An Excuse to Buy Another Moleskine

by Ashley on January 12, 2012

My mom kept a diary for many years and, if I understand her correctly, hated it. I came across a box of her diaries years ago and after looking through a couple of them, I thought I figured out why. They were all about what she had actually done. Things like, “I took Ricky to the park.”1

I always had in my mind that unless I wanted journaling to become a dreaded obligation, then I should avoid all the mundane details of life. And I have. You could read my last ten years of journals2 and not know really basic facts about me, let alone learn anything about actual life on Earth.

Every feeling I’ve ever had is well documented, but I probably only mentioned once back in 2004 that my name is Ashley.

Lately I have been struck by the idea of keeping more of a logbook. The idea of a logbook is just to keep a list of the things you did, who you were with, and maybe what you read. This is the post that got me thinking about it .

Between a blog, a journal, emails and texts, the occasional letter or postcard, and all forms of social media, I don’t think my life needs more documenting. Not even raging existential anxiety about the impermanence of life makes me want to record every detail.

But I do like the idea of a logbook for the immediate benefit of figuring out how I spend my time and trying to be more intentional about spending it doing the things that really matter to me. If I’m going to go through the trouble of writing something down, then I want it to be worth recording! What a great way to gently coerce myself into thinking about what I’m doing right now instead of always thinking about what I will do in some vague future I have imagined for myself.

I am reluctant to make a commitment right now, but I am slowly moving in that direction.

  1. Ricky is my brother and he’s gone by Rick for at least the last 25 years. I don’t even think I could get away with calling him Ricky these days. [↩]
  2. Theoretically, I mean, because you’d have to fight me for them, and then if you were successful, you’d probably die of boredom before making it through the first year. [↩]

{ 17 comments }

I Kind of Miss Breathing Out of My Nose and Walking Without a Limp

by Ashley on January 11, 2012

I mentioned casually in my Boston post back in November that Ashley and Nicole talked me into running a half marathon in February.  It’s actually pretty easy to talk me into doing something that I already want to do, so for the last eight weeks I’ve been training.

I started running my first year of college when I was going through something that I only knew how to handle by waking up before everyone else and hitting the streets with JT’s first solo album (he used to make music).  That Summer I read all the books and then I started running some races.

The day before starting my senior year of college, I ran my first half marathon, and then I was finishing two majors and working two jobs and applying to grad school, and everything else was pushed to the side.  Running has remained there on the side for most of the time I’ve been in grad school.

The one big surprise about running again is that it turns out I’m not the raging perfectionist I used to be!  I realized almost immediately that 13 weeks was not going to be enough time to go from barely running to doing anything impressive, and I was totally okay with that. I actually haven’t felt discouraged once in all of these weeks. It’s just fun to be back out there again (with JT’s second album).

Last night I was limping home in the dark (because I did something to my foot) and breathing out of my mouth (because I have a cold), and I was really happy.  But I do kind of miss breathing out of my nose and walking without a limp.  And, seriously, it’s time for another album, Justin.

{ 9 comments }

Now A Brain Crack Free Blog

by Ashley on January 10, 2012

You know those people in your life who you talk to so much that you find yourself thinking about telling them something that happened to you as that thing is actually happening?  Blogging is like that for me. The words I am putting together in my head to explain to other people what I am experiencing actually become part of the experience itself.

In other words, I blog a lot.  Way more than I actually post.  I have always done the writing and not publishing thing to a certain extent, but lately I have been writing without any real thought about ever publishing.  It’s like all the work without the fun part of throwing your words out recklessly into the world.

I don’t want to deny that sometimes it’s fear that stops me, but so often it is really nothing at all.  It’s just easier to not make a commitment to anything by putting it in words and then sharing those words with other people.  I have been slipping into this mood a lot in the last year, and I’m always shaken out of it when someone tells me that what I do here matters to them.

First, thank you to those people.  Second, we should all be better about telling other people that what they do matters.  Third, I really should not require that kind of assurance to keep moving forward.

