52 Lists, Week 17

Happy Monday! Welcome to my 52 Lists Project, wherein I feature one list every week for 2015. To join in with your own list, scroll down to the link at the bottom, print out your own list, and then share it however you wish!

Week 17: List the People You Admire
I had to spend some time on this list (that's why it's more than a week late!) because I believe that there is a large difference between people I like and people I admire. I may like someone a lot and love spending time with them, but I may not necessarily want to be them when I grow up, you know? Anyway, on my physical list I just listed their names but here (since I have more room) I went ahead and shared why it is I admire these particular folks.

•  Beth - for her bravery to pack up and move and change her life when it isn't how she wants it, her moral fortitude, and her enduring friendship
• Deneen - her hard work, positive outlook, creative spirit, and loving nature remind me to be a better human being
• Aunt Leslie - she does a hard job really well, and is brave and asks for help when she needs it
• John Green - for teaching us how important it is to imagine people more complexly
• Hank Green - for making science and politics a little more fun and a little more accessible to more people
• Neil Gaiman - for encouraging us to be weird and to make good art
• J.K. Rowling - for writing the stories that will live inside us forever, and for being a model of charity
• Emma Watson and Malala Yousafzai - girl warriors
• My friend Harriet - who lived her whole entire life

This week I will honor someone I admire by...
finally sending a letter back to Beth!

So there's my list for this week. I've mentioned my friend Harriet before and I should really dedicate an entire post to her story, because it had a really big impact on my life and my writing. 

What about you? Who are the people in your life and in the world that you admire, look up to, and aspire to be like? Let me know in comments or with a list of your own! 

Love,

Willow

For more fun with 52 Lists, click down on "52 Lists" in the little categories section at the bottom of the post, and go over to Moorea Seal's site to see more!

Check out Moorea Seal's entire project at her blog below:
http://www.moorea-seal.com/p/52-lists.html  
 
 

52 Lists, Week 6

Happy Monday! Welcome to my 52 Lists Project, wherein I feature one list every week for 2015. To join in with your own list, scroll down to the link at the bottom, print out your own list, and then share it however you wish!

Week 6: List the Ways in Which You Can Love Others

This list is far from complete but these are some of the concrete ways I am trying to be more loving this year. I should probably hang copies of this list in strategic locations to remind myself of them...

• Be more patient
• Be encouraging - the world has enough critics already
• Try to see the positives, especially when I don't feel like it
• Leave lovely comments on my favorite blogs
• Be sincere when asking, "How are you?"
• Give gifts just because
• Send greeting cards just because
• Remember birthdays with snail mail birthday cards
• Send flowers to Mom
• Be a useful, patient employee to Dad
• Listen more, talk less
• Be gracious
• Dress to impress
• Speak kindly
• Give the benefit of the doubt
• Be generous
• Be hospitable
• Give my full attention
• Don't complain - be grateful
• Write thank you notes for little things
• Show up for work in a good mood and ready to get work done
• Take sisters on coffee dates
• Pray for people who piss me off
• Smile and say "Hi!"

These are the attitudes I'm trying to implement that make me remember to be love at all times. I'm far from perfect and being a positive person is something I really struggle with, so this is a good list for me to be focusing on.

What about you? How do you show people you care? What are some ways you can be a little more loving every day? Let me know in comments or with a list of your own!


Love, love, love

Willow

For more fun with 52 Lists, click down on "52 Lists" in the little categories section at the bottom of the post, and go over to Moorea Seal's site to see more!

Check out Moorea Seal's entire project at her blog below:
http://www.moorea-seal.com/p/52-lists.html  

Word After Word After Word

"I have so many word-thoughts rattling around in my head, but my hands aren't fast enough to copy them down. I feel them streaming out my ears, running down my arms and pooling on the floor, cascading into a puddle of incoherency... It seems the well has sprung at last."

That was running through my head just a few moments ago, and thus became my Facebook status. There's so much I could (and would like to) say about words, books, writing, and other such things, but for tonight I have something specific to discuss.

See a few weeks ago, R--- called me up and invited me out to The Press with her. I'd never been, but basically it's like a cafe/coffeehouse by day and a bar&grill/open mic by night. It was actually really fun, and after a few drinks and the amusement of some exceptionally drunk people in the ladies' restroom (including Madame Sake Bomb and High-Waisted Skirt Girl) we wound up walking a very deserted Claremont Village. While we walked, we talked about our current (or lack thereof) creative projects, and drifted to my writing. And it got me thinking. And then it got me writing.

