Posts from — May 2010

Did you know this post just bought someone a book?  You probably do because that’s the title of the post, so I sort of ruined the surprise.  But do you want to know how it bought someone a book?

BlogHer is pairing with Bookrenter to donate up to 1000 books to Head Start.  Head over to Blogher right now and tell them in a comment the book that has had the greatest impact on your life.  It’s that easy.  One comment = one book donated.

Seriously, it’s a small amount of time on your part to make a big difference in the life of another person.  Please take the time to donate to this campaign by leaving one comment (costs you nothing, but buys so much).

Wait, I still didn’t tell you how this post got someone a book too.  By writing about this program and adding my blog post to Mr. Linky, they will also donate a book.  So I commented and then I blogged about it, making sure that two books were donated.

Go over and see which book changed my life and please tell them which book has had the greatest impact for you.

You know the opening of Our Town, when the narrator is setting the scene and you’re finding out these small facts about all the town members?  Well, that’s sort of what reading the comments on the last post was like.  Just picturing each person engaged in an activity, and then sitting down at their computer.  A small insight into their world.

In my funk, I have mentally checked out of spring and into summer.  My mind is on beaches, and beaches, and swimming pools, and then beaches.  I am well aware that it is only May and too cold on most days to go swimming.   In fact, it is grey and dreary and raining today.  But that doesn’t mean that my mind hasn’t stretched out her towel and plopped down with some trashy books and a fruity drink.

The bar is open if you want to join me.

As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

I want to write, and I have nothing to say.  I have dozens of drafts in my draft folder, but like those moments before a party where you feel like you have nothing to wear despite a closet full of clothes, none of those posts fit at the moment.  I am feeling particularly cat-like, as if I need to rub my cheek on something.

I could tell you about how I’m making a Smith Island cake at the moment and alternating between taking layers out of the oven and writing this, but that seems boring.  You’ve heard me talk about this damn cake a hundred times.  Still, each time I make one, I get the same rush of calm, as if I am plugging into the pulse of a past life.  I wish I could sit all of you down at a table and serve you a slice.

I could tell you that my parents were right: friends do come and go, but your siblings (and I would argue those you choose as fictive kin–my sisters-by-choice) are forever.  They will know you your whole life, and might even know every incarnation of you.  I could tell you how my three siblings (since I consider my brother-in-law to be like a brother) always save the day.  But those stories aren’t really mine to tell and I could never put into words how much I love them.

I could tell you about how we spent the day geocaching and found nothing and it didn’t bother us.  That it’s obviously more exciting to actually find the cache and sign your name in the logbook, but today, we trekked through forest, trying to remember the satellite view from Bing maps, arguing out the various possibilities and helping the twins over fallen logs.  My brother would race ahead of us, trying to scout out the area.  The ChickieNob carried the compass.  The Wolvog lovingly mused about one day owning a GPS.

Josh asked me why I love geocaching so much and it’s because someone else has unconditionally provided us with an adventure–without knowing us or thinking we’re worthy.  They simply created this piece of the game because they are kind and want others to join in the experience.  I love the idea that we’ve walked past caches a thousand times, never knowing how close we were.  And how others are now walking by us, not knowing that we’re on this grand adventure.  I like being a part of something so enormous.  I love the nicknames we chose for each other and my geo-letter-waying notebook.  I even like the little first-aid kit we created to leave at the bottom of our backpack.

I really have nothing to say, but I have been in a mood for weeks and I’d like company.  My friend said it best tonight when she admitted that she was simply done and looking forward to becoming a hermit for a few months.

Some time periods can feel like a cocooning, one where you hopefully emerge a butterfly rather than remaining dormant in a chrysalis indefinitely.  The problem, of course, is that you can’t control when you emerge–that you need to sit dormant and wait for nature to give you a push.  It’s a bit like those fingercuffs–the harder you pull, the more stuck you get.  It is always best to let go and trust that the cocoon will be shed.  But it is obviously easier to talk about it than to put that into action.  Patience is rarely there when you need her.

While it would sound vaguely dirty to use the eternal conversation-starter by asking what you’re wearing (me: mustard yellow sweatpants and a black t-shirt if you do feel like telling), it is wholesomely bloggy to ask: what are you doing?  By which I mean, before you sat down to read blogs.

I can’t really put into words how much the comments on my last post mean to me.  Feelings that enormous defy words and can only be captured in interpretive dance or orchestral music or a personal Cirque du Soleil show.  Reading the comments is like putting on a sweatshirt after the sun has gone down and it’s really cold on the beach.  They are like the first sip of really good soup.  They are like your mother bringing you hot chocolate when you’re playing in the snow.

