What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Very Personal Ads #60: a wild rumpus of costumery!
Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my Sunday ritual for clarity and remembering and stuff like that. Yay, ritual!
Let us dooo eeeet.
Thing 1: More costumes for the Playground.
Here’s what I want:
One of the most marvelous things about the recent Rally (Rally!) we held at the Playground was this:
Somehow everyone spontaneously decided to raid the costume box in the Treasure Room to adorn themselves with silliness for the evening Chicken.
It was awesome. Even better? The collection of extremely fabulous costumes that Cynthia brought for us to play with while rallying.
Now that the Rally is over, I am hyper-aware of how limited our collection is.
I would like to have more silliness! More crazy hats! More feather boas! More unlikely and ridiculous things to wear exuberantly.
And, while I’m asking, I would also love to have one of those … it’s like a rack? on wheels? to hang clothing on? … whatever it’s called, I wish to have one at the Playground.
Ways this could work:
Let’s see.
I might happen upon some good costume elements at a neighborhood yard sale.
A mysterious patron might donate some.
There could be a crazy thing like a costume sale and someone could tell me about it.
Some of my readers might have wonderful things for us. Or ideas about where we might find them. Or both.
My commitment.
To be receptive to just how many ways there are through which these delightful garments can make their way to the Playground.
To remember all the bizarre and beautiful things than can happen when you incorporate costumes into everything you do.
To dress up! To wear my sovereignty boots and my pirate queen necklace and ride the hobby horse. To share pictures when we have more costumes.
Thing 2: a table.
Here’s what I want:
Our dear Hoppy House has an empty dining room again (long story).
I have been looking for the perfect table (locally made, reclaimed wood, broad, simple, a work of love) for it.
But then I keep tripping over things.
There’s a lot of discomfort for me in this.
So I want the table to find me or for me to find it. But really I want to work through whatever stuff is coming up.
Ways this could work:
Of course. I can process the process by writing about it.
I can ask for table recommendations.
And write love letters to the table and to the me who is feeling weird about it.
My commitment.
To be patient with myself while I work through whatever it is that needs attention right now.
To remember that whatever this is has to be legitimate, even if it’s also feeling awkward and embarrassing and stupid to have issues about a table.
To invite Denise over for dinner to be the first official guest at the Hoppy House table when it comes.
Thing 3: more understandings related to a crazy Shivanautical epiphany.
Here’s what I want:
So at the Rally last week, we did a fair amount of Shiva Nata for extra brain-scrambling goodness.
From the delicious chaos emerged all sorts of big understandings, realizations and pieces of intriguing information.
But the one that is messing with me the most:
I got this very clear understanding, in five words:
Not everything requires a response.
To which my brain said WHAT?!?!
And whenever I poked at it to find out more, I just got the same thing but slower and louder.
Not. Everything. Requires. A. Response.
Fascinating! But what am I supposed to do with this? Other than the obvious: not respond!
Ways this could work:
I can journal about this. Ask questions. Interview various parts of myself.
Talk to my monsters and my negotiators and the Greek chorus in my spine.
Brainstorm various situations in which a response might or might not be required and see what happens when I bring this sentence in.
I don’t know! It’s breaking my head. But in a really, really good way.
My commitment.
To be curious. Receptive. Loving.
To be willing to interact with the idea that I am in fact wrong about all sorts of things, and that I might also be wrong about what requires a response and when.
To take lots of notes and share some of them with you.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I wanted progress on a HAT (a Havi’s Announcing a Thing page), and boy did that ever happen. The Rally did brilliant things.
Not only did I write all the copy but I also planned the entire schedule, the content, the exercises and created an entirely new way of handling applications. GENIUS! Yay, Rally.
The next thing I wanted was rest, and I got some. Not really as much as was necessary, but significantly more than I’d thought possible.
And right people for Hiro’s call. She got a gazillion sign-ups so that totally worked. Thanks, guys!
