The Genre of My Novel Life

If you wrote a book about your life, would anyone read it?

      I started writing a novel, based on real events and real people.  Because of the close connection to my life, I thought of a question I've heard in the past, one of those thought provoking questions about the meaning of life.  It asks, "If you wrote a book about your life, would anyone read it?"  Naturally my thought train starts careening down the tracks. 

*Picture Marty in the DeLorean from Back to the Future.*

If everyone wrote a book about their lives (their “Novel Life”) and had to publish it…

      My first thought; what if they are a shitty writer, or (God forbid) have a boring life? How sad they would be when no one found their life novel!  Then again, what I consider boring may be entertaining to someone else. 

Then, something occurred to me. 

*Train continues rolling down the tracks.* 

The happenings of someone's life aren't necessarily the determinant of their story. The story they write would most likely be their interpretation of the events mixed with their common inner dialogues.  Those two factors would determine what genre their novel would be.  What are the options? 

*This is where I realized I didn’t know a comprehensive list of genre’s* 

After visiting Wikipedia I came up with the following:

Drama, Poetry, Fantasy, Humor, Fable, Fairy Tales, Science Fiction, Realistic Fiction, Horror, Legend, Mystery, Mythology, Romance, Epistolary novel

How could an individual’s interpretation of life events and inner dialogues manifest the genre of their “Novel Life”?

The sad and overworked 28 year-old man, who hates his desk job and listens to Michael Buble when he’s feeling lonely….that’s a tragedy.

The paranoid schizophrenic who recites sonnets to anyone who will listen, all the while spitting out his daily medication – humorous psychological thriller

My sister would most likely write her life as a dramatic fairytale (She’s more in the realm of fantasy in that respect.)

What about me?

First I contemplated the book I am writing. It contains a snapshot of my life, and although I am using real people as characters the events are fiction.  So….that book would definitely be a romantic drama (sex, suspicion, custody battles, *the works*).  What about my whole life? If I were held to the same standard as the rest of society, and had to pick a genre for my Novel Life, what would it be?

Because I was ignorant of the different genres for literature when the thought train first started rolling down the tracks, I thought of stories I've read, and which style I most closely related to my life. The book that came to mind was one a dear friend shared with me; the perks of being a wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.  

      Completely unlike the protagonist in my outward behavior (he was shy and I’m NOT), I really relate to and appreciate certain elements within his story.

      The lessons Charlie (the main character) learns are not at the climax of a dramatic plot.  The lessons are derived in the quiet, private, contemplative moments throughout his day, and the way he describes them shows he gives them a sort of reverence.  One example is when he told his teacher that his sister’s boyfriend was physically abusive.

“he said something to me I don’t think I’ll forget this semester or ever. ‘Charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve.’”

My favorite instance is also the most celebrated line from the book, described here in context:

“Anyway, Patrick started driving really fast, and just before we got into the tunnel, Sam stood up, and the wind turned her dress into ocean waves. When we hit the tunnel, all the sound got scooped up into a vacuum and it was replaced by a song on the tape player. A beautiful song called “Landslide.” When we got out of the tunnel, Sam screamed this really fun scream, and there it was. Downtown. Lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. Sam sat down and started laughing. Patrick started laughing. I started laughing.
And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”

*Ahhh...doesn't that just make your soul happy?!*

There is self-reflection when you least expect it, and moments of innocence and mindfulness.  I relate to this and would write my life similarly for how I've conducted it so far.

SKUUUURRRRRTTTT!!!!!!!  HALT THAT TRAIN.

I’m in charge, right?

I create my universe?

In essence, I have control over what genre my novel life would be.

So the better question is not what would it be, but more importantly, what do I WANT it to be?

*Oh Lord.  This is getting subway style in a hurry. (Subway style = too many choices)*

After reviewing the options it wasn't hard to decide.  I would add elements of the legend genre; stories of a hero with a basis in fact, but also including imaginative material.  My inner dialogue is constantly telling me there’s a purpose for my struggle, and that I will eventually ROAR Katy Perry Style.  Give me a few years, and you can read it for yourself.

