A Good Road Trip Always Makes Life Better

I don't mind driving long distances. I actually like the experience of a long drive.
It allows me to think in peace, even with passengers in the car. There's something about the motion, I suppose. All of my best ideas have come to me while moving. And my whole life I've been a believer in the agito ergo sum adage i.e.: I move therefore I am.

The most recent trip however really opened my eyes to something. And that something is the ability to let things come to us. This way of thinking is foreign to someone who is wired for action and is generally a Type A. But I suppose, you live and you learn.

I got to spend time with someone that used to mean a lot to me a decade ago. The fast pace of life had sort of put a distance between us, both concretely and metaphorically. And when we decided to meet up for dinner, we were both sort of blown away by how naturally we came back to where we last left off. We even managed to reconstruct the last conversation we had in person, almost verbatim it felt like.

Time, I suppose, is indeed a human construct.

So, what I'm saying is, if you have people in your life that have truly left a mark on you, really get you, and from whom you learn a lot, make it a point to let yourself be impacted and guided by them.

Quality influences are not in high quantity in life. And when we're fortunate to get them in the first place, we need to make it a point to allow ourselves to let them come back to us.

I'm demonstrably better as a result of making time to connect with my special friend. We're both better as a result, I'm told. And life is too short to be deprived of the needed influence of quality people.

So, here's to fun, long road trips, the opportunity to think and reflect for a while, and the delectable dinner shared between special friends who share a great history. After all, and when dealing with true friendship, time never dilutes it. If anything, it makes it better!

So, cheers!

Thinking Bits

There's a folder in one of the iPhoto libraries that reads 'Bri Thinking Photos.' I opened to look at it today and I saw one that matched the diurnal mood. This one.

I usually use music and my writing as a way of keeping track of experiences and quotidianity be it memorable or forgettable. Luckily, there are the photos too.

There’s no better way to get a good snapshot of one’s existence that when faced with an expected unknown. What I find interesting about existence is just how clearly one can see certain things in situations that are primarily defined by certain events/experiences. It’s like having bionic vision for a spell and getting to the core truth of things quickly albeit for a little while.

I thought again today how much easier it would be if my medium of choice could be in the realm of movement. I live for movement and yet my mode of expression is writing. I need to be sedentary to do it and yet the best ideas I get come to me when I’m out and about, generally moving quickly, getting lost in some thought while getting to the next thing on the list.

“Where is she?”
“Out & about. Off to think or sth.”

I saw this on the iChat window the other morning. It made me chuckle. Mostly because it’s true.

My people get that. My concept of inferno, personal inferno, is utter lack of movement. Well, that and having to be in it in the company of disingenuity. Force me to be in a state of inactivity and I’ll start bargaining right away to get out of it. I’ll agree with Mephistopheles before he has a chance to reveal the terms of the pact. I’d be willing to recite whatever to get out of it. I guess that’s why I tolerate yoga. Even though I’m confined to the space of a mat, I’m to move while on it.

I had my wayfarer’s on today as I was returning home from a day away. To my right, I could see the quiet Pacific and the sun that was reflecting on it. My hair looked much blonder than it usually does indoors when not touched by the sun. I liked it. The iPod was playing some random track from either Lilly Allen or Kate Bush or, some such singer, they sound all the same to me. It didn’t matter what the iPod was playing which is testament to the actual value of the unique feeling the little moment in time contained.

It was the sort of feeling that tends to get generated when forced to be in the present fully. The feeling that corroborated your already researched and tested sense of self-reliance and why it matters. It always matters. Having faith in one’s self is key. All we have is that, really. Granted, relying on the ones who love you daily helps. But, let’s call things what they are. The reason, the main reason, why those who are big investors in self-reliance are loved well and consistently is because of their investments in self-reliance.

Words were uttered but they mostly served as instrumental soundtrack like an Ennio Mrricone album. They were placid but I have no idea what they were about. I suppose if it's important, I'll hear it again. Thing is, at times nothing should interfere with the poetic beauty of silence. Even music would be like adding salt & pepper to an Eric Ripert dish at La Bernardine.

