Family

Family is an interesting concept for me. The question: "What is family?" has been asked for a long time, and I like all sides of it. For me, an only child, I have a tendency to add and cling on to new members all the time. See, for me, the ones we choose are just as important as the ones we are born with. It's not a new concept, by any means, nor do I arrogantly think that I am the only person to feel this way, but it is how I feel and I love my extended family as if they've always been there.

I was reminded today of what it means to be a part of a family.
Disclaimer: I love my blood family. Moving on.

Today was perfect, arriving in a slightly chilly Sacramento, followed by taking one of my favorite drives to Chico, CA.
Disclaimer: I hate my rental car. Ford Focus = Fail. First world problems.
I hit Chico as the sun was setting and I was pulling into the Garden Walk Mall parking lot. I had a great conversation with one of my favorite people over text (cause I'm all modern and shit), and had coffee at my favorite coffee joint.
Disclaimer: I'm right and the Naked Lounge is the best. Vietnamese for the win.

Everything was solid gold, as I have tendency to say, up till this point and only got better.

I was lucky enough to have dinner with my sister, Molly, and Mama Enochs. I love these people. We gave introductions and the standard, "Where are you staying?" came up. I said that I'd probably hit up Econolodge or something.
Disclaimer: I'd read my contract wrong, because I like to read them at 4AM, and had gotten into town a tad earlier than my room rate had allowed. I was without lodging.
Simply put, they said that it was stupid that I would spend money on a room and that I should stay at their place. Me being a shy, nervous man when it comes to asking for things from people I care about, I told them not to worry about it and that I'd be fine getting a hotel room. I was then told that what I had said was stupid and that I was staying with them. I love these people.

We had dinner, great conversation, and I got to catch up with two of my people.
Disclaimer: Turkey soup, rolls, cornbread and Sierra Nevada = win. Hardcore win.
It was also made clear that whenever I was in town that I could stay with them. After more talk and laughter, a bed was made up and Molly had to zonk out.
Disclaimer: Molly saves lives and needs to be in bed by 9pm usually. She was up until 9:30 for me. Love her.
As I was thanking Mama Enochs for her hospitality and repeating variations on "you're so amazing," "thank you," and "I'm so grateful," I was told the following sentence: "Oh of course! Andrew, you're family." I was then hugged. I then teared up.

You see, I'm very stupid and very hard on myself when it comes to friends, family and loved ones in general. I don't value the man that I am 100% of the time, not yet, anyhow, and I often don't understand that people care for me just as much as I care for them. It's a weird displacement of my value system and all that which just amounts to being thick headed after being bullied and blah blah sob sad sack miff.

I write this stuff and I feel like I owe an apology and a thank you to the people I love. So that's it, I'm sorry that I'm thick headed some times and I find myself something of an imposition. Working on it. I think I'm a good man, don't get me wrong, by no means do I think I'm "unworthy" or some tripe, just to be clear. But I know that I can get pretty out of touch with those in my corner.

So, thank you! Thank you to those in my life who I consider family, those I love and those I share passions with. You remind me that family is blood, yes, but more so a bond that is stronger than physical/material. You remind me that who I am and moreover how I am is a good thing, and gives me the gift of knowing you. Thank you. That's all that I can say. Thank you, and I promise that I'll pay it forward and return the favor.

Today was a good day. Today was perfect.

Writing/Tiny Revelation

I started working on my new book, finally, ironically finding that I had already written 18 pages at some point. No idea when, but who cares. I read what I had come up with thus far, and it wasn't bad! It was pretty darn good, actually! I spent a few hours today editing what I had already done, getting back into the groove. It wasn't until the breeze from my window came in and brought me a little back to reality that I realized how much I'd missed working on my stories. Then something new came, a realization that I'd rarely experienced. The Zone. That strange state of mind that obsessives talk about when they reach a sort of "Nirvana" during their work. It had taken a long time, but I realized that I experience this feeling every, single, time I write. Every last one. I get it when I perform regularly (dancing and acting), and a couple times here and there with other things, but with writing, it never isn't perfect.

I love to write, and everything about it, the good and the bad. It is my zen, my hatred, my creative practice and my most difficult mountain to climb. It gives me everything I want out of a hobby. I love the sound of keys clicking, the brainstorm, the solitude, the collaboration, the birth and growth of a story as it stretches across the screen or page. I love the long hours, the headaches, the espresso, the inspiration music, the wine, the nervous sharing, the let down and the build up.

I could list things of that sort for hours, what I loved, whether it was pleasant, pleasurable, painful or downright awful. And that's something that I hadn't realized until now. This, writing, is what I should be doing. I crave it during a dry spell like a man would water. Everything about it gives me something. I can brainstorm for days on end, entire worlds, whole lives, systems, rules, whatever I want. I can feel powerful. Powerful...yes, truly powerful. The fact is, in order to be a good writer...or just an obsessive one, you have to have a tiny bit of a god complex. You have to love to create. Craftsmen have this in general, it's just that, with writing, you're coming up with new ideas and twisting/forming/realizing a fictional world, as opposed to physically constructing a meal or sofa or doll or painting.

I look at people as they walk down the street and I deeply want to know their stories. Who they are, if they love someone, what their good at, what they do with their time and so on. A dream of mine is to have a venue for everyone to tell their stories (more on that later).

My ranting point is really simple and something I've been looking for for some time. I have a passion that I want to be my lifelong job. I've never had that before. I love dance. It's my passion. It makes me feel alive, like I'm flying and has given me more than I can possibly say. I do not want to dedicate my life to being a professional dancer. I never really did. I just wanted to be as bad assed as I could be, and I'm well on my way. It is my escape. Writing, story-telling, they are my way to create.

