This Christmas I watched a very thought-provoking movie called "The Secret." It's very much based on positive psychology. I thought it was very helpful and interesting, so with that in mind I created my New Years Resolution list based on "the secret."
Find joy in each moment
Live in the present and hope for the future
Be positive and more loving
Become healthy and fit in mind, body, and spirit
Learn every day and become better educated
Cultivate creativity and write more
Friday, December 26, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Riding the short bus
I have always been an obstinate person. I know some peope who would just use the term "ornery" and maybe rightly so. Even as a small girl, I was often contradictory to just about everything and everyone. I was maybe one of the happiest little girls you would meet -- my family and friends would often tease me about my constant laughter and "giggling episodes" that often left people laughing with me. I remember these episodes and how their laughter fed my laughter and how they would look at me with curious eyes. I loved that feeling.
Despite my apparent childhood joy, even then I was obstinate. I despised being like other kids. If I wanted to play a certain game and no one else wanted to play - I would put in my best argument as to why we should play what I wanted to play - and I often made deals (right, Thor?) - and if my argument succeeded, I was happy as a lark and often in the back of my mind a little disdainful of my playmate for having given in so easily (they must not have wanted to play their game badly enough). If I lost the argument, more often than not, I had a decidedly cheerful "to hell with you" attitude and continued along doing whatever I pleased, alone.
I write this realising that I sound more like a spoiled little girl than an obstinate brat... maybe both! I don't remember often pouting (unless the denial came from my folks) but I was often more satisfied that I was alone in my ideas, my play, my fun. What I liked and wanted to do was different and that made me different and that idea made me happy.
Since I was even in kindergarten, I remember looking at my fellow classmates and siblings and desired so much to be different than them. Not that they were bad, but I wanted to be different... special. Growing up through third, fourth, and fifth grades, I worked at building a wall around myself - to protect myself from being too much like everyone else. The higher I built my wall, the more I became like everyone else. Thre realization that I had nothing special to offer - I wasn't particularly smart, athletic, artistic - anything to make me stand apart from the crowd was a crushing blow to the ego. So I did what I couod to be different - I played the opposite of what the other kids played and I resented the "popular kids" and preferred not to even be on their radar (I'm sure this was a self-preserving mechanism to avoid rejection also, but that is another blog). I disliked the popular kids, the popular sports, the popular games - anything 'mainstream.' Ironically, I wanted to be like the kids who were different; the kids who were unlike the rest of us because of their looks, their religion, their knowledge. They were special, and effortlessly so! I befriended several kids who in my mind were special and stood out. I was proud and humbled by the fact that these special, extraordinary people accepted me - an ordinary girl - as their friend. I often felt even more boring next to them, and terribly, terribly jealous.
This refusal to conform; the refusal to join the masses was a deliberate decision. (Note: despite my efforts - I was a normal kid - and craved acceptance by everyone, something very normal. You can imagine how that made me feel. I was a walking contradiction.) Because of this I have often looked and felt to be a loner. I was, and am, ok with this title. It often lends an air of mystery and that's something special. (I'll take it where ever I can get it.)
What I didn't realize as a child was that I was setting myself up - I was teaching myself to rebuke every conformity. Make no mistake - I am an average person who has lived an average life, but terrifyingly so. I am the third child in a family of four kids. I was the first to truly fight back to my parnts, to stand my ground and hold my position and talk back and tell them what I thought. I think I often shocked them with my rebellion - minute as it may have been. I was the first in my family to go to college, the first to fly, the first to want something more in my life than the simple life in the country. In so many ways, particularly with my family, I felt I was breaking the mold and it was terrifying. Was I the only person that saw life through these eyes? Was I the only person who treasured differences and challenges?
In the ways that I was naturally different - my desires, thought processes, experiences - I felt alone and terrified and very confused. Exactly what I strove to become, but realizing I was different in small ways, I cowered with the realization that to be different one has to be strong. Maybe that was what I loved most about those different/special people all along; they had to carry a strength others didn't and that was precisely where my disgust with normalcy lie. I didn't think normalcy was a challenge, I didn't think it required strength or vision or creativity or intelligence. Normalcy floated along on a cloud above trial and error, above the need for discovery or strength or personal growth.
I was so wrong.
I have wished myself and my life to be extraordinary. I have ached with the desire to break boundaries, break gravity, break hearts. I have always craved to grow spiritually, grow wiser, go above and beyond all odds. I have wanted... needed to be special. For 27 years I have felt my heart pulling me to be different, pulling me until my ligaments and tendons feel like snapping. But it took me 27 years to realize that life requires vision, creativity, intelligence, and most importantly, strength. Special and ordinary alike, need to possess these traits to survive this confusing, messy, beautiful life. I have been trying, praying, wishing and yearning to be someone special so that I might possess these traits. I was pulling myself along so fiercly that I didn't even realize what direction I was going. I was so vigorous in my quest to be special that I didn't realize that I was already there.
Life seems to mold people to the things they need most. Not the things they want most. I wanted so badly to be special and different; but I was mistaken. What I should have pushed myself towards was the strength it takes to be different, the intelligence to manuever this crazy life. I always thought you had to do different, be different, look different to be special. But that is not the case. You have to think differently to be special. Because thinking differently and thinking independently is the only thing that sets you apart from others. And I think that's pretty damn special.
Despite my apparent childhood joy, even then I was obstinate. I despised being like other kids. If I wanted to play a certain game and no one else wanted to play - I would put in my best argument as to why we should play what I wanted to play - and I often made deals (right, Thor?) - and if my argument succeeded, I was happy as a lark and often in the back of my mind a little disdainful of my playmate for having given in so easily (they must not have wanted to play their game badly enough). If I lost the argument, more often than not, I had a decidedly cheerful "to hell with you" attitude and continued along doing whatever I pleased, alone.
I write this realising that I sound more like a spoiled little girl than an obstinate brat... maybe both! I don't remember often pouting (unless the denial came from my folks) but I was often more satisfied that I was alone in my ideas, my play, my fun. What I liked and wanted to do was different and that made me different and that idea made me happy.
Since I was even in kindergarten, I remember looking at my fellow classmates and siblings and desired so much to be different than them. Not that they were bad, but I wanted to be different... special. Growing up through third, fourth, and fifth grades, I worked at building a wall around myself - to protect myself from being too much like everyone else. The higher I built my wall, the more I became like everyone else. Thre realization that I had nothing special to offer - I wasn't particularly smart, athletic, artistic - anything to make me stand apart from the crowd was a crushing blow to the ego. So I did what I couod to be different - I played the opposite of what the other kids played and I resented the "popular kids" and preferred not to even be on their radar (I'm sure this was a self-preserving mechanism to avoid rejection also, but that is another blog). I disliked the popular kids, the popular sports, the popular games - anything 'mainstream.' Ironically, I wanted to be like the kids who were different; the kids who were unlike the rest of us because of their looks, their religion, their knowledge. They were special, and effortlessly so! I befriended several kids who in my mind were special and stood out. I was proud and humbled by the fact that these special, extraordinary people accepted me - an ordinary girl - as their friend. I often felt even more boring next to them, and terribly, terribly jealous.
This refusal to conform; the refusal to join the masses was a deliberate decision. (Note: despite my efforts - I was a normal kid - and craved acceptance by everyone, something very normal. You can imagine how that made me feel. I was a walking contradiction.) Because of this I have often looked and felt to be a loner. I was, and am, ok with this title. It often lends an air of mystery and that's something special. (I'll take it where ever I can get it.)
What I didn't realize as a child was that I was setting myself up - I was teaching myself to rebuke every conformity. Make no mistake - I am an average person who has lived an average life, but terrifyingly so. I am the third child in a family of four kids. I was the first to truly fight back to my parnts, to stand my ground and hold my position and talk back and tell them what I thought. I think I often shocked them with my rebellion - minute as it may have been. I was the first in my family to go to college, the first to fly, the first to want something more in my life than the simple life in the country. In so many ways, particularly with my family, I felt I was breaking the mold and it was terrifying. Was I the only person that saw life through these eyes? Was I the only person who treasured differences and challenges?
In the ways that I was naturally different - my desires, thought processes, experiences - I felt alone and terrified and very confused. Exactly what I strove to become, but realizing I was different in small ways, I cowered with the realization that to be different one has to be strong. Maybe that was what I loved most about those different/special people all along; they had to carry a strength others didn't and that was precisely where my disgust with normalcy lie. I didn't think normalcy was a challenge, I didn't think it required strength or vision or creativity or intelligence. Normalcy floated along on a cloud above trial and error, above the need for discovery or strength or personal growth.
I was so wrong.
I have wished myself and my life to be extraordinary. I have ached with the desire to break boundaries, break gravity, break hearts. I have always craved to grow spiritually, grow wiser, go above and beyond all odds. I have wanted... needed to be special. For 27 years I have felt my heart pulling me to be different, pulling me until my ligaments and tendons feel like snapping. But it took me 27 years to realize that life requires vision, creativity, intelligence, and most importantly, strength. Special and ordinary alike, need to possess these traits to survive this confusing, messy, beautiful life. I have been trying, praying, wishing and yearning to be someone special so that I might possess these traits. I was pulling myself along so fiercly that I didn't even realize what direction I was going. I was so vigorous in my quest to be special that I didn't realize that I was already there.
Life seems to mold people to the things they need most. Not the things they want most. I wanted so badly to be special and different; but I was mistaken. What I should have pushed myself towards was the strength it takes to be different, the intelligence to manuever this crazy life. I always thought you had to do different, be different, look different to be special. But that is not the case. You have to think differently to be special. Because thinking differently and thinking independently is the only thing that sets you apart from others. And I think that's pretty damn special.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Puppy Love
I fell in love tonight with a 6 week old puggle (pug/beagle cross). He is a beautiful chocolate-colored pup with blackish detailing around his face and feet. He was sooo handsome, sleeping and twitching in his little cage. I asked the clerk if I could hold him... and yep, that's when cupid struck. He licked my chin until exfoliation was no longer necessary and he had that sweet puppy smell. His long ears flopped, and more often than not, he stepped on them. When I set him on the floor, he pounced and ran in circles, and came running back to me, with his giant tiny paws pouncing into my lap. He crawled under some shelving and found dust bunnies and some plastic pieces he thought he could chew on. When I pulled him from beneath the shelving, he had dust bunnies stuck in his whiskers.
When I held him, he sat quietly with me, looking at the world around him. I walked him around the store and showed him the fish and birds and ferrets. His beautiful black puppy eyes sucked in everything around him, and his concentration was never broken unless I kissed his velvet ears. Then he would resume licking the heck out of my chin and making me fall head over heels in love.
I named him Henry. He had super soft fur and excess wrinkles, giving him an old-man look, so the name seemed appropriate. The price tag in the window of his cage was a bit steep for me, especially lately with the holidays coming up, etc. Also, my landlady isn't so sure she is prepared to deal with potty training and barking in the middle of her Walker Texas Ranger episodes. (hehehehe)
So, tonight, Henry sleeps alone in his cage.
I wish I could fall in love with people as easily as I fell in love with Henry. But then again, Henry loved me and kissed me despite my stench from a previous workout at the gym and raggy clothes. My lack of makeup and skewed ponytail didn't seem to matter to him at all. He was as excited to see me and come running into my lap as Homer is to find a donut.
Love comes so easily when there is no threat of pain or heartache. Love comes so easily when it is so easily returned.
When I held him, he sat quietly with me, looking at the world around him. I walked him around the store and showed him the fish and birds and ferrets. His beautiful black puppy eyes sucked in everything around him, and his concentration was never broken unless I kissed his velvet ears. Then he would resume licking the heck out of my chin and making me fall head over heels in love.
I named him Henry. He had super soft fur and excess wrinkles, giving him an old-man look, so the name seemed appropriate. The price tag in the window of his cage was a bit steep for me, especially lately with the holidays coming up, etc. Also, my landlady isn't so sure she is prepared to deal with potty training and barking in the middle of her Walker Texas Ranger episodes. (hehehehe)
So, tonight, Henry sleeps alone in his cage.
I wish I could fall in love with people as easily as I fell in love with Henry. But then again, Henry loved me and kissed me despite my stench from a previous workout at the gym and raggy clothes. My lack of makeup and skewed ponytail didn't seem to matter to him at all. He was as excited to see me and come running into my lap as Homer is to find a donut.
Love comes so easily when there is no threat of pain or heartache. Love comes so easily when it is so easily returned.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Success
One area in my life I've been extremely successful is my friends. I have surrounded myself with caring, loving, supportive, wonderful friends and I have been so incredibly blessed. I used to struggle with the term "friends" and wondering what all it meant - I did have some rough days learning about friendships and what makes them work. Somehow, through it all, I have come to learn the meaning of friendship and who those real friends are.
So, to my friends: I thank you for being you. And I love you.
So, to my friends: I thank you for being you. And I love you.
Monday, October 6, 2008
I am a galley slave to pen and ink
A very intelligent man, who I respect endlessly, told me this weekend, "The only way to get better at writing is to keep doing it. Practice makes perfect."
That actually stunned me a bit. I often fail to write insane stories that pop into my head when I'm just about to nod off to sleep, or the lyrics I sing to myself in the shower because it just doesn't seem that good. Why waste the paper? Why waste the blog space that could be used for something truly inspiring, like lyrics FAMOUS people have written...
