In search of...

A dear friend helped me with a spontaneous project last night, and as a thank you I took her out to a swanky dinner at one of the best restaurants in DC. It was incredible, and revived my love for this city, and my interest in stepping outside my usual routine. I had one of the best cocktails I've ever had in my life. A ginger-pomegranate concoction with Hendrix gin. Amazing! It was equally matched with a heavenly series of Indian inspired small plates. The best... Seriously.

This friend of mine and I have known each other for years, and try to catch up every so often to compare notes of our ongoing projects, and the state of our love lives. Last night was no different. There is a shared sense of intimacy that greets us with every encounter, where we launch into subjects that even our closest of friends may not know about us. I am grateful for our times together, as I learn so much about myself, and how different my perspective might be from others' – a learning experience desperately needed.

One of the things that caught me off guard last night was my friend's admission that she is purposely trying to make room for love in her life. She boldly stated that she's a very strong woman, independent to a fault. Lately, she's been noticing that when she meets men, she either sees them as needy and therefore tedious, or she imagines that they are as independent and self sufficient as she is, and then wonders how two people like that would find a way to connect.

My friend is an artist and a writer, and luckily for her, her career is really taking off right now. The problem is that she is so busy being an artist that she hasn't made time (or space) to make herself available to love. This admitted work-a-holic is scheduling every free moment to be uber productive, but how to you schedule: "find love?"

Part of me can relate, as I have been working seven days a week for a long time now, managing a very busy company that an entrepreneur friend of mine owns. I work so much because the work needs to get done, I get compensated quite well for my time, I am good at it, and take pride in my efforts. But maybe I, too, work so many hours to distract myself from the absence of love in my life right now. Yet, unlike my friend, I have always put love first, and assume that I always will.

It's tough for me to comprehend any other course, honestly. To me, love trumps all. Always.

Yes, I want to be successful as a small business consultant, and launch a few businesses of my own. And yes, I want to take my writing more seriously, and submit some articles after sufficiently polishing them up a bit. Or even make a return to film production someday soon... But all of this pales in comparison to my hope – and pursuit of love.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my shortcomings in the field of romance. Most of my fumbles seem to revolve around my impatience with love. Okay, not necessarily with love itself, but rather the people that I choose to love. I tend to have a penchant for women who are slightly unavailable to me. There appears to be some sort of emotional wall that I like scaling while in love. Sometimes I successfully make it over this symbolic barrier, while other times, (and with other people) I get stuck en route, hung out to dry, flailing and wailing. I think I'm bad at this – this whole love thing. I'm never so graceful when I feel held at arms length.

The reality is, I must consider what I've been doing over the years to possibly instigate those kinds of reactions. Even at my best, I still get impatient with those whom I love when I feel strung along. I can't help but wonder how different my life might be if I were more skilled at resisting the temptation to launch into over reactions at the worst times, and consciously choose to be more compassionate (to myself and my beloved, at any given time).

Intimacy isn't something that just exists 'naturally.' No, it's something that participants have to work at – constantly decoding and refining their approaches, honing their abilities to achieve and sustain that euphoric sense of closeness. A few times in my life, I had struck that balance. There were extended periods where I had felt so 'in tune' with my partners that I could intuitively sense their emotional states, even if we were separated geographically, and such. I know, I sound like a total whack job now, but I stand by it.

And there were other people that 'seemed' like they would have been perfect for me, as they possessed all of the qualities that I sought out in a prospective partner, yet that deeper source of connectivity, of understanding, compassion, sympathy, seemed to be lacking. It makes me wonder what ultimately wins out in the struggle of practical compatibilities versus deeper, more symbolic gestures in a relationship. Sheesh~ I have no stinking clue...

Sadly, I think my longer standing battles with anxiety and depression thwarted much of the love that came my way. Perhaps the fears of being unlovable made it so. Am I insufferable when it comes to romance?

During my last amorous attempt, I think I was a mess, stumbling all over the place, trying avoid the emotional pitfalls I knew from my past, but unsure of the metaphorical footing that could make me more grounded. Wanting to change my sabotaging patterns, yet still walking right into them when in doubt. I'm not trying to blame myself for everything, but it's just a bummer to be culpable at all.

If I'm looking for romance, scheduling time to 'find love,' I just want to iron some more of this stuff out before I try again, and get sidetracked in the old, outdated, ineffective routines. If I've been "looking for love in all the wrong places," maybe looking at myself first this time would be a good start. Anyone got a mirror I can borrow?

Home Sweet Home

I had a weird experience the other day – when I returned home from a long day of work, I was overwhelmed with this strange sensation of nostalgia and sentimentality. Years ago, I began renting this 3.5 bedroom house with my then live-in girlfriend. We worked together, but her work day usually finished up a few hours before mine did. Much of the time, I used to have this feeling of almost euphoric glee on my mad dash to get back home. I was often filled with hopeful excitement over being able to plan a sappy evening with my girlfriend. Whether we cooked a simple dinner, shared a great bottle of wine, and caught up about our days nestled at our dining room table, or hit the town – I looked forward to going home to her. I'd practically be skipping from my parked car, up our many steps to our front door. Even when she was in a bad mood, or even irked at me, my enthusiasm was ever-present.

Needless to say, things didn't work out between us. And as much as I know that it is for the best, meaning that we weren't *the best* fit for each other, I was flooded with that same urgent optimism a couple of days ago while I strutted towards my house. A small satchel filled with the delectable goodies I picked up at this adorable gourmet market by my client's house must have triggered olfactory memories of the days of old. What a strange feeling.

The residual effect has made me wonder if I will ever find that 'other half' most of us seem to crave. This house feels like a home, not an empty shell where she *used* to be, but I wonder how a life that feels so full in many ways may take different forms to make room for other people.

