Well, actually, it's not beginning to look like complicated. It's been that way for a while now. I know I haven't said so on my blog yet, but it's not really a secret anymore, so ... my parents are getting divorced. I won't say much more than that, except that while they are not tearing each other apart, it's not exactly amicable either.

There's never a good time for this kind of thing to happen, of course, but having all of this fall around the holidays just complicates things even more. Thanksgiving was hard, and my other siblings and I ended up spending it without either of our parents.

I have no idea how Christmas is going to go.

Other aspects of my life are also in a state of flux. - I'm living with my mom, right now. But that's only temporary. How long "temporary" means, I don't know. I may actually be able to get my car running again at a price I can afford. Maybe. Or I may still end up buying a really, really cheep one. Maybe.

And on and on.

But whatever, right? I do really believe what I said in my sunset post. About living in the moment. And I do really believe despite all that's going on that the day is beautiful and good. And I don't think that I'm just trying to convince myself of that. *grin*

But who cares!

:D

The important question is are you loving life?

My life has been going through a process of unraveling. I won't go into the gory details, but I am currently trying to find a new home, a new car, a new job, and even a new restructuring of my family.

I know a lot of other people are likewise plunged into the muck and murk of challenges they couldn't have perceived a week ago, let alone a year ago. All around me, I keep hearing people saying the same thing:

"I can't wait for this year to be over."

I understand this wanting to look forward to a better year ahead.* It's as though on the sun will rise on New Year's Day and the sky will burst into yellows, oranges, reds, pinks, and purples so bright and beautiful that the worries of the year before could not possibly cross over.

I find myself saying the same thing, waiting for a future that will be better than the one I'm living. I forget sometimes that the sun rises everyday. Every morning offers opportunity to change, to live, to be.

There is no future day in which things are all going to be better. You can't hop on a train to a better life. Life is the journey. There is nothing to wait for. There is only right now. This moment.

This moment is where Joy lives.



I through this picture together at the last minute this morning. It was made by tearing strips of paper, painting them individually with watercolor, and then assembling and pasting them together.

*Just a reminder. The new year for the lunar calendar does not actually begin until February. So those looking to the new year may have to wait a little longer.

[This is my week 6 post for therealljidol .]

This year has had an amazingly long List of Suck.* Some of the items included in the List of Suck have already been mentioned in past blog posts, so I won't repeat them.

In response to this List, I have, along with my sister, been calling Fate out.

"Bring it on, Bitch!" we've shouted. "Bring it on right now, because I'll be damned if I'm carrying any of this shit into the next year!"

We thought this amusing at the time. I realize now our mistake. 

Fate is more than happy to present you with more challenges if you ask for them. For example, Fate has decide to play a game of hide an seek with my cell phone tonight while I was in Mountain View. She was very good at the hiding; I was very poor at the seeking. The cell phone has not been found. Therefore, I present this apology.

Edited to Add: I came in to work this morning and found my cell phone in the office. Which means that it was never lost in the first place. This is very odd, because last night I was 100% sure that I had my cell phone when I got out of the car to go to the write-in. Very, very odd. But thank you Fate for returning my phone to me, even if it's not technically a return and it was just sitting there all along.
 

---

*Note: There is also a corresponding List of Awesome, including, but not limited to, growing metamorphosing connections with family, friends, and internet aquaintances, traveling to Hawaii, getting more connected with my writing than ever before, and all the daily delights such as waking up, stretching, dancing, singing, laughing, smiling, learning, and just plain living.
 

 

It is a strange thing trying to distill a person's life into a few paragraphs, especially when that person is yourself. There's always the generic list of facts, of course (I am Andrea Blythe. I am 29. I live in Northern California. Etc.), but that always seems to carry the tone of a personals ad. In a way, these mini-biographies that people the internet are simply masks. They are not our real selves. They are the selected criteria of how we wish others to see ourselves (the fact that someone else might form opions different than we intended represents an entirely differnt sort of puzzlings over the matter).

