open to openmindedness

When tragedy strikes, it’s natural to let oneself go. The moments that used to be filled with narcissistic activities are replaced with sorrow, self-reflection, and re-evaluation of life itself. There is hardly time for trivial pastimes such as staring at oneself in the mirror or blogging… not that I have been known to do either…

And thus, I find myself here, half a year later, struggling with all sorts of things  (writer’s block included) but possessing a new outlook—young&fabulous deconstructed and reconstructed, young&fabulous 2.0 if you will. As someone recently told me: I now have lots of perspective, more than I had bargained for, but now I have it.

And so today’s musing is on open-mindedness. Sometimes, we are forced to have an open mind. When our circumstances are less than ideal, when our worst nightmares are realized, we must open our minds to our new and often horrifying realities. But in experiencing this forced mind stretching, I have found that having this mindset can be an asset. I now define open-mindedness as experiencing something without expectations or judgments on how one should experience it.

What I’ve learned is that we need to focus on every experience, every feeling, for what it is. Instead of comparing any given moment to how it would have been in other circumstances or to how we think it should be, we need to experience it for what it is.

As silly (and unbelievable) as this sounds, a few weeks ago, I told a friend that I don’t like fried desserts. To me, fried food should be salty, not sweet.  A recent trip to New Orleans, however, made me reconsider. As I just learned, beignets done right are next level. And there goes another sweeping statement, disappearing from my lexicon like the powdered sugar atop the deep fried goodness I just tasted. Once I put aside preconceived notions about how something should taste and quit comparing it to how other foods taste, I was able to experience it with new eyes taste buds. 

On a more serious note, I constantly wish that my dad could be here with me experiencing every milestone big and small, from trying a new cheese to laughing at the latest Judd Apatow film to seeing me graduate from college. To my dad, there was no experience too small to merit a Shehecheyanu (blessing for special occasions and new experiences). Unfortunately, it isn’t possible for him to be here for each of these new moments. Instead, what I’ve found is that it’s imperative to focus on every single one of these milestones in their own lights, as they are. I am not trying to compare these moments to how they could have been if he was there but I’m just to  experience them for what they are. And what these moments actually feel like, free of comparison or judgment, is usually better than I would expect.

Moreover, it’s important to be open-minded in the way we experience emotions. When feeling sad, it’s useless to wonder why I don’t feel happier or to try to compare my sadness to what others are feeling. Chances are that other people are 1.) pretending to be happier than they actually are, 2.) experiencing happiness and sadness so differently than how I experience things that it is moot to compare, or 3.) mutant zombies. In this light, it’s clear that judging what I feel and trying to measure it against what other people may or may not feel is a silly activity—much sillier than staring at myself in the mirror and blogging COMBINED! Who knew?!

So, what have I learned? Funny you should ask because I was just about to reiterate: it’s important to be open-minded and experience everything—from wines to movies to serious losses—as they are, without judgments on how we think they should be. And in doing so we make profound realizations; we learn that there’s new joy to be found and that fried dough is delicious.

if you're gonna do it, do it now.

Germaine Greer hit the nail on the head when she stated that, “You’re only young once but you can be immature forever.”  I’ve met countless octogenarians who have the sass, vivacity, and humor of a teenager. I don’t think that age should dictate one’s every move, (especially not regarding one’s sense of humor, appropriate or otherwise). I do, however, think that there are some things which are just straight up inappropriate to do after a certain age. So, here’s a list of 10 things to do (if you wanted to do them) before it’s too late.

1. staying in hostels- Don’t be that guy, (the one collecting scraps of bars of soap in a small metal box under your pillow), who is sharing a room full of bunk-beds with drunken teenagers. At least from my dad’s college years, this is the quintessential hostel experience: the old man’s soap scraps are still emblazoned in his mind.  Don’t be that guy trying to relive your Eurotrip.

2. wearing brightly colored eyeliner- A year ago, I realized that there is no time like the present for me to flaunt a mini skirt. In a few short years, this will be just inappropriate; the same applies for bikinis and form fitting clothes, too.  But have you ever noticed older women wearing brightly colored eyeliner?!? Something seems a bit unsettling about it.

3. overusing and abusing the f*** word, especially as an adjective- I have the same problem with this as I do with the usage of most words. By a certain point in life, (usually after about tenth grade), it is no longer cool to use profanity in public and overusing any word shows a lack of creativity or intellectual capacity.

4. knowing the lyrics to Justin Bieber songs- something seems downright wrong about knowing (or at least admitting to know) the lyrics of a love song written by a teeny-bopper for his equally young crush.  Perhaps love is a universal theme but I think that when seeking advice on the matter there are other more reliable experts.

