So, from conception he was older, but from birth I was. We were born in California and then both our families moved to Utah when we were toddlers. Our families visited each other every now and then, and I have many memories of Star Wars based play. He got all the cool toys. We even had the same baby dolls.

Adam died when we were 29. Wow. When I was planning this post in my head I was planning to say that I was over the grief of it now, which I think I mostly am, but writing that still makes me cry.

It’s funny. I didn’t remember it was his birthday until my mom mentioned it, but I did remember him last night and I think it was after midnight. I was reading about Mimi Smartypant’s mini smartypants who was playing Star Wars based play with her boy pal.

Oh, Adam. Oh Adam’s parents. I was pretty much sick with grief when he died. I did have a nice dream in the weeks after that comforted me and the last moment of it is an image I see when I think of him. Here’s how I remember it now:

I’m in a big building that looks something like a conference building. One side of the building is glass. People are walking around. It’s like a prison because we can’t get out. Someone may have announced that we can’t get out. It’s not a horrible place to be. It’s just that we have to stay there.

I’m following a man. He’s walking in front of me, somewhat purposefully. He walks along the walkway in the building by the glass wall and then suddenly, he opens a door and just walks out! I’m astonished. I can’t follow him anymore, and I’m sad he’s leaving us, but I’m glad for him that he made it outside. I watch him go, through the glass. He keeps walking, never turning back, over the broad expanse of the earth, towards the sunset.

Then I talked to my genius mom:

Me: How’d you do it?

Mom: It helps to look in the mirror at first. When I first started trying to wiggle my ears…

And then I stopped her because, although I knew she could wiggle her ears, it had never occurred to me that at one point she couldn’t wiggle her ears, had wanted to wiggle ears, had made it a goal to do so, and had practiced until she succeeded. !

Me: Wait, wait, WHY did you want to learn how to wiggle your ears?!

Mom: Hmmm… I don’t remember now… but at first I could only just barely see them moving. You know when you move your head out and back like you are an Egyptian?

Me: Yeah

Mom: Well, try and move the front of your face out front while you try and hold the back of your head in place.

Me: Wait… this feels really weird…

And then, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, I could squeeze my back scalp muscles together and wiggle my ears.

“Walk like an Egyptian!!”

If you ever need to giggle, try a little wiggle. We were talking on skype and I was very seriously showing her my progress, while she was wiggling her ears too, “Look, look, did you see my ear wiggle!” Then we both started laughing.

The funniest part about this, to me, is imagining my mom looking in the mirror and trying to wiggle her ears, and going about it with the hard working dedication that she applies to most everything. Ahhhh…. funny.

Update 4/15/08: It really works! After just a day of doing the scalp exercise, the horizontal lines in my forehead are significantly reduced! I got those lines young due to my face actually freezing in that expression. :) I hadn’t been able to relax my face consistently enough or do anything else to get rid of them. WOW. This is a truly amazing result, especially after just one day.

Then I said I had to go because I had an improv class. She said, “What, you can’t even prioritize talking to me on the *phone*?” “No!” I said. Then we both said, “Bye, I love you.” Because neither of us wants to leave with bad words in case one of us dies before we talk again.

Oooh I was irritated all the way to improv class. I needn’t have worried, because it’s easy to be happy in improv and tonight was especially funny. The theme of the night was “Yes, AND…” There are all kinds of “Yes, and” games. The idea is that someone throws out an idea, and WHATEVER it is, you agree with it and add information. (It’s very much like dancing.)

Say you have a scene where you are in a bank and your partner says, “I love that ballarina outfit you’re wearing!” You don’t say, “I’m in a bank, why would I be wearing a ballerina outfit?” You say… anything that agrees with their reality. “Oh thank you! I love the tights, but do you think the tutu is too much?” Or…”Yes, darling, it’s intermission at Swan Lake and I have just enough time to cash my latest honorarium if you wouldn’t mind letting me just tip toe ahead of you in line.”

You even “yes and” offerings that you find sort of repulsive. “Didn’t you used to date George Bush?” “Yep, we went out for a couple months. We met in rehab.”

It was an especially funny night, I was glowing from the laughter, and as I was driving home my mind turned back to the argument. I imagined answering some improv friend’s questions about my fight with my mom: “Yeah, I think that if she had just said. ‘Yes! That’s a great idea! It would be so awesome to get together with all of our family! I love that idea. We could even rent a boat or something!’ Then I would have been happy. Then we could talk about ways to make it happen and find out if it might or might not work….”

