On NPR today I heard the story about a “John Doe” who was walking around Seattle and couldn’t remember his identity but could remember bits of his very fascinating life. The Seattle Times ran a story on him today as 12:03AM and by 5:30AM someone in China had written to say they knew who the man was – Edward Lighthart.

Mr. Lighthart has lived around the world, speaks three languages, was married and ran businesses so my first reaction upon hearing him identified was “won’t his friends and family be so happy to have found him?”

Yet, during the NPR interview with the Seattle Times writer, I learned that maybe that’s an old fashioned thought. For the end of the interview concluded with the writer saying, “Somewhere there is an apartment and a computer waiting for Mr. Lighthart.”

A computer? Really?

It saddened me greatly to hear this comment but then I thought, it’s probably true. Life is now so often disconnected from real human contact; we think we’re more connected but really, we’re just more plugged in. We can hide behind text messages, emails, twitters and updates which is supposed to mean we care but really, it doesn’t. It doesn’t make us more responsible to our neighbours, our friends, our family. It allows us to identify missing people quickly but not to act quickly in helping them out.

It was strange to me that this story, that I heard 12 hours after his identity was revealed, was told with him having no papers, ID, friends or family coming to claim him or help him. All he had was an apartment and a computer somewhere, we think.

This morning I was walking my dog and just a few feet in front of me was a little blond girl, maybe four or five, who was walking very slowly. And in between walking very slowly she’d stop at every single flower, lean in, inhale and then walk to the next. In Santa Monica, CA, this could take awhile as there are flowers and tended gardens everywhere.

And apparently it was as the father, who obviously trying to get somewhere, was further ahead of her pushing her baby brother in a stroller, called out to her, “Honey, you don’t have to smell every flower”

To which she replied in all earnestness, “Oh, but Daddy, I do!”

At this point, the father sighed that sigh of ‘I tried’ and just waited at the corner while he daughter greeted and smelled every flower in that block. And since I was walking my dog who was the same size as her and excited by her little bouncy movements, I stopped moving and just stood with Jack as we watched her do what she needed to do.

And somehow, even though all the grown ups had to get somewhere, even though this would probably make us late, and it was something we maybe didn’t comprehend, it ended up being one of the best walks ever as I think we all saw new things. And I know I learned something: that yellow flower #4 on the left is called “Rebecca”.

Although I can’t pull off a “s’up” or wear baggy trousers round my bum, I am, in fact, old school.

Old school geek and social networker, that is.

Until the age of 8 (or 1982) I spent most of my time outdoors, playing with legos, drawing, creating forts and reading. But then a friend of the family who was an engineer got a Commodore 64 and while the parents talked politics after dinner, I sat and hacked away at that thing. In 1984 my school bought a couple of Apple II computers, one of which I ended up hogging for hours on end and staying after school so that I could code and code to make that little turtle move around and make pretty things.

After a couple of years of pestering my parents for a computer, “a compu-what?” my father took me to some office supply warehouse where a man began to talk to my father about what he had in stock. My father stopped the man, pointed to me and said, “You need to talk to her.” The salesman looked at me; the littlest, blondest girl in the biggest dress you ever saw wanted to talk floppy drives, memory and modem speed. I was so incredibly proud when I put in an order for some hacked together PC-clone. A month later we picked it up and I began coding games and small programs in DOS Basic between going to school, building forts in the forrest and putting dresses on Barbies.

In 1986 I discovered local BBS (bulletin board systems) in which you’d use your modem (at the time, 300 baud) to connect to another modem that hosted a site so you could talk to people. This was pre-world wide web days. Most of the people I talked to were guys who were outcasts because they were geeks. It wasn’t yet cool or lucrative. In fact, one tended to be rather quiet about owning a computer or worse yet, being a modemmer! Yet these geeks taught me a lot about computers and coding and, since they were local, about connecting the virtual world to a real one. I started arranging local meet-ups for us from playing sports on the weekend to attending special events. I didn’t think being online had to be separate from the real world.

Over the next few years I kept progressing with coding and modem speed (oh, a 1200 baud modem! A 2400 baud modem! Oh my, not a 9600 baud modem!!). In the early nineties something new was being pioneered; it was when a central computer would hook up to another computer somewhere else in the world. No longer did you have to settle for local geeks – you could go international! I began making friends in New Zealand, in the Caymans, in Italy and I learned the true meaning of “social networking.”

Around 1992 I stopped using a computer all together when I began my travels and it wasn’t until 1995 when I visited a friend in Vancouver did I see where the world of computers and modems had gone too. There was now Windows 95 to make computing easy and hardrives that held more space than those floppies ever could. Computers were becoming more mainstream yet the web still had a ways to go. There was, however, a new development in connecting – IRC Chat. And I hopped on there from time to time, chatting with family and old friends and meeting new ones. I really liked this idea and decided to build a quick and permanent way for people to know me and connect.

