Sit, or Stand, and Don't Hit the Snooze Button

We make a decision every single moment. Send/Delete. Ask/Don't ask. Walk/Don't walk. Speak/Remain silent. Eat the cake/Don't eat the cake. Taste test arugula/Don't taste test arugula. Go for one more monkey lap/Wimp out. Sit, or stand, but don't wobble.

Here's my general morning rundown: "Should I hit snooze? What will I risk if I do, or don't? I'm too tired to think about this."

*Button press

"Oh crap, I shouldn't have hit snooze!"

"What should I wear? Is it Wednesday? Do I have something happening today, in which I should look fancy... fancier... some what more presentable than a day in which I sit in a room by myself? Is it Friday? Sure, this'll do."

"Should I feed the animals, or make my coffee first? Should I drink this coffee, or wait a few minutes so it doesn't sear my tongue? Should I water the plants? Is it going to rain? Do I have time to check the weather? I shouldn't be checking Facebook now. I opened this stupid device to check the weather. Okay, great it's going to rain. Should I close the window? Should I have picked a long sleeve shirt? What if the forecast is wrong? Crap! This outfit doesn't match at all now. Hair up? Hair down? I have to go. Keys? Check."

"Wait, I forgot to feed the cats. Did I lock the door? Also, my coffee is still on the counter, so... I guess I have time to turn around. Plus, this long sleeve shirt is really hot, and I should probably change. What will happen if I'm late? Forget it."

*Turn around.

These decisions are small, menial, insignificant, and as long as in some randomized order coffee is made, cats are fed, snooze is averted (enough), clothes are on, plants are moisturized, and at some point resembling "on time" I'm on the road, all is well -- easy peasy.

In this case, there's time to sit, stand, and even wobble.

Generally, we find more of a gray space in decision making, though, don't we? It's a bit blurrier when something is actually at stake; it's tougher. The order matters. The results differ. The cause and effect can quickly spiral into something unintentional. Signals may get picked up by the wrong pigeon, and misdelivered. Fear of choosing the doom door freezes us to our seat, and we can't stand. When we do, we start to pace. It's really weird in the gray area.

I imagine it looks something like neurons firing in every direction at once, madly scouring for that perfect moment from the past where the answer sits, waiting. There has to be something back there -- a red alert, a breaking news light, a talking raven, an episode of Ed, a shred of evidence, a regretful misstep, or a success story --  to glean information from, interpret, and send back in the form of an action plan. This,"Ah-ha," this "voila!" is what, in the end flips the switch from black to white, so that with confidence you can say, "Because of this or that, this is the solution... or that."

It turns out the gray area is not gray at all. It's actually wild with color. It's every color all at once. It's paint splatter, and alphabet soup, and gasoline, and sparklers, and sprinklers hitting you in the face. That's why you can only stay in it for so long, right? It's too wacky in there; it's too intense. It's like a rave (or so, I imagine). It's like Animaniacs dancing in your brain wacking you with TNT hammers.

Don't linger in the gray area. Sit, or stand. Don't wobble.

The thing about making a decision is you actually don't know if you made the right one until it's already done. You just have to make the best call you can at the time; pull the cord, jump, cross your fingers, and hope. If you have to ask the question, you already know the answer. The answer is already there. The question, is the answer. Pick a path, any path. Choose your own adventure. Catch a train. Pop the bubble wrap. Do something... anything!

In 1999 I had a big mental drama about where to go to college -- stay close, or go far away. Study film? Study zoology? I pro/conned. I wrote an entire essay about "change" for a class assignment. (I'd like to dig that up). I asked everyone what I should do. Then, I left it to fate. I applied wherever I felt like, and I waited. In retrospect, I should've applied to more film schools. That's hindsight for you, sneaking up and poking you for being so dense. I digress.That's a completely different story.

