The Female Yoda’s New #MondayFunday Series Introduces:
~Famous Star Wars Scenes~
Starring: Yoda the Cat
Rhymes with “dirty”, “flirty”… and if you’re a Texas ranger, “purdy.” As in, that’s one right purdy filly there.
Why my interest, you ask? Well, today, my friends, just happens to be my last day in my twenties. That’s right. As of tomorrow, I shall be thirty.
And until a week and a half ago, I was completely sure I wouldn’t be one of those people who freak out because of some societally trumped-up milestone.
Until my family asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate.
<Picture a camera rushing in on my face, exposing a close up view of me instantly panicking.> Kind of like…. this.
I know. How cute is he??? But I digress.
All of a sudden, thirty DID seem like a big milestone. And the panic? Was because for the latter half of my twenties, I haven’t been able to do any of the things I wanted, because this illness has essentially turned me into a hermit. Which, of course, left me feeling the way so many twenty nine year olds feel: that judgement day has arrived, and I’m about to cross some metaphysical line… and I’m not prepared.
So here I am, feeling like someone’s about to hand me a church steeple when I haven’t even laid the foundation yet (odd metaphor, I know, but it’s the first one that came to me, and I’m going with it) and I’m a little excited, but mostly, I feel like I’m not ready.
Which, again, is totally odd, because due to my vastly unique experience of living like an eighty year old for the past four years, I have no problem with aging. When you’re old, you can be crotchety and opinionated and stubborn, and no one will call you out on it. But here’s the rub. I’m not old. And all those societal cliches? Don’t apply to me.
So once again, I have to redefine thirty to fit with my set of circumstances.
Thirty, for me, is not going to be anything other than “adios” to half a decade of illness. It’s going to hopefully be the start of the decade where I finally get my health back. And it’s going to have absolutely no bearing on how I feel about myself, how I measure my self worth, or how I compare myself to what other thirty years olds are doing.
So fare thee well, twenty nine. With the exception of your involvement in finishing my first novel, starting two more, and having a wonderful family, I shall not miss thy reign.
Oh, and thirty? Just in case you’re planning on being as ornery as twenty nine? BRING IT.
10 Lessons on How to Cure Cabin Fever from Yoda the Cat
#1: Stake your claim to the couch immediately. This may involve sprawling out on the centermost cushion so that no one else can possibly sit on it.
#2: Find the softest, fluffiest blanket and burrow into it, even if it means kneading at the fabric until it reaches the desired level of softness. So what if the trendy Ikat design now looks like a mohair version of Jackson Pollack’s paint splatter technique? YOU are comfy.
#3: Become fascinated by anything that moves. Ascertain that you are better than it. Then move on.
#4: Glare at all houseplants. Do not be fooled by their stoic silence. They are trying to upstage you with their prettiness. You are prettier. Do not forget this.
#5: Be that creepy neighbor who stares at passerby’s from between the blinds.
#6: Yowl if you are not fed fast enough. This transgression is unforgivable.
#7: Entertain yourself by knocking down small objects. If anyone complains, blink innocently and call it modern art.
#8: Greet any fellow cohabitants at the door and demand immediate attention. You are, after all, the epitome of cuteness, and as such, are deserving of EVERYTHING.
#9: Sleep. Stretch. Eat. Repeat.
And if all else fails…
Just poop on the floor.
“Doers Gotta Do”
Today’s Words of Wisdom:
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
The Foda’s Take: I just adore Oscar Wilde’s witty ripostes. Don’t you?
Hi folks! Sorry I haven’t been posting as much lately. I’ve been researching a side project and its pretty much consumed all my allotted writing time. So let’s just jump right in!
For the past couple weeks, I’ve been gnawing over something, all dog-with-a-bone like, trying to figure out the answer. What is it, you ask? Welp, let’s go back. It all started when I had a conversation about how “doers gotta do.” If you’re a doer, the way you feel proud, accomplished, needed, and valuable in the world is by, well, doing. I, my friends, am a doer. Only one small hiccup here, however… due to my current state of nasty neurological Lyme-i-ness, there is precious little I can, in point of fact… do….
Which, a wise lady pointed out to me, means that I really need to find a new way to feel proud, accomplished, needed, and valuable. Unless I want to continue to hold myself up to the standards of the woman I was several years ago when my life was, for all intents and purposes, normal. So the easy answer is: I’m accomplished, needed, and valuable just by being meeee!!!!!! ….But… “just sit and look pretty” is not a philosophy I subscribe to… and while I know everyone’s special just as they are, I also cater to the core belief that it’s what people do in this world that matters. And just being a good-hearted person from the confines of my home just doesn’t seem like enough…
Hence, the conundrum.
I get that I need to reconfigure my standards of awesomeness. I get that I can’t berate myself for not being able to “do” like I used to. I get that I must be okay with no longer having the capability to “prove myself” to the world… something ambitious, over-zealous me always felt like she had to do.
I think I have to go smaller. Like Ewok small. Notice the small things I can do, the ways I treat people, the connections I can make.
But it still doesn’t quite feel like enough.
I don’t really have an answer for you today. I wish I did. But maybe, just maybe, one of you out there in the Words of Wisdom universe has muddled through this conundrum before and has an answer or little nugget of wisdom for me.
If you do, I am all ears. Huge ones. Green. With hair. Like Yoda’s.
“Do or Do Not”
Today’s Words of Wisdom:
“Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
The Foda’s Take: You know, I never thought about it until now, but Yoda was a very black-and-white kind of Jedi. Well, besides the whole green exterior thing.
