taking arms against a sea of troubles

When your life is full of down-n-dirty, life altering, things will never be the same, shit just got real kinds of drama, it can be easy to lose any sense of perspective.  Little mishaps suddenly morph into major catastrophes.  The drama gets amped to eleven. 

Cut myself shaving = I’m a lousy excuse for a human being.  
Spilled coffee on my shirt = This is why nobody likes me.
Left my lunch in the kitchen counter = My life is a lie.

These minor calamities swirled in with legitimate disasters eventually result in a woe whirlpool from which there is little hope of escape. 

It spins the opposite way in the southern hemisphere.

I hate that damn woe whirlpool. 

Sometimes, if you are very lucky, the universe takes pity on you and decides to throw you a bone.  What I have learned is that when presented with such a prize you should cast aside any shreds of pride or humility (if you are lucky enough to still have any) and snatch that prize as greedily as a T-Rex would a tethered goat.  It could be a long time before such an opportunity to rise above your troubles arrives again.

Well, here’s my goat.

     

It’s a book.  And I happen be in it.  Last year the people at America’s Haunted Road Trip, who publish a series of books all about haunted places across the country, held a contest.  They asked people to submit a true ghost story.  So I did.  I wasn’t one of the three cash winners, but I was selected for inclusion in the book.  Kinda cool, huh?  Click on the pic to go to the publisher’s website where you can read the back cover blurb and order a copy (they are out of stock at the moment).      

My story, “What Dreams My Come” is on page 17.  I can’t post the story here because that would be violating copyright.  I can tell you that the story is about vivid dreams that my sister and I had on the same night.  Details from the dreams, when put together, coincided perfectly with an incident that happened to our grandfather when he was young.  An incident that neither me, nor my sister knew anything about, until later that day when our mother told us the story after we had mentioned our dreams to her. 

It’s not a million dollar, multi-book deal from a major publisher, but it is my name in print.  And that’s more than enough to keep me happy for now. 

i can handle it

Being a strong, independent person is not nearly as wonderful as people would lead you to believe.  For once, I want to just curl up in the corner and whimper while someone else takes care of the hard business of life.  I would love to be able to flee the scene when the elephant in the room goes on a rampage and smashes the furniture.  But noooo.  When times get tough, I square my shoulders and stand my ground.  I’ll lasso the beast and clean up the mess.  I am self-reliant to a fault.  Expecting someone else to show up and rescue me after being sucker-punched by life is just not in my nature.   

That being said, I’m always grateful when friends or family tell me that they are here for me and ask me what they can do to help.  I just never know what to tell them.  If I have to leave town suddenly, I’ll need someone to feed my dogs.  Other than that, I don’t know what anyone else could do. 

“I’m here if you need to talk,” someone will say.  Well, that’s awesome, it really is.  But, I don’t like to talk, not until the situation is well over and handled, that is.  Talking before I have all the facts leads to speculation and speculation just smacks of drama to me and I HATE drama.  Why would I call you while I’m in the hospital, tubes attached everywhere and the doctors are still running tests?  “Oh, hi!  I’m in the hospital and they don’t know what’s wrong, but I just wanted to give you a call so you can worry your ass off and feel helpless.  Okay, bye!”  Yeah.  I don’t think so.   I won’t call until after I am home from the hospital because then will have a full story – beginning, middle and end.  Hell, if I can make it funny, I might even just blog about it first so I can avoid the phone call altogether.  Is that wrong? 

I realize that I am way too comfortable being by myself.  I was a latch-key kid and had a lot of alone time as a child.  It never bothered me.  I could watch what I wanted on television, eat a bowl of cereal and all around enjoy having no one around to tell me what to do.  Even now, if my husband has to work late, I don’t mind so much.  I’ll read a book or work on a writing project (and probably eat a bowl of cereal).  Things I don’t like to do when he’s home because they take time away from us being together. 

If I weren’t married, I could easily see myself turning into a hermit.  My sister would eventually have to break into my house, pry my laptop from my hands and drag my colorless body outside while I hiss at the sun like some cave animal.  Later, I would thank her for it because I’d remember that I do enjoy being around people.  People are fun!  Hearing real, live laughter is much better than a “LOL” any day. 

I guess I just need to get in the habit of not only laughing with other people, but crying with them, too.  I would do anything, absolutely anything to help any of my friends or family during a difficult time and I hope they know that.  However, I need to learn to trust them to help me, too. 

