ADVENTURES IN MISADVENTURES


SPINNING THROUGH TECHNOLOGY &

TRICKERY

In the last few weeks, adventures in livingness were spent troubleshooting a new laptop. The fourteen-year-old HP frame separated from the screen, the keyboard frame had a crack, copy and paste didn’t work, and something else I can’t recall.

As a born stubborn ( I think it thickened like my midriff) I continued to manage working and watching films with a screen at a 30 degree angle. I was in the middle of a film when the screen suddenly mutated into abstract forms with Chinese text scrawled, moving along.

The next day I chose an HP with a smaller screen (rationing dollars). When it arrived, I discovered the screen was too small, the speakers were muffled, and the text was overlapping when searching.

Back to browsing for a replacement. You’ve figured out that I am not an alpha beast, more like a bee buzzing around all the choices, reading reviews comparing Ram and something new called Razen.

The replacement arrived the next day. Yes, big screen for a writer, and sensitive eyeballs.

Four hours setting up 2-step verification, passwords, scanning codes, and formatting. I called my tech helper, and he walked me through a few steps,

” I can’t find my docs on the desktop.”

” What are the other choices in the drop-down?”

” Personal folder, home, gallery, and PC.”

” Look in personal folder,”

” There they are, all of them! How does that even happen?”

” Technology, now, if you want, I can email a link and get into your laptop, and we can go through the programs you’re not familiar with.”

” Evan, my eyes are bleeding. I need a break.”

” Of course, there is a lot to manage, that’s fine. Why don’t you navigate some on your own, and when you hit a wall, make a list of your questions. How does that sound?”

” Perfect. We also have to delete everything

from the HP I bought and am returning.”

“I can do that.”

“You’re better than the HP!”

Tech Tranquillity

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After a recess, I sat down and spent another four hours pushing through all the windows to see what was behind. What threw me is it did not come with MS Word! A writer without Word is like a musician without an instrument.

Obstacles seem to follow me from one task to another. The last few weeks were with PODS. My furniture, and all that other stuff, is in NY waiting for an address. Now I have one, so I started the process to transport. PODS added $850.00 to my originally agreed price because the drop-off point is eight miles from the original, and without prior notification, they charged my account. Over the past two weeks, I sent four emails. Then I recieved a response that they would honor the original agreed price. Another week passed, no credit. I sent a message to Corporate Headquarters, and today, I received an email that PODs would credit my account for the overage.

I remembered what I learned and took legal action against the mortgage servicer on my home in NY for mortgage misconduct. After three years of legal research, consulting every NY financial agency and mortgage consultants, I retained an expensive attorney, and two years later, it paid off.

Trickery is sneaking into every window in our lives. Put up your defensive drapes and fight it out.

I

EDITING OUR PATHS


There are reasons to quit and more reasons not to. The one reason that hovers above all is that everything we do in life needs revision. We are never through evolving into more thoughtful, loving, or wise human beings. Every day, there is an opportunity to revise your valor and conviction.

Revising the position you walk, talk, judge, form opinions, contribute to your home, friends, and partners. Discovering what you’ve learned,  dreamed, and mastered is your novel. Just as writing a new chapter when the knot tightens, and you are trapped by decisions that are outdated. Antiquities of a former persona.

Changes in life are like undeveloped photographic images, blurred. Mentally, the angles donโ€™t fit, like schedules, routines, and commitments. Returning to former lifestyles and looking at old photographs, what I see is someone else.

This week, I walked into Scripps Clinic for laboratory testing. The last time was 2012, when I was with a former boyfriend. J was all encompassing, all consuming, generous, intelligent, outgoing, and he had to be near me like a new pet. ย I lasted a year, the obsession of closeness suffocated my spirit and my writing.

After the appointment, I looked across the street at Torrey Pines Science & Research Park, where I was appointed Marketing and Leasing Director in 1986 over 150,000 square feet of vacant space. I visualized myself taking clients, Qualcomm, and the Jonas Salk Institute through the newly built office buildings. My confidence was slightly off when scientists asked questions about the mechanics and cable routes, but I loved that job. My boss was the most intelligent developer Iโ€™d met; he carved me into a broad thinker, allowed my off-the-chart ideas and proposals to progress. ย Tears welled because the memory was enflamed by my long-distance running days up Torrey Pines hillside. I doubt Iโ€™d be running today, maybe scuffling. ย Life is a runway that we have to steer for ourselves. If we allow others to take the wheel, we are not authentic. No one is steering my wheel, and I have hit a lot of potholes and assholes along the way.

