It is a very strange thing to watch a loved one about to crash very, very hard and be unable to stop it. You try to do what you can, say the things you think need to be said, holding on so tight, throw her every lifesaver you know of to keep her afloat, but you know it won't work. You can see the fall coming and are wincing and cringing your way through the day. Maybe if you're extra nice to everyone and do some unspecified acts of kindness for strangers, maybe you can arrest the fall. Maybe if you pray extra hard it won't happen.
I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a parent and see your kid doing things that you know are so stupid that you feel like you must stop them but you know you can't. If you keep cushioning them on the falls, they won't be able to survive if you're not around to smooth things over.
In this case though I know that there's nothing I can do to make this situation different. You can't shake someone into sanity or tell a depressed person to be happy. I mean, of course you could try it but it won't do any good. So what do you do? Do you play along and pretend that everything is just grand? Do you rant and scream and rage as she starts to slip? Do you sit this one out and look the other way?
I don't know the answer so I ate some cake for dinner and am going to bed early. Then in the morning I will get up, force myself to get out of bed and face the day head on, balls to the wall. It's not that much of a plan but it's something.
This trainwreck is going to happen whether I want it to or not and at this point, I will not stick my fingers in my ears and scrunch my eyes shut. I want to look that batshit crazy conductor in the eye as the train hurtles toward me. For I am slowly but surely learning that I can't control the ups and the seemingly endless downs that come my way, but I can control how I face these things.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Dog Poo and Probably Way Too Much Introspection
You know when you have one of those days? The kind where you realize too late that there is a hole in your dog's poo bag and that kind of sets the stage for the rest of the day? The kind where you almost put salsa on your English muffin and peanut butter rather than strawberry jam? The kind where they shut off the water to your office building so that a trip to the bathroom involves a coat, a brisk sprint across the parking lot and two badges? The kind where you look out into the great abyss and see everyone that you know is moving forward with their lives whilst you are standing in the freezing cold, staring stupidly at the dog poo on your hand?
Yep, it's that kind of a Monday. Or rather I guess it technically is Tuesday. I always get mixed up with long weekends. Especially long weekends where I spend my day off writing articles, cleaning the house, trying to work on my resume, and glumly looking at more rejection notices from job applications where I never made it beyond the initial resume phase (hence the working on the resume).
And then you find out your oldest friend in the world, the one who agreed to marry you at the age of 5 if you were both really old (like 30) and weren't married, has a kid. Not just has a kid but has a daughter who is nearly 2 years old. And extremely adorable. For some reason, this knowledge has kind of struck me dumbfounded. I am literally sitting here, slack-jawed and incoherent. Not because I thought the now 30 year old contract (!!!) was still valid but because I had no idea that he had become a father.
It doesn't help that I have let my financial advisor (he is wonderfully competent and adorable when he tries to explain things to me and my eyes glaze over and I start to doodle) talk me out of quitting my job with no actual other job lined up. Then again, the sensible part of me--the one that tries to eat something more than pudding for dinner and go to bed early rather than watching old episodes of the West Wing--knew that this was what he was going to advise and that is probably why I went to see him before leaping off into the abyss.
He made some good points though and not just about how it's nice to be able to afford my mortgage and my dog's organic dog food. He said he can see that I'm serious about writing and that if that's what I want to do, that's what I should do. But that until I can convince someone to pay me a living wage doing that writing, that I should try to find a work environment that I enjoy and that will free me up for more time for the lovely writing. Although this makes sense, I'm kind of afraid that if I don't try it now, I'll never do it. Pull the band-aid off all in one fell swoop, jump without a safety net, etc.
The other thing that has me slightly bamboozled is that I was supposed to talk with my client tonight about the 2nd book I was going to write for him (whilst I'm still working on chapters for another book for him) and was nervous since when he and I spoke last, he asked if I was going to want to give him rights to all content. I was nervous because I didn't really want to do that but I do like working for him and didn't want things to be highly awkward.
Anyway, he started off the conversation by saying that he thinks I should write and publish the book myself. That it was my idea and he said it felt like he'd be taking my baby. He said he thought it would be a fun book and do well, then he gave me some advice and we chatted about his experiences in self-publishing and writing. Of course as soon as we hung up, self-doubt set in and I became convinced that he doesn't want to be involved in the book because he thinks it will be crap.
On that inspiring note, I better call it a night as it is a before-crack-o-dawn type day for me tomorrow. If you haven't gotten enough about me ranting about gender inequality (and how could that ever be possible), check out my latest article on The Snap Download and learn of my plans for making men wear more complicated outfits (cravats, hats and more!) so that we can hear reporters reduce them to their wardrobes and hairstyles rather than just hearing ad nauseum about the First Lady's bangs. You can also read an article where one of my fellow bloggers will teach you a fun new phrase in French.
