Who Elsa?

Playing with language

2010-03-09T23:36:00.001-05:00

I may have mentioned before that word recall is not my forte. Despite this, I love playing with language. Games to play with a set of words that have fallen on my lap present themselves without warning, and often without reason either.

The rules usually develop as I go along, incorporating the use of homophones, metaphor, double entendre, or whatever else strikes my fancy. Unless I happen to be in the right company, they often only make sense to me.

Whenever I dust off these two sentences, for example:

“Oh dear, you have stolen my heart.”

“Oh deer, you have stolen my hart.”

Christian just shakes his head. The first few years of our relationship, I was convinced that explaining the rules of the game that led to their creation would help him understand why they please me.

No such luck.

….

Years ago, my best friend and I were discussing words with strong connotations that have, for the most part, taken over the word’s original definitions. I remember we had lots of fun with this. Here is one of the results:

“We won! We won!” the quarterback ejaculated during the half time show.

“Now, don’t you think that’s a little premature?” chastised his coach.

(You’re allowed to groan if you need to.)

So, how about you? Do you juggle with jargon? Do you mess with meaning? If you find yourself creating clever clauses that amuse yourself (and perhaps no one else), please share them with me. Better yet, invite me to play along.

Why I don’t honk

2010-03-08T18:00:00.000-05:00

I try to be a patient driver. Although I see no reason to swerve from lane to lane between sets of traffic lights and think that heavily stepping on the gas only to have to slam on the brakes a few seconds later is silly, I keep my ~~mouth shut~~ horn quiet.

This apparently baffles some people. Recently, my passenger was so outraged by some other driver’s bad decision-making that he demanded that I honk. When I refused, he reached over and tried honking on my behalf.

This was not okay and I let him know it.

“But why won’t you honk?!”

If the driver I am directing my honk toward is purposely being inconsiderate, he really isn’t going to care about that honk. A little toot isn’t going to magically make him say “Oh, you’re right. I really should stop behaving so boorishly. Thank you for pointing it out.” If anything, it will annoy him, making him even more aggressive and inconsiderate.
If the driver being honked at is just plain clueless, he won’t even realize that the honk is for him.
It’s possible that what may look like aggressive, uncooperative, or selfish driving could actually be the result of a genuine mistake. Honking in this circumstance would only serve to make an already stressful situation worse.
Not just your target can hear your honk. Other, alert drivers may assume they have somehow triggered your outburst and may become anxious since they will have no idea what they have done (or may still be doing) wrong.

I believe that honking out of anger, frustration, or any other negative emotional state can lead to road rage. I don’t know about you, but I’m of the opinion that we would all do well to have less of this in the world.

The next time you are about to press the palm of your hand against the center of your steering wheel, ask yourself the following question: What do I want for this action to result in and what is the likelihood that it will?

If it turns out you are compelled to act out of gracious concern, knock yourself out and honk away. Otherwise, keep your hands in the 10-2 position and take a chill pill for all our sakes.

Thank you!

Barred advice on Prince Charmings

2010-03-07T20:45:00.003-05:00

At a favorite local restaurant, Christian and I overheard a bartender dispensing advice to a young, single woman, looking for a new guy.

“Stop limiting yourself!”

This statement, her pleading refrain, was peppered between observations regarding the single woman’s previous fishing attempts. Why would anybody would look for love in a bar? If you meet a guy at a bar, you end up with a guy who likes to go out drinking!

She began to offer alternatives. Church, for example. “Those guys are very well rounded.” Taking up a new hobby was also an option. “Then you’ll definitely have something in common.” But my favorite recommendation?

“Go to college for a month!”

We joined the conversation at this point. The women were friendly, and we had fun coming up with a few recommendations of our own.

That night, I started thinking about how that bartender’s advice can apply to more than just finding one’s Prince Charming. If you don’t like the results you’ve gotten so far, no matter what you’re doing, you really have no choice but to try something new. And why limit yourself to what you’ve already tried or what you already feel comfortable with?

