Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Done!
My semester is over. Papers have been written, chapters read, tests taken, A's received.
On January 23rd, I start nursing school.
Until then, though...I will read. Books, real ones, of my choosing. I will attend the yoga class at my gym, and then sit in the sauna. I will enjoy long, leisurely lunches with friends. I will relish in not toting a 40-pound backpack from anatomy to the library to a ten-minute lunch to lab to microbiology.
I will lounge. I will love it.
Now commencing...relaxation.
On January 23rd, I start nursing school.
Until then, though...I will read. Books, real ones, of my choosing. I will attend the yoga class at my gym, and then sit in the sauna. I will enjoy long, leisurely lunches with friends. I will relish in not toting a 40-pound backpack from anatomy to the library to a ten-minute lunch to lab to microbiology.
I will lounge. I will love it.
Now commencing...relaxation.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A vow.
I will write a paper today. I will not use the internet as a method of procrastination. I will ENJOY writing about proper handwashing techniques as they effect pediatric nosocomial infections in the ICU. I will.
Volunteers?
You know how sometimes you're kind of stressed out (but not super stressed out) and you have a lot to do (but not so much you're not going to be able to get it done) except you're not going to really be able to start (at least, not yet) because you're just kind of staring at this big pile of STUFF you have to finish?
And you know how you think that you might not be able to even start until you just get a gigantic reassuring hug or at least the verbal reassurance that everything IS, in fact, going to be OK, just because that reassurance alone means that someone out there recognizes that you are able to do all of this (by "all of this" I mean work and school and life) without pulling your hair out and while still coming across as a relatively sane person?
Yeah, that's how I feel right now. So if anyone wants to drop by for a hugging, you're invited. I think a nap may have a similar effect, though, so I'll give that a shot too. And on Monday at 2:01 p.m., I will be normal again. Normal, of course, being relative.
And you know how you think that you might not be able to even start until you just get a gigantic reassuring hug or at least the verbal reassurance that everything IS, in fact, going to be OK, just because that reassurance alone means that someone out there recognizes that you are able to do all of this (by "all of this" I mean work and school and life) without pulling your hair out and while still coming across as a relatively sane person?
Yeah, that's how I feel right now. So if anyone wants to drop by for a hugging, you're invited. I think a nap may have a similar effect, though, so I'll give that a shot too. And on Monday at 2:01 p.m., I will be normal again. Normal, of course, being relative.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
That means "I love you."
I met her when I was five.
She stood out to me, even as a child, because she was the only adult at the family reunion playing football with the cousins.
"This behavior!" gasped the relatives. "At the age of 82!"
She sent me letters, real mail, type-written on yellow stationery bordered with flowers. We drove to Minnesota to visit one summer, staying with her in her tiny house. We spent days swimming in the pool and exploring the surrounding gardens and lakes. She swam laps every morning. It kept her young, she said.
Before we went to sleep at night, she would reach over and take my hand, squeezing it three times.
"That means 'I love you,'" she explained. "My husband and I used to do that every night before we went to sleep. It was my secret with him, and now it's my secret with you."
I didn't see her much, but there were letters, always letters. I wrote back religiously, even learning to type on the electric typewriter that my parents kept in the basement. Then she got sick. She moved from her tiny house into a tinier room in a nursing home. The nurses continued to read her my letters, and I still received them from her, sporadically now, even as the cancer progressed, eventually forcing her into a wheelchair and then into bed.
She died when I was fourteen. Weeks later, I received a package. It contained her wedding ring, and several smudged photos of me. When I looked more closely, I saw that the smears on the photos where the places where she'd kissed the images, to say goodnight, or perhaps good morning, or just as a way to tell me she loved me, since I was too far away to squeeze her hand.
Her ring sat in a safety deposit box for years. Now, I wear it on a chain around my neck. It reminds me to hope. It reminds me that somewhere in me runs the blood of the woman who swam laps to stay young, and played football with the cousins, and loved unconditionally and well.
She stood out to me, even as a child, because she was the only adult at the family reunion playing football with the cousins.
"This behavior!" gasped the relatives. "At the age of 82!"
She sent me letters, real mail, type-written on yellow stationery bordered with flowers. We drove to Minnesota to visit one summer, staying with her in her tiny house. We spent days swimming in the pool and exploring the surrounding gardens and lakes. She swam laps every morning. It kept her young, she said.
Before we went to sleep at night, she would reach over and take my hand, squeezing it three times.
"That means 'I love you,'" she explained. "My husband and I used to do that every night before we went to sleep. It was my secret with him, and now it's my secret with you."
I didn't see her much, but there were letters, always letters. I wrote back religiously, even learning to type on the electric typewriter that my parents kept in the basement. Then she got sick. She moved from her tiny house into a tinier room in a nursing home. The nurses continued to read her my letters, and I still received them from her, sporadically now, even as the cancer progressed, eventually forcing her into a wheelchair and then into bed.
She died when I was fourteen. Weeks later, I received a package. It contained her wedding ring, and several smudged photos of me. When I looked more closely, I saw that the smears on the photos where the places where she'd kissed the images, to say goodnight, or perhaps good morning, or just as a way to tell me she loved me, since I was too far away to squeeze her hand.
Her ring sat in a safety deposit box for years. Now, I wear it on a chain around my neck. It reminds me to hope. It reminds me that somewhere in me runs the blood of the woman who swam laps to stay young, and played football with the cousins, and loved unconditionally and well.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
An inconvenient tuth
An excerpt from Thanksgiving dinner:
Brother: "So I'm thinking about getting a tattoo."
Mom and I, simultaneously: "Of WHAT?"
Brother: "Of the phrase, 'Are you comfortable with your truth?'"
Brooke: "What if they misspell something?"*
Me: "And then your back would say, 'Are you comfortable with your tuth?' You'd have to be a dentist."
I love the holidays.
*Disclaimer: This statement was not intended to degrade, demean, or disgruntle any tattoo artists who may or may not read this blog. Rather, the implication was that if one chooses to tattoo such a long phrase across one's back, one should fully consider all possible consequences.
Brother: "So I'm thinking about getting a tattoo."
Mom and I, simultaneously: "Of WHAT?"
Brother: "Of the phrase, 'Are you comfortable with your truth?'"
Brooke: "What if they misspell something?"*
Me: "And then your back would say, 'Are you comfortable with your tuth?' You'd have to be a dentist."
I love the holidays.
*Disclaimer: This statement was not intended to degrade, demean, or disgruntle any tattoo artists who may or may not read this blog. Rather, the implication was that if one chooses to tattoo such a long phrase across one's back, one should fully consider all possible consequences.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Because being a ballerina isn't realistic...
I have exciting news, everyone.
At the age of 27, I finally know what I want to do when I grow up.
I've had quite the variety of jobs. I've even liked some of them. But I've never really come home at the end of the day just glowing because I've changed someone's life for the better. I've provided you with the following sample of My Crazy Resumé, just in case you were worried that I hadn't tried out enough jobs before reaching a conclusion on my future.
*Entry person at Sedgwick Co. Zoo. I sold tickets, and memberships, and was responsible for closing the front gates if Something escaped. Which happened more than once. Ask me. I'll tell you stories.
*Retail sales at Hallmark. This required a lot of dusting, and an insane amount of enthusiasm for angel figurines and Beanie Babies. And dusting. Did I mention dusting?
*KSU's infamous Van Zile Dining Center. I cooked, believe it or not. And provided candid opinions of what the main course was really like that day, and wore a really cheesy hat. (Speaking of cheese - the theme for our Holiday Dinner my freshman year was Harry Potter. I remember this because the VZDC employees were forced to construct a replica of Hogwart's out of cubes of cheddar cheese. Not kidding.)
*Wonder/Hostess bakery in Denver, CO. I learned to make ginormous batches of WonderBread and snack cakes, developed ferocious arm muscles from lifting the snack cake pans (each one weighs about 30 lbs.) and realized that I never, never want to spend 8 hours a day hand-packing gem donuts. (Yes, they're packaged by hand. Ask me. I'll tell you stories.)
*Wonder/Hostess research and development lab in K.C. Changed the icing formulation for Honey Buns to decrease moisture loss. Developed a flavor profile for the Raspberry Zingers (in stores now!) and Hostess Apple Spice Cupcakes. (Please do not blame me for the company's bankruptcy. I TRIED to tell them that while raspberry IS one of the more upper-crust artificial fruit flavors, Raspberry Zingers still do not qualify as a "sophisticated snack.")
*Beach Museum of Art. I greeted visitors cheerfully, answered questions, and made sure no one took pens into the galleries. I basically got paid to study and look at art. Using this blog to kill time? Check out Dieu Donné papermill, Dale Chihuly, and Patrick Dougherty!
* American Institute of Baking. Technical Information Coordinator. (Yes, it abbreviates to "TIC.") I put helped put together nutrition labels for different food products, and (briefly) edited a technical bulletin. My first big-kid job!
* Osborn & Barr Communications, a.k.a. O&B, a.k.a. Obliterate and Belittle. I wrote advertising copy ("tomorrow's trash!") for John Deere. We (by "we," I mean me and my designer) put out roughly 3,000 ads in 6 months. I burned out after roughly 3 months. I was laid off one year to the day after I was hired, and on the same day that I'd planned to give my two weeks' notice.
"Here's this severance package!" they said.
"I'll just tear up my two weeks' notice!" I said.
Actually, I just thought it. Then I reveled in the joy of that timing for months.
*I've also held various and sundry serving jobs, working everywhere from a Cajun restaurant to a college bar to the Cheesecake Factory.
Which brings me to where I am now. Nursing school. Anyone who reads this blog, talks to me on a semi-regular basis, or bumps into me on the street when I'm in a good mood (97% of the time, or when I'm awake) knows that I am starting nursing school in January. And after orientation yesterday, I could not be more excited. (I always think I couldn't be more excited. Then I get more excited.)
