Olympic Paper Shredding

It's Memorial Day Weekend. So far my activities have consisted of waiting in a long line of happy vacationers headed to the islands as I returned from my trip, and bringing my things in from the car during dry patches between rain showers. It's colder than usual for this time of year, and it hardly feels like the kick off weekend for summer vacation season it's supposed to be. My plans for the weekend consist of refinishing a dresser recycled from my old house and some Olympic paper shredding. I need to get a life. 

Several weeks' worth of mail in hand, I get ready for the paper shredding. I usually toss all bulk mailing right away. But the picture on the front cover of the Island Rec Summer Program Guide catches my eye and I take a minute to look at it. All sorts of prejudices run through my mind. "This catalog is for young people", I think to myself. I envision a banner that reads "Sports Enthusiasts Only!" As I open to the first page. 

 

Years ago, I spent some time meditating the direction of my life at a Trappist Monastery in Oregon. When I consulted with one of the monks about how I might overcome the panic attacks that had taken over my life, he had a very simple suggestion. Why don't you try some new stuff. He said we have to try things if we want to find new interests. New interests are life affirming and are good for the soul, he said. You won't know until you experiment what could be a whole new area of interest for you, something that could prove to be very healing. It was on my retreat to the Trappist Monastery I began to write. 

I'm thinking of that sunny day in the middle of nowhere now, as I think of how I've been spinning my wheels for the past few months. The same feeling of fear I had then creeps back in as I think of how scared I was when I showed up at the Monastery. That familiar little edge of fear I feel as I contemplate the need for new direction now. Change is scary. But change has been a necessary part of my life. I don't know why. Not everyone needs as much change as I've needed. I've given up analyzing it. I just know it to be true. Unless I continue to change, I stagnate. And stagnation feels like torture to me. We all go through life in our own way. 

Yes, I'll be getting a job or starting a business soon. That will be interesting and challenging. Yes, I still have plans to build myself a tiny cottage as soon as I can get that going. Yes, I have lots of irons in the fire when it comes to writing. But I can feel it right down to the soles of my feet. I need more. I need some new interests. I need something different in my life, and I don't know what it is yet. 

So I flip through the Island Rec Catalog. I see some walkers in the picture that accompanies the description of the Friday Harbor 8.8K Loop Run. Hey, I know those people. They look like they're having fun. I read the description. Oh, it's linked to the San Juan County Fair. Well, that sounds good. And participants get a T-shirt and entry to the Fair. Well, I definitely want to do that. Something to aim for, 8.8K. If a kilometer is about five eighths of a mile, then that's about five miles. I can do that. 

I'm avoiding the sailing page. I know it's in there somewhere. Me, a sailor? Yikes, I'm too old, I think. I don't know the first thing about sailing, and I'm not a good swimmer, I think. Then I remember the IOSA class where I learned it's not the water that will get you, it's the temperature of the water. Somehow I feel better. Like hypothermia trumping drowning is a good thing? But at least I'm starting to challenge my negative thoughts. I think my friend the monk would approve of that. Challenging negative thinking it turns out can be very good for panic attacks. I learned that as part of my recovery. It's also good for overcoming fear when it comes to learning something new.

There's one thing I fear almost as much as hypothermia or drowning though, when it comes to learning how to sail. It's the fear of looking foolish. What would my friend the monk say now? What's a bigger problem, looking foolish, or sitting amongst the dust bunnies in your house doing nothing for fear of looking foolish? Those monks, they always have a way of challenging one with questions that have no good reply except the one they want you to give. Even the monks in my mind. 

As I continue to peruse the catalog, I think, Yes, I'll go to Music On The Lawn. I'll do the 8.8K walk. I may even sign up for Frisbee Golf. But none of those things have the one element needed to shake me out of my comfort zone and into something new. No, but sailing does. What's the element? It's fear my friend. It's fear. Ironically, all those years ago, a big part of overcoming the paralyzing fear that had a grip on my life, was doing things that scared me. And believe it or not, back then, writing something I cared about and showing it to others was a pretty scary proposition. And look where picking up the pen that day ten years ago has taken me. To a place where I feel passion, doing something I love. But I had to take that first step. I had to try stuff. 

And here I am again. Needing to try stuff. "Isn't going out on twelve first dates by July 4th scary enough?", you might say. Well, yes that is scary, but not as scary as sailing. And that's saying something because dating is very scary. Do I have what it takes to give it a go? I don't know. I just know one thing. When I've held onto fear instead of stepping into it in the past, it's overtaken me. That's what panic attacks felt like. Like being swallowed up by fear. And I refuse to let that happen again. Not if I can help it. 

