A quick word on art, museums and the power thereof! Something recognizable, something unfamiliar; something that puts your soul at ease, something that gives you a jolt. What art and museums have to offer. A connection to the past, present, possible futures, and yourself.
If you happen to be in/coming to Scandinavia, visit Amos Rex in Helsinki for The Quiet Parade. I went round and round, walking through a dreamscape, an ashen landscape beyond time but anchored in our world. Ah, Helsinki. The city that said no to Guggenheim. I admire their chutzpah. (And they must be sooo glad they did, the Covid closures would have cost them an arm and a leg and who knows which additional appendages.) Two exhibitions to look forward to: Albert Edelfelt is coming home in April, and Tom of Finland will be parking in Kiasma for a six-month visit.
And let's not forget Fotografiska in Stockholm and Tallinn. (Yes, I know, Estonia is not geographically part of Scandinavia, but Tallinn, Helsinki and Stockholm are great friends and a ferry ride away from one another.) No matter which Fotografiska (more than those two, mind you), no matter the exhibition, you are never disappointed. Seriously, no need to know, just go.
What do museums have to do with love? If it puts your soul at ease and/or gives you a jolt, it must be good for you, an act of self-care. (Still oddly uncomfortable with that word.)
[The news, though! He could have been a white hat. He chose to be an asshat instead.]
Dita Parker
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2023
Before I forget
Saturday, March 20, 2021
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams
Nature arms each person with some faculty which enables them to do easily some feat impossible to any other.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Joyful International Day of Happiness, dearest denizens. I hope you find your bliss. 💙
Monday, September 28, 2020
Tuesday, September 8, 2020
I like big books (and I cannot lie)
Some books I've enjoyed this summer (in English and in no particular order):
Przewalski’s Horse by Maja Lunde
The History of Magic: From Alchemy to Witchcraft, From the Ice Age to the Present by Chris Gosden
Figuring by Maria Popova
Summerland by Hannu Rajaniemi
The Seven Sisters series by Lucinda Riley
Upheaval How Nations Cope with Crisis and Change by Jared Diamond
But what have you been reading, sweetie darlings? I’d love to exchange recommendations! Doesn’t have to be a big book. A thought-provoking essay or article? ✔️ A beautifully illustrated children's book? ✔️ Something that made your brain sprain? ✔️
Happy International Literacy Day!
Monday, September 7, 2020
There will never be another you
Monday! Again? Stuck in a rut or getting busier where you are? Is it a brand-new day or Groundhog Day? I know, sweetie darlings. Everyone is feeling it in some form. No one is exempt. We are all being held back one way or another. But our spirits can soar. No one can cage them, impose a curfew on them, take them away from us. They can try but we won’t let them. And I know it can be difficult to find inspiration and come up with new ideas if you’re feeling anxious and afraid, but try to step outside yourself in those moments. Try to reach for things that give you joy and solace, because they are out there. Only you can give them away; you simply shouldn’t. For every thing that annoys you, find a thing that delights you. For every person that exasperates you, find a person who soothes you. Counterpoint every moment spent in dark thoughts with thoughts that enlighten and expand you. They are your thoughts, after all; you are in control. Easier said than done? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Not a wishy-washy-yeah-right attempt. With All Your Might. All right?
I’m brightening my mood and days by celebrating some notable birthdays, today and in the past/next few days. On Saturday and Sunday, I honored the late, great Freddie Mercury by watching Queen: Live at the Rainbow (November 1974), and Queen and Adam Lambert: The Show Must Go On. When Freddie died, I most surely wasn’t the only fan who believed that no one in a million years could replace Freddie. Along came Adam Lambert with his strong, dramatic, melodic voice. He isn’t Freddie. Freddie was a rare beast. But Adam is a rare beast in his own right and I think he is the perfect successor to Freddie in this new Queen. A new generation of fans get to experience the music and the magic, and old fans get to see the magic and hear the music performed. Win-win!
Today, Brazil celebrates its independence from Portugal. The Bicentennial year is up in 2022. That same fall, Brazilians will elect a new president. Or the old one. And the two-term limit is not for life so anything can happen with this current president who treats democracy as a hurdle and not a touchstone. Thinking about Bolsonaro and his cronies makes me turn to all the tips I offered in the first paragraph. How they revel in the rage they incite, these wannabe dictators of our modern democracies. It makes us miserable while hurting them not one bit, so let’s stop giving them that power and start wrenching that power back into hands that aren’t out to grab all they can. Let’s vote like our lives depend on it, because more and more they do.
My counterpoint to Senhor B. is my maternal grandfather. He would have turned 100 today. He died in 2010, two months after his 90th birthday. My maternal grandmother would have turned one hundred tomorrow. (She died in the mid-nineties.) Yes, they were born on consecutive days, a few villages apart. They married at nineteen just before my grandfather set out to fight in WWII. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately, filled with gratitude for every day we spent together, and they were many. Looking at pictures, talking to my children about them…I’m so happy they got to know him. Even my youngest remembers him. And I will never ever forget, not even when I am a hundred.
So today I wish you well, sweetie darlings, I wish my childhood home of Brazil well, and I celebrate my maternal grandparents with her favorite meal and his favorite cognac. And loads of love and longing.
Thursday, September 3, 2020
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
Start your September on a high note
classic (noun)
: a work of enduring excellence
(as per Merriam-Webster)
: a work of enduring excellence
(as per Merriam-Webster)
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Somewhere over the rainbow
How goes it, sweetie darlings? Are you all right? Seems as if crisis upon crisis is being heaped upon us, doesn’t it, and you don’t know which way is up because everything is going down the drain through a gigantic garburator, and what comes out the other end is anyone’s guess.
WTF is going on, right? Well, first came the autotrophs…stuff happens…more stuff happens…humans come along…steady string of shit happens…and here we are, two billion years later, living in the Anthropocene, a youngish manifestation of life on earth, debating intrinsic values and negotiating inalienable rights like the savannah (or aquatic?) apes we are, fresh off the evolutionary boat.
But enough with the mangled metaphors. WTF, right? Yet…it’s not as if anything new is going on; maybe it’s just new to some of us. It’s not as if we haven’t been warned; the existence and consequences of crises such as climate collapse or inequality have been studied, established and documented, repeatedly. It’s not as if we have the right to be indignant or surprised; there’s just never a good time for a crisis. Do you have empty slots in your calendar? You might have, but you won’t be filling them with crises, are you? Of course not. There are a thousand and one things you would rather be doing. And I’m not berating you, being cheeky, snarky, or *gasp* a cynic. Of course not! We are, after all, an optimistic race. Positive and forward-looking. Shit happens, life goes on. People die, but life goes on. Of course it does; but we seem to be, as humans always believe they are, in a unique crossroads, a time of great change and big decisions, living in life-threatening and upending conditions. Of course we are. This is, after all, the only time and place we know, we haven’t lived in another. And we have to live and learn all on our own. Past mistakes are past, we have to make our own. Past teachings are past, we have to learn those lessons on our own.
But…there’s just no time for that, or a tug-of-war. Every day wasted bickering is a day wasted. We have the facts, the numbers, the data. But when those facts have no bearing on you, it’s easy to skate over them. When that data means upheaval, loss of revenue, loss of privilege, there will be denial and dismissal from those who profit from the status quo. Can there really be as much poverty and inequality as advertised? You’ve never been poor/discriminated against and don’t know anyone who has been. Is the climate in crisis? The weather seems fine! But just like the weather is what you see out the window and the climate covers the entire planet, my experience of the world is mine, and your experience is yours. We’ll never know what it’s like to be someone else. We’ll never live in someone else’s skin, walk in their shoes. But we can imagine. I’m not at all surprised so many women are taking part in the BLM protests. Many or most of us know what it’s like to be dismissed or discriminated against, so damn straight we empathize.
