I
"This coffee is good."
"It's sooo good."
"I kind of want to snuggle up in a tub full of it."
"... you know, I think that would actually be really gross."
"And it's a weird image."
"Let's just drink it. Quietly."
II
"And then she punched me really hard on the arm and said, 'You're going to need to sell me one of those purses,' and I was all, No. And don't hit me again."
"She's got man hands."
"Yeah."
"Let's call her ... Emangeline."
III
"So what I'm going to do now is go back to my desk and pretend I didn't ever come over here and ask you such a stupid question."
"Awwwww, don't be like that."
"Really?
"Yeah, if we pretend you didn't ask then I can't tease you about it later. That would suck."
"DUDE. I love you."
IV
"Then there was silence. And not just any silence. The kind of silence that comes in Westerns, with that weird flute music and a tumbleweed, when all of the lookie-loos retreat into the saloon and peek out of windows in a stealthy manner."
"I hate that kind of silence."
"I know, and I was all nerved up like, oh crap, now what do I do."
"What did you do?"
"I started whistling the theme song from Indiana Jones."
"WHAT?"
"It was all I could think of. Don't judge me."
V
"This movie is so funny it will make you snork."
"So. Should I not be drinking beer?"
"No you SHOULD be drinking beer. You should just be aware that it may be shooting through your sinus cavities at some point."
"Noted. Proceed.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Ahhhhhhhhh (choo)
I love spring. I love it.
Except, you know, for the allergies part.
Or -- maybe that's not true. Maybe I can learn to love my allergies because they come with springtime. Maybe it's okay that my head feels like it's full of packing peanuts right now because it's springtime and they go together. Maybe sometimes you just need to overlook the bad stuff -- the constant sneezing and eye goo -- for the good stuff -- birdies! Flowers! Trees with leaves!
Maybe sometimes when you have lots of buckets of good, you have to overlook the occasional pocketful of not so good, and remember to focus on what's beautiful instead of what is making you mental-ish.
It's an idea.
So. I'm going to take a Claritin, and drink a cup of coffee and look at this amazing morning and focus on what's good.
I hope you can do the same.
Except, you know, for the allergies part.
Or -- maybe that's not true. Maybe I can learn to love my allergies because they come with springtime. Maybe it's okay that my head feels like it's full of packing peanuts right now because it's springtime and they go together. Maybe sometimes you just need to overlook the bad stuff -- the constant sneezing and eye goo -- for the good stuff -- birdies! Flowers! Trees with leaves!
Maybe sometimes when you have lots of buckets of good, you have to overlook the occasional pocketful of not so good, and remember to focus on what's beautiful instead of what is making you mental-ish.
It's an idea.
So. I'm going to take a Claritin, and drink a cup of coffee and look at this amazing morning and focus on what's good.
I hope you can do the same.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Fake It Til You Make It
"I love what you write," she said, "because you seem so wise."
This statement split me in two. Half of me was incredibly flattered -- what a compliment! And the other half ...
... well.
The other half felt embarrassed. Because I am a lot of things, but wise is not on the list.
The truth is that I am comfortable documenting my life's bumbles and fumbles on the internet for all to read because I think we're all bumbling and fumbling around down here, and most of us are convinced that admitting that we don't know what we're doing is, for some reason, shameful. Despite the fact that I confessed yesterday that not knowing what I'm doing at work is stressing me out, I have become pretty used to announcing that I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, and that I am winging it with regularity; I announce it because I suspect that I'm not the only one, that a lot of us are sort of feeling our way through life, and I also think that if I am open about the fact that I have an issue or two ... or three ... or one hundred and twelve ... that it might make other people more easy about their issues.
That's not wisdom, though. That's just shared experience.
I believe some things, strongly. If you've followed along for any period of time, you know about some of them: I believe in civil discourse; I believe in love; I believe in kindness; I believe in equality and compassion and understanding and humanity.
I also believe that I have a tendency to run at the mouth ... or in this case, type (and blather) on and on.
I don't know about wisdom. I know about stories, shared stories, and sharing beliefs and trying to find a way to connect. I feel like I'm not the only one searching for a lamp to light the darkness that is so eager to fall. If I say something that strikes a match for someone else, then I am humbled and thankful.
And when someone takes the time to tell me that something, some small thing, that I have said helps light the way, then my own strange and twisty path is illuminated, and I feel blessed.
Mildly embarrassed.
But blessed all the same.
This statement split me in two. Half of me was incredibly flattered -- what a compliment! And the other half ...
... well.
The other half felt embarrassed. Because I am a lot of things, but wise is not on the list.
The truth is that I am comfortable documenting my life's bumbles and fumbles on the internet for all to read because I think we're all bumbling and fumbling around down here, and most of us are convinced that admitting that we don't know what we're doing is, for some reason, shameful. Despite the fact that I confessed yesterday that not knowing what I'm doing at work is stressing me out, I have become pretty used to announcing that I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, and that I am winging it with regularity; I announce it because I suspect that I'm not the only one, that a lot of us are sort of feeling our way through life, and I also think that if I am open about the fact that I have an issue or two ... or three ... or one hundred and twelve ... that it might make other people more easy about their issues.
