Object of My Fascination

Well, hello out there, whomever you all are. Another day in blogland, and another writing challenge to go along with it. I'm having a hard time with the prompts this year, as a lot of them leave me rather stumped.

Today's supposed to be about "someone who fascinates you."

I can think of lots of answers...maybe I'll turn this into a list?

Robin Williams fascinated me.  Where he found all that energy and connectivity and crazy, bubbling over personality that could make the Easter Island heads smile.

Jim Henson fascinated me.  What a world he created. Full of color and love and life. It seems he never let go of the "hippie" ideals some people mock and instead just forged a path creating that world around him.  To me, the reason why the Muppets are what they are is because they represent the real goodness that people can achieve- and the real community they can have.  They show us a world where things aren't always easy or fun, but where we can all still rise above it. It's utopian but not unreachable.

Salvador Dali fascinates me. How did his brain work? How did he see the things he saw, and what did he mean with every brushstroke in every painting. There's so much, and to him, it all meant enough to commit to canvas.

My grandma fascinates me. She's going to be 91. She was born in Chicago in 1925 when there were still flappers and gangsters and bathtubs full of whiskey. She tells stories of when the mob hit up her mom for protection money at their store and she chased them out with a broom. And I could see my grandma chasing some big, hard-ass guy out of any room with a broom too. She has a strange authority, but also a way of wondering at the world even now that I still admire.

So many writers fascinate me. Gaiman, Vonnegut, Bradbury, Yeats, Neruda, Roach, Sedaris, Rowling, Bourdain...it's a weird, wonderful mix of classical, comical, fantastical writers who all have made windows into other worlds for me.

I guess what this impresses on me as I list though, is that I need to be fascinated more. I need to look for more inspiration. I need to keep wondering what  makes everyone tick, not only to understand them better for their sake, but to keep growing for myself as well.

Sometimes You Wanna Go Where Absolutely Nobody Knows Your Name

So, because my schedule has been all over the place with vacation spent being total hedonists...it's 5 am on the 6th and I'm doing my 5th. For me it's on schedule though. What this also means is I read one person's response to this already, and gained some insight into them. It made me think a bit more about how I'd respond.

The question du jour is about a place you would live, but have never visited. I can't say Seattle, because though it was a short visit, I've been there before, for a day.  With Seattle, I can say it didn't take me long to arrive at being happy there.

I feel like I've almost moved somewhere I never visited before, like Minnesota, and perhaps Los Alamos, which I didn't visit before I moved there, although with that, I did visit New Mexico first. Not sure if that counts?

So I started thinking general too...would I live somewhere I didn't really know anything about, or hadn't been?

I think so. I know my resistance to change can be pretty strong sometimes, but I know too that I really hate stagnating, and I really like exploring. I think that if I had to, I would move somewhere sight unseen.  I like getting to know a place, and starting to discover its ins and outs. Heck, I've lived in IL forever and I'm still discovering things, even just in Chicago.

Then with my mom moving to Minnesota, I got another chance to get a taste of it, and while I know that change makes me unhappy initially, I came away from my second trip to Minnesota to see her with a newfound sense of certainty that I could carve out a life just about anywhere. It's not my goal to move north to colder weather or even stay in the Midwest, but a few trips out and a little bit of research, and I'm finding that MN has some great museums, great outdoor spaces, and its own little trendy area to explore.

It's like I said the other day about exploring alone.  I like it, and I feel like I could use the lone traveller gene to work my way into a place and love it.

It makes me feel good about my future, because I feel like, to borrow from my favorite song, I can fly away from here and start again if I need to. I don't know why, but that gives me confidence.

Fact Sheet

*I'm a little nutty* (Free factoid!)

I'm still on track, you guys. On track for the writing challenge and here comes a list I have no idea how to populate or finish. This pains me. 10 Interesting Things About Me. Right? Ok, I can come up with 10 things, but interesting? Wellllllll. I think I might be lactose intolerant now. See how "interesting" doesn't work that well? I'll try harder though.

