Human Weathervane

Sometimes a bit weird being a fibromyalgic. I was practicing my violin today when I felt my muscles start to tighten up. I stopped, checked my position, stretched and continued practicing. After several such routines, I decided it was time to put Dvorak to bed. My subsequent activities followed similar patterns, however, and I said to Nathan, "There's a weather change going to hit in the next 24 hours." I just checked the weather and, sure enough, by this time tomorrow we'll be 10 degrees cooler and and have snow instead of rain. (Yes, that's considered a weather change here in Michigan.) Weird, huh? Too bad I couldn't get charged with super powers by weather changes instead of charged with muscle spasms. Hmm, maybe there's comic book character in this crazy plotline somewhere.

Organization vs. Inspiration

I need a bigger corpus callosum. It the large band of connective tissue right smack in the middle of the brain that has most of the left-side, right-side connectors. Most of my life in technology and administration I live on the left side. My organized, sequential, predictably deliverable personality is a major contributor to job success. I need it.

But I love the right side. The muse side. The poetry and art and music and spontaneous and unpredictable side. It feels like the last 10 years of my life have been an ebb-and-flow acceptance of my right side. I want more of the inspiration. But when I deal with to-do lists and political wordsmithing and nuancing the color orange (!) all day it's tough to make the switch. So bring on those corpus callosum stimulants, because I need the switch.

Domo Arigatos

So Nathan and I attended our first karate class tonight. Before any of my wonderful family panics, know that I dutifully wore my knee brace and made it through the night pretty much pain free. It was a workout, it was fun, it was challenging. I actually didn't feel like a blundering idiot through most of the night...my Tai Chi has done well by me. I was tired and feeling good at the end and ready for the next class. By the intelligence level of this post, I guess you could say I'm mostly tired. :)

The Muse Whispers

Money.


Good.
Evil?

Am I the rich young ruler?


Grinding, hoping, fighting, stressing, wanting, needing, gloating, wondering I search for answers.

Am I the rich young ruler?


Ganson. Big Timber. Morrow Point. Chapel. Giles.


Good.
Evil?

Can I be both selfish and be used by God?


Timber frame dreams. Equestrian dreams. Dishwasher dreams. Where does my god-image end and my fallen state begin?


Behold, I bow down to the god of security. Behold, I bow down to the god of stuff. Behold, I bow down to the god of self. Behold....


Good.
Evil?

Am I the rich young ruler?

Dollars and Sense

Money is so empowering and so limiting. Nathan and I finally finished analyzing our spending for last year, and everything we budgeted was right on. Wooohoooo! Since we haven't really tracked as closely as we should have, this was a great confirmation. Of course, the budget we laid out didn't have all the categories it should have, but those things outside the categories we felt comfortable with too. Woohooo again! So now we look to the year ahead in light of all the mass of sticky-note data. Timber frame dreaming, trips to visit family, that comprehensive auto insurance that saps $75/month, new pots and pans, and a dozen more are all up for grabs. A horse is not even on the goals list for this year. Even having crossed out several items, there are still more ideas than funds.

Here's where the rubber meets the road. The numbers are crunched, the bills are paid, what's left is the gift. The money I spend on electricity and groceries is so easy...but that portion left over gets fretted over and stressed about. Why is it that what's undeserved is the hardest to give up?

Muse come hither

My whole life my pencil has been my companion. Portraits. Horses. Trees. Life. Where is my pencil now? She has been replaced by pens. Ball point, ink fountain, skinny, fat. They're so silent, these new companions. So final. No happy noises, no gum eraser, no second chances. I retrieved a pencil this week and sat down with my sketchbook. But the pages stayed empty. Have I drifted so far? Is there no muse left to tame? Maybe she is waiting with my someday dreams. She is riding the someday horse on the someday 20 watching the someday sunset. Ride to me muse. Tarry not for someday.