Yes I want to still try everything that I possibly can, but now I have a reason to do so. I want to experience as many sights, sounds, tastes and overall sensations and occurrences as I possibly can, so as to better expand the scope and quality of that which I love, hereto pointing at writing. I will be a writer, an idea man, a story teller, and I will not let anything stop me. I've not once felt like this to any one activity or profession. I call it a win.

Consequences and Learning

I'm a bit of a coward. Not on most things that truly matter, of course. I'm great with friends, family, seeking knowledge, survival, but I'm a coward when it comes to owning up to income and becoming successful. I'm amazing when it comes to uplifting those around me, but dear lord, am I ever shite at growing to the level of my dreams.

With all of that little in mind, I'm going to try to keep myself honest and admit the failings that I get, in the hopes that sharing said foibles will help me get over myself and move forward.

Starting small: my credit card spending was roughly over $2200 last month. Most of that was restaurants. Not rent or supplies or funding for hobbies/passions, just sandwiches, food carts, thai food etc. Yes, some of it was useful, but most was laziness or fear based food spending. I don't have that kind of money. Am I embarrassed? Yup. Will I get over it? Yup.

Something I'm not proud of: I get afraid of people sometimes. It sucks. I will be in my home, hungry and can easily walk across the street to the supermarket and grab fixins for a meal, but won't. I will be afraid of the outside world, afraid of just interacting. And yes, my supermarket is just across the street, barely three hundred feet from my apartment door. It's not all the time, but it does happen. All of my passions (with the exception of writing) are requisite on interaction with folk, so additional interaction at times becomes scary. I only have so much willpower and I'm usually spent by the time I get freaked out. My average daily food spending was roughly $30. That sucks. I'm also fudging that number, not wanting to do the math, which is for rich people (not accurate).

This whole new schedule thing, however, is helping pretty darn swiftly. If I can get a handle on a week, I can plan when and how I will spend my willpower, when to get my errands done etc.

A few days in, and I've only eaten at Subway 1 time due to a cramp in my planning. Oh well. $6.50 is a damn sight better than $30. I've also had 4 green juices this week. Green juice is the only thing I'm allowing myself to regularly purchase as it is a pain in the ass to juice things on my own, and is a healthy choice that sustains me but good. SO, math: Roughly only spent about $30 (fudging again) since Monday. Better. Getting better.

I was taking stock of all of this yesterday as I looked at my possible classes for next semester. I was getting pissy that I couldn't find a class that wasn't fitting into my teaching/work schedule. Then, putting my whine down, I realized that the shit line up was a gift to continue working to build my schedule. I was basically planning to overwhelm myself one more time, and flat out can't due to PSU's limited schedule.

A thank you to something I don't really believe in: Thank you, fate, for making sure that I don't overwork myself anymore. Well...any more than I already will with the activities I already invest time into.

Challenges: I realized today that I should post a weeks worth of challenges. I don't have time every day to post a blog entry. So we'll start from today and go from there. And remember, this is what you do ON TOP of the other normal exercise you do as is in your day.

Today (Friday): 50 Push-ups. Keeping it easy for a couple weeks.
Sat: 20 - 50meter sprints. I love these.
Sun: 50 Crunches
Mon: 50 Pull ups
Tues: 50 X-Jacks (jumping jacks on a diagonal, switching each time from left to right)
Wed: 50 Burpees (I love these. I honestly don't know why folks don't)
Thurs: 50 alternating lunges (these suck. Enjoy)

Preamble...Prelude? Words.

It's Spring...ish, and therefor its full of cleaning for many of us. For me, my messiest thing isn't my cluttered apartment or my nill to nothing portfolio. It's my schedule. I am a human shotgun blast. My interests have always been spread wide, far and as thin as can be. This has afforded me a great many experiences, and I regret nothing. It has also lead me to the things that I love because I just tried random shit, to put it crudely. It has also given me more headaches and stress than any one man should experience, a near ulcer, those old fashioned "bi-polar days" and, of course: depression due to simple lack of will power.

Today is the first day of a simple shift in schedule and habit. It's time to focus on the ol' vessel, the body, the machine, health monster etc. I'm using March as a sort of "jump off" for a new me. This time, as opposed to the other many many times I've tried this, I'm taking it all slow. One thing at a time. Working focus and clarity well before a full turn around.

The beginning is easy: no eating out for 2 weeks. Only cooking at home, with the exception of green juice. It's the 1 treat I get. Woot. The short of it is that I am broke, as hard as can be, and it's because I drop horrifying amounts of cash on restaurants. It's been my thing for some time, and I love food that is cooked for me, and being able to eat anything that I want, whenever etc. Too expensive, and I need to save some cash. I often forget I'm a starving artist because I spend all of my cash on said food, therefor removing the starving but leaving a broke-ass artist instead. Not a great change.

Anyhow, I've begun, and I've had two of them green juices from Energy Bar, adjacent to PSU, and another from Green Leaf, near Pioneer Courthouse Square. Feels good like it should. Blah. I'm hungry! I also may have started my day with 2 Safeway brand chocolate croissants. Not great, but fattening and delicious.

That in mind, I look forward to my first real meal of the day: chicken stir fry, brown rice and a wasabi sauce I make that's just damn fine.

Also, a part of this whole endeavor is adding challenges on top of any exercise that I may do during the day (which I encourage folk to join in on, should they be feeling froggy). Today's is easy: 50 push ups over the course of the day. All the challenges need to be done by the end of the day I post, unless I say otherwise. Not hard, 50 push ups. Simple as all hell.

Call it a prelude or preamble or something, anything really that you want. Baby steps. That's where I'm at.