Ick.  Self-improvement is so hard and messy.  Dealing with a crisis situation is much easier.

thanks for noticing

I feel I should apologize.  I hadn’t really noticed, but I’ve been a bit of a Debbie Downer lately.  My mom called the other night and asked “are you okay?” in the same tone of voice she used to ask  “are you on drugs?” when I was in high school.  Yikes.

I’m fine.  Really.  Actually, when put into perspective, my life leaves little to complain about.  For me, though, it’s so much easier to rant about life’s little annoyances than it is to rave about the great joys.  Plus, when I feel uninspired and rudderless like I have lately, those little annoyances gnaw at me harder than they should.  All this creates a woe whirlpool that’s damn near impossible to swim out of. 

type "woe" about 20 times and it doesn't look like a real word anymore

I’m also wondering if I should dial back the snark level a bit.  Sarcasm is like the air I breathe, so I hardly notice when my posts are populated with snide comments.  I don’t want to edit my personality, but I don’t want to alienate my readership, either.  I’m not a bitch.  I swear!  Like me!  Please!  Here, have a bunny:

This bunny is being given without any ironic subtext.

So to recap – I’m doing fine, I just seem to have a lot to bitch about right now, but I’ll snap out of it and I’ll try to reign in the snark, but there are no promises cause it’s woven into the fiber of my being, so there.  And, I hate these blog posts that are self-aware and commenting on my blog posts cause they feel like a cop-out so I’ll end this one now.

No.  You’re not getting another bunny.

welcome, warm weather

I finally, truly believe that we have seen the last of the cold weather.  I boxed up all my sweaters and corduroys and moved my closed-toe shoes to the back of the closet. 

It’s fun to re-acquaint myself with all the short sleeved blouses and linen pants that I forgot I owned.  I feel like I have a closet full of new clothes!  Now, of course, I’ll have to start walking every day after work to make sure that I can still fit into those “new” clothes. 

However,  it’s harder to look professional at work in summer clothes.  I can’t fall back on the black blazer and high-heel boots when it’s 90 degrees outside.  Luckily, I have more of a behind the scenes job and I’m not expected to wear a suit everyday, but I do have to dress nice.  My tattoos also dictate what I can and can’t wear to work.  I’m limited to pants, long skirts and shirts with sleeves.  Not that I would wear sleeveless shirts and short skirts to work, anyway. 

Other than the clothes, warmer weather means opening up the house and letting the fresh air in.  Well, it’s nice to let the fresh air in now that I’m all hopped up on Flonase and the fresh air won’t kill me.  I also love driving with the windows down.  Even when it gets hot, I’ll have the windows down and just crank up the AC. 

Now, I know that come the end of July I’ll probably be bitching about the heat and begging for cooler weather.  Then, I’ll be excited about all the boots and sweaters that I’ll finally get to wear again. 

More than anything, I just like the change.  I get bored when things stay the same for too long.  After a while, I need something, anything to be different.  Be it temperature or clothes or simply rearranging the furniture.  Life starts to feel stagnant when nothing has changed for a while.  I know that some people dislike change because of the fear of the unknown.  I don’t understand this at all.  I’ll take the unknown, along with a little fear, any day.  If nothing changes how can you really feel like you are alive?

stayin’ positive

I love it when drivers don’t use turn signals.  It makes my morning commute exciting!

Seeing random chunks of mangled meat and blood-caked fur on the highway really makes my day.  It’s like a game: was it a possum or a raccoon?  Who knows!

I feel so important when people interrupt my work and ask me to remove a paper jam from the copy machine.  If I am lucky, this will happen multiple times in one day!

When an older male employee makes inappropriate comments to a  younger female employee I like to imagine that I am living in one of those sit-coms on TBS, only the laugh-track is just in my head. 

It’s great when I put extra effort into an project and take the time to make sure every detail is covered, but when I turn it in, it’s not just unappreciated but only earns a cursory look.  This makes me want to try harder next time!

I love listening to people discuss topics about which they have little to no experience or knowlege.  It’s like hearing a great story that has no basis in reality.  Everyone loves a good story!

When I load my four bottles of wine and bag of Cheetos on to the belt at the grocery store, I can’t help but smile at the judgemental scowl from the wrinkled sack of bitterness in line behind me.  It’s good to help somone else feel superior, even if it is only for a few moments.

