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I'm not referencing my score on a coolness scale. I'm talking about the Enneagram. If you haven't heard of it, we must not know each other very well. Because I talk about it with some frequency. But you can check out this link for starters and get caught up: https://www.enneagraminstitute.com . You're welcome. So, as I was saying, I'm a four. There are nine personality types and they all have names, naturally. Wanna take a guess at what the fours are named? The Artist. Man...eerie, right? Okay, so if you look at the link you'll see that Type Four is called The Individualist. And if you Googled it on your own, you might have seen that it's called The Romantic. I should have mentioned that there a bunch of different names depending on which site you visit. But the qualities are mostly the same. And I would argue that I'm as much an individualist and a romantic as I am an artist. So it works. I just didn't want anyone thinking I hadn't vett...

I keep thinking about dementors. If you haven't read Harry Potter (or at least watched the movies - although that's less "superfan" of you), then this blog entry might not resonate. In any case, I'll lay out a few details to start. The dementors show up in the third book, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkeban. They're creepy, cloak-wearing phantoms that float around with no eyes sucking up all the intelligence, happiness and good memories of humans. They make their surroundings cold and dark with the effect intensifying depending on how many there are in one place. Rowling has said they grow like funghi in dark, moist places. She also notes that she created them while struggling with her own clinical depression. The worst effect of their power is called a "kiss," and involves them literally sucking the victim's soul out through his or her mouth. The victim is left with no memories or feelings in a vegetative condition. The only measure of d...

Wow. It has been two years - almost - since I published anything on this blog. Two years. That is...it's left me speechless. I thought for sure I hadn't been that neglectful of this thing that I love doing: writing. But I have been. In many ways that count, I have been. So I'm here tonight. No TV. No music playing. Just a breeze coming through my open window and the dulcet sounds of Jack, my adorably fat cat, who is acting as though waiting another five minutes for dinner is the worst of all humiliations and sufferings any being has ever had the misfortune to endure. I am here, and I'm going to add an entry tonight. But I am not writing it tonight. I wrote it ages ago - a year maybe - and I thought I'd already put it here. Since we already covered that this is a false memory - which I'm prone to - I will add it now. I wrote this piece for a newsletter while working for my dad's church last year. I should have fed two birds with one seed (I'm a pacifi...

I am a firm believer that massage should not be seen only as a luxury experience. It should be seen as a necessary part of mind-body-soul care. Anyone who's been searching for a way to justify the expense, please read on. I'm hoping to give you all the support you need.  The other night I celebrated my sister's 30th birthday by getting myself a 90 minute massage. I know. I give the best presents. In my defense, I bought a massage coupon to give to my sister as well. And she wasn't in town at the time, so it's not like I ditched her to get pampered.  I should also add that I didn't spend the 90 minutes in a luxury spa-like setting. I went for this massage because I needed help getting rid of a number of pain issues and the massage therapist I go to knows her stuff.  I stumbled on Emily and her signature Dream State Massage style at the beginning of this year. She was offering a new client coupon and the description of her signature style was too good to pas...

Okay, well this was another tea fortune that was too insightful not to write about. The other night, after moving into my new Chicago apartment, I was preparing to relax with a nice cup of tea. I looked at the fortune as always, surprised to see only two words: "Keep up." Now that could easily be interpreted as a sort of nagging fortune. But I felt encouraged by the two little words. I could have taken it as an observation of how I've been lagging behind in various areas of my life. And on some days, I would have. But this day, I saw it as a cosmic acknowledgment of my efforts. Rather than understand it as "Keep up with everyone else who's ahead of me," I read it as "Keep positive." The "up" seemed to refer to my mood, not my pace. Although, it's not a bad idea for me to keep up with momentum when it strikes. And I'm trying to pay attention when it does. But this interpretation made sense to me that day. And it made me smile. ...

I love Yogi tea. For one thing, they have interesting names and claims compared to other brands. I'm drawn to things that stand out like that. But the main thing that makes me choose a Yogi tea over another brand is the little sayings that are attached to the tea bags. It's like a fortune cookie. I have a habit of ripping them off and hanging onto them. The other day, my tea bag fortune read, "You are unlimited." Boy did that one stop me in my tracks. I have a tendency to operate with the exact opposite understanding. I see my limits everywhere. A part of me dreams big and fully expects to do exciting things. But the other part of me is doing this big dreaming from the couch while binge-watching shows on Netflix. On my smart days, it's easy to see how ridiculous it is for me to get frustrated with my life when I'm living in a world where I only act within limits. For example, I limit when I get around to starting the day because I NEED to sit and drink my ...

The Hope Fantasy. This is a practice I have engaged in since I was little. A completely PG practice, I should add. Sorry if you've landed on this entry after a random Google search with specific expectations. You'll want to move on now. The Hope Fantasy is really sort of a mix between a fantasy and a daydream. I think daydreams can involve fairly passive content, but fantasies requires some action. Again, I'm simply referring to activity . Verbs. Something happens in a fantasy. Unless you lead a super hectic life, at which point your fantasy may be simply to do nothing. Anyway, let me give you a couple of examples of Hope Fantasies from my past so you know what I'm actually talking about. 1. I used to rush home from school so that I could be in front of the television by 3pm. Why? MacGyver started at 3pm. If I got there late, or if my father forgot to pick my sister and I up completely, I would miss the opening credits and I'd have no idea if it was a Murdoc ep...

