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!
Saturday, September 23, 2006
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.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Upping the personal ante
For at least the past half dozen years or so, my one and only New Year's resolution was to not make any New Year's resolutions.
Prior to that, I did make them. Religiously. And they were always the same, year in and year out, because every year, without fail, I broke each and every one of them.
Lose weight; be more organized; procrastinate less; work out more; be ON TIME; quit smoking, etc, etc, etc.
But this year, I guess I just feel the need to have some goals for myself. I feel as though I'm at a point where my life needs an overhaul. Or at least a tune-up.
Granted, I am not completely goal-less. I have things I'm striving for. So it would be redundant to repeat them as resolutions.
So, instead, I've opted to make just one resolution and be sure to stick with it. To accomplish it. And not feel that resignation and sense of failure we all feel when in March, we realize most if not all of our New Year's resolutions have fallen by the wayside.
My single and simple resolution for 2006 is this: Do More.
More of what? At this point, I'm not completely sure. But it hit me one day that the lethargy I've been feeling as of late is due to more than just stress and overwork. I think its that I've used the stress and bad job situation and long hours as an excuse to become undisciplined.
I've stopped pushing myself, allowing myself to wallow in stillness as compensation for those things that negatively impact my life and over which, I have no control.
Like a well-meaning mother trying to cure her child's bad day at school or being called names on the playground with a cookie or a trip to the ice cream shop, I've tried to heal my stresses and upsets and dissatisfactions by allowing myself to not do anything, if it truly didn't have to be done. All the while saying I was tired, burnt out from work, etc., so I deserved the down time.
Thing is, too much down time is not a good thing. One gets lazy. One starts preferring nights in with DVDs to actually going out and doing things with others. One ends up watching way too much TV. Things don't get done when they should or maybe as much as they should.
Lately, I've found myself in awe of some individuals I've either met or read about who seem to do soooo much on a regular daily basis, and have accomplished so much for the stage of their lives at which they're at.
I'm tired of admiring. I want to be one of them.
So starting now, its out of the comfort zone for this girl; and back out into the world of doing, and self-imposed activity and more social outings, and yes, chores. No more dishes in the sink or ridiculous laundry pile-ups.
Moss doesn't grow on a rolling stone, and I realize its high time I get myself back in the game. On all levels.
My goal is that in 2006 I spend less time on my couch and more time going out, having fun, working out, reading, writing and accomplishing. In summary, DOING.
I'm starting by making myself do at least one thing each day that I normally wouldn't have made the time for -- whether it be something as simple as cleaning out a closet, or baking brownies or writing, or calling friends.
And I'm hoping that come March, instead of being by the wayside, my resolution will still be very much a part of my daily life.
And then maybe, I'll be able to work on all those other long-forgotten ones -- like being on time, and losing weight and procrastinating less. (yeah, right)
Prior to that, I did make them. Religiously. And they were always the same, year in and year out, because every year, without fail, I broke each and every one of them.
Lose weight; be more organized; procrastinate less; work out more; be ON TIME; quit smoking, etc, etc, etc.
But this year, I guess I just feel the need to have some goals for myself. I feel as though I'm at a point where my life needs an overhaul. Or at least a tune-up.
Granted, I am not completely goal-less. I have things I'm striving for. So it would be redundant to repeat them as resolutions.
So, instead, I've opted to make just one resolution and be sure to stick with it. To accomplish it. And not feel that resignation and sense of failure we all feel when in March, we realize most if not all of our New Year's resolutions have fallen by the wayside.
My single and simple resolution for 2006 is this: Do More.
More of what? At this point, I'm not completely sure. But it hit me one day that the lethargy I've been feeling as of late is due to more than just stress and overwork. I think its that I've used the stress and bad job situation and long hours as an excuse to become undisciplined.
I've stopped pushing myself, allowing myself to wallow in stillness as compensation for those things that negatively impact my life and over which, I have no control.
Like a well-meaning mother trying to cure her child's bad day at school or being called names on the playground with a cookie or a trip to the ice cream shop, I've tried to heal my stresses and upsets and dissatisfactions by allowing myself to not do anything, if it truly didn't have to be done. All the while saying I was tired, burnt out from work, etc., so I deserved the down time.
Thing is, too much down time is not a good thing. One gets lazy. One starts preferring nights in with DVDs to actually going out and doing things with others. One ends up watching way too much TV. Things don't get done when they should or maybe as much as they should.
Lately, I've found myself in awe of some individuals I've either met or read about who seem to do soooo much on a regular daily basis, and have accomplished so much for the stage of their lives at which they're at.
I'm tired of admiring. I want to be one of them.
So starting now, its out of the comfort zone for this girl; and back out into the world of doing, and self-imposed activity and more social outings, and yes, chores. No more dishes in the sink or ridiculous laundry pile-ups.
Moss doesn't grow on a rolling stone, and I realize its high time I get myself back in the game. On all levels.
My goal is that in 2006 I spend less time on my couch and more time going out, having fun, working out, reading, writing and accomplishing. In summary, DOING.
I'm starting by making myself do at least one thing each day that I normally wouldn't have made the time for -- whether it be something as simple as cleaning out a closet, or baking brownies or writing, or calling friends.
And I'm hoping that come March, instead of being by the wayside, my resolution will still be very much a part of my daily life.
And then maybe, I'll be able to work on all those other long-forgotten ones -- like being on time, and losing weight and procrastinating less. (yeah, right)
Monday, December 26, 2005
Feelin' the Music
It has always happened for me in the car alone, or in the shower. Being completely overtaken by a song or CD.
I have no doubt that music is, in a way, a form of salvation for us mortals, taking us momentarily out of the present and transporting us to a different place, even if only for 2.16 minutes.
As a teen, I can remember sitting on my friend Lisa's front porch, in rolled up denim shorts and halter tops, cranking out songs by David Cassidy and Andy Gibb and other early 80s heartthrobs. Sometimes we talked, or read magazines, sometimes we just watched the traffic go by; but regardless of what we were doing, we were totally in that particular moment.
I can also remember carting my "boom box" into the bathroom each morning or nite, so that I could jam out to a favorite cassette while taking a shower. For that 20 minutes, it was just me and the music and looking back, it kind of helped ease me into my day or make me forget about whatever teen angst was eating at me. It also allowed me the freedom to sing, something I never do in public, because truth is, I couldn't carry a tune if it had a handle.
These days, I don't often let myself get that completely absorbed anymore. Showertime is a time for me to think about all I have to do once I get into the office. The drive to work, while the music is on, I'm still thinking about my "To Do" list, whether it be for work, or what I have to do once I get home; or mulling over a recent conversation, project, etc.
But last nite, driving home in a pouring rain, a local radio station took a break from the holiday music and had an hour of Retro 80s hits.
For those who know me best, they know I am a total 80s child. And I can't walk by a bargain CD bin at a department or record or drugstore without pawing through it to see if it holds some long lost favorite song or artist from my most fun decade.
As the beginning strains of "Melt With You" started playing, I instinctively turned up the volume and suddenly, it wasn't Christmas nite, 2005 anymore. I was recalling nights out from 15 years ago, dancing with friends, and somewhere mid-way into the song, I wasn't thinking about anything anymore. I was totally into the music, singing along and letting it take over me.
When the song ended, I recalled that it had been a long time indeed since I'd been so completely absorbed by a song or music; to a point where my mind stopped churning, and I wasn't multi-tasking. True, I was driving, but other than simply watching the road, there wasn't a single other thought on my mind than the strains of that song.
The announcer broke in and I tuned him right out, instead remembering V, a co-worker from my first post-college job, who I absolutely loved. I think it was him who made me realize the importance of music and its emotional and physiological qualities.
V was a graphic artist who went nowhere without his walkman and many, many tapes. He listened to all kinds of music from punk to heavy metal to the Beatles. Walk into his office at any time, and you'd find his eyes fixed on his computer screen and one hand on his mouse, creating graphics or logos.
But the rest of his body was completley overtaken by whatever was coming out of his earphones. While he worked, his feet were tapping, his head was bobbing and his upper body grooving. He LOVED music and he enjoyed it to the hilt every single day.
Other than at nightclubs or concerts, I had never seen anyone so totally absorbed by a tape or a song or the radio, myself included. But after witnessing his sheer and pure enjoyment, it made me think I was missing out on something. And so, I started listening to other types of music and trying to get into music as much as V did. I even bought a new walkman and started taking it to the gym and on solo walks around the local lake.
I guess it kind of worked, because these days, there are certain songs or CDs, I often long to hear; and when I pop in the CD or hear the song on the radio, I stop thinking about everything and simply listen. And let the beat and the rhythms and the words take me out of my senses for that brief time.
I've found its a great stress-reliever and way to relax.
Last nite, after my musical ride home, I didn't turn on the TV or sit at the computer once I got in. I popped in a few favorite CDs, poured a glass of cabernet, sat back and just listened. Allowing myself the freedom to do nothing and giving the music total control. It had been awhile, and was just the break I needed from my recent work stress and the holiday craziness.
I promised myself that I'll be doing it more often.
I have no doubt that music is, in a way, a form of salvation for us mortals, taking us momentarily out of the present and transporting us to a different place, even if only for 2.16 minutes.
As a teen, I can remember sitting on my friend Lisa's front porch, in rolled up denim shorts and halter tops, cranking out songs by David Cassidy and Andy Gibb and other early 80s heartthrobs. Sometimes we talked, or read magazines, sometimes we just watched the traffic go by; but regardless of what we were doing, we were totally in that particular moment.
I can also remember carting my "boom box" into the bathroom each morning or nite, so that I could jam out to a favorite cassette while taking a shower. For that 20 minutes, it was just me and the music and looking back, it kind of helped ease me into my day or make me forget about whatever teen angst was eating at me. It also allowed me the freedom to sing, something I never do in public, because truth is, I couldn't carry a tune if it had a handle.
