Thermal Runaway: A situation where an increase in temperature changes the conditions in a way that causes a further increase in temperature leading to a destructive result. It is a kind of positive feedback. -- Wikipedia
I'm on a roll
I'm on a roll, this time
I feel my luck could change
-- Radiohead
Sometimes starting over is as easy as burning the past. And not as a way to sweep dust and ashes under the proverbial rug, but as a way to reclaim the phoenix. I opened the box and sat with letters written on so many pages of virgin paper that a staunch environmentalist would be required by her own oath and code to begin protest outside my door. I watched the postmarks progress. Almost twenty years of a life (lives) documented on paper. Handwritten. Typewritten. Ink smeared across the page. I read until my heart was full. I read until the letters began to dance around the page and no longer formed words. I lit the match.
Sometimes burning the past isn't as easy as starting over. Especially when a storm takes hold on what should be still, almost-summertime weather. The wind began with a whisper and increased exponentially. It reminded me that a life cannot be un-lived or re-lived. It reminded me that I burn the pages to remember. And to be cleansed. I want to be reborn full grown. I want to wash the bitter taste from my mouth. I want to let go of my attachment. I want the chains to soften and fall away.
I gave the matches to the wind and continued my efforts. I held each page over a flame provided by Q. I tossed the fragments one by one into a glazed ceramic planter until the words became smoke. I inhaled deeply. The fire grew and I was surrounded in the thick air. The planter shattered and a piece hit me in the leg. I am quiet. And listening.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Non Requiem
Sometimes I get stuck. The words for this post have been tumbling around inside my mind for some time. Every time I begin to string them together in an attempt to form sentences I stop. Re-read. Erase. Because it isn't right. It isn't perfect. For some reason I feel that it should be. Perfect. Even though I am not. Even though I have never been. And then I realize that my inability to create perfection is a necessary exercise in order for me to learn the lesson. Again.
I need to start at the beginning. I have a dear friend whom I have known for about ten years. I am typing the words "ten" and "years" strung together and I am shocked. I stop. Re-trace the path. Counting on my fingers. Ten. It is accurate. For the past ten years my dear friend and I have been all of the following: co-workers, acquaintances, friends, roommates, co-workers again, angry, estranged, re-acquainting, friends again. This is not meant to be an inclusive list, but I believe it is fairly accurate representation.
Not long ago I learned that her younger sister, Jenn, was diagnosed with cancer. As further testament to the irony of life you should know that my dear friend works at BIG ASS UNNAMED CANCER CENTER. I followed my friend's posts carefully. Then I received the message. Jenn died after her valiant fight with the disease. She wasn't even thirty years old.
You should know that I am telling you that Jenn died rather than telling you that she passed on, because I too once worked at BIG ASS UNNAMED CANCER CENTER (BAUCC). Typical terminology at BAUCC is that a patient "expired" like milk, but not like UNNAMED PROCESSED CHEESE PRODUCT NOT REQUIRING REFRIGERATION. If you work at BAUCC long enough you are bound to become desensitized about things like death. It is the only way you can survive an occupation like that without feeling the need to throw yourself off a bridge on a daily basis. This is one of the reasons why I can say that someone died so matter of factly. The other reason is that I experienced a great deal of death from a very young age. I developed a macabre sense of humor, much to the chagrin of those meeting me for the first time. However, I never became desensitized enough during my life or my employment at BAUCC which is why I don't use the term expired. It is also why I choose a new career.
Besides. Some people are lactose intolerant so comparing their death to dairy of any sort would seemingly be a slap in the face.
I have digressed, but you knew I would. It is important for me to say that this digression is meant with the utmost respect. You might not think so, but I ask you to humor me for a moment. Because I think it is important for us to explore language. What it means. Why we use it. How it impacts us. And because sometimes we need to laugh to prevent ourselves from drowning in our own tears.
With that said you should know that I didn't know Jenn well. Not as well as I would have liked to have known her. I do know that she was an amazing individual. I know that she touched many lives. I know that she will be missed.