We heard about working in the neonatal ICU. (WE GET TO WORK WITH BABIES!) They talked about working in the Emergency Room. (WE GET TO WORK ON EMERGENCIES!) They told us what it's like to give an antibiotic via suppository for the first time. (WE GET TO SHOVE MEDICATIONS UP...never mind. That was further down on the list of things I'm excited about.)
Throughout my many and varied career experiences, one thing was always the same - I may not have gone home glowing because I successfully reformulated the Honey Bun mix, but I always went home happy when I could help Eddie Ray (his real name) figure out why his ads weren't running in the scheduled time slots, or when my tables left me notes saying that I'd made their day more special, or when someone was so appreciative that I could giftwrap their purchase after closing time on Christmas Eve.
You get the idea. It's corny. And it's a cliché. But I really, really like helping people. And now, I get to do it for a living! They're going to PAY ME to wear scrubs and geek out about new developments in microbiology! I get to hold babies! And hold hands! And yeah, I know there are going to be days when things are sloppy, and disgusting, and I'm going to come home with puke on my Pumas. But it's gonna be worth it. Because I am going to save lives, people! I'm going to save LIVES!
You can just call me Future Nurse Erin, The Overly Excited B.S.N.-to-be.
At the age of 27, I finally know what I want to do when I grow up.
I've had quite the variety of jobs. I've even liked some of them. But I've never really come home at the end of the day just glowing because I've changed someone's life for the better. I've provided you with the following sample of My Crazy Resumé, just in case you were worried that I hadn't tried out enough jobs before reaching a conclusion on my future.
*Entry person at Sedgwick Co. Zoo. I sold tickets, and memberships, and was responsible for closing the front gates if Something escaped. Which happened more than once. Ask me. I'll tell you stories.
*Retail sales at Hallmark. This required a lot of dusting, and an insane amount of enthusiasm for angel figurines and Beanie Babies. And dusting. Did I mention dusting?
*KSU's infamous Van Zile Dining Center. I cooked, believe it or not. And provided candid opinions of what the main course was really like that day, and wore a really cheesy hat. (Speaking of cheese - the theme for our Holiday Dinner my freshman year was Harry Potter. I remember this because the VZDC employees were forced to construct a replica of Hogwart's out of cubes of cheddar cheese. Not kidding.)
*Wonder/Hostess bakery in Denver, CO. I learned to make ginormous batches of WonderBread and snack cakes, developed ferocious arm muscles from lifting the snack cake pans (each one weighs about 30 lbs.) and realized that I never, never want to spend 8 hours a day hand-packing gem donuts. (Yes, they're packaged by hand. Ask me. I'll tell you stories.)
*Wonder/Hostess research and development lab in K.C. Changed the icing formulation for Honey Buns to decrease moisture loss. Developed a flavor profile for the Raspberry Zingers (in stores now!) and Hostess Apple Spice Cupcakes. (Please do not blame me for the company's bankruptcy. I TRIED to tell them that while raspberry IS one of the more upper-crust artificial fruit flavors, Raspberry Zingers still do not qualify as a "sophisticated snack.")
*Beach Museum of Art. I greeted visitors cheerfully, answered questions, and made sure no one took pens into the galleries. I basically got paid to study and look at art. Using this blog to kill time? Check out Dieu Donné papermill, Dale Chihuly, and Patrick Dougherty!
* American Institute of Baking. Technical Information Coordinator. (Yes, it abbreviates to "TIC.") I put helped put together nutrition labels for different food products, and (briefly) edited a technical bulletin. My first big-kid job!
* Osborn & Barr Communications, a.k.a. O&B, a.k.a. Obliterate and Belittle. I wrote advertising copy ("tomorrow's trash!") for John Deere. We (by "we," I mean me and my designer) put out roughly 3,000 ads in 6 months. I burned out after roughly 3 months. I was laid off one year to the day after I was hired, and on the same day that I'd planned to give my two weeks' notice.
"Here's this severance package!" they said.
"I'll just tear up my two weeks' notice!" I said.
Actually, I just thought it. Then I reveled in the joy of that timing for months.
*I've also held various and sundry serving jobs, working everywhere from a Cajun restaurant to a college bar to the Cheesecake Factory.
Which brings me to where I am now. Nursing school. Anyone who reads this blog, talks to me on a semi-regular basis, or bumps into me on the street when I'm in a good mood (97% of the time, or when I'm awake) knows that I am starting nursing school in January. And after orientation yesterday, I could not be more excited. (I always think I couldn't be more excited. Then I get more excited.)
We heard about working in the neonatal ICU. (WE GET TO WORK WITH BABIES!) They talked about working in the Emergency Room. (WE GET TO WORK ON EMERGENCIES!) They told us what it's like to give an antibiotic via suppository for the first time. (WE GET TO SHOVE MEDICATIONS UP...never mind. That was further down on the list of things I'm excited about.)
Throughout my many and varied career experiences, one thing was always the same - I may not have gone home glowing because I successfully reformulated the Honey Bun mix, but I always went home happy when I could help Eddie Ray (his real name) figure out why his ads weren't running in the scheduled time slots, or when my tables left me notes saying that I'd made their day more special, or when someone was so appreciative that I could giftwrap their purchase after closing time on Christmas Eve.
You get the idea. It's corny. And it's a cliché. But I really, really like helping people. And now, I get to do it for a living! They're going to PAY ME to wear scrubs and geek out about new developments in microbiology! I get to hold babies! And hold hands! And yeah, I know there are going to be days when things are sloppy, and disgusting, and I'm going to come home with puke on my Pumas. But it's gonna be worth it. Because I am going to save lives, people! I'm going to save LIVES!
You can just call me Future Nurse Erin, The Overly Excited B.S.N.-to-be.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Don't you kids make me turn this plane around...
On the late flight back to Kansas City last night, I managed to score my favorite seat on the plane - first row/aisle, if you're interested. I love this spot because it is close to the door and has miles of legroom. It also provides an excellent vantage point for interesting interactions between captain and crew.
At one point, I briefly surfaced from Sleepytown to see the pilot, hands folded in front of him, standing at the front of the plane. He surveyed his kingdom, and then quietly said to the flight attendant, "Are they all asleep? Aww...that's so cute." It felt very family-vacation-in-the-minivan-esque. Now please go back up there and drive the plane, Captain Dad.
At one point, I briefly surfaced from Sleepytown to see the pilot, hands folded in front of him, standing at the front of the plane. He surveyed his kingdom, and then quietly said to the flight attendant, "Are they all asleep? Aww...that's so cute." It felt very family-vacation-in-the-minivan-esque. Now please go back up there and drive the plane, Captain Dad.
Monday, November 5, 2007
For your eyes only
Anyone who's worked knows that junior high behavior sometimes carries over into the workplace. Who knew it carried over into the White House?
(Note: the headline to this article changed shortly after I posted this link. It was originally "President Bush kinda puts pressure on Pakistan," which I find infinitely more amusing.)
(Note: the headline to this article changed shortly after I posted this link. It was originally "President Bush kinda puts pressure on Pakistan," which I find infinitely more amusing.)
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Climbing rocks.
I went to the climbing gym in Blue Springs with a friend* yesterday. It. Was. Fabulous.
I had several dreams last night wherein I was successfully scaling huge cliffs. (Symbolic much?)
I kept waking up because in my dreams, my arms were sore. Upon waking, I had my arms raised above my head, hands poised in climbing position... This happened more than once. Feel free to chuckle.
*Brent - I am officially inviting you to step out of lurker-dom. Please feel free to comment. Even if it involves a climbing pun. Especially if it involves a climbing pun.
I had several dreams last night wherein I was successfully scaling huge cliffs. (Symbolic much?)
I kept waking up because in my dreams, my arms were sore. Upon waking, I had my arms raised above my head, hands poised in climbing position... This happened more than once. Feel free to chuckle.
*Brent - I am officially inviting you to step out of lurker-dom. Please feel free to comment. Even if it involves a climbing pun. Especially if it involves a climbing pun.
Friday, October 26, 2007
She will be right back with your dressing, and an education on point-of-view.
Hello, my name is Erin, and I'll be taking care of you today. Have you been in a restaurant before? No? OK.
Before I start working on your requests, I'd like to share one of my own. It's just a small one. For the good of humanity, or at least those of us who are working as waitstaff, I would like to ask that should you find yourself in a restaurant, burning with an overwhelming desire to refer to your server in third person, you kindly refrain.
Two things happen when your server is forced to listen to things like, "See if she will get you another Coke," or "She needs to bring us more ranch dressing," for the duration of the meal. One, it makes your server feel like (s)he should be wearing a tutu and performing some sort of show, to be rewarded by tasty morsels (perhaps peanuts?) tossed by the audience. (I would imagine this is akin to what it feels like to be the proverbial circus bear.) Two, it makes him/her a lot less inspired to bring you Coke and/or ranch dressing quite as quickly as (s)he normally would.
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your meal.
Before I start working on your requests, I'd like to share one of my own. It's just a small one. For the good of humanity, or at least those of us who are working as waitstaff, I would like to ask that should you find yourself in a restaurant, burning with an overwhelming desire to refer to your server in third person, you kindly refrain.
Two things happen when your server is forced to listen to things like, "See if she will get you another Coke," or "She needs to bring us more ranch dressing," for the duration of the meal. One, it makes your server feel like (s)he should be wearing a tutu and performing some sort of show, to be rewarded by tasty morsels (perhaps peanuts?) tossed by the audience. (I would imagine this is akin to what it feels like to be the proverbial circus bear.) Two, it makes him/her a lot less inspired to bring you Coke and/or ranch dressing quite as quickly as (s)he normally would.
