Thankful

I can't imagine a better day. I worked on my book. I took my niece and nephew to see my favorite Christmas movie, Prancer, I took them to the beach to take their portraits, then we all went back to my mom and dad's house and Earl and the rest of his family joined us and we ate dinner and played games, then I read by the fire and watched the snow come down outside.

 

 

A Year of the Journey: American Honey

I started this blog a year ago when I was feeling unsure about the direction my life was going. I don't claim to be psychic, but I knew something was changing in or around me, and I was feeling uneasy about it. I thought writing about it positively would help me.

It has been more of a journey than I could have expected. I didn't expect to lose my job less than halfway through the year. I didn't expect that I'd be buzzing around in a helicopter over the glaciers of Alaska or walking the streets of Vancouver or trekking the rainforest of Olympia. I didn't expect to land a dream job just a month later. I didn't expect that I'd be laid off again just three months later. I didn't expect that I'd be writing a new play. I didn't think that I'd be asked to write a book. I didn't know I would host so many fascinating and wonderful travelers in my hostel. I didn't know I would be in two really great plays. I didn't know I would become an arts and music blogger. I didn't know that I'd become a dental actor. :) I didn't know I'd lose more friends on my journey. I didn't know I'd lose my favorite singer, Jascha Is. I didn't know that I would try in earnest and find some success in loving Indiana. I didn't know that I would finally feel so at home in my home. I didn't know that I'd wear the gown of humility to so many occasions.

Last year at this time, I was riding my bike on a balmy day, and I remember feeling happy and free. I was about to see family and after that take a fabulous road trip to Cape San Blas with Larry. 

Today I woke up to snow. I'm not feeling happy or carefree, but I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving. Tomorrow I'm having a slumber party with my nieces. Friday I'll take my nieces and nephews to a movie and out for lunch. Then I'll see my grandma. Then I'll spend most of the weekend working on the book.

I think I might have been happier a year ago, if happy means carefree and secure. I'm glad I wrote it down and took pictures and took the time to commemorate it. Maybe a year from now, I'll look back and think I was very happy today.

I'm not extremely happy. But I'm not hopeless. And I can't ask for much more than that.

Here's a picture of me when I was at my happiest and hopiest. Yes, hopiest. 

Shades State Park, Indiana

Here's a song I heard tonight. If you get them to stop singing about revenge, women country singers really are the best song writers.

"American Honey" Lady Antebellum

"Southside of Lonesome" Chely Wright

Warm, Sweet, Cinnamon Softness

The day flew by with not much to show for it. I poured my evening glass of wine, set it down to do some writing and realized I placed it next to my morning coffee cup, still half full.

Gloomy is the only way I can describe this day. A second telephone interview for a promising job never materialized, which seemed to set the tone for the day.

I applied for numerous positions. I found an old blog and read through various years. I even found some things that sounded true and touching among the hubris and chaff.

I worked-out to combat the gloomies and felt almost instant relief. Our brains release dopamine when we exercise. This is an excellent reason for me to exercise every chance I get.

On this gloomy inside-and-out day I forced myself to watch a documentary: Happy.

The first point made was that brisk and regular exercise are essential for a person's physical and mental well being, as exercise releases dopamine. :) I was tired and uninspired and kept pedaling. Things were looking up just a tad.

The unhappiest people in the world, according to studies and statistics, are the Japanese. Their stressful work-centric lifestyle and extrinsic goals of achieving status, perfecting their image, and earning money is believed to be the root of this unhappiness. It is becoming so common for relatively young people to work themselves literally to death that they have a word for it:  Karōshi.

Despite having every physical comfort, the subjects depicted were constantly plagued by worry, even during rare opportunities to socialize with friends and relax with family.

 Fluorescent, neon, and LEDs seemed the only source of light in their affluent yet bleak lives.

Just as these ambitious professional people traded happiness for prosperity, I couldn't help asking myself if I were the opposite side of that coin. Do I spend my recent windfall of free time worrying about not having a job, and therefore status, and money? On a day like today, yes, the answer is a resounding yes.

In contrast, the filmmakers interviewed the so-called disenfranchised: a rickshaw driver in the slums of India, a Cajun family in the swamps of Louisiana, a divorced woman of three on co-op farm house in Denmark, a tribe of hunter-gatherer bushman in the Kalahari desert in Namibia, and a retirement village in Okinawa. Two things these groups all had in common were strong relationships with friends and/or family and brisk daily activity.

