Thrashing Through March.

If March comes in like a lion, mine is the King of the Jungle. In case you aren't completely enveloped in keeping up with the likes of me, shall we recap? In March:

• unemployed, lost three jobs and declined one.
• flew one way to Spokane from Kansas City
• got a job, had to drug test three times and had to submit hoards of paperwork while away from my things in Kansas City
• dealt with emotional ramblings of friends for whom common sense isn't common, including fought urges to flail and shout in Kinko's.
• started the mortgage application process and walked through roughly thirty five bung-holes of despair, marketed as single family homes.
• booked a trip to Europe
• put an offer on my house. they countered with ridiculousness.
• flew one way back to KC. packed, drove 1600 miles home through a raging snowstorm.
• packed again, drove to Seattle to start my new job
• spent one carefree night with friends, before I...
• .....smashed Marsha into a black BMW. Good going, asian driver.
• started a new job at Mary Bridge's Hospital
• re-offered on my house, was accepted. ordered home inspection, wrote earnest check.
• Couch surfed for a week while forbearing hospital orientation
• rented a car for the first time, and learned who insurance adjusters are.

And now, for my favorite, some perspective.

I can hardly believe my fingertips as a type this, but.... on my one way flight home at the beginning of this month, I reached into the seat pocket in front of me to see a Skyline Magazine featuring the face of Ashton Kutcher. He's charming. He's eloquent. He's loved by millions, and married to a cougar. Already drained from the job search and failed contracts, I leafed through the journal in search of this fluffy interview that I had already judged to be the perfect kind of brainless reading for this day in my life. But it was not so.

We all know how successful this man is. He owns his own production company, he produces and creates hit movies and television shows. He Punk'd hundreds of stuffy celebs. America loves him, he loves the business. What I really didn't understand is that aside from his impossibly thick eyelashes and blinding glint in his eye, he's remarkably insightful. He has formulated, among other ideas, this theory of the thrash effect. Thrash is the wake of moving toward a target. The more thrash you create, the more earnestly you are moving and the more people you're stirring. Having thrash is not about being popular. Lots of people don't like being thrashed. But they certainly will notice, and perhaps in the process they might understand your Big Picture. He went on to say that thrash effect is purposefully placing yourself in discomfort, to force yourself to move towards what it is you really want. It may not be pleasant to flagellate through your life and constantly be kicking up dust, but smooth rides are also rarely reported. Just sayin.

This month, I feel thrashy. While it's certainly not to comfortable now, I find comfort in knowing that it will bring me towards what really counts. I genuinely believe (and adore) that I was not meant to live a tranquil life, and therefore force myself to smile through all of the muck.

But boy, I sure know how to stir some trouble, dont I?!

Love Love Love.