I spent 45 minutes compiling a list of over 80 books I want to read before the end of the year. One of the things R--- urged me to do was to get a library card. I live within walking distance of the La Verne library so why the hell didn't I think of that? It's the broke-girl's bookstore (I have ZERO money these days after paying bills and other such grown-up type things). But the list includes mostly modern classics by authors I should have read in college but didn't, and books I've always wanted to pick up but never bothered to.

How are the two preceding paragraphs connected? Well, a very intelligent screenwriter once lectured me thus: "If you're a writer, write. But in the same way that you can't run a marathon without having eaten plenty of nutritious calories, you can't write without having ingested words. Writers read - they read far more than the average person or the above-average reader. If you want to write for an hour, you have to read for at least half an hour. Bare minimum. And magazines don't count. You'll put out what you put in, so make it count." (Paraphrased, of course.) The man was a genius and had zillions of such epithets.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'm trying to write again. I have a number of projects going on that require tinkering, fiddling, and other such edits, and they deserve my attention. I deserve to write, well and in excess. I haven't touched my Venice Story in months, I have no further notes on my Tattoo Book and nothing short of a few  half-finished sections and a rough outline on my Babysitter's Guide. (Yes. I'm writing a babysitter's compendium. Shut up.)  And I'm going to write letters. So if you know I have your address, be prepared for a potential onslaught and don't you dare throw them away - my words will be national treasures someday, just you wait.

And to those I scared, worried, or otherwise caused concern to a few weeks/days ago: I apologize. I am not and have not been in a good place as of late, especially with my birthday and some mysterious psychological "deadline" approaching in the near future. But it'll get better. Right?

jassloves.tumblr.com

Out of the Darkness

Alright, folks, I've got some big news. I've been kind of secretive for the last year, but I've been looking for a cause. Yes, yes, I'm a Free Hugger, but that's not really a "cause" so much as it's a movement and I don't feel about getting into the discussion of those differences. What I'm saying is, I've found it, and I'm stunned at how perfect it is.

As someone who's been living with diagnosed depression for over 2 years now (not to mention living with it undiagnosed for almost 12 years) and gone through the hospitalization and medication and therapy and blah blah blah, I'm kind of shocked how long it took me to find this organization - especially when I've been directly & indirectly benefiting from their influence for the duration of my treatment.

May I introduce: Out of the Darkness: The Overnight. 18 miles through the streets of San Francisco in one night. We're walking for the people we love who struggle with depression, the ones we've lost to suicide, and every single soul that resists the temptation to give up every day. I cried when I found this, because it reminded me that I am not the only one who struggles and that there is an army of people out there who come together to offer each other support.

SO! I'm taking donations. It costs $1000 to participate as a walker (I even joined a team! Team Death is No Parenthesis - from the e.e. cummings poem) plus the registration fee and airfare to get up to San Francisco in the first place. That said, I've been using my position as the Free Hugs Girl to further my cause. I'm there every Sunday anyway, and I have a modest following already, so I might as well commandeer their assistance. Drumroll!

Day 1 in Claremont and the conclusion of my first week of fundraising has elicited a total of: $54.52!!! I've committed myself to $20 a week and all the change I collect to this project, so the total donations I've received from strangers comes to $30.98, which is still awesome! As soon as I register I'll have an online donor page, and I know some of you have already made pledges to my cause, but every little bit helps! This cause has become so important to me in the last couple of weeks... It's put on by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, which is an organization that supports programs like the Trevor Project, clinics and early-diagnosis centers at universities across America, and various other programs that save lives every single day.

I'll be posting more next week, with an update on my fundraising status and all the ways I'm getting ready for this. I have 14 weeks until the walk, which is June 9-10. Until then, anyone have any fundraising ideas for me???

Touch

After months (November 20th to January 20th is 2 months, right? God, it feels like so much longer...) of tooling around feeling sorry for myself, I finally have a word for the emotion that's been plaguing me for weeks, and it's a scary one: I'm lonely. Lonely! Me! Can you believe it? Me neither...

I'm starved for attention, affection, and touch. I like to think that I'm comfortable with myself, that I'm not a total attention whore, but... My only real companion these days is a 50 year old man who - while usually very sweet - is far from my ideal conversation partner. I've recently added an adolescent cat to my list of companions, but again: he's a sweetie, but not the best conversationalist.

