At work, I have one of those "Book-a-Day" desk calendars and each morning, after turning on my computer, as it whirls to life, I remove the previous day's page, read the book suggestion/description and then either add it to a growing pile in my "junk" drawer (yes, I even have one of those at work) so I have a go-to list of books to read, or toss it.
This time of year, however, I can't help but notice the number of remaining pages getting less and less -- and when this happened the other day, two thoughts popped into my head: I want to get another one of these for the coming year, and then -- "wow, look at how much of this year is already gone."
I knew the date, of course, and that the calendar year was coming to an end, but it took that dwindling pile of paper pages to bring mindfulness to the knowledge, and true awareness to just what the passage of all that time has meant to me personally.
The old adage "the days are long but the years are short" came to mind as I realized just how fast this past year has gone by, and all that has transpired.
I marked 11 years at my current job; my uncle died very quickly and unexpectedly; my cousin announced she and her husband of over 15 years are getting divorced; my mother ended up in the hospital after a very severe and dangerous reaction to a new drug she was prescribed for a chronic condition that she suffers from; I turned 50; one of my two cats died at the age of 15, and the other turned 17; several friends and a cousin of mine had children start their first year of college.
I remember very clearly when those kids were toddlers; marking other landmark birthdays (21, 30 and 40) and how far away and old 50 had seemed back then; I had just brought that cat home for the first time; my uncle was one of the healthiest and most vibrant people I knew; my mother had been totally healthy; and going on my job interview for my present position with a mix of excitement, nervousness and hope.
The years are short and things are always changing, and in these days of techie gadgets to wake us up, give us weather and news updates and tell us what the time and date are, I'm glad for that old-fashioned, old-school Book-A-Day calendar that forces me to look at the date each morning and mark, in a physical and concrete way, the passing of time.
The calendar was a gift. You know those gift bins at every department store this time of year loaded with things people would never buy themselves that make gift buying a bit easier for those that don't know what to get a friend, co-worker or family member -- car weather or cleaning kits, bath baskets, coffee and tea baskets, nose hair trimmers, travel kits, flashlights and -- (insert interest area here)-a-Day calendars.
Well, sometimes those "desperation" gifts as we've all sometimes called them, and let's be honest, have purchased for someone at least once, end up being something even more than just practical or useful.
I'm going to wait to see if I get another one this Christmas from someone, and if I don't, I'll be hitting the discount bin somewhere to purchase one for myself, because that gift has been one I used, and ended up getting a lot of enjoyment from -- some great, otherwise unknown books for my reading list -- and a reminder that time waits for no one and is going by every single day.
Sunday, November 25, 2018
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Back in the Saddle
Well, I've decided to resurrect this long neglected (but never really forgotten) blog that I started over a decade ago.
This cyber version of my journal has/had gone the way of my hard copy diaries and journals -- I have several stored away in a chest that I sometimes take out. One thin book can cover over 3 years because of how infrequently I wrote in it. I start each one with the best of intentions: I will write, every day. Or at least 2-3 times per week.
I promise, and I try, and for awhile, I do write fairly regularly. And then -- BAM -- I stop. I don't really know why; perhaps too tired, or after having spent all day at a computer, the last thing I want to do when I get home is write in my now chicken scratch handwriting in a physical journal, or spend time on my home laptop writing on a blog or working on my book ideas. So I don't write; don't record things that happen to be on my mind or happen to me that bug me enough to make me want to write it down to try to make some sense of it.
It's the same excuse I give for not having made any major headway on that book I've been threatening to write since I graduated college. After being at a computer for eight hours at work, I don't want to do the same thing at home. It's a vicious cycle of reality, excuses and procrastination.
But I'm not getting any younger. I turned 50 this summer, and I realize I need to do more with my life, with my time than just work and if I'm ever going to accomplish my ultimate dream of being a published author, I need to write, often and regularly.
I also need to read more. I love to read. I just don't do it the way I used to or in my mind think I do, or should be doing, if that makes any sense. I'm on GoodReads and I have a friend who is married, has three kids, two part-time jobs and is going to school for a master's degree and reads like, two books a week for pleasure; and reads serious stuff too -- history, politics, biographies. It makes me feel totally inferior, because I've always fancied myself to be a serious reader, more intellectual and well-read than most. Not these days.
I have shelves of unread books -- books I was dying to read, and purchased either while surfing Amazon or visiting bookstores. Books I couldn't wait to go home and take out of the bag and start reading. Some I started and never went back to. Others I put aside for when I would have a larger clump of time to read them because I hate just reading one or two chapters and then having to put it down.
I'm also a slow reader. I like to savor words and sentences and descriptions. Oftentimes, when I hit a particular phrase or description or a particular well-written passage while reading, I'll stop and re-read it -- one, two, even three more times. Or I'll stop and simply look out the window or at nothing in particular and think about what the author was trying to convey. So, yeah -- I do need large clumps of reading time because I like to savor and digest and remember.
I'm in a book club and when I shared that with my fellow members, they laughed, although one friend did say, "I can actually see you doing that."
Another friend said she is a fast reader, and when we've read lengthier books with lots of description, she has no recollection of it, because, she admits "I just skim through those parts. I mean, I only care about the main plot and storyline, I don't need to know what their house looked like or whatever."
That seems unimaginable to me. Why even read a book then? But, to each their own. And I can't criticize because she's reading a helluva lot more than I am right now.
So this weekend, as I was trying to organize some things around my apartment, my eyes fell on many of the books I wanted to read but still haven't gotten to. Some are loaned from friends, some I purchased, literally, YEARS ago, when they were on the best sellers' list. And then I thought about this long-neglected blog, and book(s) I want to write and even started to write -- I have 10 chapters of one -- but somehow never get around to keeping up with or continuing.
Part of the problem, is I've become addicted to TV. I upgraded my cable service about a year ago from the basic package and so now have way more options. I also now get Netflix, and Amazon Fire TV. And I don't regret that. There is a lot of good TV out there now, shows that educate and make you think. Some really amazing shows. And thanks to Netflix I've become a documentary fan -- so I am learning stuff. I'm just not doing the reading and writing I do love to do; once I set my mind to doing it.
I thought of just starting fresh and doing a whole new blog. But I figured hey, this one has some history, and there are some posts I really like a lot. And when I logged back in, I found a draft of one I had started years ago, and never published. I don't even remember writing it, or having remembered my grandma's neighbor Veronica enough to have written a post about her, but in reading the draft, I remembered those two days I wrote about and it occurred to me that that is why I should be doing this.
I love to write, I love to read, and I love introspection and this is a great way to get all of those out. So here I am -- back in the saddle.
I'm not going to promise to write every day, or even to write a certain number of times, because I think that makes me feel like I have to do it and then it's like a job and I resent it and procrastinate and then stop.
Instead, I will vow to write when something I want to commit to permanent record or memory or send out to the Universe strikes me. Which is often; more often than I've written about here in teh past.
I also now have several of those long-ago purchased and borrowed books on my living room table, and am making a commitment to read every day, even if it is only a chapter or two. My goal is at least one book a week.
After setting them aside, I did pick one up and read 100 pages, and as I was engrossed in the story, I looked up from it for a moment and realized how much I was enjoying the process of reading. No TV, no music, just me and a cup of tea curled up on the couch on a dreary, cold and overcast day. It is a simple pleasure I had forgotten how much I enjoyed and which takes me out of my present and gives my imagination and cerebral side a much needed workout, instead of just feeding my work fatigue with spoon-fed info from TV.
I got the same feeling of pleasure after logging into this blog and reading some old posts, publishing that old draft, and putting into words -- concrete,published words -- a new post that will hopefully, this time around, be a true blog and a springboard for more creative writing and publications.
This cyber version of my journal has/had gone the way of my hard copy diaries and journals -- I have several stored away in a chest that I sometimes take out. One thin book can cover over 3 years because of how infrequently I wrote in it. I start each one with the best of intentions: I will write, every day. Or at least 2-3 times per week.
I promise, and I try, and for awhile, I do write fairly regularly. And then -- BAM -- I stop. I don't really know why; perhaps too tired, or after having spent all day at a computer, the last thing I want to do when I get home is write in my now chicken scratch handwriting in a physical journal, or spend time on my home laptop writing on a blog or working on my book ideas. So I don't write; don't record things that happen to be on my mind or happen to me that bug me enough to make me want to write it down to try to make some sense of it.
It's the same excuse I give for not having made any major headway on that book I've been threatening to write since I graduated college. After being at a computer for eight hours at work, I don't want to do the same thing at home. It's a vicious cycle of reality, excuses and procrastination.
But I'm not getting any younger. I turned 50 this summer, and I realize I need to do more with my life, with my time than just work and if I'm ever going to accomplish my ultimate dream of being a published author, I need to write, often and regularly.
I also need to read more. I love to read. I just don't do it the way I used to or in my mind think I do, or should be doing, if that makes any sense. I'm on GoodReads and I have a friend who is married, has three kids, two part-time jobs and is going to school for a master's degree and reads like, two books a week for pleasure; and reads serious stuff too -- history, politics, biographies. It makes me feel totally inferior, because I've always fancied myself to be a serious reader, more intellectual and well-read than most. Not these days.
I have shelves of unread books -- books I was dying to read, and purchased either while surfing Amazon or visiting bookstores. Books I couldn't wait to go home and take out of the bag and start reading. Some I started and never went back to. Others I put aside for when I would have a larger clump of time to read them because I hate just reading one or two chapters and then having to put it down.
I'm also a slow reader. I like to savor words and sentences and descriptions. Oftentimes, when I hit a particular phrase or description or a particular well-written passage while reading, I'll stop and re-read it -- one, two, even three more times. Or I'll stop and simply look out the window or at nothing in particular and think about what the author was trying to convey. So, yeah -- I do need large clumps of reading time because I like to savor and digest and remember.
I'm in a book club and when I shared that with my fellow members, they laughed, although one friend did say, "I can actually see you doing that."
Another friend said she is a fast reader, and when we've read lengthier books with lots of description, she has no recollection of it, because, she admits "I just skim through those parts. I mean, I only care about the main plot and storyline, I don't need to know what their house looked like or whatever."
That seems unimaginable to me. Why even read a book then? But, to each their own. And I can't criticize because she's reading a helluva lot more than I am right now.
So this weekend, as I was trying to organize some things around my apartment, my eyes fell on many of the books I wanted to read but still haven't gotten to. Some are loaned from friends, some I purchased, literally, YEARS ago, when they were on the best sellers' list. And then I thought about this long-neglected blog, and book(s) I want to write and even started to write -- I have 10 chapters of one -- but somehow never get around to keeping up with or continuing.
Part of the problem, is I've become addicted to TV. I upgraded my cable service about a year ago from the basic package and so now have way more options. I also now get Netflix, and Amazon Fire TV. And I don't regret that. There is a lot of good TV out there now, shows that educate and make you think. Some really amazing shows. And thanks to Netflix I've become a documentary fan -- so I am learning stuff. I'm just not doing the reading and writing I do love to do; once I set my mind to doing it.
I thought of just starting fresh and doing a whole new blog. But I figured hey, this one has some history, and there are some posts I really like a lot. And when I logged back in, I found a draft of one I had started years ago, and never published. I don't even remember writing it, or having remembered my grandma's neighbor Veronica enough to have written a post about her, but in reading the draft, I remembered those two days I wrote about and it occurred to me that that is why I should be doing this.
I love to write, I love to read, and I love introspection and this is a great way to get all of those out. So here I am -- back in the saddle.
I'm not going to promise to write every day, or even to write a certain number of times, because I think that makes me feel like I have to do it and then it's like a job and I resent it and procrastinate and then stop.
Instead, I will vow to write when something I want to commit to permanent record or memory or send out to the Universe strikes me. Which is often; more often than I've written about here in teh past.
I also now have several of those long-ago purchased and borrowed books on my living room table, and am making a commitment to read every day, even if it is only a chapter or two. My goal is at least one book a week.
After setting them aside, I did pick one up and read 100 pages, and as I was engrossed in the story, I looked up from it for a moment and realized how much I was enjoying the process of reading. No TV, no music, just me and a cup of tea curled up on the couch on a dreary, cold and overcast day. It is a simple pleasure I had forgotten how much I enjoyed and which takes me out of my present and gives my imagination and cerebral side a much needed workout, instead of just feeding my work fatigue with spoon-fed info from TV.
