Hi there! Welcome to my blog! I love, love, love talking about all things metaphysics, writing, and blogging. My hope is that you leave here feeling much better than when you came. It's great to see you!
I’D LOVE TO…
My room is a mess. The entire week I have not let it get to me, because I am baby steppin’ it to cleanliness like a mad pro. That’s what Leo Babauta taught me today, and what I’m going to share with you in this post.
Reflecting on 2011, I have experienced loss and heartbreak so close to each other, they could have gotten each other sick if say, loss had the measles and heartbreak was perfectly healthy. What I’ve learned over the last few weeks however, is to go slowly. Since roughly mid 2009 when I graduated from college I’ve felt aimless, stagnant, and like I was running out of time. I wanted to write books, learn instruments and languages, travel, sing, be someone, do something with my life, but I didn’t know where to begin. I felt like all the little steps I had to take to get wherever it was I was going were going to take too long, and I wasn’t going to have enough time to do what I wanted to do. I was going to be 30 in a few short years, and I was wasting my twenties on alcohol, Chipotle, and men.
Lady Gaga was the first to inspire me to get my act together. Her song “Marry the Night” is about how she made a decision to marry her work in order to make her dreams come alive. That’s when I became more active on this blog, and realized my quest to write a novel soon turned into a life quest to pursue my passions and let my dreams eat me alive. That’s when I realized getting a business degree was the path I was meant to be on. That’s when I realized the answer to my very own happiness was within myself. That’s when I also discovered the Zen Habits blog, which taught me today, as it does every day, to go slowly. Baby steps matter just as much as any other, no matter how small. I can write 100 words a day, minuscule, but there’s not a single person that can say 100 words a day won’t get me there.
That’s a snippet from one of Babauta’s posts that got me through the day, and will get me through the rest of my life. Love the step, not the destination. Enjoy the quest! He said how a few years ago he couldn’t even fathom exercising but one day he made a baby step and ran for 10 minutes a day. That’s it. No pressure, just 10 simple minutes, every day, until that one day came when he was running 20 minutes, then 40, then marathons!
I suppose you could say from the looks of my living quarters, that my room is that marathon. I got a parcel of excellent Christmas gifts this year and it has inspired me to organize everything and start fresh. On Monday I scrubbed my bathroom and organized the area under my sink, dividing up hair products, nail products, lotions, perfumes, make-up, etc. into their own separate bins.
That was my baby step for the week and I am damn proud of myself. I didn’t get to my room that day, but that’s okay. My shower is spotless. And later I got to drink Fat Tire on a roof in Hollywood with a friend while the sun was setting. Rewards all around.
So tonight I am blogging. That is my baby step. And tonight I am reading. Another baby step. And I just might put a few clothes away. Probably maybe. Putting a few clothes away sounds much less stressful than cleaning the entire room. I find that pressuring yourself into a really big task just makes you more stressed out, and tackling them in small pieces takes the pressure off a ton. Doing things at your own pace always does, and why not? It’s your marathon, go as slow as you want. Even the walkers make it to the finish line.
I can never title my posts until I’m completely finished with them.
I haven’t been giving you as much attention as you deserve, to steal a line from the “man” chapbook. But because I am not a man, and because I do not give up on the things I claim to care about just because I am ‘bogged’ down with work, here I am.
The main reason for my absence has been because of what that little guy (mine) in the picture to my left represents. The giving season. Last week there was some tedious thing to do every day, and I wasn’t able to sit down and pour my heart out, or read a single page of anything. But I am back with the biggest vengeance you’ll ever see, and I promise I’m going to give you the attention you deserve.
I read a quote by Kurt Vonnegut recently, where someone asked him where his ideas came from, as if that was something easily answered. He said something along the lines of “they were just inside of me.” I can relate. I have no idea where some of my bad poetry or story ideas come from, but I enjoy them like cheesy mashed potatoes. I didn’t write all last week, so tonight it’s not just the Chipotle that’s filling me up–it’s words, pictures, scenes that have never happened, soundtracks to movies that don’t exist, so many things that are just pushing
ahead of everything else to make their way out into the open world where the air is fresh. So many angry thoughts and idyllic memories are salsa dancing in my brain that I wish I could just take out one of those tubes from the vacuum and put it to my head so it all gets sucked out. Does that ever happen to you?
