I've had so much to say lately....just no time to say it. Not here, anyway. Blog, my love....I miss you.
Yes, so, I'm starting a new job tomorrow. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited. My answer every time has been a non-hesitant "no". I'm not caught in the antithesis of excited....I'm not dreading this new position. I don't think I feel anything about it at all at this point. You know how your body defaults to shock when the nerve endings detect a certain level of physical pain? Fascinating (and appreciated) nature-made protection device. Well, I think I'm in emotional shock. My body is allowing me to feel no emotion so that the culmination of it all won't finish me off. Remember my not-so-long-ago complaint about my crying overages? Well, amazingly, I haven't shed a tear in 6 weeks or so. I could get used to this.
The feeling will return before long. The numbness will begin to fade, and then I'll just feel all tingly for a while, and before I know it....all will be back to normal. Even if it doesn't, I'm sure I'll have reports from this....yet another.... new career venture. What is this---like number 35??
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
Piggly Wiggly's Star Employee of the Week (or something similar)
I have amazing friends. Truly...you're all amazing. And the most amazing part of the amazingnessism is that you're all amazing in your own ways. Each and every one of you has a unique character and spirit that inspires me...displays talents and abilities that take my breath away...shares love that makes my life mean something. From time to time I mention you, either by name or reference, in this blog. I should do it more often, perhaps. I'm doing it today.
To the left, under "Links", you'll see one titled Blank Canvas. This one is authored by my dear pal Corey. If you've never looked at his page, you should. Corey and his beautiful wife, my beautiful friend Kristen (who will be signing a record deal in no time, I'm sure), have moved to New York City (I've mentioned this before) to exercise their talents. They have more collective talent, by the way, than any two people should be allowed to have. No wonder God cut some of us short....SOME people got it all. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Corey is in pursuit of anything related to music, dance, or thespianism (is that a word?). He WILL make it, just so you know. I don't know how or when or by what means, but he will make it. I must point a little spotlight at the most recent entry on his page. He has listed all of the upcoming auditions he's planning on attending. I'm in awe of his courage. Yes, Corey....I'm in awe.
However, I have to say that I AM experiencing a little bit of a gag reflex at the posting of one of your model friends' pictures on your page, though. You're pretty enough on your own...you don't need to exaggerate it by bragging that you hang out with pretty people. And are we really expected to believe that these guys have names like "Jono" and "Brown" and "Apollo"? ( I swear, Corey...if you change your name to something hip and pansy, I'll never speak to you again. I put up with a lot from you, but that's where I draw the line. ) I met some of Corey's model buddies and I have to admit that, despite their ridiculous made-up names, they were actually very down to earth. I had some fairly intense conversations with a few of them. Pretty and hair-product laden or not, there aren't many guys that I could discuss crying with. So, for that, I offer acceptance. Tolerance, anyway.
My intended point, which I have so successfully lost in meaningless details, was that Corey's pursuit of his dream is something that I am chosing to learn from. We should choose to learn from it. We may not be able to hit all the high notes or do jazz hands with flawless flare, but we've all got our own strengths and talents. If he can risk busting his ass on a stage (not that he will), then I'm positive that there are risks we should all be taking for our chance at our own versions of stardom. All I need now are 3 bowling pins, a jar of rubber cement, a damp towel, a trained zebra and a stripper's pole....and I'll be on my way.
To the left, under "Links", you'll see one titled Blank Canvas. This one is authored by my dear pal Corey. If you've never looked at his page, you should. Corey and his beautiful wife, my beautiful friend Kristen (who will be signing a record deal in no time, I'm sure), have moved to New York City (I've mentioned this before) to exercise their talents. They have more collective talent, by the way, than any two people should be allowed to have. No wonder God cut some of us short....SOME people got it all. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Corey is in pursuit of anything related to music, dance, or thespianism (is that a word?). He WILL make it, just so you know. I don't know how or when or by what means, but he will make it. I must point a little spotlight at the most recent entry on his page. He has listed all of the upcoming auditions he's planning on attending. I'm in awe of his courage. Yes, Corey....I'm in awe.
