Lately, I find myself tapping my toe impatiently as the minutes tick down ever so slowly toward the 4 o'clock hour each afternoon. It seems I can only think of one thing, and that is getting into my car, cranking up the stereo and rolling down the windows.
I love spring.
It means windows down in the car, and windows up in the house. The air conditioning and the furnace are both unnecessary. Spring holds promise and hope. Sure, some of those promises won't be kept, such as mine to diligently work in the yard. I swear this is the year I get stuff done! A few weeks remain before it's too hot to wear sleeves, which means I still have time to tone those arms. Will I? Probably not...but then again, maybe I will. It is warm enough to sit on our porches and decks, but not quite yet time to swim. I love sleeping with the smell of the lilacs outside perfuming my dreamland with a scent no store-bought candle could ever truly mimic.
I love this season because it is the true beginning of the year. Flowers are born, our grass wakes up, we see the sun as we drive to work. Warm rain washes the ice off our toes and the salt off our cars. It is the perfectly designated time for things to blossom and grow.
Best of all, this new warmth dissipates the chill from my recent frigid mood. It's put the bounce back in my step, and the hope back in my heart. Maybe all anybody ever really needs is a little sunshine...and having a few good friends by your side doesn't hurt a bit.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Learning As We Go
Last night, I happened upon the following quote while I was wasting time on Pinterest:
"It hurt because it mattered." ~John Green
The words struck me in their simplicity and honesty; and hit me like a punch to the throat. I'm having a rough time lately. Not to worry, it's nothing monumental, or even definable. I'm still getting out of bed in the morning. I continue to smile and laugh and socialize. I'm just not quite as chipper as I would like to be, and I'm having a hard time figuring out why. I am putting a lot of pressure on myself and spending a lot of time in my own head; sometimes that is a lonely place in which to get lost. It has recently occurred to me that I often feel guilty for over-dramatizing some situations. My feelings are your typical girl feelings, with layers. I find that I might read into certain things differently than the opposing parties. At times it's out of desperation for human contact, and at others it's good old fashioned hope. Hope that this time it's going to be different. More often than not, I'm left feeling foolish and disappointed, but I try so very hard to dissuade myself from dwelling on it. Then, I punish myself if I do dwell on it.
A never-ending cycle. A never-ending story.
Maybe I don't subscribe to the healthiest of methods when dealing with stuff. I've discovered that perhaps allowing myself to feel as if I've been quite literally stabbed in my heart, or back, is necessary in order to continue through life. Simply trying to ignore or forget something rarely produces long-term satisfaction.
I invest my faith into lost causes all too often. When someone has let you down repeatedly, time and time again for years or even decades; it is very safe to say that the next time he comes sniffing around, he's going to disappoint you again, no matter how sweet and vibrant a color the new candy coating may be. One day it just clicks, as he is walking away. Even if it is pitch dark, it is as bright as day and you finally see it; he doesn't give a crap. You've said it before, and deep down you've always known it; but there is another level somewhere between flesh and fantasy that continues to hold onto a hopeless kind of hope. When you finally reach clarity you're at your lowest low, and it's a relief, but as painful as a death at the same time. It hurts...because it mattered. It hurts all the more, because it only mattered to you.
I try to remain as positive as possible, but there comes a time when a person just can't take any more disappointment. At what point is it acceptable to let go of our faith and replace it with caution? Either way, I eventually just feel like a fool.
I think, when we hold our own self-worth at a lower standard than necessary, we find it difficult to understand that we deserve better. I know myself well enough to take comfort in the knowledge that when push comes to shove, I can fully recognize my limits and my tolerances. There is a reason nothing has worked for me in certain areas of my life yet. It is because I do know what I really want, and I'm not going to settle for less. Hindsight is my favorite thing, because once you've traveled away from the hurt, you can see just how beneficial it truly was.
