The Big Red Ball

I’ve been analyzing why some exchanges with some people seem so wearing. I’ve contributed it to the red ball theory. What is it? Well, it goes something like this.

Someone engages, hires you, etc. to work on a project. You discuss ideas. You excitedly brainstorm. You puff up all these wonderful ideas into a big red ball. You throw the ball to your companion (co-worker, boss, etc.) and it lands on the ground. That person may be busy, occupied with other things – whatever reason, they don’t catch it. Ok fine, the ball is still firm, so you go to pick it up and try throwing it again. You watch the beautiful, bright ball go up in the air and then crash to the ground, again. Hmmm. The other person did say they wanted the ball tossed, didn’t they? What to do? You try again. You run over, pick up the ball, and throw again. Still, it lands on the ground. And now, the ball is slowly starting to deflate. You keep at this until suddenly the ball is completely flat. This has happened to me recently. I kept chasing after the ball until I ran out of steam. The bigger question for me is, am I the person throwing the ball? Or the ball itself?

Punishment

The headline today reads recent CFO of Freddie Mac hangs himself. I'm truly upset by this news.

I've been pondering, more like wallowing in, why the people responsible for this economic mess aren't taken out of the way, banished, held responsible or at least paying back something, anything for causing so much suffering.

I know few people, including myself, who aren't completely stressed by today's economic downturn. Why are we bearing the brunt of other's complete irresponsibility!

I'm not suprised that as Obama brandished a stern finger at those at the helm of the economic fiasco, he's been seen as a father disciplining the kids. These actions are nothing less than sophmoric. And we need a stern parent right now because the kids haven't been acting with any rules. They've been testing how much they can actually get away with. A good parent knows that kids need rules and discipline. Kids are taught to share and play nicely with others. Aren't they?

We've been aghast at how these so called finance wizards have been behaving. Bonuses? Lavish parties? Who really do these people think they are? Are they just a bunch of spoiled brats that feel entitled to everything because no one has told them NO! before?

Why haven't these people been banished to their respective "rooms" without supper?

Party time is over. Sadly, for all of us who don't have the disposable income this is true for us as well...

With mass shootings on the rise, I wonder if this is, as some have commented, due to stress of our economic times. If so, why are they not targeted at the culprits? (not that I advocate they should... ) Then I read about the hanging. He didn't come on board as CFO of Freddie Mac until Sept. Could he have had anything to do with their shenanegans? Was he bearing the responsibility of others and that being too much to handle, he ended his life?

I felt for him, I felt for his family. I felt the same as I did for the teenage boy in Long Beach whose father shot himself after his killing spree at his job. Sad, knowing he doesn't have a father now to turn to.

Finding who to blame hasn't settled my mind or fixed my own problems. I have to do that myself. I have to be my own parent. So I whine and then settle down to business. What else is there to do?

Responsibility

Responsibility. Why this is on my mind today, I don’t know. On the responsibility spectrum, you once could have considered me on high red alert although I try to bring myself to a calm blue, or at least a violet these days.

I guess my thoughts began in the shower as I wrestled around the bucket I have to catch shower water. I have it there to justify showering over ten minutes, although we have well water so it’s not draining the municipal resources. All the same, I don’t want to be wasteful. On that, I remembered these little girls washing their hands in the bathroom at the Asian Art museum. I heard a loud rushing sound. Startled, I looked over to see girls washing their hands under taps turned to full force. With the city in water restrictions, their wastefulness shocked me. I thought of saying something but that raises an ethical question for me. Who am I to tell other people’s children what to do? I looked for their parents and didn’t spot any waiting for them. Were they outside? Was it that important I give up my space in the waiting line to track them down just to tell them, your daughters don’t need to wash their hands for 5 minutes with the taps running at full force! For all I knew, they got that behavior from their parents.

The quandary for me telling kids what to do stems from harsh childhood experiences where adults, other than my parents, scolded me for actions I didn’t know were wrong. Like when my friend Debbie and I found one machine at the supermarket giving free gumballs. Delighted, we kept turning the knob to get another gumball and shove it in our mouths. “That’s stealing,”snarled an adult. “What?,” I thought, shocked. It didn’t occur to me that it was and here this woman was calling me a bad person. A thief! I didn’t get over it. That’s my own quirk. Even in my more adult years (if you can call college that) when friends snacked on food bins in the supermarket without paying I wouldn’t. That’s stealing. I told them it was. Didn’t stop them though, nor did I try to with any force.

I’m responsible – yet is it my responsibility to point out to others where I think their actions are potentially harmful? How wasteful were those girls really being? What would I do with my own children? I’ll never know.