I think that’s what the world desperately needs and has always needed: empathy, imagination. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the world through anyone else’s eyes but yours. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the consequences of your actions. Facts and numbers and data are absolutely essential when you’re trying to win an argument, but to win a heart you need stories. Books, plays, movies, music, fine art are all fine vehicles, but real people, real lives, real experiences are better; you can’t dismiss them as figments of someone’s imagination.
Let’s listen to one another and speak our truths and tell the world what it feels like to be human in this time and place we occupy together. It’s not a competition but there is a prize: more compassion and cooperation, more empathy and unity; a positive change; a more inclusive world. The suffrage and abolitionist movements succeeded. The LGBTQ+ community is fighting for and winning recognition and rights. The “natural order” of things isn’t natural at all, it’s man-made. So is the climate crisis, gender, racial, regional and economic inequality; they are connected and they intersect. Let’s wise up. Let’s take responsibility and let’s take action. Let’s challenge leaders, companies and governments who won’t. Let’s not vote for or put up with Teflon suits, the Bolsonaros, Johnsons, Morrisons and Trumps of this world. (If it talks like a misogynistic bigot and bully, looks tailored to corporate needs, and seems to both shirk responsibility and avoid accountability, trust your gut instinct and first impression, it is, it does, and will keep doing.)
And let’s challenge ourselves. You are the leading expert on being you. Listen to other experts on life on earth. Read, discuss, think, think again. Admit that you have cognitive biases and distortions. We all do. We are encouraged to brand ourselves, and with all the talk around identity, you can’t help but think that maybe you should get one. Before you know it, your thinking becomes entrenched and every person, idea or circumstance that doesn’t fit doesn’t count. Don’t let that happen to you, dearest denizen. Fight it. With all your might. You are the one and only you just the way you are. Respect and celebrate that by respecting and celebrating the uniqueness and full humanity of others. And be prepared to change. Change course, change your thinking, change your ways, change your mind. We are, after all, a hopeful race. Cooperative and creative.
If you’re tired of being a consumer, a commodity, a resource, become an agent. If you’re tired of witnessing the degradation of your fellow humans and our habitat, become an agent. An agent for change; an agent for good; an agent for a more equal, livable world. If you feel as if there is no reason to get out of bed in the morning, dearest denizen, sweetie darling, my friend from afar…you have found your purpose.
WTF is going on, right? Well, first came the autotrophs…stuff happens…more stuff happens…humans come along…steady string of shit happens…and here we are, two billion years later, living in the Anthropocene, a youngish manifestation of life on earth, debating intrinsic values and negotiating inalienable rights like the savannah (or aquatic?) apes we are, fresh off the evolutionary boat.
But enough with the mangled metaphors. WTF, right? Yet…it’s not as if anything new is going on; maybe it’s just new to some of us. It’s not as if we haven’t been warned; the existence and consequences of crises such as climate collapse or inequality have been studied, established and documented, repeatedly. It’s not as if we have the right to be indignant or surprised; there’s just never a good time for a crisis. Do you have empty slots in your calendar? You might have, but you won’t be filling them with crises, are you? Of course not. There are a thousand and one things you would rather be doing. And I’m not berating you, being cheeky, snarky, or *gasp* a cynic. Of course not! We are, after all, an optimistic race. Positive and forward-looking. Shit happens, life goes on. People die, but life goes on. Of course it does; but we seem to be, as humans always believe they are, in a unique crossroads, a time of great change and big decisions, living in life-threatening and upending conditions. Of course we are. This is, after all, the only time and place we know, we haven’t lived in another. And we have to live and learn all on our own. Past mistakes are past, we have to make our own. Past teachings are past, we have to learn those lessons on our own.
But…there’s just no time for that, or a tug-of-war. Every day wasted bickering is a day wasted. We have the facts, the numbers, the data. But when those facts have no bearing on you, it’s easy to skate over them. When that data means upheaval, loss of revenue, loss of privilege, there will be denial and dismissal from those who profit from the status quo. Can there really be as much poverty and inequality as advertised? You’ve never been poor/discriminated against and don’t know anyone who has been. Is the climate in crisis? The weather seems fine! But just like the weather is what you see out the window and the climate covers the entire planet, my experience of the world is mine, and your experience is yours. We’ll never know what it’s like to be someone else. We’ll never live in someone else’s skin, walk in their shoes. But we can imagine. I’m not at all surprised so many women are taking part in the BLM protests. Many or most of us know what it’s like to be dismissed or discriminated against, so damn straight we empathize.
I think that’s what the world desperately needs and has always needed: empathy, imagination. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the world through anyone else’s eyes but yours. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the consequences of your actions. Facts and numbers and data are absolutely essential when you’re trying to win an argument, but to win a heart you need stories. Books, plays, movies, music, fine art are all fine vehicles, but real people, real lives, real experiences are better; you can’t dismiss them as figments of someone’s imagination.
Let’s listen to one another and speak our truths and tell the world what it feels like to be human in this time and place we occupy together. It’s not a competition but there is a prize: more compassion and cooperation, more empathy and unity; a positive change; a more inclusive world. The suffrage and abolitionist movements succeeded. The LGBTQ+ community is fighting for and winning recognition and rights. The “natural order” of things isn’t natural at all, it’s man-made. So is the climate crisis, gender, racial, regional and economic inequality; they are connected and they intersect. Let’s wise up. Let’s take responsibility and let’s take action. Let’s challenge leaders, companies and governments who won’t. Let’s not vote for or put up with Teflon suits, the Bolsonaros, Johnsons, Morrisons and Trumps of this world. (If it talks like a misogynistic bigot and bully, looks tailored to corporate needs, and seems to both shirk responsibility and avoid accountability, trust your gut instinct and first impression, it is, it does, and will keep doing.)
And let’s challenge ourselves. You are the leading expert on being you. Listen to other experts on life on earth. Read, discuss, think, think again. Admit that you have cognitive biases and distortions. We all do. We are encouraged to brand ourselves, and with all the talk around identity, you can’t help but think that maybe you should get one. Before you know it, your thinking becomes entrenched and every person, idea or circumstance that doesn’t fit doesn’t count. Don’t let that happen to you, dearest denizen. Fight it. With all your might. You are the one and only you just the way you are. Respect and celebrate that by respecting and celebrating the uniqueness and full humanity of others. And be prepared to change. Change course, change your thinking, change your ways, change your mind. We are, after all, a hopeful race. Cooperative and creative.
If you’re tired of being a consumer, a commodity, a resource, become an agent. If you’re tired of witnessing the degradation of your fellow humans and our habitat, become an agent. An agent for change; an agent for good; an agent for a more equal, livable world. If you feel as if there is no reason to get out of bed in the morning, dearest denizen, sweetie darling, my friend from afar…you have found your purpose.
Monday, February 4, 2019
Let’s get physi(ologi)cal
Just when you thought that now that Dry January is over, you’re safe…tum tum tum tum tum tum tum tum…that’s supposed to be Jaws, btw…Fit February is here! I know. And no, I’m not here to go all fitness fascist on your ass, whatever shape and size yours happens to be. I would, however, like to mention some seldom advertised truths.
Humans have an on average amount of fat cells. On average. Meaning some people have two or three times the amount of fat cells his/her average-amount friend has and are apt to gain two or three times the amount of weight her/his average-amount friend ever could or would. You can choose what and how much you eat, but you can’t choose those cells any more than you can choose your genes. Hundreds of genes affect weight and among that multitude lurk some that predispose you to gain extra. (And yup, those tend to run in the family.)
So, some people can eat seemingly anything they want and not gain weight, and some feel they can’t eat a thing without automatically putting it on. That’s a simplified picture but more or less how the process works. Weight is not just a matter of dietary habits or self-discipline, as some unhealthy health messaging would have you believe. It’s physiology at its finest, and most infuriating. So much in the human body we can’t control or change. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t react if you start putting on excess kilos/pounds bordering on obesity, it just means that losing those kilos/pounds may turn out to be a lot harder than you thought. Bodies equipped with certain genes, triggers and extra storage facilities will do their best to keep those extra fat cells fed. That’s the job.
