Oh, hello! I was scolded recently that you had to make your own sandwiches in here, so here’s a plate of brownies to make up for it.
I’m sitting at work, here at the Gas ‘n Sip, and it is pouring rain out. It’s gray. It looks cold. All the trees and grass are dead. This is day 3 of rain and it’s expected to continue for at least 3 more.
It’s one of those days where you feel blue, but not for any good reason. It’s a good day for a nap. And to be home on the sofa with a snuggly blanket and a familiar movie. If you have a fireplace, it’s a day for lighting a fire and grabbing a book, settling in for a good read. It’s definitely a day to NOT be at work, desperately trying to avoid doing the work you have to do.
Today, I seem to have turned procrastination into an art form. There is something that I really do have to get done, and yet…. here I am sitting and looking out at the rain. I’m thankful that it isn’t snow. If this were snow, I think we would have 3 feet by now.
On this gray day, think about what you might be doing. What’s your favorite way to survive a yucky, introspective day?
Oh, hello! Come on in. Help yourself to some coffee. And sugar cookies.
I am my own worst enemy. I constantly self-sabotage and despite the best of intentions, my diet/job search/laundry/house cleaning goes by the wayside. I’m not sure why that is, and I know the best way to find out is to do a lot of self-exploration, but I can’t even bring myself to do that. I’ve tried meditation, but I cannot sit still for very long and quieting my mind is like herding kittens.
But despite several false starts, I am still plodding forward, in my quest to be better. At least it seems that the span of time between bursts of motivation seems to be getting smaller. I have finally gotten really serious about my job search. I have sent my resumé to a career advisor to get help with it. (My resumé sucks! I know it does. But I’ve never known how to make it better.) They will look at what I now am sending out, and when they stop laughing, they will tell me how to make it better and help me with the rewrite. (YAY!) I’ve decided that commuting farther than my current 6 miles won’t be such a bad thing. I’ve decided that I need to be confident in my abilities and to stop minimizing my capabilities. I know more than I give myself credit for, and I need to own that.
Another area that I’ve decided to stop whining about is house cleaning. I hate house cleaning. I’ve thought I would love to have a cleaning service come in to clean for me. Then I think, OMG, my house is TINY! There is no reason to have someone come in to do it for me. When I get started, it really takes about an hour to clean it because most of the time, it’s just tidying. So, instead of whining about it, I’m going to just shut up and clean it. And it will mean that I don’t have to spend a couple hundred dollars a month for someone to do what I am totally capable of doing myself.
My health. Recently, I ordered up something that is supposed to help me with my activity levels by motivating me to do a little bit more every day. I won’t endorse or disparage it here yet since I just started with it. But if it helps me a little bit, I think it will be worth it. I don’t want to be super-model thin, or tri-athlete fit, but I do want to be healthy. I think that is the important thing now. I view this as a step in the right direction.
So why did I pick the title of the post I did? I will no longer think of my faltering steps as failures. Not meeting my goal on the first try will not completely derail me, no matter what area of my life it is. If I don’t get the “dream job” the first time? There is something better coming. If I leave my cereal bowl in the sink in the morning? Big whoop. I’ll wash it that evening. And if I am tired at the end of the day, and want to lie down on the couch watching NCIS reruns (for the 83rd time) then that’s okay too. None of this makes me a bad person. It just makes me fallible and fabulous. In the grand scheme of things, faltering steps make me who I am.
And just like the little engine, I WILL get to the top. The top of whatever I decide to tackle. I am a work in progress, and I will never be complete. Each step is another brush stroke toward greatness.
Oh, hello! Come on in! We’re having mini crustless Quiche this morning.
So, it seems that some of the biggest “news” these days is about this “celebrity” Heidi who had plastic surgery.
To back up for a second, I recently discovered I have reached the point in my life where I have no idea who most of the people claiming to be famous are. I don’t watch their shows, see their movies, listen to their music, or whatever it is they do. This Heidi is in that group for me. I have no idea why she’s famous, but evidently she is and was showing off her new bewbs on the cover of People magazine.