Comment zen. Here’s what I’d love today.
- Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!
What I’d rather not have:
- The word “manifest”.
- To be told how I should be asking for things.
- To be judged, psychoanalyzed or given advices.
Wishing love and good things for all your Very Personal Ads! So glad for everyone doing this with me.
Friday Chicken #107: blanket forts for everyone!
Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
This week zooooooomed by for me.
As we said at the Rally (Rally!), “time flies when your arms are flailing around and you have no idea what you’re doing!”
Actually we were referring to the hot Shivanauttery that was happening but really it describes the whole week.
Anyway. What an OUTRAGEOUSLY FUN WEEK!
With its share of hard too. And we’ll start with the hard. Because that’s where we start.
The hard stuff
So much tired!
Projectizing is a lot of work.
And actively processing the process is a lot of work.
Anyway, I’m beat.
No time to myself!
First because we had three days of visitors and house guests and dinners out, and then because of Rallying it up for four days.
I want to lock myself in a library or something.
Not walking enough.
My daily walks (which do a lot for general clarity and mood) didn’t happen either.
This time it was first because of how ridiculously hot it was and then because of Rally prep.
Yesterday morning was the first long walk I got and it was brilliant.
The heat wave. It makes me stupid.
You’d think having lived a third of my life in the middle east would have given me some kind of immunity but no.
Come on, Portland. Let’s get back to cool and drizzling. You’re kind of freaking me out.
Context. Don’t leave home without it!
First we had actual trollishness on the blog, which never happens. Maybe the first time in over a year (and kindly deleted by the First Mate).
Then there was a total shitstorm on Twitter over something I said.
Anyway. Context, people. It’s so obvious to me that everything I say is said with a wink that I do forget not everyone knows this.
But when I am feeling upset because I think someone else has thrown a shoe, I usually just assume good intentions and ask them for context.
Apparently this is not a widely practiced thing. Because you would not believe the barrage of shoes flying in my direction. Ludicrous and annoying. Well, annoying because ludicrous.
Missing things that used to be.
And knowing that this is not from now and not useful … while still in the hard and the hurting over it.
The good stuff
Rally!
The fun! The hilarity! The spontaneous wild rumpus-ing!
What an outstanding group of lovely, sweet, smart, goofball people. Adore.
And the extreme getting-done-ness. I don’t even know how to talk about it. This is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
Also, the Rally being even more amazing than I thought it was going to be.
I am in awe of how much I got done.
And how great it all is.
This is an actual tweet from Jesse:
Q: You see a Queen, Flowers, Ziggy Stardust & Shiva’s Horns sitting in a circle & the Pirate Queen walks in…where are you? A: The Rally.
Yes. Moments of genius. Drag names. Superpowers. Spectacular and hilarious costumes. Hysterical giggling. And many a Victory Dance. I mean: WIKTORY!
Someone else described it as “ten thousand times more awesome than I’d imagined it would be, when I was already convinced that it was going to be incredible” — yeah, it was kind of like that.
My mind. It is reeling.
I learned how to draw labyrinths!
Which is great, because I am obsessed with labyrinthing. And also because it is a way to walk patterns when I am not doing Shiva Nata.
It was both harder and easier than I imagined it would be.
And I am determined to paint one on the wall of my Pirate Queen Quarters at the Playground.
Possibly I will also make one out of socks on the floor of my office at home.
Friends!
Seeing Amna and my dear friend Jon Berman and his ladyfriend and also my gentleman friend’s sister.
Having people at Hoppy House. Good food and joyfulness. I approve.
You guys.
The beautiful, kind, insightful comments on Monday’s post were so fascinating and reassuring to read.
Man. We are such a great group of total oddballs! I love it. I just love it.
So good to know that we are not alone in our oddnesses.
Returning people’s projections.
This is something Hiro taught me a long time ago that I always forget to do. This week I returned people’s projections.