These days, I don't often let myself get that completely absorbed anymore. Showertime is a time for me to think about all I have to do once I get into the office. The drive to work, while the music is on, I'm still thinking about my "To Do" list, whether it be for work, or what I have to do once I get home; or mulling over a recent conversation, project, etc.
But last nite, driving home in a pouring rain, a local radio station took a break from the holiday music and had an hour of Retro 80s hits.
For those who know me best, they know I am a total 80s child. And I can't walk by a bargain CD bin at a department or record or drugstore without pawing through it to see if it holds some long lost favorite song or artist from my most fun decade.
As the beginning strains of "Melt With You" started playing, I instinctively turned up the volume and suddenly, it wasn't Christmas nite, 2005 anymore. I was recalling nights out from 15 years ago, dancing with friends, and somewhere mid-way into the song, I wasn't thinking about anything anymore. I was totally into the music, singing along and letting it take over me.
When the song ended, I recalled that it had been a long time indeed since I'd been so completely absorbed by a song or music; to a point where my mind stopped churning, and I wasn't multi-tasking. True, I was driving, but other than simply watching the road, there wasn't a single other thought on my mind than the strains of that song.
The announcer broke in and I tuned him right out, instead remembering V, a co-worker from my first post-college job, who I absolutely loved. I think it was him who made me realize the importance of music and its emotional and physiological qualities.
V was a graphic artist who went nowhere without his walkman and many, many tapes. He listened to all kinds of music from punk to heavy metal to the Beatles. Walk into his office at any time, and you'd find his eyes fixed on his computer screen and one hand on his mouse, creating graphics or logos.
But the rest of his body was completley overtaken by whatever was coming out of his earphones. While he worked, his feet were tapping, his head was bobbing and his upper body grooving. He LOVED music and he enjoyed it to the hilt every single day.
Other than at nightclubs or concerts, I had never seen anyone so totally absorbed by a tape or a song or the radio, myself included. But after witnessing his sheer and pure enjoyment, it made me think I was missing out on something. And so, I started listening to other types of music and trying to get into music as much as V did. I even bought a new walkman and started taking it to the gym and on solo walks around the local lake.
I guess it kind of worked, because these days, there are certain songs or CDs, I often long to hear; and when I pop in the CD or hear the song on the radio, I stop thinking about everything and simply listen. And let the beat and the rhythms and the words take me out of my senses for that brief time.
I've found its a great stress-reliever and way to relax.
Last nite, after my musical ride home, I didn't turn on the TV or sit at the computer once I got in. I popped in a few favorite CDs, poured a glass of cabernet, sat back and just listened. Allowing myself the freedom to do nothing and giving the music total control. It had been awhile, and was just the break I needed from my recent work stress and the holiday craziness.
I promised myself that I'll be doing it more often.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!
Well, the big day is here and more than half gone, and right now, today feels like any other Sunday.
Last nite was our family's big celebration with gift exchange, and it was truly a beautiful nite. I even got a token drunken compliment from my brother's neighbor, who told me, in a somewhat slurred voice, that I was a beautiful woman and one of the finest specimens he has ever seen.
I kid you not. Not sure if I can live up to that compliment, (or believe it either) but hey, beggars can't be choosers, so I'm keepin' it! lol
And my hunch was right. Everyone did really love their gifts. Esp. my littlest niece who, after crazily ripping open bags and boxes, knelt in the center of her piles of things and declared, "Ohhh, thank you so much everybody! I love it all! I really, really do!"
And even if no one else had liked their gifts, seeing the sheer joy and excitement on her face would have more than made up for it.
Afterwards, we all went home -- stuffed bloated messes, bemoaning our lack of self control and over-indulgence, but warm and full and happy and most importantly, grateful for the gift of family and plenty and togetherness that sadly, not everyone gets to enjoy.
Today, I woke up a bit earlier than usual, and so was able to actually read all the newspaper and have breakfast made, eaten and washed up after, bed made and some minor household tasks done, all by noon.
Now, its time to get dressed and go to the parents for dinner. Tomorrow, I take my nieces to a matinee production of the Nutcracker, that is preceded by our traditional Chinese lunch. About six years ago, when I first started taking my oldest niece, I asked her what she wanted for lunch, expecting her to say McDonald's or Chuck E. Cheese. She said chicken and broccoli, and so we went to the local Chinese place.
The following year, when we were leaving her house, she said, "So, we're going for chinese, right?" And a tradition was born.
So for the past six years, on the day after Christmas, I pick them up, we go for Chinese, and then go wait in line so that we can get really good seats for the ballet. Which to my nieces means nothing further back than the 5th row!
When I drop them off early tomorrow evening, and say goodbye and they tell me how much fun they had before running off to the kitchen to heat up their Chinese leftovers, the holiday will truly be over. And I 'll be both relieved and anxious -- waiting to do it all again next year.
Sure, its alot of preparation and expense and extra work, getting ready for this one particular day or two, but the payoff, while it can at times seem fleeting, really does stick with everyone and I realize, when I look back at all the Christmases past, how much the tradition and everything associated with it, really does all mean.
Last nite was our family's big celebration with gift exchange, and it was truly a beautiful nite. I even got a token drunken compliment from my brother's neighbor, who told me, in a somewhat slurred voice, that I was a beautiful woman and one of the finest specimens he has ever seen.
I kid you not. Not sure if I can live up to that compliment, (or believe it either) but hey, beggars can't be choosers, so I'm keepin' it! lol
And my hunch was right. Everyone did really love their gifts. Esp. my littlest niece who, after crazily ripping open bags and boxes, knelt in the center of her piles of things and declared, "Ohhh, thank you so much everybody! I love it all! I really, really do!"
And even if no one else had liked their gifts, seeing the sheer joy and excitement on her face would have more than made up for it.
Afterwards, we all went home -- stuffed bloated messes, bemoaning our lack of self control and over-indulgence, but warm and full and happy and most importantly, grateful for the gift of family and plenty and togetherness that sadly, not everyone gets to enjoy.
Today, I woke up a bit earlier than usual, and so was able to actually read all the newspaper and have breakfast made, eaten and washed up after, bed made and some minor household tasks done, all by noon.
Now, its time to get dressed and go to the parents for dinner. Tomorrow, I take my nieces to a matinee production of the Nutcracker, that is preceded by our traditional Chinese lunch. About six years ago, when I first started taking my oldest niece, I asked her what she wanted for lunch, expecting her to say McDonald's or Chuck E. Cheese. She said chicken and broccoli, and so we went to the local Chinese place.
The following year, when we were leaving her house, she said, "So, we're going for chinese, right?" And a tradition was born.
So for the past six years, on the day after Christmas, I pick them up, we go for Chinese, and then go wait in line so that we can get really good seats for the ballet. Which to my nieces means nothing further back than the 5th row!
When I drop them off early tomorrow evening, and say goodbye and they tell me how much fun they had before running off to the kitchen to heat up their Chinese leftovers, the holiday will truly be over. And I 'll be both relieved and anxious -- waiting to do it all again next year.
Sure, its alot of preparation and expense and extra work, getting ready for this one particular day or two, but the payoff, while it can at times seem fleeting, really does stick with everyone and I realize, when I look back at all the Christmases past, how much the tradition and everything associated with it, really does all mean.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Getting Excited!
Wow! Can't believe its been a whole month since I blogged. But actually, the past month has been so crazy busy and hectic and stressful, its been a month since I've done much of anything productive other than work and stress, and oh, yeah, that annual task of Christmas shopping.
With the big day just 2 days away, I am thrilled to report that I am DONE! Finished last nite with the Fed Ex delivery of my bro and sis-in-law's gift -- they're gonna scream when they see it(or at least I hope!) -- and a quick trip to the mall to get the last 2 people on my list.
And I am so excited about this year's gift exchange.
Last year, I had just moved into my house two weeks before Christmas and had so much to do and was so broke after all the closing, insurance, and other house-buying costs, that I hated the gifts I gave. Partly because I bought them in a rush, and partly because I pretty much got everybody just one gift and that was it.
Normally, I like to give several -- one main gift, with a few small ones tucked in as well -- cute and practical and kitchy little things. Special ornaments or a coffee mug filled with packets of specialty teas and coffees or a CD -- you get the picture.
But last year, that was out of the question both timewise, and money-wise. So this year, the Christmas Me is back and very much looking forward to giving out my gifts. And I think everyone will really like what I did get. I put alot of thought into each and every one.
Last year, I know some folks were disappointed, esp. Dad and one of my friends and I think my godmother. They didn't say so of course, but you can always tell when you know someone well.
So, come Saturday, after Christmas Eve dinner when we do our exchange, I'm gonna be loving every minute of it!
And, having a four-day weekend is also nice. Today, I'm not working and will be spending most of it attacking my house with a vengeance. It WILL be clean.
Like my blogging, it too has suffered as I haven't really given it a good scrubbing and going over in about as long as its been since I blogged. Oh sure, I wiped and dusted a bit here and there, where needed; and even vacuumed and did laundry a couple times. But it is sorely in need of major cleaning -- wiping down appliances and polishing furniture and hardwood floors and mopping and dusting baseboards. That type of cleaning.
So, I'm off. Hoping to get done by 4 so that I can then kick back and watch Oprah. Then, its a nice dinner. Right now I'm torn between actually cooking something healthy and wholesome, or ordering sushi. Guess it will all depend on my mood when I'm done and if I feel like hitting the grocery store.
Tonite, I'm not going out on purpose. Gonna stay in, and get comfy with either a good DVD or book. And tomorrow, its gift-wrapping and giving (and getting) day!
HAPPY, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
With the big day just 2 days away, I am thrilled to report that I am DONE! Finished last nite with the Fed Ex delivery of my bro and sis-in-law's gift -- they're gonna scream when they see it(or at least I hope!) -- and a quick trip to the mall to get the last 2 people on my list.
And I am so excited about this year's gift exchange.
Last year, I had just moved into my house two weeks before Christmas and had so much to do and was so broke after all the closing, insurance, and other house-buying costs, that I hated the gifts I gave. Partly because I bought them in a rush, and partly because I pretty much got everybody just one gift and that was it.