“Yeah, good point, I could have yes-anded her too. ‘Yeah, you’re worried that it’s just not going to happen and you want me to be happy about whatever amount of time I do get. Yeah, I hear you, you don’t want me to be disappointed.’ True, I could have said something like that. And I often do, when I’m in a more mature mode. Plus I know I toss out what sound like wild ideas to my sometimes cautious mother and I have empathy for where she is at and her concerns for me. But, come on, I wanted one month a year, so I’d already brought my suggestion down to what I thought was crazy reasonable before I said it!”

My imaginary improv friends lost interest at this point. Rude.

Now you know how to respond to me when I tell you an outrageous idea.

Just tell me that you like my tutu and leave it at that.

My name is Braidwood and I can not stand books that are fundamentalist when it comes to gender. You know the ones, “The Rules”, “Men are from Mars, Women don’t have a penis.” (or something like that.)

I have a couple friends right now who are really into a workshop that tells them all about what men are like and how men like to be talked to. (ARGH) It’s irritating, but because I love them I’ve thought about the appeal and I think it is this: relationships can be confusing and a set of simple rules can be comforting. “Finally, things will work out. I didn’t know these rules before, now I do, and I will be loved.”

I think the frustrating thing about it for me is that it is so all or nothing. I’m sure there is some good advice in programs like that, but it is either so freaking simplistic or the advice may be good but not attributable to gender. For example, one piece of advice is to ask a man to help you rather than blame him for not helping you. Men are so different than women, so it is probably hard for you women reading this to understand, but men actually prefer someone to say to them, “Will you please help me do the dishes?” rather than, “Why are you such a slob?! Why haven’t you done the dishes already!!?”

I know, it’s revelatory. I’m starting to question my femininity though because when I haven’t done the dishes I prefer that my roommate asks me to help rather than accuses me of being a slob too! Does this mean I’m not really a girl!?

So… it reminds me a lot of horoscopes. I sort of think it is funny to read a different month’s horoscope to people, because people who believe in horoscopes will say “See! That is so me!” No matter what you read. (I know, mean trick, but it’s so sadly funny.) I did the same thing once when my mom got a copy of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.”

My mom, my boyfriend, and I were driving in the car and my mom wanted us to read to her while she drove. I thought it was inane upon first flip through and didn’t want to read it. My mom and boyfriend started in on me *didn’t I know that men and women really are different? — Do I think they’re the same?? — So, I gave in and started to read to them, but I read everything it said about men as if it said it about women and vice versa. “This is so true!” They said, ” You have to admit, this is is so true.” “There’s some truth to it” I admitted, “but don’t you think some of the things I read about the other gender are also true for you?” “Not really, not like what he says about men/women. It is so amazing!” It’s amazing alright.

““““““““

*I always think it’s funny that the first thing people exclaim when I tell them that I don’t hold some stereo-typical view they hold (and these stereotypical views are always different- women are clean, men are messy; men are organized, women are flaky; women are pragmatic, men are more romantic; women are more romantic, men are staid; men focus on details, women see the big picture; men see the big picture, women focus on details! “Tastes great, less filling!”) is that men and women are different! How can I not believe that! Like just because I don’t believe in their stereotype, I have trouble telling men and women apart. HOW DO I FUNCTION with this mental impairment??!

It just makes me laugh. What is all this fuss about men and women being different? Are a whole bunch of people insecure that they are about to be mistaken for the other gender or what? I don’t understand where this intensity around this issue comes from. I know that men and women are different. You would think that as a non-bisexual person, people wouldn’t have to question me knowing that. I only want to have sex with one gender- clearly some differences must have crossed into my blood brain barrier. I just think the differences are self-evident.**

** (I think that if someone has to intensely argue for certain differences, maybe they doth protest too much.)

I hate to steal their picture, but not enough not to do it. This one just made me laugh this morning. Now go to their site, so I don’t feelz bad bout stealin. k!

I’m already feeling more joyful (first day of new week of class) which I think attests to the power of focus. I want to remember and help myself focus on these joyful moments. So, I’m going to write the joy points that stand our for me from the day.