Ultimately, I went to DU. I stayed close, and I studied film. The first couple of months were awful. I was certain it was a mistake. I'm a stickler for sticking it out, though, so I sat. I sat, and then one night I stood up and went out with some kids from class, and at the end of that quarter, I had two new friends. Two new friends, who still stand at my side 15 years later. (Okay, okay... so I already knew John from week one, but that's my Katy story, and I'm sticking to it). We met a soon-to-be college student a few weeks ago, who upon hearing how long we've been friends said, "Wow! I hope that happens to me." I hope it does.

I hope you all sit, until you can stand. I hope you pick a path, any path, and walk down it. Run, if you want. Do whatever you want really. Reach up and touch the leaves on the trees, look up at the clouds, jump over the sidewalk cracks, blast Paul Oakenfold's "Starry Eyed Surprise," and bob your head. No one is watching you. No one else is there. This is your path.

In the year 2000 I didn't know if I'd made the right decision, but I'd made one. I pulled the cord, and jumped, and in 2015, I wouldn't trade that decision for anything in the world. If Northwestern had said, "Okay!" I would've boarded a plane for Chicago. I would probably be sitting in an L.A. diner with one of my NHSI buddies, or maybe we would have lost touch during year one. There would be no Katy. There would be no John. There would be no Cindy. There would be no Ben. There would be no... Holy crap! I can't even go on with this, because it starts to get all Twilight Zone-esque.

*Exit the wormhole

The point is, we don't know. We don't know, and it doesn't matter. Whatever happened, happened. Whatever didn't happen, didn't. That's the way it works. You make a choice. You take the path. You listen to the universe if it talks to you. You listen to yourself if it doesn't.

There's not much time to waste in the gray area. There's no wobble. It's black and white. You make the best choice you can possibly make at the time, and then you jump. Type/Delete. Ask/Don't ask. Walk/Don't walk. Speak/Remain silent. Eat the cake/Don't eat the cake. Taste test arugula/Don't taste test arugula. Go for one more monkey lap/Wimp out. Sit, or stand.

Seriously, though... I shouldn't have hit snooze!

I'm sorry, but there's an ice cream truck coming, and...

It's 3:44 p.m. on a Friday. I have exactly 16 minutes before the free Friday frozen yogurt truck arrives at the apartment. (It's a thing!) It's been a really weird week you guys, and I've been stuck trying to decide what to write about for days.

I have a longer blog idea that may find it's way out next week, and a music essay that needs to be edited very soon. Music has been really important again lately, so it seems appropriate. That essay has been hiding for way too long. But, that's not today...

Today, I have some notes on my phone about monkey bars and nets and ropes and such. The notes go something like this:

"When falling: Reach for the strongest rope, swing, cross the monkey bars, and don't look for the net. The net is there. It's always there. Don't even worry about it, though, because you know it will always catch you. Reach for the rope."

So there's that, and now there are only three minutes until ice cream, and then... hopefully a new monkey bar monkey lap record, so...

Stay tuned.

Follow Up: Enter the Heron

Enter the heron. 

I forgot about the heron.

Yesterday, I was in the general (but not quite) vicinity of my park, so I stopped by for a loop, and there he was. He looked right at me several times, and I thought, "What are you trying to tell me you beautiful heron, you?" and he said... nothing, because heron's can't talk. (I know, I know, bad joke). Still, I heard him perfectly. 

 

My quick Googling (Binging, really, because it pays to Bing) tells me that the heron is a good omen -- a symbol of wisdom, patience, strength, prosperity. In summary: All that is right.

 

This blog link has some wonderful heron folklore. I may have to look these up in pretty picture book form soon. When you work at a library, this can be interpreted simply as, "Go downstairs."

 

After the heron (my next spy novel), I communed with this grasshopper.

 

 

He's a giant. King of the park grasshoppers, I assume. 

 

The grasshopper, as it so happens, symbolizes a leap of faith, moving forward, and also good luck. (Of frickin' course it does).

 

Incidentally, and as an aside, Ozma is temporarily transformed into an emerald grasshopper in L. Frank Baum's Ozma of Oz. This won't mean much to most people, but to me it seems relevant.