So bonne nuit, mes amis. I'm feeling not so sensible and there's plenty of West Wing season 3 for me to still get thru.
Yep, it's that kind of a Monday. Or rather I guess it technically is Tuesday. I always get mixed up with long weekends. Especially long weekends where I spend my day off writing articles, cleaning the house, trying to work on my resume, and glumly looking at more rejection notices from job applications where I never made it beyond the initial resume phase (hence the working on the resume).
And then you find out your oldest friend in the world, the one who agreed to marry you at the age of 5 if you were both really old (like 30) and weren't married, has a kid. Not just has a kid but has a daughter who is nearly 2 years old. And extremely adorable. For some reason, this knowledge has kind of struck me dumbfounded. I am literally sitting here, slack-jawed and incoherent. Not because I thought the now 30 year old contract (!!!) was still valid but because I had no idea that he had become a father.
It doesn't help that I have let my financial advisor (he is wonderfully competent and adorable when he tries to explain things to me and my eyes glaze over and I start to doodle) talk me out of quitting my job with no actual other job lined up. Then again, the sensible part of me--the one that tries to eat something more than pudding for dinner and go to bed early rather than watching old episodes of the West Wing--knew that this was what he was going to advise and that is probably why I went to see him before leaping off into the abyss.
He made some good points though and not just about how it's nice to be able to afford my mortgage and my dog's organic dog food. He said he can see that I'm serious about writing and that if that's what I want to do, that's what I should do. But that until I can convince someone to pay me a living wage doing that writing, that I should try to find a work environment that I enjoy and that will free me up for more time for the lovely writing. Although this makes sense, I'm kind of afraid that if I don't try it now, I'll never do it. Pull the band-aid off all in one fell swoop, jump without a safety net, etc.
The other thing that has me slightly bamboozled is that I was supposed to talk with my client tonight about the 2nd book I was going to write for him (whilst I'm still working on chapters for another book for him) and was nervous since when he and I spoke last, he asked if I was going to want to give him rights to all content. I was nervous because I didn't really want to do that but I do like working for him and didn't want things to be highly awkward.
Anyway, he started off the conversation by saying that he thinks I should write and publish the book myself. That it was my idea and he said it felt like he'd be taking my baby. He said he thought it would be a fun book and do well, then he gave me some advice and we chatted about his experiences in self-publishing and writing. Of course as soon as we hung up, self-doubt set in and I became convinced that he doesn't want to be involved in the book because he thinks it will be crap.
On that inspiring note, I better call it a night as it is a before-crack-o-dawn type day for me tomorrow. If you haven't gotten enough about me ranting about gender inequality (and how could that ever be possible), check out my latest article on The Snap Download and learn of my plans for making men wear more complicated outfits (cravats, hats and more!) so that we can hear reporters reduce them to their wardrobes and hairstyles rather than just hearing ad nauseum about the First Lady's bangs. You can also read an article where one of my fellow bloggers will teach you a fun new phrase in French.
So bonne nuit, mes amis. I'm feeling not so sensible and there's plenty of West Wing season 3 for me to still get thru.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Weighty Matters
For those of you who enjoyed my post, You Are What You Eat?, where I talk about lifelong issues with weight and body issues, check out my latest article at The Snap Download, titled When I Am Queen of Everything. First of all, who wouldn't want to live in a world where I am Queen of Everything? I mean, seriously, people. Admit it, you're curious what it would be like. How many minions would I have, would running be a misdemeanor or a felony, would the rivers be filled with bourbon, would my dog Charlie be named Duke or maybe even Czar? Where was I?
Oh, yeah. So really the article is about my rage against people perpetuating negative body images, whether it's Howard Stern, discriminatory employers, or that darn liberal media (okay, not the real liberal media - the liberal-entertainment-for-news media). It seemed timely what with some of us having already fallen off the Resolution bandwagon and maybe feeling a little bad about it. Don't feel bad or guilty. Do what you can to lead a healthy life and if other people don't like the way you look, then they are clearly supporters of jackassery who would be boring as hell to hang out with anyway.
Oh, yeah. So really the article is about my rage against people perpetuating negative body images, whether it's Howard Stern, discriminatory employers, or that darn liberal media (okay, not the real liberal media - the liberal-entertainment-for-news media). It seemed timely what with some of us having already fallen off the Resolution bandwagon and maybe feeling a little bad about it. Don't feel bad or guilty. Do what you can to lead a healthy life and if other people don't like the way you look, then they are clearly supporters of jackassery who would be boring as hell to hang out with anyway.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
I Wish I Was More of a Jackass
Dearest blog,
I'm mightily sorry for abandoning you. You were always there for me to ponder why fate had injected so many psychopaths into my dating life. When I wanted to record what I felt to be genius advice on how to throw and attend weddings, travel as a singelton, and have actual political conversations that didn't result in bloodshed, you were there. The reasons for my abandonment are both good and bad.