Even if I tell you stories -- things I've done, things I've seen, who I've loved, met, fought with, kissed, kicked -- the stories still present fictions. They may be true from my point of view, but the truth changes based on what it left in or left out. Hell, even my regularly unscheduled postings represent only a small portion of myself that I allow to be public.

This is not to say the people on the internet are liars. Quite the contrary, depite the few con-artists out there, I believe that most people strive for honesty (hey, I'm an optimist). However, it's a filtered honesty. Everthing is put through the filters of shifting perception, self characterization, and writing style (and much more I'm sure).

All of which is probably more than enough rambling on the philosophies of autobiographies. I'm getting the feeling that I'm starting to get too serious -- a very dangerous thing. :)

So without further hoo-haw, here are a five things I percieve as being true about me:

• I am a published poet. Though I'm quite pleased, this is not very impressive, really. All the journals were quite small (save one). Regardless, I can't help but feel a sense of validation because I get to say, "I am a published poet."
   
• I am a novelist who has tried and failed. I don't quite have the exact count of dead manuscripts and stilted attempts that exist in the insanity of lackluster filing. There are many. I consider this a badge of honor, actually, going down with glory and the like. Failing teaches us many things, after all, and I'll keep on failing until I figure this whole noveling thing out.
   
• I am an Allist (my mom coined the term), which is an easy way of saying that all religions and nonreligions are true. I just sort of pick and choose that which works for me at any given moment. I often appeal in prayer to an everywhere and everything god (more of an energy than a man or woman sitting on some white throne). Currently, my favorite of the "little" gods is Ganesha, a Hindu figure, who breaks down barriers and is the patron god of writers. :)
   
• I am often labeled as a feminist. However, this is a misconception. I am actually a Humanist. Humans (and heck, nonhumans, too, providing there are any intelligent nonhumans out there, which seems likely to me) deserve to be treated as such. It doesn't matter if we're talking man, woman, gay, bisexual, or transgendered. People should be treated like people, which means letting go of preconceived notions of what the "right" kind of person is.
   
• I am quite fond of zombies, specifically the George A. Romero, lumbering kind. There's an aspect of possible survival that I find interesting. Where if I just did things intelligently and right, I could survive the zombie uprising. (And, no, I don't really believe it will happen ... or do I?) Zombies represent walking death. Death in all its brutal rotting glory, ready to eat you up. You can survive the zombies, perhaps, but even if you do, death is still waiting to swallow you up in the end. It's the one thing that it truly inescapable, which I find philosophically interesting.

[This is my post for Week 0 of therealljidol.]

My mother and I were at the track Friday night, doing our marathon training. My mother was talking about how she was looking up to the sky, to the heavenly bodies, the clouds and then the stars (when it was night), as a way of lightening her heart as she dealt with all her various stresses.

Meanwhile, I was looking down at the track and almost stepped on what looked to be a cricket on the track. "Wow! Mom, a cricket!" I said, and my mother made a similar declaration of surprise, when she noticed.

The bright green, leaf-shaped bug (which we later learned was a , not a cricket, though in the same family), marched its way across the track at a steady pace. I squatted down to see it closer, and my mom and I stood there, fascinated by its progress, while other runners and walkers kept moving past us. No one stopped to ask us what we were looking at.

"You know," said my mom. "Finding a cricket like this, is supposed to be good luck."

At that exact moment, the katydid turned 90 degrees and marched in my direction. It came straight to me without variation or hesitation. In the shade between my sneakers, it finally stopped. It just sat there for a few moments, chilling in the shade. Then after about 20-30 seconds, it continued marching, passing completely through my legs and down the track.

My mom and I were both stunned. More "Wow"s and "Isn't that amazing"s passed our lips.