5. matching outfits with friends- It’s just weird.  Your mom didn’t dress you and your 3 year old little brother in matching T-shirts at age 29, you are a grown adult.

6. keeping up with one’s high school’s sports teams- Perhaps during high school it’s cool to care about these things but at some point, I promise it is cooler to not care.

7. attending music festivals- When you’re sixteen and want to feel the pulsing bass of your favorite band and be part of a crowd of other sixteen year olds clad in similar Urban Outfitters attire, that’s cool. But you don’t want to be the oldest person there, awkwardly trying to fit in with people who are young enough to be your children- unless they are your children and you are chaperoning them in which case I pity you.

8. participating in reality TV competitions – As sad as it sound, the odds are not in your favor if you are past a certain age. Rather than focusing on your talents or merits, viewers are wondering if you have a family, a career, and/or friends. Especially in the shows which require contestants to move into a house full of strangers, age differences matter.  Similar idea noted in point number 1.

9. wearing costumes to movie premiers- When you’re 45, chances are that you resemble neither Harry nor Hermoine, so give it up.

10. bragging about your hangover- Drinking embarrassing amounts isn’t cool—it’s embarrassing. You’re old enough to know better.

It’s not that I am recommending or condoning any of the items on this list but rather if you’re going to do them, you might as well get them out of your system now. Do them before it’s too weird and you’re not only, as Greer put it, eternally “immature” but also eternally creepy.

The Rhetoric of Chill

Perhaps it’s a California thing and that’s why this Oklahoma girl doesn’t understand it, but lately, I’ve learned that I am not fluent in the rhetoric of chill.  I perpetually hear people describe someone as “chill,” “hella chill,” or, my (least) favorite: “a mad chiller.”  A few bros recently tried to explain it to me, claiming that chill doesn’t imply passivity, but rather a relaxed attitude. 

Saying that someone is “chill” or “hella chill” implies what exactly?  That (s)he goes with the flow, relaxes, and gets along well with others?  Alright, I’ll buy that.  There’s no denying that those are all indubitably positive traits, but they’re not exactly number one on my list of “looking-fors.”  To me, being a “chiller” is kind of like having good handwriting; while it can be a useful attribute if I am looking for a scribe to record my group’s manifesto, it isn’t a make-or-break quality.  I’m not actively seeking chillers in my life.

Having a chiller in the mix is probably not a bad thing.  I’m not trying say that everyone should convert to my extremist practice, the motto of which is “neurotic is the new chill.”  While the world might be a more productive (and obviously caffeinated) place if everyone was buzzing around with neurotic energy and to-do lists, it wouldn’t be balanced.  IMHO, there need to be at least some crazies and some chillers. 

Greg Hicks and Rick Foster, two personality and positive psychology scholars, have developed the clever personality archetype system in which four different animals represent four different personality types.  As far as I understood, their four types can be described as:

Fox- opportunistic, clever, creative

Beaver- organized, planner

Dolphin- idealistic, social, focuses on human connection/ emotion

Owl- rational thinker, logical

By looking at my to-the-minute day-planner or labeled pantry, one can easily glean that I am, unfortunately named, a beaver.  And from what I deduce, chillers might fall in the dolphin category.  But I’m still not convinced that “chiller” is a personality type; perhaps it is more of a quality.  Maybe any of these animal types can be “hella chill” in different situations.  Although I’d be hard pressed to find a beaver who can “chill so hard.”  After enough “chillin’,” the beaver would probably be ready to scratch (perhaps using sharp beaver teeth?!?) “chill” off of her to-do list, and move on to the next task at hand. 

If you have enough time to breathe...

1.) …you have enough time to respond to a text message.

2.) …you have enough time to unroll your pant leg when you get off your bike.  No, the rolled pant leg doesn’t look sporty or outdoorsy and no, the frantic in-a-rush look isn’t cute.

3.) …you have enough time to put down the toilet lid—if you can pick it up, you can put it back down.

4.) …you have enough time to blow your nose and stop sniffling. 

5.) …you have enough time to buckle your seatbelt.

6.) …you have enough time to hold open the door for the next person. You will both get in there in time.

7.) …you have enough time to tie your shoes.

8.) …you have enough time to wash your hands after using the restroom.  If you don’t wash your hands, everyone else in the public restroom is judging you.

9.) …you have enough time to smile at a stranger. Note: you probably don’t have enough time to wink at said stranger.  Even if you do have enough time, you shouldn’t—it’s creepy.