Since then, “stop limiting yourself” has been swirling around in my head. In fact, as a direct result of this, I recently took on some contract work that I wouldn’t have considered before. I plan to continue contemplating this piece of advice. Although I have no idea what the outcome will be, I’m pretty sure it will lead to something new or different and that should make for an even more interesting year.

Word patterns

2010-03-06T23:00:00.000-05:00

I attended a talk Temple Grandin gave at the Harvard Book Store a number of years ago. Her presentation was fascinating -- I walked away with plenty of things to think about.

For example, she described her experience with “conversation loops”, bits of conversations she would repeat over and over to anybody who would sit still long enough to listen. Eventually she figured out that people found this behavior annoying and remedied this, not by getting rid of the loops, but by increasing the length of her tracks.

I do this. Perhaps it’s not in the same way or to the same degree, but I tend to create sets of words or phrases that get significant amounts of “air time”. Often, I’m not fully aware of these word ruts until they begin to weave their way into colleagues’ vocabulary.

A few days ago, while re-reading something I had just written, it occurred to me that I have been using the word “brim” quite a bit lately. This piqued my curiosity – I wondered what word ruts have been making their way into my blog.

I used Wordle to create word clouds from the text of my 2010 posts to date. Thinking once again of Temple Grandin, I wondered how different the word clouds would appear if I limited the clouds to just a few words (a short track) versus many words (a long track).

I’m relieved that I kind of like the results.

My parking karma

2010-03-05T23:30:00.000-05:00

Today, while driving around Harvard Square, I called out to my parking karma. Within a couple of minutes, I spotted a car pulling out from a really sweet parking space and was in the perfect position to take it.

What’s up with that?

Not too long ago, a friend asked me exactly the same thing. She was in the car with me as I drove into a section of town where a legal spot was hard to come by. After one unsuccessful loop around, I shrugged and explained we were just going to have to rely on my parking karma. A few minutes later we were feeding a hungry meter.

Really. What’s up with that?

I had never given it much thought, but as she pressed me for an explanation, I came up with this.

I find the parking spot because I am expecting to find it.

I don’t mean this in a metaphysical kind of way or anything. I just think that you look more carefully through a haystack when you know with certainty there is a needle in it. My calling upon my parking karma is way of reminding myself to look seriously and systematically for that spot that I’m pretty darn certain is available somewhere.

My mom’s advice

2010-03-04T12:28:00.001-05:00

The first time I ever heard about MIT, I was a sophomore in high school. I immediately decided that was where I would go to college.

It turns out that very few people in my community had any idea what MIT was. In fact, since most college-bound graduates from Del Rio high school go on to Texas-based schools, most people didn’t even know what the initials stood for.

After I had been talking MIT this and MIT that for a few days, my mom started asking questions. I’m sure she asked me plenty of things, like “Why MIT?” or “What will you study?” But to be honest, I can only remember the last question she asked.

“What is MIT short for?”

As the “setts” from “Massachusetts” left my mouth, my mom burst into tears.

Up to that point, it hadn’t dawned on me that the distance would be an issue. I felt terrible and made a point of not bring up anything MIT after that. Days passed. Eventually, my mom pulled me aside and apologized. She explained that she and my father had been raised to keep family close by. She told me that she felt she was just being selfish. And, before bursting into tears again, she made a promise.

“This is important to you and I want to be supportive. I promise I won’t cry the day that you leave.”

I was a sophomore when she made that promise. For two years, at random, my mom would look over at me and cry. Well equipped with a good sense of humor, she would wave off my concern with some funny comment. She let it become a bit of an inside joke, mostly to keep me from feeling guilty, I’m sure.

When my ride to the San Antonio airport arrived, I turned to my parents to say goodbye. My dad gave me a quick hug and then grabbed my bags. My mom hugged me firmly and for a long, long time.

It was clear that she was brimming with things she wanted to tell me, but her throat was so tight that saying anything without crying would be difficult. Keeping true to her word, she mustered up what she could to send me off with one crucial piece of tearless advice.

“Mija. Don’t …. talk ….. to …… strangers!”

As much as we have laughed about it since then, I know what a gift it was she gave me. I cannot help but marvel at the strength it takes to love like this.