"It hurt because it mattered." ~John Green
The words struck me in their simplicity and honesty; and hit me like a punch to the throat. I'm having a rough time lately. Not to worry, it's nothing monumental, or even definable. I'm still getting out of bed in the morning. I continue to smile and laugh and socialize. I'm just not quite as chipper as I would like to be, and I'm having a hard time figuring out why. I am putting a lot of pressure on myself and spending a lot of time in my own head; sometimes that is a lonely place in which to get lost. It has recently occurred to me that I often feel guilty for over-dramatizing some situations. My feelings are your typical girl feelings, with layers. I find that I might read into certain things differently than the opposing parties. At times it's out of desperation for human contact, and at others it's good old fashioned hope. Hope that this time it's going to be different. More often than not, I'm left feeling foolish and disappointed, but I try so very hard to dissuade myself from dwelling on it. Then, I punish myself if I do dwell on it.
A never-ending cycle. A never-ending story.
Maybe I don't subscribe to the healthiest of methods when dealing with stuff. I've discovered that perhaps allowing myself to feel as if I've been quite literally stabbed in my heart, or back, is necessary in order to continue through life. Simply trying to ignore or forget something rarely produces long-term satisfaction.
I invest my faith into lost causes all too often. When someone has let you down repeatedly, time and time again for years or even decades; it is very safe to say that the next time he comes sniffing around, he's going to disappoint you again, no matter how sweet and vibrant a color the new candy coating may be. One day it just clicks, as he is walking away. Even if it is pitch dark, it is as bright as day and you finally see it; he doesn't give a crap. You've said it before, and deep down you've always known it; but there is another level somewhere between flesh and fantasy that continues to hold onto a hopeless kind of hope. When you finally reach clarity you're at your lowest low, and it's a relief, but as painful as a death at the same time. It hurts...because it mattered. It hurts all the more, because it only mattered to you.
I try to remain as positive as possible, but there comes a time when a person just can't take any more disappointment. At what point is it acceptable to let go of our faith and replace it with caution? Either way, I eventually just feel like a fool.
I think, when we hold our own self-worth at a lower standard than necessary, we find it difficult to understand that we deserve better. I know myself well enough to take comfort in the knowledge that when push comes to shove, I can fully recognize my limits and my tolerances. There is a reason nothing has worked for me in certain areas of my life yet. It is because I do know what I really want, and I'm not going to settle for less. Hindsight is my favorite thing, because once you've traveled away from the hurt, you can see just how beneficial it truly was.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Extra Cheese, Please
A few weeks ago, I arrived home from work to find the new swimsuit top I had ordered the previous week waiting for me on my porch swing. I tried it on, fully expecting it to look exactly the same on me as it did on the display mannequin.
It didn't.
Deep down, I knew it wouldn't. Lately I've been gaining weight like it's my job. I have absolutely no control over my hands as they're shoveling food into my mouth. I only comfortably fit into two of the almost fifteen pairs of jeans I own. I know what it takes to stop the madness, but it's like some unseen force takes over my brain by the end of everyday. I go into some kind of a trance and when I come to I'm surrounded by empty food packaging. Clearly something weird is going on with me. I can't quite place my finger on it, but I have a few good ideas; and binge eating peanut butter m&m's is taking me in the opposite direction of where I need to go.
I know that confidence shines through in your personality, I've read it in enough fashion magazines; but I don't think I've ever been confident where my appearance is concerned. Even in high school (and it pains me to admit this) I thought I was fat. I wasn't, by the way...not even a little bit; not even when one of the boys in my class started calling me "fat." I was a really pretty girl with a healthy body who felt physically inferior to others. I wish every single day that I could go back and talk some sense into myself.
Now, I'm not going to blame anything but my own lack of self-discipline for where I am today. I was on a great path not too long ago and I veered off of it in a very big way. I do not handle stress well, and in such cases I often turn to food. At the end of the day, I just want to be healthy. I want to choose healthy foods and prepare them in a healthful way and look forward to going to the gym or for a run every evening. I will always crave that cheesy, greasy pizza, though. If I ever lose all this weight and men actually begin to find me attractive, I'll always question whether or not they would have ever been interested in me if I looked like I do now. Perhaps that is one of the big factors holding me back, perhaps I'm making yet another excuse for my lack of advancement...or perhaps I'm not giving the male species enough credit.
