Best of 2009: Challenge

[I'm participating in Gwen Bell's Best of 2009 Blog Challenge, in case you're all like, what's with the theme?]

Challenge. Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?

On February 2nd of this year I was laid off. And while I was happy about it, I was obviously just that wee bit terrified about…ohhhh, you know, money. And the mortgage payment. Stuff like that. Time to make this thing fly, I told myself, and then, with the help of many, many people, proceeded to fly.

The truth is, I’ve been very, very lucky. And I continue to be very, very grateful. But being lucky and grateful do not erase the hard part of the challenge. I’ll tell you what tempers it, though: exhilaration. The knowledge that there is no chain of command; just you. Bad decision, good decision? No bitching about the management. It’s you, honey. Just you.

Success is sweeter this way; I expected that. Failure? Less bitter. I didn’t expect that.

I’m at a turning point just now. Maybe this continues to work; maybe it doesn’t. Weirdly, both sides appeal to me. Guess I passed the challenge.

Best of 2009: Moment of Peace

[I'm participating in Gwen Bell's Best of 2009 Blog Challenge, in case you're all like, what's with the theme?]

Quiet moments have been few and far between this year. While I’m normally pretty good at shutting off the various insistent hootings and hollerings of the monkey brain, this year I’ve been hustling pretty much nonstop. So that, even when it’s good and right for me to relax, I haven’t really been able to.

It was different here, though. Here, the noise most often came from human voices (and not very many of them). Nights were truly silent. There was a stillness I recognized from summers during childhood, time spent in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. I think the stillness that lives in me recognized it, too. That stillness began to sing.

Best of 2009: Night Out

[I'm participating in Gwen Bell's Best of 2009 Blog Challenge, in case you're all like, what's with the theme?] Night out. Did you have a night out with friends or a loved one that rocked your world? Who was there? What was the highlight of the night?

My best friend is finishing up law school at NYU. (She used to be a chemist…then decided, hey, I want to be a lawyer. Oh, and she’s also beautiful, hilarious, endlessly hip, classy and generous. I WIN!) Thus, during the school year we’re lucky to see each other once, if that. Last February, though, she surprised me by flying out for the weekend of her birthday.  (I think she called it a gift to herself, but it was a gift to me, people.) Anyway, Mr. Gibson, my BFF and I headed out to Good Luck, my favorite haunt and one I frequent all too seldomly (what with it being 20 miles away, in the actual city, and my having a child and all). There, we met up with Hector, my fake brother, who was actually Mr. Gibson’s fake brother first. And for several hours, we sat around on the low couches and enjoyed an exotic assortment of kitschy theme drinks and Asian beer. [One of us may have a rather revolting taste for Jagermeister, but I can't bear to go into that. Suffice it to say: it's not me, it's not anyone I'm married to, and it's definitely not my BFF.]

It was a perfect night. We laughed ourselves silly, trading clever-clevers and compliments and observations and embarrassing tidbits. [As I recall, toward the end of the evening there were many Ice Cube impersonations as well. Lots of Yeh-YAAYEEEE! going on. Huh.] In any case, I was with three of my favorite people in the world, in a place that always feel safe yet somehow exciting, completely relaxed. Feeling loved and appreciated, and in turn loving and appreciating. Nothing out of the ordinary happened; nothing dramatic. Just lovely people in a great setting, enjoying one another’s company.  Hands down, the best night out of the year.

The Best of 2009: Book

[I'm participating in Gwen Bell's Best of 2009 Blog Challenge, in case you're all like, what's with the theme?] Book. What book – fiction or non – touched you? Where were you when you read it? Have you bought and given away multiple copies?

Party the first: an entire series. Party the second: one novel. The novel nearly ate me alive. The series was more like an addiction. [Side note: hey, Mom and Dad? Great idea, mixing up your respective ethnicities like that. Could I be any more dramatic?! (And yes, dear reader, it is, in fact, genetic.) Aaaand, we're walking.]

The Outlander Series. *Deep breath* Okay, I can’t even believe I’m owning up to this again. Yes, there is romance involved. Yes, time travel is a big part of–okay, the driving force behind–these novels. But they manage to remain historically relevant, culturally interesting, and then oops, you’ve fallen in love with almost all of the main characters and they start feeling, over the course of SEVEN BOOKS (most of which hover around the 1,000-page mark), like they’re your family, and then it’s like Twilight all over again, only a lot more respectable because it’s not Young Adult fiction? And also, it’s historical and stuff? (Except for the time travel.)

*Cough*

Night Train to Lisbon. I found myself on nearly every page. Parts of myself I’d never been able to put into words. There I was.

And you? What have you read that turned you inside out, upside down or just made you laugh hysterically?

Reprint: So What.

[Originally on my previous blog, I thought I'd include this piece here, too. Mostly for my own benefit, today.] This is something I cut out of the Los Angeles Times years and years ago. I don’t even remember the name of the short-lived column it came from, let alone the author’s name (if you do, will you let me know so I can give proper credit?), but I loved it, and revisit it whenever I’m beginning to get too caught up in myself. Puts me right back down on the planet. I hope you like it, too.

Consider this. We humans eat till we flap, smoke, use ATMs at night, drive–fast and angry–with bald tires, bad brakes and a busted headlight, exercise nothing but our clicker thumbs, drink till it’s up to strangers whether we get home, and far and away the biggest concern among readers is:

How can I not get hurt?

Most of us treat our bodies like rental cars, and yet we coddle our precious little feelings, the one part of us that won’t break, die, run out or get cancer. (The way we treat others’ feelings is a different story.) If we can run on five hours’ sleep and a Ho-Ho, we can certainly handle “I’m sorry, I don’t like you that way.” Or, “You’re not a strong candidate for this job.” Or, “Your face could scald milk.” Or, “There’s a thin envelope here from Yale.”

But no, we retreat into our ruts like they’re trenches. I’ll give you an example. I’ll bet everybody knows at least one smart kid who doesn’t study, who pretends he doesn’t need to. If he dogs it and fails, he’s a lazy cool smart guy; if he tries and fails, he’s suddenly not so smart. Beat failure! Don’t learn!

Here’s the reason to test our resilience every chance we get: The alternative is living passively, never actually deciding anything, wondering why we’re irritable, average, bored, boring and a deep shade of yellow.

So don’t reach down, reach up–for the bright and groovy guy, for the promotion, for the moon. Try to get that driveling essay published. Audition for everything. Apply to a hot college. Wipe out, look stupid, try again. A decade ago, my cousin-in-law decided to be a comedian, moved to New York and fed himself be doing every unbearable job out there. This year: Letterman and a Major Motion Picture. 1. Wow. 2. Why not? You can be told you’re not smart, not attractive, not cool, not interesting, not good enough for the job, and then, sure, you can quit–but if instead you dismiss it, or learn from it, or move on to something else, pretty soon you’ll start to walk like you can take it. Those confident, charismatic people everyone privately resents? Know what they are? Fearless. But you won’t have any idea what that means unless you scrape the couch from your backside. The worst that can happen is “No.” So what.