(Thank you, Mom!)

Start a family tradition: Learn how to make cascarones

2010-03-03T17:00:00.007-05:00

Easter is a big holiday in my family. Three days of celebrating include a fajita cook off, a volley ball tournament, a live concert, and a PARADE -- to name just a few things.

It didn’t start off this big. In 1953, my grandmother and her next-door neighbor simply decided to celebrate Easter together. Year after year, activities and family members were added to the mix until it grew into the huge event it is now.

This kind of family tradition is the coolest. And, with a little effort now, you could have one of your very own!

If you’re interested, follow these simple instructions for creating cascarones, a core component of my family’s Easter. In my opinion, they are a must have.

Get started now to make sure you will have plenty of fun ready in time for Easter morning. This process takes place in three stages that typically span a few days to a few weeks. You will need eggs for the first stage, dye and vinegar for the second stage, and confetti, tissue paper, and glue for the third. Note: white eggs work best since they are easier to dye.

1. Whenever a recipe calls for an egg, gently crack the crown of the egg by using the back of a fork, making a quarter sized hole.

2. Empty the contents and rinse the empty egg shell thoroughly.

3. Place the rinsed out egg shell upside down in your egg carton and allow to dry.

Once you have accumulated enough egg shells, you are ready to start the next stages.

4. Dye your egg shells (I usually use PAAS) and allow them to dry. You will need one container for every color you want to use.

5. Pour confetti into your dry, vibrantly colored egg shell. Aim for 1/2 to 3/4 fullness. Be sure to not overfill as a tightly packed shell will not crack easily – ouch!

6. For each confetti filled egg shell, cut one 2-inch diameter circle out of the tissue paper. Place a thin line of glue along the inside edge of the tissue paper circle and affix it over the egg shell opening.

Once the glue has dried, you are ready to roll!

In my family, “cascarones” are on the schedule. At the appointed time, everyone grabs their arsenal of confetti-filled eggs and vies to crack them on as many heads as possible. It may sound weird, but oh my gosh, it’s so much fun!

Have fun with this, and let me know how it goes!

With time and practice

2010-03-02T11:30:00.000-05:00

I took my driver’s test when I was 16. With a year’s worth of practice under my belt, I passed the test. But exactly how road ready is a newly licensed teenager?

I remember that it took active concentration to maintain constant speed. Corners were often taken either too sharply or not sharply enough. Merging into traffic was terrifying.

And I could not parallel park to save my life.

Fast forward through many years of living in Massachusetts. I found a tight parking spot in front of the library where I was meeting a friend. Quickly, and with little effort, I squeezed my car in.

Before I stepped into the library, it dawned on me that this was a bit of a victory. I was compelled to turn around and take a few snapshots to document my parallel parking job.

Time and practice had taken the things I thought I would never be good at and turned it into a skill I usually just take for granted. I wonder what else I’m good at now?

How about you?

What you look at can keep you from seeing

2010-03-01T21:15:00.000-05:00

I took this picture of a baby squirrel hanging out outside the window of a hospital cafeteria.

It wasn’t until later, after I downloaded the images off of my camera, that I noticed the reflection of my handbag super-imposed over the cute little ball of fur.

Although I had been so focused on the squirrel that he was all I noticed when I took the snapshot, it’s possible, if I were to hand this photo to someone without an explanation, they might focus on the red, white, and blue pattern.

What the handbag is to the squirrel, examples or presentation data can be to the concept you are trying to get across to an audience.

The first time I experienced this, I was interviewing scientific journal publishers to understand how well our existing on-line journal submission and review product met their needs. Some kept insisting their process was completely different from the one we had outlined though there were only two differences I could see:

Some publishers combined the duties of an editor and
deputy-editor into one role.
Some publishers had a different name for the deputy-editor.

I remember thinking how can you not see the parallels? After a short time, I realized that the differences they were focusing on were keeping them from seeing what I was trying to explain – the underlying processes were exactly the same. It was my job to fix this!

