This weekend generated some double-takes and random observations. Which of course I must share with you.
One: while cleaning my kitchen I found that I am the proud owner of ... a cleaver.
I don't know where the cleaver came from. It appears to have arrived as part of a set, with the rest of my knives, but to be completely honest I can't remember where THOSE came from. I suspect that they may have been a wedding present, but it would have to have been from someone who doesn't know me very well because seriously? A CLEAVER? I have no business holding, attempting to utilize, or in any way touching a crazy sharp cleaver.
Because it's all heavy and slice-y. And I'm all accident prone and cuttable.
Plus, having a cleaver in my kitchen seems like an invitation for something horror movie-ish to take place. Not that the house is big enough for me not to SEE the psycho in the kitchen with the cleaver -- it is -- but still.
The cleaver might have to go.
Two: I am also the proud owner of an electric heating pad.
So this is what happened: I am a klutz.
I was in my friend's car, driving back from a soccer game (more on that in a moment) and she was all "Let's stop and get a soda" and I was super thirsty so I was in agreement, but my purse was in the back seat so I twisted around and reached. And reaaaaached. Apparently, I like to ... "forget" ... that one of my shoulders is totally held together with duct tape and wishes. (Well, not true. It's held together with screws and prayers) and was like, no no, I'm really SUPER BENDY!
I am not super bendy.
I pulled every muscle between shoulder of doom and my left ear. I also may have conked SOD right out of commission.
Ooops.
And also?
OOOOWWWWWWCCCCCHHHHHHHHH.
The only way to apologize to the muscles for being all "Whee I'm Plastic Woman" was muscle relaxing drugs and heat. But I didn't have an electric heating pad, I only had one of the ones you microwave -- which is awesome, but not handy -- so I had to go buy one.
I felt like I was 100000 years old when I creaked my way into the Wallyworld and picked one up.
But laying on the toasty warm goodness later? PURE heaven.
Three: There's ticks in them there fields
As a person who got an extra sprinkling of obssessive compulsive dust, I have a laundry list of things that I really ... REALLY ... don't enjoy.
One of them is ticks. You might be thinking to yourself, okay, no one ENJOYS the ticks, so -- what's the big deal.
You would be missing the bigger freak out.
Here's what would happen if I found a tick on me: First, I would probably pass out. Because -- TICK. AERRRRRGGGHHHH TICK GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF hyperventilation would be occuring, and lack of oxygen has been known to result in unconsciousness.
Second, I would probably have to be tranq'd.
Third -- I suspect an emergency room would be next. Or a straightjacket. Or ... both. Both seems likely.
Because of the tick thing, I also don't do ... lawns/playingfields/ grass of any kind. I don't walk barefoot on it, I don't sit on it, I don't enjoy the grass.
But on Saturday -- I don't know what happened. I was at a soccer game, watching a bunch of 11 year old girls play soccer and all of a sudden I was SITTING ON THE GRASS. And kind of enjoying it. And not freaking out. (well, a little bit freaking out when I realized that a tick could potentially climb down my pants. But I somehow got over it)
I still don't know what to make of it.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
I and Love and You
I'm trying to think of a good way to launch into this post, but perhaps there isn't one. So instead of trying to be crafty, I'll be blunt.
My friend's baby has cancer.
I have rewritten this follow up sentence about 10 times, and keep deleting what I have typed because none of them convey anything that carries any meaning. Nothing that I can say next matters, I don't think, except that her baby is sick, her world is crumbling, and she is fighting in ways that I cannot comprehend or express.
I will not tell her story here, as it is hers to tell and not mine. My story, in connection to this, is a sense of helplessness. I would so, so like to find a way to put my shoulder under a corner of the load she is carrying and lift some of it for her.
Because when you love someone, that's what you do. You try to help. In big ways, and in small ones. You listen and you encourage and you lend a hand and you give a hug and you make sure that no one is alone who doesn't want to be, and you keep doing it for as long as it takes, whenever it takes.
Sometimes, that's all there is... and it's the best there is.
