Tag: life

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common courtesy

When you ride the same train every day, stand in the same spot to wait for it, you tend to get to know the people who also ride the same train every day and stand in the same line to wait for it.  You also get to know the peculiarities of that station’s particular etiquette.

For example, the spot where I wait, we line up along the yellow line, rather than from the yellow line back, because there is only a small area behind us before the bench and the wall, and when the line gets long, it can block people from getting past us down the platform.

Sometimes, we get someone who either isn’t really paying attention, or is accustomed to other ways of standing in line.  Normally, we give them a few minutes to realize where the line is, and if they don’t seem to get it, we kindly tell them where the line is.

Normally, they say something like “Oh, sorry,” and they move. Sometimes they ignore us.  This morning, there was a man who was standing behind those of us already in line.  As per our usual, one of our regulars smiled and let him know where the line ended.

His response was borderline hostile.  He said, “Who cares?” and took a step closer.  So we tried to explain the reason the line was formed to the right, and he continued to be aggressive.  It didn’t matter what we said, all efforts to be polite and friendly led to him getting angrier and angrier until he finally cussed at us and told us we “better just drop it,” in a threatening tone.

When the train finally came, he parked himself in an accessible seat, put on a pair of sunglasses and ignored anyone and everyone.   The whole encounter left me feeling crappy, so I stopped into Starbucks and picked up four coffees (because I couldn’t carry more than that), then handed the cashier my Starbucks card and said to use it for the next however many people the balance would cover.

On my way out I loaded up with creamers and sugars and went on about my way to work, gifting coffees to the first four homeless people I came across.  By the time I got to the office, I felt so much better. I hope someone buys that bitter man a coffee today, or otherwise gives him a kindness that will improve his outlook.  Six AM is far too early to be that angry already.

Happy Wednesday, Readers!  Kindness Matters!  Pass it on!

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cabin fever

About this time of year, I start to itch for travel.  I want a weekend away, or a road trip or an adventure. It’s the same every year.  The middle of February brings with it a need to do something, anything, as long as it is away from here.

For a lot of years, I went to a Pagan convention in San Jose, CA on President’s day weekend, and that scratched the itch pretty successfully.  The last few years though, that convention has become too much for me.  I’m thrilled that they’ve grown so much, but at the same time, it is really hard for me to cope with that many people for four days.

So this President’s Day weekend, I’m here at home, still itching to go somewhere, do something.  Which is difficult when you are purposefully not spending money and working hard to put money aside for planned holidays in the fall.

I’d love to sit on a beach and watch the sun set…and rise again…or sit beside a roaring fire while the snow falls outside the cabin.

So for today I’m going to focus on giving myself a “me” day.  I have an appointment today to have my hair colored and trimmed, and when I get back, I’ll maybe have a nice soak in the tub and such, while reminding myself of the shenanigans I have planned in September in LA and the convention in October in Denver.

What about you, Readers?  Has cabin fever set in?  How do you deal with it?

Happy Saturday!  I’m off to enjoy this cup of coffee and see about getting some words down on paper.

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telling stories

When I was still in high school, someone from the church we were attending found an old typewriter and had it cleaned up and repaired and I found it under my Christmas tree.  We were barely making ends meet, and with little money left over for gifts, my mother had reached out to the church for help.

I had a head full of stories, it seems that has always been true.  And suddenly I had a way, beyond my terrible handwriting, to tell them.  It was an amazing gift, one that likely changed my life.

I wrote my first “novel” by hand when I was thirteen or fourteen.  It was truly awful, and a rip off of every science fiction movie or book I had read. But, it started something in me.  My friends read the hand written words and clamored for more.  The sequel to that first awful book was the first thing I wrote on that typewriter.

I’ll admit, it was a heady feeling to be met at the school doors before homeroom by four or five people wanting to get the next ten pages.

I learned a lot through that experience.  I learned to translate my thought processes differently.  I learned about plot development and foreshadowing.  I learned the joy of having readers who loved my work, even when I broke their hearts.

None of the novel length stories I banged out on that typewriter were any good, but that didn’t matter.  I was a writer, and that, as it turns out, wouldn’t change even as I aged.  I am quite a few years past that Christmas and those stories.  My head is still filled with plots and characters and words.  I still work at putting them down on the page, though my paper is now digital.

Best Christmas present ever?  Maybe so.  It gave me so much more than just a tool.  It gave me confidence, joy…it sparked a passion that still burns inside of me today.

The rain is really coming down outside my window, and the wind is howling on this cold Wednesday afternoon.  I think a cup of coffee is in order, and a start to the work day.  I hope you are all safe and warm, Readers.  Fill your day with kindness, and reap the joy it brings.