It's Memorial Day Weekend, the kick-off weekend of Summer. It's gray and gloomy and yucky outside. That oppressive weather that dragged me down all Winter. Well, damn it, I've had enough, Northwest weather. I refuse to let you bring me down. I'm going to try some new stuff. I'm going sailing. Even if it scares the daylights out of me and freezes my buns off. Even if I feel as old as the hills and as un-athletic as they come. Yes, it's time to try something new and scary. And… there's one other thing about trying something new...it beats the heck out of Olympic paper shredding. 

© M.E. Rollins

The Times They Are A Changin'

Remember I told you I begrudgingly signed up with lala.com with the nickname Daffy Duck? Well, it's a good thing I did sign up because lala.com is about to go away, and the only people still allowed on the site are previous subscribers. Because I signed up so I could find Chocolate Coffee for you, I am one of the privileged users who can continue to listen to music on Lala until it is no longer on May 31st. Just about one week from today. You probably already know all about the demise of Lala. But I didn't, and I'll tell you, Daffy D. is a little sad.

I didn't set out to write about Lala this week. I wanted to write about some great road-trip music on an album by Bob Dylan my sister burned for me a while back called Modern Times. I'm on the younger end of the baby boomers, so Bob Dylan, who turned 69 yesterday, (yeah, I know, can you believe it?), was a little too before my time. But when I got this CD from my sister, I put it on in my car one day as I headed down the road. With nothing but freeway ahead of and behind me, I had a chance to find out Bob Dylan is and probably always was, a great song writer, a real poet. And either he's cleaned up his diction, or I just didn't listen carefully enough the first time around, but contrary to my expectations, I could actually make out most of what he's saying on this delightfully upbeat album of R&B songs for geezers from 2006.

As I began to research the lyrics so I could quote a few and sound cool, I went to Lala to find out the name of the songs, which I didn't have since it's a pirated copy of the album. Did I say my sister burned it? I meant to say I found it on the street. I went to Lala to look up the name of the songs on Modern Times, and that's when I found out Lala is going away. The message on their website is short and cryptic. Sometimes I don't appreciate what I have until I don't have it. With Lala, after that one search for Chocolate Coffee when I was writing Song of the Second Winter I never even used it again. But I was still shocked and saddened to see the news of its demise. Yeah, shocked, saddened, and curious. There was no clue as to the reason on the Lala website. So I had to Google Lala. Sounds funny, doesn't it, Google Lala. But really, I did Google Lala. 

 

That's where it gets interesting. Google gave me an array of choices for information about the death of Lala, but I picked usatoday.com because I knew they'd cut to the chase and the story'd be super easy to read. And it was. Here's a quote: "Lala is shutting down, just a few months after Apple purchased the online music service, reads an update on its website". Well, the website doesn't talk about the Apple purchase. But it's usatoday.com, what do you expect, great journalism? What they should have said was, "Lala is shutting down, reads an update on its website, just a few months after Apple purchased the online music service". Didn't those people read, Eats, Shoots, and Leaves? 

 

However poorly it was worded, I did have my answer. But I have to say, as evidenced by the comments below the usatoday.com article about Lala, everybody's a writer these days, and some of them are really good. You can go there and read them if you like. My favorite is the one that simply says "ta ta". The people writing the comments should have jobs writing the articles for usatoday.com. They'd do a better job. 

 

And on the subject of everyone being a writer these days, that brings me back to Bob Dylan, and a time when everyone wasn't a writer. Just writers were writers, and he was and is a damn fine one. And prolific. While I still can, and after getting over the shock of no more Lala as of this time next week, I looked Bob Dylan up on Lala. Opposite the word "songs" is the number 1,127. Opposite the word "albums", 72. Yes, 72. 

Wow, I thought, I want to know more about Bob Dylan. Did you know there is a website called bobdylan.com? The way things are going, I'm pretty sure everyone will have their own website soon. And it turns out Bob's is a pretty good one. You can click on songs and the lyrics come up for free. Oops, once this gets out, Apple may buy his website and start charging. But for now, they're free, my favorite thing in the internet research world. If you want to actually hear the songs, however, you'll have to click on "buy". Yes, sad to say, if you want to play his songs, the poet is charging. A far cry from the little I know about Bob Dylan's anti-consumerism early years.

Whatever I think of Apple buying up Lala, and Bob Dylan selling his songs on the internet, that doesn't take away from what I really wanted to tell you about this week, how much I like Dylan's album Modern Times. I've been enjoying it since I first listened in the car as I cruised on down the freeway. The arrangements are catchy and energizing, but the real treat is in the lyrics. According to brainyquote.com, Bob Dylan said, "I'm speaking for all of us, I'm the spokesman for a generation." Well, he's still speaking for us now, even if it is for a price and we're all geezers. Good for him. More good writers should make a living at what they love and do best.