If it’s dark outside and you’re standing inside a lit room, looking out through a window can be a challenge. Usually the reflection on the surface of the glass can make it hard to see through it. As you know, there are ways to address this. (For example, you can press your face up against the window. Or dim the light in the room.)

Similarly, there are plenty of things you can do to ensure your audience is more likely to see what you want them to see. Here are just a few:

When preparing:

Interview members of your core audience ahead of time to learn their terminology and tweak your presentation accordingly.
Present to a friend or colleague and ask them to describe, in their own words, what you have just shared. If there are big gaps between what you intended and what they understood, make modifications as needed. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Update your examples to include something relevant to your core audience.

When presenting:

Describe what it is you would like your audience to see past. e.g. “Please be aware there is a red, white, and blue pattern reflected on the window surface. However, what I would like you to focus on is the squirrel on the other side of the window.”

What are some ways this phenomena has impacted you? How do you work around it? Do you have any tips and tricks to recommend?

Spam is all your fault

2010-02-23T10:54:00.001-05:00

Okay, perhaps not directly. And maybe not you, specifically. But please hear me out.

Like most people, I get a ton of spam. Regarding the spammers behind her own stuffed spambox, a concerned friend once asked, “How do they know I’m overweight?”

The countless offers of penii enlargement, prescription drugs, and stock market tips had been overlooked because they hadn’t applied to her. When they were pointed out, she was surprised. Why would spammers do that?

Well, to a spammer, she is just an email address. He knows that if he tosses a scam or an offer for some illegal product to enough email addresses, someone somewhere will not only feel that the offer applies directly to them – they will actually buy it.

Obviously, there are enough someones out there to make the business of spam profitable. If you are one of those someones, I’m not mad or anything, but please stop.

Thank you!

My Kingdom for a Penguin

2010-02-19T19:00:00.000-05:00

In the past, I’ve recommended staging a show you would like to watch for guaranteed laughter or smiles. Although I still stand by this recommendation, I realize there is also a time and a place for something quick and easy.

Like today, for example.

I’ve included a shortcut below, in case you are feeling especially lazy. However, I have made a point of including quick instructions for finding the same results in the world wide web. Why? Because a special little penguin has taught me this:

If you give someone a fish, you have fed him for a day. But, if you teach someone to go to the fish market, then you have made the world a better, more adorable, and happier place.

Skeptical? Follow these instructions and learn for yourself.

Instructions:

Open up a new web browser.
Point your browser to Google.
Google “penguin backpack japan”.
Fall in love.

Shortcut:

The world is full of fun, cute, exciting, and heart warming stories. Remember to take the time to fish for them.

Thank you to the woman in Central Square

2010-02-17T18:00:00.000-05:00

I met a lovely young woman as I made my way to the Central Square T stop today.

She apologized as she approached me, though I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe she needed to ask for directions and was afraid she might be interrupting a conversation I was having with my friend? She hesitated for a few seconds, smiled, apologized again, and then explained.

She recognized me!

It turns out that she had seen me on CCTV. (I had been part of program featuring storytellers who gathered to remember Brother Blue.)

To the woman in Central Square,

Thank you.

Thank you for a great example of stepping outside one’s comfort zone to approach someone they haven’t met before. Thank you for saying Hello. Thank you for your kind words. Thank you for pointing out my blue sash (would you believe I hadn’t noticed it before?)

Your timing was absolutely perfect. I had no idea how much I needed your words until the moment you gave them to me.

With much appreciation,

See me or Seymour?

2010-02-11T15:00:00.000-05:00

Do you or someone you fancy think you look like someone famous?

The other day, I was asked the following question: “Do you only recommend the movies that you’re in?”

The tone of voice, dripping with something too early in the morning for me to identify, surprised me just as much as the question. I was intrigued.

“Excuse me?”

At the sound of my voice, X realized that he had clearly mistaken me for someone else. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were Philip Seymour Hoffman.”

Okay, so I’ve never considered myself a beautiful woman. But Philip Seymour Hoffman? I had to get to the bottom of this.

After some nudging, X woke up long enough to realize how strange it had been for him to confuse the two of us. “But you’re the reason I dreamt about him, anyway” he insisted, as he fell back to sleep.

