“When we're connected to others, we become better people.”

- Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

I’ve been incredibly distracted for a while now. On Wednesday, I almost made it out the door to practice WITHOUT MY DERBY GEAR. I made it to the bottom of the stairs, realized something was missing, stopped to think what it could be, and then marveled at my own absent-mindedness for a minute.

I shouldn't marvel. In the weeks before my mom died, I was so forgetful I kept putting my underwear on inside out, so I hung identical lists on hot pink paper next to the front door and bathroom mirror to remind me not to leave the house without brushing my teeth, putting on deodorant, giving Mazzy her thyroid pill, remembering my ID badge for work, and remembering my lunch. (Brushing my teeth is the only thing I managed to remember every time.)

Last fall, it happened again. The underwear going on insideout, I mean. I didn’t make a list of reminders that time. Instead, I had a meltdown at practice a few days before the first anniversary of my mom’s death. On the actual day, Rehab and I saw a movie, I got my Jonathan Livingston Seagull LOVE tattoo, and we had dinner. It was fine - I was fine.

This year, I’d been going back and forth about what I should do on the second anniversary. When I talked to my shrink about it, she asked why I felt like I needed to do anything, that I should just treat October 8 like any other day and instead focus on my mom’s birthday as the day I remember her every year.

I explained that I can’t treat October 8 like any other day. It’s not that I want to solemnly mark it on my calendar and make a point of acknowledging it, but I know that it won’t just pass by without me realizing what day it is. “I know I’m going to feel bad on that day,” I said, “so I want to do something that will make me feel less bad.”

So, Dr. B asked about something my mom and I both liked. First thing that came to mind: Chocolate. She said, “Why don’t you get some chocolate – really good chocolate – and just take a few minutes to enjoy it and think of your mom on that day?”

It was so simple, it was brilliant. I walked out with a plan and I felt better…until I didn’t anymore. Until the distractedness started becoming way too noticeable to ignore, until I started feeling completely disconnected from the people I love, from myself. Sort of like this:

Out and into the loneliest place that you’ll ever know

I carried the world just as far as I could

But the damage had taken its toll

- Motion CitySoundtrack, "The Worst Part"

And then I had an idea so simple, it was brilliant – combining so many of the things I’ve done over the last two years to make myself feel whole again. I bought some chocolate, I used up a bunch of the blank notecards that have been sitting in my desk for YEARS, and I hand wrote some messages to people as far away as Arizona and Wisconsin and as near as Yarmouth and Portland, to people I've known since I was three and people I've met since I got that Jonathan Livingston Seagull tattoo last year. (And I'll be bringing a big bag of chocolate to our bout on the 8th to share with my derbymates in person....)

The notes explained that I will be taking some time on October 8 to eat some really good chocolate and think of my mom and asks the person receiving the accompanying chocolate to basically do the same (although they don’t need to feel pressured to do it on the same day). In all of them, I quoted an episode of The X-Files I saw in high school that had this line that has stuck with me half my life: “You only live as long as the last person remembers.”

And so, Operation Mailing Chocolate helps me keep my mom alive, it helps remind people I care about that they are important to me (yay for mail! and being included! and chocolate!), and it helps me feel connected again -- we really ARE better people when we're connected to others. At least, I know I am.

"I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary. I had simply failed to notice how extraordinary it was."

- Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

I think I'm falling in love with my mailbox.* And, okay, my inbox deserves some credit, too.

So, I've been experiencing about nine different types of emotions all at once lately (I attribute this to being so grossly overwhelmed by my job in addition to a gazillion crazy things going on in general, plus the time of year. I love the fall -- it's always been my favorite season -- but it's hard to reconcile my love of the fall with all the memories of two years ago....)

Every day last week, when my alarm went off, I would drag myself out of bed with the consolation that I only had to get through X more days until my vacation. I have never needed a vacation so badly in my working life, which is saying something when you consider that I've been working since I was 15.

So, Monday was my last work day before FOUR VACATION DAYS (during which I have no specific plans, other than to try to unknot my brain a little). It was a tricky day - I spent most of it training some new staff, then answering A LOT of emails, wrapping up a couple of projects, etc.

Just after noon, my incredible friend Daniel sent me an email that said simply: "just a quick reminder that you are loved and beautiful." (This is one of the many reasons I adore Daniel - he seems to always KNOW when I need stuff like this. Not because I've said anything. He just knows. Like the time he sent me a random text to "Keep going" on my book THE SAME DAY I'd gotten interest from an agent, but before he'd heard anything about that.)

Yesterday was my first day off. I spent most of it just lounging around the apartment. When I finally went out to run some errands, I checked the mail. The usual junk mail, a statement from my pathetic little IRA, and a card from my derby wife. It was one of those "just because" notes she sometimes sends me but it wasn't just a "hey, I was thinking of you" note -- it was a "hey, do you know how awesome you are?" note. Again, impeccably timed.

And then today, I slept until almost noon, because my mom was right when she used to say I could "reverse my days and nights" without even trying as soon as I had any time off. I finally just went to check the mail and there was a package from Sock Dreams. I order from them a lot, but I was pretty sure I didn't remember having placed an order recently. And then I opened the package. They were cupcake socks from my friend the amazing vegan cupcake maker. So THAT was why she messaged me for my mailing address over the weekend....

It is mind boggling to think that randomly these three people (who do not know each other and who live in three different states) just happened to time things so well to make me feel loved and special exactly when I needed it. And yet, that's exactly what happened.

I've got two more days off, so maybe this is a good time to send some mail to people who are important to me, to thank them for being who they are and for being in this world. Yay for mail and for remembering to be awesome....


