365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 87

THURSDAY, MARCH 28th, 2013

Tick-tock, time has ran out on our family vacation.  

With all packed luggage in tow, the family and I say goodbye to our hotel room and head to the elevator.  The elevator begins to travel away from the fifth floor toward the lobby level but stops at the second floor.  The door opens revealing a small child, confused and lost.  A hotel employee, holding the young girl's hand, hopes that we are her parents.  Of course we are not which results in the employee whisking the kid away to look elsewhere.

The elevator travels to the lobby level and the door opens to reveal an extremely upset mother, who frantically asks if we've seen her little girl.  We instruct her to head up to the second floor promptly where a hotel employee has the child, and is looking for the missing girl's family...tick-tock, how quickly a clock can turn into a time bomb, the type of variety I'd personally like to avoid at all cost.  

There are times when you realize that people are not mere numbers.  We can assign as many numerals as we'd like to them with social securities, phones, addresses, tax IDs, hotel rooms, and poolside lounge chair flags, but when a mom can't find her child, it becomes extremely personal, where numbers and statistics do not matter.  

The mother found her child, of course...one family had themselves the type of unique personalized experience so many of us went on vacation looking for.  My guess is that the mother of the once missing, now found child likely enjoyed more than her fair of poolside Gin and Tonics and was happy to be a number, blending into the masses, with her daughter attached to her hip.

All of the routines and the lack of variation in our world creates mental illnesses in all of us...some more extreme than others.  At some point in the near future, someone will ask a mother why she's so insane about knowing the whereabouts of her daughter...she's merely doing her part to avoid  repetition.

My wife and kids were rarely out of my sight today as we headed back to somewhere near Tampa.  The wife and I were rewarded by two relatively wore out offspring that napped on the journey home, leaving us in relative peace and quiet.  The trip certainly presented its fair share of nonsense, reminding us that we have obnoxious kids that are extremely challenging and make us a little more mentally ill than we care to admit.  To be perfectly honest, they provide the type of variety in life we should be grateful for...It's just that sometimes we crave some routine lacking deviation...that's why they put little numbers on lounge chairs and serve overpriced poolside gin and tonics.

Today's Jazz Hands took the long way home to extend our time together.

Day eighty-seven complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 86

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 27th, 2013

One of the locations Jazz Hands was deployed today was on the top of a cement wall.  This wall belongs to Fort Clinch, a Civil War era military installation, protecting our nation's interior via the exterior as several rivers can be accessed from this strategic coastal location.  Situated at the northern tip of Amelia Island in the town of Fernandino Beach, Florida where Georgia's coastline is visible and a mere cannonball shot away.  I can't think of a better place to deploy Jazz Hands.

The second location Jazz Hands were deployed was back at the resort, poolside, in an attempt to summon the waitstaff for a round of beverages.  Poolside Gin and Tonic, summoned via hand jazzing is extremely thirst quenching.  I highly recommend it.

The poolside patron system begins with a little numbered flag attached to a lounge chair so that the poolside waitstaff can properly recognize those in need of overpriced poolside beverages, and properly distribute said overpriced poolside beverages to hundreds and hundreds of poolside patrons looking for that unique, personalized poolside experience.  And this personalized experience allows the patron to conveniently charge all overpriced beverages to the room account by giving the waitstaff the room number.

Numbers on the flags...room numbers...I probably don't have to point out the irony here.  

As I struggle to accept the lack of variation in life and in daily Jazz Hands deployments, I can appreciate the idea of blending in and enjoying commonality between many others at once...especially if that common experience include a warm sunny day and poolside Gin and Tonics.

Imagine the soldiers that at one time occupied Fort Clinch, dressed in the same military issued uniforms, eating the same military issued rations, participating in the same mundane activities day by day by day, with waves crashing on the nearby shoreline, one after the other, on and on and on, serving as a constant reminder of routine and sameness.  All this for a fort that was never physically attacked by an enemy.  I suppose the soldier's lack of variation consisted of much smaller amounts of poolside Gin and Tonics and subsequently less desirable a situation than those choosing to vacation at a beachside resort, with the soothing reminder of routine crashing onto the nearby shore.  

