Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Determination

Yesterday afternoon on the bus I met a very angry five-year-old boy. I don't have any idea why he was so angry; his father led us to believe he had been denied something and wasn't happy about it. This young man was determined to remain furious for the entire bus ride. I've never seen someone frown with such focus. He concentrated with all of his being on pulling his brows down as far as they would go. His teeth were clenched and his face was scrunched up tight. He stomped his feet as hard as they could stomp, and then he squatted down and put his arms around his knees. It was the most exquisite sulk I've ever seen. The lady sitting next to me and I couldn't help laughing with delight at the boy's display. He glared at us dolefully and then worked on his frown some more. I couldn't help but be impressed by this kid. Okay, right now he's causing his father a lot of grief, and his father is responding by muttering, "He's gotta learn that he can't get everything he wants." But when he's older this same stubborn refusal to budge could turn him into a hero. When I saw him glaring over his knees, the phrase that came into my head was, "We shall not be moved." I thought, if this kid gets some encouragement to stick to his guns when it really counts, he could become a great force for good. I envisioned him becoming an advocate for people with lesser-heard voices, and when the powers that be want to push him around, he'd glare at them with the same frown he's been perfecting since he was five, and say, "We shall not be moved."

Monday, January 30, 2012

Why I'm Feeling Down, part 2

This is a song from Joe Jackson's album Look Sharp:


The lyrics are:

I've just been to see my best friend/ He's found another girl
Says she's just about the best thing/ In the whole damn world
And he says, "Can't you see/ what the little lady's done for me"/ Says it like he thinks I'm blind
But the things that you see/ Ain't necessarily the things you can find
Happy loving couples make it look so easy/ Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Till the time that I can do my dancing with a partner/ Those happy couples ain't no friends of mine

People say I'm too damn fussy/ When it comes to girls
Happy couples say/ I must live in a lonely world
Wanna be, wanna really be/ What my friends pretend to be/ Be it in my own good time
Being kind to myself/ Till I become one of two of a kind
But those happy loving couples make it look so easy/ Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Till the time that I can do my dancing with a partner/ Those happy couples ain't no friends of mine

You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
You know what I mean/ happy loving couples/ In matching lamb polo-neck sweaters
Reading 'Ideal Homes' magazine, yeah

Wanna be, wanna really be/ What my friends pretend to be/ Be it in my own good time
Being kind to myself/ Till I become one of two of a kind

But those happy loving couples make it look so easy/ Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Until the time that I can do my dancing with a partner/ Those happy couples ain't no friends of mine

You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
Right, that's enough


I have been single for quite some time now, but that didn't mean I didn't have a partner or a lover if I wanted one. Over the past year I've become increasingly dissatisfied with sex without relationship; I'm more interested in love and partnership than in "just sex." So what was not an issue has become an emptiness.

Then I run into someone I used to be in love with, deeply and achingly. The tough thing is, I'd thought that after so many years those feelings would have subsided. They had--until we reconnected a couple of years ago. At first I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary, and I didn't even remember how much I'd cared for him, but just in the past month or so all those memories have come flooding back, and I'm aching with loneliness and misery. And the stupid thing is, we were never anything but friends, we never will be anything but friends, and my rational mind understands that completely. The part of me that uselessly, ridiculously fell in love never got the message. It's so unnecessarily stressful. I'm miserable whenever I'm around him, which is often lately.

I've also reconnected with some online gaming buddies from back in the day. These are people who were so introverted they made me look like a social expert. I just got an email telling me that my two best friends, my favorite shipmates, both have significant others now. All of a sudden everyone and their cousin Arthur is telling me all about their love lives. I'm sick of it. And it's not because I resent the happiness that my friends and acquaintances have--far from it, I'm thrilled that they have people who they care for and who care for them--but because every time I hear about "my girlfriend" or "my boyfriend" I'm reminded of the empty space that isn't being occupied by a significant other of my own.

