An island age.

"In my opinion, all men are islands. And what's more, now's the time to be one. This is an island age. A hundred years ago, for example, you had to depend on other people. No one had TV or CDs or DVDs or home espresso makers. As a matter of fact they didn't have anything cool. Whereas now you can make yourself a little island paradise... And I like to think that perhaps I am that kind of island. I like to think I'm pretty cool. I like to think I'm Ibiza."

--Will in "About a Boy"

I am an island. I can do what I want, when I want. Or not, if I don't want. My life, my job, my happiness. Me. Me. Me. I do not have a spouse or significant other. I am not responsible for the livelihood or rearing of any children. I live 1,800 miles away from my family. Consequently, I could live my life with very little but a baseline level of impact on anyone else, and the hard truth is that frequently I do.

Let's be clear. I am an introvert. I like working on my own. I don't like big groups, or lots of external stimulation. I enjoy having time to myself. But, I may play that card a little too often, especially lately. Having a grown-up job and a house takes up time and energy, and I get busy and tired, and it's just easier. Also, it's safe. I can extract myself from the parts of life that are actually a lot messier in reality than in theory, and focus on the part of it I can control. Namely, me.

I read a speech by David Foster Wallace ages ago, where he called that "the freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation." I found the speech still online, and he continues: "This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day."

A hypothesis: I am not an island. I am a daughter, I am a sister, I am a friend, I am an employee, I am a supervisor, I am a member of my church, I am a resident of my neighborhood, I am a voter, I am a taxpayer, I am a citizen. All of which means that what I do and say -- or more importantly lately, don't do and don't say -- actually does have an impact on the people whose lives intersect with mine.

Among my first goals: I need to spend less time on my own. This may include more time spent building (or rebuilding) quality relationships with family and friends, putting as much energy into my group projects at work as solo projects, more involvement in my community, etc. I also need to work on being more open. Even a little seems to matter. I'm often surprised at how much I think should just be obvious that isn't unless I actually say it.

P.S. These goals violate just about every natural instinct that I have. Which is why I'm saying it publicly. I (thankfully) have people in my life who will never let me forget I just wrote those words.

One more week.

Next Tuesday is election day. Are you ready to vote? You've still got time. Here are some things I've been thinking about.

First, some words from our president:

"You might think to yourself, "What's the point?" Here's the point. When we don't pay close attention to the decisions made by our leaders, when we fail to educate ourselves about the major issues of the day, when we choose not to make our voices and opinions heard, that's when democracy breaks down. That's when power is abused. That's when the most extreme voices in our society fill the void that we leave."



Next, some words from a church leader:

"General Andrew Jackson, as he walked along the line at the Battle of New Orleans, said to his men, "Gentlemen, elevate your guns a little lower!" I think many of us need to elevate our "guns" a little lower. On the other hand, we need to raise the level of private and public discourse. We should avoid caricaturing the positions of others, constructing "straw men," if you will, and casting unwarranted aspersions on their motivations and character. We need, as the Lord counseled, to uphold honest, wise, and good men and women wherever they are found and to recognize that they are "among all sects, parties, and denominations"...

In a world beset by wrath, the prophet of our day, President Gordon B. Hinckley, has counseled: "Now, there is much that we can and must do in these perilous times. We can give our opinions on the merit of the situation as we see it, but never let us become a party to words or works of evil concerning our brothers and sisters in various nations on one side or the other. Political differences never justify hatred or ill will. I hope that the Lord's people may be at peace one with another during times of trouble, regardless of what loyalties they may have to different governments or parties."



Finally, some words from another wise man: "With great power comes great responsibility."

The whole "We the people" thing is pretty awesome, but that doesn't end on Tuesday: http://www.volunteermatch.org/

A deciduous rainforest in a temperate zone.

I went backpacking this past weekend with some friends in the Great Smoky Mountains. You may recall my love of National Parks, so I was quite happy. Despite some rain, it was great fun.

(Yes, it really was fun! I promise! )

Because of the rain the mountains were beautiful and smoky. The views were lovely, the temperature was ideal, and it was lush and green (some sections do actually qualify as a rainforest).