I spoke to a dear friend of mine yesterday who was saying that she has been really loving her friendships with men as of late. She's been learning so much from those connections, and understanding more about what she'd then want from a romantic relationship beyond those friendly affiliations. I can relate, since I have so many female friends, and so many amazing ones at that. I feel really lucky to have their presence in my life, and can't help but be curious about how those dynamics will help me be a better prospective partner down the line.

My friend admitted to wondering how much she would have to shift her life to have a partner in the picture. She is an artist and a freelance writer, and with such a full schedule, it seems like inking in more than just a few dates here and there would be quite a commitment. One that she is interested in making someday, but we all ponder when that person will be revealed to us when we are still single. Like we are – still single...

How should I be getting myself out of this 'home sweet home' more often in order to actually meet someone that might be a better fit? And how do we develop ourselves more completely in our 30s in a way that still leaves that door open for the right person to walk right on through? Like renovating for an open house... I gotta figure that part out.

Big Daddy

I was bummed to read that Cesar Millan's best companion dog, "Daddy," passed away yesterday. For those of you who might not know me well, animals have always been a huge part of my life. In my childhood, I was a wreck for days after seeing films like Sounder, Bambi, Charlotte's Web, or reading books like Where the Red Fern Grows. I couldn't handle the thought of animals being neglected, abused, or killed. There are dozens of photographs of me as a young child embracing some random stray pet that had wandered through our suburban neighborhood. As I got a little bit older, I would envision my future life, living some solitary existence out in rural America with a farm full of animals that I would tend. I even dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, until my father burst that bubble by telling me (too early) that being a vet consisted of neutering and euthanizing animal, and not much else. (Yes, my dad was the male version of Debbie Downer...)

In college I spent a few years delving into animal social behavior, even having my primary professor tell me that I had a gift for working with animals, an insight that she could never possess. It was flattering, and I even toyed with spontaneously flying to Gombe to try to work with Jane Goodall. (A friend's brother went there to surf, and stumbled across their camp, offering to assist them in any way needed. He ended up landing a job with them, while thousands of worthy applicants never even got responses...) I hoped that I could have been as lucky as this surfer guy.

Instead, I opted to walk dogs after quitting my insane job as an account manager for one of the largest film and video editing houses in the country. I worked on my own films, helped produce a few friends films, and walked dogs to pay the bills. The next thing I knew, the owner of the company asked me to manage the business with him. I took him up on the offer, and overall, have had an amazing time. It's been six years, and despite the bouts of restlessness, self doubt, or the itch to experience other places or other possibilities, I really love my job. It suits me, for what it's worth.

In my life, I have personally rescued four animals – three dogs, and one cat. I currently have a rescued pit bull that was thought to be a 'bait dog' in the dog fighting circles of Richmond, VA, and a cat I rescued as a teeny kitten from the mean streets of NYC. They are both impossibly difficult personalities, fearful, if not aggressive around strangers. But this is the life I've chosen – these animals being a metaphor, hoping that I can help them through their distrust of the world, as they teach me more in the process.

It is here that I learned today of "Daddy's" death, the pit bull that was Cesar Millan's 'right hand man.' He was the calm, submissive dog that was the stunning example that eased anxious dogs and owners into their more balanced, new perspectives. He was pretty amazing, as far as dogs go – having known quite a few in my line of work. I was sad that this wonderful dog could no longer play the canine ambassador as he had for the past 16 years. Having owned two pit bulls in my life, I was happy to know that Daddy was projecting the very best of that breed, thankfully!

But after I read about Daddy's death, I read about the death of a friend's cat. I heard about this cat's passing yesterday, but then read this friend's blog to find out that one of her own dogs had terrorized, and ultimately killed her beloved cat while she was away from her home. It's so frightening and heartbreaking.

Okay, I know that this has nothing to do with dating or anything, but I guess hearing the news of these two animals seemed kind of like a big deal, for very different reasons. I promise I'll get back to something more relevant tomorrow.

(Here's Daddy, with his new pack mate "Junior." Very cute. How can you have a bad day around faces like those? Meanwhile, Bub le Bubs, my pit bull, is snoring away at my feet, dreaming soundly. Even though he's a huge pain in the butt a lot of the time, I feel lucky to have him, and to learn from working with him. If only he could get me the ladies... Rather than scaring them away when they wanna come over. Sigh~)

Free Will

In my last post, I spoke about Hawksley Workman's quote that "Love is a decision." That statement really resonated with me, and I have been trying to uncover just why that is. I don't think I explored the concept enough in the previous submission, but have certainly been mulling it over offline.

While looking for images to complement "decisions," I ran across an article about precognitive activity in the frontal lobes of the brain, suggesting that much of decision making actually happens *before* we can actively think about it. The findings point to neurological transmissions in the front portions of the brain that cue actions and reactions, but these occur before the cognitive centers of the brain can step in to debate the most effective courses to take. This suggests that as much as we'd like to believe we are fully cognisant of every option presented before us, and thusly choose the wisest of the possibilities, perhaps the vast amount decision making happens before our thoughts can even jump in the game. (To read the article, click on the title of this post, and it will link you back to the study results.)

This is interesting for dopes like me who stutter emotionally on a subject for too long, paralyzed by doubts and fears that I may make the wrong choice. It correlates to Freud's notion that we unconsciously seek out carbon copies of our parental figures when we try to find romantic partners. Not that this study is confined to love, or decisions of the heart. But, in short, that there are more dimensions at work than simply thinking that a prospective suitor is 'pretty' or 'sweet.'