Yet other times, after I haven't written anything for so long, it's like my mind vomits. I wake up at 2:30 a.m. with all these poetic verses swimming in my head, and hopefully by the time I turn on the lamp, find a paper and pen, they haven't vanished. Other times, my emotional wheelbarrow tips over, and there is no other way to put things back to order unless I write. Yet, it never seems good enough. Like, why would people care what I have to write? I look at people who can write - Dooce, Dad Gone Mad, Hemingway, Dybek... and they have this way that captivates the mind and soul. When I read certain things, I stop existing. I am so in tune to the book or blog or article that I am not even aware that I'm being. How do they do that?
I've decided to write more. Anything and everything. Grocery lists, fun words, thoughts, wishes, dreams, everything. If I find something good enough, I'll post it here.
(Quote by Honore de Balzac)
That actually stunned me a bit. I often fail to write insane stories that pop into my head when I'm just about to nod off to sleep, or the lyrics I sing to myself in the shower because it just doesn't seem that good. Why waste the paper? Why waste the blog space that could be used for something truly inspiring, like lyrics FAMOUS people have written...
Yet other times, after I haven't written anything for so long, it's like my mind vomits. I wake up at 2:30 a.m. with all these poetic verses swimming in my head, and hopefully by the time I turn on the lamp, find a paper and pen, they haven't vanished. Other times, my emotional wheelbarrow tips over, and there is no other way to put things back to order unless I write. Yet, it never seems good enough. Like, why would people care what I have to write? I look at people who can write - Dooce, Dad Gone Mad, Hemingway, Dybek... and they have this way that captivates the mind and soul. When I read certain things, I stop existing. I am so in tune to the book or blog or article that I am not even aware that I'm being. How do they do that?
I've decided to write more. Anything and everything. Grocery lists, fun words, thoughts, wishes, dreams, everything. If I find something good enough, I'll post it here.
(Quote by Honore de Balzac)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Freedom
My fingernails are broken and bleeding. Black dirt is packed underneath the nail and my fingertips are raw and throbbing. The toes on my feet are scratched and bruised and broken. The wrinkles of skin in my knees are embedded with black, like it is purging my skin. There is not a muscle in my body that does not hurt; there is not a tear left in my soul. I have fought so long to climb out of that pit beneath the earth that I had nearly forgotten what fresh air tastes like. That pit was so deep that no light could trickle down to me to inspire hope, or show me the easiest path up. The pit was so far down that no sound reached my ears except the heavy, sad sighs of the earth. I sat in that cold, black pit for so long that the darkness ate all feeling from my heart. But, finally… finally my bones began to ache; my muscles craved to stretch and flex and my mind confronted the ugly shadows of dark. The first handful of black dirt, the first foot up against the wall to rise out of the dark sent me sailing back to the floor. Black dirt fell on me, raining in my eyes, nose, and mouth. The dirt tasted like a colorless eternity that struck a fear in my chest and a determination to live. I stood up, brushed myself off and once again grabbed the wall that lead to the unknown.
It took minutes, hours, days, and years to climb that pit. A limited eternity. Muscles I never knew existed now ache with the strain of pulling myself out. My calves are now stone; my arms are long sinews of determination, desperation, and hope. I loathed the sacks of fat clinging to my butt, thighs, and belly that made the climbing so much more difficult. Now, I see them as sacks of trial and testimony; and walk knowing that even they gave me extra strength.
So, here I stand – my body throbbing with exertion and I imagine gently washing each limb, each finger, each toe – those tools I used to once again breathe fresh air. I imagine wiping them dry and tucking them safely into a soft bed for a well-deserved rest. I examine each tool with love and appreciation… and awe.
After so much trial, time, tears… I got out.
So, my cleansing will wait. Now, I will breathe the fresh air that carries birds – that washes over the earth like a baptism. I will breathe the fresh air that smells like innocence. The air is God and I inhale deeply – smelling the salty ocean, tasting the early rain, and feeling the newness of it wash through my veins. I hesitate to exhale, hoping to hold the freshness; hoping to hold God inside me a bit longer. But as I finally exhale, I realize that I am not exhaling freshness, I am exhaling the musty, stale air from the pit from which I came. With each breath, my soul softens, lightens – and colors come alive. Colors swim around me and I do not see them as much as I hear them. The colors sound like listening underwater; pronounced, yet muffled. You can hear the talking, but not the words being said. I hear the color swimming around me, but when I try to pick out a color, they all kaleidoscope into a liquid rainbow. My heart picks at these colors, jumping to catch the ray of yellow or the streak of blue. With each leap, happiness grows.
It is bright now, out of that pit. My eyes are sore and tired from the light but I am unwilling to even blink for the missed chance to catch one more ounce of hope… inspiration.
I walk softly, knowing the earth is uneasy. The crevices, valleys, and deep pits are numerous and around each corner. I walk softly and slowly, treasuring every feeling – even the aches. I know now that the light, the aching, the musical rainbow, the air I breathe, and yes, even the bottomless black pit are blessings. So, I gather them all in my heart and hold them gently.
I got out.
It took minutes, hours, days, and years to climb that pit. A limited eternity. Muscles I never knew existed now ache with the strain of pulling myself out. My calves are now stone; my arms are long sinews of determination, desperation, and hope. I loathed the sacks of fat clinging to my butt, thighs, and belly that made the climbing so much more difficult. Now, I see them as sacks of trial and testimony; and walk knowing that even they gave me extra strength.
So, here I stand – my body throbbing with exertion and I imagine gently washing each limb, each finger, each toe – those tools I used to once again breathe fresh air. I imagine wiping them dry and tucking them safely into a soft bed for a well-deserved rest. I examine each tool with love and appreciation… and awe.
After so much trial, time, tears… I got out.
So, my cleansing will wait. Now, I will breathe the fresh air that carries birds – that washes over the earth like a baptism. I will breathe the fresh air that smells like innocence. The air is God and I inhale deeply – smelling the salty ocean, tasting the early rain, and feeling the newness of it wash through my veins. I hesitate to exhale, hoping to hold the freshness; hoping to hold God inside me a bit longer. But as I finally exhale, I realize that I am not exhaling freshness, I am exhaling the musty, stale air from the pit from which I came. With each breath, my soul softens, lightens – and colors come alive. Colors swim around me and I do not see them as much as I hear them. The colors sound like listening underwater; pronounced, yet muffled. You can hear the talking, but not the words being said. I hear the color swimming around me, but when I try to pick out a color, they all kaleidoscope into a liquid rainbow. My heart picks at these colors, jumping to catch the ray of yellow or the streak of blue. With each leap, happiness grows.
It is bright now, out of that pit. My eyes are sore and tired from the light but I am unwilling to even blink for the missed chance to catch one more ounce of hope… inspiration.
I walk softly, knowing the earth is uneasy. The crevices, valleys, and deep pits are numerous and around each corner. I walk softly and slowly, treasuring every feeling – even the aches. I know now that the light, the aching, the musical rainbow, the air I breathe, and yes, even the bottomless black pit are blessings. So, I gather them all in my heart and hold them gently.
I got out.
Monday, August 18, 2008
8 Things
Eight Things: A Meme
8 things I am passionate about:
- Traveling
- Becoming a mom someday
- Reading
- Figuring out who I am
- Motorcycles
- Art
- Despite my best interests, Chris
- Faith
8 books I’ve read and enjoyed:
- Love Story
- Memoirs of a Geisha
- A Separate Peace
- The City In Which I Love You (a book of poetry)
- Phoenix Rising
- Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
- The Bell Jar
- The Catcher and the Rye
8 words/phrases that I say often:
- What the dooce?!
- Oh for Pete's sake
- Cotton-pickin it
- I love you
- Holy Mary Mother of God
- F*ck a duck
- Huh?
- Mucho gracias
8 things I want to do before I die:
- Be a mother
- Travel extensively
- Sky-dive
- Live near the ocean
- Own a Harley
- Wear a bikini again
- Get an advanced degree (in what? not sure)
- Write a book
8 things I’ve learned in my life:
- Always trust your gut
- People treat you how you teach them to treat you
- People will always disappoint you; the trick is to not disappoint yourself
- A simple life is a happy life
- Problems don't fix themselves
- Love is never enough
- Never close your mind to new people, places, thoughts, ideas - open mind; open heart
- Friends are chosen family; treasure them in whatever capacity they come in
8 places I want to see:
- Hawaii
- Africa
- South America
- London
- Paris
- Sweden
- Jamaica
- Japan
8 things I currently want/need:
- Want someone to scratch my back
- Need to drink more water
- Need to find my cell phone
- Want to see a call from a special someone
- Want and need a new car
- Want to pack my orange lounge pants and swim suit and head back to the lake
- Need to go to the gym after work
- Want to color my hair
8 people I want to tag:
-I'll just say anyone reading this... I want to see your meme!
8 things I am passionate about:
- Traveling
- Becoming a mom someday
- Reading
- Figuring out who I am
- Motorcycles
- Art
- Despite my best interests, Chris
- Faith
8 books I’ve read and enjoyed:
- Love Story
- Memoirs of a Geisha
- A Separate Peace
- The City In Which I Love You (a book of poetry)
- Phoenix Rising
- Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
- The Bell Jar
- The Catcher and the Rye
8 words/phrases that I say often:
- What the dooce?!
- Oh for Pete's sake
- Cotton-pickin it
- I love you
- Holy Mary Mother of God
- F*ck a duck
- Huh?
- Mucho gracias
8 things I want to do before I die:
- Be a mother
- Travel extensively
- Sky-dive
- Live near the ocean
- Own a Harley
- Wear a bikini again
- Get an advanced degree (in what? not sure)
- Write a book
8 things I’ve learned in my life:
- Always trust your gut
- People treat you how you teach them to treat you
- People will always disappoint you; the trick is to not disappoint yourself
- A simple life is a happy life
- Problems don't fix themselves
- Love is never enough
- Never close your mind to new people, places, thoughts, ideas - open mind; open heart
- Friends are chosen family; treasure them in whatever capacity they come in
8 places I want to see:
- Hawaii
- Africa
- South America
- London
- Paris
- Sweden
- Jamaica
- Japan
8 things I currently want/need:
- Want someone to scratch my back
- Need to drink more water
- Need to find my cell phone
- Want to see a call from a special someone
- Want and need a new car
- Want to pack my orange lounge pants and swim suit and head back to the lake
- Need to go to the gym after work
- Want to color my hair
8 people I want to tag:
-I'll just say anyone reading this... I want to see your meme!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Summer
This has been a super busy and fun summer... too busy and fun to blog much, but I will try to be better. Anyway, I thought I'd share a few highlights (and lowlights) of my summer thus far... and considering there are only a couple weeks left of this beautiful summer... I'm going to relish these memories and store them snuggly away, so when we hit -20 this winter, I will have something to give me warm fuzzies on the inside, even if I can't feel my nose.
Early this summer, my family went to the Skime Ranch to help Thor vaccinate (brand, castrate, etc) about 200 head of cattle. (Previous picture posts are from that weekend.) It was quite fun! I gave cows shots, which made me nervous as hell, but fun... but when we got to the baby calves, I had to call it quits and leave. The branding of those poor babies nearly made me sick. I used to be able to handle that kind of stuff, but as I get older I become more and more of a pansy.
In June, my sweet, amazing cousin Lisa got married to a fantastic man. They had a beautiful wedding and wonderful reception and dance. They are so in love, my heart swells to think that her dream has come true... I feel so lucky to have been a part of her special day. Congrats Lisa and Brett! Your love renews my faith in relationships and marriage.
I spent the 4th of July with my roomates and their family at Lake Sallie. We fished, tubed, drank, and had a great time. At one point, we headed into DL to pick up some pizza's from Zorbaz and while we were waiting, we all had a couple drinks. I had two of the best Hawaiian Long Island Teas EVER, but I was shot after that. Two Long Islands in 45 minutes for this girl is 2 Long Island Teas too much! We had a great time though, checking out the hotties and freaks.
Towards the end of July, despite a long spell of sickness, I went to the North Dakota State Fair with Alysa to see the Sugarland concert. Alysa loves Sugarland - and while I love a few of their songs... meh. So we drove that long-ass drive for what turned out to be an amazing concert! They put on a fabulous show and we had such a blast. Us and our sidekick, Keith. (I think his name was Keith.) Haha! Afterwards we hit up a few of the beer gardens, and let me tell you... Minot knows how to party. Also, I had no idea Minot was as large as it is. It's kind of a messed up little town - but it was very pretty and very fun!
A couple weeks ago, my buddy Lisa was home for a couple week stay with her family in Minnesota. We got together and had a great visit. Then one weekend I went to stay with her at her family's home... where I had my first experience with kayaking. It didn't go so well. Lisa demonstrated how to carefully get into the kayak and paddle. I went to get into my kayak and completely flipped it. I dropped into the water up to my chest (I was wearing jeans, white shirt and flip flops). My feet got stuck in the mud as the kayak filled with water. I was able to recover 1 flip flop but not the other. I climbed onto the bank, my jeans so soaked they were sagging off my butt, and pulled a kayak full of water back onto the bank while Lisa laughed until tears were pouring. She helped me empty the kayak, and climb in without tipping, she climbed into hers, and we were off. She continued to laugh, and I nervously paddled and jerked my way along in the water. Later that day, we met up with an old classmate and went Jeeping through trails in the woods... Such a blast!
