Moving On Up

Can a studio rightly be considered a step up? After doing the weekly rate motel thing for about 5 months now, absolutely.

The biggest adjustment? Thinking in terms of a long term stay. Not: "Well, I can just move a few things in." More like "Now the tv will go here, but I want the printer there..."

Small thrift stores are my friend. Even Goodwill is over-priced. $10.00 for a crappy coffee-stained toaster??? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? $15.00 gets me a new one at target.

In a way I'm playing catch up. Most people learned how to do this after college. I went straight into a long-term relationship, into marriage.

Now Bachelorhood, for the first time. I feel like I'm living backward.

Islay Hill (Morro Hike #2)

Ok, it was dusk. That was the best I could do. That's Bishop's peak at the far right, Cerro San Luis to it's left: as seen from about midway up Islay Hill.

You wind through a residential neighborhood to get to the trail head.

The guardian of the mountain came to me in the visage of a 1st grader on a trike.

"That's my house! Do you think my house is cool?"

I thought over the possible responses, then gave what was apparently the sacred password:

"I think your house is the coolest!"

After nodding appreciatively (perhaps scanning me for sincerity), the guardian pedaled off, and left me to my thoughts.

The trail is quite a bit more fun than Bishop's Peak, and its steady, panting, wheezing grade. It curves gradually to the right, alternating steep and plateau terrain.

At a certain point, I had to turn around. I was worried there would not be enough light to see the trail.

I had a moment of panic in the descent. I skidded down a steep grade uncontrollably. Flashbacks to my broken ankle. The memory nearly makes me throw up. I somehow land upright, uninjured. But I freeze for an indeterminate amount of time.

Then I begin a more careful descent.

A family boldly has their drapes open, exposing a family game night. That is surprisingly hard for me to handle. I decide to let the grief have its course, as I lean on my walking stick. Sadness, anger, regret, self-recrimination (don't let THAT one go too far. Conscience, yes. Self-abuse, no.).

THAT (in the family room) was what I wanted. THAT was what I had every intention of being a part of.

And yet...

And yet what? It won't happen in that form. It will take it's own form. Time will tell.

Pangs of envy. Yet I'm grateful for them. Enjoy each other.

For now, another baby step, then another: literal now, metaphorical later.

Back to the car, safe and sound. Grief has it's way.

Yes, guardian of the mountain. I think your house is cool.

I think your house is the coolest.

Dealing with the LOL WUT??s on your list

Just what, is an "LOL WUT?"

Well, it's not quite WTF.

LOL WUT??? is generally a more amused (or bemused) form of WTF. But it also can imply many shades of meaning in between "huh???" and "WTF??". Or a cross between "where the hell did THAT come from?" and "this is totally wack." Or "that's pretty funny dude. Wait a minute, what did you just say?" Or simply "Whatever".

When I'm working on the list, I just let items tumble out: off the top of my head, uncensored. I think that gives the unconscious mind a say. It also helps to weed out "shoulds" or "ought to's" disguised as "want to's".

If you read the list, you may have noticed 3 "LOL WUT"'s
21. Be a Cowgirl's Sweetheart
47. Be a Juggalo for a week
48. Prove that I am the REAL Slim Shady.

An LOL WUT requires delicate handling.

Ponder why it is on the list. What do you really need or want out of it? In #47, I just had a curiosity about the Juggalo subculture. What do they do? What do they believe in? What would it be like to live as one of them for a week? Is there anything I need in my life before my "good day to die"? What about after?

#21 is a little different. It started out as a crude comment scribbled next to "Ride a horse". (Think of a Big 'n Rich song, reverse the genders, and you get the gist.) It's sometimes a hard call to tell whether it's just fear putting the brakes on your desires, or whether you're in danger of violating your values.

In this case, it was clearly the latter. So what do I do with it? There's clearly something there I need. My mental soundtrack changed. The old Patsy Montana Song - "I wanna be a cowboy's sweetheart" started playing. Now reverse the genders on THAT one.

The song kind of just lays the essence of the desire open - learn to ride, to rope, ride trails with someone special, sing for them at night, etc. etc.

And of course, learn to yodel.

Note how sometimes, if you don't label it as "evil" or "naughty", or if you don't try to shout it down ("DON'T THINK THAT!!!") the unconscious mind sometimes feeds you the answer.

Sometimes not.

Sometimes it wants you to really work for it. Which leads us to:

#48 - Oh. Dear. Lord. This one came in a dream. Seriously. I was walking out of a co-parenting meeting, my usual nerdy self. As I walked, I started straightening up, walking more with a strut, took off the nerdy glasses, ran my hands through my hair which was now bleach blond. A limo pulls up, out steps a Q-dog linebacker bodyguard.

