Interesting Times Have Caught Up With Us

When I was a kid, I was thankful that the turmoil of the 60s was behind us. It was in the past, in black and white pictures and film. I wasn't part of the generation that had to witness dogs, and firehouses, and the National Guard on college campuses. But the curse of interesting times has caught up with us. Sadly, Donald Trump has opened Pandora's box, but not before shaking it up first to agitate the hornets nest inside.

I admit it. I'm scared of the rhetoric and the ugliness that it has unleashed. This isn't something that will just go away. Maybe it was wrong to force equality down the throats of bigots. Maybe we should have attempted to win their hearts and minds, so that this hatred couldn't fester as it has. Or maybe some people are going to hate no matter what.  I've written before about wielding will, but never thought of it from this point of view. 

Hate is never good. Using anxiety as a tool, in some ways is the American way. Ask any advertiser. But using anxiety as a tool to incite anger and an emotional response that encourages people to say and do hateful things is criminal. 

I have faith that a Trump presidency won't happen. But what happens after he fails? What will this pied piper lead his mob to do after he fails? That's what really scares me. All this emotion, agitation, and hate won't just disappear. It's out there, and now we have to deal with it. 

"You Could Try To Go Without Them"

I suffer from a few chronic maladies. I have Thyroid disease which for me means my body doesn't allow my thyroid gland to function, leaving me lethargic without daily medication. Even with medication,  my body goes through ups and downs of energy effecting my motivation and mood. Without medication, it's quite easy for me to fall into depression as a result.

I also suffer from anxiety. Think about how you might feel when you have to do something that makes you stressed, like going into a job review, or dealing with someone that you know is going to yell at you, a lot, and not in an encouraging way. Now imagine, that that feeling stays with you for days and weeks at a time, leaving you agitated, distracted, and confused because you brain won't turn off the stress, and you relive it over and over again. That's anxiety.

One of the things I've learned about middle age is that you start to think more about self preservation. When I was younger, and perhaps stronger, I willed my way through the depression and anxiety. In fact, before the thyroid disease, I'm pretty sure that exposure to constant stress exaserbated the anxiety. It was not a good way to live. I used a lot of energy just "dealing with it," and It was exhausting.

Now, that energy for me is a bit of a finite thing, I've learned to not be wasteful with the energy I have. It's changed my life. First, I extracted a lot of the stress I had before. It needed to be done, because it was literally making me sick. I started having high blood pressure, which is hereditary, but steps could be taken to lower it. For me, besides diet and excercise, which I'm working at, eliminating as much stress as possible proved to be a great strategy. I now avoid people and situations that cause me stress. And when that's not possible and that cycle begins in my brain, causing me to live it over and over again, I take medication that makes it stop, so I don't have to spend my energy for days or weeks "dealing with it." I also use a daily antidepressant, that helps me deal with the highs and lows that I go through from the thyroid disease. 

The result is I can now live a "normal," happy life. I'm not battling every day to overcome feelings of stress and anxiety. I'm doing things I enjoy and slowly but surely finding the lovely life I want. 

What prompted this entry was a recent experience I had at the pharmacy when getting a refill of my anxiety meds. I said something along the lines of being stressed and without medication and how that's a bad combo for me, and the pharmacy tech made a flippant reply of "or you could try to go without them and just deal with it." 

First, I was shocked that a health care provider could be so callouse. I doubt she would say the same thing about my thyroid medication. But then, after I was able to think about it, I realized, she doesn't get it. She doesn't get that dealing with it is not a short and easy process when your brain won't let it go. She doesn't understand that my current condition is the result of years of "just dealing with it," and it wore me down and robbed me of the person I truly am. She doesn't get that mental illness leads to physical illness, and that taking medication is dealing with it, just like making major life changes is dealing with it, and eating better is dealing with it, and avoiding stressful people and situations is dealing with it. 

I've come a long way dealing with it. And I admit, I still have hard days, but now they are just hard days, not weeks or months at a time, because I've taken a lot of steps and made a lot of effort to deal with it in a thoughtful and effective way. 