10.  I've only lived in two states, but I've lived in about around 10 to 12 different houses. Maybe 13 now? 

Nothing sinister there, just a single mom trying to keep improving our life. I actually don't hate it. I've had lots of different rooms to make my own, lots of different neighborhoods and yards to explore, and as I got older, new towns to get to know.  It helps me with the whole "home is where your rump rests" concept, so I can make myself feel at home wherever I land.

9. I've had tons of different types of pets- started with gerbils and cats, then when my mom remarried, we had lizards, pheasants, chukar, quails and ducks, dogs, lovebirds, parrots...and I'm grateful. I love getting to know animals, and I don't know what life would be like without furry friends around. Lucky for me, there's plenty of those here. 

8. I like travelling on my own. A lot. - I love travelling in general, and I love sharing adventures with friends, family and especially my love, but I'm also totally ok and even cheerful about exploring on my own. I love a good day trip, and I can be a tourist just about anywhere. When I'm alone, I worry less about looking touristy or dallying too long to get a picture or read a book.

7. I'm in love with the desert.  Probably something most of you know already. But when I hit New Mexico, after a few months, it was home. It felt like where I always should have been. I have dreams about the mountains I lived in, both north and south. I can't get away from the flavor and smells. I have this stupid desire for the intensity of the desert sun all.the.time.  I need it. It feels necessary. I hope one day I can have it again, because it will always be a part of me now, of that I'm sure.

6. I love storms. I love studying them. I was TERRIFIED all the time of every thunderstorm when I was a kid, but it turned into a fascination, and a bit of an obsession. Later this month, I plan on taking a class to turn it useful, and become an official storm spotter for my county. I'm *really* excited about that.  

5. I am full of artistic ambition. If I had more time, I think I'd take all the art classes. I learned a bit about acrylic painting from my mom this year and now I really want to get paints and go for it. I want to try all the Pinterest things. I want to draw better. I do calligraphy and lettering.  Sometimes I wish I had unlimited funds for art supplies and more time to get involved in projects.

4. I'm bad in person. I'm not a good communicator, not really. I've written emails after fights to explain what I was trying to say countless times. I can fake it sometimes, but in reality, I came to writing because expressing myself vocally is both intimidating and immensely hard for me. Words don't tend to come out right, or they vanish in thin air before I get to arrange them right.  

3. I feel a little lost these days, even though I feel like I'm in the right place.  It's weird. I have a relationship more stable and loving than any I've had before, but I'm a little floaty.  I have the start of a career but I haven't been able to weave it into something more solid yet. I don't want to go back but I've been not great at going forward. I need to do different/more.

2. I'm a freelance writer/photographer. I think this might not be interesting, but it's important for me to say here. Sometimes I think i don't do more because I still feel like a fraud here. But I really am a writer, by trade. I really am a photographer too. I've literally sold my work. 

1. I love my job. Having said that, if I could make this full time, and even now when it's not, I really, really love this job. It has its moments, like anything else, but going to these events, seeing the art, exhibits, nerdy things....then sharing it at Chicagoist? It's pretty amazing. I want to do more. Believe it or not, this is a means to that end.  

Speaking of ends, there's one. This list is over! Ha!

Firsties

Topic du jour: Firsties

They really stick their claws in you, don't they? Perhaps they should.
I guess the topic now is first kiss and first love, and if they're separate, which mine are, discuss both.

I sort of assumed I'd be like Josie Grossie from Never Been Kissed, and have to back my way into it at the ripe old age of 30, I guess. I'm not sure why I thought this, but high school did nothing to soothe this fear, as I was the weird sheltered girl who came from the Christian school and as such had no idea if I could date someone without being a)cool b)experienced or c)any combination therein.

So it was a bit surprising when I not only found a guy who was my best friend and I had developed massive feelings for, but I also got a slightly sweaty note in gym asking for a date, from a tall, lanky guy who reminded me of Ashton Kutcher. I didn't know much about him, and on my way to English class I contemplated the possibilities.