This past weekend, Alysa and Alison and I went back to Lake Sallie. We spent Friday night on the pontoon close to the WeFest site and listened to the Sugarland concert. They must have put another amazing show because the crowd was wild. It was fun to hear them live again, even though we couldn't see them. But, as we were on the lake, storm clouds came through and it turned pitch black out before we knew it, and it started to rain. It was an adventure trying to find our house, and then attempt to dock the pontoon in the pouring rain and no lights. We were soaked to the skin, but we had a good time.
Saturday, we went to WeFest for the day. We caught the Dirks Bentley and Winona Judd concerts - both very good. But that wasn't all the excitement! We met up with friends at different campgrounds, drank an awful lot, laughed like crazy, saw some horrifying sights and some amazing eye candy, got fake tatoos, and scarfed one Uff-da taco while waiting for our ride home. So, FINALLY I got to experience WeFest. My first time ever, I'm sad to say. I definitely have to go next year... I can't miss out on that fun anymore.
Sunday, we went fishing and tubing. On the way to dock the boat, I was still on the tube. To make a long story short, I underestimated my abilities and crash-dived onto the dock: on my back. You may wonder how in the hell something like that could have happened, but don't worry - you are not alone. I'm wondering the same thing. All I really know is that I have an elbow with no skin, and a buttcheek that is completely black and blue and throbbing.
There's been so much more... but there's so little time and so much to say, that I'll leave it at that. It's been a summer to remember... definitely better than last summer. And I'm sad to say that it is already August 11, and in about one month my sun burn will be peeled away to leave my sickly white skin, and I'll be busting out the sweaters and quilts. But I can only hope this fall and winter will be half as fun!
Early this summer, my family went to the Skime Ranch to help Thor vaccinate (brand, castrate, etc) about 200 head of cattle. (Previous picture posts are from that weekend.) It was quite fun! I gave cows shots, which made me nervous as hell, but fun... but when we got to the baby calves, I had to call it quits and leave. The branding of those poor babies nearly made me sick. I used to be able to handle that kind of stuff, but as I get older I become more and more of a pansy.
In June, my sweet, amazing cousin Lisa got married to a fantastic man. They had a beautiful wedding and wonderful reception and dance. They are so in love, my heart swells to think that her dream has come true... I feel so lucky to have been a part of her special day. Congrats Lisa and Brett! Your love renews my faith in relationships and marriage.
I spent the 4th of July with my roomates and their family at Lake Sallie. We fished, tubed, drank, and had a great time. At one point, we headed into DL to pick up some pizza's from Zorbaz and while we were waiting, we all had a couple drinks. I had two of the best Hawaiian Long Island Teas EVER, but I was shot after that. Two Long Islands in 45 minutes for this girl is 2 Long Island Teas too much! We had a great time though, checking out the hotties and freaks.
Towards the end of July, despite a long spell of sickness, I went to the North Dakota State Fair with Alysa to see the Sugarland concert. Alysa loves Sugarland - and while I love a few of their songs... meh. So we drove that long-ass drive for what turned out to be an amazing concert! They put on a fabulous show and we had such a blast. Us and our sidekick, Keith. (I think his name was Keith.) Haha! Afterwards we hit up a few of the beer gardens, and let me tell you... Minot knows how to party. Also, I had no idea Minot was as large as it is. It's kind of a messed up little town - but it was very pretty and very fun!
A couple weeks ago, my buddy Lisa was home for a couple week stay with her family in Minnesota. We got together and had a great visit. Then one weekend I went to stay with her at her family's home... where I had my first experience with kayaking. It didn't go so well. Lisa demonstrated how to carefully get into the kayak and paddle. I went to get into my kayak and completely flipped it. I dropped into the water up to my chest (I was wearing jeans, white shirt and flip flops). My feet got stuck in the mud as the kayak filled with water. I was able to recover 1 flip flop but not the other. I climbed onto the bank, my jeans so soaked they were sagging off my butt, and pulled a kayak full of water back onto the bank while Lisa laughed until tears were pouring. She helped me empty the kayak, and climb in without tipping, she climbed into hers, and we were off. She continued to laugh, and I nervously paddled and jerked my way along in the water. Later that day, we met up with an old classmate and went Jeeping through trails in the woods... Such a blast!
This past weekend, Alysa and Alison and I went back to Lake Sallie. We spent Friday night on the pontoon close to the WeFest site and listened to the Sugarland concert. They must have put another amazing show because the crowd was wild. It was fun to hear them live again, even though we couldn't see them. But, as we were on the lake, storm clouds came through and it turned pitch black out before we knew it, and it started to rain. It was an adventure trying to find our house, and then attempt to dock the pontoon in the pouring rain and no lights. We were soaked to the skin, but we had a good time.
Saturday, we went to WeFest for the day. We caught the Dirks Bentley and Winona Judd concerts - both very good. But that wasn't all the excitement! We met up with friends at different campgrounds, drank an awful lot, laughed like crazy, saw some horrifying sights and some amazing eye candy, got fake tatoos, and scarfed one Uff-da taco while waiting for our ride home. So, FINALLY I got to experience WeFest. My first time ever, I'm sad to say. I definitely have to go next year... I can't miss out on that fun anymore.
Sunday, we went fishing and tubing. On the way to dock the boat, I was still on the tube. To make a long story short, I underestimated my abilities and crash-dived onto the dock: on my back. You may wonder how in the hell something like that could have happened, but don't worry - you are not alone. I'm wondering the same thing. All I really know is that I have an elbow with no skin, and a buttcheek that is completely black and blue and throbbing.
There's been so much more... but there's so little time and so much to say, that I'll leave it at that. It's been a summer to remember... definitely better than last summer. And I'm sad to say that it is already August 11, and in about one month my sun burn will be peeled away to leave my sickly white skin, and I'll be busting out the sweaters and quilts. But I can only hope this fall and winter will be half as fun!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Another lesson for me to learn
An almost sure-fire way to begin to reclaim your life is to develop the courage and wisdom to know when and what to quit.
(Don't Sweat the Small Stuff)
(Don't Sweat the Small Stuff)
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Close your eyes and imagine
Friends and I have talked about what you see in your mind when you think of certain things. When I think of the days of the week, I see the days set up like step-ladders; except Wednesday is not at the top of the ladder like you might think, it is Saturday. When I think of colors I see a booklet of paint swatches in my mind. One friend of mine says he sees colors as either male or female and usually they have scents associated with them.
I see my heart to be a big wooden antique chest.
The antique chest in the attic that Grandma stores quilts in, complete with the rusty lock and scuffed corners, delivered straight from Norway 120 years ago. When you open it, it smells like maple wood and moth balls and fills you with a sense of longing. I imagine the people in my life like trinkets or knick-knacks that I store in my antique chest. When I think of a particular person, I imagine pulling them out of their spot in my chest and examining them. If the person is someone I feel very tender or sensitive about, I unwrap them from tissue paper and cup them in both hands.
People who have hurt me or that I dislike are like crunched-up paper balls lying in the dark, dusty corners of my antique chest. When I think of them, I imagine picking up the paper and flattening it out and smoothing it with the edge of my hand. If what I think about comes back to hurt me again, I crumple the paper back up and throw it back in the dark, dirty corner. There is often a single, naked light bulb hanging over this corner with a pull string. When I am tired of hurting and thinking of negative things, I imagine tugging the pull string so the light goes out.
People who are fun and bubbly are bouncy balls. I pick them out of a bucket that sits in another corner of the chest. I toss them from hand to hand and smile. People I don’t trust sit along the back wall in a line. They are carved wooden figurines, like the one Po Campo made for Deets in Lonesome Dove. I never take them out but just look at them and wonder.
The people who give me ‘warm fuzzies’ are not figurines or other objects, but feelings, like big Grandma hugs. They are soft and warm (and often a supple peach color) and make my heart glow. There are people I completely admire and respect above all and I pull them off a little shelf in the chest. Often times I imagine myself dusting these people off—not because I don’t think about them often—but because they are not recognized often enough, by me or other people, as being truly special.
When I think about myself, I am one of those I unwrap from tissue paper. But when I unwrap myself from tissue paper, instead of a figurine or some other object, I always unwrap a butterfly. The wings are fluttering softly to some rhythm I do not understand and I cup it in my hands so it does not fly away.
I see my heart to be a big wooden antique chest.
The antique chest in the attic that Grandma stores quilts in, complete with the rusty lock and scuffed corners, delivered straight from Norway 120 years ago. When you open it, it smells like maple wood and moth balls and fills you with a sense of longing. I imagine the people in my life like trinkets or knick-knacks that I store in my antique chest. When I think of a particular person, I imagine pulling them out of their spot in my chest and examining them. If the person is someone I feel very tender or sensitive about, I unwrap them from tissue paper and cup them in both hands.
People who have hurt me or that I dislike are like crunched-up paper balls lying in the dark, dusty corners of my antique chest. When I think of them, I imagine picking up the paper and flattening it out and smoothing it with the edge of my hand. If what I think about comes back to hurt me again, I crumple the paper back up and throw it back in the dark, dirty corner. There is often a single, naked light bulb hanging over this corner with a pull string. When I am tired of hurting and thinking of negative things, I imagine tugging the pull string so the light goes out.
People who are fun and bubbly are bouncy balls. I pick them out of a bucket that sits in another corner of the chest. I toss them from hand to hand and smile. People I don’t trust sit along the back wall in a line. They are carved wooden figurines, like the one Po Campo made for Deets in Lonesome Dove. I never take them out but just look at them and wonder.
The people who give me ‘warm fuzzies’ are not figurines or other objects, but feelings, like big Grandma hugs. They are soft and warm (and often a supple peach color) and make my heart glow. There are people I completely admire and respect above all and I pull them off a little shelf in the chest. Often times I imagine myself dusting these people off—not because I don’t think about them often—but because they are not recognized often enough, by me or other people, as being truly special.
When I think about myself, I am one of those I unwrap from tissue paper. But when I unwrap myself from tissue paper, instead of a figurine or some other object, I always unwrap a butterfly. The wings are fluttering softly to some rhythm I do not understand and I cup it in my hands so it does not fly away.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Randoms
Spent my weekend preparing for a garage sale and another move. Yes, I am moving! Moving in with a friend who owns her own house. I'm very excited! That means no one tromping around upstairs at 3:00 a.m. or an incompetent repair man (I use "repair" loosely). It also means a yard during the summer, and great company, and a washer and dryer that doesn't require 4 rolls or quarters! I have totally SCORED.
So, new roomy and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings at about 10:30 last night (Sunday night) and much to my surprise the place was busy. Why, you might ask, are two 20-something women going to BWW at that hour on a Sunday night? Well, it involves some pornography and a failing anti-virus computer program, and about 4 hours of steady battle for new roomy to conquer offending viruses and trojans (of unknown persons p.c.). After all the war waged, some tasty wings were earned.
So, we were hanging out, enjoying wings, admiring the multitude of drunken men, when suddenly one by one, the men started running out of the place. Literally running. Soon the wait-staff and bartenders, and even the cooks from the kitchen went running outside. Turns out someone was getting their clock cleaned in the parking lot and there is nothing intoxicated men love more than slurred insults and broken noses! The cops showed up and were taking notes, but by the time roomy and I were ready to leave the culprits had been (presumably) hauled away.
Aw, but the excitements in this town never yield.
So, new roomy and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings at about 10:30 last night (Sunday night) and much to my surprise the place was busy. Why, you might ask, are two 20-something women going to BWW at that hour on a Sunday night? Well, it involves some pornography and a failing anti-virus computer program, and about 4 hours of steady battle for new roomy to conquer offending viruses and trojans (of unknown persons p.c.). After all the war waged, some tasty wings were earned.
So, we were hanging out, enjoying wings, admiring the multitude of drunken men, when suddenly one by one, the men started running out of the place. Literally running. Soon the wait-staff and bartenders, and even the cooks from the kitchen went running outside. Turns out someone was getting their clock cleaned in the parking lot and there is nothing intoxicated men love more than slurred insults and broken noses! The cops showed up and were taking notes, but by the time roomy and I were ready to leave the culprits had been (presumably) hauled away.
Aw, but the excitements in this town never yield.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Just too busy being fabulous
The big buzz is the release of “Sex and The City” coming to theaters this weekend. Every radio station, tv channel, person I know is advertising or talking about it. I cannot jump on that band wagon. I was never a fan of the show, which had a lot of potential, but ended up being more of a gossipy, whining drone of beautiful, rich women complaining about having too many men and too much sex in their lives. Really? That’s what you’re bitching about? Most women would kill to have those kinds of problems. Of course I realize the theme of the show really wasn’t too many men or too much sex, but too little love and the complexities of relationships. However, if any one of those women had an ounce of a brain they could figure that one out… Come on ladies. Use you’re brain, not your box.
The ladies on the show often come off as catty and rude to each other and to the men they seem so enthralled with. Yet, there’s always a scene where they are eating or drinking and they make some hilarious sexual comment or innuendo and they laugh together and somehow that is supposed to solidify the deep bond they share with each other and convince the viewer that truly they are BFF. Unfailingly, at the end of every episode, Carrie has the epiphany of knowledge or understanding about her or her buddies’ current dilemma, a true message from God that is supposed to point her in the right direction to her happily every after. Yet the following episode, the knowledge or understanding seems to have disappeared from her bleach-blonde head.
I guess most women can relate to those circumstances just a little bit and that is where some of the appeal comes in. I just cannot understand watching (much less enjoying) someone else’s drama – fake drama – when I’ve got my own ball of crap to deal with. Especially when Carrie’s crap looks better than mine.