Today's Jazz Hands played a rousing game of beach volleyball.

Day eighty-six complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 85

TUESDAY, MARCH 26th, 2013

Mental illnesses are rough.  I mention this believing I have at least one, but have never been officially diagnosed.  That may be due to the fact that I have never actually been tested for one.  I do not believe that any of my unofficially undiagnosed mental illnesses are cause for any real concern, in fact I believe everybody is afflicted with a mental illness or two of their own.  On a road trip, it becomes fairly easy to pinpoint the mentally ill.

Filling the dashboard of your car with a bunch of tiny, stuffed animals for example, is definitely a sign of mental illness.  Always being in a hurry whether you have somewhere important to be or not, causing the blood to boil, evaporating every ounce of patience is another, potentially more serious form of mental illness.  People that are oblivious to their surroundings and carry on as if their action, or lack thereof, has a domino effect on others around them, like driving slowly in the passing lane, has got to be a sign of a mental illness and it is likely that these are the same people that stand in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store while all of the impatient people, blood beginning to boil and no real reason to be in a hurry, attempt to go around them, in vain.

Only being able to focus on details without the capability to see the bigger picture is a mental illness.  Seeing the big picture without the ability to look at the finer details is a also a mental illness. Convincing yourself that you go on a big family vacation for a unique personal experience in the absence of variation is definitely a form of mental illness.

This morning I sit with the morning coffee watching the waves roll onto shore from our comfortable hotel room.  This morning I sit with the morning coffee watching the repetition of the same event, the very same event that has occurred for thousands of years, without interruption, lacking much variation.  This Florida vacation resort has thousands of rooms with thousands of people hoping to find their own version of a unique, personalized experience on their family vacations, staying in a comfortable hotel room identical to everyone else's comfortable hotel room, drinking the same single serving morning coffee, looking at the same pattern of waves crashing onto the Atlantic shoreline.

My doing Jazz Hands every day has got to be a form of mental illness.  Although one could make the argument that Jazz Hands could also be a form of therapy, but I'll leave room for the possibility that it can be considered the cause, the symptom and the cure of my unique, personalized mental illness.  My awareness and intent may be the only indication of sanity in this case.  If it becomes routine, lacking day to day variation and becomes a mere muscle memory habit, then it is definitely an illness, for sure.  If it becomes a mindless act, oblivious to meaning, if it is only a big picture act, disregarding the finer details, if it focuses on the finer details only, abandoning the big picture altogether, the royal Jazz Hands lost, then hope for sanity is gone.

It is our responsibility to find variation and meaning even where it is difficult to find.  Our unique, personal experience awaits us, even in this world of routine.  We must find the rhythm in the sequences and patterns.  

Just because we see the same waves crashing on the Atlantic shoreline, doesn't necessarily mean that we all see the same waves crashing on the Atlantic shoreline in the same way.  Embrace your mental illnesses.  Just don't do it slowly from the passing lane, please.

Today's Jazz Hands crashed onto shore.  Today's Jazz Hands crashed onto shore.  Today's Jazz Hands crashed onto shore.  

Day eighty-five complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 84

MONDAY, MARCH 25th, 2013

There will only be one Monday, March 25th, 2013.  Ever.  This will be the one and only Monday, March 25th, 2013 and it should be treated as such.  We shall make the most of it.

I did my Jazz Hands old the fashioned style this morning after my morning ritual (no, not that morning ritual), in the mirror as awkwardly as day one.  I wish I could say the intent was to go back to where we began for some higher purpose...but no.  Mostly I needed to get on with things today as the family and I will leave from our home somewhere near Tampa and head northeast to Amelia Island to explore a new part of Florida that we have yet to take in.  

And yes, every destination in Florida, aside from that famous central Florida amusement park ridden with mice, has "Island" in its name, or at the very least is some form of an island.  And for those unaware, the word "key" is another name for "island" and "isla" is Spanish for...yes, you guessed it.