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your meal.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Collective Chorus of "Aww!"
The Cutest Little Boy In the World sat at my table tonight. His name was Marco. He was roughly 2. He had huge brown eyes, equally huge chubby cheeks, a button nose, and perfect manners.
Before he left, he said thank you, and bye-bye, and proceeded to give me a hug and a kiss. There was a collective chorus of "Aww!" from the tables sitting nearby. It. Was. Adorable.
If my children are not that cute and well-behaved, I shall sell them on e-Bay.*
*If, through some miracle of technology, this blog post is still here 15 years from now, and is being read by my as-yet non-existent children - you don't need to worry. Mommy isn't going to sell you on e-Bay. Unless you're really, really bad.
Before he left, he said thank you, and bye-bye, and proceeded to give me a hug and a kiss. There was a collective chorus of "Aww!" from the tables sitting nearby. It. Was. Adorable.
If my children are not that cute and well-behaved, I shall sell them on e-Bay.*
*If, through some miracle of technology, this blog post is still here 15 years from now, and is being read by my as-yet non-existent children - you don't need to worry. Mommy isn't going to sell you on e-Bay. Unless you're really, really bad.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Sugar-free me
Just in case I wasn't motivated by Julie Walker's threats of imminent death (or at least an ambulance ride) if I consume sugar, here's one more reason to skip it: a nasty little process known as glycation.
During glycation, sugar in your bloodstream attaches to protein to form advanced glycation end products (AGEs, har har). AGEs damage collagen and elastin in skin, collagen goes from elastic and springy to dry and brittle, and just like that, your skin looks like that t-shirt you've had stuffed under the front seat of your car all summer.
Our lesson today? No sugar = an ambulance-free, wrinkle-free life. And who doesn't want that?
During glycation, sugar in your bloodstream attaches to protein to form advanced glycation end products (AGEs, har har). AGEs damage collagen and elastin in skin, collagen goes from elastic and springy to dry and brittle, and just like that, your skin looks like that t-shirt you've had stuffed under the front seat of your car all summer.
Our lesson today? No sugar = an ambulance-free, wrinkle-free life. And who doesn't want that?
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Former copywriter still excited by good ads!
Yes, that's lettuce. Growing on a billboard. It's in Chicago at the intersection of Addison and Clark. Leo Burnett is responsible. I'm...well, lovin' it.
The most recent Sony Bravia ad is out. I personally don't think it's as good as either Paint or Balls, or even Pyramid, but it does involve a whole lotta PlayDoh (plasticine, if you're picky), which is always fun. (But can you imagine what it smelled like?) If you like it, you can thank Fallon. Or you can thank kozyndan - rumor is the ad is based on this still.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Things to Figure Out Before Nursing School, Part I
Turns out Mr. Marmalade is actually Mrs. Marmalade. My mistake! (To my credit, we've only been looking at muscles up to this point. There's not a lot of gender-based anatomical variation to be ascertained from muscle observation on a skinned cat.)
And in totally random news, I have an addition to the list of blogs I frequent.
And in totally random news, I have an addition to the list of blogs I frequent.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
This week is...
Insane! I have roughly a million and four things to do - but on the positive side, I like lists, and crossing things off of them, so it's good that life is ridiculously busy, right? Right?? Here's a taste of what I'm up to. (Feel free to send encouragement, and treats.)
*Nursing school enrollment/orientation. I already know that my first two semesters will be pathophysiology, two theology classes, a philosophy class, and a psychology class. This means I'll be a spiritual hypochondriac who's prone to overanalysis. I can't wait for orientation because...I want to find out what PDA is recommended for drug books (yes, this excites me - they're all electronic! No lugging 40 pounds of books around the hospital!) AND I'm excited to meet the people I'll be spending 10 hours a day with for the next year and a half. (I hope they're not morning people. If they are, I hope they don't mind that I may not be perky for 5:30 a.m. clinicals.)
*I have a gigantic microbiology test next week. My professor gave us the following example and told us that something similar would be on the test: "Given a strand of DNA from a hepatitis virus, detail the steps you would take to create a vaccine. Hint: there are 7 steps." That is not my idea of a hint. Eek.
* I'm starting orientation/training at my new, shiny job. Think black pants! Think higher ticket prices! Think shirts with the name of the restaurant bedazzled in red rhinestones! (I'm not joking. But the food IS more expensive, and the place is not kid-friendly (read: no chicken strips), so I'm willing to forgive them for making us wear shirts that sparkle. In their defense, the bedazzling is tasteful...er...wait a second...)
*Nursing school enrollment/orientation. I already know that my first two semesters will be pathophysiology, two theology classes, a philosophy class, and a psychology class. This means I'll be a spiritual hypochondriac who's prone to overanalysis. I can't wait for orientation because...I want to find out what PDA is recommended for drug books (yes, this excites me - they're all electronic! No lugging 40 pounds of books around the hospital!) AND I'm excited to meet the people I'll be spending 10 hours a day with for the next year and a half. (I hope they're not morning people. If they are, I hope they don't mind that I may not be perky for 5:30 a.m. clinicals.)
*I have a gigantic microbiology test next week. My professor gave us the following example and told us that something similar would be on the test: "Given a strand of DNA from a hepatitis virus, detail the steps you would take to create a vaccine. Hint: there are 7 steps." That is not my idea of a hint. Eek.
* I'm starting orientation/training at my new, shiny job. Think black pants! Think higher ticket prices! Think shirts with the name of the restaurant bedazzled in red rhinestones! (I'm not joking. But the food IS more expensive, and the place is not kid-friendly (read: no chicken strips), so I'm willing to forgive them for making us wear shirts that sparkle. In their defense, the bedazzling is tasteful...er...wait a second...)
Sunday, October 7, 2007
I Like...
My regulars. They're a man and his sons (Joe, Aaron, and Jason!) who always come in to Cheese on the first Sunday of the month. We get along well, and they are jolly, and they find me hilarious, and laughter, good times and breakfast are had by all. Well, laughter and good times are had by all. I'm not allowed to eat breakfast when I'm working.
This morning I wasn't scheduled until 11:30. My regulars come in at 10:45. Today, they came in at 10:45, as usual, and then proceeded to wait 45 minutes for me to get there, just to make sure that no one else but me brought them their eggs Benedict. I was touched. They're fantastic.
This morning I wasn't scheduled until 11:30. My regulars come in at 10:45. Today, they came in at 10:45, as usual, and then proceeded to wait 45 minutes for me to get there, just to make sure that no one else but me brought them their eggs Benedict. I was touched. They're fantastic.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Week in review
In no particular order:
*Studied myself silly for an anatomy test. Got required grade. Things seem to be on track for nursing school. In fact, I start the registration process in a few weeks. I'm super-excited to find out what classes I'll be taking, and to see who my new best friends for the next two years are going to be.
*Went to devotions hosted by friend Caitlin. It was beautiful, and cathartic, and full of love. All things that devotions should be.
*Worked, a lot. The Cheese is taking over my life. New Friend Megan mentioned jobs at local HCA hospitals. Part time, great for nursing students, and you get to hold babies. Hmm...
*Received confirmation from Julie Walker, again. During her phone conversation with my mom, she once again mentioned that I am really stable, and that I'm going in the right direction; I just need to be patient. Julie is a wise, wise woman.
*Spent much of one night talking to my brother's girlfriend. Found out that I'm not the only one who remembers some of the things that went on during my childhood. Felt incredibly validated.
*Spent much, much time at the gym. I heart endorphins, and the relief I get from not thinking about anything but what's blaring from my iPod for an hour and a half.
*Picked up running again. Getting ready to go now, in fact. Then it's lunch with an old high school friend, and out for the weekend, for what will hopefully be a time of relaxation and reunion.
*Got more than my fair share of what I took to be messages from the world, thanks to the random songs on iTunes. I leave you with today's advice:
"It's not now or never. It's not black and it's not white. Anything worth anything takes more than a few days and a long, long night. Don't push so hard against the world. You can't do it all alone, and if you could, would you really want to? Even though you're a big strong girl, c'mon, c'mon lay it down."
*Studied myself silly for an anatomy test. Got required grade. Things seem to be on track for nursing school. In fact, I start the registration process in a few weeks. I'm super-excited to find out what classes I'll be taking, and to see who my new best friends for the next two years are going to be.
*Went to devotions hosted by friend Caitlin. It was beautiful, and cathartic, and full of love. All things that devotions should be.
*Worked, a lot. The Cheese is taking over my life. New Friend Megan mentioned jobs at local HCA hospitals. Part time, great for nursing students, and you get to hold babies. Hmm...
*Received confirmation from Julie Walker, again. During her phone conversation with my mom, she once again mentioned that I am really stable, and that I'm going in the right direction; I just need to be patient. Julie is a wise, wise woman.
*Spent much of one night talking to my brother's girlfriend. Found out that I'm not the only one who remembers some of the things that went on during my childhood. Felt incredibly validated.
*Spent much, much time at the gym. I heart endorphins, and the relief I get from not thinking about anything but what's blaring from my iPod for an hour and a half.
*Picked up running again. Getting ready to go now, in fact. Then it's lunch with an old high school friend, and out for the weekend, for what will hopefully be a time of relaxation and reunion.
*Got more than my fair share of what I took to be messages from the world, thanks to the random songs on iTunes. I leave you with today's advice:
"It's not now or never. It's not black and it's not white. Anything worth anything takes more than a few days and a long, long night. Don't push so hard against the world. You can't do it all alone, and if you could, would you really want to? Even though you're a big strong girl, c'mon, c'mon lay it down."
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Aww, shucks
I was out walking the dogs this morning when a cute old man and his cute old wife pulled up beside me and rolled down the window.
"Those sure are cute dogs!"
"Thanks - do you want one?"
"No, we don't need a dog!"