I got the same feeling of pleasure after logging into this blog and reading some old posts, publishing that old draft, and putting into words -- concrete,published words -- a new post that will hopefully, this time around, be a true blog and a springboard for more creative writing and publications.
Veronica
Veronica -- not a very popular name but one made famous at least for a bit thanks to Elvis Costello and his 80s hit -- Veronica.
I never had a real connection with them, although, I remember once, when I was only maybe 4 or 5, my grandmother had fallen walking up the inclined yard that was my grandparents' and not being able to help her myself, I yelled to Veronica, who happened to be out in her backyard that day.
By the time she made it over to the fence that separated her yard from my grandparents', my grandmother had been able to get herself up and was walking toward us.
No help was needed (thank God!)
I never gave much thought to Veronica. She was my grandmother's neighbor. She was nice. She worked at J.C. Penney's. Years later, when I was an adult, I caught a glimpse of her working behind the counter. As I walked by, our eyes met, and a glimmer of recognition passed between us, but neither of us acted on it.
I met her gaze, then looked away, and continued on my way.
She turned her attention back to her customer.
I LOVED my grandmother and as an adult, would have loved to have gotten an outsider's view of her. I blew it. Veronica could have provided the link that is missing. And the one chance I got, I blew. How I wish I had had a conversation with Veronica that day.
It's too late now; she and her husband have both passed on. But recently, upon hearing the song that bears her name, I recalled that day as a young child when I went to her for help and that day as an adult when I saw her, recognized her, but didn't take the opportunity to say hello, and perhaps reminisce about Grandma.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Flashbacks
"You're so pretty," he said. And he meant it. I could tell by the look in his eyes, he really did mean it.
I blushed. I could feel it happening. And I closed my eyes and tucked my face into his hand, and shyly smiled, eventually looking back up into his eyes.
"No, you really are," he said. "And the thing is," he continued, "you have absolutely no idea how attractive you really are....which just makes you all the more attractive."
We kissed. A long, deep kiss.
It's ironic that the thing that jogged this memory from more than a decade ago, was an advice column in which a woman admitted that altho she had been with her now ex-boyfriend for a year, he had never once told her she was pretty or beautiful or even attractive.
I felt sad for her.
What woman doesn't want to be told by the man she's in love with that he finds her pretty, or beautiful?
While my failed relationship left me with a multitude of emotions, many of them bad, there were also alot of good memories. Especially the memories of when he was totally enamored of me and told me often how he felt, that I was beautiful, that he loved me, and we shared our ultimate hopes and dreams.
God, I loved him! I really, really did. I thought he was The One! And even as our relationship started its downward spiral, I still truly believed that in the end, things would work out and that we would be forever together.
But it wasn't meant to be.
(I still remember how he used to hate when I'd start a statement with the word "But". lol)
There's no chance of us ever getting back together. The last time we were together, the night things ended, was awful and heartbreaking. And despite the good memories I have of him and our time together, that last nite overshadows them all.
I can't think of him now without remembering that nite; how he told me he wouldn't consider trying a long distance relationship; how he wanted and needed a clean break; how he didn't have time for the relationship any more -- he had other things to worry about -- like his upcoming move and in addition to that, how that move was going to be stressful on his dog. (yeah, he really said that). The dog meant more than me. I had my answers.
It ended with me sobbing uncontrollably for what seemed like a lifetime, and him, sitting on the couch with cold, distant eyes, not saying a word. How when I left, his last words to me were to ask if I could shut off the downstairs light and lock the door! Seriously. And ya know what? I did! I actually did.
I've recently learned that he is still living in the city he relocated to all those years ago. He's married now, with kids.
And, truth be told, it probably is better that things didn't work out between us. I like who I am today and had we ended up together, I know for sure that I'd be a totally different person. And I don't know if I would like that person.
I like who I am now. I'm grateful for the experiences that I had because of our failed relationship. I reached out, made some great friends, traveled. Faced some demons. Proved to myself and to others through a revved up career focus and attitude that I had gumption and could succeed all on my own.
Still.....the path not taken.........
None of us ever really know the path that Life is going to take us down. Even when we plan or assume, Life is always there, ready to throw a wrench into even the most carefully laid out plans.
I used to dread the flashbacks I had of my relationship with M. They tended to be a reminder of loss. Of a way things used to be. And I'd always end up in tears.
Now, I don't look at them the same way.
The experience, while heartbreaking, made me stronger. More self-sufficient, while also showing me that I had friends who would rally around me when I needed them most.
(That's another post -- how friends who had faded into the background when I was with him and didn't need them and didn't really interact with them all that much, rallied around me once they learned what had happened.)
My memories, while sometimes debillitatingly sad, are also heartening because I was able to pull myself up by the bootstraps, eventually, and move forward in leaps and bounds.
I can't help but think that M would be proud. Quite honestly, I don't believe he thought I had it in me. But I did!
So now, I can look back on the relationship with some bittersweet memories, as well as some triumphant and tender ones.
Still, I wish things had ended differently.
After all this time, some 13 years later, and despite everything that happened, I still miss him. A part of me still wants his approval. I wish we could have ended things as friends, but that was his choice, not mine.
Maybe it was for the best; maybe not.
Had things ended differently, they would have been alot less painful, and I'd be able to think about him, about us, without that last, painful memory always surfacing and being the last thing I think about when I do think about him.
Unfortunately, that is not the case and my memores are what they are. I can't change them and besides, they're now part of the fabric of my life; a big part of who I am; who I've become. And that is something I wouldn't want to change.
I blushed. I could feel it happening. And I closed my eyes and tucked my face into his hand, and shyly smiled, eventually looking back up into his eyes.
"No, you really are," he said. "And the thing is," he continued, "you have absolutely no idea how attractive you really are....which just makes you all the more attractive."
We kissed. A long, deep kiss.
It's ironic that the thing that jogged this memory from more than a decade ago, was an advice column in which a woman admitted that altho she had been with her now ex-boyfriend for a year, he had never once told her she was pretty or beautiful or even attractive.
I felt sad for her.
What woman doesn't want to be told by the man she's in love with that he finds her pretty, or beautiful?
While my failed relationship left me with a multitude of emotions, many of them bad, there were also alot of good memories. Especially the memories of when he was totally enamored of me and told me often how he felt, that I was beautiful, that he loved me, and we shared our ultimate hopes and dreams.
God, I loved him! I really, really did. I thought he was The One! And even as our relationship started its downward spiral, I still truly believed that in the end, things would work out and that we would be forever together.
But it wasn't meant to be.
(I still remember how he used to hate when I'd start a statement with the word "But". lol)
There's no chance of us ever getting back together. The last time we were together, the night things ended, was awful and heartbreaking. And despite the good memories I have of him and our time together, that last nite overshadows them all.
I can't think of him now without remembering that nite; how he told me he wouldn't consider trying a long distance relationship; how he wanted and needed a clean break; how he didn't have time for the relationship any more -- he had other things to worry about -- like his upcoming move and in addition to that, how that move was going to be stressful on his dog. (yeah, he really said that). The dog meant more than me. I had my answers.
It ended with me sobbing uncontrollably for what seemed like a lifetime, and him, sitting on the couch with cold, distant eyes, not saying a word. How when I left, his last words to me were to ask if I could shut off the downstairs light and lock the door! Seriously. And ya know what? I did! I actually did.
I've recently learned that he is still living in the city he relocated to all those years ago. He's married now, with kids.
And, truth be told, it probably is better that things didn't work out between us. I like who I am today and had we ended up together, I know for sure that I'd be a totally different person. And I don't know if I would like that person.
I like who I am now. I'm grateful for the experiences that I had because of our failed relationship. I reached out, made some great friends, traveled. Faced some demons. Proved to myself and to others through a revved up career focus and attitude that I had gumption and could succeed all on my own.
Still.....the path not taken.........
None of us ever really know the path that Life is going to take us down. Even when we plan or assume, Life is always there, ready to throw a wrench into even the most carefully laid out plans.
I used to dread the flashbacks I had of my relationship with M. They tended to be a reminder of loss. Of a way things used to be. And I'd always end up in tears.
Now, I don't look at them the same way.
The experience, while heartbreaking, made me stronger. More self-sufficient, while also showing me that I had friends who would rally around me when I needed them most.
(That's another post -- how friends who had faded into the background when I was with him and didn't need them and didn't really interact with them all that much, rallied around me once they learned what had happened.)
My memories, while sometimes debillitatingly sad, are also heartening because I was able to pull myself up by the bootstraps, eventually, and move forward in leaps and bounds.
I can't help but think that M would be proud. Quite honestly, I don't believe he thought I had it in me. But I did!
So now, I can look back on the relationship with some bittersweet memories, as well as some triumphant and tender ones.
Still, I wish things had ended differently.
After all this time, some 13 years later, and despite everything that happened, I still miss him. A part of me still wants his approval. I wish we could have ended things as friends, but that was his choice, not mine.
Maybe it was for the best; maybe not.
Had things ended differently, they would have been alot less painful, and I'd be able to think about him, about us, without that last, painful memory always surfacing and being the last thing I think about when I do think about him.
Unfortunately, that is not the case and my memores are what they are. I can't change them and besides, they're now part of the fabric of my life; a big part of who I am; who I've become. And that is something I wouldn't want to change.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Midnight Cravings
Okay, so it's not quite midnight, but the smells coming from my downstairs neighbor's apartment are downright intoxicating!
I'm an adventurous eater. I love just about all cuisines -- Thai, Japanese, Indian, Mexican, Greek, etc. My palate is a venerable United Nations!!!
So tonite, as I sat in my apartment -- reading, listening to music, surfing -- I didn't anticipate the smells that would be coming from my downstair's neighbor's apartment.
Up until now, he had been a quiet guy. Friendly enough, but never seemed to cook. Much like my next door neighbor, who is a single lawyer and obviously eats all his meals out.
Anyway, about two weeks ago, downstairs neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Rumor had it he had returned to India to take a wife. A pre-arranged marriage. Well, he has returned and there is definitely a female presence.
I now hear a woman's voice when I pass by their open window, and now, there is more activity and more cooking.
Tonite, there are smells emanating from their apartment that almost make me want to go downstairs and ask exactly what they are cooking and if I can have a taste. First, their was the aroma of seared beef, now, a smell of burnt soy sauce, which may sound gross, but actually smells reallly, really good!
And, it is not dissipating, nor getting stronger. It is simply remaining. And, it smells delicious!
That is part of what I like about living in the complex that I do. There is a variety of lifestyles and nationalities. For some reason, the aparment below me always seems to end up being middle eastern -- and their cooking gives me a glimpse into their lives.
The guy who lived their before was Saudi, and the cooking smells were always spicy - and filled with the intoxicating scent of curry and cumin and seared vegetables being stir-fried with the skins on.
Now, there is a guy who hails from India and recently married, and altho I still get the smells of seared onion and ground beef, I get both curry and a burnt sweet smell that makes me salivate!
Since he brought his wife home, he has kept a low profile, but I hope to get to know him better (and get some of his new wife's recipes!)
I'm an adventurous eater. I love just about all cuisines -- Thai, Japanese, Indian, Mexican, Greek, etc. My palate is a venerable United Nations!!!
So tonite, as I sat in my apartment -- reading, listening to music, surfing -- I didn't anticipate the smells that would be coming from my downstair's neighbor's apartment.
Up until now, he had been a quiet guy. Friendly enough, but never seemed to cook. Much like my next door neighbor, who is a single lawyer and obviously eats all his meals out.
Anyway, about two weeks ago, downstairs neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Rumor had it he had returned to India to take a wife. A pre-arranged marriage. Well, he has returned and there is definitely a female presence.
I now hear a woman's voice when I pass by their open window, and now, there is more activity and more cooking.
Tonite, there are smells emanating from their apartment that almost make me want to go downstairs and ask exactly what they are cooking and if I can have a taste. First, their was the aroma of seared beef, now, a smell of burnt soy sauce, which may sound gross, but actually smells reallly, really good!
And, it is not dissipating, nor getting stronger. It is simply remaining. And, it smells delicious!
That is part of what I like about living in the complex that I do. There is a variety of lifestyles and nationalities. For some reason, the aparment below me always seems to end up being middle eastern -- and their cooking gives me a glimpse into their lives.
The guy who lived their before was Saudi, and the cooking smells were always spicy - and filled with the intoxicating scent of curry and cumin and seared vegetables being stir-fried with the skins on.