Losing at Chess on a Sunday Does Not Qualify as Losing

I’ve been losing at chess recently. I’ve been playing Sunday nights. I try not to add anything to my Sundays which, for the most part, reflect a kind of quiet dolce far niente. I try to keep their status quo with the kind of hawkish diligence I reserve for concert ticket-booking. That's pretty hawkish.

However, I’ve added chess to Sunday nights.

The funny part about this is my performance. It’s currently leaving much to be desired.
I keep losing.
Every single time. Well, almost. I tied once. As a general rule, I tend to think that tying is as good as losing therefore I should be taking these losses rather hard.
Yeah, well, I’m not.

When I lose I usually utter something akin to ‘crap!’, move my lips about as if they’re the ones responsible for me losing, and I lose interest in whatever else follows that’s already in my schedule. Well, till something else of interest comes my way and distracts me. It always ends up being about distractions after all.

In all honesty, I’m kind of, sort of enjoying losing. Almost as much as I enjoy the rest of my Sunday. I’m trying to understand why that is. I try to examine unusual reactions as they usually say something of substance. The one thing that comes to mind seems to relate to my ‘Sunday effect’. You see, I doubt I’d lose this badly if I played on a Monday. My opponent would stand no chance on a Monday, I’m thinking. It’s tough to beat me on a Monday.

On a Sunday, however, I espouse a kind of pace that’s almost foreign to my hyperactive nature. I become a kind of ‘zen’ I tend to mock when I see it in others. I don’t care about my Saturday and Monday version. I care about nothing but the present moment. On a Sunday, it’s all about being loyal to the dolce far niente. And I don’t care that I’m losing at a game I used to play competitively. Or that I’m losing to someone new who’s experiencing a version of me that’s more zen-looking than Deepak Chopra. It’s so not about what I play, who[m] I play, and what my stats are. Not on a Sunday, it’s not.

Complaint Filing Cabinet

After a non sequitur-punctuated chat I had with someone the other day, I got to thinking about my grad school days and, more specifically, a friend with whom I once did a road trip from the Midwest to the West. I like road trips. I do a bunch of them. America is great for road trips. I'll reiterate a cliché here and concur with the following: the best way to get to know someone is to travel with them. Yes, Mark Twain, you're right.

I tend to think about this particular grad school friend when Pedro Almodovar films are playing and, especially, when I'm told by others that I pay no attention to conversation when music is playing. I hear the latter with the same frequency, it seems, I listen to music. And it's definitely true.

Quite often, this particular friend tells me that I'm not as present as I could be and that there's always something else of more consequence that attracts my attention and gets in the way. Like music. Or other friends. Or the fact that it never seems to be enough and I always need to have a third option present. And I always say something akin to, 'well, aren't options good?' In an effort to explain further I add, 'it's a thing all who know me can easily identify and learn to accept with time. It's my chronic condition. You know, like asthma.'

More brands/versions of the same thing help you appreciate and get to the core of the thing better. I wish it were socially acceptable to give someone a resume-type document that highlights your propensities. Then, they'll know right away what you're mostly about and I won't have to write the same paragraph in here every time music and people are mentioned together in the same sentence.

-I pay attention most of the time unless music is playing. Then, you need to be okay taking a back seat. It's not personal. It's music.
-I like to say someone/something/somewhere a lot regardless of whether you know me for an hour or a decade. Let it go. It won't change. It's how I roll.

The same grad school friend, who's very introspective and intensely quiet, wrote to me a beautiful text, a few sentences in which say:

"Now that I've sent you two venting emails, I wonder what you're going to think. I don’t expect anything. I don't expect you to explain anything. You cannot relate to my loneliness because you are gifted with enormous charisma and an outgoing nature. But you can empathize with my feelings of isolation. It's just nice to be able to vent to someone who's not going to try to fix it for me."

This is how my brain processes things. Person A has a problem/issue. They come to me and tell me about it. My first reaction is to file it: shareable info as opposed to vault-able. Then, I try to understand the issue and provide ideas how to potentially fix it. It takes me back to a childhood memory again.
"Bri, you didn't pick me first at dodgeball. It hurt my feelings that you didn't. I mean, why wouldn't you? I'm your best friend."
I didn't pick him first because, while he was my best friend, he was not the best dodgeball-er. And I like winning.