"Well, if you decide you want one, you can adopt one of these!"
"We'd rather adopt you!"
It was a nice offer, especially considering I hadn't yet brushed my hair, but my mom and I get along really well, so I think I'll just stay with her. But thanks, mister!
"Those sure are cute dogs!"
"Thanks - do you want one?"
"No, we don't need a dog!"
"Well, if you decide you want one, you can adopt one of these!"
"We'd rather adopt you!"
It was a nice offer, especially considering I hadn't yet brushed my hair, but my mom and I get along really well, so I think I'll just stay with her. But thanks, mister!
Monday, September 24, 2007
And also...
I feel like my posts have been somewhat superficial lately. I've been writing things that are quite deep. I just don't feel ready to share them. Yet.
Also, I've been noticing that I tend to develop wanderlust when the weather starts to change. I want to go...somewhere. Somewhere...foreign. Because, quite frankly, it's been a long time since I've had concentrated Erin time, sans school and stress. The idea of being alone for a bit in a place with beautiful scenery, great food, and friendly locals (whose language I don't speak) seems incredibly appealing to me.
Also, I've been noticing that I tend to develop wanderlust when the weather starts to change. I want to go...somewhere. Somewhere...foreign. Because, quite frankly, it's been a long time since I've had concentrated Erin time, sans school and stress. The idea of being alone for a bit in a place with beautiful scenery, great food, and friendly locals (whose language I don't speak) seems incredibly appealing to me.
I like...
Podrunner! An hour (ish) podcast of music that's 130 beats per minute (ish). Perfect for running. And yes, I'm back in a running phase. I wanted to take a boxing class, but feel that I need to delay that until after my health insurance kicks in. So, running it is. The goal is a 5K in November. Wait. No, it's not. I just want to run because the weather is beautiful, the leaves are turning, the music is good, and I like the way it feels. The new goal is to run as long as I like it.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Tagged!
I've been tagged! And so...
Ten things I like about myself:
1. People tell me things. I'm not sure why, but I tend to get life stories from friends and strangers alike. It happens all the time. I'll be standing in line somewhere, when all of a sudden the cashier/person behind me and I are chatting like we've been best friends for our entire lives. Perhaps it's because...
2. I'm a good listener. I really enjoy hearing what people have to say. I think they can tell.
3. I am not a gossip. I've gotten this compliment three times over the last two weeks. I try really hard to not repeat things I hear, and this kind of feedback makes me think I'm doing a good job.
4. I am not shy! I just discovered this. I'd spent most of my adult life thinking I WAS shy, despite being told otherwise by several people whose opinions I trust. After spending a day on campus two weeks ago wherein I was pounced upon and hugged by two strangers, made three new friends, and gave my phone number to some girl named Jennifer who wanted to talk about nursing school, I realized I was kidding myself. So - I'm not shy. And I like it.
5. I'm really intuitive. I can usually tell right away whether I'm going to be good friends with someone. This gift manifests itself further through the ability to "know," somehow, when a situation is serious and what the people I'm close to are feeling despite their attempts to hide it. It's also helped keep people I love safe...more than once. Yes, there are stories here. Ask if you're interested. I'll tell you, because, well...I'm not shy.
6. I am strong. No, silly, I don't mean I routinely bench my body weight. (Although I did, this morning. Before breakfast. With one hand. Just kidding.) I've been realizing recently how much I've gone through to get to where I am. And I've come through relatively unscathed, with a better understanding of life and love and all that is good and true. And, well, I think that rocks.
7. I am starting to be comfortable in my own skin. I've really started to love myself lately. Over the last several months I've realized that often, I'm too willing to sacrifice my own happiness for the happiness of others. So I've stopped pouring myself into relationships that don't give back what I put in, and focused on the ones that are fulfilling for the other person involved...and for me. It feels great.
8. I'm not afraid to apologize. Really. When I screw up, I'll admit it.
9. I've kept a journal since the beginning of college. I really like being able to look back on the person I was, and see how far I've come. It also helps me realize that life is, truly, cyclical.
10. I'm full of random facts and quotations. It comes in handy in moments of awkward silence. Did you know a giraffe has a tongue that's fourteen inches long and sticky? (That's one of my favorites.) "We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves." Tom Robbins. Another favorite.
If you've read this far...you're tagged. (Lurkers, this includes you.)
Ten things I like about myself:
1. People tell me things. I'm not sure why, but I tend to get life stories from friends and strangers alike. It happens all the time. I'll be standing in line somewhere, when all of a sudden the cashier/person behind me and I are chatting like we've been best friends for our entire lives. Perhaps it's because...
2. I'm a good listener. I really enjoy hearing what people have to say. I think they can tell.
3. I am not a gossip. I've gotten this compliment three times over the last two weeks. I try really hard to not repeat things I hear, and this kind of feedback makes me think I'm doing a good job.
4. I am not shy! I just discovered this. I'd spent most of my adult life thinking I WAS shy, despite being told otherwise by several people whose opinions I trust. After spending a day on campus two weeks ago wherein I was pounced upon and hugged by two strangers, made three new friends, and gave my phone number to some girl named Jennifer who wanted to talk about nursing school, I realized I was kidding myself. So - I'm not shy. And I like it.
5. I'm really intuitive. I can usually tell right away whether I'm going to be good friends with someone. This gift manifests itself further through the ability to "know," somehow, when a situation is serious and what the people I'm close to are feeling despite their attempts to hide it. It's also helped keep people I love safe...more than once. Yes, there are stories here. Ask if you're interested. I'll tell you, because, well...I'm not shy.
6. I am strong. No, silly, I don't mean I routinely bench my body weight. (Although I did, this morning. Before breakfast. With one hand. Just kidding.) I've been realizing recently how much I've gone through to get to where I am. And I've come through relatively unscathed, with a better understanding of life and love and all that is good and true. And, well, I think that rocks.
7. I am starting to be comfortable in my own skin. I've really started to love myself lately. Over the last several months I've realized that often, I'm too willing to sacrifice my own happiness for the happiness of others. So I've stopped pouring myself into relationships that don't give back what I put in, and focused on the ones that are fulfilling for the other person involved...and for me. It feels great.
8. I'm not afraid to apologize. Really. When I screw up, I'll admit it.
9. I've kept a journal since the beginning of college. I really like being able to look back on the person I was, and see how far I've come. It also helps me realize that life is, truly, cyclical.
10. I'm full of random facts and quotations. It comes in handy in moments of awkward silence. Did you know a giraffe has a tongue that's fourteen inches long and sticky? (That's one of my favorites.) "We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves." Tom Robbins. Another favorite.
If you've read this far...you're tagged. (Lurkers, this includes you.)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Games, and the guests who play them.
Gather round, dear readers. It's time for my semi-annual blog from the world of waitressing. Tonight's subject? As you may have guessed from the title, tonight we will be covering the games guests play with their server.
1. Musical chairs. Usually involves a table of 10-14 people. Best if table consists of several different families and friends. Each father figure will be paying for their meal, their wife's meal, their daughter's meal, their daughter's best friend Samantha's meal (she's the one in the pink stripes. NO, the OTHER one in the pink stripes!) and 1/5 of each of three shared appetizers. This must NOT be revealed in advance. Begins when guests come in, sit down, order drinks, and then proceed to re-arrange themselves while server is retrieving drinks. Bonus points are awarded if every drink is different or if they are all complicated bar mix drinks, OR if rearrangement happens more than once.
2. Fetch. Again, best if played in large groups, but can be successfully played by couples or individuals. Rules: must not ask for more than one thing from server on any one visit to the table. Must ask server for one additional item each time previous request is fulfilled. For example: initially order ranch dressing for salad. When delivered, ask for an additional side of vinaigrette. Upon appearance of vinaigrette, request soy sauce. When soy sauce arrives, see if you can exchange your iced tea for a Coke. Continue until end of meal, or until server appears with bald patches from pulling hair out.
3. Twenty Questions. This is another great game that can be played by individuals, couples, or large groups! Instead of reading the descriptions of the food in the menu, just ask your server to explain it to you. Interrupt frequently with specific questions on amounts of ingredients, further explanation of specific ingredients, and detailed questions about how foods are cooked. Best if you are an incredibly picky eater, and don't eat wheat products, sour cream, vegetables, or anything with mayonnaise. Bonus points are awarded if server is obviously trying to attend to four other tables, and you have server explain more than five menu items.
4. Math Attack. Best for making server cry, wrinkle forehead in confusion, consider running after you with change - or all three! To play, simply compliment server on service throughout entire meal. Use phrases with exclamation points - "This is the best service I've ever had!" "You're doing such a great job!" Then, leave server 10%.
Coming soon: Tips (pun intended!) for getting ahead in the restaurant world, written by an actual server! Flavor profile - slightly cheesy.
1. Musical chairs. Usually involves a table of 10-14 people. Best if table consists of several different families and friends. Each father figure will be paying for their meal, their wife's meal, their daughter's meal, their daughter's best friend Samantha's meal (she's the one in the pink stripes. NO, the OTHER one in the pink stripes!) and 1/5 of each of three shared appetizers. This must NOT be revealed in advance. Begins when guests come in, sit down, order drinks, and then proceed to re-arrange themselves while server is retrieving drinks. Bonus points are awarded if every drink is different or if they are all complicated bar mix drinks, OR if rearrangement happens more than once.
2. Fetch. Again, best if played in large groups, but can be successfully played by couples or individuals. Rules: must not ask for more than one thing from server on any one visit to the table. Must ask server for one additional item each time previous request is fulfilled. For example: initially order ranch dressing for salad. When delivered, ask for an additional side of vinaigrette. Upon appearance of vinaigrette, request soy sauce. When soy sauce arrives, see if you can exchange your iced tea for a Coke. Continue until end of meal, or until server appears with bald patches from pulling hair out.