What I wanted to say was that I agree with Canadian songwriter Workman's thesis that "love is a decision." I believe he meant that too often we assume that love is an uncontrollable sensation, much like hunger or an itch, that seems to have its own volition, appearing out of nowhere, and instigating urges and delights within us. Similar to specific culinary cravings, that mostly seem to emerge unconsciously, many people would probably contend that love manifests in the same way. We don't know why we crave homemade mac & cheese, or mashed potatoes on cold winter nights, in the same fashion, we can't explain our penchant for bad boys who are a little too sassy for our liking.

But, to stick with the love = food metaphor, there are plenty of cravings we can acknowledge, identify, but those of which we do not need to actually satiate. Case in point: I have been craving ice cream as of late, lord knows why. As much as it seems to be an unconscious compulsion, I do not have to submit to those vacuous sugary yearnings. Unfortunately, many of us don't stop to question our cravings – romantically, dietarily, and so on... And when we just acquiesce to those pinings, we often find ourselves malnourished in some fashion. Either our literal or figurative hearts taking the toll of our indulgent appetites.

Workman was trying to say that when we simply chase one craving to the next, we find ourselves feeling empty and starved for true intimacy and closeness. And much like those sugar highs, or carb binges, we crash, and feel all the worse for our pandering. He (and I) believe(s) that love is more than just a fickle desire, fleeting as it ebbs and flows. Instead, he (and I) hope(s) that it would be a longitudinal commitment to reinvesting in the organic wholeness of the connection shared between two emerging souls. We'd probably even go so far to proclaim that those kinds of intensive, emotional ventures have much higher payoffs than the base level, carnal spinnings that come and go on a whim.

This singer/songwriter was waxing poetic about the fact that love is not just lust, or attraction – things we *feel,* and not *think.* Love (by his implied definition) should be a balance between the mindful choices we make to immerse ourselves within each others' lives, and the 'mind-less' gravitational pull we share with another from that place of seduction. (We can only seduce that which is out of reach. Once it comes within reach, does the seduction end???) That is where the acts of committing and investing in the continuity of love have the most resounding affects.

I agree that love is a decision, or at least it can (dare I say "should") be. It's a decision that I made – to love one person despite the ups and downs, the kicks in head, and the resistance. I decided to love a person that ultimately was going to teach me more about myself, and the function and revelations of love. Yet now, I am feeling stuck between the two poles of having *decided* to invest myself in the long haul, versus the reality that I need to 'undecide' that very choice. So, I am left understanding this scientific study of the underlying, unconscious roots to our cravings and related decisions, but then wrestling with the highly cognitive, and dominant belief that we can employ free will, and side step the less desirable options for ourselves.

Free will suggests that it is a voluntary decision, not determined by the physical or the divine. So, if my initial attraction to subject "A" was involuntary (unconscious), but my pursuit of her was voluntary (conscious), yet my involuntary reactions and old self defense mechanisms may have kicked in when I got scared (unconscious) – possibly contributing to the termination of the relationship, and now I feel 'stuck' still loving her (unconscious), but unsure of why I can't just talk myself out of it (consciously) – what does that make love??? Clearly it makes me a buffoon, still scrambling to understand, rather than just letting go... Sigh~

If free will exists, then why can I not free myself?

~ unFreed Will

The Finest Worksong

(The title above is a clickable link to the full NPR interview, if you care to listen...)

Have you ever heard of Hawksley Workman? I'd never heard of him before, but then caught an interview with him on NPR's "All Things Considered" over the weekend. I was driving through Rock Creek Park, trying not to slide off the road, given the copious amounts of black ice everywhere, offering up foretelling imagery of me careening off the road, into a snow covered brook. Awesome! But somehow, I was able to listen so intently to the words that this Canadian singer/songwriter was chirping out in his thick, goofy accent. He was able to come up with some profound spinnings, despite that dopey inflection of his.

The host asked him about a specific passage in one of his songs: "The scars you get together are the scars you really covet." He responded with the following:

We are lead to believe that love is fleeting. I reckon, when you get a little older, and your boat gets batted around a bit, you realize that love is really more a decision. And, it's an opportunity to exist with somebody at their best, and at their worst. And, in doing so, the reflections that you get in one another become the scars that you covet, because those are those simple secrets that are yours alone. And those things are not celebrated in 'movie love.' That's the real stuff that we all fear, that I think is easy to walk away from... ...Their journeys come with their bumps and bruises. And, I think that if you are of a mind that will ultimately celebrate those bumps and bruises, even though they might be years in the making, they will be the things you celebrate, that you cherish, and will be the character of your relationship.

Huh. No shit. I am dumbfounded... I'm not quite sure what to say, which is odd, since I can usually ramble like nobody's business.

This interview arrived at a very interesting time of my life – one that is circling around a great deal of soul searching and introspection. I have had a few incredible heart to hearts with some dear friends over the past few days. One friend who dated a woman that may have Borderline Personality Disorder. It was hellish for him to deal with her constant tailspins and ever-present accusations. We commiserated about patterns of being people pleasers, just wanting everyone to be happy. Talking at length about the empty anger still lingering after having given ourselves away in relationships. There is no one to blame but ourselves, which we readily choose. But what exists beyond that veil of implication?

The truth is that I agree with Hawksley. I, too, believe that every relationship is going to have it's challenges, that they are inescapable. With that said, I think that the most important element might be how we negotiate those challenges as they arise. Our abilities to weather the storms, and find shelter with one another under a shared umbrella, rather than push the other one out in the torrential downpour when we feel vulnerable and pissed.

