You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
“I never really thought of myself as someone overly interesting, but it occurs to me that that is a single (and possibly biased) opinion that may not be shared by everyone.”
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
“I never really thought of myself as someone overly interesting, but it occurs to me that that is a single (and possibly biased) opinion that may not be shared by everyone.”
What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
That depends. Are we talking “live” as in survive? to continue to exist as a being on this planet? or are we talking “live” as in, I have all of the elements needed for survival, but what do i need to really enjoy my existence? Important distinction. I will answer both.
For the first – A frying pan, a wooden spoon or spatula, and a knife of some sort.
For the second – a pen/pencil, and some sort of substance to write on. The third would be some kind of animal (preferably canine in nature) to talk to.
That’s the thing. life, as complicated as we make it, is really very simple when you boil it down. To survive, i need tools to prepare food or construct shelter. To enjoy my life, i need the ability to write, and a companion.
it really is that simple.
for the record – my father once told me that the human hand is the most sophisticated tool that god ever made. I have two tools to help me with survival built in to the “me” that is trying to survive!
What experiences in life helped you grow the most?
Well, that’s easy…. The painful ones.
Heartbreaking loss? Taught me that I am strong, even when I don’t feel like I can be.
Betrayal? Taught me the grace of forgiveness and the art of discernment.
Abject failure? Taught me that everything in life is an opportunity to learn.
The thing is, the good things in life – the shit we live for? They are beautiful, but they don’t help us grow and evolve as people. Think about it. Any time you get better at something, it’s only because you failed at it before but kept trying. The only reason you stopped (insert addictive behavior) is because you realized that it was destroying you/your family/your life. The only reason you know you are strong is because you’ve had to be. The only reason you’ve grown as a person is because you’ve experienced pain.
Do you believe in fate/destiny?
I don’t know.
While the romanticized idea of having a fated partner in life or a destined purpose for your time on this spinning rock is enticing, i kinda don’t buy it. There are far too many variables in a given day (much less a lifetime!) for there to be a single destiny for every single person, and for things to work out in just such a way to make that a reality.
In thinking about this, I had a thought that perhaps it’s more of a probability of probabilities. There’s way more than this, of course, but let’s assume that your life has 100 different ways it could play out. in 90% of them, you are what society would consider successful. let’s say that in 30% of that, you’re a photographer, 10% a teacher, 10% you’re self-employed. But in 50% of that 90%, you’re a doctor. So, that’s a 45% chance of you being a doctor, vs 27% for a photographer, or 9% a self-employed (insert random thing here).
I, like most people, am a big fan of the idea of free will. The ideas of fate or destiny don’t really jive with that. Because fate or destiny is based on the idea that if something is “meant” to happen, it will, and you can’t stop it. That’s deterministic. So – best of both worlds, right? Probabilities. Life may stack the odds in favor of one thing or another, but the choice is ultimately yours.
Do you enjoy your job?
Yes!
I solve problems of various different types for all sorts of people. It’s challenging and dynamic – i don’t really get bored.
Now, that’s not to say that every day is full of metaphoric cookies, puppies and rainbows. I have bad days, long days, frustrating days, days when i wish i could resort to violence – that’s just part of living as a human being. But overall, i love my job. I also understand how lucky i am in that regard, and am grateful.
Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
Closing a chapter in your life can be bittersweet, or it can be exhilarating, but it can also be obscured by the events that turned that last page…
Such is the case with me. Due to circumstances far outside the realm of my control, i left the innocence and relative feelings of safety that come with childhood far too early. At the time, i had no concept of what closing a chapter of your life even meant, much less realize that that was what was happening.
I was a precocious little girl – an old soul, my grandmother would say. perhaps that’s why i didn’t notice my childhood waving at me, teary eyed, as i walked away. Of course i didn’t notice something as “insignificant” as my childhood – there were more important things that needed to be done to help my family. I could get back to playing and imagining after, when everything was back to normal… right? Wrong. oh, how very wrong. the blissful days of running around in a sun shower, Saturday morning cartoons, and playing hide and seek or Miss Mary Mack all disappeared in the blink of an eye, and I didn’t even know it had happened.
Later in life, i had to deal with and process this goodbye, and it was hard. Probably one of the hardest things i’ve ever had to do for myself. Even years later, i was wholly unprepared for it and the emotions that came with it, most of which i had thought i had buried deep enough that I’d never have to deal with them again. Oh, the charming ignorance of childhood…
What advice would you give to your teenage self?
Oh my, where to begin….?
I would tell her to speak kindly to herself, even if she misses a goal she set. Failure is merely a learning experience – a chance to do better next time. It is not a condemnation of her worth or skill.
I would tell her that reactions are bullshit. A thoughtful response is far greater than a knee jerk reaction.
I would tell her that compassion, sympathy and empathy are important, but that no level of any of them makes you responsible for or capable of managing someone else’s emotions, nor do they obligate you to please anyone.
I would tell her that life is hard, but in most cases, you get to choose which hard you have to deal with, especially if you make that choice early enough.
I would tell her that not only is she a descendant of stardust, but that the fact that she even exists is a statistical miracle, and she would do well to honor that fact.
I would tell her that other people are entitled to their opinion, but that that opinion is nothing compared her opinion of herself.
I would tell her to be herself – say the weird thing, take up space, rant about her passions. If other people don’t get it, that’s fine. Find the ones that do.
I would tell her that the nonsense she obsesses over most likely had no lasting impact on anyone else – they are all too busy obsessing over their own foibles.
I would tell her to trust her gut, and that little voice in her head that whispers oh so faintly.
i would tell her that treating anyone else better than she treats herself is an act of betrayal and should not be tolerated.
Having said all that, would she listen? Would she take the advice of someone who knows better? Who knows? She was a stubborn thing for sure!
What bores you?
Bullshit conversation and small talk.
Politics and/or history (with some exceptions).
Waiting longer than i should have to for an appointment.
Writer’s/Artist’s block. (this is more frustrating than boring, but boredom is definitely a factor depending on the length of the block)
Being stuck in traffic.
If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?
If someone else wrote a biography about me, they could call it anything they wanted. It could be Bob Smith’s Life Story. Not fitting, realistic or sensical, but still. Anyway, the first thing that came to my mind as to what someone else would consider a fitting title was this….
The Wayward Pilgrim
Write about your dream home.
Like so many other things, i find myself caught between opposing sides of myself, each with wildly different ideals.
On one hand, i want a small, cozy house full of nooks and mysteries. A root cellar and an attic crawl space where roly-polys and spiders lurk in the shadows and tell each other secrets. A kitchen just big enough to move about in freely but not so big that you can’t get from one side to the other in two or three steps. Rustic, dark fixtures – lighting, plumbing, decorative. A fireplace in the living room hugged on either side by bookshelves. Windows with dark shutters and warm, dim lighting or candles throughout. A backyard with a soft hill, and a stream behind the house.
On the other hand, I want a spacious ranch type house with lots of natural light. Large kitchen with a butcher block, hanging pots and pans rack, and a short breakfast bar with stools to one side. Stainless steel appliances and fixtures, complimented with darker counters and floors. Instead of standalone bookshelves, this house would have a library in a separate room, with a big, cushy armchair for reading. Skylights. A large bay window with a daybed overlooking the back yard, which is edged by forest.
These things that i’ve described are just the houses – structures with particular aesthetics. What really makes a home is the love that dwells there. For that, i would need two things, regardless of style. Dogs and an art/writing studio. I can’t say which, because I dream of each at different times, but these are my dream homes.