My mother died last year. No sympathy, please - that’s not why I’m telling you that. Hang in here with me for a bit. I’m trying to go somewhere with this.
A few years back my Dad (who was a great friend of mine - we used to work on cars, drink beer and play pool together - oh yeah!) - anyway, my Dad got out of the shower, had a huge heart attack and died. The good news is he never knew what hit him.
My mom really wasn’t ever the same after that. She was a person who just didn’t know how to be alone. She never had been really, and I don’t think she wanted to start learning how. As she gave up, her health began to decline, and the more it did that, the faster it did that. She finally developed something terminal and that was all she wrote. I had to sell my childhood home to help pay for her care (insurance just didn’t cover all the care she required in those last months).
My dog is buried in the backyard at that house, and the bastards who bought the house tore down Daddy’s garage (that’s okay, Daddy’ll haunt ‘em! Booooeeewaaaah!) I did all my growing up in that house, theoretically speaking. Although, there are many who will debate whether I have done any “growing up”. Ever. Anywhere.
Saying goodbye, and letting go of people you love, and of a place as grounding as my childhood home, was an abrupt and difficult experience. I’ve always been a bit of a free spirit, but I think my love for going my own way came in part from always knowing there was somewhere to which, and someone to whom I could go back - at any time. Now, that’s not the case. Dad isn’t there. Mom isn’t there. "There" isn’t even there anymore.
It puts a whole new complexion on that “free spirit” thing, doesn’t it? “Untethered” is how I describe the feeling. Being untethered can either feel really free and good, or really scary and adrift - and most of the time I think it feels like both simultaneously (maybe that’s kind of what walking in space is like - free, exhilarating and beautiful, but geez, if you’re “too” free how do you get back down there where all the oxygen is?).
The road is calling me again now - actually more like the friendly skies than the road, and more like shouting, not calling. Alas, I have a day job (grrrrrrrr) - and I need the damn day job to fund the writing dream. The writing dream is everything. Nothing stands in the way of that. So, the day job must stay for now. I do get a paid vacation every year, and this year (for the first time in 2 years - because Mom got sick) - this year I’m taking TWO WEEKS OFF! In August, I’m going to the City by the Bay. San Fran. The City of the Golden Gate.
I have my airline tickets. I have my hotel reservations. I will have a car. I will be doing some exploring. I will be having me some fun! Or, as my awesome and wonderful Daddy would have said to me, “Go blow the roof off the dump, kiddo.”
You got it, Dad. Oh, and Dad, I’m gonna see me some great auto racing while I’m there. Zoom, zoom, baby!!
Polla Filia,
J.F.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
FEAR AND DREAMS
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
Helen Keller
I have a fear of deep water. "Deep" would be defined as any water that, when I’m standing in it, comes up above my shoulders - and I get a little anxiety ridden once it passes my waistline. Yes, I can swim. I took swimming lessons at the "Y" when I was a kid, and I took them again as an adult at one of the Dallas Community Colleges. I swim quite well, in fact - in 3 feet of water. Get me in anything too much deeper and watch the metamorphosis. It’s like an out of body experience. I want to enjoy the water, but some dark mist creeps up and tells me to panic! I’m working on it - and making progress, I might add.
Some fears can be a good thing. They give you a healthy warning when something is not right - like someone following you home in the dark at night and you can "feel" them behind you. That’s a good kind of fear to have.
We all have fears - some are not so healthy. In the past few years, I’ve begun to recognize some stupid and very unhealthy fears I’ve had (beyond my aquaphobia), and I’ve started to shake them off. Something as seemingly mild as worrying far too much about what someone thinks about something I say or do. At some point, you have to find a way to trust yourself.
Sometimes you just have to push through a fear to start to beat it. In fact, there isn’t a better way to beat a fear than to face it. Go toe to toe. Get in that fear’s face. Bring it!
Some years ago, I had no agent and I had never been published (I have now been published once under another name). I had sent query after query after query to one agent after another. I had gotten close several times - but nothing. I had entered a manuscript contest and gotten some real interest from agent judges, and even some big editor judges - but still, nothing concrete.