3. Twenty Questions. This is another great game that can be played by individuals, couples, or large groups! Instead of reading the descriptions of the food in the menu, just ask your server to explain it to you. Interrupt frequently with specific questions on amounts of ingredients, further explanation of specific ingredients, and detailed questions about how foods are cooked. Best if you are an incredibly picky eater, and don't eat wheat products, sour cream, vegetables, or anything with mayonnaise. Bonus points are awarded if server is obviously trying to attend to four other tables, and you have server explain more than five menu items.
4. Math Attack. Best for making server cry, wrinkle forehead in confusion, consider running after you with change - or all three! To play, simply compliment server on service throughout entire meal. Use phrases with exclamation points - "This is the best service I've ever had!" "You're doing such a great job!" Then, leave server 10%.
Coming soon: Tips (pun intended!) for getting ahead in the restaurant world, written by an actual server! Flavor profile - slightly cheesy.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Unplugged
It is a fairly well-known fact that I am not a morning person. I am typically able to function by 8, but am not completely caught up with the world around me until closer to 10. My piano class is at 9, right on the border...
This morning, I walked into class a little early and sat down to practice before we officially started. Each of our pianos is equipped with a handy-dandy headset, which allows you to practice "Miniature Waltz" as many times as your little heart desires without your professor or your fellow students knowing that you tend to mess up the chord on the 5th bar, or that you must play it over...and over...and over...until it is perfect, because you are somewhat obsessive-compulsive.
That's the idea, anyway.
I had played for about ten minutes when Dr. Pretzel (his actual name) walked over, gave me a typical Dr. Pretzel look (wry amusement combined with despair) and held up...the dangling end of my headset cord.
So much for stage fright. And please pass the coffee.
This morning, I walked into class a little early and sat down to practice before we officially started. Each of our pianos is equipped with a handy-dandy headset, which allows you to practice "Miniature Waltz" as many times as your little heart desires without your professor or your fellow students knowing that you tend to mess up the chord on the 5th bar, or that you must play it over...and over...and over...until it is perfect, because you are somewhat obsessive-compulsive.
That's the idea, anyway.
I had played for about ten minutes when Dr. Pretzel (his actual name) walked over, gave me a typical Dr. Pretzel look (wry amusement combined with despair) and held up...the dangling end of my headset cord.
So much for stage fright. And please pass the coffee.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
I have a cat. Sorta.
Warning: Do not read this post if you are easily scared. This is NOT like one of the banner ads on MySpace that says that, and then when you click on it, it's some lame ad for a new cursor. I mean it - if you have recently eaten, or are easily disturbed, or have been waffling about our friendship, don't do it.
Seriously.
Just stop. I warned you...
OK, you're still with me? Brave soul. Our topic today is...my A&P dissection class!
I have been forced to enroll in an anatomy dissection lab in order to complete the 6 hours of A&P required for nursing school. (Other requirements include grades of "B" or better in various and sundry science classes, letters of reference that do not imply I am insane, and the desire to cram two years of nursing school into one "accelerated" year. Obviously, having this desire does imply that I am insane, but I digress.)
We are currently dissecting cats.
There is no way to blog this without sounding weird, so I'll just state the facts.
1. Dissection is really interesting because you don't realize both how strong and how fragile the body is until you're able to see it (or something comparable to it) in detail. I'm constantly amazed.
2. Everyone in my class has named their cat. It's easier, somehow, to say "Can you lift (insert name here)'s triceps in order to observe the biceps brachii?" The cat at the table in front of us is Jake. The table behind us has christened theirs Bojangles. Our cat is Mr. Marmalade.
3. The most disturbing part of dissection class so far actually happened AFTER dissection class. Yesterday in microbiology lecture, I was packing up my notebooks when I noticed...cat fur on my backpack.
Bad kitty, Mr. Marmalade, bad kitty.
Seriously.
Just stop. I warned you...
OK, you're still with me? Brave soul. Our topic today is...my A&P dissection class!
I have been forced to enroll in an anatomy dissection lab in order to complete the 6 hours of A&P required for nursing school. (Other requirements include grades of "B" or better in various and sundry science classes, letters of reference that do not imply I am insane, and the desire to cram two years of nursing school into one "accelerated" year. Obviously, having this desire does imply that I am insane, but I digress.)
We are currently dissecting cats.
There is no way to blog this without sounding weird, so I'll just state the facts.
1. Dissection is really interesting because you don't realize both how strong and how fragile the body is until you're able to see it (or something comparable to it) in detail. I'm constantly amazed.
2. Everyone in my class has named their cat. It's easier, somehow, to say "Can you lift (insert name here)'s triceps in order to observe the biceps brachii?" The cat at the table in front of us is Jake. The table behind us has christened theirs Bojangles. Our cat is Mr. Marmalade.
3. The most disturbing part of dissection class so far actually happened AFTER dissection class. Yesterday in microbiology lecture, I was packing up my notebooks when I noticed...cat fur on my backpack.
Bad kitty, Mr. Marmalade, bad kitty.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Shag carpet, sign language, and an epiphany!
I keep meaning to do all kinds of things with this blog. I had big plans for it - a banner that expressed my personality, some nice font (something really glittery...) and maybe a format that was a little more organized. Then school started, and I remembered why I'd felt like I had so much time during the three week interim between summer and fall classes. It was because I DID have so much time! I'm not sure how I feel about bulleted updates on blogs, but for the sake of actually getting something out to my adoring fans (the four of us need to get together!) and more for the sake of getting some things out of my head that I'm happy about/proud of/just think are great:
- I just got done painting my bedroom. I am famous for underestimating the amount of time projects like this take. Instead of my optimistically estimated two hours, a mere (actual time not mentioned to save my pride) hours later I am DONE painting, rearranging, hanging new curtains, and resurrecting my down comforter from winter storage in the basement. (Yes, I know it's only September. But I do love snuggling with some goose-y goodness while I drift off to dreamland. Yes, I just said that. No, spellcheck didn't like it.) My room is now orange. It's like living on the inside of a hibiscus...or a fall leaf...or a citrus fruit...depending on the season. (Note: during the course of the project, I was inspired to lift the corner of my cream-colored, three-inch thick (long?) shag carpeting to see if there was hardwood underneath it. Sadly, there was not. Note II: I fail to understand why, when recarpeting a house, someone would recarpet every room BUT the room with the three-inch shag. Unless the entire house was shag and they wanted to leave some for the sake of nostalgia. Or perhaps they lost something important (like their pet - the carpet is probably shag-gy enough to hide a kitten, at the very least) in the carpet in that room and were hoping to someday recover it. Theories?)
- I got a letter last week saying that my admission status to Research College had been changed. Instead of re-reviewing my file in January, I will be automatically admitted as long as I receive a B in microbiology this semester. I got a 100% on a quiz last week. I hope that bodes well for the future.
- I have had two babies in to the Cheesecake Factory* over the past week who know sign language. I think this is fantastic. And, how cute is it to have a seven-month-old sign "thank you" when you hand her a plate of bananas? Pretty. Darn. Cute. I now know how to sign "You're welcome" just in case it happens again.
- I had an epiphany about Relationships tonight. It may be fairly obvious, but it's something I've been struggling with. I'd always been worried that because my parents did not have a successful Relationship, I wouldn't be able to either, or I would have a harder time forging** a successful Relationship. Then I realized something I'd never considered before - I will not have my parents' Relationship. I will share one of my own. Glorious!
*Please read this carefully - if you're reading too quickly, you might think it said, "I had two babies in the Cheesecake Factory over the past week." Which would be both medically miraculous, and somewhat (very) disturbing.
**This is not a phrase I came up with - but it's one I've been using since I heard it. (Thanks, Andrew!) I love the connotation when applied to a Relationship. Pretty fantastic, don't you agree?
- I just got done painting my bedroom. I am famous for underestimating the amount of time projects like this take. Instead of my optimistically estimated two hours, a mere (actual time not mentioned to save my pride) hours later I am DONE painting, rearranging, hanging new curtains, and resurrecting my down comforter from winter storage in the basement. (Yes, I know it's only September. But I do love snuggling with some goose-y goodness while I drift off to dreamland. Yes, I just said that. No, spellcheck didn't like it.) My room is now orange. It's like living on the inside of a hibiscus...or a fall leaf...or a citrus fruit...depending on the season. (Note: during the course of the project, I was inspired to lift the corner of my cream-colored, three-inch thick (long?) shag carpeting to see if there was hardwood underneath it. Sadly, there was not. Note II: I fail to understand why, when recarpeting a house, someone would recarpet every room BUT the room with the three-inch shag. Unless the entire house was shag and they wanted to leave some for the sake of nostalgia. Or perhaps they lost something important (like their pet - the carpet is probably shag-gy enough to hide a kitten, at the very least) in the carpet in that room and were hoping to someday recover it. Theories?)
- I got a letter last week saying that my admission status to Research College had been changed. Instead of re-reviewing my file in January, I will be automatically admitted as long as I receive a B in microbiology this semester. I got a 100% on a quiz last week. I hope that bodes well for the future.
- I have had two babies in to the Cheesecake Factory* over the past week who know sign language. I think this is fantastic. And, how cute is it to have a seven-month-old sign "thank you" when you hand her a plate of bananas? Pretty. Darn. Cute. I now know how to sign "You're welcome" just in case it happens again.
- I had an epiphany about Relationships tonight. It may be fairly obvious, but it's something I've been struggling with. I'd always been worried that because my parents did not have a successful Relationship, I wouldn't be able to either, or I would have a harder time forging** a successful Relationship. Then I realized something I'd never considered before - I will not have my parents' Relationship. I will share one of my own. Glorious!