The puzzle is how to live, where to live, and for whom. ย It is the same with manuscripts; they improve with each revision.

THE LISTS OF LIFE


WHAT ARE THESE LISTS...ย  the long list is the list you started as a youth, without even knowing you were making plans for your future. This is the list that does not have to be in writing, keyed in on a phone, Outlook, or posted on the calendar.

The long list is about cutting out, shocking the system, and coming back unharmed. It is an exceptional sensation of adventure we visualize while waiting for a flight at the airport, for the neighbor to turn off the leaf blower, for the light to turn green.

All of the things we monitor in our lives, like the need to have a cavity filled or checking the coolant level, are multiplying, and that short list is so long we rarely have time to consider the long list.ย  None of those items will make any difference in ten years, not one.

The short list is a big obstacle in the way of the long list. By the time we get to the long list, we may be crippled by fear, turned into a sofa shouting grumpy cynic or, worse than all the above, we may have forgotten what we wanted.

Waiting too long to start an adventure on the long list is staring me in the face. Then I realize, I’m in it!ย ย 

โ† Back

Thank you for your response. โœจ

ALONG THE ROAD OF LIFE


SELF DISCIPLINE โ€“ Either you have it, or you donโ€™t. There is no gray, no aperture, no gaps, and I am learning this as I sit here writing instead of what I need to do, is walk.

Iโ€™m in the arena of a relentless athletic tribe. Yesterday I walked for an hour and noticed the runners, bikers, and power walkers along the path, muscles skin-tight, tanned, and seemingly detached from the backed-up traffic along the boulevard. The breeze felt like cotton balls, the sky a perennial perfect blue, and seventy-eight degrees.

Today, the same summer-like atmosphere, and with my windows open, and the crowds missing from the pool, I am wandering in between, like a bird that is unsure if the branch is better than taking flight.

Weekends, I take a recess from the tedium of seeking employment with AI leading the way. Am I just entering the 21st Century? It feels so inhuman, so robotic, that I counterattack, enter the sensibility of irritation, shout at no one, grind my jaw, and resort to a stroll around the lobby to converse with humans.

Without music, writing, and conversation, my world would crumble like sand. Iโ€™d spend hours staring at the sky, imagining figures in the cloud formations, and listening to the birds.  

As the war in the Middle East casts a shadow over contentment, security, and joy, I realize the subject is too hyperbolic to even mention. I havenโ€™t hidden my Star of David necklace, and one person noticed. When my Uber driver pulled up, I struggled to open the door of a Tesla. She immediately stepped out of the car.

โ€œNo problem, here, see the button, just press downโ€.

โ€œI havenโ€™t been in a new Tesla, itโ€™s a beautiful car.โ€

The dashboard supported a Ipad, with a map, and she navigated with her index finger to my destination.โ€ Her accent was unfamiliar.

โ€œ May I ask where you are from?โ€

โ€œ Yes, why not? I am from Uruguay. Iโ€™ve been here for eleven years, in San Diego, the most beautiful, donโ€™t you think?โ€  I noticed she was viewing me in her mirror. She was in her forties, I think, with short brown hair and an air of total confidence as she maneuvered onto the freeway.

โ€œYes, it is, a lot more crowded than my last time here, in 2012.โ€

โ€œEveryone want to be here, so where are we headed?โ€

โ€œTo look at an apartment.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s difficult, isnโ€™t it? The cost, so expensive. I have a big house in Chula Vista, a very nice neighborhood.โ€

The conversation soared from why Iโ€™m here, to her family, her struggles, her children, my shock at the office developments we passed, and where I once hiked.    

โ€œI see you are wearing a Star of David, are you Jewish?โ€

โ€œYes, I am.โ€ She turned her head around and gleefully declared, โ€œSo am I!โ€

 After a failed attempt to open the lock box at the unit, Judith and I returned.