Brain crack is a Ze Frank term that refers to the very good ideas that you hold onto as precious and never execute because you’re not quite ready yet or it would take resources you don’t have or you don’t have the time or it would be really hard.  Brain crack addicts are those people who are always talking about what they’re going to do, but never actually do anything.

There’s a little addict in all of us, but if you want to get off the stuff, then you have to execute your ideas as faithfully as you can and then put them into the world and move onto the next thing.  In the last several years, I have gotten into the very good habit of doing the work, but I still dance around timidly when it comes to sharing that work with other people.

I don’t want to do that anymore.  I am making a renewed effort to get out of my own way.

{ 6 comments }

How To: Stay Here

by Ashley on January 9, 2012

I’ve had it in my mind for more than a year that I am really ready to move.  I’ve been in California for five and a half years now, and I have grown to love it way more than I ever expected to, but I’m ready to go somewhere new.

That seemed perfectly reasonable. But in the Fall, what was reasonable became something else.  Let’s call it unreasonable.  This place started to suffocate me and getting out became urgent.  So urgent that I was projecting my own feelings onto everyone else, thinking “how does anyone stay anywhere for more than a couple years?”

And that’s when I started to question my motivations, because there are some problems that putting yourself in a new location will solve, but you’re still going to be the same person, living the same kind of life.  I wasn’t trying to escape myself–I actually kind of like being me these days–but I was ready to take off to anywhere to solve a problem that would only follow me.

I think the reality was that I had grown bored with my life, which strikes me as both a simple and terrifying problem.  Most of the time I’m trying to figure out how to do everything at once, but sometimes I find myself not wanting to do anything at all.  I’m not talking about a lazy Sunday on the couch, but a loss of meaning and purpose.

I’ve always hidden myself from thoughts like these and buried them under piles of distraction.  I know a lot of answers to the questions I am asking myself, but I am hesitant to take the obvious steps. When your world has gotten too small, then you have to make it bigger, but everything is so comfortable here and does this mean I have to talk to people I don’t already know?

I was thinking a lot of thoughts about staying where I am, and then it seemed that every movie I watched was set in LA, and it was like I had to be reminded that this is an interesting place, and even if I plan to leave sooner and not later, there is a lot here that have left to do.  I’ve never been to Griffith Observatory, I want to see San Diego, the last time I hiked the big mountain behind me was four years ago, I could waste many more hours at Manhattan Beach, and the people responsible for the comedy podcasts I have been obsessed with for years put on cheap shows all the time and I never go!

I have a new attitude about staying here.

{ 11 comments }

On a Modest Reading Goal

by Ashley on January 5, 2012

In March, I decided to start reading for fun again. Mostly because I missed it and reading a book or two each year on breaks from school was making it difficult for me to justify being so pretentious.

My modest goal was to read 10 books by the end of the year, and I read 19!

Favorite book I read this year: Just Kids.  If you like memoirs or like things that I like, I suggest reading it.  It’s one of those books that I wish I could read over and over again as if for the first time.  It was an experience.

After a year of debating getting an e-reader, I finally have one.  I considered every option and then decided I wanted an iPad, but hey they are expensive, so I was in no hurry.  Then my dad kindly gave me one for my birthday.  Oh my, it’s better than I even expected.  I’m still buying books in paper as well, but I enjoy reading on the iPad.  And the world has not fallen to pieces.

I have a big stack of books I’m looking forward to reading in 2012.  I would like to make some crazy reading goal, but I would also like to have time to write and work on my degree, so I’ll say my goal is to read 30 books by the end of the year.  Starting with Born Standing Up and then The Marriage Proposal for #twookclub.

{ 12 comments }

2011: With Limited Perspective

by Ashley on December 30, 2011

A year ago, I had the bright idea to write one post a month that gave some indication of my life at that moment.  I imagined that I would reach the end of every month and have something insightful to say about it.  Instead I found that months pass very quickly and it is hard to have any kind of perspective on things that just happened.  I wrote from the middle of things, not knowing the significance of what I was feeling and having no idea what would come next.  Here at the end of the year, I have more perspective, but I will save that for another post.  Here is 2011 with limited perspective.