In high school, I never took drugs. Why? Because I thought of future conversations with my future kids. If I caught them doing drugs and they countered, but you did it, I could say with impunity, “No I didn’t, not in high school. You can do whatever you want at 18, but not that under my roof…. “

At college, the pretend conversation with my future kids became moot. After learning the environmental and social devastation of overpopulation, I decided never to have kids. That would be irresponsible. And I, was responsible.

I spent a good part of my early twenties being a do-gooder – working for social harmony. Burned out, I quit being an organizer. Still feeling guilt over it my friend Gina said, Jen you’re not responsible for the world! Well, if I wasn’t, who would be? I mean, gosh, the world was so fucked up.

Well, I got tired of being responsible for the world. It didn’t revolve around me after all. I wanted fun so I sought a career in entertainment. Was it fun? Sometimes, the times I didn’t take it too seriously. But boy, when I did and my uber-responsibility came out, you’d think the show would stop if I didn’t perform my job above and beyond. Well, I didn’t want to let anyone down. That was all in my head though.

I had a good time to think and stop. Having all that weight on me manifested into a bulging spinal disc. If I tried to stand up straight, it hit my sciatic nerve causing debilitating pain. I had to crawl on the floor to the kitchen to feed the cat. I couldn’t let him go hungry.

I got back surgery, my cat died (by stroke), and I had to go to physical therapy. Touching the tension in my shoulders the therapist commented, “You’re really responsible. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” That comment really hit me – in the right way at the right time. Yes, I was responsible. Maybe too much. Maybe more than average and certainly more than I needed to be.

I’m not completely cured of fretting over the world. But now, when I receive those pleading donation letters in the mail, rather than cursing myself for not having the money to send, I throw them away. I don’t have the money. Let them find someone else. I’m here to take care of me. And I don’t have to be responsible for someone else, which is why, now, I still don’t want to have children. From the greater Universal perspective, we can only be responsible for ourselves because it us up to us to forge our own lives. That isn’t to say we don’t help others when we can. It’s our choice though as to whether we do it or not.

A Different Roost

The overcast day reflects my mood. I'm feeling cloudy, and a bit bedraggled because of financial stress. I set off to Trader Joe's in need to replenish my soy milk supply. I take the longer route along the country road rather than the highway. I love winding up and down on this road taking in the view, so much so I have to force myself to keep up with the speed limit of 45. Birds twitter and flutter around. Vineyards span out into the horizon. As I near passing under an overhanging telephone wire that crosses above the road, I spot a large black object sitting on it. It could be anything. I've seen partial tree trunks on some. I think it's a bird though. As I pass under, the wings become more clear and so does its bright red skin flap on its head and whatever you call the dangling red skin that rooster's have. A rooster? What's a rooster doing sitting on the telephone wire? I let out a giant laugh. It's just a silly sight. My spirits totally perk up. A rooster sitting in the oddest way springs me out of my dark mindset. I mean, anything is possible right? A rooster....

What is Age Really?

Last week at the groovy health food store in town, the check out clerk asked me, “So… do you get a senior discount?” I stared at her, quizzically. She stared back. I continued to stare. “It’s 55,” she said, this time, with a little bit of doubt in her voice. I continued to look at her then said, “Well, I’m 40… Maybe I’m not getting enough sleep.” I didn’t say this meanly, just kind of astonished. All my life, I’ve had what they call a baby’s face and people always guessed me as being younger. Over the years, and wrinkles, people have come closer to guessing my age. I do love it though when people exclaim, “wait, you’re 40, but your skin….” It’s for the most part, minus 2 deep creases on the forehead, wrinkle free and very, very rosey.

I wasn’t wearing makeup, my dark lines more pronounced. After hearing I was 40 the clerk said, “Well, you look young… it’s the gray hair. Some people go gray early.” I bit back saying, “How could you know, when so many people dye their hair?” But there were others in line and not the time, I felt, to delve into the topic. I joked that maybe I should take the discount. “Don’t be offended,” the clerk pleaded. I assured her I wasn’t. Then in the car, I checked myself out in the car mirror. “I do look awful,” I thought. With my hair pulled back, the gray streaked stood out prominently. And the brown sweater did nothing for me either.

The question was, why do I, and I’m not alone, equate looking old as looking, well, crappy?!

As I drove home I briefly thought, maybe I should go back to dying my hair. I had to catch myself. Purposefully, a year and a half ago, still living in L.A., I bravely said, “I’m going to stop dying my hair and get ok with my gray.” Gray hair began speckling my hair since age 24 and I’ve been paranoid about it ever since. And working in the youth-driven Entertainment Industry, stoked this paranoia. I never wanted to go to an interview with my gray roots showing, especially in my mid-thirties. “I can’t wait to have gray hair,” said a twenty-something co-worker once. “I wonder if you’d say that if like me you went gray at your age,” I snorted. “Well, I can’t wait, I think it’s beautiful.” Beautiful? Hrumph. Now I know what Krista was talking about. Now that I see as something pretty and sparkly. But the clerk’s comments did catch me a little. Do I really look 55?