* I should probably be more careful about making statements like this. Like, when we got the new color printer at work that prints ON BOTH SIDES and prints super fast and I said, "I want to have the printer's babies" and our Hepatitis Coordinator looked at me very strangely (as if I meant it literally). For the record, I do not ACTUALLY want to have babies with the printer at work and I am not TRULY falling in love with my mailbox. Geez.

"And I think something is beautiful if it reveals something important about what it means to be alive."

- Maureen Johnson, The Last Little Blue Envelope

Yesterday at lunch, we were sitting around the table talking about something that prompted me to say, “My precious” in the Gollum voice (which was completely spot-on appropriate, I just don’t remember the context).

My boss was sitting across from me and made a motion with her hand to show how close I was to getting forcibly committed for psychiatric observation. She’s been keeping an eye on me ever since I threatened to start speaking ONLY in the voice of Copernicus, the taxidermied monkey with half a face. We’d agreed that it was okay for me to make little Copernicus sounds here and there (like my “woohoo” has pretty much been completely coopted by Copernicus at this point), but much more than that would definitely be cause for concern.

It’s just been A LOT lately. On all fronts. And I am exhausted down to the tips of my toenails and up to the roots of my hair. For real.

In the last week I: read a book and a half, chipped my front tooth, reffed a double header after a whirlwind of travel, had to separate my guinea pigs because one had a fast and dramatic weight loss that seems to be in direct relation to the other’s weight gain, got rejected by the agent who was interested enough to read my first five chapters, and ran over a raccoon on the highway. (In addition to all the work stuff that is making me want to talk in the Copernicus voice nonstop….)

And then this morning, I saw this on Twitter, and it made me laugh out loud (okay, okay, I sort of snorted, because I surprised myself with the laughter).

And then I saw this, which restored my faith in humanity a bit.

See, the thing that has kept me going through the craziest, hardest parts of the last several years is this one very small thing: I believe in magic. Not the Harry Potter kind – although I truly hope that kind exits, too. I mean the everyday kind, the kind of magic that exists in ordinary people who do extraordinary things just because it’s the right thing to do, the magic that exists in a moment where you’re sure the universe is conspiring to put something you NEED in your path, the magic that exists in simple, beautiful things, places, people.

I was thinking about that – about magic and the things that cheer me up when I feel beyond cheering – when I heard about all the upsets at the WFTDA Eastern Region Playoffs today. #10 London beat #7 Carolina by almost 100 points (yay for underdogs!). Although #8 Dutchland beat #9 Maine (my home league’s all-star team), they forfeited their game against #1 Gotham. So, Maine stepped up to play Gotham in a half-hour scrimmage, a move that has earned them tremendous pride and respect from people far and wide in the derby community. (I am just really, really disappointed that I couldn’t see that scrimmage – even with a huge point spread, I bet it was a great game to watch.)

See? Magic.

And although it’s been a hell of a long day, week, month, I’m going to bed feeling mostly okay. I can’t really ask for more than that….

Granny panties, geekiness, and funny socks

I’m wearing my purple, pink, and blue swirly tights today (you can see them in the “Bad Bad World” video) and lots of people have commented on them. I have whimsical taste in tights and socks, so I get that a lot.

The thing that kills me, though, is that I often hear people say, “I could never wear something like that.”

Why the hell not?

I mean, okay, some workplaces may have extra-specially strict dress codes. But outside of that?

I think maybe people are afraid of looking dumb or having other people laugh at them. Me? I think it’s healthy to be able to laugh at yourself. I give myself ample opportunity to do so – and then I invite others to join in.

For example:

I was visiting family two weekends ago, so naturally that meant using my aunt’s washer and dryer (because I am still not grown up enough to have my own). I was just about ready to pack up my stuff and go when my grandma says, “Did you find my underwear?”

This is not a normal statement one expects to hear from one’s grandmother, even in the context of laundry. Or, at least, it’s not something I expected to hear. So I said, “Uh…no?”

She then says that she had noticed the washer going earlier and just threw her underwear in, so I say, “Well, it must be in my basket then. Let me check.”

A quick paw through the clothes, and I find said underwear.

At this point, my aunt says, “Didn’t you notice when you were folding them?” No, because I tend not to fold underwear or socks – just toss them in the laundry basket.

But, my sister got to the much more interesting point: “Didn’t you notice that they weren’t yours? Unless…YOU WEAR GRANNY PANTIES.”

Now, it’s an odd thing to discover that you and your 88-year-old grandmother do, in fact, wear pretty much the same underwear (mine is several sizes smaller, though, thank you very much). And, since I feel like I need to defend myself about this whenever I bring it up, let me say this: I like to be comfortable; I don’t wear underwear that crawls up my ass. I also don’t see the need for wearing flashy underpants (other than the ruffled undies, which are really outerwear, because they go OVER my regular underwear); no one sees them but me (and, well, anyone else who did would likely be much more interested in getting them off than what they look like on).

So, there you have it. I literally wear granny panties.

Yesterday, I was telling some co-workers about an e-mail I’d received from our great-grandboss asking me a grammatical question related to the proper usage of serial commas. I am a great fan and supporter of the Oxford comma. As I was explaining this (and what an Oxford comma was) to L and E, I suppose I got a little animated.

How do I know this?

Because E said this: "Your geekiness is refreshing. It makes me feel normal."

One of the three best compliments I ever received was in sixth grade when Sarah DiMarco said, “I like your oddness.” Life is too short to spend it worrying what other people are saying about you. Wear the funny socks.