Well, I accepted, and thus began a storybook high school romance, in which we rode in his classic car, I wore his letter jacket and class ring, we went to corporate picnics with his parents..we even accidentally decided on Secretary as a movie to watch with his stepmom without knowing what it was about. Our first kiss happened in my kitchen. Of all places, my kitchen. The house where my super strict parents lived. I don't even know why or how they weren't around. But I remember it was sunny on a weekend afternoon,and I knew ahead of time the first kiss was coming. So naturally, I was seven shades of nervous, wondering if I'd end up missing and propelling myself through the kitchen window into the front yard or biting his nose or some such other disaster. But it worked! He, much taller than I, leaned down and kissed me.

First love? Well, that had claws, and it's better left in the past. It crept around in the shadows and did unspeakable things and blamed me for them. I thought first love was *the* thing, but it turns out, later on, it's not. In fact, in my case, it's sweeter, longer lasting and more based in the simplicities of friendship than first love. It's the person you just can't lose, and these days, that love and that certainty that I won't lose him are starting to heal the wounds those claws first ripped open.

Blanket Statement

When I was a kid, people sort of got into "First Memory" contests.  One friend would claim they remembered something from when they were 2, and another would brag that they had an encyclopedic memory of their life from age 6 months on.

Though I still don't know when, scientifically at least, is the earliest our brains let us store real, formed long term memories, I was always somewhat a skeptic of these super specific, super early memoirs some seemed to have stored with their pin numbers, most embarassing moments and local commercial jingles. I can't say I know for sure how clear and accurate first memories can be, and perhaps...I could be a bit jealous. If it was possible to remember back to those first months, then a whole world would open up to me, and I could know so much more about the missing third of this picture.

As it stands, my first memory takes up one fraction of a sentence. It's simply an image in my head of almost unnaturally bright colors. Cobalt blue, sunflower yellow, carrot orange- the whole rainbow represented, against a backdrop of 70s wood panelling.

I can't recall whether it was in mentioning this memory to my mom or in stumbling across a picture in my baby album that I realized what all the colors and wood panelling were about.  My first memory, it turns out, is of a blanket.  A bright blue quilted blanket with a rocking horse on it, and a big rainbow stretched out behind the horse.  The rocking horse wears a cowboy hat, and in the picture, the blanket hangs on a crib in a room with wood panelling.

We still have that blanket, packed away with a number of baby things that made the journey with my mom and I from Colorado to Illinois after my dad passed away. That blanket was in both places. It was mine when mom and dad both were mine, when I was breathing mountain air.  It was part of a life that could have been, and part of a life that was instead later.

Maybe I don't remember his arms, or his voice. Maybe I don't remember what it was like to live in the foothills or be held in the strong arms of my father. Maybe I just remember the rainbow blanket. I like to think the blanket remembers for me. That maybe some mountain air is trapped in the pillowy quilted squares. Maybe a stray soft scent or even the echo of some time when there were three. And maybe that's why the very first thing I remember is a link between us that I can touch and hold today.

What Is Wrong Here? Five Things I Don't Love About Social Media

Hello.
New month, different location, hello people whose eyeballs are currently converting images and translating symbols to make words. Hello. I'm in Door County on vacation, largely disconnected from the internet, and now that I am, I've got a little breathing room to dissect it some. Timely, since this is also my first writing prompt for an April exercise I have going with friends.

So...social media. I was around before it was even a thing, and now companies have entire teams and executives who ONLY take care of it. Even still, they bork it so majorly sometimes that one wonders how an entire team could make such a huge mistake.

Which, I guess, brings me to something that might be our faults, but social media doesn't help.

5. Mistakes are public. Sometimes, I crack an egg directly into the sink and throw the shell in the bowl. In fact, I did that this morning while trying to make a romantic wake-up breakfast for the boyfriend.  It's dumb, and if someone had been around to see it, I'd have felt dumber. With social media, people are always around, and many of them love a good bit of schadenfreude... so if you make a mistake, you're never alone.  As mentioned, sometimes, we bring this on ourselves by airing that which doesn't need to be aired. In other cases, we just...have a bad day, can't spell a word, or get excited about something before we have all the facts. But once it's out there, it's out there. Somebody happens to catch you falling face first into Denny's at 4 am while being overdramatic, you're forever Denny's Girl. If you're lucky, you'll make the talk show circuit and get a few dollars from it.