However, I have to say that I AM experiencing a little bit of a gag reflex at the posting of one of your model friends' pictures on your page, though. You're pretty enough on your own...you don't need to exaggerate it by bragging that you hang out with pretty people. And are we really expected to believe that these guys have names like "Jono" and "Brown" and "Apollo"? ( I swear, Corey...if you change your name to something hip and pansy, I'll never speak to you again. I put up with a lot from you, but that's where I draw the line. ) I met some of Corey's model buddies and I have to admit that, despite their ridiculous made-up names, they were actually very down to earth. I had some fairly intense conversations with a few of them. Pretty and hair-product laden or not, there aren't many guys that I could discuss crying with. So, for that, I offer acceptance. Tolerance, anyway.
My intended point, which I have so successfully lost in meaningless details, was that Corey's pursuit of his dream is something that I am chosing to learn from. We should choose to learn from it. We may not be able to hit all the high notes or do jazz hands with flawless flare, but we've all got our own strengths and talents. If he can risk busting his ass on a stage (not that he will), then I'm positive that there are risks we should all be taking for our chance at our own versions of stardom. All I need now are 3 bowling pins, a jar of rubber cement, a damp towel, a trained zebra and a stripper's pole....and I'll be on my way.
Monday, May 15, 2006
The Dough-Boy's Sugar-Coated View of Adulthood
That one of the most painful human experiences is to lose a child is a completely believable concept. I would say that it's completely "understandable" but, as someone with no children, much less someone who has LOST a child, how could I possibly understand it? I've heard parents whose children have passed express the pain by saying that it's "unnatural" or "against nature"...that parents should always go first; not the other way around.
While I cannot possibly comprehend the above mentioned scenario, it makes me think about other variations of "unnatural" events within the parent/child relationship. My current and ongoing situation is in no way as tragic or painful as the death of a loved one, but it prompts a very unique range of emotions. I will venture to say that no "child" should have to parent their own parents.
Most of us will grow to an old age. Most of us will have at least one parent arrive at old age before we do. It's one of our many responsibilities as members of a family...as decent human beings...to care for our parents and look after them once they are unable to physically care for themselves. It's really the only way we repay them for raising us to adulthood, right?
But there is a distinct difference in CARING for parents and PARENTING parents. It feels quite unnatural to have to have to discuss with your siblings what "Tough Love" tactics must be used with your mother and father in order for them to learn from their mistakes. Lecturing 60-somethings about irresponsibility and decision making isn't as much fun as it sounds. And lying awake in your bed at night hoping and praying that you've equipped them to the best of your abilities to take on that next big thing....well, it sucks. It bruises the soul in a way that is pretty much indescribable to anyone who hasn't experienced it personally. Debasement, worry, vexation, frustration, sorrow. Mostly sorrow. When combined they create a dull pain that isn't sharp enough to cut your spirit completely in two, but it's a sensation that never really subsides. It jabs you between the ribs just enough so that you never feel totally comfortable.
That absent comfort, like a nice clean house where the family can gather at holidays just like they do in Pilsbury commercials, is something I never stop pining after.
While I cannot possibly comprehend the above mentioned scenario, it makes me think about other variations of "unnatural" events within the parent/child relationship. My current and ongoing situation is in no way as tragic or painful as the death of a loved one, but it prompts a very unique range of emotions. I will venture to say that no "child" should have to parent their own parents.
Most of us will grow to an old age. Most of us will have at least one parent arrive at old age before we do. It's one of our many responsibilities as members of a family...as decent human beings...to care for our parents and look after them once they are unable to physically care for themselves. It's really the only way we repay them for raising us to adulthood, right?
But there is a distinct difference in CARING for parents and PARENTING parents. It feels quite unnatural to have to have to discuss with your siblings what "Tough Love" tactics must be used with your mother and father in order for them to learn from their mistakes. Lecturing 60-somethings about irresponsibility and decision making isn't as much fun as it sounds. And lying awake in your bed at night hoping and praying that you've equipped them to the best of your abilities to take on that next big thing....well, it sucks. It bruises the soul in a way that is pretty much indescribable to anyone who hasn't experienced it personally. Debasement, worry, vexation, frustration, sorrow. Mostly sorrow. When combined they create a dull pain that isn't sharp enough to cut your spirit completely in two, but it's a sensation that never really subsides. It jabs you between the ribs just enough so that you never feel totally comfortable.