The latest thing is being teased by some of my friends. One of my friends has a set of car keys at my house, and I've been waiting for him to come and get it. We used to be lovers occasionally, but as his business has grown so does his travel itinerary, and I rarely see him anymore. When I do, it's usually just for five minutes. But he has made plans to come and pick up his keys and then cancelled several times. I'm feeling like the girl who waits by the phone for the boy who never calls. I don't even love him, but I feel rejected when he keeps cancelling on me. Then there's this teacher who goes on and on about what should he do if he's attracted to a student, and it's excruciating. He's got someone fabulous in his life, so why on earth is he even looking at another person? And why should he mention it to me, when he knows how I feel about infidelity (or maybe he doesn't; guess that will be my next blog subject)? I feel like he's showing off; not only does he have one partner, he's looking at another one, and here I am with none. I tell you, it makes me grouchy.

Till the time that I can do my dancing with a partner, those happy couples ain't no friends of mine.

You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
Right, that's enough

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Why I'm Feeling Down, part 1

Recently a lot of wonderful things have been happening in my life. I've kept my commitment to keeping musical social engagements, I've been having a very positive phone friendship with a high school friend I reconnected with on FaceBook, and I'm making some significant progress in my process of rediscovering my true self. And yet, at quiet moments I've felt that downward turn that signifies the return of one of my old insidious enemies, depression. It didn't make sense to me, because I'm so much more at peace in so many areas of my life, and I have genuine enthusiasm and strength within myself that usually don't (can't?) exist when I'm depressed. Because of the nature of the disease, I assumed that it wasn't causal; that is, no event had triggered a negative feeling, it just happened because of brain chemistry or electrical misfires (depending on if you're a believer in the synaptic model or the chemical neurotransmitter model).

It turns out that there have been triggers, and very specific ones. As a person who struggles with body image, I was very distressed by photos taken of me at a party in December. I don't feel as large as I look in the pictures, and seeing them and realizing that's how others see me was gut-wrenching.

Let me explain visually, because I find this fun and I don't have to type as much:

In my mind's eye I'm sort of a cross between punk rock girl like this:
and a sort of cute nerdy librarian type like this:

But when I saw the photo from the party, I felt as if I looked like a cross between this and this:

Okay, now you can understand why my self-esteem plummeted, right? Yeah, I felt really crappy, really unattractive, zero sex appeal.Really unfun.



Of course, there are people on the interwebs whose job it is to make me happy with my body right this moment. I pulled the photo of the punk rock chick above from one of them (thethickness.tumblr.com, but DO NOT go there if you're offended by nudity or provocative images, because many of them are NSFW (Not Safe For Work, i.e. sexually explicit]), and the illustration is from JenOaks.etsy.com, who's made an incredibly gorgeous calendar of pin-up art which IMHO is even cuter than the Elvgren or Vargas originals because the girls are curvier.

And lastly, something that appeals to the confrontational punk rocker in me:

Friday, January 27, 2012

Compassion and Sticking Up for Myself, including the Hot Sauce Lesson

(This is especially for people who've had trouble with self-esteem [TS, I'm looking at you right now], and for people who don't think they can correct someone without being a bad guy [ahem, HM].)

Compassion can be calling someone on their bullshit, in a kind and loving way. 

Example:

I go into the office, and the fellow I'm meeting with is playing a video game on his iPhone. I tell him it's rude to play a game during our meeting. He apologizes and puts the phone down. Later when I'm leaving, he makes a point of apologizing again and thanks me.

For those of you who don't know me from my mouse years, I have a history of not sticking up for myself. I had every right to expect that during our meeting I would have his full attention, and it was not acceptable for him to divide his focus with a game. I acted correctly by speaking up. The fact that I just went ahead and did it, as opposed to sitting there and being annoyed (or worse, sitting there and feeling invalidated), is a pretty big step in my self-empowerment. So hooray for me, but where's the compassion part?

I made my feelings known, but I did so without accusation. I was not being judgmental or criticizing, I was not angry, and I hope my tone of voice was mild. I told him he did something wrong, but in a loving and gentle way. 

