Imaginary friends, and those we left behind.

The summer I was 6 years old, I remember playing at a small playground by myself. Another little girl came up and started climbing the monkey bars. Being 6, I politely asked her if she'd like to be my friend.  She said no and walked away.

This hurt my feelings. But as I recall, I recovered pretty quickly. At least, I don't remember it ruining my day, much less my life.

Making friends isn't that much different today. Perhaps I'm not so blunt, but there's still that element of awkwardness and risk involved in pursuing a relationship of any kind. Of course, as adults, we've learned that it's poor form to hurt someone else's feelings, so in lieu of bold-faced, outright rejection, we usually opt for a more passive-aggressive response. On both ends. 

One of us says "we should get together sometime," and the other agrees, maybe even enthusiastically. We exchange numbers, then part ways. We don't call. We are busy, we have jobs, families, responsibilities, habits, routines. We both feel, if not acknowledge, a sense of relief. It's not rejection if it's mutual.

But, especially in the case of platonic friendship, we are both denying ourselves the opportunity to expand our lives, challenge our complacency, and develop our characters. Which is exactly why we feel relieved—such benefits come at a cost. It takes courage, energy, effort, and possibly a couple blows to the ego, to build a relationship. We can get our feelings hurt.

I need to remember that I can recover from hurt feelings. With time, attention, and patience, I've discovered I can heal even the deepest wounds. But still, I resist asking for friendship, because my 28-year old self has learned to equate pride with self-worth.  Fortunately, I'm also learning that few truths are as self-evident as they seem. I'm learning to revise. To challenge. To risk.

The key word is learning. Struggling. Faltering. But always returning to the right path, guided back by the slightly impatient, but utterly fearless, voice of my 6 year old self. Who, unfortunately for the nay-saying girl in my story, is actually an exceptionally kick-ass little lady.

Winter likes and dislikes

One thing I like is enough snowfall to make all the dark gray cars in the parking lot look alike, so that I walk up to the wrong car and start brushing the snow off, and then realize there is someone in there and it isn't me.  That is humorous, after the shock/shame wears off.

One thing I DON'T like is not being able to fit all the things I need on my head under my hood, and getting my earmuffs snagged in my hair clip and dislodging my glasses by trying to fix that situation with clumsy mitten hands. That is just maddening. Nobody likes a clumsy mitten hand.

Like Robert Downey Jr, but Less Gritty

Today's word of the day warrants a brief write-up, mostly because it makes the speaker sounds appalled and a bit scandalized, especially when spken with vehemence. It makes me feel a lot like Sherlock Holmes (albeit a much more effeminate, British version of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's character).

So without further ado, I present:

deucedly \DOO-sid-lee\ , adverb: Devilishly; damnably.

Learn it, live it, love it. Try throwing it into everyday conversation. Here, like this:

"Well good evening, madame, and how was the show?"
"Deucedly clever, my good man! Quite the caper!"
"Deucedly, you say?"
"Deucedly!"
"Well I say!"
"Mm, yes, I say!"

Random "Like and Dislike" of the Day

Something I really like is looking at an awkward-looking animal and pretending it is thinking really deep thoughts, with the aid of either a voice-over
or captions:
.  

Something I DON'T like is the idea of animals that actually talk, because that's preposterous. But deep-thinking animals, that's just insightful.

Dear Sean Moeller,

If you cared about me at all, you'd stop writing self-reflective, esoteric, meandering essays on how each Daytrotter session affects you personally. And you'd start writing something relevant and educational, and maybe even a little objective, like information about the band or its members or what kind of music they play.

Especially since my computer claims it is no longer able (or allowed) to play the sessions on the web before I decide to download them.

With the Utmost Respect for Daytrotter (My Opinions About Your Writing Notwithstanding),
Me

That's it, I'm voting for Stephen Colbert.

I read this morning that President Obama has raised $240 million dollars for his re-election campaign. 240,000,000 dollars. I'm too outraged to use exclamation points to illustrate my outrage.

Where the hell is that money coming from? And why the hell are Americans struggling to feed a family on $8.25 an hour when we can afford to donate hundreds of millions of dollars so that one politician can publicly assassinate the character of another politician, in an attempt to persuade us that our future as a country depends solely on one man? One man who is so far removed from the reality of average Americans that he believes "winning" is the best way to help our nation, and that political campaigning is the best use for $240 million American dollars.

I want to be clear that this isn't a party attack. Obama's "campaign war chest" thus far is roughly equal to the one raised by George W. Bush for his 2004 re-election campaign. No, this is an attack on stupidity, waste, power-hungry greed and a complete lack of perspective. This is an attack on the system, on politics, on "the man." That bastard.

I'm sure it's much more complicated than it seems, however.  I'm sure that investing that money in education, small businesses, or the housing market isn't actually a reasonable way to spend $240 million. I'm sure it will be worth every penny when we have a savior in the White House who has the sole power, intelligence, and wisdom to legislate all our problems away.

Unless, of course, we mistakenly elect the devil. Because there are only two choices. And there's only one way of distinguishing good from evil: advertising.

I'm voting for Stephen Colbert.

Dedicated to those brave enough to espouse optimism

 "One tragedy of our time is the willingness of realists, in spite of impending crises, to criticize and obstruct people who expend their energy toward finding solutions. Their judgments, however, are superficial and conventional, and their attitude distances them from the essential quality of reality—change. Often the wisest realists cannot escape this trap. The challenge, then, is to create a new kind of reality that offers hope for changing the world." from Buddhism Day by Day: Wisdom for Modern Life by Daisaku Ikenda

I find this very apt in light of our economic and political climate, in which it is so tempting to adopt a defeatist attitude and a victim mentality. Often, when the subject of the economy or politics is brought up, I hear anger and defeat and frustration. I hear blame, accusations, hopelessness. The voice of hope, of encouragement, of positive belief in our own potential to change our situation, is all but lost. If it's not drowned out, it is scoffed at, ridiculed, called naive.

But isn't it more realistic to work towards a solution, however impossible it might seem, than to wait around for others to do it? Especially when those others are involved in politics, which obscures their perspective and impedes their ability to be compassionate, open-minded, or far-sighted.

I hope we can all learn to nurture hope, to encourage each other to take positive action, to breed a sense of capability in ordinary people. Because life's too damn short to wait for the solution to come to us. I know that there's limitless joy to be experienced, I just need to pursue it with the same tenacity I habitually reserve for criticizing those in power.