*Please read this carefully - if you're reading too quickly, you might think it said, "I had two babies in the Cheesecake Factory over the past week." Which would be both medically miraculous, and somewhat (very) disturbing.
**This is not a phrase I came up with - but it's one I've been using since I heard it. (Thanks, Andrew!) I love the connotation when applied to a Relationship. Pretty fantastic, don't you agree?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Today is the day!
When I was little and had been anticipating something for a long time, I can remember waking up thinking, "Today is the day!" (Yes, the exclamation point was included - I always think with punctuation. Always.)
All momentous events of my childhood-tween-teen-semi-adult life were marked with this phrase. It awakened me on Christmas, birthdays, the day I was set to be un-grounded (I didn't spend all that much time grounded, but when you're nine, it's a big deal), cheerleading tryouts, prom, church ensemble performances, the first day of camp, high school graduation, the first day of college, sorority rush result day (just kidding), college graduation, mornings of job interviews, etc. It's usually unbidden - I just wake up with overwhelming feelings of excitement, apprehension, and, if it's something that's really big, slightly sweaty palms.
"Today is the day!" was my first thought this morning. And yes, if you're wondering, my palms were slightly sweaty. ("Were" - who am I kidding? Let's make that "are.") You see, dear reader, today is the day of my much-anticipated appointment with Julie Walker, medical intuitive. She comes highly recommended. I have no idea what to expect. I'm also having a hard time not viewing her as a psychic.
While I have every intention of eventually getting to the one slightly annoying physical malady that I've been wanting to discuss, I have no doubt she'll be able to ferret out my mental anguish almost immediately. (This may be due to the fact that I tend to burst into tears without provocation lately. An actual ferret would probably realize that I'm not quite myself.) And while I am bothered occasionally by bouts of hypoglycemia, I'm more concerned with the future - should I go to nursing school? Am I supposed to move to California? Should I go to nursing school in California? Was I supposed to be a famous classical ballerina, hindered only by the fact that I did not take ballet until college? Am I destined to be Crazy Aunt Erin, wearer of puff-painted sweatshirts emblazoned with dachshunds, giver of hand-knitted sweaters with arms that aren't quite the same length, owner of large herds of cats?
Two hours, more or less, until The Phone Call. Updates forthcoming.
All momentous events of my childhood-tween-teen-semi-adult life were marked with this phrase. It awakened me on Christmas, birthdays, the day I was set to be un-grounded (I didn't spend all that much time grounded, but when you're nine, it's a big deal), cheerleading tryouts, prom, church ensemble performances, the first day of camp, high school graduation, the first day of college, sorority rush result day (just kidding), college graduation, mornings of job interviews, etc. It's usually unbidden - I just wake up with overwhelming feelings of excitement, apprehension, and, if it's something that's really big, slightly sweaty palms.
"Today is the day!" was my first thought this morning. And yes, if you're wondering, my palms were slightly sweaty. ("Were" - who am I kidding? Let's make that "are.") You see, dear reader, today is the day of my much-anticipated appointment with Julie Walker, medical intuitive. She comes highly recommended. I have no idea what to expect. I'm also having a hard time not viewing her as a psychic.
While I have every intention of eventually getting to the one slightly annoying physical malady that I've been wanting to discuss, I have no doubt she'll be able to ferret out my mental anguish almost immediately. (This may be due to the fact that I tend to burst into tears without provocation lately. An actual ferret would probably realize that I'm not quite myself.) And while I am bothered occasionally by bouts of hypoglycemia, I'm more concerned with the future - should I go to nursing school? Am I supposed to move to California? Should I go to nursing school in California? Was I supposed to be a famous classical ballerina, hindered only by the fact that I did not take ballet until college? Am I destined to be Crazy Aunt Erin, wearer of puff-painted sweatshirts emblazoned with dachshunds, giver of hand-knitted sweaters with arms that aren't quite the same length, owner of large herds of cats?
Two hours, more or less, until The Phone Call. Updates forthcoming.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Random Facts
It always takes me a while to wind down after work, mainly because I'm usually so awake that I'm thinking about 87 different things. Here's a sampling:
*I am so looking forward to the day when I can go to work and not be dressed like a man. Also, after I am done at the Cheese, I am never going to wear white pants again.
*Even though I am a Grown-Up, weird noises outside still freak me out. There was just a weird noise outside.
*I tend to get life lessons in strange places - when I was volunteering at the hospital, a woman came in to see her husband after he'd had heart surgery. They'd been married for 60 years. As I was taking her in to see him, she told me to make sure I married someone I liked, because we wouldn't always love each other, but it was nice to have a friend there for the times you weren't in love. (Note: I did not take that as a negative comment. I really don't think that you can fill 60 years of marriage with "romantic" love, but it's nice to think that you can hang out with your best friend in the in-between times.)
*Musical fact: despite duple meter being nice, friendly time signatures (2/4, 4/4, etc.), triple meter (3/4, 9/8) is actually referred to as "perfect time." This is because the Catholic church was the primary patron of the musical arts in medieval and Renaissance times. The Holy Trinity, and thus the number 3, was considered perfect. Therefore, sacred music was always in triple meter, while secular music was in duple meter. Perfect time was noted with a full circle. Imperfect time (duple meter) was noted with a circle that was open on the right side - which is why we use a symbol that looks like the letter "C" to denote common time.
*A friend recently asked me what my purpose in life was. Professionally, it's a work in progress. And while I do think that everyone has smaller, specific purposes that tend to change as they're realized, overarching purpose stays the same. Personally, my purpose in life is to be a positive influence for the people around me, to love and be loved, and to have a comfortable house with great chairs for reading where all the neighborhood kids know they can come for cookies. That may seem insignificant to someone who has bigger plans to change the world, but my changes have to be effected in smaller ways.
*After three days of piano lessons, I am pleased to say that I can now play scales. My left hand, which has always served as a paperweight or a place to put my other mitten, is even in on the game.
And now...I must sleep.
*I am so looking forward to the day when I can go to work and not be dressed like a man. Also, after I am done at the Cheese, I am never going to wear white pants again.
*Even though I am a Grown-Up, weird noises outside still freak me out. There was just a weird noise outside.
*I tend to get life lessons in strange places - when I was volunteering at the hospital, a woman came in to see her husband after he'd had heart surgery. They'd been married for 60 years. As I was taking her in to see him, she told me to make sure I married someone I liked, because we wouldn't always love each other, but it was nice to have a friend there for the times you weren't in love. (Note: I did not take that as a negative comment. I really don't think that you can fill 60 years of marriage with "romantic" love, but it's nice to think that you can hang out with your best friend in the in-between times.)
*Musical fact: despite duple meter being nice, friendly time signatures (2/4, 4/4, etc.), triple meter (3/4, 9/8) is actually referred to as "perfect time." This is because the Catholic church was the primary patron of the musical arts in medieval and Renaissance times. The Holy Trinity, and thus the number 3, was considered perfect. Therefore, sacred music was always in triple meter, while secular music was in duple meter. Perfect time was noted with a full circle. Imperfect time (duple meter) was noted with a circle that was open on the right side - which is why we use a symbol that looks like the letter "C" to denote common time.
*A friend recently asked me what my purpose in life was. Professionally, it's a work in progress. And while I do think that everyone has smaller, specific purposes that tend to change as they're realized, overarching purpose stays the same. Personally, my purpose in life is to be a positive influence for the people around me, to love and be loved, and to have a comfortable house with great chairs for reading where all the neighborhood kids know they can come for cookies. That may seem insignificant to someone who has bigger plans to change the world, but my changes have to be effected in smaller ways.
*The world has really been making me feel loved lately, and I'm so very thankful for that.
*After three days of piano lessons, I am pleased to say that I can now play scales. My left hand, which has always served as a paperweight or a place to put my other mitten, is even in on the game.
And now...I must sleep.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Illusion of control
OK, I admit it.
This morning I actually turned to Google for advice. Some background: the last few weeks have presented the possibility of some pretty intense (but ultimately necessary) change in my life. Deep down, I know it's necessary, and I also know what I'm going to do. That knowledge still does not make it any easier to shut up my tendency to be extremely overly analytical.
Overly-analytical side: "What if it doesn't work?"
Me: "What if WHAT doesn't work?"
OAS: "Well, what if you don't find a real job?"
Me: "I don't have a "real job" now and I'm doing fine."
OAS: "Well, yeah, but what if you hate it?"
Me: "Um. Hate WHAT?"
OAS: "Well, what if you change? What if EVERYTHING changes?"
Me: "That's why I had to be sure of my motivation for doing this."
OAS: "But what are you going to DO with the rest of your life?"
Ahh. Thank you, Overly-Analytical Side. You always do come through, don't you? Well, to be honest, I don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I was talking about this with my best roomie, Sharon, last week - what if the things we're passionate about aren't things that we can use to earn a living? Do we strap ourselves in to some corporate job and just decide to deal with the fact that we're going to be stuck doing something we may not love from 8-5 in order to support a lifestyle we DO love the rest of the time? Or do we somehow manipulate the things we're passionate about into something that will earn us a living? (I do not like this term. It sounds like we should have to justify our right to a life that we love. But I digress.)
When I'm ignoring my OAS, I fully realize that ultimately, doing something you love is so much more important than doing something that is easily available or that pays well. Case in point - in college, I suffered through four years of coursework in bakery science. OK, not exactly suffered - I liked my lab classes, because we always got to eat our projects at the end. My internships weren't so bad, because they made for pretty cool stories, and really, what's not to love about Hostess cupcakes fresh from the oven? However, despite the scholarship money and the promise of immediate employment after graduation, I knew that in the long run I'd hate the work. So I switched majors, eventually graduated with a communications degree, and after two-ish years of food and nutrition labeling, got a "Great Job" in an ad agency. On the surface, life looked peachy - I was making more money than anyone (OK, probably not anyone, but everyone I knew) my age, and when people asked what I did, I got to say I worked in advertising. (After spending four years in bakery science, it was nice to have a job that I didn't have to explain.) In reality, though, I was working 6 days a week, 10 - 12 hours a day. I was able to afford a great vacation - but I had to take my cellphone in case clients needed me while I was gone. I was so stressed I spent most of my time either crying (at home) or throwing up (in the bathroom at work). I debated quitting for several months, but was always afraid of what would happen if I quit and had to start over. Then I got laid off, and had to start over. And it wasn't so bad. It was actually great.