10.) …you have enough time to throw your gum away in the trashcan. And no, the floor or the underside of a table do not count as a trashcan. 

The Imagination Renaissance

at the Gnome's Nook in Denver

In a world of touchscreens and traffic, it’s easy to misplace our imaginations. Why think creatively, when there are apps that do it for us?  Increasingly, I’ve noticed parents placating their child with an iPad or another piece of technology instead of actually interacting with aforementioned offspring.  That’s not to say that this is any different from giving the child a toy but there is something rather sterile about this interaction.  I have also noticed a trend of what I like to call strolling and scrolling-- parents spending “quality” pushing their child’s stroller, while more intently focused on their cellphones.

With my perplexity regarding this sort of parenting increasing, I have begun to think more about the importance of exercising imagination.  What inspired my newfound appreciation for imagination was a trip into a magical shop (or perhaps one might go so far as to call it a “shoppe”) called “The Gnome’s Nook.”  I was visiting a friend in Denver when we saw this small shop  whose windows were full of gnomes of all shapes and sizes.  I would like to say that my keen sense of smell for all things chocolate and gnome-related brought me there but unlike gnomes, I am not quite as attuned to my surroundings. (Fun Fact: gnomes’ sense of smell is 19 times stronger than that of humans).  Immediately, I knocked on the door, begging the owner to open thirty minutes early for an out-of-towner like myself who has a true passion for gnomes. 

Once the proprietor realized that I was completely earnest in my love of gnomes, he gave us a tour of the place.  This small, two-story shop sells candy and all sorts of gnome decor and paraphernalia.  The owner had just opened the store a few weeks prior to our visit and explained his inspiration: to create a space in which imagination flourishes.  As a father, he worried about his children growing up in a world that doesn’t encourage this sort of imagination.  His future plans include a workshop in the space next-door, in which he will host crafting and culinary events-- what an inspired and inspiring idea!

Especially as adults, we are constantly challenged to think analytically, critically, but rarely creatively.  Why should we stop using our imaginations and suspending disbelief just because we are old enough to know better? (In a similar vein, I am old enough to know better than to hope for a snow day in California, but that doesn’t mean that I have stopped sleeping with my PJs inside out for good measure). 

Whether by watching a fantasy film or LARP-ing, or speaking in funny accents, or even just convincing oneself that gnomes exist, we can strengthen our imaginations.  Like all things worthwhile including but not limited to: patience, physical fitness, gratitude, musical talents, or woodcarving, practice makes perfect.  Unlike 21^st century human parents who seem to be dropping the ball on the whole “parenting” thing, we should all emulate a more gnomeopathic way of raising children and improving the childish playfulness that we once possessed.   It's time for a renaissance of the imagination and like a gnome venturing out into the enchanted forest, I don't mind leading the way!

Fun Facts about gnomes come from the 1976 NYT bestselling complete anthology on gnomes, entitled,  “Gnomes,” written by Wil Huygen and illustrated by Rien Portvilet. 

a recipe for pride

the roots of the family tree, photograph taken by author for: http://journeytoamerica.org

Although I don’t have any first-hand experience with the sort of pride that a parent or grandparent feels towards his or her children, I have been trying to imagine it.  I wonder what it feels like to experience the pride that a (grand)parent feels when his or her (grand)child does something truly extraordinary.  (Or, as is the case in many of our families, the pride which one feels when his child does something moderately above average, which also deems substantial praise). 

The word pride is tricky, however, because it contains its fair share of negative connotations. Describing someone as “proud” in the Elizabeth and Darcy Pride and Prejudice way bears some sort of Austen-ian sting.  But there is another kind of pride, that which a grandparent feels towards his grandchildren, which is truly awe-inspiring.

On Thursday, after a long struggle with Alzheimer’s Disease, my paternal grandfather passed away.  When thinking about this reserved, easy-going man, I realized something.  Papa wasn’t just casual, calm, and quiet.  Everything he did was carefully calculated as part of a grander plan.  He had some sort of bird’s eye view or magical foresight into the future of his family.  Nothing he did was to satisfy his own needs; it was all part of something larger.  And as the family that he and my grandmother built grew, so did his pride.

When I try to remember his voice, the two phrases that I can hear in my head (because I heard him say them more frequently than anything else) are: “we’re awful proud of you,” and “is there anything we can do for you all?” Papa was always (one might argue disproportionately) proud of us, but he didn’t take that pride in either of the normal directions.  He didn’t a.) brag about his children and grandchildren and  their accomplishments nor did he b.) take any of our success to mean that we no longer needed his support.  Papa was always beaming with pride but he manifested it by verbally expressing his pride while offering up whatever he had left to give.  He was still uttering those two phrases until his last days. 