 

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breaking through

Happy Saturday, Readers!  I hope that you’re safe and warm and out of all of this crazy weather!  Here in Northern California it’s been very wet and colder than we’re used to, making for good times to stay inside with a good book and a cup of tea.

I’m now a week + out from my surgery and healing is progressing well.  I’m up to walking a full mile, which means it’s time to go back to work.  I’m also writing again for the first time in quite a while, working on a short story for an anthology that benefits a writer’s conference I will be attending in October.  I will also be editing that anthology in the near future.

If you want to follow my weight loss journey, I invite you to follow along in my blog devoted to that: aweightyjourneysite.wordpress.com.  It is likely I will stop talking about it so much here.

It feels good to have broken through the writer’s block that’s been plaguing me, and I think turning my attention to something new was a big reason I finally got through it.  I’ve only got a vague notion of where this story is going, but it’s built on a character that has been kicking around the back of my brain for a while.  It’s also a foray into true science fiction, which is always a fun playground.

Wishing you a cup of your favorite hot beverage, the comfort of a favorite blanket and some really good reading material!

 

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walking because it’s good for me

One of the things I had to give up when my back and my feet became too painful to support me adequately, was walking just because I enjoy walking.  In fact, I had really started to hate walking, and how it made me feel.

There’s nothing enjoyable in the pain that radiated out of my feet and across my lower back after walking a half mile just to get to BART as I headed into the office, never mind how much worse it was after the half mile to the office, or the return trip at the end of a long day.

It was one of the driving factors in helping me make the decision to have the gastric bypass surgery, which happened a week ago yesterday.  They encourage you pretty quickly to get up and moving after the surgery, and in the week that I’ve been home, I’ve been focusing pretty strongly on building my stamina back up by taking multiple short walks each day.

The first day, I got from my house to the corner, about 6 houses away.  The next day, I added a few houses on the other end.  Yesterday I made it around the block for the first time, a distance of approximately seven tenths of a mile.  Today, I ventured to the Starbucks just past the street I would turn up to go around the block, then I finished the block.

It feels good to be walking again.  I won’t say I am pain free, my feet are throbbing a bit right now and my back is letting me know it felt that walk, but each step moves me in the right direction, and while I feel ridiculously fatter than I have in a while, I’ve actually lost a decent amount of weight being only a week out from surgery.

One foot in front of the other, as they say.  Happy Wednesday, Readers!

 

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a storm’s a blowin’

I was startled awake at four AM this morning by gusty winds outside my bedroom window.  I had been aware that we were expecting a significant storm, but the reality of it was a bit jarring as I was waking up from some scattered dream that I think was about getting arrested.

My dream life can be a bit spectacular, in part due to one of the medications that I’m on for my back pain.  Toss in the pain from my recent surgery and the storm, it’s little wonder I found myself awake so early.

My bariatric surgery was Tuesday.  I came home from the hospital on Wednesday, and I’ve been convalescing at home since then, learning all of the adjustments I have to make to how I do things…like it’s a waste to make a whole pot of coffee, when it takes me nearly an hour to drink one cup!  I am, in fact, enjoying my first cup of (decaf) coffee since the surgery as I am writing this.

Most of the swelling has gone down now, but my stomach looks like someone used it for target practice…someone who wasn’t very good at targets, LOL.  They made seven total incisions, the biggest one is just over an inch long.

My first full day home was the worst for the pain, and I slept most of it off in a haze of pain medication.  Since then, each day has gotten better.  I anticipate that by the time I see my surgeon for my follow up, I should be ready to get back to my normal routine.  Until then, I will be working from home so that I can rest when I need to and such.

So, here I sit, sipping my coffee and listening to the wind and the rain outside, contemplating what shape today’s writing will take.  I hope your Saturday is filled with joy, Readers.

 

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stuck in the middle with you

Ever feel like your just stuck in a rut?  Or just stuck, minus the rut?  I’ve been feeling that a lot lately.  Like my life has become this endless routine, and I’m trapped inside it by all of my anxieties and even by my own nature.

It doesn’t help that my day job can get a bit cyclical feeling.  And money’s been tight, so I can’t really break up the monotony with a day out or a weekend away.  And with my diet as curtailed as it is at the moment, and in reality for the next six months or so will likely be, it makes going out with friends more difficult than it usually is.

It isn’t even like I don’t have enough to do right here at home.  Knowing I am going to be recovering from surgery, I’m attempting to get my house as straightened up as I can, to make things easier.  I have plenty to do.