Back to my point. It’s been widely talked about that she had all these surgeries. She’s been interviewed and said she feels good about it and is very happy about it. Her husband is supportive of her decision. In my opinion, the story should end there. And yet….
And yet, from reading the news online, I have seen a new story, seemingly everyday, where other celebrities (who evidently have some sort of expertise) are opining on Heidi’s choices and condemning her for them.
Who do these people think they are? If this woman is happy with her choice, then the discussion ends there. Personally, I wouldn’t want beach balls for bewbs, but what? Oh, that’s right! I DON’T HAVE TO GET THEM. If it’s right for her, it’s right.
I suppose the argument could be made that she made this a topic of discussion by appearing in People in a bikini. But she’s a celebrity, and that’s what they do. They create photo-ops to stay on the radar. That’s her job. (I’m guessing.) It could also be argued that she did all this to combat some level of insecurity. So, ripping her apart for it is helping her how? If she was insecure about how she looked before, what must she be thinking now?
I get it that if we aren’t talking about a celebrity, they get concerned. I also get it that what they do/say/wear has absolutely no bearing on my life. And finally, I get it that there is a whole industry built on reporting what celebrities are doing. But how about we focus on what they are doing to better the world and not what “we” think they should be doing. Talk about/Promote the new movies/books/shows/music.
But let’s get away from the constant mental flogging about looks. Use what Heidi did as a spring-board to have a discussion with your kids (if you have them, that is. My cats? Not interested.) about body image. Again, it may not be right FOR YOU, but it was for her. And that’s okay. We don’t all have to agree.
But, step off, Judgey McJudgerson. Or at least remember your feeling of superiority the next time someone judges you.
Oh, hello! Come on in. Coffee is on, and cereal is on the counter.
Yesterday, I complained about being in a snit, for which I didn’t know the cause. I think I may have figured it out.
Every time there is some huge tragedy in the world – the tsunami, Katrina, the earthquake – I start thinking about how small my personal world is, and how significant I feel in it. The fact that I have no power in one half of my house since Saturday (I know, how random, right??) really seems so stupid to worry about. Coming into the Gas ‘n Sip everyday to do these *really* important projects that will enable our customers to see a particular shade of green consistently across all the pages of the website seems so trivial.
I don’t typically watch the news (I think I may have mentioned this before) because it depresses me. So much killing and violence and hatred and sadness in the world. I am definitely one who absorbs others’ problems thinking I can help. (Excuse me while I walk on water for a minute…)
I’m back… >_<
Anyhoo, Haiti. I think this is the source of my latest snit. I have watched an inordinate (for me) amount of coverage of this horrible tragedy, and it breaks my heart over and over. These people who are being rescued, now 2 weeks later, are so strong and brave. But what do they have now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s wonderful that people are donating money, clothing, first aid, food, but they have lost everything. The poor children, who are now orphans, can’t even be adopted now because of all the human traffickers who want to cause harm. So sad.
I look at this story, and I look at my life, and I think – This is it? This is what I’m contributing to the world? Consistent green coloring? And so the snit takes hold. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no idea what I could do if I were able to go to Haiti to help. My life really is sheltered and I’m sure I would freak out at the loss and the poverty. And really, working at the Gas ‘n Sip hasn’t prepared me for any kind of life saving, aid giving work. But there has to be something more. There has to be.
I know I could volunteer in my community and help that way; starting locally is a good first step. Of course, then I would have to face my laziness. Then seeing the need so close to home and how they need so much and I’m complaining about having too many clothes. Oy. It really is a vicious circle. I really do drive myself crazy.
So, I just have to turn off the news again, and let my feathers get settled a little, and this snit will be history. Until the next tragedy.
But in the meantime, I can look for ways to “give back” close to home. Maybe that will mitigate the next one.
Oh, hello! Lovely salad today. Dressing on the side.
I used to be fun. Honest.