Have you seen the last few minutes of "The Usual Suspects?" It was very much like that.

We arrive at a stadium, we're met by Flav-O-Flav's bigger, scarier and better dressed doppleganger. He does my intro onstage, the crowd goes wild, I do a profanity -laden rap. The crowd goes wild again, I shout something with the words "Good night" and "Mother" and... something else that was plural. I throw the mike down. I walk off to high fives from "flav-o-flav".

You may switch from LOL WUT to WTF if you like.

But not that odd, if you think about it.

As you know, I'm going through a divorce. There's all sorts of wild family gossip going on. Criticism. Even though I'm out of the house, criticism of what I do, don't do, intend to do, might one day do.

No surprise then, that I found "The Eminem Show" cathartic to the extreme.

"This looks like a job for me/So everybody up and follow me/Cause we need a little...controversy/Life would be so empty without me!!!"

The Bucket List: Part 1

1. Out myself to "the little redhead girl" from my own personal "Charlie Brown Valentine Special"
2. Do the 12 steps just for the heck of it. For no other reason than they're a heck of a good way to live.
3. Treasure every moment with my kids. Be mindful and present when I'm with them. Yes, that includes the tantrums.
4. Keep my side of "Divorce Street" clean.
5. April 2, 2010 (41st birthday) - Ride the mechanical bull at "Big Bubba's Bad Barbeque".
6. Learn to play Bach's 1st Sonata and Partita as well as I possibly can.
7. Perform them publicly (or at least excerpts). Even as a busker on Farmer's Market Night. Proceeds to benefit Hospice.
8. Find somewhere that really likes to throw down for St. Patrick's day.
9. Finish reading the complete works of Shakespeare
10. Read the Bible all the way through, one last time.
11. Finish Julia Cameron's "Vein of Gold"
12. Work out consistently for 1 year. Just to see what I look like at the end.
13. Volunteer at Mission Thrift.
14. Work through Stephen Levine's "A Year To Live". Preferably with the hospice discussion group. (But better alone than not at all.)
15. Participate in NaNoWriMo, finishing the rough draft of a novel within the month of November.
16. Work as a library volunteer
17. Train as a hospice volunteer
18. Run a 5K for a good cause
19. Hike all of the publicly accessible Morros (a series of old volcanic peaks in SLO county.) Go as far up as possible. No penalty for not making it all the way. In fact, return visits are a good measure of progress in the fitness and 5K training.
20. Ride a horse.
21. Be a cowgirl's sweetheart
22. Listen to an unabridged recording of Rossini's "William Tell"
23. Listen to the current record holder for "world's longest single opera" (I believe it's still "Die Meistersinger")
24. Learn and polish a Mozart concerto,
25. a 19th century concerto, and
26. the appropriate excerpts for a 2nd/substitute violin audition. Be prepared should the opportunity arise to audition for one of the local orchestras. (It's a given that I'll continue playing with the SLO Chamber Orchestra).
27. Become a "co-producer" for the short film "Good Luck, Mr Gorski". (Extra credit for exploring the creative work of my more well-known "co-producers")
28. Vegas road trip!!!
29. Go to Angel Camp, CA. Look for angels.
30. Go to Taos, NM. Listen to the "Taos Hum".
31. Go Bunjee jumping
32. At least 1 lesson in ballroom dancing. But preferably more. And preferably getting pretty good at it.
33. Attend Salsa night at Cal Poly.
34. Finish the Adult Winter Reading program at the SLO public library.
35. See the Grand Canyon one more time.
36. Go throw down for Oktoberfest somewhere
37. " " Mardi Gras
38. Participate in "Dia de Los Muertos"
30. Volunteer backstage at the local community theater
31. Be a gringo Guadelupeno
32. Swim with dolphins
33. Learn to draw.
34. Audition for the "Reader's Theater" (For the community theater if the right production/role come around).
35. Volunteer at the Mission when the Homeless overflow is hosted there
36. Attend one more rock concert
37. Attend one more musical (preferably "Wicked")
38. Attend one more opera
39. Hang out on Cannery Row.
40. Visit Steinbeck's grave.
41. Go to one of those snooty Monterey golf courses and play "Ready, fire, aim" Golf.
42. Hike up half dome
43. Attend a Vispassana retreat
44. Attend a Sweat Lodge
45. Listen to the entire "Ring Cycle"
46. Give blood
47. Be a Juggalo for a week
48. Prove that I am the REAL Slim Shady
49. Participate in ScriptFrenzy. Write a play in rough draft form during the month of April.

