Lessons from Wonder Woman (T-Minus 233 Days)

I have a profound affinity for Wonder Woman.

I’m not entirely sure when it started, but over the years, it went from being a quirky appreciation to, when asked in a job interview the person I most admire, a deep-rooted respect. At a bit of a loss for an answer, with little hesitation I told the interviewer Wonder Woman, rationalizing it with her tagline "beautiful as Aphrodite, wise as Athena, stronger than Hercules and swifter than Mercury."

How can you possibly find fault in that? Even though I decided not to take the job, in many ways that was a profound moment as she became the strong, independent female role model I was searching for, as crazy as it may sound. Driven by the potent combination of love and strength, Wonder Woman’s powers include superhuman strength, flight, speed, stamina and agility. And not to mention, sexiness.

In addition to the respect, many tokens of the quirky appreciation remain. I have collected a WW mug, watch, bracelet and, yes, underwear and bra, in the last few years and confidently rock all of them on a regular basis. I also have a WW business card holder, which until recently had been misplaced for a few years, hidden in a seldom-used bag.

It was the re-discovery of this item that got me thinking about my idol and everything I have learned from her, the highlights of which I will now share with you … without even having to use the Lasso of Truth.

 FIVE THINGS I LEARNED FROM WONDER WOMAN (because I love lists so much)

1. Own your convictions.

There are causes I care about deeply, but sometimes it’s not enough to just care. You have to actually do something about it. Day in and day out, superheroes fight for what they believe in, rarely wavering. WW’s character was created during World War II and designed to give some female muscle in the fight against the Axis military forces and a variety of other supervillains. Though her origin and foes changed with the times and different authors, a tireless dedication to being a “distinctly feminist role model whose mission was to bring the Amazon ideals of love, peace, and sexual equality to a world torn by the hatred of men," at least according to a 2007 article by Philip Charles Crawford "The Legacy of Wonder Woman.”

2. Beauty through muscle.

In a 1943 issue of The American Scholar, William Moulton Marston, the creator of Wonder Woman, wrote: “Not even girls want to be girls so long as our feminine archetype lacks force, strength, and power. Not wanting to be girls, they don't want to be tender, submissive, peace-loving as good women are. Women's strong qualities have become despised because of their weakness. The obvious remedy is to create a feminine character with all the strength of Superman plus all the allure of a good and beautiful woman.”

To that, I say, Amen.

3. Stay level-headed.

In a crisis, it doesn’t do anyone any good to freak out. My mind constantly wanders and is completely over-active when it comes to mental “what if…” situations. While this can be annoying, the times those “if” situations happen, I know what to do because I have already thought through all possible avenues. Wonder Woman knows what to do without all the prior planning, which is easy when you have bullet-blocking bracelets and an invisible airplane to fall back on. Regardless, she is one calm woman under pressure.

4. Challenge yourself.

It’s never good to rest on your laurels. I think complacency is my biggest fear in the world and I know Wonder Woman would never let herself enter such a state. She continually evolved and, even though she was graced with the metahuman abilities of six Olympian gods and goddesses, she never stopped training and dominated in several forms of combat. In fact, at one point, Wonder Woman surrendered her powers and her alter ego Diana Prince had to start from scratch and tirelessly trained in martial arts and weapons skills and learned everything from espionage to mythology.

5. Be a vixen.

Sparks once told me the minute I sucked him in was the first time he saw me in full-on business suit with impractical high heels and a “don’t give me bullshit” expression on my face. To be honest, this is probably when I feel sexiness because I know I at least appear to be confident and in control. There is something to be said, however, for what goes on underneath the buttoned up daytime persona of Diana Prince. Panties with stars and knee-high red boots, for example.

Rediscovering My ~ing (T-Minus 240 Days)

You all saw the pile of books best described as self-help manuals after I cleaned out my bookcase last week. For the record, I kept them all.

Yep, every last one of them.

Because even though I am kind of embarrassed to admit I own so money, they all make some really valid points and I believe are worth holding on to for the occasional reminder. The latest to be added to the collection is Gabrielle Bernstein’s “Add More ~ing to Your Life: A Hip Guide to Happiness,” given to me by the recently wedded off friend on our way to Las Vegas for the bachelorette weekend.

Described on the back of the book cover, Bernstein’s work is said to have been “designed to bulldoze negative thought patterns and create personal change through positive affirmations, physical activity, and visualization meditations, Gabrielle guides the reader to happiness in 30 days through her dynamic ~ing, a proven method of sharpening one s intuitive senses and activating untapped inspirations.”

All of this may be true, but I will admit I only made it about two-thirds of the way through the book. If that. Partly because it’s really too much to absorb at once, but also because I got lost in some of the discussion of meditation and affirmations. The thought of actually completing some of her exercises made me giggle. I’m just not that in touch with my emotions.

I did, however, take a lot from the first few chapters. The ~ing directly translates to “inner guidance,” or as I imagine the mental cheerleader in the back of your mind … only instead of it being an actual cheerleader, it’s a mini Hope Solo urging you to be the best version of yourself. There are lots of great psychological applications of ~ing, but I took the most meaning from concentrating on the literal verb use.

