Mar

That time I crowd surfed

Back in the 90’s there was a phenomenon of dancing called “Moshing”. This is where you get with a group of people who would randomly bump into each other for no other reason than releasing pent up aggression and hormones. This was predominantly done in the teenage and young adult circuits.

One day at the beginning of senior year my friend had just announced that there would be a group performing at her church across the street. We were all excited and loved live music. There couldn’t have been a more fitting beginning to last year of high school. The night of the concert, we assembled with many local teenagers in the church parking lot to hear some grunge music. Well; Christian grunge music.

When I told my boyfriend at the time about the concert, he agreed he was going as well with his group of friends. In conversation with him leading up to the concert he had joked that I could go in the “baby” mosh pit which “is next to the actual, much larger mosh pit.” He made the comment away from me, chuckling with his friends. Unbeknownst to him this irritated me to my very core. There is nothing more I don’t like than being told I can’t do something.

When I arrived at the concert with my friends, it was hot, the sun was about to set and we were waiting for the band to come out on the stage. We began to cheer when four young men clad in orange shirts with the word “Juda” on them appeared. By the time they were in their second song, a small crowd of moshers began stomping, ramming into each other with their shoulders.

I had just been told I couldn’t do something because I’m a girl and I wanted in.

I didn’t blink when I fled from my boyfriend’s side. I ran into the sweaty cesspool of teenagers and began ramming myself against strangers. It was a strange freeing experience feeling like a pinball being struck against others who were going through their own angsty rebellion. In that brief moment running from being a spectator in my life I became a mover and shaker. We did what we did because we could. Nobody could stop us and it was incredible.

The crowd then started to give way from moshing to surfing people through the crowd on a sea of teenaged phalanges. It was very much like the scenes you see in movies where hippies, metal heads, or hair band fans are frenetically dancing and begin passing people over their heads while the person being surfed has an epiphany. In the movies the scene plays out over some poignant music of that decade in an arena or an open farm field like Woodstock. This scene played out in four to ten parking spaces.

When I looked to my left, the people launching others into the crowd were my boyfriend’s friends. He was standing in front of me to the left of them, just watching me. Not looking at him, I sensed his disapproval at what I was about to accomplish. I smiled at his friends as they put their hands down and we gave each other the signal. I ran full force, stepping into their grasp in my beloved brown Doc Martens as they launched me into the air.

I flew. In that moment I had no fear and was full of trust. I landed on a bed of fingers, with nails of metallic blue, gently rolling me through the crowd as I screamed all the air out of my lungs.

Photo courtesy of Mindy C.

The crowd gently set me back down on the ground as the music began to pick up. When I was placed on the ground, I hadn’t quite found my footing yet. The rush from being carried by a crowd full of adrenaline quickly stopped when two moshers accidentally knocked me to the ground. When I tried to get up their buttocks hit my head on the left and right side knocking me down again. I crouched in a Spider-man stance getting a whiff of something rancid. One of the gluteus maximuses had passed gas. I got up again only to be struck repeatedly by the pair of posteriors. I was able to perfunctorily wiggle my way out of the permeated labyrinth of derrieres when one of the owners of said derrieres lended a hand pulling me up. A few moments later a church official called out saying there would be no more crowd surfing.

They should have been more specific. We still moshed.

What is something you were discouraged from doing but did anyway? What did/do you do as an act of rebellion?

Sep

Gross Domestic Happiness

My husband and I are moving. We are packing up the cats as we speak and teaching them how to meow in Dzongkha and Japanese.

In a former blog post I mentioned one of the five things people didn’t know about me is I wanted an assignment where I would travel and write about the destinations I’ve visited. Obviously on this trip my husband would accompany me to help document our activities. He is a professional photographer and the last time I took a picture I looked like this:

Granted this all sounds very much like “Eat, Pray, Love” but it would be quirkier, I’m traveling WITH my husband and not starting out single. Call it a “Couple’s Quest for Intrinsic Happiness”.

The truth is we aren’t really moving. We recently watched a documentary titled, “Happy” on Netflix.The entire film was fascinating and a couple of things stood out to me. Half way through the film the crew went to Bhutan and talked about the main concern of the country being “Gross National Happiness”. Whereas most countries concentrate on the amount of money they’re bringing in, what exports they can sell to who, and how to turn the income from the sale into goods for themselves, Bhutan realized what was truly important, their people.