What does 55 or even 40 really look like these days? We see actresses touting 40 who look so – young… Meaning, smooth foreheads, no gray, and toned bodies. I often look at those smooth foreheads wondering, what’s their secret? Do they not stress like I do or is that Botox…

I told a pal about the clerk’s comment. “What? Why would she say that?!,” he responded as if he were defending my honor. “Well, I tried to remember all the times I stuck my foot in my mouth,” I responded, having reasoned that out already in the car. We discussed how you can’t tell age these days and he shared how he went through a hair dying phase. “What, really?,” I said astounded. He’s one of the most self-assured, grounded people I know. Like me, paranoid about his gray and working with younger men, he fell for the trap. Then one day he realized that he was at the age when gray meant mature. Just the other day, though, he checked out the gray hair of the other men in the office wondering, if they are at the same age, where’s their gray. He realized they must be hiding it under dye. Wow.

What is it that we are all hiding from? Can we change to a society where it’s ok to be gray and not just for the senior discount? Not feel worn out and useless? That we aren’t too old to stay in the game?

I still moisturize my skin ritualistically, trying to abate the wrinkles. They’re coming though. I hope when they come, I’ll be mature enough to handle them.

How Priorities Change in the New Economy

I don’t consider myself an extravagant person but there a few areas I do splurge in life, one being hair products; specifically, Aveda hair products. I love how they smell, and more importantly, how they work. On the hair care spectrum, the price isn’t outrageous but it isn’t cheap either. One consolation I have in what I spend is that I’m part of the Aveda rewards program (called Pure Privilege). So when I spend 13 bucks for conditioner, I get points, adding up to one day, a great big gift. And every birthday, I got a free perfume of my choice. Weee!!

The program offers several “tiers”. If you have so many points you get to select from that tier. I believe I’m at least a level 3, if not more. I’d been waiting for the granddaddy level, the one where you get the full spa package. I mean a full pampering spa package! Who wouldn’t wait for that?!

Times have changed. I couldn’t contain my excitement today opening my Aveda rewards gift – a full line of cleaning products from Seventh Generation. Did I say cleaning products? Yes I did. One of the tier 2 gifts is Seventh Generation clothes detergent, dishwashing soap and all-purpose spray. Back in the day when I first signed up for the program, I thought, who would waste points on cleaning products? My eye was on the big prize. Back then, my cash flow was more than a trickle. But lately, looking at soaring prices of cleaning products I rethought my rewards. I needed those products now and I had the opportunity to cash in points to get them without spending anything.

It’s funny to me that in our new economy we're stuck cleaning up old problems. No wonder cleaning products are topping my priority list. Plus they smell good and work well too.

Go Smug Yourself! - I’m green with smugness and I’m freakin’ proud of it

That's right, go smug yourself and be happy.

Conversing with a friend awhile back, I told her all about the Sonoma Vegan Potluck. Excitedly, I said how all of us brought our own plates and silverware in our canvas grocery bag. “So Northern California”, I said. “That is,” she agreed. And proceeded to tell me about an episode of South Park which I just had to see. So funny. It ragged on the smugness of San Francisco and L.A. and other environmentalists. With quips like, "Look at how awesome we are for driving hybrids".

Wait, what? Why would I find that funny? I drive a hybrid. And yeah, I think others should too.

Over tone deaf IM, she didn’t read my enthusiasm. She didn’t catch on what I tried to convey – my happiness that I found such like-minded people here in my new community.
Oh well. I just let it lie and moved onto another topic.

Then today, writing about how I don’t use saran wrap I thought, wow, I do sound smug. Aren’t I the awesome one because I go around washing out my plastic bags for reuse.

Then I thought, “smug that!” I like being awesome. I like scoring eco-brownie karma points to counteract my other, what I consider unsavory acts. Like when I forewent buying Preserve toothbrushes for a more commercial brand. Preserve brushes are great in that once done, instead of them ending up in the landfill, you can return them to the company to recycle. However, I don’t feel like they clean my teeth very well. (sorry Preserve!) So I went for a more commercial toothbrush – angled, ergonomically correct. And my teeth feel very clean now after brushing. So, I put my teeth above the landfill. I know what you’re saying, “boo hoo.” It’s just a toothbrush… and teeth are important. Well, yes, but environmental guilt has governed my life for a long time.

It’s hard to be eco-awesome all the time! It doesn’t, however, stop me from judging others over there in my smug corner – like when I see friends/family/others using commercial, petroleum-based dishwashing liquid when there are so many better ones on the market…. Who me? I use Seven Generation of course and love it. I know that we'll run out of petroleum one day. Don't you?