I’ve spent a lot of time in my career, talking people through fixing technology that I can’t see.

I’ve had to work with people all over America and in other countries too. China, Japan, South Africa, Dubai.

I had to get all the stuff working together at the same exactly time. I was the one that had to answer the questions of WHY it didn’t do what we needed it to do so that it would all sync and connect.

How was *I* supposed to know what was wrong in all those corners of the world?

I had to know the territory.

Which is to say, I had an inventory of all the equipment in each of those places. And I knew what each of them were supposed to look like, which cables were plugged into what and what color lights were supposed to blink in what sequence.

I had to know that for each and every single system in all the different countries. And I did. And we could make the stuff work.

Because I knew exactly what each person was experiencing in their room across the world when I talked to them on the phone and asked about the colors of the blinking lights.

My husband had a reason to drive across the country last week–from long island back to California. It was a straight shot, meant to cover distance as fast as possible.

He made one stop. As a person interested in American history, he wanted to see the battleground for Shiloh.

“The battle was chaos. Now that I’ve seen the battlefield, I can understand why.”

It wasn’t meant to happen there. The two armies met on accident.

No one would have chosen that spot for a battle. But then it happened anyway.

Both generals did know the territory and wanted nothing to do with it.

When Chris told me about walking the battleground, and how there was nothing distinct–how there were no landmarks and it was very disorienting

When he said that seeing what it was like there, he could understand the histories so much better

I remembered my talks with people from other cities and their technology. How they had to completely trust me about the cables and the lights

And how I had to learn to trust them. How when then described the lights’ colors and what was happening in their room, as crazy as it sounded to me

I had to believe them.

I learned that they were the ones who could see and hear, and I had to learn to trust them as if they were my eyes.

If we worked together, we could always find the answer to get synched.

But if I didn’t believe them, we would waste a lot of time. I had to know their territory through their eyes and their voices.

Which is not the same as walking the ground myself. And seeing how the land lies.

I’ve learned from improv that every bit of infomation is a gift.

And that the most valuable kind of inforamtion is basic.

Who what when where

AND

the relationship

because who, what when and where I am doesn’t matter unless I know how it matters to you

I am a wife and mother in 2019 in Claremont California

Or

I am a wife and a mother during the rainiest winter of my daughter’s life in Claremont California.

OR

I am a wife and mother in 2019 in the town with the last traditional-style liberal arts college.

Or

I am a wife and mother at the beginning of the twenty first century in America

…I am stretching out each part of the gift and I haven’t even gotten to the part about being a wife and mother

When I am writing, I guess the facts and the relationship are between the words and what they mean to the reader, how the reader starts making relationships between the facts

In improv, the relationship can be between two people.
But the writer is alone, or at least alone until someone comes along to keep the writing company by reading it.

So i guess I’d better be clear in my mind, what relationships i want to present to the reader

once the relationships are established, the rest can ride.

