The New Brain

I'm in Colorado again, this time for 5 days. I've worked out all the logistics for moving here. I started out a little anxious but after a few days here I can't wait to move. I'm reading The New Brain - How the Modern Age is Rewiring Your Mind by Dr. Richard Restak, a neuroscientist. The imagining technology available to neuroscientists has brought about "a revolutionary change in our understanding" of the brain, explains Restak. The structure of the brain is everchanging according to what we experience and the images and words and thoughts we feed it. This is known as brain plasticity.

The advanced brain imaging technology available to doctors today such as CAT scans, MRIs etc not only show the structure of the brain but informs the function of the brain as well. Therefore during an experiment, with brain imaging, doctors can tell what part of the brain is responding or being utilized for a particular task. Restak also explains that new brain pathways and circuits are built with each new experience and circuits are strengthened by continued use. As we practice certain tasks the circuits responsible for that task are strengthened. "Both comparatively straightforward activities and highly sophisticated ones, like learning to become a star athlete or musician, involved taking advantage of the brain's plasticity in order to set up the necesary programs for excellence," says Restak.

Practice matters. I've always known this but in The New Brain Dr. Restak explains WHY.

Also, multitasking can hurt. When multitasking we're not focusing on either task 100% and are therefore less efficient and are in fact training our brain to be less focused. By multi-tasking we strenghten the circuits of the brain that accept a divided focus approach. Chapter 3: Attention Deficit: The Brain Syndrome of Our Era, discusses this.

" 'Civilization is revving itself into a pathologically short attention span. The trend might be coming from the acceleration of technology, the short-horizon perspective of market-driven economies, the next-election perspective of democracies, or the distractions of personal multitasking. All are on the increase,' according to Stewart Brand, a noted commentator on technology and social change."

Great book.

Colorado Powder

Simply put. . . if you like mountains go to Colorado. They're everywhere. I had no idea. Colorado reminds me of Utah but without the Mormon infiltration. But I won't go into that whole Mormon thing just now. No time tonight.

You might remember that I went to Colorado during New Year's to visit my friend Jacque after she gave the ultimatum that if I didn't visit this winter she didn't think we could be friends. Yeah, that's the one. So I went and visited her for a whole week. That's a ton of time. I hope she feels extra special with fudge on top. I never visit anyone for a week, do you? Well it was to my great reward believe me.

We ended up taking a 3-hour road trip to southern CO in search of powder. When Chris, her boyfriend, announced his designs for the trip I was all, "Uh, no way I'm going to some remote cabin to spend New Year's weekend with you and Jacque. If I go, we're talking a HOUSE PARTY with dancing and Jack Daniels and I'm kissing someone." This is the part where Jacque says she'll be my last resort. Well then, "OK, I'm in." Turns out there were 10-13 of us in and out of the cabin during the 3-day weekend and we boarded (most skiied) waist deep powder and fixed ourselves outrageous meals at the internet-rented cabin that was full of Rush Limbaugh books, stuffed animal heads, and a 10' bear standing on his legs behind a plexiglass box where the fireplace used to be. MY GOD PEOPLE, YOU TOOK OUT THE FIREPLACE AND REPLACED IT WITH A BEAR. Who DOES that?!

We arrived at the cabin New Year's evening to the sight of a couple friends busily making salmon fajitas and fresh tomato/pineapple salsa - my new best friends! It was a perfect setting for a perfect weekend and it ended up being entirely perfect because I got kissed that night and not by Jacque. Some guy with my same last name, only spelled wrong, was all over me like a puppy dog. And I was the little kitty. I've seen him almost every weekend since. He makes a point of flying to California or getting me out to Colorado. We have roughly 12 nicknames for each other and our gender parts. If that's not love I don't know what is. We send emails of ee cummings and talk more than several times a day and say Baby a lot. I'm kind of freaking out because I feel like I created him in the image of the exact man I want AND who I'd want to be in love with me. Sometimes I have to stop and take a deep breath, close my eyes and say, "Yep. He's real. And you just won the lottery, Sugar!"