It's easy to say nice things about someone when they are gone from this life. We want to sanctify the dead, because it feels good to do so. This isn't one of those situations. I am not merely pontificating for her eulogy. Jenn was amazing.
I first met Jenn under what was intended to be a delightful holiday brunch, but became a train wreck due to several intoxicated and/or obnoxious guests. Despite the unusual circumstances of the day she held her own like a compassionate warrior. I quickly learned that she had a vibrant personality. Every time I saw Jenn she would sparkle when she smiled and that doesn't come along very often. She was a kind and genuine soul with a passion for life. She made the world a better place. Really, she did. How many of us can honestly say that we have done that?
And so here I am going through the typical mundane-esque bits and pieces of life. As of late I have been feeling a bit sorry for myself for one reason or another. And then I stop and think of Jenn.
Perhaps it is egotistical of me to believe that people like Jenn are put on this earth to teach the rest of us how to live. Fully. Completely. Not merely the wake up, go to work, come home, feed the dog, take out the trash, go to bed, rinse, repeat kind of living. But living with joy every day. Honestly thrilled to be alive kind of living. Who doesn't want that?
I would like to believe that I am not being self absorbed for assuming that Jenn's purpose was to teach us (me) this lesson. Because the thought of this both inspires and comforts me. Sometimes I need to be reminded not to take myself so seriously. This is why I write these posts the way that I do. Strangely punctuated. Grammatically daring. Deliciously vague.
Sometimes I need to be reminded that life is happening with or without me. I need to be reminded to let go of my fear and worry. I need to be reminded to live. I feel as though I want to mark this moment. I want to do something special so I won't forget. Again. I am very good at forgetting just as I am very good at making resolutions. Unfortunately I am not very good at the follow through.
I do not have the answer today. I wanted to wrap this post up with a nice bow. Like a sitcom or dramatic television program where everything comes full circle within the hour. I cannot do it. I have no answer. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. But I can't promise. I can promise that I will continue to post what I know and what I haven't yet figured out.
Thank you Jenn. Thank you for living your beautiful life for all to see.
I need to start at the beginning. I have a dear friend whom I have known for about ten years. I am typing the words "ten" and "years" strung together and I am shocked. I stop. Re-trace the path. Counting on my fingers. Ten. It is accurate. For the past ten years my dear friend and I have been all of the following: co-workers, acquaintances, friends, roommates, co-workers again, angry, estranged, re-acquainting, friends again. This is not meant to be an inclusive list, but I believe it is fairly accurate representation.
Not long ago I learned that her younger sister, Jenn, was diagnosed with cancer. As further testament to the irony of life you should know that my dear friend works at BIG ASS UNNAMED CANCER CENTER. I followed my friend's posts carefully. Then I received the message. Jenn died after her valiant fight with the disease. She wasn't even thirty years old.
You should know that I am telling you that Jenn died rather than telling you that she passed on, because I too once worked at BIG ASS UNNAMED CANCER CENTER (BAUCC). Typical terminology at BAUCC is that a patient "expired" like milk, but not like UNNAMED PROCESSED CHEESE PRODUCT NOT REQUIRING REFRIGERATION. If you work at BAUCC long enough you are bound to become desensitized about things like death. It is the only way you can survive an occupation like that without feeling the need to throw yourself off a bridge on a daily basis. This is one of the reasons why I can say that someone died so matter of factly. The other reason is that I experienced a great deal of death from a very young age. I developed a macabre sense of humor, much to the chagrin of those meeting me for the first time. However, I never became desensitized enough during my life or my employment at BAUCC which is why I don't use the term expired. It is also why I choose a new career.
Besides. Some people are lactose intolerant so comparing their death to dairy of any sort would seemingly be a slap in the face.
I have digressed, but you knew I would. It is important for me to say that this digression is meant with the utmost respect. You might not think so, but I ask you to humor me for a moment. Because I think it is important for us to explore language. What it means. Why we use it. How it impacts us. And because sometimes we need to laugh to prevent ourselves from drowning in our own tears.
With that said you should know that I didn't know Jenn well. Not as well as I would have liked to have known her. I do know that she was an amazing individual. I know that she touched many lives. I know that she will be missed.