That's the problem with everyone being a writer these days. The fear of good writers is that everyone being a writer cheapens the value of good writing and makes it harder to make a living at it. But that's another topic for another day. If you want to listen to Modern Times, you'll have to find another free online music provider, (let me know if you find one) or go to Apple's iTunes, and hope the rumor is true they are going to launch an affordable Lala-like subscription music service to take it's place. Or you can pay Bob Dylan. Wasn't it he who said, "And the times they are a changin'." 

© M.E. Rollins

Costco Nation

This week I'm on the road which gives me the perfect excuse to shop at Costco guilt free. Usually, I like to shop locally. In my travels the last few weeks, I've seen other small communities advertising the same slogan. "Shop local" But since I can't shop on the island this week, I've decided to save some money by shopping at Costco. It's a Friday afternoon and the place is packed. I wait my turn behind ten other shoppers in line to check out. "Oh yes" I think, "This is why I live on an island."

I often find perspective in the Costco checkout line, and if not that, then at least some mild entertainment. Today after procuring some modest, necessary items, and feeling pretty smug about it, I find myself in the checkout line behind someone purchasing the following: One large plastic flip top container of Tums. One economy pack of Alka Seltzer. One 1.75 liter bottle of Kirkland Vodka.

I can only guess at the reason for these purchases based on why I myself might buy them. And to be honest, on a bad day, I might be buying these very same items. It's a sign of the times. I know we are all supposed to be having a positive outlook to keep the great American consumer machine going, and I buy that. I literally buy that, by continuing to circulate money in the system, as every good American ought to do. But I don't think it's a big secret many people are anxious about the future including their finances these days. And that's the imaginary theme I assign to the purchases going out ahead of me at Costco. A pretty simple theme, but one with which I can sympathize.

My own Costco purchases today are as I said, modest and necessary, and thankfully different from those of the person ahead of me in line. Mainly, bottled water and, once I get outside and back in the car, gasoline. Can't get much more basic than that for a road trip. For now, I've given up those Starbuck's Frappuccinos in a bottle I could be buying at Costco for a dollar a piece. Despite that great price, water will do me just fine, even better than fine, actually. And gasoline, well it wouldn't be a road trip without that.

As I make my way to the gas pumps, I see there's a long lineup there as well. School isn't out yet in most places, but the sun is, and that gets people itchy to go someplace. Or perhaps the line can be explained as a sign of the times as well. I can't be the only one who drove past the other gas stations because I knew the price here would be a good fifteen cents per gallon lower. I know it has always been wise to shop this way, but I haven't always been so scrupulous. 

The line moves slowly, an impatient driver in front of me puts her car in gear and quickly swerves around to the forward pump. No time to waste. I don't mind, that puts me one car further ahead. I can't help thinking what a short time ago it was I made most of my gas purchases in Oregon where they still have a "no self-service" law. I pull forward and get out of the car. I have my routine down to a science now. And so does everyone else. It seems like an odd dance to me, all these people, four pump-stations across, four pumps per station, that's sixteen amateurs pumping their own gas at break neck speed. It brings to mind a scene from the movie Zoolander. I put that thought away and watch what I do with the nozzle. 

My two purchases complete, there's just one more task….making it out of the Costco parking lot alive. There are two things people do at Costco. One, they buy a lot of stuff. Two, after they're done, they get the heck out of there as fast as possible. I'm no innocent onlooker here. I want out of this place as badly as everyone else. Or perhaps it's a kind of mob mentality even I can't avoid, I don't know. 

Whatever the reason, it's a case of "gentlemen start your engines please", only without the please. I'm exiting the vehicle fueling pit, along with about eight other drivers. We maneuver ourselves into a single line that merges with another line of exhausted shoppers coming from the parking lot, and miraculously make it out onto the street safely. 

It might be the jitters I feel from the super cheap frozen coffee drink from the Costco canteen I just can't resist, or it could be Costco itself, or possibly it's the combination, but I find it necessary to do a little soul reclamation once I leave that place. I move over to the slower right hand lane of traffic and turn on the local smooth jazz station. 

But finding the Costco experience to be somewhat soulless is just me. I don't judge the shoppers I've run into today. Or, thankfully, haven't run into today. That new big screen TV will look mighty fine I'm sure on the family room wall. And when the cousins come over for a meal prepared on that new gas barbeque, family time together is the real pay-off, not how much money was saved today at Costco. 

It's just we all have to make a choice, either actively, or by default where it is we choose to live. And therefore, to some extent, how we choose to live. Today I realize I'm glad I've chosen slow, quiet, and for the most part a community where the emphasis is not on being a consumer. That's the life I like, with occasional reminder visits to Costco Nation. 

© M.E. Rollins