Additionally the timing couldn't be more brilliant. When we met I was on my way to leaving the company I had been working at for the previous 3 years because I couldn't stand the lack-of-vision management that continued time and again to strip away creativity and eagerness from its hard-working employees. I'd saved a little money and planned to give myself 6 months to write. And then Mr. Colorado (MC), Honey, Sweet Thaaang comes along right in the middle of it all and makes the change more exciting and hard to believe at the same time. I've got to move out of my apartment because it's too expensive for my unemployed ass and don't rightly fit into my budget. And MC is saying, "Baby, all I know is I've got to close the gap. So if you don't want to move here to write your book, that's no problem, I'm moving there." And I know exactly how he feels.

So I'm moving to Colorado to write in the mountains and get out of this rat race for who knows how long. I'll live at Jacque's alone, she'll move in with her boyfriend, and Mr. Colorado will be just a 40- minute ride away. That's closing the gap while maintaining a little room. Not too close and not too far. OH MY!!!!!!

Eggs and Graham

It’s a blustery night and we can’t make it up the mountain because the road is closed. We arrive at the Inn.

Barbara greets us in her bathrobe and waddles upstairs to show us our room for the night. Oh god, the bears. There are Teddy Bears All Over The Place. Like people. . .they’re spooky. I can’t look at anyone for fear of busting up right there so I mumble something like “this is great” and go to the car to get my things and laugh and roll my eyes outside where no one can see. This is an attack, an assault of enchantment, and I must prepare. We will be aggressively enchanted by Teddy Bears all night long. And downstairs there are snowmen, teapots, doilies, decorations ALL over the place and twinkle lights too because it’s winter, which means Christmas. This is decoration with Meaning. There is two of e v e r ything downstairs. Is this stuff for sale, I'm confused? It dawns on me that we have stepped into one woman's Fantasyland. It is also her Ministry. The book “Breakfast with Billy Graham” is thoughtfully placed on the bed. On the nightstand is “How to Find God” and a CD called “Balance.”

And the bears chant:
Pray when you’re Busy
Pray Like You Really Mean It
Pray Like You Really Believe It

We shower long and hard to clean off the clutter. Then after politics and talk of high school chicks, and the perfect age for boys (17) because you can legally date 15 year olds (news to me) and how you haven’t really lost anything by the tender age of 21 I say, Yes, but I suffered more abstractly. Through religion.

With the Inn absolutely crammed I’m mainly thinking two things:
How does she dust everything? That in and of itself makes me nervous. And why doesn’t it smell more stuffy? Maybe this place IS a miracle.

The Inn Keeper clearly gets meaning through building Fantasyland where others can join her. I wouldn’t enter knowingly, but on a snowy night we have fallen down the rabbit hole and arrived in the soft comfort of Barbara’s enchanted Teddy Ministry.

Don’t forget: Pray often, with intent, with real heartfelt intent, on your knees, pleading, pleading, you must plead. Pray, never cease praying.

And the bears chant:
Pray when you’re Busy
Pray Like You Really Mean It
Pray Like You Really Believe It

"You know," says Billy Graham:
“Jesus had only three years of public ministry, yet he was never too hurried to spend hours in prayer. How quickly and carelessly, by contrast, we pray. Snatches of memorized verses hastily spoken in the morning, then we say good-bye to God for the rest of the day until we rush a few closing petitions at night. This is not the prayer program that Jesus outlined. Jesus pleaded long and repeatedly. It is recorded that he spent entire nights in fervent appeal. But how little perseverance and persistence and pleading we show! The Scripture says, “Pray without ceasing” (1 Thesslonians 5:17). This should be the motto of every follower of Jesus Christ. Never stop praying no matter how dark and hopeless your case may seem. A woman once wrote me that she had been pleading for ten years for the conversion of her husband but that he was more hardened than ever. I advised her to continue to plead. Then some time later I heard from her again. She said that her husband was gloriously and miraculously converted. Suppose she had stopped praying after only ten years?”

Suppose she used all that pleading energy to enjoy her husband as he is or put it toward the good of her community and help make the world a better place? Ten years of incessent pleading that someone might convert? Billy please, is that really necessary. Religion is many things but it is more often than not a Distraction with a capital D. Barbara remains Mrs. Clause-like, sweet and welcoming without a word of Jesus. She leaves the dirty work to the teddys.
Stop Teddy, Stop.