It's easy to say nice things about someone when they are gone from this life. We want to sanctify the dead, because it feels good to do so. This isn't one of those situations. I am not merely pontificating for her eulogy. Jenn was amazing.
I first met Jenn under what was intended to be a delightful holiday brunch, but became a train wreck due to several intoxicated and/or obnoxious guests. Despite the unusual circumstances of the day she held her own like a compassionate warrior. I quickly learned that she had a vibrant personality. Every time I saw Jenn she would sparkle when she smiled and that doesn't come along very often. She was a kind and genuine soul with a passion for life. She made the world a better place. Really, she did. How many of us can honestly say that we have done that?
And so here I am going through the typical mundane-esque bits and pieces of life. As of late I have been feeling a bit sorry for myself for one reason or another. And then I stop and think of Jenn.
Perhaps it is egotistical of me to believe that people like Jenn are put on this earth to teach the rest of us how to live. Fully. Completely. Not merely the wake up, go to work, come home, feed the dog, take out the trash, go to bed, rinse, repeat kind of living. But living with joy every day. Honestly thrilled to be alive kind of living. Who doesn't want that?
I would like to believe that I am not being self absorbed for assuming that Jenn's purpose was to teach us (me) this lesson. Because the thought of this both inspires and comforts me. Sometimes I need to be reminded not to take myself so seriously. This is why I write these posts the way that I do. Strangely punctuated. Grammatically daring. Deliciously vague.
Sometimes I need to be reminded that life is happening with or without me. I need to be reminded to let go of my fear and worry. I need to be reminded to live. I feel as though I want to mark this moment. I want to do something special so I won't forget. Again. I am very good at forgetting just as I am very good at making resolutions. Unfortunately I am not very good at the follow through.
I do not have the answer today. I wanted to wrap this post up with a nice bow. Like a sitcom or dramatic television program where everything comes full circle within the hour. I cannot do it. I have no answer. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. But I can't promise. I can promise that I will continue to post what I know and what I haven't yet figured out.
Thank you Jenn. Thank you for living your beautiful life for all to see.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
LMNOP Now or The Year of Not Waiting
In case you have not noticed I haven't been doing a very good job on this whole updating thing. I have many excuses. And I have found that it's a good idea to keep a few loose excuses around for occasions such as these. I have excuses. But I won't bore you with them. Actually I'm saving them. I think if I can collect enough excuses I can trade them in for something spectacular that I must have but do not need. If you have any new or gently used excuses please feel free to drop them off for me. I am hoping that with enough collected excuses I might be able to trade them in for some plutonium or perhaps some delicious cocoa. Either way I'm good.
But enough random rambling. You want news. You want an update. You want me to impart some of my brilliance upon you.
I'm afraid I'm fresh out.
We are now well into January. January people. January. Time is ticking. Soon the year will have slipped by and I will not have even finished typing this sentence. Because as you all know, the sky is falling. Seriously though. I often post some reflective nonsense prior to or shortly after the start of a new year. I suppose I should keep with tradition given my propensity toward nostalgia.
Okay. Here we go. Here are my plans for the year. Ready? Go.
1. Get a damn passport. For those of you that have been following this for some time you may be feeling a sense of deja vu. No. I still don't have a damn passport yet. But this year I vow to make it happen even if I have to suck it up and beg Soy to take my passport photo.
2. Be naked more. Who doesn't love that one? Seriously. I mean it.
3. Love the people I love more. This includes everything from spending more time with my wonderful friends to giving a bit more on the 60% front.
4. Take more photographs. Some of you may not be aware of the fact that a miracle has happened and I have acquired a digital camera. This doesn't mean I'm throwing the kid in the toilet, but it does mean I need to get my ass in gear. Exciting photographic expeditions are already being planned. If you're interested please contact me. Now, damnit!
5. Travel. Passport not necessarily required. I am looking to leave Seattle for a while. Perhaps I am looking to leave it for longer than a while. But there is much to see and I want to see it while my eyeballs still function.
I think that's it. I tend to put too much on my plate which I end up dropping. Then all of the food ends up on the floor and I'm stuck with stale crackers and a large selection of condiments.