Here. Your projections! It was a good thing.
Blanket fort! Blanket fort! Blanket fort!
Building a blanket fort at the Rally just made everything that much more fabulous.
Blanket fort!
The hot weekend of Roller Derby.
Even though sitting in a non-ventilated metal hangar for five hours in ninety-six+ degree heat is extremely uncomfortable …
And even though disastrous unspeakable things happened and even though Gotham only beat Seattle’s thugs by 95 points and not the much more thorough humiliation that totally should have taken place …
It was awesome.
Also, I know the list of people who want to marry Bonnie Thunders is a very long one, but I’m pushing myself to the front. Unbelievable.
Wow. I saw her skate three years ago and have been dreaming of seeing that again. It was just as incredible as I remembered. So beautiful I can hardly stand it.
And … playing live at the meme beach house: it’s the Fake Band of the Week!
Yes, that’s a Stuism too.
My brother and I have this thing where we come up with ridiculous band names and then say in this really pretentious, knowing tone, “Oh, well, you know, it’s just one guy.”
This week?
Taxidermied Mermaid.
They’re fast and loud and put on one hell of a show. Of course, it’s just one guy.
Thanks to the delightful Emannuelle for this one!
And … various things online and otherwise.
I did not really read anything this week.
Oh, except this great bit from Rupa on fabulous proverbs (The jackfruit is in the tree, and you are already oiling your mustache! Love!)
But I did make an avatar that looks exactly like me. Except for my hair which is black (at the moment) and my eyes which are green (always) and that I don’t really wear enough plaid (ever). This was way more fun than it should be.
I also made one for my Gentleman Friend (Rhubarb Scruff, 44 years old, The Vegetarian) that thoroughly captured the essence of his not-vegetarian rocker self but he did not approve. Alas.
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day and a restful weekend-ing.
And a happy week to come. Shabbat shalom.
A playdate in a blanket fort with Uh oh and Hurry.
Huh. This is one of those posts that requires some background. Here it is:
I was projectizing it up at the Projectizing Rally (Rally!), which is great fun, by the way.
And got hit with a mini moment that turned out to be two different forms of anxiety. I decided to gather the worried-parts-of-me together for a conference to sort things out.
For this we needed a safe room.
Which, of course, turned out to be a GIANT BLANKET FORT.
To make things extra-meta, I was sitting inside of a real blanket fort, constructing a pretend blanket fort in my imagination that had room for all of us:
A giant blanket fort with broomstick poles that fit into these little round flat circles anchored to the floor.
Many blankets. Red ones and patchwork ones. Safety pins. Crawl spaces.
Inside the blanket fort there turned out to be three of us. Me, anxious me and another anxious me.
Me: Oh. Great. You’re both Anxious-me?
Much chattering ensues.
It takes a while to sort everything out but eventually it becomes clear.
Apparently, the first anxious-me is anxious because launching a big, not inexpensive thing is scary and uncomfortable. She has a very round mouth and I’m calling her Uh-oh.
The second anxious-me is anxious because gahhhhhh there is no time and we need to hurry up and get this thing out into the world. I’m calling her Hurry.
Me: Guys? There seems to be a lot of anxiety here in the blanket fort.
Uh oh: Well, yeah. There should be! What about all the people who won’t be able to do this thing? Or even consider doing it?
Hurry: If they can’t even consider it, there’s nothing we can do about that. Come-on-come-on-come-on we need to be able to put this web page up. The first payment you owe the retreat center is $25,000 and it’s due soon and you really need to be able to write that check.
Me: (deep breath) Alright. Let me just put out a gentle reminder that whatever happens, we are bringing this beautiful thing into the world from a place of fullness, not from past experiences of lack and pain.
Uh oh: Oh, right. I forgot.
Hurry: Me too.
Me: No worries. Let’s just get all the cards on the table. You first, Uh oh. What do you need? What would you like us to know?
