Lesson 4: When life throws you some snowballs...

A half hour before I left work, a coworker emailed all of us in the Agency saying that Jenny, another teammate and good friend of mine who had left a few minutes earlier, wanted to warn us of an extremely slippery parking lot. The flurry of snowflakes I had seen caressing the windows of the West staircase at lunchtime had apparently amounted to more, or it had melted and then frozen as the otherwise clear day was blanketed by dusk.

The walkway lights outside glimmered in the sidewalk reflection. I put my weight into each step, remembering the lesson learned in my first tai chi class two weeks ago. Put your foot in front of you, and gently, slowly pour your weight from one leg to the other, like tea into a cup. No problem.

As I moved farther out, I realized that roadway in the first parking lot had been sanded. One of the dump trucks must have come by earlier spreading gravel from its tail-end sander. I then walked on the paths of dirt, laughing to myself. I don't know why Jenny left when she did, but clearly, if she had waited another 20 or 30 minutes, there would have been no need to heed us warning. I imagined myself texting her with mock ridicule, followed by a colon and lowercase p.

Before I could do so, my foot slid sideways. I was past the first parking lot, heading into the second. The muscles in the left of my back tightened in a sharp clench upward from my lower ribcage. I gained solid footing and took a breath. OK.

I noticed that this section of the lot had not been sanded. I walk slowly, more carefully this time. I was aware, then, that sometimes I walk briskly. But now, I was chugging along, taking another step, pouring another cup of tea. I looked across the crisp, dark, clear air at other people readying to leave.

I remote-started the car, wiped away the fluffy snow off the rear window, and scraped away a thin layer of ice on the windshield. A dump truck crawled by, its sander spewing gravel on the ground. As I got in the car and put the scraper in the back seat, I felt my phone vibrate in my coat pocket. I put on the windshield wipers to clear away the remnants of ice, pulled out the phone and saw a mobile message from my sister. We had talked the other day, on her birthday, about her yearning to sketch drawings like she used to do years ago. I had taken it upon myself to assign her to sketch a nose, one of the more difficult body parts for her to sketch. So I was delighted to get a snapshot of a sketch of a couple of noses. "Who KNOWS what you might come up with," I had joked to her the other day with encouragement. HAR HAR!

I then realized, in the dark of night, that it had become darker than it was a few minutes ago. I looked up and saw an obstructed view before me. I turned on the headlights. With the hedge now illuminated, I saw thick clumps of snow piling up on the windshield. I glanced out the driver's side window. I saw no ground, but snow, already a thick layer, and with the help of another car's headlights, I saw a great gust of wind bring down a billow of more snow.

"Holy shit," I said aloud. "It's a fucking blizzard!"

I had been in the car barely three or four minutes, I figured, looking at two noses, one a fairly normal yet somewhat gnarly nose, and the other a crooked one not unlike one belonging to a good friend of mine. Who KNOWS? Who knew a squall would burst through? Certainly not I, who doesn't check the weather online or have watched the local TV news — or TV at all — in the last two years.

As I backed out of my parking space, my mind darted back to two New Year's Eves ago, when my last car was totaled in an accident during a snowstorm. I hoped for the best, and crept along, arriving home just under an hour later. Safe and sound.

Some days nothing interesting happens, and some days the universe throws a snowball at you. Maybe it's just to keep things interesting, to knock the monotony off course, off-balance.

I heard later that my girlfriend had caught the last few seconds of the sunset today, harkening an orange glow over a beautiful blanket of snow, undisturbed, along the trees. I missed that scene by about an hour, but I caught a glimpse of something just as special. So, I cursed my way through it, caught by surprise. But the swears were followed by giddy amazement, a wide-eyed wonder at how impermanent life can be. One moment you're just walking along. Then you're suddenly pre-occupied by exquisitely drawn noses. Next, a freakin' snowstorm rolls through and it makes you think, "I totally did not see that coming."

Mind your head. The next curveball is coming your way.

Lesson 1: Speak up

Say something. Articulate.

We have evolved with the capability to communicate complicated thoughts and ideas, yet we struggle to grasp every day the idea that we can live happier lives if we only just say something, say anything, instead of stewing in despair.

They say life is suffering. So why do we continually make life more difficult for ourselves? Life is littered, cluttered, with the pains of people all around us, suffering. By your not speaking up, by your not articulating, by not using your voice to be heard, to be understood, to be helpful, to BE, you are forfeiting your responsibilities. You are relinquishing your life. You are abandoning your dreams. You are no longer a functioning half of a relationship. You no longer exist. You – who? – are forgotten.

They say, too, there is a way out of suffering.

Say something. Articulate. Proclaim your place in your own life. Reclaim the responsibilities beholden to you; make them work for you. Acclaim the rewards that you see.

Just be. Be yourself. Be helpful. Be understood, and speak until you are. Articulate. Choose your words carefully. Speak up. We're listening.