Another tidbit: Your gut doesn’t count calories. All an adult stomach requires to feel sated is 400 grams/14 ounces of food. How many calories you pack into those grams/ounces is up to you. And if you’ve heard someone call the gut our second brain, well, consider, for instance, that there are bacteria in your gut that specialize in sugar. That’s what they crave above all else. They create that craving you feel. That’s your second brain in action, insta messaging you, screaming for sugar, and the more you feed that need the greedier the bacteria get. That’s their job.
And where am I going with all this? Gently nudging you on a path to self-knowledge. If knowledge is power, self-knowledge is a superpower. I don’t view ignorance as bliss, I feel helpless and restless in the face of things I don’t understand. I feel calmer when I grasp cause and effect, even if it’s something I can’t change or control. And this need to understand applies to pretty much everything including weight and health. Or willpower, or self-control. Innate trait or skill, willpower? Not sure it matters so long as we decide to view it and treat it as something we can cultivate. And if you want to be better at handling your body’s messages you should take an interest because we are bombarded with those messages all day, every day.
The trick, or a trick (they teach you this in combat training, probably Weight Watchers too) is not to listen. Disregard. Discomfort? Live with it. Pain? Breathe through it. Exhaustion? More to come, so enjoy every plateau. Easier said than done? Easier for those with higher levels of neuropeptide Y. Easier/harder because of the complexity of our makeup. Nature, nurture, genes, triggers, chance, circumstance… As those fat cells demonstrate, we were not created equal, not in the physical sense. But: we are all capable of learning self-command. If you haven’t been that good at it, it will be taxing at first. You will feel fricking exhausted going head-to-head with yourself. But mastery, even a fleeting glimpse of it, comes with a prize, and that, sweetie darlings, makes it all worthwhile.
[Oh great, another bunghole selling the you-can’t-control-everything-but-you-can-always-control-you trope? Nope. Just trying to demonstrate the difference between being at the mercy of inexplicable inner whims and cravings/the will of others and understanding inner workings/how the world operates. Nah, still kind of sure I’m selling the you-can’t-control-everything-but-you-can-always-control-you trope? Good god, what are you still doing here? Move along, my friend! And if it’s diet tips you’re after, I only have one: Does this nourish me? Does this whatever I’m about to put in my mouth nourish my body? We tend to know the answer, whatever the product or produce.]
How do you start on this road to better self-command? I suggest small and simple. A part of the whole disregard business is not thinking too much. Don’t feel like cleaning house? Don’t debate it. Don’t cajole, don’t bargain or bribe. Don’t ask yourself if you’re up to it. You know you don’t wanna. So best not think too much or too long about it. Put on the autopilot (and some music, if it helps) and get on with it. Or when you constantly crave sweets, or a drink after work, or whatever your taken-too-far-an-unhealthy-guilty-pleasure is. That’s your body sending a message you can either listen to or disregard. Take it from someone whose favorite pastime is thinking, someone cursed with a vivid mind. I’m very good at coming up with reasons (read: excuses) for not doing things like cleaning house because I have better things to do with my time, all the time, every time. So, I’m not allowed to argue or debate or reason. I don’t wanna too fricking bad I’ve gotta. End of inner discussion.
You get better with practice, I promise. How to keep going? You can always roleplay. You can hire your very own imaginary taskmaster. Some BDSM may be in order, a Dom/Mistress, your loving authority, who never judges and only wants what is best for you, and will remind you what that is when you start slipping. I summon a drill sergeant, a mean and bossy bastard. I also have another personal trainer for times and situations when that mean, bossy DSgt of mine feels a bit too…heavy-handed. Stupid tricks, you say? Smart tools, I say. Also, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, okay? Whatever helps. Whatever gets the job done, be it a physical or mental task.
And it is a stressful world we live in. Same as it ever was. You will feel overwhelmed and tired. You will fear failure. You’ll be certain you’re underperforming in everything you do. You will make stupid, senseless comparisons when you should be concentrating on yourself. Take care. Take care of yourself. Learn to know yourself, the good and the bad and the ugly. The saint and the sinner. Your triggers and buttons. The true you. You will live in that skin for the rest of your days. You will have to live with yourself, your choices, decisions and possibly even regrets, for just as long. There is no escape and there are no clean slates, only doodles upon doodles upon doodles, layered and interconnected. That’s you. The one and only. So have patience, have mercy, and when you absofuckinglutely need it, have that glass of wine or whatever. I will be there with bells on, disregard the taskmaster leaning on the doorbell, and we will drink to your health and happiness.
Humans have an on average amount of fat cells. On average. Meaning some people have two or three times the amount of fat cells his/her average-amount friend has and are apt to gain two or three times the amount of weight her/his average-amount friend ever could or would. You can choose what and how much you eat, but you can’t choose those cells any more than you can choose your genes. Hundreds of genes affect weight and among that multitude lurk some that predispose you to gain extra. (And yup, those tend to run in the family.)
So, some people can eat seemingly anything they want and not gain weight, and some feel they can’t eat a thing without automatically putting it on. That’s a simplified picture but more or less how the process works. Weight is not just a matter of dietary habits or self-discipline, as some unhealthy health messaging would have you believe. It’s physiology at its finest, and most infuriating. So much in the human body we can’t control or change. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t react if you start putting on excess kilos/pounds bordering on obesity, it just means that losing those kilos/pounds may turn out to be a lot harder than you thought. Bodies equipped with certain genes, triggers and extra storage facilities will do their best to keep those extra fat cells fed. That’s the job.
Another tidbit: Your gut doesn’t count calories. All an adult stomach requires to feel sated is 400 grams/14 ounces of food. How many calories you pack into those grams/ounces is up to you. And if you’ve heard someone call the gut our second brain, well, consider, for instance, that there are bacteria in your gut that specialize in sugar. That’s what they crave above all else. They create that craving you feel. That’s your second brain in action, insta messaging you, screaming for sugar, and the more you feed that need the greedier the bacteria get. That’s their job.
And where am I going with all this? Gently nudging you on a path to self-knowledge. If knowledge is power, self-knowledge is a superpower. I don’t view ignorance as bliss, I feel helpless and restless in the face of things I don’t understand. I feel calmer when I grasp cause and effect, even if it’s something I can’t change or control. And this need to understand applies to pretty much everything including weight and health. Or willpower, or self-control. Innate trait or skill, willpower? Not sure it matters so long as we decide to view it and treat it as something we can cultivate. And if you want to be better at handling your body’s messages you should take an interest because we are bombarded with those messages all day, every day.
The trick, or a trick (they teach you this in combat training, probably Weight Watchers too) is not to listen. Disregard. Discomfort? Live with it. Pain? Breathe through it. Exhaustion? More to come, so enjoy every plateau. Easier said than done? Easier for those with higher levels of neuropeptide Y. Easier/harder because of the complexity of our makeup. Nature, nurture, genes, triggers, chance, circumstance… As those fat cells demonstrate, we were not created equal, not in the physical sense. But: we are all capable of learning self-command. If you haven’t been that good at it, it will be taxing at first. You will feel fricking exhausted going head-to-head with yourself. But mastery, even a fleeting glimpse of it, comes with a prize, and that, sweetie darlings, makes it all worthwhile.
[Oh great, another bunghole selling the you-can’t-control-everything-but-you-can-always-control-you trope? Nope. Just trying to demonstrate the difference between being at the mercy of inexplicable inner whims and cravings/the will of others and understanding inner workings/how the world operates. Nah, still kind of sure I’m selling the you-can’t-control-everything-but-you-can-always-control-you trope? Good god, what are you still doing here? Move along, my friend! And if it’s diet tips you’re after, I only have one: Does this nourish me? Does this whatever I’m about to put in my mouth nourish my body? We tend to know the answer, whatever the product or produce.]