I have been thinking about extracurricular activities, in addition to everything, and taking an accounting class. That MBA book I’m reading highlighted the importance of being involved in extracurricular activities, and even voluntary business classes outside of the MBA program. The best part is I was already planning on taking a couple of accounting classes, earlier this year, before this rush of inspiration soiled my shirt with a pretty turquoise, pinkish color. I’m not going to sit here and enumerate my goals for the remainder of this year and early next, because Leo Babauta got it right when he said that goals are merely another reason to feel like you are not good enough. Eradicate them and you’re free to do what you’re passionate about.
Another major influence to me is Peter Shankman. He recently tweeted this badboy:
Shankman gets shit done, and he’s funny about it. My virtual relationship with him feels human, even though I’ve never met him in my life. He’s always posting these wonderfully inspiring, hilarious things on Facebook that really alter me. And he’s smart. And he knows what he’s talking about.
So the point of this post was to update you on my novel quest: it’s still on. And remember, the important thing here is not the end result, but the quest itself. I also wanted to wish you a very merry Christmas, even though it is days away, and renew my undying commitment to you with this ring. I thee wed.
filmreference.com
I’m going to be honest here, tonight I came home, lit a candle, turned on my favorite French artist, and cried. I can’t tell you how good it felt.
A lot of times crying gets a bad rep. “Weak” is probably the first word that comes to mind. When you cry it means you’re not strong, fragile, delicate. “Oh poor baby, grow up, will you?” But I will tell you this–not crying to me, is the reason why the world in general, is in horrible mood.
Tonight when I got home, I felt like a coke bottle filling with black, inky, flat Coca-cola. The outside was nice, green, and glassy, even tasty looking! But the inside was slowly filling up with this oil-black filth that no one could see but me. I realized when I got home that this filth took such a toll on me that it started to reek, and the stench was so bad I almost choked on it. I realized the entire day I had been glossing over something that was bothering me. Glossing over it with smiles, songs, laughter, and things I normally enjoy. This is my usual way of coping with stress or things that bother me, and it usually works.
But tonight I realized that while I kept at it–this almost foolish glossing–I realized that instead of feeling better, I started to feel angry. I started to feel irritated and spiteful, and the negative energy I put out around me was almost palpable. I wasn’t letting myself be upset about the things that were bothering me. I was glossing. I was filling to the lip of the bottle with black ooze and I was on the verge of a seriously disgusting oil volcano Coca-cola eruption. I even said aloud, “Oh my God, I need to cry.” It was like needing to vomit.
I was methodical about it. I put on my pajama pants, washed off my make-up, got some warm socks on, lit my favorite Christmas candle, and went at it for a good 20 minutes. It was almost like an appointment I made. After about four French songs ended, I sort of exhaled and thought to myself, good, I think it’s time for dinner.
Photo: Ernie Sisto/The New York Times
The point here is that had I not cried, I think I would still be in a horrible mood. The filth inside would fester and I would be irritable. I would be sending all of this negative energy out into the ether and that’s exactly what I’d get in return. I’m no universe, but I’m pretty sure it’s got enough negative energy to create a whole new one, filled solely with negative people. I didn’t need to add to it. Instead I embraced this completely human emotion. I felt myself feeling sad, and I stewed in it to the point where something inside me was somewhat content.
My disclaimer to crying: no, it won’t solve your problems. What started me crying isn’t necessarily what made me stop. Yes, the problem is still there, scraping at me like a playful shirt tag. Yes I’m still angry over it. It did not solve a single one of my problems.
But it solved the hour. Maybe the entire evening. Tonight, I will sleep well. I am still hurt, but it is not eating me up. Will I still be hurt tomorrow? Probably yes. Will I maybe need to make another appointment to cry in the morning? Possibly in the afternoon? Most likely. But as for tonight, when I put my best foot forward to do something I enjoy, I can do it with my whole heart, without having to pretend like I am happy, without having to gloss it over.
This is how we heal. If we weren’t meant to cry, why the hell were we given the option?
If you take away one thing from today’s post, take away this: there is some one, or some thing, looking out for you, making things opportune. Whatever your denomination, you have to know this. I simple can’t even begin to list the events that have happened to me in the past 48 hours, that have given me exactly what I needed at exactly the right time.
But here’s one of them.
I’ve been talking a lot about my MBA lately, and Thursday, while perusing The Twitter, UCLA Anderson tweeted there would be a free webinar from 12pm PST to 1pm. This was a basic run-down of the MBA program, a brief glimpse into Anderson’s community, and their expectations. I found out as much while reading Your MBA Gameplan, but an important distinction here from the book to UCLA, is that the book won’t tell me what UCLA expects of its applicants. Only UCLA can do that, and that’s exactly the kind of information this webinar espoused.
