Yesterday, today & tomorrow...

For something different this week, I wanted to share the words of my good friend Yohanne with everyone. Yohanne is a writer, a musician, an all around insightful guy, and his words below are powerful -- a merit to anyone who reads them. 

So without further ado, please enjoy this week's guest post "Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow."

Yesterday...

Today

& Tomorrow

Life is interesting.

We wake up each day and those of us with the most basic of instincts repeat certain patterns, we brush our teeth, we take a shower or a bath, get dressed, go to school or work, at some point we eat and/or drink something to sustain ourselves and at some point later, we return home... We expect another day out of pure ignorance of the fact that every day we've had has been a gift, we go to bed and repeat this basic cycle almost every day... 

But in between the basics, we fill our lives with these differences, we maybe make friends, go to ball games, play video games, go shopping, take vacations, spend time with family or those we consider family. We connect, we have built entire civilizations through connecting yet... the most basic of human connections is still so fragile. We've spent years becoming the characters we are and sometimes we meet people that make us wanna be better or worse...

We've grown attached to the idea of being connected... 'No man is an Island' they say, but even through wanting to connect we build these walls that others must traverse to truly find us. 7 billion people on this earth and a good chunk are damaged goods, broken people in some way shape or form going about healing and or trying to. We create fantasies of what makes us happy, we try to build our lives to live up to fantasies and we forget that all we have is every day, every day is a gift..

Yesterday...

Today

& Tomorrow

You know, I have met, known, made and lost connections with hundreds if not thousands of people in my lifetime and if life has taught me one thing, it's this. All we have, to the best of our knowledge... all we have.. is yesterday, today and tomorrow. No more, no less. It breaks my heart sometimes when I see people not appreciating the gift of life. Yeah, there are hardships, we all have our own wars, our own battles we deal with whether externally or internally, we all have a lot to deal with but we do not have to forget to live. We shouldn't forget to live and to embrace life and embrace the people we are blessed to know. 

Life isn't a movie you know, it's not an epic adventure, it's not a sweeping romance, it's not an action movie or some Oscar worthy drama... it's all of the above and more. In real life, there are no super heroes, Batman isn't swooping in to save the day, though every now and then we meet people that might as well be. But don't ever let your mind blur the lines between fantasy and reality, in movies, there are finite endings, and a lot of them tend to be happy... in real life, all there is, is the moment, all you have is your yesterday, your today and if you're lucky.. your tomorrow. Your family isn't perfect and they never will be, your friends and friendships aren't perfect, they'll survive if you fight for them, and your love life, well we all know what a battlefield that is... 

The point is,  life's imperfect, depending on who, when and where you are, life's unforgiving... I'm glad I wasn't born in the 60s, I'm glad I live in an age where it's okay to go to dinner with my white friends and not get in trouble with 'the law', I'm glad I can have friends, an education, a roof over my head, people that care about me and people I care about. But life will never be perfect, it has its ups and downs and you see the ripples in every facet of your life.. BUT

As imperfect and unforgiving as life is, it's still a gift, and if you're lucky, you'll have family and friends you don't hate, if you're really lucky, you'll meet someone who makes you smile, and if you're even luckier, you'll have the same effect on them. Then if you're really really really lucky, you'll get to share this gift with them. And they'll be to you as a cloudless moonlit night is to a writer or a hopeless romantic... if you don't know what I mean by that last example, I hope you find out some day. And between now and then, I hope you'll remember that all there is in life, is yesterday, today and tomorrow. That's all there is... no happy endings, just hopefully another day and another chance to make it as happy as you can. 

Don't waste it,

Not everyone I've ever been blessed to meet is still alive to read this, and I hope that before they lost this gift, that they had a happy yesterday and a happy today, cause they never got their tomorrow.

~Yohanne Mwale

Labeling and redefining

I was reading an article the other day about women and the effects of societal expectations on body image (I do stuff like this on occasion when I want to feel like an adult) when I came across a line that caught my attention.

Now, I should mention, there was nothing terribly unique about the article in particular. In fact, I'd probably seen or read a dozen and a half news reports just like it many times over the years. But I found in this particular piece, embedded within otherwise standard fair news commentary, was a single glaring note which seemed to stick with me long after my Internet ADD had persuaded me on the next cat video. That glaring note was that size 6 is now considered plus size for women.


Now firstly, this was an article referencing the modeling industry, so it's entirely possible that a size 6 anywhere off the catwalk is still a size 6. But I suppose it just struck me as odd that, given the changing image of what is considered average for women (and men!) in American society today, somebody in all his or her tailored wisdom or wit would see fit to narrow the range of what is considered standard (nonplus) size for women. That is, by no fault of our own, you were just relabeled.

These are the only acceptable jeans sizes now. Sorry, people.

