Despite having been born and raised in Albuquerque, I never seem to tire of the annual Balloon Fiesta. In the four years I spent away in Los Angeles for school, it was something I always missed. The Fiesta is my own personal marker for the start of fall. The colors start to change, the days get shorter, the air crisper. And no matter how many times I see it, I can't help but turn my eyes skyward when there are balloons in the air.

Under pretty much any circumstance, I am not a morning person. But when the Balloon Fiesta is going on, I can barely fall asleep at night in excitement for the next morning, and then happily get up at 4:30 so I can hit the field before sunrise.

For two years running now, I've biked to the field and taken my camera along for the ride. Last year, I found myself wishing I knew how to modify settings so I could make sure I could get a proper exposure. This year, the technicalities were much less an issue and I was able to really focus on capturing the moments.

I'm not generally in the habit of naming my photos, but this one spoke to me. I watched its steady journey from inflation to takeoff. I always find that hot air balloons seem to have a life all their own. They eagerly look to the skies and wait for the launch directors (who are affectionately referred to as Zebras) to set them free.

I had a dream last night. It was probably on the mundane side, by which I mean it wasn’t terribly eventful, but it stuck with me and I’ve been thinking about it on and off all day.

About two weeks ago I went to see one of my favorite singers, Jewish reggae rapper legend Matisyahu. I saw him a few years ago when I was still living in Los Angeles. The show I saw took place a few weeks ahead of his Live at Stubbs Vol. II performance, and stands out in my mind as one of the best concerts I’ve ever had the privilege of attending. Matisyahu was in the height of his then-phase as a Chasidic Jew, and seeing the energy he brought to the stage and the passion he felt for his music and his faith was inspiring.

The more recent show was decidedly less full of life. Gone are remnants of Chasidism, and in its place is a new person, clearly struggling to figure out the way he feels about this life. In many ways, I can relate. Chasidic Judaism has never appealed to me, in part because I don’t do well with extremes, and in part because most people of Chasidic and even Orthodox background balk at the very mention of a gay Jew. The Matisyahu I originally came to know and admire was a person of extremes: an addict who found his way to sticter religion as a way to overcome addiction. I saw him singing songs two weeks ago not because he wanted to, but because he knew he was expected to. The powerful connection he shared with his music seems to have gone. My first instinct is to feel sadness, but with some thought I realized that he, like all of us, is just a regular guy trying to figure out this thing called life. So much of life happens in between the lines, and I think if I stick around long enough, I’ll get to see one of my favorite artists sing about this very idea.

I mention all of this because Matisyahu showed up in my dream last night. He didn’t sing, but we got to hang out for most of the dream, and we talked about life. I talked about how I love tools, and I love fidgets. I have a pretty big habit of thinking grand thoughts, and even being able to find or create the tools to make them happen. But rarely does it seem that I’m able to consistently use those tools. I’m my own worst enemy, succumbing to time, tiredness, and overthinking things. I want to become good at something, and have the means at my disposal to do so (mostly, that means is time), but get tired and discouraged along the way. The more I learn, the more I realize I still have to learn, and I’ve found myself succumbing to just how daunting an idea that really is.

In my dream, Matisyahu suggested that maybe I should worry less about whether what I do is good or bad. He made me realize that I’ve had the most fun doing something when I’m the least polished, because I’m not overthinking it, but just enjoying the moment and enjoying whatever it was I was doing. The tapping of the keys as I type, the sound of the shutter as I take a photo. Those are moments in time I relish, and I should make it a point to spend more time doing these things which bring me calm, exhiliration, and joy.

The dream was a timely one. I worked with a patient yesterday who made it very clear that she was scared about her situation, and seeing such raw fear left me feeling pensive for the remainder of the day and on into the night. Between the feeling that left with me and the message of my dream, I felt a gentle reminder to make sure that amid all the stress, I live a little. To use the tools I have to express myself. To enjoy my tools while using them instead of dreaming about the next tools I want to try out. To use the energy I have to get the ideas and thoughts out of my head and into a form where I can play with them, see them in new ways, and free up some space for new ones to take root.

My good friend Ashley wrote a collection of essays cleverly titled If You Can Trust An Impostor. Ashley has an uncanny ability to make me questions everything I ever think I know. I recently took a trip to Phoenix to meet up with her and see one of our favorite podcasts perform live.

The first night we met up, we ended up chatting into the late hours of the night. Among the many topics we discussed, we talked about some things that had been troubling me about my professional life. Things had weighed on me for some time, and though I have gotten better in recent years at talking about things, I continue to have a tendency to hold close the things that both me most, afraid what it might mean if others were to see it.

After listening to my story, Ashley looked at me thoughtfully and said “Look at this way. It’s much harder to be this other person than it is to be you.” Her implication? Sure, I was being bullied, but the person with real fear was the one doing the bullying. Having such a perspective made the return to work more manageable, and I was able to find a peace and confidence in myself I had thought I’d lost.