Normally, I like to give several -- one main gift, with a few small ones tucked in as well -- cute and practical and kitchy little things. Special ornaments or a coffee mug filled with packets of specialty teas and coffees or a CD -- you get the picture.
But last year, that was out of the question both timewise, and money-wise. So this year, the Christmas Me is back and very much looking forward to giving out my gifts. And I think everyone will really like what I did get. I put alot of thought into each and every one.
Last year, I know some folks were disappointed, esp. Dad and one of my friends and I think my godmother. They didn't say so of course, but you can always tell when you know someone well.
So, come Saturday, after Christmas Eve dinner when we do our exchange, I'm gonna be loving every minute of it!
And, having a four-day weekend is also nice. Today, I'm not working and will be spending most of it attacking my house with a vengeance. It WILL be clean.
Like my blogging, it too has suffered as I haven't really given it a good scrubbing and going over in about as long as its been since I blogged. Oh sure, I wiped and dusted a bit here and there, where needed; and even vacuumed and did laundry a couple times. But it is sorely in need of major cleaning -- wiping down appliances and polishing furniture and hardwood floors and mopping and dusting baseboards. That type of cleaning.
So, I'm off. Hoping to get done by 4 so that I can then kick back and watch Oprah. Then, its a nice dinner. Right now I'm torn between actually cooking something healthy and wholesome, or ordering sushi. Guess it will all depend on my mood when I'm done and if I feel like hitting the grocery store.
Tonite, I'm not going out on purpose. Gonna stay in, and get comfy with either a good DVD or book. And tomorrow, its gift-wrapping and giving (and getting) day!
HAPPY, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Friday, November 25, 2005
Tis the Season
I have no idea what has gotten into me, but I am just bursting at the seams with holiday spirit!
Usually, I don't get in the Christmas mood until, well, just right before Christmas. Seriously. I'm one of those people frantically racing through the mall at 3:30 on Christmas Eve, buying last minute gifts and wrapping paper.
I don't play Christmas carols until just a few days before the actual day, and most often, I'm digging through my CD collection on Christmas Eve after returning from the mall so that I can at least play my small collection of holiday music while wrapping gifts.
But this year -- its different. I'm getting a tree; an honest to goodness six-foot tall tree, not just my 2-ft short tabletop one, and this weekend will be out procuring lights and ornaments and garland, and I'm even thinking about a couple of yard decorations.
I'm in the holiday spirit big-time and it actually feels great.
The past couple of months have been especially stressful, and lately, I've found comfort in just doing simple things for myself. Grocery shopping and buying whole, fresh foods and making myself real meals that require cutting and chopping and cooking on a stove. Making a pot of homemade soup on a cold, windy day. Losing myself in several good books I've recently started. Jamming out to music while doing household chores on a Sunday afternoon. And, letting myself actually call in sickfor two days when I caught myself a death of a cold 2 weeks ago.
And now, with Thanksgiving (one of my favorite holidays) over, I'm ready to start prepping for Christmas. With a vengeance;)
I think maybe its because I now have a whole house to play with, and last year, I was literally moving in over Christmas. But more likely, I think perhaps its an enjoyable diversion.
For the past few months I have fretted and worried over a number of major and minor things -- both on a professional level, as well as a personal one. And now, with the holiday season upon us, I'm ready to lose myself in something that isn't work, has absolutely nothing to do with friends, work, neighbors, co-workers, etc. Just me and my surroundings. Walls and shelves and doorways and rooms don't talk back or tell you they don't like what you're doing or that you're doing it wrong.
So, after work tonite, I'm off to buy my wreaths -- there's a great stand just down the road from here; and I'll hang 'em as soon as I get home.
Tomorrow, is tree day and shopping for ornaments, garland and other decorations.
Sunday, I think I'll finish what I started, maybe log in a couple hours of shopping and then sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labors.
And next week, I"m on vacation. I have already made myself vow not to check or answer work email, and to screen all incoming calls. I'm scheduling lunches with friends, a day trip to the outlets, and a massage.
I'm hoping the R&R and all the fun, self-indulgent stuff I have planned will bring back the spring in my step and clear my head and help me to shift more of my focus to my personal level, instead of to the professional level which has been such a bane for me lately.
Usually, I don't get in the Christmas mood until, well, just right before Christmas. Seriously. I'm one of those people frantically racing through the mall at 3:30 on Christmas Eve, buying last minute gifts and wrapping paper.
I don't play Christmas carols until just a few days before the actual day, and most often, I'm digging through my CD collection on Christmas Eve after returning from the mall so that I can at least play my small collection of holiday music while wrapping gifts.
But this year -- its different. I'm getting a tree; an honest to goodness six-foot tall tree, not just my 2-ft short tabletop one, and this weekend will be out procuring lights and ornaments and garland, and I'm even thinking about a couple of yard decorations.
I'm in the holiday spirit big-time and it actually feels great.
The past couple of months have been especially stressful, and lately, I've found comfort in just doing simple things for myself. Grocery shopping and buying whole, fresh foods and making myself real meals that require cutting and chopping and cooking on a stove. Making a pot of homemade soup on a cold, windy day. Losing myself in several good books I've recently started. Jamming out to music while doing household chores on a Sunday afternoon. And, letting myself actually call in sickfor two days when I caught myself a death of a cold 2 weeks ago.
And now, with Thanksgiving (one of my favorite holidays) over, I'm ready to start prepping for Christmas. With a vengeance;)
I think maybe its because I now have a whole house to play with, and last year, I was literally moving in over Christmas. But more likely, I think perhaps its an enjoyable diversion.
For the past few months I have fretted and worried over a number of major and minor things -- both on a professional level, as well as a personal one. And now, with the holiday season upon us, I'm ready to lose myself in something that isn't work, has absolutely nothing to do with friends, work, neighbors, co-workers, etc. Just me and my surroundings. Walls and shelves and doorways and rooms don't talk back or tell you they don't like what you're doing or that you're doing it wrong.
So, after work tonite, I'm off to buy my wreaths -- there's a great stand just down the road from here; and I'll hang 'em as soon as I get home.
Tomorrow, is tree day and shopping for ornaments, garland and other decorations.
Sunday, I think I'll finish what I started, maybe log in a couple hours of shopping and then sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labors.
And next week, I"m on vacation. I have already made myself vow not to check or answer work email, and to screen all incoming calls. I'm scheduling lunches with friends, a day trip to the outlets, and a massage.
I'm hoping the R&R and all the fun, self-indulgent stuff I have planned will bring back the spring in my step and clear my head and help me to shift more of my focus to my personal level, instead of to the professional level which has been such a bane for me lately.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Flipping through time
Last night I paged through a book I hadn't picked up in some time -- my high school yearbook.
I don't know what prompted me to pull it down off the shelf, but once I had it in my hands, I found myself going through it page by page, studying each one, and remembering the people and events from that time in my life.
I went to a small high school. So even though there were the typical cliques and popular kids and jocks and nerds, we pretty much all knew each other and ostracization was minimal. If nothing else, at least your classmates spoke to you in homeroom.
What did surprise me was that there were a couple of my classmates that I have absolutely no recollection of. Not the face, nor the name, nor can I place them. One kid, I think, was a transfer student who came to us eihter at the end of our junior year, or the beginning of senior year. But still, no excuse.
I was also surprised by how much did come through mind as I flipped through those pages. The teacher several of us girls had a crush on. The one teacher we all despised for her mean temperament and take no prisoners approach to teaching.
Home coming and prom and gym class. All the pics were there, and amazingly, so were all the memories.
Some more recent events however, have overshadowed those memories. One classmate died of a terminal illness a few years ago. One of the popular guys is now an ex-con. A girl from my homeroom is a young widow, and the one girl almost everyone avoided because she was 'weird' is now married to a very successful and well-known local attorney and her picture is in the paper at least a few times a year. Another girl, is perhaps the luckiest of us all as she survived a very serious car accident that by all accounts should have killed her.
Funny how things change and come full circle. Our circumstances really are never permanent. The bad goes away, and sometimes so does the good. All part of growing up; all part of life.
As I flipped through those pages, I had to laugh at some of the things that really bothered me back then -- my hair, my clothes, my weight. Looking back, I realize they were all just fine. And I also realized that we so often put way too much stock in what other people think.
But back then, I felt my clothes weren't good enough because my parents either refused to buy the trendy stuff all the really popular girls wore, in favor of more classic styles that were better made, or they couldn't afford the over-priced stuff that would be out of style forever in a few short months. It bugged me, and now looking back, I really didn't look all that much different from anyone else. (Of course, the uniforms helped a bit -- it was a small private school!)
And some of the boys -- how could I have had a crush on Bill?! He was a skinny, sarcastic imp of a boy back then. And why didn't I see the potential in Matt? He was cute -- but part of the geeky crew. Did I feel somehow better than him?
(On the high school social ladder, I guess I was somewhere in the middle -- not cool enough to be really popular, but not considered an outcast or total nerd.)
If I did, I was wrong. Today, he's a very successful engineer and even dated one of my college friends years after high school graduation -- and she was devastated when after just a couple of dates, he wasn't interested.
As I came to the end of the book, it made me think how our opinions as we go through various stages of our lives are formed so much by others, and how our memories often retain those opinions. Until one day, we happen upon an old photograph, or run into an old classmate, or pick up our high school yearbook, and we realize so much was so better than it might have seemed at the time. And how some of those 'by popular vote' opinions we held were so completely off-base.
Especially now, looking back in retrospect and knowing what we all know now. I guess its called growing up, and today, our lives richer for those experiences, and our ability to look back and compare notes.
For me, it was also a reminder not to get so caught up in the status quo, and keeping up with the joneses and worrying about what others might think or say. I look back somewhat fondly on high school -- altho I wouldn't go back for even a day -- but wonder what it might have been like had I been less reined in and intimidated by what my peers would say or think or how I looked? Better? Worse? More fun?
