In 2014, Indiana Was For (All) Lovers (#ThinkKit Day8)

#ThinkKit Day 8:

Rants & Raves

 

Get on your soapbox. What issue, idea, or stance were you vocal about this year? Or did you let it internally build up? Was there an event, person, or time that triggered your strong reaction? Or was it a slow-burn? Why do you feel so strongly – is it personal? Emotional? Strictly reasonable?

Show us some passion – make your argument from the mountaintop! 

There's no quibbling about it, this was the year of same sex marriage. If you live in Indiana, there was no way you could have missed it. It started with the HJR-3 hearings on a bill to ban same sex marriage through the Indiana Constitution. I was completely wowed at the turnout of people. I took the photo below at the first hearing. At the time I was working just across the street, so I scuttled over not long before they were scheduled to start. The gallery had been full for hours, and the photo I took was from the packed lobby, where I stood, watching the proceedings on the monitors just outside. The crowd was almost entirely people who supported same sex marriage. I say almost because I saw one group quickly ushered in through the side, but they wore no identifying buttons or shirts, and carried no signs. They were keeping a low profile because all of a sudden, banning same sex marriage was being on the wrong side of history, and I think they knew it. Large corporations like Eli Lilly and Cummins testified that banning same sex marriage in the Indiana Constitution would make our state worse off, and it was incredible to hear.

I remember back in high school, the first time I ever heard someone talk about same sex marriage. That will never happen in my lifetime, I thought, watching Ellen come out on TV, then lose her show soon afterward. I assumed I would never have the option to get married. Now look at where we are! Teenage me would never have believed how far we have come in the fifteen-ish years since then. 

We scored a victory this year at the legislature by kicking the can down the road and keeping the amendment vote off the 2014 ballot. But it wouldn't stop at keeping the marriage ban from getting worse. We didn't just want to be less put upon, we wanted to get married. Immediately four lawsuits were filed in federal court alleging that keeping us from getting married violated the U.S. Constitution. And we won! Beth White immediately started marrying people at the Marion County City-County Building. I was in the building the second day, and I was moved to tears by the long line of couples patiently waiting to get married. It had actually happened in my home state! I got all weepy a whole bunch of times, sometimes out of frustration, but mostly from happiness, throughout the legal process of court decisions, stays, appeals, victories, more stays, and finally a decision by the Supreme Court not to hear the appeal, which meant marriage was here for real and for good. 

This year was incredible. I learned a lot about the legislative process. I called and wrote the Governor, and my representatives, to plead my case. I even phone banked, an activity that terrified introverted me as we cold called people to ask for their support and more often than not got hung up on. Some legislative shenanigans had to happen to ensure that they even voted on it at all, moving the vote to a new committee where they knew they had the votes to get it out of committee and onto the floor. That told me that even the most conservative of people were changing their minds, or at least realizing that theirs was no longer the dominant perspective. This was the year I saw my neighbors posting signs of support in their yards, I heard Macklemore on the radio rapping about same sex marriage, I saw the huge crowds at rallies and hearings saying it was time to let us get married. I felt more at home here in my native state of Indiana than I ever had before. We still have a ways to go here in Indy, but this year we came a hell of a long way. 

Sarcasm Break (#ThinkKit Day7)

#ThinkKit Day 7:

Alla-Kazam!

Wave your magic wand – whoosh – what would you transform, create, or make disappear in 2015? Don't be afraid to change the world, or merely alter the mundane. Just be prepared to defend your decision with reason, or irrational emotion!

Oh...this wand will self-destruct after a single use, so choose wisely!

My initial response to a question is typically a sarcastic one. It's my default setting. So reading this question, I wanted to say I would wave my magic wand to create solar-powered personal helicopters, laundry that could fold itself and put itself away, or TV dramas that don't start to suck after season 2 (cough, cough, Revenge and Nashville). Or I would transform all cars into bumper cars so crashes would become playtime, make raindrops into gelatin-free marshmallows, or automatically correct all misused "theirs" into "there's" and vice versa. Things I might make disappear include all Maroon 5 songs, reality shows that consist of some guy shouting for an hour, and open-toed boots (seriously, how is that a thing?).

I default to sarcasm and jokes so much, that sometimes I'm struck by people who are genuine. A guy I work with one day asked me, "What would you do if you won a million dollars?" I assumed that he wanted some ridiculous answer, so I gave him one. And I asked him the question in return. He said, "I'd pay off all my debt and buy a house for my parents." I immediately felt like a jerk. Because of course, given the actual real possibility, I think we would all do something like that, or I hope we would.