Upon closer reflection, I think I'm bad at sharing the umbrella. There have been times when I've gotten too pissed at people when they feel far away, like they are emotionally unavailable, or withholding from me. Maybe I have even gotten huffy, when I should have been more mindful, and calmly stated how my heart was breaking. God, wouldn't that have been nice? Wouldn't it be great if we could all be so smooth and calculated? I guess thus far, I haven't been so lucky. Sigh~

But I want to find it – that love to withstand being batted about by the winds of love and immersion. I want to find that partner who will want to hear about the ways in which I feel tender so that we can undo those unintentional wounds, and move on closer, and more connected. I want those affirmations of affection, and know whole heartedly that we have each others' backs. (And fronts, if we're lucky... heh.)

I keep finding people that shut down and run away, deflecting their responsibility for what may have inflicted pinches and punches. People who get caught up in the defenses of the immediate, rather than give way to the larger scope of growing together. As I say this, I am not trying to fully blame *everyone else but myself.* To be perfectly honest, I see it more as a probable issue in how I have been addressing people when my feelings have been hurt. That perhaps my provocations elicited the reactions I deserved... This is what I have been thinking for the past week.

So, to all of those I have loved (and possibly provoked), I'm sorry, and I think I understand more now about how you may have felt back then. And I wish us all better luck in the future.

Happy Valentine's Day

I saw this on the Regretsy page on Facebook. Hilarious! I hope
wherever you are, you are having a wonderful Valentine's Day!

McQueen

(The above title is a clickable link to the British article about the passing of fashion legend Alexander McQueen.)

(This post was begun on the day his death was revealed to the press, and finished several days later. Sorry for the delays.)

I was deeply saddened today when I heard about the news of (Lee) Alexander McQueen's suicide, just days after his beloved mother passed away. Despite not following his career closely, I got the impression that we was somewhat of a savant in the fashion world. He changed the scope of fashion design, and even the production value of the shows themselves. His immense talent catapulted him to the upper echelons of the design houses, as he formed his own brand, and even took over as head designer at Givency. Pretty remarkable for someone so young.

But McQueen's fashion shows depicted his often tumultuous moods, and a dark, sombre tone that overshadowed the buoyancy of some of his peers' exhibitions. He was *serious* – and serious about fashion.

I can't imagine being one of the best in the world for any particular field. Maybe it's my insecurities, or my more modest upbringing, but considering that he was only several years older than me, and world renowned by his late twenties, makes me think that I need to hustle.

(I have three vintage looking postcards displayed in my bedroom to remind me to work diligently at my crafts. What those crafts are, I'm still not sure... I guess I'd like to someday make some money off of telling silly stories, or drawing a chuckle out of passersby. But the three postcards are as follows: "Keep hustling to keep happy." "Plan your work, and then work your plan." "Anything worth doing at all is worth doing well." I am trying to keep myself in check.)

Despite an odd sense of sadness that fell over me when hearing the news of this stranger's passing, I can empathize with this man. I know what it feels like to be stuck in that well of despair, even though the rest of the world assumes that you are on top of your game. Surely, my 'game' and his were lightyears apart, but I know the sensation of that tailspin of loss and helplessness. I am sad for his sake that he couldn't find that hook to keep himself grounded as things began to turn for him. Wishing that he would have been able to find some sort of assistance and support for all that he clearly was experiencing. I can't imagine what it felt like to be him, but I know the feeling of grief all too well. And no matter how famous, wealthy, or successful any of us may become, it never shields us from the pain of losing what we love, whether that is a person, an object, a thought, or an emotion. Unfortunately, that is universal.

Even though Alexander McQueen was anything but ordinary, he still fell victim to the commonalities of humanity: the question of how we negotiate the pain as it surfaces.

I wish for his sake, he could have been exempt. And I wish for the world that they could still marvel at his limitless talent and vision. May this remind us all to appreciate the lightness as it surrounds us, and dredge through the fleeting darkness, until we find our way out...

Snoverkill!

(This is a pic from the last snow storm we had, where people were leaving items in the street to save the parking spots they had just dug out. This was my favorite!)

Okay, I'm getting a little tired of being tired. This never ending snow storm is starting to exhaust me. Several days ago we got about 2' of snow – this after getting about 8" of snow the week before that, and apparently chewed through $2.4 million of DC's $2.6 million snow removal budget. So, the snow we got several days ago still remains packed on our streets, now the foundation of last night's additional 10" of snow. It's still going. Ugh! I have lost a few thousand dollars of missed income, since my business is somewhat dependent on weather, like when the government shuts down, and all of our clients are told not to leave their house. Umm...

Not only that, but I just purchased a Macbook Pro, and it's stuck in a FedEx truck circling the metro area, unable to deliver since the roads are so bad. AHHHHH! Kill me now! Why is this city so incompetent? I grew up in New England, even spent 7 years on and off in Vermont, where it snows like 9 months out of the year, and only once did I miss school/work because of the weather. (In my defense, I was driving my then girlfriend's rear wheel drive Ford Explorer, sans 4 wheel drive, and went careening into a ditch on campus when I hit a patch of ice. Awesome!)

AND, the ceiling in my bedroom is leaking in two places, (still – after recently being patched and sealed twice). I've been watching the news reports of all of these roofs collapsing around the Mid-Atlantic region. So, scary! (As I wrote that, my landlord called to check in about the leaks. Wow, impeccable timing!)

I've been trying to stay productive and positive. Trying to keep busy, writing like crazy, watching a ton of good films, a few books I am hoping to crack today, finish my taxes once and for all, and work out ~ which is long overdue. But first, I am going to go make some corn muffins, as I am running out of food in my house, and it's seriously a "white out" outside! Yikes!

Hoping this finds you well, safe, warm and dry! From the front lines of fighting cabin fever ~ Will (-work for food...)