I hereby name two thousand and eight the Year of Not Waiting. This means not waiting for XYZ to happen before LMNOP can occur. Starting....now. Go!
But enough random rambling. You want news. You want an update. You want me to impart some of my brilliance upon you.
I'm afraid I'm fresh out.
We are now well into January. January people. January. Time is ticking. Soon the year will have slipped by and I will not have even finished typing this sentence. Because as you all know, the sky is falling. Seriously though. I often post some reflective nonsense prior to or shortly after the start of a new year. I suppose I should keep with tradition given my propensity toward nostalgia.
Okay. Here we go. Here are my plans for the year. Ready? Go.
1. Get a damn passport. For those of you that have been following this for some time you may be feeling a sense of deja vu. No. I still don't have a damn passport yet. But this year I vow to make it happen even if I have to suck it up and beg Soy to take my passport photo.
2. Be naked more. Who doesn't love that one? Seriously. I mean it.
3. Love the people I love more. This includes everything from spending more time with my wonderful friends to giving a bit more on the 60% front.
4. Take more photographs. Some of you may not be aware of the fact that a miracle has happened and I have acquired a digital camera. This doesn't mean I'm throwing the kid in the toilet, but it does mean I need to get my ass in gear. Exciting photographic expeditions are already being planned. If you're interested please contact me. Now, damnit!
5. Travel. Passport not necessarily required. I am looking to leave Seattle for a while. Perhaps I am looking to leave it for longer than a while. But there is much to see and I want to see it while my eyeballs still function.
I think that's it. I tend to put too much on my plate which I end up dropping. Then all of the food ends up on the floor and I'm stuck with stale crackers and a large selection of condiments.
I hereby name two thousand and eight the Year of Not Waiting. This means not waiting for XYZ to happen before LMNOP can occur. Starting....now. Go!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Countdown to National Stomp Out Worry Day!
So. I wasn't kidding. Because I can't kid about these things. If you read my previous post you will recall my proposal to create National Stomp Out Worry Day! Without further ado, I proudly declare this Thursday, December 13, 2007, National Stomp Out Worry Day! Anyone who wishes to join me in celebrating this gently used day can do so by STOMPING OUT WORRY!!! Big worries. Little worries. High worries. Low worries. Skinny worries. Chubby worries. Flat worries. Lumpy worries. Polka-dotted worries. Puce worries. Grape flavored worries. Invisible worries. Worries of every shape, size, color, flavor. Worries of every type.
My plans for National Stomp Out Worry Day! are as follows:
1. Make a list of my most significant worries.
2. Light list of seemingly significant worries on fire.
3. Stomp out list of seemingly significant worries currently on fire so they will no longer be on fire.
4. Eat pie.
Celebrate National Stomp Out Worry Day! however you see fit. Just be sure to exclaim when you do it. Please feel free to share stories of your National Stomp Out Worry Day! celebrations.
My plans for National Stomp Out Worry Day! are as follows:
1. Make a list of my most significant worries.
2. Light list of seemingly significant worries on fire.
3. Stomp out list of seemingly significant worries currently on fire so they will no longer be on fire.
4. Eat pie.
Celebrate National Stomp Out Worry Day! however you see fit. Just be sure to exclaim when you do it. Please feel free to share stories of your National Stomp Out Worry Day! celebrations.
Monday, November 26, 2007
More than a Flurry of Worry
Some might describe me an individual who is prone to worry. Worry is a funny sounding word when you say it aloud. And I find that it sounds exactly like it feels. Tight. Constricting. Suffocating. Recently I have begun to realize that my propensity to worry is compromising a variety of wonderful things in my life. And I do not like it. I have been able to get away with excessive worry for the overwhelming majority of my life due to the fact that I have not been forced to share my aforementioned feelings of worry.
Early on I became quite skilled at kung fu subject changes which I would often call upon when the topic of worry surfaced with others. I maintained an excellent game face. That mask as since begun to crack. And I am beginning to realize that I may very well have a problem which just so happens to begin with a W much like other current problems facing the nation.