January: Oh, January

January usually makes me crazy.  The pressure of a new beginning mixes with gloomy weather and too much time to think, creating a perfect storm that threatens to sink my ship every year. I cope by listening to David Gray’s A New Day at Midnight, because six years ago, I was taking my first ever class on theology, staring a crisis of belief right in the face, and David Gray was there.  He’s been with me every January since, but that hasn’t made them any less difficult.  This January is not like the others.  Maybe it’s the heat wave we’ve been having in Southern California, but I suspect it’s not the weather, but rather this girl who has changed.  All of the normal things are there–times a thousand, really–but I feel different: optimistic.

February: A Scattered Post of Good Intentions

This leads me to something I already knew about myself, but was reminded of in February.  I go to great lengths sometimes to avoid things–even the truth–because I don’t think I can handle them right now.  I tell myself I’ll deal with that later;  I’ve got things to get done and I don’t need the distraction when I’m trying to write papers and get through long shifts at work.  I go all Scarlett O’Hara and say,  “I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about that tomorrow.”  This is an awful thing to do to myself.  Real things I can handle–it’s anticipation and not knowing that kill me.  Ashley, stop trying so hard to protect yourself.   Whatever it is, you’ll be okay.

March: So This Was March, and I’m Both Happy and Sad About It

What I’m saying, internet, is that I’m going through something right now.  And it’s hard to explain, because when I express my optimism, it seems to too easily miss the sadness and when I express the sadness, I miss the optimism.  I experience happiness and sadness together in a way that seems paradoxical.  But, if studying theology has taught me anything, it’s that truth is often found close to where things seem uncomfortable and contradictory.

April: Here Comes a Feeling You Thought You’d Forgotten

One of the things I love most about myself (and love most in other people) is my ability to get really excited about things.  Mountain moving, ocean parting excited to write a novel, read every book on a subject, or go to New Zealand and hope against hope that it really looks like Middle Earth.  I’ve always had this, but for a while it was tinged by doubt and my failure to be the person I thought I wanted to be.  The things I liked and was excited about were separate from the life I was trying to create for myself.  I thought that I needed to be perfect to be happy.  What I didn’t realize was that I’d already found the things that make me happy.

May: The Original Title of This Post Was Wildly Inaccurate

I have always treated working at a job where I have specific tasks and, you know, get paid very differently from my own writing projects.  That makes it very easy to push aside the writing in favor of either the jobs that pay or watching everything that was ever available on Netflix Instant (believe me, I do the lazy thing about as well as I do workaholic).  I don’t know what’s changed, but I’m not doing that this time.  The hours I used to spend at a second job, I have now dedicated to a job that doesn’t pay (can I be my own intern?): writing.

June: On An Insignificant Month

The most significant thing about June was that it wasn’t that significant.  For the first time all year, I wasn’t taking a course in Advanced Level Feeling.  I think this led me to be even more restless than usual. I have to remember that life is about contrast, because the moment things get real, I want peace, and the moment I have peace, I’m like, “Well, what now?”

July: The Forgotten Month

Last Summer, that realization led me to conclude that I was not as strong as I thought I was.  I criticized myself for being so unwilling to sit with sadness; the minute I felt it, my mind was working overtime to convince myself that I should feel differently.  I wished I had the courage to dive deeper instead of constantly fighting to keep my head above water . . . I still wish I had the courage to do more than glimpse sadness before running away.  But, looking back, I want to give myself credit for something I didn’t see then.  For my overwhelming and sometimes irrationally high level of optimism.  For a hope burried so deeply that no sadness could ever eradicate it.  It took me until the following Spring to realize that I am actually a great deal stronger than I thought I was.

August: All Kinds of Alive

I debated taking a break again, decided against it, and then the break I was running from stopped me in my tracks and said, “You need me.”  And I guess I did, because winning VEDA means not taking a single day off, and that takes something out of a person.  Plus, there’s been the transition from Summer to Fall, which I can best describe at this point as weird, because I think there is a lot more going on than I yet understand.  And I finished The Hunger Games on the day I started the break, and it put me in this mood I am not quite willing to be honest about at the moment.