I said in my last post that I was lonely and isolated, and you heard me, and I wanted to say a very public thank you to Kir, Susy, Mrs. Spock, Half a Duo, N, J, Lavender Luz, S, Tigger, A, JJ, Heather, Luna, Michelle, Angie, Justine, Gil, Wishing4One, Mrs. Gamgee, Genevieve, and Teamwinks who started to wipe away the blues with their comments.

I have equally loved leaving comments with all the Celebratory Society participants.  Is the whole thing self-indulgent?  Yes, but I’m glad I didn’t wait to tell people how much they mean to me and I’m thankful that they gave me a space to do so.  It creates a sense of peace to place the words down on the screen and I look forward to writing more comments as others join along.

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I have finally finished the 2009 Creme de la Creme, several months after the March 1st deadline.  Sorry about that.  Everyone who turned in their post by March 1st is on the list, and the list is officially closed for the year with 288 entries.  I must truly be crazy because as I put the project to rest, I cleaned up the spreadsheets and marked down notes for myself to use next year, readying myself to do this again.  The 2010 list won’t open until early November, but like a Girl Scout, I’m prepared.

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Our new passion is geocaching, letterboxing, and waymarking.  We sort of do a mishmash of all three, recording our journey in a collective notebook.  And we do it without a GPS using the instructions we found here.  We like to fancy-it-up and make our own little treasure maps.  I’ve decided that we’re going to make geo-letter-waying a once-a-week summer activity.  We have pool time three days a week and the farm one day a week, and suddenly, the entire summer is filled.

The cache I’m most excited to see I’m going to go to alone tomorrow.  Someone has hidden one inside the local library.  I’m armed with a call number and clues.  I can’t wait to find out what’s there.

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The Weekly What If: what if you could find a magical geocache and control with your mind what inanimate object would be found inside in the box.  What would you find when you peeled off the lid which would be yours for the taking?  In other words, what hidden treasure do you wish you could find?

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And now, the blogs…

Creating a Miracle has a wonderful post asking if she’s the only person who feels this way during a particularly tough stage with her child.  She writes, “I need to know that the way I’m feeling is normal. I feel cheated and overwhelmed. I’m frustrated and tired.”  And perhaps that is what I love about blogs–that no one needs to wonder if they’re the only person who has felt guilt as they paced with a screaming infant.  Other people can chime in, keeping her virtual company even if they don’t have a solution.

Jumping Through the Hoops also has a post about feeling out of sorts, mainly around other mothers.  She admits, “I love talking to other Moms, but sometimes I leave feeling like I don’t belong. I can’t quiet put my finger on it. I know our struggles with infertility and Ruby’s health problems are the major reasons. A lot of the time I still feel like an outsider looking in.”  Personally, I love the point she makes about it being okay to complain about the negative tasks of the job–the cleaning of poop and picking up dropped items.  It’s our internal steam release.

Overcoming Obstickles has a post about finding peace and having it shattered.  It is an incredibly moving and brutally honest post about taking care of herself only to regret that care after a phone call.  She explains, “I feel utterly betrayed. Betrayed by the universe, betrayed by my friend, but most of all, betrayed by my own good intentions and love for myself.”  You must read the whole post from start to finish.

Lastly, I am always a sucker for blog posts about blogging, especially particularly well-written ones, so I love this post at Edenland.  I love this line: “It’s so damn FUN …. looking back, looking forward, and the best kind of blogging …. looking within.”  Anyone who can compare her future elderly hands to cling wrap has my reading eyes hostage.  But mostly, I liked the look back to her old blog, the place where I met her and where she first started searching for her voice.  And I’m so glad she found it.

The roundup to the Roundup: Thank you to those who washed my blues away with kind words.  The Creme is finished–read and enjoy.  Off to go geo-letter-waying.  Answer the Weekly What If.  And lots of great posts to read.

This idea comes from a convergence of five thoughts or moments.  And I will admit upfront that it is the worst sort of self-indulgence that bubbles up in the blogging world, but hopefully my explanation will put it in perspective.

First: I was feeling blue in the hormonally-induced sense of the word and told Josh that I was feeling needy before he left for work.  I think we all get this way from time to time–there are surfeits of love and dry spells–and it’s also perception.  There are times when I am probably standing in a surfeit of love and I think it’s a dry spell and other times when there is an actual dry spell, but I don’t notice or it doesn’t affect me.