The ladies on the show often come off as catty and rude to each other and to the men they seem so enthralled with. Yet, there’s always a scene where they are eating or drinking and they make some hilarious sexual comment or innuendo and they laugh together and somehow that is supposed to solidify the deep bond they share with each other and convince the viewer that truly they are BFF. Unfailingly, at the end of every episode, Carrie has the epiphany of knowledge or understanding about her or her buddies’ current dilemma, a true message from God that is supposed to point her in the right direction to her happily every after. Yet the following episode, the knowledge or understanding seems to have disappeared from her bleach-blonde head.
I guess most women can relate to those circumstances just a little bit and that is where some of the appeal comes in. I just cannot understand watching (much less enjoying) someone else’s drama – fake drama – when I’ve got my own ball of crap to deal with. Especially when Carrie’s crap looks better than mine.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I dont want to work; I want to bang on the drum all day
Things I would rather do than struggle to concentrate at work:
Get a pedicure
Hop a plane to Arizona and visit my bestest
Challenge Amity to a round of Norwegian golf
Watch the monkeys at the zoo
Read Stuart Dybek under the maple trees
Drink coffee and write my observations of people at the Urban
Bass fish with my brothers
Shop for a new car
Drink vodka cranberries at Kelly’s until I can no longer walk
Take a nap
Drive to Larimore Dam with my iPod and sunflower seeds and work on my tan
Ride my bike down Riverwalk
Bore people blind (apparently)
Things I would like to do less than struggle to concentrate at work:
Go to the dentist
Clean my car
Call my landlady (again) about the numerous problems with my apartment
Prepare my junk for a garage sale
Go to the gym
Pack
Grocery shop
Get a pedicure
Hop a plane to Arizona and visit my bestest
Challenge Amity to a round of Norwegian golf
Watch the monkeys at the zoo
Read Stuart Dybek under the maple trees
Drink coffee and write my observations of people at the Urban
Bass fish with my brothers
Shop for a new car
Drink vodka cranberries at Kelly’s until I can no longer walk
Take a nap
Drive to Larimore Dam with my iPod and sunflower seeds and work on my tan
Ride my bike down Riverwalk
Bore people blind (apparently)
Things I would like to do less than struggle to concentrate at work:
Go to the dentist
Clean my car
Call my landlady (again) about the numerous problems with my apartment
Prepare my junk for a garage sale
Go to the gym
Pack
Grocery shop
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
A whole lot country, a little bit rock-n-roll
A night at the Greenbush races
Hard workin man
Poor baby does not know what lies ahead
Trixie
Billy Bob
Lily giving some love
Baby Lily and her momma
Hard workin man
Poor baby does not know what lies ahead
Trixie
Billy Bob
Lily giving some love
Baby Lily and her momma
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Success is getting what you want; happiness is wanting what you get
“What is commonly called ‘falling in love’ is in most cases an intensification of egoic wanting and needing. You become addicted to another person, or rather to your image of that person. It has nothing to do with true love, which contains no wanting whatsoever. The Spanish language is the most honest in regard to conventional notions of love: Te quiero means “I want you” as well as “I love you.” The other expression for “I love you,” tea mo, which does not have this ambiguity, is rarely used – perhaps because true love is just as rare.” (From "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle)
This is one of the paragraphs of “A New Earth” that has my head churning… Love does not contain wanting… I think that there’s wanting in everything in life – especially love. Because the world, and definitely relationships, are not perfect. People are not perfect. So we always want to be better, have better, do better. That is why my relationships and I have been so flawed. I look beyond what I have, into the “better” that could be, and in doing so, I lose everything. And I haven’t even gotten a chance to enjoy what I had.
I find it hard to believe I can live a life without wanting… that goes against (sinful) human nature.
But… in that I can see where true happiness can be found.
This is one of the paragraphs of “A New Earth” that has my head churning… Love does not contain wanting… I think that there’s wanting in everything in life – especially love. Because the world, and definitely relationships, are not perfect. People are not perfect. So we always want to be better, have better, do better. That is why my relationships and I have been so flawed. I look beyond what I have, into the “better” that could be, and in doing so, I lose everything. And I haven’t even gotten a chance to enjoy what I had.
I find it hard to believe I can live a life without wanting… that goes against (sinful) human nature.
But… in that I can see where true happiness can be found.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Mixing Bowl
Someone turned on the blender in my brain the last few days. It all started off when I began reading the book from Oprah’s book club, “A New Earth” – which is incredibly deep and actually makes my brain seize and I have to do a mental ‘control-alt-delete’ to shift gears and get the wheels turning again. But the book has some very interesting points and I have found myself ruminating them for the last few days. I haven’t gotten that far into it, but it discusses the human ego and how it is really the root of all problems. It goes on to explain that what and how we think and feel about ourselves really isn’t us at all, but our ego talking… and if you can ever get the ego to shut up – that is when you find your true self. So, I find myself examining my own thoughts and motivations and find that the book is often true. So much of what I think and feel is based on how I want to think and feel and how I want to be perceived by others and myself.
There have always been certain aspects of my personality, unfavorable aspects that I’ve subconsciously known but never have ‘consciously’ known or thought about. But now the window to clarity has been thrown open! I see faults in others, and I despise them so much but it is because I see them in myself. All the ugly bits have started to come forward with startling clarity, I am consciously seeing my faults… and what’s worse?! The motivation and reasons behind these faults. One thing I have always hated about myself and others is flakiness. But I’m a super-flake!! I hate committing to people, events, emotions… just stuff. It makes me squirm internally and if I do actually commit to something I feel nauseated for days. Why? Because I hate needing and being needed. I feel inadequate; I feel it’s unfair to need someone or something when I don’t know if I can give back in the way that is required or expected of me. I do not want to disappoint, so it’s easier to step out of the game than to play and suck at it (and therefore disappoint). So, somehow I have to shut that part of me up.
That is only the beginning of the dough that is my brain.
Also, after this past weekend, with oodles of family time, I feel weary and rejuvenated all at once. As I mentioned earlier, I hate needing people. Even my family. After spending so much time with them this weekend, it is crystal clear that I do need them and how much I need them! I can tell you I am NOT happy about this realization but it’s something I need to accept. As much as I try to pull away, as much as I grumble and argue and fight – I need them. I don’t much like myself for it, but I love them for what they are to me (and loving me despite it all - truly, they must be saints). If you don’t know my family – I feel sorry for you! They are some of the kindest, smartest, loving, strong, and funny people I could hope to meet.
Today, I met an old high school friend for lunch. We were fantastic friends in high school and drifted after graduation. The last few months though, we have reconnected and it is so amazing to see how a few years have changed her. She is now happily married to a man who is working in Iraq as a civilian. She made a comment about him that is still echoing through my mind. She said when they were still dating he was about to leave for Iraq and she didn’t want him to go. She realized she had two choices – leave him or accept his decision and love him anyway. She said that it was easier to stay with him and love him and be a part of his life, even when he was in Iraq, then to have to let him go.
I so know how that feels.
There have always been certain aspects of my personality, unfavorable aspects that I’ve subconsciously known but never have ‘consciously’ known or thought about. But now the window to clarity has been thrown open! I see faults in others, and I despise them so much but it is because I see them in myself. All the ugly bits have started to come forward with startling clarity, I am consciously seeing my faults… and what’s worse?! The motivation and reasons behind these faults. One thing I have always hated about myself and others is flakiness. But I’m a super-flake!! I hate committing to people, events, emotions… just stuff. It makes me squirm internally and if I do actually commit to something I feel nauseated for days. Why? Because I hate needing and being needed. I feel inadequate; I feel it’s unfair to need someone or something when I don’t know if I can give back in the way that is required or expected of me. I do not want to disappoint, so it’s easier to step out of the game than to play and suck at it (and therefore disappoint). So, somehow I have to shut that part of me up.
That is only the beginning of the dough that is my brain.
Also, after this past weekend, with oodles of family time, I feel weary and rejuvenated all at once. As I mentioned earlier, I hate needing people. Even my family. After spending so much time with them this weekend, it is crystal clear that I do need them and how much I need them! I can tell you I am NOT happy about this realization but it’s something I need to accept. As much as I try to pull away, as much as I grumble and argue and fight – I need them. I don’t much like myself for it, but I love them for what they are to me (and loving me despite it all - truly, they must be saints). If you don’t know my family – I feel sorry for you! They are some of the kindest, smartest, loving, strong, and funny people I could hope to meet.
Today, I met an old high school friend for lunch. We were fantastic friends in high school and drifted after graduation. The last few months though, we have reconnected and it is so amazing to see how a few years have changed her. She is now happily married to a man who is working in Iraq as a civilian. She made a comment about him that is still echoing through my mind. She said when they were still dating he was about to leave for Iraq and she didn’t want him to go. She realized she had two choices – leave him or accept his decision and love him anyway. She said that it was easier to stay with him and love him and be a part of his life, even when he was in Iraq, then to have to let him go.
I so know how that feels.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Holy cow... Me too.
It's like she copied the letter straight from my head... except for the kid part of course.
Monday, April 14, 2008
What if...
What if you could meet someone in the art world?
It depends on what the art world means. All of the arts? I have a few that I would like to meet – my mother insists that all creative people have a bit of agony in them; the “tortured artist” thing… and I am starting to believe she’s right. I would love to meet Michelangelo or Picasso and pick their brains a bit. How a seemingly average man could create such magnificent beauty knocks my socks off. There are also so many authors I would love to meet – J.D. Salinger, John Knowles, Maya Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Browning… and the list goes on.
What if you could have one wish granted for the benefit of all mankind?
I would wish for people to think of others before themselves. With this one thought-process change, we would eliminate war, poverty, greed, and all the horrible derivatives that are becoming more and more prevalent in our society. Just check out msnbc news. Yeah. All of that crap? Wiped away by thinking of someone other than yourself.
What if you could travel anywhere in the world?
This is so hard! I always want to go somewhere warm, sandy, and wonderful – something so foreign to my experience in MN/ND – but at the same time, I have an absolute longing to see Europe. To see the history and the amazing kaleidoscope of cultures is so fascinating to me. I’d also love to see Africa, but it terrifies me too. Could I handle seeing all its beauty and pain at once? My ideal destinations change every day, but if at this moment I could pack my bags and jump the jet – I’d be flying to Costa Rica or somewhere similar.
What if you could live in a period, other than the present, for 24 hours?
I’d like to live in the 1300 to 1500’s – The social norms and society itself back then is fascinating to me. Granted, as I woman, 24 hours would probably plenty long for me to live back then!
What if you could become an animal for 24 hours?
I would definitely be a bird. I hate birds; they are mean and loud and generally everything nasty – but I would get to fly!!
What if you could bring someone back to life for 24 hours?
I’m not sure. As Jimmie said, how hard would be to only have 24 hours – and then say goodbye again? Awful. But even so, I would choose Adeline. There is so much I would say to her.
It depends on what the art world means. All of the arts? I have a few that I would like to meet – my mother insists that all creative people have a bit of agony in them; the “tortured artist” thing… and I am starting to believe she’s right. I would love to meet Michelangelo or Picasso and pick their brains a bit. How a seemingly average man could create such magnificent beauty knocks my socks off. There are also so many authors I would love to meet – J.D. Salinger, John Knowles, Maya Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Browning… and the list goes on.
What if you could have one wish granted for the benefit of all mankind?
I would wish for people to think of others before themselves. With this one thought-process change, we would eliminate war, poverty, greed, and all the horrible derivatives that are becoming more and more prevalent in our society. Just check out msnbc news. Yeah. All of that crap? Wiped away by thinking of someone other than yourself.
What if you could travel anywhere in the world?
This is so hard! I always want to go somewhere warm, sandy, and wonderful – something so foreign to my experience in MN/ND – but at the same time, I have an absolute longing to see Europe. To see the history and the amazing kaleidoscope of cultures is so fascinating to me. I’d also love to see Africa, but it terrifies me too. Could I handle seeing all its beauty and pain at once? My ideal destinations change every day, but if at this moment I could pack my bags and jump the jet – I’d be flying to Costa Rica or somewhere similar.
What if you could live in a period, other than the present, for 24 hours?
I’d like to live in the 1300 to 1500’s – The social norms and society itself back then is fascinating to me. Granted, as I woman, 24 hours would probably plenty long for me to live back then!
What if you could become an animal for 24 hours?
I would definitely be a bird. I hate birds; they are mean and loud and generally everything nasty – but I would get to fly!!
What if you could bring someone back to life for 24 hours?
I’m not sure. As Jimmie said, how hard would be to only have 24 hours – and then say goodbye again? Awful. But even so, I would choose Adeline. There is so much I would say to her.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Word to the wise
From my Don't Sweat the Small Stuff desk calendar:
"Becoming less attached to outcomes doesn't mean that you don't care or that you don't try. Instead, it's more a matter of trying really hard, caring a great deal, putting the odds in your favor—-but then letting go of the results and allowing things to unfold as they will (which is what will happen anyway)."
"Becoming less attached to outcomes doesn't mean that you don't care or that you don't try. Instead, it's more a matter of trying really hard, caring a great deal, putting the odds in your favor—-but then letting go of the results and allowing things to unfold as they will (which is what will happen anyway)."
Monday, April 7, 2008
Needles - not just for torture anymore!