Back in the day, I would get dressed up and go out with my friends. We’d drink, and dance, and laugh, and pick up boys (who wanted to be men.) The night would be considered young at 10pm. Heck, we wouldn’t even leave the house until after 10. That was back when people could still smoke in bars – you’d come home reeking of cigarettes, and need to take a shower. Sleep (or pass out) for a few hours, then start making plans to do it all again.
But, somewhere along the way, my fun got broken. I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to it, and when, but the thought of going out and being jostled in a loud, too crowded bar holds all the appeal of the cats chewing my toes off. Maybe it’s a function of getting older, or the after effects of being betrayed by the above mentioned friends, or the result of acquiring more mature friends, or being more choosy with who I do consider a friend, but my fun seems to be gone. (I know I previously described how I suck at the whole “I wanna be your friend” thing, so I won’t go there.)(Okay, just one thing about that – if someone calls to go to lunch or dinner or whatever, and I am not *completely* sure they are among my handful of friends? I experience something that can only be described as a mild panic attack. Seriously. WTF is wrong with me??)
Now, it seems that “going out” is more around the happy hour time frame. A lovely night is home, with a book. Dinner out? I’d love for it to be done by 8pm. Bed? On a school night, I like nothing more than to be in bed by 9, reading. Weekends? It’s later, but still not the crazy early morning hours of the next day. It’s a very low-key, comfortable existence.
But the more I think about my fun and what happened to it, I realize that what I have really *is* just an existence. Sure, it’s comfortable, it works (sort of), it’s somewhat lonely, but I’m not really *living*. I do have fun when I go out with my true friends. Or when I go to the hockey games with Herb. I really do. But how do I get out of my head, stop over analyzing every word/look/gesture with the ones who haven’t forced their way in. (And let’s face it – they do have to force their way in. And for those that have? Thank goat they did. I cherish them.)
Maybe once I stop expecting the worst from people, or suspecting the worst of myself, I will be able to find the instructions and fix my fun. I just hope that all the years of sweeping it into the corner, and moving it from one apartment to another, from one state to another, and finally to this house, haven’t permanently crushed it. I suspect the pieces have been pretty disintegrated and crushed, but maybe not irreparably harmed. Hopefully, with a little bottle of self-love, a healthy-sized box of kind words, and a final rinse-off of trust, my fun will re-emerge as some shadow of its former self. Maybe then, I will be able to water it daily, play it good music, feed it good food, and have it return stronger than before. To be clear, I have no desire to relive the crazy days of leaving the house at 10pm and driving home (usually drunk. I know. You don’t have to say it. I KNOW!) several hours later. But I do want to not be suspicious of people and their motives. I do want to know that I have something to offer/contribute. I do want to hear myself laugh until my tum hurts.
I miss my fun. I hope it hasn’t given up all hope. After all, I did keep it with me for all this time, despite my neglect. That should count for something, right?
Oh, hello! We’re having Mediterranean Veggie Sammies today – with cilantro hummus. Have one.
Do you wish? Not just on birthday candles, or about big things. I mean about anything. Do you ever find yourself saying “I wish I could…”?
Reading the lovely Jose’s blog (found at http://www.fabergemonkey.com/) I found myself thinking, “I wish I could write poetry. It doesn’t even have to be lovely poetry.” I’ve said in the past: I wish I could…
- speak French
- run without my knees hurting
- lose 5-, 10-, 25-, 50-pounds
- live in Paris
- save money
- blah blah blah
I guess the real thing I have to ask myself is “Why can’t I…” I’ll tell you why. I can’t because I think I can’t. I bet if I changed it to “I am going to…”, that after a few false starts, I would be doing whatever it is I put my mind to.
I wish it were Friday. I wish it were sunny. I wish I had a better/different/easier/more challenging job. I wish I had bought that bag/shirt/wallet/perfume. I wish it were 5pm. I wish I could drink/stop drinking/smoke/stop smoking.
Does any of that sound like you? What are we waiting for? Why are we wishing our lives away?
On the other hand, does wishing give you hope? Is it a form of prayer? Does it give you something to look forward to? Or does it deny hope by reminding you of what you don’t have? What you lack? What you only think you want – regardless if it is really the best thing for you?
Do you wish?
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