Uh oh tells us what she’s worried about.
Uh oh: I worry about you so much! But I also worry about your people so much! I want them all to receive help and love and support! I want them all to be able to come to programs. I want everything to be freely available and either super affordable or no cost. I want the world to be sprinkled with love!
Me: That’s a beautiful thing to want, sweetie. I can appreciate that.
Uh oh: You can?
Me: Of course. That’s why we started this business. That’s why we put up six blog posts each week. That’s why we teach what we teach. To give with love. And I recognize your good heart and your loving nature.
Uh oh: But you’re not going to do what I want.
Me: No. For a lot of reasons. Most of which have to do in some way with capacity.
We need the business to thrive and for us to be safe and cared for. We need to to be able to give from a generous heart. We need the time and energy and resources to work on our own stuff so we can keep growing and learning.
And we need to respect the sovereignty of everyone who comes into contact with us, and to know that care-taking and shepherding* does not serve the people we love.That’s not how we want to lead.
* That’s Hiro’s word.
Uh oh is still worried.
Uh oh: So it’s over?
Me: What do you mean, honey?
Uh oh: Not everyone will get to come to the Week of Biggification, right?
Me: Well, yeah. Most people won’t. There’s only sixteen spots and seven of them are already taken.
Uh oh: And your plan to make sure that other people also get help is: write blog posts that explain and model various concepts, bring the book into the world, teach people who will also teach this … and be someone who respects her own capacity.
Me: Basically. And that other thing that we can’t talk about yet.
Uh oh: So it’s over.
Me: I still don’t understand what that means.
Uh oh: I don’t have a job anymore. That means Hurry will win.
Me: Let’s talk about this, honey. First of all, there isn’t going to be any winning. It isn’t about winning. And second of all, you will always have a job. Just a new one.
Uh oh gets a new job that comes with hot cider.
Uh oh: Really? What’s my job? What’s my job? What’s my job?
Me: You are the Executive Vice President of Enoughness. Your job is to practice receiving things and experiencing enoughness so you can tell me what it is like. It also starts with a six week vacation. Where would you like it to be?
Uh oh: Are you trying to get rid of me?
Me: Of course not. I want you to be well-rested and happy.
Uh oh: Uh oh!
Me: It’s not as bad as it sounds.
Uh oh: I’d like to be on the water. On the ship! And to sing sea shanties under the stars.
Me: Okay. That can be arranged.
Uh oh: And I want hot cider in a brown mug. And books to read and blankets to curl up in. And a wooden hairbrush. And candlelight.
Me: That seems fair. It’s nice that you want such specific things. Yay.
Hurry wants some things too. Like sparklepoints.
Hurry: I want to be heard too please!
Me: That is a reasonable thing to want. Let’s find out first if Uh oh needs anything else.
Uh oh: I’m on vacation! Leave me alone!
Me: Phew.
Hurry: Can I tell you what I want now?
Me: I need to check with myself first. You know what? I really need to do some yoga right now. I’ll be back in less than an hour, and more relaxed and receptive and able to converse with you.
Hurry: Thank you for explaining. I really like it when you explain why you are doing (or not doing) a thing. It is helpful for me to know.
Me: Right on.
Fifty five minutes later.
Me: I’m back.
Hurry: I want sparklepoints for being so patient. It’s really hard for me.
Me: Sparklepoints! Absolutely. Sparklepoints aplenty.
Hurry: I want eight hundred sparklepoints.
Me: That sounds very reasonable.
Hurry has reasons for being anxious.
Hurry: I care about you so much! I want you to be okay! I don’t want you to have to pay a $25,000 deposit and not know where that money is coming from. I want you to have a beautiful group of right people, so you can relax and it will be fun for you.
Me: You feel anxious because you need to know I’ll be supported, is that right?
Hurry: Exactly.
Me: I will definitely have many sources of support. And you know what? I’m working on learning how to relax and let it be fun even before we announce it.