Now, there is a guy who hails from India and recently married, and altho I still get the smells of seared onion and ground beef, I get both curry and a burnt sweet smell that makes me salivate!
Since he brought his wife home, he has kept a low profile, but I hope to get to know him better (and get some of his new wife's recipes!)
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Weirdest Date EVER!
Okay, so last Friday I had a second date with a guy I had first met two years ago online. The initial meeting went well, except for the end of the date; as we left the restaurant and stepped outside, he stopped dead in his tracks.
I asked him where he was parked; he asked where I was parked. So, I assumed he was going to walk me to my car. Well, he then said he was actually parked behind the restaurant, in the total opposite direction and then started walking that way.
I thanked him for dinner, and went to my car. Well, when I got back to my car, I didn't immediately pull out -- it was cold so I opted to wait for a minute or two to let my car warm up. Well, less than a minute after starting the car, the guy appears in front of my car. No, he wasn't stalking or following me -- he was parked directly in front of my car. Totally lied about being parked behind the building.
Feeling brazen, I rolled my window down and called to him, "hey, I thought you said you were parked out back..." He said nothing. Had the deer in headlights look, shrugged and quickly got into his car.
A couple of days later he emailed to say that he had had a nice time, but had recently met another woman a week or two before meeting me and was opting to pursue a relationship with her. However, if things didn't work out, he'd still be interested in then seeing me again.
UGH. I never replied.
Since then, I had seen him out at different social events, at bars, etc. and always said hello, was pleasant.
A week ago, he asks me out again. I agree and we meet for drinks. Well, drinks turn to dinner, which turns to an after-dinner drink and the date ended up lasting 5 hours. And we had a nice time. I wasn't crazy about him, but liked him enough to spend that much time with him and as the date was ending, I was thinking, hmmm -- no major fireworks, but I do kind of like him, so if he says something about getting together again, I'd be interested.
So we leave -- and the same damn thing happens again. As soon as we get to the parking lot, he freezes, and so I say, "well, I'm parked just over here -- that's my car there." He says, "Oh, okay." And that's it. So I ask where he's parked, he says across the street. Deja Vu!
I don't question it, I simply thank him again for dinner, gave him a quick hug, and go to my car. Within 30 seconds, I'm pulling out of the lot -- but here's the rub. As I am pulling out, there is no sign of him - he totally disappeared; I don't see him walking through the parking lot or out of the lot's exit and as I exit the parking lot, there are absolutely no cars parked across the street from the restaurant.
WTF?!? I couldn't believe he would pull the same thing again. I mean, okay. I didn't even care that he didn't walk me to my car; but why lie about where you're parked? Why not just say good nite and simply go walk to your car then.
Next day, I text another thank you, curious to see what he would do. He responds quickly and says he had a nice time. Maybe we could do it again sometime. I say sure.
This week, I get an email from him -- telling me, in detail, about how he injured his foot the day after our date, and his doctor visits and antibiotic, etc. REALLY?!? Seriously.
Then, I get another email -- So, how've you been?
I swear -- I am a weirdo magnet.
This guy is 50 years old. He's not a teenager on his first date, or a college guy still not experienced in dating and protocol. And this is how he acts.
I mean, even dates that were disasters, with both of us knowing before leaving that we wouldn't be meeting again --- even then, those guys either still walked me at least part-way, if not all the way to my car, or said goodbye and simply walked to theirs.
There was no lying about where they were parked and quickly loping out of my view.
And to do it a second time!
I definitely have to write that book about my dating experiences that I keep telling my friends I'm going to write one day.
I asked him where he was parked; he asked where I was parked. So, I assumed he was going to walk me to my car. Well, he then said he was actually parked behind the restaurant, in the total opposite direction and then started walking that way.
I thanked him for dinner, and went to my car. Well, when I got back to my car, I didn't immediately pull out -- it was cold so I opted to wait for a minute or two to let my car warm up. Well, less than a minute after starting the car, the guy appears in front of my car. No, he wasn't stalking or following me -- he was parked directly in front of my car. Totally lied about being parked behind the building.
Feeling brazen, I rolled my window down and called to him, "hey, I thought you said you were parked out back..." He said nothing. Had the deer in headlights look, shrugged and quickly got into his car.
A couple of days later he emailed to say that he had had a nice time, but had recently met another woman a week or two before meeting me and was opting to pursue a relationship with her. However, if things didn't work out, he'd still be interested in then seeing me again.
UGH. I never replied.
Since then, I had seen him out at different social events, at bars, etc. and always said hello, was pleasant.
A week ago, he asks me out again. I agree and we meet for drinks. Well, drinks turn to dinner, which turns to an after-dinner drink and the date ended up lasting 5 hours. And we had a nice time. I wasn't crazy about him, but liked him enough to spend that much time with him and as the date was ending, I was thinking, hmmm -- no major fireworks, but I do kind of like him, so if he says something about getting together again, I'd be interested.
So we leave -- and the same damn thing happens again. As soon as we get to the parking lot, he freezes, and so I say, "well, I'm parked just over here -- that's my car there." He says, "Oh, okay." And that's it. So I ask where he's parked, he says across the street. Deja Vu!
I don't question it, I simply thank him again for dinner, gave him a quick hug, and go to my car. Within 30 seconds, I'm pulling out of the lot -- but here's the rub. As I am pulling out, there is no sign of him - he totally disappeared; I don't see him walking through the parking lot or out of the lot's exit and as I exit the parking lot, there are absolutely no cars parked across the street from the restaurant.
WTF?!? I couldn't believe he would pull the same thing again. I mean, okay. I didn't even care that he didn't walk me to my car; but why lie about where you're parked? Why not just say good nite and simply go walk to your car then.
Next day, I text another thank you, curious to see what he would do. He responds quickly and says he had a nice time. Maybe we could do it again sometime. I say sure.
This week, I get an email from him -- telling me, in detail, about how he injured his foot the day after our date, and his doctor visits and antibiotic, etc. REALLY?!? Seriously.
Then, I get another email -- So, how've you been?
I swear -- I am a weirdo magnet.
This guy is 50 years old. He's not a teenager on his first date, or a college guy still not experienced in dating and protocol. And this is how he acts.
I mean, even dates that were disasters, with both of us knowing before leaving that we wouldn't be meeting again --- even then, those guys either still walked me at least part-way, if not all the way to my car, or said goodbye and simply walked to theirs.
There was no lying about where they were parked and quickly loping out of my view.
And to do it a second time!
I definitely have to write that book about my dating experiences that I keep telling my friends I'm going to write one day.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
I Am FAT!
OMG!
There is no denying it. I am officially fat.
I have been in denial for quite some time now. I always blamed it on the camera angle, or the fact that the camera adds 10 pounds. Or the fact that I have always photographed horribly.
But I can't deny it any longer.
I am FAT!
I can't deny it because I can FEEL it, dammit!
A couple of weeks ago I was at a birthday party. There was dancing and while for most of the night I refrained from dancing at one point the DJ played "I will survive." A song I love. A song I almost always dance to. My cousin's girlfriend was there -- a wisp of a girl and she skipped out onto the dance floor. My other cousin and I followed.
I anticipated having fun....but as I started to bounce and sway to the music I felt as if I were in a body that was not at all mine.
Yes, it had been that long since I danced. But as I did my best to hold my own, dancing to the rhythm of the song, I felt as if I were in a body that was not mine. OMG! how I hope no one caught it on video! I felt clumsy and awkward. I felt out of tune, out of rhythm and like a fish flopping on dry land.
Ten years ago, I could have given my cousin's 20-something girlfriend a run for her money -- even though I was much older than her. Now, I felt like Shamu, a tired, beached Shamu, trying fruitlessly to show my power and my grace.
I made it through the dance and was 'oh so grateful' when the DJ then decided to play an old, slow-dancing song.
A chance for this overweight single gal to go back to her seat, catch her breath and take a few sips of her vodka and tonic.
But as I left that evening, I resolved to make a change. I had to lose the weight. I had to get back in shape. Because I wasn't happy as I am. The realization hit me. I didn't want to be the happy, fat, single girl.
I miss my old body (never thought I'd be saying that). But when I look at old pics of myself, at times when I thought I was fat, I realize now, how fabulous I really looked!
I want that girl back. Granted, I wouldn't want to exchange the experiences -- I want the 'old girl' back with my current wisdom and knowledge, but with the old girl's body and drive.
And I realize I can actually, now, have that, albeit with some work.
My God!!! In my 20's, when I didn't need to, I went to the gym 4 or 5 times a week; I did a skincare regimen, I took care of myself. Now, nada!
Not sure how or why all that fell by the wayside. But, no matter ...... this one night, where I got up to dance and felt like I was in someone else's body...it made me realize.... on some level I am NOT being true to myself. And, most importantly, even tho I didn't realize it until now...I am paying the price in a variety of ways -- my health, my self-esteem, my potential.
No more.
From here on in I am officially turning over a new leaf -- and going back to that high-maintenance girl I used to be.
There is no denying it. I am officially fat.
I have been in denial for quite some time now. I always blamed it on the camera angle, or the fact that the camera adds 10 pounds. Or the fact that I have always photographed horribly.
But I can't deny it any longer.
I am FAT!
I can't deny it because I can FEEL it, dammit!
A couple of weeks ago I was at a birthday party. There was dancing and while for most of the night I refrained from dancing at one point the DJ played "I will survive." A song I love. A song I almost always dance to. My cousin's girlfriend was there -- a wisp of a girl and she skipped out onto the dance floor. My other cousin and I followed.
I anticipated having fun....but as I started to bounce and sway to the music I felt as if I were in a body that was not at all mine.
Yes, it had been that long since I danced. But as I did my best to hold my own, dancing to the rhythm of the song, I felt as if I were in a body that was not mine. OMG! how I hope no one caught it on video! I felt clumsy and awkward. I felt out of tune, out of rhythm and like a fish flopping on dry land.
Ten years ago, I could have given my cousin's 20-something girlfriend a run for her money -- even though I was much older than her. Now, I felt like Shamu, a tired, beached Shamu, trying fruitlessly to show my power and my grace.
I made it through the dance and was 'oh so grateful' when the DJ then decided to play an old, slow-dancing song.
A chance for this overweight single gal to go back to her seat, catch her breath and take a few sips of her vodka and tonic.
But as I left that evening, I resolved to make a change. I had to lose the weight. I had to get back in shape. Because I wasn't happy as I am. The realization hit me. I didn't want to be the happy, fat, single girl.
I miss my old body (never thought I'd be saying that). But when I look at old pics of myself, at times when I thought I was fat, I realize now, how fabulous I really looked!
I want that girl back. Granted, I wouldn't want to exchange the experiences -- I want the 'old girl' back with my current wisdom and knowledge, but with the old girl's body and drive.
And I realize I can actually, now, have that, albeit with some work.
My God!!! In my 20's, when I didn't need to, I went to the gym 4 or 5 times a week; I did a skincare regimen, I took care of myself. Now, nada!
Not sure how or why all that fell by the wayside. But, no matter ...... this one night, where I got up to dance and felt like I was in someone else's body...it made me realize.... on some level I am NOT being true to myself. And, most importantly, even tho I didn't realize it until now...I am paying the price in a variety of ways -- my health, my self-esteem, my potential.
No more.
From here on in I am officially turning over a new leaf -- and going back to that high-maintenance girl I used to be.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Longing To Be Held
I woke up this morning from a dream in which I was being held in an unknown and faceless lover's arms.
It was so vivid that it actually felt real, and even though as I woke, I knew I would be alone, a part of me half-expected to be with someone.
Who that someone would be is anybody's guess. I haven't even had a date in over a year, let alone someone in my bed. But the feeling was nice and got me to longing in a way I haven't for quite some time.
See, I'm one of those girls who are totally okay with being single and alone. I'm blessed with a close, tight-knit, albeit perpetually frustrating family; a job I love and that fulfills me; and great friends who comprise the foundation of my social life who I do a wide variety of things with -- from book clubs to happy hours to concerts and lectures and movies.
I'm also very picky when it comes to being interested in a man, and I'll admit, there is a part of me that I guess is a relationship-phobe. My current life is comfortable, happy, predictable, simple and I like it. Relationships on the other hand, can be complex, gut-wrenching and infuriatingly frustrating at times.
So even when I do find myself missing a man's presence, and let's be honest, the sex -- it usually passes, sometimes via a few cocktails and commiserating phone call with a friend in similar circumstances, or I get through it myself.
