A lot of thought goes into understanding what brings happiness and contentment, how to survive depression, what one's place in the grand scheme of things is. If there is such a thing as a grand scheme.
We are constantly bombarded with images of the perfect relationship, the perfect family, the perfect home, the perfect career. The fictional story line has a definite, and often predictable, beginning, middle and end. There's a reason most stories don't narrate long periods of time in front of the TV, or deciding what to make for dinner, or just sitting and staring out the window. Where's the pathos in making a cup of tea and drinking it?
Our story's climax or turning point doesn't come within a two hour allocation. There is no hot soundtrack to accompany our every realization and encounter. And sometimes, when a turning point does come, it can go unnoticed until years later.
So what's the answer? Living life according to some nebulous preconception or coming to terms with a life that can often be riddled with mind-numbing routine and exhaustion? Well, I say there's a third choice. Somewhere in the crawl space between expectation and actuality, there's balance. We need dreams. They serve a very real function. There's nothing wrong with wanting it all and loving exactly what we have. Dreams are the fuel of action. As long as there is action. Sitting in a room dreaming can be fun, but it's not very practical if that's all it is. Idle speculation is a pretty but not very productive pastime.
There are times that I am overwhelmed with the day-to-day. Moments that I feel like I haven't achieved anything; my life hasn't followed the path that I would have liked it to. And in those moments, the bold face of change pops up and beckons me. "It's up to you to make a life that you want. It won't arrive gift wrapped at your door."
I nod at its wisdom, but making changes can be scary. Petrifying in fact.
I admire those who can reinvent themselves and their lives. Is it so difficult to do? After all, I have always been told that where there's a will, there's a way.
I see myself on a beach, healthy and smiling. I see myself spending my days creating in the company of others who love to create, unfettered by institutions, their timetables and agendas. But is this a romantic notion or a real possibility? Can I shed the extreme temperatures of cold and hot, exchanging it for what I know I love best. Temperate weather. Can I live in eternal spring?
2011-02-17
2011-02-10
The Winter of My Discontent
This winter, I have been transported to a wintry tundra. Outside my windows, I see mounds of hardened snow everywhere. Yards are buried. Houses are cocooned. Cars are perched precariously on floes of snow and ice. People are bundled within an inch of their lives.
And I'm at home thinking. Thinking that I'm done with solitude. Though I enjoy my own company, I would like to live in someone else's. Hermetic life is indeed uncomplicated. I don't have to check with anyone what he wants for dinner or what they want to watch on TV. I can come home, take a shower, get into fresh, cotton jams and do some surfing while eating a bowl of soup, or watch my favorite trash TV and a chow down on a salad. Or, if I feel like it, I can wear something silky, make a nice meal, have a glass of wine and get lost in a good book. Better yet, if the mood strikes me, I can blast some music and bust some dance moves.
It sounds ideal to those who are surrounded by others 24/7, but sometimes, the silence echoes with; "Surely this isn't it? Surely there's more to life than this?" I want to prepare a meal with someone, for someone, and wear something other than pajamas at night. I want to have a conversation about some silliness in the news or the nutty events that happened during the day. I want to hear myself laugh out loud.
Make no mistake, I do socialize with friends, but it's not the same. I can fill my nights with plans no problem, and it will take the edge off the solitude, but it won't change the day to day reality. When I come home, my cat will greet me; and though I love my four legged son, he can't fill the human need for intimate companionship. Holding hands, sharing a smile, discussing politics.
It makes no sense to want one thing and actively do nothing about it. I can't find someone or be found if I' m hiding away... The truth is I'm stumped as to what to do. It's not like you can grab a rod and some bait and find someone. Well, not someone lasting. I've tried online dating, bars, meet up groups, etc. It's resulted in a feeling of deflation. I want to kick whoever came up with the adage: there's someone for everyone. Good luck finding him, should be added to that.
Sometimes I like to watch television as a backdrop to my thoughts. Oddly, on occasion, the characters on a show mirror my thoughts. "You can't make any friends," a TV mother counsels her son, " if you don't go anywhere. You got to get out there and meet people." Wise words, that startle me into thinking she's talking to me. Of course, the problem is that wise words or not, it's a fictional situation. The son doesn't go anywhere but a kid who just moved in to the apartment downstairs pops up on the fire escape and they become friends. Way to contradict yourself person who's writing these things!
So I'm making a Valentine's resolution. I will make red paper hearts, write messages of love on them and scatter them around the city. It's not a practical or efficient way of finding love, but it's a great way of spreading some of it. And who knows, maybe someone great will pop up on my metaphorical fire escape. :)
And I'm at home thinking. Thinking that I'm done with solitude. Though I enjoy my own company, I would like to live in someone else's. Hermetic life is indeed uncomplicated. I don't have to check with anyone what he wants for dinner or what they want to watch on TV. I can come home, take a shower, get into fresh, cotton jams and do some surfing while eating a bowl of soup, or watch my favorite trash TV and a chow down on a salad. Or, if I feel like it, I can wear something silky, make a nice meal, have a glass of wine and get lost in a good book. Better yet, if the mood strikes me, I can blast some music and bust some dance moves.
It sounds ideal to those who are surrounded by others 24/7, but sometimes, the silence echoes with; "Surely this isn't it? Surely there's more to life than this?" I want to prepare a meal with someone, for someone, and wear something other than pajamas at night. I want to have a conversation about some silliness in the news or the nutty events that happened during the day. I want to hear myself laugh out loud.
