the meditation experiment

(No, I didn't say "medication.")

In the interest of thinking about balance achieved only in my dreams and literally the past few days (and longer, if we're being honest), I decided to start a regiment of meditation this morning: 15 minutes a day, every day, no days off. I realize I need forced time to clear my mind. I'm choosing two words/ideas a week to think about, and I am not allowed to think about anything else. It didn't go so well this morning, as my need to check the clock and thoughts of "my knee hurt, my head hurts, my life hurts, my to-do list is too long" invaded. Still, I think I probably only had about a minute of lapse total in between all the 15 minutes, so it's not a bad start.

This week's words to put out there: "hope;" "love."

I'm not publicly this touchy/feely/new agey (though there's a lot of it deep inside my head), but I know I definitely need to slow down and listen. Clues are all around me.

songily

I must write a new Mister Badger song. I feel pretty resolute about that. I've had too much complexity in relationships lately and have been having a difficult time making emotions fit into easy, breezy-sounding country/folk/pop songs. Of course, there was nothing more complex than the romantic situation that sparked all the songwriting for the project initially, but I had a couple years of thinking and the natural evolution of a band idea in its beginning stages to help me pour material out of me.

My current "situation" is fairly new, and it feels much more "alternative and modern" than "country and traditional."

That last sentence could not be more illustrative of the truth, even if it was initially (as it was forming in my head) meant to be just musical style metaphors and not reality.

today is different

Today I'm starting out my day by writing something (anything) here. I woke up pretty ridiculously late for a weekday, but I just sort of decided that clear-headedness comes from good sleep, and I was not sleeping very well, so I better sleep if tiredness was still there.

Wow. That first paragraph is maybe why writing anything worth looking at when first awake is not a good idea.

I've actually been having pretty intense dreams lately. In my dream last night I was 16 in body, but I was my age in spirit. I had traveled back in time to high school and was being awkwardly courted by someone's 15-year old brother ... and also Sylvester Stallone. It was pretty awkward. I was set to play a cello recital with my mom, who kept sending me text message photos of different outfits she was planning to wear for my approval. Of course, I could also fly, as could everyone else. But they were all afraid of it, and thus couldn't figure out how to take it outside the house, because they were worried they would fly too high without a ceiling to stop them. I thus was charged with teaching people how to control it. I kept saying, "It's all about balance."

The day I understand balance will be a dream ... or will be when pigs, not people, fly ...

The Essay Project

The essay project lives today. I'm taking advantage of slowed-down-almost-everywhere-else Thanksgiving week to write some more chapters (and get into some of the tougher subjects), like love, childhood and other tales of woe and embarrassment.

I'm feeling a little inspired and amused (for perhaps no real reason), so we'll see how it all goes ... The pressure of needing to sell some of my work soon to survive doesn't hurt either.

technology ruins the world

The world is about to end, I think (or at least I wish it would).

I just witnessed a FourSquare check-in at the gynecologist's office.

I have a lot more thoughts about this, but my first thought was, sadly (and this actually makes me just as bad as this person that checked in publicly), "... I can't post my outrage on Facebook because this person will know I'm talking about her."

Dislikes Include ...

Not to be negative, but there are things that bother me from time to time (I know, it's surprising).

Here is my top one at the momet:

The creepy song from this commercial. The woman's voice along with the term "hide and boo" (what exactly does that mean?) makes me feel beyond violated.

I had a dream last night that I was taking care of a friend's baby on a giant bus (it was more like a cruise ship) while Robin Williams performed stand-up in what would've qualified as a basement had we not all been on a bus. But he had decided to start performing it musically, while playing guitar, holding it like a violin under his chin. I couldn't figure out what had happened to my friend and her husband, and I had originally just found their baby placed on a comfy couch in front of the stand-up area, which was basically empty (no one wanted to see Robin Williams). Finally I got a phone call telling me they had been in a car accident while running out to get diapers (we were in Minnesota, and there was snow everywhere), but that they were fine and about to be released from the ER and would be back soon. At this point, the bus had stopped, and William Shatner had climbed on to inform us all that we had only paid $20 for the trip we were all taking together but that the cost had climbed way higher than that, and he was going to have to collect from us, since he had exhausted his life savings to cover the cost of renting the bus, Robin Williams' fee, etc. I was in the midst of fashioning a make-shift crib out of a car seat and some old, plaid couch cushions, but I managed to appease Shatner and get him to give us a break (I certainly had no extra money) simply by calling him "Bill" repeatedly.

I guess just because I hate a children's toy commercial doesn't mean I hate children.

The Little Things: The Caffeine Edition

It is my monthly week of poverty (still quite impoverished, but better than previous months, which isn't saying a lot, but is saying something) before my only predictable paycheck. The universe is really looking out for me, as coffee is one of the things that disappears from my budget, and I found 4 packets of Starbuck's Via instant coffee from a promotion they did in the spring in the pocket of an old coat.

Thanks for looking out for me, whoever/whatever you are. Now, get me some of these many contracts!