Peace

My bedroom is pleasantly chilly, and I'm getting the impression I'm stealing a glimpse of a secret world, where my room opens up its petals as the daylight filters through the slits of the window blinds.

I rarely see this. The sky is overcast. The air conditioner is humming along on LO. The white Honeywell oscillator at the foot of my bed is stiffly but somehow expectantly facing the A/C, waiting to be turned on. Dark, striped button-up shirts line up dutifully in my dark, small closet. The large IKEA wardrobe looms uselessly across from me, taking up space. It dwarfs the bureau, burdened by books I've yet to read, books I have read, journals I've neglected, coins, chocolate bars, allergy pills, my wallet, car keys, and other remnants, mementoes or souvenirs of activities over the last few months. There's my La-Z-Boy in the corner: a big, awkward, fluffy shelf for flung clothes and magazines when I am not using it to sit and meditate.

I am lying on my bed, its soft red blanket inviting and warm. The light here in the daytime turns these things into live creatures, each with a vibrant life of its own. The daylight reacts and gives resonance among these seemingly inanimate objects. The overcast sky is slowly giving way to the powerful sun, as swaying ribbons of light dance on my bed before me, shadows of the tree leaves outside my window waving in a damp, muggy breeze.

The light is smothered by clouds, and for a few moments I wonder if I'll ever see it again: I'm left with the dull red blanket, and the after-image of the shadow of the window blinds. There is a stillness, a sobering calm. The A/C continues to hum. Then the light appears again, brighter than before, wider than before, deeper and broader, covering half my bed and all of my journal and the leg of my Columbia shorts.

I look around and soak up the stillness. And I realize this has been here all along. It's here when I am away at work. It's here when I'm here at night, under the halogen light afixed to the ceiling, and amid the glow of the red lamp atop my bedside table. It's here when I sleep and when I make love, when I am frustrated or overwhelmed.

Wherever and whenever I need it: still, it is here.

25 random things about me (with new and improved food references)

Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to "notes" under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click post.)

My 25 random things

1. When I am really interested in something, I embrace it completely. I live it, breathe it in and out, until I am bored with it. The activity can last years, and then suddenly I am done. Whether it's obsessively listening to favorite bands, watching TV shows, or dancing Argentine tango, there always seems to be something that fits this category.


2. I have been published in two magazines, and I've been a reporter for at least four newspapers. (Being a journalist is also related to #1 above.) I want to get back into writing again, and yes, write novels.


3. I had narrowed it down to two choices for a social outlet before I started tango. I never did try fencing.


4. I still don't know how to swim, although I really want to learn. This summer.


5. Also this summer, I'm planning to shave my head.


6. I could probably easily lose 5 lbs. if I do something about the hair on the rest of my body. TMI?


7. I did not date in high school, and I kinda sorta did but not really in college.


8. There are two types of men in this world, one with beer in the fridge, and one without. I'm the one without. (If you see any alcohol, ask my roommates about it.)


9. Although I did last Friday, I don't normally drink alcohol anymore. I am a cheap date. Gimme two rum and cokes, and I'll need to chase it with 10 waters with lemon.


10. I am unequivocally, undeniably most attracted to brunettes. And if she's got black hair, or very dark brown, I am weak in the knees. I have no reason why, although one girl in my high school class springs instantly to mind. Hot damn.


11. I believe the worst invention ever was artificially flavored pancake syrup. Throw that shit away. There's no way I would allow Aunt Jemima's flapjack to swim in Mrs. Butterworth's sweetness (not that there's anything wrong with that). It's time to tap some of New England's best Grade A dark amber, baby.


12. I really really like dark chocolate. And most of the chocolate-and-peanut-butter combos distributed by Reese's.


13. I don't drink coffee. It puts a knot in my stomach, and I started twitching. I don't like it.


14. Believe it or not, I used to be a really picky eater. I hardly ate any vegetables until I coincidentally dated two vegans in a row. I'm now on a strict don't-date-vegans-ever-again diet.


15. I wish I had the gumption to actually cook something more often. I grew up in a household where my father led by the example of expecting the women do that stuff, so figuring out how to make something more than pasta is like brain surgery for me. (As an aside: Once, when my mother was away for an extended period of time, I caught my father trying to make a toasted cheese sandwich in the toaster oven.)


16. I'm still surprised that I like sushi. Who knew that uncooked fish and red rubbery eggs would be so yummy!


17. I would love to be a father.


18. I would love to find someone to love, who loves me back. (Who also likes to cook, likes to dance, has black hair, says what she means, means what she says, and doesn't play games with my head unless we're in bed. Oh, and she has to know how to give me a massage. It's my turn.)


19. I am surprised by the number of people who don't like (or at least misinterpret the facial expressions in) my Facebook profile pics.


20. Last summer, after learning how to meditate, I found peace. It was the best feeling ever. I once remarked that I couldn't possibly go back to living the way I used to. But of course, meditation isn't just sitting or laying down for a half hour. Being at peace requires continued effort.


21. I don't know what it's like to have a grandfather. Both of mine died before I was born. My grandmothers died before I was a teenager, I think.