For yesterday night and so far today:

Last night

Improv class: I’m funny. This may come as a shock, but it’s true. And I love being quick and delightful and having it be in a setting where that is the definition of successful, with other people who want to play with me. 10

Unexpected visitor: last night I heard a cat crying outside our apt near midnight. I opened the door and it ran in. I had NO food, and it was hungry, but after playing and exploring, it came to bed and curled up happily right next to me. I was amazed that the playful teenage kitten would be so still. It seemed very contented and I was happy it was so happy to lay there with me. Sweet little guy. 1

Today

“Lovely, lovely, lovely” My exercise buddy came over this morning and after we did yoga, he started playing around with garage band. He recorded a little guitar music and then we sang to it, making it up as went along. I was irritable from major lack of sleep (the rest of the kitten story), but when we listened to what we had recorded, we just kept laughing. At one point, he sings, “Lovely, lovely, lovely” It was hilarious. 3 Click here to listen to Lovely, lovely, lovely

When I stepped outside to get groceries this afternoon, the stormy sky had a mix of gray and blue and was magnificent. 1

At the grocery store, I was enjoying buying my loads and loads of vegetables. I am really enjoying cooking, which is near miraculous. And I felt happy to pick non-packaged food out and be getting ideas about delicious things to make with it all. YUM! 1

My mom sent me a package today. She sent a sweet Valentine’s card in it. She sent $20 for me to buy flowers with. I am in a Valentine’s mood and have belatedly hung hearts on our front door. (I don’t care if it’s cheesy) I’m going to put out my orange, purple and red heart patterned welcome mat, and I’m going to spend ALL of that money to buy myself flowers at the Farmer’s Market on Sunday. Thanks, mom. 2

I wanted to listen to music, clicked on Pandora and wasn’t logged in so it asked me for which song I wanted to base a new station on. “Crap” I wrote. (Expressing my dismay about not remembering my password.) And it made me a station based on Crap! :) And it was good! Yeah, and it produced many joy points, especially when Utah Phillips accompanied by Anni Di Franko came on. 4

My mom sent some Mormon magazines along with the clothes and card she sent me. Sigh… Oh, mother. But I read a couple articles (she knows I’m a sucker for reading.) A couple of the articles were really sweet. 2

Writing about all these joy points in my blog and laughing at them again and listening to “Lovely, lovely, lovely” again. :) 3

This is my first Illustration Friday in forevvverrr. You can categorize your art on the Illustration Friday site now. This is pretty much the definition of naive art. I used Scribbles. I used to use Windows Paint. Oh, my ultra low-tech tech paintings. Now I have a mac, so I tried out Scribbles.

This is a picture of Coyote, the legendary trickster. He is such a goose, he is trying to catch his tail. If you want to read a funny, thought provoking story that is as whirly as Coyote, check out Green Grass, Running Water by Thomas King.

I went from being valued at work and getting good reviews (while my old boss was here) to being disapproved of, undervalued, and feeling bad enough about it to quit. At church, I went from feeling like a part of a loving community to leaving due to actions of our lead minister and staff. Many other young adults left as well, and I left, no one kicked me out, but I still feel rejected/ejected. Also, there has been some kind of shift in my social circle and I feel like I am on the edge in some ways instead of in the middle where I like to be.

Today on the bus I imagined how I would feel if everybody approved of me. It would be such a nice feeling- I could relax and just be myself. I really take how much/many people approve of me as a measure of how well I’m doing as a person sometimes. I thought about it as I was walking from the bus to work, and I couldn’t shake the idea that if more people approved of me, it would mean that I really am better, I really am more ok.

Then I thought of my aunt, who I am a lot alike, and how much I enjoy her, how fantastic I think she is. My other aunt, her sister, often disapproves of her. She thinks she is too messy, too soft, not together enough etc… And when my aunt is around her sister, she does suddenly seem kind of bumbling, somewhat simpering, and whiny. But when I’m with her, she is hilarious, exuberant, smart, interesting, funny, and gorgeous. She is messy, but she is glorious, who cares!

I love both my aunts, and from the outside it is easy to see that my aunt who disapproves is just that way and that her disapproval is all about her preferences and ways of looking at the world. She is cleaner, more direct, more of the things we think of as “together” in our society. So? That’s her deal. My roommate has a similar personality to that aunt and I don’t disapprove of her, but I think she disapproves of me. I’ve been trying to get her approval, and I’m going to try to stop trying. It’s easier to see, looking at the mirror of my aunts, how any disapproval she feels for me is her own deal. It doesn’t mean I’m bad, and if I got her approval, it wouldn’t mean I’d be any better.