โ€œ Here is my cell phone number, you call me, Iโ€™ll take you, maybe you find more places, we go to each one, okay?โ€

โ€œ Thank you, yes, I will. Thank you.โ€

RAVELING THOUGHTS ON DEL MAR HOTEL LIFE, EMPLOYMENT, AND MEMORIES.


AS I AM ABOUT TO ENTER THE ELEVATOR, the guests inside bounce out, SOME SAY EXCUSE ME, SOME DON’T. DO I EXPECT TOO MUCH? YES. I live in a culture of me before you. One woman, as we stood waiting for the elevator, looked at me, ” Oh these elevators are so slow, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but what irks me is the guests outside don’t wait for the ones inside to come out.. they bulldoze.

” This happens all the time, and you’re the first guest who said that.” I was thinking that too! Well, I don’t think people are very happy here, not friendly at all,” she said, relieved. Like it was bottled up and needed a cork to let her speak.

“So it’s not just me!”

” No! I used to live here many years ago, I moved to the Midwest and I love it, ” smiling as if just thinking about going home.

‘ I understand completely. I lived here years ago; it was like living with smiling children who suddenly reformed into I’m first – adults. So serious.”

” Yes! I’m glad I’m only here for a few days. I can’t wait to get home,” she said earnestly.

We parted, and the assurance of my senses was validated. Adapt, now as a Junior Senior, as I am still ready to be playful and honest, but not here. My attention is not to the guests, it is to the staff. Sabrina, Frank, Lorenzo, Jeremy, Nicholas, Trevor, Adam, Jazmin, and a few others. I listen to their stories, feel their pressing preparation to greet guests with jovial expressions, and patience. And checking into a hotel is no hands-on, swipe, scan, and off you go.

I chose a bench, just beyond the entrance, beside the pond and fountain, enveloped in Birds of Paradise, and plants I cannot name. That is my place for coffee and sunrise, and sunset, and a glass of wine. I can see the distant trees over Del Mar, the silhouette of rooftops, and the clouds. And, I see myself forty-three years ago, like Christopher Columbus, when I discovered Del Mar. A vignette of beachcombers, surfers, and a few scientific geniuses, celebrities, and, of course, Dinty Moore’s, and the former just horses racetrack. I was most content with Del Mar since leaving Westwood Village.

DEL MAR BEACH, CA.

Some say wherever you live, all that you possess psychologically goes with you, in a suitcase full of dreams. Mine did, and it has been a month, to fold up those memories, wrap them gently, and go away, not far, just enough to drain what was once.

Employment search is like this: click the link, upload, and then a text, no phone calls, no in-person interviews. The qualifications are two full pages, mostly in acronyms I’ve never heard of, overtime, weekends, and, for that, a trailblazing blessing to be part of the innovators, driven to success, on the cusp of revolutionizing the algorithm-interpersonal technology. Paraphasing one sample description for a Marketing Director. It is more than a Brave New World, it’s All in for ALGORITHMS: a data-tracking system in which an individual’s internet search history and browsing habits are used to.. JOIN, PURCHASE, SELL.

And AI: Machine Learning: This involves training algorithms on data sets to create models that can perform tasks such as making recommendations, identifying patterns, and predicting outcomes.

Deep Learning: A subset of machine learning that uses neural networks with many layers (hence “deep”) to analyze various factors of data.

Natural Language Processing (NLP): This enables machines to understand and respond to human language. TO WRITE YOUR NEXT BOOK?

SURFERS-WAVE DANCERS


Photo by alexandre saraiva carniato on Pexels.com

TANNED AND LEAN BARE-CHESTED surfers, taking off their wet-suits and I cross over one in my path.

” Sorry about the mess, ” he says.

” What are you surfers, sidewalk strippers?”

” He chuckled for a minute and looked at me with sea blue eyes and a smile.

I’ve been watching you since I was five years old.”

” Where was that?”

” Santa Monica, Malibu.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the support.”

” Thanks for the entertainment.”

Back on concrete and the traffic crossing, at a four-way intersection, it is like the running of the bulls. As soon as I step off to the green light for pedestrians, a car on the left almost cuts me off, and the gleam of the cars, as if they were just driven off the lot, I think of my car, when it arrives, will be the dirtiest car in Del Mar.