My uncle is painfully awkward, though we manage to get along. I found earlier, though, while he was (awkwardly) rubbing my shoulder what I've been missing so much. I haven't been touched very much this year. Make whatever sexual innuendos out of that you will, but I'm serious. Ever since I left school the first time and went to the hospital... Ever since that awful night my heart broke for the last time and I spent the night curled up next to An-----, I haven't exactly enjoyed a whole lot of human physical contact. I mean, it's one thing to be sexually frustrated to the point of distraction, but pushed to tears by a simple hand on my shoulder? I'm the fucking Free Hugs Girl for crying out loud! Of course part of why I hug is because I know what it's like to go so long without a comforting touch, but... I'm so, so lonely these days.

I talk to my friends, though. I make the effort to see them and spend time with them. It's just... They're busy living their lives and I'm back to square one with mine. Again. R--- is working two jobs and going to school full time, K---- is studying to get into law school and trying to find a job (and has a family she spends lots of time with), and everyone else isn't exactly local. A lot of it has to do with going from a university setting where I was constantly surrounded by people and the ebb and flow of conversation and then getting dumped into borderline solitary confinement.

And I've been dreaming about HIM again. Simple things, like the two of us sitting on the couch curled up watching a movie, or walking to the beach from his house holding hands. And last week really hurt... I was driving to work, minding my own business, and there was a couple around my age in the car in front of me. At the stop light, the driver leaned across to his girlfriend in the passenger seat and kissed her. I had to pull over because it made me dizzy to remember how many times I'd been in the passenger seat, or the driver's seat. I'm feeling a little dizzy now even... But I don't miss him. I miss having him. Does that make sense? I mean, I just want someone in my life who understands how much I need to be reassured. I don't think very highly of myself, you know. It took 2 years for R------ to convince me I was pretty, let alone anyone worth kissing. It's this:

“What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”

—	Chuck Palahniuk

My personal insecurities aside, it doesn't change the fact that I'm so, so lonely.

I mean, the other day, my therapist made a comment about my lack of social interaction. He asked how my social anxiety has been and I admitted that I still panic a little when I see strangers in my usual solitary haunts. I have to talk myself into going to Knit Night at the yarn store on Thursdays. I have to convince myself that it's alright to accept the occasional offer from my friends when they want to hang out. My doctor said I should find more social outlets. He said, "Well, you used to dance, right? I'm assuming you took lessons, and those had to be local, right? That would be a great way for you to meet other people that aren't ladies in their 40s and older from your knitting group. Guys, too, if you think you're ready to start casually dating again." Dancing? Again? Me? It's one thing to go back to my old salsa routines in my living room as a form of exercise every morning but... Going back to classes? When I know my dance teacher will wonder why he hasn't seen me in almost 5 years? No thanks. Then he asked if my church had a young adult program (I swear he's been talking to my mother cuz she suggested that last week), which it does, but honestly? It took everything I had not to scream, especially because God and I aren't exactly on speaking terms these days. But that he noticed and acknowledged that I'm a sad, lonely, socially-deprived mess was kind of...disheartening.

“In the New Year, may your right hand always be stretched out in friendship, but never in want.”
~Irish Toast

The above is especially disheartening. Because I've stretched out in the past but... I'm always left wanting.

So I suppose this could be interpreted as a cry for attention. And I won't say it's not, because it probably is. I'm just hoping someone out there in the universe will do what I've tried doing as a Free Hugger. I want someone to see the void in my life and make some effort to fill it. And I realize that's asking a lot - I feel like I'm always asking for so much in the last year - but why is it so hard to put my voice to how much I need this?

“And if you want to know the feeling I’m talking about, run your own fingers slowly through your hair, and pretend they’re someone else’s.”
-- I Wrote This For You: The Feeling of Someone Drawing You

No Amount of anything

I really can't deal with this right now. I shouldn't even be blogging about it because I don't even know you for fuck's sake! It's like this girl has a crazy sense of exactly when I don't want or need to deal with things from her. Her message in January, the letter in April, and now this... It's impeccable.

I'm trying so hard not to let this toxic anger seep into everything I've worked so hard to create in the last few months. I stood on the Bluff tonight and wanted to scream - almost did. I did, however, fall to my knees and weep for the first time in a while. About everything. Then I went into my room and put my head in my hands and mentally screamed that I needed to remember how to breathe.

Ice cream isn't helping. In fact, it's making me nauseated. And it's my favorite flavor.

