Ed is, even as I type, relaxing in Cancun. He had to find an internet cafe to let me know that his cell phone doesn’t work in Mexico, but otherwise, everything seems to be just fine. He’s got some SCUBA excursions booked, and is planning on plenty of beach time, to see some Mayan ruins, and experimenting with exotic fruit in the hopes of finding something he likes. I can’t wait to see the pictures.
From the training manual in my most recent yoga instruction seminar…
Self Care
First, pay attention to how you are feeling. Watch for signs of burnout. You’re probably experiencing burnout if you feel overwhelmed, helpless, out of control, resentful, guilty, or stressed.
Give attention to your own needs. If your bucket is empty, you won’t have anything to share with someone else.
Recognize your limits. It would be nice to teach every class that needs subbing or to stay an extra hour after class to help people, but it is just not realistic for most of us.
Develop and commit to your own personal practice of letting go of competition, judgment, and expectations.
Seeking assistance from appropriate health professionals to help you process issues or overwhelming emotions.
Our work brings up all kinds of emotional releases in people. If we are not open to recognizing and bringing awareness to our own issues, it will be impossible to assist others when this occurs. When this occurs, we need to be able to listen and provide the referrals to other health professionals, if necessary.
Pace yourself–know how much you can handle. Take on only what you can handle comfortably and pass the rest on. Slow and steady wins the race.
Cancel any guilt trips you are considering.
Finally, give yourself a loving pat on the back. Look in the mirror every day and say “I am magnificent!”
I’m told that the local alternative paper gave this year’s show 3 1/2 stars. The reviewer also said that it was funny (thank you very much) and suitable for children (if your kids are into serial killers and prostitutes, maybe). Unfortunately, I’m entirely unable to find the original review. Still, my hat is off to the cast and crew—I am very happy with the end result indeed!
I can’t make up stuff this good.
I was doing some filing today, using binders that have been “recycled” (i.e. previously used). One of them still had the cover page under the plastic. It was obviously some sort of training material. The title of the course?
“Violence in the Workplace: Participant’s Guide”
Just because I can do something (a Plank-Chaturanga-Up Dog-Down Dog series with one foot elevated, if you must know) doesn’t mean that I should. And it definitely doesn’t mean I should do it repeatedly.
I cannot give an objective review of Morris-Butler House’s Halloween show this year; Joan is directing the show, my pals Amy and Amanda are in it, and I wrote or re-wrote about half the show, myself.
However, I can say without fear of contradiction that going to a play as one of the authors absolutely rocks. Wednesday’s Writer’s Almanac had a quote from Vaclav Havel, “If you want to see your plays performed the way you wrote them, become president.” His mother probably wasn’t a director, though. The scene with the witches from Macbeth came out exactly as I imagined it (except for the costumes, but my imagination has a considerably higher budget). Amanda nailed the part Ophelia as I conceived it as well; everything makes perfect sense to her, but the way she conveys information…well, there’s obviously more than just a cultural barrier there. Amy was even kind enough to send me email about the way I wrote the Mary Shelley scene, and ask for more information about her. That wasn’t one of the ones I wrote, but I did like the way Amy did the part. It was a lovely counterpoint to the way I’d tried to write the interaction between Arthur Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes.
(Yes, I have folded, spindled and mutilated the Bard for this year’s show. I’m neither the first nor the last to do so, and at least I asked that he get credit in the program. It’s not my fault that my name is ahead of his in the alphabet.
There are a few things I’d do differently, if I’m asked to write again. Because I wrote the scnese in isolation from one another, the transitions could be probably be improved, and I’ve used some similar material in a few places. I’d put in more easter eggs (there are a few, both for lit geeks—as the song says, “brush up your Shakespeare”—and for people who’ve seen the show in previous years). And I’d try to do more with a couple of the ideas that developed as I was writing the scenes; I’d especially like to play up the concept that Holmes can’t see or hear the supernatural, which explains nicely why he doesn’t believe in it. Still, I’m very pleased with the way this year’s show worked out, andI hope that I’m asked to write more in coming years. I’ve already got another three or four scenes—including my very favorite—that weren’t used.
I was talking to an acquaintance the other day, and she was discussing the fact that she’d like to lose weight, but she’s a stress eater. There are vending machines very close to her cube, and it ruins her whole day when she has a bad moment and ends up taking in a lot of empty calories almost before she realizes she’s done it. She’s got a very negative internal monologue of long standing, and of course, that only makes her more stressed. The condensed version of what I told her is that if she’s got the strength to beat herself down all day, then she has the strength to build herself up all day; she just has to choose how she’s going to use that strength.
Personally, I’ve been in a stretch when a good day is one where one thing clears the fan before the next one hits. I’m trying to choose to focus on positives, or at least in learning from my mistakes. It’s not easy, but practice helps. Of course, even when I’m not completely successful, I still feel better than I would if was only focusing on the negatives.
Perfectionism is a bad idea, at least for certain definitions of perfect. Like the one that goes “without errors, flaws, or faults.” If you’re using that definition of perfect, then any change makes you imperfect. And expecting change not to occur is wildly unrealistic at best. On the other hand, if your definition of perfect is “complete and lacking nothing essential,” then perfection starts to look like a reasonable goal. And if you’re a mycologist, and your definition of perfect is “describes a fungus that reproduces both sexually and asexually during its life cycle,” then you probably need to get out more.
T: [Program] crashed all our machines.
B: I guess it’s not our savior, then.
All I can think of is what Molly Ivins wrote in the introduction to Bushwhacked—”I’f y’all had read the first book, we wouldn’t have had to write this one.”
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