My last post ended with a blurrying cover-story that I may not write again until the New Year....I guess it was an ahead-of-time attempt to prevent any further feelings of failure. No need. There is always room for writings, aren't there?
This one comes out of an afternoon tea session with a Christmas mug in my cupboard. Events over the past week (aside from class gossip) had me turning my stomach, and while positives like our game night with neighbors and friends was truly, truly joyful; I have had my ups and downs very close together recently, and hoped tea was an outlet to calm me.
I met with a woman last week who helps operate the headquarter conference center of a relatively new nonprofit in the Philadelphia area. Her father is on the board of directors, but as she assured me, "don't be put off that there's family involved." Quite the contrary, as I assured her, it seemed more beneficial to me to involve family with a matter that requires blood, sweat, and tears like any growing nonprofit needs. Also like stated in my previous post, this time of year, like an organization such as this one, has emotions running high when efforts are composed of such intensity with usually with only a few solid results. I found out yesterday that while the position may not be exactly what was proposed, involvement for me may occur with a foundation by which I am intrigued, and for which I am hopeful in its potential future accomplishments.
Without getting into much about the "could-bes" of the meeting, today was emotionally again a little sluggish. I did some excel-creating with our family's newest budgets and what will be a more budgeted spending allowance for each member. Hopefully that will be something we can continue regardless of what we make, because then what we earn and are able to spend wisely will be more rewarding. I did some people-watching at the ever-bustling mall. Speaking of spending....totally put down some gloriously priced merchandise and bought their images with my eyes, instead! I came home, turned on a repeat of Oprah, and made some hot cinnamon tea.
It was the episode revisiting Ali McGraw and Ryan O'Neal's epic Love Story from the 1970s. I remembered as much being totally "wowed" by Ali in particular -- she is currently 71 years old and her spirit (and looks, quite frankly) are more vibrant and ubiquitous than many people I know my age or close to it. Oprah was asking her life questions, love questions, media questions, and all of her answers were so incredibly honest. It was clear that her heart dictates her life, and each response or reaction to the interview came from such a real place. Like anyone, she had exclaimed regret and poor life choices, but never denied they built her, or provided her with becoming just that much more authentic.
In one such answer, I was wrapped in the warmth of my tea, and peered down into the mug. With all the occurring moments in that instance, I recognized my mug was nearly empty - seriously not the "half full/half empty" debate - I had about four or five sips of this delicious beverage left :). All of the spices, and cinnamon, and herbs had collected in a pool at the bottom. The flavored water above it was no doubt infused, but the essence of the drink was concentrated in a little cloud on the bottom. I typically just swirl about my drink when this happens; like with hot chocolate, the collection of ingredients reswirled invigorates the end of a lovely, winter-soothing beverage. This time, I kept staring at the brown dots. No movement, just gaze. And I began to envision the tea as my quest for authenticity. To compare myself to anything other than myself, I understand, is not very authentic. But, what inspired me to write this now, was to imagine that the spices were my true self, my energy, and the water above it was my life. For some reason, for some goal, my true spirits have been lately tested. Tested for different things, but most internally relating to a job purpose for myself and my family. I imagined myself standing at the bottom of the mug, peering into the eyes of my husband through the murky liquid, wanting to shout, "Drink me now! I'm pure and spicy! I'm concentrated and sure of myself! If you swirl me about, you're a fool for I will disappear!" Then I thought about that energy swirling around, it became mobilizing in a different way. "Oh! Spin me around! Diffuse me and blend me into the entire being of my life! I will represent the best version of myself as an aura of warmth in every gulp!"