My friend's baby has cancer.
I have rewritten this follow up sentence about 10 times, and keep deleting what I have typed because none of them convey anything that carries any meaning. Nothing that I can say next matters, I don't think, except that her baby is sick, her world is crumbling, and she is fighting in ways that I cannot comprehend or express.
I will not tell her story here, as it is hers to tell and not mine. My story, in connection to this, is a sense of helplessness. I would so, so like to find a way to put my shoulder under a corner of the load she is carrying and lift some of it for her.
Because when you love someone, that's what you do. You try to help. In big ways, and in small ones. You listen and you encourage and you lend a hand and you give a hug and you make sure that no one is alone who doesn't want to be, and you keep doing it for as long as it takes, whenever it takes.
Sometimes, that's all there is... and it's the best there is.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The Last One about 9/11
This is the last 9/11 related post I will write. Not that I've devoted so much time to it, mind you, but so many people have so many more interesting things to say about that day, and much more effective ways of expressing it, that I feel like anything I might say is weak in comparison.
So this is it.
And it's about a woman who is sort of my hero.
Her name is Lauren Manning.
If you've never heard of her, here's a little bit of her story.On September 11th, she was walking into One World Trade Center just as the plane hit. A fireball went down the elevator bank and shot into the lobby. She was engulfed in flame -- burned over 80% of her body. She ran out of the building -- ON FIRE -- and was able to get help.
She says she made a choice. She decided to live. For herself, for her husband, for her 10 month old baby. She wasn't going to give up. She was going to fight.
And she did. She fought through rehab and surgery and years of physical therapy, and she's still here, despite ridiculous odds.
I've never met Lauren Manning, and I probably never will, but she is one of my heroes. Because she chose to fight when it would have been easy to surrender. Because she decided that she wouldn't quit, no matter how much it hurt or how hard it was.
I think that we all took different lessons from 9/11/2001. This is the one I've carried with me: you can never quit. In the face of adversity, you need to be willing to fight. And you have the strength to succeed, at whatever it is. Nothing is as strong as your will to triumph.
I don't know what the terrorists wanted to teach us and, frankly, I don't care. I know what I have learned from Lauren Manning -- and hers is the far more important lesson.
So this is it.
And it's about a woman who is sort of my hero.
Her name is Lauren Manning.
If you've never heard of her, here's a little bit of her story.On September 11th, she was walking into One World Trade Center just as the plane hit. A fireball went down the elevator bank and shot into the lobby. She was engulfed in flame -- burned over 80% of her body. She ran out of the building -- ON FIRE -- and was able to get help.
She says she made a choice. She decided to live. For herself, for her husband, for her 10 month old baby. She wasn't going to give up. She was going to fight.
And she did. She fought through rehab and surgery and years of physical therapy, and she's still here, despite ridiculous odds.
I've never met Lauren Manning, and I probably never will, but she is one of my heroes. Because she chose to fight when it would have been easy to surrender. Because she decided that she wouldn't quit, no matter how much it hurt or how hard it was.
I think that we all took different lessons from 9/11/2001. This is the one I've carried with me: you can never quit. In the face of adversity, you need to be willing to fight. And you have the strength to succeed, at whatever it is. Nothing is as strong as your will to triumph.
I don't know what the terrorists wanted to teach us and, frankly, I don't care. I know what I have learned from Lauren Manning -- and hers is the far more important lesson.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Out of Office
So on Friday I have to go to meet with a client.
On the one hand: Yay! I get to leave the office!
On the other hand: OMG! I have to leave the office!
I've been working from home for the past four years. As I've mentioned in a few places, the dress code in my home office is VERRRRRRRRY relaxed and includes some things that I should really reconsider leaving the house in. For example, today I'm wearing my favorite jeans, which have glow in the dark gel from light sticks permanently smeared into the cuffs because I wore them to Neon Night with 30 Seconds to Mars, a black t shirt with a skull made up of hot pink reflective dots printed on the front of it, and no shoes (which lets me admire my recently manicured, painted black toenails). Oh and my hot pink, chunky g-shock.