Workin' for a living

So one of Reed's mantras is this: "We (Technology Services) worked really hard to become strategic to the University. The great news is, we succeeded and are strategic to the success of the University. The bad news is, we succeeded and are strategic to the success of the University. Now we have to deliver."

I feel a bit like that's my own life right now. I've worked hard in the last 6 months to become strategic to the success of Technology Services. The great news is, I succeeded. I'm helping manage the biggest technology rollout since I started in June. I'm playing a meaningful role (not just taking notes) in BPR Round 2 Design. And I actually got Reed to turn on an Out of Office message for his email while he's on vacation. I'm enjoying the work and my interactions with co-workers both in Tech Services and across the University. The bad news is, I succeeded. I put in close to 50 hours last week. My fibromyalgia was very unhappy with me for the long hours in my office chair. If I don't deliver on my BPR and MySAU 2.0 commitments, the ripples will be felt far outside my team of two. So far, I'm delivering but when I consider my pain levels on Thursday night and my complete mental and emotional fatigue on Friday, I wonder if it's worth it? Check back in 3 weeks, I guess we'll know then.

Sabbath, Attempt #2

So I didn't think we could accomplish Sabbath two weeks in a row. Especially given the number of items on our to-do lists. I was wrong. I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night (best comedy I've seen in a while), I went to bed early, I read and walked this morning, slept again this afternoon, and left all the dishes in the sink. Life is good.

Priority Insanity

So Nathan and I have been working on setting some priorities for the year...not resolutions per-se, but attempting to live intentionally. The giant post-it notes on the kitchen wall are the evidence (my apologies and thanks to Tim Fallon for the idea and the media). It's been a rigorous, enlightening and paranoia-creating exercise. Rigorous because, well, check out the photo. Enlightening because we've realized how many things we really want to do. Paranoia-creating because now I second-guess every activity throughout the day wondering if I wrote down that idea and if it's really important! Leave it to me to over-analyze. But the work has been so fruitful and I'm looking forward to my best year ever!

Attempting Sabbath

So yesterday Nathan and I made our first halting attempt at Sabbath. From leaving work Friday night (which for me was a bit late!) to dinnertime Saturday we tried to rest. Hmm, it almost worked. I enjoyed not doing dishes. I enjoyed reading The Ignatian Workout and Awakening to Prayer. I enjoyed taking a break from the constant music which normally fills our little home. Did I really manage to not work? Almost! Nathan and I ended up cleaning out our closet of the clothes we don't wear, don't need, and don't fit. The pile on the bed at the end was a bit disturbing. And there were still plenty of clothes in the closet! It was definitely work, but it felt more like a spiritual exercise than physical work. I kept remembering that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. Future Sabbath attempts will definitely continue to define work: how do we rest without becoming legalistic? Is it work if I work up a sweat but it's lots of fun? Can I read my project management book? All questions to come, to wrestle with, to enjoy.

The Plunge

Ok, this is it. I succumb. Kicking and screaming! I love pencils. I love listening to the sound of graphite as it scratches and scrapes across paper. I love paper...sketching paper, print paper, yellow legal pads, pink stickies. I like my handwriting. The sound of my fingers clicking away on a keyboard brings me spiraling down to our digital "connectedness." Our advanced society where you can't know someone's thoughts until you see them on public display on the internet. A friend of mine recently spoke on how technology brings us together. I'm sure it was a great lecture, but sitting here now by myself at my kitchen table with the cold hum of my iBook as my only companion (except for Bijou, she's loyal), I'm not feeling the love. There's no face to smile at me. No voice to sing to my soul. Not even an IM smiley as a response. Just the invisible face of 802.11b (yes, B!) wireless , the voice of TCP/IP to translate my thoughts into packets, and the thousands of miles of fiber connecting me and you.

Thus begins the blog. The great brain dump of our time...our disconnected, post-modern way of connecting. So with the beginning of a new era comes the fury and anguish of the death of a beautiful thing: relationship.