Bernstein’s role as the ~ing girl came about after a series of guest appearances on Karen Salmansohn’s radio show “Be Happy, Dammit.” Salmansohn had a segment called “Add More ~ing to Your Life” which followed the idea of “the more experiences you have, the happier you will be.” Through this, Bernstein started out by doing a story on surfing and from there, every possible means of mov(ing) – on the water, on the ground and in the air.

This whole idea is what got me thinking and I began to brainstorm all of the things that make me happiest. And, when I imagine the woman I want to be, the things which personify her.

And they nearly all end with ~ing.

Cycling. Surfing. Climbing. Paddling. Writing. Reading. Baking. Hiking. Lifting. And obviously, the subject that started all of this ... spinning.

~ing.

Not shoes. Or money. Or flowers, diamonds and chocolate. Or even cupcakes.

~ing. The act.

Now that I realize this, it should be a no-brainer to simply start doing all of these things more. After all, I used to do many of them, but somewhere along the way, right around when I lost my groove, I picked up a healthy dose of fear. Of failing and looking like an idiot. Of letting people down. Of simply not being good at what I want to do. Of not wanting to try new things alone.

And so I sometimes still talk a big game, but I find excuses not to follow through. Or not going all the way, stopping just short of truly having to push myself.

My first college boyfriend is the one who got me into surfing and paddling and to some extent climbing. I wasn’t very good at the beginning, but I wasn’t afraid to try and I got better over the two years we dated. He was a surf instructor, wilderness guide, snowboarder, mountain biker and all-around badass, so some level of involvement in his hobbies was necessary if I ever wanted to see him when it was sunny out.

Before you start  thinking we were a match made in heaven and wondering why we broke up, he also was self-centered and arrogant and our relationship was far from perfect. I was 18-20 when we were dating for starters (he was 21-24) and towards the end he decided to enter the Peace Corps and spend two years in Africa. A pretty badass thing to do, but a relationship killer nonetheless.

Plus there were certainly other things – badasses tend to be selfish and conceited people sometimes and think their interests could come before others. I had semi-major surgery during the first year we dated and it took him two days to come visit because the waves were too good to leave behind.

Meanwhile, when he had surgery, I drove two hours from school to be there when he woke up. Again, not a perfect relationship. But I digress.

I have alluded in previous entries to battling depression and an eating disorder in the past. It was during my time with The Badass much of this went down and he shouldered the burden of a lot of tears, anxiety and emotion, a fact I remain forever grateful to him for.

I bring all this up because, despite it being one of the darkest periods of my life, I miss the person I was with him. Not him specifically, but who he gave me the opportunity to be. And I realize now, with the help of Bernstein’s book, it’s because of all the ~ing he brought into my life.

So now it’s time to start liv~ing by my one and only New Year’s Resolution and get over the fear. Continue cycling (one month of training until my second century) and find a way to start climbing, surfing, hiking and otherwise being my own badass. Because that’s the woman I want to be and the woman I think I already am somewhere inside.

From the Bookshelf (T-Minus 242 Days)

I am sitting around waiting for the plumber who was supposed to be here a half-hour ago and figured this was as good of a time as any to write an update. It has, after all, been way too long. In my defense, there has been a fair amount of stuff going on, much of which I need to wait until it settles down in order to make sense of it.

In the meantime, I have tried to conquer smaller tasks to make this potentially impending big one a little easier to deal with, starting with cleaning out my bookshelf last weekend. This may not sound like a big deal to some, especially when I gave up buying books for the year in favor of the local library, but trust me, it was an accomplishment. In my guest room, there stands a six-shelf behemoth storage system filled with books, sometimes in double rows and sometimes stacked in front or on top of existing rows.

I love books. I love reading. I love biographies, sociological studies and reading stories about people who have their lives together or who have lives messier than mine. There is a shelf of chick lit, another of romances hidden behind a row of classic literature and still more on photography, religion, sports and random subjects in between. By the end of it, I took five large fabric bags to the used bookstore and received a whopping $46 for what were probably over 100 books.

I’m trying not to dwell on that. For in the process, I realized a lot about myself. Not only do I buy way too many books, some of which I never read, but this whole quarter/third-life crisis is nothing new or original. There are points to be taken from each book, though certainly some more than others, but truthfully I am embarrassed just how extensive the self-help section is of my personal mini Barnes & Noble.

I’ve been trying to make sense of all this crap for years and, based on the number of books written about it, so has everyone else. This both comforts and frustrates me … and also makes me think I need to be cashing in on the trend.

[Plumber just got here, by the way. About an hour late.]

Some of the books are pictured. Several others, most notably a smaller stack of religious discovery texts, are not. One of the esteemed BFFs called during this book purging process and when I relayed this prevalent genre to her, she was mildly shocked. And probably rightfully so.

As cliché as it sounds, I would probably fall under the “spiritual but not religious” category (or at least that’s what my online dating profile said). I had perfect attendance in Sunday School growing up and sang in the choir, but unless I’m visiting my parents at Christmas, I am not a church-going person. I have no problem with people who are and in fact respect them to know end, I just cannot get into it.