Either way, I think it's clear that I have quite a bit of work yet to do on myself. Isn't it funny that once we think we have all the answers, we find we were wrong all along?
This summer, I'll wear my new swimsuit top that will either be too tight, or fit just right. It will never look the same as it does on the mannequin, but I don't think my pool companions mind all that much. I have a suspicion that the opinions of others have never really bothered me as much as my opinion of myself anyway. I'm pretty sure I don't look good naked to a great many people, but if I could look at myself in the mirror and actually believe I do...well isn't that the most important thing anyway? There is so much more to a person than their physical appearance, but we have to give others a chance to see it instead of hiding behind very tall walls that are impossible to climb over. I've recently discovered that my attempt to break down my own walls has only reinforced their strength. Where I'm from, that's not considered progress.
Of course, we are all a work-in-progress, but the work is so much more enjoyable if you can feel happy to be doing it. There exists no acceptable excuse to feel bad about yourself if you're making an honest attempt to improve everyday; and if you do feel good about yourself, never let anyone else change that.
It didn't.
Deep down, I knew it wouldn't. Lately I've been gaining weight like it's my job. I have absolutely no control over my hands as they're shoveling food into my mouth. I only comfortably fit into two of the almost fifteen pairs of jeans I own. I know what it takes to stop the madness, but it's like some unseen force takes over my brain by the end of everyday. I go into some kind of a trance and when I come to I'm surrounded by empty food packaging. Clearly something weird is going on with me. I can't quite place my finger on it, but I have a few good ideas; and binge eating peanut butter m&m's is taking me in the opposite direction of where I need to go.
I know that confidence shines through in your personality, I've read it in enough fashion magazines; but I don't think I've ever been confident where my appearance is concerned. Even in high school (and it pains me to admit this) I thought I was fat. I wasn't, by the way...not even a little bit; not even when one of the boys in my class started calling me "fat." I was a really pretty girl with a healthy body who felt physically inferior to others. I wish every single day that I could go back and talk some sense into myself.
Now, I'm not going to blame anything but my own lack of self-discipline for where I am today. I was on a great path not too long ago and I veered off of it in a very big way. I do not handle stress well, and in such cases I often turn to food. At the end of the day, I just want to be healthy. I want to choose healthy foods and prepare them in a healthful way and look forward to going to the gym or for a run every evening. I will always crave that cheesy, greasy pizza, though. If I ever lose all this weight and men actually begin to find me attractive, I'll always question whether or not they would have ever been interested in me if I looked like I do now. Perhaps that is one of the big factors holding me back, perhaps I'm making yet another excuse for my lack of advancement...or perhaps I'm not giving the male species enough credit.
Either way, I think it's clear that I have quite a bit of work yet to do on myself. Isn't it funny that once we think we have all the answers, we find we were wrong all along?
This summer, I'll wear my new swimsuit top that will either be too tight, or fit just right. It will never look the same as it does on the mannequin, but I don't think my pool companions mind all that much. I have a suspicion that the opinions of others have never really bothered me as much as my opinion of myself anyway. I'm pretty sure I don't look good naked to a great many people, but if I could look at myself in the mirror and actually believe I do...well isn't that the most important thing anyway? There is so much more to a person than their physical appearance, but we have to give others a chance to see it instead of hiding behind very tall walls that are impossible to climb over. I've recently discovered that my attempt to break down my own walls has only reinforced their strength. Where I'm from, that's not considered progress.
Of course, we are all a work-in-progress, but the work is so much more enjoyable if you can feel happy to be doing it. There exists no acceptable excuse to feel bad about yourself if you're making an honest attempt to improve everyday; and if you do feel good about yourself, never let anyone else change that.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Actions and Meanings
There comes a time in life, when you know how to act in public, and in private. You know when you can be silly, and when you can be crass, and when to be respectful. You know those closest to you better than you could ever imagine. One day it just clicks. I know who I can go to for what problems. If I need to vent and complain for hours it's one person. If I need someone to be nonsensical with in an effort to put that problem on a shelf and get back to it later it is another. I'm grateful for this diversity. I know I don't express it nearly enough, and I know I selfishly do not reciprocate the courtesy extended to me time and time again, but I am grateful...every single day.