Again, this story is backtracking to where we began and if you've been reading from the start you will recall our trip to the Florida Keys and are likely wondering why I choose to get back into the car for an extended drive and put up with the inevitable ridiculous nonsense from the backseat.  To be honest, why the wife and I punish ourselves in this fashion is a mystery...although seeing the kids as excited as they are for these simple getaways should validate the cause.  Of course if I told you that these trips were strictly for them, I'd be completely lying, but it is definitely a big part of the equation.  

Please don't ask me to break down the percentages this morning...I haven't had enough coffee.

Back to this morning's Jazz Hands deployment specifically, I went back to the beginning, in the mirror as stated previously, and went for the shuffle.  Shuffle to the left...shuffle to the right...of course, "shuffle" is likely the wrong term.  I don't shuffle.  Take two steps to the right, take two steps to the left, and I'll be damned, if you do this just right, it looks like a bonafide dance move.  At least it would in the right dancer's body.  In my body it merely looks as if I'm attempting to get from one end of the bathroom to the other in a sideways motion, hands flailing about.  

Moving on, it's time to pack the tour bus and complete the morning ritual (yes, that morning ritual), not necessarily in that order.

It is quite possible that Jazz Hands will be hand written for the next couple of days, and then typed/posted upon journey's end later in the week.  Upon our return I shall provide updates on all of the fantastical jazz handings that have occurred between then and now, and possibly get off track and fill you in on other loosely related details and how those events make me think about the royal Jazz Hands.

Until then...

Today's Jazz Hands backtracked and carries on.  Day eighty-four complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 83

SUNDAY, MARCH 24th, 2013

It looks more and more like the lime tree situated in our backyard is not going to make it.  It has led a good life and produced limes a plenty, and subsequently, plenty of homemade margaritas.  The tree has nothing to be ashamed of and shall eventually meet its ultimate ending with grace.  But I'm not ready to give up on the old lime tree just yet.  It may die, but not without a good fight.

Facing the lime tree with my feet planted firmly on the ground, I gave the tree a vigorous hand jazzing.  For good measure, I also deployed spirit fingers just in case.  

Citrus trees prefer a soil pH between 6.0 and 7.0.  There is one thing that is proven to stabilize the pH balance retaining the beneficial nutrients necessary for sustaining life in a citrus tree and there is another thing that is thought to be a key ingredient, but is still mainly considered a theory.  One of those things is Jazz Hands and the other is cow poop.  One of the aforementioned allows oxygen and water to penetrate the soil by opening up porous spaces, creating aggregates.  One of the aforementioned uses mystical powers and positive energy to promote growth.  I'll let you decide which is which.

After giving the lime tree the hand jazzing of its lifetime, I considered whether or not my deployment was worthy of the once majestic fixture it was intended for.  To this point I have not perfected my Jazz Hands delivery, in fact, three months in and I don't believe I have improved in style by much if at all.  Poop of all things can potentially save this tree, which begs the question, if my Jazz Hands deployment is considered "shitty", shouldn't that magnify its nitrogen levels and therefor its mystical healing powers?

Today's Jazz Hands were assisted by a certified professional crop consultant with over 30 years of experience and a degree in plant science.

Day eighty-three complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 82

SATURDAY, MARCH 23rd, 2013

We are all destined to fail at some point.  

There is, after all, a time for everything including failure.  Of course that also includes, specifically, scattering and collecting stones...but you get the idea.  Failure is always a part of the equation, and the expectation has to be that everything has potential for equal parts success and disaster.  Just like questioning everything, including your own faith.  What is faith that is not strongly contested after all?  It is nothing at all in the absence of potential failure.

We are all destined to arrive at the end of our road at some point.

Of course the end of the road is a cliche metaphor for death.  At first when I mentioned failure, I thought of it as synonymous with death, but I don't believe that to be true at all.  

If I get to December 31st of this year, and have not perfected Jazz Hands, does that make me a failure?  While there are many days to go, 283 to be exact, I like to believe that the quest will be rewarding, enlightening and most significantly, meaningful in ways perhaps I don't even understand this early in the game.