What is the Genre of Your Novel Life?  If you wrote it today, what would it be?  If you owned the freedom of having a choice, what would you choose for yourself?  Post in the comment section what the Genre of Your Novel life would Be!

The Universe Politely Asks You To Get Off Your Ass

I don't know about you, but I would never trust (or desire) that Inspiration is or could be anything but divine.  The idea it could come simply from synapses firing at Adam and Eve puts much more stock in physical beings than I could ever trust. As J. Madison said, "If men were angels,"...

That being said, I wonder if anyone else has ever experienced this phenomenon, where, in your most relaxed state, you can't stop coming up with the most mind-blowing ideas of the century, (or the day)? Maybe you've been meditating pretty regularly with intention to connect to the Source, (pretty much, what I attempt every other month.) Then, one day, you are swinging on your front porch under a clear and starlit sky and %$#!BAM!#$%. You just had the most amazing idea.  One that would surely put you up there with Rockefeller, if you only had the *cough cough* drive to realize it and capitalize on it.  You think to yourself, "Yeah, someone with lots of time and money could really make something out of that idea. It's a shame I don't have a ton of time or money."

You continue to swing on your porch, feeling a warm spring breeze blow through the trees.  You feel carefree and blissfully defiant, denying any responsibility for the role ideas play in humanity, not to mention the economy. Swing, back and forth, back and forth, and %$#!BAMBAM!#$% !  Another earth-shattering idea.  This one could change the nature of behavioral neuroscience and mental health as you know it!  It could help the autism epidemic and anyone suffering from abandonment, depression, or substance abuse!  You think to yourself, "Wow, that would be simply incredible.  I'd probably need a lot of influential people to help me connect all the dots.  I don't know many influential people, if any.  Oh well."  Another idea shortly after, and now you're starting to feel irresponsible.  How can you have this knowledge and not find a way to share it?

Why must the Universe do this to you?!  You are busy.  You are juggling so many very important things right now.  As you try to shake the accountability creeping into your body, well past the blood-brain barrier, you hear it.  The song.  This is the song that plays in my mind when this phenomenon takes place on, what are intended to be restful, evenings.  I Can't Stop - Flux Pavillion  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzExWz7KP5M

My Very Dearest Virtual Friends; I've come to find this massive influx of Inspiration is the Universe telling you something.  She is saying, with all the love in the cosmos, "Get off your ass!"

The Universe is telling you how to help humanity.  The Universe is gifting to you a unique idea, an idea that could only be gifted to you because of your one-of-a-kind lens with which you view this world.

I've decided that the Source is of the Behaviorist Theoretical Orientation, (making possible natural and logical consequences).

*For those of you who don't know, but would like to...*: Natural consequences are those things that happen in response to your child's behavior without parental involvement. These are imposed by nature, society, or another person. You do not actually deliver a natural consequence yourself. Instead, you allow nature or society to impose the consequence on your child by not interfering.

Child's Behavior	Natural Consequence
Refuses to wear mittens	Her hands get cold.
Refuses to eat dinner	She feels hungry.

Anyway, back to the Source.  People in today's society fuss night and day about waiting for their ship to come in, or payday, or the winning lottery ticket.  Just So You Know, the pattern seems to be, when you don't take advantage of inspiration, inspiration gifted to you by the greatest love ever known, the logical consequence is this: your ship does not come in, there is no payday, all because you never even bought a ticket.

Just So You Know,

Alicia

*And of course as I finish writing this, one of my favorite songs comes on the radio: Eminem's Lose Yourself http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4Uv_4jGgAM

*Natural Consequences Information http://www.dshs.wa.gov/ca/fosterparents/training/natlog/nat02.htm

Computers vs The Human Brain and The Mind

There has been an ongoing debate about if or when a manmade computer will outsmart a human being.  This, Just So You Know, will never happen. 