Playa Hater

So, without sounding like a jerk – I don't understand being a player. I mean, I understand when people need to not have strings attached, or when they want to go into something without projections of it having to be everything. Sure, that I understand. But...

A friend of a friend recently got dumped. From what I understand, the dumper sort of gave the dumpee's friends a heads up that he needed to get his shit together, or it wasn't going to work out. This after she (the dumper) repeatedly tried to talk some sense into him (the dumpee). With no avail, she needed to move forward, and cut the cord.

As I mentioned, these are not immediate friends of mine, so it was a relationship I knew nothing about directly. And without placing judgment, I simply don't understand. The guy who was dumped is already out scouting new prospects, while simultaneously rambling endlessly about his recent ex. I just don't get it. I'm in my mid 30's (turning 35 at the end of this year ~ holy fucking shit!!!), and maybe I'm too sentimental, but I can't imagine ending a super long term live in relationship, and even joking about going out to hook up with other chicks. (And yes, in my youth, I was not so great with fidelity, but now that I'm 'over the hill,' it just seems so exhausting.

Maybe this is why I'm taking a hiatus from dating. Is there like a pill form of 'No Doze' specifically for relationships? I think that's what I need now. I'm not a playa, I just crush a lot. (But maybe not as much as my heartbroken counterparts.)

The Id vs the Superego = Cognitive Dissonance

I've been thinking about that last post, reflecting on that struggle between pure, unfiltered desire, versus self-censoring critique, bordering on condemnation. The Id duking it out with the Superego, yet in the above image, I'm not sure which would which... (I simplistically assume the inflatable weeble punching bag would be the Id. Maybe it's cuz it has that goofy grin on its face, that makes you wanna punch it. Although in my case, I think the Superego mostly wins the battles.)

The Id can be described as the infantile, narcissistic pursuit we have to seek out constant gratification. This is the underlying drive we have for survival, things we crave, like affection, sex, nourishment, intoxicants, etc. It's also been called "the Pleasure Principle," like Janet Jackson sang about in the late 1980s. (I didn't realize how 'deep' she was back then, especially considering that I was in sixth grade when that song came out. I hadn't read Freud for myself yet. That didn't happened until I was in junior high school, and started paging through Freud, Jung, Goethe, Schopenhauer for extra curricular reading... God, I've always been such a dork, haven't I?!?)

In addition to the Id, Freud believed there was what he called "the Superego," which was basically what we'd deem 'the conscience,' or the moral code by which we judge things. It's that little voice inside our head that tells us what the 'right' thing to do is in a given situation. (Or that cartoon angel on our shoulder, while the Id would be the devil, tempting us to satiate all of our secret urges.)



The Superego's self-critic is almost always in direct opposition to those lustful, carnal cravings the Id desires. Freud went on to say that it is the job of "the Ego" to keep those two elements of self in check. The Ego is the rational facet of our psyches that tries to weigh the cost benefit analysis, and proceed with the more moderate decision.

When there is a conflict between what we crave and what we think we 'should' want or do, cognitive dissonance emerges. The tension itself increases depending on how important that subject is to an individual, how drastically different the 'wants' are from the 'should want instead,' and if we can't rationalize away the differences between the two. Often times, the greatest sense of dissonance arises when we are talking about one's own self image, when we have acted in a way that goes against how we generally see ourselves. If we've already made a decision, and are feeling regretful over the course we took, that dissonance tends to surface in the form of guilt, feeling foolish, or even immoral.

The ways in which we can reduce those tensions are to a) change our initial belief, b) change the related decision/action/behavior contrary to that initial belief, or c) rationalize away the difference between the belief and the resulting action. But if that internalized conflict is not resolved swiftly, a feeling of anxiety usually begins to set in. Freud categorized three basic types of anxiety: reality (based on real or possible event), neurotic (based on a fear that we have no control – or metaphorically, that our Id will take over), and morality (based on a fear that we've violated our moral code – which tends to bring up guilt or shame).

Theoretically it seems easy enough to make a shift in our thoughts or behaviors, but many times it can be a bigger task than we could imagine, or even feel absolutely excruciating. That uncomfortable emotional space of dissonance can often trigger our unconscious defense mechanisms. Freud believed that there were many ways that defense mechanisms could manifest (as cited by changingminds.org):

• Denial: claiming/believing that what is true to be actually false.
• Displacement: redirecting emotions to a substitute target.
• Intellectualization: taking an objective viewpoint.
• Projection: attributing uncomfortable feelings to others.
• Rationalization: creating false but credible justifications.
• Reaction Formation: overacting in the opposite way to the fear.
• Regression: going back to acting as a child.
• Repression: pushing uncomfortable thoughts into the subconscious.
• Sublimation: redirecting 'wrong' urges into socially acceptable actions.

Huh, that's a lot of 'schtuff' to wade through... So, is there anything left that Freud didn't cover?!? I feel like this is just one big check list, like "Yep, I do that – ya, that one, too... Ooooh, and that one should probably be on my list, even though I wish it wasn't." Oooof! Some food for thought, egh?

When I look closely at this list, and the ideas mentioned above, I see that (based purely on a Freudian analysis of my current status) I've got some stuff to work out. (Of course there have been a zillion more theories and practitioners that have come and gone since then, so I'm not sure why I am fixating on Freud alone... Do I need to over-analyze my attraction to Freud right now? Some dumb ass meta-narrative?!? But anyway...)

It all comes down to this: Even when we recognize these patterns – when we can identify, quantify, and understand the roots of our issues – what does it take to change the direction of our lives? *Knowing* is not enough. There has to be a catalyst, an epiphany, that realization calling us to a higher plane of knowledge. Enlightenment seems too strong of a word here, but along those lines. A call to action, a motivation to engender this new refined understanding. But I feel stuck, not able to fully realize my greatest potential. There is a catch, but while trying to free myself from that snag, I have seemingly gotten myself further entangled, tripping on my own rip cord.