I hope that counts for something.
I am having an absolutely wretched time lately. I'm just going to be completely honest about that from the start. I have found myself having to make a conscious effort to wipe the scowl off my face in public. Yes, it is probably only winter doldrums coupled with the stress of financial recovery from lack of work during the holidays. It is frustration with the chapter that has me stuck dead in my tracks, and wondering if I'm just a hack at this whole writing thing. It is facing another birthday single, and another Valentine's day in which I have to pretend I don't give a crap that I won't be getting flowers. Sounds silly, but as I've said before...I'm a girl who thinks girl things. Many words that come out of my mouth which make me appear as if certain things don't bother me, are most likely a defense mechanism. Though, from this point on, I would prefer if everyone continued to go about their lives as if I didn't just admit this most humiliating of secrets. I feel like I've spent the past fifteen or so years with my arms straight out in front of me to block anybody and anything from getting too close. Even my efforts toward opening up are presented with a very thick filter.
I want to be stronger than I am. I want to be more naturally talented than I am. I want to be a better person than I am. How nice it would be to become jaded on command...it is frustrating to feel things you're not in the mood to feel. It is maddening to not be able to control emotions in favor of logic. My brain is going a mile a minute and frankly, it's starting to have a very negative effect on me.
I've been lying awake at night because each time I close my eyes, I have a nightmare. I'm exhausted and not even the fancy eye cream in my medicine cabinet can disguise my pale skin and puffy eyes. So, you know, on top of everything else I feel ugly. It's just so hard to relax when everything on your plate seems as though it was needed yesterday. To top it all off, you feel like you've traveled a thousand miles in reverse when you discover even your fat pants are too tight.
I honestly don't know what to do, or even the point of this blog. I just know that often if I need to get something off my chest, I write about it, even if it's not all that important. I also know this will pass. My downer periods thankfully don't last long anymore...I am surrounded by entirely too many fun people to remain low for too long. Today, the sun is shining. It's a day to celebrate my sister's birthday, even if she's several states away and I won't actually get to see her. It's also Fermented Grape Juice Thursday with some of my nearest and dearest.
See, I'm feeling better already.
I hope that counts for something.
I am having an absolutely wretched time lately. I'm just going to be completely honest about that from the start. I have found myself having to make a conscious effort to wipe the scowl off my face in public. Yes, it is probably only winter doldrums coupled with the stress of financial recovery from lack of work during the holidays. It is frustration with the chapter that has me stuck dead in my tracks, and wondering if I'm just a hack at this whole writing thing. It is facing another birthday single, and another Valentine's day in which I have to pretend I don't give a crap that I won't be getting flowers. Sounds silly, but as I've said before...I'm a girl who thinks girl things. Many words that come out of my mouth which make me appear as if certain things don't bother me, are most likely a defense mechanism. Though, from this point on, I would prefer if everyone continued to go about their lives as if I didn't just admit this most humiliating of secrets. I feel like I've spent the past fifteen or so years with my arms straight out in front of me to block anybody and anything from getting too close. Even my efforts toward opening up are presented with a very thick filter.
I want to be stronger than I am. I want to be more naturally talented than I am. I want to be a better person than I am. How nice it would be to become jaded on command...it is frustrating to feel things you're not in the mood to feel. It is maddening to not be able to control emotions in favor of logic. My brain is going a mile a minute and frankly, it's starting to have a very negative effect on me.
I've been lying awake at night because each time I close my eyes, I have a nightmare. I'm exhausted and not even the fancy eye cream in my medicine cabinet can disguise my pale skin and puffy eyes. So, you know, on top of everything else I feel ugly. It's just so hard to relax when everything on your plate seems as though it was needed yesterday. To top it all off, you feel like you've traveled a thousand miles in reverse when you discover even your fat pants are too tight.
