One Errand at a Time

Part III in the Blog A Week series

When you spend a lot of time with someone who is good at something, I think it's tempting to let him or her do that thing whenever it comes up. Me? I am terrible at directions. I have a computer brain for some things--phone numbers, for instance--but remembering where things are or how to get from point A to point B is always going to be a struggle for me. J is a savant when it comes to directions so when we were together, I just let him do that. I didn't pay attention in the car when we drove somewhere, I didn't make note of where we were and where we'd just come from. Even when I got my own car 3 years ago, I still called him up on the phone when I needed to get to a store, or when I was in the midst of being well and truly lost.

But now I can't do that. And I shouldn't. I'm in my thirties, for heaven's sake, and I should be able to find a Trader Joe's by myself. Also, I should probably know where north is, but I think there's a magnet in my brain that thwarts that effort. Since the break-up, I toyed with the idea of getting myself a GPS. I probably still should, but I haven't yet. Nope, right now it's Mapquest, the Thomas Guide, spoken directions, and some roughly drawn maps from Steve.

For the most part, I'm getting where I need to go. I know this is pathetic--me telling you this--since I'm sure anyone reading this is like, 'yeah. duh. this is what happens when you get your own driver's license.' But it's not like that for me. I got my license at 17, but I didn't own a car until 14 years later. I drove to the same five places in New York, and for the last five years before I moved to California, I took the train everywhere. So it's not a skill set I've been using. Until now.

Yesterday, I had to give blood in Pasadena. I managed to find the place all right using the Thomas Guide. Sad as it seems, I did a little victory dance when I found it without getting lost. Small victories are sweet. Then, as I was giving blood, I realized the next errand was returning my non-working copy of Rock Band to Best Buy, and I had no idea where there was a Best Buy. Now, I'm the kind of person who will go completely out of her way to go back to a familiar place rather than figure out a new, riskier way. So I could have gone to the Burbank Best Buy or even the Los Feliz one, but instead, I got on the phone while I was eating my cookies and juice, and I called information. Like a grown-up! I found out that there was a Best Buy mere blocks from where I was sitting.

So I used my maps and I got there. I exchanged the game and went on my merry way. All without getting lost. I felt so proud of myself. Proud enough to write about it here. I didn't call anyone for help (except information, but that totally doesn't count). I didn't have to rely on someone else to get me where I needed to go. I got myself there and it felt pretty darn good. Small victories are indeed sweet. I'm reclaiming my independence one errand at a time.

~Hero

Get Out of Your Own Damn Way

Part II in the Blog A Week Series

I'm just getting this entry in under the wire. Whew! Don't want to blow the whole blog-a-week thing on week 2. That is just not on. So, here we go. I am a moderately successful person in the world, I think. Sure, there are still thousands of things I have yet to do, but I'm doing all right: friends, jobs, hobbies, extracurriculars. Maybe if I continue to work really hard, I'll become a grand success. And if I do, I think I'll write a self-help book. I already have the name picked out: Get Out of Your Own Damn Way. And it'll have a kicky subtitle like: Removing Obstacles to Your Own Success.

Here's the thing: as an educator, I see people getting in their own way all the time. And it's frustrating, especially when you see it happen to people who could really make a difference in the world. Wasted potential is almost as bad as wasted time, but wasted time you can never get back. It breaks my heart that some of my students never got encouragement when they were younger, and they've suffered all of their lives because of it. And now, instead of just doing the things they want to do in life, they have to spend years finding ways over or around the junk that blocks their progress. Sometimes I think I was called to do my job because I was given so much encouragement by my parents. As if they trained me to do the very thing that I'm doing. Not the music part, but the encouragement part. The nurturing patience part. The love part.

Helping folks reach their potential is a topic that's always on my mind, so imagine my surprise when I read about this very thing in an article in The Key Reporter this week (this is Phi Beta Kappa's quarterly publication). The article was taken from a lecture by Richard Leo Enos from Texas Christian University. He uses Michelangelo and Victor Hugo as examples of people who were driven by some unseen force to use their talents to the full. What made these guys go out there and give it their all, while most of us let time pass us by? Some, like Greek educator, Isocrates believed that a smart and successful student has three traits: talent, the willingness to practice, and experience. Talent, well that's a given. Although baseball great Lou Gehrig maintained that he wasn't born with any more talent for baseball than anyone else; it was practice that made the difference for him. Practice, he said, turns failure into success. Experience is what happens when you actually try. There's no substitute for it. Problem is, a lot of people don't even get to that stage. Or they think they're not ready for it so they practice their life away, not realizing that at some point, you need to try whether or not you feel ready.