4. Expression- There's a lot of ways being on the internet lets you express yourself. But especially with social media, there's a lot of policing too.  Too much baby pictures, they say to the new mom who can't believe this kid just actually came from her and all the wonderful things she's experiencing. Too much boyfriend, they say to someone who finally has a stable relationship. Too much of your cats/dogs. Too much of what's important to you for me to enjoy as a reader.  While I do think there's levels of restraint to show, I also think social media does a great job of quashing real passion and expression for the "acceptable for the average reader" level of enthusiasm.

3. Hate breeds. Sometimes I wonder if anyone will ever agree to disagree agreeably ever again.  Ad hominem is the law here, so much so that if you and I love the same show, say, Gilmore Girls, but you're Team Jesse and I'm Team Dean, and we start a discussion arguing who's the better boyfriend, give it about ten comments down the list and someone's saying someone else is a terrible mother who should die. It's out of hand, and it's how people fight in real life, often, now too. See: Trump as a prime exhibit of someone who can't disagree with a point with any amount of civility.

2. Speed Kills.  I'm pretty open about it, so I have no qualms saying it here. I love Twitter. I grudgingly participate in FB to keep up with family and some friends, but Twitter I am 100% in on. I love getting to interact one on one with people and companies I couldn't otherwise, I love the bite size pieces and links to great articles...but blink and you miss it.  When I lived out West, I finally slowed down some. I realized not everything has to be now.  Back in the burbs of Chicago, I've picked up that "now" freakishness I thought I'd lost.  Add to that the speed of twitter, and I'm buried in my phone trying not to miss the next article I can pitch or cool story to tell or friend hurting.  I'm glad I have it, but not so glad when I'm tempted to glue my face to it and not miss anything. And the struggle can be real.

1. One Up? Sometimes, Facebook especially just seems like a one upsmanship. It was a long time ago I decided my theme song was "Taking The Long Way Around," so trying to win at fashion/dating/housekeeping/whatever is really not my thing.  I just want to keep my head above water and enjoy life. There are neat things I get to do, and places I get to go. Right now, I'm more spoiled than usual, what with this being our annual vacation and whatnot.  But I don't want to feel like I have to impress anywhere, especially on facebook. But even I have to admit there's times when it feels like everyone's in a competition for the better holiday, better relationship, better whatever. It's good to celebrate our own life, it's good to be able to celebrate others, but I dislike when it breaks down into a competition.

And there you have it. For all the good it does me, for all the help it's given me...these are things I could do without.  And in retrospect, it's probably because people. And people? They're the same everywhere, social media or not.  So maybe the answer is less nose in phone, more politeness online, and more willingness to scroll on down past what we don't feel like looking at.

A Beautiful Distraction

Herein I shall no longer give lengthy excuses about my absence from my personal blog or resolve to do one thing or another. I simply state that I need to be writing more, and that means here too. So, with the ol' fire lit under my posterior, with Spring arriving, and having stuff to share that I unfortunately couldn't share via Chicagoist, I'm back!

Some of you will know of my love of the Chicago Botanic Gardens. They're fantastic. Ever since my mom got a gift membership and started taking me along, I've been taking advantage of every opportunity I get to go explore them.  They're beautiful in every season, and there's always something going on, from the Wonderland Express fun around Christmas to the Orchid Show, which I attended midway through its monthlong stay.

I've got to say, the orchid show really wowed me. Wonderland Express and Butterflies and Blooms are both great, but they always seemed to end just a little too quickly for me.  The orchid show is home to 10,000 different varieties of orchids, and what you see in the first two rooms is only a sampling of what you'll find packed into the tropical and semi-tropical rooms.

This really hit the spot in a time when I was aching for spring, color and the outdoors. But really? It's a show-don't-tell sort of thing. With that in mind...check out my Flickr album. If you're anything like me, it'll pull you out of the doldrums and into an artistic state of mind. :)