That's not wisdom, though. That's just shared experience.
I believe some things, strongly. If you've followed along for any period of time, you know about some of them: I believe in civil discourse; I believe in love; I believe in kindness; I believe in equality and compassion and understanding and humanity.
I also believe that I have a tendency to run at the mouth ... or in this case, type (and blather) on and on.
I don't know about wisdom. I know about stories, shared stories, and sharing beliefs and trying to find a way to connect. I feel like I'm not the only one searching for a lamp to light the darkness that is so eager to fall. If I say something that strikes a match for someone else, then I am humbled and thankful.
And when someone takes the time to tell me that something, some small thing, that I have said helps light the way, then my own strange and twisty path is illuminated, and I feel blessed.
Mildly embarrassed.
But blessed all the same.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
So, About The Job
I love my new job.
Except, you know.
I've begun chanting "I've only been here for three weeks" like a mantra. I've been told that no one has ever taken over all of their job responsibilities so quickly, which is nice, but I feel like an idiot pretty much every day, which is not so nice.
I recognize that it's arrogant to believe that I should already know how to do everything. Apparently, I have arrogance issues, then, because I hate -- HATE -- that this is not the case. Yesterday, I was able to answer three whole questions by myself. While this was an improvement over last Friday, when I was able to answer ONE question by myself, it's a tiny drop in the inquisition bucket of eight zillion questions I have to answer in the course of the day.
On one hand, this should be properly humbling and inspiring, right? So much to learn! I love learning!
On the other hand, waaaaaaaaah I don't know ANYTHING!
I keep telling the people in my life who are going through hard times something that I firmly believe to be true: in life, you have to struggle a bit (or, you know, a lot) in order to learn the big lessons -- the ones about mortality, and who you are, and all of that.
But there's that arrogance again, I guess, because the truth is that whether or not I believe that to be true, I get -- pissed off -- when I find myself in the struggle. Apparently, I really do think I should just know everything.
I recognize that the above is a ridiculous statement.
So. I am trying to apply my zen. I am trying to believe that the struggle to learn more quickly is a valuable one. I am trying to recognize that there is something lovely in the brain's elasticity and ability to bend around and incorporate new concepts. And, to be honest, I do recognize and believe all of those things, even if my recognition and belief is wrapped in a thick layer of frustration.
My saving grace is this: my new coworkers are truly amazing. I've never worked in a more supportive environment. They're encouraging and funny and awesome, and they keep telling me that I'm doing great, and reminding me that we're a team.
And I am learning. How to be good at my job, but also, how to be more humble. How to ask for help. How to let myself be supported and how to have realistic expectations of myself.
It's hard. Most lessons like this are.
But it will be worth the struggle.
Except, you know.
I've begun chanting "I've only been here for three weeks" like a mantra. I've been told that no one has ever taken over all of their job responsibilities so quickly, which is nice, but I feel like an idiot pretty much every day, which is not so nice.
I recognize that it's arrogant to believe that I should already know how to do everything. Apparently, I have arrogance issues, then, because I hate -- HATE -- that this is not the case. Yesterday, I was able to answer three whole questions by myself. While this was an improvement over last Friday, when I was able to answer ONE question by myself, it's a tiny drop in the inquisition bucket of eight zillion questions I have to answer in the course of the day.
On one hand, this should be properly humbling and inspiring, right? So much to learn! I love learning!
On the other hand, waaaaaaaaah I don't know ANYTHING!
I keep telling the people in my life who are going through hard times something that I firmly believe to be true: in life, you have to struggle a bit (or, you know, a lot) in order to learn the big lessons -- the ones about mortality, and who you are, and all of that.
But there's that arrogance again, I guess, because the truth is that whether or not I believe that to be true, I get -- pissed off -- when I find myself in the struggle. Apparently, I really do think I should just know everything.
I recognize that the above is a ridiculous statement.
So. I am trying to apply my zen. I am trying to believe that the struggle to learn more quickly is a valuable one. I am trying to recognize that there is something lovely in the brain's elasticity and ability to bend around and incorporate new concepts. And, to be honest, I do recognize and believe all of those things, even if my recognition and belief is wrapped in a thick layer of frustration.
My saving grace is this: my new coworkers are truly amazing. I've never worked in a more supportive environment. They're encouraging and funny and awesome, and they keep telling me that I'm doing great, and reminding me that we're a team.
And I am learning. How to be good at my job, but also, how to be more humble. How to ask for help. How to let myself be supported and how to have realistic expectations of myself.
It's hard. Most lessons like this are.
But it will be worth the struggle.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Toxic
Sadly, more than one person in my life is currently dealing with a toxic relationship.
When you brush up against someone who is poison to you -- and we've all done it -- it's easy to let that poison seep into your own pores and ruin everything you touch, so that you run the risk of becoming equally toxic to the people in your own life. It's sort of like how we react to people who commit horrible, atrocious acts -- we forget to be better than they are, and start to want to demand that they are harmed in the way that they have harmed others. We lose our ability to empathize and find our compassion. I'm not suggesting, in case you think I am, that people who do terrible things shouldn't be punished for them -- they should be -- but I do strongly believe that when we forget our own humanity and begin thinking of people as things, or deserving targets of anger and harm, then we have become what we hate.