This morning was different. After awakening, I wanted to immediately plunge myself back into a deeper sleep, so I could enjoy being held a few minutes more.
That wasn't happening. I spent an additional 10 or 15 minutes lazily lounging in bed, arms wrapped around my pillow, letting myself slowly wake up and daydreaming about several past boyfriends and lovers and the ways they had held me -- in bed, lounging on a couch, while hugging.
Sad? Maybe. Would I have prefered a pair of real, male arms at that moment? Definitely.
But I'm a realist. Wasn't gonna happen, and allowing myself to wallow and get depressed would only ruin a gorgeous spring day, which so far, I am thoroughly enjoying. So I lolly-gagged in bed awhile, then got up and did my normal Sunday routine -- pot of coffee, the paper, big breakfast.
Yet, even as I sit here blogging, a month after starting my clean slate here and my broken vow to blog much more frequently, I'm still thinking about waking up hours ago, feeling as though I was being held, and the fact that during that dream, I was soooo loving it!
Perhaps it's a feeling of long and deeply buried loss finally making it to the forefront of my mind; maybe it was the final scene in a movie I had watched the night before; or maybe a premonition of things to come?
Or, more realistically, maybe it's my subconcious telling me that I'm finally at a point in my life where I'm ready to accept a relationship, a commitment; at a point where I'd actually get more enjoyment from one, than fear or upset.....
It was so vivid that it actually felt real, and even though as I woke, I knew I would be alone, a part of me half-expected to be with someone.
Who that someone would be is anybody's guess. I haven't even had a date in over a year, let alone someone in my bed. But the feeling was nice and got me to longing in a way I haven't for quite some time.
See, I'm one of those girls who are totally okay with being single and alone. I'm blessed with a close, tight-knit, albeit perpetually frustrating family; a job I love and that fulfills me; and great friends who comprise the foundation of my social life who I do a wide variety of things with -- from book clubs to happy hours to concerts and lectures and movies.
I'm also very picky when it comes to being interested in a man, and I'll admit, there is a part of me that I guess is a relationship-phobe. My current life is comfortable, happy, predictable, simple and I like it. Relationships on the other hand, can be complex, gut-wrenching and infuriatingly frustrating at times.
So even when I do find myself missing a man's presence, and let's be honest, the sex -- it usually passes, sometimes via a few cocktails and commiserating phone call with a friend in similar circumstances, or I get through it myself.
This morning was different. After awakening, I wanted to immediately plunge myself back into a deeper sleep, so I could enjoy being held a few minutes more.
That wasn't happening. I spent an additional 10 or 15 minutes lazily lounging in bed, arms wrapped around my pillow, letting myself slowly wake up and daydreaming about several past boyfriends and lovers and the ways they had held me -- in bed, lounging on a couch, while hugging.
Sad? Maybe. Would I have prefered a pair of real, male arms at that moment? Definitely.
But I'm a realist. Wasn't gonna happen, and allowing myself to wallow and get depressed would only ruin a gorgeous spring day, which so far, I am thoroughly enjoying. So I lolly-gagged in bed awhile, then got up and did my normal Sunday routine -- pot of coffee, the paper, big breakfast.
Yet, even as I sit here blogging, a month after starting my clean slate here and my broken vow to blog much more frequently, I'm still thinking about waking up hours ago, feeling as though I was being held, and the fact that during that dream, I was soooo loving it!
Perhaps it's a feeling of long and deeply buried loss finally making it to the forefront of my mind; maybe it was the final scene in a movie I had watched the night before; or maybe a premonition of things to come?
Or, more realistically, maybe it's my subconcious telling me that I'm finally at a point in my life where I'm ready to accept a relationship, a commitment; at a point where I'd actually get more enjoyment from one, than fear or upset.....
Monday, April 19, 2010
Starting Over
Can't believe five years have passed since I started this blog. Can't believe I was so bad at the blogging!
But now, my desire to write on a regular basis is renewed and so, I'm starting over again. Hoping that this time, I'll stick with it, because, see, writing full-time is what I really want to be doing with my life.
Years ago, I had worked in newspapers as a reporter. Eventually, though, I got tired of the late nite shifts, low paycheck and the management changes taking place where I worked, so I jumped ship and took a 9 to 5 job with a non-profit that actually did pay more and allowed me to use a variety of my skills -- writing, love of outdoors, and public speaking skills.
Now, I want to write that book -- not just start books, or write a couple chapters or outline characters that I hope to one day include in a novel -- seriously write something worthwhile, shop it around and have it published.
So, I'm starting with this blog. I'm encouraged by the women recently who followed their passions, started with a blog, and realized big-time dreams and success. I'm talking about Julie Powell, Stephanie Klein, Jen Lancaster.
While I totally do not consider myself in their league -- they have proven that all you have to do is start something and stick with it, doing it for yourself first. And hopefully, if you keep at it, success will follow, along with being able to live your ultimate dream, not just keep dreaming about it.
Of course, I don't have their courage; I will remain anonymous.
For me, that is the only way I can truly write honestly and without inhibition. While I'm not one who particularly cares what others think of me, I do care about those closest to me, and wouldn't want to cause them any undue hurt or embarrassment or harm.
I also fear that if I were to reveal myself either by name or with a photo, I would find myself editing what I wrote, which would defeat the purpose of my newfound need to blog.
So, from here on out -- I'm starting over --and will be blogging regularly on just what my blog promises -- random musings, observations, feelings, the trials and tribulations of a single, 40-something.
If anyone out there is reading, I hope you enjoy.
But now, my desire to write on a regular basis is renewed and so, I'm starting over again. Hoping that this time, I'll stick with it, because, see, writing full-time is what I really want to be doing with my life.
Years ago, I had worked in newspapers as a reporter. Eventually, though, I got tired of the late nite shifts, low paycheck and the management changes taking place where I worked, so I jumped ship and took a 9 to 5 job with a non-profit that actually did pay more and allowed me to use a variety of my skills -- writing, love of outdoors, and public speaking skills.
Now, I want to write that book -- not just start books, or write a couple chapters or outline characters that I hope to one day include in a novel -- seriously write something worthwhile, shop it around and have it published.
So, I'm starting with this blog. I'm encouraged by the women recently who followed their passions, started with a blog, and realized big-time dreams and success. I'm talking about Julie Powell, Stephanie Klein, Jen Lancaster.
While I totally do not consider myself in their league -- they have proven that all you have to do is start something and stick with it, doing it for yourself first. And hopefully, if you keep at it, success will follow, along with being able to live your ultimate dream, not just keep dreaming about it.
Of course, I don't have their courage; I will remain anonymous.
For me, that is the only way I can truly write honestly and without inhibition. While I'm not one who particularly cares what others think of me, I do care about those closest to me, and wouldn't want to cause them any undue hurt or embarrassment or harm.
I also fear that if I were to reveal myself either by name or with a photo, I would find myself editing what I wrote, which would defeat the purpose of my newfound need to blog.
So, from here on out -- I'm starting over --and will be blogging regularly on just what my blog promises -- random musings, observations, feelings, the trials and tribulations of a single, 40-something.
If anyone out there is reading, I hope you enjoy.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Guy Vs. Man
I met him in a bar during a Friday night happy hour.
My friend and I had gone there after work to unwind after a long work week, and it was not a place we regularly frequented. It was sheer chance that we happened to be there that night.
The first thing I noticed about him was his shirt. A very bright, white high-quality number that looked at first like silk. The second thing I noticed was the accent, as I overheard him talking to his friend.
I was intrigued. So much so, that I did something I was long out of the habit of doing -- flirting. I had been commiserating with friends for some time that I had seemed to lost the art. I had been very good at it in college and my early 20s, but somewhere along the line of time, it had gone away, and I don't really know how or why.
I said hello and proceeded to make cute comments about things going on around us, in between ordering drinks and talking with my friend.
To my surprise, he responded, and I became more interested. I liked everything I saw -- the clothes, his mannerisms, the accent, his cologne. To my surprise, as he was getting ready to leave, he wrote his number on a piece of paper and gave it to me -- but made it seem like a networking move, telling me if I ever needed his professional services, to give him a call.
I reciprocated by handing him my card and saying that he should call me if he ever required any marketing work.
But then, right before he left, he shook my hand, said it was nice meeting me and leaned in close, looked right into my eyes, and said, "really, call me."
I said I would, but wasn't sure if I meant it or not.
After he left, we discussed what had happened. At work, the following Monday, I discussed what had happened with co-workers, who all agreed I should call him.
I opted to wait. He had my card. He could just as easily call me. I finally decided to give him until Wednesday to call and if he didn't, then I would call him.
He called me Wednesday morning at work. We made dinner plans for the next night.
I was smitten.
What entailed was a four-week fling. The physical chemistry and attraction was amazing! And part of that was due to one factor: he was a MAN; as opposed to a guy.
What's the difference? some asked.
It's a subtle, yet very defining difference. And most women know what I'm talking about.
Man -- George Clooney, Daniel Day-Lewis, Richard Gere.
Guy -- Matt Damon, Michael J. Fox, Ryan Seacrest.
It's an attitude, the way one carries himself, their persona.
The fling is over. In addition to being a man he was also a player. And in the end, I needed more than just the physical attraction and chemistry. I needed shared interests, titillating conversation and the knowledge that "he got me" -- all of which was lacking.
I don't regret it though. Although, the experience has made me wonder -- am I better suited to a man? or to a guy?
And, in looking into a reverse mirror, am I a girl or a woman?
My friend and I had gone there after work to unwind after a long work week, and it was not a place we regularly frequented. It was sheer chance that we happened to be there that night.
The first thing I noticed about him was his shirt. A very bright, white high-quality number that looked at first like silk. The second thing I noticed was the accent, as I overheard him talking to his friend.
I was intrigued. So much so, that I did something I was long out of the habit of doing -- flirting. I had been commiserating with friends for some time that I had seemed to lost the art. I had been very good at it in college and my early 20s, but somewhere along the line of time, it had gone away, and I don't really know how or why.
I said hello and proceeded to make cute comments about things going on around us, in between ordering drinks and talking with my friend.
To my surprise, he responded, and I became more interested. I liked everything I saw -- the clothes, his mannerisms, the accent, his cologne. To my surprise, as he was getting ready to leave, he wrote his number on a piece of paper and gave it to me -- but made it seem like a networking move, telling me if I ever needed his professional services, to give him a call.
I reciprocated by handing him my card and saying that he should call me if he ever required any marketing work.
But then, right before he left, he shook my hand, said it was nice meeting me and leaned in close, looked right into my eyes, and said, "really, call me."
I said I would, but wasn't sure if I meant it or not.
After he left, we discussed what had happened. At work, the following Monday, I discussed what had happened with co-workers, who all agreed I should call him.
I opted to wait. He had my card. He could just as easily call me. I finally decided to give him until Wednesday to call and if he didn't, then I would call him.
He called me Wednesday morning at work. We made dinner plans for the next night.
I was smitten.
What entailed was a four-week fling. The physical chemistry and attraction was amazing! And part of that was due to one factor: he was a MAN; as opposed to a guy.
What's the difference? some asked.
It's a subtle, yet very defining difference. And most women know what I'm talking about.
Man -- George Clooney, Daniel Day-Lewis, Richard Gere.
Guy -- Matt Damon, Michael J. Fox, Ryan Seacrest.
It's an attitude, the way one carries himself, their persona.
The fling is over. In addition to being a man he was also a player. And in the end, I needed more than just the physical attraction and chemistry. I needed shared interests, titillating conversation and the knowledge that "he got me" -- all of which was lacking.
I don't regret it though. Although, the experience has made me wonder -- am I better suited to a man? or to a guy?
And, in looking into a reverse mirror, am I a girl or a woman?
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
I'm A Bad, Bad Blogger
Okay, I admit it. I'm a horrible blogger. I post sporadically, infrequently and on such a wide range of train-of-thought topics, I refuse to even tell people I have a blog or give them my handle.
Since I don't write regularly and often use it as a place to rant or vent or just ponder boring, meandering thoughts that enter my head, I figure it's best that it live in obscurity.
Despite my occasional vows to write more, I rarely keep them.
Thankfully, nowadays it's because I'm busy, both with work as well as with social outings with friends and colleagues, and not simply due to exhaustion, lack of time and stress due to a negative and oppressing job situation, as my last absence was due to.