How do you start on this road to better self-command? I suggest small and simple. A part of the whole disregard business is not thinking too much. Don’t feel like cleaning house? Don’t debate it. Don’t cajole, don’t bargain or bribe. Don’t ask yourself if you’re up to it. You know you don’t wanna. So best not think too much or too long about it. Put on the autopilot (and some music, if it helps) and get on with it. Or when you constantly crave sweets, or a drink after work, or whatever your taken-too-far-an-unhealthy-guilty-pleasure is. That’s your body sending a message you can either listen to or disregard. Take it from someone whose favorite pastime is thinking, someone cursed with a vivid mind. I’m very good at coming up with reasons (read: excuses) for not doing things like cleaning house because I have better things to do with my time, all the time, every time. So, I’m not allowed to argue or debate or reason. I don’t wanna too fricking bad I’ve gotta. End of inner discussion.
You get better with practice, I promise. How to keep going? You can always roleplay. You can hire your very own imaginary taskmaster. Some BDSM may be in order, a Dom/Mistress, your loving authority, who never judges and only wants what is best for you, and will remind you what that is when you start slipping. I summon a drill sergeant, a mean and bossy bastard. I also have another personal trainer for times and situations when that mean, bossy DSgt of mine feels a bit too…heavy-handed. Stupid tricks, you say? Smart tools, I say. Also, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, okay? Whatever helps. Whatever gets the job done, be it a physical or mental task.
And it is a stressful world we live in. Same as it ever was. You will feel overwhelmed and tired. You will fear failure. You’ll be certain you’re underperforming in everything you do. You will make stupid, senseless comparisons when you should be concentrating on yourself. Take care. Take care of yourself. Learn to know yourself, the good and the bad and the ugly. The saint and the sinner. Your triggers and buttons. The true you. You will live in that skin for the rest of your days. You will have to live with yourself, your choices, decisions and possibly even regrets, for just as long. There is no escape and there are no clean slates, only doodles upon doodles upon doodles, layered and interconnected. That’s you. The one and only. So have patience, have mercy, and when you absofuckinglutely need it, have that glass of wine or whatever. I will be there with bells on, disregard the taskmaster leaning on the doorbell, and we will drink to your health and happiness.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Because the night
Why not go to bed early tonight, dearest denizens, say around 8:30? Turn the lights off, the heat on, and have some frisky fun, with your partner or by yourself. If you feel extra dedicated and super peppy, keep going until you can go on no more.
Have a sexcellent time, sweetie darlings!
With love and smooches,
D.
Have a sexcellent time, sweetie darlings!
With love and smooches,
D.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Eleison
Mine tasted of dates, gingerbread and smoked salmon, of figs, butter fudge and port, of glögg, ham and wine. It smelled of pine needles and hyacinths, of burning wood and endless rain, meaning it looked quite bleak outside but chummy and yummy indoors. The soundtrack was a cacophonic symphony of languages and laughter, of playful slash bickering kids, of carols and classics and rock and pop. And it felt like a change of pace with a pinch of bittersweetness for all the loved ones I couldn't talk to or touch, only think about this holiday season.
Many look back, take stock and plan ahead around New Year's, make promises, make demands. This year I'll do more, be more. Reach higher, go faster, be stronger. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, if it really keeps you going where you're headed, if it actually helps. I see no shame in taking the long and winding road, though, as long as you don't stop. Be as kaizen as you dare, just please don't be too hard on yourself.
Maybe this year you'll speak a little softer, be a little kinder, more forgiving and merciful. Yes, especially to yourself. In this world that so greatly values independence, moxie and self-reliance, I wish everyone would find the strength to admit to themselves and say it to others that "I need you." Those seem to be the hardest words. Not I'm sorry or Thank you or even I love you but I need you.
OK. Up and at it, sweetie darlings. We have all year to get this right. Let's not waste a single day.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
The Romance Horror Picture Show
It's Halloween, dearest denizens, the perfect time to not let reality get in the way of some tomfoolery. Or a good story.
I like jokes, verbal and practical, and I like a good story as much as the next gal. But sometimes a gal needs a little gas, some fuel to the flame, you know? You do know? Well, whaddya know, here you go: 10 pics to help you tell a tale.
I like jokes, verbal and practical, and I like a good story as much as the next gal. But sometimes a gal needs a little gas, some fuel to the flame, you know? You do know? Well, whaddya know, here you go: 10 pics to help you tell a tale.
 |
| Fantasy or reality? Secret rendezvous or an exhibitionist's night out? |
 |
| Ooh, Poe-esque. Black magic woman? Shifter? |
 |
| He wants to kiss you. No, kill you. Kiss you. No. I don't know. |
 |
| So hard to pin down. So many possibilities. So lovely. |
 |
| Yeah. Real steel. That goes for my blade, too. |
 |
| Apocalypse Yesterday. But do you run to him or do you run from him? |
 |
| Model by day, aspiring actor by night, hampered and pissed by constant comparisons to James Dean. Until one day... |
 |
| Rescue or kidnap? Runaway bride? Groom, best man or best friend? |
 |
| This beach was supposed to be private. So what's he doing here? Is it a merman? Is he dozing? Drowning? Better go see if he needs help... |
 |
| Sexy? Sinister? Your call. |
But that's just me. What do you see? Share if you dare or start scribbling away, as long as you're writing. Those brave enough to take on NanoWriMo: May the Force be with you...
Happy Halloween to all, and to all a good fright!
P.S. All pics purchased from 123RF.com, in case you want one of your own.
Happy Halloween to all, and to all a good fright!
P.S. All pics purchased from 123RF.com, in case you want one of your own.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Now, voyager
Warning: Verbal incontinence ahead.
(Come on, I've been so thrifty with words these past six months surely I'm allowed some now. And I've tried to write a post, several times, these past few weeks but what came out was a heap of all important nothings, and as important a part of convivial civilized interaction as they are, if the world were as civilized as it makes itself out to be, you and me and that guy over there should be able to speak freely without feeling fear, trepidation or threatened. So I thought, why not?)
Where on earth have I been, doing what exactly, leaving all (seven and that drive-by Serbian) of you wondering WTF? What the hell am I thinking?
Let's see.
I'm thinking anything worth doing is worth doing well and that I'm not as masterful a multitasker as I thought I was (imagine my surprise) so now that there's something else I need to do and somewhere else I need to be, I thought that's what I need to do and that's where I need to be then.
I'm also thinking about moving, or Hubby and I are, contemplating relocating quite far from where we are perched on top of the world. Only a thought at this point. Small but with immense potential for growth. Not even close to making a decision but we're considering options, thinking ahead. We told the kids we're playing with the thought and none said no outright, they just started asking questions. Where would we live and what's it like out there? What about school? The language?
They've traveled. They know this isn't all there is to the world. I've lived the life from a younger age than they are now. I know the pros and cons, believe me, and my kids know my history, where I've been and what it meant to me, what it gave me and what it took away. Mind you, it gave more than it took, by a wide margin, but I'll admit there was a time I resented the hell out of my parents for leaving Brazil. (The choice wasn't entirely theirs but I was a navel-gazing preteen who knew, who just knew they were doing it to run and ruin my life.) I got over it. Most of it. I think. Any day now.
But we're talking an absence of 5 to 10 years here. And in five to say nothing of ten years from now the place you now call home will have changed. Sometimes there's no going back. It happens. I grant you it's much easier to keep up with what's going on in any given country than it was in my youth. But there'll be moments when you realize you speak the language and still have no idea what people are talking about.
It's often some trivial mundane thing that betrays you but those prosaic touches reveal you for what you sometimes feel you are: a stranger in a strange land. Am I just faking it? Can they tell the difference? Like a spy hoping not to be made. I've found it's best not to hide those feelings or insecurities. Admit you don't know, don't apologize for all that you do know, alternative ways of thinking and handling matters and viewing the world.
This whole thing...not my idea or initiative. Hubby's. Related to his line of work and oh God don't be one of those stand-by-your-man women hauling ass and playing house so he can have a career and a family. Way ahead of you and the game, sweetie darlings. What I do I can do pretty much anywhere. The tropic, the arctic, sand, snow, home or away, I've got it covered.