Sufficiently Inspired

This is the coolest place I've been in a long time and I'm almost inspired enough to just go hang out there as my new job. I'm sure something would pop up. Oh why sure. When Hottie and I hit it late night I felt the great vibe but then I read the story yesterday and well, I'm even more inspired. http://www.thedrakehotel.ca/ourstory.asp. A beautifully designed space and a great concept exceptionally executed.

Sound, Rhythm and La Doce Vita (part III)

Hottie picked me up from a restaurant I was at with Colleague. I had done enough networking with Miss Colleague for one night. I walked a block to meet him where he was waiting on the corner for me and we greeted with a kiss. A burned CD called Sound and Rhythm, a mix of Reggae and German electronica, was waiting for me on the passenger seat. We wanted to spend a quiet night at his place with a movie so we picked up La Dolce Vita, chips and ice cream.

As soon as we got to his place a girl showed up with a bottle of red wine. “Oh I see you’re busy,” she said, “I was coming to see if you wanted to share some wine.” Hottie was running around trying to find out what the smell was in his apartment when Hippie showed up too. “Guys, sorry, that was me. I burnt some brussel sprouts downstairs. I forgot they were on the stove and they basically turned to liquid," he offered. “Ahhhh, yuck. Ok that explains it,” Hottie murmured, and we all started chatting. Then the dog came in, and another cat. The family was all there. It’s a three story house, Girl lives on the top floor, Hippie lives on the bottom, and Hottie lives in the middle, with hardwood floors, a fireplace, a fluffy kitty, a big white wall and an LCD projector. We projected La Dolce Vita and enjoyed.

Sound, Rhythm and La Doce Vita (part II)

We didn’t know how to leave the evening and both said so. As he dropped me off neither of us wanted it to end. He said with a slow smile “I don’t know what to do here.” LOL “I don’t either." I gave him a quick kiss and said I’d be in town until my flight left for New York on Friday and ended with “Good night and thanks for playing. Now I have an idea of what Toronto has to offer.”

He called the next evening with a voice full of enthusiasm calling me by my first and last name as to announce THERE SHE IS! It would be a few hours before we could meet so he'd play video games until then. With his slight Irish accent he warned, “I’m not gonna lie to ya Sweetheart, I play video games and I’m playin one as we speak." He chose a hip bar down the street from our previous seedy one and this time my colleague would join. I wanted her to meet him.

He and his friend showed up and I learned a lot more about him. His friend is a sweet guy with a big heart and long hair who looks more like an owl conservationist than an urban dweller. The Hippie, as I like to call him, has his own carpet business . . . this Driftwood Sculptor type sidekick made me like him even more. And the bar scene was a cool taste of Toronto. Like me this guy enjoys a seedy bar or a hip downtown scene. He passed another test I didn’t know I was giving him.

At 6’0” 190 lbs he’s thick. . .not cut, like a guy who’s in the gym all day, but strong as in GOOD STOCK. His legs are designed by his Newfoundland genetics and when he drinks his Irish accent comes out. He tells stories a little loudly and has several different laughs; you can tell he’s well-loved and admired and that his family and friends are salt of the earth good people. He is loyal to those he cares about and I imagine he has many childhood friends from his foggy, rainy, fishing community hometown. His eyes are a piercing blue and he has a masculine, protective heart. Sitting next to him his body language is confident with both arms spread on top of the booth as to encompass me, The Hippie, Colleague and everyone who approaches the table. Effortlessly he owns it.

After drinks with Hippie and Colleague we split off and go to the newly renovated Drake Hotel with a lounge that is now one of my favorite hotel lounges anyplace, anywhere. Great dj, fireplace, red leather sofas, just enough lighting, and the movie Brazil projected over the fire. Again, another one of my scenes. He nailed them all, in two nights, which is impressive for a total stranger. I'm beginning to feel like I've known him a lot longer than I have.