I actually admire the people who don't default to sarcasm. There's a fine line between being humorous and putting up a shield. I'm trying to be a little more genuine, and a little less silly, at least once in a while. So instead of answering this question as a joke, I'm going to answer it for real.

If I could create or transform just one thing, it would be... to give us all a better ability to act out of kindness.

I know that sounds like a very Miss America contestant answer. But, I think that's appropriate since I was named after a Miss America contestant (and that's no joke).

Kindness has been on my mind. I've been the recipient of more kindness this year than I could list. I had friends who took the day off work and a sister gave up an entire weekend to help me move to a new place. I have another sister who I currently live with who doesn't go ballistic when I don't do the dishes immediately (but I'm getting to them, I swear). I've had family and friends that stuck by me through some total suckage. And it truly made a world of difference. Imagine what the world would be like if we all acted out of kindness. War, famine, parking lots around the holidays - if we actually saw each other and treated each other with kindness, it would be pretty rad.

So, since I don't have a real magic wand, I can only try to focus on being kinder, to other people, and to myself.

And if that doesn't work, the solar powered helicopters are my Plan B.

A Haiku for the Monon Trail (#ThinkKit Day6)

Today's #ThinkKit prompt:

Third Place

Work, home, and _____. Where was your third place this year? Did you like it, love it, ...or was it out of obligation? What feeling, sense, or vibe did you get from your third place? If someone can't imagine the scene, give the lay of the land in words. Is there natural light? Is there a certain smell? Bring us inside.

This year I spent a whole lot of time on the Monon Trail, but instead of writing a blog about it, I decided to write a haiku. Just because.

Monon Trail Haiku

This was the summer

that I moved near the Monon

and ran for hours

This trail would become

my second home, my third place

running miles and miles

I was on this trail

the day I finally reached

twenty freaking miles

The trail felt like home:

the runners and cyclists who

smile when they pass

The old man who walks

every day along the trail

carrying hand weights

The fat little squirrels 

so unafraid of people

on their quest for nuts

Nothing scared me off:

not dog poo or creepy guys

I just carry mace.

Hello to the Written Word (#ThinkKit Day5)

Today's #ThinkKit prompt:

Aloha

What did you say goodbye to this year? Was it a bad habit? A '94 hatchback? Or something less tangible? How did you feel the day after? The week after?

Or! What did you say hello to this year? Did it enrich your life...or detract? A new favorite possession? A tattoo? Did you decide that your life was missing something, or did you just fall into new-ness?

Share your aloha!

There have been a lot of hellos and goodbyes in my life this year, some of which are too personal to get all bloggy about. (And yes, I actually am working on a new tattoo, but it's not quite done yet.) But one thing I said a huge "hello" to this year was the written word. 

I've always loved books, ever since I was a little kid. The first award I ever won was the "Bookworm Award" in kindergarten, which was a nice way of saying I spent all my time hiding out with whatever book I could get my hands on instead of building blocks or playing Barbies with the other kids (I'll blame my social awkwardness on that). I got in trouble in junior high school for reading books during class instead of listening to the teacher. On particularly mean math teacher nicknamed me Jane "I don't know what's going on" Ire (ok, he used my real name, but still) because I got caught one too many times turning the pages to find out who the real murderer was instead of learning my multiplication tables or whatever math is 7th grade-appropriate. What can I say? The Fear Street Saga novels were way more intriguing than... whatever it was I was supposed to be learning about. 

I have a ridiculous collection of books, and that's after having made the effort to pare it down. Half Price Books is my kryptonite, so I try not to go in there without a chaperone. But even with my love of books, it's always easier to buy the book than to make time to read it. 

That's why this year I signed up for #Read26Indy, with the goal of reading 26 books this year. I thought it was be so easy to hit that goal and go way beyond it, but I've still got several more books to go if I'm going to get there. Life as an ostensible grown-up has so much going on that it's difficult to make time to read. It's even more difficult to make time to write. But the challenge has still been a great reminder to take time to read. 

One of the many barriers to reading

When I went to college, way back in 1999, I started as an English major. It was my dream to write novels for a living. I'd never really wanted to do anything else. But what I soon learned was that I didn't have enough life experience to write anything that I was really proud of, and I transitioned over to a different major. It also helped that I was obsessed with sci-fi and in my first creative writing class, on the first day, the instructor declared all genre fiction to not be "real" literature. I dropped the class immediately. Years later, I was working in state government administration, and then nonprofit management, but the desire to write didn't go away. So I decided that this year, I would actually do it. 