At this point, I'll never know, but I can't wait for my reunion next spring and getting together with old friends, and foes and allies and those who I didn't take the time to really get to know very well.
Hard to believe its been 20 years since we've all been together. (sigh) In the past, I didn't bother attending reunions. I was busy or didn't care all that much. But now, I'm curious to see what everyone has been up to and how we've all fared after all this time.
And hopefully, those two boys I couldn't remember at all will be there. I wonder what they're up to.
I don't know what prompted me to pull it down off the shelf, but once I had it in my hands, I found myself going through it page by page, studying each one, and remembering the people and events from that time in my life.
I went to a small high school. So even though there were the typical cliques and popular kids and jocks and nerds, we pretty much all knew each other and ostracization was minimal. If nothing else, at least your classmates spoke to you in homeroom.
What did surprise me was that there were a couple of my classmates that I have absolutely no recollection of. Not the face, nor the name, nor can I place them. One kid, I think, was a transfer student who came to us eihter at the end of our junior year, or the beginning of senior year. But still, no excuse.
I was also surprised by how much did come through mind as I flipped through those pages. The teacher several of us girls had a crush on. The one teacher we all despised for her mean temperament and take no prisoners approach to teaching.
Home coming and prom and gym class. All the pics were there, and amazingly, so were all the memories.
Some more recent events however, have overshadowed those memories. One classmate died of a terminal illness a few years ago. One of the popular guys is now an ex-con. A girl from my homeroom is a young widow, and the one girl almost everyone avoided because she was 'weird' is now married to a very successful and well-known local attorney and her picture is in the paper at least a few times a year. Another girl, is perhaps the luckiest of us all as she survived a very serious car accident that by all accounts should have killed her.
Funny how things change and come full circle. Our circumstances really are never permanent. The bad goes away, and sometimes so does the good. All part of growing up; all part of life.
As I flipped through those pages, I had to laugh at some of the things that really bothered me back then -- my hair, my clothes, my weight. Looking back, I realize they were all just fine. And I also realized that we so often put way too much stock in what other people think.
But back then, I felt my clothes weren't good enough because my parents either refused to buy the trendy stuff all the really popular girls wore, in favor of more classic styles that were better made, or they couldn't afford the over-priced stuff that would be out of style forever in a few short months. It bugged me, and now looking back, I really didn't look all that much different from anyone else. (Of course, the uniforms helped a bit -- it was a small private school!)
And some of the boys -- how could I have had a crush on Bill?! He was a skinny, sarcastic imp of a boy back then. And why didn't I see the potential in Matt? He was cute -- but part of the geeky crew. Did I feel somehow better than him?
(On the high school social ladder, I guess I was somewhere in the middle -- not cool enough to be really popular, but not considered an outcast or total nerd.)
If I did, I was wrong. Today, he's a very successful engineer and even dated one of my college friends years after high school graduation -- and she was devastated when after just a couple of dates, he wasn't interested.
As I came to the end of the book, it made me think how our opinions as we go through various stages of our lives are formed so much by others, and how our memories often retain those opinions. Until one day, we happen upon an old photograph, or run into an old classmate, or pick up our high school yearbook, and we realize so much was so better than it might have seemed at the time. And how some of those 'by popular vote' opinions we held were so completely off-base.
Especially now, looking back in retrospect and knowing what we all know now. I guess its called growing up, and today, our lives richer for those experiences, and our ability to look back and compare notes.
For me, it was also a reminder not to get so caught up in the status quo, and keeping up with the joneses and worrying about what others might think or say. I look back somewhat fondly on high school -- altho I wouldn't go back for even a day -- but wonder what it might have been like had I been less reined in and intimidated by what my peers would say or think or how I looked? Better? Worse? More fun?
At this point, I'll never know, but I can't wait for my reunion next spring and getting together with old friends, and foes and allies and those who I didn't take the time to really get to know very well.
Hard to believe its been 20 years since we've all been together. (sigh) In the past, I didn't bother attending reunions. I was busy or didn't care all that much. But now, I'm curious to see what everyone has been up to and how we've all fared after all this time.
And hopefully, those two boys I couldn't remember at all will be there. I wonder what they're up to.
Friday, November 11, 2005
And the sign says....
I'm a big believer in signs. Now granted, I don't believe that every single thing that happens or doesn't happen is necessarily a sign from above, but sometimes you just can't ignore them.
Case in point -- I HATE my job. Really hate it and all signs for the past year have pointed me in the direction of looking for employment elsewhere. Which I have been doing, albeit not having much luck.
So, for the time being, I simply go in every day, do my job to the best of my ability (because even though I'm miserable and burnt out, I still believe in being professional), and spend my spare time reading want ads and job postings on line.
The resume has already been dusted off and is ready to go, so -- I'm good.
But over the past two weeks, it seems as though I've been bombarded by 'signs' telling me to leave as soon as possible.
It started with an article I was reading in a business weekly. A woman in a very small, rural town had started an internet/computer company and was doing extremely well; so well, that she pays her employees wages that would be competitive in, say, a medium size city because she believes people should be paid their fair market value and not according to their geographic location.
Talk about progressive.
Of course, she couldn't always afford to do that -- esp. when she first set up shop. Tired of the grind and being underappreciated in the workplace, she opted out of the daily 9 to 5 and started her own company. Put in long hours and a few years of very hard work and eventually got to where she is today.
Nice story, but really what's the point? Well, for me, it was one statement that she said that has stuck with me moreso than anything else over the past couple of weeks.
She said, if you're really unhappy with your job, don't just sit around complaining about it or even looking for a new one, get out there and create your own.
That statement and idea has stuck with me since reading it and I swear I hear it in my head at least a half dozen times a day.
Not too long after reading that, I heard an interview on the news. Can't remember who it was, or even whether the businessperson was local or national. But he said something that has stuck with me as well -- "the best, never rest."
Then, yet again, one night while drifting off on the couch, I awoke with three words in my head -- "The time is now". Not sure if it was something I had subconciously heard on the television, or something in a dream.
So, three statements, two different people and one unknown source -- and I can't get them out of my head. While I realize that a part of me truly does love the daily grind (can't believe I said that, but its true), I don't think I'll ever be happy until I'm truly my own boss, nor will I be happy unless I am making a good financial living as well.
(True, one can be poor and happy, but I'd rather be very financially secure and happy:)
On a similar line, I've been feeling the urge to write; really write and work on some story ideas I've been tossing around in my head for years now. I have a feeling that if I really, really applied myself, I could be a successful writer. My problem -- not enough energy or discipline to make it happen.
My ultimate goal has always been to make a living writing books. But for the past 15 years, I'd gotten so caught up in making a living, that I ended up building a career in a field I do like, but at the same time, ignoring something I love because the brunt of my time and energy and focus and discipline was spent on doing the corporate gig.
Granted, I still have to do that. Bills to pay, a mouth to feed, and honestly, I couldn't give up the stability of a set salary and things like medical benefits.
BUT, I realize it has come time to seize the day and force myself to spend more time on creating my own job and really working toward that goal, even if at times, it leaves me exhausted.
Otherwise, I'll end up continuing the rat race cycle. And I'll have refused to follow the signs I've been given and put so much faith in.
So, even though I've said to myself before that I would write more -- I am now committed. I will write daily -- trying to get those ideas formed into more complex plot lines and characters. I'm also planning on taking a week off in the next month or so and using it to treat my writing as a full-time job, for at least that week.
Not much, but its a start. And so much better than just spinning my wheels being good at something in a place where I am truly not happy.
Case in point -- I HATE my job. Really hate it and all signs for the past year have pointed me in the direction of looking for employment elsewhere. Which I have been doing, albeit not having much luck.
So, for the time being, I simply go in every day, do my job to the best of my ability (because even though I'm miserable and burnt out, I still believe in being professional), and spend my spare time reading want ads and job postings on line.
The resume has already been dusted off and is ready to go, so -- I'm good.
But over the past two weeks, it seems as though I've been bombarded by 'signs' telling me to leave as soon as possible.
It started with an article I was reading in a business weekly. A woman in a very small, rural town had started an internet/computer company and was doing extremely well; so well, that she pays her employees wages that would be competitive in, say, a medium size city because she believes people should be paid their fair market value and not according to their geographic location.
Talk about progressive.
Of course, she couldn't always afford to do that -- esp. when she first set up shop. Tired of the grind and being underappreciated in the workplace, she opted out of the daily 9 to 5 and started her own company. Put in long hours and a few years of very hard work and eventually got to where she is today.
Nice story, but really what's the point? Well, for me, it was one statement that she said that has stuck with me moreso than anything else over the past couple of weeks.
She said, if you're really unhappy with your job, don't just sit around complaining about it or even looking for a new one, get out there and create your own.
That statement and idea has stuck with me since reading it and I swear I hear it in my head at least a half dozen times a day.
Not too long after reading that, I heard an interview on the news. Can't remember who it was, or even whether the businessperson was local or national. But he said something that has stuck with me as well -- "the best, never rest."
Then, yet again, one night while drifting off on the couch, I awoke with three words in my head -- "The time is now". Not sure if it was something I had subconciously heard on the television, or something in a dream.
So, three statements, two different people and one unknown source -- and I can't get them out of my head. While I realize that a part of me truly does love the daily grind (can't believe I said that, but its true), I don't think I'll ever be happy until I'm truly my own boss, nor will I be happy unless I am making a good financial living as well.
(True, one can be poor and happy, but I'd rather be very financially secure and happy:)
On a similar line, I've been feeling the urge to write; really write and work on some story ideas I've been tossing around in my head for years now. I have a feeling that if I really, really applied myself, I could be a successful writer. My problem -- not enough energy or discipline to make it happen.
My ultimate goal has always been to make a living writing books. But for the past 15 years, I'd gotten so caught up in making a living, that I ended up building a career in a field I do like, but at the same time, ignoring something I love because the brunt of my time and energy and focus and discipline was spent on doing the corporate gig.
Granted, I still have to do that. Bills to pay, a mouth to feed, and honestly, I couldn't give up the stability of a set salary and things like medical benefits.
