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 2: Budget in time for your budget

"I got my mind on my money, and my money on my mind," as an undoubtedly wise man once said.

2009 did not begin well for me financially. But I managed to overcome the uncertainty of the economic climate as well as the uncertainty of my own future in such a way that I can be proud of, by balancing a rigorous schedule of paying bills and a somewhat happy lifestyle.

My car has crashed! Yay!

My 2000 Pontiac Grand Am was totaled in an otherwise minor car accident on New Year's Eve 2008, so I suddenly needed a new car.

All while realizing that, in the deep end of the economic recession, I would most likely accept a full-time permanent position as a web developer, where I had been contracting as a temp. The position was an $8,000 cut in gross pay. And let's not forget I'd get paid monthly, not weekly. But the offer was there, and the company had been (and luckily has continued to be) doing great.

In my state of shock after the accident, I went car shopping with my friend Jenny, who took pictures of the adventure. I went in thinking I would buy a Honda Civic (even though for years I thought my next car would be a Toyota Prius). But we walked by a brand-new, 2009 Honda Fit. And it was a fit: The dashboard interface was the clear winner here, as the Civic interface was too black with indiscriminately distinct buttons. I bought the car, even minutes (hours?) after sitting with Jenny and (I still remember now) telling her, "I just need something that takes me from point A to point B." With a kick-ass interface, apparently. But I digress.

I had a credit card with a $6,000 line of credit. I used it for a car down payment of $5,000. I did this to lower my monthly payment for the car loan, which became just under $300. Three hundred more dollars per month that I now had to find, with a smaller salary.

However, I was banking on receiving a check from the insurance company for the worth of my Grand Am, so I threw that money at my new credit card balance, paying that off a grand per month. I wanted that bill gone ASAP, and by April, it was.

With some of that extra insurance money, I paid $500 for one car payment. I also doubled the amount I paid per month on my debt loan. I had consolidated all my credit card payments back in late 2007 into this five-year loan. By the end of 2009, less than halfway into the loan's term, the loan was paid off.

The only other debt I have is my consolidated school loan, which has the lowest interest rate and therefore I just have $100 each month deducted automatically without me thinking about it.

All this with a lowered salary and a new car loan? Thankfully, no.

I did do some additional freelance work at the beginning of the year. I had worked with them before, developing emails for a lawschool textbook publisher, so another gig with them was perfect timing. It wasn't the most exciting side job, but it literally did pay the bills for a while.

All bills and no play...

Amid all the bills, I knew I needed to balance work with play.

In late 2008, I had stopped dancing Argentine tango, which had been my primary social outlet since 2003. Frankly, I didn't know what else to do, so, on my own, I went to concerts — BB King and Buddy Guy at the new House of Blues in February; Rustic Overtones, and the Blind Boys of Alabama in March; Gomez twice in April and June; Great Lake Swimmers in April; Federico Aubele in May; Roomful of Blues in October; and Jonny Lang in November.

I also went to the Brattle Theatre, among other places, to see old movies and new documentaries, such as Examined Life and Easy Rider. I saw The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which was part of an Arlington yoga studio's film series. I saw my first IMAX film, the new Star Trek, at Jordan's. And last month I saw, for the first time ever, It's a Wonderful Life on the big screen at the Brattle.

I went to the Grub Street Muse and the Marketplace writers workshop in April, paying a substantial (but worthwhile) price to see if the writing bug was somewhere still inside me (it is). I started dating someone I met there, and with time (and a couple of spending moratoria later), we went on vacation together. It was my first real vacation in nine years.

More to do...

I have a couple of savings accounts and a couple of checking accounts. I have a couple of credit cards that I did not want to touch after years of debt. With the residual balance of credit debt gone, I have started using my card again, soley to rack up Rewards points. (The caveat is that I make sure I pay the balance each month to avoid finance charges.) The products I could get with these points are not really interesting to me, but they could make good gifts for the family. Ideally, by the end of this year, I could probably not need to buy any Christmas gifts.

I've been thinking for a long time about CD ladders but have yet to do it. I haven't been financially secure enough to do this, but I think I might be able to this year.

I have had a traditional IRA and a Roth IRA for years, but have never contributed any money to them. This is the year to start doing it. So many people don't even have IRAs, and the earlier you get this, the better your retirement will be, as they say.

Even though December 2009 was arguably my biggest spending month last year, I was already two months into saving 30% of my take-home pay into my ING Direct savings account. My plan for this year is to let that be an untouchable account, for large purchases, for unexpected but inevitable turns-for-the-worst.

Do it!

It may go without saying, but for me more than two years ago, it needed to be said: You must have a budget. Whether it's a spreadsheet or some other way for you to keep track of where your money is now and where it's going. For years I slogged through tremendous debt. But once I was able to map out where my income was going, and when my bills were taking that money away, and then plan that out for the rest of the year... well, I could see past the dark cloud. I saw a way out of debt.

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.

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.