Why not?  Well, what are the differences between a computer and a human?  There are plenty to choose from, however, I'm thinking particularly of computation and processing of data.  Can computers process and analyze data faster than a human being? Sure.  Can they be inspired? Absolutely not.  Here is why:

First, computers don't have pineal glands.  They don't have a connection to the Source, or Infinite intelligence.  Inspiration and ideas: where do they come from?  I believe ideas and inspiration are the product of combining previously held knowledge and beliefs with recently learned information. Computers are great for computing objective data, however they don't have the "software" of a human. What do I mean by “human software”? Let’s define “human software” as the subject worldview, perception, values, beliefs, and culture with which an individual filters new information.  Because of this, there will be ideas humans come up with a computer never can.

What about inspiration?  Where does that come from? I believe inspiration is divine.  Each persons’ life experiences gives them the “software” with which they filter new ideas, and when an individual allows it, the universe delivers a knowledge bomb (through the pineal gland I suspect).  The knowledge bomb is then filtered through the human software and BAM: Inspired idea!!!

Think about all the inspired ideas regarding technological innovation, the arts, medicine, and business.  Computers give us the ability to analyze and compute data at a faster rate than humans, absolutely.  However, the end to which they are computing data for was determined by an individual with an idea.

No pineal gland.  No autonomy to “allow”.  Computers may be faster, but humans are inspired.

The value of my time and integrity

I learned something about myself yesterday.

Over the summer I was very broke, taking on extra jobs to make some money. My grandparents were helping me with bills, but I still needed to feel like I was making a contribution.  I started cocktail waitressing poker nights and cleaning houses.  I have an incredible gift for making people feel welcome and at home, and an even greater gift for creating a warm and inviting energy in people's homes, through organization and cleaning.

I started charging $12 an hour, but quickly found I felt my time was worth more.

Shortly after school started, I realized the poker nights were not bringing in enough money per hour. *anyone who has been a server/bartender, as I have, knows that $20 an hour should be a good minimum.*

I could make $20 an hour easily by giving massages to men sitting at the table. I have a gift for massage as well, since I know my fair share of back pain. After my fourth dislocation of my left shoulder, I decided it wasn't in my best interests to put that strain on my body. I vowed not to give any more massages at poker nights, and it became extremely apparent where I was making the most money.

There was a particular poker night host, we will call him Mo, who took quite a liking to what I was able to do with his place (cleaning/ambiance wise) and the way I made his guests feel.  One day I suggested to him that each poker player contribute $5 on a night that I work, in order to bring the money up to par.  He said, "good idea, but no thanks. Just rest your shoulder."

Ok swell! I just won't work anymore poker nights.
Well, yesterday, Mo texted me. He asked if I could help him with his new apartment . He wanted it cleaned before he moved in. Said he didn't figure it would take me more than three hours. Three hours sounded reasonable because that's about how long I spent cleaning his past apartment. I took a leap of faith in the value of my time. Instead of $36 for three hours, I threw out $50. I said, "I can do it for $50, top to bottom, plus supplies." Realizing this was more than I'd asked for in the past, he hesitated before agreeing.

I picked up supplies (30 minutes and $70), went to his hotel, picked up the key, and then drove to the new apartment.

When I walked inside I was a little unnerved. This place was dilapidated and in need of SErious TLC.  I got to work. It was 6pm. About 2 hours in I realized I was going to need more magic erasers for the tub and let him know. He came by at 9 to get the key and give me money. I wasn't done yet but I told him I'd lock up behind me when I was done. "70 for supplies."  He handed me $60 and told me he'd have to owe me ten.  I asked, what about the labor? He looked confused so I quickly clarified.  "I told you I'd clean it for 50 plus the cost of supplies. I spent 70 on supplies." His response? "What did you buy?!"  He sounded indignant and annoyed.  This man had no concept of the transitioning that was happening upstairs.  I tried not to show my frustration, as this was the ThiRD instance of him not understanding the value of my time.
Doesn't this man know?  I could be saving the world right now! I could be studying for my test on Monday or exercising! I don't HAVE to clean his house!!!

I went back upstairs and for a millisecond, wanted to leave everything a mess and walk out. $50 and I'd spent three hours there. dOnE. Except, the familiar tug of my integrity pulled at my heart.