I need a fucking coping mechanism on the rocks.
(For your reference [and I really hate bourbon]: Coping Mechanism on the Rocks)

"Promise"

I went home this weekend and - of course - my mother asked about the usual people, how they're doing, where their lives are headed, etc. I gave the standard answers, and in some instances (when she asks about people I no longer talk to, for example) just glared at her. In a good-natured way, of course. If that makes sense. Anyway.

On Saturday, I stopped by the house and we were doing laundry and talking about miscellaneous things (I know how to spell that without using spell-check: what now!?), and she turns to me and says,

"So Mark asked about you the other day."
Me: *Mark? Mark... Who the fuck is Mark? Mark, Mark, Mark....* "Who?"
Mom: "You know, the cutie at the bank."
Me: *Oh, GOD, stop! I don't want another relationship! Make it stop! ... He is super cute, though...* "Oh, really? Did he 'lose my number' again or is he just a chicken shit?"
Mom: "No! Well, I think he did actually lose your number and is just too shy to ask for it again -"
Me: "*snort*"
Mom" -- but I was telling him how you're back at school, and he commented on what a pretty campus it is and how he'd like to meet you there sometime for coffee or something."
Me: "What, does he want to transfer so he can ignore me at close range?"
Mom: "No, but I think it's worth a shot. Why not go curl your hair and put makeup on and come to the bank with me this afternoon?"
Me: "No. Because we both know he probably has a girlfriend and just wants a 'back-up plan.'"
Mom: "You might be right; he's way too cute to not have a girlfriend..."
Me: "Thanks, Mom."
Mom: "But he could be a good friend! God knows you're in desperate need of that. He could just be a nice person to get coffee with. He's such a nice boy, give it a try."
Me: "Mom. I don't want a boyfriend or any kind of "boy" "friend". I just want somebody to make-out with!"
Mom: "Well. I can't help you there."
Me; "Of course."

These kinds of moments always strike me. I mean, it's been over a year since R----- and I broke up. Okay, so I technically broke-up with him, but it was all his idea: I didn't have a choice. Since then, though, there've been so, so many moments like the one with my mother you just read. The very first was Brian. Oh, Brian... He basically looked like an angel - sang like one, too - but (as usual) he never called me back. After him was my first encounter with this Mark character by way of my mother's lovable meddling. Then there was Darren who came into the shop ALL the time and then disappeared one day... (I had nothing to do with that, in all honesty. No murderers here.) Then there was Riley at the Governor's Cup, David at my aunt's cottage, and now Mark again.

What I'm trying to say is that in the year or so that I've been in the shell-shocking state of singleness, I've been reminded more and more that I'm not "damaged goods." I'm young, (somewhat) pretty, (used to be) vivacious, (still) passionate, and (completely) driven. Nevermind that I've got one hell of a mental disease and all the social complexes that go with it, but what I mean is that I've still got life in me. It's like that song by The Rocket Summer:

"You've got so much love in you,
you've got so much love in you.
I'm amazed that I'm talking to you -
you look like the songs
that I've heard my whole life
coming true.
You've got so much love in you."

Right!? I've still got all this life and passion inside of me that one person didn't appreciate or deserve toward the end. So I need to start paying attention to the potentials that have... Promise. Like Mark. Maybe next weekend I'll curl my hair, put on my favorite dress and some red lipstick (which was finally returned to me by my aunt by way of my grandmother - thank you, Leslie!!!) and see if he'll live up to his promise. All of these situations birthed the beginning of a song (as yet unfinished) that kind of reminds me of every girl I've ever met.

We all daydream and wonder and fantasize about every guy we meet that has any kind of potential. We all wonder about the promise of what may or may not come next. I guess I should open myself up to it.

"So baby how can't I want want want this?
When we've got so much promise..."

I guess that's all for now. I should probably head to the library and get some work done.

Peace,
Willow

[insert title]

After being lectured about not writing, here I am at 11 at night, writing. It's important, I know.

This weekend has been frightfully normal. No craziness, no insane adventures, just homework, being at the condo (I guess I live here now?), and seeing R--- and K---. Talking to them keeps me sane, I swear. If I didn't have them... we won't go there. But they keep me sane and normal. As normal as normal gets I suppose.

I've been thinking about him lately. Not in a longing kind of way, but in a pensive, wonder-how-you're-doing way. I'm not interested in another relationship, truly, but I miss having someone. I guess I like having someone to fall apart with. Is that sound? Careful: insanity is catching.

That's all for now, but know that I am writing. It's all in my head, but isn't everything in the world?

But you're in my head, too.

“We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds, our planet is the mental institution of the universe.” -Friedrich Nietzsche

Peace,
Willow