Speaking of which, work is going well. Feeling genuinely accomplished and useful and I've found I need that. I need to be of service. Moving would mean another culture to study, another language to learn. Always a plus in my line of work. What is it that I do, again? What I love best, work with words and languages. On most days it's...I wouldn't use the word fun but certainly challenging and rewarding. On some it's a fight against cynicism, I kid you not. What's-the-matter-with-you-For-the-love-of-all-that-is holy-open-your-eyes-Enough-with-the-pettiness-and-provincialism-Let's-get-things-done-already-All-I'm-hearing-is-me-me-me. Days when you think that maybe you'd be better off on some desert island surviving on fish, mangos, avocados and coconut water, away from it all with books and pen and paper because the world is bat-shit crazy and beyond redemption or repair.
But then you remember that your family has other plans and that you'd miss your friends, partnered sex, boozy leisure, audiovisual entertainment and a regular change of scenery and that you really tire yourself out sometimes with your navel-gazing me-me-me so...no...and while you sometimes fantasize about a world of enlightened despotism with yours truly madly deeply in charge so we'd get things done already, it's not in the cards, is it, so now what? Go back to the task at hand and soldier on.
Isn't that precious, you say. It is. Invaluable, I say. Don't lose your head and don't waste your talents. There are people out there willing to pay good money for what you can do. And the writing? I haven't seen the forest from the trees. I don't have to strive to write for a living, I already do. Wonderful stuff, interesting stuff, meaningful stuff, just these past few months. Hiding in plain sight, really. If you knew where to look you'd find me, a woman who looks a lot like the lady in that pic ("What do you mean by a lot? That's not what you look like?" God, no. I don't usually bother with a straightener.), maybe even recognize my voice. If that happens, sweetie darlings, if you think you do, it's our secret and I trust you to keep it.
Every storytelling technique, every trick of the trade has only helped. Nothing's going to waste. And every new thing I've had to study only makes me a better storyteller. Win-win. What about the Romantica I had in the works? I'm still working on them. S l o w l y . I can't leave my characters hanging. I promised them a happy ending and right now they're really pissed. And I know what you're thinking. What's the point? With the pace I write and publish romance, what's the point?
That is the question. That is a very good question. A question every author, every professional, every human being should ask themselves every now and then. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? For me, counterpoint is the point. Counterbalance is the point. I need to write fiction more than this scene needs another book by the Parker girl. Not that I don't care about my readers, never think that, dearest denizens. What I'm trying to say is that writing fiction fulfills a need and grants a pleasure that supersedes other motives. I will always write fiction even if I never publish another book. But the fiction, just the fiction, ain't enough. I've tried so hard and for so long to strike a balance. And then I just...I didn't give up, I gave in. For country and for crowd or bust. That thought somehow takes off all the pressure. Anxiety and frustration lift. I will never be top banana. Doesn't make me a bad writer. Doesn't mean I don't have drive. Doesn't mean I don't have a voice or stories to tell. Will anyone be interested in that voice or those stories... That's another story, one I don't get to dictate on my own.
The rumors of Dita's social death, suicide really, have been right on the money. Sometimes there's no coming back. It happens. I've tried to keep up with what's going on but there'll be moments when I realize I thought I knew where it's at but have no idea what people are talking about. I'd be quite content just writing away, working behind the scenes. I'm painfully aware and constantly reminded of the fact I don't brand and market as aggressively as I should, but the brand and name recognition stuff...it's so messed up. Once upon a time you became a brand when you did something particularly well, when you were a cut above in your field or art or whatever. Nowadays, you have to have a brand, the whole package, laid and thought out before you've made a single move or created a thing and you gotta love the me-me-me.
Yeah, I know, nowadays be nowadays, not ye olden ways, and this is business and you don't sell a product without a USP so you better have one or make way for those who do, but what if you don't feel like a neat package, more like a multiple personality without the disorder? Is that a brand? "This is me then." Is that ever enough? The level of frustration and confusion, a general feeling of where shall we go, what shall we do, has reached new heights among...well, I guess Dita can't speak for anyone except a small segment of erotic romance authors. Established, popular authors seem to be doing okay. The rest... Maybe it's too early to call but some have put their numbers out there asking is it just me or have sales truly declined so drastically? Some are responding no it's not just you, others with thanks, not what I wanted to hear, I'll get my coat, what's the point.
That is the question. What's the point? No promises, no guarantees, a lot of work, sweat, even tears, for what exactly? But who promised or owes us, any author, any professional, anything, ever? Who guaranteed sales or success? Perpetual Pleasure hasn't sold well at all and of course it makes me sad and it makes me wonder and makes me quote Dickinson on occasion. I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? (Not particularly proud of those moments but there you have it.) Is it the price? Sub-genre? An author people don't know? The fact I'm not an aggressive marketer? Did they hate Alex and won't risk another disappointment? No reviews, not enough buzz or word of mouth? So I'm biased but it's not a bad book.
And I know how you feel. You put endless hours into something, do your loving best...but I'm thinking so does everybody else. What are you gonna do? Where shall we go? What shall we do? "Frankly, Dita, the Internet doesn't give a damn." True, that. I honestly don't know. I guess all we can do is ask what's the point, take it from there, and see how far it takes us.
"What do you mean you don't know? You honestly don't know, make room for those who do." Be my guests, please. But half, more than half, like a good two-thirds don't know, even if they say they do. You can wish. You can hope. But you can never know for certain. Not until you get there. That's when you can say, "I always knew I'd [insert your goal]." That's the only time you can make that claim, really.
"No, seriously. You don't have a contingency plan?" You need an expected outcome to devise one, two, as many as you think you need. Since the business of writing comes with no guarantees: Of course we didn't! That would be like saying, yeah let's give it a try, let's commit but let's not get carried away, excited even, as if this means something, as if we're all serious and shit. Serious as fucking cancer! Anything worth doing and all that. It breaks my heart that my wonderful, talented, ambitious author-friends are hurting. It makes me wanna squeeze them and soothe them and tell them it's gonna be all right but I can't promise that, not to them, myself, anyone. But I will say this. In the undying dying words of Seamus Heaney: Noli timere. Don't be afraid.
Am I scared? No. Genocide is scary. And gendercide. Fascism. Homophobia. Hate in general. This? Since you are my sweet escape from all of the above, pour le fun, no. You know what else I'm thinking? You don't have to follow paths. Forge your own. Make like Gertrude Bell or Ranulph Fiennes. Tap into the explorer. There's one in everyone. And I know what you're thinking. Things are moving too fast for anyone to keep up with or analyze so how do you know where you should be headed and if you do know how do you get there? E-commerce, corporate cultures, the economy, it's all moving and evolving at the speed of sound, light even. New business models emerge and dated ones die and who knows where to head and how to get there. It's all one big expedition.
And I know you think fear is healthy, proof your self-preservation instinct still works, but too much is nothing but paralyzing. Who knows what's going to happen next year or next month or in the next two minutes. You can wish. You can hope. But you can never know for certain. Not until you get there. That's when you can say, "I always knew I'd end up [insert your destination]." That's the only time you can make that claim, really. So why worry. You may have no power over how the game is played but you can always improve your own performance. That's all you can do. That much you can always influence, whatever it is that you're trying to achieve.
That's what I think anyway. And you're thinking I'm not helping. This ain't helping. You want to write and you want to be published and you want to succeed and you know, you just know published authors know something you don't but they won't tell you what it is because it's a secret, The Secret. The Secret Ingredient. The Recipe. Now listen close. Like really listen. All ears? Here it comes. There is no recipe. And you're secret ingredient. And that's why this whole business can feel like one huge clusterfuck of frustrating counterproductive and counterintuitive forces at work, not the energizing life-affirming expedition you thought you'd embark on. No promises, no guarantees, a lot of work, sweat, even tears, for what exactly? You tell me. What's the point? Your point? Goal? Destination? Answer those questions and you'll know where you should go and what you should do, maybe even how to get there. Methinks.