There was a certain writer’s conference that I heard all about. The conference provided opportunity for pitching and face-to-face meetings with big agents and editors, and lots of writers with whom I could network. A lot of successes came out of that conference. I knew I could sell my work if I could just get 10 minutes of someone’s time. There was only one problem - it was the Maui Writer’s Conference, which is in (you guessed it) Maui.
Wow! Beautiful location, you might say. Wonderful trip to a lovely island to pitch your work. Pitch all day, drink mai tais all night. Awesome! Except for one thing - the largest body of water on the planet stood between me and that conference - the primordial sea - the great Pacific. I was already a nervous flyer (not phobic, but mildly nervous), and I would have to fly across the Pacific. No, I wouldn’t have to be in it (I hoped), but flying over it would be more than nerve-wracking for an aquaphobe like me. How could I do that?
Then I’d have more than my work cut out for me once I got there - cold pitching to folks I met at the conference, and reserved pitch sessions I paid for; but, I believed this was the way to get my work in front of the right people. I knew I had to try.
So, I booked my flight, reserved my room, paid for the conference and did a lot of deep breathing meditation before getting on that plane at LAX. I pulled the shade down on the airplane window and I didn’t look out when we took off. Once we got up to 30,000 feet (or whatever altitude) I discovered something interesting - you can’t tell the difference between the horizon and ocean - it’s all a big blue blur; but, I didn’t look out the window much after that. I watched the movie they had on the plane. I read. I wrote in a journal. It was 5 hours of me diverting myself from the thoughts of what was below me (about 30,000 feet below me).
I made it. The plane landed in Maui, no sweat. I took a little bus to the hotel, checked in, and I studied and practiced my pitch again and again. The next day I was ready. I went at it for 4 days - pitching to agents and editors. There was a lot of nice interest in my book; but, one agent in particular seemed to really "get" my work. I felt a connection with her (which I couldn’t have done through the usual query process). She wanted more pages. A month and a half later, she offered me representation and she’s been my agent ever since.
I flew across the biggest ocean on the planet, because I was determined not to be afraid - of the water, of rejection, of making a complete idiot out of myself in front of strangers, of failure, of anything. There was nothing about that trip that was easy. I was damn near broke from the expense, and I had to face my biggest fear and a lot of my smaller ones, too; but I got an agent - a really good one.
You can do it - whatever it is you dream of - you can do it. Take a deep breath, focus on the goal and don’t think about the depth of that ocean underneath you. The plane will land just fine - no sweat. Never give up on your dreams. If nothing else, you can be proud of your guts and determination. Remember: "Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
Polla Filia,
J.F.
Helen Keller
I have a fear of deep water. "Deep" would be defined as any water that, when I’m standing in it, comes up above my shoulders - and I get a little anxiety ridden once it passes my waistline. Yes, I can swim. I took swimming lessons at the "Y" when I was a kid, and I took them again as an adult at one of the Dallas Community Colleges. I swim quite well, in fact - in 3 feet of water. Get me in anything too much deeper and watch the metamorphosis. It’s like an out of body experience. I want to enjoy the water, but some dark mist creeps up and tells me to panic! I’m working on it - and making progress, I might add.
Some fears can be a good thing. They give you a healthy warning when something is not right - like someone following you home in the dark at night and you can "feel" them behind you. That’s a good kind of fear to have.
We all have fears - some are not so healthy. In the past few years, I’ve begun to recognize some stupid and very unhealthy fears I’ve had (beyond my aquaphobia), and I’ve started to shake them off. Something as seemingly mild as worrying far too much about what someone thinks about something I say or do. At some point, you have to find a way to trust yourself.
Sometimes you just have to push through a fear to start to beat it. In fact, there isn’t a better way to beat a fear than to face it. Go toe to toe. Get in that fear’s face. Bring it!
Some years ago, I had no agent and I had never been published (I have now been published once under another name). I had sent query after query after query to one agent after another. I had gotten close several times - but nothing. I had entered a manuscript contest and gotten some real interest from agent judges, and even some big editor judges - but still, nothing concrete.