When my depression recently came back with a royal smack in the face, it made me realize that I once again have to take the bull by the horns and maneuver my life into something a bit more manageable. I seriously considered going back to the doctor and getting anti-depressants, and it hit me at how low I must have become to actually consider that possibility again. I was on enough drugs to kill a small elephant at one point of my life and it did me absolutely no good and it took me a long time to realize I was in a walking coma. And it took me a long time to get out of it and find some sort of balance. This new round of the big D would have to be fought with something different - medication would be the very last option.
Then someone suggested I try acupuncture. I have gone through 3 acupuncture treatments now. Let me tell you how terrified I was at the first appointment! My hands sweated, my body shook, and when the 40 or so needles were in place, I cried. Immediately I felt different. Not necessarily better; just different. I lay there watching the shade of depression slowly pull back to show me a fluorescent ceiling of clarity… and reality. That was not something I had seen in a long time. I have been wandering around under this Charlie Brown cloud for so long that I'm not really sure who I am anymore. I laid there imagining how I would be, the person I would become, when I am “healed.” But what a silly thought! Acupuncture is not going to make me into some new marvelous person... the prom queen princess that I often have longed to be. As disappointing as it was to think that acupuncture isn’t going to fix all my problems and make me into this beautiful, ideal woman, I wondered if the absence of my depression might.
I have found that the most beautiful people to me are the ones filled with happiness and laughter - you can see it beaming from their smiles and shining from their eyes. It isn't the highlights or lipstick or bulging muscles, it's the heart inside of them. Cheesy as it may sound, it's the absolute truth. I haven't seen that kind of peace and happiness in myself in so long that it makes me sad to think about it. When I shed this heavy blanket of disgust and disappointment of depression (and I have high hopes that acupuncture might do just that), maybe my eyes will shine with something more than tears. Maybe then I will be the beautiful, happy person I have always wished myself to be.
Then someone suggested I try acupuncture. I have gone through 3 acupuncture treatments now. Let me tell you how terrified I was at the first appointment! My hands sweated, my body shook, and when the 40 or so needles were in place, I cried. Immediately I felt different. Not necessarily better; just different. I lay there watching the shade of depression slowly pull back to show me a fluorescent ceiling of clarity… and reality. That was not something I had seen in a long time. I have been wandering around under this Charlie Brown cloud for so long that I'm not really sure who I am anymore. I laid there imagining how I would be, the person I would become, when I am “healed.” But what a silly thought! Acupuncture is not going to make me into some new marvelous person... the prom queen princess that I often have longed to be. As disappointing as it was to think that acupuncture isn’t going to fix all my problems and make me into this beautiful, ideal woman, I wondered if the absence of my depression might.
I have found that the most beautiful people to me are the ones filled with happiness and laughter - you can see it beaming from their smiles and shining from their eyes. It isn't the highlights or lipstick or bulging muscles, it's the heart inside of them. Cheesy as it may sound, it's the absolute truth. I haven't seen that kind of peace and happiness in myself in so long that it makes me sad to think about it. When I shed this heavy blanket of disgust and disappointment of depression (and I have high hopes that acupuncture might do just that), maybe my eyes will shine with something more than tears. Maybe then I will be the beautiful, happy person I have always wished myself to be.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Goodbye my furry friend
I’m hoping to move soon to some hot new digs soon. Because, in all honesty, my apartment isn’t fit for a crackwhore. I have been living there for well over a year now, and my disdain for the entire complex and management grows daily, so that sometimes I even contemplate shoveling the sidewalks or – God forbid – fix a bathroom sink, because I know that would totally throw the management a curveball. Their entire world might be so shaken that they may even have to consider jacking my rent again.
Besides moving, working three jobs doesn’t leave me a lot of down time, but it has given Charlie (aka: Catshit, Bean, Beaner, Heifer, and You Little SHIT!) endless hours of alone time in which she can sleep, shed, shit, and eat. Then when I return home at the end of a long, hazy day and collapse into bed lacking the energy to even take out my contacts, Charlie decides it is time to practice for that 5K coming up next month to raise cancer awareness. The laps around the apartment are endless, and her sensibilities are severely wounded when I finally gain the energy to angrily groan her name against my drool-soaked pillow. After a few minutes, she will finally put aside her indignance and leap onto my bed to make amends and ascertain that I am, in fact, not yet sleeping. This has been the course of our relationship the last seven months.
So, after much deliberation, last night I sent Charlie packin. I love the silly cat and it was a tough decision to make, but in the end I think we will both be much happier. She had become much like chocolate to me. I love chocolate so much, but damnit, it makes me fat. With Charlie, I love her so much, but damnit, she makes me ornery.
So last night, I packed her and her belongings into my car, fighting tears and crossing my fingers that I had made the right decision. Once we were on our way to meet her new tormentee in Fargo, Charlie let me know how unhappy she was by howling over my radio. The louder I turned up my radio, the louder she howled. Suddenly giving her away didn’t seem like such a bad decision. As we grew close to Fargo she became quiet… then the foul odor hit my nose. Immediately rage filled my heart. I pulled over in a truck stop, and pulled her out of her carrier. My suspicions were confirmed. She shit in her carrier. I left Charlie dusting her hair all over my carseats while I dumped out cat turds in the truckstop lawn. I cleaned out her carrier in the bathrooms as best I could and scowled at the curious onlookers as I made my way back to my car. I stuck Charlie back in her carrier, resenting her every moment for the embarrassing and disgusting cleanup routine. We hopped back on the interstate, and her incessant howling began again, and I actually began to look forward to saying goodbye.
In Fargo, Charlie met her new roommate, Sharon. Sharon is a lovely woman, who will no doubt spoil Charlie silly and shower her with Christmas gifts and cat nip. Despite my irritation and annoyance with Charlie last night and the past seven months, she has been a constant companion and endless entertainment. When I hugged that little hairball goodbye, I couldn’t help but spit out cat hair, tell her to be good, and even cry a little. Happy trails, Bean.
Besides moving, working three jobs doesn’t leave me a lot of down time, but it has given Charlie (aka: Catshit, Bean, Beaner, Heifer, and You Little SHIT!) endless hours of alone time in which she can sleep, shed, shit, and eat. Then when I return home at the end of a long, hazy day and collapse into bed lacking the energy to even take out my contacts, Charlie decides it is time to practice for that 5K coming up next month to raise cancer awareness. The laps around the apartment are endless, and her sensibilities are severely wounded when I finally gain the energy to angrily groan her name against my drool-soaked pillow. After a few minutes, she will finally put aside her indignance and leap onto my bed to make amends and ascertain that I am, in fact, not yet sleeping. This has been the course of our relationship the last seven months.
So, after much deliberation, last night I sent Charlie packin. I love the silly cat and it was a tough decision to make, but in the end I think we will both be much happier. She had become much like chocolate to me. I love chocolate so much, but damnit, it makes me fat. With Charlie, I love her so much, but damnit, she makes me ornery.
So last night, I packed her and her belongings into my car, fighting tears and crossing my fingers that I had made the right decision. Once we were on our way to meet her new tormentee in Fargo, Charlie let me know how unhappy she was by howling over my radio. The louder I turned up my radio, the louder she howled. Suddenly giving her away didn’t seem like such a bad decision. As we grew close to Fargo she became quiet… then the foul odor hit my nose. Immediately rage filled my heart. I pulled over in a truck stop, and pulled her out of her carrier. My suspicions were confirmed. She shit in her carrier. I left Charlie dusting her hair all over my carseats while I dumped out cat turds in the truckstop lawn. I cleaned out her carrier in the bathrooms as best I could and scowled at the curious onlookers as I made my way back to my car. I stuck Charlie back in her carrier, resenting her every moment for the embarrassing and disgusting cleanup routine. We hopped back on the interstate, and her incessant howling began again, and I actually began to look forward to saying goodbye.
In Fargo, Charlie met her new roommate, Sharon. Sharon is a lovely woman, who will no doubt spoil Charlie silly and shower her with Christmas gifts and cat nip. Despite my irritation and annoyance with Charlie last night and the past seven months, she has been a constant companion and endless entertainment. When I hugged that little hairball goodbye, I couldn’t help but spit out cat hair, tell her to be good, and even cry a little. Happy trails, Bean.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I intend to write a riveting blog
Found a very thought-provoking article on the power of intention. Check it out. I'm going to try it out.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Happiness!
My world has been consumed with work and worries lately - not complaining because I have chosen that route - but I will admit I'm getting a little burned out. Tomorrow will be the first complete day I have had off since February 26. Yes, that's right. FEBRUARY 26. I have worked at one job or another EVERY SINGLE ONE of those days since February 26. That means makeup and hair routine every single day. That means clocking in and clocking out every single day. That means no sleeping in, no pjs until 5:00 p.m., no late nights out (with maybe one or two exceptions)...
HOORAY for no work! And HOORAY for a long weekend! Happy Easter, pals.
HOORAY for no work! And HOORAY for a long weekend! Happy Easter, pals.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Reminisce
Last night I was cleaning through some old files and found a stash of pictures, cards, empty jewelry boxes, and dried flowers. It was from a period of 2 1/2 years of my life that is filed away in my brain as "Fabian." There was even a book Fabian and I had filled out together as "About Us." I looked through it - seeing his chicken scratches explaining that the only thing he would change about me was for me to stop nagging him about chewing tobacco. I wrote the only thing I wanted him to change was to stop chewing. Then in parenthesis I wrote that I also wanted him to learn to stand up to his family. Hehe. The epitome of our relationship in two lines.
I sorted through all the cards and notes and finally looked at the pictures. In every picture, we had our arms wrapped securely around one another with ear-to-ear grins. There were pictures of him hunting with my brothers and holding my little cousins. There is no other way to explain how I felt looking at that stuff than to say that my heart swelled. Even with all the stressful things going on in my life then, I was so happy. Joy and laughter radiated from my eyes and smile. And looking back and remembering our lives together, and who I was at that point, I feel the same rush of happiness that I felt then.
I certainly don't want to go back to that point in my life, but I'm so glad that it happened.
I sorted through all the cards and notes and finally looked at the pictures. In every picture, we had our arms wrapped securely around one another with ear-to-ear grins. There were pictures of him hunting with my brothers and holding my little cousins. There is no other way to explain how I felt looking at that stuff than to say that my heart swelled. Even with all the stressful things going on in my life then, I was so happy. Joy and laughter radiated from my eyes and smile. And looking back and remembering our lives together, and who I was at that point, I feel the same rush of happiness that I felt then.
I certainly don't want to go back to that point in my life, but I'm so glad that it happened.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
PBP - GINTWMY
I have not posted in a while for a very good reason. If you don't have something good to say, don't say anything at all. Well, I have something good to say today, but it may take me a minute to get to the good part.
After one of the most horrible weekends on record, which included: work, car accident, work, getting berated while at work in front of a crowd of strangers, work, seeing an old flame with his new flame, work, a bunch of misc. irritations, and a box or two of tissues, I can safely say I was never so happy to see a Monday morning as I was this week. Monday and Tuesday I was carrying some pretty heavy baggage from the weekend but last night I decided to let it go.
Today, I am bringing my car in for an estimate - and cross your fingers for me - they will total it. Tonight, I look forward to burning off some excess stress-energy at the gym, and the sequential attitude adjustment that comes with a good sweat. Tomorrow night through Sunday I will be working. This weekend the Sioux play Michigan Tech in WCHA play-offs and I'm super excited for those games!
Losing the baggage has left me feeling light and encouraged. Something I haven't felt in a long time! (I'm sure the 40° temps and melting snow help too!)
I'm hoping this spring will help me turn over a new leaf... maybe a new car, a new apartment, some extra cash, a few vacations, and most importantly... some fun and happiness.
(PBP - GINTWMY = Please Be Patient - God Is Not Through With Me Yet.)
After one of the most horrible weekends on record, which included: work, car accident, work, getting berated while at work in front of a crowd of strangers, work, seeing an old flame with his new flame, work, a bunch of misc. irritations, and a box or two of tissues, I can safely say I was never so happy to see a Monday morning as I was this week. Monday and Tuesday I was carrying some pretty heavy baggage from the weekend but last night I decided to let it go.
Today, I am bringing my car in for an estimate - and cross your fingers for me - they will total it. Tonight, I look forward to burning off some excess stress-energy at the gym, and the sequential attitude adjustment that comes with a good sweat. Tomorrow night through Sunday I will be working. This weekend the Sioux play Michigan Tech in WCHA play-offs and I'm super excited for those games!
Losing the baggage has left me feeling light and encouraged. Something I haven't felt in a long time! (I'm sure the 40° temps and melting snow help too!)
I'm hoping this spring will help me turn over a new leaf... maybe a new car, a new apartment, some extra cash, a few vacations, and most importantly... some fun and happiness.
(PBP - GINTWMY = Please Be Patient - God Is Not Through With Me Yet.)
Friday, February 29, 2008
Random
These two lines have a way of rolling in and out of my mind. They are completely unrelated, but stick with me none-the-less.
"I'll let those be lessons learned. I'd rather learn that than find out that spending my weekend snorting coke off a hookers ass has a negative outlook for a healthy lifestyle." -my friend Dana, 2004, discussing some of life's bigger lessons.
"Imagine my surprise when you loved me back." -Postsecret.com
"I'll let those be lessons learned. I'd rather learn that than find out that spending my weekend snorting coke off a hookers ass has a negative outlook for a healthy lifestyle." -my friend Dana, 2004, discussing some of life's bigger lessons.
"Imagine my surprise when you loved me back." -Postsecret.com
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Confession
This may come as a surprise to most of you, but I have a number of irrational fears. Most of them are too silly and embarrassing to mention and granted, the one I am about to confess is both of those things, but it is also very unusual.