 

I don't think I imagine the grasshopper to look quite like this. But, here it is, the gospel truth, so...

 

I sort of thought that if I kept writing, I might make a point. Now I see that the point may be that there is no point. There is beauty to look at everywhere if you search for it, and I did, so it presented itself. Maybe the heron sent me his wisdom. Maybe the grasshopper told me to leap. Maybe they are all part of this grand serendipitous scheme that has been unwinding before me, or maybe they were just there to say, "Hi! Yo! Sup Jamey?" Connect the dots as you will. The symbols are amazing, and I love them, but they're also driving me mad. It's time for something solid.

Holy cow! Why are the grasshopper's boots on backwards? This is going on the wall next to my Herzog printout and my Scrubs poster.

Once Upon a Pond: Geese, Romanticism, and Go! Go!

This park is one of my favorite places in Colorado Springs. It's my Pooh Bear style thinking spot, and it has all sorts of beautifully strange memories attached to it.

I smile as I recall trips with my family to feed the ducks, a common outing when we were small. The pond seemed more immense then, the island more mysterious. The willows, though, are exactly the same. We always hoped the swan would be there. If we were really lucky it might be the black one. You know, I still keep bags of bread crusts in my freezer for just this water fowl purpose. I suppose I should go, huh? The last time I tried to feed them, though, there were only geese and... Well, we'll get to that.

I remember sitting on the grass many years later to study for the GRE. Then, when I had to shoot my first weather video, while working for KKTV (that's all they let me do for a while), I came here and watched the willows weep with the rain. (What? It's true!)

I've wandered here. I've searched for answers here. I shot a poetry film here for Price Strobridge's poem, "Prism." It went all the way to Vancouver. This place, that is my place went to Canada, and I stayed right here.

I didn't discover the sundial until a few years ago. I frickin' love this sundial. It reads: "Time Makes Love Go. Love Makes Time Go."

If you read it this way, though, it just says, "Go. Go." or, "Goog." 

The sundial isn't relevant to anything actually, except for I love it, and think it's enchanting, and I kind of want to visit it immediately. It's part of this poetic place, which I also love, and.... Goog!

Right so... The whole reason I'm writing this (sort of, maybe, I guess) is that a few years back, and well after I already knew about the sundial, I asked someone to meet me here. Raise your hand if you know this story? It's one right out of a movie. In fact it's the catalyst for this entire I Didn't See that Coming web series, and perhaps, my life as I know it... but, I digress.

I truly thought he would show. He had to, right? When you devise a grand scheme for a hopeless romantic, he always shows. 

Nope. Not this time.

In my line-a-day journal I wrote: "I went out on a crazy limb and told ______ to meet me at the park. I had coffee, cake, crappy poetry, and a lot of humility. He didn't show..." 

*Insert Collective "Awwwww."

No you guys. It's fine. Really. This was a long time ago. This was once upon a time. This is just the story about the pond. I don't think he was ever supposed to show. I'm glad he didn't. I'm actually really glad he didn't, because everything that came after is 500 times better than what may have happened had he walked around that bend. Sometimes I don't even think I should be writing this one, which is dumb, because as noted, I was the only one there, which makes it my story to tell or not tell if I want to. There's a bit more to the end, but I'll save that for the episode. 

I will say that I got chased by some geese, and the willow wept. Never feed geese. Just don't.

The webisode's been really hard to edit into a second draft. It's not that it's painful to go back there. In fact, I have no problem going to this place, or describing it, or even writing about it now. It's really the monologue in my main character's head that I keep writing and re-writing, and writing again, and then deleting. It'll come... Maybe it just did.

I think I left something behind that day at the pond -- a little bit of romanticism, perhaps. Maybe I need to go and get it, or maybe it found me again on its own. I don't know, but I bet my sundial does.

So... I wonder what the aforementioned crappy poetry was? I don't think I want to know, but am simultaneously curious. I'd forgotten that part until I read the journal entry again today.