I honestly don't know what to do, or even the point of this blog. I just know that often if I need to get something off my chest, I write about it, even if it's not all that important. I also know this will pass. My downer periods thankfully don't last long anymore...I am surrounded by entirely too many fun people to remain low for too long. Today, the sun is shining. It's a day to celebrate my sister's birthday, even if she's several states away and I won't actually get to see her. It's also Fermented Grape Juice Thursday with some of my nearest and dearest.
See, I'm feeling better already.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Goodbye Neverland
It has recently occurred to me, that I may lack a certain level of maturity in various aspects of my life. At age 32 (33 in a few weeks) I have come to realize it is no longer acceptable to use the excuse "I don't have a shovel," after it snows and my visitors are forced to hop through my footprints in order to get safely to my front door because I was unable to neatly shovel (and salt) the walk. It is also not acceptable to use the same excuse when situations call for rakes, brooms, and mowers. I've never owned a clothes iron, nor an ironing board. I throw my wrinkly clothes in the dryer, hang them up in the steamy bathroom, or buy clothes that don't wrinkle...or, due to lack of forethought and planning, sometimes I just wear them wrinkled.
I have a feeling it may be time to grow up...just a bit. I'm officially declaring it my ultimate goal for the year. It is time to accept the fact that I'm not a little girl anymore. I am in my thirties. It's time to stop waking up (almost) every Sunday morning with a hangover. It's time to stop making excuses for things like not doing my dishes, and laundry, and saving money. Chips and Salsa alone is not an acceptable dinner, even if I am trying to lose weight (or "get healthy" as I so non-committally refer to it).
The time has come to start cooking real meals, and planning ahead; and not considering leftover money from my paycheck "beer money." I realize I should be nicer to some and a little less nice to others. I can't keep whining and waiting for people to do things for me. While I've managed independence in many areas of my existence, there are still a few in which I am still lacking...and they mostly have to do with the area outside my home (my home that I actually own, like an adult, and therefore should care for as a homeowning adult would). It's time to clean out the gutters and start pulling weeds with regularity...and not waiting for the rain to water my flowers (if I ever get around to planting any).
I no longer drive the first car I ever bought, which was a perfectly suitable vehicle for a teenager. I drive a Buick now. A grown-up car that should set the pace for the third decade of my life (while blasting The Eagles, Bruce Springsteen and Ray Lamontagne as I drive down the road, of course). I must throw away the collection of beer bottle caps and wine corks...unless I'm saving them to use in a Pinterest craft. I have to stop being afraid to make chicken, and start changing lightbulbs when they burn out (seriously, I've been doing laundry in the dark for months). My calendar should be updated everyday, by me; not only by Joanna when she comes over and changes it for me. I must pay closer attention to my credit score; and I have realized that it is beginning to become imperative that I start saving for retirement. I also feel that maybe I should start recycling or something...or at least start considering it an option.
It's not that I am afraid to grow up, or that I don't necessarily want to...I just haven't gotten around to it. Kind of how I haven't gotten around to buying a shovel, or new light bulbs for my basement. It really is important to stop and look around at everything we're missing while we're rushing to the next stage in life. If we're not careful, we may not notice that we've allowed important things to pass right by us.
Now you may still see me with purple hair on occasion...some things I'm just not ready to give up. I intend to always get together with my friends to drink beer, and laugh, and be silly. I'll never deny myself the right to go out and have a good time. I am single and childless...what else am I going to do? Sit at home and knit? I don't even know how to knit. If I'm going to be an old maid; I want to do it with a smile on my face, a drink in my hand, and money in my savings account.
I have a feeling it may be time to grow up...just a bit. I'm officially declaring it my ultimate goal for the year. It is time to accept the fact that I'm not a little girl anymore. I am in my thirties. It's time to stop waking up (almost) every Sunday morning with a hangover. It's time to stop making excuses for things like not doing my dishes, and laundry, and saving money. Chips and Salsa alone is not an acceptable dinner, even if I am trying to lose weight (or "get healthy" as I so non-committally refer to it).