However, the next time little Bri plays dodgeball, she makes a mental note and she picks her friend first. Why? Because he has a personal problem with not being picked first so it stands to reason that he be picked first the next time. It's called problem solving. Plus, I spent most of my days with him (propinquity effect) and I've never been one to want to be around grouchiness. I couldn't possibly watch cartoons with a grouch, could I?

I illustrate again. From adulthood:
"I am feeling so frustrated about my art work and how no gallery has called. And it's taken years to build the portfolio and still nothing. I keep taking all these photographs and I keep experimenting with all these media and still. Arrrggghhh! Why does this keep happening to me, why can't I catch a break, why....."
Ok, I hear language like this and I unequivocally think and then say something akin to:
"It's ok. Rejection happens. Use it to your advantage. Look harder. Let's see here. How about trying places a, b, and, b. I'll take time off, we can work on a strategy together. Let's line something up for this or that day, ok? If you do this and I do that, I'm sure we'll get more results. How does that sound?"
"But I feel like this, this, and that."

I have a hard time with the rest of a conversation like this. Because I don't get it. I get the need to verbalize frustration but it stands to reason that solutions are bound to follow, right? Why vent without a solution in mind?

I had a similar conversation with a few friends of mine this week independently of one another. One of them was sick when we were road tripping together North to South and I remember getting irked at them for not going along without complaining. I mean, what could I do? I went to the store and bought some Advil and OJ. They got some rest. It's not cancer. It's just a casual little cold.

But all the friend wanted to do was vent and feel heard. I don't get that but I get that it happens and I struggle with it. Because I can't relate to it. I feel this and that. It irritates me because it doesn't beg for solutions and answers.

Complaining should be done with purpose otherwise it's a waste of time.
A favorite phrase says: "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." That's the beauty of struggles and crises. They teach you how to cope with reality and how to find practical solutions for problems. We all have them. Problems. Some of us solve them faster and with less language than others, however.

Having a hard time at times in life can be such a beautifully instructing opportunity. Doing life the same way day in, day out, doesn't give one much of a chance to stretch, does it? You've got to mix it up. Isn't this all a struggle to dodge boredom, after all?

Heartache Comes in Many Bike Forms, So Does Happiness

This is Denim, aka, my Honda Metro scooter which I rode almost daily from 2004-2006. I miss it terribly. I knew that the day would come when I wouldn't be able to ride it anymore but that thought would only reinforce the pleasure I would feel every time I was on it. Very often, I carried passengers on Denim. Many of my friends would demand that I pick them up on Denim. Many incoming texts would read, 'You picking me up on Denim? Not Daisy, Denim, ok?' And, of course, I complied.

At the time I owned Denim, I also owned a little Volkswagen pick-up. The Volkswagen's name was Daisy and Daisy had orange leather interior and bright yellow exterior. Daisy was happy. It, however, did not get to see much of me as my love affair with Denim didn't diminish in intensity till the last day. And, I suppose, I was a one-vehicle-type-of-person then.

So, I rode Denim and my passengers, usually taller guys and a few taller girls would ride along. It was quite a sight. I loved every second of Denim. I was known as 'scooter girl' and I dug it. Then it was time to move to another state on account of my career and it was time to part ways with Denim. It's been four years and I still miss Denim terribly.

The reason why I'm walking down memory lane at this point is because I experienced another hard toy-related experience this week. It does have a happy ending, however. In the beginning of the week, I thought I'd lost my oh-so-very-special i.e., costly Specialized Hard Rock Pro. As I was telling Camille, one of the worst things about being a hyper person and doing a lot of things in one day is having a bit of a tough time recalling every single activity of one's quotidianity. I suppose that's why I kind of like Twitter. It does sort of journal what one does, in a way. But I digress.

After coming back from the trails, I seemed to have gotten carried away by my other daily tasks and didn't put the Specialized back in the garage. So, I resigned myself to the thought that, well, there goes another thing that I lost of account of my nature. It's a bad feeling having things taken away. It's an even worse feeling to lose things you love a lot. And I've already had another Specialized share the same destiny in the past. When I lose things, I can't help but wonder that I somehow lacked some appreciation of them while I, well, had them. The thing is, I'm truly appreciative of the stuff I own. I'm a minimalist, for the most part, and that which I do own is purchased after some measure of thought. One thing I tend to object to is baggage as I like to be as light as I can when I live and travel.