22. I am very uncomfortable in group settings. This includes the bar scene and cafeterias. I'm much better one-on-one in everything I do.


23. Buddhism resonates with me now more than Catholicism ever did. And the silly thing is, they're all addressing the same thing. They just approach it within vastly different stories.


24. When I was younger, I wondered if I was British in a past life. Only because I was really into British comedies, Genesis and Jean-Luc Picard back then.


25. I'd rather listen to music than watch TV.


26. Sometimes I don't like to follow directions.


27. It's been said that people's first impression of me is wrong.


28. Like with Starbuck in Battlestar Galactica, I believe I have a destiny, a calling... I just haven't figured out how all the pieces fit yet. And each new episode throws me for a loop.

If you're interested, I wrote about 7 obscure things about me in December.

Attainable goals for 2009

I don't do resolutions. Like many, I fail to remember even conjuring the audacity I had to challenge myself with lofty aims in such a trendy fashion. So this year, 2009, I am outlining goals more attainable and accessible, in an effort to actually achieve them!

1. Write every day. I'm already failing at this, if you consider that this originally meant write one blog post a day. Here it is, Jan. 10, and this is blog post #4. Not bad, considering I wrote an average of one post a month recently. See? Success already! So, whether it's writing here, writing in my offline journal, or writing a witty one-liner Facebook status message, the goal is to stretch my writing muskles.
   
   
2. Update my web portfolio. I originally wanted to do this in December. My web development portfolio is outdated and seriously lacking in design. It shares the minimalist aesthetic I have on Dankoski.com but really that was only temporary. So I'll update the portfolio content by end of January (meaning, adding the Staples CorpEx site and Craigie on Main) with screenshots and key code snippets.
   
   
3. Update the rest of Dankoski.com. I have had this domain for years, and it's time I do something with it. 2008 was a good year to start that with this blog, and with my web portfolio, but 2009 will be the year to beef it up with actual content. I hope to partner up again with the Craigie website designer on this. I'd like to keep the minimalist aesthetic, but I have some ideas to tie in my varied interests (web, writing, tango, photography, etc.). I'm hoping for a design mockup by end of February or March and an unveiling by late spring.
   
   
4. Travel more. I had a great time traveling to Texas over Thanksgiving. It was my first real "vacation" in eight years. I ended it with the want for more. It's good to get away, isn't it? I don't know yet where I'd like to go, or when I'd be able to. Before, it never occurred to me to get away, but this year, it's actually on my mind.
   
   
5. Live healthier. There are times when I eat some really nasty food. (See Exhibit A and Exhibit B.) But I know that green stuff and nonanimal products can sometimes (but not always) be tasty, and even healthy. I'm not turning vegetarian, but I'm open to eating healthier foods. The other day I learned I am technically overweight, with a body-mass index of 25.09, according to the the BMI calculator on Boston.com. That's based on my average weight of 185 pounds and my approximate height of 6 feet. Borderline with a normal BMI. But I know it's more difficult to maintain weight as one grows older. I'm also looking into yoga and will appreciate any suggestions and support. This healthy-living goal will be ongoing throughout the year.
   
   
6. Unplug. I'm on the computer all day. I need to unplug. Think I can do it? We'll see.
   
   
7. Go out more. I used to dance tango a lot. I'd go out a couple of or three times a week with my body dancing with some hot and not-so hot women. The scene is filled with people who are addicted to that sort of connection, and I've grown bored with it. I haven't danced tango yet in 2009, but I assume I will be back at it sooner or later. But it will no longer be my main social outlet, as it has been for the last five-plus years. This ongoing goal is to find other avenues. I'm a textbook introvert, so this will be a challenge.
   
   
8. Find a GGG woman. Today I'm not planning to seek out a woman who's right for me. Today I am happy with giving and keeping time for myself. But I know that aside from being content with myself, I would love to have a good, giving and game woman by my side. I deserve one. Someone who is sweet and cute and appreciates me for me. And, for the love of God, someone who is fun in bed ... or wherever else she wants to do it.
   
   
9. Keep blog posts short. My friend Jenny challenged me to do this. I know I tend to be wordy. But as Mark Twain supposedly noted, it takes more time to write short than it does to write long. I can write and write and write. Now I gotta edit them down? Argh.
   
   
10. Take more risks. I was going to leave this list at 9 items, but I couldn't help myself. I had to round it out. OK, taking risks, everything else and keeping blog posts short, starting now.
    

P.S. Oh, and if you haven't yet, please subscribe to this blog via e-mail at dankoski.com/blog or to its new Feedburner RSS feed.

Shedding my skin in 2008

Ah, 2008, such curveballs you threw my way! Let's see how well I did, how I've changed, and what I've accomplished as a result.