So I am seeking a reputable worry removal service. It sounds easy, but there is a problem. I am afraid to let go of worry. I need worry like a junkie needs junk.
Perhaps my biggest fear with this letting go of worry thing is the fear that I will shift my perspective from one extreme to the other and cease all worrying. And in doing so everything will fall apart. I know it isn't realistic for me to fear that after a lifetime of being a worrier I will suddenly fall into a worry-free slump and end up hustling my ass for mac and cheese. The generic variety no less. Logically I know this won't happen.
But it gets worse. Because...and I'm going to say it so sit down everyone...I may very well look at "non-worriers" as suspect. And what I mean is I may assume that those who don't appear to worry aren't ever worried and therefore could very well end up hustling for mac and cheese faster than you can say public defender. It seems that somehow I have equated the worrier with the responsible.
Okay. There. I've said it. It wasn't easy. But I think it's true.
I know it seems insane. You don't have to tell me so. And I would certainly seek out some professional help, but my health insurance isn't all that great. Hence, something else to potentially worry about which clearly I do not need, now or ever.
I have thought about making a list of my worries. Face them directly. Look them in the eye and sneer. But I don't think I'm ready for such a bold step. Mostly because I feel that I will embarrass myself if I actually put pen to paper which of course means that I should reconsider this whole list thing.
Besides. I like lists.
So perhaps I will be making a list. Checking it twice. Responding to my own insanity. Kicking worry in the junk. I feel stuck and I want to be unstuck. I feel that I am missing out on so many things and I don't want to miss out anymore.
I also tend to feel that I am very much alone in my worry. But I know that I cannot be. Perhaps what we worriers truly need is a national stomp out worry day. Actually, it's not a bad idea.
Therefore, I declare the 13th of December National Stomp Out Worry Day! Stay tuned for additional details on this exciting non-event. Maybe I can get the greeting card companies in on the action and get a kickback. That would certainly give me one less thing to worry about.
Early on I became quite skilled at kung fu subject changes which I would often call upon when the topic of worry surfaced with others. I maintained an excellent game face. That mask as since begun to crack. And I am beginning to realize that I may very well have a problem which just so happens to begin with a W much like other current problems facing the nation.
So I am seeking a reputable worry removal service. It sounds easy, but there is a problem. I am afraid to let go of worry. I need worry like a junkie needs junk.
Perhaps my biggest fear with this letting go of worry thing is the fear that I will shift my perspective from one extreme to the other and cease all worrying. And in doing so everything will fall apart. I know it isn't realistic for me to fear that after a lifetime of being a worrier I will suddenly fall into a worry-free slump and end up hustling my ass for mac and cheese. The generic variety no less. Logically I know this won't happen.
But it gets worse. Because...and I'm going to say it so sit down everyone...I may very well look at "non-worriers" as suspect. And what I mean is I may assume that those who don't appear to worry aren't ever worried and therefore could very well end up hustling for mac and cheese faster than you can say public defender. It seems that somehow I have equated the worrier with the responsible.
Okay. There. I've said it. It wasn't easy. But I think it's true.
I know it seems insane. You don't have to tell me so. And I would certainly seek out some professional help, but my health insurance isn't all that great. Hence, something else to potentially worry about which clearly I do not need, now or ever.
I have thought about making a list of my worries. Face them directly. Look them in the eye and sneer. But I don't think I'm ready for such a bold step. Mostly because I feel that I will embarrass myself if I actually put pen to paper which of course means that I should reconsider this whole list thing.
Besides. I like lists.
So perhaps I will be making a list. Checking it twice. Responding to my own insanity. Kicking worry in the junk. I feel stuck and I want to be unstuck. I feel that I am missing out on so many things and I don't want to miss out anymore.
I also tend to feel that I am very much alone in my worry. But I know that I cannot be. Perhaps what we worriers truly need is a national stomp out worry day. Actually, it's not a bad idea.
Therefore, I declare the 13th of December National Stomp Out Worry Day! Stay tuned for additional details on this exciting non-event. Maybe I can get the greeting card companies in on the action and get a kickback. That would certainly give me one less thing to worry about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)