Sound, Rhythm and La Dolce Vita (part I)

Should snow tonight, weatherman says I'll wake up tomorrow with white on the ground. Lots of boots walkin around Toronto, the shoes here are super tempting, and I've bought 4 sweaters. Been out every night since arriving and am sleep deprived. Since my colleague wasn't available my second night here and I did not want to stay in the room of the shitty hotel my company put me up in I had a quick thought to check the internet for any locals who were online at the moment to ask what seedy bar I should go to. Only one person came up and he sounded surprisingly interesting, hot too, with lots of great music and political references. After chatting I could see he also had a fun sense of humor and said he could be talked into going out as a tour guide for some girl from California. I agreed to call him when my meeting with the west coast ended at 10:30pm and we'd go from there. When I called, to my surprise, we were both still up for it and he wondered if he should come pick me up. He was not far from the bar and could swing by. By this time I was ready for adventure so I said, "What the hell." He said, "Young lady, after I pick you up we'll have to talk about you getting into cars with strangers and I'll have a talk with myself about picking up strangers." LOL "Yeah," I said. "I know. But I feel like you have a good essense so I'm gonna go with that."
"Alright, whatever."
"I can," I said, "I can tell." So we went.

He took me to a seedy bar, as I so requested, in a funky part of the city where a local band was performing to the delight of an downtown artistic crowd. Think Beastie Boys meet Sex Pistols. The lead singer, who looked all of 19 and had the baby face (rosey cheeks and all) of Paul McCartney and sang with the abandon of Sid Vicious, had a ton of charisma and a wild sense of humor and our two strangers shocked at their good fortune bonded over love of the absurd and good music. After beers, late night greek pita sandwiches, a run to his law office (aclu, civil rights lawyer type) to pick up some files needed for trial the next morning, I got an idea of who I was dealing with. Walked into his orange-red painted office lined with bold art and black and white photos of fjords in Newfoundland, an authentic kilim that he was proud to have picked out himself and antique teak English colonial furniture with a charming disheveled clean mess strewn about I felt like I recognized him. Like, I know this person. Never having been to Toronto, then having an evening like this, I felt the sexiness and foreigness of The Year of Living Dangerously without the war and poverty plotline.

Girl Gone Skank makes Paris Hilton Look Demure

Just got into Toronto tonight, damn it’s cold. I can’t believe I made it. I was waiting for a roadblock to pop up such as my agent didn’t book the travel, I couldn’t find my passport, my clients cancelled all the meetings, my bags got lost . . . because, well, let’s just say this trip could have been better planned and in a bit more advance. But here I am in Toronto snug in my hotel room after being treated to a great dinner and even better martinis by my Canadian colleague who is just so damn cute and extreeeeeeeeeemely driven and can talk your ear off until she is hoarse. She told me stories until she was literally coughing from talking so much. I adore her. I've been flying by the seat of my pants and have finally landed. Last week was crazy, here's the schedule: Wed: San jose, Thurs-Fri: Sacramento, Sat-Sun: Tahoe, Mon: 4am shuttle pickup from San Jose to SF airport

Friday night we had fun in Sac as an 80s coverband rocked the house. Saturday night after a day of boarding we partied in Tahoe and I saw something I’ve never seen before. I saw a total skank work the bar. Not in a seductive way but in a full-on obnoxious way. I'm the first to admit some strippers can be very sexy, I've seen one who could write the book on seduction . . . but then there's THIS. Some guy actually shoved her away and she got all worked up about it. As she passed me she was like, “A guy PUSHED me. God, you don’t touch a girl” I’m all, “Honey, you’ve been begging for touch all night like a pussy in perpetual heat. With some guys that’ll do just fine because they're pussy hounds, but with others they’re gonna put their hand on your ugly, slutty-ass face like they’re gripping a basketball and snap your head back until you fall on your ass because you are just THAT annoying.” She stomped over and threw a fit to the manager who I imagine retorted “What do you expect whore?” But instead probably said something like, “That’s unfortunate, we’ll take care of it and kick out the bad boy who pushed you." I heard her answer as she passed again on her way to hump someone else’s leg, “Of course, I ALWAYS get my way.”