So now, after a relaxing and very lacksadaisical day off -- yes, I completed all of my holiday shopping and can rest easy now -- I'm craving pizza, and trying my best to fight that craving by trying to think of something else I can make that a) would not require me leaving the house (its 15 degrees out), and b) would be a much healthier option than a cheesy, greasy pizza. Also, I'm meeting friends on Friday for pizza and so it wouldn't make much sense to go have one now, would it?
Despite all these rationalizations, I think the pizza is winning, as every time I think of going into the kitchen to make something -- a salad, pasta, etc., I don't. Rather, I find myself looking up the numbers of local pizza places on yahoo.
This despite having eaten half a bag of baby carrots dipped in very healthy, garlic hummus. I would've been better off not eating anything at all!
Maybe if I can put off ordering a pizza for another half hour or so, I can rationalize that its too late to be ordering pizza and going to pick it up and so I will make something else and actually be happy with that.
Okay, so my first blog in several months, somehow became one about me craving pizza.
Great re-start, eh?
Since I don't write regularly and often use it as a place to rant or vent or just ponder boring, meandering thoughts that enter my head, I figure it's best that it live in obscurity.
Despite my occasional vows to write more, I rarely keep them.
Thankfully, nowadays it's because I'm busy, both with work as well as with social outings with friends and colleagues, and not simply due to exhaustion, lack of time and stress due to a negative and oppressing job situation, as my last absence was due to.
So now, after a relaxing and very lacksadaisical day off -- yes, I completed all of my holiday shopping and can rest easy now -- I'm craving pizza, and trying my best to fight that craving by trying to think of something else I can make that a) would not require me leaving the house (its 15 degrees out), and b) would be a much healthier option than a cheesy, greasy pizza. Also, I'm meeting friends on Friday for pizza and so it wouldn't make much sense to go have one now, would it?
Despite all these rationalizations, I think the pizza is winning, as every time I think of going into the kitchen to make something -- a salad, pasta, etc., I don't. Rather, I find myself looking up the numbers of local pizza places on yahoo.
This despite having eaten half a bag of baby carrots dipped in very healthy, garlic hummus. I would've been better off not eating anything at all!
Maybe if I can put off ordering a pizza for another half hour or so, I can rationalize that its too late to be ordering pizza and going to pick it up and so I will make something else and actually be happy with that.
Okay, so my first blog in several months, somehow became one about me craving pizza.
Great re-start, eh?
Friday, August 29, 2008
A Little R & R
While physically, there is no doubt I am my parents' daughter -- personality-wise, we are worlds apart.
My parents are doers -- in the sense of, they ALWAYS have to be DOING something. Spending an hour or two reading several newspapers, or parking on the porch for hours with a good book, or even spending a rainy Saturday afternoon watching movies -- well, in their minds, you're not really doing anything at all.
I swear, relaxing for my mother is canning vegetables or baking homemade bread the old-fashioned way -- no bread machine in her house! Or, washing and ironing and rehanging drapes.
In a few hours, they get more chores done than I do over an entire weekend! And it sometimes makes me feel lazy. On any given saturday, they're up at 6 and by the time I'm having breakfast, around 10 or so -- she's cleaned the house, done laundry and is invariably cooking something.
Dad has paid the bills, run errands, washed the car and either mowed part of the lawn or trimmed the hedges, etc.
Me, I've woken up and maybe gotten through half of the newspaper and am on my third cup of coffee.
I'm not exactly sure when I got this way. When I first moved out, I kept the habits I had learned in their house. I was up relatively early on weekend mornings. By noon, my apartment was cleaned, laundry was drying and I was on my way out the door to run errands. Somewhere along the way, I gradually switched those industrious habits for more laid-back ones.
While still feeling some guilt, I have to say -- I enjoy taking my time with my morning coffee and perusing the papers. I love to read and over the past year or so, was so overburdened at work that I didn't have the time or the desire to read for pleasure. And I love catching those old flicks on Lifetime and TLC that I happen across on a lazy weekend afternoon. I mean really, what woman can not stop and at least watch part of a Meg Ryan movie marathon weekend, or the film version of a Nora Roberts novel??? Not this girl.
So, I try not to be too hard on myself when I let my laziness take over and instead, allow myself the guilty pleasures. Like today. I took yesterday and today off. Yesterday, I met an old friend for lunch, went to a local farmer's market, then met another friend for drinks and dinner.
Today, I slept in, enjoyed my morning coffee and paper, talked on the phone and spent some fun time on the computer.
I took these days off because I wanted to relax and unwind. And so far, that is exactly what I've done. So for me, definitely two days well spent.
My parents are doers -- in the sense of, they ALWAYS have to be DOING something. Spending an hour or two reading several newspapers, or parking on the porch for hours with a good book, or even spending a rainy Saturday afternoon watching movies -- well, in their minds, you're not really doing anything at all.
I swear, relaxing for my mother is canning vegetables or baking homemade bread the old-fashioned way -- no bread machine in her house! Or, washing and ironing and rehanging drapes.
In a few hours, they get more chores done than I do over an entire weekend! And it sometimes makes me feel lazy. On any given saturday, they're up at 6 and by the time I'm having breakfast, around 10 or so -- she's cleaned the house, done laundry and is invariably cooking something.
Dad has paid the bills, run errands, washed the car and either mowed part of the lawn or trimmed the hedges, etc.
Me, I've woken up and maybe gotten through half of the newspaper and am on my third cup of coffee.
I'm not exactly sure when I got this way. When I first moved out, I kept the habits I had learned in their house. I was up relatively early on weekend mornings. By noon, my apartment was cleaned, laundry was drying and I was on my way out the door to run errands. Somewhere along the way, I gradually switched those industrious habits for more laid-back ones.
While still feeling some guilt, I have to say -- I enjoy taking my time with my morning coffee and perusing the papers. I love to read and over the past year or so, was so overburdened at work that I didn't have the time or the desire to read for pleasure. And I love catching those old flicks on Lifetime and TLC that I happen across on a lazy weekend afternoon. I mean really, what woman can not stop and at least watch part of a Meg Ryan movie marathon weekend, or the film version of a Nora Roberts novel??? Not this girl.
So, I try not to be too hard on myself when I let my laziness take over and instead, allow myself the guilty pleasures. Like today. I took yesterday and today off. Yesterday, I met an old friend for lunch, went to a local farmer's market, then met another friend for drinks and dinner.
Today, I slept in, enjoyed my morning coffee and paper, talked on the phone and spent some fun time on the computer.
I took these days off because I wanted to relax and unwind. And so far, that is exactly what I've done. So for me, definitely two days well spent.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A Long Time Coming
A year and 10 months ago, I stopped blogging. In fact, I stopped doing alot of things.
In the throes of a job that had promised so much and delivered so little, I found myself regularly working 10 and 12 hour days, putting time in on weekends and basically being so stressed and exhausted that I had little room for anything else.
Blogging, reading for pleasure, shopping, traveling -- it all went away, as I focued 98% of my energy on work and the office. When I did take the occasional day off, most times, it was due to illness -- sinus infections, migraine headaches, killer allergies, back or stomach problems.
I felt like a hamster on a wheel, unable to get off. A very tired, frustrated and sad hamster.
A year ago, I left that job and took another. Over the past year, the changes have been amazing! While I'm now working for less pay and prestige, there is less stress, less hours, less minor illnesses and alot more positives.
I moved to another city and am much happier than I was in the small, rural town I had been working in; I've reconnected with old friends, made several new ones and have a social life again. I took my first real vacation in 7 years -- I not only left town, I left the country!
And at least once a week, when either leaving my office, or on my way to lunch with co-workers, I find myself smiling, unbelieving of how much happier I now am and how truly miserable I had been just over a year ago!
I also have more time for socializing, reading, shopping, exercising, and now, have decided to come back to blogging.
Yesterday, I hit a landmark -- my 40th birthday. While physically and even mentally, I really don't feel any different, I have noticed a change in my mindset.
Part of me wonders if, on a professional level, I'm settling. Taking the easy way out, simply because my prior executive-level positions were very demanding, stressful and downright brutal in the politics, powerplays and behind-the-scenes ego trips and personal agendas of those in higher positions.
Should I have stuck it out, worked and fought harder, until either things got better or I found a similar position with better working conditions? Did I cop out? Am I selling myself short?
The new job, while in a city, at a much bigger company, and still somewhat managerial, did include a significant paycut, and a much lesser title. (Although that was more than balanced out by increased vacation time, better benefits and a friendlier, more progressive work environment.)
I am now mulling things over in my mind. If I'm to make another run at the executive brass ring, I'll need to do so within the next couple of years. That will mean yet another change. And that makes me think -- do I want to be the type of person whose main focus and identity is their job? And what will I really have to show for it, in the end?
Right now, I'm loving my life -- something I haven't been able to say for several years now. I work in an office where we all get along, there is a total team atmosphere and it is devoid of the types of politics and game-playing I had to deal with before. I not only have fun after work, I have fun AT work. And I love all the aspects of my job.
I'm happier, healthier, more relaxed. And there is a part of me that has started realizing I think I prefer being a mid-level cog in the wheel, rather than being the wheel, or the one turning the wheel. That perhaps, even though I know I have the smarts for the top position, I don't necessarily have the stomach for it -- and I can be much more effective slightly lower down the food chain.
That thought scares me in a way, because I always took so much pride in being the independent, strong, career-woman. And now, I'm hanging up that hat, preferring the worker bee cap more.
Part of me wants to fight that urge -- to forego happiness and contentment -- in order to rise to the top again. However, I already know from my past experiences, that for me, it was unhappy and lonely, and bittersweet.
So, at the ripe young age of 40, I think I've finally figured out what I want to do with the rest of my life. And the vision has started to become a bit clearer -- I no longer need the title or the big paycheck to find fulfillment. I'm coming to the realization that I'd rather have a more balanced, well-rounded life -- one that allows me the time and focus to participate and enjoy other things.
Next month, I kick-start a new diet and will be taking ballroom-dancing lessons; I"m joining a gym; getting involved in my alumni group, and planning my next vacation -- right now, two very viable choices are Vegas and Spain.
A little over a year ago -- I wouldn't have been able to plan or participate in any of those things. I was living day to day, planning things around my excessive work schedule and sacrificing everything else for the job. And still not succeeding in the way I wanted to be.
Now, I am very fulfilled at work on all levels; and have found more personal fulfillment and personal happiness.
So, I guess maybe I was wrong. I have become different since turning 40!
In the throes of a job that had promised so much and delivered so little, I found myself regularly working 10 and 12 hour days, putting time in on weekends and basically being so stressed and exhausted that I had little room for anything else.
Blogging, reading for pleasure, shopping, traveling -- it all went away, as I focued 98% of my energy on work and the office. When I did take the occasional day off, most times, it was due to illness -- sinus infections, migraine headaches, killer allergies, back or stomach problems.
I felt like a hamster on a wheel, unable to get off. A very tired, frustrated and sad hamster.
A year ago, I left that job and took another. Over the past year, the changes have been amazing! While I'm now working for less pay and prestige, there is less stress, less hours, less minor illnesses and alot more positives.
I moved to another city and am much happier than I was in the small, rural town I had been working in; I've reconnected with old friends, made several new ones and have a social life again. I took my first real vacation in 7 years -- I not only left town, I left the country!
And at least once a week, when either leaving my office, or on my way to lunch with co-workers, I find myself smiling, unbelieving of how much happier I now am and how truly miserable I had been just over a year ago!
I also have more time for socializing, reading, shopping, exercising, and now, have decided to come back to blogging.
Yesterday, I hit a landmark -- my 40th birthday. While physically and even mentally, I really don't feel any different, I have noticed a change in my mindset.
Part of me wonders if, on a professional level, I'm settling. Taking the easy way out, simply because my prior executive-level positions were very demanding, stressful and downright brutal in the politics, powerplays and behind-the-scenes ego trips and personal agendas of those in higher positions.
Should I have stuck it out, worked and fought harder, until either things got better or I found a similar position with better working conditions? Did I cop out? Am I selling myself short?
The new job, while in a city, at a much bigger company, and still somewhat managerial, did include a significant paycut, and a much lesser title. (Although that was more than balanced out by increased vacation time, better benefits and a friendlier, more progressive work environment.)
I am now mulling things over in my mind. If I'm to make another run at the executive brass ring, I'll need to do so within the next couple of years. That will mean yet another change. And that makes me think -- do I want to be the type of person whose main focus and identity is their job? And what will I really have to show for it, in the end?
