Winning and Losing

I need to develop a relationship with winning and losing.

I am on a pickle ball team where we track our performance. I haven't played an organized team sport since eighth grade when I was in Cardinal Booster soccer. It was horrible and I was unskilled, but I did it anyway. Pickleball is way more fun, but I haven't had to track winning and losing since middle school.

I am not sure what to do when I lose or when I win. I feel like I am holding the team back, letting them down when my duo loses a game. You might be thinking, "Lauren, this is doubles. You aren't the only one responsible for the win or the loss." 

True, and I still feel personally responsible. I feel glum and irritated when I lose, and I wish I didn't. It makes me feel like a sore loser when I am not. There are professional athletes whose teams lose regularly and I bet they aren't as mopey as me. They have figured out how to cope with losing. Even the Chicago Bulls lost ten games in their best season.

I wish I could focus more on having fun and how much I have improved since I started. When I started, my serves barely made it in bounds. I practice my serve and overhand shots at my health club once a week. Now, my serves are 90% in bounds and I can play closer to the net when I don't chicken out.

Pilates Video Model

I would make a magnificent Pilates video model. Wonderful. Superb. 

I kind of suck at Pilates and my instructor is regularly correcting my form. I'm curvy, not a stick figure like all of the women in my Pilates book. I am built like Barbie doll that someone squashed down from 6'10'' to 5'4'', keeping the boobs and the booty the same. I say fuck a lot when a move is challenging. I grit my face and look like I am passing a kidney stone at 90 of the 100.

These are all reasons why I would make a unique and special Pilates video model. 

I can hear what you are thinking, "Wouldn't we want someone who looks good and knows what they are doing?"

No. You do not.

I tried doing the New York City Ballet workouts on YouTube once. I didn't even get through five minutes because the people were way fitter than me and I couldn't keep up. I honestly don't think anyone could keep up outside of people younger than 23 and professional athletes. Think about it: the people demonstrating the moves are the most fit, coordinated, and graceful people on the world. The people watching at home are not.

I would be like the people at home--moderately coordinated, curvy, soft, and realistic. These exercises are hard to do, both in form and intensity. People could watch how to do it wrong first, and then see how to adjust to do it correctly. They would see me sweat and swear. I roll my eyes at my teacher.

Plus it would be funny. People could watch me exercise while sitting on their couch eating a bag of potato chips. I might inspire these couch potatoes to try to exercise. They could think, "If that chick could do it, so can I."

Ex-orcism

I think I need an exorcism from my ex--an ex-orcism.

(My god, I can't believe I am the first person to think of that pun. If I am, I should get it trademarked.)

I want him removed from my mind, my heart and my soul, ala Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but like it sticks. As the NYT said about the film:

They say the only cure for heartbreak is time, although a lobotomy might be more effective. 

I don't want a lobotomy, but I want to be cured of him, to have him removed, erased. I want to MOVE ON. A friend said I don't really want to be with Jack anymore, but I miss being married, I miss having a companion. That might be true, until it isn't.

I was with Jack for so long, we have a shared history. I want to tell him my most favorite dancer at the PNB is retiring. Jack and I watched James Moore for years grace the stage at McCaw Hall. (Some people know the starting line-up of the Mariners or the Seahawks. I know the dancers at the PNB.) James was my favorite Romeo. Jack would understand what James means to me, how I think I saw James riding his bike downtown during the pandemic because I recognized his legs. Mere mortals don't have legs like his.

Jack and I met in college, and the Wildcats made it to the NCAA tournament. If I had to bet dollars to donuts, I'd bet he's going to the game of our alma mater with his girlfriend, the one who ambushed me in my former home when Jack told me to stop by and get my mail. I didn't know he had a girlfriend, let alone that he had one for 502 days and introduced to my children five minutes after he met her and before we were divorced. His checklist was 1. Hire a lawyer  2. Get a girlfriend 

See? I want this self-centered, spineless coward* and his girlfriend out of my mind! Am I bitter? Yes, and I wish to god I wasn't. He isn't worth the space and my sanity. He is out there living his globe-trotting, marathon running "best life," and I am sitting here pissed off.

Ergo, I want an ex-orcism.

I want a priest or some such holy spiritual person to eradicate this ex from me. I want to be free. I want to be free. I wish there was some magical way I could let go and be free.

To be fair, I have never in my life really have experienced such heartbreak before, so I don't know why I am being so hard on myself for feeling all the feelings, including the ugly and angry ones.

This is hard.