The fact that I haven’t yet experienced this pride, however, provides me with encouragement and hope.  And no, mom, not encouragement in the “go-forth-and-spread-my-seed-and-prosper” kind of way that you fear given the tapestry that supposedly symbolizes fertility hanging above my bed, but rather in the “the-best-is-yet-to-come” kind of way.  That some sort of joy this radiant and meaningful exists and I am yet to experience it makes me feel the way that I imagine Dorothy would feel if she knew that she were about to experience life in color in the land of Oz.

Today at his funeral, I felt a grandchild’s pride when I saw the crowd that had gathered to remember my grandfather and when I heard the Rabbi’s beautiful words.  But this sense of pride, however, is only one facet of this complex and intriguing emotion.  My grandfather always made me proud, I am proud to be his granddaughter, but these are only two specific types of pride.  I’m not saying that experiencing emotions of this caliber is something limited to parents or grandparents, (or that I imminently want to become either a grandparent or parent), but this just proves that there exists a spectrum of flavorful emotions, waiting to be discovered and tasted.  I know that something magical is out there and even though life is short and we all must face our eventual mortality, the best is truly yet to come. 

my early retirement and lessons learned

kitschen!!

Over the course of a few weeks, I have undergone some serious lifestyle transformations.  This metamorphosis has not occurred out of some sort of New Year’s resolution (heaven forbid (please see my last post)) but rather out of my environment or cocoon, to continue with the metamorphosis metaphor.  I’ll elaborate:

Due to an overpopulation of undergraduates enrolled in my university, my friend and I were placed in an apartment off campus, much to our delight.  While most other students complained about the lack of social life, the strictly enforced quiet-hour regulations, and the other inconveniences of off-campus living, I learned the two and a half words that change everything: walk-in pantry.  To me, this pantry is much more exciting than the other perks of this “undesirable housing” which include gym facilities, sauna, steam room, mini movie theater, swimming pools, walk-in closets, et. cetera.  But anyway, living among a slightly older crowd has made me feel like I have taken on an early retirement.  But in a good way.  (Note: one can add “in a good way” to the end of any sentence in order to soften an otherwise rude remark.  More on this and other similar forms of wordplay later).  Back to the point: this early retirement has gotten me thinking about growing up and how some of the lessons we learn as children were not necessarily applicable to the “real world,” while others couldn’t be more on target. Let’s bust some myths, shall we? 

Myth # 1: Don’t play with your food.  As children we were all warned against playing with our food, but I am finding that it is quite often acceptable.  As “adults,” we learn that rules were meant to be broken.  This is one of those rules.  In my semi-retirement, I have learned that food is quite often the best plaything.  Lately, I have been cooking up a storm and have learned that just like I used to enjoy squishing vegetables through my fingers as a child, I can still do so as long as it is in the name of a culinary endeavor!

Myth #2: If you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything at all.  Yes and no.  Sometimes the cold, hard truth is necessary.  But when the truth is TMTH (too much to handle), it is better to stay silent than to candy-coat a remark to make it seem like a compliment.  I have noticed that many people twist their words to seem nice when the truth or even silence would have been better.  Just like I enjoy playing with my food, I also take great enjoyment from playing with my words.

One of my personal favorite pasttimes involving wordplay requires a bit of dissection.  If ways of playing with the English language were like board games, this one is the “Operation” of the bunch.  I thoroughly enjoy picking apart comments and figuring out the coded meaning behind many so-called compliments.  A few favorites:

1.)  Wow! This is suuuuch a great photo of you; you look great in this picture… You are really photogenic.—what seems at first like a sweet and thoughtful compliment is really just a way of saying: you look much better in photographs then you do in real life.  I mean, not all of us can help it if the camera loves us!

2.)  Wow! This is such a great photo; you must have a really nice camera—This one implies that the quality of said photo is due solely to the camera, as opposed to the photographer herself. 

Myth #3: Idle time is the devil’s playground.  Absolutely not.  As any happily retired person can attest, idle or “free” time allows for the cultivation of other pastimes.  When given a plethora of idle time, one often finds herself busier than ever!  But perhaps idle time is the devil’s playground but in a good way?!?

I must admit, I have made it sound like I have been spending the past few weeks doing nothing but people-watching and baking bread, which is not exactly accurate.  I have been doing the usual college-related activities that involve going to classes and meetings, but since these activities are what are expected of a person my age, I see no need to elaborate.  Reflection of the week:  growing up doesn’t mean learning new rules, but rather learning new ways of interpreting and breaking those rules.