We watched it for a few moments more. Fearing that he might get trampled under a runners feet, my mom picked him up and placed him on the grass (where he would be safer as long as he didn't decide to go wandering onto the track again).

"Maybe this is a sign that I also need to look down," my mom said, as we continued our walk around the track.

---

While I still only completed four of the nine items on my list last week (a fifth item was checked off but not completed since someone else completed the story and published it before I could), I still feel fairly accomplished. I feel rather proud of <a href="http://blythe025.livejournal.com/215367.html">my entry</a> for last week's Bridgit's Flame.

I still need to seriously get some of these checked off, so that they will be done before November, when the big, bad Nano will eat all my time.

Things I MUST do this week:
-- do my 3-4 marathon training days
-- complete this week's brigits_flame entry
-- complet this week's therealljidol entry

Things I HOPE to do this week:
-- post a new youtube video
-- prepare and send out a poetry submission
-- do a sketch or two and/or get animation art pages done
-- compile movie listings for zombie site
-- do morning poetry/journaling (2/7 days completed)

Love it. Thank it daily for being your body, for being strong, for being healthy, for being beautiful. Tell your body you love it. Bodies love that.

I meant to post this last week, but ran out time before I headed to Clear Lake for the weekend. Last Wednesday, I had a fabulous time watching Ani DiFranco perform at the Mountain Winery in Saratoga. I've noticed a progression in her writing. Her earlier writing mostly focused on politics as well as romantic entanglements, and was often quite angry. She still writes about relationships and is still deeply political, but she has incorporated a sense of spirituality into her writing that didn't seem as prevalent before. She seems (to me) to be approaching her politics from a more peaceful place, like she has come to some deeper understanding within herself, that though one needs to speak out against the wrongs of the world, one doesn't need to carry that anger and hate and darkness into themselves and their own lives. I see clearly that she has grown as a person and as a writer, and she dazzles me more and more.

While at the concert, however, I overheard a conversation that went something like this.

Girl 1: Where are my women at?
Girl 2 (with a tone of disdain): That's degrading, you know. You're reducing me to a gender. That's totally degrading.
Girl 1: Oh...um...I...I guess...Where are my humans at? *sheepish smile*

Several things bothered me about this conversation.

First, Girl 1 had clearly meant no harm. She had approached her group, excited about just buying an Ani t-shirt, and joyous of being there, only to be reproached for a completely innocent comment. (I address my friends as "my girls" all the time.)

Second, based on tone of voice and body language, Girl 2 was enacting her superiority over Girl 1. Her words were clearly meant to make Girl 1 feel small for her ignorance about what was "politically correct" according to Girl 2's world view. And it worked, because Girl 1 immediately became smaller, withdrew in terms of her body language, and was left hemming and hawing, killing her sense of joy from only a moment before. Girl 2's response in this instance was clearly more degrading than what Girl 1 had said and meant as a light-hearted sign of friendship.

I'm disturbed by the kinds of people who use feminism and politically correctness as a throne of superiority. It comes to mind, those feminists who trash women who get a breast implant (I know many wise women who have done this). Anyone who does not subscribe exactly to their world view is inherently inferior. A point of view I consider just as hurtful as sexists or racists, since it demeans otherwise good hearted and kind people who just happen to have gentler way of living.

Third, Girl 2 is in fact a woman. The idea that she finds it degrading to labeled a woman implies that she in some way finds womanhood inferior. I personally am proud to be a woman (and if I were a man, I would be proud to be a man). Therefore being addressed a woman is a compliment to my status in the world. I am not being reduced, or made smaller. I stand taller. (Heh heh, rhyme.)

I could perhaps understand Girl 2's frustration if she had been addressed as "my bitches", which has a misogynistic ugliness, or even if she had been addressed as "my girls", which could imply an infantile need to be taken care of. The deeper implications of those words (if one chooses to read into the implications instead of the joy of the moment) can be understood as grounds for gentle correction, if Girl 2 was really bothered by them. However, any woman who is proud of her place in the world as a woman, should not be upset when addressed as so, especially when nothing derogatory was carried with it.