So in 1995, using my friend’s computer, I put up my very first web page (seen above). I used Netscape Navigator and hosted it on their site. I put things up that were important – photos, about me, a diary to keep people updated and an email link. Because the web was relatively new I didn’t understand how people could find me (I thought you had to tell them the web site address) and that it could go to anyone in the world with a modem. I thought just my few close friends would read it. Little did I know.

Please go out there and do. Live. Don’t be the same as yesterday. Don’t live vicariously online. Don’t use language that has no meaning or talk ideas you don’t really live. Don’t hide. Don’t copy others or live their ideas or life. Don’t fear doing your thing. Don’t fear doing. Instead of reading a decorating magazine, paint that room. Instead of thinking of baking, do up a cake. Run, walk, bike. Put that self help book down and pick up yourself.

Let go of the snark, your worries, your anger and fear and give into possibility, action, joy and life. Do. Do some more. Stop thinking about you. Stop blogging about just you and your kid and your pet. There’s a world out there to connect to, really connect to. Being of use is more important than being popular. Think about the lady down the street, the person at the drive through, the man fallen in the street, about politics, the environment, healthcare, another country and then do something about it. Never stop at thinking.

Dream big, work harder. Have lots of fun, lift a finger, do something for someone else. Cheer your friends on. Cheer yourself up. Celebrate as much as possible. Enjoy everything. Right now. It’s OK to want more and do more but be present with where you are or who you are with. Don’t rush the situation – even if it’s bad. Move on when you can. Don’t settle. Try everything you can and get over everything holding you back.

Go outside. Go outside yourself. Make a difference, make some change. Don’t complain about someone unless you’re talking to that someone. Don’t complain about a situation you’re not willing to make better. They don’t have it better and you don’t have it worse. Don’t make excuses. You’ll never see possibility if you do. And you’re smart and worth more than settling for a life of complaining and limitation.

Hope. Hope more. Give someone else hope. Get healthy and contribute to a healthy environment. Think about everything you do, you buy, you say. Only be lazy on Sunday and even then, be conscious. Rest is useful, giving up is not.

Play. Remember what it’s like to be seven. Remember to listen to a seven year old because you just have more words and life experience, not necessarily more wisdom. Have more questions than answers and don’t put everything into words. Sometimes just feel things and be. Be quiet more often, listen harder, talk exactly as you mean to.

Strive for your best and not what you think someone elses’ best is. Follow through. Don’t let others’ down. Don’t let yourself down. You are better than your circumstances. Ask for what you’re worth. Make magic happen don’t wish for it. Don’t envy others’ lives, envy yours. Live it fully. Teach by example how to live well, how to be treated, how to be kind, how to be alive.

Do. I can’t stress that one enough. Take action on your life. Make the change. No more sulking, waiting, thinking, reading, talking about. It’s time. You’re ready.

I didn’t grow up with a television and have never owned one as an adult. The reason for this is quite simple: I’m very guarded about what comes into my life because if I’m not, the wrong things can easily take over.

For example, a few years ago my friend, who also had always lacked a television, and I had a girly weekend at the Ritz in Los Angeles – Club Level. At our disposal was a spa, swimming pool, trails, bikes, and privy to Club Level, a lounge with several (free) food servings each day. We had a sprawling two-room suite with an amazing balcony that had an unbelievable view. And in our room were two of the largest Sony televisions we had ever seen.

Since we’d both gone without TV, we turned one on and showing was the story of a 500lb man on the Discovery Channel. We. Could. Not. Stop. Watching. We said during commercials we’d go out once the show was over but that didn’t happen. For the two tonne twins came up after that. And after that was some other show on obesity.

After three hours I turned off the tv as with both laid lifeless on the bed.

“Do you want to ride bikes now?” I asked.

“No, I don’t feel like it. What about swimming?”

“I can’t get into my bikini! I feel fat!”

We had become so absorbed by other peoples lives that we were unable to lead our own despite the fact we were in one of the most incredible settings for the sole purpose of having fun.

So that is why there is a lack of TV in my home and always has been. This has, at times in certain groups, made me somewhat of a social outcast in America since so many references and inside jokes seem to be TV lines (it was only a year ago thanks to YouTube I got the whole “No soup for you” thing). But I get away with not knowing a lot because I didn’t grow up in America and because I actually know more than I should by paying attention to all the conversations that people have about pop culture (I can tell you a surprising about of random TV facts).

The point is, I’ve managed really well without TV in a TV world. Then I realised that my TV was the Internet and that was bombarding me and my subconscious far too much without any useful benefit. It was, instead of me feeling inspired and creative, was making me feel like I was watching bad television and feeling unfit to do anything about it afterwards.