I once was seduced by the flash of city lights, and those city lights took many forms. Ironically, those city lights, in all their forms, would become what I recently described as "different colored doorways I thought would let me in one day," but didn't. Was it disappointment, failure, exhaustion or just the realization that I didn't want that life? Perhaps a combination of all. I realize that dazzling city lights pale to the twinkle of star lights, or the sun setting on a river, or the taste of fresh fish, or being with someone who loves me.

People are generally motivated by two different types of goals:  extrinsic goals (money, image, status) and intrinsic goals (personal growth, relationships, helping others).  – Extrinsically oriented people tend to get stuck on the hedonic treadmill. Intrinsically oriented people are more happy.

I think about my intrinsic goals and their importance in my life: writing, relationships, wellness, creativity, and how they've been crowded out by worry, depression, fear, and hopelessness.

Optimism should not be a luxury.

Gloomy is a choice.

I can only control a few things in my life right now. (Actually, that is always the case.) I can't control a hiring manager. I can control how well I take care of myself. I can decide to have a down day and be okay with it and turn it into a relaxation day. I can turn the gloom around and be productive.

I have a two tasks before me. I need to write a play well before springtime. And I was given the chance to write a book for a series called "Leading Women." I think part of the reason I got gloomy was because I got overwhelmed in fear that I could  not do this task.

I can do this task. It's one of the few things in my life I can control right now.

I can control how hard I work on it. I can control how open I am to learning. I can control how often I spend writing and thinking about my play. I can control how often I go outside, even when it's freezing cold.

I can watch the snow come down about six weeks ahead of schedule and not get sad.

I can go along with someone else's happiness and fake it til I make it.

The weather was grey and sullen, and I didn't feel like going anywhere. Larry talked me into trying a new state park: Summit Lake. On the way, we stopped at an orchard and picked up winesap apples and butternut squash. I also bought gifts to take for Thanksgiving--local honey, salsa, and jams. We bought fresh cider and hot cider donuts, and ate them as we traveled down a long dirt road, laughing all the way. Imagine the taste of these warm, sweet, cinnamon softness.

We arrived to Summit Lake, yet another Indiana man-made lake. Does this state have any naturally occurring bodies of water? It was flat and grey and deserted and very Eyre-y. But I was with a loved one and we joined hands and walked the moors on a moody day.

I thought of all the beautiful vistas we've watched together...the time we chased sunsets all over the beaches of Southern California, stopping at a bodega in Manhattan beach to buy wine, cheese, and chocolate, the three food groups. I thought of the snow capped islands of Glacier Bay, the clouds of the Smokeys, and the dunes of Cape San Blas.

 The thick grey air and brown heather and bare trees did indeed invoke emotions. I was suddenly transformed to England, where I spent two of my formative years as a young adult. The terrain of England intrigued me then, but it was emerald green, and much prettier than this. But starkness has its own beauty. So I walked the moors and let my moods stir.

Staring at a man-made lake when you grew up on Lake Michigan can be a depressing task, but if I couldn't find happiness in being outside in nature and letting my imagination fill in the gaps, then I have no one to blame myself.

I won't lie. It was hard. If nothing else, it makes me appreciate the beauty of other places.

Monday I hosted dinner for Ralf & Jim and my new roomie, Jay. Ralf & Jim had us over numerous times this summer, and this was my turn to return to the favor. I spent all day shopping and cleaning. Ralf likes comfort food but Jim is a food snob and nary the twain the shall meet. I decided on an upscale comfort food menu.

I made venison meatloaf (thanks to my dad for the venison), squash and apple soup, mashed cauliflower, Carprese salad, and apple crisp.

Tuesday I celebrated Larry's birthday. We had a massage at Woodhouse spa then came back to my house, and I made him dinner: pan fried blue gill (thanks dad for the blue gill!), garlic mashed potatoes, salad, birthday cake and ice cream, and gave him presents.

Life could be so much worse.

I could be so much better!

I think I will be!

Look at me, world!

I am writing a play! My first book is being published! I have a wonderful man! I have lots of free time! And this week is Thanksgiving, and I get to see my family!

My life is full of luxury items. 

Green grass of summer, red leaves of autumn, white snow of winter

Milkweed is the cotton of the north

 Brooding on the moors

Pan-fried blue gill on carprese salad with squash/apple soup and red wine

Summit Lake

Indiana Stonehenge

Benefits and Bare Trees

Unemployment Insurance is sometimes called Unemployment Benefits. I suppose it is a benefit to lose a job and still get paid a tiny fraction of what you had earned. I suppose it is a benefit to have a meager income while looking for work. 