Waking up
I had a really great summer, a time of transition. Coming out of an on-again off-again yearlong relationship, I needed to clear my head. I chose to learn how to meditate. Without a doubt, this was the most important development of the year, if not ever. I learned not just to dismiss the negative thoughts that drove my life, but I learned to realize that they are just thoughts, just stories I was ruminating in my head; they are not who I AM. Ridding myself of this, I felt on top of the world, just by setting aside time for myself, doing simple things like walking around Fresh Pond in Cambridge in the summer -- or going to Brattle Theatre in December to watch all four of the Indiana Jones movies, Serenity and even episodes of Doctor Who on the big screen. July and August were by far the best months of 2008.

Paying down
In September, I worked on two freelance web development gigs in order to rid myself of credit card debt, which had been a dark cloud over my head for so long. Finally, my credit card balances have been paid off. Phew! There was a time when I had to pay rent with credit cards. Those days are no more. Not only did I pay off the debt, I'm pretty sure I also did not use my credit cards at all last year. It helped that I started in late 2007 to use an actual spreadsheet to budget my income and expenses, which helped me see in real and projected numbers that the debt was not insurmountable if I just stuck with it. I also gleaned random tidbits from advice from blogs such as Get Rich Slowly, where I learned to pay off the largest debt first, by being disciplined. In 2009, I hope to rid myself of my consolidated student loan and another loan. Getting more freelance gigs will make that easier to do.

Getting away
Prior to 2008, the last time I had a real vacation was in 2000, when a friend an I traveled to and around the United Kingdom for spring break in college. So after eight years of working as a reporter and then as a web developer, I needed time to get away from it all. I did this a couple of times this year, first over the Fourth of July weekend. I went to Rockland, Maine, where I walked the breakwater and got a sunburn, even on my feet, where the lines of my Birkenstocks still show faintly today. I did some writing in my journal, too. (To be honest, when I look back at 2008, my memory of it begins here.)

The more significant trip came over Thanksgiving, when I flew to Texas to see my sister, who invited me at the end of August to visit her and her husband in Dallas. I hadn't seen her in a year or two, and I actually hadn't met Tony until then. So that was good. From there I flew south to Austin. I had no plans other than to check out the city and possibly go to the Fandango de Tango festival. I did dance Friday night, and Saturday I walked all over the city for hours, ending the day with a blues concert at Antone's, where I was introduced to the incredible Caroline Wonderland.

Freelancing more
I already mentioned that September was pretty busy with work. Apart from my day job as a contracted web developer at the in-house agency at Staples, I again was contracted by Aspen Publishers in Waltham to develop and produce e-mail newsletters for new and upcoming textbooks for law school students. That job ended just after Columbus Day, but by then I was already working with Pixelberg to develop the new website it designed for Craigie on Main, formerly called Craigie Street Bistrot before they moved to Main Street in Cambridge. I learned A LOT on that project and am very proud of my work on it. I hear there is some follow-up work to be done soon, too.

Expressing myself
2008 was the year I started writing again. I stopped saying "someday I'll write a blog" and actually started one. I hesitated for a long time because I wanted it to have a purpose, and I didn't really have one. So I started this blog on June 22, 2008, with two posts: one introducing myself and an example of a piece of writing I wrote earlier that month in a Grub Street weekday seminar on writing sex scenes, the day I met Jeanne Greeley, who writes the Stuff at Night relationship/sex columns that I've enjoyed reading for a long time. The story of the vegan restaurant was an example of describing food with all five senses. Then we wrote three versions of the same sex scene. I left the class impressed with everyone else's writing and realized that mine was much like reporting -- and hence, much more pornographic, in a way, than the sensual approach we were, uh, shooting for. I took two more Grub classes, one in mid-August on writing a personal essay, and one in mid-December on writing from real life.

So what sparked this renewed interest in writing? My mom was searching for stuff about me on the web in late April and found the last column I wrote for the Maine Campus college newspaper and said, yes, she was proud of me. I sent the link to my girlfriend at the time, who said, "Why aren't you writing?"

Smartening up
I always feel like I'm learning new things every day. There was a time when I distressed over this fact. "I should have figured it all out by now!" But in 2008 I embraced learning, including especially meditation. But earlier in the year I took classes at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education, just for the hell of it. The center sent out a winter catalog in late 2007, and I saw classes for things I always wanted to learn. I took a one-day class on entrepreneurship, a beginner's six-week course on Polish, and another one on pottery. (I have some photos of my pottery that I hope to show off on my site soon.) This past Christmas, I gave some of my wares to my sisters.

Letting go
When I moved to Massachusetts in September 2007, my goal was to forge a mighty career in web development. However, my time here over the last year has become more a job in personal development. I had a lot of assumptions about how my life was going, and it didn't end up the way I expected it would. Each time I took a step, my feet landed in a different spot than I aimed for. It took me a long time to figure out that holding on to what I assumed were foregone conclusions hampered me from moving forward. I continue to struggle with it, but I'm getting better at understanding the concept of impermanence: Nothing lasts forever. I'm trying to get used to it.

Happy new year!