In his lecture, Enos cites Aristotle who said that in addition to talent, a person has dynamis, or power. It's this power that allows people to take risks and make that leap. Most people don't tap into this power. Or they wait for the signal to come from outside, not realizing that it's already there inside of them. Enos concludes by saying that the three things necessary for success are: hard work, effort, and risk-taking.

To these, I'd add attitude. Attitude turns failure into success (you learned from it, didn't you?). Attitude also turns anxiety into excitement, obstacles into challenges, risks into adventures. I don't know how to get my students to understand that they too can be successful. The best I've figured out so far is telling them what I know and modeling this behavior. When I figure out more concrete methods, I'll write my book.

This could be a scary time for me, newly single, on my own for the first time in forever. But I'm trying to take on the challenges as they come. Driving to places I've never been before (and getting lost), trying to fix things that I've never fixed, trying not to blame myself for every disaster. And it's all about my attitude, I think.

A song from the musical Wicked keeps running through my head. It's "Defying Gravity," and the song starts out, "Something has changed within me/ Something is not the same." Well, that's for sure. A few lines later, it goes on, "Too late for second-guessing/ Too late to go back to sleep./ It's time to trust my instincts/ Close my eyes and leap."

So that's it. That's what I tell my students and what I tell myself. The time for overthinking is over. Push through the moment of doubt. There's something great on the other side, so do it: close your eyes and leap.

~Hero

Blog a week

Last time I posted, it was June. Lots of things have happened since then, and I won't even attempt to give details about most of it. The biggest change is that I'm single. This news has been treated with disbelief all around town, but I assure you it is true. I'm all right, but it's still difficult. Good days and bad days, you know.

Also, I visited Singapore in August. It was a life-changing trip, a spiritual journey of sorts.

School started back up and I've been working like mad at all of my jobs.

In general, it's life, only slightly more complex. The stress of the summer has subsided, replaced with the stress of the fall semester. I'm trying to take it all in stride and use the lessons I've learned.

I've come to many conclusions, but I'm only going to share one right now:

I don't write enough.

I want to be a writer so that means that I have to write. Every day. As much as I can. To this end, I'm challenging myself to blog more often. A Blog A Week is the plan. Starting next week. Well, I guess this is a blog entry, so...I guess it's starting this week.

Yes. More writing. So it is written, so it shall be done...or something.

~Hero

An editor's life for me?

It's June 28 and I am in the midst of the craziest summer of my life. I thought last summer was crazy, and it was, but it was a different kind of insanity. More focused, let's say on one gigantic earth-shattering event. Last June, our L.A. family out here closed ranks around our friends whose ten-month-old was diagnosed with a brain tumor. We all spent plenty o' time in the hospital last summer, hanging out, bringing meals to our friends, trying to help out in any way we could. It's with joy that I say things are going well for that special little boy, and we've put last summer's focused insanity behind us.

This summer is entirely unique. I mentioned in an earlier post being a workaholic, and nothing has changed. It's just that the amount of work I'm required to do is...is...well, it's astonishing. In all my 34 years, I have never worked this much. I have never slept this little. Not even during the final throes of my dissertation. Not even when I was taking my comps. Or my quals, for that matter. Hell, the only reason I'm writing this blog is because I had to be up early to work and I had a quiet moment to do something for myself. 

I won't go into details about what I'm doing because those are facts that bore even me, but I will talk about the consequences of a schedule that involves teaching, the Aspen job, the LACO job, the SPCO job, and the publishing stuff. I'm not actually complaining because, first of all, doing these things has been my choice, and I have no problem living with my decisions. Second of all, I do feel so blessed to have so many opportunities. I realize how lucky I am to have this work, and I certainly haven't forgotten how awful it was to be a temp during the summertime.

I suppose what I'm doing here is enumerating the consequences of my choices. I'm not real big on regrets (they're kindofa waste), so I suppose this is just a way to take stock of the situation.