There was a certain writer’s conference that I heard all about. The conference provided opportunity for pitching and face-to-face meetings with big agents and editors, and lots of writers with whom I could network. A lot of successes came out of that conference. I knew I could sell my work if I could just get 10 minutes of someone’s time. There was only one problem - it was the Maui Writer’s Conference, which is in (you guessed it) Maui.
Wow! Beautiful location, you might say. Wonderful trip to a lovely island to pitch your work. Pitch all day, drink mai tais all night. Awesome! Except for one thing - the largest body of water on the planet stood between me and that conference - the primordial sea - the great Pacific. I was already a nervous flyer (not phobic, but mildly nervous), and I would have to fly across the Pacific. No, I wouldn’t have to be in it (I hoped), but flying over it would be more than nerve-wracking for an aquaphobe like me. How could I do that?
Then I’d have more than my work cut out for me once I got there - cold pitching to folks I met at the conference, and reserved pitch sessions I paid for; but, I believed this was the way to get my work in front of the right people. I knew I had to try.
So, I booked my flight, reserved my room, paid for the conference and did a lot of deep breathing meditation before getting on that plane at LAX. I pulled the shade down on the airplane window and I didn’t look out when we took off. Once we got up to 30,000 feet (or whatever altitude) I discovered something interesting - you can’t tell the difference between the horizon and ocean - it’s all a big blue blur; but, I didn’t look out the window much after that. I watched the movie they had on the plane. I read. I wrote in a journal. It was 5 hours of me diverting myself from the thoughts of what was below me (about 30,000 feet below me).
I made it. The plane landed in Maui, no sweat. I took a little bus to the hotel, checked in, and I studied and practiced my pitch again and again. The next day I was ready. I went at it for 4 days - pitching to agents and editors. There was a lot of nice interest in my book; but, one agent in particular seemed to really "get" my work. I felt a connection with her (which I couldn’t have done through the usual query process). She wanted more pages. A month and a half later, she offered me representation and she’s been my agent ever since.
I flew across the biggest ocean on the planet, because I was determined not to be afraid - of the water, of rejection, of making a complete idiot out of myself in front of strangers, of failure, of anything. There was nothing about that trip that was easy. I was damn near broke from the expense, and I had to face my biggest fear and a lot of my smaller ones, too; but I got an agent - a really good one.
You can do it - whatever it is you dream of - you can do it. Take a deep breath, focus on the goal and don’t think about the depth of that ocean underneath you. The plane will land just fine - no sweat. Never give up on your dreams. If nothing else, you can be proud of your guts and determination. Remember: "Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
Polla Filia,
J.F.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
WHINING ABOUT AGE AND THOSE BLOODY NUMBERS!
“Growin’ up leads to growin’ old, which leads to dyin’, and dyin’ to me don’t sound like it’s all that much fun.”
“Authority Song”
John Mellencamp
The Authority Song is one of my favorites of all time. First, it was written by Rock and Roll Hall of Famer (and IMHO the Poet Laureate of American Rock and Roll), Mr. John Mellencamp. Second, the original recording of it has in it one of the best drummers ever, Kenny Aronoff. Just listen to that drumming - and Mr. Mellencamp’s singing - and the whole band playing. If you can keep still during that, there is something wrong with you - seriously. You must at least be tapping a toe by now. I dance in the living room - but that’s a whole other blog post. :)
The main reason I love this song is for that one line I quoted above. It encapsulates something I’ve felt in myself for a long time, and something I wish other people would embrace. I am disheartened when I hear people bemoaning that they are “old”, as I heard again from someone just recently. Most people who do this kind of whining aren’t old at all - they’ve turned 30, or some nonsense like that. “Oh, my life is over. I’m old.” Insert whining sounds there. “Oh, my life is over. I’ve turned 40.” More whining sounds here. “I’m at death’s door. I’m 50.” Get over it, people. It’s a number. It’s your state of mind. Which means, you can change it!
Are you “old”? Is your health poor? If so, I am sorry to hear that, and I wish you great health. As to attitude, I’ve known people with terminal illnesses who were as full of youthful vigor as anyone, and they maintained it to the end.