I had a Latin teacher in high school that used to say: "It's not freedom from, but rather, freedom to ___." I think I am finally understanding the gravity of that sentiment. Unfortunately, I still don't feel free quite yet. (sigh~)

Art of Manliness: Avoiding Learned Helplessness

(Click on the title, and it will link you to the full article on The Art of Manliness website.)

The Art of Manliness recently posted an interesting article about: "Boosting Your Resiliency-Part 2: Avoiding Learned Helplessness and Changing Your Explanatory Style." It seemed like a good idea to revisit some of those passages now that I am homebound and restless in this blizzard.

In 1967, Dr. Martin Seligman began his social experiments focusing on learned helplessness. These experiments (unfortunately) began with three groups of canines, two of which would receive mild shocks to test their capacity for resilience, and their abilities to modify their behaviors in such a way that it would allow them to escape the shocks, while the third was the control group, receiving no shocks at all.

The first group of dogs were given electric shocks, but were able to press a panel with their nose to make the shocks stop. The second group of dogs were given the shocks as well, but had no recourse to make them stop. The third group was the control and received no shocks.

The dogs in the first and third group recovered well from the experiment. But the dogs in the second group, those that had been helpless to stop the pain, developed symptoms similar to clinical depression.

In the second part of the experiment, the dogs were placed in an enclosed box separated by a low barrier over which they could see. When the shocks were administered, all the dogs had the opportunity to easily escape the pain by jumping over the partition, and this is what the dogs in the first and third group did. But the dogs in the second group, those which had previously learned that there was nothing they could do to escape the shocks, simply lay there whimpering and took it. They had come to believe that nothing they did mattered; Dr. Seligman called this behavior “learned helplessness.”

The experiment was repeated with other animals, babies, and adult humans, and the results were the same. Once subjects had been exposed to a situation over which they had no control, they would continue to feel helpless, even in situations where they *did* have control.

Explaining Explanatory Style

Dr. Seligman discovered that the difference between those who were able to bounce back and those who were susceptible to learned helplessness was rooted in the different ways people explain the things that happen to them.

Seligman argues that our interpretation of events can be broken down into three categories:

• Personalization (internal vs. external)
• Pervasiveness (specific vs. universal)
• Permanence: (temporary vs. permanent).

The authors of The Resilience Factor helpfully rename these categories in an easier to remember way and explain their meaning:

• Me/Not Me
• Always/Not Always
• Everything/Not Everything:

“A ‘Me, Always, Everything’ person automatically, reflexively believes that he caused the problem (me), that it is lasting and unchangeable (always), and that it will undermine all aspects of his life (everything). When problems arise, a “Not Me, Not Always, Not Everything person believes that other people or circumstances caused the problem (not me), that it is fleeting and changeable (not always), and that it will not affect much of his life (not everything).”

For obvious reasons, studies have shown that those with a “Not Me, Not Always, Not Everything” explanatory style are the most optimistic, while those with a “Me, Always, Everything” explanatory style are prone to pessimism and depression. Once MAE’s fail at something, they are susceptible to experiencing “learned helplessness” for a long time and across many areas of their life.

The effect of your explanatory style not just on your resiliency but on your whole life cannot be overstated. Those with a pessimistic, “Me, Always, Everything” explanatory style are more prone to depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, and paralyzing inertia in the face of setbacks. Those with an optimistic, Not Me, Not Always, Not Everything style, on the other hand, experience improved health and happiness and significantly more success in the workplace, at school, and on the playing field.

It's tough to be reminded that the way that we think about the world is *not* objective. In reality, it's a series of unconscious or subconscious choices we repeatedly make to affirm our role within the world at large. Sure, it could be incredibly liberating to read about studies such as this, and simply recognize that we are the result of our own unwitting social experiments – individuals that theoretically *could* continue to modify our psychological makeup, our perceptions and related behaviors, into a better life, but... Not being world renowned social scientists ourselves, how do we delve in to our own psychological programming to debug our systems, and embark on a metapersonality upgrade?

Neuropsychiatrist, Dr. Daniel Amen, refers to debunking our learned helplessness by fighting what he termed the "A.N.T.'s," Automatic Negative Thoughts. He believes that if we can consciously train ourselves to question, and therefore nullify, the negative thoughts that surface in that cycle of learned helplessness, then we can often spring ourselves from the confines of our own sabotaging anxiety and depression. (To be noted: Dr. Amen does believe that there are both genetic and environmental roots to anxiety disorders and clinical depression that are very real, and need to be addressed biochemically – so please don't think he went all Tom Cruise on our asses, and is telling us to "turn that frown upside down" in place of the meds that signal relief for the millions suffering with those conditions.)

There is a term in developmental psychology for that subconscious stream of chatter that we hear inside our head – the one that often seems to be the wizard behind the magical curtain in our mind – it is called "the tapes." These "tapes" seem to play on repeating loops, affirming and confirming the ways we perceive the outside world, and our usefulness, productivity and projected success within that scope. Again, the theory stands that if we can derail negative tracks of this looping tape within our mind, we can free ourselves of the tethers which hold us back, or taint our most earnest efforts.

So many different people hitting that same metaphorical nail on the head: "change your mind to change you life." Okay, it sounds easy enough! Stop *believing* that every thought that floats through my head is 'true.' Remember how much my *perceptions* color the 'objectivity' of a given situation or scenario. Be more discerning while reviewing these perceptions, and toss away the negativity that holds me back unsympathetically. Right. I can do that. Or at least try my darnedest.