I have been disapproving of me lately. Aye, maybe thar’s the rub. Goal for today: list a few things I would feel proud of myself for, and do them.

12/12/07 Update: I have been feeling guilty for writing that my aunt disaproves of my other aunt and that my roommate disaproves of me. Maybe they don’t! guilty, guilty, guilty…arggh… just remember, reality is multi-faceted and it changes, and… did I mention that I like my other aunt and my roommate, and it says more about my state of mind than any objective truth about them, but I think you got that.

I had an awkward “young adult” lunch last week after church. See, there are the old young adults who no longer eat with the official young adult group. Then there is the official young adult group whose numbers are dwindling, because there are a couple (one in particular for me) obnoxious people who others don’t want to eat with.

It’s like an inverted circle of belonging with people in the middle of the group being rejected by the people forced to the edges. Because we won’t out and out kick someone out of the group, we kick ourselves out. It’s very curious. I’ve opted to take myself out of the lunch situation altogether on most Sundays (one of the “forced to the edges folks”), or just go with a couple friends. The unofficial groups are getting bigger than the official group. (This is leading to publicity interventions that don’t work as they are missing the point of the problem: fodder for a post on performance intervention.)

Churches are usually safe places for people to be included. I know that I felt safer at church when I was a kid knowing that the rules didn’t allow out and out exclusion. I feel safer at church now for some of the same reasons, now that I think about it. Because of this inclusion, people who will not be included anywhere else often end up at a church. It’s a situation I’ve experienced at every church I’ve attended. One friend calls it the “broken winged bird” syndrome. But, we are all broken winged birds at some time. You don’t have to be cool at church. (Ahh, what a relief.) In fact, you don’t even have to have social skills. (Ahh… What a headache.)

The particular lunch last Sunday was kind of funny if looked at as a scene in a movie. One of the new older young adults (try to keep this all straight) came up to me after church and whispered “I’m co-opting you. Come to lunch with us.” The way he said it was so cute that I said I would go. As we walked out, the obnoxious guy’s girlfriend (the guy I stopped going to lunches to avoid) asked where we were going for lunch and the new older guy told her! He didn’t realize that the older young adult people purposefully excludes these people. I just shook my head. When we arrived at the restaurant, the whole young adult crew had arrived before us and were sitting with the old young adults who were clearly angry. “I thought you were going to [this other restaurant]” One of the women said to me. I know she assumed I told all the young adults because I used to be the leader. Sigh.

The table was split down the middle and we might as well have been at different restaurants for all the interaction that occurred between the two groups. Ironically, I was stuck sitting near the obnoxious guy who I stopped going to lunches to avoid. I tried to ignore him. He tried to take a picture of my side of the table. “Please don’t take my picture right now.” I said. “Are you saying you don’t want your picture taken at any events?” He asked angrily.

The truth is that I just don’t want him to have my picture because he creeps me out. In fact, let me just drift into a fantasy answer for a minute: “No.” I tell him. “I’m fine with having my picture taken at events, but I’m not fine with you taking it. Because, you give me the creeps and the way you are taking my picture gives me the creeps and the way you used to follow me around and badger me makes me angry. I’ve told you that I find your behavior invasive, and that I don’t want you to talk to me, and now, here you are, talking to me. Go away! No one wants you at this restaurant! PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE!!!”

What I actually tell him is, “No, I just don’t want my picture taken right now.” He gets angry and tells his girlfriend, “She’s just selfish. I’m doing this for the group and she is just selfish!” “She’s eating! Leave her alone!” She tells him. They fight, his girlfriend walks out. He walks out after her. She comes back in. He’s still outside. “I’m sorry.” I say to her. “It’s not your fault. I just hate it when he gets all self righteous.” she says.

Sheesh. I drove home with the friend who invited me who didn’t notice any of this. He’s surprised when I tell him that the original people were angry that the official group came. “I just think ‘the more the merrier.’” He tells me.

What do you think? Is “you can’t say you can’t play” a good rule? Just for kids or for you too? How do you balance kindness, inclusion, and yet keep healthy and happy boundaries?

We were poor when I was a kid, and, true story, one year I was Cinderella BEFORE she met the fairy godmother! :D I had soot on my face. I just think that is so funny. I actually loved my costume but some of the kids made fun of it.