Remember, you are just an extra in everyone else’s play. (FDR)

You are the main character in your life.  It is because of this that I find the phenomenon of “celebrity” so odd.  People who obsess over movie stars or musicians are giving a complete stranger precedence in their lives.  Why are these people so important?  They get paid to entertain us, nothing more.  World leaders should be so lucky as to have half the press that Madonna demands. 

Even though you are the main character in your life, as FDR said, you are just an extra in everyone else’s.  Your problems/ joys/ accomplishments are just news or gossip to someone else.  Your life is your own and all else is on the periphery, unless you choose to bring it in focus.  Lives become interconnected with yours like a Venn Diagram.  I have my work circles, friend circles, family circles and some over lap, but others never touch. 

I think it is important that people remember that even though we all have roles in life like Sister, Wife, Daughter, we are also just Girl #4 or Bitch Who Stole My Parking Space to someone else.  It’s good to feel insignificant every now and then.  It brings life into perspective.  And, there are many lives in which I am grateful that I only play a bit part.  I am not qualified to act in some dramas. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     Stephen thanked whatever god would listen that it was the end of July and Mark was the only witness to the puddle of blood Daphne left behind at the bar. Mark now sat on the coffee table, elbows on knees, watching the impossibly slow rise and fall of Daphne’s chest. Stephen just finished telling Mark everything he could remember after being led upstairs by the now unconscious woman. He accepted the rather fantastical story much better than Stephen had anticipated. In fact, he accepted it almost too well. 
     “This is awesome!” Mark said as he swung his legs over to the opposite side of the coffee table and spun around to face Stephen who sat in the chair. 
     Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
     “Man, don’t you see? This shit is exciting!” Stephen returned his enthusiasm with only a blank stare. “You’ve got yourself a real life adventure, here. This kind of thing only happens in the movies, but it’s happening to you!”
     Stephen leaned forward and stared at his friend. “Are you high?”
     “Aw, you know I don’t do that anymore. But, can’t you see the potential for how cool this could be?”
     “Uh, no, I don’t. It’s cool in the movies because it is scripted to end well for the main character. There is no guarantee that this will end well for me. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m the main character here. I could just be some disposable bit part!”
     Mark laughed. “You can’t be a bit part! It’s your life!”
     Stephen allowed his mind a moment to ponder the duality inferred by that statement. Everyone is the main character in their own life, but at the same time they play supporting roles, or minor ones, or none at all, in other’s lives. Although he definitely didn’t want to be the doomed “red-shirted ensign” of Star Trek fame in this situation, he did not know if he wanted to be the hero, either. What Mark saw as cool, he saw as frighteningly life-altering. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

would you stop and listen?

“No one knew it, but the fiddler standing against a bare wall outside the Metro in an indoor arcade at the top of the escalators was one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made. His performance was arranged by The Washington Post as an experiment in context, perception and priorities — as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?”

Above is a quote from this fascinating and well written article.  It’s a bit long, but well worth the time.  The audio portions are a bonus, as well. 

Would you have stopped and listened or would you have kept walking?  If I were on vacation I probably would have paused for a moment or more to enjoy the music and would have left some money.  If I were running late to work, probably not.  I don’t judge the people in the article who didn’t listen or even notice the performance, but I applaud those who did. 

Have we all become so jaded and harried that we can’t be bothered to stop and appreciate when a rare and beautiful thing is presented to us because we have an appointment to keep?  The article points out that only the children, who have no concept of appointments, much less running late for one, consistently wanted to stop and listen, but were dragged away by their parent. 

This is just another example of where our lives are preventing us from fully enjoying our lives. 

 

 

Resolute in not making resolutions

Eat right.  Exercise more.  Drink more water.  Drink less wine (at least on weekdays).  Take my multivitamin (not with wine).  Use my eco-friendly grocery bags, not the plastic ones at the store.  Stop wasting so much time on the internet at work (I’m not at work now).  Save more money.  Spend less money.  Have more fun (but without spending much money).  Write more.  Read more.  Keep up with current world events.  Be less sarcastic.  Listen more.  Talk less.  Volunteer.  Donate.  Love.  Understand.  Open my palms to the radiance of the universe and succumb to all its wondrous glory.  

Or . . .

Just try to be the best me that I can at all times.  But, if I find that I’ve failed in some way, I won’t berate myself.  I’ll learn and try again. 

I am a person.  Not a to-do list.