As Takei would say, oh my. Shall we lighten up things some? What else have I been up to? Tackling my TBR and TBW pile and revisiting old favorites. Having a good time with Hubby. Raising my kids to bedissident decent compassionate human beings. Having fun with friends. Planning and saving up for future travels. Studying life, the universe and everything, trying to improve and advance one thing and day at a time. The Harvest Moon was magnificent and the fall equinox came and went and took the sun with it. The leaves are turning but the days were so warm for so long it was as if the summer had never ended. It was nice but it's coming to an end and as much as I'd like to think I'm ready, I'm all settled, I'm cool with this, I have my Dylan Thomas moments. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage on against the dying light. Then again, what's the point?
Told you I'd get logorrheic on you. Thanks for listening. TLDR? Hey, it's my blog. And it's your prerogative. Are you saying you haven't missed the soapbox and the sermons? Say it ain't so. And all I'm hearing once again is me-me-me. What have you been up to, sweetie darlings? I see you but I never hear from you. So now I'm listening. Like really listening. All ears. Still not hearing anything.
I'll get my coat.
(Come on, I've been so thrifty with words these past six months surely I'm allowed some now. And I've tried to write a post, several times, these past few weeks but what came out was a heap of all important nothings, and as important a part of convivial civilized interaction as they are, if the world were as civilized as it makes itself out to be, you and me and that guy over there should be able to speak freely without feeling fear, trepidation or threatened. So I thought, why not?)
Where on earth have I been, doing what exactly, leaving all (seven and that drive-by Serbian) of you wondering WTF? What the hell am I thinking?
Let's see.
I'm thinking anything worth doing is worth doing well and that I'm not as masterful a multitasker as I thought I was (imagine my surprise) so now that there's something else I need to do and somewhere else I need to be, I thought that's what I need to do and that's where I need to be then.
I'm also thinking about moving, or Hubby and I are, contemplating relocating quite far from where we are perched on top of the world. Only a thought at this point. Small but with immense potential for growth. Not even close to making a decision but we're considering options, thinking ahead. We told the kids we're playing with the thought and none said no outright, they just started asking questions. Where would we live and what's it like out there? What about school? The language?
They've traveled. They know this isn't all there is to the world. I've lived the life from a younger age than they are now. I know the pros and cons, believe me, and my kids know my history, where I've been and what it meant to me, what it gave me and what it took away. Mind you, it gave more than it took, by a wide margin, but I'll admit there was a time I resented the hell out of my parents for leaving Brazil. (The choice wasn't entirely theirs but I was a navel-gazing preteen who knew, who just knew they were doing it to run and ruin my life.) I got over it. Most of it. I think. Any day now.
But we're talking an absence of 5 to 10 years here. And in five to say nothing of ten years from now the place you now call home will have changed. Sometimes there's no going back. It happens. I grant you it's much easier to keep up with what's going on in any given country than it was in my youth. But there'll be moments when you realize you speak the language and still have no idea what people are talking about.
It's often some trivial mundane thing that betrays you but those prosaic touches reveal you for what you sometimes feel you are: a stranger in a strange land. Am I just faking it? Can they tell the difference? Like a spy hoping not to be made. I've found it's best not to hide those feelings or insecurities. Admit you don't know, don't apologize for all that you do know, alternative ways of thinking and handling matters and viewing the world.
This whole thing...not my idea or initiative. Hubby's. Related to his line of work and oh God don't be one of those stand-by-your-man women hauling ass and playing house so he can have a career and a family. Way ahead of you and the game, sweetie darlings. What I do I can do pretty much anywhere. The tropic, the arctic, sand, snow, home or away, I've got it covered.
Speaking of which, work is going well. Feeling genuinely accomplished and useful and I've found I need that. I need to be of service. Moving would mean another culture to study, another language to learn. Always a plus in my line of work. What is it that I do, again? What I love best, work with words and languages. On most days it's...I wouldn't use the word fun but certainly challenging and rewarding. On some it's a fight against cynicism, I kid you not. What's-the-matter-with-you-For-the-love-of-all-that-is holy-open-your-eyes-Enough-with-the-pettiness-and-provincialism-Let's-get-things-done-already-All-I'm-hearing-is-me-me-me. Days when you think that maybe you'd be better off on some desert island surviving on fish, mangos, avocados and coconut water, away from it all with books and pen and paper because the world is bat-shit crazy and beyond redemption or repair.
But then you remember that your family has other plans and that you'd miss your friends, partnered sex, boozy leisure, audiovisual entertainment and a regular change of scenery and that you really tire yourself out sometimes with your navel-gazing me-me-me so...no...and while you sometimes fantasize about a world of enlightened despotism with yours truly madly deeply in charge so we'd get things done already, it's not in the cards, is it, so now what? Go back to the task at hand and soldier on.
Isn't that precious, you say. It is. Invaluable, I say. Don't lose your head and don't waste your talents. There are people out there willing to pay good money for what you can do. And the writing? I haven't seen the forest from the trees. I don't have to strive to write for a living, I already do. Wonderful stuff, interesting stuff, meaningful stuff, just these past few months. Hiding in plain sight, really. If you knew where to look you'd find me, a woman who looks a lot like the lady in that pic ("What do you mean by a lot? That's not what you look like?" God, no. I don't usually bother with a straightener.), maybe even recognize my voice. If that happens, sweetie darlings, if you think you do, it's our secret and I trust you to keep it.
Every storytelling technique, every trick of the trade has only helped. Nothing's going to waste. And every new thing I've had to study only makes me a better storyteller. Win-win. What about the Romantica I had in the works? I'm still working on them. S l o w l y . I can't leave my characters hanging. I promised them a happy ending and right now they're really pissed. And I know what you're thinking. What's the point? With the pace I write and publish romance, what's the point?
That is the question. That is a very good question. A question every author, every professional, every human being should ask themselves every now and then. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? For me, counterpoint is the point. Counterbalance is the point. I need to write fiction more than this scene needs another book by the Parker girl. Not that I don't care about my readers, never think that, dearest denizens. What I'm trying to say is that writing fiction fulfills a need and grants a pleasure that supersedes other motives. I will always write fiction even if I never publish another book. But the fiction, just the fiction, ain't enough. I've tried so hard and for so long to strike a balance. And then I just...I didn't give up, I gave in. For country and for crowd or bust. That thought somehow takes off all the pressure. Anxiety and frustration lift. I will never be top banana. Doesn't make me a bad writer. Doesn't mean I don't have drive. Doesn't mean I don't have a voice or stories to tell. Will anyone be interested in that voice or those stories... That's another story, one I don't get to dictate on my own.
The rumors of Dita's social death, suicide really, have been right on the money. Sometimes there's no coming back. It happens. I've tried to keep up with what's going on but there'll be moments when I realize I thought I knew where it's at but have no idea what people are talking about. I'd be quite content just writing away, working behind the scenes. I'm painfully aware and constantly reminded of the fact I don't brand and market as aggressively as I should, but the brand and name recognition stuff...it's so messed up. Once upon a time you became a brand when you did something particularly well, when you were a cut above in your field or art or whatever. Nowadays, you have to have a brand, the whole package, laid and thought out before you've made a single move or created a thing and you gotta love the me-me-me.
Yeah, I know, nowadays be nowadays, not ye olden ways, and this is business and you don't sell a product without a USP so you better have one or make way for those who do, but what if you don't feel like a neat package, more like a multiple personality without the disorder? Is that a brand? "This is me then." Is that ever enough? The level of frustration and confusion, a general feeling of where shall we go, what shall we do, has reached new heights among...well, I guess Dita can't speak for anyone except a small segment of erotic romance authors. Established, popular authors seem to be doing okay. The rest... Maybe it's too early to call but some have put their numbers out there asking is it just me or have sales truly declined so drastically? Some are responding no it's not just you, others with thanks, not what I wanted to hear, I'll get my coat, what's the point.