It's important not to do that.
It's important to understand that people who are toxic to you are still people. They're people who are acting in a way that makes sense to them for a reason that you don't or can't understand and who are causing you pain because it's all they know how to do.
They're people who, for some reason, need to contain their pain by hurting other people.
I'm not saying anyone should continue on with someone who is toxic, and I'm not saying that toxic, poisonous behaviour should be tolerated. What I do think, though, is that it's important -- for your own sanity, for your own self respect -- to try to keep your sense of perspective, and to try to find some kind of empathy for someone who only knows how to lash out and can't figure out how to love -- because that is what makes people toxic.
And that is incredibly sad.
I was thinking the other day that I have two hands for a reason -- one to hold on, and one to reach out. Toxic people don't know how to reach out -- they only know how to strike out. They can't open up their hands because they only know how to make fists that strike. I can't imagine not being able to hold someone's hand if I need to because I'm too busy making a cold, hard fist with the intention of hurting someone who is determined to reach out to me because s/he does love me. What a lonely, sad, isolating way to live.
Again, I think it's important to remove yourself from toxic situations and relationships. But I also believe this: if you take on that poison and let it become who you are, then you have lost more than a relationship. You've lost what makes you amazing and wonderful, and that's hard to get back.
One hand to hold on, and one to reach out, and one heart to love.
Those are the things you need to keep, no matter where you find yourself.
When you brush up against someone who is poison to you -- and we've all done it -- it's easy to let that poison seep into your own pores and ruin everything you touch, so that you run the risk of becoming equally toxic to the people in your own life. It's sort of like how we react to people who commit horrible, atrocious acts -- we forget to be better than they are, and start to want to demand that they are harmed in the way that they have harmed others. We lose our ability to empathize and find our compassion. I'm not suggesting, in case you think I am, that people who do terrible things shouldn't be punished for them -- they should be -- but I do strongly believe that when we forget our own humanity and begin thinking of people as things, or deserving targets of anger and harm, then we have become what we hate.
It's important not to do that.
It's important to understand that people who are toxic to you are still people. They're people who are acting in a way that makes sense to them for a reason that you don't or can't understand and who are causing you pain because it's all they know how to do.
They're people who, for some reason, need to contain their pain by hurting other people.
I'm not saying anyone should continue on with someone who is toxic, and I'm not saying that toxic, poisonous behaviour should be tolerated. What I do think, though, is that it's important -- for your own sanity, for your own self respect -- to try to keep your sense of perspective, and to try to find some kind of empathy for someone who only knows how to lash out and can't figure out how to love -- because that is what makes people toxic.
And that is incredibly sad.
I was thinking the other day that I have two hands for a reason -- one to hold on, and one to reach out. Toxic people don't know how to reach out -- they only know how to strike out. They can't open up their hands because they only know how to make fists that strike. I can't imagine not being able to hold someone's hand if I need to because I'm too busy making a cold, hard fist with the intention of hurting someone who is determined to reach out to me because s/he does love me. What a lonely, sad, isolating way to live.
Again, I think it's important to remove yourself from toxic situations and relationships. But I also believe this: if you take on that poison and let it become who you are, then you have lost more than a relationship. You've lost what makes you amazing and wonderful, and that's hard to get back.
One hand to hold on, and one to reach out, and one heart to love.
Those are the things you need to keep, no matter where you find yourself.
Friday, April 26, 2013
sorry!
I know I've been erratic about posting this week... It's been a little, erm, unusual around here lately. I'm trying to figure out a way to make sure I can keep a regular posting schedule and should be back to normal next week. Thanks to everyone who's checked in to make sure all is well ... I'll be back to my regularly scheduled programming soon!
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Learning To Let Go
I am a person who likes to think that, when confronted with a bad situation, I can fix it if I just try hard enough.
I have repeatedly found that this is not true. The tricky part of human nature, though, is this: just because you know intellectually that something isn't true doesn't mean that you stop believing it.
It's a challenge, though, because I will work myself into a tremendous stress ball trying to fix things when what I really need to do is back up and release my sense of ownership. Because I do not, despite all of my joking, run the universe. I can't control it.
Neither can you.
The only thing I can do is my best. Do my best and hope for grace and understand that my best is always good enough, even if I don't end up fixing anything.
And then let it go.
I have repeatedly found that this is not true. The tricky part of human nature, though, is this: just because you know intellectually that something isn't true doesn't mean that you stop believing it.
It's a challenge, though, because I will work myself into a tremendous stress ball trying to fix things when what I really need to do is back up and release my sense of ownership. Because I do not, despite all of my joking, run the universe. I can't control it.
Neither can you.
The only thing I can do is my best. Do my best and hope for grace and understand that my best is always good enough, even if I don't end up fixing anything.
And then let it go.
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