And I suppose it is really nice to not plague lazy late Sunday afternoon daydreams with thoughts of early morning Mondays.

Since I am living on so-called benefits, then it is time I treat them as such.

I've had a lot of time off lately. Lots of people would envy me that, so I've been trying to do something worthy of that envy. I'm not water skiing or sleeping in tree houses or making homemade spaghetti sauce from homegrown tomatoes or watching the sun sink into an azure sea because this is November in Indiana.

My first thought was to fly the coop and go somewhere Envy-worthy. New York. Nashville. Key West. Been there, been there, been there. I don't feel like running away. This is such an unusual state of mind for me that I feel I must act on it by not running away. Maybe after Thanksgiving I'll run away.

I spend my mornings looking for work. I usually apply for jobs that are just a step above my experience. I suppose this is futile and that sooner or later I will have to start looking for jobs just a step under my experience. It's a depressing job market. I'd rather not talk about it right now.

But I'm holding my own. I'm fighting it off, the temptation to give in to depression, to throw up my  hands and curl up and pretend that none of this is happening. When I was laid off during the first part of the summer, I threw myself into home and yard projects and exploring Indy, which brought me unexpected joys. 

I spent last weekend doing fall clean up in my yard. I mowed my grass for the last time, trimmed all hedges, and mulched all the beautiful flowers I planted this summer. The work was exhausting and satisfying, the cool air exhilarating, my bed extra comfortable that evening. The virtues of hard work for one's self are innumerable.

The trees have shed the last of their leaves, and I realize that I have some shedding to do myself. 

Now I'm focusing on my house and purging. I've cleaned out several closets and my study. I've filled bags and boxes for the trash, recycling, and Goodwill. I'm going to clean every drawer, closet, and room.


I also received what I consider an honor: IndyFringe asked me if I would participate in the festival this year since it's the ten-year anniversary, and I quote, "It wouldn't feel right without you since you've been there from the beginning." The truth is, it made me cry. In a good way.

I thought writing was behind me. I thought my words were used up and my confidence was forever compromised by the harsh words of local critics.

I am writing a new play! It's called "Rollercoaster," and it will be part of the 2014 IndyFringe Festival. It's a series of vignettes of several characters exploring different kinds of love. I can't think of a more simple premise, and maybe that's a reflection of where I want to be with my life.

For so many years I had depression and pain to draw from, and they brought out so much beauty and emotion. I find it much harder to write when I'm happy. Happy is superficial in it's own way. Or maybe it's not. Maybe I haven't explored happy and given it its due the way I have with Sad. Happy could be a new journey for me. How have I not pondered this before?

A part of me thinks I need to go a mountain yurt or cabin in the woods to do my writing, just like my favorite singers and writers do. The other part of me thinks I need to be able Write in Place.

We've been doing some local travel to state parks. We've been to Mounds, Raccoon Lake, Shades, Turkey Run, McCormick's Creek, Cataract Falls, and Brown County. We pack a cooler of sandwiches, fruit, and beer, and off we go for several-hour hikes. Indiana is not blessed with any particular outstanding or unusual beauty, and I've been pretty spoiled in my travels. You have to lower your expectations in Indiana. Wow, we should put that on our license plates! 

I am gaining some valuable experience in the realm of learning to appreciate what you have. As skills go, it's a pretty good one to have.

Turkey Run and Shades are our favorites. They both have green canyons that are really fun to hike and are quite beautiful. Larry and I have decided to visit them in every season.

We are a few weeks past prime colors of autumn, and that adds another tier of difficulty to finding the beauty. Sometimes I have to close my eyes to find it. I'm finding I feel more with my eyes closed. I'm finding that it feels pretty good to be doing the best that I can.

I've found that brown leaves make better sounds when you step on them than orange leaves, and that brown leaves attract a lot fewer people. We are often alone in these huge unspoiled expanses. The air is perhaps a bit too cold, but it makes us huddle closer. Somehow, the woods always transport me. I feel closer to my true happiness among trees.

I still want to make a go of it here in Indy. I still want to do things with my yard in the spring and have a garden and call this place home. I have an artistic project for my yard. I've never built anything myself and I want to try. I can't wait to post pictures when I'm done. I think it will my Place totally unique! I want my back yard to be a room of its own with lots of structure and focal points and to be a long-term work in progress.