I have memories of being lovingly and gently corrected when I was little; the Hot Sauce Lesson in particular comes to mind.

When I was little I got into everything. Kipling would have said I was "full of 'satiable curtiosity." I clambered onto countertops, opened doors and drawers, and twisted the tops off of jars and bottles. I also liked to taste the foods and drink in those jars and bottles, so my folks had to keep a weather eye on me. On one occasion I got into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of hot sauce. Before I got the chance to get the top off, my father took hold of my hand, looked me in the eyes, and said gently and softly but very firmly, "No." He took the bottle out of my hand, and said, "I'm going to explain why when I say 'No' you should pay attention." He put the hot sauce bottle out of reach and poured a glass of milk. Then he told me to hold out my finger. Wide-eyed and not slightly intimidated, I stuck out my finger. Dad put a teensy drop of hot sauce on it. "Okay, now you can taste just that tiny little bit." I put my finger in my mouth, and at once my eyes got as big as saucers. Dad saw my face, handed me the milk, and said, "Here. Drink this; it will help." I did as I was told, and the fire on my tongue eventually died out. When I finished the milk, my father said, "See how that tiny drop was so hot? That's why I told you 'No.' I didn't want you to burn your mouth. Now if I say 'No' to you, you'll know to stop, because it's important and I'm trying to protect you." I nodded solemnly, the sensation of heat still in my mouth. 

What a fantastic lesson, right? Instead of yelling or making a fuss, he taught me with lovingkindness. There's your compassion right there, buddy, and I was admonished in a way where I wasn't made to feel small, or bad, or naughty. He wasn't mad at me. I hadn't disappointed him or hurt his feelings.

So the moral of the story is: it is possible to stick up for oneself and admonish someone while still remaining compassionate.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Happy New Year!

 (Caveat: much like my recent sessions, the following post is disjointed, tangential, and wordy. 
And with lots of visuals.)

As a result of my openmindedness and having grown up around a lot of different kinds of faiths and traditions, I happily celebrate New Year not once, but three times.

First is the Winter Solstice, which ends the cycle of days getting shorter and nights getting longer. It is the shortest day of all, and from that point on every day will lengthen. It has been celebrated for millennia: the Romans had Saturnalia and Sol Invictus, the Northern Europeans had/have Yule, East Asians have Dōng Zhì, and I think of it as the solar new year, although that isn't accurate cosmologically speaking.

Second is the calendar New Year, the one where they drop the ball in Times Square and all that. As it's not based on a planetary or celestial phenomenon, this date means the least to me. Not that it's a big nothing, but it just doesn't have the same rite-of-passage feeling for me. The thing of most importance about January First is that it's my aunt Linda's birthday, which makes it very special indeed.

Third is the Lunar New Year, which this year began on Monday, January 23rd. I don't call it Lunar New Year to be more politically correct than by saying Chinese New Year, especially because at least five Asian countries celebrate the same day; I call it the Lunar New Year because the holiday begins on the first New Moon of the new (Gregorian) calendar year, i.e. it's the first new moon after January 1st, 2012. (I'd go into lunisolar calendars with you, but really I'm not in the mood. I'm trying to tell a story about my NEW YEAR.)



   

And this is where the story really starts:

Bass players who died in 2011
Last year, 2011, was a year with a lot of pain. My friend Steve got shot to death. My friend Susan died after a very protracted fight with brain cancer. Two other women from my musical neighbourhood died as well. Also, because I spent so much of the year attending Susan, I missed a lot of appointments, neglected my own health commitments, and passed up a lot of social interaction situations such as my friends' bands playing. (This was so important to me that, after I mentioned my regret at missing my friend Josh's last show of the year, my therapist suggested I make a solid commitment to see his first show of 2012.)

When the Winter Solstice came around, I really had the sense of the year of sorrows being finished, to make room for a year of joy. It also felt like an end to a year of endings, and the beginning of a year of beginnings.