The nation as a collective has decided not to concentrate on material concerns. The material concerns caused them to move established communities, upheaving a life they once knew, eliminate forestry cover and lose spiritual sites for a time. Gross National Product in turn was causing more harm than good so instead, they decided to pursue Gross National Happiness. Going into it they knew they wouldn’t be a nation of monetary wealth. They have only just started this endeavor and we have yet to see what comes of their pursuits. They believe the happiness of their people in turn will be rewarding, helping them lead prosperous, longer lives.

(It is a proven fact, the happier a person is and the people around them, the longer they live.)

This brings me to the next country we would like to move to, Japan. There are two reasons I would love to visit the island of Okinawa. The Okinawans have the longest living population in the world, most live to be one hundred years old. They farm together, eat dinner together and through the farming, provide gifts of food for their family and friends. This sounds like a dream to me, this is my first reason for visiting the beautiful island.

They interviewed elderly women at a local community center and the women spoke of “ichariboachode” (you are brother and sister even if you have met for the first time) and “monchu” (one family). Some of the women were captives in World War II. When they lost their families, they had their neighbors and communities to rely on. Everyone took care of each other.

My Grandfather was in the 6th Marine Division during World War II, went to Okinawa and helped rescue some of these women from the caves they were hidden in on the island. My Grandfather barely spoke of this, his heart was broken over the condition in which he found these women and children. When I spoke to my parents about this film my mother said some resonating words, “Your Grandpa would be so happy that in time these people found happiness.” She is right. This is the second reason I would love to visit Okinawa. In some way, by visiting, I feel it would bring closure to an issue my Grandfather had for a long time. By seeing with my own eyes, their happiness, and in turn letting them know he carried that burden with him for so long, it would be a meeting of happiness and healing for the parties involved.

My Grandfather in China circa1945

My Grandfather on a tug boat Circa 1943-1945 (?)

For one nation to realize the meaning of life is not in the possession of things but within ourselves, faith and each other is a huge step, I feel, in the right direction. I want to go with my husband to Bhutan and maybe accidentally get stuck between two prayer wheels, so I can say “It’s alright, I’m between prayers right now!”. I want to explore what makes the people of Bhutan happy and how they plan to ensure happiness for future generations.

I want to go to Okinawa and speak to some of the women who may have met my Grandpa. I want to ask them how through the sorrows of war they made the journey back to happiness.

I want to travel to the places I only heard my grandpa speak of and where my great-aunt would bring back souvenirs like a tiny bronze Buddha statue. Even though both my grandpa and great-aunt were devout Christians, they still saw the beauty in other peoples’ faiths and cultures. I want to see what they saw.

I want to see, understand and live happiness like the people in these countries. Maybe in turn if someone were to employ my husband and I to travel to these places, in writing the book about the experiences, it would help others to look within, reflect and see what their passion truly is, what truly makes them happy.

If any of my readers are from Bhutan or Okinawa I would like to know what you think about the representation of your countries in the documentary. Do you feel it is accurate? Do you feel you are intrinsically happy or are you still seeking it?

To my other readers, what makes YOU happy?

Sep

A very Mindy Kaling Friday the 13th

It is days like this last Friday the 13th where I feel spoiled. It was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time and strangely it was on of all days, one of the few deemed as unlucky by many.

Thursday night on a lark I decided to share some love. I tweeted out to a supremely talented writer and actress to let her now how much her show has brought joy into my life within the last week or so. We will just say this, I have not belly laughed this hard since seeing Noises Off with my husband in Rolla, Missouri at the Ozark Actors Theater since our first date.

I tweeted to Mindy Kaling, “In my next life can I be @mindykaling ? #girlcrush #girlpower #themindyproject”. Figuring she would see it, knowing she had in some way made a difference in this person’s life with laughter, I never expected anything back. I just wanted her to know she was appreciated.

Then Friday morning, as per usual fair, I woke up, took my thyroid medicine and checked my Twitter. Low and behold, Mindy Kaling my new celebrity crush favorited my tweet!

I couldn’t believe it and I had only been awake about 30 minutes.

This was going to be a good day. Even if all odds were against me, I still knew I had put positivity out there and it was as if I was being rewarded with taking the initiative for putting it out there. I went to work in a good mood and through the course of the day as you tend to get focused on tasks you forget why you’re in a good mood but you just are.