2008 crashes to a halt

I worked 2.5 hours at Staples on Dec. 31, 2008. A snowstorm came in fast, and we were all told to go home, and I left around 11:30am. The roads were bad. Mass Pike wasn't as bad as that awful 3-hour-or-more commute we all endured a year before, but conditions grew worse the closer I got toward home. I successfully navigated an unusually sparse Newton Circle, which is typically usually insanely packed with cars in a chaotic mess of cars.

I passed the two traffic lights and was on Centre Street in Newton. Ahead of me I saw a car getting ready to come out of the Brigham and Women’s center parking lot. The car’s nose was partly in my lane of traffic. From that position, I determined that I had enough room and could safely pass through as normal.


The other car was coming out of this parking lot. I was driving in the same direction as the white car, shown above.
View Larger Map

I could see the driver waiting for other cars to pass by; it appeared he was waiting to take a left turn, to go in my opposite direction, or go into the Bertucci’s pizzeria parking lot across the street. He was looking at other cars, away from my direction, and I assumed he would turn to look to the left to see if other cars would come. As soon as other cars cleared his way, he drove into the street. He did not look my way.

I was too close to make a sudden stop. I beeped the horn (he was this way now), and I put on the brakes. Because the roads were snowy, my car swerved as I tried to bypass the other car. The back end of my car swerved to the right. The front right-side bumper of my car hit the front left side of his car.

My car ended up perpendicular to the road, on the other side, where there are two lanes. My car was blocking those lanes. I got out of the car and saw the other car involved pull into the Bertucci’s parking lot opening. I motioned to him as if to say, "What were you thinking?" I heard another driver, who was not involved but trying to be helpful, yell out to me that it was OK for me to drive into the parking lot, so I got back in the car and did so.

I got out, and so did the other driver. A girl, whom he later identified as his daughter, remained in his passenger seat. I was about to ask if everyone was OK, but he was clearly angry and was blaming me. That surprised me, and I said, "You didn’t look!" That made him angrier, and he demanded to get my information. I said I wanted to see his, and continued to blame me, ending with "Suck my dick!" He grew more frustrated and said, "I should call the cops. Actually, I WILL call the cops." He went back inside his car. Either during the conversation, or shortly after, a woman came and became his witness. "I saw you hit him," she said to me.

I called 911 and decided to stay outside. The snow was falling hard. I was doing OK. I should have been just as angry as he was, glaring at him as he was glaring at me from inside his heated Mercedes, but I was calm and collected. I was enjoying the snowfall. I slightly smiled as I looked up into the gray sky where hundreds of big flakes were hurtling, yet floating, toward me. I thought of sticking out my tongue to taste the snow, but I decided against it. I imagined the other guy would notice and run over to rip it out. I went inside my car to warm up.

Soon firefighters arrived in a truck, and began questioning the other driver. I got out, and a man on the sidewalk holding two coffee cups asked me if I was the one driving on the road. I said yes, and he said he saw the other car obstructing the line of traffic. A firefighter asked me if I was hurt. I said no. He responded by saying the other driver said he was feeling whoozy. "Of course he did," I said. The firefighters got another call to attend to, so they left soon after.

I text messaged and then called a colleague who apparently was still at the office. Then my witness gave me his name, address and phone number. A police officer arrived shortly after 12:30pm. I didn’t get the police officer’s name, but he was older with white hair, either buzz-cut or balding. I was first to get out of the car, so the officer approached me. "Before I forget, here is my witness’s information," I told him.

"It’s OK," the officer said, looking at the road. "The other driver’s the one at fault."

Then he asked me what happened. By this time, the other driver was standing near the officer. I told the officer I was driving this way, and "he" was coming out of the parking lot. "How dare you!" the other driver said. The officer held up his hand, telling him to be quiet, that it was my turn. "Exchange information," the officer said. Neither of us had any paper, so the officer went back to his car and provided us with a motor vehicle crash exchange form. I gave the other driver my registration card and driver’s license and he gave me his. This guy's smiling photo could not be the same man broiling before me in the snow, but he really was. He was from Weston.

After the officer left, and after the other driver left, I called my insurance company from the parking lot and gave his information to them. The license plate number I was given had been swapped, my insurance rep said, which meant he could have just bought a new car and put new plates on it. "Or the car he was driving wasn’t his car," I said. The rep laughed and said that was possible, too. She put me on hold while she tried to connect with a local auto body shop. We got disconnected. I waited a few minutes for her to call me back, but I grew impatient and called again. I couldn't reach her.

After the third try, I decided to drive to the shop myself as it was only a mile away. But the bumper was hanging down and touching the front right wheel. I tried to figure out how to rig it with black rubber bungie cord or rope. I soon was fed up and tried to yank the thing off, and one young guy came along and helped me. I put the broken pieces of the bumper in the back seat, and slowly drove to the body shop in Watertown Square. Being aware of a big gaping hole in one corner of my car felt like I was driving with three wheels.