But I woke up feeling lonely and isolated and awkward in my own skin.  Spiritual Pedicures had a lovely post about this a few months ago that I bookmarked and returned to read a few times, just because she is so brutally honest in it.  And isn’t that the only way we really ever make a difference–with blunt honesty?  Placing our heart on the screen or figuratively in another person’s hands?

Second: I was invited this week to participate in a festschrift for an old professor who died, the one I had written about in this old post on not saving up the kind words we have for each other for a funeral.  I wasn’t familiar with the term festschrift so I Googled it.  It’s a book honouring a person written and presented to them during their lifetime.

Apparently, there is another term, gedenkschrift, which is the same concept, except written after the person has died.  Though the email called it a festschrift–and I think it’s fitting despite getting the term wrong–because I do think that saying kind things to another person while they’re alive does much more good than doing it after they’re gone.

A festschrift is usually given to the person on an important occasion such as their retirement, and includes essays about the person and their work.  This particular festschrift is a collection of poetry and I love that it follows who he was–a poet–rather than using the traditional academic format (and yes, I do intend to contribute because it’s a nice way to say goodbye to someone whom I never got a formal chance to say goodbye).  I hope people write blog posts rather than any printed medium if I get my own formal festschrift in the future.

Third: Back in 1981, Carol Burnett and Charles Grodin cooked up a friendliness campaign.  Their idea was a formal movement to get people to be kind to one another without it falling into the syrup-y trappings of Pollyanna.  That this shouldn’t conjure up images of prancing unicorns with rainbows shooting out their anuses.  As Grodin said in the Modesto Bee, “I think the issue of how people treat each other is the most important issue we have.”  They don’t preach hugging people on the street; it is simply about choosing kindness.

And in light of the Golden Rule of doing onto others, when we each face those feelings of loneliness discussed in the first thought and would thrill to receive the festschrift from the second thought, it seems silly not to partake in the third thought.

Fourth: I received the most beautiful letter from a friend.  In honour of her 30th birthday, she is sending out 30 cards to 30 people to tell them how much they mean to her.  I sobbed reading it.  I cannot even explain how incredible it was to receive it.

Fifth: Max died and he will never get to read the beautiful posts that went up around the blogosphere.  These posts are meant for Vee–to spread the news so she has support, but also to remember this amazing writer and artist.  And I really wish he could have read them too.

So, after these five thoughts, what do I propose?  Nothing short of an informal online festschrift discussing your emotional achievements, your writing prowess, the way you’ve touched another person.  Done in a kind, orderly way.

Because I don’t think I’m the only person who can see the good in both reaching out to another person because they’ve given us an easy way to tell them how much we care about them nor the only person who would love a list to read when I am in the throes of the blues.

So this is how it works if you’d like to participate:

• This project is open to everyone in the blogosphere–any person who has a blog, regardless of whether or not you know mine.  This project is open indefinitely.
• Put up a post on your site explaining that you are participating in the Celebratory Society and what it is.  Please to link to this post as an explanation and feel free to grab the icon I made below by getting the code here.  I also left sample post language for your post if you’re struggling to figure out what to say, but want to participate.  Make sure that people can leave comments on your post (I know this sounds silly, but there is always a person who adds themselves to the IComLeavWe list even though they have the comments inadvertently turned off on their blog).
• Return here and add the url to the post (not the main url for your blog, but the permalink to your post) to Mr. Linky below.  Your regular readers will see your post on your blog regardless.  Others who are participating will be able to use the list below to find new blogs.  People who do not link to an actual blog post and instead link to the main url for their blog will be bumped off the list.
• Make the commitment to visit and comment on at least 5 other blogs on the list below.  This project has the potential to be very frustrating for some if they add themselves, leave kind words for others, and don’t have the same reciprocated.  In other words, everyone wants to receive kindness, but not everyone wants to take the time to give it.  Please don’t take without giving.  And please make sure you visit blogs you’ve never been to before, take some time to read their posts, and give them some thoughtful feedback on their work or design.
• Make the post easily accessible on your blog.  The point is to create a single post that people can add to within the comment section indefinitely.  So place a link to your post in your sidebar or add it to the about page–in other words, make it easy for other people to find.

I am well aware that a colleague generally sets up a festschrift for the academic, and not the academic itself.  And in a perfect world, I would arrange a more modest Mutual-Exchange Celebratory Society.  But trying to streamline this, I am instead presenting it this way.  And I have no qualms admitting how self-indulgent this is.

Members of the Celebratory Society

Consider this my open post for the Celebratory Society, as the first member of the group.  Tell me whatever you want to say about my blog or our interactions.