Youthful Penumbra

There’s a joy to youth that if not learned how to develop into adult enjoyment will continue with frivolity and narcissism – as children are wont to do.

A great playwright once said that “If you steal from one author, it’s plagiarism; if you steal from many, it’s research.” I’ve been copying what people around me do, even when I didn’t want to be like them because I wasn’t given permission to be different as a kid – don’t ask questions in school and don’t bring that knowledge home or encourage that behavior through books in the house or trips to the library.

My stepdad worried that I’d end up a pregnant teenager, but that usually happens to the uneducated or unmotivated in positive situations. I had a goal and a drive to stand out; a passion I didn’t want squashed by other people or the systems they were in – school, military, family. At some point, I let the sheep mentality take over that I was on the right path, even if it meant not developing myself while still checking things off my to-do list so that I could fit in on some level.

I’m encouraged to see others breaking out of society’s shell of conformity, of hating self and fearing the other. I too want to walk that trail again of exploration but with an increased vigor to grow along the way. Children learn so much but adults are burnt out on their lives and the lessons go unnoticed until offspring turn to drugs and other crutches to aid their disabilities because our society hasn’t been taught how to strive and cope in the utopia of freedom that is our present.

There is rarely a decent and strong role model that is willing to be honest with someone on all fronts whether for personal preservation or to uphold their public image. People come from a place of fear and shame and so they act on that to hurt others, not fully realizing the vicious cycle. What would you tell your twelve-year-old self? I would tell her to be honest with herself in all things and to practice the passion she wants to grow with new habits.

Life seems like forever but is also fleeting. I would tell her to slow down and be pickier about who she chooses to interact with. Decide who you are, in the many roles you will play, and be sure to be present every day for yourself and all the other species you share this planet with.

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Roadtrip Hump Day

Not every road trip has to be long, exciting, or life-changing. Sometimes you just need to escape the city or your surroundings and give your brain the peace that being behind the wheel brings, especially for those who love being close to someone else.

Each journey has a destination and today’s would be Chengdu Restaurant in Chandler. Dad drove us east to explore; not so much the road we’ve both been on before, multiple times, but to go into the depths of our minds. We made it to Superior where we were able to talk with Kathy again, this time about old buildings and the hidden trail to the old tunnel that we decided against walking along in 55* weather with the wind we’d forgotten about while inside.

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walking into Chengdu

An hour later, and after letting me take a peek at the options before closing the pages, Dad is ordering by the numbers from the not-typical-American menu so that lunch will be a surprise, which I prefer as it alleviates the anxiety of choosing for myself. It wasn’t so much the tofu, gyoza, chicken, or cabbage that was new but the mala sauce (a combination of Sichuan pepper and other spices with oil that causes numbing) that brought the unfamiliar sensation to lunch.

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chicken knuckles and peppers

I take a bite and then two wondering if my tongue is going numb. Dad said it would feel like pins and needles, as when an arm or leg falls asleep, once I add water. For me, it’s a snap, crackle, pop which tickles and sets this moment in my memory. A few more bites and another sip of water makes my tongue feel like it’s licking an AA battery except for the feeling rolls over my tongue.

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tofu and cabbage with mala

We continue the conversation at home and it’s productive and educational but exhausting. There’s no manual for growing up, which is hard to do; no guidebook with a bullet point list of steps to take, so there’s not a defined way of knowing you’ve made it. We’re in a coffee shop now, a bit of a reprieve from our in-depth discussion that took up most of the daylight hours. Learning about Moshkovitz yeast sending spears into a beetle’s belly sent me on a tangent of self-discovery as I advance to the next stage of life.

Q&A: What do you need to vent about?

These moments aren’t age related or limited to one event – marriage, hiring/firing, death – but come at times when not expected – a book, a bottle, or a boss who doesn’t care about your dreams or bills. I’ve recently had some revelations of my own and am attempting to handle them in a new way. Since I was a child I’ve been told that I’m beautiful, smart, and perfect – and that was the mistake. This isn’t about body acceptance, but about responsibility for my actions or lack thereof.

I thought growing out of my teens was also getting me away from the effects of a sometimes painful childhood and I realized how lucky I was compared to children in this country and families in war-torn areas. I thought I had moved on and forgiven the people who had influenced my youth but people are built slowly and it takes time to create or destroy a personality. On the outside, I had made up excuses to absolve all guilty persons, but those instincts were there on the inside and I lived in a narcissistic bubble of my own happiness, at the cost of that for others. I hurt those closest to me and actually neglected my best interest.