Theoretically, living without the burden of that crushing self-criticism would free me up to explore all of the adventures I talk myself out of when stuck in the rut of seeing my life as a tally of defeats and screw ups. But... While trying to fight the inertia, the pinching self-critic, the seemingly fatal flaws that keep me feeling immersed within my youthful folly – I wonder: What are the exercises to train myself into being a more fully realized, and organically capable, successful person?

Now that I know what *not to do,* even if I make that into a 'to do' list – what are the social experiments that I can administer to myself in order to craft this new resilient super human? Anyone??? I suppose this very question lays at the foundation for groups like the aforementioned Scientology, and other such organizations claiming to be the key to realize the individual's fullest potential. (Eek!) Can't I just keep a journal, or do some push ups?!?

Two weeks ago I came up with an idea for this blog, a new series called "Dare (Will) to Dream," in which I ask many of my closest friends to dare me into having a richer life. (It could be amazing, or the most ridiculously lame idea ever fathomed... Maybe I've just watched "Yes Man" too many times on cable.) But after re-reading this Art of Manliness article, maybe it's just what I need to combat the wintertime inertia that has slowed me down, as of late.

I think of my abused pit bull that I rescued years back, desperately needing to be "reprogrammed" after his rough puppyhood. Or my dear 3 legged dog friend Aubrey, who despite his hardships, always seems upbeat and chipper. (So, do I need to sever off one of my own limbs to get a case of the giggles?!? Hopefully not...)

If helplessness can be learned, so can its opposite. I am ready to dare myself into a new perspective for a new resiliency to take root. Go on, dare me – I dare you to...

Snowtorius B.I.G.

Here is a pic of my limp wristed pit bull, Bub Le Bubs, pacing in our backyard covered with over 2' of snow. (Interestingly, he wouldn't pee after I swept away a clearing for him. So, I then had to shovel a path way, with still no luck of Bubs relieving himself. Finally, I had to clear away an alcove at the end of the shoveled walkway so that he could have some privacy to squat and pee. My god, this dog has OCD, just like me! Hilarious!)

If you haven't heard, we are in the midst of a huge blizzard, here in DC. It's been snowing for the past 30 hours, and won't be letting up anytime soon. The good news is that I finally have a weekend off! The bad news is:

1. Some of my clients are out of town, and I am hoping that their neighbors are following through with checking on their pets like they said they would, since I am snowed in and stranded.
2. The cabin fever is setting in, big time! There isn't anything captivating on tv, and I've already done all I can to entertain myself. I might have to resort to reading a book, or finishing my taxes, if all else fails. God help me!
3. I had to park illegally last night when I came home from checking on a pet mid snow storm. I'm hoping that my car is still there, and that the cops are too busy with actual storm emergencies to ticket my car, now covered in 24" of snow. We'll see!

I wish I had the gusto to write like 6 articles right now, or work out for 2 straight hours, but I'm having problems focusing, and feel generally exhausted. I was hoping that having the weekend off would help me recuperate from that cold I couldn't quite kick, but I'm so restless, I would call this "feeling better..." Any suggestions?

Americone Dream

Those of you who know me well, probably know how much of a biography nerd I am. Some might even go so far to say that I'm obsessive when it comes to learning everything there is about noteworthy people. These folks can be inventors, business tycoons, understated 'accidental' activists (like Rosa Parks), artists and the like. I am fascinated by every element of the human experience, and how people's lives are shaped by their social environments, the grit of their passions, and the driving psyches behind their motivations and mindful decisions. I can't get enough...

Tonight I satiated that endless curiosity by watching a documentary on Ben & Jerry, the ice cream magnates. Much of the company's history was common knowledge, having grown up in the 1980s, and since I attended college in Vermont. But what I found most inspiring were the interview segments where the men talked about their personal struggles, and their intense humanitarian principles that their business needed to rise above the pure profit driven models they detested. These guys were a couple of left wing hippies wanting sidestep the greed and corporate toxicity that they believed were ruining America. (Think: *Wall Street,* the movie. "Greed is good." Is it? Is it really?!?)


I *need* to hear about the turbulent periods these kinds of people go through. I think it helps me feel more grounded when I go through my own rough patches. No one is immune or exempt. We all have those moments and triggers that push us past our base of knowledge. This documentary was an illustration that 'success' is about being adaptable, receptive to changing trends, and inventive enough to know how to ride those tides to a new, and hopefully improved outcome.

But success isn't an end point – it isn't a permanent state of being. It's more of a state of mind, a process that requires tremendous maintenance and constant intentional evolutions. Even if we 'achieve' the loftiest of accomplishments, it doesn't imply that we will be eternally suspended in that glow of victory. Fortunes can be made, and depleted. High level promotions can sometimes lead to lay offs when corporations restructure. Chart topping, number one pop songs slide their ways back down, and then off the top 40's lists. A sad, but true fact. (I think the Taoists are right...)

(I say all of this having acquired much success in my younger years: I was in all honors classes, tested well, won national awards for my metal work and musical abilities, was athletic in my much younger years, and was a regionally recognized activist – getting my name in the New England newspapers roughly a dozen times in my junior year of high school. Instead of wanting to ride that chariot of success into the sunset, I developed a stomach ulcer and decided to redefine success, and stop looking externally for affirmations about my self worth. I chose a college without tests, and without grades, where we had to write term papers instead, and got page long comments from our professors, instead of report cards and grade point averages. I did pretty well, but it could have been a mess. That's why hearing about others' experiences weathering the metaphorical storms mean so much to me.)