I should have learned from that experience that despite what my overly-analytical side says, there's really no reason to panic about the distant future. I am only 26. I've already been a Mature, Responsible Adult for three years. Maybe it's time to just enjoy life for a while. As far as figuring out the rest of my life - here's what I know: I adore people. I like talking with them, and the things they tell me, and being able to do things to help them. I also adore medicine. I'm fascinated by the way the body comes together, and the way so many complex systems combine to produce such a seemingly simple outcome. That said, I don't believe that the physical side of the body is the only part to be treated - there's definitely a mind-body-spirit connection that should be considered. I guess that's why I'm having a hard time with nursing school - I should have been So Excited when I heard from Research College, but something still doesn't feel quite right.
Which leads me back to my original point - after getting the same answer from friends, and family, and prayer, and even myself when I stopped worrying about it, I turned to Google for advice. Oh, Google, what should I do with my life? Here's what I got, from a book by Po Bronson, called "What Should I Do With My Life?":
"Most attempt to answer [this question] with one eye open, one eye closed. We let our fears govern our decisions; rather than challenging the validity of those fears, we accept the boundaries set by those fears, and end up confining our search to a narrow range of possibilities, like the guy looking for his car keys under the streetlight because he’s afraid of the dark. Some broad examples: we confine ourselves to a range that is acceptable to our parents or our spouse; we confine ourselves to places inhabited only by people "like us," meaning of our class and education level; we place too much emphasis on being respected by an imaginary audience; we shy away from avocations that take a long time to mature and pay off...it isn't easy, but in a way that hard journey makes the result even sweeter."
Geez, Google. That's just the answer I got everywhere else I looked.
This morning I actually turned to Google for advice. Some background: the last few weeks have presented the possibility of some pretty intense (but ultimately necessary) change in my life. Deep down, I know it's necessary, and I also know what I'm going to do. That knowledge still does not make it any easier to shut up my tendency to be extremely overly analytical.
Overly-analytical side: "What if it doesn't work?"
Me: "What if WHAT doesn't work?"
OAS: "Well, what if you don't find a real job?"
Me: "I don't have a "real job" now and I'm doing fine."
OAS: "Well, yeah, but what if you hate it?"
Me: "Um. Hate WHAT?"
OAS: "Well, what if you change? What if EVERYTHING changes?"
Me: "That's why I had to be sure of my motivation for doing this."
OAS: "But what are you going to DO with the rest of your life?"
Ahh. Thank you, Overly-Analytical Side. You always do come through, don't you? Well, to be honest, I don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I was talking about this with my best roomie, Sharon, last week - what if the things we're passionate about aren't things that we can use to earn a living? Do we strap ourselves in to some corporate job and just decide to deal with the fact that we're going to be stuck doing something we may not love from 8-5 in order to support a lifestyle we DO love the rest of the time? Or do we somehow manipulate the things we're passionate about into something that will earn us a living? (I do not like this term. It sounds like we should have to justify our right to a life that we love. But I digress.)
When I'm ignoring my OAS, I fully realize that ultimately, doing something you love is so much more important than doing something that is easily available or that pays well. Case in point - in college, I suffered through four years of coursework in bakery science. OK, not exactly suffered - I liked my lab classes, because we always got to eat our projects at the end. My internships weren't so bad, because they made for pretty cool stories, and really, what's not to love about Hostess cupcakes fresh from the oven? However, despite the scholarship money and the promise of immediate employment after graduation, I knew that in the long run I'd hate the work. So I switched majors, eventually graduated with a communications degree, and after two-ish years of food and nutrition labeling, got a "Great Job" in an ad agency. On the surface, life looked peachy - I was making more money than anyone (OK, probably not anyone, but everyone I knew) my age, and when people asked what I did, I got to say I worked in advertising. (After spending four years in bakery science, it was nice to have a job that I didn't have to explain.) In reality, though, I was working 6 days a week, 10 - 12 hours a day. I was able to afford a great vacation - but I had to take my cellphone in case clients needed me while I was gone. I was so stressed I spent most of my time either crying (at home) or throwing up (in the bathroom at work). I debated quitting for several months, but was always afraid of what would happen if I quit and had to start over. Then I got laid off, and had to start over. And it wasn't so bad. It was actually great.
I should have learned from that experience that despite what my overly-analytical side says, there's really no reason to panic about the distant future. I am only 26. I've already been a Mature, Responsible Adult for three years. Maybe it's time to just enjoy life for a while. As far as figuring out the rest of my life - here's what I know: I adore people. I like talking with them, and the things they tell me, and being able to do things to help them. I also adore medicine. I'm fascinated by the way the body comes together, and the way so many complex systems combine to produce such a seemingly simple outcome. That said, I don't believe that the physical side of the body is the only part to be treated - there's definitely a mind-body-spirit connection that should be considered. I guess that's why I'm having a hard time with nursing school - I should have been So Excited when I heard from Research College, but something still doesn't feel quite right.
Which leads me back to my original point - after getting the same answer from friends, and family, and prayer, and even myself when I stopped worrying about it, I turned to Google for advice. Oh, Google, what should I do with my life? Here's what I got, from a book by Po Bronson, called "What Should I Do With My Life?":
"Most attempt to answer [this question] with one eye open, one eye closed. We let our fears govern our decisions; rather than challenging the validity of those fears, we accept the boundaries set by those fears, and end up confining our search to a narrow range of possibilities, like the guy looking for his car keys under the streetlight because he’s afraid of the dark. Some broad examples: we confine ourselves to a range that is acceptable to our parents or our spouse; we confine ourselves to places inhabited only by people "like us," meaning of our class and education level; we place too much emphasis on being respected by an imaginary audience; we shy away from avocations that take a long time to mature and pay off...it isn't easy, but in a way that hard journey makes the result even sweeter."
Geez, Google. That's just the answer I got everywhere else I looked.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
That Darn Groundhog (Working title: Meet Mr. McGillicutty!)
Yesterday, while doing dishes and gazing out the back window admiring the wonders of nature, I saw It. A large, rodent-like creature sitting on the concrete edging, nibbling delicately at the Black-Eyed Susans. Having never seen this creature in Real Life before, I didn't know quite what to think. My initial thoughts were wolverine (too small) or badger (not striped) but after a Google search and consultation with my mom and a visiting friend, we settled on groundhog.
After identifying him* we were able to hunt down suggestions as to how to remove him from the premises. One website suggested catch-and-release, fumigation, or "just shooting it, if it's safe and legal." First, please do not refer to Mr. McGillicutty as "it." Second, I somehow doubt that a town that employs an ordinance banning clotheslines is going to be OK with shooting a groundhog in the city limits. Third, HOW COULD I SHOOT MR. MCGILLICUTTY?!? HOW, I ask you? Ahem.
I think it's been established that the household is for the "catch and release" option. We're pretty sure we're going to go with the same company that took care of a little rodent problem in the attic of my former Overland Park apartment. Anyone who can capture 27 squirrels, one of whom was extremely angry, over the course of two hours in a February snowstorm will always get my repeat business.
*By "identifying him," I mean not only figuring out what he was, but also naming him. He's now known around the house as Mr. McGillicutty, and it's my personal belief that were it up to him, he would wear a bow tie and a pair of white gloves.
After identifying him* we were able to hunt down suggestions as to how to remove him from the premises. One website suggested catch-and-release, fumigation, or "just shooting it, if it's safe and legal." First, please do not refer to Mr. McGillicutty as "it." Second, I somehow doubt that a town that employs an ordinance banning clotheslines is going to be OK with shooting a groundhog in the city limits. Third, HOW COULD I SHOOT MR. MCGILLICUTTY?!? HOW, I ask you? Ahem.
I think it's been established that the household is for the "catch and release" option. We're pretty sure we're going to go with the same company that took care of a little rodent problem in the attic of my former Overland Park apartment. Anyone who can capture 27 squirrels, one of whom was extremely angry, over the course of two hours in a February snowstorm will always get my repeat business.
*By "identifying him," I mean not only figuring out what he was, but also naming him. He's now known around the house as Mr. McGillicutty, and it's my personal belief that were it up to him, he would wear a bow tie and a pair of white gloves.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Emotional purging
I answered because I thought it might be a dinner invitation or maybe just a telemarketer calling again to request money for the Policeman's Fund or that man who's always suggesting new siding! and a better roof!
But it was you, again, calling to tell me you love me, and you're miserable, and you're sad, and you wish that you'd said something sooner. If our conversation had been mapped, it would have taken place primarily in Utah. Pun, of course, intended.
I spent too much time with you apologizing - for how much you hate your job and for the stock market and for loving the ocean. And now, I refuse to apologize for the unhappiness that you brought on yourself by closing off from so many things for so long. And I wanted to ask if you knew my middle name (Anne) or that my favorite movies have subtitles, or that I cry when I visit the pound. I wondered whether you knew that my three favorite things about summer are lemonade stands, the smell of chlorine, and the sound of cicadas. I wanted to inform you that I love cleaning the bathroom, alphabetizing my bookshelf, and trying to play the guitar. I debated telling you that I don't even like books about zombies, and that I strongly believe in intuitive medicine, and that love isn't something that happens because it works with your schedule.