Ok. Deep breath... My irrational fear is of Johnny Depp. He is a good looking guy – I’m not denying that, but he has such a black undertone to him; he creeps me out. (Also, he never ever looks clean.) I imagine he’s the type of guy who would sit quietly next to you, enjoying a cup of coffee and nice conversation, when out of the blue he will scream and pounce at you – just to freak you out. I don’t like those kinds of people.
To top it off, I have nightmares about the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where Johnny Depp stars as Willy Wonka. Seriously? They have made a movie like that for kids? Depp’s costume and hairstyle in and of themselves are enough to make me duck under the covers, but when you add in the creepy voice he uses, I just about cannot contain my hysterics. Recently, I was flipping through the channels and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was playing on ABC. I swear to you, the hair stood straight up on my head. I have had three nightmares about him in that movie. Irrational? Completely.
Ok. Deep breath... My irrational fear is of Johnny Depp. He is a good looking guy – I’m not denying that, but he has such a black undertone to him; he creeps me out. (Also, he never ever looks clean.) I imagine he’s the type of guy who would sit quietly next to you, enjoying a cup of coffee and nice conversation, when out of the blue he will scream and pounce at you – just to freak you out. I don’t like those kinds of people.
To top it off, I have nightmares about the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where Johnny Depp stars as Willy Wonka. Seriously? They have made a movie like that for kids? Depp’s costume and hairstyle in and of themselves are enough to make me duck under the covers, but when you add in the creepy voice he uses, I just about cannot contain my hysterics. Recently, I was flipping through the channels and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was playing on ABC. I swear to you, the hair stood straight up on my head. I have had three nightmares about him in that movie. Irrational? Completely.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
She Talks to Angels
I saw the Black Crowes in concert in October of 2006. This is still one of the best songs of all time...
Monday, February 25, 2008
A breather
The last few weeks have flown by in a haze of work and nonesense. I've been keeping busy with three jobs - all of which I love. The normal 8:00 to 5:00, plus a bunch of overtime is spent at UND; men's hockey games plus a few extras (like High School Musical) are spent at the Ralph Engelstad Arena; and my latest addition to time-burning is Bath & Body Works. I enjoy all of them, but I don't necessarily need or truly want to work all of them. It's just a great and needed time-filler. Keeps me out of trouble!
I had started off the year deciding not to take any classes or work extra jobs to take some time to enjoy my freedom; get back to my writing, exercising, and having fun. However, I am not a person who can tolerate a lot of free time - and I have just now figured that out. On my Saturday's off, I don't leisurely clean, wash clothes, pay bills, etc. throughout the day, then when finished with the chores, meet up with friends or move on to something enjoyable. No. Not me. I'm the person who will sleep as late as humanly possible, then read or putz around town. I'll shower at 7:30 if I'm meeting friends at 8:00. I'll wait with all the chores until (literally) 9:30 on Sunday night, then zoom through my apartment and finish everything in absolute record time so I can still shower and be in bed by midnight. I don't think it's a matter of procrastination as a whole (although it does contribute a little) - but I want to be challenged. If I know I have the whole day to do laundry, I lose interest quickly and move onto something else.
Anyway, tomorrow I have the day off. From all jobs. The week before last I worked about 70 hours between my 3 jobs; and last week, I worked about 60 hours. My head was swimming with work and I would go to sleep and dream that I was working, and the next morning get back to work and be confused about where I'd left off... "I thought I did this already?" In my dreams...
I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do with my free time tomorrow... but I've got all day to decide! ;)
I had started off the year deciding not to take any classes or work extra jobs to take some time to enjoy my freedom; get back to my writing, exercising, and having fun. However, I am not a person who can tolerate a lot of free time - and I have just now figured that out. On my Saturday's off, I don't leisurely clean, wash clothes, pay bills, etc. throughout the day, then when finished with the chores, meet up with friends or move on to something enjoyable. No. Not me. I'm the person who will sleep as late as humanly possible, then read or putz around town. I'll shower at 7:30 if I'm meeting friends at 8:00. I'll wait with all the chores until (literally) 9:30 on Sunday night, then zoom through my apartment and finish everything in absolute record time so I can still shower and be in bed by midnight. I don't think it's a matter of procrastination as a whole (although it does contribute a little) - but I want to be challenged. If I know I have the whole day to do laundry, I lose interest quickly and move onto something else.
Anyway, tomorrow I have the day off. From all jobs. The week before last I worked about 70 hours between my 3 jobs; and last week, I worked about 60 hours. My head was swimming with work and I would go to sleep and dream that I was working, and the next morning get back to work and be confused about where I'd left off... "I thought I did this already?" In my dreams...
I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do with my free time tomorrow... but I've got all day to decide! ;)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Love One Another
Love one another, but make not a bond of love
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping;
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together;
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
~Khalil Gibran (1883–1931)
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping;
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together;
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
~Khalil Gibran (1883–1931)
A Golden Day
I found you and I lost you,
All on a gleaming day.
The day was filled with sunshine,
And the land was full of May.
A golden bird was singing
Its melody divine,
I found you and I loved you,
And all the world was mine.
I found you and I lost you,
All on a golden day,
But when I dream of you, dear,
It is always brimming May.
~Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906)
All on a gleaming day.
The day was filled with sunshine,
And the land was full of May.
A golden bird was singing
Its melody divine,
I found you and I loved you,
And all the world was mine.
I found you and I lost you,
All on a golden day,
But when I dream of you, dear,
It is always brimming May.
~Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906)
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Hope floats... and carries, guides, and protects
"What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."
What a pontificating statement... Rainbows and butterflies. Who came up with that? Because I'd like to kick him in the shins, throw jello in his face, and run.
What a sack of shit.
What doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger; it breaks you into a million pieces. You struggle and fight and hurt and ache and mourn. Once you can see the light at the end of the tunnel you begin to learn and grow. Eventually you learn how to put the pieces back together and you heal and then you become stronger.
And sometimes you don't become stronger, you just heal. But in healing, there can be so much damage and scar tissue that it becomes just another old wound; something to keep hidden and protected, and you're so concerned with protecting that old wound that taking the next step to find the extra strength isn't even on the agenda.
And if you were lucky enough to heal and become stronger, count yourself blessed. It's because you were lucky or smart enough to keep a shred of hope in the first place.
What a pontificating statement... Rainbows and butterflies. Who came up with that? Because I'd like to kick him in the shins, throw jello in his face, and run.
What a sack of shit.
What doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger; it breaks you into a million pieces. You struggle and fight and hurt and ache and mourn. Once you can see the light at the end of the tunnel you begin to learn and grow. Eventually you learn how to put the pieces back together and you heal and then you become stronger.
And sometimes you don't become stronger, you just heal. But in healing, there can be so much damage and scar tissue that it becomes just another old wound; something to keep hidden and protected, and you're so concerned with protecting that old wound that taking the next step to find the extra strength isn't even on the agenda.
And if you were lucky enough to heal and become stronger, count yourself blessed. It's because you were lucky or smart enough to keep a shred of hope in the first place.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Spring is welcome anytime
As I write this blog, it is -32°F, with a -46°F windchill. I have had enough of winter!
Last night I worked at the Ralph for the High School Musical (Ice Tour) - which was a whole experience in itself - but at 9:30 when I was packing up, getting ready to go home, a friend offered to give me a ride to my car. Granted, I only had to walk approximately 3 blocks to my car, but the windchill was somewhere around -50°F and my legs went numb after just 20 seconds outside. On our short little jaunt to my car, a woman flagged us down. We stopped, and she jumped in the car. This woman was there with 2 little girls for the musical and she couldn't find her car. She had left her girls inside the Ralph so she could go search for her car, and she was starting to freeze on her third attempt out. So my generous friend offered to drive her around and help her look for her car after she dropped me off at mine. Ok. That is what you call ridiculously cold. And may I just say... ENOUGH ALREADY.
Last night I worked at the Ralph for the High School Musical (Ice Tour) - which was a whole experience in itself - but at 9:30 when I was packing up, getting ready to go home, a friend offered to give me a ride to my car. Granted, I only had to walk approximately 3 blocks to my car, but the windchill was somewhere around -50°F and my legs went numb after just 20 seconds outside. On our short little jaunt to my car, a woman flagged us down. We stopped, and she jumped in the car. This woman was there with 2 little girls for the musical and she couldn't find her car. She had left her girls inside the Ralph so she could go search for her car, and she was starting to freeze on her third attempt out. So my generous friend offered to drive her around and help her look for her car after she dropped me off at mine. Ok. That is what you call ridiculously cold. And may I just say... ENOUGH ALREADY.
Monday, February 11, 2008
here we go with the dreams again
Also, this weekend I had a very disturbing dream. I dreamt I gave birth to a beautiful baby, but he looked very much like his father in one way. Eyebrows. This tiny newborn baby had huge, bushy black eyebrows and I was horrified.
Now, it's just funny. And actually, if I didn't maintain my eyebrows the way I do, they would probably look very much like my dream-baby brows.
Now, it's just funny. And actually, if I didn't maintain my eyebrows the way I do, they would probably look very much like my dream-baby brows.
My incompetence knows no bounds
This weekend was a rather dull and bumbling waste of time. Last week was a long and *slightly* stressful work week so Friday night I crashed at about 8:30 and slept 12 straight hours. That was surprising and super wonderful. Saturday, I worked a few more hours and wasted my afternoon with another delightful nap. Saturday night I found myself in a bit of a conundrum. A couple weeks ago, I made a vow to myself that I would only eat out once a week, and drink alcohol once a week, to monitor the intake of calories and the outflow of cash. Well, I’ve made good the deal with myself with only one slipup in three weeks. Saturday night, I couldn’t eat out or drink because I already used my allotment for the week. To occupy my sober-time I decided to make chocolate chip cookies and thought it would be a nice treat to mail some home and bring some into work.
Let me state now that I do not claim to be a master cook or baker. My family relentlessly heckles me and my ability and desire to be anywhere near a kitchen. Kitchen work, in any form, is not something I have ever grown fond of. In all reality, how fun is it to cook for one person? If a piece of toast is going to satisfy the grumbling in my belly as well as a steak; I am going with the toast. But I will say that my cooking has gotten better (the frequency anyway) because of my new resolution. I can only handle toast (yes, TOAST, and it is whole wheat if that makes you feel any better) about 4 days a week, so that leaves 2 more days in which I have to find something else to consume. Last week, I made BBQ chicken and a baked potato, spaghetti (whole wheat), and a casserole. Not difficult things to make, but all those meals required me to turn on the oven/stove. PROGRESS!
Back to this weekend… I thought I was doing great, whipping up those chocolate chip cookies on Saturday night, all the while smirking and humming to myself; anticipating the looks of shock on my parent’s faces as they opened a package of homemade cookies from THEIR DAUGHTER. However, I encountered a small problem. The dough was extremely dry. When I attempted to bake the cookies, they didn’t melt into gooey soft wonderful-ness. They stayed in their dry, lumpy form and turned brown. I blamed my measuring cups; I blamed the recipe (don’t the cookbook editors check their recipes before printing?!); I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. All my planning and hard work turned into floury ugly lumps. I covered the bowl of cookie dough and put it in the refrigerator, not yet willing to give up on my little project, hoping a night of sleep would reveal the error in my recipe.
The next afternoon, I opened the microwave to warm up some leftover spaghetti to find a bowl of half melted, congealed butter. Butter that was patiently waiting to be stirred into cookie dough.
Can you imagine the swearing that occurred? The hair on Charlie’s ears were singed.
To my family, who know my mothers fabulous cooking: The cooking gene didn't carry through. From now on, I will bring pickles to all family events.
Let me state now that I do not claim to be a master cook or baker. My family relentlessly heckles me and my ability and desire to be anywhere near a kitchen. Kitchen work, in any form, is not something I have ever grown fond of. In all reality, how fun is it to cook for one person? If a piece of toast is going to satisfy the grumbling in my belly as well as a steak; I am going with the toast. But I will say that my cooking has gotten better (the frequency anyway) because of my new resolution. I can only handle toast (yes, TOAST, and it is whole wheat if that makes you feel any better) about 4 days a week, so that leaves 2 more days in which I have to find something else to consume. Last week, I made BBQ chicken and a baked potato, spaghetti (whole wheat), and a casserole. Not difficult things to make, but all those meals required me to turn on the oven/stove. PROGRESS!
Back to this weekend… I thought I was doing great, whipping up those chocolate chip cookies on Saturday night, all the while smirking and humming to myself; anticipating the looks of shock on my parent’s faces as they opened a package of homemade cookies from THEIR DAUGHTER. However, I encountered a small problem. The dough was extremely dry. When I attempted to bake the cookies, they didn’t melt into gooey soft wonderful-ness. They stayed in their dry, lumpy form and turned brown. I blamed my measuring cups; I blamed the recipe (don’t the cookbook editors check their recipes before printing?!); I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. All my planning and hard work turned into floury ugly lumps. I covered the bowl of cookie dough and put it in the refrigerator, not yet willing to give up on my little project, hoping a night of sleep would reveal the error in my recipe.
The next afternoon, I opened the microwave to warm up some leftover spaghetti to find a bowl of half melted, congealed butter. Butter that was patiently waiting to be stirred into cookie dough.
Can you imagine the swearing that occurred? The hair on Charlie’s ears were singed.