This good mood (which up until this month was a rarity as a constant state) was drawing people in to work. One of the regulars where I work came in for her usual smoothie. She was running late to her work as usual and when this happens we are typically graced with her loveliness.

One of my good buddies just happens to have a crush on the girl who always runs late. We had hatched a plan earlier that when this girl comes in I would ask him for a bag of spinach to bring over for the smoothie and sandwich bar. Luckily he caught my hint, and we just happen to have needed a bag of spinach. He managed to find a way twice to work his way over to my department.

The second time, I was able to help him segue into our conversation about doing good deeds and random acts of kindness for others around you. Pretty soon I was sort of edged out of the conversation when all of a sudden the girl who always runs late invited both of us to an event ironically held by the local station which also airs The Mindy Show. This had to be a sign.

The event involved a premiere of Sleepy Hollow coming out this fall, an inflatable screen, beverage pong (really it turned out to just be water, there were children invited to the event) and free Qdoba Mexican Grill. Eventually through conversation the girl asked my buddy to write the information down, which at this point he boldly asked for her number.

After she left the store, my buddy and I went to the back and did a happy dance in celebration of him finally getting a girl’s number he had been crushing on for a month and for finally getting off our butts and going out to do something with our lives.

After work my husband met up with my buddy and I at the gym and we had a great time. I texted my husband to meet us there because of the invitation we received by the girl who always runs late. I texted him everything we had been told, however later he told me all I really had to tell him about was the free food. Even if we weren’t able to hear or accurately see what was going on, we could at least mingle with those around us and for all tense and purposes munch on some free Qdoba Mexican Grill.

As it turns out, after the boxing work out my buddy was too tired and unkempt to his standards to do anything else afterward. He elected to go home and meet up with our new acquaintance another time seeing as he now had her number to explain his absence. My husband and I didn’t hesitate, we made a beeline for the free entertainment and food. We said goodbye to our friend and drove across the street.

Upon arrival and walking into the event we saw the pong table set up for the new show “Dads”. A few people were watching so we didn’t head over just yet. We found my new friend and we chatted for a bit and we made our way through the line to get free food. After we sat down, I realized they had an empty spot at the pong table.

Having never played before I quickly sat my plate down and asked my husband to join me. We played, each getting a chance to make three shots. What we didn’t realize is the winner would get a free shirt. I was doing well at first but then started to progressively get worse. My husband eventually won and the hostess asked what shirt I wanted. This was nice for a change, winning for losing! In order to commemorate the night I asked for the shirt featuring the Sleepy Hollow logo and a funny slogan with blood splatter on the front. My husband then asked for a shirt which came packaged in a pizza box promoting the cartoon line up on our local station. My shirt came in handy as it was getting colder throughout the night and it had long sleeves.

We went back to our chairs and met some interesting people, some which were battling with their grabby 5 month old grand baby. There were the parents of said baby who were unwilling to discipline. There were crazy kids swimming in the cold water at the pool and there were people who were accidentally setting off their car alarms. Then, there was us. We were finally glad to be a part of an event where people were just happy you showed up. We were happy to be there, under the stars enjoying free fun and for once, going on what felt like a date.

There we sat, under the stars with complete strangers, all watching the premiere of Sleepy Hollow. We all made cracks and comments at the beginning only to find ourselves actually enjoying the plot line the further we dug into the show. After the festivities, we went home and did what any other fun loving sane couple would do; we watched The Mindy Show.

It was a great Friday the 13th and it all started and ended with a good mood caused by Mindy Kaling.

What put you in a good mood for a whole day? What celebrity always manages to make you laugh no matter what?

Aug

The Daily Prompt: The Inner Light

Everyone starts their blog for a myriad of reasons. A long time ago when everyone communicated through Myspace, I sort of had a blog on there to keep up with friends. Then as we have all become familiar with changing times, the latest fad in social media networking changed and everyone made the leap to Facebook. Unfortunately, the new writing format didn’t appeal to me on Facebook when I signed up in 2006. It would be a while before I returned to writing.