Both scenarios are right. Each version of myself (or tea herbs) is flavorful and my life though unnervingly settled right now, is still full of my spirit. That is what I need to remember. Sometimes to be true, I will need sabbaticals like the professional one I have endured during these past six months. Sometimes, to be authentic, I may need to dispense myself in a million directions. Not for distraction tactics, but to apply myself in many positive outlets. Whatever way I do it, it is not to be judged, but reviewed individually. Different occasions will call for a different personal flavoring, but I hope to keep myself responsible in fulfilling an authentic substance. I hope to gain, by the age of 71 and beyond, life results which are true and comforting alike.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
the king of anything
As this hectic time of holiday seasons are upon us, I feel like everything, and everybody I encounter is supremely on edge. There are families to greet, meet, and entertain. There is food to bake, make, and devour. There are gifts to buy, fly, and wrap. It's no wonder it comes but just once a year!
Don't get me wrong, it's one of my favorite times of year, despite all the mess. Aside from the chaos, there's a reminder of the calm, peaceful transition from one year to the next; it's another break from my new academic schedule until the following semester. The snow is deciding whether or not it wants to fall, and unfortunately until it layers more of a solid blanket on the ground, little Windsor has to succumb to shorter walks because of the freezing cold! The gathering with family is always shortlived in my book, so we try to cram in memory-building boardgames, chilly walks after full meals, and lazying about the house with each other's company. Even the travel and down time before the holidays are appreciated by Mike and myself -- our first Christmas season as a married couple, and we're so happy to continue our own developing traditions: a bigger tree, exchanging budgeted gifts for one another a little early, and hosting our own "holiday" game night with friends tomorrow! We know it's not just the space in our apartment that will keep it a cozy, filling evening, but the friends and food that comfort us on the weekend before we all go our separate ways for Christmas vacation.
When I sat down over a week ago to write this particular blog, I was pretty sure what it was going to be about. The borrowed title of it, "King of Anything" is probably recognizable to some as the new single put out by musician and singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles. The song is in reference to talking against someone who is coming down on her. Someone who thinks they know best and are objectifying anything otherwise. About a week ago, my classes ended. I had not been in one of them for three weeks with the Thanksgiving holiday and the class after turkey-ing was cancelled due to our professor visiting Paris (cest la vie!). So as we mustered up our final thoughts, fifteen-page paper, and thoughtful insights for a final gathering in mid-December, I was surprised at the end result.
In this theories class, we began the semester with our wonderfully vibrant, intelligent professor. She started the term by telling us that if she could be where she is today by earning her Bachelor's, Master's, then Doctorate -- over a thirty year period -- then any of us could do the same. Having not spent much time academically in Psychology courses, this was going to be a great test for me in concluding my decisions to attend school again for a career-worthy pursuit. Fortunately, because of this class and professor, and most of my peers, it proved to me that this is definitely something that I believe is a good choice for my future work. I learned to which prior pioneers in the field I felt most connected, and which styles of counseling would not work for me as a practicing therapist. More importantly, I was eager to attend this class each week because of the carefree, inviting nature of its content; more like group therapy, aside from investigating the different styles of the theories presented, our professor encouraged us to open up about our days, weeks, emotional setbacks and if so inclined, fellow students would best evaluate.
At first, I know, scary! Allowing second-rate, first-time students to delve into your personal life and dissect your feelings? Note: We spoke if we so chose. So, many of us would offer tidbits of distress, or happiness if feeling like good could be shared that night too. Some classmates did not but open their mouths when requested to offer responses (in that case, required by the textbook questions not personal digging). The point was, that it was up to you, then up to the classroom's discretion to interpret and support you. A team effort.
So, much to my dismay, we are ending the final class of this wonderfully interactive semester and our professor notes that two students are missing that evening. She pauses, elaborates on the notion that neither had been in touch with her, no wait, one had been in touch a couple of hours prior saying while late, she would make the class. Turns out, she is absent with less than 45 minutes until departure. Naturally, our professor gets frustrated. Naturally, our professor expresses her frustrations and begins to ask for what reason there is a lack of communication among her graduate-level students. It continues, and as she speaks on, others chime in. Before I knew it, I sat up front and center to the beginnings of what sounded like a debate, and yet all parties involved were saying the same things. They were negotiating arguing tactics for our professor to use when confronting the students. They were expressing their frustrations by the students' absences as if their lack of attendance affected (or should at least affect) them. It was a gossip circle gone bad, and after about 6 or 7 minutes of it, I raised my hand.
