5 things I'm having trouble putting into words

1. I really thought I would be able to more expressive with the right tools. But you still have to have the thoughts in your head, I suppose! I'm not Seth Godin, darn it. I don't feel like all my thoughts are simplistic, and yet, I can't seem to go on and on and on and maintain even my own attention. Are we losing the ability to read anything longer than 5 points? Or is it just that I can't think of anything more layered than 5?

2. Empathy exercises, right here. Seriously, I love this idea. Can I offer free memberships at the Empathy Gym?

3. Workouts. The plan is dancing 3 times a week, some push ups sometimes, lots of walks and short runs. Only fun stuff. I hope to bring a similar approach to eating, because it's been my experience that forcing things and struggle only make things worse.

4. The Community. My fantastic group of ladies was discussing the concept of the Community. (Well, it might have started with gossip, but it ended up with goodness.) We have responsibilities to ourselves to help when we see a member of the Community in trouble. I'm not really sure what all the guidelines are yet, but that's the kind of place I want to live.

5. In the spirit of taking it easy and avoiding struggle, I am DONE with the Real Housewives. You probably didn't know I was into it, and I was in denial that I was paying that attention to it. I thought I was just mindlessly killing some time. But even televised, staged drama is too much for me these days. Less mindless, less killing time. 

Be kind, everyone.

The Boston Marathon bombs have only made it more clear to me - empathy is the most human  impulse. I had a entire screed written about the Real Housewives, but it seems petty now.

It's not that I want to feel empathy for the bomber, whoever that turns out to be. I'm more startled by the reactions of people I see every day. I walked away from a co-worker discussion about the torture methods they would like to use on the suspect. Sadly, they were discussing a certain rumored suspect that has not been charged.

It's not that I'm Pollyanna (well, except that sometimes I am) but I just don't see the point in fantasizing about torture. Of anyone. That's also why I don't get capital punishment, or "closure".

I can't speak with any authority that the good ones outnumber the bad ones, or helpers, or anything reassuring. I can only resolve to see another point of view and listen. I hope that we'll remember to be gentle with each other, and remember that we are all one. 

Real cancer

See, it is a real cancer. Roger Ebert's illness began with the thyroid, spread to the salivary glands, jaw reconstruction, the loss of his voice, etc.

Just this week, I had a follow up appointment with my endocrinologist, which felt kind of anticlimactic because there was no need to drive to Grand Rapids for some neck palpitation and bloodwork, and yet that's what they scheduled for me. I still bought my annual Anthropologie treat, a red/blue micro striped jacket with a pleated peplum and awesome yellow seam tape on the inside.

I love what Ebert said about technology. That just 20 years earlier, cancer would have really silenced him, but now there are technologies that can allow communication and expression to continue. And that's so amazing and encouraging.

So that's what we'll keep doing. All of us. I am also encouraged by the concept of having a point of view and supporting its even when "everyone" disagrees. Someone posted a clip of his review of Blue Velvet. If you're "cool", you're supposed to love this movie. Honestly, I haven't seen that movie since I was maybe 20 years old, so I can't really say if the current me would love it or not. But Roger gave it a thumbs down because it humiliated Isabella Rossellini for comic effect. Although that is obviously arguable, I LOVE that. (I vaguely remember agreeing with Gene Siskel more frequently, which is kind of interesting in retrospect also.)

But, it's Saturday. I am not yet dressed. No one will be bringing home groceries for me. I won't lean back in a precarious office chair, watching a tiny television with my dad in a filthy "den", noting the movies I will never see because they won't play in a smallish college town like this. Everything is different and the same.

The technology means I am typing with my finger on a tiny screen. I still won't see any movies on a big screen in this town, only if I remember to watch them on some other device. Some sort of opinion collation website will inform "everyone" as to what movie to consider "good". My chairs are more comfortable these days, and I clean more frequently. And it goes on. As it must.

5 signs that things are turning around

1. So the loss of my notebooks means that I got to start a new one. I purchased a lovely pink Leuchtturm1917 notebook. Instead of "catching up" the imaginary future reader on all the recent tribulations, I wrote about the desired future. And that has made all the difference.

2. The bucket on Gull Road has been disappeared. There has been a food service style white plastic bucket in the gutter at Gull Road and Harrison since December or January. I observed it every day on my way home from work every day. It had been moved to the park for a while, but yesterday it had either blown or been moved back to the gutter. Today, gone.

3. Yes, I could have picked up the bucket myself. It's just one of those things you don't fully realize until it's over. The bucket was a symbol of the status quo? I was never good at symbolism.

4. Spring is coming.

5. The 5th sign is that I am enjoying the optimistic viewpoint, maybe more than I should. But who wants Gloomy Gus at the party? We kicked that guy out. We will go forward, with flower wreaths. Or whatever we can find.

5 things on my mind

1. Do we even need laptops anymore? So many devices in the world ... It seems like one of them should suffice. But it's never quite enough.

2. And it's ALL about enough. Enough food. Enough love. Enough stuff.

3. Enough is a really weird word. Enuff. Trough. And yet, stuff, huff.

4. How to stop? Weaning. I'm trying that approach for the sugar problem, anyway. Replace sugar with protein. It's just not fair, realistic or reasonable to take away a major pleasure source and then flog yourself for missing it, which is my usual approach. Protein will not adequately replace my nice wallet or love and friendship, so we'll just have to keep searching for that one. (By the way, credit for this idea is again due to Martha Beck. I have no original ideas.)

5. But without stuff, you can start over. Literally, buy a new notebook. Moving on.

Exposed

Somewhere there's a burglar (I like to picture the McDonald's Hamburglar, because it makes me laugh, thinking of the horrible Sexy Hamburglar costume we drew for a Halloween giggle) with all my notebooks. I say notebooks as if one of them were not actually a diary. There was also the poetry I wrote in November, un edited and therefore suspected to be awful. They were stashed in my purse.

In my briefcase were the checklists from all my monthly projects as well. I had just set up the March projects. They were to take the time to set a daily intention (almost meditation), write the intention down, dance every day, and wish a happy Facebook birthday every day.

And speaking of dance, my laptop contained my homework for my online dance class with John Doyle. It was just a goofy practice dance to "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince, taken with the webcam.

Any of these items, in the wrong hands, is the end of______? I can't worry about respectability, because here I am putting it all out here anyway. I dance even goofier in real life on a monthly basis. Why does it make me so sad? Is it because it is not released under my control?

It doesn't matter. It has been done. And I am going to keep doing it. If I stop now, the Hamburglar will have won.

Here we go again.

Someone walked in my (unlocked, apparently) back door last night and walked out with my laptop and purse. I was home, upstairs, probably asleep with the cat. Richard was in the basement smoking cigars and heard the footsteps but thought it was the cat or old house noises.

I am completely blank about what the universe wants from me. Less internet thoughts? Should I guard my things closer or give them away? I have always believed the answer was to give it away. But I wanted to do it my way, safely.

I am mostly chilled by the loss of my little notebooks. My lists... My unfettered feelings. A month of unedited poetry. All gone.

So I am out there somewhere, and also here. Take what you need but not more! I will try to do the same.