Reading On The Wagon

I'm reading again. After years of undergrad and graduate school, I had kind of given it up save Harry Potter and Hunger Games. I even let my New Yorker subscription lapse. But, through a social media meme, I got back into it, accepting a challenge to read 50 books this year, and I even started about 4 weeks late. I'm not actually pressuring myself to make that number, but I am reading one book after the other, and enjoying it emensely. As a result I'm watching less video, and wanting to read more.

I'm also on the wagon. I'm not really a regular drinker, at least I'm not a regular drunk. It's not uncommon for me to have a glass of wine on the way home on the boat. But recently, I overdid it in a big way, and decided that my body does not appreciate such things. The prudent thing to do is give it up for a while. I could say I'm giving it up for lent, but it's really more out of self preservation than self deprevation.

I'm always about self evolution. And while these two actions aren't exactly evolving, it is about readapting myself to a different phase of life. I'm not scared to admit that I'm middle aged, but it doesn't necessarily have to be all down hill from here. I'm just learning to appreciate all that I have and to not waste time, energy or resources on things that don't contribute to a better life. 

 

I'm Back

It's true. I'm back. I just flew in from a week in Canada, but that's not what this is about.

I'm back on the boat. At the time of this writing I'm gliding across a calm San Pablo Bay that's swollen with rain run off and associated debris from a recent storm. It's a comfortable place for me. But that's not what this is about.

I'm heading back to work on the boats. After four months as a line cook, I decided that the pace was too frenetic, the work environment too frustrating and the money not adequately enough to continue. I was losing about $100 a week working there. So I'm back on the ferry, where my communion with nature is accompanied by the low rumble of a boats engine. But that's not what this is about.

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not a big shopper. I like to get by with what I have on hand. But I realized that maybe I'd gone too far with this line of thought. I decided that it's ok to have a few things I enjoy and want, that go beyond just meeting my most basic needs. Armed with a strong American dollar and an exceptionally favorable exchange rate, I decided to do a little shopping in Canada. I bought things I'd been putting off for some time, and a small pile of second hand clothes that actually have color and personality. Once I unpack these finds and hang them in my closet, the primary color in my closet will no longer be black.

As I tried these new to me garments on, I saw a side of my personality I hadn't seen in quite some time. I remembered, how truly vivacious I once was, and how that joi de vie was also reflected in my clothes. And that's when I realized, I'm back. I've come out on the other side of a very dark place to a place where I can hope, and love, and dream of life's possibilities. I've arrived at a place where I'm comfortable and feel love and respect on a regular basis. I'm back. I'm back to being me, not a lost soul trying to survive turmoil, adversity, drama and unnecessary struggles. For me, right now at least, life is not that hard. I'm lucky to have love, and support and security and kindness in my life. I'm back, to a place I want to be. It's not perfect. There are holes, but overall, life is good, and I'm happy to be here.

The Communication Age

In a lot of ways, I think I knew this was coming. 

Communication has almost always been a passion for me. I wanted an easier way to write, and we got word processors. I wanted to be able to reach out to people, we got email. Social media feigns connectedness but also provides a platform for us to share real thoughts and considerations about the news of the day. Yes, this is a bit of a love affair between myself and technology.

What can I say. I enjoy a world where I can randomly chat with a friend online where we come up with schemes that involve more people with our shared interest. I like that when I talk to a business person on the phone, I can pull up an email to reference a previous conversation or find something as simple as a phone number, by just tapping a screen. It's as though all the abilities for accessing information I ever wished for are now at full and evolving fruition. How lucky are we?

I realize, that maybe this accolade is over the top, but I remember the time before we had such things. I remember manual typewriters and the coveted erasable typing paper. I remember phone books and yellow pages, and when day planners were the cutting edge of organization. I remember Xerox copied flyers, appointment books, Rolodex, and doing things in triplicate. Those things were real to me. 

And now we have electronic signatures, PayPal, PDF, and countless mobile apps to help us do all the things we use to do manually. We pay bills, order goods, plan our lives via screen and tactile input. It's a long way we've come in a short time. This new, ever evolving norm has changed how we do business, how we connect, how we respond to one another.