I've found writing to be incredibly scary. I've wanted to do it for so long, but haven't, because I was so afraid that when I actually went to write that it would be terrible. I would rather have had the dream of writing than the reality of it, because if I tried, and failed, I wouldn't even have the dream anymore. But that's no way to live. I don't want to get to my later years and regret never have given it a shot. 

So I took some writing classes through the Indiana Writers Center. A couple were one-day seminars by local authors (Ben H. Winters and Maurice Broaddus), each of which was inspiring in its own way. Then I took a class on writing YA fiction, because the novel in my head was meant for a teenage audience. It was once a week class for a little over a month, and it was taught by local YA author Mike Mullins. I found it incredible that these authors were living in Indianapolis, making their living full-time by writing. I didn't think that could be done. And these were talented authors! Ben Winters's novel Countdown City even won the Phillip K. Dick Award for Distinguished Science Fiction. And he was local! I was in. I loved my class with Mike, and one of the best things to come out of it was the writing group I joined with three other students in the class. 

When they emailed me and asked me to join, I was jazzed. I hadn't been particularly outspoken in my class - I was nervous to read anything I'd written or to share it with anyone. So the fact that they thought to invite me totally made my year. And we've been meeting on and off ever since, sharing pieces of things we've written, meeting up to set our laptops up in a restaurant or coffee shop and drinking beer, chatting, and getting a little writing done. They've helped me work out some of the initial bugs in my story, and it means a lot knowing that they're there for me to bounce more ideas off of in the future. And I love reading their stories and watching them evolve. It's been scary putting the words on paper, and then giving them to people for them to critique, but it's also exhilarating. I have a large chunk of my novel in it's first draft, and it needs a lot of work still, but I know it's going to get done, and I'm so glad I finally said "aloha" to the challenge of putting words on paper. It's been so worth it. 

**Thank you to my writing group. You are all amazing women and amazing writers!**

Good Advice (#ThinkKit Day4)

2¢

 

Whether you asked for it – or not – what good advice did you get this year? Did it come from an unexpected source? Was it unsolicited, or did you need a word or two after an eventful day, week, or month? Has the advicechanged the way you think about the world? Changed the way you think about your advisor? Changed the way you think about yourself? Changed the way you act? Can you distill the message and help the rest of us out, or is it too personal to be universal? 

This was the year I fell, suddenly and unexpectedly, in love with running. Before that day, I considered running to be a nuisance, an obnoxious activity that nevertheless was good for fitness. I had runner friends that I assumed had a screw loose, the way they would venture outside in all kinds of weather - even the days we were warned not to drive they were out there running.

I really wanted to be a runner. I tried a few times in my old neighborhood, running a loop over and over in the few blocks around my house where I felt safest, but I was always huffing and puffing and generally feeling miserable and self-conscious about it. Sometimes I would run on the treadmill at the gym, and that seemed less painful, but it was mind-numbing. I somehow always got stuck in front of the TV playing Fox News. I tried reading e-books with the type scaled up, but reading and running at the same time turned out not to be a great match. I would make a terrible Nook.

When I moved, and no longer had a cheap gym nearby, I stopped trying. But then I signed up for a 5K and ran it hard, which was painful and amazing, and just like that I was hooked. I started running every day after that - I couldn't get enough of it. The Monon Trail was right next to my house and I woke up excited to run at 6 a.m. This went on for a couple of weeks until one day, half a mile from my new house, my knee completely locked up. I could barely bend it, let alone run on it. 

This really freaked me out. Not because of the injury itself, but because it could get in the way of my new running obsession. I link it back to the years I played roller derby. That's where I discovered my competitive side. We were nuts - skaters would blow out their ACL or break an ankle and their first question would be "when can I skate again"? I loved the determination and single-mindedness. The down side was that we often didn't give ourselves enough time to recover. 

The problem with my knee didn't go away. I waited a day, then ran on it anyway. I only went a couple miles, and slower than I wanted, so I considered that taking it easy. But it locked up again and I had to hobble home. It got to the point where walking down the stairs was really painful. I still didn't want to stop, even though I knew I should. I was petrified that if I took too much time off that it would all disappear - that ability to get up at 6 a.m. and be happy about it, the progress I was making in being able to run further and further, and just being able to enjoy running itself. I didn't want to go back. 