I’m not sure how to feel about this. Any suggestions? :)

Singing support

2010-02-10T12:00:00.000-05:00

Although I’ve never had a conversation with my mother’s father, I feel as if I know him.

Ever since I was young, my mother has shared what she remembers about her dad. Her stories and recollections have implanted him firmly into my memory.

For example, I think of my grandfather whenever my mother sings.

My mom loves to listen to music and will often sing along. (My dad, in response, will usually say something to the extent of “That’s an MP3 player you have there, not a Karaoke machine.”)

My grandfather used to ask, “¿Por qué estás llorando?” (Why are you crying?) My mother, taking him seriously, would go on to explain that she was singing, not crying. I have no idea how old she was when she realized he was teasing her.

This week I learned that whenever my grandfather heard my mom stumble in a song – either by forgetting the words, or making up her own – he would console her with a conspiratorial “They don’t know the song, mija. You do.”

Mad Magazine changed my life

2010-02-07T15:09:00.000-05:00

Back when I was a kid, Mad Magazine supplied me with an unexpected life lesson wrapped in a multi-panel cartoon.

Here is what I remember -- a series of images depicting insincere conversations. In each frame, two people stand, holding masks up to the sides of their head. They face you, the audience; Their masks face each other.

One conversation takes place through the masks. A completely different one takes place toward the audience. I don’t remember the actual conversations, but I do remember the the gist of them. The masked dialogues are cordial and caring. But the truth comes out through what is said toward the audience.

“I can’t stand this guy.”

I found the cartoon funny enough to read a number of times. At the third or fourth perusal, a thought hit me. Each person holding up a mask did so because they assumed the mask facing them was real. A kind of obligation confined them -- “This person really seems to like me. I should go out of my way to pretend I like them too.”

It dawned on me that the masks were leading to a complete waste of time. What’s the use of having an insincere conversation with someone?

I had a friend in college (let’s call him Ralph) who was lots of fun. Occasionally, while hanging out with each other, we would run into someone on his I can’t stand this person list.

No matter who the person was or how high on the list they sat, Ralph would enter into a conversation involving statements like “I’m so happy to see you!” and “Why haven’t I heard from you recently?” Inevitably, as the conversation drew to a close, Ralph would add, “We should have lunch sometime. Call me!”

Often this would lead to numerous phone calls that Ralph would then ignore. “Why does this person keep bothering me?” Ralph would ask, clearly annoyed.

When I asked Ralph why he would request a call from someone he didn’t want to talk to, he explained that he was just trying to be polite. “What, do you want me to be rude?”

I restrained from pulling up my mask when responding.

Isn’t ignoring a requested call rude? And what’s so terrible about being attentive and polite during a conversation, but ending it with something like “It was good talking to you” or “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime”. Period.

Misleading others is inconsiderate. Wasting someone’s time is insensitive. Taking a gift that could have instead gone to someone appreciative is thoughtless and selfish.

“Has it ever occurred to you that this person who is ‘annoying’ you is only doing so because you led them to believe you wanted their attention? The time they are wasting on you would be better spent on someone who would appreciate their effort.”

Years later, Ralph thanked me for this conversation.

Perhaps we need to put on a brave face. Maybe we are afraid that if a dear friend understood the sacrifices we were making they would stop accepting our help. For these and plenty of other reasons, there are times in which donning a mask is the right thing to do.

But more often than not, a mask is an entirely unnecessary shield between ourselves and the outside world. It keeps others from knowing us, and it keeps us from knowing others.

According to Francis Bacon:

“The worst solitude is to be destitute of sincere friendship.”

This sounds just about right to me. I believe that one has to put their mask down in order to discover and cultivate this kind of connection.

For this reason, I kindly ask that you take off your mask. Know me and be known.

A different kind of post

2010-02-02T10:45:00.001-05:00

When was the last time you received personal correspondence hand delivered by your local mail carrier?

For many folks, it’s been too long! But that’s okay, I think I can help.

I have a stack of postcards.