Thank It’s march. Two months into the year

I’ve read

1. The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett
2. Looking for Alaska by john Green
3. Skyward
4. The age of Miracles
5. A Hat full of Sky
6. Crazy Rich Asians
7. An American Marriage
8. The Sellout
9. Germinal
10. Warbreaker
11. Where the Crawdads Sing
12. Less
13. The Proud Tower
14. A distant Mirror
15. Two Years before the mast
16. The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt
17. Executive Presence
18. Armada
19. The Republic
20. Common Sense
21. Snowflower and the Secret Fan
22. Is everyone Hanging out without me?
23. What do you care what  other people think Feynman
24. Big Pototential
25. Gentleman in Moscow
26. The immortal life of henrietta Lacks
27. A mind at home with itself by Byron Katie
28. THe Voyage of the Beagle
29. The Rithmatist
30. the power of habit
31. the book thief
32. bossy-pants
33. the essential Martin Luther king jr nf
34. war cross
35. Girl wash your face
36. any man
37. Funny in Farsi
38. The pleasure of finding things out
39. the witch of blackbird pond rr
40. eragon Nf
41. malinche
42. eleanor oliphant is completely fine
43. female persuasion
44. Complete book of the new sun n/f
45. scrappy little nobody
46. meatball sundae
47. Waiting for Godot
48. shakespeare by bill Bryson
49. The face of Battle
50. the cruel prince
51. Linchpin
52.  Big  girls don’t cry
53. your deceptive mind: a scientific guide to critical thinking skills
54. theft by finding nf
55. Being mortal
56. the subtle art of not giving a f*ck
57. The art of possibility
58. Pussy: A reclamation
59. Daughter of fortune
60.  In the body of the world
61. The practice of education nf
62. Clock dance
63. little princes
64. present over perfect ABANDONED
65. You Can read anyone
66. The Prince
67. the year of yes
68. educated
69. hamilton a revolution
70. Poetics by Aristotle
71. alexander Hamilton ron chernow
72. Animal, Vegetable, MIracle
73. The art of Being right by Schopenhauer
74. thinking fast and slow
75. Silent spring
76. young men and fire
77. Titus Andronicus
78. THE GLOBE NF
79. narrative of the life of Frederick Douglass
80. Troublemakers
81. pilgrims progress rr
82. the taming of the shrew
83. dorothy day: the world will be saved by beauty
84. the wicked king
85. A model of Christian charity by john Winthrop
86. The autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
87. dorothy Day: radical devotion
88. The Immortalists
89. Sinners in the hands of an angry god
90. apple tree yard
91. Scarlet letter
92. Rip van winkle and other stories
93. unshakeable
94. the mask collector s
95. Last words
96. the deerslayrr
97. The extraordinary life of Sam Hell
98. The origins of totalitarianism
99. My Brilliant Friend
100. renegades
101. The light princess
102. The seagull
103. city of girls
104. the master and margarita play
105. good and mad by tebecca traister
106. The Underground Railroad
107. the rabbit girls
108. the vindication of the rights of women
109. The autobiography of Benjamin Franklin RR
110. Girls Burn Brighter
111. Eugene  onegin
112. The adventures of augie March
113. plutarchs lives n/f
114. the last of the Mohicans
115. Compassion versus guilt
116. hunger by Roxane gay
117. Option B
118. HIVE NF
119. the surrender Tree
120. do more great work
121. Brazen careerist
122. 10% happier LEFT
123. white fragility
124. dazed and divorced
125. women who run with the wolves 2x
126. geek girls rising
127. verity
128. Orange is the New Black
129. the myth of the nice girl
130. In praise of difficult women
131. my life on the road
132. lincoln on the bardo
133. school for husbands by moliere
134. the imaginary cuckold by moliere
135. Furiously happy nf
136. Living a Feminist Life
137. Rage becomes her
138. Fed Up
139. the water dancer
140. oedipus Rex
141. Hidden figures
142. volsunga saga
143. Self compassion
144. management by Peter trucker n/f
145. springfield confidential
146. How the west won
147. The road to serfdom
148. stay sexy and don’t get murdered
149. Killing comendatore
150. the library book
151. the imperial woman
152. exit west
153. No visible bruises
154. The magnolia story
155. the year of less
156. Pachinko nf
157. Wagner his life and music
158. feminist fight club
159. Good Omens nf
160. on Beauty nf
161. Be Bad First NF
162.  THe other American’s NF

1. 30  books, not all of them finished (3/30)

I’ve accomplished somehting recently.

I lost 33 pounds. I lost it, then i gained some back then I lost what I gained plus a little more.

I’ve been working on losing some number of pounds since I was a teenager. Do this day, the smell of chocolate slim fast brings me right back to my first year of community college.

There was a hashtag a while back #yesallwomen

the hashtag was meant to be the response to this conversation “Not all men are horrible”

No, not all men are horrible. But all women have met those horrible men and have to watch out for them

And #yesallwomen can apply to even more.

Yes, all women have had a number in mind for what they want to weigh.

So much energy spent on that number. so many thoughts and recriminations and self-flagellation.

I will tell you, since I have lost my 33 pounds I have noticed more attention from men. More lingering gazes. More hugs.

Hmm.

Reminds me of a time…

I had just had my baby, and i was still nursing. This was not a time when I felt comfortable or beautiful in my body. Post-pregnancy I had a weird shape, with floppy skin on my stomach and piles of extra flesh on my hips.

Yes, making a life and feeding that life with my body was a revelation. But beautiful I was not.