BUT, I realize it has come time to seize the day and force myself to spend more time on creating my own job and really working toward that goal, even if at times, it leaves me exhausted.
Otherwise, I'll end up continuing the rat race cycle. And I'll have refused to follow the signs I've been given and put so much faith in.
So, even though I've said to myself before that I would write more -- I am now committed. I will write daily -- trying to get those ideas formed into more complex plot lines and characters. I'm also planning on taking a week off in the next month or so and using it to treat my writing as a full-time job, for at least that week.
Not much, but its a start. And so much better than just spinning my wheels being good at something in a place where I am truly not happy.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Spring Fever!
In NOVEMBER!
Hard to believe that the first weekend in November, in Pennsylvania, found me mowing the law in sweats and a short-sleeve T-shirt, and opening the windows to let in the warm sunshine and breeze.
Its Fall. Its November. I'm used to walking around in warm, thick cable knit sweaters or a heavy college sweatshirt with a turtleneck underneath.
Amazing.
But I'm not complaining. Yesterday, was a day to hang out in the yard, doing yard work, chatting with neighbors and then sitting on the porch reading for a bit.
The mild temps and bright sun have also helped brighten everyone's spirits. A week ago, having experienced more than a full week of gray skies, rainy days and chilly temps, people were grumpy, lethargic, out of sorts.
This weekend, everyone I met was in a good mood. And energized.
I don't even mind that on a breezy, sunny Sunday afternoon I'm at my office punching out a deadline report. If anything, I'll probably get it done quicker so that I can get out of here sooner and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.
Hard to believe that the first weekend in November, in Pennsylvania, found me mowing the law in sweats and a short-sleeve T-shirt, and opening the windows to let in the warm sunshine and breeze.
Its Fall. Its November. I'm used to walking around in warm, thick cable knit sweaters or a heavy college sweatshirt with a turtleneck underneath.
Amazing.
But I'm not complaining. Yesterday, was a day to hang out in the yard, doing yard work, chatting with neighbors and then sitting on the porch reading for a bit.
The mild temps and bright sun have also helped brighten everyone's spirits. A week ago, having experienced more than a full week of gray skies, rainy days and chilly temps, people were grumpy, lethargic, out of sorts.
This weekend, everyone I met was in a good mood. And energized.
I don't even mind that on a breezy, sunny Sunday afternoon I'm at my office punching out a deadline report. If anything, I'll probably get it done quicker so that I can get out of here sooner and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
A night of firsts
Last nite I had two firsts.
My first-ever facial, which was wonderful and which I highly recommend, and my first good cry in a really long time. Also highly recommended, and while not wonderful, kind of good in its own twisted way.
Of course, the facial had been planned for a couple of weeks. The crying jag was so spontaneous, it surprised even me. Perhaps it was the relaxation of having the facial and accompanying head, neck and shoulder massage that finally allowed the tears and the emotions that caused them, their due.
My job is stressful and I hate it. Alot to do, too many people to answer to, and way too many personalities and outsiders, vying for their piece of the pie and thinking that I only have to accommodate them.
Well, last month was crazy busy and hectic, but all in all, a good month. I ended it riding a wave of actually feeling upbeat and positive about alot of the aspects of my job. I had gotten alot done, got some positive feedback and felt good about things.
This week however, so many issues just exploded onto the scene, all with imminent deadlines and crises and of course, I'm the only one who can handle it.
The topper was the last phone call of the day. A member business called -- their business was down this summer and fall for the first time in several years. She point blank told me it was my fault. Obviously, as head of my marketing organization, I wasn't doing my job. It was the only reason she could think of that her numbers were off.
Never mind the fact that the economy sucks right now, her business is along a country road, so its a destination, not a passing point, she's cut back on her advertising, and in May, a larger, chain competitor opened up 10 miles away.
Nope, its my fault.
Oh, and btw -- according to her, some of her colleagues at other businesses feel the same way.
I let her vent, told her I had attended a half dozen trade shows to promote our organization and its member businesses, commissioned more advertising this year than in the past three, and that we had gotten over 40,000 leads from that advertising and marketing.
Why it didn't result in an increase in business for her, I don't know. But it is definitely not because I'm not doing my job!
I then offered to attend her group's next meeting to address any problems or concerns.
Please dear God, let me have another job by then.
Right after that phone call, I left the office for my pre-scheduled facial.
"Wow, your shoulders are really tight, I feel like I'm kneading rocks here," Sheryl, said, as I laid on a table with a pumpkin exfoliating mask slathered across my face, and hazlenut oil on my back. "Am I hurting you?"
"Yeah, I said. "It hurts, but its a good hurt. No need to let up or stop"
Driving home, I felt like I had a brand new face, and my back definitely felt better. I felt better.
I heated up some dinner, poured a glass of wine, and chatted on the phone with a friend. When I hung up, my last few moments at work resurfaced, and the tears came. And they just weren't about work, anything and everything that had been bothering me lately, bubbled into my thoughts and out of my eyeballs.
I felt better after about 20 minutes; cleansed, in a way. But today, I'm just tired. I don't want to go to work; I keep muttering "I hate my job" every few minutes. Even the cat is tired of hearing it.
And its not just the job, its that my life in general has been chaotic and crazy and stressful. Money is tight right now, my social life sucks, the friends I want to hang out with are busy or involved and the ones that tend to annoy me, won't leave me alone, and after a year of unsuccessful online dating, I've finally quit, but have no real prospects out there either.
I think it all just came to a head at once.
And I almost feel like having another good cry. But I won't. I'll put on my makeup and go into work and be chipper and upbeat and attack the next pile of stuff and make the pleasant and unpleasant phone calls and get through the day.
But I'm leaving on time, and after a 2-year roller coaster of ups and downs at work, I've learned that this particular job and place is never going to get any better. No matter how hard I work, no matter how much I do, no matter how many improvements I make. Someone, somewhere will find fault; make an issue of something; and blame me for everything that goes wrong, regardless of whether or not its actually my fault.
Besides, I have other things to worry about. I need to undertake some major and expensive home maintenance, which I really can't afford right now, but can't let go. By focusing so much time and energy on work, I've let personal stuff fall by the wayside. There is paperwork to be filed, bills to be mailed, car maintenance, long overdue phone calls to friends, and organizing; and most important, job hunting.
I know things will get better, eventually. They always do. I just hope its sooner rather than later.
My first-ever facial, which was wonderful and which I highly recommend, and my first good cry in a really long time. Also highly recommended, and while not wonderful, kind of good in its own twisted way.
Of course, the facial had been planned for a couple of weeks. The crying jag was so spontaneous, it surprised even me. Perhaps it was the relaxation of having the facial and accompanying head, neck and shoulder massage that finally allowed the tears and the emotions that caused them, their due.
My job is stressful and I hate it. Alot to do, too many people to answer to, and way too many personalities and outsiders, vying for their piece of the pie and thinking that I only have to accommodate them.
Well, last month was crazy busy and hectic, but all in all, a good month. I ended it riding a wave of actually feeling upbeat and positive about alot of the aspects of my job. I had gotten alot done, got some positive feedback and felt good about things.
This week however, so many issues just exploded onto the scene, all with imminent deadlines and crises and of course, I'm the only one who can handle it.
The topper was the last phone call of the day. A member business called -- their business was down this summer and fall for the first time in several years. She point blank told me it was my fault. Obviously, as head of my marketing organization, I wasn't doing my job. It was the only reason she could think of that her numbers were off.
Never mind the fact that the economy sucks right now, her business is along a country road, so its a destination, not a passing point, she's cut back on her advertising, and in May, a larger, chain competitor opened up 10 miles away.
Nope, its my fault.
Oh, and btw -- according to her, some of her colleagues at other businesses feel the same way.
I let her vent, told her I had attended a half dozen trade shows to promote our organization and its member businesses, commissioned more advertising this year than in the past three, and that we had gotten over 40,000 leads from that advertising and marketing.
Why it didn't result in an increase in business for her, I don't know. But it is definitely not because I'm not doing my job!
I then offered to attend her group's next meeting to address any problems or concerns.
Please dear God, let me have another job by then.
Right after that phone call, I left the office for my pre-scheduled facial.
"Wow, your shoulders are really tight, I feel like I'm kneading rocks here," Sheryl, said, as I laid on a table with a pumpkin exfoliating mask slathered across my face, and hazlenut oil on my back. "Am I hurting you?"
"Yeah, I said. "It hurts, but its a good hurt. No need to let up or stop"
Driving home, I felt like I had a brand new face, and my back definitely felt better. I felt better.
I heated up some dinner, poured a glass of wine, and chatted on the phone with a friend. When I hung up, my last few moments at work resurfaced, and the tears came. And they just weren't about work, anything and everything that had been bothering me lately, bubbled into my thoughts and out of my eyeballs.
I felt better after about 20 minutes; cleansed, in a way. But today, I'm just tired. I don't want to go to work; I keep muttering "I hate my job" every few minutes. Even the cat is tired of hearing it.
And its not just the job, its that my life in general has been chaotic and crazy and stressful. Money is tight right now, my social life sucks, the friends I want to hang out with are busy or involved and the ones that tend to annoy me, won't leave me alone, and after a year of unsuccessful online dating, I've finally quit, but have no real prospects out there either.
I think it all just came to a head at once.
And I almost feel like having another good cry. But I won't. I'll put on my makeup and go into work and be chipper and upbeat and attack the next pile of stuff and make the pleasant and unpleasant phone calls and get through the day.
But I'm leaving on time, and after a 2-year roller coaster of ups and downs at work, I've learned that this particular job and place is never going to get any better. No matter how hard I work, no matter how much I do, no matter how many improvements I make. Someone, somewhere will find fault; make an issue of something; and blame me for everything that goes wrong, regardless of whether or not its actually my fault.