She was like 5', 80 lbs, fake tits, bleached hair. I think she was going for the Paris Hilton look but looked more like a girl from Fresno who went on a Mervyn’s shopping spree. Although she did mention she’s from xxxxxxx "where my husband lives but my boyfriend is over THERE," she clucked pointing to some dude who couldn’t be less interested. She pulled up her top and pulled down her pants and was kissing everyone who’d allow her to, male and female. And here’s the thing: our Cool and Funny Friend couldn't help himself and left with her and her boyfriend after making a real scene on the floor. Of course we made fun of Cool and Funny Friend the next day and got plenty of details and laughed, but the whole scene was more like watching a trainwreck.

I know what you're thinking. . . you're thinking Hey, it's better than a Saturday night game of charades. And I say, Hey, no it's not! Especially with drinks, a burning fire and a jacuzzi close by. Tahoe gets chilly at night.

Fired

There’s something about girls – they’ll fire you as friends. I got fired last night by a friend, jokingly, I think. She announced it when I called her. I said, “Oh really? Whatever Missy, I’m at the bar and where you at?" I’m at the place she told me she'd be at with a group of friends, I even brought a friend myself, but since I didn’t call her back between when she left a message for me earlier in the day and THEN when I was THERE, I was fired.

Well guess what girlie, I’m here, on time and you’re coming through the bar door so who gives a fuck. Geez, you little hottie, fun friend of mine Jaime.

There’s a trend here. I was given an ultimatum by another friend who moved to Colorado and I’ve been planning to visit for oh, a couple years now, and haven’t gotten it together. She too said, “Uh, I don’t think we can be friends anymore if you don’t manage to get your ass out here this winter.” I’m like, “Oh, got it, ok, I’ll make it happen.” Girls know how to do it. I’ll be in Colorado for New Year’s with Jacque. And I can’t wait.

Locked and Loaded

So here's the thing. It's all up for grabs. I got no real pivot point defined right now.

I've decided to leave my job due to the. . . how shall I put it. . . soul suck. No, soul robbing. No, soul pimping I've done for the last year. I've been at it for three years, but the serious soul pimping started about 18 months ago and I just can't hear myself complain about it anymore. It's one of those positions that starts out fantastic and mind-bending, challenging and exciting until after a few years you realize you're worked to the bone, you're but a pawn in the bad-decision making management game and you don't respect them anymore, you're on your very very very very last nerve ending, and you don't even WANT to be Director or VP or ANY of the positions that yours naturally leads to, AND suddenly that the Manager guy from Office Space was in fact based on the guy you spend 8-12 hours a day with, but instead of saying"We're gonna need you to come in on Saturday, Mmmmkayyyyy?" he says stuff like:

"Coooool?" Translated: "Understand? Get it? I'm done with my response even though it makes no sense whatsoever and I basically just repeated what you asked me."
"It's locked and loooooooaaaaaded" Translated: "My team leads just told me they finished all the elements to this project and it's ready for presentation."
"Let's Rock n Roll!" Translated: "I'm retarded and know all the words to every Journey song so this is how I like to start a meeting to set the mood for F U N."

Did I mention he talks so loudly that I can't hear myself on the phone? And I wear a headset. But he talks at a normal decimal level when he wants to whisper. This is so irritating not because what he's talking about is me or my colleague who sit right next to him and can HEAR EVERYTHING (people, cubicles are so 80s, can we pleease move on?) but because he knows what a normal decimal level is and chooses not to talk in it for most of the day. He is one of those people who wants everyone to know how much, how long, how hard he is working and how IMPORTANT his work is. He never leaves his desk, EVER. I'm not joking. He brings a lunch and munches on it while "Ticking off" his emails. So there he is, ticking off, getting things locked and loaded, All day, every day. 6am to 5pm. This is not efficiency people. With workdays, weeks, months, years like that we should be much further along than we are. Trust me. Oh, he is also known as the Forwarding Master. He ducks and weaves like nobody's business, I'm telling you.

Whew, this is my first post and i'm feeling better already despite a friend that kindly warned "Just start blogging girl, but if you want to talk about this place, be careful." Well, so happens this is what is most on my mind and most what i need to vomit forth. Isn't that what blogging is about? Apparently it's easiest for me to start by sharing the immediate Personal Agony and make it just a little more Public. There's something restorative about seeing your collective heads nod in agreement.