The auto body shop attendant (owner?) looked at the damage and estimated it would take about a week to do the work. I found out later that my auto insurance policy doesn't cover getting a rental car, but it's possible to get the other guy's insurance to cover it because needing to drive a rental is a result of the accident. I need to call his insurance company Friday morning to see if they'll do it.

Epilogue
I had planned to go to the ProvidenceTango New Year's Eve milonga, but didn't think it wise to drive all that way with my car in that condition. I didn't feel like bumming a ride. I felt this was the universe's way of telling me not to go anywhere. (Even in the morning, I woke with a sore throat and feared I was getting another round of tonsilitis, and if that were the case, I didn't want to infect anyone.) So I decided to stay in. On New Year's morning, my roommates (after checking their cell phones for any evidence of debauchery from the night before) and I went down the street to Uncommon Grounds for breakfast. I took a nap, and then wrote two blog posts.

Car accident

I was in a car accident today. Details are coming soon.

7 relatively obscure things about me

My friend Kate tagged me in November with the challenge to come up with seven random or obscure tidbits about myself.

I usually don't care for this sort of thing, but truth be told I have been reflecting on my life pretty heavily since the summer, and this gave me the opportunity to determine to see what about myself I obscure from other people. I tried to come up with seven aspects that NOT ONE person knew about me, but that was tough. So, finally, I've settled with these. (And part of the challenge is to ask seven people you know to do the same. Their/your names are below.)

1. No one in my family calls me Stan or Stanley, except for my mom's new husband. Everyone else calls me Stasiu, which is Polish for Stan. It's pronounced STAH-shoe (with each syllable sounded short, not drawn out).


2. My interest in writing began early, with a two-page story assignment in fifth grade. I picked the title "The Burglar and the Bear" out of a hat. I wrote and illustrated it. I then wrote three sequels in the eighth and ninth grades. I wrote a lot of fiction in high school and then in college, where I became a journalist, whose focus on reporting and accuracy helped shape my writing style. However, the first time a story of mine was published was when I was age 16, in Echoes magazine, for my profile of an elderly man and family friend in my town.


3. You know how sidewalks are comprised of square blocks? For the longest time, walking on a sidewalk required me to step in each block with my left foot first, which meant I could only do two steps a block. This started when I was really young. Sit back for a moment and imagine a little kid doing that.


4. For a full decade, my family lived in a cellar. We moved from Rhode Island to northern Maine because my father wanted to own a slaughter house. That deal went sour, and my father ended up starting to build a house on one of the two pieces of farmland he had owned. The basement was built in the autumn of 1988, and we lived in there during the winter. We started building the rest of the house in the spring but we didn't have enough money to finish it. We stayed in the cellar while the upstairs remained an unfinished skeleton. The cellar was unfinished, and there was no sense of privacy. There was a bathroom, a kitchen area, and the rest of the home as one big room. Our bedrooms were separated by bureaus, dressers and racks of clothes. Thus was the environment of my formative years.


5. I have never been grounded by my parents. I think perhaps it never occurred to them to try that form of punishment. That, or the way in which we lived was punishment enough.


6. I joined Kappa Delta Phi, a small but national fraternity, in my second semester of college. Even weirder, I was known among them as "Demon" or "Sir Demon" because up until one night during the pledging process, I was a quiet, shy guy. Then one night I spoke my mind. I think I sent the pledgemaster a quick verbal (but funny) jab, which took everyone by surprise. They joked that obviously someone had taken possession of my mind and body. My mom never liked that nickname. But nicknames stick around for a long time. I've had two others: DANK and STANGO.


7. My hearing is within normal range, but I sometimes have a hard time processing what I am hearing. I have not been diagnosed with central auditory processing disorder, or CAPD, but I need no more convincing. My ears work fine and my brain works fine, but the auditory connection between them is at times faulty. In a conversation with you, the first few words of your sentence simply sound like noise, and I either have to ask you to repeat yourself, or I have to figure it out based on the context of what I did understand. If we are anywhere with a lot of background noise, then the background noise is the same volume as you and will thus cancel your voice out. If you're a mumbler, God help me. So if you ask me a question and I'm staring at you or look like I don't know what to say, it most likely means I'm still processing what you're saying, or still processing what I want to say in response. This is why I do not enjoy the bar scene, cafeterias or socializing in group settings of three or more. (I enjoy the crowded dance floor at tango milongas specifically because I don't need to talk, and when I do try to, it feels awkward even to me.)
   

Now I am interested to know seven random or obscure things about the following people. Answer in your blog, and if you don't have a blog, reply to this post here at dankoski.com/blog.

1. Krystyna Emmons
2. Kasia Landry
3. Teresa Ngunyi
4. Jenny Bergman
   
5. Josh Nason
6. Amy Beaudet
7. Ryan Robbins
   

Blog topic ideas

No, I'm still alive. I haven't updated my blog in a while, but that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it. In fact, I have many items buzzing around in this hollow head of mine. So as a teaser, I suppose, this post is the list of ideas I'm brewing to write about.