Jimmy "Guns" Adams
My friend Jimmy convinced me to be in a band again. He'd contribute three songs, I'd bring three, and we'd do two covers; that would be enough for the first performance. Easy. When he said I'd sing lead on my three songs, I told him how difficult I found it to sing lead. He replied, "We're none of us getting any younger. So when exactly were you planning to sing lead? What are you waiting for? If not now, when?"

New Year's Eve I stayed home, didn't go to any of the shows I had a slight interest in seeing, and just hung out in the house. I realised this was another missed social opportunity, but I was not in the mood to be around revelling imbibers; I'd worked at the nightclub on too many New Year's Eves to want to go out on that night.

Josh Lozano in Man's Gin
During the first week of January, true to my New Year's Resolution, I saw Josh's band's first performance of the New Year. Two days later I saw his second. The following week I saw his third gig, plus the first show of the year with his other band, and then a couple of days after that I saw his bass player perform an ambient set in a bar in Williamsburg. I also caught a show of a bunch of Jimmy's friends' bands, which gave me confidence I could perform at their level easily, no matter how self-conscious or unsure I felt. I couldn't possibly be worse than some of the musicians I'd seen that night, who nevertheless had the gumption to get up on stage and play.

photo:eBay   translation: me
Lunar New Year was yesterday, and as is typical for Mondays I went to therapy, where my teacher noticed I was wearing a Guan Yin pendant. We got into a discussion about spirituality, and I couldn't pinpoint the first time that I'd begun chanting with a mala. Gave me food for thought for my journey home. I came in and practised the bass for a little while on my already sore fingers, had some supper and the obligatory TV time, and said Om Mane Padme Hum 108 times before finally falling to sleep with the mala around my wrist.

  And this is where the story really starts:

On this, the second day of the Year of the Yang Water Dragon, I woke up easily and had the notion to do something I haven't done in a long, long time: I went out into the living room and sat quietly, concentrating on my breathing and posture. One, two, in, out, and adjusting and tweaking myself along the way: shoulders back and down, ribcage up, stomach in, rotate that right shoulder again, one, two, and so forth. My mind was very busy, and I had a lot to do to get my focus on my breath. Last night's music keeps playing in my head--One, two. Gotta get out to Long Island and pick up the laptop--In, out. Stupid Ed--ONE, TWO.

Didn't felt like I got much done, but to my surprise, when I looked at the clock on the cable box I'd been sitting there for forty minutes. Wow. Then I had another new notion: why not go outside? Put clothes on, grabbed some library books, and out I went. On the way out I saw the UPS truck. Considering the thefts we've had and the fact that my next-door neighbour gets a lot of stuff delivered, I asked the courier if there was anything for my building. Sure enough there was, but it was for someone on the fourth floor. My usual thing is to keep the packages and then call to give a heads-up and say pick it up when you get home. This time I decided to do my fearless neighbour thing and go knock on the stranger's door. Success! He was home, we were introduced, and he got his package safely.

Back down I went, four flights and out of the house. Went to the library, decided to move my car to the good side of the street but not before driving a few blocks to keep the battery happy, and then had the idea to check out the kids playing on the new skate ramps installed in the southern part of my local park. The ramps are right by the parking lot, so I parked, and proceeded to walk past the skaters to the walking path that rings around the track oval. Then I found myself walking on the track, being supported by the springier surface of the track. I walked around a couple of laps, singing Mozart and Gilbert & Sullivan to exercise my voice and lungs, and then made it back to my car just as a blister announced itself on my right arch.

All this is to say that, without SHOULDs or MUSTs or any other kind of finger-waggling, and without having made any resolutions at all except for the seeing Josh's band one, I found myself celebrating the New Year by doing things I'd been wanting to do for a year but hadn't been able to do. I was waiting to become motivated, trying to be motivated, trying to make it happen, and this morning it happened without any particular effort or even thought on my part. Happy New Year to me!

And this is where the story really starts... .