Because I've decided on a post-New Year's resolution to accentuate the positive, let's start with the good. I'm writing my brains out. Literally, I come home after a full day of work that leaves me wanting to weep in despair and I sit in my squishy rocking chair and write and write and write. I'm exhausted and have headaches and my eyes hurt. And I love it although it leaves me with less time to spend with you, dear blog.
Obviously, I'm not referring to loving my various aches and pains (or the increasing size of my ass as I have yet to figure out how to write whilst lunging). No, I'm referring to the insane amount of writing I've taken on. I'm now allowed to rant twice a week for The Snap Download indefinitely. I'm not sure who all is reading it but it is way cool. I take forever to research my articles, probably way longer than I should. And I've realized that I was even way more of a granola, hippie, leftwing, pinko liberal than I ever thought I was. And I really really dig it.
Then there's the other freelance work I've been doing. I finally finished writing on the passions and proclivities of the presidents and am now working on an e-book for that same client, and possibly now a new assignment of short stories/articles. That work is actually a ton of fun. And I've finished ghost writing ridiculously concise travel articles attempting to smush in way too much info on Latin American cities, most of which I've never visited. Also no more architectural pieces for crappy clients who don't pay or provide feedback.
Now, for the bad reasons. I really should have been focusing on finishing my own book. I mean I am so close--or at least I hope I'm so close--to finishing that it's insane how I keep procrastinating finishing. I honestly do have a lot of other stuff that I am contractually obligated to finish (and enjoy doing, too) but I fear part of the reason I haven't dedicated to my book based off of you, dearest blog, is that I fear it is complete crap.
And this is why I think I need to be more of a jackass. Not like the movies or anything. I need to be more of a jackass in that I need some damn self-confidence. My first instinct is to think that what I do is crap, that no one reads it, and that the reason the few people I've given draft of my book to have largely gone radio silent is because it is sooooooo bad that they are afraid to tell me and crush all my girlish hopes and dreams.
If I was more of a jackass, I'd be so firmly convinced of my own awesomeness that I'd have none of these doubts. I think we all need that really. Well, except the actual jackasses of course. Most of my wildly talented and gifted friends have such low self-esteem in their own wonderfulness that it makes me want to hold a parade with floats designed to honor them. Seriously, why is it that we have the hardest time believing in our own good and self-worth? Why must there always be this much doubt? What could we accomplish if we weren't so afraid that we sucked?
Anyway, so these are my pitiful reasons for ignoring you, dearest blog, for newer and shinier writing assignments. I'll promise to be better or at least promise to try. To quote one of my newer musical crushes, The Milk Carton Kids, you feel like a long hot shower, like getting in your bed when the sheets are warm. Thanks for listening to me before all the others did.
S/N,
Adrienne
I'm mightily sorry for abandoning you. You were always there for me to ponder why fate had injected so many psychopaths into my dating life. When I wanted to record what I felt to be genius advice on how to throw and attend weddings, travel as a singelton, and have actual political conversations that didn't result in bloodshed, you were there. The reasons for my abandonment are both good and bad.
Because I've decided on a post-New Year's resolution to accentuate the positive, let's start with the good. I'm writing my brains out. Literally, I come home after a full day of work that leaves me wanting to weep in despair and I sit in my squishy rocking chair and write and write and write. I'm exhausted and have headaches and my eyes hurt. And I love it although it leaves me with less time to spend with you, dear blog.
Obviously, I'm not referring to loving my various aches and pains (or the increasing size of my ass as I have yet to figure out how to write whilst lunging). No, I'm referring to the insane amount of writing I've taken on. I'm now allowed to rant twice a week for The Snap Download indefinitely. I'm not sure who all is reading it but it is way cool. I take forever to research my articles, probably way longer than I should. And I've realized that I was even way more of a granola, hippie, leftwing, pinko liberal than I ever thought I was. And I really really dig it.
Then there's the other freelance work I've been doing. I finally finished writing on the passions and proclivities of the presidents and am now working on an e-book for that same client, and possibly now a new assignment of short stories/articles. That work is actually a ton of fun. And I've finished ghost writing ridiculously concise travel articles attempting to smush in way too much info on Latin American cities, most of which I've never visited. Also no more architectural pieces for crappy clients who don't pay or provide feedback.
Now, for the bad reasons. I really should have been focusing on finishing my own book. I mean I am so close--or at least I hope I'm so close--to finishing that it's insane how I keep procrastinating finishing. I honestly do have a lot of other stuff that I am contractually obligated to finish (and enjoy doing, too) but I fear part of the reason I haven't dedicated to my book based off of you, dearest blog, is that I fear it is complete crap.