September: “I am literally sitting on your couch right now”

I keep writing things and then not posting them.  At some point over the Summer, I was hit with this massive wave of self doubt that I have not yet been able to escape.  It seems to be traveling around the internet.  I know all on my own that these doubts are mostly ridiculous, but when I see people I admire expressing the same doubts, I realize that there is not a shred of validity to any of this.  It’s just destructive and though we’re all completely human for experiencing these feelings, they are not worth our time.  So I don’t think I’m going to do that self doubt thing anymore.

October: I’m No Doogie Howser, But That’s Not Really What This Post Is About

Some days it seems like I don’t have much to say, but I always have something to say.  I think I should have been surprised by the second half of that sentence, but instead I was surprised by the first half.  I have thought a lot this year about this instinct I have to get back to a baseline of feeling where I am completely at peace.  I have a lot of feelings, which would make it seem like I should be comfortable with inconsistency, but instead I am constantly trying to ride the waves of feeling back to this fictional place of calm where I can see everything clearly.

November: Am I going to smell the roses or am I going to watch every episode of 30 Rock ten times? (Life Post Coursework)

I didn’t even make it through September before I was confronted with a load of existential questions and started wondering, “Is this all there is?  Because I don’t think this will do.”  I wasn’t at all hysterical.  It was just the realization that after having things figured out for a while, I was in a new phase where it was time to figure it all out again. In the quiet of the last few months, I have found that for the first time when faced with not knowing the next step, I do not feel like I’m starting from scratch.  No thoughts of “OMG! What is my life?!” or “I need to become Brand New Fancy Perfect Ashley.” There are plenty more walls to hit and opportunities to crash and burn, but it is nice to feel like a put together person once in a while.

December: Especially If It Includes Big Risk and Possibly Fire

The thing about knowing what you want is that then you have to actually go get it.  And it turns out that’s the hardest part.  That’s where I am now and have been for quite a while.  This is a new kind of overwhelming.  The kind where you can’t quite see your way into the life you have imagined.  Here’s what I need to do: sit at a desk and focus.  Here’s what I find myself thinking about instead: doing anything else, especially if it includes big risk and possibly fire.   Finish your degree, Ashley, and write everything.

I feel obligated to admit that I spent most of the year hating this project.  Regular blog features are not for me.  I find them too limiting and dread keeping up with them.  I knew all of this when I decided to take on this project, which made me extra annoyed with myself whenever it came time to write another post.  If I am being honest, it was stubbornness alone that kept me going after the first month.  I am so glad I did, even though I grumbled through the entire process.  My primary motivation for writing is to figure things out in the moment, but there is this existential anxiety about the passing of time that motivates me to make things permanent in words.  It nice to look back and say, “that happened and here’s my proof.”

 

{ 1 comment }

My Life In Pictures: At Home Holiday Edition Vol. 4

by Ashley on December 29, 2011

Tradition: capturing Christmas break in pictures (Vol. 1, Vol. 2, and Vol. 3). I had a lovely time in Washington and now I’m back in California, but vacation is not yet over!

Birthday beer with my dad. Blue Moon, of course.

This was taken on my 28th birthday. It's like the wisdom just radiates from it.

A windy and rainy Northwest Christmas.

Christmas manicure.

My name is Ashley and I'm officially a Californian who can't handle the cold.

I like to make my mom think she has to talk me into playing this game called Rack-o, but really I enjoy it.

Lounging by the Christmas tree. I did a lot of reading while I was home.

My last day in town, my step-dad took me to Steilacoom for coffee. It reminds me of Stars Hallow.

{ 13 comments }

28!

by Ashley on December 22, 2011

It’s my birthday!  I’m 28 today.

Thanks for making this year so awesome.  I’ve had the best time meeting so many of you and, let’s be honest, spending excessive amounts of time with others of you.

Pizza and wine tonight, if you’re in the area.   Otherwise, enjoy a cupcake (sorry they’re virtual).  Love your faces!