I’m quick to lash out when things don’t go my way, even if that’s not always obvious, it’s hard for me to hide or lie about these issues as my body language tells another story. Mom knew way more about me and life in general than she let on. Dad encouraged my growth from day one – and then he left. I told myself that I was glad one of my parents had moved on to find ultimate happiness; even though it traumatized my early years in ways I couldn’t know and has a bearing on me now but for different reasons.

I’ve learned that good people are always learning and that even the best can make the worst mistakes, but that’s all perception. We as humans do what it takes to self-preserve and as a species are still coming to terms with what it means to deal with the package of another person for five to 50 years as we make drastic changes of our own and continue to live longer; it’s inevitable unless you choose to rot and remain unhappy together.

I tell myself that I don’t want to ask of others what I can’t do, but I’ve demanded that others serve my needs and have been blind to their pain. I want to make amends, but I can’t just apologize for my own guilt. I have to allow those people to know that I’m now aware and willing to change, even if it’s too late for “us” it will continue to be my self-improvement project for the rest of my life.

All any of us want is acceptance and love, to be understood in our many moods, and not to be judged, lied to, deceived, or hurt in any way. Though this is unavoidable, how we cope and grow is relatively up to us to decide how we let people and life events affect us, but we aren’t given the mechanisms of change so we continue down the same self-destructive path we’ve been shown from family and society and that reaffirms our belief that to be wrong and hateful is the right thing to do.

The most powerful thing you can do is to stay true to yourself and follow your heart in an optimistic light through all situations because you can’t change those around you without changing yourself and showing them through kindness what is possible. I want to choose the path of positivity, purpose, and passion. I want to be vulnerable and show emotion. I want to communicate without seeming closed off before the conversation starts. I want to control my anger and see things from another perspective.

I’ve been all talk over the years, and it has worked great in the short-term, but anyone worth knowing is worth knowing forever, all their ups and downs, their beauty and faults. I want to walk with them in honesty regardless of the outcome of our selfish choices and learn better how to live with who I really am, even with the pressures of society and media to fit a certain mold. I will make mistakes but I will own them because they help make up the threads of my being.

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Sing This, Say That

Q&A: What song could be your self-portrait? “Cars, they drove in. What came out of your butthole?” Just a sample from dad and daughter duet.

It felt nice to stand beside Dad on an anti-fatigue mat and make car alarm sounds and funny voices together and then adjust them into something else with modular knobs, patch cables, and a keyboard piano. This was our morning.

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morning selfie

We were driving to lunch and I rolled the window down on the highway to wave to a car of someone Dad knows with the same car and a very close personalized license plate but it wasn’t her. We arrived 40 minutes later to Chengdu Delight, a restaurant that’s closed on Tuesdays. I was looking forward to trying a new place but set my mind on eating whatever is nearby.

Another meal of guacamole but this one served with thin parmesan pizza crust chips. We order our vegetables — stuffed mushrooms for Dad and a skillet of broccoli and squash for me, but I’ll be taking mine to go. We don’t finish the Guaca-Tony, though we ate more than we should have, Caroline would’ve loved to have a slice brought home.

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afternoon coffee

I spend another afternoon reading. It’s easier to disconnect from the internet when I don’t bring my laptop, another reason I enjoy these little Phoenix getaways. I appreciate the conversations between the words, videos, and blips of noise that Dad is learning to create. I’m inspired that he’s taken on something that 23,000 people claim to participate in, which includes circuit benders. The cost varies from $39 to $1000 per piece so your interest can grow with the size of your wallet.

Sparky gets in his senior dog cardio while I talk with Caleb until his voice lowers from a sore throat that’s been bothering him for a week and then both of them are ready for a nap. Back inside Dad is dealing with a system update and resetting the SD card that will remove his sound-testing history and some of our musical magic. I learn a little more each time I’m here and contemplate the possibility that a duet would be doable.

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evening stick

I take Sparky out to chew on a stick before happily cuddling with him under the blankets for added warmth while Dad makes dinner. I’m still full from lunch so I will wait for Caroline to get home before finishing the soup she doesn’t eat. The 44° morning had me appreciating the golden hour (with the warmest time of day and sunset being so close together in winter) and wanting to lay in the sun and soak up its warm energy.

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Slow Morning Molasses

Q&A: Is there anything missing in your life? A better paying job as I struggle to get an associate degree in business and kinesiology from San Diego City College that will eventually lead me towards a bachelor’s degree in health and fitness. I need to take the ACE exam first so I get the continuing education credits towards my recertification requirements for attendance.