The time has come to start cooking real meals, and planning ahead; and not considering leftover money from my paycheck "beer money." I realize I should be nicer to some and a little less nice to others. I can't keep whining and waiting for people to do things for me. While I've managed independence in many areas of my existence, there are still a few in which I am still lacking...and they mostly have to do with the area outside my home (my home that I actually own, like an adult, and therefore should care for as a homeowning adult would). It's time to clean out the gutters and start pulling weeds with regularity...and not waiting for the rain to water my flowers (if I ever get around to planting any).
I no longer drive the first car I ever bought, which was a perfectly suitable vehicle for a teenager. I drive a Buick now. A grown-up car that should set the pace for the third decade of my life (while blasting The Eagles, Bruce Springsteen and Ray Lamontagne as I drive down the road, of course). I must throw away the collection of beer bottle caps and wine corks...unless I'm saving them to use in a Pinterest craft. I have to stop being afraid to make chicken, and start changing lightbulbs when they burn out (seriously, I've been doing laundry in the dark for months). My calendar should be updated everyday, by me; not only by Joanna when she comes over and changes it for me. I must pay closer attention to my credit score; and I have realized that it is beginning to become imperative that I start saving for retirement. I also feel that maybe I should start recycling or something...or at least start considering it an option.
It's not that I am afraid to grow up, or that I don't necessarily want to...I just haven't gotten around to it. Kind of how I haven't gotten around to buying a shovel, or new light bulbs for my basement. It really is important to stop and look around at everything we're missing while we're rushing to the next stage in life. If we're not careful, we may not notice that we've allowed important things to pass right by us.
Now you may still see me with purple hair on occasion...some things I'm just not ready to give up. I intend to always get together with my friends to drink beer, and laugh, and be silly. I'll never deny myself the right to go out and have a good time. I am single and childless...what else am I going to do? Sit at home and knit? I don't even know how to knit. If I'm going to be an old maid; I want to do it with a smile on my face, a drink in my hand, and money in my savings account.
"All children, except one, grow up." ~J.M. Barrie
Monday, December 31, 2012
Lucky Number 13
Well, 2012 didn't show us the end of the world, but if you'll recall, last year I resolved to take my writing to the next level.
Mission accomplished.
In a year full of so many highs and lows I have to say my book rides right at the top of everything. I have been talking about writing a book since I was in elementary school. I didn't exactly plan it. I have started hundreds over the years. The difference with "Wiener Brain" is that it was the right one; I kept coming back to add more. It didn't take long for me to figure out that it was "the one."
Of course, that shouldn't diminish the other great things that happened this year. I became an auntie once again when my niece Ruby was born. She lives entirely too far away, but it just makes the times I get to see her that much more precious. My dear friend returned from Afghanistan, safe and sound. My nephew turned 1, and has proceeded to amaze me with everything he does. I think the bond I share with all my closest friends strengthened this year, as well. Not only did I gain a niece, but also a brother, Justin.
A trip to Virginia, Wisconsin, a cabin in the woods, and a Springsteen show put 2012 down in the books as one of my most traveled years.
With the ups must come the downs. You can't have one without the other...otherwise how would you know you're happy? This year I saw two friends dealing with great loss. One lost a great man, and one lost a terrible man. Loss is loss, however; the jolt is the same whether it be a revered grandfather, or a philandering husband. You still have to adjust to their absence. You still have to learn a new way of living.
I was very saddened to learn of the passing of my dear friend's grandfather. I knew him myself and he was the kind of person you love immediately upon meeting. I know she and her entire family have struggled tremendously since losing him and if I could take away their pain, I would do it in a heartbeat. After he passed, my mom made a comment about men named "George" being the best dads and grandpas. I couldn't agree with her more.
On the other hand, and in regards to another friend, I was happy to see the philandering husband exit the picture. I'm more than happy to support her as she adjusts; and she is more like herself than she has been since she married the jerk. I think she's grateful he's gone, too. I would imagine it's difficult to be so driven toward accomplishing your goals when you have such a worthless loser bringing you down all the time.
I believe, for my friends, that 2013 is going to be their year.
I look forward to seeing what '13 has to bring for me. While I didn't exactly achieve all my goals for 2012, I think I made great progress toward them. I think my main goal for next year would be to remember to stop and look around once in awhile. I feel as though the past 12 months flew by in a blur. I have to allow myself to breathe and focus on what is most important. Also, my writing; I hope to do much more of it. I hope to improve and expand my reach. Last year I wrote a book...who knows what I'll do this year.