Make no mistake, I do socialize with friends, but it's not the same. I can fill my nights with plans no problem, and it will take the edge off the solitude, but it won't change the day to day reality. When I come home, my cat will greet me; and though I love my four legged son, he can't fill the human need for intimate companionship. Holding hands, sharing a smile, discussing politics.
It makes no sense to want one thing and actively do nothing about it. I can't find someone or be found if I' m hiding away... The truth is I'm stumped as to what to do. It's not like you can grab a rod and some bait and find someone. Well, not someone lasting. I've tried online dating, bars, meet up groups, etc. It's resulted in a feeling of deflation. I want to kick whoever came up with the adage: there's someone for everyone. Good luck finding him, should be added to that.
Sometimes I like to watch television as a backdrop to my thoughts. Oddly, on occasion, the characters on a show mirror my thoughts. "You can't make any friends," a TV mother counsels her son, " if you don't go anywhere. You got to get out there and meet people." Wise words, that startle me into thinking she's talking to me. Of course, the problem is that wise words or not, it's a fictional situation. The son doesn't go anywhere but a kid who just moved in to the apartment downstairs pops up on the fire escape and they become friends. Way to contradict yourself person who's writing these things!
So I'm making a Valentine's resolution. I will make red paper hearts, write messages of love on them and scatter them around the city. It's not a practical or efficient way of finding love, but it's a great way of spreading some of it. And who knows, maybe someone great will pop up on my metaphorical fire escape. :)
2011-02-04
News Schnews
A while ago, I made the conscious decision to stop watching the news. Between the graphic scenes of post-violence, the sensational commentary, and the induced hypochondria, I had had enough. I can easily stay informed about the sad state of affairs without subjecting myself to that. It's not so much the ostrich effect, because I'm not in denial about the horrific nature of humanity's underbelly. Wars are raging and taking lives; politicians are scrambling to justify their office; harm is being done to young ones; unsuspecting people are gunned down; coffee is bad for you one day and good the other; storms become "stormgates".
Other than trying to spread some hope, donate some money or food, give up some time to help others locally, there is nothing I can do. Putting myself through the distress of watching the news translate misfortune into ratings, isn't helping anyone.
The same goes with the morning programs. I used to watch religiously, until I realized that I really didn't need to know about Deena's shoes or Kevin's bout with the stomach flu or Frankie's wedding to get my day started. What passes as "news" is mostly opinion and triviality. I have enough of that in my real life.
Case in point, the other day, as I was marking papers, I had the TV on as background noise, to help drown out the screaming in my head about what I was reading. I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening, and a promotional news segment reared its ugly head. In the midst of the tormented question why students can't write a simple paragraph, I hear "Insomnia is one of the leading causes of health issues. Not getting enough sleep can irreparably affect your body."
Great! That's exactly the reassurance that any insomniac needs to hear to help him/her get a good night's sleep. There's nothing like the threat of imminent bodily harm to someone who is already struggling to get some shut eye.
First of all, even if there is a study out there, the limitations and validity of which is sketchy at best, that actually proves this as medical fact, how reprehensible and irresponsible is it to broadcast it as a tidbit of information? Insomnia is no laughing matter. It bespeaks issues that one has to manage often with the help of a professional practitioner, not Billy Boob Butthead reading it on a screen.
Second of all, how dare they sneak that information in between a soap commercial and one for diamond rings (Valentine's is coming up)? Ratings and generation of funds to pay the overinflated salaries of television personalities have totally eliminated ethical practices. I get that television's one mandate is to generate capital through commercial placement. I get that the "medical" profession is being taken over by pharmaceutical partisanship. I get all that. What I don't get is why they need to keep the public in a constant state of worry.
I don't get enough sleep, apparently. My sleep cycle is shot all to hell, and that's my problem that I have to work out. The reasons and scope of my disturbed sleep are what I need to deal with. It's hard to function around 2 pm when my body is aching for a nap, and I have to relay the importance of a semi-colon. I know I need help. What won't help me deal with all this is some news producer deciding it's a good idea to throw some hypochondriac panic into the mix.
That'll teach me to turn on the TV for company.
Other than trying to spread some hope, donate some money or food, give up some time to help others locally, there is nothing I can do. Putting myself through the distress of watching the news translate misfortune into ratings, isn't helping anyone.
The same goes with the morning programs. I used to watch religiously, until I realized that I really didn't need to know about Deena's shoes or Kevin's bout with the stomach flu or Frankie's wedding to get my day started. What passes as "news" is mostly opinion and triviality. I have enough of that in my real life.
Case in point, the other day, as I was marking papers, I had the TV on as background noise, to help drown out the screaming in my head about what I was reading. I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening, and a promotional news segment reared its ugly head. In the midst of the tormented question why students can't write a simple paragraph, I hear "Insomnia is one of the leading causes of health issues. Not getting enough sleep can irreparably affect your body."
Great! That's exactly the reassurance that any insomniac needs to hear to help him/her get a good night's sleep. There's nothing like the threat of imminent bodily harm to someone who is already struggling to get some shut eye.
First of all, even if there is a study out there, the limitations and validity of which is sketchy at best, that actually proves this as medical fact, how reprehensible and irresponsible is it to broadcast it as a tidbit of information? Insomnia is no laughing matter. It bespeaks issues that one has to manage often with the help of a professional practitioner, not Billy Boob Butthead reading it on a screen.
Second of all, how dare they sneak that information in between a soap commercial and one for diamond rings (Valentine's is coming up)? Ratings and generation of funds to pay the overinflated salaries of television personalities have totally eliminated ethical practices. I get that television's one mandate is to generate capital through commercial placement. I get that the "medical" profession is being taken over by pharmaceutical partisanship. I get all that. What I don't get is why they need to keep the public in a constant state of worry.