Hurry: That sounds really dangerous.
Me: You really do worry about me a lot. I appreciate that. Can you tell me why it’s dangerous, in your opinion?
Hurry: If you’re having fun you might lose track of things and then the deposit due date will come and you will miss it.
Me: Oh. I see. I guess we didn’t define fun very well. I meant: consciously working on the things that need to be worked on so we can pay the deposit, and doing that in a way that allows for goofiness and hilarity and play. And costumes!
Hurry: Oh, okay. So you won’t be having fun instead of doing this. You will be having fun while you’re doing this. And that will help you get it done faster. Faster is good!
Warm-ups.
Me: The thing with hurrying is that when I rush because I’m motivated by pressure and fear, I don’t do my best work. And I can’t offer things from a full heart.
Hurry: You keep saying full.
Me: Because it’s important. When I am full of love, everything is … balanced. In integrity. Sweet. And then things can happen astonishingly fast.
Hurry: So when you’re intentionally going slow — like now, when you’re taking time to talk to me and to Uh oh and to do yoga instead of working on the copy — you’re making sure things will go faster later.
Me: That’s right.
Hurry: So this stuff is like warm-ups. Or training.
Me: Yup.
Hurry: I hadn’t realized that. This is what helps you be speedy.
Me: It’s weird, yeah.
Hurry: So when I push you to go faster, you go slower. But when you choose to be consciously slow and go your own way, speedy things happen.
Me: That is absolutely correct.
Hurry gets a new job too.
Hurry: I feel very reassured. And to be honest, I’m extremely impressed with all the stuff that has Gotten Done during the Rally. I didn’t think you would get nearly this much stuff done. Rallying is awesome.
Me: Indeed it is. I kind of don’t want it to end.
Hurry: More Rallies!
Me: Hell yeah. Rallying is my new favorite thing. So. What would you like to happen now?
Hurry: I want a new job and a vacation, just like Uh oh got to drink cider on the ship.
Me: What do you think your job should be?
Hurry: Inspector!
Me: Inspector? What does that mean? Inspector of what?
Hurry: *hums the Inspector Gadget theme song*
Me: You’re Inspector Gadget?
Hurry: No. I want to inspect gadgets!
Me: I’m … stymied. What are you talking about, sweet pea?
Hurry: The gadgets that gauge how fast things go. I want to keep track of them. I want to be in the gadget room!
In the Gadget Room.
Me: Uh. Okay. Tell me about the gadget room.
Hurry: It’s where the gadgets are!
Me: Is it like the boiler room? Or the belly of a steam ship?
Hurry: Yes! Only it’s full of toys!
Me: I still don’t get it?
Hurry: Remember in nursery school when we used to play house?
Me: Uh huh.
Hurry: It’s like that but with gadgets! And measuring things! And speediness!
Me: That sounds really great. I think you should do that.
Hurry: And I get to wear a conductor’s cap and coveralls and everyone waves at me.
Me: Of course they do.
Hurry: This is the best job ever! I have to go play now. Excuse me.
Me: shakes head
Everything was better by that point and the blanket fort no longer had any anxiety in it at all, so I curled up and took a catnap. Catnapping. It is a good thing.
And … comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. Part of destuckification is letting everyone have room to experience things the way they experience them. Blowing kisses in your direction.
Metaphor Mouse carries a valise and twirls his moustaches!
Background: the metaphor technique is something I’ve adapted from Suzette Haden Elgin‘s teachings. It’s an amazing tool for destuckifying.
It’s also how I discovered that I work on a pirate ship and defeated the hackers. And cured my fear of being beautiful.
More recently we turned my dreaded Tickler file into an Iguana Watcher’s Guide And doing taxes happens in a Secret Money Cave where I visit my treasures and make Tribute to the lands that allow me access to their fair harbours.
Metaphor Mouse to the rescue!
Unpacking the metaphor. Here’s the situation.