I was stretching to hit presentable.

Right that same time, things were getting weird at my job. I was so happy to be back in my job, with something to occupy my mind and my time. But next thing I knew my boss was being fired.

Wait, what? What did this mean?

And we had a new boss.

Who is this guy? What’s he going to be like? And how ‘Interim” was this?

He worked in a different building, and i had a reason to go over there one day.

This was a day that I felt like I had tried at failed to be presentable.

To be fair, the skirt would have been a comfortable length if my hips weren’t so wide.

Now, it was shorter than I liked. I felt very lopsided and weird.

This too shall pass.

So I went down to the cafeteria and got some lunch.

As I was getting up to finish, I ran into the the boss.

“Hello!” I said.

“hi, how are you?” he responded.

And his eyes did a long peruse of my body.

His head even made a tiny nod, following his eyes.

This was far beyond the usual check-out move. Time stood still.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM? I was NOT a candidate for this sort of glance. I was not at all at my best, and what kind of terrible taste did this person have to check thisl lumpy body out?

and he was my new boss!

I excused myself, and like the classic female I am, I ran to the bathroom.

I blinked at the mirror. My eyes wide in shock. Emotionally, my jaw was dropped, and remained so for the rest of the day.

What had just happened?

He wasn’t my boss for much longer. And he never did the head bob ogle again. For the rest of the time that he was my boss, though, I had to wonder how seriously he took my contributions.

He seemed to. But who knows what lurks in the hearts of men?

I want a project. but I don’t really want a project.

I want to create, but I am not really inspired by one thing

I used to feel a strong compulsion. I really wanted to complete the project.

but I feel a faint compulsion.

I want to get on the train of a project, to feel the vision of the thing I want to do.

I’ve had a lot of ideas. And I haven’t followed through, just dilletanting.

I have to pick one.

Maybe the thing I can pick is to go back to blogging every day. Or at least several times a week.

I want to start this moving. I have a lot of things rolling around in my head

This woman, as she was first lady of the united states, maintained a daily column.

She was the first mommy blogger.

Really, she wrote about her day, and what was happening in the white house.

Reading her autobiography has been a difference experience than I expected. It’s way more low-key.

Maybe that’s who *she* is. Way more low key that we all expected

A guy yelled at me today.

In a way, he was right. Because there is a way that things need to be done.

We have to do things that way because if we don’t, it just doesn’t work.

And, I hadn’t done it that way.

I know there is a way things need to be done. I completely believe in doing it the way it needs to be done.

And, hard as I try, I don’t always manage to do things they way they need to be done.

My sock drawer will back on me on this.

So, when he wanted felt compelled to repeat to me the way things need to be done, I tried to interrupt and explain what happened.

The tide could not be stemmed. The indignation must be expressed. The standard must be maintained.

We can’t have this. We cannot, and we cannot and we cannot not say so.

He was loudly calling the second foul.

Yes. I probably should have filled out the correct TPS report. It’s IMPORTANT.

I know. I’m trying. My average is getting better.

Me and my sock drawer have our ups and downs.

I am pretty sure yell-y guy has his own sock drawer.

You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

-Pink Floyd

I like to say I was born a hundred years old and I’m getting younger every day. I was born extremely responsible.

I had so little freedom I was very very very careful how I spent it.

In hindsight I am pretty sure I invested well. But like Tomas says in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, the only way to know if it was the best choice is to live one’s life all the way through with that choice and then go back and live it all the way through with the other choice.

And that’s not possible, so we have to make the choice.

I made my choices.

I’m reading Less, about a man who made very few choices in his life. He fell into a long life-sharing relationship with a poet who won the Pulitzer. Arther Less is famous mostly for knowing this famous person. A supporting character in his own life. And now he is struggling with turning 50.

Have you heard of this book? In a terribly unimaginative life-imitating-fiction, the book itself won a Pulitzer.

It’s hard for me to tell what is supposed to be ironic and what is unintentionally so. It seems that it was meant to be absurd.

But the thing about turning 50 is it is intrinsically absurd.

Things that were impossible, inconceivable 25 years before have become commonplace. By this time we’ve learned how to pull the levels of power and can move the earth.

Prime of life, indeed. I know how to get a lot of stuff done.