Pros: I'm comfy. And I actually match.
Cons: this is pretty much how I dress every day. And I absolutely can't meet a client like this.
Oh, and did I mention? I dyed my hair purple. Not ALL purple, mind you. And not Cosplay plastic wig purple (that reference may not make sense to you. If it does, you just got a amusing picture in your mind of anime-esque violet hair. That's not what my hair looks like), but purple nontheless. With of course, the reasoning that I work from home. I never have to meet clients!
Ooops.
In addition to dying my hair purple, I also cut it super short. Which means that the tat on the back of my neck is MUCH more visible. Which is super fun, but which also -- well, let's say this. There are industries that fully support this look. Unfortunately, I don't work in one of them.
I work with banks.
As I was putting my Converse on this morning so I could go to the dumpster, I wondered how this transition came about. Once upon the time, you see, I was a high school teacher. A well dressed one, who wore heels every day and had long, "normal" hair. Nine years later, I have traded in my professional adult clothes for tshirts and hoodies.
But are you happy now? I asked myself as I trudged through the rain. Were you happy then?
I am happy. I tend to look like a delinquent college student -- I get carded more and more often, as though I'm aging in reverse -- but I'm happy. Disheveled and probably inappropriate, but pretty damn content.
Except for when I have to meet a client.
It'll be fine. I'm sure I have a dress, somewhere, that I can pair with a suit jacket-y thing. And some heels. In fact, I know that I do.
And it's got some purple in it. Which should just match my hair.
This should be interesting.
On the one hand: Yay! I get to leave the office!
On the other hand: OMG! I have to leave the office!
I've been working from home for the past four years. As I've mentioned in a few places, the dress code in my home office is VERRRRRRRRY relaxed and includes some things that I should really reconsider leaving the house in. For example, today I'm wearing my favorite jeans, which have glow in the dark gel from light sticks permanently smeared into the cuffs because I wore them to Neon Night with 30 Seconds to Mars, a black t shirt with a skull made up of hot pink reflective dots printed on the front of it, and no shoes (which lets me admire my recently manicured, painted black toenails). Oh and my hot pink, chunky g-shock.
Pros: I'm comfy. And I actually match.
Cons: this is pretty much how I dress every day. And I absolutely can't meet a client like this.
Oh, and did I mention? I dyed my hair purple. Not ALL purple, mind you. And not Cosplay plastic wig purple (that reference may not make sense to you. If it does, you just got a amusing picture in your mind of anime-esque violet hair. That's not what my hair looks like), but purple nontheless. With of course, the reasoning that I work from home. I never have to meet clients!
Ooops.
In addition to dying my hair purple, I also cut it super short. Which means that the tat on the back of my neck is MUCH more visible. Which is super fun, but which also -- well, let's say this. There are industries that fully support this look. Unfortunately, I don't work in one of them.
I work with banks.
As I was putting my Converse on this morning so I could go to the dumpster, I wondered how this transition came about. Once upon the time, you see, I was a high school teacher. A well dressed one, who wore heels every day and had long, "normal" hair. Nine years later, I have traded in my professional adult clothes for tshirts and hoodies.
But are you happy now? I asked myself as I trudged through the rain. Were you happy then?
I am happy. I tend to look like a delinquent college student -- I get carded more and more often, as though I'm aging in reverse -- but I'm happy. Disheveled and probably inappropriate, but pretty damn content.
Except for when I have to meet a client.
It'll be fine. I'm sure I have a dress, somewhere, that I can pair with a suit jacket-y thing. And some heels. In fact, I know that I do.
And it's got some purple in it. Which should just match my hair.
This should be interesting.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Thoughts for a Tuesday
I think it was John Lennon who said "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."*
Right now, any plans I had for the future -- including the plans I had for this evening -- have been shot directly out of the window. Because it turns out that Mr Lennon** was correct. Life happens.
And not always the way that you want it to. Sometimes, in twisty, tricky ways that have you asking, "Whaaaaaaat?"
