God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another. -- William Shakespeare
My aunt Nancy was a wild but business minded broad. She
lived in
God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another. -- William Shakespeare
My aunt Nancy was a wild but business minded broad. She
lived in
Posted at 12:28 PM in Fish Family | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Talking to Mary, you know you don't have to shout
She can hear what you're thinking like you're saying it right out loud
--Elliott Smith, lyrics from Talking to Mary
Instead of focusing on a lovely
Thanksgiving dinner that we had at home, instead of admiring the Christmas tree
that we bought and decorated the day after Thanksgiving, instead of
congratulating myself for starting to clear out the garage this weekend, I
chose to sink. Wrapped in half bedclothes, half street clothes, and finally
just carrying a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, a portable bed if you
will, from bed to couch and back again. I could barely keep my eyes open and
just decided to let myself drift into the boozy slumber of a depressive
episode. Waking each time reminded me how utterly perfect my sleep had been and
caused me to crave it even more. Asleep, I can’t be prickly with my husband or
grouchy with the dog. Asleep, I hurt no one. My sweaty cheek with hair
plastered to it pressed hard into the pillow. Sweet relief.
Posted at 04:39 PM in Fish Thinks | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
My way of joking is to tell the truth.
That's the funniest joke in the world.
With 2 minutes of sunlight left, I walk back to the office with
my late lunch, a toasted wheat, peanut butter, jelly and banana sandwich and
consider that, as honest and hard-working as I believe myself to be, I always end
up pissing off my managers. To be fair, I’ve had some pretty uninspiring
managers and pretty much let them know it in so many words. The tricky part is:
what does it say about me? An aversion to authority is textbook. I don’t like
being led by people with visible human flaws. I want an ideal, an advocate, a
mentor, a sophisticated leader. Managing people is not easy, over 80% of
managers in industry in the U.S.
I’ve learned that I’m not motivated by money or status. I
don’t particularly care what my title is or what cache it carries. My main
motivation, I’ve learned after over 20 years of hard work, is being recognized
and acknowledged for doing great work. That’s it. That’s my boat, cart, fiddle
and caboodle. I’ve gone so far as to emphasize that positive reinforcement
really works with me, hinting that a casual, “job well done” thrown in my
direction is priceless. I hate those decoy meetings, where you think things are
going smoothly and then a torpedo surfaces and your stomach lurches as you
imagine taking cover. A casually tossed, “You’ve done everything very well, but
you should have handled this or that differently,” or “I know that you’re
working yourself to death, but can you move the launch date up 2 weeks?” or
“You need to depersonalize your interpersonal interactions.” Are you seriously
joking or truly serious? Unebe-fing-lievable. I am not making this up. I am
also an expert at detecting hogwash. My BS radar starts a sonar alarm and all
systems lock down. At best, I will implement a 3-foot-distance-at-all-times
position and never take you into my confidence again. At worst, well, you get
the point. However subtle, you have taken me for granted and lost my respect. I
know I sound super harsh. I take my work seriously and I expect those around me
to do the same. It’s a point of pride and it’s one of my truths.
Posted at 04:09 PM in Fish Truths | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge. - Charles Darwin
You never know what moments in life will matter. In love, family, work, art, ethics. What fantastic memories will be lost and what terrible memories will stick. Or vice versa. What behavior or comment will be used to judge you. And of course what you process to judge others. We have so little control over what people choose to cling to and discard. I’m just realizing this now. And it’s hard to accept. I’m a perfectionist. I despise mess and clutter and irrational behavior and rules that make no sense and I’m stubborn and I usually think that I’m right. I am loyal and dedicated and hold people up to a very high standard. I am confident. I am also afraid. Afraid of being undervalued, used, ignored. I trust people with too much and when they fail I lock them out and make it clear how they have failed. This is a pattern, I see it in myself and the years of disappointment are hard to look at with a clear eye. I’m not perfect after all.
Posted at 11:59 AM in Fish Thinks | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
There’s no accounting for absences, so instead I’m writing with fever and avoiding any explanations to cover my tracks. It’s most definitely Fall in the Bay Area and I’m loving it – for the first time EVER. I’m actually ready for the cooler weather and a departure from sunburnt grass and sweaty underarms. Is it a sign of relinquishing my Los Angeles roots that I no longer miss the year round warmth of SoCal? Every year here I have a panic freak out about keeping warm. I pile the bed with enough blankets to suffocate us and I start to pull out all my sweaters and jackets and tights and boots and wooly scarves. It’s quite funny to see my husband sleeping in, one stray foot sticking out from all the covers, his head buried in the blankets and our dog lovingly licking that bare protruding foot. Ah yes, Fall is where it’s at for me.