And this is why I think I need to be more of a jackass. Not like the movies or anything. I need to be more of a jackass in that I need some damn self-confidence. My first instinct is to think that what I do is crap, that no one reads it, and that the reason the few people I've given draft of my book to have largely gone radio silent is because it is sooooooo bad that they are afraid to tell me and crush all my girlish hopes and dreams.
If I was more of a jackass, I'd be so firmly convinced of my own awesomeness that I'd have none of these doubts. I think we all need that really. Well, except the actual jackasses of course. Most of my wildly talented and gifted friends have such low self-esteem in their own wonderfulness that it makes me want to hold a parade with floats designed to honor them. Seriously, why is it that we have the hardest time believing in our own good and self-worth? Why must there always be this much doubt? What could we accomplish if we weren't so afraid that we sucked?
Anyway, so these are my pitiful reasons for ignoring you, dearest blog, for newer and shinier writing assignments. I'll promise to be better or at least promise to try. To quote one of my newer musical crushes, The Milk Carton Kids, you feel like a long hot shower, like getting in your bed when the sheets are warm. Thanks for listening to me before all the others did.
S/N,
Adrienne
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Holiday Detente
I have to admit that I am not chock full of holiday spirit yet. Mainly I'm prepping for the epic bouts of road rage that will be consuming me after Tuesday as my commute increases exponentially. This was definitely not what I had in mind for an early Christmas present.
I'm also sick and tired of hearing about some nonexistent war on Christmas. No one has declared war on Christmas. When people say Happy Holidays, they're not telling you to stuff your hand in a meat grinder; they're telling you that they wish you happiness. When did that become a bad thing? Yes, I personally celebrate Christmas. Even though more often than not I'm at a Unitarian Universalist service or spending time with extended family and canines, I still pray and I still return to the holiday traditions I was reared with, although fortunately not the continued consumption of my mother's inedible Tuna Tree that she served one hellish Christmas eve.
But I don't get upset if other people don't celebrate Christmas. I certainly don't get upset if they're not celebrating it because it's not a part of their faith or even if they just don't like Christmas. I can't understand how you would not like Christmas--the amount of crap you get to eat and drink PLUS really cheesy movies PLUS I actually like some of the music PLUS I usually get to see family and friends I haven't seen in a long time PLUS I get to ride in a Honda with Santa (played by my brother), driven by a clown (my sister), and crammed into the back with fellow elves (niece and nephew and friend). However, just because I can't understand why you wouldn't love Christmas doesn't mean I don't support someone's decision to believe or not believe what they choose.
That's what this country was founded on - not the idea that we all had to believe the same things, like the same things, do the same things. That would be craptastically boring. And authoritarian. You can have strong faith, express that faith, and still be respectful of others' rights to live their lives in accordance with their beliefs. It is only the weak who need to bring someone else down, to attack someone else to make themselves feel stronger, more justified, more righteous.
As part of the freelance ghost writing I've been doing I've been learning a lot about the presidents for this historical humor project. I learned last night that John Quincy Adams (himself a devout Unitarian minister) refused to be sworn in as president using a Bible. Not because he didn't believe or because he thought the Bible was wrong. He didn't use it because this country had been recently founded (he was only our 6th President) and he very well understood the importance of religious freedom in the U.S. He chose to be sworn in using a copy of the U.S. Constitution. To remind himself of audacious goals this country had, "to form a more perfect union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity."
So throughout this wonderful time of year, I'll keep in mind the real "reason for the season." Not to exclude others, become angry when they don't think or talk like me, and not to judge how other people live their lives. Jesus said "Love one another as I have loved you." I missed the part where that meant fly off into a spittle-spraying rage if someone doesn't say Merry Christmas.
For those of you who are still reading and haven't given up in disgust at my lack of holiday cheer, do not fear. All the decorations are coming out today - including the 2 foot tall doll of Bing Crosby, dressed as Santa, holding a pipe and microphone, and crooning his little plastic heart out. And yes my nativity scene too. Because today I will kick off the Christmas season with one of the people responsible for the awesomesauce Bing doll as we watch crappy Christmas movies to our hearts' content (see Hapless Holidays for more of my obsession with shmaltzy holiday flicks), drink Fall Classic Cocktails (mmmmmmmm) and snuggle with Charlie.
I'm also sick and tired of hearing about some nonexistent war on Christmas. No one has declared war on Christmas. When people say Happy Holidays, they're not telling you to stuff your hand in a meat grinder; they're telling you that they wish you happiness. When did that become a bad thing? Yes, I personally celebrate Christmas. Even though more often than not I'm at a Unitarian Universalist service or spending time with extended family and canines, I still pray and I still return to the holiday traditions I was reared with, although fortunately not the continued consumption of my mother's inedible Tuna Tree that she served one hellish Christmas eve.