If you would like one mailed to you along with a personal note, contact me. Let me know who you are, what address I should mail it to, and anything else about yourself that you would like me to know.

Eep! Eep!

2010-01-31T10:00:00.000-05:00

The first conversation of my day went something like this:

he: Eep! Eep!

me: What?

he: Would you like me to throw up in your mouth?

me: What?!

he: Zzzzzz….

me: (to myself upon realizing he was asleep)
Hmm… I think he was being a bird!

The second conversation of my day went something like this:

me: Do you remember what you asked me this morning?

he: What?

me: “Would you like me to throw up in your mouth?”

he: What?!

me: Yeah. You started off with “Eep! Eep!”

he: Ha ha! I remember now. I think I was being a bird.

The Golden Rule, revisited.

2010-01-26T12:00:00.000-05:00

The elders in my childhood had a number of sayings they often repeated. “Your face is going to freeze like that” and “If your friends were jumping of a bridge, would you jump too?” are a few that come to mind.

Maybe it’s a cultural thing, or maybe I was just a very inconsiderate kid who needed consistent reminding, but I could swear that most of my childhood experiences elicited one of their favorites -- the golden rule.

For those of you unfamiliar with this, tsk tsk to your elders, but here it is:

“Do Unto Others

As You Would Have Done

Unto You”

I heard this guide line so often that it clogged my every pore – eventually it sunk in. As a teen and young adult, I tried my best (which isn’t always that good, mind you) to incorporate this rule into my life.

And then I realized it was completely wrong.

Many years ago, I went out with two friends to catch a movie. In my mind, the best seat is the seat between two friends -- I can engage with both and feel like I’m right in the middle of things.

This particular night, I noticed that one of my friends seemed down. Oh! What a great golden rule moment, I thought. I offered her the BEST SEAT and thought I was being considerate for having suggested it.

While I was out of the room making a popcorn run, the down friend turned to my other friend and complained about the seat I had placed her in. “I prefer the aisle seat,” she stated glumly, annoyed that I had taken it from her. My other friend, who knew me better, was able to explain that I had actually given away the seat I preferred the most and that I would happy to swap back.

By the time I got back with treats from the lobby, everything was all sorted out.

It probably took more than a dozen incidents like this – some big, some small – to make me realize that I seriously needed to rethink this whole golden rule thing.

Now, if you’re going to cross-stitch anything for my kitchen – it should read more like this:

Yes, it can take a substantial amount of work to even come close to understanding how someone else would like to be treated. There are books you can read, there are questions you can ask, there are stories you can listen to…

But the first step, the biggest one in my opinion, is to recognize that not everyone thinks, feels, or makes decisions exactly like you do. How lucky for you, that just by having read this, you’ve pretty much made that first step?

Have a nice walk!

Some might call this TMI.

2009-12-11T13:33:00.000-05:00

I debated about writing this post. After some thought it struck me that my hesitation was just another example of this silliness. Although people normally don’t talk about this sort of thing in such a public manner, I would be fooling myself to think that this part of me is in any way secret… :)

A good friend recently had surgery -- the type that depends on the use of friendly intimate apparel during recovery. On a search for something soft, supportive, and easy to put on I took her to Lady Grace, a store that specializes in “intimate apparel”.

As luck would have it, one of the store clerks on duty had had a similar surgery 5 years back. As this woman offered advice about what garments to consider, she and my friend entered into a far more necessary conversation. What was your experience like? How did you respond to the treatment? How do you feel now? Do you think I’ll be okay? …

To make more room for this discussion, I stepped back and began to browse.

Eventually, I made my way to the area where “my size” was located. I flagged down a free, petite store clerk as she walked past and asked her if a style I liked was available in “my size”.

After a quick glance in my direction, she turned around and began walking away at a fast clip. I stood there, dumbfounded. Noticing that I hadn’t moved, she called out to me over her shoulder and demanded that I follow suit. She marched me straight through the aisles, past the back of the store, and into the fitting room area.

“Knock knock!” she called out as she opened a fitting room door. I stepped in after she motioned for me to do so and was a little surprised that she walked in right behind me and shut the door.