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pet tank or appetizer viewer

A Tri-Athlete for breakfast and water without a straw. Off to Starbucks to read about yeast and write about brains for Dad but we both just talk about life lessons instead. Caleb recently bought me a new Yeti 20oz tumbler in sky blue and I adorned it with two red and white stickers before bringing it on the trip so I could fill it with a nitro cold brew. There’s still half of it in the fridge, but I was able to get a ten-cent discount and do my part to reduce plastic waste.

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excerpt from The Rise of Yeast

Who doesn’t spend the morning talking until their tummies grumble in the late afternoon? We split a dish of zucchini pasta with marinara at Red Devil, something new to go with the old memories, all of them good, of eating here before. We always get the same booth in the corner where I can see the hostess booth and Dad can watch the waiters go from kitchen to tables.

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no light or cold to disturb his slumber

Somehow it’s dinner time and Caroline isn’t home yet. She’s working late at the office while I read about overworked yeast and lab testing on fruit flies. Dad’s making music and looking for kaka-themed games for us to play on my next visit. I’m glad he looks forward to seeing me again and what game we might create using the real toilet. With our appetites up, we’ll go out for a bowl each of guacamole to lick clean along with a foot long burrito for me and two burger patties with green chilies for him.

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Settled Sunday Sojourn

Q&A: What do you always avoid? I’m not usually an always or never person because I know instances can change, but I’m currently avoiding the fact that I was wrongfully dismissed and haven’t been as forward with the people in charge as I should be instead of letting them take advantage of me.

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Sparky and I on our way to Phoenix

Dad called last night and asked what time I was leaving San Diego and “for where?” was my reply. He thought I could get up at 5 am and drive to Phoenix. I agreed that my last visit in March was too long ago and that I’d start my drive by noon. I had been looking forward to him coming out here and even cleaned the house a bit, but I enjoy the drive and change of scenery, though not the colder weather with the clothes I brought.

I woke up early enough but somehow didn’t get out the door till after the sun was up and in my eyes. I’ve driven this road so many times but somehow today was different. I know the dunes are always moving and the rocks slowly eroding, maybe there are more commercial wind turbines, at $3.5 million each for parts, shipping, and installation, but Highway 8 felt spacious and secluded.

This will be the first time I don’t stop by the Yuma Territorial Prison Museum and Park. Sparky sleeping in the passenger seat wasn’t convincing enough that he felt like running around and the mini train track is a deterrent now with crowds of children and parents waiting for a ride. I need to find a new stopping point because it’s healthy to move around after 2.5 hours of sitting.

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Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel — mature bananas with roasted malt

I listened to NPR radio hour talk with people about stuttering, clouds, and quiet – which consumed the majority of the drive. On Highway 101 there was an increase in traffic as people are out enjoying Veteran’s Day weekend with their dune buggies on large trailers, in windy conditions, which slow them down.

I’m pulling up to Dad’s place and I think about the time in the airport over 15 years ago when we almost didn’t recognize each other. There’s something about visiting Dad that makes me feel like a child, though I get that nostalgia often, it’s like learning to talk all over again — learning new words and forgetting my basic vocabulary.

He’s waiting on his keyboard to dry when I walk in and I’m glad for the conversation and opportunity to try sugar-free grapefruit SodaStream as the mango flavor tastes like dirt. We walk and laugh as the past and present merge memories for me that deliver a special type of happiness. Dad’s great at offering adventure, education, lectures, crying, and books to read and this trip wouldn’t be any different which is why I love him.

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an instructional bathroom sign

The evening meal at Edelweiss Biergarten, a German and Hungarian restaurant, that replaced Wagon Yard, built in the 50s, when it opened fully in September after changing the menu, interior, and most of the staff will consist of a giant pretzel appetizer and enough dinner that Caroline and I could’ve split a plate, since we got the same thing. Our topics have me laughing out loud, like Mellow Mushroom memories loud. There’s a unique bond so closely shared between parent and child that just can’t be replicated.

Walking beside Dad, so he gets steps and Sparky can poo, and I want to reach out and hold his hand but I contemplate instead about whether I am too old, him not old enough, or do I just miss Caleb. I wash my dirty feet before starting The Rise of Yeast: How the Sugar Fungus Shaped Civilization by N.P. Money next to Sparky who is actively dreaming of barking earlier and appreciating the acoustics of his temporary abode.

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