I don't get enough sleep, apparently. My sleep cycle is shot all to hell, and that's my problem that I have to work out. The reasons and scope of my disturbed sleep are what I need to deal with. It's hard to function around 2 pm when my body is aching for a nap, and I have to relay the importance of a semi-colon. I know I need help. What won't help me deal with all this is some news producer deciding it's a good idea to throw some hypochondriac panic into the mix.
That'll teach me to turn on the TV for company.
2011-01-25
I'm not Buddha
Sleep eludes me once again. Thoughts nudge me awake. Stupid thoughts, silly questions, random musings.
Today is garbage day. I have litter to clean. Snow to shovel. Papers to grade. A semester to wind down and another to prepare. A blog to decide on.
I'm wondering if this train has gone so far off the rails, it's driving on concrete and broken glass.
A mind is a terrible thing to waste.
Maybe I should put on some sandals and spread rose pedals on everyone's front yard. Spread some joy. Fake it until I have convinced myself.
Scroll through Facebook and read the joy and disappointment in the updates. Football and boots for sale. People living life online.
I've lived online for many years. Shaped my days and nights, trudging my soul through chat rooms and 3D worlds. Bruised myself trying to reach out to people like me. People who can't sleep. People who need to broadcast and advertise their lives via avatars and profiles. Looking for love in all the wrong places and finding treachery. Social networking.
I realized I've begun to apologize for what I've been posting, thinking, wanting. Not because I'm ashamed of it, but because I'm supposed to be ashamed. I should get with the program. Quit my job and live on dreams.
That ain't happening.
I'm not Buddha. I'm not anyone but me. I don't fall into any social niches. I'm the awkward on the guest list. The one without the plus one or the plus little ones. No one hangs on my every word. I'm a dabbler of all things. A master of none.
I've hosted dinners. Read Tarot cards. Run drum circles. Gone exploring. I've reached out and have had my knuckles rapped. But most importantly I've been scolded that I need to see the ray of sunlight in the endless sky of cloud.
I'm not Buddha. I like coffee and asking why. I swear a lot. Like an apprentice trucker. Why has that profession been trapped in foul mouth stereotyping?
I put people on the spot when they say something disingenuous. I don't believe in flattery as a means to approval. I don't pretend to like someone but I don't maim them with my dislike either.I observe the twitching mouth and subtle look away.
So what?
Shall I update my FB status to say I cannot sleep? Who really gives an F? Or a G? Can I buy a fucking vowel? There's the trucker.
So what if no one hangs from my every word? My word is not law. My word is just that. A word. Or a few of them strung together to jigsaw the pieces of thoughts in my head.
I don't have a recipe to share. I've been making jewelry but can't be bothered to promote it. There are several books unwritten in my head. I'm a poet. Who gives a shit? Really?
I'm not Buddha. I can't inspire to a better life. I can barely get a full night's sleep. I can just be me. Flawed. Questioning. Sometimes sarcastic. Cynical. Labelled by those who are better than me. I'm not happy. I have moments of happiness. The rest of the time, I just am.
I've made visualization boards, and done cleanses. I have tried to be better. But I'm still flawed. Still filled with remnants of my past. I wish I could press a button and eject everything. See the world through the wondering eyes of a child. I'm like a mosaic created from the shards of experiences. And that's okay.
I'm not who I'm not. There's a certain freedom in that.
It would be nice not to care what people think of me, but people who might not be generous with their time or compassion are very generous with their opinions of me. Personally. Don't take this personally. I'm not talking about you, unless you think I'm talking about you in which case you have a post to write yourself don't you?
The truth is, I care and I don't. It depends on the day, what's happened, and my mood. Does that make me evil? According to whom? Who made them the boss of me? Not I! Who puts food on my table? Well, technically, I don't have a table, my house is too small for it. But the answer is me. I do. I don't owe anyone anything. Except the mortgage company.
So. I'm not Buddha. What of it? There was only one of them. I'm Genie. Flawed. Insomniac. Questioning the meaning of all this nonsense in the middle of the night. Saddled with lists of things to do because I don't have the money to pay someone else to do them. And even when I do have money, I can't seem to get someone to do it. Like tile my fucking basement floor.
I happen to be female, independent and childless. Anathema in this society unless you're having sex in the city and broadcasting it. I can't even spell Manolo Blahnik without Googling it. Who put "blah" in sexy shoes? Anyway my feet are too arched and wide, my ankles too tender to wear crazy stilettos. I don't live in New York and I don't want to. Sue me.
My humor has a bite to it, and most don't get it because it isn't literal.
Did I mention I'm not Buddha? And I'm flawed? That doesn't mean I can't point out the flaws. It doesn't mean I don't have the right. This is just my perspective from my fractured lens on my blog that I choose to ramble on.
And just cause I see the fractures in others, doesn't mean I hate them or judge them for it. I like fractures. They make kaleidoscopes and stained glass out of them. Pretty. Lemonade.
Today is garbage day. I have litter to clean. Snow to shovel. Papers to grade. A semester to wind down and another to prepare. A blog to decide on.
I'm wondering if this train has gone so far off the rails, it's driving on concrete and broken glass.
A mind is a terrible thing to waste.
Maybe I should put on some sandals and spread rose pedals on everyone's front yard. Spread some joy. Fake it until I have convinced myself.
Scroll through Facebook and read the joy and disappointment in the updates. Football and boots for sale. People living life online.