Below see some footage of me gushing over the awesomeness that was my Specialized. It dawned on me during the beginning of the week that the only time I felt like this was when I had my other Specializes stolen and when I parted ways with Denim. The thing is, losing stuff hurts. It hurts a lot. But what can one do? Granted, everyone takes a loss once in a while, and some perhaps more than others. Losses do also serve a pretty didactic purpose. They teach one, mid-pain, to devour the present more slowly.

For an avid biker, I sure have lousy luck, as my friend Liam says. With bikes, that is. Generally, I'm the type who picks myself up by the bootstrap and doesn't spend time on whining. Actually, another thing I greatly object to is whining. I believe in coming from a place of 'yes' and being dedicated to solutions instead of focusing on problems. Few things manage to get my stomach tied in a knot the way property losses and damages can, though. I love to bike. Biking has always made me feel happy. Plus, it's such a tease to live in an area where you're surrounded by beautiful mountain trails and the beach and they're all saying in unison, 'get on the bike and come see us. We know you want to....'

And thus it was during the first part of the week. Till last night, that is. As I was talking to a friend of mine who's coming to visit me for a bit, I had another call waiting on my other line. They had found my Specialized. A wonderful gentleman saw it and took it to the Lost and Found because it looked too expensive and he thought the owner would suffer much on account of its absence. Boy, was he right! So, I put my visiting friend on hold and told him that the Specialized had to come first. I made arrangements to retrieve it and this morning we got to spend some time together again. All is well with the word.

Biking is truly a way of life. Even though I enjoy driving, granted more so in the West than anywhere, biking is one of those activities that lifts you up right away. And if it's done on a Specialized, then, consider my creativity enhanced. So, tonight, the tip of my Bob Marley hat goes to honest people who see a costly Specialized and turn in it to make the owner's day.

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I Heart the Northwest!

This year I went again to the Medieval Association of the Pacific's annual conference. I present at the conference almost annually as it gives me an opportunity to meet with other fellow medievalists as well as do that which I always, always enjoy, i.e., explore the West. The conference meets on a different Western campus every year and this time around it took place on the beautifully green campus of the University of Puget Sound.

My presentation at the conference was on the German medieval narrative called Das Nibelungenlied. You may view the conference program here.

What added much to the conference this year was the astoundingly gorgeous weather. It was sunny, 60 degrees, and a great way to introduce Spring to my soul. The winter has been very harsh in my neck of the woods this year so this experience was most appreciated.

I will post more at a later time about my experiences in the Seattle and Tacoma area. In the meantime, here are some pictures form the University of Puget Sound grounds. I can't get over the fact that I left icicles at home and found blooming flowers in Washington. Simply beautiful.

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Abba? Seriously?!

Abba taught me a lesson this week.
Last summer my niece who lives in Munich came to spend her summer in Ohio. We had a good time and rarely did the same thing twice as I wanted her to experience as many things as possible. She did experience one thing twice however, and that was watching the ’08 film Mamma Mia. Yes, HetPer readers, I actually went to see Mamma Mia voluntarily and more than once. My niece loved it so much that I could read her usually economical speech patterns accurately enough to see that she could have (and would have) seen it twice or more. And what’s even more unusual, I sort of, kind of, didn’t mind it terribly watching it a second time. Yes, I emailed and texted (we were sitting in the back and nobody seemed bothered by the light on the gadget, btw) while the movie was playing but I did notice my right foot taking a life of its own as it was publicly and freely jamming to the soundtrack.

On top of the film, we would play the soundtrack of Mamma Mia when driving to different places. Not only did we play the soundtrack to the Hollywood production by the same title, we also played Abba’s Greatest Hits and one track kept getting played in random play. It was "The Winner Takes It All" and I am told I know all the words to it. Yes, all. No, there is no chance I will openly admit to this as I really don’t care much for Abba sounds. I’m Indie, for crying outloud. Totally and thoroughly. Or, am I? Existentialism aside, I did take a few moments to asses my odd relationship to Abba's music and I think I finally pinpointed the reason why I sort of, kind of don't mind them. The origin of this odd reaction seems to be residing in this memory I have of my sister, the niece’s mother, of whom I used to be in such awe as she is almost a decade my senior and oh-so-smart! All of a sudden, it made sense to me why I’d find Abba’s music not only kind of, sort of kosher but totally ok. She liked them when she was a teenager and I but an eight-year-old monkey. Which meant, I liked them, too.