Since being online since 1995 I’ve seen all the trends of the web world and have been a part of a lot of them. I’ve been web famous several times (it comes and goes), created lots of communities, hung out with the geeks, the cool kids and followed all the web pages, news and dish that’s gone along with it.

It wasn’t until over a year ago that I began to really question the internet and how it affected me. The internet and I were in one of those tumultuous relationships where we’d break up then makeup with fervor. We were codependent yet I’d never thought to ask why since I figured it had to be in my life – since most of it seemed to have replaced my life.

But last year I was recruited by a company to build community for its sites by writing content and connect people I knew (writers, artists, leaders in their industries) to the sites. I was suspicious but not enough to say no; I loved a challenge, I loved the idea of doing what I did on a bigger scale and I loved the idea more of helping people I knew get more exposure.

However I quickly learned that the company was more about page count than useful content. They wanted to be the “biggest distributer of content” on the internet – even if it was (by their own admission) very bad content. They wanted page views and sign ups which in my opinion, is not community. It didn’t get people helping people and it didn’t get people living life. IAnd in my efforts I was being asked to abuse personal and professional relationships that took me years to develop for their sites and gain but not for that of the writers or the community. Instead of being a voice of service in verticals I was passionate about and helping people I knew gain exposure, I quickly became a high-paid talent manager for bad sites and disgruntled friends.

After a lot of internal discussion to get my job to be like the actual job description I wrote when I agreed to come on and the company doing everything they could to keep me from doing that description, I realised that the company didn’t work the way I did and I had to quit.

And that left me to wonder, where in the web world do I belong?

I can imagine this dilapidated 17 century sitting room with with painted walls, roaring fire, carpet on hardwood floors and a table with tea to welcome someone in after the cold. There’s something, to me, so beautiful about the way this room is, even in it’s broke down, overgrown, unlivable condition. It’s more beautiful that after viewing this, I returned to my lovely room at the Hayfield Manor Inn where I had tea delivered each evening whilst working at my computer – not having to worry about cleaning up after myself and having cable television (a treat!).

This is easy to do on a dreamy trip and in someone else’s place. It’s a totally different story when I get an emergency call telling me that, thanks to several severe storms, my flat has been destroyed by water and wind damage and it’s currently unlivable and that I have to stay in a hotel instead of my home.

Unexpectedly, I had to go home to see the damage only to realise that I really couldn’t stay in my place; the roof, walkway, walls had massive water damage and instability issues. So for the past week I have been staying in a hotel by my home, trying to get access inside when I’m allowed (which hasn’t been very much) plus trying to figure out how to pack up/move what I’ve got and where to go. It’s been extraordinarily frustrating because in the midst of all of this, life is still going on at full force (including work, going back to Europe, arranging things back in Santa Monica, CA, dealing with the pets, dealing with food allergies (gluten) and not having a kitchen in which to safely eat).

Looking at damaged buildings and then retreating to my hotel was charming in Ireland but has had me, at times, a flailing-limbed mess back home. I really love being settled – even if it’s in a temporary home or hotel and all this was making me feel anything but. Not knowing where I was going to be each day in reality instead of a trip was frustrating and overwhelming. Trying to figure out how to get to my stuff, what to do with the pets, where do I go, how do I get back to work etc. seemed like a never-ending pile of problems. I had to stop work on my home articles, on certain projects and reading certain sites on the internet because I just felt like I couldn’t do what I wanted to do thanks to all of this. I felt stuck as it was too much and I couldn’t see anything good – even though I was looking at damaged state during the day and retreating to a luxury hotel each night – basically I was doing the same thing in Carmel that I was doing in Ireland.

But after a few days of wallowing I had had enough and wasn’t getting anywhere. I realised that this situation – like all situations – is about attitude. I can’t change what happened so I have to change the way I look at it. Focusing on all the problems, frustrations and “why me” left me with problems, frustrations and a pity party for one. So I recounted the wise words of Maria von Trap (as played by Julie Andrews), “You cry a little, then the sun comes out.”

And after all the storms, the sun had to come out – literally or figuratively. I made up my mind to just look at my current situation differently – just as I’d done only a few days before in Ireland. The situation is so not ideal but the upswing? I knew that living here would be temporary, anyway and now there is less packing. Staying in a local hotel allowed me to finally catch Project Runway (since I don’t have a TV at home) and LOST. And now I’m free to move about the world without having to worry about being tied down to a flat for now. And moving back to Santa Monica will be easier.

So although I won’t be taking photos of the damage as “art,” I will be looking at all of this differently. It’s the only way I keep moving forward because I have challenges too. It’s just that my dreams are so much bigger and I’d rather be exhausted by them than the (temporary) problems.

