Greetings from the future

Not much to report from the future, except that it's very green here. I think that may have something to do with being below sea level and about 5 miles from the ocean though, rather than the rapidly advancing season. Hard to say what Hoopdorf was like 7 hours ago.

I got on the plane yesterday at 9pm (US Eastern time zone). We all filed on and glowered up at the business class. We become so used to certain luxuries, like upgrades to first class. When I learned that Northwest doesn't upgrade on international flights, I was highly indignant.

Thank god for Ambien. Sat down and popped 15mg of zolpidem while they served our dinner. We had a choice of chicken alfredo pasta and chicken stir fry. Definitely went with the latter, though I can't really account for the name. As the ingredients (sauce, chicken, diced red peppers, and rice) were served in neat, well-defined piles, the "stir" part refers perhaps to the method of consumption? The latter half of the name is equally unaccountable, as hot steam is the only cooking method any of this dish saw. Nevertheless, it was delicious, mostly on account of the sauce, which was a pretty solid imitation on the Three Cup Chicken sauce available at my favorite restaurant Nattspiel.

While waiting for dinner and the arrival of the drug in my brain, I watched the movie Taken. This movie stars Liam Neeson as an ex-CIA "preventer" (reference was made to the standard generically ominous and exciting Beirut) whose teenaged daughter is kidnapped by human traffickers during a trip to Paris (to follow U2 around Europe, of all the dumb reasons). This comes, of course, after her world-wise father agreed only reluctantly to allow his baby to leave the country, after protesting that he knows "how the world really is." A very somber fellow, this Brian. Fortunately, the kidnapping happens while Kimmy (they ladel the diminutive form on thick for extra sentimentality) is on the phone with her father (back in LA). So he gets very angry, flies to Europe, and kills like 327 Albanians. Maybe not the best movie for before bed, but pretty good I'd say. I fought against increasingly leaden eyes through the last 10 minute or so, and fell thoroughly asleep within about 12 seconds of the credits rolling.

Holland is green. Lots and lots of green. Our hotel, a standard issue Courtyard Marriott, is in the middle of a damn park! I can see horses going by out my window! So that's pretty cool. Before we could enjoy that though, a trip to the nearest town was in order. Not much is open on Sundays around here (damn lazy Europeans), but we needed food. So we found the awesome tapas place. Then wandered around a cozy dutch town that I'm sure is like many others. Can't wait to see more.

Now, I must focus on staying awake for 3 more hours. Oy!

Until next time, enjoy some pictures:

http://picasaweb.google.com/joelamartin/Europe09#

A modern evil

Namely, caffeine. Last week, I undertook an experiment. It seemed to me that caffeine was becoming more of a habit (usually in the form of soda or tea) but that it was having an overall negative effect on me. You all know what I'm talking about. I get my fix, feel great for a while, then round about 11am I start feeling like my head is full of silly putty. So I take another hit, feel fine for a couple hours, and then spend my afternoon trying to pretend that I understand the words coming out of other peoples' mouths. The alternative was just to up the ante, but I'm worried about this:



The results are in, and I highly recommend it. Seriously, my life it better without that shit. Now I only drink caffeine after 6 pm (still a useful keep-me-up for the evening, and somehow I don't get the brain-death like I do during the day). Also useful as a laxative, of course.

Can we move to Spain?

I have been saying this forever. We should have siestas every day. Americans spend like $1 billion per year on self help books, another billion on therapy (maybe more), and like $10 billion on depression drugs. If we had a two hour break every day in which we could (depending on mood) a) sleep b) drink sangria c) have sex or d) eat, we would not need these things. See, it pays for itself.

We should start a “siesta club.” It’ll be like a support group except for something cool instead of something shitty. We’ll all promise to take siestas and give each other shit if we do not (for example, “Couldn’t take a break to get mildly drunk? You’re such a slave to The Man, man).

Whenever and wherever

The world speaks in the most remarkable and surprising ways. I got on a plane this afternoon and started writing about authenticity. I hadn't gotten to it yet (before this thing happened), but what I had in mind was how much I've been stressing, more and more lately, about figuring out what I'm "supposed to do." This sense that life is slipping by and I'm wasting my time. But the insight that I wanted to write about was that this whole mentality is perhaps missing the point precisely. We are letting life slip by precisely when we live "forward," like this, when the future (the not-now) is more important than the now. Even when I am not planning for the future, still I am not in general living now. My time away from work feels so much like placeholders, like "something to do." I think I have been increasingly aware of this phenomenon in recent months, yet I don't know what do otherwise. The moments of living should be the rule rather than the exception, and yet they are unusual. I think back to a hike Kathleen and I took this summer out past Middleton. That was so great, but not because of the particular place or event, but because we were exploring. I look back on this and think, "I wish I could do that sort of this more often."

What I crave (what all of us crave), is creation or exploration (are there other things I'm missing?). I think we get paralyzed because both of these seem so big. I dream of a job where I can do one or the other, as though this is the only format in which such endeavors are satisfying. What I wanted to write about was this insistence that my job is the key to living authentically. That if and only if I can figure out the right direction for my entire life will I be living right, will I live authentically (as opposed to the superficiality in which I generally find myself). Many of us seem caught up in this. Even those I would consider very authentic, like Kathleen, struggle with this desire to integrate living and working, and this frustration when we can't have the whole thing (when the integration is not complete). But maybe that's the wrong approach. I'm going to say provisionally that it is definitely not the right approach. That instead we can just create and explore (or do whatever else is right for you) whenever and wherever we can. Nothing revolutionary here, I suppose, and yet who of us is doing this? No one I know.

So this is what I was thinking about, how to bring these things into my life. How in this new year I want to make my job just a job and do a lot more living in the rest of the space.

Resolution #7 - Create or explore something new every day.

And then I sit down next to this woman on the plane. She's reading a book full of pictures and essays and quotes, all with little "assignment" notes underneath. Like "Assignment 52: Take a flash picture underneath your bed" below a page of dust bunnies, long-lost socks, and annoyed felines. Fascinating stuff, and I'm so enthralled that she catches me looking over her shoulder (yes, I'm a classy guy, I know). Well it turns out she's an artist, and artists sort of have to appreciate voyeurism. So she's very nice about my awkwardness, and insists that I take the book for a while. The book is called Learning to Love You More," and there's a website too. They put up these "assignments" (or others submit them) on their website, and then visitors post their efforts. The book is a collection of these projects.

So I will try to do one of these a day (unless I stumble upon an independent option). I recommend that everyone do the same.