Perspective

I posted this pic to facebook today toting a tagline that said "a little perspective on this Tuesday afternoon:"

Little B looking so tiny.  My apartment so grown up and yet such a work in progress at the same time.  Patio seating I bought in January that doubles as living room furniture and a desk chair.   I like to think I am doing great though - as the picture my graphic designer friend gave me for my 20somethingth birthday in November says. 

I don't - however - think I am better than anyone or anything.  And I am airing a grievance I have with people who do.  People who aren't team players.  People who believe themselves above.  Because I deal with such people day in and day out and it is taxing.  It is tiring.  It is disheartening and disappointing and actually depressing.

To me anyway.  Because I'm all about community this year.  Come to think of it, I may be all about community in life in general.  I work by myself from a home office, I moved across the country solo, and I may not need to have support before I set off in pursuit of something or other, but I'm still a team player.

And I still prefer team players to egos.

It's all how you look at things, so I'll give people the benefit of the doubt that they're simply shining the only way they know how... and we're all born to shine, so Lord knows I can get on board and support that, but I just don't think in the long run those lone riders do too well.    I think we're better for humbling ourselves.  I think we're appreciated and lauded even for giving of ourselves. 

You need help, call me.  I got your back.  I'm game.  I'll say yes.  What does it hurt to give a little time to extend one's self ever so slightly.   Even to go above and beyond.  There are plenty of days when you won't have to or won't be called, but the thing about "doing great" - great is arbitrary, it's fluff, it's a throwaway, the idea is, the point is... you're doing.

I wrote 10 scenes of a screenplay this weekend...

what did you do?

Kidding.

Not the part about the writing.  I really did that.  I also wrote the scene headings for the other 24 scenes which felt like a pretty big accomplishment in and of itself.

Blake Snyder's rule is 15 beats, but there's no limit to scene counts other than "as many scenes as are necessary to tell the story, but no more."

I'm sure whatever you did this weekend was considerably more eventful and at the very least leagues more social than what I did, but next weekend I'll be on a retreat in Malibu which is actively inactive.

An old college friend of mine texted me late last night (by west coast standards, which meant is was real late by east coast married friend standards) and concluded that my life "sounds freaking awesome."

It is.

It's just also monastic.

Oh I rescued my puppy this afternoon - from a pack of big dogs who clearly own their corner of the dog park (noted for future reference) and were excited about the prospect of snacking on poor little B in all his glorified fluffy/easily confused with a cat-ness.   So that got my pulse racing.

But yeah, otherwise - it was a slow SoCal sort of weekend.  Back to the grind in 9 hours.  East coast agenting style - never you fear.

And actually - sorellina, and whoever else happens upon this little account of the life and times of LA Naugs, look forward to two more posts in the next three days.  Can't let the last of April slip by without reaching my 4 count in honor of the 4th month :) 

...what will get you out of bed in the morning

My puppy, Little B (not to be confused with my pound puppy, Bubba, on the right):

just bolted after the plush felt covered neon colored frisbee I bought him when it was more than half his size, and I was soooo struck by the jolt of energy he exhibited.  I don't know how but I managed to trick him into sleeping in for an extra couple hours after he got up to go to the bathroom at 7, and if you could have seen him stretching out on the couch and lazily waking up 20 minutes ago you would have thought he'd straight up grown out of his puppy activity levels...but one toss of that frisbee and zip - he was back in the game.

And this happens every morning before I start work at 6am when I'm in LA.  After a quick walk and quick breakfast he's all systems go for zooming around my apartment, fetching whatever toys I fling across the room, chasing his tail like a wild animal.

It's so funny.  It's so inspiring.  I wonder if there's anything I can wake up and get excited about doing instantly the way he gets excited about playing. 

Made me think of that line from Fall In Love, the Arrupe Prayer.

Nothing is more practical than
finding God, than
falling in Love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide
what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
- See more at: http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/prayers-by-st-ignatius-and-others/fall-in-love/#sthash.xHNb9kvi.dpuf

Nothing is more practical than
finding God, than
falling in Love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide
what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
- See more at: http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/prayers-by-st-ignatius-and-others/fall-in-love/#sthash.xHNb9kvi.dpuf

Nomads vs Jetsetters

Have been meaning to post the difference quickly for a while now...

A nomad lives out of a suit case a little bit:

They're go with the flow, and good about packing light so they can pick up and go.

But a jetsetter's baller (or ballerina) as the case may be.  They've got a home base they always come back to and recharge at.  They're just also perpetually portable, packed and ready to roam about:

So glad to be able to clear that up.

Many thanks to Little B for his help demonstrating this distinction.

A few firsts of note

Was thinking about my first time tonight - how special it was.  It was in New Mexico.  And I honestly had no idea what the guy was doing.  Because I'd given him my keys and thought he was going to drive, but when he walked over to the passenger side door, I said, "oh you want me to drive?" and he shook his head as if to say, you silly silly city girl.

"I'm opening the door for you."

He was opening the door for me.  It was the first time a gentleman had actually gone and done that so matter of factly and deliberately at the same time.  It was the first time a guy had done that for me when I wasn't you know, carrying cupcakes, or Christmas gifts or something of that nature.  So naturally I spazzed.  I may have blushed, cause I was literally tickled pink at the thought.  And I sort of guffawed because I was so genuinely surprised and entertained by the gesture.

And anyway - on the west coast it's common for guys to get the door for girls I think.  Or else maybe I've only been meeting Southern transplants, but either way, what's sad is that the novelty's worn off.  It will never be as magical as it was when it happened in Enchanted NM.

The first time you fall in puppy love's pretty irreplaceable too.  I mean puppy sighs sort of puppy love.  Literally when the puppy that is yours without a doubt first senses you've had a terrible day at work, or you're so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open, or most of the people you love most in this world are thousands of miles away at present, so he snuggles up on your lap, or in the crook of your arm or with his head right on your shoulder if it's night time and you're saying your prayers.

I remember the first time my parents' dog, Rusty, sensed I'd really been hurt by a recent break up and he followed me up stairs and slept at the foot of my bed.  I love that scruffy looking, underbite yielding, fourth position footed pup, don't get me wrong, but Little B's the best thing I can imagine bringing into the picture on a "make better bad decisions in 2014" whim and wow does he fill my heart with real deal maternal love for the first time.

That's all she wrote tonight, folks, but at least she wrote!