Pseudotherapy

It was the Saturday before Christmas. We’d been at to my niece’s house, and as we turned onto our street we saw a realtor’s sign announcing an Open House.  FORECLOSURE! it screamed in all caps. Oh, that is so sad, I thought to myself. Someone’s losing their beloved house, and right at Christmas, too. The sign was one of a series pointing the way into the attractive neighborhood across from our apartment complex. A neighborhood, incidentally, in which I’ve often fantasized about living.

As we drove toward the gated entry of our community, passing several more signs, I thought about the ramifications of that word, foreclosure, and how often friends have suggested that as a way for Bret and me to become homeowners. Between the two of us we have a very comfortable income, but we suck at saving so we’d have trouble putting together a down payment. With homes in foreclosure, the bank’s main concern is the buyers’ ability to make payments, so we might get approved. A home in Ocean Hills in foreclosure was like a dream come true, a door of opportunity being thrown wide open. A door which I could not bring myself to walk through.

Bret never even noticed the signs, and I didn’t call them to his attention. House lust or not, the idea of buying someone’s house out from under them seemed vulturish — especially in December. True, the owners might actually be grateful to be relieved of the financial burden, but what if they weren’t? What if they were devastated by the loss? I could never be happy profiting from someone else’s misfortune. I’d feel like … well, a vulture.

Even so, two weeks later I’m wondering, What if? What if we’d gone to that open house, and the house was just perfect, and the owners were thrilled to be getting out from under it, and the bank approved us, all at the perfect time since our lease is up January 31st? What if that was our perfect opportunity, and we passed it by? What if we never get another? Not that we’ll ever know, but … what if?

Do you ever wonder about the doors you didn’t walk through? Don’t you wonder, What if I had?

2009: The Year Of Being SJ, Part Two

I loved Sizzle’s post, Intent On It. I’ve practiced feng shui for years, but never thought to apply the principle of intention to New Year’s resolutions as she does. Since the only resolutions I’ve actually completed seem to be the ones I post on Snackie’s World, I’ve decided to give the intention thing a shot. Because there’s a whole bunch of stuff I want to accomplish this coming year. To that end, here are my intentions for 2009:

I intend to go to the gym on my lunch break a minimum of four times each week. I intend to walk there and back as many of those times as weather permits.

I intend to continue my commitment to the Medifast program until I have reached a healthy weight, and completed the transition and maintenance phases.

I intend to stop and think instead of reacting impulsively. Gut reactions are based on emotions rather than reason, which is not a healthy way to handle conflict.

I intend to buy a lot of new clothes, for therapeutic reasons. Nothing motivates like a new outfit in a smaller size!

I intend to rise above my insecurities, and stop allowing them to control me.

I intend to weed unhealthy relationships out of my life. If it doesn’t nourish me in some way, I don’t need it. And if it brings negativity, I don’t want it.

I intend to put the additional income from my two recent raises (yes, I got another one effective today, w00t!) into my savings account — and stop pulling it out for impulse buys!

I intend to overcome my OCD tendencies — beginning with not limiting this list to 10 items.

Hey, will you look at that! I’ve already started on all of those. Yay, me!

I intend to complete the Couch to 5K program.

I intend to find an artist who will help me redesign Pseudotherapy to the concept I see in my head. Because it’s asscrack ugly right now (and yet, I used to like it …).

I intend to write more and write often. Mostly here and on my weight-loss blog, but I also intend to resume work on my novel — starting with the suggestions made by my former-editor friend, Carolyn, who is critiquing it for me.

I intend to write freely and unconstrained by fears or hopes. I will write for me.

I intend to share more of my photos, in particular my arm’s-length self-portraits. Because I intend to accept myself as I am — with all my perceived flaws. Even so, I’m not quite ready for the 365 Days group on Flickr.

And now, I intend to have a big mug of fresh-ground Sumatra and one of my Christmas biscottis. And that is the easiest intention of all.

I wish you all a phenomenal 2009!

2009: The Year of Being SJ, Part One

Last week my blogdaughter Kim wrote a post about slacking off on her running due to holiday activities, asking the question, “Can I still call myself a runner if I only ran once last week?” While rhetorical, this question got me thinking.