Posted at 05:30 PM in Fish Lives | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons. - T.S. Eliot
I appreciate...
unexpectedly warm days when the sun warms my skin
my sweet spoiled dog
seeing in color
pineapple
my asthma medicine
Peet’s coffee
great timing
Netflix
surviving loss
dark chocolate
seeing the bay every day
having both a book and street education
perfect songs on my ipod for my walks
matinees
seafood
smiling at a stranger and seeing them smile back
falling asleep next to my husband
Home
Posted at 07:23 PM in Fish Lives | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
My little bro is competing today in a “drum off” for a chance to win a car. He’s a phenomenal drummer, smooth and cool, full of charisma and completely non-arrogant. This competition is symbolic in a lot of ways. It means that he’s coming out of the foggy gloom and paralysis that he’s been in most of the year. It means that he wants to socialize, that he wants to play in public, and that he’s willing to take some risks and be competitive. I see it as a debut of his blooming self, the sweet boy disappearing and the handsome man emerging. He’s 19 years old and I love him like crazy. I’m so proud of him. My sister Sarah calls him “an old soul.” He’s always been an easy kid, patient and quiet, but very stubborn and focused. He has enormous potential, but he’s lazy and he knows it. He rarely gets mad or angry. He just gets very quiet.
On one of my last visits, he drove me to the airport. It was pretty eye-opening. He is a cautious and courteous driver. He doesn’t speed and he signals when he’s changing lanes. I didn’t feel anxious or afraid one bit when he was driving. He doesn’t listen to music when he drives so that he’s not distracted. So smart! He truly is an old soul. Obviously, I’m nuts about him.
Just like me, music is his passion. Unlike me, he chose it at an early age and devoted himself to it. He’ll be playing today at 6:00 pm PST, so send him good thoughts and I’ll let you know when he wins. He’s already a champion in my book. Check him out doing a super cool drum solo while practicing on his kit.
Posted at 12:33 PM in Fish Family | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I’m headed for some big changes. I’m learning to trust myself. I believe that this year has been the most productive, the most painful and the most eye opening for me. I’m really evaluating everything around me. I’m tired of many situations and people and feelings that I’ve been dragging around for too long. Only time will tell if my inner voice is bat crazy or onto something.
You know when you get kind of stuck? You may not admit it to yourself. This isn’t the wake up and kind of wish you could sleep in longer kind of stuck. I’m talking about the deep inside rattling of something loose. The quiet low-level depression that follows you around. I do believe that there’s a steady and clear vision that you have for yourself above it all. You know what makes you happy, even if you only allow it or glimpse it for a few minutes a day.
Honor yourself and listen to what you need. Don’t be afraid. Leave that behind. Trust that you will be OK because you will be. You’ll be better than OK.
Posted at 03:48 PM in Fish Thinks | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
- Edgar Allen Poe
She climbed trees bare handed and watched the ground disappear
and captured ladybugs in her hands.
She never thought to tear off their wings,
as her fleshy and loud next door friend liked to do.
The years scattered like an open box of toothpicks dropped
She was comfortable in the sunken seat cushions of knowledge
There were times when sadness took her
And loneliness, a damp towel, never dried.
Tea leaves revealed some past hurt
and her feet were always cold to the touch
In her dreams she is a gypsy barefoot on the warm sand
smiling into the deep sunset, alone and unafraid.
Posted at 01:17 PM in Fish Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
We went bowling on Saturday night with another couple who we really like and don’t see enough. Walking into the bowling alley, it was a wave of familiarity. I spent a lot of time as a pre-teen in bowling alleys. Every Sunday night, in fact. All of us, my ever-pregnant mom and my stepdad and me and sometimes my brother James, would pile into the car and head over for 6:00-9:00 pm Blue Chip Bowling. I had a crush on the awkward restaurant cashier, whose family, I was convinced, owned the place. He was really dorky but so nice and polite. My stepdad would walk in with his 6-pack under arm, tossing the empties into the trash. He liked to drink one or two on the drive over. We’d get our shoes and choose our bowling balls and drop all our crap on the bench BEHIND the lane. I was a runt and had trouble getting enough strength behind my rolls. I studied hard all those hours sitting on the bench, watching people drink and smoke and bowl and tell crude jokes.
This last Saturday was just like that again. I walked in and felt right at home. We got our shoes and picked out balls and settled in at the sleepy corner of the place. The lane that shared our semi-circle of space consisted of a gaggle of kids between the ages of 4 – 13. There were no adults. They bowled with the bumper lane up, so that they would never have a gutter ball. They were so quiet, and they didn’t have anyone to show them how to bowl. They watched us intently. When I put my hand on the air vent, the older of the girls asked, “Is that for luck?” I said, “Yeah, it’s for luck and for when my hand feels sticky.”
As they prepared to leave, the youngest girl of the bunch, she must have been 4 years old, with pink plastic clips holding her delicate corn rows and a shy smile, ran over and hugged me. Her skinny little arms outstretched and wrapped around my seated waist. I reached down and hugged her. As she pulled back, I didn’t want to let her go. She was so pure and loving and beautiful, as she stepped away she looked embarrassed. I was overwhelmed and flattered that she chose me to run up to and hug. On our way home, I kept asking my husband, “That little girl was so sweet. She just came up and hugged me. Why do you think she hugged me?” He was taken with her too. “The little pancakey, she was sweet and her face was very pretty. She must have felt safe with you."
Posted at 02:42 PM in Fish Lives | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)