I've lived online for many years. Shaped my days and nights, trudging my soul through chat rooms and 3D worlds. Bruised myself trying to reach out to people like me. People who can't sleep. People who need to broadcast and advertise their lives via avatars and profiles. Looking for love in all the wrong places and finding treachery. Social networking.
I realized I've begun to apologize for what I've been posting, thinking, wanting. Not because I'm ashamed of it, but because I'm supposed to be ashamed. I should get with the program. Quit my job and live on dreams.
That ain't happening.
I'm not Buddha. I'm not anyone but me. I don't fall into any social niches. I'm the awkward on the guest list. The one without the plus one or the plus little ones. No one hangs on my every word. I'm a dabbler of all things. A master of none.
I've hosted dinners. Read Tarot cards. Run drum circles. Gone exploring. I've reached out and have had my knuckles rapped. But most importantly I've been scolded that I need to see the ray of sunlight in the endless sky of cloud.
I'm not Buddha. I like coffee and asking why. I swear a lot. Like an apprentice trucker. Why has that profession been trapped in foul mouth stereotyping?
I put people on the spot when they say something disingenuous. I don't believe in flattery as a means to approval. I don't pretend to like someone but I don't maim them with my dislike either.I observe the twitching mouth and subtle look away.
So what?
Shall I update my FB status to say I cannot sleep? Who really gives an F? Or a G? Can I buy a fucking vowel? There's the trucker.
So what if no one hangs from my every word? My word is not law. My word is just that. A word. Or a few of them strung together to jigsaw the pieces of thoughts in my head.
I don't have a recipe to share. I've been making jewelry but can't be bothered to promote it. There are several books unwritten in my head. I'm a poet. Who gives a shit? Really?
I'm not Buddha. I can't inspire to a better life. I can barely get a full night's sleep. I can just be me. Flawed. Questioning. Sometimes sarcastic. Cynical. Labelled by those who are better than me. I'm not happy. I have moments of happiness. The rest of the time, I just am.
I've made visualization boards, and done cleanses. I have tried to be better. But I'm still flawed. Still filled with remnants of my past. I wish I could press a button and eject everything. See the world through the wondering eyes of a child. I'm like a mosaic created from the shards of experiences. And that's okay.
I'm not who I'm not. There's a certain freedom in that.
It would be nice not to care what people think of me, but people who might not be generous with their time or compassion are very generous with their opinions of me. Personally. Don't take this personally. I'm not talking about you, unless you think I'm talking about you in which case you have a post to write yourself don't you?
The truth is, I care and I don't. It depends on the day, what's happened, and my mood. Does that make me evil? According to whom? Who made them the boss of me? Not I! Who puts food on my table? Well, technically, I don't have a table, my house is too small for it. But the answer is me. I do. I don't owe anyone anything. Except the mortgage company.
So. I'm not Buddha. What of it? There was only one of them. I'm Genie. Flawed. Insomniac. Questioning the meaning of all this nonsense in the middle of the night. Saddled with lists of things to do because I don't have the money to pay someone else to do them. And even when I do have money, I can't seem to get someone to do it. Like tile my fucking basement floor.
I happen to be female, independent and childless. Anathema in this society unless you're having sex in the city and broadcasting it. I can't even spell Manolo Blahnik without Googling it. Who put "blah" in sexy shoes? Anyway my feet are too arched and wide, my ankles too tender to wear crazy stilettos. I don't live in New York and I don't want to. Sue me.
My humor has a bite to it, and most don't get it because it isn't literal.
Did I mention I'm not Buddha? And I'm flawed? That doesn't mean I can't point out the flaws. It doesn't mean I don't have the right. This is just my perspective from my fractured lens on my blog that I choose to ramble on.
And just cause I see the fractures in others, doesn't mean I hate them or judge them for it. I like fractures. They make kaleidoscopes and stained glass out of them. Pretty. Lemonade.
2011-01-23
Navigating People
Sometimes human interaction is the most difficult field to navigate especially when it comes to those people with whom you have to interact daily. Although these relationships are forced by a professional environment, they quickly become personal. We are human after all. In reality, there is no such thing as a purely professional relationship unless it's computer to computer. We can try to suppress our animal/human instincts for survival, combat and acceptance, but they're there despite our best efforts.
As I have always been a student of human behavior, and happen to work in education which is rife with human interaction, I have been developing a cheat sheet of character types. In order to survive this treacherous landscape, it's wise to know who your true allies are, and who are just masking themselves as such. This is what I've observed:
The Impersonator: This person says one thing but means another. It's the person being friendly and open when her body language, choice of words, facial expressions and actions actually say the opposite. It's the guy who walks in the room with a bravado in his step, and an impossibly wide smile plastered on his face whose eyes betray an anger that chills the blood. It's the woman who thinks she is so open-minded and accepting but whose lips and fists tighten whenever anyone does not agree with her. You have to become Zen in your dealings with these people and read them like leaves in a tea cup.
The Diplomat: This person cannot commit to having an opinion. It's not that they don't have an opinion; it's that they don't want anyone to know it. They'll speak whole sentences or paragraphs without really saying anything. You're left to dive for the gist of their meaning, trying to glean a pearl of wisdom when in reality all they're saying is, "I'm not taking a stand on anything." Head down. Shoulders to the wheel. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. Away. Best way to deal with them is not ask for their opinion...
The Assassin: This person is prone to sudden, quiet attacks often in the form of passive-aggressive statements whose aim is to paralyze and poison. He won't come right out and say it; he'll ninja-cut you. This leaves most people unable to react. It's hard to counter or confront passive aggression without looking like a bully or a harsh person. Either way they win. You don't say anything, their barb is unchallenged. You say something and you're mean. I've found the best way to deal with them is evasion tactics. Stay the hell away from them.