Besides, I have other things to worry about. I need to undertake some major and expensive home maintenance, which I really can't afford right now, but can't let go. By focusing so much time and energy on work, I've let personal stuff fall by the wayside. There is paperwork to be filed, bills to be mailed, car maintenance, long overdue phone calls to friends, and organizing; and most important, job hunting.
I know things will get better, eventually. They always do. I just hope its sooner rather than later.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Inner Voice
Its not often I let superstition rule my life.
I've chuckled when black cats have run across my path, can remember walking under at least a couple of ladders, and refuse to forward those chain emails that everyone complains about, but still forwards to everyone they know for fear something horrible will happen if they don't. And of course, once they do, something extremely wonderful will happen to them in the next 7 minutes. NOT
But sometimes, I do heed those little voices we all hear every once in awhile. I bless myself when driving past a church, I occasionally throw salt over my shoulder when I spill quite a lot of it, and lately, I've begun to pay more attention to that little inner voice that says, "Don't do" this, or "you should do" that.
As I write this, I should be driving myself back from a meeting in a city 3 hours away. I had been preparing myself all week long for the trip because it would meet waking at 4:30 a.m., leaving the house by 6 a.m., driving 3 hours, attending a business meeting; and then getting back in the car and driving back another 3 hours. All of it on busy interstates, no less.
But on Monday morning, when the alarm clock went off, the first thought that entered my head was, "I don't want to go on Wednesday".
I chalked it up to dreading the early wake up and long day and boring meeting.
Monday nite, as I settled in, I again thought, "I don't want to drive out there on Wednesday"
Again, I chided myself for being silly and maybe even lazy and steeled myself with professional responsibility. I had to go because I told my colleague I would. I told myself this feeling of not wanting to go was simply because I was buried in work at my own office and had so much to do, and was worried that another day spent on the road would set me back even further.
And then, yesterday morning again. As soon as the alarm clock buzzed me awake, my first thought was, "I really don't want to go to the city tomorrow."
So I bagged it. Yesterday afternoon I called T, my colleague and said I wasn't going to be able to make it. Just too much to do. Thankfully, she was fine with it. Understood my impending deadlines, and besides, another colleague was going to be there with her, so really, it wasn't integral that I be there. Whew.
And all I can say, is afterward, I felt no guilt and a whole lotta relief.
Not sure exactly why I had that nagging, 'don't go' feeling. But it felt so right following it.
Last nite, I told my friend L about it and she agreed. And we both recounted instances where we ignored that little inner voice and the situation turned out badly.
Maybe its and age/wisdome thing, maybe it was simple superstition. Regardless, I'm glad I followed it.
I've chuckled when black cats have run across my path, can remember walking under at least a couple of ladders, and refuse to forward those chain emails that everyone complains about, but still forwards to everyone they know for fear something horrible will happen if they don't. And of course, once they do, something extremely wonderful will happen to them in the next 7 minutes. NOT
But sometimes, I do heed those little voices we all hear every once in awhile. I bless myself when driving past a church, I occasionally throw salt over my shoulder when I spill quite a lot of it, and lately, I've begun to pay more attention to that little inner voice that says, "Don't do" this, or "you should do" that.
As I write this, I should be driving myself back from a meeting in a city 3 hours away. I had been preparing myself all week long for the trip because it would meet waking at 4:30 a.m., leaving the house by 6 a.m., driving 3 hours, attending a business meeting; and then getting back in the car and driving back another 3 hours. All of it on busy interstates, no less.
But on Monday morning, when the alarm clock went off, the first thought that entered my head was, "I don't want to go on Wednesday".
I chalked it up to dreading the early wake up and long day and boring meeting.
Monday nite, as I settled in, I again thought, "I don't want to drive out there on Wednesday"
Again, I chided myself for being silly and maybe even lazy and steeled myself with professional responsibility. I had to go because I told my colleague I would. I told myself this feeling of not wanting to go was simply because I was buried in work at my own office and had so much to do, and was worried that another day spent on the road would set me back even further.
And then, yesterday morning again. As soon as the alarm clock buzzed me awake, my first thought was, "I really don't want to go to the city tomorrow."
So I bagged it. Yesterday afternoon I called T, my colleague and said I wasn't going to be able to make it. Just too much to do. Thankfully, she was fine with it. Understood my impending deadlines, and besides, another colleague was going to be there with her, so really, it wasn't integral that I be there. Whew.
And all I can say, is afterward, I felt no guilt and a whole lotta relief.
Not sure exactly why I had that nagging, 'don't go' feeling. But it felt so right following it.
Last nite, I told my friend L about it and she agreed. And we both recounted instances where we ignored that little inner voice and the situation turned out badly.
Maybe its and age/wisdome thing, maybe it was simple superstition. Regardless, I'm glad I followed it.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Stranger than Fiction
There's a line in Bridget Jones' Diary where Bridget poses the hypothetical question, "have you ever looked up a guy's phone number and dialed it, just to make sure he exists?"
The point being, that, if he hasn't called you yet, well after the time he said he would, something horrible must have happened to him, right? Otherwise, you most certainly would have heard from him by now. The only way to find out for certain, is to do the passive aggressive hang-up call.
This is often the ploy of teenage or college-aged females. However, as we get older and wiser and let our pride get in the way of doing that (some of us, anyway) there is still always a part of us that wants to. Of course, Caller ID is putting quite the crimp in this long-used female tactic.
Whenever a potential interest comes onto the scene, even the most stoic, independent and toughest of us become that insecure 16-year old, glancing at the phone every few minutes or, in this age of internet dating, checking our email. And when they don't call or write, we try to figure out a way to check up on them, without their knowing of course.
This girl included.
No matter how much we might profess not to need a man, the point is, most of us do want one. And when there is the possiblity of us satisfying that want, we get a little crazy.
Recently, I've done the fade with two potential internet dates because in our conversations or on our dates, or lack thereof, I've simply lost interest -- as have they. For the past couple of weeks, I've been doing the opposite -- instead of racing to the cell or answering machine or inbox to see if they've called or emailed, I check it with one eye open -- hoping there is nothing there and breathing a sigh of relief when there isn't.
But that may be changing. This week, I struck up an unlikely email conversation with someone not from a dating site. And altho I have no idea whether or not I'll ever even actually meet this person, as we didn't connect for the purpose of dating, I find myself checking my email more than I normally do and wanting to find new messages from him in my inbox.
Strange, I know. And every time I check my email specifically to see if he's answered mine yet, I get more perturbed at myself. But I can't help it. Inside every woman there's a girl, who thrives on the attention of boys, even if it isn't going to amount to anything -- because there's always the hope that one day, it will.
The point being, that, if he hasn't called you yet, well after the time he said he would, something horrible must have happened to him, right? Otherwise, you most certainly would have heard from him by now. The only way to find out for certain, is to do the passive aggressive hang-up call.
This is often the ploy of teenage or college-aged females. However, as we get older and wiser and let our pride get in the way of doing that (some of us, anyway) there is still always a part of us that wants to. Of course, Caller ID is putting quite the crimp in this long-used female tactic.
Whenever a potential interest comes onto the scene, even the most stoic, independent and toughest of us become that insecure 16-year old, glancing at the phone every few minutes or, in this age of internet dating, checking our email. And when they don't call or write, we try to figure out a way to check up on them, without their knowing of course.
This girl included.
No matter how much we might profess not to need a man, the point is, most of us do want one. And when there is the possiblity of us satisfying that want, we get a little crazy.
Recently, I've done the fade with two potential internet dates because in our conversations or on our dates, or lack thereof, I've simply lost interest -- as have they. For the past couple of weeks, I've been doing the opposite -- instead of racing to the cell or answering machine or inbox to see if they've called or emailed, I check it with one eye open -- hoping there is nothing there and breathing a sigh of relief when there isn't.
But that may be changing. This week, I struck up an unlikely email conversation with someone not from a dating site. And altho I have no idea whether or not I'll ever even actually meet this person, as we didn't connect for the purpose of dating, I find myself checking my email more than I normally do and wanting to find new messages from him in my inbox.
Strange, I know. And every time I check my email specifically to see if he's answered mine yet, I get more perturbed at myself. But I can't help it. Inside every woman there's a girl, who thrives on the attention of boys, even if it isn't going to amount to anything -- because there's always the hope that one day, it will.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Pet Peeves
Growing up, my brother and I were always wanting pets. Living in an apartment for the first few years of childhood -- 8 for me, and and three for him -- we were forced to be happy with carnival goldfish, eventually convincing the parents to buy an actual bowl and store-bought goldfish. None of which ever lived past 30 days or so.
Then one day, we graduated to a parakeet. We had Duchess for quite a few years until one day, she literally fell off her perch, dead, during dinner.
Of course, we used getting Duchess as a springboard for a dog. Mom had no more excuses -- we were old enough to help take care of it and we had moved into a house. And a bird just didn't cut it -- you couldn't play catch with, or walk, a parakeet. So my brother and I whined and begged and graduated to actual hard-core negotiations. "I'll walk the new dog." "He'll make sure to feed it and keep the water bowl filled."
Eventually we won out and wore mom down. Her sister's sister-in-law's dog had just had puppies and we were more than welcome to them.
Cuddles entered the house like a little lamb, but left a little over a year later like the Tasmanian Devil.
Her path of destruction included chewing the entire cord off of my father's brand new power saw; countless shoes and socks that were unwearable or never to be found; digging up a hornet's nest under the porch; chewing through at least half a dozen spokes on the back porch banister; greeting us every morning with a little "present" at the foot of the front stairs, no matter how late we had walked her; tearing up a corner of the carpeting on the back porch, and lots more that I've since forgotten.
All I know, is she was unbelievably cute, and friendly and we all loved her, but....my parents could no longer handle the destruction. No matter how closely we watched her, the minute she had any length of time without us being right there to watch her every move, she destroyed something else.
I remember holding her and crying the night before we gave her away, but I also knew my parents could not be talked out of it.