Why a "Bucket List" instead of a "to-do" list?

If you don't know what a "Bucket List" is, go out immediately and rent the movie of that same title.

Lot's of people are doing "bucket lists", and that's a great thing. But there's a catch.

For this tool to be really, really effective, you can't act as if you had all the time in the world.

You have to act like Morgan Freeman's character: as if you had about a year to live.

This has several advantages over a vision board or a "manifest list". For one, it eliminates vagueness. In my experience, vagueness is the hand-maiden of procrastination.

Try this one and just let it sit: "Get my Violin chops back up and audition for the symphony"

When do you suppose that will actually happen? Someday? Maybe?

Never?

Now try this: "By my theoretical mortality date of 7/11/11, I will have learned and polished the usual audition materials: A Mozart violin concerto (1st movement) , An 19th century concerto (1st movement), and the required orchestral excerpts for a 2nd Violin/Substitute player."

Hard to wiggle out of that one, huh? You're either gonna do it, or you're gonna say "forget it: I'm not THAT darned interested. What else can I do?"

Or else "Well that sucks, and it detracts time from my other items. What do I really WANT out of that item? To play for remunerative pay? To just play in an orchestra? Bragging rights? How can I get those, and still fit in blogging, NaNoWriMo, bunjee jumping, Scriptfrenzy etc?"

You also avoid new age guilt trips. Do, or do not do. That's the creed of "Bucketland". No guilt if you don't "draw" it to yourself. No guilt for not "dreaming big". No guilt for failing to "clarify your values" - although a sense of impending mortality IS wonderfully clarifying. No guilt for not forking over $100+ dollars to hear some borderline Schizophrenic channel the Ascended Master Rama Llama Dingh Dongh.

Abundance thinking? I got your abundance mantra: "You can't take it with you". With that in mind, a studio apartment with just enough food can be an abundance. Wow! It's magic!

Oops, sorry, "Magick". Always gotta get the k in. Otherwise, we might look like humans that bleed when we're cut. No better than the juggalos.

You may now address me as "Lord Raven Myst".


Oh, and don't worry about the state of your inner child. Tell him if he whines one more time, you're spanking his butt, and taking him home to grandma's. Then you're gonna make this trip on your own. You don't have time for this nonsense.

Besides, when the reality of your mortality hits...you're likely to need a good stiff drink.

Kicking the Bucket

Hello. My name is James, and I'm about to kick the bucket.

In a purely metaphorical sense.

I hope.

For lack of a better place to start, let's start with last Sunday (the 7th of March).

On a social networking site, I was forwarded one of those silly quizzes. "When will you die?"

A bit of a lark, really. Everyone else had scored 75-85. My habits aren't THAT bad. I gained "a little" weight. Sure I'm depressed over my divorce. But I bet I still get 70.

I start working on the questions. Now I'm starting to sweat. Back in November of 2008, I was in the hospital 3 times with chest pains, and heart-attack like symptoms.

NO ONE - not even the cardiologist - was THIS thorough in assessing diet, family history, mental health, medication interaction, fitness etc. But it's just a quirky little quiz.

The result floored me.

"When will you die: July, 2011".

Holy f...I mean holy cow.

Sheesh.

It's just a stupid quiz. I'm not gonna strap on armor and smite sinners because the D & D quiz said I'd make a good Paladin. I'm not going to be a minister because another quiz said that would be my best profession.

But this was different.

No, I'm not saying I will really die in 2011.

I AM saying that it is a "shot over the bow". If you read pirate stories as a kid, you know that's like a warning, but quite a bit more serious.

In short, something has to give.

I cleaned out my fridge. I ate or got rid of all the "bachelor food" in my room. I started walking.

Then I started writing a list. A "bucket list".

It started with about 25 items, it's now up to about 58. I imagined that I really were on my deathbed in July of '11. What would I wished to have done? To have been? Were there people to make amends to? Were there people to forgive? Were there people to tell off?

There's a program at the local hospice, based on the book "A Year To Live" by Stephen Levine. In this group, you pick a "death date" about a year out. Then you attempt to live your fullest year ever.

Your "good day to die" is then taken as a retreat day. They have guided meditations that can help simulate the experience.

Then, unlike the people you are about to help if you're training as a volunteer, you get off your "deathbed".

Then begins the first day of the rest of your life. How will you live THEN in light of what you've just undergone?

So there it is. My day, my "good day to die" is July 11, 2011.

There's no particular logic to that choice. It just has a nice ring to it.