Casualty #1 - Jeff

My one and only is getting the short end of the stick because I haven't washed a dish since we moved. I've barely unpacked, I leave everything a mess, and I'm busy all the time. We usually go to the movies at least three times a month and we've only seen two movies this summer. It ain't right. Also, I miss him.

Casualty #2 - my friends

The juggling is hard to do. I want to maintain my friendships, stay in touch with people. Maybe even hang out once in a while. It's hard to do when you have so much on your plate. I miss my friends and I know some of them wonder just what the hell is up with me half the time. I do a pretty good job of making myself available, I think. And I try to be there for them if they need me, but I know some folks have fallen through the cracks and it just kills me.

Casualty #3 - my fiction

I haven't written a word of fiction in months. *shakes head* I was supposed to really hit it hard this summer, but that has just not happened. I haven't written. Not a word. And it just hurts.

Casualty #4 - my body

This temple is falling apart. I routinely get fewer than five hours of sleep a night, and when I pull all-nighters--which I do occasionally now (and which I NEVER did in college or grad school, for that matter)--I'm so tired, I get nauseated. I often forget to eat and then wonder why I'm so hungry hours later. When I do have the opportunity to go out, I drink. My liver is NOT a happy camper right now.

Casualty #5 - the apartment

Busy-ness makes me even sloppier than usual (poor Jeff has to live in and around my insanity), and my desk is a pile of unpacked, yet unorganized stuff Jeff affectionately calls, Mt. Crappy.

I don't know when things are going to change, but they can't stay like this forever.

This alleged "summer" is crazy, but I suppose I'm just going to eat it up with a spoon and embrace it for all its chaos. Such is life. My life.

When six hours of sleep seems glorious...

I like to think that I'm the type of person who does what needs to be done. Like, if there are dirty dishes in the sink, I'll wash 'em. This week, I found out that the production schedule for my editing job listed an erroneous deadline. It said all the docs for the program wrap were due on May 14. Except that on May 6, the printer called and said, "Hey, if you want the docs in the proof, everything should be due on May 5." And I think I looked behind me at the calendar and said, "You mean yesterday?"And, in fact, she did mean yesterday.

Soooooo...I spent the last three nights up late late late, editing like mad and turning stuff in. Forty-two documents in all. I slept three hours the first night (got up and taught music theorat 7:50AM), four hours the second night, and a glorious six hours the third night. When six hours seems like sleeping in, you're either working too hard...or you have kids.

The good news is that I've done the lion's share of the work for this particular deadline. Put out most of the flames from this particular fire. I am by no means finished, but I might sleep eight hours tonight.

There's a lot of other stuff going on with my jobs and such. We're getting into the last weeks of the semester and that means final exams. My students are doing concerts all over the place (some are my responsibility, some are not). I myself am singing in some concerts as well (and choreographing the benefit concert at church). And did I mention? We're moving. Yep. Big Red and I signed a lease today for a place in Highland Park. We have a full two weeks to move, but I think you can imagine that my time to move is severely limited. Luckily, Red is spearheading the moving movement. He's a peach.

Right now, I think I might nap for about twenty minutes and maybe catch a movie with the man. I'll start fresh in the morning.

Eight hours of sleep. I can hardly believe it.

~Hero

Lazy Lima Bean

There used to be a sketch comedy show starring some of the Wayans Brothers called In Living Color. There was a recurring sketch called "Hey, Mon," starring a very busy Jamaican family. Each member of the family had numerous jobs, to a nearly insane degree. One family member might be a doctor, nurse, orderly, janitor, and lawyer (for the malpractice, presumably). Anyone not having multiple jobs was dubbed, "A Lazy Lima Bean."

My family's been calling me "Lazy Lima Bean" for years, but its not cos they're mean; they're just being ironic. In the almost twenty years since I started working, I've held multiple jobs for probably eighteen of those years. Working three part-time jobs at once seemed normal back in my college days; the year I graduated, I was gainfully employed by the Honors Program, the History Department, and the Journal of Philosophy. Some years, I had five W-2s. I always assumed that a time would come when I grow up and have a single job. You know, like most grown-ups I know.

Then I went to grad school and decided to become an academic.

So...that means you work your ass off to get a degree, you pray for a full-time job, and in the meanwhile, you work a million jobs anywhere you can. It's expected. Halfway through grad school, I started working at Pasadena City College teaching classes here and there. Then I got a gig at Los Angeles City College. After I graduated, USC gave me a class. I also taught at Santa Monica College. Running around like this is so common for academics, we have a special name for it here in the southland: freeway flying.