Are you in your 80's? I have relatives who are and they not only look young, but they act it, and by dog they don’t moan (read whine) about being “old”. On the contrary, I don’t hear them even mention it. I do hear them laughing and telling a good joke or two.
Why are you old? Is it because you’re obsessed with the numbers on your birth certificate? Really? Do you live by those numbers? Honestly?
I’m an artist and one thing that really disturbs me is “paint by the numbers” kits. I don’t care if you don’t have, or don’t think you have any art talent, don’t do paint by the numbers! For the love of dogs, pick up the brush and paint what you feel. Pick up the charcoal and draw what you want. So, you don’t have art talent, and it will never be hung in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. So what? Art is about what’s in your soul. It’s not about perfection, or some pompous pseudo-intellectual’s idea of perfection. Nor is it about (dear dog) NUMBERS!! No, I hate paint by the numbers.
Likewise, I hate life by the numbers. If anything is an art form, life is. It’s how you live it that counts. It’s who you are in your heart and mind. There is beauty there, no matter your chronological age. Forget your age. Forget the numbers on your birth certificate. Those numbers only record the number of times you have ridden this water-logged rock around the Homestar!! Really, people - is your ride on this planet the same as everyone else’s? I think not.
If your ride on this gorgeous blue satellite is unique, then why are you tying it to a bloody number? A number that compares you to other people based on whether or not you were born before or after they were?
Are you ready to give up? To live less fully? To feel less alive?
I’m not. I still look up at the sky on a breathtakingly beautiful day and say “Ahhhh. Thank God!” I still listen to the sound of a fall rain, and feel peace and joy for that which nourishes the beautiful landscape. I weep when I hear sad or tragic things. I laugh out loud at a good joke, and it lifts my whole day. I drive down these long, winding Texas roads with the windows down, the wind in my hair and the radio cranked. On a bad day, I smile at people even when I don’t feel like smiling, and when they smile back, I feel good all over and my smile becomes real - all the way down to my bones. I feel it all - as much as I can stand, and then I see if I can feel even deeper. There’s a risk you take in feeling so much - the risk of feeling intense pain, but I’ll take it for the opportunity at full blown joy!
Look, I don’t want to be 17 again. It was miserable. I wasn’t very bright. I treasure my knowledge and the life experiences I’ve had. It’s been a real bonus and blessing to live this long so far (and no, I’m not telling my age - there are too many pinheads out there ready to judge people based on a stupid number); but, as long as I have lived, and as much as I have learned, I won’t live, or define my personality, my choices, my attitude, or anything else, by the numbers on some “official” document. I don’t fit the damn numbers. I can’t explain myself, or how I feel as a comparison to someone else my age, or someone younger or older - chronologically speaking.
So, while I don’t want to be 17 again, and I’m not as young as a 25-year-old, I’m also decidedly not "old". If you want to be “old”, then go ahead, and I’m sorry to hear it; but, I would much rather you left your birth certificate in a box (maybe the State Department cares what it says when they issue a passport, or the IRS when you fill out those awful forms, but, otherwise, who cares?) Leave the documents behind, cherish the knowledge and life experience you hold that is uniquely yours, and go out there and use it for all the good, and LIVE! AND remember these:
“We turn not older with years, but newer every day.”
Emily Dickinson
“There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the passion of life.”
Federico Fellini
“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
Eleanor Roosevelt
“Keep true to the dreams of thy youth.”
Johann Friedrich von Schiller
“May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young.”
Bob Dylan
“Authority Song”
John Mellencamp
The Authority Song is one of my favorites of all time. First, it was written by Rock and Roll Hall of Famer (and IMHO the Poet Laureate of American Rock and Roll), Mr. John Mellencamp. Second, the original recording of it has in it one of the best drummers ever, Kenny Aronoff. Just listen to that drumming - and Mr. Mellencamp’s singing - and the whole band playing. If you can keep still during that, there is something wrong with you - seriously. You must at least be tapping a toe by now. I dance in the living room - but that’s a whole other blog post. :)
The main reason I love this song is for that one line I quoted above. It encapsulates something I’ve felt in myself for a long time, and something I wish other people would embrace. I am disheartened when I hear people bemoaning that they are “old”, as I heard again from someone just recently. Most people who do this kind of whining aren’t old at all - they’ve turned 30, or some nonsense like that. “Oh, my life is over. I’m old.” Insert whining sounds there. “Oh, my life is over. I’ve turned 40.” More whining sounds here. “I’m at death’s door. I’m 50.” Get over it, people. It’s a number. It’s your state of mind. Which means, you can change it!