To my family, who know my mothers fabulous cooking: The cooking gene didn't carry through. From now on, I will bring pickles to all family events.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Single in the City
As Valentine's day approaches, the lump of bile in my throat grows. This is the third year I have been single over Valentine's day and I have come to loathe the 14th day of February. Yes, many say that V-day is a crock. It's based on consumerism and Hallmark's pitch to meet sales quotas for the year, blah blah blah. If you happen to notice, the people that say this are the same people with mates (mates for lack of a better word; somehow spouse, girlfriend/boyfriend, lover, special someone don't fit). These are the people who buy the huge, gawdy cards and go out to dinner sheepishly shaking their heads that they fell for the Valentines day 2-for-1 deal at Red Lobster. While all the singletons (singletons for lack of a better word; somehow 'lonely, empty drunks' doesn't fit...well, maybe it does) either protest bitterly and outspokenly, masking their own disappointment at not having a mate, or hang their heads low and their eyes lower in hopes that they might not see the red lace and bouquets of roses that are the symbols of love and happiness ever after and be reminded that they haven't found their pot-o-gold yet.
Often I get frustrated with married folk who insist that I'm so lucky to be 26 years old and single. How independent I have become! How strong! How carefree! I am often reminded that we singletons don't have to worry about adjusting our plans to fit the schedule of a mate or family. We don't have the fights, worries, annoyances, grievances, and endless disappointments of a spouse and children. We may come and go as we please, eat pizza every day for a week, and stay up all night watching "MythBusters" marathons without it affecting another soul. We don't argue over money or whose turn it is to pick up little Jack from daycare. We can leave our hair in the drain, towels on the floor, crumbs in the bed, forget an oil change for months on end and no one would nag us.
I'll tell you what else we don't have.
We don't have someone to go home to at night; that person who doesn't feel so much a mate as a home. We don't have that special someone to share our miseries with... or our joys. We don't have someone who can pick up takeout for dinner tonight because I've just had such a long, rotten day that the thought of another responsibility or decision could send me to the Betty Ford Clinic.
We go home to empty houses and laundry lists of responsibilities and no one to take half the burden. We watch "Everyone Loves Raymond" and have no one to giggle and roll our eyes with. We have awkward dates and cold beds, and friends who transform from beer-ponging streakers to exhausted, constipated parents with whom we have nothing left in common.
We don't have little Jack's arms wrapped tightly around our necks as we kiss him goodnight or have the satisfaction and contentment from comforting him when he scrapes his knees. We don't have a date for a wedding who doesn't cause three months worth of gossip and endless questions about "where does he work? how did you meet? is it serious?"
Mostly, we don't have the comfort that we are implicitly loved – by someone who loves you not because you share the same blood, or dozens of cases of beer in college, but because you are you – and that is so wonderful that you are the only one they chose to wake up next to every morning for the rest of their life.
Valentine's day is just another lovely reminder.
Often I get frustrated with married folk who insist that I'm so lucky to be 26 years old and single. How independent I have become! How strong! How carefree! I am often reminded that we singletons don't have to worry about adjusting our plans to fit the schedule of a mate or family. We don't have the fights, worries, annoyances, grievances, and endless disappointments of a spouse and children. We may come and go as we please, eat pizza every day for a week, and stay up all night watching "MythBusters" marathons without it affecting another soul. We don't argue over money or whose turn it is to pick up little Jack from daycare. We can leave our hair in the drain, towels on the floor, crumbs in the bed, forget an oil change for months on end and no one would nag us.
I'll tell you what else we don't have.
We don't have someone to go home to at night; that person who doesn't feel so much a mate as a home. We don't have that special someone to share our miseries with... or our joys. We don't have someone who can pick up takeout for dinner tonight because I've just had such a long, rotten day that the thought of another responsibility or decision could send me to the Betty Ford Clinic.
We go home to empty houses and laundry lists of responsibilities and no one to take half the burden. We watch "Everyone Loves Raymond" and have no one to giggle and roll our eyes with. We have awkward dates and cold beds, and friends who transform from beer-ponging streakers to exhausted, constipated parents with whom we have nothing left in common.
We don't have little Jack's arms wrapped tightly around our necks as we kiss him goodnight or have the satisfaction and contentment from comforting him when he scrapes his knees. We don't have a date for a wedding who doesn't cause three months worth of gossip and endless questions about "where does he work? how did you meet? is it serious?"
Mostly, we don't have the comfort that we are implicitly loved – by someone who loves you not because you share the same blood, or dozens of cases of beer in college, but because you are you – and that is so wonderful that you are the only one they chose to wake up next to every morning for the rest of their life.
Valentine's day is just another lovely reminder.
From "Pillars of the Earth"
Ellen was being sent away for being a fornicator and she was saying goodbye to her lover, Tom Builder...
"Don't look so sad," she said. Her eyes were full of tears.
"I can't help it," he said. "I am sad."
"I'm sorry I've made you so unhappy."
"Don't be sorry for that. Be sorry that you made me so happy. That's what hurts, woman. That you made me so happy."
"Don't look so sad," she said. Her eyes were full of tears.
"I can't help it," he said. "I am sad."
"I'm sorry I've made you so unhappy."
"Don't be sorry for that. Be sorry that you made me so happy. That's what hurts, woman. That you made me so happy."
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Emotional Constipation
So many thoughts and feelings flowing through my mind, I need to let them out. I just can't find the words...
Monday, February 4, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Growing Pains
Yesterday started out a little rough and nose-dived into a mind-numbing flurry of half formed memories and ideas in my head. The type of day where the chaos in my head creates chaos in my body.
After driving around after work listening to crappy pop music at deafening volumes for hours, I went home and stewed my aching body in a hot bath - with my iPod plugged in and the candles lit. I laid there, nearly comatose, staring at my chipped toenail polish for hours.
What I really wanted to do is call some friends to meet me at the Long Haul. I'd play the jukebox and Big Buck Hunter until I'd run out of laundry quarters. I'd drink too much vodka cranberry and challenge the bartenders to J.D. shot competitions - which would then lead to flirting with 60-year old truck drivers and dancing to 80's big hair bands by myself on the dancefloor with all the regulars mumbling 'what the hell got into that girl?' over their beer mugs.
But I didn't. I got out of the tub, cleaned up cat puke, and crawled into bed contemplating the next day without the man I am fighting desperately to forget.
Maybe I am growing up, if only in unpleasant, sober ways.
After driving around after work listening to crappy pop music at deafening volumes for hours, I went home and stewed my aching body in a hot bath - with my iPod plugged in and the candles lit. I laid there, nearly comatose, staring at my chipped toenail polish for hours.
What I really wanted to do is call some friends to meet me at the Long Haul. I'd play the jukebox and Big Buck Hunter until I'd run out of laundry quarters. I'd drink too much vodka cranberry and challenge the bartenders to J.D. shot competitions - which would then lead to flirting with 60-year old truck drivers and dancing to 80's big hair bands by myself on the dancefloor with all the regulars mumbling 'what the hell got into that girl?' over their beer mugs.
But I didn't. I got out of the tub, cleaned up cat puke, and crawled into bed contemplating the next day without the man I am fighting desperately to forget.
Maybe I am growing up, if only in unpleasant, sober ways.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Flashbacks
Edit: I realize these are no fun for anyone else because no one but me knows what they mean... So I've added some context...
Today my beautiful, amazing friend, Lisa, brought me back to 1996 with a simple phrase that nearly made my head reel with it's potent flashback-edness. I've decided to collect a few of these phrases/quotes that take me back 10 or 20 years (god, how scary. 20 years?!). I'll keep adding to the list as I think of them.
EDIT:
Today my beautiful, amazing friend, Lisa, brought me back to 1996 with a simple phrase that nearly made my head reel with it's potent flashback-edness. I've decided to collect a few of these phrases/quotes that take me back 10 or 20 years (god, how scary. 20 years?!). I'll keep adding to the list as I think of them.
- You rock! (A quote from Tina in high school)
- T.R. (Another thing Tina liked to say - T.R. = Thief River)
- Beyond: is that, like, Spanish or something? (Katie misheard Lisa during lunch in school one day, and sent Lisa and I into fits of laughter and relentless teasing)
- M.J. Chicken Legs (Katie's love for Michael Jackson and her comparison of her legs to a chickens made this another relentless harassment)
- Chicka-pow-wow (Jessica anytime love or romance or sex came up)
- My monkey wrote my paper...He said "Eek, Eek." I got an F. (Jessica quoting a comedian or something - she is much more funny than the comedian!)
- Big Tits Magee (What Fabian would call me when he wanted to make me angry)
- Tilly dirl (Another Fabian saying. Tilly dirl = silly girl)
- Electric Blue Eyes (Thor and I singing the Cranberries at the top of our lungs one summer)
- Chitty-chitty-Bang-BAAAAAAANNNNNNGGGGGG! (Jessica - just because we both love Ace Ventura)
- We're lost! >followed by evil laughter< (En route bowling with Adeline and her older siblings. Adeline thought the driver was serious and she cried.)
- Smacker dacker (Trents nickname for Thor and the way his arms flopped when he rode horse.)
- Can I pee in your ****? (Another Fabian jab)
- Cutie (What Fabian always called me)
- It's hot in these rhinos. (My favorite quote of all time. From Ace Ventura)
- Pooper dingy (Trent's nickname for Pepper. Don't know where that one came from but it makes me laugh at it's absurdity.)
- In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight! (When I was really young, dad would sing this song in the barn when he was milking cows.)
- Mama Sita (A Becky saying)
- Heidi Mae 003 (Mr. Bishop called me this in a high school math class. It stuck.)
- SAFE! (Mr. Bishop shouted this out when I tripped while running laps in phy-ed - I fell on my stomach and slide what seemed to be 10 feet with my arms outstretched.)
- Big Bopper (A nickname for Doug)
- Ada (A cow we had that was really mean - always reminds me of a friend of mom's)
- Tuna (A nickname for Tina that she hated)
- You shook me all night long! (Jess & I would sing and dance to this song all those nights of college partying)
- Maybe your girl and my friend can trade; tag team, off the ropes! On the ocean or in the boat! Factories or on hundred spokes! What about up in the candy sto' - that chocolate chocolate make it melt... (Jess and I would blare this song while getting for a long night of partying and trouble-making.)
EDIT:
- Nipples the size of dinner plates. (A conversation between mom and I that Thor accidently heard. I think we traumatized him.)
- They're still nice! (Comment from Chris)
- I suck at this game. (Chris)
To whom it may concern
My dearest Charlie:
In an effort to keep our roommate situation amicable, I have a few issues to bring to your attention.
1. First of all, your total disregard for my company is rude. Your complete and utter lack of acknowledgement, much less greeting, is a discredit to us both. I must ask you to please do your best in welcoming any and all guests into our home and to do so in a loving, kind manner.
2. Your moodiness is out of control. Yes, I know I have my faults as well, but please keep in mind that I do not scowl and hiss at you when I am merely passing through the room – my mood swings are kept quietly to myself. Each day I come home and I wonder if today is the day I will be ripped to shreds by those heinous hind feet of yours or if you will lovingly dance around my ankles. Life is too full of stress and worries as it is and I refuse to sidestep around your moodiness any longer. Granted, we have had a rough go at things. Learning to trust one another has been a long road and I don’t believe either of us have reached ‘trust.’ You have yet to trust me to treat you respectfully and kindly and I have yet to trust you to behave yourself and not prance your fluffy fat ass in the patio window where the landlady can see you and subsequently not kick me out on my fluffy fat ass. These are things we must work on together.
3. Please respect me and my space. I don’t know what your mother taught you but, generally, staring is considered rude. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do but you stare incessantly and I find is disconcerting. Particularly so when I am naked… and you do your head bob… then run to hide under the kitchen table. This hurts my feelings.
4. Another matter is that the bed in our home is my bed. Not your bed. Not your bed when I’m not in it. Not your bed when I am in it! My bed. So, don’t cry and scowl at me when I look to use it.
5. I know that you have a carefree lifestyle in which your nourishment is provided mysteriously from that sack stored under the sink, but a surprise to you would be that during daylight hours I am earning the funds to pay for your chow and would appreciate some peace and quiet when I am trying to rest. Those shoelaces do not magically come alive at 2 a.m. and there is no cause for you to stage a full-blown attack at that time of night. You and Bush can wage war on those poor shoelaces and chair ties from the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. if you wish; otherwise, zip it.
6. Last but not least, I am not a couch. I realize that I am large and soft, much like a couch, but the similarities don’t mean that I am a couch. Your efforts to be close and snuggle with me (when your mood allows) are endearing and heart-melting. However, when I am dressed for work, or any other time when I will shortly be in public, is not the time for you to settle down with your popcorn and soda on my squishy lap and take a load off. Also, another good time for you to not recline on me is when I am trying to sleep. Your making bread on my boobs while I’m trying to sleep does nothing for the benefit of our living arrangement.
I realize that not all issues in the running of our household are your fault. I have many ugly and embarrassing problems that I must address also to keep a happy home. I will continue to work on my issues, if you will please attempt to work on those mentioned above. Please remember that I do enjoy living with you. It’s nice having someone to come home to and I truly appreciate you wiping my tears and listening to my rantings about boys until all hours of the night. If we can work these few hiccoughs out, I think we’ll both be much happier in the end.
Lovingly yours,
hmv
P.S. Drool. It is not attractive.
In an effort to keep our roommate situation amicable, I have a few issues to bring to your attention.