That is the question. What's the point? No promises, no guarantees, a lot of work, sweat, even tears, for what exactly? But who promised or owes us, any author, any professional, anything, ever? Who guaranteed sales or success? Perpetual Pleasure hasn't sold well at all and of course it makes me sad and it makes me wonder and makes me quote Dickinson on occasion. I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? (Not particularly proud of those moments but there you have it.) Is it the price? Sub-genre? An author people don't know? The fact I'm not an aggressive marketer? Did they hate Alex and won't risk another disappointment? No reviews, not enough buzz or word of mouth? So I'm biased but it's not a bad book.
And I know how you feel. You put endless hours into something, do your loving best...but I'm thinking so does everybody else. What are you gonna do? Where shall we go? What shall we do? "Frankly, Dita, the Internet doesn't give a damn." True, that. I honestly don't know. I guess all we can do is ask what's the point, take it from there, and see how far it takes us.
"What do you mean you don't know? You honestly don't know, make room for those who do." Be my guests, please. But half, more than half, like a good two-thirds don't know, even if they say they do. You can wish. You can hope. But you can never know for certain. Not until you get there. That's when you can say, "I always knew I'd [insert your goal]." That's the only time you can make that claim, really.
"No, seriously. You don't have a contingency plan?" You need an expected outcome to devise one, two, as many as you think you need. Since the business of writing comes with no guarantees: Of course we didn't! That would be like saying, yeah let's give it a try, let's commit but let's not get carried away, excited even, as if this means something, as if we're all serious and shit. Serious as fucking cancer! Anything worth doing and all that. It breaks my heart that my wonderful, talented, ambitious author-friends are hurting. It makes me wanna squeeze them and soothe them and tell them it's gonna be all right but I can't promise that, not to them, myself, anyone. But I will say this. In the undying dying words of Seamus Heaney: Noli timere. Don't be afraid.
Am I scared? No. Genocide is scary. And gendercide. Fascism. Homophobia. Hate in general. This? Since you are my sweet escape from all of the above, pour le fun, no. You know what else I'm thinking? You don't have to follow paths. Forge your own. Make like Gertrude Bell or Ranulph Fiennes. Tap into the explorer. There's one in everyone. And I know what you're thinking. Things are moving too fast for anyone to keep up with or analyze so how do you know where you should be headed and if you do know how do you get there? E-commerce, corporate cultures, the economy, it's all moving and evolving at the speed of sound, light even. New business models emerge and dated ones die and who knows where to head and how to get there. It's all one big expedition.
And I know you think fear is healthy, proof your self-preservation instinct still works, but too much is nothing but paralyzing. Who knows what's going to happen next year or next month or in the next two minutes. You can wish. You can hope. But you can never know for certain. Not until you get there. That's when you can say, "I always knew I'd end up [insert your destination]." That's the only time you can make that claim, really. So why worry. You may have no power over how the game is played but you can always improve your own performance. That's all you can do. That much you can always influence, whatever it is that you're trying to achieve.
That's what I think anyway. And you're thinking I'm not helping. This ain't helping. You want to write and you want to be published and you want to succeed and you know, you just know published authors know something you don't but they won't tell you what it is because it's a secret, The Secret. The Secret Ingredient. The Recipe. Now listen close. Like really listen. All ears? Here it comes. There is no recipe. And you're secret ingredient. And that's why this whole business can feel like one huge clusterfuck of frustrating counterproductive and counterintuitive forces at work, not the energizing life-affirming expedition you thought you'd embark on. No promises, no guarantees, a lot of work, sweat, even tears, for what exactly? You tell me. What's the point? Your point? Goal? Destination? Answer those questions and you'll know where you should go and what you should do, maybe even how to get there. Methinks.
As Takei would say, oh my. Shall we lighten up things some? What else have I been up to? Tackling my TBR and TBW pile and revisiting old favorites. Having a good time with Hubby. Raising my kids to be
Told you I'd get logorrheic on you. Thanks for listening. TLDR? Hey, it's my blog. And it's your prerogative. Are you saying you haven't missed the soapbox and the sermons? Say it ain't so. And all I'm hearing once again is me-me-me. What have you been up to, sweetie darlings? I see you but I never hear from you. So now I'm listening. Like really listening. All ears. Still not hearing anything.
I'll get my coat.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
As the days go by
It's Dita day again at 69 Shades, where I'm doing my best to compensate for the lack of inspiring start-of-year content here at the den. My post is about time, why it seems to go faster and faster as the years gather, and how you can try to slow it down a notch. Swing by, but not before you read the following:
Don't forget to follow the blog, especially now that we have a contest dipped in awesome sauce running through January 31. Check it out!
Don't forget to follow the blog, especially now that we have a contest dipped in awesome sauce running through January 31. Check it out!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Breathed upon
"A little less conversation, a little more action, please. All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me."
Where have I been? Each and every one of the two of you must have been beside yourselves with worry, n'est-ce pas? Tsk. Lemme tell ya.
Playing the waiting game, always the hardest part.
Acting the part, i.e. doing what writers are supposed to do, i.e. writing.
Looking the part, studying and practicing the excruciating art of plotting (excruciating for me, not for you probably, you're smart, aren't you sweetie darlings, not creatures of instinct and intuition like...some people I know. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but they, whoever the hell they are, say a lot of other stupid things this bitch has never bought so wuff, dawgs, just see if I don't).
Bushwhacking.
Daydreaming.
Feeding the soul. On the menu: photography, art, illustration, fiction and non-fiction, the music of Gotye and Mirel Wagner.
Enjoying the spring light, a natural high. So energizing it just makes me want to throw my arms around the world. And, the world being what it is, that is nothing short of amazing, but spring light will do that to you. Ooh, I feel another song coming my way. "I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. If you're inclined to disagree, sod off and leave me be."
Photo credit
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
A design for life
The poet Juvenal urged his fellow Romans to pray for a sound mind in a healthy body. His first century prompt still stands. Whether you're an author or an athlete, both the mind and the body need to be in shape if you want to go the distance, rep after rep, mile after mile, page after page, reach the finish line. First, last, doesn't matter. You finish, you win.
I read about a guy who ran a marathon without a mile or minute of training, in denim shorts. He didn't do it to prove that it was easy. (In denim shorts, I suspect it was rather uncomfortable). He set out to show there's no secret, no mystery, that it's possible.
Now before you take to the streets in your cut-offs, a) consult a physician, b) learn technique, c) set a realistic goal and commit to it, d) be regular and be relentless, e) accept the fact there will be days when you won't feel like it, at all, and when that happens, f) be honest: do you need a break or just a kick in the butt?
The lessons I've taken away from physical exercise have helped me immensely in writing and life. They've helped me get over rough patches and disappointments, they've given me pause and perspective, a sense of proportion; they've generated a certain kind of confidence and a calm not many things can bring.
So what have I learned? Perseverance, self-motivation and self-discipline for one. Talent, inspiration and a general feeling of that-looks-like-fun-I-could-do-that only takes you so far. The rest involves facing and battling with the usual suspects: fear, doubt, inner demons, things beyond your control, lethargy (real fatigue or sheer laziness), and things that in no way stand in your way but you use as an excuse when you're just not feeling it. It's working diligently without any promise of reward. Most of the time, the work itself, the pleasure of doing, is your only reward. Still up for it? Get cracking.
The ability to concentrate on the here and now and the task at hand while shutting out everything else. And I do mean talk to the hand because the rest of me isn't listening. Come to think of it, the hand is otherwise occupied as well.
There is such a thing as Flow. And it's all it's cranked up to be. A state where you could write, run, insert your favorite pastime, effortlessly, until the end of time. It's a beautiful thing.
There is such a thing as The Wall. It's debilitating, yes, but not paralyzing. There are ways out and around. Always. You just have to find out what works for you.
You learn through repetition but practice does make you if not perfect, better. The boring necessary evil part, I guess. It takes thousands of repetitions to perfect a move, to make a response an automatic one, to get rid of bad habits and/or instill new and better ways of doing things.
Good habits are just as hard to kick as bad ones. So get addicted. Adrenaline, endorphin and the flow thingy are just as much of a high as cake, cigarettes and candy are.