 It's also changed how we understand. And with so many words and messages flying back and forth through air and across wires, they start to lose meaning, and we start to lose understanding of the power of words and images, and the greater story that's told. What are we as a people if we cannot rely upon our own stories? It's the new quandary of our age.

Alternative to What?

So apparently I live an alternative lifestyle. I had no clue. I just kinda do me.

So, yeah, I don't have a regular 9 to 5 type of gig, and occasionally step outside my box to try something new, like cooking, but I do work, a lot. I just decided not to let my job define me. I like trying new things, and have a great safety net job that allows me to do just that.  I appreciate the freedom my work choices give me. What's so alternative about making decisions based on having a good life? I'd rather live a good life, that's interesting, comfortable, and adventuresome.

And, I don't live in an alternative space such as a wharehouse or a tiny home, but my childhood home has been gradually converted to reflect the lives of the Morales girls. We use power tools to make the space work for us, and I admittedly have grandiose plans for the kitchen and back yard. Chickens will be a thing this year. So looking forward to fresh eggs.

Like many Americans, I buy things on Amazon, but admit, that retail is not my first choice for most purchases. In general, I keep a thrift store list for durable goods, and do my best to make due with what I have on hand. And in truth, the things I get on Amazon are usually purchased there to avoid going to malls or shopping centers. But it's all part of a frugality regiment. I like saving money, and would rather have savings than expensive things. Is that so strange?

And, I like to eat good food, which translates into making a majority of my food from scratch. Processed stuff makes me sick, and it's cheaper and healthier to make your own. I still buy bread, but am looking to buy loaf pans for sandwhich bread. Also, having worked in kitchens from time to time, I know how easy it can be. Eating well is essential to well being from my perspective.

It's true, my life is not status quo. My goals are different than the standard American Dream. I've curated a vision of the life I want, and slowly but surely I am achieving it. I don't want all the things. I don't want status. I don't want bling. I don't want more debt.

I do want to live well, have as little stress as possible, go on adventures, spend time with loved ones, and to not spend my later years wishing I had I done more. If this is an alternative lifestyle, so be it. The other options just aren't that appealing to me.

Another Week in the Kitchen

Well, I've survived another week in the kitchen. It was a bit of an effort. Holiday season means busier nights and large groups of friends who meet up for an annual gift exchange. There are office gatherings, shoppers and also groups of tourists who continue to stream in on cruise ships. People want to eat. I'm there five nights a week to facilitate that.

I'm starting to feel competent in the kitchen. I've mastered things that previously eluded me, like frying chicken and boiling eggs properly. I know it sounds funny for a now professional cook to be excited about these things, but being able to do it correctly with consistency is a matter of pride. I know how to cook a perfectly boiled egg now, so it's absolutely creamy when you bite into it. I can also fry chicken drummettes that results in a hot juicy explosion when you bite into them. These things matter if you enjoy food the way I do. I like food that's an experience, and like sharing that experience with others.

I started thinking about why I like to cook so much tonight as I was chopping Brussel sprouts. First I cut off the end of the sprout and then cut it in half. My muscle memory has improved to the point that I can glance around while I do this, and not cut my fingers. I look up and see a vintage street car whiz by on the Embarcaderro. I watch one of the regulars greet his meal with an appreciation that comes from familiarity, and realized how much I'm enjoying this familiarity myself.

I thought about how I enjoy working with food. How it is so multifaceted. Working in a restaurant is very physical work, but also requires technique. It requires patience, waiting for fries to fry is the worst, but also immediacy, salt those fuckers and get me out. You have to plan your movements and the steps it takes to prepare, sometimes multiple dishes, at the same time, thinking through the best method to get it done as you are doing it. 

Cooking is also creative. Not only do you create a presentation, but sometimes you can tell a story with how you put a salad on a plate. Most of the time you just want to get it out and move onto the next order in an effort to keep up with the expiditer. But these other things do cross my mind.

Am I romanticize the process? Of course I am. And maybe that comes from the satisfaction I'm getting from this work. All I know is that I like what I'm doing, and love it when I'm doing it right.