Right now, I'm loving my life -- something I haven't been able to say for several years now. I work in an office where we all get along, there is a total team atmosphere and it is devoid of the types of politics and game-playing I had to deal with before. I not only have fun after work, I have fun AT work. And I love all the aspects of my job.
I'm happier, healthier, more relaxed. And there is a part of me that has started realizing I think I prefer being a mid-level cog in the wheel, rather than being the wheel, or the one turning the wheel. That perhaps, even though I know I have the smarts for the top position, I don't necessarily have the stomach for it -- and I can be much more effective slightly lower down the food chain.
That thought scares me in a way, because I always took so much pride in being the independent, strong, career-woman. And now, I'm hanging up that hat, preferring the worker bee cap more.
Part of me wants to fight that urge -- to forego happiness and contentment -- in order to rise to the top again. However, I already know from my past experiences, that for me, it was unhappy and lonely, and bittersweet.
So, at the ripe young age of 40, I think I've finally figured out what I want to do with the rest of my life. And the vision has started to become a bit clearer -- I no longer need the title or the big paycheck to find fulfillment. I'm coming to the realization that I'd rather have a more balanced, well-rounded life -- one that allows me the time and focus to participate and enjoy other things.
Next month, I kick-start a new diet and will be taking ballroom-dancing lessons; I"m joining a gym; getting involved in my alumni group, and planning my next vacation -- right now, two very viable choices are Vegas and Spain.
A little over a year ago -- I wouldn't have been able to plan or participate in any of those things. I was living day to day, planning things around my excessive work schedule and sacrificing everything else for the job. And still not succeeding in the way I wanted to be.
Now, I am very fulfilled at work on all levels; and have found more personal fulfillment and personal happiness.
So, I guess maybe I was wrong. I have become different since turning 40!
Monday, October 23, 2006
Simple pleasures
This weekend I got new sheets, a pricey body cream, a fabulous manicure, and a killer bottle of red wine.
Its the simple pleasures sometimes that bring us the most joy.
I've been stressed lately. REALLY STRESSED!
A new job with sets of changes and rules and extenuating circumstances I never could have imagined. A house that was sold, and then, just as suddenly, back on the market and then, thank God, sold again this weekend when I received an acceptable offer and took it. And the financial stressors that come with having a mortgage and monthly rent and a car payment and all the other costs of living all combined into one big money-sucking vacuum.
I debated the sheets and the body cream, and thought twice about the manicure. But, I reasoned, the sheets were a necessity, and the manicure was too, as my nails were looking pretty ratty; the wine was a gift. And the body cream, well, that was sheer retail therapy.
But having treated myself, and not spent an outrageous amount (the wine was actually a gift), I felt a bit better. Not MUCH better. But a bit better.
And it lasted longer than just a few minutes. I just turned the covers down on my bed and caught myself smiling because of the new sheets.
The nails are looking fabulous and with a week of meetings and business lunches and dinners ahead, it was money well spent.
The guilty pleasure of the body cream will pay for itself tomorrow nite when I know I'll come home late, (even though I'm going in for 7 a.m.), take a hot shower and then slather it on before cocooning myself in my flannel PJ's, lighting a candle, and curling up with a good book.
There are so many things I would like to change about some of the things in my life right now. But I honestly can't . I just have to settle for working through them, hoping and planning for the best possible outcome, and living with the end results.
In the meantime, though, I can take refuge in some of the simple things -- like new sheets, flannel pajamas, and rich, creamy, scented body cream. And a glass of that really good red zinfandel. It may not sound like much, but its comfort and in a strange way, helps me escape the insane roller coaster that has been my life lately.
Its the simple pleasures sometimes that bring us the most joy.
I've been stressed lately. REALLY STRESSED!
A new job with sets of changes and rules and extenuating circumstances I never could have imagined. A house that was sold, and then, just as suddenly, back on the market and then, thank God, sold again this weekend when I received an acceptable offer and took it. And the financial stressors that come with having a mortgage and monthly rent and a car payment and all the other costs of living all combined into one big money-sucking vacuum.
I debated the sheets and the body cream, and thought twice about the manicure. But, I reasoned, the sheets were a necessity, and the manicure was too, as my nails were looking pretty ratty; the wine was a gift. And the body cream, well, that was sheer retail therapy.
But having treated myself, and not spent an outrageous amount (the wine was actually a gift), I felt a bit better. Not MUCH better. But a bit better.
And it lasted longer than just a few minutes. I just turned the covers down on my bed and caught myself smiling because of the new sheets.
The nails are looking fabulous and with a week of meetings and business lunches and dinners ahead, it was money well spent.
The guilty pleasure of the body cream will pay for itself tomorrow nite when I know I'll come home late, (even though I'm going in for 7 a.m.), take a hot shower and then slather it on before cocooning myself in my flannel PJ's, lighting a candle, and curling up with a good book.
There are so many things I would like to change about some of the things in my life right now. But I honestly can't . I just have to settle for working through them, hoping and planning for the best possible outcome, and living with the end results.
In the meantime, though, I can take refuge in some of the simple things -- like new sheets, flannel pajamas, and rich, creamy, scented body cream. And a glass of that really good red zinfandel. It may not sound like much, but its comfort and in a strange way, helps me escape the insane roller coaster that has been my life lately.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Season of Change
Looking at the calendar today, I'm finding it hard to believe that September is almost over.
Maybe its because I love this time of year -- crisp, clear mornings, chilly, blanket-hugging nights, the required wardrobe changeover -- that I dread the passing of each day because I know it means it'll all soon (too soon) come to an end.
Fall has always been a time of renewal for me. Moreso than New Years and its peer pressure-induced New Year's resolutions.
I find myself wanting to be more active once the heat of summer has receded. I eat healthier because its a time of year when I actually like to cook, preferring to have the house gradually warm up after I get home from work from my bustling about the kitchen and the stove going full force with pots on top and something baking within. I spend more time outdoors oohing and aahing at the changing leaves and I find myself walking more. For some reason, I just feel better.
And I even look forward to those first cold nites or really chilly and crisp mornings that require turning on the heat. Hearing the furnace cranking after its long summer rest, and feeling the rush of warm air coming through the vents, is, in some bizarre way, comforting.
All this usually means I'm at my most productive and feeling my best, both in body and mind. I find myself organizing things more and purging my house and office and storage areas of things I no longer want or need. I think perhaps that "back to school" mode is something I never really outgrew.
And fall has always been a season of change for me. I tend to make my resolutions now, rather than in January. I almost always renew a long-expired gym membership or join another fitness club or group this time of year. Going back over my resume, I've started most new jobs in October (no reason why), and its when I tend to reinvent myself -- trying a totally different hairstyle or color, or completely revamping my wardrobe.
This fall is no different. My cooking inclinations are in full drive -- I've cooked more this past week than I have over the past 2 months combined. I've vowed to quit junk food cold turkey and had salad for lunch 4 times this week. I have 3 garbage bags full of clothes that I've determined are no longer 'me' and am taking them to Goodwill. I'm growing my hair.
AND, as has happened several times over the past 12 years or so -- I'm taking my life in a whole new direction. Not a new job. I did that in the spring. But in a few short weeks, I'll be leaving this house I've called home for the past 2 years, a house it still kind of hurts to give up, to move closer to where I now work.
The 75-minute, one-way commute has been exhausting, and besides that, the job required that I move when I took it.
In only 3 weeks, I will close on the sale of my house, and move to a new town, and a new house. I'm excited and nervous, and okay, maybe a little scared. But something in my gut tells me this new place is where I need to be. That good things are going to happen there.
So, as I slowly start cleaning out closets and cupboards and pack up the things I'll be taking with me, I do so in a bittersweet, yet anticipatory way.
The only thing I can compare it to is when I left home to go to college -- scared and anxious, yet chomping at the bit, at the same time.
That worked out very well -- I LOVED my college years -- and so now, with that experience behind me, I'm going with my gut and diving in to this new life adventure. And I truly can't wait to see what the future holds!
Maybe its because I love this time of year -- crisp, clear mornings, chilly, blanket-hugging nights, the required wardrobe changeover -- that I dread the passing of each day because I know it means it'll all soon (too soon) come to an end.
Fall has always been a time of renewal for me. Moreso than New Years and its peer pressure-induced New Year's resolutions.
I find myself wanting to be more active once the heat of summer has receded. I eat healthier because its a time of year when I actually like to cook, preferring to have the house gradually warm up after I get home from work from my bustling about the kitchen and the stove going full force with pots on top and something baking within. I spend more time outdoors oohing and aahing at the changing leaves and I find myself walking more. For some reason, I just feel better.
And I even look forward to those first cold nites or really chilly and crisp mornings that require turning on the heat. Hearing the furnace cranking after its long summer rest, and feeling the rush of warm air coming through the vents, is, in some bizarre way, comforting.
All this usually means I'm at my most productive and feeling my best, both in body and mind. I find myself organizing things more and purging my house and office and storage areas of things I no longer want or need. I think perhaps that "back to school" mode is something I never really outgrew.
And fall has always been a season of change for me. I tend to make my resolutions now, rather than in January. I almost always renew a long-expired gym membership or join another fitness club or group this time of year. Going back over my resume, I've started most new jobs in October (no reason why), and its when I tend to reinvent myself -- trying a totally different hairstyle or color, or completely revamping my wardrobe.
This fall is no different. My cooking inclinations are in full drive -- I've cooked more this past week than I have over the past 2 months combined. I've vowed to quit junk food cold turkey and had salad for lunch 4 times this week. I have 3 garbage bags full of clothes that I've determined are no longer 'me' and am taking them to Goodwill. I'm growing my hair.
AND, as has happened several times over the past 12 years or so -- I'm taking my life in a whole new direction. Not a new job. I did that in the spring. But in a few short weeks, I'll be leaving this house I've called home for the past 2 years, a house it still kind of hurts to give up, to move closer to where I now work.
The 75-minute, one-way commute has been exhausting, and besides that, the job required that I move when I took it.
In only 3 weeks, I will close on the sale of my house, and move to a new town, and a new house. I'm excited and nervous, and okay, maybe a little scared. But something in my gut tells me this new place is where I need to be. That good things are going to happen there.
So, as I slowly start cleaning out closets and cupboards and pack up the things I'll be taking with me, I do so in a bittersweet, yet anticipatory way.
The only thing I can compare it to is when I left home to go to college -- scared and anxious, yet chomping at the bit, at the same time.
That worked out very well -- I LOVED my college years -- and so now, with that experience behind me, I'm going with my gut and diving in to this new life adventure. And I truly can't wait to see what the future holds!
Monday, June 26, 2006
That's Just Life
Hard to believe its been just a little over two months since starting the new job. It feels like I've been doing it forever and like my first week, all at the same time.
Some things are decidedly different. Unlike the old place, the new support staff is extremely confident, self-thinking and self-starting, making the transition much easier than I had anticipated. Instead of having to give detailed instructions like before, I find I start to tell them to do something only to find out they've already taken care of it.
What a relief!
Not to say it hasn't been without problems or challenges -- because it has, but overall, so much better. This past week, I vented to more than a couple close friends about organization politics, a particular officemate I find it hard to trust because she had applied for the job I ended up getting, and just trying to keep things running smoothly both in the career arena and the personal one.
"Why can't anything I ever do just be easy?" I whined to at least two girlfriends. "Why is it, whenever I do something, it is always so hard and so complicated? Just once, just once," I whimpered, "why can't something go off without a hitch?"
I was feeling very self-pitying until S finally said, "ya know, its not that unique, that's just life. That kind of shit happens to everybody all the time, not just you. And hey, it could always be worse -- you could have cancer or be homeless, so count your blessings."
At first, I was pissed. How dare she minimalize my problems. But then I realized, she was right.
I got a bit more understanding from L, who said maybe I was just being tested, and that in the end all the difficulties and complexities I seem to encounter would make me stronger and make my accomplishments that much more satisfying and rewarding.
I realized she was right too.
So now, I'm focusing on all the positives. And some of those positives are pretty cool.
I come home everyday exhausted -- but in a good way -- having put in a full day of mental gymnastics, administrative strategizing and learning more about a whole new field. Just a few short months ago, I was coming home exhausted from anger, stress and the frustration of feeling like I was going nowhere and the worse feeling of that no matter what I did, it wasn't right and wasn't going to make a difference to anyone.