It started when I couldn’t decide which was more depressing — the fact that I have a Travel Shopping List, or the fact that I can’t look at it without wanting to throw myself off of a cliff.
Really, it is ludicrous that I have a travel shopping list because Travel, Shopping and List are pretty much my three least favorite words.
Actually, travel doesn’t seem nearly as as stressful as “shopping” or “list” — I do it all the time and really do adore most of it. But when I looked at travel more closely, it became apparent that actually travel in general, as a concept, isn’t that fun for me. Hmmm.
Clearly a job for … Metaphor Mouse!
* As always, this is is just me yelling I AM METAPHOR MOUSE to the song I am Iron Man. Yes. Still.
Unpacking my current relationship with this. (TRAVEL = ?)
What are the qualities, aspects, associations, attributes of the problem word (including what *is* working — if anything)?
[+ stressful]
[+ headache]
[+ worry]
[+ unmanageable]
[+ anticipation]
[+ I have to do everything myself]
[+ transition]
[+ dread]
[+ juggling]
[+ tiring]
[+ freedom]
[+ fun]
[+ hilarity]
[+ adventure]
[+ something I’m good at]
[+ transitions]
[+ switching gear]
[+ movement]
Reminds me of?
Being the director of an off-Broadway show.
Having to do so many things and keep track of so many things just to make sure that everything goes smoothly.
Plus dealing with the damn actors. It’s like herding cats! But in a theater! Entertaining, sure … but not really all that pleasurable.
Learning more about my IDEAL metaphor (Travel = ?)
What sort of qualities, aspects and feelings does the thing I want contain?
[+ freedom]
[+ sovereignty]
[+ relaxing]
[+ ease]
[+ supported]
[+ prepared]
[+ playful]
[+ carefree]
[+ fun]
[+ anticipation]
[+ clear boundaries]
[+ cared for]
[+ simplicity]
[+ spaciousness]
[+ movement]
[+ adventure]
Reminds me of?
Well, it’s showing up for something that has already been prepared, instead of doing the preparing.
Like being an audience member? Like being taken to your special box at the opera house before Groucho Marx causes chaos and pandemonium? Oh my lord. Do I need a lorgnette?
Or maybe it’s getting to be the diva super star … red carpets and the like.
No. That’s no fun. For me, at least. But I wouldn’t object to being an early ’30s film star traveling on a ship.
With my traveling secretary.
Or at least some companion to carry the hat boxes and find my cabin and fetch my drinks and fend off my admirers with a parasol.
Yes, a lovely Atlantic crossing in good weather with plenty of time on my hands. That sounds like the way to travel.
Adventuring! But in style.
What needs to happen next?
More words!
Words for a film star on holiday!
Because this means I don’t have to pack “toiletries” anymore. They can be “essential supplies”. Or my powder box? Someone tell me what this is called!
And my much abused and dreaded Travel Shopping List can be simply: trinkets and baubles for the crossing.
Instead of packing, I can make arrangements. Or select my gowns.
Much brainstorming is needed.
And how do we make it more fun?
Obviously a lorgnette is necessary.
And possibly a cigarette holder.
Maybe I could bring a magic wand and pretend it’s a cigarette holder.
Glamour is clearly called for. In spades.
And there has to be a fun, lighthearted, playful way about it. I could raid the Costume room at the Playground. Or buy something appropriately outrageous to wear.
The main thing is that it’s an adventure. And a ridiculous one. One that allows me to dress with panache. And one that exists to support me.
I don’t know what else is missing, but that’s where I’m going to start.**
** And since I am currently being a Rally-er at the Rally (Rally!), that can be one of the things that I play with this week, while I unabashedly metaphor-mouse everything in sight.
Would you like to play? Hooray! Also: comment zen for today.
You are more than welcome to practice your own Metaphor Mousing on something you’re working on.
Or to mess around with words and wordishness related to a stuckness. Or get brainstorming help from other commenter mice.