Finally, I am of the firm opinion that life is too short to be wasting my time worrying about small things like that. I do not get offended easily. Not because I am idle in my ideals, but because being angry and frustrated takes away from those moments in which I could be experiencing calm and peace and joy. Most of the time what is said is said innocently, or at least in jest.

Besides, I believe it was Eleanore Roosevelt who said "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." In the end, your own sense of peace and joy belong to you. No one can take them away unless you let them. I hope both Girl 1 and Girl 2 learn that, and I hope Girl 2 finds enough confidence within herself that she doesn't need to belittle another to feel comfortable. In fact, I hope we can all learn those things.

Um, no. Because in my world view conversion to one religion would mean that I deny the truths of the others. Buddhism, Christian, Muslim, Atheism, and every other spiritual beliefs and faiths are all equally true, existing all at the same time in this strange bowl of the universe, bumping into each other from time to time and sometimes blending into each other so that they are indistinguishable.

I consider myself an Allist (a term coined by my mother). Being and Allist means that I believe in everything. It's all true. I am as perfectly happy sitting in a Buddhist temple as I am in a Catholic church. Both are powerful places of worship in my mind, just as the middle of the dessert is a powerful place of worship.

( Because it's a little long, and I'm not sure you want to get into this, or that I am explaining this right. :) )

So that's it. That's how I see it. And I'm sure someone can shoot all kinds of holes through this, can quote scripture, can tell me all the ways I'm wrong.

That's fine. I'll just smile and say, yes, that's true. Because it is. It's all true.

Edited to add: That being said, it's all illusion, too. That is, religion is a construct, a human attempt to define the undefinable. But that's another discussion entirely. :)

I went to go see a poetry reading at the Grace Cathedral last night, an incredible building and just about as fabulous as any of the cathedrals I saw in Spain or Mexico. Grace Cathedral also has a labyrinth for walking meditations, which I choose to do. I breathed deep and worked on staying present as I twisted my way to the center. I needed that, as it had been a very stressful day.

The setting was perfect for the reading, because the theme was the sacred and the profane. The poetry was great, each poet with a different voice and reading style. My mind started to drift during two of the five poets readings. But the other three kept me right there, present, and their work was so profound. I ended up buying three books of poetry, the works of Kay Ryan, Jane Mead, and Dan Bellm. I got two of them signed, too. I love finding new poets to love.

There are more Litquake going on this week in San Fran. Go here to check out what other events are going on. I'll be at the Steampunk event tomorrow night (Thursday), so if you think you are going to be around, let me know.

* * * *

I also posted a new video on youtube. Basically, it's just me describing my trip to Ireland. I thought I would post it here, just in case you were interested in knowing more about what went on during that trip. Watch and enjoy (or not).

My first Hike for Discovery post, in case you have no idea what I'm talking about.

So, I attended the fourth team hike on Saturday, four hours at Fort Ord in the Monterrey hills. It was hot and dry, and the views were gorgeous. We joyfully trudged up and down hills both small and large. And I was very tired afterward; I practically slept the rest of the day. It’s going to be a while before I’m ready for a seven or eight hour hike. How did I do that without any training when I was younger?

My fellow trainees are great, wonderful people, who happen to have a lot of helpful advice which I am taking to heart to get me through this experience. I’m sure that I will have lots of friends after this.

The one sad thing I’ve found out is that the friend who signed up with me will probably not be continuing on with the event. It's a little disappointing, because it was partially an excuse for us to spend some time together and hang out. But She has very good reasons, and is heading off to Thailand for three weeks (lucky girl), so I understand. I won’t let her absence get me down though, and plan on continuing on, because I’m having fun and feeling good about the good I’m doing. So when October comes I will be fit, strong and ready to take on the Grand Canyon.