And yet, I've been homesick for two days. The mountains were lovely (and yes, even mountains). But, they're not MY mountains. We've always given my mom a hard time over her obsession with Mount Olympus in Utah. She always called it her mountain. She grew up at the base of it. Her family has lived there for generations. These Smokies were Brooke and Mike and Clint's mountains. My mountains are far away and look a little browner. I may or may not have spent some time searching on Flickr today. Just because.

A recurring dream.

I have stressful dreams. Rarely do I awake from a dream feeling peaceful. I think that must be where I work out my daily anxieties. Among said dreams, though, most belong to a predictable set of recurring dreams that I have over and over and over again. The settings differ, the contexts differ, but the overall themes are generally few. Such themes include (but are not limited to): falling, being naked in public, getting lost, etc. In particular, the naked-in-public dream I have with regularity is being in a bathroom/locker room/dressing room only to realize it is open on at least one side, and I am now exposed to the entire gym/office/store/street.

So, when I walked into my hotel room in Hong Kong (another work trip) the first thing I noticed was my entire bathroom is glass. I have not bothered to put down the shade, as I find I rather enjoy watching TV from the bathtub, or brushing my teeth while looking out across the room to the harbor view. But, literally the first thing I thought was... this is just like my dream.







(My life is so hard.)

This old house.

For better or worse, buying a house built in 1949 means it comes with a history. My entry into the tale began when my home inspector found children's chalk drawings on the side of a walled-off section of the attic. Creepy, no? My sister and I came up with some good stories. Both my mother and my realtor thought nothing of it. (Party poopers.)

I still think my version was better, especially after uncovering this after clearing some trees and shrubs out of my overgrown backyard:

Half-decayed fire pit? or Pagan altar? You decide. I have.

Since then I've continued to clear out the yard. (With help, that is, I have some really amazing friends.) And when I say clear, I mean it was previously a jungle. My neighbor says it was solid overgrowth as long as he can remember, and he's lived there for over 20 years.

I am gradually working my way toward the pile of sticks and leaves and brush in the back corner that has fascinated me since I moved in. At first, all I could see below it was a cinder block corner:

Then, carpet?

An old aluminum window frame? With screen?

And does anyone know what this is?

Some might say it's just a junk pile. But I think there's a story to be made of all of it. (Let's also just say, I have an active imagination. And, I may or may not have seen a few too many episodes of Bones in my time).

What else will I find? To be continued...

An existential crisis.

Maps have failed me. This may not seem like much to the non-map-people among you, but I assure you this is a weighty matter.

I just tagged along with my parents on their trip to Ireland (in no small part due to an expanding sum of frequent flier miles). Me and my "young eyes" were designated official navigator. Even with two different maps, printed Google directions, a Rick Steves guidebook, and only occasionally helpful road signage, we still had to ask locals more than my injured pride would have liked. (Thanks, though, especially to the nice petrol station attendant in Loughrea, or we would still be driving in circles looking for the entrance to the motorway).

The very core of my identity has been shaken. The alternative is, the country makes no sense. Which can't be true, the people are lovely.

(Read fast!)

If I believed in karma.

(A little late... some of you have already heard this story. Sorry, I'm catching up.)

I was in Seattle for work a couple weeks ago (only 8 more states to go!), and my sister flew up as well since she's off from teaching for the summer. She immediately loved the view from our 32nd floor hotel room. I made some sort of snide remark that she might not be so impressed if there was a fire and we had to climb down 32 flights of stairs.

The very next night? We climbed down 32 flights of stairs. (After being rudely awakened from my dozing during a late night House Hunters International. Don't mock.) And then sat on the sidewalk of downtown Seattle in our pajamas until the fire department gave the all-clear. Coincidence? My sister thinks not.

(If you can see it, that black stuff scattered across the ground is ash...)

(Also, I will admit to having momentary visions of Backdraft while I led our floor's occupants to the stairwell. No worries... I made sure to test the temperature of the doorknob before opening.)