Instead, I just listened. And when you were finished, I told you I should probably let you go. So I could alphabetize my bookshelf, and organize my closet, and continue (unapologetically) to revel in the knowledge that sometimes true growth isn't becoming someone new - it's accepting who you were all along.
But it was you, again, calling to tell me you love me, and you're miserable, and you're sad, and you wish that you'd said something sooner. If our conversation had been mapped, it would have taken place primarily in Utah. Pun, of course, intended.
I spent too much time with you apologizing - for how much you hate your job and for the stock market and for loving the ocean. And now, I refuse to apologize for the unhappiness that you brought on yourself by closing off from so many things for so long. And I wanted to ask if you knew my middle name (Anne) or that my favorite movies have subtitles, or that I cry when I visit the pound. I wondered whether you knew that my three favorite things about summer are lemonade stands, the smell of chlorine, and the sound of cicadas. I wanted to inform you that I love cleaning the bathroom, alphabetizing my bookshelf, and trying to play the guitar. I debated telling you that I don't even like books about zombies, and that I strongly believe in intuitive medicine, and that love isn't something that happens because it works with your schedule.
Instead, I just listened. And when you were finished, I told you I should probably let you go. So I could alphabetize my bookshelf, and organize my closet, and continue (unapologetically) to revel in the knowledge that sometimes true growth isn't becoming someone new - it's accepting who you were all along.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
You're kidding, right?
Coming soon: discourse on the "stop fetal experimentation" bumper sticker I spotted in JoCo.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
I love you too?
The following is an excerpt of a conversation my mother and I had in the car tonight:
Mom (while driving down long, steep hill by our house): "This would be a really great hill to sled down."
Me: "We should do that this winter. Just the two of us, and whatever traffic happens to be over here."
Mom: "We can use greased cookie sheets!"
Me: "Or mattresses, like we did in the dorms."
Mom: "Or I could just pull you behind the car on a ladder!"
Me: "Um, why on a ladder?"
Mom: Silence, sideways look.
Has anyone EVER used a ladder to sled? A ladder being pulled behind the car, for that matter? Aren't these the things moms are supposed to be warning you AGAINST?
Random childhood memory: Unbeknownst to our parents, my brother and I used to pull a mattress off the bed that was in the basement spare room, place it at the bottom of the stairs, and then jump down from the top. The idea was that a. our fall would be cushioned by the mattress and b. because we were small and invincible, we would not crack our heads on the wall above the staircase during the leap. Somewhat miraculously, both of these things came to pass.
Mom (while driving down long, steep hill by our house): "This would be a really great hill to sled down."
Me: "We should do that this winter. Just the two of us, and whatever traffic happens to be over here."
Mom: "We can use greased cookie sheets!"
Me: "Or mattresses, like we did in the dorms."
Mom: "Or I could just pull you behind the car on a ladder!"
Me: "Um, why on a ladder?"
Mom: Silence, sideways look.
Has anyone EVER used a ladder to sled? A ladder being pulled behind the car, for that matter? Aren't these the things moms are supposed to be warning you AGAINST?
Random childhood memory: Unbeknownst to our parents, my brother and I used to pull a mattress off the bed that was in the basement spare room, place it at the bottom of the stairs, and then jump down from the top. The idea was that a. our fall would be cushioned by the mattress and b. because we were small and invincible, we would not crack our heads on the wall above the staircase during the leap. Somewhat miraculously, both of these things came to pass.
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Grocery Getter
Being the proud owner of a brand-new blog, I've noticed that I am developing a tendency to narrate everything. Really. Almost everything I do now is accompanied by a voice in my head trying to figure out how to phrase such-and-such an experience, just in case I want to write about it later.
Hence this post on one of the most mundane of all mundane activities - going to the grocery store.
I noticed today while at my local (Wal-Mart Neighborhood) market that grocery shopping seems to bring out my somewhat obsessive traits and behaviors. Normal people throw a list together, go to the store, buy groceries, and leave.
Not I.
No thrown-together lists for me, no sirree. My list is alphabetized. And not just alphabetized - it's alphabetized based on the section of the store where the items on said list are found. For example, at the Market, lunchmeat, fruit, cheese, and salad are all in the same section. So, the list reads: bananas, salad, sharp cheddar, turkey. Frozen peas, tilapia, shrimp, ice cream - all in the freezer section, hence: frozen peas, ice cream, tilapia, shrimp.
That could be considered almost normal, until I realized that I mentally debate my choices... with myself...in conversation form:
"Do I really want those bananas?"
"Yes. You like green bananas."
"But am I going to be able to eat 5 bananas before they get too yellow?"
"Well, probably not. But you could just get three and be fine."
"But I always feel bad separating the bananas. They grew up together. They traveled long distances over land and sea to get to this very market."
"Just buy 3 bananas."
"OK...I'm so sorry, bananas!"
Roughly the same thing happens in the cereal aisle, but it's usually a debate concerning fiber, sugar content, and whether I am realistically going to eat something with the texture of cardboard and/or small chunks of gravel. (Yes, GrapeNuts, I am talking about you.)
I carry the obsessive behavior into the checkout lane, where I. Must. Self. Check. Why, you ask? Because I bag my groceries much the same way I buy them - juice and milk go together, because they sit on the same shelf in the refrigerator. Ice cream and frozen peas get the same bag, because they're going to the same place also and I want them to have time to get to know each other before they're forced to huddle together in the arctic environment otherwise known as the freezer.
I am, truly, somewhat strange.
Hence this post on one of the most mundane of all mundane activities - going to the grocery store.
I noticed today while at my local (Wal-Mart Neighborhood) market that grocery shopping seems to bring out my somewhat obsessive traits and behaviors. Normal people throw a list together, go to the store, buy groceries, and leave.
Not I.
No thrown-together lists for me, no sirree. My list is alphabetized. And not just alphabetized - it's alphabetized based on the section of the store where the items on said list are found. For example, at the Market, lunchmeat, fruit, cheese, and salad are all in the same section. So, the list reads: bananas, salad, sharp cheddar, turkey. Frozen peas, tilapia, shrimp, ice cream - all in the freezer section, hence: frozen peas, ice cream, tilapia, shrimp.
That could be considered almost normal, until I realized that I mentally debate my choices... with myself...in conversation form:
"Do I really want those bananas?"
"Yes. You like green bananas."
"But am I going to be able to eat 5 bananas before they get too yellow?"
"Well, probably not. But you could just get three and be fine."
"But I always feel bad separating the bananas. They grew up together. They traveled long distances over land and sea to get to this very market."
"Just buy 3 bananas."
"OK...I'm so sorry, bananas!"
Roughly the same thing happens in the cereal aisle, but it's usually a debate concerning fiber, sugar content, and whether I am realistically going to eat something with the texture of cardboard and/or small chunks of gravel. (Yes, GrapeNuts, I am talking about you.)
I carry the obsessive behavior into the checkout lane, where I. Must. Self. Check. Why, you ask? Because I bag my groceries much the same way I buy them - juice and milk go together, because they sit on the same shelf in the refrigerator. Ice cream and frozen peas get the same bag, because they're going to the same place also and I want them to have time to get to know each other before they're forced to huddle together in the arctic environment otherwise known as the freezer.
I am, truly, somewhat strange.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Solo
Solo - Not many words match their definitions like that one does. If you say it slowly enough - it can go from "solo" to "so low" and become the first part of "so lonely." In one sense, though, I wonder if I was more lonely in a "relationship" than I will be out of one.
I have to think that - in fact, I know that - it is possible to just "click" with someone, and knowing that made me less and less happy to continue to settle.
Relationships are hard because people are naturally prone to care about the opinions of others - and so many of those are conflict with what we may want to believe:
"You should know better."
"The soul wanders in the dark, until it finds love. And so where love goes, there we find our soul."
"I'm just cynical after all these years."
"It always happens?"
"You're not always going to love someone."
"It always happens - if we're lucky. And if we let ourselves be blind."
We try to date the people our friends think we should, or the one our mom sets us up with, or the person who's been a friend for years (but never really anything more) just because we feel pressure from Everyone Whose Opinions Matter - meanwhile, we completely ignore our hearts and listen to the "voice of reason" without realizing that sometimes it's OK for love to be insane and distorted - that it can't be vital if it operates within the normal threshold of day-to-day existence.
After two emotional hours on the phone today, two things happened. One, my phone shorted out because I'd been crying into it, and kept opening up strange screens seemingly with a mind of its own.
Two, I realized how liberating it is to know what I need, and also to know when that's not there and when it's time to let go.
I feel emotionally drained, but peaceful. I can't help thinking that this End is somehow the beginning of Something Important.
I have to think that - in fact, I know that - it is possible to just "click" with someone, and knowing that made me less and less happy to continue to settle.
Relationships are hard because people are naturally prone to care about the opinions of others - and so many of those are conflict with what we may want to believe:
"You should know better."
"The soul wanders in the dark, until it finds love. And so where love goes, there we find our soul."
"I'm just cynical after all these years."
"It always happens?"
"You're not always going to love someone."
"It always happens - if we're lucky. And if we let ourselves be blind."
We try to date the people our friends think we should, or the one our mom sets us up with, or the person who's been a friend for years (but never really anything more) just because we feel pressure from Everyone Whose Opinions Matter - meanwhile, we completely ignore our hearts and listen to the "voice of reason" without realizing that sometimes it's OK for love to be insane and distorted - that it can't be vital if it operates within the normal threshold of day-to-day existence.
After two emotional hours on the phone today, two things happened. One, my phone shorted out because I'd been crying into it, and kept opening up strange screens seemingly with a mind of its own.
Two, I realized how liberating it is to know what I need, and also to know when that's not there and when it's time to let go.
I feel emotionally drained, but peaceful. I can't help thinking that this End is somehow the beginning of Something Important.
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