My feet hurt -- every day; and that's actually a good thing. Because for the first time in years, I have to dress up for work every day, including wearing heels. I used to do the business casual thing with flats and sandals, wearing khakis and T-shirts most days in the office. No more. I look the part of the executive, and unlike some who say they work better in their jeans or jammies because they're so much more comfortable, I work better when I look the part. Just makes me feel more competent for some reason. So what if my toes look like jarred herrings for the first hour after I get home. I'M WEARING HIGH HEELS ALL THE TIME NOW!
I'm getting back to having 3 separate wardrobes again -- work, casual work for dress down Fridays and other days when I really don't have to dress the part, or wake up too late to take the time to dress the part (lol;) and my going out clothes. which have also gotten a revamping thanks to Stacy and Clinton from "What Not to Wear"
Lastly, I DON'T HATE MY JOB ANYMORE. Sure there are moments where I feel like I can't handle all the responsibility that I took on when I accepted it. Where personalities bug the hell outta me, or I get paranoid that I'm not going to meet expectations. But then I dig in, and make some progress, and get things done.
And lastly, I've realized my two main professional flaws -- disorganization and lax communications skills -- not all the time, but enough that I know I need to work on it. I forget that my co-workers don't realize I've finished something simply because I put it in my done pile, without letting them know. But these are fixable and it was actually today that I realized improvements in these two areas will go a long way in making my job easier in the long run.
Oh, that, and procrastination. I have to stop procrastinating no matter how much I'm convinced I work better under the extreme pressure of a looming deadline.
So, after my two-week pity party bemoaning some of the hurdles I've encountered here, I've realized (thanks in part to my friends) that these problems are not unique or career-ending or life ending. And most importantly, I realized they're fixable. Easily fixable.
Just like my lacksadaisical blogging. All I have to do, is do it!
With the blogging done and my other problems solved, its time to kick off the high heels, have some dinner and enjoy my evening. Which will be more enjoyable now that I've kind of rounded the corner on the first few hurdles of the new job and am on my way to finding my groove in this new chapter of my life.
Some things are decidedly different. Unlike the old place, the new support staff is extremely confident, self-thinking and self-starting, making the transition much easier than I had anticipated. Instead of having to give detailed instructions like before, I find I start to tell them to do something only to find out they've already taken care of it.
What a relief!
Not to say it hasn't been without problems or challenges -- because it has, but overall, so much better. This past week, I vented to more than a couple close friends about organization politics, a particular officemate I find it hard to trust because she had applied for the job I ended up getting, and just trying to keep things running smoothly both in the career arena and the personal one.
"Why can't anything I ever do just be easy?" I whined to at least two girlfriends. "Why is it, whenever I do something, it is always so hard and so complicated? Just once, just once," I whimpered, "why can't something go off without a hitch?"
I was feeling very self-pitying until S finally said, "ya know, its not that unique, that's just life. That kind of shit happens to everybody all the time, not just you. And hey, it could always be worse -- you could have cancer or be homeless, so count your blessings."
At first, I was pissed. How dare she minimalize my problems. But then I realized, she was right.
I got a bit more understanding from L, who said maybe I was just being tested, and that in the end all the difficulties and complexities I seem to encounter would make me stronger and make my accomplishments that much more satisfying and rewarding.
I realized she was right too.
So now, I'm focusing on all the positives. And some of those positives are pretty cool.
I come home everyday exhausted -- but in a good way -- having put in a full day of mental gymnastics, administrative strategizing and learning more about a whole new field. Just a few short months ago, I was coming home exhausted from anger, stress and the frustration of feeling like I was going nowhere and the worse feeling of that no matter what I did, it wasn't right and wasn't going to make a difference to anyone.
My feet hurt -- every day; and that's actually a good thing. Because for the first time in years, I have to dress up for work every day, including wearing heels. I used to do the business casual thing with flats and sandals, wearing khakis and T-shirts most days in the office. No more. I look the part of the executive, and unlike some who say they work better in their jeans or jammies because they're so much more comfortable, I work better when I look the part. Just makes me feel more competent for some reason. So what if my toes look like jarred herrings for the first hour after I get home. I'M WEARING HIGH HEELS ALL THE TIME NOW!
I'm getting back to having 3 separate wardrobes again -- work, casual work for dress down Fridays and other days when I really don't have to dress the part, or wake up too late to take the time to dress the part (lol;) and my going out clothes. which have also gotten a revamping thanks to Stacy and Clinton from "What Not to Wear"
Lastly, I DON'T HATE MY JOB ANYMORE. Sure there are moments where I feel like I can't handle all the responsibility that I took on when I accepted it. Where personalities bug the hell outta me, or I get paranoid that I'm not going to meet expectations. But then I dig in, and make some progress, and get things done.
And lastly, I've realized my two main professional flaws -- disorganization and lax communications skills -- not all the time, but enough that I know I need to work on it. I forget that my co-workers don't realize I've finished something simply because I put it in my done pile, without letting them know. But these are fixable and it was actually today that I realized improvements in these two areas will go a long way in making my job easier in the long run.
Oh, that, and procrastination. I have to stop procrastinating no matter how much I'm convinced I work better under the extreme pressure of a looming deadline.
So, after my two-week pity party bemoaning some of the hurdles I've encountered here, I've realized (thanks in part to my friends) that these problems are not unique or career-ending or life ending. And most importantly, I realized they're fixable. Easily fixable.
Just like my lacksadaisical blogging. All I have to do, is do it!
With the blogging done and my other problems solved, its time to kick off the high heels, have some dinner and enjoy my evening. Which will be more enjoyable now that I've kind of rounded the corner on the first few hurdles of the new job and am on my way to finding my groove in this new chapter of my life.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Getting It Done
Exactly 8 days ago today, I walked out of my office for the last time, and it was the weirdest departure I've ever made from a job.
Those who know me well, know that I basically have hated this job from Day One. But that doesn't mean it still doesn't become a part of you, and that you don't care about the job you do, while you're doing it.
I'm one of those pathetic saps. I may hate the job, hate the higher ups, maybe even hate my officemates. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna be unprofessional. So I throw myself into the tasks at hand until their completed to my satisfaction, compartmentalizing all my other feelings of hatred, misery, contempt, et al.
And now, the new chapter.
I have two weeks off before I start the new position. A much needed break, and, I'm embarrassed to admit, I spent most of this week doing nothing. But while part of me feels guilty, another part of me is convinced I had been so stressed out the past few months, that once I left the job for good, my body heaved a huge sigh of relief, letting go of all the tension and strain that had kept me wound tight as a drum and therefore anxious and antsy and full of nervous energy most of the time. Without that, I can now mentally and physically relax.
So, today, I finally got my butt in gear to go buy some very large plastic storage containers so I can begin packing those things I don't really need. That way, when I sell the house and find a new apartment, I'll have a lot less to pack and the final move will go more smoothly.
The only thing, I hate packing and unpacking, most likely because I'm a horrible packrat and tend to accumulate a lot of stuff.
As I started pulling things from closets, picking out what to toss, what to keep, what to give away, I just could not focus my attention or energy at the task at hand.
It was just a little over a year ago that I moved into this house. And after that process, I swore I'd never move again. (Little did I know, huh?)
So now, faced with the task again, its even more overwhelming. Probably because I now have even more stuff.
I am amazed at what I have amassed over the year! What's even worse, as my hand moves to toss something into the throw away, or the give away pile, another part of me pulls back, and thinks perhaps I should hold onto it. Sheesh. Talk about counterproductive.
So I pack a bag, or get rid of some stuff, then make a phone call; then fill one box, and blog, and on and on.
In a little while I have to meet some friends for dinner. I was thinking I should cancel because I got such a late start today, but have decided since its seldom we get to see each other these days, I should keep the date. So I am. Maybe after dinner, I'll come home and my night owl tendencies will kick in and I'll work at packing more stuff for at least a couple of hours.
If not, my disciplinarian self is going to have make an appearance, forcing me out of bed early tomorrow so I can get some stuff done!
Only one more week of vacation to go, and then I'll be busy learning a new area, a new job, and trying to sell a house.
No rest for the weary I guess.
Those who know me well, know that I basically have hated this job from Day One. But that doesn't mean it still doesn't become a part of you, and that you don't care about the job you do, while you're doing it.
I'm one of those pathetic saps. I may hate the job, hate the higher ups, maybe even hate my officemates. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna be unprofessional. So I throw myself into the tasks at hand until their completed to my satisfaction, compartmentalizing all my other feelings of hatred, misery, contempt, et al.
And now, the new chapter.
I have two weeks off before I start the new position. A much needed break, and, I'm embarrassed to admit, I spent most of this week doing nothing. But while part of me feels guilty, another part of me is convinced I had been so stressed out the past few months, that once I left the job for good, my body heaved a huge sigh of relief, letting go of all the tension and strain that had kept me wound tight as a drum and therefore anxious and antsy and full of nervous energy most of the time. Without that, I can now mentally and physically relax.
So, today, I finally got my butt in gear to go buy some very large plastic storage containers so I can begin packing those things I don't really need. That way, when I sell the house and find a new apartment, I'll have a lot less to pack and the final move will go more smoothly.
The only thing, I hate packing and unpacking, most likely because I'm a horrible packrat and tend to accumulate a lot of stuff.
As I started pulling things from closets, picking out what to toss, what to keep, what to give away, I just could not focus my attention or energy at the task at hand.
It was just a little over a year ago that I moved into this house. And after that process, I swore I'd never move again. (Little did I know, huh?)
So now, faced with the task again, its even more overwhelming. Probably because I now have even more stuff.
I am amazed at what I have amassed over the year! What's even worse, as my hand moves to toss something into the throw away, or the give away pile, another part of me pulls back, and thinks perhaps I should hold onto it. Sheesh. Talk about counterproductive.
So I pack a bag, or get rid of some stuff, then make a phone call; then fill one box, and blog, and on and on.
In a little while I have to meet some friends for dinner. I was thinking I should cancel because I got such a late start today, but have decided since its seldom we get to see each other these days, I should keep the date. So I am. Maybe after dinner, I'll come home and my night owl tendencies will kick in and I'll work at packing more stuff for at least a couple of hours.
If not, my disciplinarian self is going to have make an appearance, forcing me out of bed early tomorrow so I can get some stuff done!
Only one more week of vacation to go, and then I'll be busy learning a new area, a new job, and trying to sell a house.
No rest for the weary I guess.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Ch-ch-ch-changes
If I actually wore berets, on Thursday afternoon I would have been standing in the middle of the street tossing mine playfully into the air ala Mary Tyler Moore.
Luckily for all passing traffic, I don't, but that was the kind of mood I was in on Thursday.
I accepted the job offer, and altho I only got a small part of my counter-offer, with each passing hour since I accepted, I've been overtaken by my gut feelings that it was the oh-so-right decision.
No regrets. Maybe just some bittersweet partings of the ways.
I'm really, really gonna miss this house. This old country house that really is a blank slate on the inside because its decor is so outdated, it needs some major renovations. I had been planning on starting that this spring, with new carpeting and paint downstairs, along with new drapes for the living room and parlor, and possibly, inside shutters for the kitchen windows.
There's one trip to Home Depot I won't be making. And one transformation I had been planning for months, but won't be part of.
But in a way, part of me is actually looking forward to going back to apartment living. While I absolutely adore this house, its been alot of work -- twice as many rooms to clean, a very large lawn to mow from April through October, as well as shoveling snow, re-graveling the driveway, etc.
Domestic life, at least, will be so much simpler.
And new people and places to discover. Its a change of pace I think I really did need for quite some time now. I love my friends, neighbors, some of my professional colleagues, but lately, it just hadn't been enough. No stimulation, no excitement. Part of me knew it, another part of me didn't want to admit it.
Sure I'll stay in touch, but it will be refreshing to develop a new circle of friends and colleagues.
Besides, there's no going back now. I've already gotten my acceptance letter and start date and turned in my resignation and told friends, family and professional colleagues I was going. And once I did, it was such a huge weight off of my shoulders.
Yes, things are going to be changing drastically for me in the coming months, but I truly believe, at this moment, that's its going to be a very, very good thing.
Luckily for all passing traffic, I don't, but that was the kind of mood I was in on Thursday.
I accepted the job offer, and altho I only got a small part of my counter-offer, with each passing hour since I accepted, I've been overtaken by my gut feelings that it was the oh-so-right decision.
No regrets. Maybe just some bittersweet partings of the ways.