And that bothers me. In times of uncertainty, I occasionally wish I had something larger than everything to fall back on.

So I have explored different religions and have books on Taoism, Buddhism, Judaism, overall spirituality and rediscovering Christianity. The specifics are way too deep to get into here as I would much rather admit perpetual singledom publically than religious ineptitude, but suffice to say I have been an all-around work in progress for a long time.

And perhaps I’m meant to stay that way.  

Declaration of Desired Dependence (T-Minus 257 Days)

Happy Fourth of July to my favorite five readers (i.e. all of you)!

If one were to look through my twitter feed today, you would undoubtedly see the majority of my favorite single ladies and girl power sites spewing thoughts on the importance of liberating ourselves from men and declaring today Independence Day from forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts (still in Bridget Jones mode, clearly).

While I will get to that later, I think I have done a quite OK job of making my independence known for much of the last 29 years of my life. If I needed a guy to get by and settled for the first one who offered me a glimpse at a future, I don’t even want to think about where I would be right now or what I would be doing. Certainly not in my current state, which is appealing to think about on one hand, but I’m sure I would be approaching 30 with a whole other set of issues.

So, instead of further relishing in my independence, I am instead going to commit the cardinal sin of the perpetually strong and single woman and say: I would very much like to be dependent on someone, and to be depended on.

There. I said it.

Relax. I don’t mean financially. Or even emotionally. I don’t want someone to complete me because I think you need to be whole to begin with. I only use the word dependence as a play off of today; I really don’t like the definition much at all, especially when you look at the synonyms of reliance, addiction and habit. Not cool.

I think I really just want to have faith in someone other than me.

This thought occurred to me one day last week while I was out on a bike ride and a storm came rolling in. I was still about nine miles from home when a gust of wind nearly blew me over and a bolt of lightning followed entirely too close for comfort. Rolls of thunder came next and the whole combination started on a continuous loop. I started to rack my brain for who I could call if the weather continued to get worse.

I spent so long obsessing over this and telling myself just to make it to the next overpass or bridge before making a decision, I eventually made it all the way back home. What was supposed to be a leisurely ride turned into a speed workout, so at least some good came out of it.

For the record, I had decided my best bet for rescue was Mr. NDNS, which saddened me a bit.

It was at that point, I realized I would very much like to have someone in my life whose “job” it is to pick me up off the side of the road if I’m stuck in a storm or get a flat I cannot fix. Who would assume responsibility for checking out a new restaurant with me or help me eat the dozen blueberry muffins I baked this morning just to squelch a craving. I realize friends can easily fill those roles, but as I spend yet another holiday alone because those friends all have other interdependent relationships, I need another option.

I don’t want to rack my brain to come up with someone when I need help. It would simply be nice to have a go-to guy.

With that declaration of dependence out of the way, I feel the need to redeem myself to my fellow single ladies and girl power website producers. Weight Watchers tweeted this morning: “Happy Independence Day! What unhealthy habit are you declaring freedom from today?” and while I’m sure they probably meant things like beer, excessive carbs or Paula Deen-worthy amounts of butter, I took it a different way.

I probably have many unhealthy love habits, but the one which is probably the most detrimental is my proclivity for the unattainable. Geographically undesirable, selfishly unworthy, romantically unavailable, professionally unethical, aesthetically unachievable and/or unabashedly uninterested are just a few of my weaknesses. Sometimes all at once.

It doesn’t take Dr. Phil to decipher the pattern of behavior as a special line of commitment-phobia. This way, it is not my fault when a relationship doesn’t work because I ooobviously did what I could. Failure has nothing to do with the fact it was never going to happen – and shouldn’t – from the get-go. You have to admit, this mode of “loving” has its merits as a clean way to go through life – never have to really worry about falling in love, victim role is available when it suits and there’s a ready-made excuse for rejection.

When you look at it that way, why would I ever want to change this destructive behavior [sarcasm]?

Admitting to this shortcoming is not going to miraculously change everything though. It’s not enough to acknowledge the unlikelihood of a relationship with Sparks; I have to accept it. It’s really easy to get caught up in the rom-com ideas that if it’s meant to be, it will be; that love conquers all; that if you like someone enough, nothing else matters … and if you feel sparks, it’s enough to build a fire.

Conversely, it is not always as simple as he or she not being into you if the relationship doesn’t work, despite my masochistic penchant for both the book and the movie.

In reality, any single man or woman of a certain age has learned timing is 90 percent of a successful relationship. Seven-hour differences matter. Incompatible work schedules are detrimental. Diverging life goals mean something. The inability to multi-task can be a deal-breaker. Any relationship built on a “If _______, then _______” foundation is not a healthy one. Maybe if we lived closer, we would be together. Maybe not. It’s a moot point because we don’t.

It’s a sad day when you recognize practicality trumps the idealistic daydream of romance.

[BTW, if you’re still reading, thanks for sticking around. I’ll try to wrap it up.]

If I have managed to decipher my own ramblings, it can be summed up as I want to have a guy around who I have faith in, but not one who lives far away, is in a competing business (or the same one), has issues bigger than mine or is, in some way, emotionally unavailable.

Whew, no problem. No big deal.