Happy New Year to all my readers. Be safe but be sure to also have fun!
Mission accomplished.
In a year full of so many highs and lows I have to say my book rides right at the top of everything. I have been talking about writing a book since I was in elementary school. I didn't exactly plan it. I have started hundreds over the years. The difference with "Wiener Brain" is that it was the right one; I kept coming back to add more. It didn't take long for me to figure out that it was "the one."
Of course, that shouldn't diminish the other great things that happened this year. I became an auntie once again when my niece Ruby was born. She lives entirely too far away, but it just makes the times I get to see her that much more precious. My dear friend returned from Afghanistan, safe and sound. My nephew turned 1, and has proceeded to amaze me with everything he does. I think the bond I share with all my closest friends strengthened this year, as well. Not only did I gain a niece, but also a brother, Justin.
A trip to Virginia, Wisconsin, a cabin in the woods, and a Springsteen show put 2012 down in the books as one of my most traveled years.
With the ups must come the downs. You can't have one without the other...otherwise how would you know you're happy? This year I saw two friends dealing with great loss. One lost a great man, and one lost a terrible man. Loss is loss, however; the jolt is the same whether it be a revered grandfather, or a philandering husband. You still have to adjust to their absence. You still have to learn a new way of living.
I was very saddened to learn of the passing of my dear friend's grandfather. I knew him myself and he was the kind of person you love immediately upon meeting. I know she and her entire family have struggled tremendously since losing him and if I could take away their pain, I would do it in a heartbeat. After he passed, my mom made a comment about men named "George" being the best dads and grandpas. I couldn't agree with her more.
On the other hand, and in regards to another friend, I was happy to see the philandering husband exit the picture. I'm more than happy to support her as she adjusts; and she is more like herself than she has been since she married the jerk. I think she's grateful he's gone, too. I would imagine it's difficult to be so driven toward accomplishing your goals when you have such a worthless loser bringing you down all the time.
I believe, for my friends, that 2013 is going to be their year.
I look forward to seeing what '13 has to bring for me. While I didn't exactly achieve all my goals for 2012, I think I made great progress toward them. I think my main goal for next year would be to remember to stop and look around once in awhile. I feel as though the past 12 months flew by in a blur. I have to allow myself to breathe and focus on what is most important. Also, my writing; I hope to do much more of it. I hope to improve and expand my reach. Last year I wrote a book...who knows what I'll do this year.
Happy New Year to all my readers. Be safe but be sure to also have fun!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Duckie
A couple weeks ago, I had a bad day. It began unpleasantly and I just knew I was in for it. I guess it all started when I couldn't find the jeans I planned to wear. I was yelling profanities at the top shelf of my closet. I was convinced it was hiding them in order to make me late for work. I envisioned Father Time standing outside my bedroom window cackling at my misfortune. The vibes I was giving off caused my dog and cat to vacate the room. I found the jeans. They were neatly folded on top of my dresser; right where I left them the night before.
Already my day was not looking promising.
Once I left the house, with three new bruises forming on various parts of my body, a watering eye from jabbing myself in the eye with my mascara wand, and a tingling in the general vicinity of my sciatic nerve; I just wanted to crawl back into bed.
I did manage to leave early enough to stop and drop something off to someone, though. If you know me at all, you know I hit snooze about seven times each morning. I rarely leave my house before the last possible minute which will enable me to arrive at work in time to clock in at exactly 8 o'clock on the dot. A morning person, I certainly am not. I began holding onto the slightest hope that at some point, my bad day would turn good.
Then I got to work, and it was all fine. I dropped all the papers I picked up at the time clock, but that's actually nothing different from any other day, I lack quite a bit of grace and poise, and I drop things and fall down a lot...it's just who I am. Once I sat down with a nice hot cup of coffee (that I managed to not spill on me or drink before it had cooled to a drinkable temperature, thus burning my tongue) I noticed that my new manicure had chipped at some point in the morning. While irksome, it wasn't anything to get upset about. It's not even comparable to a pair of misplaced jeans.