Several days later, I Ubered into the village to look at a few apartments. The first one, designed in brick and stone, absolutely matched my taste, and was open. A man was sitting at a tiled table in the courtyard.

Photo by Daniel Torobekov on Pexels.com

“Hi, do you live here?”

” Just moving out.”

” I’ve been trying to reach the Manager. I’m interested in a studio.”

He turned around. ” That’s mine, take a look.”

” Thank you.”

I walked into a room the size of a woman’s mid-sized closet, and the closet was large enough to hold six hangers.”

” I lived here a year and a half; it’s a cool place.”

” Yes, very cool, but too compact for me. Thank you for showing me. You look like a surfer, am I right?”

” I am, that’s why I stayed here, the beach is next door.”

” Second surfer I met today, I really admire your sport.”

” Nice to hear that, it really is.”

I departed and walked a few blocks to the second apartment. The agent, in creased slacks and a plaid shirt, walked me into an apartment about the size of the previous one.

” It’s listed as four hundred square feet. Does that include the bathroom and kitchen?”

” Yes, we have off-street parking and of course, the location, you can’t beat it right?”

” Right, thank you for showing me. I have a few more to look at.”

” I’ll give you an application, he started to the door and recited the amenities, the view the landscape, and the terrific tenants.

” My furnishings and clothes won’t fit, and I am already fully downsized .”

” We have a one-bedroom available.”

” How much is that?”

“Thirty-nine fifty.”

” That’s above my pay grade, but thank you.”

” Good luck,” which sounded more like, no luck at all.

Back to my hotel, and as I passed the valet, he said,

” How’s it going?”

” It’s going, but it’s not taking me along.”

He bent over laughing, not because it was that funny, but he related!

THE PAST AND PRESENT


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Nineteen years ago, I left this enclave, the zeitgeist of beaches, lagoons, reserves, affordable homes and rentals, and the Torrey Pines. While I was away, the dirt metastasized into gated communities, high-rise apartments with more amenities than a full page, renovated mom-and-pop grocery stores, reimagined as gourmet, branded boutiques, and salons that offer the ultimate experience in beauty. It’s landed in every resort, not just Del Mar. As my friend Jerry Schatzberg said at ninety-nine years old,: Adapt or shoot yourself.’

Freeways, not so free anymore, I hear and see canned traffic on the Interstate 5 all day and night, and off the freeway, in Del Mar, hit it, buster, or I honk.

The trajectory is, I wake up with a sunrise at mild sixty degrees and a sunset at the same. My former home in Saratoga Springs is digging out of snow and ice, and that is not nice. Your back is whacked, and your hands freeze. I did it, I know. After two weeks, I am still in culture shock, not just the beauty and soft breezes, but what was once casual, impromptu, conversational, and friendly is now on the phone or iPad.

What hasn’t dispersed is the polished palm trees in sunlight, early morning fog that resembles my state of mind, the seafood at the Fishmarket, the Del Mar Track, The Plaza in Del Mar and surfboards everywhere! Del Mar Beach, the wide and sandy, clean shore, is waiting for swimmers and surfers to be doused in euphoria. I’ve lived most of my adult life connecting my dream with reality. To be continued.

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SOLITUDE & IRREGULAR IMPULSES


My emotional tail is wagging; curled up in my desk chair, I feel almost as if I were born in this chair. Itโ€™s cushioned me through a cyclone of adventures in livingness. Solitude will always be a puzzle because our lives, solo or mated, are perplexed by too much solitude or not enough.ย  The editor I used before submitting to a publisher asked me, โ€œWhy do you keep switching between past and present tense?โ€ I told her I donโ€™t control that until Iโ€™m in the final editing stage. My control over my writing is identical to how I liveโ€”acting on impulse, expanding the mundane into a musical, feasting on all the emotions, and fabricating thorny Walter Mitty encounters. I donโ€™t think of applying proven methods; I make up new ones.

