My Philosophy: DO IT WHILE I CAN

I'm dusting off my Philosophy for Life and retooling it for present day. My Philosophy is DO IT WHILE I CAN (DIWIC). I did have other philosophies, but this one has the best acronym.  Perhaps it'll catch on and I can trademark it!  I believe it should be right next to the Golden Rule.  The Rule carries a little more weight, but hear me out why DIWIC should be a close second.

I'm only going to say this once. I am getting older. My image in the mirror is a little less appealing. The comments on the street, less frequent. I have a pair of blue jeans that require pliers to get the zipper up and I avoid selfies. (Perhaps we all should.)

I've always had this Philosophy/Mission Statement--DIWIC. But because of this revelation about the "age" thing, I have re-evaluated it and put it back into high gear.  DIWIC begs the question: What is IT?  IT is clearly going to be different for everyone and IT changes as I change and age.

I would say from age 15-35, IT was synonymous with "have a good time." So I did. I partied in high school. Partied in college. Partied with co-workers and strangers. Don't worry. I did more than just drink away those years. I travelled. I met Italian men in the shadow of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, I gambled in Macau and drank Mekong whiskey in northern Thailand. I moved to NY, to Denver, back to NY. I worked. I skied, I hiked. Got my heart broken, broke some hearts, etc., etc. I tried to be a good daughter, sister, and wife.

My first child was born when I was 37.  That's about the time the disco ball quit spinning. Odd coincidence. Motherhood was upon me. My DIWIC Philosophy changed.  I would say it was akin to shifting a 1960 Karmann Ghia without using the clutch. Tricky, noisy, scary, crazy fun, yet possible.  My IT was about becoming a good mother now. That involves a few things I won't go into it here.  Truth be revealed, I'm not sure what it involves.  That knowledge will be bestowed upon me the day my last child graduates. That's how life works.

Shifting DIWIC into high gear has just made me a little more deliberate in my choices. One glass of wine(as opposed to the bottle) so I can run the next day. No sausage before yoga. Downward Facing Dog, pig in my gut, and a burp trying to surface is not to be envied. Breaking myths. It's okay to bike ride in the rain.  We don't melt, despite our collective knowledge from "The Wizard of Oz." Do throw in a few Ted Talks and crossword puzzles for brain exercise.

So, DIWIC.  My co-worker's husband used to be a runner. He's had a stroke and is now handicapped.  My mother-in-law and I rode bikes a couple years ago. Her balance was a little wobbly.  My Dad died eighteen months ago.

So, DO IT WHILE YOU CAN.

Is Laziness Beneficial? An Unofficial Study

LAZINESS certainly has a negative connotation. I was fighting an afternoon nap recently when the word lazy meandered its way across my closed eyelids. I do the typical "housewife/mother stuff." Cook, clean, yell, laundry, volunteer, homework, yell, garden, do my "real" job (flight attendant), ponder a second career, yell, food shop, bra and boxer shop. Shop, in general.

Shopping. Actually this is where my curiosity about laziness takes root. Do I have "shades of laziness" in me or am I just thrifty?

Neither adjective seems flattering. As a teenager, I loved clothes shopping-for myself of course- with  my parent's money. Now it is my bank account getting depleted and the clothes aren't generally going into my coffers! Now I look at a shirt and think, "I could buy 10 boxes of honey nut cheerios and two pounds of ground beef!"

For a while now, I've been attending yoga classes 2-3 times a week. It's a different instructor every day and different students also. So it's not a big deal to wear the same shirt and pants to every class, just boring and stinky. It would be nice to own more than one outfit, but I just can't get excited about yoga attire shopping.  Generally, I love buying crap I don't really need. Don't we all?

Hence my pondering state. I'm tired of washing out my yoga outfit in the shower. (I don't have a washer in my apartment.) Pretty soon, I may have all my dirty clothes in the tub with me! The real question is why don't I just go shopping? I need to investigate this further!

Lululemon on Broadway and 75th Street rules for yoga clothes. The yummy spring colors pull me inside. In minutes (okay, seconds) I spot the perfect yoga shirt and matching lycra pants. Simultaneously, my lazy and thrifty side kick in. Mmm, $58 for a shirt --a yoga shirt, not just any shirt-- and $78 for pants. My thrifty side thinks about my bank account and how this isn't a good month to be doing this type of shopping. My lazy side gazes down at what I'm wearing.  On my feet, Doc Martens: A pain to unlace and relace.  Tight blue jeans: Have to suck in my gut to get the zipper back up.  Sweater with a lycra camisole underneath and a three-hook bra: Need I say more?  Plus my winter coat.  Oh my gawd! I am too lazy to strip, don, restrip, and don again.  Out the store I go, seemingly $136 (plus tax) richer.