This is probably harder to me than him, because he escaped the pain by immediately jumping into a new relationship. I decided to take care of myself, discover who I am again, discover what I want, what I like. I am trying to be whole.

I should go back to the quote from the NYT: They say the only cure for heartbreak is time...

* There is a bunch of other shit my ex has recently done that I won't publish. That is the other thing about an ex: they are still alive and floating in the world. I have friends whose spouses have died, which of course is tragic. Unlike an ex, their spouses stop being jerks once they are dead. They can only be jerks in the past, not the present.

Pickleball

Why do recall

the shots 

I've missed

and 

not

the shots

I've made?

Why is it

that now I am 

a better player,

that I feel 

worse about

how

I play?

Before, 

when I sucked,

I was happy

to get

my serve

in bounds.

Now, 

I die inside a little 

when I miss.

Oppenheimer and Best Oscar

Here are my thoughts on Oppenheimer winning the Best Oscar.

Really? 

It is the ultimate, highbrow movie about blowing shit up. It is like they took the plot of an action-hero movie and put it in a tweed jacket. Sure, all of the characters had PhDs in physics and chemistry, but is this really different than a Marvel flick that is chock full of explosions where the good guys are trying to save the world from destruction from the evil guys?

Nope.

You can tell from this that the Academy voters are a bunch of boys men dudes.

I will say I loved Robert Downey, Jr. in the movie. He was a terrific villain, trying to take down the super hero in a snarky, mean girls kind of way. 

Scrooge McDuck, $50K and Ada J

One day a few weeks ago, I was stressed. I talking to a friend and I said I was going to relax by balancing my checkbook. She laughed and said she imagined me sitting like Scrooge McDuck, counting my money. 

I had to laugh because it is true. I don't I love money for money's sake like Scrooge, but I firmly believe in being a responsible steward. As my Uncle Bob said when I graduated from college, "Money doesn't come with instructions." I took the hint to learn about managing money, checking out dozens of books from the library on investing, and figuring out what made the most sense. Years and years ago when I was married to Jack, I asked him what he liked best about me. "Your ability to manage money."

I was like, "No, seriously. I am thinking something like kindness. Throw me a bone. This isn't a trick question."

He doubled-down. "I am serious," he said. "You are really good at managing money. You figured out how we could buy a house."

Emotional intelligence is not the poor guy's strong suit. Nevertheless, he had a point. I am good at managing money. I've helped more than one friend figure out their household budget and review their finances during their divorces.  Maybe I'll keep the McDuck and drop the Scrooge.

Recently, an acquaintance and I were having a conversation when they asked me how I invested. Of course, I was excited to tell them all about the brilliance of dollar-cost averaging. They listened for a minute, told me the stock market was crap and offered me the "opportunity" to invest $50K in their house flipping business. Totally safe, 8% interest.

"Huh," I said. In my recent years of therapy, I have learned how to diminish my reactivity with curiosity. For example, instead of saying "What the fuck?!? Are you kidding?", I thoughtfully paused, curious.

This pause was mistaken as interest.

"Or you can invest $100k," they continued. "Lots of women do this with their retirement money." 

"Huh," I said again. "I've got to run. Thanks!"

I don't recall Benjamin Graham, Jane Bryant Quinn or my personal favorite, Andrew Tobias, recommending investing Ponzi or pyramid schemes as a way to get rich. 

(To be fair: I talked to my dad about this request for funds. He is a retired accountant who has detected white collar crime and fraud. My dad thinks this person asking me for money isn't a criminal mastermind, but rather someone to got caught up in someone else's scheme.)

After two days of thinking, "What the fuck was that about?" I started to think of something else: What would I do with a sizable chunk of money?

After my divorce, I did some major nesting with new furniture and some art work, plus lots of travel and time with family. What's next?

Sunday, I was at the Pacific Coast Co-op (PCC) grocery store, a bougie, organic place where I spent $400 on organic laundry soap, Cod Liver Oil (so I can live to be 101 like Eleanor Owen), and bamboo toilet paper from Canada, among other things.

When I got home, I freaked out about the crazy amount of money I spent on whatever and whatnot. I just bought a fancy e-bike, which is awesome and cool and will help me to get exercise and fresh air. Nevertheless, I was plagued: Why am I living such an indulgent life? I can justify and rationalize this all until I am purple, but I kept coming to the same question: What is wrong with me? 