Granted, this outs me as a listener of Abba. And I don’t mind the appellation at all as I can pin it all on an awfully hot summer, the colorful task of being a host to a teenager and the uber-powerful role of the subconscious. And can one of us resist it? Ha. As if!

Another reason why I'm discussing this is because of a conversation I had recently with someone who asked me what I currently have on my iPod. My answer to the question was, “well, do you expect me to reveal the answer without a Macchiato first?”
After the joke (i.e., truth), I proceeded to revealing the full contents of my high-frequency playlist. In addition to the staple, i.e., Muse’s The Resistance, Keane’s Perfect Symmetry, Mandalay, Postal Service, Death Cab for Cutie, some Morrissey and The Sounds, and Mozart's Requiem, I had an Abba song. Not a Mamma Mia (2008) song, no. An actual Abba song. The song was "Dancing Queen." I have no actual idea how that track ended up in my playlist. The best I can do is to say that perhaps it was placed on my iPod just to make me laugh (or perhaps fall off my Ventura so that I’d have a reason for said ‘fall’) whichever came first and was funnier.
As I was descending from a hill-like area, I remember thinking to myself that the cars were going by a tad too fast right next to me and that I would have absolutely hated it if the following conversation was actually had in reality:
“So, B.R., what were you listening to when it happened?”
“Hmm, you know.”
“No, I don’t. What?”
“Abba’s "Dancing Queen", ok. Abba’s friggin’ “Dancing Queen”. Jeez!” It actually happened when Abba breaks into "you can dance, you can ji-ive, having the time of your life,…’ and then, pooof, I fell. Postal Service’s “Sleeping In” was right after that track and Muse’s “Unintended” was right before. So, there you have it. I fell to Abba’s “Dancing Queen.”

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2008: Reflections on a Year Gone

In some parts of the world it's already 2009 but where I am now it's still 2008. For at least a few more minutes. So, I took the opportunity to get to my laptop and make a few remarks.

I am the kind of person who subscribes to agito ergo sum by nature. And the more I'm on the move, whether it's by way of actual travel or just active engagement to what I do, the more amazed I am by how much gets accomplished in a single year.

However, this is not about a hierarchy of achievements. Far from it.

Achievements in and of themselves mean little if they don't reveal much of consequence about the overall human experience. I believe that and I'd like to think I live that, too.

Here is a list of my most memorable things 2008:

1) Experiencing the quotidian with my parents. The text behind this is hugely significant for me. I hadn't really done do since I was a wee kid as a result of my 15-year formal education. It was a wonderful, marking experience. Whether it was discussing life and philosophy with my Dad when on our way to the grocery store or Starbucks, or rediscovering the absolute wonder that is my Mom's artistic ability, it was a stupendous experience and the personal, familial, and professional highlight of my 2008!

2) Sharing some of the day-to-day summer routine with my 17-year-old German-raised niece and appreciating again how grateful I am for the linguistic and cultural diversity of one single family.

3) Grateful for the 'wells of inspiration' and that they did not run dry. On the contrary, they were kind, very kind.

4) Grateful and more mindful of the hands-on support I get from my behind-my-scenes 'peeps'.

5) Learning much more about current research in my immediate field of academic research and producing more published writing in it.

6) Music and how it empowers me daily. And grateful for the human factor who tolerates my constant need to be in its company.

7) Web 2.0. What a great technological expression! Even though I've been a blogger for a while it was not till 2008 that I became experientially and cognitively aware of the beauty of Web 2.0 and how it makes the fragment be in constant touch with the aggregate. Beautiful notion. Thank you, Web 2.0, for feeding those of us who thrive on constant information.

8) The gift or Art. Even though I am no artist, the arts run deeply in my my veins. For I am the granddaughter of a poet and the daughter, sister, cousin, friend, and lover of artists. This year I had the wonderful opportunity to learn more about the art of those closest to me and I stand in awe and full admiration. I think about their artistic contributions and I feel lucky to have enough sense and ability to appreciate their work.