Today I turn 34 which I’m so very glad for as I must confess 33 was, for lack of a better term, ass. But tonight I’m at an estate built in the 1600′s as a summer residence in a beautiful part of Ireland. I’ve had champagne and gluten free cake with two sets of flowers in my hotel apartment. So far, 34 is promising.

The photo is blurry, I know, but I think it just captures how I’ve been lately – always in motion. People always ask how I do so much and wonder if it’s a sugar daddy or magic pill. The truth is it’s just a love of life and lots of doing because I believe life is made up of choice, not circumstance and I choose to do anything and everything I can think of.

There are so many things I want to do, places I want to see, people I want to know that I am always busy either trying to figure out how to do things or doing them. Which often makes for some blurry times but I kind of like it that way. I couldn’t be happy just thinking of ideas and wondering how they’d turn out. I wouldn’t be happy feeling like I wasn’t able to do something because of something else. By choosing not to focus on circumstance or what others say is possible, my life and all that I do is possible.

And it leaves me with this wonderful blurry thing called life.

Summer of 1991 from alex beauchamp on Vimeo.

Almost every day I see the same gentleman (who is in his 80′s) walk very slowly down the sidewalk. Until he takes notice of me (or any other young woman around) he is supported by his daughter (who is in her 60′s). But as soon as he sees me he shoo’s her away, stands a little straighter and walks on his own trying to be proud and nonchalant. He always says hi to Jack and I and then once we’re passed and I’m out of sight, he returns to his daughter’s side. Sometimes I’ll hear her say as though she’s an embarrassed 16 year old, “Oh Dad, really” when he lets go.

In the video above, I was seventeen years old and now the video is seventeen years old. I can remember every detail of those days – the heat, the way the grass felt, the butterflies in my tummy over crushing, the weight of the trunk on our heads, the beach, her laughter, putting on lipstick for the first time and eating McDonald’s French Fries.

Recently I showed this video to my mum who giggled through the whole thing whilst saying over and over, “you haven’t changed. Listen to how you giggle, look at those movements and that cheek! So much the same!” When we went through her photos at the same age, I could say the same things about her.

And when we look at the seventeen year old girls we were, we don’t see any non-physical differences between the (almost) thirty-four year old woman I’ve become and the (almost) sixty-four year old woman she’s become. Despite there being all those years between us and our younger selves, there’s actually none at all. We have the same heart, the same mannerisms, the same ideals, the same sense of fun, the same of love of life. We’re just young girls who dream big, hope for the best but are just a little older and a little bit physically changed.

A man in his 90′s once said to me, “I’m just a 22 year old guy caught up in this old man’s body. I’m not so wise and put together as everyone assumes I am just because I’m old. I’m not stuffy or boring. I’m fun, alive with dreams, too and I still want to chase the girls. I don’t know how to be in this body. I just know how to be 22. And I miss it.”

I think of that every time I meet someone in that age range – that they’re just young people in an older body but who we are is who we are. This has given me happiness in the past little while for I thought I was getting further away from myself when, like Dorothy, I was there all along. I just, for awhile, became someone else I didn’t recognise. Luckily, I do now.

The Santa Monica Sunday Market is always busy making parking – which is already rare – even more of a premium. I turned off main street to park in the public lot behind, hopeful that I’d find parking so I could run into my favourite pet food store to pick something up. I usually do because I don’t focus on the full lot but on one spot to open. And it always does.

As I turned in, a man about 50 in an expensive, flashy convertible stopped in front. It looked like he would get a lucky day as one car pulled out of a very full lot. However, as the car was getting ready to pull out, I noticed on the other incoming side a car of women who also thought they were going to get that spot. When convertible man saw this he began to yell not very nice things to them.

The way the parked car pulled out ended up blocking convertible man and in went the car of women. Convertable man was not happy about this and kept his car stopped so he could continue to yell not so nice things to the women. As he did this a woman walked past him and said, “Sir, you can stop, I’m pulling out right here.”

And that should have ended it. But he was angry and had to be right.

So while he waited for the other woman to pull out, he kept yelling at the all the women that pulled in – including a 6 year old child. He was so busy yelling at them that he didn’t notice the other woman pulling out but he did notice another car from the opposite side pull in.

Now he was very angry.

He had been screwed over once, and rather than let it go he focused on it so much that when a second opportunity presented itself, he couldn’t take it. All he could do was park his car, get out and chase both parties down to yell about how they were all his spot.

So there he was, standing still, unhappy, looking ridiculous and without parking. One spot taken, another missed. So busy focusing on that which made him angry that he kept himself from seeing something that he needed open up right in front of him.