I made some irrational declaration around lunchtime that I needed to go to Burger King. You see, nobody NEEDS Burger King. Nobody. Especially me. So, feeling guilty, I decided to just run to the truck stop down the road and get a small snack and bottle of water. Plus, I needed to put gas in my car.
Of course, when I drove up to the pumps, I saw little red cards in all the card-reading slots. The next day the pumps were gone as they're doing some work down there. Either way, I couldn't get gas, and I needed gas. Fuming, I got back into my car and merged onto the interstate toward...you guessed it; Burger King. Once there, I paid ten cents more for gas than I would have at the New Lisbon Truck stop. I also got a chicken sandwich that made me regret not putting my Zantac in my purse that morning.
As I drove back to work, yelling at cars and shouting obscenities at the radio I found an overwhelming sense of foolishness coming over me. Just as quickly as it started, it melted away. With my face burning from embarrassment as I exited the interstate, I reminded myself that having to drive a few extra miles for gas isn't the end of the world...in fact, it's not even that much of an inconvenience. I reminded myself that even my worst days would be considered good days for some.
Once I returned to work, I felt almost serene. Sure, the rest of my workday was chaotic and I got stuck behind a slow-moving fuel truck on my way home; but I just turned up my radio and sang along with the music...and I enjoyed the ride.
Already my day was not looking promising.
Once I left the house, with three new bruises forming on various parts of my body, a watering eye from jabbing myself in the eye with my mascara wand, and a tingling in the general vicinity of my sciatic nerve; I just wanted to crawl back into bed.
I did manage to leave early enough to stop and drop something off to someone, though. If you know me at all, you know I hit snooze about seven times each morning. I rarely leave my house before the last possible minute which will enable me to arrive at work in time to clock in at exactly 8 o'clock on the dot. A morning person, I certainly am not. I began holding onto the slightest hope that at some point, my bad day would turn good.
Then I got to work, and it was all fine. I dropped all the papers I picked up at the time clock, but that's actually nothing different from any other day, I lack quite a bit of grace and poise, and I drop things and fall down a lot...it's just who I am. Once I sat down with a nice hot cup of coffee (that I managed to not spill on me or drink before it had cooled to a drinkable temperature, thus burning my tongue) I noticed that my new manicure had chipped at some point in the morning. While irksome, it wasn't anything to get upset about. It's not even comparable to a pair of misplaced jeans.
I made some irrational declaration around lunchtime that I needed to go to Burger King. You see, nobody NEEDS Burger King. Nobody. Especially me. So, feeling guilty, I decided to just run to the truck stop down the road and get a small snack and bottle of water. Plus, I needed to put gas in my car.
Of course, when I drove up to the pumps, I saw little red cards in all the card-reading slots. The next day the pumps were gone as they're doing some work down there. Either way, I couldn't get gas, and I needed gas. Fuming, I got back into my car and merged onto the interstate toward...you guessed it; Burger King. Once there, I paid ten cents more for gas than I would have at the New Lisbon Truck stop. I also got a chicken sandwich that made me regret not putting my Zantac in my purse that morning.
As I drove back to work, yelling at cars and shouting obscenities at the radio I found an overwhelming sense of foolishness coming over me. Just as quickly as it started, it melted away. With my face burning from embarrassment as I exited the interstate, I reminded myself that having to drive a few extra miles for gas isn't the end of the world...in fact, it's not even that much of an inconvenience. I reminded myself that even my worst days would be considered good days for some.
Once I returned to work, I felt almost serene. Sure, the rest of my workday was chaotic and I got stuck behind a slow-moving fuel truck on my way home; but I just turned up my radio and sang along with the music...and I enjoyed the ride.
"When you think things are bad,
When you feel sour and blue,
When you start to get mad...
You should do what I do...
Just tell yourself, Duckie,
You're really quite lucky!
Some people are much more...
Oh, ever so much more...
Oh, muchly much-much more
unlucky than you!"
~Dr. Seuss
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