I solicited my running friends for advice, and they told me two things:

1. Get better shoes. I was running in old sneakers I'd bought years ago on sale at JCPenney. So I ventured to Blue Mile and had them assess my running style, and bought the shoes they suggested. The price tag was painful, but if it would let me run again it was worth it.
2. Recovery is just as important as running. This advice was harder for me to take. Intellectually I knew recovery time was necessary - all the books I was reading said so, and so did the runners in a group I'd joined. It made sense. I just didn't like it. Why should I rest if I could run?

I finally gave in and followed the advice. I stopped running for nearly two weeks, even though it seemed like forever. And then I worked up a training plan with more moderate increases. And it worked, my knee gradually got better and I could run again, within reason. They were right, recovery is just as important. 

I started thinking about the concept of recovery time, and looking at where I could apply it to other parts of my life. 

I'm not someone who's good at sitting still. I can marathon some Netflix with the best of 'em, but I keep my schedule pretty jam packed. I love to join new organizations, volunteer my time, take classes, sign up for anything that sounds interesting. And that's brought some great things into my life and introduced me to some wonderful people. But doing so much all the time has its drawbacks too. It's missing something - that recovery time. 

Without that recovery time, I don't take time to reflect on where I'm at, where I want to be, what's really important to me. And I don't really process things well before jumping into the next big thing.

So I've taken that advice way out of its original context, and I'm taking it seriously. I'm taking stock of my life and making space to move around. A big part of that is that at the end of the year I'm stepping down from the board of an organization that I really like. The people are wonderful and I believe in what we do, but it's a significant time commitment, and I need that time to myself for a while.

It's scary to me - looking ahead and seeing open spaces on my calendar. I've seen other groups that I admire looking for board and committee members and I've been so tempted to throw my hat in. But then I stop, and remind myself that - for now at least - I'm sticking to the basics, so that I can see what really matters, and where I really want to go next. 

LOL The Whole Way Down (#ThinkKit Day3)

Deck the LOLs

Let's loosen up: share a side-splitting story from the last year. What made you laugh out loud until tears formed? What made you giggle every time it was referenced? Whether it's a story, an image, a video – we want to hear about the banana peel on the floor, your best practical joke, or gems from the mind of a three-year-old. Whether it's sassy, sarcastic, or just plain silly: make us laugh!

This prompt. Guys, this question is like the exact opposite of "Don't think of an elephant!" The moment someone says hey, tell me a funny story, anything funny I ever experienced or heard of from some guy disappears like poof. I pondered on it. Asked my friends if anything this year had been remotely funny. I'm not a robot, I'm sure I laughed at some point, and heartily, but nothing came to mind.

But then I realized I was overthinking it, and - what's more hilarious than people falling down? Absolutely nothing, based on all the comedies I've seen (or been forced to watch) over my lifetime. Maybe fart jokes, but I don't have any of those because I AM A LADY. I do, however, have a dubious relationship with gravity.

A couple months ago I went on my first solo backpacking excursion, and it was everything I had hoped it would be. I hiked through the woods, enjoying the crisp October air, marveling at how amazing nature is. My backpack was just the right weight (take THAT, lady from Wild, I thought) and I was getting my Henry David Thoreau on. I passed only a handful of people the entire day and was enjoying the solitude. It was so scenic that I thought that, even though I was sure I couldn't really capture it, I should take a couple photos.

So I pulled out my phone (it still had signal, which really interfered with me pretending I was way out in nature) and went to take a photo. Only, I didn't stop walking. You see where this is going. Lining up the perfect imagine in my phone's viewfinder, I stepped forward and - bam! - tripped myself, landing on my knee (ouch). My backpack, whose straps I hadn't bothered to secure because why would I need to do that, slide forward and banged me mightily on the head, making me see little birdies that weren't there. And I fell down awkwardly onto the ground. It was... hilarious. Even I could see that. Especially I, since there was no one to notice. It was the opposite of the moment you trip on nothing walking down the street and hope no one sees you. This was so impressively dumb that I wished there had been someone there to witness and laugh with me. I hope that at least a couple squirrels were judging me from above. I sat down on the ground and laughed so hard at my lack of coordination that there were little tiny tears in my eyes. I still laugh when I think about it. I'm laughing now. Mission accomplished, #ThinkKit.

I took my life in my hands to photograph this salamander. You're welcome.

And if you didn't find that story remotely funny, then I offer you this video as an apology. It's Paula Poundstone talking about cats. That never fails to deliver.

