Not scared? Then you're doing it wrong

"If it isn't frightening, it's not worth doing."

I was ruminating with Ed Borasky (@znmeb) about that old adage yesterday at Beer and Blog. We sat at the bar together, I drank the lovely dark stout @pdxflaneur bought me, Ed ate his aromatic clam chowder, and we discussed how the things we choose to do in life, the things that influence pivotal changes and pregnant possibilities, are often the scariest experiences in life.

Ed is a superincrediblytalented math guy who specializes in open source performance testing software. He likes to optimize things for efficiency and discuss the future of semantic Web, and his real first name is Maurice. (He's also available for hire, so if you're looking for a superincrediblytalented math guy you should go check him out).

Talking to Ed makes me feel smart-ish, because I can work in smart-ish phrases when I talk to him: "Profiling Ruby is soooo 21st Century" and "Done with that paper on algorithmic composition and synthesis of music yet?" for instance.

Quite honestly I'm not sure what he's getting out of our chats, but he's very nice to indulge me when the topic is the art of being human.

The byword If it isn't frightening, it's not worth doing is similar to other, familiar Life in a Nutshell versions I live by. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger and If it's hard it must be good for you are themes I know well, as a writer and a human. I weave them into my stories, and I live and breathe them. I'm betting you do, too.

And I try to do scary things, every single day. I stretch my personal boundaries and talk to strangers, acting like that's no big deal. I blindly trust in my capabilities and capacity for being the best, most awesome me I can be. I am also working on the biggest, most personal media project of my life. The kind that solicits reactions from friends and strangers praising my bravery and questioning my sanity.

It's not bravery. It may be insanity. But always It is frightening, and therefore worth doing.

No matter how loud my instinctive personality kicks and screams, of course preferring I NOT do these frightening things, I still do it. My instinct tells me it's necessary to plunder through. Even though I am not a risk-taker by any means. Even if I am not a fan of surprises, and need mental preparation for spontaneous acts of "winging it" (which isn't really winging it, FINE). I do it anyway.

But still, I want to live a life of rewarding personal fulfillment, not have life be what happens when I'm busy doing other stuff.

What kind of "life" is that?

If you're not taking chances once in a while -- really going for it, scaring yourself with the fierce desire to follow through -- then you're doing it wrong. Life deserves better from you.

Go, start, now. You'll be so glad you did. I know I am already, no matter what happens.

Let's go steady!

A Vibrator Story (like A Christmas Story, only completely different)

Image by Cranky Media Guy via Flickr

Now that my mother and little sister have traveled home from their very short visit to Portland, Oregon, and I have had a chance to reflect on the events that transpired, I am ready to tell the Vibrator Story.

After I finish the rest of this beer. Hold please.

Ah, yes. Let's get on with it:

I swear my mom and sis were in my house less than 10 minutes before (what shall henceforth be known as) The Great Dildo Reveal. I was giving my pregnant sister and cane-wielding elderly mother a tour of my home, catching them up to what I'd improved on since they were here last. So, while my teenage son brought in the luggage, they tottered around the place. It had been a few years since they'd seen my home, certainly before either one of them began tottering.

We made it to my recently painted bedroom and were admiring my skillz when I noticed my doggy @littlegyrl (YES she has a Twitter profile. DO NOT JUDGE ME.) had made herself a nice little napping nest on my bed. She takes great car in doing this, breaking into my room and making herself at home between my sheets, arranging the pillows and comforter just so. She's prolly getting even with me for avoid eye contact with her at bedtime, as neither I nor my son will let her sleep with us because she sheds more than the cat. (Also, she snores but will never admit to it.)

Now here comes the Comedy of Errors part: First, I said something to my mom about the dog getting inside my bed and leaving her mess. Mom is standing on one side of the bed, and I am on the other. She says something about how the dog is an Angel Baby and the Best Dog Ever and she just misses me is all, and can't I understand that? My sister, who is at the end of the bed, watches the exchange wryly. My mom pulls back my comforter to shake out the dog fur, and at this exact moment the teenage boy appears in the doorway.

Suddenly my mom says "Oh" in such a way that makes everyone turn and look at her. She is looking at my bed. We then, collectively, all look at what she's looking at: my vibrator laying on my fur-covered bed sheet.

(Well, duh. Where else would it be? Seriously.)

I say "MOM!" and steal a quick look at my teenage son, hoping to see a look shock so I can make a smarty-pants comment about women having needs, but he's not even blinking hard. Darn. My sister says "Uh, you can put the blanket down now." She does, finally, after a few very long seconds. My son rolls his eyes and walks out, audibly sighing.

Sigh, indeed.

And there you are, The Great Dildo Reveal. I don't know what lesson I'm supposed to learn here, as I have no inclination to boot my battery operated bed mate from the left side of the bed. Why should I?

But I'll tell you this: it was funny as hell, and a fairly perfect way to start a weekend off with visiting relatives.

Let's go steady!

Prelude to a vibrator story (a shiny Twitter distraction)

My mom and sister are in town visiting this weekend. They arrived on the Greyhound bus from small-town living in Eastern Oregon, loaded down with my niece fetus, sleep apnea machinery and Ikea dreams.

Within an hour of lugging their luggage into my home, my mother inadvertent unveiled my vibrator to everyone in the house. Including my horrified teenage son.

Oh, yes.

I'll write more on my weekend with visiting family, soon. In the meantime, please enjoy this video that you all should have watched by now: Old Man Stewart Shakes His Fist At Twitter

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	M - Th 11p / 10c
Twitter Frenzy
comedycentral.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Economic Crisis Political Humor

If you haven't already, don't forget to subscribe to this blog so when that dildo post goes up you'll be sure to see it. (Because apparently having my teenage son, my mom and my sister check out my sex toy isn't embarrassing enough.)

Let's go steady!

Miss Me? Monday 3/30/09

Lest you think I've been slacking in the Department of Blogging, here's another installment of Miss Me? Monday. This is where I handily outline all the other places on the Internets that I've been awesome, so you don't miss a thing. Also, I crave the attention.

Let's begin, shall we?

Beer and Blog - Portland

Social causes are very important to me, so last week on the Beer and Blog...er, blog...I called for an End to Awkwardness. This call was answered by many, as evidenced by the quickness of the keg's depletion and the fact that I danced in public. (There is probably photographic evidence of this rare dancing event, but I just checked Flickr and so far nothing has come up. Yet.)

I Heart Media - Vox

If you care to notice, I continue to leak my dreams and fears into my Vox blog. I shared Notte Sento, a short, gorgeous stop-motion film about two young and attractive strangers who spend the night together on the streets of Rome. The ditty from Vedera called Satisfy (Desire on Repeat) is about going for it (in regards to matters of the heart). And let me tell you, some people are never satisfied. I called Metronomy "a clever British band with a sexysmooth Casio-influenced new wave sound." After seeing their music video I am now adamant my next home will be an English manor and that no soccer balls will be allowed.

Long Lunch PDX

I wrote a basic "what the hellz is..." piece that I'm quite pleased with called Feeds for Free - RSS Feeds in Real Life. I worked hard at making a potentially technical subject matter into prose that was non-technical and simple. AND I successfully integrated both ninja kitties and skeeball championships into the examples. ROCK. ON. (Remember, I can work this kinda magic for you too, dear reader. Contact me and we'll get you all magical-like in no time.)

So ends another installment of Miss Me? Monday. I hope you enjoyed your trip around the Internets. But why miss me at all? Subscribe and never miss a thing!

Let's go steady!