9) The wonders, exhaustion, and beauty of travel.

10) Economy of speech and extravagance of action.

11) Driving by the mountains and being aware at that very moment of how 'infinite' I felt. It took years to gain actual awareness but I can now pinpoint a moment in time in 2008 when, faced with the mountains, I became one with the moment.

12) Living up to the old 'Ribaj clan' adage: 'We say we're going to do something and we actually do it."

13) Rediscovering the joys of discipline.

14) Embracing the fact that some of us unwind lying down looking at the screen while others do so moving about or doing outdoor sports. Accepting both routes with ease.

15) Loving, fearing, and appreciating every second when engaged in mountain biking on hard terrain. This might sound trivial to some but it's life-defining for those of us who 'are by doing.'

16) What a great year this was in the business of books! I raise my glass to the countless hours of great reading! Thank you, Tuesdays at Barnes&Noble. Who needs to chew brunch or lunch when you can cruise the new titles.

And so much more.

Have a great 2009 everyone. May the year be full of moments of active awareness. I wish that upon you, me, and mine.

Cheers!

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Expectations and "Ein zweiter Mensch erweckt neue Erwartungen"

As I was coming home from my trips for the summer, I experienced yet another sense of visitation. This time the experience hailed from the summer of 2000 when I consciously privileged existentialism with a good measure of happiness and when the literature that fell on my lap was, providentially, congruent with my self.
A common misconception, I find, regarding existentialism is that it is laden with sadness and pessimism.
No. I see it as a movement and philosophy that is clothed with a good measure of possibility.
The first time I read the following statement, "Ein zweiter Mensch erweckt neue Erwartungen" was in June 2000. My significant person was in Germany for the summer and I chose to stay behind and work conscientiously on a project. I found the decision fair and fairly aligned with my focus and desire. For a good partner, I think, is one who independently follows the dictates of duty rather than ego-centric desires.
Right.
However, while I would have liked to have been German-izing with my choice person, I enjoyed his absence quite a bit and I remember feeling happy feeling existential.
Feeling happy feeling existential: this coinage of mine was indeed an experiential truth which I have grown to sense quite often.
Yes.
I have always maintained that existentialism is conducive to creativity both cognitively and experientially and that summer was but the first example in which this notion of mine was concretely actualized.
When I came across Botho Strauss' play in two acts in which the above-mentioned German statement is found, i.e., 'a second person awakens new expectations' my summer made equal cerebral and emotional sense. While I didn't consciously enjoy the fact that I was not spending every single day with my chosen, abroad-living person, every day we spent apart I felt, in veritas, better and better about my newly chosen daily routines which consisted of watching 'Gladiator' repeatedly at the movies with a good friend of mine, listening to the film's soundtrack as I was reading everything I could get my hands on from Isabel Allende's La Hija de la Fortuna to Sartre and Nietzsche und so weiter.

"A second person awakes new expectations." I agree with that. And methinks it signals the subtle birth of the kinds of expectations that make some of us find unusual enjoyment in the dailies: the morning green tea drink, the walk in the park while reading the daily paper, the compulsive cleaning and organizing of the desk, the writing of sweet, little nothings to one's person of choice whose company is enjoyed more when in absentia, the going to the grocery store to pick up fresh apples, the sitting under the tree thinking about cute, little individual sentences you could share with those who get you, the morning shower, the riding of the bike, the walk to the local coffee shop, the talk with the barista who is aspiring to become a professor eventually, the insecure jamming on the guitar that's too expensive for your level of expertise, the compulsive washing, drying and color coordination of the clothes, the devouring of anything by Kundera, the evening shower, the sweet little nothings sent to your person over a text message, the immense pleasure derived out of watching any episode of "Curb your Enthusiasm", the revisiting of beautiful times, the applying of the new Bath, Bady, and Beyond's cucumber lotion on your humidity-filled skin, the gazing of the color-coordinated wardrobe, the touching of the Ben Sherman collection and the feeling of decadence that is spawend right after the intial pleasure is felt upon touching the unique fabrics, the going to bed and the desire to wake up the next day and repeat it all, again, activity by activity, minute by minute. Sweet, paced, happiness-punctuated existentialism.