The Expert: They know everything about everything better, faster and more completely than anyone else. Their mechanic is cheaper and fairer. Their portfolio is more diverse. Their kids are more accomplished. Their sex more acrobatic. Their groceries are cheaper. Their knowledge more omnipotent. You just have to resign yourself to the understanding that compared to them your life sucks, your experience is minimal and you don't look as good doing it. Humming your favorite tune in your head or aloud, if you dare, while they're speaking is the perfect antidote...
The Subversive: This person might say that she has your back but what she means is she will hand your backside to you. This the false ally. The person on whom you might count but when the fecal matter hits the fan, he will support your opponent not you. And it doesn't have to be in overly dramatic ways. It might be an ill-placed nod or silence when you're being given a new rear aperture. Or, it might be a dramatic attempt to play "Devil's Advocate" with closing arguments for the prosecution instead of the defense. I don't know about you, but I don't trust attorneys on the Prince of Darkness' team... Get another lawyer.
The Back Seat Driver: This person knows more about your life than you do, and gets very irritated when you're not steering your decisions based on their infinitely wise navigation skills. It's the person who's ready with advice even though you haven't asked for any. They give you a tissue for your gaping wound. They point out exactly how screwed up you are just at the moment you're most vulnerable and then tell you to "suck it up." You're finding that the shoulder offered to you is made of bedrock and judgement. Tell them to walk.
The Fluffer: This the person who likes to prepare you for the scene of your demise. They pump you up with fake praise that they'll readily offer to anyone at any time. It's their self-ascribed job. But when it's time for them to confirm those words in front of others, they don't put their money where their hands have been. They fade into the background and leave you exposed under the glaring lights. Thank them politely and tell them you've got everything handled. :)
The Demolitionist: This person's sole purpose is to undermine everything you've worked for. They're equipped with an infinite amount of wrenches and explosives that they're more than willing to hurl at any of your projects or plans. Their weapon of choice begins with "yes, but..." There's always some unforeseen problem or issue. They never seem to have a better option or a solution. They just like to dismantle not build. You often find yourself fitting them for concrete boots in your mind. The best thing is to turn the tables on them and ask them for an alternative to the problem. That usually shuts them up!
That's it for now. Next time, I'll be dealing with a whole other slew of characters: the incompetents.
As I have always been a student of human behavior, and happen to work in education which is rife with human interaction, I have been developing a cheat sheet of character types. In order to survive this treacherous landscape, it's wise to know who your true allies are, and who are just masking themselves as such. This is what I've observed:
The Impersonator: This person says one thing but means another. It's the person being friendly and open when her body language, choice of words, facial expressions and actions actually say the opposite. It's the guy who walks in the room with a bravado in his step, and an impossibly wide smile plastered on his face whose eyes betray an anger that chills the blood. It's the woman who thinks she is so open-minded and accepting but whose lips and fists tighten whenever anyone does not agree with her. You have to become Zen in your dealings with these people and read them like leaves in a tea cup.
The Diplomat: This person cannot commit to having an opinion. It's not that they don't have an opinion; it's that they don't want anyone to know it. They'll speak whole sentences or paragraphs without really saying anything. You're left to dive for the gist of their meaning, trying to glean a pearl of wisdom when in reality all they're saying is, "I'm not taking a stand on anything." Head down. Shoulders to the wheel. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. Away. Best way to deal with them is not ask for their opinion...
The Assassin: This person is prone to sudden, quiet attacks often in the form of passive-aggressive statements whose aim is to paralyze and poison. He won't come right out and say it; he'll ninja-cut you. This leaves most people unable to react. It's hard to counter or confront passive aggression without looking like a bully or a harsh person. Either way they win. You don't say anything, their barb is unchallenged. You say something and you're mean. I've found the best way to deal with them is evasion tactics. Stay the hell away from them.
The Expert: They know everything about everything better, faster and more completely than anyone else. Their mechanic is cheaper and fairer. Their portfolio is more diverse. Their kids are more accomplished. Their sex more acrobatic. Their groceries are cheaper. Their knowledge more omnipotent. You just have to resign yourself to the understanding that compared to them your life sucks, your experience is minimal and you don't look as good doing it. Humming your favorite tune in your head or aloud, if you dare, while they're speaking is the perfect antidote...
The Subversive: This person might say that she has your back but what she means is she will hand your backside to you. This the false ally. The person on whom you might count but when the fecal matter hits the fan, he will support your opponent not you. And it doesn't have to be in overly dramatic ways. It might be an ill-placed nod or silence when you're being given a new rear aperture. Or, it might be a dramatic attempt to play "Devil's Advocate" with closing arguments for the prosecution instead of the defense. I don't know about you, but I don't trust attorneys on the Prince of Darkness' team... Get another lawyer.
The Back Seat Driver: This person knows more about your life than you do, and gets very irritated when you're not steering your decisions based on their infinitely wise navigation skills. It's the person who's ready with advice even though you haven't asked for any. They give you a tissue for your gaping wound. They point out exactly how screwed up you are just at the moment you're most vulnerable and then tell you to "suck it up." You're finding that the shoulder offered to you is made of bedrock and judgement. Tell them to walk.