Thanks to all of you for supporting my endeavors, and for your well wishes. It means a great deal to me. If you’ve donated to my fundraising, thank you once again. It isn’t too late if you would still like to donate:
http://www.active.com/donate/hfdsvmb/ASvendsen

PS. And since I don’t think I said it last time, I need to raise $3700 (I've received $150 already, Thanks!), donations are tax deductible and 75% of your donation goes directly to research and helping patients and their families.

I'm sitting at my mom's computer right now. To my left is a quote scribbled in my mom's handwriting on an old, torn envelope:

"Be the Change you wish to see in the world."
-- Gandhi

Beautiful. I love that my mom collects quotes like that.

I had a great weekend. No green beer, but a great weekend all the same. Instead of partying at home, my mom and I drove up to Harbin Hot Springs and met my aunt and cousin for a day of relaxation and rejuvenation.

( Harbin )

( Music in Berkeley )

In other really good news, I figured out that somewhere in the past two or three weeks, I've lost five pounds. All that walking is doing me good. :)

Oh, and I came across two great writing quotes today:

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
-- Cyril Connolly

Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved to write a book.
-- Edward Gibbon

I found this bit of inspiration in the DailyOm newsletter I receive everyday, and I thought these thoughts were worth sharing with everyone.

The word failure puts forward a very simplistic way of thinking that allows for only two possibilities: failure or success. Few things in the universe are black and white, yet much of our language reads as if they are. The word failure signifies a paradigm in which all subtlety is lost. When we regard something we have done, or ourselves, as a failure, we lose our ability to see the truth, which is no doubt considerably more complex. In addition, we hurt ourselves. All you have to do is speak or read the word failure and see how it makes you feel.

At some point, the word may not have been so loaded with the weight of negativity, and it simply referred to something that did not go according to plan. Unfortunately, in our culture it is often used very negatively, such as when a person is labeled a failure, even though it is impossible for something as vast and subtle as a human being to be reduced in such a way. It also acts as a deterrent, scaring us from taking risks for fear of failure. It has somehow come to represent the worst possible outcome. Failure is a word so burdened with fearful and unconscious energy that we can all benefit from consciously examining our use of it, because the language we use influences the way we think and feel.
Read the whole piece and the discussion here.

I need to remind myself often not to be afraid of failure, especially since, as this article says, the idea of failure doesn't have to have power over us. I know it has had power over me -- I face this fear every time I sit down to write. It's a fear that often keeps me from writing anything at all.

But like this says, it's much more complex than all that. In terms of my writing, even if a story or poem doesn't work, that doesn't mean I've failed as a writer. With everything I write and attempt to write I learn about the process of writing. Each failed story teaches me how to approach and write the next story. So I haven't failed as a writer as long as I keep writing, and keep learning.

Now, if I could only remember that every time I sit down to write.

I've joined a writer's critique circle, and I've been kind of nervous about submitting a story for critique. They seem like good and mellow people as far as I can tell, so I don't expect to be just torn to shreds by anyone. But I'm still sitting here looking at my work, expecting someone to smile politely while subtly informing me that I really do in fact suck. I have no reason to think this way, of course. It's just my ego kicking around my head stirring up clouds of fear.

So instead of coming straight home, I walked the reservoir trail in Los Gatos. I sat by the creek and listened to the water and to the sound of my breathing. By the time I started walking back to my car I was filled with a sense of the goodness of the world. In general I am a believer in goodness -- the goodness of the world, and most definitely the goodness of people. I most definitely believe that people want to be, and in fact are, good at their cores, even when they do things that are not so good. And I absolutely believe that the people who act most cruelly are equally capable of finding their own goodness, changing, and becoming those who do good.

I believe in people.

It's funny, as I was sitting here at the computer, away from the water and the trail, I was starting to feel fearful again. But as I write this, as I remember these things about the world and about people, I am again finding my calm.

It's a beautiful world.