Sometimes, when I start to feel this way, I start to think about ways my life could have been different…if I’d decided to get married or have kids…taken a more traditional route with my life.  And I won’t lie, it’s been on my mind with the surgery coming up and with having helped my mother clean up the detritus of her husband’s life last year…what am I leaving behind?  Who is going to be there when it’s over to clean up whatever I leave, inherit whatever is left?

But really, when I think about it, I have no regrets.  I’ve lived a life I can be proud of, and I am very happy with it.  If this is the middle part of my life, I can only hope that whatever comes next will bring joy and peace and the sense of fulfillment that life up to fifty has enjoyed.

Happy Saturday, Readers!

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downhill slide

My focus the last week or so has been on my upcoming surgery, which means not much writing gets done.  I still try to take at least fifteen minutes to write every day, even if it is a half a poem or the sketch of a story idea.

Every word is a struggle right now, however.  Nothing is moving easily and I’m second guessing myself left, right and center.  I think some of this is likely due to the absolutely horrific state of my office right now.  My office doubles as the spare bedroom, craft room and storage space, and in recent months I’ve all but emptied the closet while looking for things, without putting stuff back into the closet.

The rest of the house is clean, so this weekend, my focus will be on getting the office in shape so that I can write without the clutter.

I expect that the writing will also flow easier after the surgery is over.  I’m not nervous really, though I’m anxious to get it over with now that the decision is made and all of the precursors have been met.

Between here and there stands four days of work (including today) and a weekend of cleaning and laundry.  It’s all downhill from there!

 

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kindness matters

The guiding principle that I follow is simple: Kindness Matters.

From the tiny gestures like holding the elevator for someone, or a smile in passing to the bigger gestures like buying coffee or lunch for someone to the grandiose gestures, like paying off someone’s debt or buying someone a car…it all matters.

I try to infuse my life with that kindness, to live each and every day thinking about kindness first.  I started to think this way years and years ago, and with each passing day I get better at it.

I still have unkind thoughts, that’s just human, but when I do, I stop myself and think about what is driving that thought.  Usually, it isn’t because of anything someone else has said or done.  Nearly always it is because I am being cranky.  I generally treat it by doing something kind for someone else.

Funny thing is, it works.

I am a happier person in general since I adopted this notion, since I brought kindness first into my life.  I can’t pay off anyone debts (including my own) in a grand sweeping notion, but I can buy the homeless guy trying to stay dry and warm in the nearly endless rain we’re experiencing now a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich.  I’m not buying anyone a car anytime soon, but I can knit or crochet hats and scarves for people on the street.  I can bake cookies to take to work to share, even though I can’t have any.  I can hold the elevator door for the mother with two toddlers and a stroller and a diaper bag and briefcase on her way to the daycare on the 2nd floor.

I can also accept people for who they present themselves to be, faults and flaws and all, and love them for who they are.  I can offer the people around me the permission to be themselves, wholly and completely simply by being myself wholly and completely.  This is why I generally have no filter.

I am not ashamed of who I am:  Fat, 50, geeky, kinky, dorky, thinky, cis-gendered female (with all that implies…boobs, periods, mood swings, hot flashes, etc), agoraphobic, socially awkward.  I don’t hide much, I don’t keep much private, even though others think I should.

It’s a kindness I give to the world around me in the hope that one day we will stop being ashamed of things in which there should be no shame.  There’s enough pain and shame and blame and misery in this world.  No need to invent more.

So, on this rainy Wednesday, give yourself permission to be you, and remember that kindness really does matter.  It can change lives.  It changed mine.

 

 

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the last stand

I haven’t really talked enough about Where Shadows Fall. I struggled a bit with getting this book done, maybe in part because I knew it would be the end of my living in that world, at least for a while.

The grand finale takes place in Washington D.C., which I think was rather inevitable, given what we know about the man pulling the strings.  I didn’t set out to have a meglomanical bad guy.  In the beginning he was just a guy who believed that Others were evil.  Clearly, I maintained some of that in the overall story however.

To me there is nothing as frightening as a person who believes without doubt, someone who fears that other for no concrete reason but because they have been told to believe. They can’t be reasoned with. No argument will penetrate the protective barrier of that belief mixed with fear and hate.

I always thought that it came from religion, from man’s need to control mankind’s access to gods and the power that came with that.  However, as we can see in America today, it doesn’t have to come from within religion.  It need only wrap itself in the cloth that resembles religion to draw people in.

I find that terrifying.  Maybe that’s why the 8th Battalion became one of the big bads in these books.  It certainly drives the character of Colonel Shallon.  Blind belief is a dangerous weapon.

That is where my thoughts are today, Readers.  I hope yours are more pleasant on this cold, January Saturday.

 

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