Or to be happy for me and my new baby metaphor and to suggest fabulous things to wear.
As always: we let people have their own experience, and we don’t tell them what to do (unless someone specifically asks for help).
Fewer than 33 things. That you might already know. But possibly not. About me.
I so liked this post from Lisa Sonora Beam of things she is too shy to tell us. Lisa!
In the past I have avoid the “X things you don’t know about me” genre because you guys already know so many screwed up personal things about me, like how I met my duck and talk to monsters and lived in an abandoned building in East Berlin and have multiple selves who have secret lairs.
And because the rest always seems too obvious and therefore boring (I don’t eat sugar! I make my own conditioner! I italicize too much!)
Also, the stuff I NEVER tell you is stuff I never tell you for a reason, so yeah, obviously I’m not going to tell you now either.
But her post struck a nerve with its sweet shyness that I relate to too much.
So: some things you might not know that don’t fall under Shockingly Dull (Or: I Cannot Ever Say This Online Or Anywhere).
A note about “shy”.
I don’t really so much identify with shy as misanthropic but whatever. I am an extreme introvert who dislikes a) noise and b) being around more than a couple people at a time and c) most people, in general. Hmmm. Yeah, okay, I guess I’m shy.
Actually, highly sensitive is (for me) the accurate term. So maybe start there?
I am a highly sensitive person.
It was a huge relief to read Elaine Aron’s book Highly Sensitive People and realize there was a word for what I am, and that there is a world of people who are strange in the way that I am strange.
I actually called my brother and said, “Someone wrote a biography of us!”
It explained a lot.
Things that make me crazy.
Car alarms. That truck-backing-up-beeping sound. The phrase “stop crying”.
I always have ear plugs with me.
Usually a spare pair too, if you need one.
I am weird about words.
No kidding. I’m the only biggified blogger I know who has to have a Glossary.
And, unsurprisingly, most of my idiosyncracies are word-related.
Oh, just a tiny smattering of the many words that are physically painful for me to see or hear:
diphthong, caulk, childish, Whig, magenta.
Also: coagulate, dextrose, mercenary.
A word that make me giggle: Stopcock. So funny! I am six years old.
I am not susceptible to whatever biological and/or cultural programming makes people want to give birth to other smaller people.
Actually, I find it fascinating that people reproduce, in any way other than by accident.
I am also — not knowing what it is like any other way — quite happy to have missed that gene or not been influenced by social pressure or whatever it is that makes people do this thing whose appeal clearly must exist and yet is not apparent to me.
And I find it extremely odd when people imply that I will “change my mind”, as if this is a decision that I actively made and not a simple truth of my life.
But one of my favorite things to do is baby-watch.
I like to sit in a cafe and make silly faces at wide-eyed infants and wave at the chubby toddlers in their stripey pants.
Do not sit with me in a cafe if you want to talk, because I will probably be too busy baby-watching.
Babies! Astonishing and charming and endlessly entertaining. I like being around them and loving them and wishing them wonderful things.
I dislike and resent being asked what I do.
This is why I studiously avoid most situations in which I need to meet people who do not already know who I am.
I also avoid marketing people who think I need an elevator speech.
Believe me, I would rather be phobic of elevators for the rest of my life than spend the time figuring out what I do. I want what I do to be able to change. All the time. And to never have to talk about it.
It’s probably also why I like babies. They’ve never asked me that. Not once.
I also don’t know what I do.
And I don’t care.
Luckily I make very good money not knowing what I do, so I’ve given myself permission to stop worrying about it. And I wasn’t kidding. I don’t take elevators. But not because of elevator speeches. That would be stupid.
Speaking of elevators, once I got trapped in an elevator. In Poland.
Which is basically the worst place to get trapped in an elevator.
Switzerland would be nice. Except that elevators don’t break in Switzerland. Ever. Extra points for Switzerland!