1. First of all, your total disregard for my company is rude. Your complete and utter lack of acknowledgement, much less greeting, is a discredit to us both. I must ask you to please do your best in welcoming any and all guests into our home and to do so in a loving, kind manner.
2. Your moodiness is out of control. Yes, I know I have my faults as well, but please keep in mind that I do not scowl and hiss at you when I am merely passing through the room – my mood swings are kept quietly to myself. Each day I come home and I wonder if today is the day I will be ripped to shreds by those heinous hind feet of yours or if you will lovingly dance around my ankles. Life is too full of stress and worries as it is and I refuse to sidestep around your moodiness any longer. Granted, we have had a rough go at things. Learning to trust one another has been a long road and I don’t believe either of us have reached ‘trust.’ You have yet to trust me to treat you respectfully and kindly and I have yet to trust you to behave yourself and not prance your fluffy fat ass in the patio window where the landlady can see you and subsequently not kick me out on my fluffy fat ass. These are things we must work on together.
3. Please respect me and my space. I don’t know what your mother taught you but, generally, staring is considered rude. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do but you stare incessantly and I find is disconcerting. Particularly so when I am naked… and you do your head bob… then run to hide under the kitchen table. This hurts my feelings.
4. Another matter is that the bed in our home is my bed. Not your bed. Not your bed when I’m not in it. Not your bed when I am in it! My bed. So, don’t cry and scowl at me when I look to use it.
5. I know that you have a carefree lifestyle in which your nourishment is provided mysteriously from that sack stored under the sink, but a surprise to you would be that during daylight hours I am earning the funds to pay for your chow and would appreciate some peace and quiet when I am trying to rest. Those shoelaces do not magically come alive at 2 a.m. and there is no cause for you to stage a full-blown attack at that time of night. You and Bush can wage war on those poor shoelaces and chair ties from the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. if you wish; otherwise, zip it.
6. Last but not least, I am not a couch. I realize that I am large and soft, much like a couch, but the similarities don’t mean that I am a couch. Your efforts to be close and snuggle with me (when your mood allows) are endearing and heart-melting. However, when I am dressed for work, or any other time when I will shortly be in public, is not the time for you to settle down with your popcorn and soda on my squishy lap and take a load off. Also, another good time for you to not recline on me is when I am trying to sleep. Your making bread on my boobs while I’m trying to sleep does nothing for the benefit of our living arrangement.
I realize that not all issues in the running of our household are your fault. I have many ugly and embarrassing problems that I must address also to keep a happy home. I will continue to work on my issues, if you will please attempt to work on those mentioned above. Please remember that I do enjoy living with you. It’s nice having someone to come home to and I truly appreciate you wiping my tears and listening to my rantings about boys until all hours of the night. If we can work these few hiccoughs out, I think we’ll both be much happier in the end.
Lovingly yours,
hmv
P.S. Drool. It is not attractive.
Friday, January 25, 2008
On family
No need we power or splendor, wide hall or dome; the good, the true, the tender - these form the wealth of home. --Sarah J. Hale
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. --Franklin P. Jones
Nothing you ever do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes; and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted. --Garrison Keillor
There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots; the other, wings.
A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on. --Carl Sandburg
Making a decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body. --Elizabeth Stone
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. --Franklin P. Jones
Nothing you ever do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes; and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted. --Garrison Keillor
There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots; the other, wings.
A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on. --Carl Sandburg
Making a decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body. --Elizabeth Stone
What the books say about love
On being in love:
Our honeymoon was spent on a yacht and with twenty-one children. That is, I sailed a thirty-six-foot Rhodes from seven in the morning till whenever my passengers had enough, and Jenny was a children’s counselor. It was a place called the Pequod Boat Club in Dennis Port (not far from Hyannis), an establishment that included a large hotel, a marina, and several dozen houses for rent. In one of the tinier bungalows, I have nailed an imaginary plaque: “Oliver and Jenny slept here—when they weren’t making love.” I think it’s a tribute to us both that after along day of being kind to our customers, for we were largely dependent on their tips for our income, Jenny and I were nonetheless kind to each other. I simply say “kind,” because I lack the vocabulary to describe what loving and being loved by Jennifer Cavilleri is like. Sorry, I mean Jennifer Barrett. (Love Story– by Erich Segal)
On believing you're in love:
I didn’t know what she wanted, but at that moment, I felt like I did. This is part of the illusion I’m talking about. It makes you think that you’re doing the right thing, that you’re headed down the right path, that the two of you rolling around and sweating and f*cking on a single bed in the dire heat of St. Petersburg, with her suite-mates hanging around drinking wine one flimsy wall away, is the right thing to do. When maybe really all that’s right about it is that it feels good. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 64)
On trying not to be in love:
What you normally do to extract yourself from this situation is focus on her flaws. They don’t have to be major flaws; perhaps she has a couple of unattractive moles on her lower back. But here’s my question: What happens when you start to cherish her flaws more than her perfections, when you look at that mole and you feel like you could kiss it until your mouth is sore? It’s like I’ve been telling you. My knowledge is limited. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 79)
Our honeymoon was spent on a yacht and with twenty-one children. That is, I sailed a thirty-six-foot Rhodes from seven in the morning till whenever my passengers had enough, and Jenny was a children’s counselor. It was a place called the Pequod Boat Club in Dennis Port (not far from Hyannis), an establishment that included a large hotel, a marina, and several dozen houses for rent. In one of the tinier bungalows, I have nailed an imaginary plaque: “Oliver and Jenny slept here—when they weren’t making love.” I think it’s a tribute to us both that after along day of being kind to our customers, for we were largely dependent on their tips for our income, Jenny and I were nonetheless kind to each other. I simply say “kind,” because I lack the vocabulary to describe what loving and being loved by Jennifer Cavilleri is like. Sorry, I mean Jennifer Barrett. (Love Story– by Erich Segal)
On believing you're in love:
I didn’t know what she wanted, but at that moment, I felt like I did. This is part of the illusion I’m talking about. It makes you think that you’re doing the right thing, that you’re headed down the right path, that the two of you rolling around and sweating and f*cking on a single bed in the dire heat of St. Petersburg, with her suite-mates hanging around drinking wine one flimsy wall away, is the right thing to do. When maybe really all that’s right about it is that it feels good. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 64)
On trying not to be in love:
What you normally do to extract yourself from this situation is focus on her flaws. They don’t have to be major flaws; perhaps she has a couple of unattractive moles on her lower back. But here’s my question: What happens when you start to cherish her flaws more than her perfections, when you look at that mole and you feel like you could kiss it until your mouth is sore? It’s like I’ve been telling you. My knowledge is limited. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 79)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
What the Dooce?
Ok - so only recently have I caught onto the glory of Dooce.... She's magical in her ability to make me laugh at the everyday obsurdities of life and often times I find myself giggling through my tears. Also, she's a couple years older than me and it's comforting to know that she thought/felt/did some of the things that I have thought/felt/done (and have never dared confess) and she survived! Maybe I will too.
Today, during my bagel and banana lunch, I came across an archive that made me cry on my banana... Below is the part that makes my guts curl into teeny tiny knots that may be suitable for party confetti but you can find the whole blog here.
"Best Day of 2003: Wednesday, May 28, the day we found out I was pregnant. We'd bought a pregnancy test and were holding on to it, trying to wait long enough to use it after my missed period to ensure an accurate reading. And we were going to try and wait seven days, but about 36 hours after buying the test, neither of us could sleep, and like two ten-year-old kids digging through mom's closet to find Christmas presents, we broke out the test at 4:30am that morning. That second pink line on the test showed up within about four seconds, before I could even set it down on the countertop in the bathroom, and Jon and I nearly killed each other with hugs and screams and flailing gangly arms. It was a moment I had fantasized about since the first 30 seconds of meeting him. For the next three hours we sat in bed resisting the urge to call EVERY SINGLE PERSON we know and trying to come up with names and ways in which we could guarantee that the baby never grows up to become a Republican."
Today, during my bagel and banana lunch, I came across an archive that made me cry on my banana... Below is the part that makes my guts curl into teeny tiny knots that may be suitable for party confetti but you can find the whole blog here.
"Best Day of 2003: Wednesday, May 28, the day we found out I was pregnant. We'd bought a pregnancy test and were holding on to it, trying to wait long enough to use it after my missed period to ensure an accurate reading. And we were going to try and wait seven days, but about 36 hours after buying the test, neither of us could sleep, and like two ten-year-old kids digging through mom's closet to find Christmas presents, we broke out the test at 4:30am that morning. That second pink line on the test showed up within about four seconds, before I could even set it down on the countertop in the bathroom, and Jon and I nearly killed each other with hugs and screams and flailing gangly arms. It was a moment I had fantasized about since the first 30 seconds of meeting him. For the next three hours we sat in bed resisting the urge to call EVERY SINGLE PERSON we know and trying to come up with names and ways in which we could guarantee that the baby never grows up to become a Republican."
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The war is ON!
Lately, I have been such an incredible slacker. I've been eating HORRIBLY and not exercising at all. It's like I want to punish myself and see how truly morbidly obese I can get. I get so disgusted with myself and think I'm done with this self-sabotage, and then the next minute I'm shoving more food in my mouth. I know it's purely psychological. I can feel it (realize it?) more now than I have EVER felt/realized it. When I'm feeling low all I can think about is ordering some delux nachos or that yummy fettucini alfredo (extra parmesan, please!), how that chicken club at Wendys would really hit the spot. And it's not like I eat it every day, so why would this second serving this week kill me? Because tomorrow, I'll think that how a third serving won't really kill me either, because I really (really) don't do this every week.
Last night on my way home from hanging with a friend, I was feeling low and actually resisted the urge to gorge myself... actually the truth is I couldn't find a single speck of junk food in the house (luckily!) and went to bed thinking about how it really isn't too pathetic going through the KFC drive-through at 12:30 in the morning just for a bucket of wings. I didn't. But I was sure tempted. I'm terrified of this obsession in me now - I don't know that I've ever gotten this carried away with eating crap - at least I've never realized it to this extent before! And the stupid thing is - the thing that should make me stop this disgusting behavior - that giving in and eating my guts out only makes me feel worse. It's like I'm trying to fill the hole in my heart with food. It's disgusting and depressing and somewhat surprising and I don't know how to end it.
Tonight, I'm going out with friends again. I have made a promise to myself that I will not go out, I will not eat supper, I will not bring a drop of vodka to my lips, I will not take another breath, unless I make it to the gym first. I need to go and sweat my tail off. Maybe then, I can shed some of this gunk and start reversing the self-destruct. Maybe then, I'll have the energy to drag my sorry ass out of bed in the morning, maybe then I'll feel healthier and more alive, maybe then I'll have the strength to stop myself from eating the 10th cookie... or even the first one.
Last night on my way home from hanging with a friend, I was feeling low and actually resisted the urge to gorge myself... actually the truth is I couldn't find a single speck of junk food in the house (luckily!) and went to bed thinking about how it really isn't too pathetic going through the KFC drive-through at 12:30 in the morning just for a bucket of wings. I didn't. But I was sure tempted. I'm terrified of this obsession in me now - I don't know that I've ever gotten this carried away with eating crap - at least I've never realized it to this extent before! And the stupid thing is - the thing that should make me stop this disgusting behavior - that giving in and eating my guts out only makes me feel worse. It's like I'm trying to fill the hole in my heart with food. It's disgusting and depressing and somewhat surprising and I don't know how to end it.
Tonight, I'm going out with friends again. I have made a promise to myself that I will not go out, I will not eat supper, I will not bring a drop of vodka to my lips, I will not take another breath, unless I make it to the gym first. I need to go and sweat my tail off. Maybe then, I can shed some of this gunk and start reversing the self-destruct. Maybe then, I'll have the energy to drag my sorry ass out of bed in the morning, maybe then I'll feel healthier and more alive, maybe then I'll have the strength to stop myself from eating the 10th cookie... or even the first one.
Quotes
Because you know if you play New Kids on the Block albums backwards they sound better. "Oh come on, Bill, they're the New Kids, don't pick on them, they're so good and they're so clean cut and they're such a good image for the children." F*ck that! When did mediocrity and banality become a good image for your children? I want my children to listen to people who f*cking ROCKED! I don't care if they died in puddles of their own vomit! I want someone who plays from his f*cking HEART! --Bill Hicks
Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. --Ernest Hemingway
I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know? --Ernest Hemingway
The truth is, everyone’s going to hurt you. You just have to decide who’s worth the pain.
I asked God to take away my habit.
God said, No. It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.
I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience.
God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.
I asked God to give me happiness.
God said, No. I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.
I asked God to spare me pain.
God said, No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.
I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life.
God said, No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.
I asked God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me.
God said...Ahhhh, finally you have the idea.
Every time you see a beautiful woman, just remember, somebody got tired of her.
Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
If not for our insistence that things be the way we want them to be, we would be happy most of the time.
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.
Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. --Ernest Hemingway
I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know? --Ernest Hemingway
The truth is, everyone’s going to hurt you. You just have to decide who’s worth the pain.
I asked God to take away my habit.
God said, No. It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.
I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience.
God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.
I asked God to give me happiness.
God said, No. I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.
I asked God to spare me pain.
God said, No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.
I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life.
God said, No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.
I asked God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me.
God said...Ahhhh, finally you have the idea.
Every time you see a beautiful woman, just remember, somebody got tired of her.
Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
If not for our insistence that things be the way we want them to be, we would be happy most of the time.
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.
Monday, January 14, 2008
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