Flip the Switch, Flip the Menu (#ThinkKit Day2)

Flip The Script

What did you change your mind about this year? Was it a big deal – the way you feel about an issue? Or something small – maybe you learned to like Brussels sprouts? What was the moment or series of moments that changed how you felt? How did your friends or family react? Have you uttered the phrase, "I'll never change my mind!" since then?

I'm a little suspicious that #ThinkKit is creeping around in my brain like Donald Duck in MathMagic Land, poking at fragments of thoughts I've had over the past few months. I read today's prompt blearily at 5 a.m. as I was throwing my cat off the bed repeatedly, and I thought it said Flip the Switch. Close enough, I think. Recently a switch flipped for me, and it wasn't like a plastic coated light switch. It was more like one of those heavy metal fuse box switches, the kind that slide into place with a satisfying bang. Like when Chevy Chase's wife in Christmas Vacation flipping the switch and the whole house lights up and blinds the neighbors.

The switch I flipped at the end of September was going vegan. I've written about it before, so I'm not going to go into the reasons why. I'm more interested in the process of going vegan, or really, my lack of a process. One night, I saw a film that convinced me to go vegan. And the switch flipped. I no longer wanted eggs, or dairy, or butter. And it stuck. I kept waiting for the cravings to come - the kind I had when I gave up my daily Mountain Dew and had the urge to snatch cans out of unaware bystanders' hands as they walked by. But I haven't had any wild cravings, and passing up the holiday plates of cookies has actually been easy. My brain doesn't even really seem to see that stuff as food anymore. I think that's incredibly weird. I became a vegetarian way back in high school, so I don't have a lot of clear memories of it, but I do remember that for a time I really missed tuna fish sandwiches and Steak 'n Shake steakburgers. But this time, nothing, nada, I'm A-OK.

This is only a small portion of the awesome food at veggie Thanksgiving.

So where does that switch live in my brain? And, how can I use it for other things, like motivating myself to put the clean laundry into the dresser instead of just getting dressed straight out of the basket until it's time to do laundry again? I have no idea, but if I could patent and replicate it, I'd be a millionaire.

The reaction of my friends and family has been generally supportive. It's more casual acquaintances that have a stronger reaction when they're told what I eat, or rather what I don't. Most people widen their eyes and tell me they could never do it. That's fair enough, I don't have a problem with that reaction. It was how I felt up until recently. Some of the more amusing, or just odd reactions, have included;

• An acquaintance who, after being told I went vegan, said to me that it was a very first world thing for me to be able to do. I thought that was a strange reaction but I thought about it. I suppose it does show a touch of socioeconomic advantage that I can choose what I eat, instead of having to eat whatever is at the local convenience store. But in terms of the first world versus the third, when I traveled to the Philippines after college, it was considered prestigious to eat as much meat as possible, and as few vegetables. Vegetables, I was told more than once, were what poor people ate. 
• A date that seemed incredibly freaked out about what it was that I could possibly eat, even though she kept picking the edamame off my giant salad and eating them. When she asked what I ate, I just responded, "mostly plants," and attempted to change the subject. I could tell it mattered way more to her than it did to me. While she was perfectly nice, we didn't go out again. 
• The same date's coworker (yes, she brought three coworkers on our date as a last minute surprise, but that's a story for another day) who proudly told me that she doesn't eat much red meat. I always think that's a funny response, although if I were vegan for health reasons I guess it would make sense. But since that's not the case, it seems odd to me that someone would be proud that they eat legions of chickens (yes, a whole chicken army) but not that many cows. To me, it's all pretty much the same, although viscerally I do admit that a cow makes a more sympathetic figure. They are cute little buggers. I'm actually not criticizing, though. Anything people can do to eat healthier sounds good to me. And I do get that she was trying to find some common ground. I appreciate that, even when I think it's funny.

The fun part of my new diet is all the new foods I get to try. Some friends hosted a vegan Thanksgiving and there was more food than I could fit on my plate, all delicious. And meeting new people has been fun too. I even joined a team of vegan runners for a relay race in the spring. I don't know most of them yet, but at least we'll have a few things in common from the beginning. Just don't tell them I sometimes still eat honey. Everyone has their line, and that's inside the one I've drawn, because I think more people should raise bees. There's a bee shortage, doncha know, and if people can raise bees and responsibly harvest their honey without replacing it with sugar water, then I don't have a problem with that. I've learned, mainly from the passionate online vegan community, that that makes me a bit of a heretic. I respect the people who disagree with me. Oh, and I actually really do like Brussels sprouts.