(In case you were wondering, I'm suffering from residual August icky-ness. I still TRULY believe that September is going to turn it all around once the August holdout stuff gets resolved)
So.
I'm broke. (Not an exaggeration. I didn't get paid on the last pay period -- August ickyness! -- and so have exactly $80 until I actually get paid, which -- well, I don't know when that will be, actually. Could be today. Could be ... later this week? Will hopefully be before the 15th, at any rate.)
I'm tired.
And I have a zillion and twelve things to do.
I should be upset about it, probably. It would be easy to be upset. There were things I was expecting to do that I can't do. There are bills that need to be paid that are going to have to wait. I should be completely stressed out. Normally I would be.
But I'm not, because I have realized something.
This is LIFE. This is what happens. You can plan all you want. Stuff goes wrong ANYWAY. That's how it works. Which isn't to say that you shouldn't plan -- Lord knows I love a plan -- but you should be able to chuck the plan when you need to. Doing so allows you to deal with the unexpected, both the yucky stuff and the amazing stuff. You need to make sure that you have enough room in your days -- and in your heart -- for both, I think.
And your reactions to things should serve you. How would stressing myself into the fetal position serve me? It wouldn't help me financially. It wouldn't let me finish the things I need to finish. It won't bring me anything positive, make me feel better, or lighten the load.
So I won't do it. It's become as simple as that, I think. If it's not going to help, I'm not doing it. Why put time and energy into a hugely unentertaining waste of time?
Instead, I'll focus on positive things I can do -- I can work to resolve the situations. I can chip away at my to do list until it's done. I can think about how I can try to reconfigure my expenses so that, if this happens again, I won't be as off guard and unprepared.
I can look for the lesson and the opportunities I'm being offered in the midst of all the messiness, because I know that both exist... and I can continue to live my life instead of fighting it.
So I will.
* Yes, I could google it and be sure. So could you. Let me know if I got it wrong.
** Or, you know, whoever
Right now, any plans I had for the future -- including the plans I had for this evening -- have been shot directly out of the window. Because it turns out that Mr Lennon** was correct. Life happens.
And not always the way that you want it to. Sometimes, in twisty, tricky ways that have you asking, "Whaaaaaaat?"
(In case you were wondering, I'm suffering from residual August icky-ness. I still TRULY believe that September is going to turn it all around once the August holdout stuff gets resolved)
So.
I'm broke. (Not an exaggeration. I didn't get paid on the last pay period -- August ickyness! -- and so have exactly $80 until I actually get paid, which -- well, I don't know when that will be, actually. Could be today. Could be ... later this week? Will hopefully be before the 15th, at any rate.)
I'm tired.
And I have a zillion and twelve things to do.
I should be upset about it, probably. It would be easy to be upset. There were things I was expecting to do that I can't do. There are bills that need to be paid that are going to have to wait. I should be completely stressed out. Normally I would be.
But I'm not, because I have realized something.
This is LIFE. This is what happens. You can plan all you want. Stuff goes wrong ANYWAY. That's how it works. Which isn't to say that you shouldn't plan -- Lord knows I love a plan -- but you should be able to chuck the plan when you need to. Doing so allows you to deal with the unexpected, both the yucky stuff and the amazing stuff. You need to make sure that you have enough room in your days -- and in your heart -- for both, I think.
And your reactions to things should serve you. How would stressing myself into the fetal position serve me? It wouldn't help me financially. It wouldn't let me finish the things I need to finish. It won't bring me anything positive, make me feel better, or lighten the load.
So I won't do it. It's become as simple as that, I think. If it's not going to help, I'm not doing it. Why put time and energy into a hugely unentertaining waste of time?
Instead, I'll focus on positive things I can do -- I can work to resolve the situations. I can chip away at my to do list until it's done. I can think about how I can try to reconfigure my expenses so that, if this happens again, I won't be as off guard and unprepared.
I can look for the lesson and the opportunities I'm being offered in the midst of all the messiness, because I know that both exist... and I can continue to live my life instead of fighting it.