Pops passed on as what many people would consider a failed attempt at life.  They might call him a bum, and that's likely not the worst thing he's been called, probably by a large margin.  Perhaps we've got his story completely wrong.  Maybe Pops has the jazziest hands of them all.  

We can not always control our failures, as we shall all stumble from time to time.  We can however, control how we respond to those missteps.

Today's Jazz Hands were seriously flawed, but a slight improvement from yesterday and a vast improvement from where we began our journey on January 1st.

Day eighty-two complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 81

FRIDAY, MARCH 22nd, 2013

RULE #7:  All disputes are to be settled the old fashioned way...with Rock Paper Scissors.

It is the only fair way to settle disputes.  There are three options, with all parties involved having every one of those options at their disposal...fair is fair.  

If you throw rock on your first throw, you are bold, but predictable.  The smarter opponent will throw paper if they assess their inexperienced opponent adequately.  If you throw paper on your first throw you are revealed as a seasoned veteran that understands that the vast majority of first throws will be a rock, if facing an inexperienced opponent.  If you throw scissors on the first throw, you either understand that your opponent is inexperienced, or you believe that they are fairly seasoned and will throw paper if you think that they think you are inexperienced and will throw a rock.  If you believe your opponent knows you have experience enough to understand that he thinks that you think he is experienced, then both of you would logically both throw scissors because an experienced Rock Paper Scissors competitor would assume that you would not throw rock, and assume the other would definitely NOT throw paper due to the fact that the other would understand their opponent is seasoned and assumes the other is seasoned and/or experienced, and therefor would throw scissors.  

Therefor, if you believe your opponent thinks you are new to the game, throw scissors.  If you think your opponent thinks you are experienced, but thinks he/she is inexperienced then throw the paper.  If you believe that your opponent is experienced, and also believe that he/she believes you are experienced, as well, then throw the rock, just like the newbie would.  

If you think that your opponent thinks that you think that he is as experienced as you, then both of you will likely throw the bold, predictable, newbie rock.  Therefor, you should throw paper.  Which means you should really throw scissors.  Which means you should actually throw rock.

That covers the first throw.

RULE #7.1: All Rock/Paper/Scissor battles must be resolved in a best of three series.

If you have won the first throw with the rock, your opponent will think you are either a newbie, or an EXTREMELY experienced, contemplative opponent.  The latter will occur if your opponent is egotistical and at the same time respects your game.  

If you believe your opponent is egotistical, go ahead and overwhelm them with the landslide.  The landslide, obviously, is a series of three rocks consecutively.  If your opponent respects your game, and believes you respect his game, there is no way they will see this deployment coming.  The Landslide is the least respectful series of three throws you can deploy against an RPS veteran.  But it works.

If you believe that your opponent is experienced and respects your game, but not egotistical, you can throw three papers in a row, which is called the Executive.  

Three throws of scissors is volatile and is definitely not recommended.  Unless of course you believe that your opponent thinks that you think that they think that you think they are experienced and egotistical, and don't believe you have the gall to deploy the volatile suicide move of three scissors in a row.  

Assessing your opponent is key, obviously.

If you throw paper while deploying Jazz Hands, you are daring, bold, and deserve the accolades fit for royalty.  But if your opponent throws scissors, you're still screwed.  

Jazz Hands may be stronger than a rock or able to save the world, but they are not all powerful.  Jazz Hands are not indestructible.  Jazz Hands are not immune to defeat.  If you deploy Jazz Hands and lose to scissors in an RPS battle, at least you have lost with your dignity intact.

Next time a beach ball lands in between two players and was gettable by both parties, the loser of a Rock/Paper/Scissors battle will be required to accept blame and subsequently lose one life.  Your hand jazzing will be applauded and appreciated...but if you lose to scissors, accept defeat and move on.  We are all destined to fail at some point.  You can fail respectfully, or lose your dignity in the process.  the choice is completely yours.

Today's Jazz Hands was a landslide.  Day eighty-one complete.