Back to this plateau of solitude. Love what you have, and especially yourself, with all your flaws and regrets.ย  Honor is more critical; be proud not just for yourself but because someone out there needs you. ย 

Sometimes, solitude feels like a draft no matter how many sweaters Iย  wear. There are not many soloists residing in the village, primarily second and third-generation families with dozens of members. ย Living unstructured is a discipline that threads some days easily; when it doesn’t, I must rein in my passion for daydreaming.ย  Today, it is the island of Capri. A friend is there posting photographs, so maybe I need to stop watching other people live their dreams. Yes, thatโ€™s it-take a reprieve from FB.

TRAVELING TRUTH & TREES


A passage from Anais Nin’s diary says, โ€œBe careful not to enter the world with any need to seduce, charm, conquer what you do not want, only for the sake of approval. This is what causes the frozen moment before people and cuts all naturalness and trust. The real wonders of life lie in the depths. Exploring the depths for truth is the real wonder which the child and the artist know: magic and power lie in truth.โ€

ย From my journal. Wecannot unlock our mysteries when surrounded by extroverted behavior.ย  Over the years, the intensity of seeking solitude increased; shy in conversation, I turned to writing when I didnโ€™t dare speak. Iโ€™m waiting for some release and joy so I can change course and find a studio (In an undisclosed location for personal reasons). It is not happening. Life feels like a package I cannot unwrap.ย ย ย ย 

That was only two hours ago, and instead of ruminating on impatience, my pattern transformed.  I took a walk in a wind that blew the orange leaves in a choreographed dance, and watched.

NEW YEAR 2026 RESOLUTIONS: See more, feel more, love more, think more, create more, laugh more, and MOVE MORE


OUT OF CONTROL


Bohemian living was always in my dreams, having been raised in a perfectly pressed pinafore and seated on velvet and satin furniture.ย  I am not really very gypsy like when it comes to home. Once upon a time, I lived out of one suitcase, but I have since been corrupted by the joy of controlling what comes into the house and finding a place for it. ย Loss of control. Once faced with this alarming epiphany, I vowed to give up control and accept the disorder and disruption.ย 

What Iโ€™ve rediscovered is that without a lot of stuff to organize, the mind is free to think, more time to create, and effect essential decisions. ย Narcissism is sacrificed for more visceral makeup.ย  Losing control is a replenishment of youthful spirit. Itโ€™s free and painless.

ADVENTURES IN LEAVING LIVINGNESS


YES, I AM LEAVING. SIX YEARS LATER. I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE 1 YEAR, BUT WHAT WE PLAN GOES INTO THE CIRCUMSTANCE BLENDER, AND I, MAYBE YOU, COME OUT SHREDDED, UNTIL WE LEARN HOW TO REMIX OUR CONDIMENTS FOR THE FUTURE. The year the village adopted my slogan, Village of Friends

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Six years ago, this week, I left my studio on Devon Ave, a shrink-wrapped space that forged me outdoors. I landed in Ballston Spa, NY, to save my home from foreclosure. I felt a contrast within and without. The without were the winters. Iโ€™d not lived here since 2003, youthful adaptation overwhelmed the bitterness of winter.  The within, my mind, heart, and spirit went through a seasonal transformation. Winters, the snowplowing season when I am on duty to ensure tenants and nieghbors can walk on my sidewalk(owners are reponsible in the village) without breaking a leg and then suing me. Writing is the dominant activity, between, cooking, checking the sump pumps, talking on the phone with friends three thousand miles away, and managing tenants. Once I learned the house was two months behind on the mortgage, turmoil, the servicers bounced me around with false information, misconduct and refused the full balance when I offered. Covid postponed the payments for a year, and so did the New York financial agency. I filed the complaint against PHH, and they pressured PPH to abort the foreclosure for another year. Almost all my income went to restoring the house, replacing mechanical parts, painting, and repairs.

One day in February of 2020, a man knocked on my door and handed me the foreclosure documents. So began six years of legal research, interviewing attorneys, and defending myself against the predator, who sought to destroy my life, every angle of it. I canโ€™t name this person; Iโ€™m in writing witness protection. Seriously.

Itโ€™s Christmas day, and the lobby of the hotel is empty. I think there are seven guests, and most of the cheerful staff are off. The sun broke through, so I’ll wander around the property. It’s 28 degrees, I adapted physically but not emotionally.