So I will.
* Yes, I could google it and be sure. So could you. Let me know if I got it wrong.
** Or, you know, whoever
Friday, September 2, 2011
Friday Randoms
1. I got a surprise yesterday. A good one. Further proof that September (Nay, the rest of the year!) is going to be lovely.
2. Have you seen this? It's awesome. (Blogger no longer wishes to let me embed videos. SO ANNOYING! So you'll have to follow the link. Please do. It's really worth it.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMfSGt6rHos
3. I have put a lot of time, as of late, into making some decisions. Now they're made. Yahooo! Which means -- more FUN blogs! And less ponderous ones. (Sorry about the ponderousness. August was VERY good for philosophical thought, what can I say?)
4. LONG WEEKEND! WHOOOOO! So yeah, about that. I'll be back here on TUESDAY. Because Monday is Labor Day. And so I shall ... not be laboring at all.
2. Have you seen this? It's awesome. (Blogger no longer wishes to let me embed videos. SO ANNOYING! So you'll have to follow the link. Please do. It's really worth it.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMfSGt6rHos
3. I have put a lot of time, as of late, into making some decisions. Now they're made. Yahooo! Which means -- more FUN blogs! And less ponderous ones. (Sorry about the ponderousness. August was VERY good for philosophical thought, what can I say?)
4. LONG WEEKEND! WHOOOOO! So yeah, about that. I'll be back here on TUESDAY. Because Monday is Labor Day. And so I shall ... not be laboring at all.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
August and Everything After
I was unbelievably relieved to see August draw to a close. Of course, it couldn't leave without kicking my ass one more time, but to be honest, I sort of expected it -- the entire month had been so difficult that I didn't think it was possible for it to go without having one final, last word.
A lot changed in August. The way I view my financial reality is changing, my work has changed and altered, and friendships have changed and, in some cases, ended.
I'm not going to lie to you -- August messed with me. It was a hard month.
The thing about going through hard times, though, is that they force you to see who you really are. It's easy to be content with who you are when you're happy and things are going well. I think you learn more about your character when things kind of suck and you're a little bit miserable; the way in which you buckle down (or don't), the choices you make, the way you react... if you're contained in your own unhappiness or if you can see through it and still care for and help other people, who might also be taking a trip aboard the USS Suckitude -- those are the things that show who you are.
I know that I'm not the only person who struggled through August. I know that I'm not the only one who's happy to see the back of it, and who is looking forward into September with both hope and the resolve to be a better person than the one who fell into bitterness and anger. (Which isn't to say that one should never be bitter or angry because those feelings have a place in everyone's emotional geography, but it doesn't generally serve one to LIVE in either bitter or angry, which I may have done a time or five through this ridiculous month), and instead be the one who found the light at the end of the tunnel and then danced around in it.
Because dancing in the clear light of September? Doesn't suck at all.
A lot changed in August. The way I view my financial reality is changing, my work has changed and altered, and friendships have changed and, in some cases, ended.
I'm not going to lie to you -- August messed with me. It was a hard month.
The thing about going through hard times, though, is that they force you to see who you really are. It's easy to be content with who you are when you're happy and things are going well. I think you learn more about your character when things kind of suck and you're a little bit miserable; the way in which you buckle down (or don't), the choices you make, the way you react... if you're contained in your own unhappiness or if you can see through it and still care for and help other people, who might also be taking a trip aboard the USS Suckitude -- those are the things that show who you are.
I know that I'm not the only person who struggled through August. I know that I'm not the only one who's happy to see the back of it, and who is looking forward into September with both hope and the resolve to be a better person than the one who fell into bitterness and anger. (Which isn't to say that one should never be bitter or angry because those feelings have a place in everyone's emotional geography, but it doesn't generally serve one to LIVE in either bitter or angry, which I may have done a time or five through this ridiculous month), and instead be the one who found the light at the end of the tunnel and then danced around in it.
Because dancing in the clear light of September? Doesn't suck at all.
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