Take roller skating for example. When I was a wee one, I loved to roller skate. The apartment building in which I grew up had a courtyard. I remember riding my old metal-wheeled skates around the pool. Over and over and over. And over. Again. I transitioned into more sophisticated roller skates and would circle the pool again and again. Eventually in-line skates were introduced and while I didn’t have genuine Rollerblades, I did in fact have a pair of white in-line skates with fluorescent yellow-green wheels. Round and round I’d go.

Back in 2002, I once again began to skate. I had Rollerblades. I used to skate around the YMCA in Burbank while my friends played hockey. I was slightly wobbly, but I still could maintain my balance. I didn’t fall. Not even once.

Fast forward to 2007. A 30 year old me decided it might be fun to roller skate. I didn’t have the Rollerblades anymore, but I was determined to find a pair of old-skool roller skates. Quads. Hell yeah. My partner and I set out to find a pair of roller skates that would fit my over-sized feet. We happened to find what was probably the last pair of quads in our town. I tried them on and they fit. Sweet. I happily purchased my brand new roller skates. They were beautiful – white with hot pink wheels and a hot pink stopper. Watch out world – I had arrived. On white roller skates with hot pink wheels. (And a hot pink stopper.)

We traveled to an area that would be ideal for roller skating. My partner zoomed away with her Rollerblades, and I, who has become quite the nervous one with every year I’ve aged, set out on my quads. It became apparent after just a few strides that roller skating is not one of those skills which stays with you for a lifetime.

As I attempted to skate, I held onto a rail that separated the sidewalk from the lake. I realized at that moment, that I looked as stupid as my roller skates. Those white roller skates with the hot pink wheels and the hot pink stoppers looked pretty ridiculous. Hell. I looked ridiculous, too.

With all the strength my shinsplints could muster, I held onto the railing and continued to (attempt to) skate back to the car. I hung my head in shame as children sped by on Rollerblades. Rollerblades? Hmm… Maybe that’s what I needed. I took the white roller skates with the hot pink wheels and hot pink stoppers back to the store. They weren’t dirty. I didn’t use them long enough to incur any damages. I took my money back and walked out of the store.

Later that week I received a pair of brand spankin’ new Rollerblades for my 31st birthday. Me, again, being the nervous one also procured hand-guards, kneepads, and elbow-pads. I decided that this time, I’d take it slow. I wouldn’t risk another pathetic display of un-athleticism in public. I roller-bladed up and down my driveway.

Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to venture out into the wild. My partner and I went to a nearby trail where she would often roller-blade. Now, the trail is paved. It’s not smooth pavement, but it’s pavement. Sort of like black-top. I donned my hand-guards, kneepads, and elbow-pads. I began to ride. I continued to glide. And eventually, when my shinsplints decided to make themselves known, I proceeded to slide. And fall. Right onto my hand-guards. What a wise decision I had made in purchasing those puppies! And so, I realized – perhaps while I didn’t exactly lose my roller-blading aptitude, I didn’t exactly keep it, either.

As some of you know, I am a software developer. I mostly program in Perl, although my first language was Ruby, to be followed closely by Rails – the web application framework. I’ve programmed in Perl and Ruby, as well as Rails for close to two years now. I love the blessed union of creativity and logic that goes into crafting and maintaining applications. I am blessed to work as a software engineer for a company that I love, and can truly say that I adore my profession.

I haven’t touched Ruby or Rails for several months, except for an occasional glance or a short stint in my beloved text editor. Tonight I decided to crack open a terminal and begin a Rails application. While I still remember most of the principles and basics, I had to keep the Rails API close at hand. I stumbled through my migrations, tripped through my models, and even had to drop my database schema a time or two.

It dawned on me that with some things, it’s a “Use It or Lose It” situation. Just like roller skating.

When you’re dealing with a framework like Rails, which is constantly evolving, it is imperative to stay fresh. I’m not sure if I’d have the same experience if I were to walk away from Perl for several months. I code in Perl on a daily basis, and while I used to have to look things up pretty regularly, it’s gotten to the point where I don’t. Just a year ago, I had quite a difficult time with dereferencing data structures. Now? I don’t even think about it. It’s second nature. And, if I am running into a problem with my code that’s related to a data structure, it doesn’t take me nearly as long to hunt it down.