After reading the article, I kinda spent the rest of the day sort of lamenting the fact that right under my nose size 6 was just redefined. I felt in a way that I had been redefined. But then I thought about it some more, and after getting over myself, I realized -- who really cares anyways?

I mean, I suppose those labels of plus or nonplus or petite or whatever's-the-opposite-of-petite mean something to someone. But honestly when it comes down to it, what difference does it make? You shouldn't have to adhere anyone else's label any more than they have to adhere to yours. And it's clear somebody wasn't adhering. So if someone can just up and all willy-nilly just redefine a clothing size, why can't we do the same thing for whatever it is that burdening us?

After all, a label only means something to the person who accepts it. Reject it, and you're free to define yourself.

Or not define yourself. But that's the beauty.

The choice is really yours. ~Tet

My mistress' eyes

In honor of Valentine's Day, or as I like to celebrate it -- Singles' Awareness Day, I thought I'd pass along a bit of poetry.


Now in truth, this poem was written some time ago, and it's really a bit more prose than poem, but I honestly can't think of a more appropriate holiday on which to share it, and it's relevant whether you're ::ahem:: attached or not. Don't worry -- It's not too mushy. But that said, have you ever read My Mistress' Eyes? It's a sonnet by Shakespeare (Sonnet #130) in which the speaker describes a woman not of imaginable beauty, but rather of flaws and consequence. Yet through all of her obvious humanity, he is still madly in love with her.


It's an amazing poem, and I encourage you to read it before continuing on below. (Go ahead. It's only fourteen lines and so worth it.)

Go on. Do it. I dare you...

It was from this poem that I drew inspiration for the following piece -- a man looking at a woman and cherishing not her perfection, but her imperfection. In his memory she is, of course, perfect, but in real life, she is a woman.


Well, the target of this gentleman's affection in this story certainly has softer imperfections than those described in the Shakespeare piece, but the idea is the same.


I hope you enjoy. ~Tet


-----------


Re: My Mistress' Eyes


It all came back to me. As I saw her.
It all came back.


All the passion, all the pain, all the heartache, all the grief. And just like that, the undying, unmatched love I'd had came thundering back into my chest. It was a wave of emotion inundating my heart in that lover's crush I'd felt all those years ago and flushing all common sense and remembrance of our last parting away as a sudden storm. In my eyes, she was like the sun, and in my heart, she was on fire. I couldn't purge this woman's womanly ways from my mind, from my envy. It was her female pride and resolve which made her such the aggravation to begin with. And yet with all her womanliness, I found what I wanted was her female pride and resolve beside me.
From afar I ran my fingers down her curves, my eyes kissed her near-perfect form. Her hair, a radiant raven-black, I felt each strand throttling me, softly robbing me of my will, my resistance to her enthrallment fading... It was her I longed to touch, to gently stroke the back of my outstretched hand against the tilt of her chin, the smoothness of her neck, carefully training any errant strand or lock back to its rightful place. She was a portrait. She was prose. She was verse. Her voice calmed the seas, and her silhouette charmed the night.
She was. Beautiful.


I sighed.


She was also unattainable. Or at least so were my thoughts. But as my eyes connected with her form, the form before me, and disconnected with my memory of her, in all her covetous fancy, it was not her flawlessness by which I found myself intrigued, but rather those tender imperfections which made her real. She was tall, but not too tall. Clever heels betrayed her true height. She was thin, but not too thin -- Her slender form not so much that her curves wouldn't be emphasized by any such garment draped across her as a shining canvas. Her voice was deep and handsome. Her hands showed no signs of primping. Her hips were wide. Her toes were short. Her belly round. Her bust was small. Her eyes were dark. She was. Beautiful.


I sighed.


She was not a goddess. She was an attraction short of goddess. Gorgeous. Glamorous. Glorious. Perfection short of perfection. But this was not a slight of her beauty. Rather, it was good. It was better than good. It was her as she was. It was the ethereal made real. Her Lordship in Human restraint.
It was a woman, not perfect. So very close, but. A woman, less than perfect. So very close, but. A goddess slightly less. A woman slightly more. A goddess. A woman. A woman more attainable. A woman more.


~sb

Better than perfect?

There's a shortage of done in this world. These days everyone's a perfectionist. (I can say this, because like most creative types, I've been a perfectionist.) And as is the credo for any perfectionist, "A job worth doing is worth doing right." 

But throwing around words like done and right and finished is all so counterproductive much of the time. I mean, what is right anyways? What's the measure? After all, who defines done or finished more than you? And even if you can irk out in plain English a reasonable set of criteria for what done versus finished means to you, who's to say it would be worth the time doing? 

I use this to make most of my work/life decisions.

So let's take a look, shall we -- at the concept of done and the concept of finished. For the purposes of this analysis, let's define finished in the eyes of a perfectionist, a.k.a., former me. (All you other perfectionists out there, you know who you are!)