After my firstborn child died, I wanted to set up a scholarship in her name. This week, I've talked to my dad about it, and I've talked to a friend to make sure I wasn't crazy or being rash. I am thinking to start with $5,000 for tuition for a school year, plus an extra stipend for books and expenses, coming up to around $6,200 a school year. I'd pay the university or college directly for the student. All told, the monthly cost is slightly more than what I spent at the grocery store this weekend.

My new bike is fun, and I love my PCC organic turmeric gummies which reduce inflammation in my joints. These are good additions to my life, but a scholarship could potentially be life changing.

When I suggested the scholarship idea to my dad, he didn't hesitate with his endorsement. My friend gave me some suggestions for guard rails, and I am taking her recommendations.

Here goes, Ada J. Let's see what happens.

We are All Gonna Die! Or, Ignorance is Bliss

Kathryn Schulz has made a career of writing about potential disasters for The New Yorker. This week, she published "Starburst" with the subheader: "The next big solar storm could devastate our power grid and communication systems. Are we prepared?"

You guess the answer.

Hint: If the answer were yes, would there be a seven page article about it?

The general idea is that a major solar storm with a level G-5 or greater could first wipe out satellites and then would hit the earth and wipe out the power grid. I don't understand enough physics to fully understand all of this, but my understanding is that a large solar storm would disrupt the earth's electromagnetic field and cause an electrical pulse to bounce through the earth. This current could be absorbed but the ocean and bedrock, but it could also melt our electrical power grid across the U.S.

You can read the article. I've read it twice and nothing has scared me more. Not the pandemic. Not the threat of a major earthquake. The only thing that could be worse potentially would be a massive nuclear war. 

Friday night before I was going to sleep, instead of counting sheep, I thought of the progression of disaster if an epic solar storm hit the earth and wiped out communications and all electric power in the U.S.. 

We would all die.

Our reliance on electricity and wireless communication has developed since the last major solar storm in 1867. In the late 1980's, there was small solar storm in Canada, but those resulting problems were not widespread. There is a 12% chance that a big solar storm could hit the US in the next ten years.

Experts say it would take a decade to rebuilt. The problem with this type of disaster, it would also the tools of recovery. For example, no one could call 911 because phones might not work if satellites are down.

As I was falling asleep Friday night, I started to think about what would happen. I am in IT DR, and part of my job is to predict disasters and what would happen

Here are my guesses:

• With no power, everyone on life support in a hospital--from babies in the NICU to elderly people recovery from surgeries--would die. Hospitals have generators, but not ones that would generate power for years. 
• The next group who would die would be people who are reliant on special medications. The drugs couldn't be built because factories wouldn't have electricity to run machines.
• Transportation would be out. Cars need gas, and gas needs to be pumped. Most modern pumps have electrical components, so could we get gasoline? Maybe there is a work around for this? I don't know. Electric cars would be out, for sure.
• Refrigeration would be out, as would heat and AC. Gas heaters usually have thermostats that run on electricity.
• Banking would be out as modern banks are computer databases. There is no Bob Cratchit in the back room keeping the ledgers.
• Some farms (wheat, corn, soybeans) use combines and harvest to reap the crops, and those machines need gasoline. Our ability to plant and grow basics foods would be gone.
• There would be no internet, newspapers, magazines. We wouldn't know what happened.
• Would the solar storms physically damage the workings of an airplane? Would planes drop out of the sky, or would they be able to land safely? 
• Would we still be able to use radio communication? Radio waves would still exist, but would we have power for transmitters and receivers?

Other consequences:

• Imagine you are traveling when this happens. Would you get home?
• What about connecting with family in other states or parts of the world? Would I ever see my kids or dad again?

I can't imagine the rest of the world order, or lack thereof. I know countless movies and books have been created about the end of the world, the Thunderdome, and the Zombie apocalypse. Those books aren't my jelly or jam.

This though exercise, needless to say, was a big downer. Would I be better off not knowing? Ignorance may be bliss, but it doesn't help solve problems. Yet, I am one person who doesn't work with power grids. What can I do?

After this thought exercise, I went to the store and bought a salad for dinner. I was so grateful that I could walk into a well lit, heated place with fresh food. I was grateful to see the staff, grateful for my credit card as I tapped the reader. What if all of this wasn't here? But for today, it was.

Now, I am typically not this dark. I generally consider myself an optimist, with a healthy dose of realism, but this was bringing me down. I went home, and turned on Spotify. I listened to Beyonce's new song "Texas Hold'em" about fifty times. Music therapy from Queen Bey and gratitude seemed to bring me back to the present.