We were stuck between floors. In between. The guy I was stuck in the elevator with was having a massive panic attack and screaming WE’RE GOING TO DIE! WE’RE GOING TO DIE IN POLAND!
He got so upset and frantic that he started jumping, which made the elevator shake and then sink about a foot. Unpleasant. Eventually some people came and got the door open and pulled us up and out.
But that’s not why I don’t take elevators either.
I like to walk. I dislike confined spaces. I don’t see the point.
I moved living situations over thirty times between the age of twenty and thirty.
It sucked.
Once I got propositioned by my landlord, who wanted me to work for him as a call girl.
I wish I could say that was my worst living situation but it wasn’t.
I love water.
But not being in it. Looking at it.
Actually, there are lots of things in my life like this.
For example, I obsess over basketball and love watching Roller Derby (my duck and I sponsor a team!) but I would rather die than play a team sport. Well, any sport. But team sports specifically.
Or: I love teaching retreats and workshops. But going to one? Ohmygod.
I don’t see why I need to be good at “public” speaking.
I’m brilliant at it when it’s talking to my people. And I’m absolutely fine speaking to hundreds and probably thousands of people if they’re already fans of what I do.
But the thought of talking to people who aren’t my people — who don’t even know my duck?! — is both terrifying and not interesting at the same time.
People keep telling me I need to get over this. But I don’t see why I should have to. If you happen to know, please don’t tell me.
I am not adventurous.
I like routine. Once I know what I like, I don’t need to try other things.
No one believes me when I say this because I have moved countries three times and done all sorts of extremely bizarre and unlikely things in my life.
But, for example, during the two weeks I just spent in Taos I went to the same restaurant every night, sat at the same table and ordered the exact same thing.
It was lovely.
Someone once told me that Picasso was exactly like that.
I have no idea if that’s true but it was extremely reassuring to hear.
I don’t like it when people refer to fear as “irrational”.
If you’re scared of something, you’re scared of it.
I don’t care whether or not I know or remember the reason. And I don’t necessarily need to figure out what’s going on. It’s my fear and therefore it makes sense and is legitimate.
I feel very strongly about this.
Things I am RATIONALLY afraid of which (the fears, not the things) do not always make sense to other people:
Men with facial hair. Not all men with facial hair. But a lot of them.
Vans. RVs. Also cars with tinted windows.
Someone kidnapping my duck.
Getting sick.
Being grabbed by the elbow. I will hurt you if you ever do this to me and that would be a terrible thing so do not test this.
Things I talk to:
Trees. Dead people. Walls. Not just internal walls but the partitions that make up buildings. Myself.
I do not like surprises.
I also don’t ever answer the phone or open the door, so if you want to surprise me you’re going to be disappointed.
Oh and I got carded last week.
That was AWESOME. And bizarre.
Much blushing and batting of eyelashes ensued. Flattery will get you everywhere, apparently.
Also I really like being divorced.
There is such freedom in knowing what you don’t want.
Running out of things so I will add that I have a degree in History from Tel Aviv University.
I have nothing to add to that.
That’s got to be enough, right?
That’s 23 things.
I think. Not so good at counting.
Ha. If you add that one, it’s twenty-four things. I don’t know that I can come up with more.
Comment zen for today…
You know what would be nice? I would like to know a thing or things about you too.
Unless you don’t feel like it, in which case, that’s fine by me.
Really, if I were going to add a twenty-fifth thing it would probably be that I hardly ever comment on people’s blogs because I never know what to say.
So here we are. We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. Sometimes reading about someone else’s stuff sets off our own stuff. That’s what destuckification is all about.
Part of the way we let everyone have their own experience is by not giving advice, unless people specifically ask for it.
Here’s a specific request, related to that: I really do not wish to be told that actually having children is marvelous. I’m sure it is. For someone who is not me.
You are welcome to have your way. And I need space for my way to be legitimate too.
Love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.