At what point does “am” become “was”? When does “on hiatus” become “canceled”? Where does the line between “legend” and “has-been” fall? Can I still call myself a writer if I hardly ever write?

Although I’ve fantasized since childhood about being a successful novelist, I’ve always known it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t have that drive, at least not on a consistent basis. While my love of writing has been lifelong, the urge to write is very much ebb and flow for me. There have been times in my life when I was consumed with the need to write for months and months, but there have also been times when I went literally years without composing anything more than my work-related reports. When I am beset by the muse, I write constantly and compulsively. And when I’m not, I rarely touch my keyboard.

2006 was a great year for me, creatively speaking. I was living on unemployment in Georgia, with nothing to do all day but write and take photos. That’s when I was on The Write Coast [Author's note: I wonder when I will stop having a stabbing pain in my heart/gut just saying that name? Ever, you think?], and posting nearly every day. That was the year I met many of you through GBBMC1. I also completed a 24-hour Blogathon, 31 Days Of Halloween, NaNoBloMo and Holidailies. It was the zenith of my blogging history thus far.

I’ve never recaptured the muse to that extent since then. Maybe because I moved back to California, and promptly got a full-time job that I adore. Maybe because I’m so much happier. Maybe I’m an angst writer, and my artistic juices flow best when I’m miserable. I don’t like that idea. I don’t want to only express myself when I’m in despair. I don’t want to someday look back at my online journaling, and mostly see chronicles of my low spots. I don’t want the only evidence of my good times to be an absence of posts.

This is one of my intentions for 2009: Write more, write daily, write for me. I am officially and permanently DONE playing the popularity game (at which I was quite the failure, BTW!). We all say, “This is my blog,” but for me what that meant in 2008 was, “This is my blog, with which I am desperately trying to win your approval and acceptance, which you will show me by reading, subscribing and commenting copiously.” Uh, yeah, not so much. But you know what? I don’t give a shit. No, really. I truly don’t anymore. Using my blog for that purpose frustrated and stifled me, and very nearly killed my love for writing. And accomplished zilch. In fact, it probably drove away more readers than it lured. Trying too hard and all that. DONE. WITH. THAT.

Beginning now, I OWN Pseudotherapy, and I INTEND to make it genuine in all aspects.

Tomorrow: 2009: The Year of Being SJ, Part Two

[Author's Note #2: This post ended up going in a different direction than originally intended. I don't care. It's the train of thought that counts.]

I wasn’t expecting it. You never are, I suppose.  No warning, you’re just going about your business, when love suddenly rears up and bites you in the ass. That’s exactly what happened.

I was flipping through the channels looking for something to watch. Some movie had just begun on Encore. A brooding Willem Dafoe was riding in the back seat of a car, and the song playing behind the opening credits riveted my attention to the screen. The film was Light Sleeper, and the song was “World On Fire” by Michael Been. I can’t explain why I fixated on it. I liked The Call, but was never obsessed with them or anything. I hadn’t followed Been’s post-80s career at all. Nor was I in a real-life situation that especially related to the lyrics. Yet the song crawled under my skin and burrowed into my brain, and I could not let it go. I actually missed about half of the movie because I was on my computer trying to find a copy of the soundtrack.

It wasn’t available. Anywhere. Out of stock on Amazon, discontinued by the publisher, not found on any music downloading service I tried. One song, “To Feel This Way,” was included on two other albums, but “World On Fire” had only been released as part of the soundtrack. The out of stock, discontinued, phantom soundtrack.

That was a few years ago. I’ve continued searching for this elusive song/soundtrack ever since, browsing secondhand music stores and eBay, but with no luck. Until today. Today at last, thanks to the kindness of a stranger, the Light Sleeper soundtrack is mine. It’s a stunning piece of work by Been, and includes both the original rockin’ and the moody opening-scene versions of “World On Fire.” I would like to share it with you. Have a listen, and then tell me what you think.

Download “World On Fire” by Michael Been, from the film Light Sleeper