“Knock knock!” she called out again, standing squarely in front of me.

Once again I was dumbfounded. Clearly she expected something from me, but I had no idea what that something was.

“Knock knock.” she repeated, nodding at me encouragingly. Eventually she figured out that she needed to use more words to help me understand what she wanted. I don’t think I would ever have been able to guess on my own that “knock knock” could also mean “please remove your shirt …. in front of a total stranger”.

Years ago I read that some huge percentage of women wear the wrong size. As much as I did not want this to be true for me, deep down I knew that it was. It had been years since I had last been measured. There was no way that “my size” could still be accurate since I had gained plenty of weight since then.

As disheartening as it was to hear this woman practically recite the alphabet as she figured out my “correct size”, I have to admit that I walked out of that store a little perkier.

Is there a draft in here?

2009-12-07T23:58:00.000-05:00

I may seem a little quiet to those of you who regularly follow this blog. Although things I want to write are still swirling about in my head and my fingers are still capable of typing, a fraction of my brain has been given over to a slightly more pressing and urgent issue. Which means that although my mind still works, less of it is available to tackle what the whole thing used to take care of before.

Lately, when I approach my computer to write, my awareness that it will take me longer than usual (which was already long) to form a coherent sentence has created an aversion to my keyboard. Knowing that I will not finish even a first draft in one sitting has made me not want to sit.

I think that’s nuts.

To work myself out of this, I am going to lean toward sharing half drafts with you. Because of this, you will get likely get a glimpse of the skeletons my thoughts attach themselves to. They may come in the form of an overheard snippet of conversation without commentary, a random image out of context, or a note to myself to explore a particular concept – who knows.

It’s my hope that re-teaching myself that even the pieces are worth sharing will make the “getting down to business” side of me more likely to honor the process required to enable the whole to emerge.

Wish me luck!

Friday Fiction: "Start"

2009-12-04T16:05:00.000-05:00

I found this tucked into my notes sometime back. Perhaps a page was missing? This will get some attention in the future, especially if you remind me.

Her father warned her this would happen. Hair matted, clothing torn, she mustered her remaining strength to take in her surroundings.

It was a world of concrete. There was no dirt to be seen, only line after line of white markings. A thread of rigs parked in a row gave the impression of a metallic wall -- but was it keeping her in or the others out?

A breeze washed over her, causing a chill and reminding her that her skin was damp. Beyond the rigs, she could see a structure -- a rest stop?

As she struggled to her feet, she noticed a figure, close to the ground, running toward her.

Defeated, she sank back to her knees muttering to herself. "Well, I hope it likes ketchup".

How to come across as clever (or not)

2009-11-24T15:54:00.001-05:00

A friend once pointed out that when it comes to material for jokes, conversations abound with low-hanging fruit – you just need to look for it.

This is easier said than done. We are naturally wired to ignore most cases of mis-speech, tending to instead unconsciously bridge the gaps between what was meant and what was uttered.

In order to get to the “hidden” funny stuff, you have to learn how to short circuit this wiring. But the trick doesn’t end there. Unless you want to become very unpopular, you have to learn how to do this in such a way that won’t interfere with your natural ability to be an accommodating listener.

You’ll find that material will pretty much jump up onto your lap. The cool thing is that after you’ve noticed something funny, all you have to do is restate it and voila, you’ve made a joke.

There is one down side I should warn you about. Once you’ve learned to apply this listening method to what other people say, you have by default learned how to apply it to yourself.

Here’s an example:

Person 1: “I love learning new things. Yeah, I guess I would say that I enjoy being mentally challenged.”

Person 2: “I’m glad to hear that. Some people have a hard time getting over the stigma.”

Person 3: cracks up

I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but in this example I was both Person 1 and Person 2.

Have fun! Post some of your favorites, if you get a chance.

Shameless plugs

2009-11-23T14:45:00.001-05:00

Christmas music is in the air, wallets are out and in use… the holidays must be approaching.

I mentioned by Zazzle-ness around this time two years ago. Since then, my Zazzle account has served as a creative outlet, encouraging me to learn more about the knobs and doo-hickeys that come with my graphic software.