Now it’s a matter of what do I want to do?

Now that I have pulled these levers, what is worth the effort? The stuff I can do didn’t happen by accident. I know the cost now and I’m a little less willing to pay it for no reason.

But I’m not like Pink Floyd. I was not one to kill time. I’m far more willing to waste it now. Tomas is right. I might have jumped that gun and been running full out for ten years in the wrong direction.

I can’t know now.

The best I can do is pay attention to what I like, and do that enough times in a row to start a trend.

I know I have made plans to cry from time to time.

When I knew the audience I was working with, and I had a goal in mind, I would plan to let the tears go.

To be fair, I have definitely cried when I didn’t’ want to, and had to excuse myself to return to the topic– when I have lost my composure and most certainly was not behaving with intention.

Emotions are not under my control. Unless they are. And then I can use them. Like, when I knew it would help to cry. And I could work up the tears to get what I needed out of the situation.

But one thing I haven’t learned how to do is yell with intention. If I yell, it’s a loss of control. I probably feel like I’m in control, but those might be the same times when I think I’m not yelling.

My daughter has a fine-tuned sense of when I am yelling. And it is not always associated with an increase in volume.

But really, when I get yelled at by someone else

a friend

my husband

a boss

Volume isn’t the biggest factor.

It’s the emotional content.

Crying is emotional too. No doubt. As I think about it, however, crying in front of someone is only about myself. It’s admitting that I feel something. It’s an exposure of something inward. If I cry, it’s being vulnerable and exhibiting something about me.

The emotional content of yelling is a push. It is expressing a judgment of someone else. Judgments are sharp things.

I suppose done properly, voicing a judgment that lifts up rather than puts down is a force for good.

Come on! Don’t give up, you can do it!

If you push just a little harder you will achieve it

That might be called cheering rather than yelling.

But judgements most often don’t work that way. And yelling is for the most part a hurtful expression. It most often happens inside my own head too.

I yell at myself so often it doesn’t even require words anymore. And it’s not very helpful.

We were discussing this at my diet support group. We encourage one another to persist, and to keep going in our path to good healthy choices.

The leader said, “I’ve been doing this for more than ten years. I’ve never heard anyone say they hated themself to success.”

Hmm. That leads me back to the question that started this essay. When would it make sense to yell with intention?

or to restate

When would it be useful to cut someone with a judgmental statement?

When I say it like that, the answer is unequivocally never.

But to cheer someone on, to state things baldly and with positivity, I would like to do a lot more of that on purpose.

If it’s true for everybody, it must be true for you.

Or

The universal is personal.

Imagine if the world started spinning more slowly. What would that mean?

The end of the world, right? But slowly. And gradually.

And things that happen slowly and gradually are the new normal.

I just finished reading The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker. It’s science fiction, which you all know I have issues with. And yes, it’s dystopian. The earth inexplicably has begun to spin slower. Days and night are longer, respectively. Other laws of physics we are used to relying on begin to break down.

That would be reason enough for a story. But this story is told from the perspective of a 6th grade girl. In a central California suburb.

It is distinctly possible that everything in the world of a girl that age is dystopian. Her best friend deserts her at the same time and her mom becomes unraveled. There are plenty of girls of that particular age who experience this while the world continues spinning as it always has.

I think that the author used the perspective of a girl as a crutch, not to have to explain why the earth changed spinning speeds. It’s a deus ex machina move, and to leave it unaccounted for is a hole in the story.

But once I forgave Walker for not giving me the sci-fi juice I felt I deserved, I could see the story for what it really was: the perspective of a very privileged and safe little girl suddenly in a world that is not longer safe for anyone.

What is safety? Her doting parents and solid best friendship turn out to be more tenuous than she realized. And when she could no longer assume what she had always relied upon, the lack of her best friend at her school lunch table was far more meaningful to her than the earth’s rotation.

For a 12 year old, that lunch table is vastly more important.

In the same way, our every day lives, experiences and relationship matter a lot more than the big issues.

It matters that someone wishes me well as I start my day. It matters what smiles I meet.

There’s not much I can do about the earth’s rotation. There’s not a lot I can do about a lot of things.

But I can be a force of love and kindness in the world. It makes a difference.