The Fluffer: This the person who likes to prepare you for the scene of your demise. They pump you up with fake praise that they'll readily offer to anyone at any time. It's their self-ascribed job. But when it's time for them to confirm those words in front of others, they don't put their money where their hands have been. They fade into the background and leave you exposed under the glaring lights. Thank them politely and tell them you've got everything handled. :)
The Demolitionist: This person's sole purpose is to undermine everything you've worked for. They're equipped with an infinite amount of wrenches and explosives that they're more than willing to hurl at any of your projects or plans. Their weapon of choice begins with "yes, but..." There's always some unforeseen problem or issue. They never seem to have a better option or a solution. They just like to dismantle not build. You often find yourself fitting them for concrete boots in your mind. The best thing is to turn the tables on them and ask them for an alternative to the problem. That usually shuts them up!
That's it for now. Next time, I'll be dealing with a whole other slew of characters: the incompetents.
2011-01-20
Moonlit Reverie
I wish I could type in the moonlight. When I first walked into my fun room, the moonlight was coming in through the slats of my blinds forming dreamy patterns on my desk. They disappeared when I turned on the light. There's a metaphor in there somewhere...
There are nights when my brain just switches on and wakes me up. My body thinks it's time to pee, but it's just a smoke screen. What's really happening is something is eating at me. So I tossed and turned for a bit trying to recapture sleep. It was 3:45 am after all... But the thoughts came crowding in again.
Time to purge. Put on the coffee, and come to my trusty outlet. My blog.
I've been unfaithful to my blog. Not because I have replaced it with anything meaningful, but because I silenced myself for a bit, for whatever reason. The brain however, cannot be silenced. No matter how much I struggle with the thoughts, some slightly profound, others definitely needy, maybe even petty, the thoughts win.
Then these questions woke me completely up. "Why am I shutting myself up? Why am I censoring myself? Judging myself for the thoughts that occupy my mind?" They are my thoughts; good, bad or indifferent, I own them.
Like yesterday, it became viscerally apparent to me how different I am from so many people around me. At lunch, we were talking about a recent award show host and his "humorous" monologue that sparked a lot of controversy. I don't find "roast" humor funny, everybody else finds it hilarious. As I watched them laughing uncontrollably at the clips on YouTube, it became apparent that I have become or maybe have always been The Odd Person Out.
And how do I feel about that? Well obviously some part of me was affected because here I am in the early hours of the morning blogging about it. Some part of me must feel acutely isolated by the experience, but there's another part of me that asks, "So what? So what if I see things differently, experience them differently? I'm sure I'm not the only one to have felt this way. Isn't it what makes each of us unique? Do we all have to see everything the same way to belong to a group?" Or maybe. I just need to lighten up!
The irony of it is that I myself was joking earlier in a way that could be perceived as mean-spirited. My friend was retelling an experience she had with a colleague of ours who invited her to one of her parties. The woman in question approached my friend with, "I'm having a Latin-themed party. You can be the Mexican." (My friend has Mexican roots.) Who invites someone to a party because of their cultural background? A Latin-themed party to me means choice of food and music, maybe even decorations, not which guests will be invited... The whole thing struck me even harder because this woman is an educator so filled with ignorance, it's scary. So yes, I ragged on her a bit and spoofed the situation to bring out its stupidity, so in many ways, I'm no different than the award host. Does it make me a hypocrite?
Probably what it makes me is someone who over-thinks things, and needs to chill out. Maybe I should enjoy what I enjoy and appreciate that others enjoy other things without giving it such sinister and all-encompassing meanings. Maybe I should just enjoy the moonlight through the slats and stop ruining things by turning on the light. See? I knew there was a metaphor in there somewhere... :)
There are nights when my brain just switches on and wakes me up. My body thinks it's time to pee, but it's just a smoke screen. What's really happening is something is eating at me. So I tossed and turned for a bit trying to recapture sleep. It was 3:45 am after all... But the thoughts came crowding in again.
Time to purge. Put on the coffee, and come to my trusty outlet. My blog.
I've been unfaithful to my blog. Not because I have replaced it with anything meaningful, but because I silenced myself for a bit, for whatever reason. The brain however, cannot be silenced. No matter how much I struggle with the thoughts, some slightly profound, others definitely needy, maybe even petty, the thoughts win.
Then these questions woke me completely up. "Why am I shutting myself up? Why am I censoring myself? Judging myself for the thoughts that occupy my mind?" They are my thoughts; good, bad or indifferent, I own them.
Like yesterday, it became viscerally apparent to me how different I am from so many people around me. At lunch, we were talking about a recent award show host and his "humorous" monologue that sparked a lot of controversy. I don't find "roast" humor funny, everybody else finds it hilarious. As I watched them laughing uncontrollably at the clips on YouTube, it became apparent that I have become or maybe have always been The Odd Person Out.
And how do I feel about that? Well obviously some part of me was affected because here I am in the early hours of the morning blogging about it. Some part of me must feel acutely isolated by the experience, but there's another part of me that asks, "So what? So what if I see things differently, experience them differently? I'm sure I'm not the only one to have felt this way. Isn't it what makes each of us unique? Do we all have to see everything the same way to belong to a group?" Or maybe. I just need to lighten up!
The irony of it is that I myself was joking earlier in a way that could be perceived as mean-spirited. My friend was retelling an experience she had with a colleague of ours who invited her to one of her parties. The woman in question approached my friend with, "I'm having a Latin-themed party. You can be the Mexican." (My friend has Mexican roots.) Who invites someone to a party because of their cultural background? A Latin-themed party to me means choice of food and music, maybe even decorations, not which guests will be invited... The whole thing struck me even harder because this woman is an educator so filled with ignorance, it's scary. So yes, I ragged on her a bit and spoofed the situation to bring out its stupidity, so in many ways, I'm no different than the award host. Does it make me a hypocrite?