Now for the shameless plugs. :)

Butterflies have been on my mind quite a bit lately. The cards touch on the concept of transformation that I have written about before. Since they are customizable, I imagine they can be used for congratulations (e.g. “Hooray, you made it through!”) or as encouragement (e.g. “Hang in there, it will be worth it.”)

The idea for the tie came to me as I tried to imagine someone being nervous on a first date. Be on the look out for a blue butterfly tie, coming soon.

I’m currently in the process of designing “unique” ties. I can promise you that no one you know has a tie like these. Yet, that is.

Perhaps it’s a myth that dad’s and new boyfriends around the globe get ties for Christmas. Just in case, I want to be well armed. Plus, these are fun to make. Christian recently gave me an awesome idea for a fun and quirky tie. Check out my on-line store (http://shop.whoelsa.com) soon to see what it is!

Let me know what you think! And, if you’re willing to do me a huge favor, spread the word.

Thank you!

We get to choose which direction we face

2009-11-18T23:50:00.000-05:00

Have you ever sat in a theater equipped with motion simulating seats? Although it may seem strange to pay good money to get tossed this way and that like a vain woman’s locks, perfectly timed jolts, lurches, and drops can trick your body into believing what your eyes are seeing on the screen. I like this -- the sensations conjured by the perfect combination of image and motion dunk me deep, deep into a movie.

A number of years ago, half-way through an exciting series of roller coaster loops, dare-devil flight maneuvers, and expert speed racing stunts at this kind of theater, I randomly decided to come up for air and check in on my companions – were they enjoying the movie too?

It turns out that they were.

It also turns out that being shaken by spasmodic seating is a completely different experience when you’re not watching the corresponding film. While looking over at my friends, each seat position shift was just a random jerky movement. And, do you have any idea how surreal it is to observe a group of people whose bodies are being thrashed about like rag dolls as their heads stay relatively level in order to continue staring ahead at a fixed plane?

That's what life feels like for me some days. Although I am often caught up in the little dramas of everyday living, there are moments when I’m aware of the mechanics behind it all.

Those moments are usually a source of amusement. However, they are sometimes a source of relief if the story I am immersed in is complicated, stressful, scary, or in any other way, unpleasant.

Once, a good friend determined it was “safe” to take her son to a scary movie but realized halfway through that the reviews had been slightly misleading. Instead of leaving the theater, she took a different tack. Whenever she noticed a scene unfolding that was too frightening, she would lean in and whisper something to the effect of, “Isn’t it interesting how the special effect here makes it appear that…” By doing this, she gently helped her son shift from being in the story to observing the story being told. From this vantage, he had all the skills necessary to cope with what was taking place.

What we are looking at clearly has a tremendous impact on how we experience the world. It’s a good thing that, at any given moment, we get to choose which direction we face.

Story Hearts

2009-11-17T16:40:00.001-05:00

I’ve been reaching into my pocket a bit more than usual the last two weeks -- I find it’s a helpful way of taking care of myself when people I care about need an emotional anchor.

Sometimes the idea or image I turn to for comfort is not fully developed. It might just be the essence of a concept or, in some cases, a tiny, little seed. Recently, I heard Jackson Gillman tell about his experience listening to a powerful one word story. It made me realize that the kernel of a story can actually be its heart.

Here is a story heart that has been on my mind quite a bit lately:

I hope it can buoy you as it has been buoying me.

P.S. I want to give credit where credit is due. The cocoon image is taken from a photograph by Greyson Orlando. The caterpillar and butterfly are the results of my fledgling path toward learning vector based graphics.

he:	Eep! Eep!
me:	What?
he:	Would you like me to throw up in your mouth?
me:	What?!
he:	Zzzzzz….
me:	(to myself upon realizing he was asleep) Hmm… I think he was being a bird!

me:	Do you remember what you asked me this morning?
he:	What?
me:	“Would you like me to throw up in your mouth?”
he:	What?!
me:	Yeah. You started off with “Eep! Eep!”
he:	Ha ha! I remember now. I think I was being a bird.