I took a big step a few months ago and finally bought myself a serious camera. It's a Nikon (Canon users, keep it to yourselves...) and it's pretty cool. I love taking pictures, but I'm nowhere near patient enough to sit down and really learn everything my camera can do. Instead, I point it at stuff and click the button until I get what I think I'm trying to capture. When I cannot make it do what I want, I get frustrated and figure I'm asking something beyond its capability. Probably, if I get the manual out again I will find a simple explanation of how to do what I wanted to do. But I don't carry the manual with me "in the field." And by the time I get home, I'm more interested in seeing what I DID get than worrying about how to get cooler stuff next time. It's a cycle, you see. Anyway, my camera traveled with me to California last week. I was thrilled to be going on my first vacation with my own camera. Seriously, this was a big deal. If yo...

It is Day One of my California vacation! This blog entry is all about it. It's a bit longer, but some of you are fans of my earlier "travel writing" style and will enjoy this. I understand if you quit reading now since most of you live where I do and may not want to hear about warmer temperatures. However, it’s not really a warm weather bragging piece. So, if you’re feeling risky keep reading. I moved away from Southern California a little over two years ago. People always ask me if I miss anything about living in California. Or more often, they assume and ask WHAT I miss about California. My answer is always the same: the geography. This morning, I flew into San Diego where I’ll be spending most of my time. But I wanted to make a quick trip to see some friends in LA, and to revisit some of my favorite spots. I am writing from one of those at this moment. More on that later.  This was my first experience with Southwest to my knowledge. At least, it’s the firs...

I get nostalgic for shows from my childhood with some frequency. Thank goodness for Netflix. This past week, I've been reacquainting myself with Saved By the Bell . Not the college years. Not the ones with Miss Bliss. The real episodes. The good stuff: Rapping Snow White, catching Kelly's new boyfriend at a nightclub with another girl, Jessie's jerk of a stepbrother. The list goes on. Watching this show has provided a few insights that--I think--escaped me when I was younger. The first, and most immediate realization is that this show makes me miss California. It's lucky I have a trip to San Diego coming up or the cold weather blues would have really sunk in. I have avoided watching the episodes where they work at the beach club since I got snowed in last week. It would have been too much to handle. The second realization is that Zack was a really crappy friend! How did I not get what a jerk this guy actually was? If you take his behavior out of the sitcom setting...

Most people who know me would have expected me to say "turtle" or "owl." Duck probably seems a little out of left field. So, let me explain. I have a tendency to do one of two things when reacting to situations involving any level of stress or anxiety. On a good day, I'll be totally unreadable. I'll choose to stand still rather than get into the muck of whatever is causing the anxiety. At these times, I'll keep my thoughts and feelings to myself and no one will ever know there's a churning volcano of craziness rumbling below the surface. On a bad day, I'm Vesuvius. And everyone around me gets ashed on. Big time. Now, everyone has bad days. I, however, began to feel like they were outweighing the good ones. It is true that we cannot expect to control our lives in such a way that no bad stuff ever hits us. But we should expect that we can control how we react to the ugly stuff. We can get ugly, too, or we can be ducks. Obviously I mean this...

 So, I am a week beyond the surgery that--at one time--felt a million years away. I have amazing friends and family who are all eager to ask me how I'm feeling whenever we talk. My answer does not come easily. It doesn't come easily because I can't put into words the overwhelming gratitude and awe that are the result of my experiences over the past week. To begin, I have to say that--should you need a hospital for any reason--I would highly recommend Northwestern Hospital here in Chicago, and in particular, The Prentice Women's Hospital. The staff that took care of me were incredible. They were pleasant and patient, yet they pushed me to do things they knew would be less than enjoyable. They made it easy for me to be in good spirits almost the entire time I was with them. I can't imagine the stamina and spirit it takes to do the job they do everyday, but they never once made me feel as though I were just another patient. I'm almost positive I would not be feel...

I came across the following quote early in February and took the time to jot it down in my journal. Looking for inspiration for this entry today, I stumbled upon it again. It comes from Alice Walker, author of The Color Purple and a major activist for both the civil rights and feminist movements: "Helped are those who create anything at all, for they shall relive the thrill of their own conception and realize a partnership in the creation of the Universe that keeps them responsible and cheerful." The day I saw this quote, it resonated with me because I'd been going through old writing notebooks. I was searching for one that had enough blank paper in it to be used as a school notebook, but most of them were entirely filled with writing projects. They were from my time with Camerashrapnel, a comedy group I was a part of in LA. Some were also filled during the moments I was working as an extra, which mostly involved a lot of "sit around and wait until they put you so...

I am not writing this entry on the swiftly approaching tradition of Fat Tuesday Fasnachts. There is, however, a foodie blog entry on that topic if you're inspired to make donuts after reading about them in this one. This blog is dedicated to a book I just started reading called Parables of a Country Parson: Heartwarming Stories of Christian Faith and Life . Yeah, there's going to be a little faith talk on this one. But I'm not going to go nuts, so stick with me. Anyway, I snagged this book from my dad's study a few months back. At that time, I was working on a writing idea that involved interviewing my father and grandfather about their lives in the ministry. I thought that reading short stories about someone else's experiences in the field may help me focus some of the information I got from my family. Other books got in the way, though, and I only remembered this one the other night. The fervor of my former project has worn down a bit, but I'd read all the o...