Basically, the universe was like ‘so ya wanna get your MBA, do ya? Fine, here’s this.’ Mind you, the universe already stepped in once by delivering that MBA book to me in the first place. Of all the books for me to review!
So I listened to the webinar, and I loved it. I did it on my lunch break at work (the timing was damn near impeccable) and I took notes. One thing I didn’t realize was that not every applicant would get an interview. I always thought the interview was an optional part of the application, but the host of the webinar informed me that you are interviewed only if you’re considered. I know, heavy stuff.
(CONSIDER ME!)
I wasn’t able to blog on Thursday or Friday, so that was the first order of business I wanted to share with you. The second is that I love you. Have a wonderful weekend.
I’m watching my little brother tonight, and it only took 3 snapshots to get this picture looking just goofy/adequate enough to put on the interwebz. We also talked about Masters degrees. And balls. But before all that…
Last night I really dug into that MBA book I mentioned a couple of posts ago, and I got some really great feedback. I learned that I am a long way from the application process, longer than I thought, and I need to take a year or so to really stew in my successes before I attempt something as grand as business school. And when I say “stew in my successes” I mean I need to snag some, and then stew in them like beef.
I want to start developing relationships with not only writers, but innovators. The reason being is because I’m in the process of creating my own digital gadget, and I’d like to surround myself with people who have had success in this field. I need to be more active in the community, as per the grand master MBA plan, and the only way to do it is to find some place to spend my time contributing to things I’m passionate about, and that will help other people.
As you know, one of my greatest epiphanies this year is that I am more passionate about helping people accomplish things, than I am about writing. Heavy stuff.
In every single one of my pursuits, be it writing, creating a product, or starting up a website, every one of them is targeted ultimately, towards helping people become smarter, healthier, or happier. Not necessarily physically healthier, mind you (I am no weight loss guru) but healthy in the sense that they are sound in mind and spirit. I know that I personally overcome things every day to get to where I am in mind and spirit, and it hasn’t been easy. But I believe it’s possible, and the things I want to do for people might possibly help.
Okay, enough with the Joel Osteen palaver. I’m a writer, is what this comes down to, who has also decided she was made for more.
But writing is a world of its own, and I’m pretty sure Stephen King and Steve Jobs orbited completely different suns for the larger part of
their careers. Where writing is concerned, aside from all this innovative talk, I want to publish short fiction, poetry, and perhaps a novel or two, depending on where my head’s at. A lot of the time, short fiction and poetry do the trick, meaning after I write them I am almost 100% cured of whatever ailed me previously. Writing, as I’ve mentioned before, is therapeutic for me.
But when it comes to applying for business school, what can I say I’ve accomplished in the writing field? I’m not sure. I’m not published, and I’m getting professional experience every day in a field completely unrelated to it. I only know that I want to keep writing, and keep blogging about it, keep trying to connect with other writers to (surprise, surprise) inspire them to get their heads together and write something meaningful. In other words, help them.
I’ll bet you’re wondering were balls enters into all of this?
When I picked up my little brother to watch him tonight, he asked me, “So what work do you have to do tonight?”
I then launched into everything I just wrote about. I told him getting your Master’s degree required balls, it required leadership, community involvement, smarts, and teamwork. I told him I needed to work on my blog, my writing, my goals in life, my FUTURE!
His response?
“I lost you at Master’s degree and balls.”
Today I am not only excited to have received a signed copy of Armen Melikian’s novel Journey to Virginland, a book I reviewed, but I am also anxious to tear to pieces the neat and not so tidy short story I wrapped last night, after many, many sips of hot chocolate.
So I’m not working on my novel right this second, but I’m a product of the twentieth century, my attention span is anything but stable, and while I’ll admit that any second of the day, I will also be the first to attest to the fact that I do not have attention deficit disorder. That to me, my friends, is one of the most commonly misdiagnosed disorders of our century.
A few weeks ago I started a short story after a short camping trip and a series of successive horns blaring outside my apartment window upon my return. I got a page and a half into it before I forgot about it, and returned to it a few nights ago, only to forget about it some more a few nights later. So last night, I picked it up and gave it a go. I told my self to sally forth into the gallows of writer despair, and to keep going until I could truthfully say I had written enough to call it a job done, if not very well. And you know what? I finished the damn thing. It’s only 750 words or so, but you know that feeling when you just know a short story is done? When you just know your character has finished saying what it wanted to say, doing what it needed to do?