Probably what it makes me is someone who over-thinks things, and needs to chill out. Maybe I should enjoy what I enjoy and appreciate that others enjoy other things without giving it such sinister and all-encompassing meanings. Maybe I should just enjoy the moonlight through the slats and stop ruining things by turning on the light. See? I knew there was a metaphor in there somewhere... :)
2011-01-05
Her Dark Materials
In the midst of tinsel wishes, and dreams of new beginnings, while balancing the holidays with happy social engagements and time in my woman cave, enjoying my own company, making jewelry, watching movies, reading, I took stock of myself and the direction my life has taken.
There's been a darkness building inside, threatening to engulf me, making me vulnerable. It lies in wait, ready to find the worst in any scenario, ready to point out my faults, my failures, my lack. It might be the hormones that are bubbling inside me as I enter another cycle of life. It might be the constant reminder that my life has not turned out as I had envisioned it, especially during the holidays. It might be the realization that I am not at the top or even near the top of anyone's list. The fact remains that I have been battling the half empty glass. I have been trying to fill it, encouraging myself in the right direction, trying to live my life as it is rather than as I have wished it to be. I can call the glass something else. I can fill it with my blessings, but the darkness scoffs at me.
I'm so raw inside that even the slightest rebuff and criticism can wound me. The darkness inside me pounces like an evil monster, armed with fresh material, ready to dismantle me. Most of the time, I can disarm it, make tactical maneuvers and avoid its sharp sword. At other times its aim hits home and I am shattered. That's why more and more I have been retreating. No one can hurt me in my woman cave.
Therapy is definitely an option. Talking to someone who is qualified and paid to listen might just be my only feasible option. Yet, I hesitate, because trust is a hard thing to find. Trusting someone, looking into another person's eyes, and letting all the darkness out is not as easy as it sounds. Especially to an independent person like me.
As I type this post, a voice mutters, "Yet, you can type this out for all the world to see if they so choose." It might be horribly arrogant of me, but I hope that this will help someone, somewhere, who might be going through the same thing to know she/he is not alone.
Ironic, isn't it? Especially knowing that this darkness inside has fermented and festered through my feeling of isolation. Doubly ironic given the fact that I have come to terms with my aloneness, accepting it's embrace like a cocoon, knowing that I do have the freedom to do as I please without having to answer to someone else. That's a very half full glass.
But whether I call it half full or half empty, the fact remains that my glass contains less liquid that of others. I want to enjoy every drop. I want to revel in it's refreshing coolness. I want to wash away the darkness that lingers, ready to swallow me instead.
I can call it a resolution, but that would be naive. It's a process and a struggle, one that I must embrace until it is no more.
There's been a darkness building inside, threatening to engulf me, making me vulnerable. It lies in wait, ready to find the worst in any scenario, ready to point out my faults, my failures, my lack. It might be the hormones that are bubbling inside me as I enter another cycle of life. It might be the constant reminder that my life has not turned out as I had envisioned it, especially during the holidays. It might be the realization that I am not at the top or even near the top of anyone's list. The fact remains that I have been battling the half empty glass. I have been trying to fill it, encouraging myself in the right direction, trying to live my life as it is rather than as I have wished it to be. I can call the glass something else. I can fill it with my blessings, but the darkness scoffs at me.
I'm so raw inside that even the slightest rebuff and criticism can wound me. The darkness inside me pounces like an evil monster, armed with fresh material, ready to dismantle me. Most of the time, I can disarm it, make tactical maneuvers and avoid its sharp sword. At other times its aim hits home and I am shattered. That's why more and more I have been retreating. No one can hurt me in my woman cave.
Therapy is definitely an option. Talking to someone who is qualified and paid to listen might just be my only feasible option. Yet, I hesitate, because trust is a hard thing to find. Trusting someone, looking into another person's eyes, and letting all the darkness out is not as easy as it sounds. Especially to an independent person like me.
As I type this post, a voice mutters, "Yet, you can type this out for all the world to see if they so choose." It might be horribly arrogant of me, but I hope that this will help someone, somewhere, who might be going through the same thing to know she/he is not alone.
Ironic, isn't it? Especially knowing that this darkness inside has fermented and festered through my feeling of isolation. Doubly ironic given the fact that I have come to terms with my aloneness, accepting it's embrace like a cocoon, knowing that I do have the freedom to do as I please without having to answer to someone else. That's a very half full glass.
But whether I call it half full or half empty, the fact remains that my glass contains less liquid that of others. I want to enjoy every drop. I want to revel in it's refreshing coolness. I want to wash away the darkness that lingers, ready to swallow me instead.
I can call it a resolution, but that would be naive. It's a process and a struggle, one that I must embrace until it is no more.
2010-12-10
Firework
Sometimes, a song just hits home! :)
Firework
Katy Perry
Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,
drifting through the wind
wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
like a house of cards,
one blow from caving in?
Do you ever feel already buried deep?
6 feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you
You just gotta ignite, the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July
'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in down-own-own
You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow
Maybe your reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow
And when it's time, you'll know
You just gotta ignite, the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July
'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, Oh, Oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in down-own-own
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you
And now it's time to let it through-ough-ough
'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, Oh, Oh"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, Oh, Oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in down-own-own
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
2010-12-08
Tis the Season
I was listening to the radio, switching in and out of attention on the babble the goes on between songs, when I was struck by the following report: They asked the Santa Clauses to stop ringing their bells downtown because it was irritating pedestrians.
Really? That's what irritates people? Christmas bells? Not mufflers? Or car horns? Or bus brakes? Or the stench of exhaust pipes? Or the exorbitant holiday "sales"? Or the line ups? Or people bitching about the weather and pretty season sounds?