• 7 obscure things about me. I was tagged by my friend Kate (more than a month ago). I'm still thinking about it. That's a tough one. (link added 12/20/2008)
  
• TANGO with STANGO. A blog post about my story with Argentine tango. I already have a request for this, and to that person, I can probably guarantee some surprises.
• Trip to Texas. I visited my sister and her husband in Dallas over Thanksgiving, and then went to Austin to complete the weekend.
• Calexico. They're my new favorite band. I saw them in concert in November.
• "At the movies" -- Ask anyone close to me, and they'll make fun of the fact that I hardly watch any movies. Lately, I've been trying to change that.
• Craigie On Main. I developed this restaurant's new website, and learned a lot along the way.
  
• "Dealing with Loss" -- a title I thought of back in September that would track my (feeling of) transformation and all the stuff I was losing in the process.
• Impermanence and attachment. You may know I started meditating in the summer, and learned some principles of Buddhism along the way. These two concepts have still eluded my grasp to understand them. (As have the grasp of many other people, apparently, someone suggested to me recently.)
• Healthy eating. Almost every woman I either just liked or dated have been very health-conscious, even to the point of being vegan or becoming vegetarian. Being aware of this pattern is interesting and has affected my diet... slowly but steadily. (Please overlook my recipe for Crunchy Eggs Dinner for now.)
  
• Truth. Truth, versions of truth, how people act and react around their own perceptions of truth.
• Trust and patience. I may need to rollover this one into 2009. haha.
  
• Hair, and perceptions. Hmm, I wrote this idea down one day. This could be either one or both of two concepts.
  
• Life is a traffic jam. I thought of this while in one, and wrote it down in a notebook I keep in my car.
• Life is a dream. I first read this in "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle and realized how true that can be. Strangely, it also made me think of the campfire scene in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. That then led me to realize that its widely regarded bad storyline had some interesting points.
• Changing "never enough" to "never IS enough". Similarly, "not good enough".
• Jealousy and fear of rejection. Ah, this old chestnut!
• Clarity and perspective. Related to truthiness (see above).
• My accomplishments of 2008. Because there are a lot of them?
  

Any other requests?

I hope to address some of these in the next couple of weeks. At least one of them!

On being 30

I've been staring at myself in the mirror for the last hour or so.

I've always had issues with looking people in the eye until one day a few years ago I read a random passage on the Web about how movie actors are trained to focus on the other person's eye, the eye farthest from the camera. Or is it closest to the camera? Either way, this trick nonetheless helped me focus on the person I'm facing.

And when you face yourself -- as in, look into the depths of your own soul -- for the first time in 30 years, you learn a few things.

1. When you're sad, it really shows.
2. When you're trying to put on a smile, you're not fooling anybody.
3. It's high time to get a haircut, especially with this excuse of a hairline.
4. Surprisingly, wiggling just your right ear is 100 times more difficult to do than wiggling your left.

Being 30 years old, at least within the year of being age 30, was challenging. I had just moved to the Boston area, primarily to focus on building a career. But it's been predominantly a journey of personal growth. Within this year, I have realized that, for most of my life, I have been unconscious. I was unaware of how I was living my life. I was becoming more aware of the lengths I would go to please people. My mind would get the better of me by worrying about things I could not control.

I found peace this summer when I learned insight meditation. As with many aspects of my life (writing fiction in high school, dancing Argentine tango for the past five years, etc.), when I am involved in something, I embrace it completely, and meditation was no exception. I became more aware of my true self, my life, and how I interacted with my surroundings. I kept describing to people how it felt like I was filling up, finally, this shell of a body. I felt like I mattered. I felt alive. Soon after, a woman, nearly a year younger than I, took notice. Being true to myself was not so bad after all.

In this heightened state of awareness, I felt transformed. I started looking at things differently. I started questioning things that I took for granted. Religion, philosophy, even tango. I've been dancing tango for more than five years. Why? It started as a social outlet, then I found out I really enjoyed it. I ended up dating three women I met through tango. What if I gave it up? I don't identify myself as being a dancer, even though I'm pretty good at it. If I stopped dancing, I'm still me. Right? I don't know; I haven't stopped dancing yet.

I've read more books this year than I have in recent memory, and my stack of books I intend to read is even larger. I'm soaking up information in my lifelong quest to learn more about the world and myself. The latest book is "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle, and this "spiritual teacher" is blowing my mind. He breaks down the walls of conventional, traditional and institutional thinking and gets to the heart of what IS. Who am I? No language has adequate words to describe who I am. Is that a cop-out? No. It means that however you may describe me, or however my mind may think of my own self, pales in comparison to who I am and who I am able to be. It is that part of me that is becoming more conscious.

And part of being conscious is being aware that I can get caught up in all this. Embracing, focusing on improving myself for the sake of self-improvement can rob me of the opportunities of enjoying life as it comes. It has also made me complacent, allowing me to think that I've evolved, that I've overcome trivial matters. Then suddenly the unexpected would happen, and I feel like I'm back at square one. And that's when I look myself in the eye and face up to the fact that I'm making my life too complicated.