Are you “old”? Is your health poor? If so, I am sorry to hear that, and I wish you great health. As to attitude, I’ve known people with terminal illnesses who were as full of youthful vigor as anyone, and they maintained it to the end.
Are you in your 80's? I have relatives who are and they not only look young, but they act it, and by dog they don’t moan (read whine) about being “old”. On the contrary, I don’t hear them even mention it. I do hear them laughing and telling a good joke or two.
Why are you old? Is it because you’re obsessed with the numbers on your birth certificate? Really? Do you live by those numbers? Honestly?
I’m an artist and one thing that really disturbs me is “paint by the numbers” kits. I don’t care if you don’t have, or don’t think you have any art talent, don’t do paint by the numbers! For the love of dogs, pick up the brush and paint what you feel. Pick up the charcoal and draw what you want. So, you don’t have art talent, and it will never be hung in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. So what? Art is about what’s in your soul. It’s not about perfection, or some pompous pseudo-intellectual’s idea of perfection. Nor is it about (dear dog) NUMBERS!! No, I hate paint by the numbers.
Likewise, I hate life by the numbers. If anything is an art form, life is. It’s how you live it that counts. It’s who you are in your heart and mind. There is beauty there, no matter your chronological age. Forget your age. Forget the numbers on your birth certificate. Those numbers only record the number of times you have ridden this water-logged rock around the Homestar!! Really, people - is your ride on this planet the same as everyone else’s? I think not.
If your ride on this gorgeous blue satellite is unique, then why are you tying it to a bloody number? A number that compares you to other people based on whether or not you were born before or after they were?
Are you ready to give up? To live less fully? To feel less alive?
I’m not. I still look up at the sky on a breathtakingly beautiful day and say “Ahhhh. Thank God!” I still listen to the sound of a fall rain, and feel peace and joy for that which nourishes the beautiful landscape. I weep when I hear sad or tragic things. I laugh out loud at a good joke, and it lifts my whole day. I drive down these long, winding Texas roads with the windows down, the wind in my hair and the radio cranked. On a bad day, I smile at people even when I don’t feel like smiling, and when they smile back, I feel good all over and my smile becomes real - all the way down to my bones. I feel it all - as much as I can stand, and then I see if I can feel even deeper. There’s a risk you take in feeling so much - the risk of feeling intense pain, but I’ll take it for the opportunity at full blown joy!
Look, I don’t want to be 17 again. It was miserable. I wasn’t very bright. I treasure my knowledge and the life experiences I’ve had. It’s been a real bonus and blessing to live this long so far (and no, I’m not telling my age - there are too many pinheads out there ready to judge people based on a stupid number); but, as long as I have lived, and as much as I have learned, I won’t live, or define my personality, my choices, my attitude, or anything else, by the numbers on some “official” document. I don’t fit the damn numbers. I can’t explain myself, or how I feel as a comparison to someone else my age, or someone younger or older - chronologically speaking.
So, while I don’t want to be 17 again, and I’m not as young as a 25-year-old, I’m also decidedly not "old". If you want to be “old”, then go ahead, and I’m sorry to hear it; but, I would much rather you left your birth certificate in a box (maybe the State Department cares what it says when they issue a passport, or the IRS when you fill out those awful forms, but, otherwise, who cares?) Leave the documents behind, cherish the knowledge and life experience you hold that is uniquely yours, and go out there and use it for all the good, and LIVE! AND remember these:
“We turn not older with years, but newer every day.”
Emily Dickinson
“There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the passion of life.”
Federico Fellini
“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
Eleanor Roosevelt
“Keep true to the dreams of thy youth.”
Johann Friedrich von Schiller
“May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young.”
Bob Dylan
Polla Filia,
J.F.
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