In 2010 I was put in touch with a small publishing company in St. Louis and as part of the requirements for being considered for a novel submission, you had to be a prolific writer on your own blog. The idea of having my own space to write about everything and anything was appealing to me. Eventually my idea for a novel (pitched as a graphic novel at the time) was turned down, but it opened up the door for me to consider myself a writer and develop my craft. I continued writing on the blog, most of it was absurd and a halfway attempt at being funny and witty. Then I went through a divorce and unfortunately the blog was one of the few places I was still attached to my ex. I could no longer blog about my personal life which became the main subject of that particular blog without getting some form of feedback from him or some former associates.

I was careful about the information I posted, censoring myself was new. I yearned to be lyrically free, to be verbose and to spring forth with ideas like I once did. Every story had a hint of being stifled, leaving my readers to read between the lines, some who knew me personally and some who did not, probably causing some confusion.

The second to last blog entry on my old blog was about getting a job back in my hometown and looking forward to the new adventure in an old familiar place I needed to move away from in order to grow up. The blog entry after that; I wrote about my grandfather’s passing. This is where I stopped. My life had taken a sudden turn. The job I had blogged about became a wash forcing me to look for a new job in my second week of being back home and now suddenly my grandfather had passed. It seemed as if my grandfather’s death was the finality of not only the blog, but solidified my life would be completely different. In terms of how to put it, it was the end of my era in St. Louis.

A month or so later one of my best friends passed away from Thyroid cancer. Life had become difficult. I was struggling to not think about family and friends in the life I left behind in the big city, feeling like I was missing out, feeling in a way, sort of alone and like I let them down by not being there for them in their final moments.

The itch to write came back. I wanted to connect with others, but didn’t want as a result to have any contact with my ex and any former cohorts due to me writing about my life. My grandfather and my bestie wouldn’t want me to write in fear. They loved me for my crazy self, the girl who always wore a smile and a flower in her hair. Being in a funk and depressed was not going to get me any closer to finding that woman I was and the woman I wanted to aspire to be in the future.

The solution for me, was to start this blog. Originally, I started out under the pen name Quirky Girl as a way of hiding. The funny thing about this blog, through writing it, I made the decision to make it positive. People talk about the effects of positivity and how it can change and influence your life. Making this decision to write something positive, influenced me to think more positively in my life outside of this blog. I became a tiny bit more social again, I started making friend requests on Facebook, as some of you know; which lead to my marriage to my amazing husband. However, had this blog not been posted to my Facebook, my husband might possibly have never taken an interest in me. As he put it, “When I read your blog I realized there was something going on between the ears.” Being positive lead me to all of this.

I made the conscious decision to write something positive, if being positive wasn’t going to happen the day I happened to be inspired to write, then at least it would be somewhat humorous. More importantly, to combat the loneliness, this blog was also a tool to connect with others and hear their thoughts on topics no matter how ridiculous they were. I was used to only getting a few hits here and there. The whole goal was to be a ghost writer and work the hard way trying to gain a following and gain readers. I liked the idea of famous anonymity. If fellow Missourian Samuel Clemens could write as Mark Twain, then maybe I could accomplish something similar.

Suddenly one day while I was out and about grabbing a sub sandwich I checked my phone to find my blog had blown up. WordPress made my blog a viral hit for a couple of days. I realized I could no longer hide, I couldn’t be afraid of people enjoying what I had to write and the ridiculous adventures that happen. If my ex found out about the new blog, then so what? He’s not going to find out anything new, except I’ve developed a fear of automated air fresheners and have recently been remarried in the last year.

The moral of this story dear readers, is when you have a light, you have to let it shine. You can’t hide it from the rest of the world, this is one thing you have taught me over the last year and I thank you for the lesson. Be you, be bold, be brave, be bright, be love.

Why did you start writing?

This is me, no longer hiding…HELLO WORLD!

Jul

Inspiration

No Dragonflies were hurt in the process of this date…

Earlier this month after having published my last post, WordPress popped up with a congratulatory salutation and a quote by Anais Nin. It read, “My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.” I immediately wrote the quote down because as you know, this is typically the inspiration for my blog. I rely on my own experiences for literary fodder.

Hopefully, after reading the above quote and the following explanation, you can forgive my slight absence and hiatus from Diary of a Quirky Girl. This last month seems to have felt like four for me. Each week seeming longer than the last and like each one was a month in of itself. This month was jam-packed full of adventure, stories, and relating to another based on our life experiences and talents.