What's next?
Christmas lights? They hurt the eyes you know if you stare at them too long. Or children's voices? They can be high-pitched when they're excited or laughing. Heaven forbid their joy and the beauty of the season interfere with people's cell phone conversations or shopping frenzy of consumer gluttony.
I'm weird. The thing I look forward to most is the get-togethers filled with holiday cheer and seasonal good will, the Christmas songs, the winter drab being taken over with lights and bells and tinsel, the children buzzing with anticipation. I love the smells of baking and specialty coffee and snow in the air.
What happened to Joy? Peace on Earth? Good will toward all? Including the silenced Santas.
Today, Jamie Ridler's Wishcasting prompt is: "What do you wish to transform?"
I wish to take the Grinch and Master card out of Christmas and transform it back to the magical, loving, sharing, joyous season it should be.
Really? That's what irritates people? Christmas bells? Not mufflers? Or car horns? Or bus brakes? Or the stench of exhaust pipes? Or the exorbitant holiday "sales"? Or the line ups? Or people bitching about the weather and pretty season sounds?
What's next?
Christmas lights? They hurt the eyes you know if you stare at them too long. Or children's voices? They can be high-pitched when they're excited or laughing. Heaven forbid their joy and the beauty of the season interfere with people's cell phone conversations or shopping frenzy of consumer gluttony.
I'm weird. The thing I look forward to most is the get-togethers filled with holiday cheer and seasonal good will, the Christmas songs, the winter drab being taken over with lights and bells and tinsel, the children buzzing with anticipation. I love the smells of baking and specialty coffee and snow in the air.
What happened to Joy? Peace on Earth? Good will toward all? Including the silenced Santas.
Today, Jamie Ridler's Wishcasting prompt is: "What do you wish to transform?"
I wish to take the Grinch and Master card out of Christmas and transform it back to the magical, loving, sharing, joyous season it should be.
2010-12-01
Balancing the Blue
Before I type anything else, I'd like to send a huge wave of ♥ to everyone who sent their warm wishes and thoughts in my last few posts. You fill my heart with comfort, my soul with fresh air, and my mind with possibility in moments that they feel most depleted and battered,. THANK YOU! :)
If you don't know Jamie Ridler, you're missing someone special. She has the organic ability to intuit the pulse of the world by coming up not only with amazing reading circles, interviews, dream boards, and avenues to connectivity, but by waving her magic sparkling wand over us every Wednesday, invoking powerful wishes from all over the world.
Today's prompt, like so many others, seems to have grown from my thoughts and experiences. Today, Jamie asks, "Where do you wish to go slow?"
Funny, this question should come up during a time in my life when I have been feeling like I'm sinking from existence, slowly whithering away into a puff of forgettable smoke. Not being one to indulge in worry and self-pity for too long, I have been searching my heart and mind for an exit- a way to balance the feelings that threaten to drown me, and those that buoy me above the surface. I have been balancing on the blue, bobbing up and down, seeking a way to save myself from the creatures that lie below the surface, ready to pull me down.
I try not to panic and thrash, for that gives the creatures of the deep more momentum to drown me. In times of crisis, I, like many, tend to act without thinking, unleashing a chain of events that regress my steps to a time before enlightenment. Rash, quick movements are not the best when surrounded by the deep blue, ready to engulf those who do not respect it.
I still my mind and my screaming heart, letting my body float on the waters both raging and benevolent. I know how to swim. I must rely on that. There is a shore somewhere with a warm fire, fresh food and clean clothes for my heart to gain respite from the struggle. I must dig deep, and go slow. In slowing down, I gain strength and listen to the water's purpose. Maybe, it's not meant to drown me, but trying to pull me in a direction my clueless mind cannot register yet.
I wish to slow down, and listen to the wisdom of the blue. Let it pilot me on my Odyssean travels. In slowness, I will find redemption.
If you don't know Jamie Ridler, you're missing someone special. She has the organic ability to intuit the pulse of the world by coming up not only with amazing reading circles, interviews, dream boards, and avenues to connectivity, but by waving her magic sparkling wand over us every Wednesday, invoking powerful wishes from all over the world.
Today's prompt, like so many others, seems to have grown from my thoughts and experiences. Today, Jamie asks, "Where do you wish to go slow?"
Funny, this question should come up during a time in my life when I have been feeling like I'm sinking from existence, slowly whithering away into a puff of forgettable smoke. Not being one to indulge in worry and self-pity for too long, I have been searching my heart and mind for an exit- a way to balance the feelings that threaten to drown me, and those that buoy me above the surface. I have been balancing on the blue, bobbing up and down, seeking a way to save myself from the creatures that lie below the surface, ready to pull me down.
I try not to panic and thrash, for that gives the creatures of the deep more momentum to drown me. In times of crisis, I, like many, tend to act without thinking, unleashing a chain of events that regress my steps to a time before enlightenment. Rash, quick movements are not the best when surrounded by the deep blue, ready to engulf those who do not respect it.
I still my mind and my screaming heart, letting my body float on the waters both raging and benevolent. I know how to swim. I must rely on that. There is a shore somewhere with a warm fire, fresh food and clean clothes for my heart to gain respite from the struggle. I must dig deep, and go slow. In slowing down, I gain strength and listen to the water's purpose. Maybe, it's not meant to drown me, but trying to pull me in a direction my clueless mind cannot register yet.
I wish to slow down, and listen to the wisdom of the blue. Let it pilot me on my Odyssean travels. In slowness, I will find redemption.
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