I’ve spent a good portion of the year so far lost in thought. Every week or so, I make new resolutions in my head. I resolve to be more decisive, to be more action-oriented. To get out of my own head and give life to some of my dreams. I’ve lived more dreams in my head, which then fizzled out, than I would care to admit.

The silver lining has been the realization that actually doing things feels much better than thinking about doing things. Rather than thinking about how nice it might be to learn something, or to brush up on things I’ve long forgotten, I’ve found myself actually looking things up and writing about them. Writing about things has in turned helped me better retain what I’m trying to learn. I always knew putting things into my own words did that, but in my haze of telling myself I was too tired or didn’t have time, that fact had escaped me. I sure am glad it found me again, though, because it makes things seem an awful lot brighter.

Over the weekend, I saw down and read If You Can Trust An Impostor from start to finish (I had intended to savor it, and maybe read an essay a day for a week, but it was too good to put down). From the moment I started, I found myself marveling at Ashley’s gift with ideas. She articulated beautifully what I have found myself thinking for a long time: that I might actually be an imposter, and I didn’t even realize it. I often have this thought that people will someday wise up to me, and it’s never until somebody asks me a question I acutally know the answer to (and not just a rote answer, but rather an answer rooted in experience and considerable thought on the subject) that I realize that I’m less fake than I thought.

To read something and make the reader feel uncomfortable is one thing, but Ashley has the ability to go further. She makes you rethink your perspective, and makes you feel human. We all get lost sometimes, but the only way to find our way again is to just be ourselves and let ourselves be less than perfect. The happiest moments in my life have been rife with imperfection. Recognizing imperfection has recently helped me grown both intellectually and emotionally.

I keep thinking about being a recovering perfectionist. Much of my year this year has been spent thinking about this, and trying to devise the perfect way to get started with this recovery. While meanwhile, no recovery was happening. An hour spent reading essays (and rereading them, too) left me hungry for action. I didn’t make any grand proclamation, but instead found myself sitting quietly at my desk and starting checking items off my to-do list. Small actions, done a few at a time, have already begun to add up. I like where this is going.

It's Saturday night and I'm currently sitting at my computer looking up cheese graters on the internet. It might be poetic if I had a glass of wine in hand, but I doubt it would add much to my current train of thought. I was thinking about how I frequently have little to limit the workings of my brain, and the interent does even less to help me out in this regard. This could be why I went from thinking about photography to thinking about cheese, and how best to grate it. Last year at the state fair I impulse-bought what turned out to be a useless kitchen gadget. I love gadgets, and I love food, so naturally I love kitchen gadgets. I would love said impulse buy, however a fatal design flaw makes it very difficult to clean, and therefore a much less attractive thing to use.

My prior train of thought was related to my other gadget love: cameras. For some time now, I have enjoyed photography as a hobby. I've taken to reading books about it, trying to learn all I can. In the process, I've found myself doing less of the thing that sparked my interest in the first place: taking photos. I often browse flickr and enjoy getting lost in photos from around the world. I envy the ease others seem to have behind a lens, and forget that learning takes time for all of us.

I want to spend more time doing things that captivate me. I want to spend more time behind a lens and less time wondering about post-processing. I want to take photos that make me feel things, that remind of a single, isolated moment in time.

When I'm cooking, I want simple, effective tools with minimal complications but remarkable ease of use. I want an easy way to grate cheese, because I like the taste of freshly grated cheese.

But really, the takeaway I've been missing up until now could be summed up in a simple phrase: "Less thinking, more doing". I really need to get on that.

It's 2013! And what better way kick off the year than by clicking a little red 'x' to close a window on a long-time draft post--of relative emo quality--you've been keeping in MarsEdit, and having said 'window-closing' action send the post to your website instead of simply exiting? Answer: there is no better way.

So here we are.

It's 2013! I'd say things are off to a pretty good start so far. I have continued to write every day. I still have yet to set up that eye appointment. I had two four-day weekends in a row and barely knew what to do with myself. The free time did wonders for me; it's the most well-rested I've been in months.

There's a million things I want to do right now, and like a puppy I want to do them all right now. The downside is that it's hard to focus in such a state, so I'm trying my best to keep it all to a minimum and focus on one thing at a time, one day at a time. Grown-up stuff often seems to get in the way, but I'm working hard to find ways to reduce the time investment for such things. It's happening, just not as quickly as I would like. Unfortunately, patience for my own goals and projects is not something I seem to maintain.

My current project revolves around organization of pretty much everything in my life. Paperwork. Files. Bills. Photos. I yearn for simplicity. And yet, this yearning has complicated things so much more for the time being. Hopefully with a little perseverance, that part will only be temporary.