A year or so later, we got another dog, Brandy, who we then had for over 10 years. He was obviously calmer and way less destructive than Cuddles had been. When Brandy was about 3 or 4, Rebel entered our lives. My brother and his friends, walking home from softball practice had stopped at the edge of someone's backyard to play with these kittens they had seen. The owner came out and offered them one, if they wanted. No one did.
"Gee, that's too bad," she said. "I can't keep them all. I guess I"ll have to drown them in the river." Or, at least that's the story my brother and his friends told.
Every kid took a kitten home that day, relieving the woman of the entire litter. Every kid also got in trouble for bringing said kittens home, but no one returned any of them. Rebel, who had been the runt of the litter, irritated our dog, introduced fleas into the house that summer, which were only eliminated after a professional flea bath and several "flea bombs" being used in the house, and a prescription salve for my mom who got so many flea bites on her shins her legs looked like a war zone; ate like a pig, and was one of the most affectionate cats I'd ever encountered. She died just a few short years ago, at the ripe old age of 21.
I had long been gone from my parents home by then, living in an apartment with a no pets lease. After she died, I felt the longing for a pet of my own, now that I could no longer get my pet fix at Mom and Dad's.
Last year, I bought my own house and adopted a cat. Cleo has been with me over a year, and it is truly a love-hate relationship. The first few months I had her, she cost me hundreds of dollars in vet bills as we tried to determine why she was losing weight. X-rays, blood tests, thyroid tests, you name it, she had it done. The vet eventually found a slight heart murmur, and decided her finicky eating habits were more to blame for her skinniness, than anything else. BTW -- she also has excellent cholesterol and lipid levels, high energy, great lungs, and all her other organs are in tip-top shape.
With that scare behind me, I spent two months trying out different cat foods and people foods on her until I finally found the few flavors of the one brand of food, she'll eat and supplement that with the one treat she likes, and a daily slice of turkey breast. Problem semi-solved. She's gained a pound or two, and cleans her plates so I"m happy. Although, every few weeks, she mysteriously just stops eating one of the above mentioned foods for maybe a week or so, gets a bit skinny, then voila, one day I come home from work, and she eats whatever selection I then give her and she's back to normal. I just don't get it. I think she might be an anorexic supermodel.
I've now moved onto furniture repair -- she's a scratcher, but only when I"m not there. Oh, and she's a jumper, which means I sometimes come home to knocked over items on a good day, broken ones on a bad day.
Thing is, I couldn't imagine life without her and I think that's why pet people put up with so much. We whine and complain about our animals' negative behavior, but in the end, wouldn't give them up. They add something to our lives that at times, is intangible, but definitely worth more than we put out for them in return.
Each nite, as Cleo jumps onto the bed and snuggles in behind my knees to sleep, or curls up on my lap as I type away on PC, I don't even care about the vet bills, the scratched furniture or any of the other things I often find myself complaining about.
She's as much a part of my life as my family and friends.
Then one day, we graduated to a parakeet. We had Duchess for quite a few years until one day, she literally fell off her perch, dead, during dinner.
Of course, we used getting Duchess as a springboard for a dog. Mom had no more excuses -- we were old enough to help take care of it and we had moved into a house. And a bird just didn't cut it -- you couldn't play catch with, or walk, a parakeet. So my brother and I whined and begged and graduated to actual hard-core negotiations. "I'll walk the new dog." "He'll make sure to feed it and keep the water bowl filled."
Eventually we won out and wore mom down. Her sister's sister-in-law's dog had just had puppies and we were more than welcome to them.
Cuddles entered the house like a little lamb, but left a little over a year later like the Tasmanian Devil.
Her path of destruction included chewing the entire cord off of my father's brand new power saw; countless shoes and socks that were unwearable or never to be found; digging up a hornet's nest under the porch; chewing through at least half a dozen spokes on the back porch banister; greeting us every morning with a little "present" at the foot of the front stairs, no matter how late we had walked her; tearing up a corner of the carpeting on the back porch, and lots more that I've since forgotten.
All I know, is she was unbelievably cute, and friendly and we all loved her, but....my parents could no longer handle the destruction. No matter how closely we watched her, the minute she had any length of time without us being right there to watch her every move, she destroyed something else.
I remember holding her and crying the night before we gave her away, but I also knew my parents could not be talked out of it.
A year or so later, we got another dog, Brandy, who we then had for over 10 years. He was obviously calmer and way less destructive than Cuddles had been. When Brandy was about 3 or 4, Rebel entered our lives. My brother and his friends, walking home from softball practice had stopped at the edge of someone's backyard to play with these kittens they had seen. The owner came out and offered them one, if they wanted. No one did.
"Gee, that's too bad," she said. "I can't keep them all. I guess I"ll have to drown them in the river." Or, at least that's the story my brother and his friends told.
Every kid took a kitten home that day, relieving the woman of the entire litter. Every kid also got in trouble for bringing said kittens home, but no one returned any of them. Rebel, who had been the runt of the litter, irritated our dog, introduced fleas into the house that summer, which were only eliminated after a professional flea bath and several "flea bombs" being used in the house, and a prescription salve for my mom who got so many flea bites on her shins her legs looked like a war zone; ate like a pig, and was one of the most affectionate cats I'd ever encountered. She died just a few short years ago, at the ripe old age of 21.
I had long been gone from my parents home by then, living in an apartment with a no pets lease. After she died, I felt the longing for a pet of my own, now that I could no longer get my pet fix at Mom and Dad's.
Last year, I bought my own house and adopted a cat. Cleo has been with me over a year, and it is truly a love-hate relationship. The first few months I had her, she cost me hundreds of dollars in vet bills as we tried to determine why she was losing weight. X-rays, blood tests, thyroid tests, you name it, she had it done. The vet eventually found a slight heart murmur, and decided her finicky eating habits were more to blame for her skinniness, than anything else. BTW -- she also has excellent cholesterol and lipid levels, high energy, great lungs, and all her other organs are in tip-top shape.
With that scare behind me, I spent two months trying out different cat foods and people foods on her until I finally found the few flavors of the one brand of food, she'll eat and supplement that with the one treat she likes, and a daily slice of turkey breast. Problem semi-solved. She's gained a pound or two, and cleans her plates so I"m happy. Although, every few weeks, she mysteriously just stops eating one of the above mentioned foods for maybe a week or so, gets a bit skinny, then voila, one day I come home from work, and she eats whatever selection I then give her and she's back to normal. I just don't get it. I think she might be an anorexic supermodel.
I've now moved onto furniture repair -- she's a scratcher, but only when I"m not there. Oh, and she's a jumper, which means I sometimes come home to knocked over items on a good day, broken ones on a bad day.
Thing is, I couldn't imagine life without her and I think that's why pet people put up with so much. We whine and complain about our animals' negative behavior, but in the end, wouldn't give them up. They add something to our lives that at times, is intangible, but definitely worth more than we put out for them in return.
Each nite, as Cleo jumps onto the bed and snuggles in behind my knees to sleep, or curls up on my lap as I type away on PC, I don't even care about the vet bills, the scratched furniture or any of the other things I often find myself complaining about.
She's as much a part of my life as my family and friends.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
The Final Goodbye
This time last week, I was getting ready to travel 350 miles to attend funeral services for one of my longest and closest friends.
I made the trip, and although not one I was at all looking forward to, was actually glad in a very weird sort of way that I had. It provided closure and it also allowed me to truly grieve.
The week following her death, while her family was recuperating in the hospital and some other college friends of mine emailed back and forth about the tragic accident, I didn't shed a tear. Each time I thought of S, it was as though a part of me just didn't quite comprehend that this had actually happened.
But on Sunday, when I got in my car and started heading to her hometown, I knew there was no denying it. In fact, when I got within 30 miles of her home, I subconciously started to slow down instead of going faster. Obviously now, in no hurry to get there.
The viewing was surreal. But it got through to me. She really was gone for good.
While I got a little teary, I didn't actually cry. Instead, I had trouble forming normal sentences. "I'll cell you on my call when I get" I told one friend, instead of I'll call you on my cell when I leave.
When J arrived, we talked for about an hour, reminiscing about parties we had all gone to, visits I had made, etc. and she said something that rocked me to my core. She said that she too, had not really accepted S was gone until she saw her that night in the casket. And all week long, she could hear S in the back of her head, cracking her jokes, saying her trademark phrases, etc.
The same thing happened to me. I would be thinking, "My God, S is dead." And then I 'd hear a phone conversation we'd had or remember a party in college we went to.
I thought it so strange we had both had the same experience.
That night, I spent some time with S's family, talking, eating, reminiscing. And it was actually a happy time. Well, not happy. Perhaps bittersweet is a better word.
The next day was the funeral. That is when it all hit me. As I walked out of the funeral home to the car, the tears that had been intermittently seeping out over the past 2 days, streamed. More tears at the cemetery and the last thing I wanted to do was attend the luncheon. But I also wasn't ready to make the 6-hour drive home just then either.
I went to the luncheon.
It was a needed release. Suddenly, thoughts were again taken up with more mundane details -- finding a seat, getting a drink, using the restroom. We ate and talked and laughed and a couple hours later I was ready to hit the road.
I said my goodbyes and left, wondering if this would be the last time I visited the area and S's family. And before getting back on the interstate, I took a detour back to S's neighborhood and drove past her house one more time. It was empty in more ways than one.
Since then I've been so cognizant in simple things that she will no longer experience -- a cool morning, a brilliantly sunny afternoon, hearing a favorite song on the radio, grilling and eating a juicy steak for dinner, sleeping in on Sunday and making pancakes at noon.
Its made me more aware of, and appreciative of, all aspects of life. Its also made me more aware of how fragile our balance really is in this world, and how there are no guarantees.
I made the trip, and although not one I was at all looking forward to, was actually glad in a very weird sort of way that I had. It provided closure and it also allowed me to truly grieve.
The week following her death, while her family was recuperating in the hospital and some other college friends of mine emailed back and forth about the tragic accident, I didn't shed a tear. Each time I thought of S, it was as though a part of me just didn't quite comprehend that this had actually happened.