Life is a gift, and I need to be more present. The time is now.

First trimester is over. It's past midnight, and I am no longer 30.

I am.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Happy anniversary. Ten years ago today you stepped into something good in the great big dairy farm in the sky. How is it going? Are the cows healthy and well-fed? Do the milk tanks still have its divine shine, or have you been so successful that there's no denying the wear and tear?

I imagine you must be happy. I imagine you in overalls, shoveling shit and looking up at me with the proudest grin, from ear to ear.

It's been a decade since I last saw you. A decade. A DECADE.

I rarely think of you anymore, but because this is the big one-oh I've been thinking of writing you this letter. (Did you get the one I wrote a couple of years ago? I was planning to write a book about you, but... oh well. I got as far as writing two pages worth of memories, one for each line in my journal. Turns out, that was good enough for me at the time.)

So yeah. I rarely think of you anymore. That doesn't mean never, though. You were a tremendous influence on me, for better or for worse. I am always aware of how I am, how I react, how I overreact. I am aware how much of that had been molded by you, and how much I have grown on my own in the last 10 years.

A decade!

I remember how you often said that sometimes I need to get burned in order to learn a lesson. Not literally, of course. I need to experience life's joys -- and its consequences. (Yet, instead of following through on that philosophy, you continued to shield me, to protect me. I never understood that. Maybe I will when I become a parent.)

To be sure, I have grown a lot in the last year, and especially in the last few months. I realize I needed to experience both joys and its consequences in order to learn what I am capable of, how far I actually go to please people and how disastrous that can be.

I know you were unhappy the last seven years of your life (almost a decade). You're happier now, I hope. Unlike you, I choose not to free myself of self-doubt and pessimism by death. It's too bad you did not realize you could be happy with life while you had a life to live.

Because you see, it's not enough to hold on to a lifelong dream and be discouraged when things do not go your way or how you planned it. Sometimes disastrous consequences are not so dire when you step away from them. And when you step far enough away, you start to realize how unnecessary being caught up in the drama (that you create for yourself) really is, because all that you have to make yourself happy is within yourself. You don't have to travel the world, you don't have to seek sanctuary in others, you don't have to die first before you find true happiness.

Sometimes you need to let go, and go with the flow. ... Be happy you're still breathing in and out, be happy that people can be your friends if you let them, be happy that you alone have the ability to know what is right for you at any given moment, no matter what anyone else says or does. Be happy you're moving in the right direction.

Because sometimes, you do end up getting what you want.

Love,
STASIU

Graveyard shift

This week has gone by so fast, yet last Sunday, or even Monday, seems like it was on the other side of the universe.

Events that were once a supernova of negative energy are now just a small blip, a dim twinkle of light among many, something pleasing to appreciate and admire when a glance is thrown in that direction.

Nevertheless, the future is uncertain, and that can be scary.

When I told someone this week about an opportunity that had seemed to present itself, and my small twinge of anxiety surrounding it, the guy got excited. He gets that way when he is about to give sage advice.

"You know, that's fear," he said of my anxiety. Then he told me how he conquers fear.

Find a graveyard, a really old one. Find a really big gravestone that has a description of what the person was like, preferably a firefighter or officer or someone similar who was heroic or otherwise lost their life before his or her time. And then think, what would this person say of your troubles? What advice would this person give you?

"They would tell you that what you fear is so insignificant," he said. "They would tell you to live your life. You know, you look at their gravestone and think about what they accomplished. But they're dead now! They'd say, take those risks! Live your life!"

Interesting.

I live close to Mount Auburn Cemetery, so I decided to go there. It's a big cemetery, so at first I thought the burying ground on the intersection of Mount Auburn and Arlington streets in Watertown was part of it. I went there and soon realized it wasn't. It must be a family cemetery. A really old one, too. Not many BIG gravestones, other than one tall and proud one for the only Watertown soldier to have fallen in the Battle of Lexington. There were many old slabs from the 1700s, the 1600s and even the 1500s. So old that the typography of the letter "s" looked more like the letter "f", and abbreviations for some words were unfamiliar (although decipherable).

Back in the summers of late high school through early college, I worked at the local church doing maintenance, including burying people. A backhoe would remove the earth and place it on a pile close to the grave on the morning of, or the day before, the funeral. A concrete box would be lowered in, to house the casket. After the funeral, my supervisor and I would shovel back in the dirt, packing it in as much as possible. Somehow, more often than not, all the dirt impossibly fit back in place.

And here, in this family plot, where there were no concrete blocks, these slabs were commemorating those who had not lived for 300 to 500 years. They were dead. They were no more. They were dust.

But I am not. I am alive. Upon reflection, the anxiety I had was just laughable. It really was insignificant. Had I let it get the better of me, I would have continued to rot in pessimism. Because I shifted my perspective and was able to shrug the anxiety off, I was able to enjoy the rest of the week. And take a risk. And live.