I put on some music and decided even though my hourly wage was dropping with every push of the mop and every squirt of windex, that apartment was going to look absolutely stunning by the time I left, no questions asked.

Fast forward another hour and 45 minutes later. The apartment has gone from dilapidated to charming. The wood floors are conditioned. The bath tub looks brand new.  My hourly wage is officially $10.52 not including gas or the time it took me to shop for supplies. I looked around and thought...I have really outdone myself.

I realized two things.  The first: my integrity won't allow me to do a job half assed.  This is important because when creating price structures for my future business, I know now, I will not be able to justify charging a lower wage and only putting in X amount of effort. My integrity will push me to always give 110%, so I need to charge accordingly.

The second: why do I love the before and after of houses that I put my energy in to? I have always been a sucker for potential. I see it in people all the time. I used to practically kill myself trying to help them see it or create a desire to reach it. A house can't choose. I can bring a house to its potential and it can't fight back. It's definitely a control issue. And so now I say to myself....LET iT GO Alicia!!!!!!

Last note about Mo - I very tactfully told him I wasn't cleaning houses anymore.
I asked him today if he'd seen it and he said "looks good"
I said "it doesn't look good, it looks phenomenal."

What has kept me from posting to a blog for so long? Well, I felt a very real pressure to have a theme/concept, yet I was having trouble with one that would provide the room I needed to be me and talk about what's on my mind.
Thanks to a series of life experiences over the past 25 years, I've come to terms with one thing I cant do: I am unable to fit into a box.  The whole is so much greater than the sum of the parts.  Whether its my family, education, passions, or values, I've yet to find a label or school of thought that encompasses the whole that is me and my spirit.
Thinking of this now, why in the hell did I think I would be able to nail down a "theme" for a blog?!
So now the story goes....the theme of this blog is everything and anything that I care to share with readers or admit to myself.  This is going to span a very wide range of topics, however I won't be offended if you don't pay attention to the topics you don't care about.  For this reason ill do my best with tags and such.  

I Failed at Therapy.

Have you ever been to therapy and found it didn't help at all?  Maybe you thought it didn't help as much as you'd hoped?  You left each session still feeling misunderstood, and now you're positive that you are simply beyond help. Before you go thinking that it's something you did, let me offer this.

For the past year my graduate program (Mental Health Counseling) has made a point for us to understand the importance of the “therapeutic relationship”.  This is because it directly correlates with the outcomes of therapy, more than counselor experience, theoretical orientation, anything else really.  It’s about 90% responsible for the outcome. The relationship between the counselor and client as perceived by the client is of paramount importance.  The client needs to feel that the counselor is with them every step of the way.  The client needs to feel not that they are being pushed from behind, pulled from in front, but simply that the counselor is beside them, wherever they choose to go.

Below you'll find the lyrics to a song that perfectly represents the therapeutic relationship from my perspective.  Before you American Idol haters focus on who sings the song, know that the song was co-written by Drew Pearson and Greg Holden.  

Home

­Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

  

If you tried to attend therapy and feel that you failed at it, or it failed you, try again.  Try a different therapist. Give them minimum a month before deciding that you feel good about it or not, but if you don't, DON'T hesitate to try someone else.  It's less about their experience, their theoretical orientation, or their gender.  Nothing matters more to the outcome than the space between you two.  That space should feel safe.  That space should feel like a home.

Many moons ago I had decided to try and hop on the blog train.  Thinking it was a great way to get ideas and thoughts out to the world, and being a highly opinionated person, I thought "Hey, why not?!" Multiple factors jumped to my attention after.  In creating a blog, you really should have someone edit your posts.  You should also engage your followers by asking them questions.  I just wanted a place to put my thoughts! I didn't realize there were so many facets to having a "good" blog.  Well, as I so often do, I let perfection be the enemy of good.  I didn't write anything else.  Too intimidated. Scared it would turn out poorly.  Here I am about a year later, and I've determined that other than my journal and letters to a friend overseas (aka my human journal), I still had too many ideas floating around and nowhere to put them that would satisfy my psyche.  So here goes round two.  If not perfect or good, than merely my place to just be myself.  Who could ask for anything more?