But I don't get upset if other people don't celebrate Christmas. I certainly don't get upset if they're not celebrating it because it's not a part of their faith or even if they just don't like Christmas. I can't understand how you would not like Christmas--the amount of crap you get to eat and drink PLUS really cheesy movies PLUS I actually like some of the music PLUS I usually get to see family and friends I haven't seen in a long time PLUS I get to ride in a Honda with Santa (played by my brother), driven by a clown (my sister), and crammed into the back with fellow elves (niece and nephew and friend). However, just because I can't understand why you wouldn't love Christmas doesn't mean I don't support someone's decision to believe or not believe what they choose.
That's what this country was founded on - not the idea that we all had to believe the same things, like the same things, do the same things. That would be craptastically boring. And authoritarian. You can have strong faith, express that faith, and still be respectful of others' rights to live their lives in accordance with their beliefs. It is only the weak who need to bring someone else down, to attack someone else to make themselves feel stronger, more justified, more righteous.
As part of the freelance ghost writing I've been doing I've been learning a lot about the presidents for this historical humor project. I learned last night that John Quincy Adams (himself a devout Unitarian minister) refused to be sworn in as president using a Bible. Not because he didn't believe or because he thought the Bible was wrong. He didn't use it because this country had been recently founded (he was only our 6th President) and he very well understood the importance of religious freedom in the U.S. He chose to be sworn in using a copy of the U.S. Constitution. To remind himself of audacious goals this country had, "to form a more perfect union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity."
So throughout this wonderful time of year, I'll keep in mind the real "reason for the season." Not to exclude others, become angry when they don't think or talk like me, and not to judge how other people live their lives. Jesus said "Love one another as I have loved you." I missed the part where that meant fly off into a spittle-spraying rage if someone doesn't say Merry Christmas.
For those of you who are still reading and haven't given up in disgust at my lack of holiday cheer, do not fear. All the decorations are coming out today - including the 2 foot tall doll of Bing Crosby, dressed as Santa, holding a pipe and microphone, and crooning his little plastic heart out. And yes my nativity scene too. Because today I will kick off the Christmas season with one of the people responsible for the awesomesauce Bing doll as we watch crappy Christmas movies to our hearts' content (see Hapless Holidays for more of my obsession with shmaltzy holiday flicks), drink Fall Classic Cocktails (mmmmmmmm) and snuggle with Charlie.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Seeing the (Cocktail) Glass as Half-Full This Thanksgiving
As we draw near the consumption of massive amounts of food, oversharing of personal problems, imbibing copious bevvies, and festival of emotional scars that is known as Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for having my email hacked.
Don't get me wrong, it was a massive pain in the butt and really what I didn't need at the end of an 11 hr workday on Friday before being doomed to work all day on Saturday, but having my email hacked actually turned out to be one of those "It's a Wonderful Life" moments. Now before you think I've enjoyed way too much bourbon this evening, hear me out.
Let me set the scene. It is important to know that I have been having a massive self pity party and freakout over employment issues. With an imminent hellish commute looming over my head and what appears to be my complete inability to get anyone to actually consider me for employment that I think I would enjoy, I've been very woe-is-me-ish, not sleeping, anxiety ridden, and generally being a big whiny baby. And of course, eating my feelings and having my waistline and circumference of my ass pay the price. Then two things happened at the end of last week that reminded me of some of the many things I have to be thankful for: the retirement party for the best boss I've ever had and my email was hacked.
First, the retirement. Although I still find it difficult that he actually retired, my former boss actually ended what has been a spectacularly dedicated career. I'm really a bit of a dork about this man and drove myself to the brink of insanity and exhaustion to try to be worthy of his respect and trust. And this is despite the fact that he is the only man I've worked for or with who actually made me cry in his presence. I've never wanted to be "that girl" but somehow my lacrimal glands are tied to my emotions of anger and massive embarrassment. Thus, when he had me working like 11 days in a row and wanted me to try to call a meeting of people way more important than me the day before Thanksgiving to tell them that he was throwing out everything they had written and doing the damn project himself and I meekly said that this would be next to impossible and probably not the best course of action, and he let loose, I got all weepy. Then, massively embarrassed, I turned bright red. That's the other "charming" thing I do - blush hideously red for prolonged amounts of time for what appear to be no reason whatsoever.
But that was one incident and the fact that I not only survived it but I'd like to think I managed to make him never think twice about hiring me, makes me so happy that I was able to work for him not just once but twice. He taught me more than any other boss, mentor, or colleague and always took time to ask about my family and remember details of little stuff that you'd think someone that busy wouldn't have time for--all of these things make me very devoted to him. So when he retired, to see him recognized, to chat with him and his family again, and to get to see so many wonderful old colleagues and friends, this was a very moving experience. People I hadn't seen in ages were all in one room, gathered to honor the same man and take time out of busy days to recognize what he's given to his job and to his country. Plus there was free wine.