Hey, everyone! So, last week I started up my little “Analysis Paralysis” experiment. You can read the post here, but basic recap: I think too much. And I decided to consciously try and put up a death-star quality deflector shield around my analytical command center. In other words, act first, think later. (Sidebar: I do not recommend this experiment for everyone. And yes, I do recognize the irony involved in making a conscious decision not to think so much, which is, in fact, thinking about not thinking… But starting somewhere, one must.)
Anywho, it was a particularly rough week symptoms-wise, so there wasn’t as much “doing” as I would have liked, but I forced myself to attempt things- like going for a walk when I felt like I might fall over- instead of over-analyzing the probabilities and potential risks for said action ad nauseum first. (I’m realizing how long it’s been since I used that phrase. Ad nauseum. Love it.) But I digress.
Due to my current sorry state, I don’t have much more to share, but I’m continuing the experiment. You see, I’ve narrowed my cyclical mental process proceeding the analysis paralysis phenomenon down to this big train wreck of analytics:
Scenario: The Foda wants to do something she may or may not be up for. Hence, the battle for the future begins.
Body: It’s sunny!!!! Let’s go for a walk.
Brain: <in husky, gangster voice> You’re writing checks your legs can’t cash.
Body: Shut up. Just try. Five minutes. Don’t tell me I can’t.
Brain: Oh, you can. You’ll just fall. INTO THE DARK SIDE.
Body: That’s not true. That’s impossible!
Brain: Search your feelings, you know it to be true.
I know. I KNOW. Pretty crazy, right? So I’ve decided to wipe out this daily deluge (sigh. love alliterations) and just shut my brain off. And you know what? It really helps! It keeps me from defeating myself before I’ve even begun. So I shall continue this journey, and hopefully have more to share in the future.
In other news, I’m thinking of adding in a new segment to this blog besides my passion for parodies, alliterations, and Star Wars banter. Namely, health. (I know. I don’t have it back. Yet. But that’s not for the lack of doing everything possible to cut out all inflammatory factors, chemicals, and no-good tom-foolery from my life.) So every now and again, I’m thinking of posting about GF, DF, SF meals, green/organic beauty, and little tips for living chemical-free, all things I’ve been passionately doing for years now. So today, I reach out to you, dear reader. What would you most like to hear about?
Jedi Mind Tricks
Today’s Words of Wisdom:
“These are not the droids you’re looking for.”
– Obi-Wan Kenobi, Star Wars IV: A New Hope
The Foda’s take: Um, yeah. They kinda were.
Sidebar- This droid kerfaffle never would have happened if that stormtrooper was a Hutt. Take that, Palpatine, and your stupid rule against enlisting alien species into your ranks!
I think my cat is the reincarnation of Jabba the Hutt. Why? Because Jedi Mind Tricks don’t work on him. I’m serious. I’ve tried. He lounges regally across the soft faux fur blanket a-top our couch, his head cocked to the side, watching me pensively. He is thirsty and in need of libations. I try to offer him water in his very own, gleaming glass dish, brimming with fresh water. He blinks and looks away. I have offended him. I set the bowl down on the ground and jingle one of his toys next to it. He hops up, prances over to the toy, and after capturing it safely in his jaws, brings it back with him to his perch upon the throne. I tap the edges of the glass rim with my fingernails. While the sound is pleasing to him, he denies my offering thrice. Finally, I give up, grabbing my own water bottle, swinging it jauntily from my fingers as I glide to the kitchen faucet. I flip on the PUR water filter, and stand patiently as the crystal clear stream of water flows into my canister.
And there he is, my furry friend (who is, ironically, actually named Yoda- but more on that later.) Anyway, there he is, swiping his padded paw under the stream of water, shoving his little face over top of my bottle, trying to push the liquid onto his pink lapping tongue.
I hurry to get his water bowl, and place it in the sink, letting it catch the water. Finally, I think, he’ll think he’s “found” fresh water and drink from his bowl! When the bowl is full, I turn off the faucet and back away slowly, barely daring to breathe as I watch. And wait.
He looks at the bowl. He looks at me.
I arc my hand over the bowl like a rainbow and say: “This IS the water you’re looking for.”
He blinks. And walks away.
Now, you may be asking why I’ve dedicated today’s posting to the pickiness of my cat. It’s because oftentimes, we try and trick ourselves into accepting things we don’t want because they’re right in front of us. And sometimes this is a GOOD thing- accepting when we have no control over something is liberating and healthy, and allows us to move on. But when we DO have a choice, why accept what we have when our minds are capable of speaking Huttinese?
(And just so you know, we didn’t name him Yoda- he had that name when we rescued him at 7 weeks old. They called him that because he was a bottle baby- found in a basement in Brooklyn without a mother- and was so tiny he slept in a teacup. When we entered the shelter, he ran out the door, and the volunteer scooped him up and put him in my arms. He’s been with us ever since.)
Our minds are strong. We have a choice over what to put in them. And yeah, it can feel unnatural or really hard. Someone once told me, our minds are like a radio station. We have a default station we naturally tune into. (Mine is called ObsessiveFM.) But, like my cat, we have a choice to look at what’s in front of us, blink, and walk away. Change the channel. Make a different choice. Do it for long enough, and it will become your new “default.”
Change the channel.
If you did, what would it look like?
And yes, I did just advise you to take life lessons from an enormously obese slug.
May the Force Be With You,
P.S. If you’re appalled at the whole Hutt metaphor… I’m also fairly positive you can’t Jedi Mind Trick a Jedi… will have to re-examine that in my Star Wars library….