And so I stopped and tweeted about it, like most tweeters do, and then I went back and read it over. It was rotten orange peels on a pile of yesterday’s feces. Simply revolting. I read it aloud three times and made all these tweaks. When I was satisfied with the night’s revisions, I read a little in bed and Nyquil’d out for the night. Someone I know gave me the snifflies. I intend to revise it until I’m more sniffly tonight, then give it one more day. Then, after one more day’s revisions, I’ll send it to a couple of friends, pretend I’ve integrated their feedback, and submit it somewhere.
Okay, I might integrate a little feedback. Depends on whether or not I’ve had my morning coff.
Call it fate, call it God, call it Buddah, but for whatever reason, I was asked to review this book, Your MBA Game Plan by Omari Bouknight and Scott Shrum. Shrum. That’s a fun last name to say. I like it.
As you may or may not have read in my Who Am I? section, I am currently killing ants in my room and sort of meandering about the bottom of a steep grassy hill, at the top of which lays my unfinished application to UCLA Anderson. Okay, the killing ants part isn’t really in my About section, but it is what I’m currently doing, and if you want to discuss what I’m currently not doing, that is applying for UCLA Anderson.
I want to go to business school because I have a fabulous gadget I’ve invented and I have no idea what to do with it. Bottom line? It helps writers (and readers). I want to go to business school because I thought of this fabulous idea for a website and I have no idea where to start. Bottom line? It helps writers. And readers.
As an English major 9 months ago, business school was the furthest thing from my mind. But after reading a charming little book called Trust Agents, I began to question my purpose. A quarter-life crisis happened, if you will. I decided that there was no way in hell I was going to sit back and be a drone. Being a drone is good for people who were born to be a drone, taught to be a drone, bred to be a drone, but I for one, was not. I wanted to go to business school.
Trust Agents ultimately taught me to shut up and do good things, be great at them, be good to people, and oh yeah, love it while you’re at it. I mentioned in my last blog post how I was struggling to decide whether or not writing was really my purpose in life because sometimes I enjoy blogging and connecting with writers more so than the actual writing. And then I realized that maybe in working towards what I thought my purpose was (writing), I actually found it.
I was born to be multipurpose. I’ve come to realize that like Swiss army knives, you too, can be multipurpose. And in multipurposing my
way through the past couple days, and getting my fill of @laurenonizzle‘s wicked tweets on Twitter, I’ve realized that it’s okay to be crazy and have all of these things you want to do. It’s okay to not have one goal in mind. Why pursue one goal when you can pursue 12? So what if I want to get my MBA, start up a cool website, give the world a cool new gadget, and write a book all in the same lifetime? So what if I have multiple answers to the questions, “What do you want to do with your life?” and “What are you passionate about?” I think having to narrow those answers down to one wretched, cubicle goal is as depressing as having to decide which side of a buffet start at first.
Of course, pursuing 12 goals can be a little dizzying at the starting line, which was what originally stressed me out. But realizing there is a time and a place for things, helps. I’m no project manager, but I know that when I feel compelled to do something, it’s the right time to do it. And tonight when I got home tonight, all I wanted to do was learn.
The game plan? I want to go back to school. So I picked up this book. Even though it’s not the one I’m currently reading, I was inspired to pick it up and get started. Get started doing what? Ok, I’ll start from the top….
I went ahead and lost my driver’s license this weekend, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop driving myself crazy about how much I want to be passionate about something. I’m passionate about writing, sure, but maybe not passionate enough. The more I get wrapped up in my novel the more I realize I just want to go out and meet the people. What that means is, I want to invent a product or website that helps people, brings them together, in much same way social networking sites do.
Don’t get me wrong, writing is really all I have going for me right now, and when you’re good at something, it’s important that you stick with it. Not to mention, I like it. But I’m having doubts about it, because if I truly were in love with it, I think I would be treating it more like a boyfriend than a chore, which is sort of what it’s been feeling like lately. That’s why I decided to marry it, after all. But I’m worried I may have made a mistake.
The ironic part is, I like writing about writing. I like this blog, and I like fooling around with it. I like connecting with other writers and gauging where they’re at in their work. Lately I almost like blogging than I do spending time with my own writing, which is making me question myself on an almost hourly basis.
Maybe it’s just Sunday, and I’m tired, but I’m feeling unmotivated in every respect to work on my novel. I’m getting the itch to do something else.