And that brings me to the hacking. So yeah, Friday totally sucked. I worked forever and it was doing stuff I didn't want to do, all with the knowledge I'd be back there again on Saturday and all for a job that is going to force me back into a commute that I sworn to give up. Then I find out my email had been hacked. Moment of truth, yes I had clicked on the link when I got an email from a friend that looked slightly suspicious but advertised itself as a news article on where to find the best jobs. I thought this was one of those moments where I'd read this article and suddenly figure out what I was going to do for the rest of my life. Or at least the next year or so.
I'm one of those people who never cleans out her closets, never throws away old theater programs or tickets from events, and certainly never cleans out her email contact list. Which means that when I clicked on that email and my email was hacked, a few hundred people --some of whom I hadn't spoken to in years and some of whom I never wanted to speak to again--all got the same fakeass article from "me." It was massively humiliating as when I looked at my contact list I did in fact find several insane men I dated (like the guy that I think was satanic and talked about poop, DJ 3-Way, and the cutest boy with the weirdest name - see Deal With the Devil, A Brief Period of Normalcy with a Side of Squeamishness, and They Don't Make Phone Booths Anymore for more details).
The thing is that it actually ended up being kinda cool. I talked to people I hadn't talked to in ages - like my first real boss (as in post-college first grown-up job) who moved south after retirement a few years ago. He always bought the best birthday cakes, laughed hysterically at those annoying hamster toys that danced when you squeezed their foot, and was just generally a really, really good guy. My college advisor also got in touch; she is the one who gave me the medieval helmet/incense burner that I still have and who inspired me to think about the lives and needs of peoples far beyond America's borders. Old colleagues and teammates who've moved far and wide and still call me by silly nicknames. Plus, the nicest guy who I dated ages ago--the one who gave me an Easter basket on our 2nd date and let me massacre his transmission trying to teach me to drive stick.
I highly recommend the experience. I mean, yeah of course it freaks me out and I'm still a little worried about my accounts and stuff, but it made me realize how rich my life has actually been. How many lives I've been blessed to be a part of, to share in their stories and have them share in mine.
It can be so easy to get wrapped up in our problems, to only see all the things we "have" to do, and wish that our lives were different. If this were an Olympic sport I'd have at least a silver medal. However, there are times where we get these little windows into our lives. Where we can see how all of the decisions and moments--good and not so good--how those make us who we are. Where we can step back and remember all the people who've wandered into and out of our lives--whether by choice or by fate--and be truly thankful for each and every one of them.
As you gather with family, friends, or however you choose to spend this Day of Thanks, please know that you are among the blessings that I count. Those of you who I get to see frequently, those I haven't seen in years, and those precious, precious ones who I won't see again my journey has come to an end--it is for you that I give thanks. Happy Thanksgiving to my dear, sweet friends and family. Even as we drive each other crazy, let's always bee grateful that at least we have company on the ride.
Now let's put on our eating pants and get down to business.
Don't get me wrong, it was a massive pain in the butt and really what I didn't need at the end of an 11 hr workday on Friday before being doomed to work all day on Saturday, but having my email hacked actually turned out to be one of those "It's a Wonderful Life" moments. Now before you think I've enjoyed way too much bourbon this evening, hear me out.
Let me set the scene. It is important to know that I have been having a massive self pity party and freakout over employment issues. With an imminent hellish commute looming over my head and what appears to be my complete inability to get anyone to actually consider me for employment that I think I would enjoy, I've been very woe-is-me-ish, not sleeping, anxiety ridden, and generally being a big whiny baby. And of course, eating my feelings and having my waistline and circumference of my ass pay the price. Then two things happened at the end of last week that reminded me of some of the many things I have to be thankful for: the retirement party for the best boss I've ever had and my email was hacked.
First, the retirement. Although I still find it difficult that he actually retired, my former boss actually ended what has been a spectacularly dedicated career. I'm really a bit of a dork about this man and drove myself to the brink of insanity and exhaustion to try to be worthy of his respect and trust. And this is despite the fact that he is the only man I've worked for or with who actually made me cry in his presence. I've never wanted to be "that girl" but somehow my lacrimal glands are tied to my emotions of anger and massive embarrassment. Thus, when he had me working like 11 days in a row and wanted me to try to call a meeting of people way more important than me the day before Thanksgiving to tell them that he was throwing out everything they had written and doing the damn project himself and I meekly said that this would be next to impossible and probably not the best course of action, and he let loose, I got all weepy. Then, massively embarrassed, I turned bright red. That's the other "charming" thing I do - blush hideously red for prolonged amounts of time for what appear to be no reason whatsoever.
But that was one incident and the fact that I not only survived it but I'd like to think I managed to make him never think twice about hiring me, makes me so happy that I was able to work for him not just once but twice. He taught me more than any other boss, mentor, or colleague and always took time to ask about my family and remember details of little stuff that you'd think someone that busy wouldn't have time for--all of these things make me very devoted to him. So when he retired, to see him recognized, to chat with him and his family again, and to get to see so many wonderful old colleagues and friends, this was a very moving experience. People I hadn't seen in ages were all in one room, gathered to honor the same man and take time out of busy days to recognize what he's given to his job and to his country. Plus there was free wine.