Previously: 25, 26, and 27.

{ 24 comments }

“Horses, horses, horses, horses.”

by Ashley on December 21, 2011

It’s been a weird December.  Or maybe it’s been a really normal December and I’m not used to that. I’m used to having finals-induced tunnel vision until about this time of year when I finally look up and realize it is nearly Christmas.  I tried to stretch the merriment out and enjoy it all month, but instead I kept thinking, “It feels too early. Is it time yet?  How about now?”

Well, self, it is finally time!  Tonight I’m catching a flight out of California and home to Washington.

I have mentioned that this has always been my favorite time of year, but I have not mentioned that for a while it really wasn’t.  It was like, “let’s mix super high expectations with turning a year older and trying to figure out what home is when you don’t live there anymore and I know you live on your own but now you’re back to being the baby of the family and hey maybe it’s a little pathetic that you’re alone and, for good measure, let’s add some depressing music to the mix.”

There were many years of feelings all those feelings, some years of being anxious about feeling all those feelings, and now we’re into the years where I just don’t care about any of that.  The angst: I don’t have it anymore.

I’m just looking forward to being home and spending time with my family and eating cinnamon rolls and drinking too much coffee and playing board games and staring at the tree.  If I feel sad, then I’ll go write about my feelings and listen to “River.”  Like I don’t love those things too.

Hello Christmas!  I’ve been waiting for you.

{ 8 comments }

Especially If It Includes Big Risk and Possibly Fire (December)

by Ashley on December 19, 2011

This time of year always reminds me of my first Christmas after moving away to college.  I came home to find that home didn’t feel like home anymore.  That loss made me incredibly anxious about creating some kind of future for myself that was certain.  But the reality was that I had no idea what to do with my life.

I considered everything.  I talked to everyone.  I panicked and panicked and panicked.  I was strangely jealous of my favorite musicians and writers who all seemed to know from birth what they wanted to do.  I thought that if I just had that information for myself, then everything would be easy.  Hard work was something I knew how to do. I just needed a direction.

I figured out pieces of it along the way.  After considering almost every option, I finally decided my junior year to stop being an idiot and just major in English like I should have known I’d do from the beginning.  After wrestling for years with my more practical side, I finally realized it made no practical sense to study anything but what I was most passionate about.

That same year I took one required theology class and I knew immediately that I would never be able to walk away from those questions, so I might as well pursue them seriously.   It happened that for all the angst and as much work as I put into figuring this all out, the answer was: do the thing you’ve always done and also the thing you never saw coming.

So there I was at 21 and I had it all figured out!  Just kidding.  I spent the following four years (for a total of at least seven years) in a state of almost constant doubt and anxiety about my decisions and where I was going.  What a privilege it is to be overwhelmed with possibility.  I can’t say I handled it well, but I took it seriously.  I considered my happiness to be my own responsibility.

Everything is so obvious, but it took so much hard work to get here. I criticize myself for being too careful and not taking enough risks, but maybe I should give myself more credit for never giving up. The clarity I have now–not just about what I should be doing, but what I shouldn’t be doing–was worth all of that.  It feels pretty damn nice.

But, of course, it’s the beginning and not the end.  The thing about knowing what you want is that then you have to actually go get it.  And it turns out that’s the hardest part.  That’s where I am now and have been for quite a while.  This is a new kind of overwhelming.  The kind where you can’t quite see your way into the life you have imagined.

Here’s what I need to do: sit at a desk and focus.  Here’s what I find myself thinking about instead: doing anything else, especially if it includes big risk and possibly fire.   Finish your degree, Ashley, and write everything.

This is not a matter of getting myself to do the things I think I should be doing.  It’s about being disciplined in doing the things I want to be doing.  Because they make me happy.  So I don’t have a real conclusion, because this is something I’ve written about several times and yet it remains a struggle.  By its nature, I think it always will be.  But maybe I have found a theme for 2012.

2011 by the month: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, and November. 

{ 3 comments }

← Previous Entries

Next Entries →