That absent comfort, like a nice clean house where the family can gather at holidays just like they do in Pilsbury commercials, is something I never stop pining after.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
I'm just a step away from support hose and Wheel of Fortune
In a little over a month, I'll be turning 27. Yikes!! That number sounds so old. Old and....insignificant. 27 is MUCH closer to 30 than 26 is. 26 is hanging out right after 25, and that seems pretty cool, still. 27... not so much. I keep discussing the big two-seven with people lately, and I'm becoming completely paranoid about my age. I'm starting to freak out a little bit, actually. Don't even get me started on the "I'm still not married and have produced no offspring" issue.
Signs that I'm Getting Old:
1. Those "laugh lines" don't think it's funny anymore. For the first time ever, I cracked open a jar of anti-wrinkle cream last night. I think I heard the sorrowful sound of the violin as I applied it. It was a sad moment. But, I figured it can't hurt, right? It's the good stuff, too. $125 a pop. (got it for free, by the way.) Maybe if it works on my face, I'll try it on my butt, too. Just as a precaution.
2. My feet began hurting my first day in New York...and that was almost 2 weeks ago. Shouldn't a good foot soak have worked by now?
3. I recently spent a good 3 hours with a group of fraternity boys (long story), and all but one of them insisted on calling me "m'am" the entire time. The "but one" did flirt with me quite a bit, though, so that should count for something. I thought about making out with him just to boost my self esteem, but in the end decided against it.
4. Going home on a Friday night is now far more appealing than going out to socialize.
5. As time goes by, I grow to like Simon and Garfunkel more and more.
6. I use expressions like "Yikes!".
7. I distinctly remember referring to a guy (who was probably 5-6 years older than myself) as a "nice young man" last week. And I didn't say it to be funny.
8. I get really excited about eating spinach.
9. If I'm around anyone who's under the age of 23, I feel the need to counsel them about their life choices even when they don't ask for my advice.
10. My day feels incomplete without coffee and at least one viewing of the national news.
11. If I go a night without at least 6 hours of sleep, I'm dragging ass the next day.
12. I make moany noises when getting up off the floor.
13. When in public, if I see a kid misbehaving, I give her the evil eye when her mommy isn't looking.
14. When someone suggests dining at Picadilly, I'm totally up for it.
If anyone catches me playing The Weather Channel just for the benefit of the music, please just go ahead and put me out of my misery.
Signs that I'm Getting Old:
1. Those "laugh lines" don't think it's funny anymore. For the first time ever, I cracked open a jar of anti-wrinkle cream last night. I think I heard the sorrowful sound of the violin as I applied it. It was a sad moment. But, I figured it can't hurt, right? It's the good stuff, too. $125 a pop. (got it for free, by the way.) Maybe if it works on my face, I'll try it on my butt, too. Just as a precaution.
2. My feet began hurting my first day in New York...and that was almost 2 weeks ago. Shouldn't a good foot soak have worked by now?
3. I recently spent a good 3 hours with a group of fraternity boys (long story), and all but one of them insisted on calling me "m'am" the entire time. The "but one" did flirt with me quite a bit, though, so that should count for something. I thought about making out with him just to boost my self esteem, but in the end decided against it.
4. Going home on a Friday night is now far more appealing than going out to socialize.
5. As time goes by, I grow to like Simon and Garfunkel more and more.
6. I use expressions like "Yikes!".
7. I distinctly remember referring to a guy (who was probably 5-6 years older than myself) as a "nice young man" last week. And I didn't say it to be funny.
8. I get really excited about eating spinach.
9. If I'm around anyone who's under the age of 23, I feel the need to counsel them about their life choices even when they don't ask for my advice.
10. My day feels incomplete without coffee and at least one viewing of the national news.
11. If I go a night without at least 6 hours of sleep, I'm dragging ass the next day.
12. I make moany noises when getting up off the floor.
13. When in public, if I see a kid misbehaving, I give her the evil eye when her mommy isn't looking.
14. When someone suggests dining at Picadilly, I'm totally up for it.
If anyone catches me playing The Weather Channel just for the benefit of the music, please just go ahead and put me out of my misery.
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