And that brings me to the hacking. So yeah, Friday totally sucked. I worked forever and it was doing stuff I didn't want to do, all with the knowledge I'd be back there again on Saturday and all for a job that is going to force me back into a commute that I sworn to give up. Then I find out my email had been hacked. Moment of truth, yes I had clicked on the link when I got an email from a friend that looked slightly suspicious but advertised itself as a news article on where to find the best jobs. I thought this was one of those moments where I'd read this article and suddenly figure out what I was going to do for the rest of my life. Or at least the next year or so.
I'm one of those people who never cleans out her closets, never throws away old theater programs or tickets from events, and certainly never cleans out her email contact list. Which means that when I clicked on that email and my email was hacked, a few hundred people --some of whom I hadn't spoken to in years and some of whom I never wanted to speak to again--all got the same fakeass article from "me." It was massively humiliating as when I looked at my contact list I did in fact find several insane men I dated (like the guy that I think was satanic and talked about poop, DJ 3-Way, and the cutest boy with the weirdest name - see Deal With the Devil, A Brief Period of Normalcy with a Side of Squeamishness, and They Don't Make Phone Booths Anymore for more details).
The thing is that it actually ended up being kinda cool. I talked to people I hadn't talked to in ages - like my first real boss (as in post-college first grown-up job) who moved south after retirement a few years ago. He always bought the best birthday cakes, laughed hysterically at those annoying hamster toys that danced when you squeezed their foot, and was just generally a really, really good guy. My college advisor also got in touch; she is the one who gave me the medieval helmet/incense burner that I still have and who inspired me to think about the lives and needs of peoples far beyond America's borders. Old colleagues and teammates who've moved far and wide and still call me by silly nicknames. Plus, the nicest guy who I dated ages ago--the one who gave me an Easter basket on our 2nd date and let me massacre his transmission trying to teach me to drive stick.
I highly recommend the experience. I mean, yeah of course it freaks me out and I'm still a little worried about my accounts and stuff, but it made me realize how rich my life has actually been. How many lives I've been blessed to be a part of, to share in their stories and have them share in mine.
It can be so easy to get wrapped up in our problems, to only see all the things we "have" to do, and wish that our lives were different. If this were an Olympic sport I'd have at least a silver medal. However, there are times where we get these little windows into our lives. Where we can see how all of the decisions and moments--good and not so good--how those make us who we are. Where we can step back and remember all the people who've wandered into and out of our lives--whether by choice or by fate--and be truly thankful for each and every one of them.
As you gather with family, friends, or however you choose to spend this Day of Thanks, please know that you are among the blessings that I count. Those of you who I get to see frequently, those I haven't seen in years, and those precious, precious ones who I won't see again my journey has come to an end--it is for you that I give thanks. Happy Thanksgiving to my dear, sweet friends and family. Even as we drive each other crazy, let's always bee grateful that at least we have company on the ride.
Now let's put on our eating pants and get down to business.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Are We There Yet?!?
If you're like me, you are unable to watch anything on TV other than old episodes of Alias (yes, I still have a crush on Michael Vartan) or Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (yes, I not-so-secretly hope that they will reunite, make over my wardrobe, house, and life and become my new best friends) because you are avoiding seeing ads and smear campaigns from political super PACs and are just fed up with the whole election. I mean seriously, we've had eleventy billion Republican primary debates, presidential and VP debates, town halls, and stump speeches galore, and now these ads.
The majority of the ads seem designed by people who believe that Americans are too wrapped up in their own lives to actually read about what a candidate stands for, the legislation and positions for which the candidate has advocated, or what a proposition actually says. These ads prey upon people's worst fears, promising doom and gloom if the opposition wins, and hoping that those same people won't do the slightest bit of research to see that the bulk of these ads are complete crap. Even the background music is cheesily ominous while the soundbites and slogans make it appear that the people disagreeing with the ads and positions aren't actual people at all. Instead, anyone who thinks differently is to be mocked and dismissed as ignorant.
I dearly hope they are wrong and that people actually take the time to read about all the various candidates and ballot measures before they head to the polls.
But here's the thing, the fact that I can even write about being fed up with the election makes me disappointed in myself. For how can I be fed up with democracy? Sure, it's messy and it doesn't always work out like I think it should but men and women fought and died for me to have the right to sit here in my living room, ignoring robo-calls, whining about TV ads and complaining about lines at the polls. I need to remind myself that it wasn't that long ago that tenacious and driven women were imprisoned, disowned by their families, degraded and denigrated, and physically assaulted all to earn this right to vote that so many of us--myself included--take for granted.