Something like this:



I've been renting out the guest room in my house to travelers, running a sort of boarding house. I'm getting more and more guests now. I'm currently hosting a musician who is a keyboardist for the Broadway tour of Wicked. He'll be with me for three weeks, and his rent is paying my mortgage for two months. I also have an ethnomusicologist staying with me for three days. I'm sleeping on air mattress. I'm thinking of amping up the hospitality angle by offering meals and tours. This is really good for me because it forces me to keep the house clean, and I get to meet travelers and live out a fascination of running a boarding house. It harkens back to the old days of a sharing economy, and it's exciting to be on the leading edge of a movement.

We went to see Wicked this week. We won the lottery! I saw it at Pantages in Hollywood in '07, and won the lottery that time too. I truly love this masterpiece. From the characters to the story to the message to the spectacle of the costumes, it is in every sense of the word spectacular.



What I'm reading:

Into Thin Air by John Krakaeur

*****


What I recently watched:

When You're Strange a documentary about the Doors

*****

What I'm jamming:
The Naked and Famous:

What I'm Digging:
Andrea Gibson:

Where I've been:
Turkey Run

Giving up the Ghost

Seven years ago I had to go to the unemployment agency, or "WorkOne" as it's called here in Indy. I was annoyed, agitated, angry, and deeply depressed. I don't belong here!  I'm not like these people! I looked around at the hopeless and hapless people and felt nothing for them other than a small measure of superiority. I only write that because it's true and not something I actually want to admit. I myself was projecting the very stigma on my counterparts that I loathed to be projected on me. 

If you've ever had the displeasure and humiliation of dealing with the nonsense of that bureaucracy, then you will understand how I happened to lose my mind that day. I cried so hard my nose bled.  I'm nearly positive that what I had could be classified as an emotional breakdown.  I remember feeling both severe pain and a sense of relief when I let it happen. My sobbing was like a symphony of many movements, mostly the violent brass kind that proclaims doom to be just outside the city fortress. Alcoholics would call a day like that their "bottom." I doubt I realized it, but after that episode, there was nowhere for me to go but up; and I up I went, knuckling my way out of a rocky crevasse.

I look back at that person, and I feel for her, but I don't feel like her anymore. It wasn't long ago that I looked at that version of myself and felt dread and regret. I look at her now, and while it's not quite sympathy I feel for her, I do feel forgiveness. I believe that particular incarnation of my self finally gave up the ghost. It's true: I walked around like a haunted soul for a few of my years on this earth.

Earlier this week, I was forced to make another visit to this dreaded office of humiliation and red tape. I was taking a twilight walk the night before, thinking about the upcoming non-work week, and I felt dread creeping in. I looked at the beautiful sky and inhaled the fresh crisp air, and I told dread, "Nothing to see here, folks."   

The next day, I set my alarm, I got dressed and off I went. I took a number. I took a seat. My number was called. I explained the issue I had, and. I was sent to the computer bank, even though I had already filled out all of the information on my home computer.

I looked around at the sea of frustrated and fearful faces, and I recognized their expressions, and instead of denying that I was one of them, I had a sudden need to help them. Most of them didn't understand how to fill out a profile. Most of them probably did not have a home computer. The person next to me raised her hand and waited for some assistance. I asked her if I could help. She was angry and rude, but at one point I got a look at her eyes, and I saw that former version of myself staring back at me. I walked her through the steps, told her it would be okay, that we're all here together in the Hotel California but that we will get out, and she relaxed.  She even smiled a little.

I am just like these people. They had jobs and were downsized or outsourced. They worked and were released through no fault of their own. Like me, they feel scared, humiliated, at times hopeless, and as if we're being judged and measured harshly, especially by ourselves.

To be honest, things have improved at WorkOne since my last visit. The associate who helped me was bright and confident, and truth be told,  slightly patronizing, and I don't know why, but it disarmed me and calmed me. She solved all the problems that were created by the computer program, which seemed to think that I was self-employed and was enjoying the payout of a pension (pension, pension, PENSION??? What is THAT?).

I was out of there in less than an hour.  And I didn't holler. And I didn't cry. And I didn't bleed. In a few weeks, I'll be getting a whopping $390/week. Don't worry, I won't spend it all in one place.

Perhaps I have improved, too. 
Goodbye, ghost.

"No Bad News" Patty Griffin