about a popular female singer being fat. Last week, the real-life princess bride, Kate Middleton, was admonished by a reporter for her (in his opinion) too thin profile. I wrote back to my friend something I'll post here in bold:

WOMEN NEED TO STOP TRYING TO PLEASE OTHER PEOPLE WITH THEIR APPEARANCE. 


Please re-read that, again, whether you are male or female. Men and women should answer questions rhetorically as follows: Am I happy with my lifestyle? Am I able to move my body how I would like it move? or Do I suffer from high blood pressure, high cholesterol or another health issue that I could control through eating well and exercising? Does my body keep me from doing things I want to do or think are fun?

If the answer to the first two questions are "yes" and the second two questions can be answered in the negative, then

YOU ARE FANTASTIC JUST AS YOU ARE! 

My goal list states that I want to lose 20 lbs. However, I want it to be clear that this is so that my BMI and thus my long-term health, are better than they are now. I am not looking for a certain number in my jeans, or on the scale, per se. I have bad knees and I LOVE hiking and being outdoors. The less weight that my knees carry, the better they will be as I get older. It's that simple. I am not on any kind of "exercise 'x' number of times" plan or eat only "x" number of calories. Rather, I am taking it day-by-day and doing that reflecting I wrote about previously.

At the end of this month, I will look back over my schedule after I step on the scale and see what happened.  How much did I exercise? What kinds of healthy choices did I make when it came to meals or snacks? What poor choices did I make and why? How can I fit more regular exercise into my day/week? How did I feel when I exercised?

On that last question, another friend posted on FB that she feels badly when she thinks about exercise. She'd rather crawl back into bed. She then wrote that when she actually exercises, she feels like a million bucks! I, too, feel that way and so as we near the half-way point of January, I have to ask myself why I'm not making sure I feel like a million bucks every day. What is getting in the way of finding fifteen minutes a day that will make me not only physically healthier and closer to my goal, but will also make me feel physically and mentally fantastic?

What keeps you from doing the same? I'm not yelling at you here to exercise, per se. I'm asking that if there is something that makes you feel good, that you can do for a short time and it still works wonders, what is keeping you from it, even for a few minutes every day? Your ideal might be writing each day or reading or moving closer to owning your own business, or learning to play an instrument. What might you do to find a few minutes a day to pursue what makes you glow?