So although I really want the people who have the same positions I do to be the ones that show up in larger numbers tomorrow, I really just want everyone who is able to vote to get off their butts and do so. Vote for the places where people aren't allowed to vote at all --whether it's because they have no electricity at their polling stations or they live in a country where their rights are ignored or repressed by their own governments. Vote because you can.
Voting is a right that comes with responsibilities. There are the responsibilities to educate yourself about the issues at hand and make the decision for yourself rather than letting someone make that decision for you. But what is less expressed is the responsibility to recognize that your fellow citizens have the right to vote as they choose and that their choices don't make them inherently bad people; they just have different preferences and priorities. They have as much right to their voice and their decision as you do. America is a richer nation because of the fact that we can express different opinions and believe different things. And although I may disagree vehemently with the political decisions of my neighbors, friends, or family, I would defend with my last breath their right to believe what they want and express that at the polls.
I was reminded of the dangers of demonizing people with different political convictions at service yesterday. The minister talked for a while about democracy, about the choices that were laid out before us, and about the need to respect our fellow citizens and not label them as "the other side." She quoted Alice Walker, saying "if you want to show your love for America, love Americans... Love us. We are the Flag."
She reminded us of the principles that we hold dear: the worth and dignity of every person; equality, justice, and compassion; accepting one another and encouraging each other in spiritual growth; freely and responsibly searching for truth and meaning in this life; the right of conscience and democratic processes; peace, liberty, and justice for our neighbors and beyond; and respect for the interdependence of this world.
I will do my best to remember these things as I watch the returns come in tomorrow night, biting my nails and probably sipping some very fine American bourbon whilst I tweet the night away and become alternately entertained or incensed by what I see on this fascinating thing called the Internet. I will be glad that it is finally over and so profoundly grateful that I was able to go into that booth and make my choices.
The majority of the ads seem designed by people who believe that Americans are too wrapped up in their own lives to actually read about what a candidate stands for, the legislation and positions for which the candidate has advocated, or what a proposition actually says. These ads prey upon people's worst fears, promising doom and gloom if the opposition wins, and hoping that those same people won't do the slightest bit of research to see that the bulk of these ads are complete crap. Even the background music is cheesily ominous while the soundbites and slogans make it appear that the people disagreeing with the ads and positions aren't actual people at all. Instead, anyone who thinks differently is to be mocked and dismissed as ignorant.
I dearly hope they are wrong and that people actually take the time to read about all the various candidates and ballot measures before they head to the polls.
But here's the thing, the fact that I can even write about being fed up with the election makes me disappointed in myself. For how can I be fed up with democracy? Sure, it's messy and it doesn't always work out like I think it should but men and women fought and died for me to have the right to sit here in my living room, ignoring robo-calls, whining about TV ads and complaining about lines at the polls. I need to remind myself that it wasn't that long ago that tenacious and driven women were imprisoned, disowned by their families, degraded and denigrated, and physically assaulted all to earn this right to vote that so many of us--myself included--take for granted.
So although I really want the people who have the same positions I do to be the ones that show up in larger numbers tomorrow, I really just want everyone who is able to vote to get off their butts and do so. Vote for the places where people aren't allowed to vote at all --whether it's because they have no electricity at their polling stations or they live in a country where their rights are ignored or repressed by their own governments. Vote because you can.
Voting is a right that comes with responsibilities. There are the responsibilities to educate yourself about the issues at hand and make the decision for yourself rather than letting someone make that decision for you. But what is less expressed is the responsibility to recognize that your fellow citizens have the right to vote as they choose and that their choices don't make them inherently bad people; they just have different preferences and priorities. They have as much right to their voice and their decision as you do. America is a richer nation because of the fact that we can express different opinions and believe different things. And although I may disagree vehemently with the political decisions of my neighbors, friends, or family, I would defend with my last breath their right to believe what they want and express that at the polls.
I was reminded of the dangers of demonizing people with different political convictions at service yesterday. The minister talked for a while about democracy, about the choices that were laid out before us, and about the need to respect our fellow citizens and not label them as "the other side." She quoted Alice Walker, saying "if you want to show your love for America, love Americans... Love us. We are the Flag."
She reminded us of the principles that we hold dear: the worth and dignity of every person; equality, justice, and compassion; accepting one another and encouraging each other in spiritual growth; freely and responsibly searching for truth and meaning in this life; the right of conscience and democratic processes; peace, liberty, and justice for our neighbors and beyond; and respect for the interdependence of this world.
I will do my best to remember these things as I watch the returns come in tomorrow night, biting my nails and probably sipping some very fine American bourbon whilst I tweet the night away and become alternately entertained or incensed by what I see on this fascinating thing called the Internet. I will be glad that it is finally over and so profoundly grateful that I was able to go into that booth and make my choices.
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