But on Sunday, when I got in my car and started heading to her hometown, I knew there was no denying it. In fact, when I got within 30 miles of her home, I subconciously started to slow down instead of going faster. Obviously now, in no hurry to get there.
The viewing was surreal. But it got through to me. She really was gone for good.
While I got a little teary, I didn't actually cry. Instead, I had trouble forming normal sentences. "I'll cell you on my call when I get" I told one friend, instead of I'll call you on my cell when I leave.
When J arrived, we talked for about an hour, reminiscing about parties we had all gone to, visits I had made, etc. and she said something that rocked me to my core. She said that she too, had not really accepted S was gone until she saw her that night in the casket. And all week long, she could hear S in the back of her head, cracking her jokes, saying her trademark phrases, etc.
The same thing happened to me. I would be thinking, "My God, S is dead." And then I 'd hear a phone conversation we'd had or remember a party in college we went to.
I thought it so strange we had both had the same experience.
That night, I spent some time with S's family, talking, eating, reminiscing. And it was actually a happy time. Well, not happy. Perhaps bittersweet is a better word.
The next day was the funeral. That is when it all hit me. As I walked out of the funeral home to the car, the tears that had been intermittently seeping out over the past 2 days, streamed. More tears at the cemetery and the last thing I wanted to do was attend the luncheon. But I also wasn't ready to make the 6-hour drive home just then either.
I went to the luncheon.
It was a needed release. Suddenly, thoughts were again taken up with more mundane details -- finding a seat, getting a drink, using the restroom. We ate and talked and laughed and a couple hours later I was ready to hit the road.
I said my goodbyes and left, wondering if this would be the last time I visited the area and S's family. And before getting back on the interstate, I took a detour back to S's neighborhood and drove past her house one more time. It was empty in more ways than one.
Since then I've been so cognizant in simple things that she will no longer experience -- a cool morning, a brilliantly sunny afternoon, hearing a favorite song on the radio, grilling and eating a juicy steak for dinner, sleeping in on Sunday and making pancakes at noon.
Its made me more aware of, and appreciative of, all aspects of life. Its also made me more aware of how fragile our balance really is in this world, and how there are no guarantees.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Closure
This past week has been surreal. It started out pretty good. I made a normally long weekend, an extra long one taking off both Friday and Tuesday.
Had a get-together with my old college roommate who was in town for the week, a clandestine happy hour with the neighbors in my backyard, some shopping, had plenty of time to get the lawn mowed, house cleaned and clothes laundered, a first date with a new guy I met, and on Tuesday, I slept in and prepared to just enjoy a day around the house doing whatever the mood struck me to do.
And then the phone call came.
My college friend S, (not my roommate) had been killed in a car crash. The rest of the day was simply numbed by the shock and the realization that something that horrible had happened.
But as I've already blogged, I've continued to go through the motions of daily life, pretty much not grieving. Just perhaps a deep breath here or a melancholy sigh there when I think about S, memories of visits and college and late-nite chats -- all happy thoughts, now suddenly oh so bittersweet.
Tomorrow, I leave for the 6-hour drive to attend her viewing and funeral. A sad trip and one that I'm not really looking forward to, but one I couldn't not make.
Originally, I had intended to stay at a hotel. Her husband has insisted I stay with them. I feel weird doing that, but he was firm in his conversation -- "you're staying here. There are no hotels."
He and I both know S would have wanted it that way too. And truth be told, part of me is glad. Staying at a hotel would make logistics hard. I know where her home is, but don't really know my way around her town very well, and its rural so one wrong turn and you could go miles out of your way. Also, I wasn't looking forward to going back to a hotel after the evening viewing, sitting alone in a hotel room and thinking about the funeral the next day. Lastly, I've been having to budget very strictly lately, and quite honestly, its a blessing not to have to cough up the bucks for a hotel room in addition to the gas to get out there, flowers for the funeral, etc.
And as I was thinking that, it struck me how life trudges on no matter what happens in our lives. I still had to worry about the minute details. Carry through on work deadlines and meet up with friends with whom I had made plans.
When I talked to S's husband and sister today, while I know they are still grieving, they still talked about other things -- a favorite store that had closed in town, the family's recent vacation. I heard the kids talking, and at one point laughing in the background. And I knew that that is how S would have wanted it. Life does go on whether we want it to or whether we're ready for it.
And even while still reminiscing about my friend, I am also thinking about other things. Analyzing the date I had on Monday nite and trying to determine how much interest I have in this new guy. Sending out an application for a job I recently saw advertised that I think will be better than the one I have now. Planning out my next home improvement project.
It still bothers me that I haven't really cried over S's death. But it doesn't surprise me. We were two tough broads, as we used to joke with one another. We put up with no one's bullshit, had a practical and common sense apporach to life, and our friendship was one built on shared good times and humor; where sentiment was conveyed in joke emails, or eye rolls if one of us ever got close to crossing the line of getting emotional.
When S and I discussed problems or issues or personal dilemmas, there was no crying on the other's shoulders or sniffling on the other end of the phone. We bolstered each other up by listening to, but ignoring the emotion, and instead cutting down or advising how to eliminate the thing that was causing the problem in the first place.
My boyfriend wasn't spending enough time with me or was being a prick? "Tell him you want/need him to do x,y or z, and if he refuses or doesn't follow through, then walk" S would tell me, laughing. "Or better yet, give me his number, I'll do it."
Mom driving me crazy, "Awwww, just ignore her. It'll pass"
There were no Oprah or Dr. Phil moments with S. No long, drawn-out soul searching discussions. Identify the problem, think of hte most practical and least time-consuming solution and take care of it. Then compartmentalize. Then afterwards, we could both laugh about it.
I think that's why there's been no wellspring of tears or crying jag. Each time I think of her being gone, I remember something fun we did, or something funny she had said, and I can't help but chuckle.
However, tomorrow and Monday will be very different. It will be a true, final farewell, and no denying that she truly is gone; and all that's left are those fun and funny memories. But that's how she would have wanted it. No use crying over something you can't do anything about, she'd say. Just move on.
I know we all will. I'm just glad for all the memories, and in a way, glad that they are all so funny and happy, that in thinking about her, I'm chuckling instead of crying.
Had a get-together with my old college roommate who was in town for the week, a clandestine happy hour with the neighbors in my backyard, some shopping, had plenty of time to get the lawn mowed, house cleaned and clothes laundered, a first date with a new guy I met, and on Tuesday, I slept in and prepared to just enjoy a day around the house doing whatever the mood struck me to do.
And then the phone call came.
My college friend S, (not my roommate) had been killed in a car crash. The rest of the day was simply numbed by the shock and the realization that something that horrible had happened.
But as I've already blogged, I've continued to go through the motions of daily life, pretty much not grieving. Just perhaps a deep breath here or a melancholy sigh there when I think about S, memories of visits and college and late-nite chats -- all happy thoughts, now suddenly oh so bittersweet.
Tomorrow, I leave for the 6-hour drive to attend her viewing and funeral. A sad trip and one that I'm not really looking forward to, but one I couldn't not make.
Originally, I had intended to stay at a hotel. Her husband has insisted I stay with them. I feel weird doing that, but he was firm in his conversation -- "you're staying here. There are no hotels."
He and I both know S would have wanted it that way too. And truth be told, part of me is glad. Staying at a hotel would make logistics hard. I know where her home is, but don't really know my way around her town very well, and its rural so one wrong turn and you could go miles out of your way. Also, I wasn't looking forward to going back to a hotel after the evening viewing, sitting alone in a hotel room and thinking about the funeral the next day. Lastly, I've been having to budget very strictly lately, and quite honestly, its a blessing not to have to cough up the bucks for a hotel room in addition to the gas to get out there, flowers for the funeral, etc.
And as I was thinking that, it struck me how life trudges on no matter what happens in our lives. I still had to worry about the minute details. Carry through on work deadlines and meet up with friends with whom I had made plans.
When I talked to S's husband and sister today, while I know they are still grieving, they still talked about other things -- a favorite store that had closed in town, the family's recent vacation. I heard the kids talking, and at one point laughing in the background. And I knew that that is how S would have wanted it. Life does go on whether we want it to or whether we're ready for it.
And even while still reminiscing about my friend, I am also thinking about other things. Analyzing the date I had on Monday nite and trying to determine how much interest I have in this new guy. Sending out an application for a job I recently saw advertised that I think will be better than the one I have now. Planning out my next home improvement project.
It still bothers me that I haven't really cried over S's death. But it doesn't surprise me. We were two tough broads, as we used to joke with one another. We put up with no one's bullshit, had a practical and common sense apporach to life, and our friendship was one built on shared good times and humor; where sentiment was conveyed in joke emails, or eye rolls if one of us ever got close to crossing the line of getting emotional.
When S and I discussed problems or issues or personal dilemmas, there was no crying on the other's shoulders or sniffling on the other end of the phone. We bolstered each other up by listening to, but ignoring the emotion, and instead cutting down or advising how to eliminate the thing that was causing the problem in the first place.
My boyfriend wasn't spending enough time with me or was being a prick? "Tell him you want/need him to do x,y or z, and if he refuses or doesn't follow through, then walk" S would tell me, laughing. "Or better yet, give me his number, I'll do it."
Mom driving me crazy, "Awwww, just ignore her. It'll pass"
There were no Oprah or Dr. Phil moments with S. No long, drawn-out soul searching discussions. Identify the problem, think of hte most practical and least time-consuming solution and take care of it. Then compartmentalize. Then afterwards, we could both laugh about it.
I think that's why there's been no wellspring of tears or crying jag. Each time I think of her being gone, I remember something fun we did, or something funny she had said, and I can't help but chuckle.
However, tomorrow and Monday will be very different. It will be a true, final farewell, and no denying that she truly is gone; and all that's left are those fun and funny memories. But that's how she would have wanted it. No use crying over something you can't do anything about, she'd say. Just move on.
I know we all will. I'm just glad for all the memories, and in a way, glad that they are all so funny and happy, that in thinking about her, I'm chuckling instead of crying.
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