This documentary about "the people's ice cream" really granted me the faith in myself that I will eventually find my niche. Hearing about a company that integrated their social consciousness into not only their business model, but into their products themselves, gave me hope that we don't have to abandon our ideals in order to sustain our standard of living. Even though Ben & Jerry felt forced to sell the company that bares their names, they are still dedicated to social calls of action both on the national political scope, as well as the grassroots community base.

As I sit here in my mid thirties, daydreaming about what may become of me and my yet to be fully harvested talents, I hope that I can live as passionately and compassionately as these two blokes have. If only I could decipher what that "one thing" is that will help me "wow" the world. Then I'd be living the Americone Dream...

Just One of *Those* Days...

Yep, it's been one of those days.

Last night, my roommate and I had some people over to watch "Man vs. Food," since he works at the Travel Channel, and was excited about the live episode. I'd never seen it before, and basically had no interest in consistently watching such gluttony. But, I figured I'd be a team player, and invite some folks over as well, and make a party of it. I went to bed around 1am, after deducing the leak surrounding the skylight in my bedroom ceiling was still dripping, after two failed attempts to seal it. The leak is over my bed, causing a wet spot on the left side of my mattress. Yay! A wet bed! Everyone's favorite thing! So, I cautiously tried to sleep as far over to the right as possible, having gotten caught in the cross fire a time or two mid-sleep.

I then overslept, due to being achy, sniffly, and exhausted, as I am trying to fight a cold (unsuccessfully, having to be outdoors in this cold weather for 4-12 hrs a day!). This was made worse since I was now running late for two early client meetings. (The second of which was super pissed at me, and I had to kiss some serious ass. Yay squared!) Right before I approached her front door, I tried to take a quick swig of seltzer, but when I opened the bottle it spewed everywhere – all over me, all over the interior of my car, awesome! I tried to shake it off, as I rushed to my predictable fate of getting bitched out. It was fine...

When I got back home after those late morning visits, I spied two "tubs" of cheesepuffs left over from the party last night. Somehow, they intrigued me, and I found myself swept up in their gravitational pull. While trying to pop the top off the huge plastic container, the canister itself slipped from my hand, and went flying through the air, behind my tv and television stand, liberating what seemed like thousands of cheesepuffs. Whew-fucking-hew! I had to laugh at the idiocy of it all, and the little gray rain cloud that seemed to be appearing above my head. Funny.

Then I tried to purchased a gently used Macbook Pro from eBay, and monkeyed it up, accidentally paying for it from my bank account, rather than the credit card I was going to use. Uh ~ guh! So, I had to contact the seller, and politely ask if I could swap out the payment arrangement, kind of looking like an incompetent dolt, or a fraudulent schiester! Perfect!

But the pièce de résistance was when I had to go walk my new favorite dog, "Aubrey," a 12 year old three legged yellow lab with a newly discovered degenerative disease, which makes him even more wobbly on three legs. The dog itself is pretty amazing, so happy go lucky, and such a sweetheart! Working with him has reminded me to not sweat the small stuff, as he greets me everyday, tail wagging, hobbling around to explore every corner of his back yard. He's such a lesson in courage and conviction, always getting himself where he needs to go, completely devoid of any self pity or wallowing in the hardships he has faced.

Despite my few glitches during the day, seeing Aubrey cheered me up, per usual. But when we came back in from our visit around the backyard, he collapsed on the floor, sans dog bed, and looked a little 'off.' He was laying on his belly, like he usually does, even wagging his tail, but as I went to pet him to say goodbye, I heard a terrible grumbling. He wasn't growling at me, but rather his body was foisting its own protest, when out of his mouth erupted this molten quagmire of puke, suddenly everywhere.

His owner, a sweet pregnant woman, with one small baby already, leapt up from her chair, mortified that her three legged dog was practically vomiting on my shoes. I was fine, and ran to grab a plastic bag to put under Aubrey's gaping mouth to catch the final reserves. The owner was so embarrassed, and kept telling me how much she appreciated my help, but that I didn't need to stay, as the two of us tried to clean up our canine friend, and the area rug underneath him. I was fine, and continued to clean, as I heard the pregnant mom start to cough. She excused herself, and asked if I could do her a big favor, and throw the bag away before I left. I heard her coughing a few rooms away from me, as I tossed the soiled bag into the kitchen trash can she pointed out to me.

I hadn't realized that she, herself, had begun to vomit, since being pregnant has heightened her sense of smell, and the dog's upset stomach began a chain reaction in her, too. She came out a moment later, apologetic, and thanking me again for my help. I excused myself, saying that I would see them tomorrow, and hoped that everyone was feeling better soon. I wasn't phased by the events, but could tell that the new mom/mom-to-be (for a second time) was blushing, shaken by tossing her cookies in front of a virtual stranger. So sad...

It's only 6:30pm, and I'm curious to know what this day has left in store for me! Nothing has been horrible, so it's not the worst day of my life, but I just feel like it's some cosmic jokester kind of day, where everything is just a bit out of whack.

I'm trying to ready myself for this next "snow-pocalypse," which will be interesting when 20-24" of snow will drape this nation's capital in a heavy, impenetrable blanket of precipitation, shutting down virtually every single element of this city's livelihood.

How the fuck is DC so fragile when it comes to the weather? I grew up in Connecticut, and went to college in Vermont, where it snows 9 months out of the year. Southerners are such pansies when it comes to this shit.

I can't wait to be snowed in, and be forced to take the weekend off from work, resorting to watching bad romantic comedies, and getting around to reading one of the dozen or so books I recently purchased, but already forgot that I own. I need to stock pile some cereal and soy milk, and start some serious nesting. Anything to end this bout of uphill battles on this day of Murphy's Law. Fingers crossed!