As I walk home, I contemplate: What's THE reason why I walked out of that store pantless?

Just last month, I whipped out my credit card for a kick-ass Stella McCartney motorcycle jacket. I knew I'd be sitting on my sofa eating ramen noodles for a month. But I look damn good slurping those 59 cent noodles day after day wearing my Stella.

Perhaps, I need both thrifty and lazy to work hand in hand so my wardrobe isn't stuffed full of Calvin and Donna and Stella. And in turn, my stomach isn't stuffed full of ramen noodles!

After conducting my unofficial study to the question, "Is laziness beneficial?" my official answer is yes . . .well, sometimes.

 

Memory Block

You don't have to be a writer to have heard of writer's block. I suffer from this malady 98% of the time.  Hence my quarterly blog as opposed to my original plan of weekly.  Who did I think I was--J.K. Rowling??  Anyway, I have recently diagnosed myself with memory block as well. I've defined this condition as follows:
One's inability to recall what one has read over the years, be it for leisure or educational purposes.

A year ago I read the book "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel. I enjoyed it, but wasn't moved enough to rave to strangers about it on the subway (see blog entry: Kindles, Nooks and Old-fashioned Books, 4/28/11). When the book was made into a movie, I didn't plan on seeing it. Regardless, my husband and I ended up paying $35 to see the 3D version. Remember, NYC prices.

It was worth it! The scenery was breathtaking. It was thought-provoking and educational.  Who knew the French had been in India? The French were in Vietnam and Northern Africa, but India? Yes, the French had been in India. I confirmed it with Wikipedia.

After the movie, my husband asked, "Was the book better than the movie?"
I opened my mouth to reply. And then I shut it.  I opened it. I shut it.  I opened it and replied. "I have no idea." 
"I thought you read the book," he retorted.
"I did," I agonized.  "But I barely remember it.  I recall the symbolism at the end and that's it."
"Oh well," he replied nonchalantly.  "Let's go eat."

OH WELL. LET'S GO EAT!?!?!? Is he kidding? I am on the verge of a minor crisis here!  Why am I reading if I don't retain?  Am I reading too many novels?  Am I not reading enough? Should I read only non-fiction? Short stories?  Should I reread what I just read?

I do not know!  I do know that recently  I took a botany class. I read and outlined ten chapters of the text. One day, the teacher asked a question and no one replied. Then he asked, "Did anyone read the chapter?" 
Finally! A question I could answer. "Yes, I did." I piped up. "But I guess I didn't retain much . . .or any."

I somewhat understand not retaining textbook information, but I read novels for enjoyment.  Shouldn't I remember the plot, characters, and/or setting for more than a few days or weeks?  If it's truly an exceptional book--Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry, Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer (no accounting for taste is there--tee hee) everything is etched in my mind about Scarlett, Ishvar, and Edward. 

But, I think I should be able to recall pretty good books, as well.  Five years ago I read A Suitable Boy, by Vikram Seth, every 1,488 pages. I remember it takes place in India.  I remember lots of characters celebrating lots of holidays. I remember the plot was akin to a Telemundo telenovela. I spent a month reading that book.  And that's what I recall--it was reminescent of a Spanish soap opera!

I'm not alone in this condition. A friend said he buys books more than once.  However, he blames the marketing department.  They cleverly switch covers when the paperbacks are released. Not until he's into the second or third chapter, that a light bulb slowly illuminates.

Another friend started a list of her reading history in 2000. Unfortunately, she lost it. Since 2010, she now uses her computer with a grading system and a  personal note about her thoughts of the book.

A book that I hate has stayed with me--Eat, Pray, Love, a memoir by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Thanks to her, I have less interest in visiting India, or returning to Italy and Bali.  I fear she'll be revisiting these countries while she indulgently writes her third memoir and I'll encounter her!

I'm starting to think my experience with books are like my friendships.  The really great ones, I'll remember and cherish forever. While others, are appropriate for the time. They serve their purpose, yet don't have staying power.  And even books and friends that drive me crazy, have a place in my memory. 

Mmm, well, maybe my condition isn't so bad after all.  My husband and I can go have dinner now.