Goog!

#Hashtag Does Exist: #ShesLikeACourtReporter - A Poem of Hashtags, Because... The Moon

So...  I wrote this based on a Friday evening of bar conversation hashtags created while watching my friends Travis Duncan & Jeremiah Walter (The Rogue Spirits) perform.

While writing, I questioned whether it was the best use of my time, but then decided, "Oh, it's all a crazy process anyway! What the heck!" So... Enjoy! (or something)

#ShesLikeACourtReporter

#YoJoe,
#YouCanOnlyYOLOOnce,
the #BlueMoonIsALie and #ThatsWhereWereAt,
#ThereIsNoSadface #SiriSaidSo, so,
#BackToTheCats

#HowDidIHashtagAirport?
#CanSuperheroesDanceInCapes?
#OutCrazyDonaldTrump?
#OutCrazyCharlieSheen?

This is all #Nonsense,
it doesn't belong on Facebook,
it should be on Twitter.

It is on Twitter. #ShowMeTheThankYouFace

#YoJoe,
#NowIHaveGarlicBreath, so #NoVamps,
Hey, #YouNeverBringTheSaw
#ThisIsntTheSongIThoughtItWas

Please, #KeepSayingWeirdShit

#GoogleUnicorn #Outstriment #Unstriment #Outty #Inny #Unny?
#PianoWhisk #WhiskItGood #TheresSoMuchCake #FingerFoodRestaurauntReviews

#Hashtag does exist

#TheShrugWasTrue

#YoJoe, #TwittersYourWingman,
#CauseItsABird but,
#TheMoonLies and
#ThisIsntTheSongIThoughtItWas,
#SadCymbal

#DefineMyEmotion #OnTheHouse #:) #:( #ThereIsNoSadface,
#SiriSaidSo

Oh, #SloppyJoe, #HaveYouHadEnoughYet? #YouOnlyYOLOOnce

Please, just #KeepSayingWeirdShit

#SoItWasntJustJeremiahDancing!
#JazzHands! #AndWeFoundedAGleeClub,
#WhatSongIsThisOne?
#WhatOne?
#ThisOne

YoJoe,
#TheBlueMoonIsALie and #ImNotFeelingCleverImFeelingMad,
#JameyAaaaaa,
#IAmFirstInThePhonebook,
#TheLadyWithTheChair,
#WorthIt

#AndTheCakeHasBeenStolen

Please, #KeepSayingWeirdShit

#WhatSongIsThisOne?
It #NeedsAWhistleChorus and
#ConcertinaEnFuego,
but #UkuleleMusicMakesABadDayGood,
it's a #FleaJumper

#TheMoonLies #ThereIsNoSadface,
#SiriSaysSo,
#SadFaceIsConfusedFace so,
#IDontThinkICanComeToOneOfTheseAgain,
#WhatOne?
#ThisOne
#IsThatOneWord?

#YoJoe,
#TravisIsGoingToSwitchUnstrimments and #WereGonnaFillTheInternetWithAllTheNonsense, so please, #KeepSayingWeirdShit #ItsGarlicyGood

#AsManyCatsAsICanWear
#FrownyPoop
#ItsAlwaysGoingToBeABigManInALittleJacket
#Unny? #Inny? #Outty?
and #ThatsWhereWereAt

#DefineMyEmotion #ThereIsNoSadface,
#JameyAaaaa,
#WhiskItGood,
#TheBlueMoonIsALie,

#AndPrint.
#AndPrince?

#AndPrince.

Please, #KeepSayingWeirdShit
#ButIAlreadyAndPrincedIt!

#FUMoon
#NeedsAWhistleChorus,
and #ThatsWhereWereAt

#AndPrince.

----------------

I finished another poem yesterday too -- a throat bubbly one. Its really beautiful, but it doesn't belong here. It belongs in someone's pocket. I'll share it one day maybe, or I may hand it over for the correct password. (Ha!)