Overtraining happens. You get excited, carried away even, overdo it and before you know it, you stop making progress. Actually, you're taking one step up and two steps back. Then again...
Keep doing what you're doing and you'll keep getting what you're getting. If that's where you were headed all along, congratulations, you've arrived. Or hit a plateau. Time to reassess those goals.
Rest and replenishment. An essential need, not a weakness. Absolutely vital if you want to keep growing. I've taken a break, or I've been forced to take one, only to come back stronger or just as strong as I was before the break.
Confidence, Jedi style. This is hard to teach and even harder to fake. You need to feel it to be able to project it. But when you have it, you walk through a crowd that would have sent you running in the past and the crowd parts like the Red Sea. You don't scowl or growl. You don't do your best Dirty Harry at all. You just... Okay. Hard to teach, fake and explain.
You can't win them all. Not every race, not every competitor. Play the game long enough and you will come across someone faster, stronger. There will be setbacks, moments of frustration, doubt and utter despair when you question the sanity of what it is you're doing. Time to quit or commit anew. And that's just the way it is.
You can't outsource this stuff. There's no pill that has quite the same effect. Above all, it's fun and it's energizing and it's life-affirming. It's such an adventure, finding out what the body can and can't do. What a design. What an instrument. Take care of it and it will take care of you. That's all I'm saying.
Spoken like a true fitness fascist, you say? No. No no no. I'm a hedonist. I love sensual pleasures. I love food and tipple. I love planning a meal. I love cooking and eating. Ooh, and baking. But I really really like my exercise, too. (And I repeat: Not. A. Fascist. It's the health/feel-good thing that drives me, not weight loss. Weight loss is a byproduct, not the goal. But if it's your goal, consider this: when you do exercise, regularly, you don't have to watch every bite, you can go all-out hedonist on occasion and still respect yourself the next day.)
Bottom line: No exercise makes Dita a very cranky, restless girl. I crave a physical outlet just as much as I do an intellectual one. It doesn't have to be choreographed or complicated, it just has to get me moving, and right now, the mind is willing but the body isn't able and doesn't that just suck and blow. The flu has been raging through the family since January first, the holidays being the perfect time to exchange not only gifts but germs as well, so I've been out of sorts all year. I bet I can think of ten more lessons the second I press Publish. Because my mind isn't functioning properly since my body isn't. Oh well. Such is life.
[One more thing. I suspect one of the reasons some aren't moving at all is that getting and keeping fit looks like a choreographed and complicated affair where if you don't have the right gear or don't know the latest fitness fad, if you don't go to a certain gym or if you think the equipment look like something Monsieur Guillotine must have devised, you need not bother at all. Nothing could be further from the truth, sweetie darlings! Nothing!! Don't believe the hype!!! You don't need money to get fit. You don't need product X, brand Y, or gym Z. You can walk yourself fit. Dance in your own living room. You can do loads of things with your own bodyweight and nothing but. Look it up. Carrying your own weight. Literally and figuratively. I guess that's what it's all about.]
I read about a guy who ran a marathon without a mile or minute of training, in denim shorts. He didn't do it to prove that it was easy. (In denim shorts, I suspect it was rather uncomfortable). He set out to show there's no secret, no mystery, that it's possible.
Now before you take to the streets in your cut-offs, a) consult a physician, b) learn technique, c) set a realistic goal and commit to it, d) be regular and be relentless, e) accept the fact there will be days when you won't feel like it, at all, and when that happens, f) be honest: do you need a break or just a kick in the butt?
The lessons I've taken away from physical exercise have helped me immensely in writing and life. They've helped me get over rough patches and disappointments, they've given me pause and perspective, a sense of proportion; they've generated a certain kind of confidence and a calm not many things can bring.
So what have I learned? Perseverance, self-motivation and self-discipline for one. Talent, inspiration and a general feeling of that-looks-like-fun-I-could-do-that only takes you so far. The rest involves facing and battling with the usual suspects: fear, doubt, inner demons, things beyond your control, lethargy (real fatigue or sheer laziness), and things that in no way stand in your way but you use as an excuse when you're just not feeling it. It's working diligently without any promise of reward. Most of the time, the work itself, the pleasure of doing, is your only reward. Still up for it? Get cracking.
The ability to concentrate on the here and now and the task at hand while shutting out everything else. And I do mean talk to the hand because the rest of me isn't listening. Come to think of it, the hand is otherwise occupied as well.
There is such a thing as Flow. And it's all it's cranked up to be. A state where you could write, run, insert your favorite pastime, effortlessly, until the end of time. It's a beautiful thing.
There is such a thing as The Wall. It's debilitating, yes, but not paralyzing. There are ways out and around. Always. You just have to find out what works for you.
You learn through repetition but practice does make you if not perfect, better. The boring necessary evil part, I guess. It takes thousands of repetitions to perfect a move, to make a response an automatic one, to get rid of bad habits and/or instill new and better ways of doing things.
Good habits are just as hard to kick as bad ones. So get addicted. Adrenaline, endorphin and the flow thingy are just as much of a high as cake, cigarettes and candy are.
Overtraining happens. You get excited, carried away even, overdo it and before you know it, you stop making progress. Actually, you're taking one step up and two steps back. Then again...
Keep doing what you're doing and you'll keep getting what you're getting. If that's where you were headed all along, congratulations, you've arrived. Or hit a plateau. Time to reassess those goals.
Rest and replenishment. An essential need, not a weakness. Absolutely vital if you want to keep growing. I've taken a break, or I've been forced to take one, only to come back stronger or just as strong as I was before the break.
Confidence, Jedi style. This is hard to teach and even harder to fake. You need to feel it to be able to project it. But when you have it, you walk through a crowd that would have sent you running in the past and the crowd parts like the Red Sea. You don't scowl or growl. You don't do your best Dirty Harry at all. You just... Okay. Hard to teach, fake and explain.
You can't win them all. Not every race, not every competitor. Play the game long enough and you will come across someone faster, stronger. There will be setbacks, moments of frustration, doubt and utter despair when you question the sanity of what it is you're doing. Time to quit or commit anew. And that's just the way it is.
You can't outsource this stuff. There's no pill that has quite the same effect. Above all, it's fun and it's energizing and it's life-affirming. It's such an adventure, finding out what the body can and can't do. What a design. What an instrument. Take care of it and it will take care of you. That's all I'm saying.
Spoken like a true fitness fascist, you say? No. No no no. I'm a hedonist. I love sensual pleasures. I love food and tipple. I love planning a meal. I love cooking and eating. Ooh, and baking. But I really really like my exercise, too. (And I repeat: Not. A. Fascist. It's the health/feel-good thing that drives me, not weight loss. Weight loss is a byproduct, not the goal. But if it's your goal, consider this: when you do exercise, regularly, you don't have to watch every bite, you can go all-out hedonist on occasion and still respect yourself the next day.)
Bottom line: No exercise makes Dita a very cranky, restless girl. I crave a physical outlet just as much as I do an intellectual one. It doesn't have to be choreographed or complicated, it just has to get me moving, and right now, the mind is willing but the body isn't able and doesn't that just suck and blow. The flu has been raging through the family since January first, the holidays being the perfect time to exchange not only gifts but germs as well, so I've been out of sorts all year. I bet I can think of ten more lessons the second I press Publish. Because my mind isn't functioning properly since my body isn't. Oh well. Such is life.
[One more thing. I suspect one of the reasons some aren't moving at all is that getting and keeping fit looks like a choreographed and complicated affair where if you don't have the right gear or don't know the latest fitness fad, if you don't go to a certain gym or if you think the equipment look like something Monsieur Guillotine must have devised, you need not bother at all. Nothing could be further from the truth, sweetie darlings! Nothing!! Don't believe the hype!!! You don't need money to get fit. You don't need product X, brand Y, or gym Z. You can walk yourself fit. Dance in your own living room. You can do loads of things with your own bodyweight and nothing but. Look it up. Carrying your own weight. Literally and figuratively. I guess that's what it's all about.]
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