First, a disclaimer: When we talk done and finished, we're generally applying these concepts to tasks which have no clear, definable states. That is, done has no concrete measure. So for instance, it's not just the simple case of taking math problem x + y = z and solving for y... unless in solving for y, you quantify x as an representation of your time's innate value versus y as a subjective definition of quality. (I'm sure someone has and will try this.)

Thanks, nerd.

But in general what we're talking about here are those tasks by which you and only you are the first line of audit in defining doneness. (Your boss/teacher/client/whatever is the next line of audit.)

Now that that's out of the way, recognize that pretty much anyone and everyone will face meet this challenge head-on at one time or another, particularly those in creative fields, like art or music or journalism, etc., and they'll probably meet it daily. When enough is enough?  What looks or sounds best? How do I know what people will like? These are all questions you'll find yourself asking over and over. In fact, if you've never felt the joy of this uncertainty and feel like facing this conundrum head-on, give writing a poem a try. Go on. I'll wait.

If you found yourself staring blankly at the computer screen
for three minutes or making this face, you weren't alone.

Now, the key. The magnificent thing and horrifying thing about all of the above questions on doneness and rightness and goodness and wrongness is this: None of these questions actually has an answer -- well, none beyond the answer you give, that is. See, you could probably go on writing and rewriting and reading and rereading that poem-we're-gonna-pretend-you-wrote-up-above forever and still not be satisfied. But if you don't find a way to evoke that satisfaction -- to be DONE -- when will you ever write the NEXT poem? ...Or send off the NEXT report? Or publish your NEXT novel? (::Nudge, nudge, hint, hint, wink, wink::)

Done is an agent of progress.

As a recovering perfectionist, I can tell you that throughout my life I've been concerned with finished over done. In my writing, finished has involved the arduous cycle of reading and editing and reading and editing. If I had to annotate it, it would be  something like: Write it --> Read it --> Edit it --> Re-read it --> Re-edit it --> Ask for feedback --> Re-read it --> Edit it --> Re-read it --> As for more feedback --> Re-read it --> TRASH IT --> Rewrite it

I'm not even going to mention what this does for your time management, much less your sanity. But this is why becoming comfortable with being done is so important. There's a magnificent commentary on The Cult of Done here. Read it, print it, tape it to your bathroom mirror. But most importantly, live it. Perfect is okay. But done is better.

Way better.

No one should know your own abilities better than you, so just ask yourself for any task, is the time invested worth the time lost? Because when you get down to it, perfection is all just someone's opinion anyways, something impossible to objectively quantify. And besides, do you really want to spend time trying to define the impossible when you have so much to get done? ~Tet

A little pitchy

(For those former American Idol fans out there, just imagine the title of this post spoken in Randy Jackson's voice.)

I was once a fan. (Ah, puns...)

Now that we're done with that, I took a small break from editing this weekend to formally write a pitch for Chronicle of Angels and Men:


Thirteen-year old Shigeru Kouna had never wondered why. “Why did good people die?” “Why was conviction so lacking?” “And just why did good intentions pave the road to hell?...” To him, “Why?” was a question that plagued so many. Too many. But it was a question essential to Human existence. 

Certainly it would seem implausible that a boy such as Shigeru, especially one so young, could have life so figured. And yet, he did. Being the son of such a father, a father who had plotted to alter the very nature of Man – to change the “why” – Shigeru had always known his purpose. His father had been a rigid man, strong in his convictions and strong in his beliefs, and as a young boy, Shigeru had so longed to tread in the footsteps of his father.

They were concepts drilled day in and day out into his skull, now brimming with existential theorems and religious query. And though it was his father who had keyed him in to such quandaries of life and death and God and Man, it was not his father who would solve them. No, in three days, his father would be dead. But only in this death would Shigeru find true insight into the crisis of Man.

Chronicle of Angels and Men is a 55,000-word novel and follows the stories of five men on expeditions of morality, understanding, and the Human condition. From the hunter, for whom Law was his god, to the reprobate creatures living in the shadows of Man and craving the redemption  of Heaven, their journeys explore the tenets of faith and law and the Human potential - what is life, what defines it, and what is the next step in Man's quest for evolutionary perfection. 


I can't say much on how good a pitch it is or not. (I suppose an agent will tell me that.) But as mentioned above, COAAM focuses on five specific characters and their stories. I'd so wanted to cram more on the remaining four into the pitch -- in early drafts of the above, I did. But then I supposed, well, that's probably what a novel is for anyways. Besides, how much more could I say on it in 300 words or less? 


So in the end, I allowed myself to zero in only on Shigeru's tale, at least for this first tease. I feel it at least captures the spirit of the first volume's journey. Don't you? ~Tet