The month began like most months for a single, quirky, hopeless romantic female who just wants someone to understand her and find her snort laugh endearing. Unbeknownst to said quirky female, she didn’t know what the following month would have in store for her. She didn’t realize she wanted more than just someone; anyone, to find her window shattering cackle funny, but wanted someone who understood her past, her pain, where she had been and more importantly; where she was going and the positivity she wanted to bring into the world.

It all started with a shopping trip for a bachelorette party, a text conversation with a best friend in St. Louis followed by a Facebook friend request to someone like myself, who had been searching for something very real.

The ONLY downside to finding something very real, is putting yourself out there, with the possibility of making a fool of yourself, and hoping the other person accepts you as you…and stepping in goose poop. Actually the first part of that sentence isn’t really a downside, and actually when you’re in the process of getting to know someone, it helps you to find out who they really are in response to your idiosyncrasies and quirks.

Luckily for me, this person wanted to join me in exploring quirks like (in no particular order):

Contemplating the idea of scaring a sleeping old man dressed like someone out of a barbershop quartet with a straw hat over his face, on the sun porch of his beautiful home.

Waving at small children you don’t know.

Talking with your hands while forgetting you have a cup of coffee in one of them and thus spilling it everywhere.

Getting lost after having just left the coffee place you came from on foot.

Going to an incredibly funny play, laughing hysterically at the witty banter and slapstick humor and getting to sit uncomfortably close to one of the actors in the balcony as part of their “schtick”.

Trying real Sushi for the first time…and enjoying it.

Wearing dress clothes and pretending to be the next American Ninja Warrior on a jungle gym in the middle of the town you both decided to meet in.

Seeing a flock of geese from the car after having taken off your heels and dress shoes, running like crazy towards them screaming like a wild person and accidentally stepping in goose poop. Meanwhile a woman in a burka smiles after she had just fed said geese.

Scaring every frog and dragonfly in the process of chasing aforementioned geese.

Getting lost AGAIN while trying to find the darn hole in the wall coffee-house you left for the jungle gym and getting sidetracked by geese as a side product.

These are just a handful of things that happened on our first date. As you can see, after that first date, this is why the two weeks that followed felt like two whole months, not only for me, but for the quirky partner in crime that joined me on that adventure as well. In the weeks after, we were still following up with each other, wanting to know more about the other, what inspires them, and encouraging the other to be crazy and creative, which is something we seem to be best at and are even better at being both when we’re together.

Literally I can not do justice in words with the fun experience we had on our first date, it was one of those things where, “you had to be there”.

The quirky partner I just mentioned, also surprised me by being available to come down for the weekend to briefly meet my parents, and go out and commit more random acts of foolishness and kindness towards informative children at a bowling alley. Secretly I think the children were computer programming geniuses crammed into a 7-year-old body trying to con us out of more tickets to get the whoopee cushion they were saving up for but that is another story for another time.

Let’s just say, this person, these times we’ve been spending together, is the creative push I’ve needed to make something of myself. As a side note, yes, my family and friends are very encouraging, but it’s very different coming from someone who has the same goals in life as you and you share the common bond of being the oddball and black sheep. Seeing and knowing what he does creatively, artistically and in a literary sense, makes me want to be better, and not just be better at my talent, but be a better version of myself. His creative and life nudge said to me, “Hey, if I can do it, you can too, why are you letting your past hold you back?”

Knowing your potential, and seeing it in someone else, and knowing you can be something bigger and better than you are, is the best personal gift he’s given me. (Next to the art piece he made for me to wear in my hair and the Superman cape he thought to win for me while he was with his family at Six Flags…)

So to my fellow readers and writers out there, I apologize again for the absence. I had to be away from my keyboard to get back to living, feel alive, stoke the fire of creativity, and come back to write with a basketful of inspiration. Thank you for being patient with me and soon you will be reading about the effect this relationship is having on my art career and other areas of my life. Again, words fail me at the moment but that is the artist in me talking. Sometimes it takes me a while to calm down and let the feelings process into words in the left lobe of my brain; rattle and ricochet around and then spew out like water from a faucet where the handles have been broken off and there is no plumber around to fix it. In that instance that is when I figure I may as well play and jump in the puddles created from this beautiful chaos of the creative process. At least, for the time being that is the best way I can describe it.

What or who inspires you? Who has inspired you to be creatively better than you imagined? When have you had an awakening to your potential?

Diary of a quirky girl

Tag Archives: positivity