The moral of this story – white roller skates with hot pink wheels and all – is that if you like to do something, it’s probably a good idea to keep doing it. I’m sure that given a couple of hours with some solitude, ample amounts of caffeine, and the Rails API, I could get right back into the swing of things. Sure, there are some new conventions and new features, but all it really takes to get relatively familiar is to spend a few hours reading Changelogs and mailing lists. However, I would have most likely benefited from opening up my text editor a few times a week and writing some code.

While I haven’t written three pages everyday, each morning I have written at least something. The one thing I’ve noticed in the week I’ve been writing my morning pages, is that I feel a little lighter throughout the day. I’m also looking forward to that special time in the morning, even if it’s just a few minutes and less than three pages.

I’m hopeful and optimistic that this practice will assist me in unblocking the creative person I once was. And, still am. I haven’t finished the book, and I haven’t completed any exercises aside from the morning pages. However, what little I have done, has been inspiring. It doesn’t take much to just write for a few minutes in the morning. I probably didn’t need to buy a book to tell me to write in the mornings. But in any case, I’m still really enjoying the practice, and I’m looking forward to putting more of the book to good use.

I’ve found that I have little patience for whining or self-pity. Perhaps it’s because my late teens and early twenties were filled with the stereotypical Gen-X angst. Somewhere along the way I got sick of writing about my feelings and waxing philosophical. It became boring and bland – like a low-calorie microwave macaroni and cheese dinner. No one wants to eat boring and bland, and I certainly didn’t (and don’t) want to write it.

So I turned off the lights and put down the pen, leaving myself to focus on things that mattered – like my career, my relationship, and reading about things that interested me. I completely abandoned the part of me that loved to make pictures out of words. Here and there I’d write something, but I usually thought it was crap. Even now as I write, I can’t help but wonder – am I just whining and waxing poetic about my feelings? I have the strong urge to delve into my psyche, to find out when this happened, where this happened, and why it happened. But, I won’t.

Perhaps this is why I haven’t written more on my blog. Someone who used to play an important role in my life used to quote Abraham Lincoln:

It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.
- Abraham Lincoln

If I don’t have anything relevant or important or meaningful to say, I’m probably going to remain silent. After all, no one wants to be one of those people who just talk to hear their own voice. Unfortunately, I have probably taken this to an extreme; silencing that kid who fell in love with writing poetry when she was 11 years old.

So, I’m going to be daring. I’m going to attempt to stop being a curmudgeon who doesn’t write just because it might sound whiny. I’m going to attempt to rise above the cerebral left-brain censor that has somehow come alive. And, I’m going to attempt to do it right here. If no one reads, that’s okay. If people think I’m whiny and self-indulgent, that’s okay, too. Because it’s better to speak out and be thought a fool than to remain silent and squelch your own creativity.

http://feeds2.feedburner.com/mindfuliterations

Since changing my domain, I haven’t really done a whole hell of a lot. Thankfully, one of my closest friends is getting me back on the blogwagon. That’s right, I said blogwagon .

You can find her blog at http://www.dementedtechie.com/

So, hopefully with the renewed inspiration, I’ll be a little more consistent with this blog.

When I started out this morning, I was in a fantastic mood. Even though I shoveled snow for 45 minutes this afternoon, I still remained in a fantastic mood. Now? I’m not in an un-fantastic mood, but I’m not quite where I was a couple of hours ago.

What happened?

Music.

That’s right, music. I’m sitting here listening to stuff that isn’t quite the most upbeat musical choice at my disposal. But, it’s music that touches me, and of course, that’s my favorite kind of music.

What is that magic ingredient in music that reaches us at our core? Normally I’d say it’s a memory attached to a song… But what about those songs you’ve never heard before? What’s that secret spice? It’s more than a beat, a bassline, or a guitar riff. It’s more than a haunting vocal that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. I can’t quite touch it, and I can’t quite explain it, but I can feel it… which brings me right back around to my question – what is it?

I’m sure there are studies out there… But sometimes I think it goes a little beyond anything that can be studied. I can’t even think about articulating it – I almost think that if I tried, it might only diminish things – make it ordinary, mundane.

So, I guess I’ll just sit here. Listening to music that touches me – some of which have my memories attached to them, others which don’t. I’m sure my mood will change with the music – as chords progress, so do moods. I’m just glad that I’ve got the music in me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ll be migrating all my posts back this weekend.