I used to dream of the day I'd get that full time job and finally stop freeway flying. I didn't do it for all that long, but it was long enough. Then, it happened. A full-time job pretty much fell into my lap, and I thought I was entering into the land of one W-2.

But that was not how it went down. Last summer, I got a job writing program notes for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. This summer, I'm adding a similar gig with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. And just two weeks ago, I got another job for the summer this time as editor for the Aspen Music Festival. I'm going to have a busy couple of months, for sure, but it occurs to me that I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

I'm not saying that having one job is boring to me. Or that I have ADD or something. I suppose I like to feel needed. Like there's something I can contribute. Also, being stretched thin makes me feel alive in the same way that base jumping makes some folks feel alive. I'm not a stress junkie or anything. I'm an...accomplishment junkie. A resume item-adding freak. Busy as a B-plus. Call me what you will.

Just don't call me a lazy lima bean.

~Hero

Get busy livin'

The internet is a powerful thing. It's a source of endless information (some reliable, some not). It's a way to connect with people who have similar interests. It's a way to check out what's happening in the world. You can do everything from order pizza to submit your dissertation using the internet. I still remember the day I realized the internet's awesome power: I typed "The Lord of the Rings and Led Zeppelin" into Yahoo and came upon pages and pages dedicated to the connections between them. I thought to myself, this is an amazing, beautiful, terrible beast.

I didn't know I was gonna use it to make friends.

I have mentioned in the past my OWC (online writing circle). It's a close-knit group of friends. We share our writing, edit and comment on each others' stories, encourage each other. Two weeks ago, one of these friends died tragically in a car accident. Anjali was twenty-five years old. Like some of my internet friends, I actually met Anj in person before we were in the OWC together, but we grew closer over the internet. We had a lot in common. She was a musician and a teacher, and we shared the same passion for learning and education.

When I first starting surfing the web, I never imagined that I would make real, honest-to-God friends there. People to chat with? Sure. Folks to take the old futon off my hands? Absolutely. But friends? I had serious doubts about that. I guess I had the prejudice that "internet friends" were all a bunch of sexual predators who lied about being six-foot-tall buxom blondes. What can I say? I'm from New York. We're always on our guard. (To this day, when someone brushes past me--even if it's a kid--I check for my wallet. Old habits die hard, I guess.) I couldn't just assume that my internet friends would be real, amazing, wonderful people, could I? But they were. They are.

The way I found out about Anj was a phone call from another internet friend, Georgia. She's been a close friend for years, even though I met her in person for the first time a month ago. Georgia called to tell me about Anj, and the two of us cried for an hour together. Since then, we've been talking about how Anj's death has affected us, calling and texting when the day hits a rough patch or when something in particular reminds us of her.

The other day I was talking to one of my students, and we were talking about age. I asked her how old she is and she said, "I'm 25." And for some reason, that was just like a punch in the gut. Twenty-five years old. Like Anj. Here's my student, with nothing but awesome life in front of her, and Anj--whose life was taking off in new and interesting ways--who won't get the chance to do so many things. The way she died is also screwing with my head a little bit. Imagine leaving the house one day and just...never getting back home. Maybe she left dirty dishes in the sink, or the laundry unfolded (this is not a prompt for you to go do housework or anything). I know for a fact that she left 11 unanswered comments on her blog. God, that just hurts to think about.

From a purely selfish perspective, it's just scary to think that I could leave my work unfinished. I've got three novels going right now, and the idea that they might not be completed is frightening to me. And finishing them is going to get slightly thornier because of my new summer job. This post was supposed to be all about the job, but Anj was on my mind so it'll have to wait. I guess, though, that even if I live to be 110, there will still be things I would have wanted to do. I'm just that type of person, I think. I'm pretty sure Anj was too.

I'm grateful to the internet for allowing me a place to be friends with Anj, for giving us a forum to meet up and talk and discuss music and scholarship and Japanese and anime and Harry Potter. I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to know her over the last two and a half years. She wasn't just an "internet friend." She was a friend, and I'm gonna miss her terribly.

~Hero

P.S. Next time: The Sarah Marshall movie and the new job.