How To Live Before You Die by Steve Jobs

View of Chicago, 2007

Living with Ada has definitely made me think about death and the importance of savoring life for the short time that we are here.  I'm wanting with all my heart to subscribe to Steve Job's philosophy on life. To me, this sounds like freedom. 

Steve Jobs: How to live before you die | Video on TED.com

Here are some of my favorite parts:

“For the past 33 years I’ve looked in the mirror and asked myself, if today was the last day of my life, would I want to do, what I’m about to do today. And whenever the answer has been no for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon, is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything. All every external pressure and pride, all fear of embarrassment of failure, these things just fall away in the face of death. Leaving only what is truly important. Remembering you are going to die is the best way to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

[My friend Chelsea was considering getting a tattoo that means “remember, you must die.” I think she should go for it.]

“No one wants to die… and yet death is the destination we all share… Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other people’s opinions drown out your own inner voice, and most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”


I feel kind of old to be learning this lesson, but I guess never late than never.

Inspired

To the Light by Rose Hardy

I’ve become completely obsessed with photographer and famous Flikreite Rosey Hardy, pictured above.  Her account features mainly self portraits, and candid comments about her life under each picture. (I very much hope she doesn't mind me posting these here. I'm a bit of a late comer to her work by internet standards, but art is timeless and her account is definitely worth a look, and her website too.)

Trapped in Our Own Fairytale by Rosie Hardy

 by Rosie Hardy 

She took the majority of these photos while in her senior year of highschool, after hours. Equally as fascinating is the real life love story that plays out through her writing and comments when she falls in love and eventually meets another incredible flicker member (pictured above) on the other side of the world. I recommend starting at the beginning on p18 and working backwards to the present.

Boundaries by Rosie Hardy

For some reason the above picture really resonates with me. I have no idea why, but it expresses the way I often feel inside. Thank you Rosey for sharing!

Should I Erase You?

Here is a photo I took of my ex-boyfriend with the sun behind his head, on a trip to New York 4 years ago. It was meant to be beautifully backlit, like the one he took of me, but when it was my turn, I accidentally erased his head with natural flare. (no pun intended) 

I remember feeling guilty - like he might think I had done it on purpose, but he found it funny.

I'm having a hard time culling my photo library (and my music library.) It feels weird to have so many photos of an old life with him every time I open iphoto. Should I back them up, and delete them like he never existed? Like couples do on Facebook? Am I being a hoarder? What's the best thing to do here?

I suppose I can at least keep this one.

No Doubt

Years ago I took my parents out to dinner... no, actually it was the other way around,  and I asked them the question I ask all married couples I ever meet:
"How did you know each other was 'the one?'"

Abby smiled at me and said "You know, it's not necessarily thinking they are 'the one' - it's more about having no doubts." Then Dad said "Actually, we've both talked about it before. In our previous marriages, we both had doubts  from the very beginning."
"And this time round," continued Abby "there just wasn't any doubts."

Sixteen years - Abby and Dad have now been married. They live together, work together and play together - they don't seem to need time alone. Did I mention they live on a boat? I still catch the affectionate looks they bestow on each other and it makes me want to high five the universe. What fate and luck brought these two together!

(I snapped this last trip home)

This post goes out to you Ali! - and the joy that is spreading through the blog-sphere right now! And, as a reminder to myself, inspired by your post, here's to doubts and acknowledging their existence. It takes courage to listen to those tiny whispers in our mind. I look forward to the day that I meet someone, and they fall silent.

Up Late Adventures #5

Saturday night, Anya and I went on a 'dance-a-thon' in the East Village and accidentally got let into a bar called ‘The Box’ thinking it was ‘Homesweet Home.’

After handing over my taxi fare home for a vodka cranberry, we looked around and realized it was no ordinary place. We were  surround by tall beautiful women and a few lucky men. The curtain went up on a small stage and three girls in a bath towels emerged from a thick fog. With a shake of their head, their towels flew off (their heads) to reveal long perfectly tousled locks which flicked around as they danced. A man was then chosen from the audience, the curtain closed, and when it reopened, he on his back with the three girls on top pretending to hump him.

The curtain closed again and the host dressed in a sequined red bra and fishnets told us we were all on cocaine. The curtain re-opened and there was a large muscular woman tied with ducktape to a chair, with a bag over her head. The Duck tape was wrapped around and around her body, cutting into her breasts, and delicately pinning her penis to her upper thigh.

She struggled like a wild animal to burst out of the tape, before standing up to reveal a beer bottle lodged up her rectum. She removed it and danced around oddly like a drunk gorilla doing an impersonation of The Hulk, before ramming the beer bottle back up her butt for the grand finale. For some reason I recorded this on my camera. Perhaps it will come in handy one day when my grandchildren think I’m boring.

The next act was rather tame in comparison. 2 people using cross-bows to shoot apples off each other’s heads.

I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the show, although the highlight of the evening was back on the Piano’s dance floor, when a boy asked me if I was a professional dancer. (!!) (We were having an impromptu dance off.)

“I can’t match your moves” he panted.

“Damn straight” I said, touching the floor, then shoving a beer bottle up my butt.

Kidding! It was a vodka cranberry.

Seriously though, the tiny crowded piano’s dance floor is where it’s at. That’s where it’s my turn to perform! 

I Want To Be All By My Self

Sometimes I worry about how much I enjoy being alone, and even doing things alone. (Am I normal? Am I missing out on some aspect of the human experience? Is it because I’m lazy?) But most of the time, I just relax and enjoy it. 

Star Struck

When this woman walked into my office on Monday I nearly fell off my chair. I had watched her interview on Andrew Denton's Enough Rope, and loved it so much that I re-read the transcript. I've seen her on Oprah, listened to her on Ted Talks and put her on my "I'd love to be like her when I'm older" list.

She's awesome because she's a feminist who loves men, a philanthropist, an amazing novelist and an incredibly passionate human being.

I told her that I loved her interview on Denton, and then later she stopped by my desk to chat. (!!!!!)  She shook my hand and told me she hopes I do become a writer - I may have gushed that I hope to be half the woman she is. (I have no shame.)

The girl from the company who had booked her interview slipped me Isabel's latest book (Island Beneath the Sea: A Novel) and I was so overwhelmed by the unexpected generosity of the afternoon that I cried.

Crazy-eyed Reader

"Your father came to bed last night in a lather of sweat. He couldn't breath, he was having heart palpitations," my step mum Abbie chimed excitedly.

"Really? And all from-"

"Yes. His book. He's really into it."

For as long as I've known my father, he had never sat down to read a book in his life. An instructional manual? Yes (millions). The odd aviation magazine - yes. But never a novel... until now, because now he has time - and has discovered a world of movies, television and glorious books.

I got to witness this one afternoon on the boat when he opted to finish his book while the rest of the family played poker.

It was easy to photograph him in this state without him noticing.
We all watched his facial expressions and laughed continuously - especially when his eyes bulged out of his head.

"Sometimes he's so excited he can't turn the page quick enough and nearly tears it off its binding," laughed Abby doing a crazy-eyed impression of Dad.

The whole time we laughed, he remained oblivious, wrapped up in the world of his novel.
How utterly delightful it was to see.