I'm really, really gonna miss this house. This old country house that really is a blank slate on the inside because its decor is so outdated, it needs some major renovations. I had been planning on starting that this spring, with new carpeting and paint downstairs, along with new drapes for the living room and parlor, and possibly, inside shutters for the kitchen windows.
There's one trip to Home Depot I won't be making. And one transformation I had been planning for months, but won't be part of.
But in a way, part of me is actually looking forward to going back to apartment living. While I absolutely adore this house, its been alot of work -- twice as many rooms to clean, a very large lawn to mow from April through October, as well as shoveling snow, re-graveling the driveway, etc.
Domestic life, at least, will be so much simpler.
And new people and places to discover. Its a change of pace I think I really did need for quite some time now. I love my friends, neighbors, some of my professional colleagues, but lately, it just hadn't been enough. No stimulation, no excitement. Part of me knew it, another part of me didn't want to admit it.
Sure I'll stay in touch, but it will be refreshing to develop a new circle of friends and colleagues.
Besides, there's no going back now. I've already gotten my acceptance letter and start date and turned in my resignation and told friends, family and professional colleagues I was going. And once I did, it was such a huge weight off of my shoulders.
Yes, things are going to be changing drastically for me in the coming months, but I truly believe, at this moment, that's its going to be a very, very good thing.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Decision-free
All I want, right now, at this moment, is one day where I don't have to make any decisions.
Where everything either goes smoothly, or someone else decides.
I'm tired, and cranky, and just off of a day where I was given a major, major life-altering decision, and I swear, I just can't handle one more person asking me another, mundane, 'what should I do, where should we go, type of question!
I work in a small office with two women who are both over 40 yet most of the time have the decision-making capabilities of my 10-year-old niece. Were I the type of boss who screamed and shouted if they made the slightest of errors or misjudgements, I could understand.
But I'm not. So I am literally flabbergasted when I get a question like, "look at these labels. do you think that font is okay?"
Or, my personal favorite, "come out here and look at the dumpster; its kind of full and I don't know whether or not I should throw any more stuff into it."
Then there's the friends. It happened innocently. A friend emailed and asked about grabbing dinner or drinks after work. I'm flat out broke and told her so. She offered to pay. I debated. I should have stuck with no.
Finally, about an hour ago, I said, 'yeah sure. why not? and suggested going somewhere for pizza since there are tons of places and its relatively cheap.
She replied back that yeah, pizza would be fine. "where should we go?" she asked, but then added that she needed to run errands and would be in a specific area of town. So, why not just say, I need to go here and there's this place nearby, since we now obviously have to go near to where she needs to be?
I fumed, but let it go. Fumed for maybe no good reason, except its been a stressful week.
She then emails back and says she can't make it until 6:30. I was hoping for around 5:15. I'm tired and hungry and don't want to do work in my office and then have to drive out of my way an hour later than planned just to eat a couple pieces of free pizza.
So now she's suggesting doing it another time, because I had told her I hadn't wanted to go that late. I can tell she's pissed -- she's doing the whiny, victim email. Well, since I have to be here to wait for this draft to be done, and then go here and pick up this....blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
And I'm sorry, but I just don't have the stomach for it at this point.
I'm tired, I didn't sleep well last nite, and for the past 48 hours I've been thinking non-stop about a decision I have to make concerning my job and my home and my future.
A few weeks ago I interviewed for another job. It looked promising and I knew when I left I had really done well in the interview. I wasn't surprised when I got called back for a second interview. That was yesterday. And it wasn't just a follow-up interview, it was an offer.
An offer that was not what I had been hoping for, but still very much worth considering. The bad side, I'd have to move, meaning I'd have to sell the house I love, pack up and start new somewhere else. From homeowner back to renter within just over a year.
Not necessarily a bad thing, but it leaves alot of room for worry and analysis and "I wonders"
Still, I think the opportunity for upward movement with this new company is much more promising and will be much better for my long-term career than staying where I'm at now.
I just have to wait for the call back because I did try to negotiate a counter offer. I'll find out by tomorrow if that was successful or not.
So a major decision that I've had to come to within the past 2 days while also having to deal with "should I throw any more garbage in that dumpster, because its getting kind of full?"
Egads.
A friend of mine had a date the other nite. An honest to goodness date where the guy picked her up, drove them to the place that he had picked out, and bought her a nice dinner complete with wine and dessert and great conversation.
Its been so long since I've had that. The past year or so, my dates have been the online variety, wehre you email, eventually phone and then agree to meet in a public place that you each drive to seperately, to ensure safety and a quick escape should they not work out well.
Which means the inevitable, "where do you want to go" question that most guys force you into answering, and then having to drive yourself to the date, drive yourself home and sometimes, even paying for half of it.
Just one day, that's all I ask. One day, where nothing presents itself needing a major decision; where things easily fall into place, and I can just 'be' and not have to worry about making sure my little part of the universe runs efficiently. And maybe, maybe eventually, a real honest to goodness old-fashioned date where I meet the guy in real time and real life first, instead of last, and have a first date story that draws oohs and ahhs, instead of eeks and acks, and laughter.
Is all that too much to ask?
Where everything either goes smoothly, or someone else decides.
I'm tired, and cranky, and just off of a day where I was given a major, major life-altering decision, and I swear, I just can't handle one more person asking me another, mundane, 'what should I do, where should we go, type of question!
I work in a small office with two women who are both over 40 yet most of the time have the decision-making capabilities of my 10-year-old niece. Were I the type of boss who screamed and shouted if they made the slightest of errors or misjudgements, I could understand.
But I'm not. So I am literally flabbergasted when I get a question like, "look at these labels. do you think that font is okay?"
Or, my personal favorite, "come out here and look at the dumpster; its kind of full and I don't know whether or not I should throw any more stuff into it."
Then there's the friends. It happened innocently. A friend emailed and asked about grabbing dinner or drinks after work. I'm flat out broke and told her so. She offered to pay. I debated. I should have stuck with no.
Finally, about an hour ago, I said, 'yeah sure. why not? and suggested going somewhere for pizza since there are tons of places and its relatively cheap.
She replied back that yeah, pizza would be fine. "where should we go?" she asked, but then added that she needed to run errands and would be in a specific area of town. So, why not just say, I need to go here and there's this place nearby, since we now obviously have to go near to where she needs to be?
I fumed, but let it go. Fumed for maybe no good reason, except its been a stressful week.
She then emails back and says she can't make it until 6:30. I was hoping for around 5:15. I'm tired and hungry and don't want to do work in my office and then have to drive out of my way an hour later than planned just to eat a couple pieces of free pizza.
So now she's suggesting doing it another time, because I had told her I hadn't wanted to go that late. I can tell she's pissed -- she's doing the whiny, victim email. Well, since I have to be here to wait for this draft to be done, and then go here and pick up this....blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
And I'm sorry, but I just don't have the stomach for it at this point.
I'm tired, I didn't sleep well last nite, and for the past 48 hours I've been thinking non-stop about a decision I have to make concerning my job and my home and my future.
A few weeks ago I interviewed for another job. It looked promising and I knew when I left I had really done well in the interview. I wasn't surprised when I got called back for a second interview. That was yesterday. And it wasn't just a follow-up interview, it was an offer.
An offer that was not what I had been hoping for, but still very much worth considering. The bad side, I'd have to move, meaning I'd have to sell the house I love, pack up and start new somewhere else. From homeowner back to renter within just over a year.
Not necessarily a bad thing, but it leaves alot of room for worry and analysis and "I wonders"
Still, I think the opportunity for upward movement with this new company is much more promising and will be much better for my long-term career than staying where I'm at now.
I just have to wait for the call back because I did try to negotiate a counter offer. I'll find out by tomorrow if that was successful or not.
So a major decision that I've had to come to within the past 2 days while also having to deal with "should I throw any more garbage in that dumpster, because its getting kind of full?"
Egads.
A friend of mine had a date the other nite. An honest to goodness date where the guy picked her up, drove them to the place that he had picked out, and bought her a nice dinner complete with wine and dessert and great conversation.
Its been so long since I've had that. The past year or so, my dates have been the online variety, wehre you email, eventually phone and then agree to meet in a public place that you each drive to seperately, to ensure safety and a quick escape should they not work out well.
Which means the inevitable, "where do you want to go" question that most guys force you into answering, and then having to drive yourself to the date, drive yourself home and sometimes, even paying for half of it.
Just one day, that's all I ask. One day, where nothing presents itself needing a major decision; where things easily fall into place, and I can just 'be' and not have to worry about making sure my little part of the universe runs efficiently. And maybe, maybe eventually, a real honest to goodness old-fashioned date where I meet the guy in real time and real life first, instead of last, and have a first date story that draws oohs and ahhs, instead of eeks and acks, and laughter.
Is all that too much to ask?
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
So Far, So Good
Well, so far, the New Year's resolution is holding.
I know, I know. Not even a full week since I actually made it, but hey, I count my progress in baby steps. Its more impressive that way.
So anyhoo, this weekend I was quite the social butterfly -- doing more socially, as promised.
Saturday, not only did I meet a friend for dinner and a movie, but after that little outing, I came home, freshened up a bit, and about an hour and a half later, I was back in my car, on my way to meet another group of friends at a local bar, for karaoke, of all things.
But I have to admit. Change is hard. After coming home from the movie and dinner, I flopped on the couch until it was time to meet my friend Mike and his crew. Lo and behold, Grease was on, and I got a phone call from a friend, and I actually toyed with the thought of bagging the bar outing in favor of staying in for a repeat watching of Grease and some girl talk.
I didn't, though. I stuck to my guns and had a really good time. Met 8 new people. They're a great group, and at the end of the nite, which happened to be after 1 a.m., we all said our goodbyes and that we'd all have to get together again soon.
Once home, I couldn't believe I had stayed out that late. Seriously. I can't even remember the last time I was out until 1 a.m. -- boring 30-something that I've become! But it was fun. And so glad I went. Mike checked in with me on Sunday to make sure I really did have a good time and has already extended an open invite for upcoming weekends.
I think I'll be taking him up on that offer. (Not every week -- I can only handle so much karaoke, and these guys are addicted -- but it was fun and something I'd actually enjoy doing again on a semi-regular basis.)
Then on Sunday, it was a lunch date with my godmother to exchange xmas gifts while imbibing flavored martinis.
Last nite, met my friend Ellen for dinner, which was nice as we hadn't gotten together in months.
So, not bad. Had fun, got out, and kept my resolution.
Tonite, I'm staying in. I have tons to do, and can use the R&R. Not to mention needing to catch up on laundry and other household stuff. I did resolve to do more of everything, after all.
I know, I know. Not even a full week since I actually made it, but hey, I count my progress in baby steps. Its more impressive that way.
So anyhoo, this weekend I was quite the social butterfly -- doing more socially, as promised.
Saturday, not only did I meet a friend for dinner and a movie, but after that little outing, I came home, freshened up a bit, and about an hour and a half later, I was back in my car, on my way to meet another group of friends at a local bar, for karaoke, of all things.
But I have to admit. Change is hard. After coming home from the movie and dinner, I flopped on the couch until it was time to meet my friend Mike and his crew. Lo and behold, Grease was on, and I got a phone call from a friend, and I actually toyed with the thought of bagging the bar outing in favor of staying in for a repeat watching of Grease and some girl talk.
I didn't, though. I stuck to my guns and had a really good time. Met 8 new people. They're a great group, and at the end of the nite, which happened to be after 1 a.m., we all said our goodbyes and that we'd all have to get together again soon.
Once home, I couldn't believe I had stayed out that late. Seriously. I can't even remember the last time I was out until 1 a.m. -- boring 30-something that I've become! But it was fun. And so glad I went. Mike checked in with me on Sunday to make sure I really did have a good time and has already extended an open invite for upcoming weekends.
I think I'll be taking him up on that offer. (Not every week -- I can only handle so much karaoke, and these guys are addicted -- but it was fun and something I'd actually enjoy doing again on a semi-regular basis.)
Then on Sunday, it was a lunch date with my godmother to exchange xmas gifts while imbibing flavored martinis.
Last nite, met my friend Ellen for dinner, which was nice as we hadn't gotten together in months.
So, not bad. Had fun, got out, and kept my resolution.
Tonite, I'm staying in. I have tons to do, and can use the R&R. Not to mention needing to catch up on laundry and other household stuff. I did resolve to do more of everything, after all.
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