"Yes, Carly? My newlywed." (This is often how my professor referred to me -- I'm telling you, she was cute!)
"Well, Dr. So-and-So...I want to say...that I don't see why we are discussing this right now without them here."
"Well, Carly -- would you talk to them for me if you could?"
"If you're asking would I confront them about their absences (it had happened with the same two women a couple times previously in the semsester), then I may be partial to inquiring with them about why they have not come tonight. But I do not see the point in debating about a decision which is ultimately yours. And I would not want to be placed in their shoes, discovering that as soon as a peer of mine came and spoke to me about my absence/neglected work, I would find out that the entire class spoke of me behind my back. I would then feel more than embarrassed and hurt by actions from soon-to-be professionals in a sensitive field."
Pause. More pausing. Unrelenting silence. Oh boy, Carly. Now you've done it. Gone and shot yourself in the foot again. Just about 12 minutes left of the semester, in a class where you've shared, cared, and written about situations like this in relation to clients, and the professor had nothing but positive things to say about your insight, and of your nature. Go ahead, confront her (and the entire class) about what they're doing. Forget the 'A' you planned on.
"Thank you, Carly," said our professor. "You're absolutely right, and I apologize. It is not the place nor time to bring this up. Thank you."
(Phew!) I barely muttered an "it's fine" with rosy cheeks as she apologized, for it was not my intention to make anyone feel badly. It was the exact opposite of this mini-protest. I just felt so inclined to be empathetic and understanding that one's actions, which will not be affecting my own in an academic setting, need no judgment from me. I guess it was a primal act of my counseling efforts in trying to convey gratitude for us to speak our minds, but not to do it with sinister motives. On a personal level with other classmates there, I'm sure I was forseen from here now as a "goody-goody," and they may continue such name-games. There is undoubtedly a competitive nature within school, and the real world in general. If you want to achieve, many of us believe it is relative to those around us. But I guess my heart had spoken in opposition of that myth, and realized I needed to disclose how I felt, and shed light on the fact that it is in fact what we achieve within ourselves that encourages positive growth.
We finished class happily as our professor raved about the local "Stag and Doe" night where stores would be kept open late, and offer wine and cheese in spirit of the holiday shopping. Our final papers landed on her desk in front of her, and when I approached a bit feverishly, she stood up (all 4.5 feet of her) and willfully spread her arms to give me a hug, repeating, "thank you." I simply said, "I understand your frustrations," and smiled with her, leaving my first heartwrenching, thoughtful, challenging course towards my future degree.
Wrapping it up again by the holiday bookends, just remember to be kind. The kind of compassion and generosity should not be set aside for winter months, but it is often when emotions are most magnified. The good and bad are confronted every day, so just aim to stay true to how you would like to be treated in return. Happy Christmas, and will probably be writing again in 2011!
Don't get me wrong, it's one of my favorite times of year, despite all the mess. Aside from the chaos, there's a reminder of the calm, peaceful transition from one year to the next; it's another break from my new academic schedule until the following semester. The snow is deciding whether or not it wants to fall, and unfortunately until it layers more of a solid blanket on the ground, little Windsor has to succumb to shorter walks because of the freezing cold! The gathering with family is always shortlived in my book, so we try to cram in memory-building boardgames, chilly walks after full meals, and lazying about the house with each other's company. Even the travel and down time before the holidays are appreciated by Mike and myself -- our first Christmas season as a married couple, and we're so happy to continue our own developing traditions: a bigger tree, exchanging budgeted gifts for one another a little early, and hosting our own "holiday" game night with friends tomorrow! We know it's not just the space in our apartment that will keep it a cozy, filling evening, but the friends and food that comfort us on the weekend before we all go our separate ways for Christmas vacation.
When I sat down over a week ago to write this particular blog, I was pretty sure what it was going to be about. The borrowed title of it, "King of Anything" is probably recognizable to some as the new single put out by musician and singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles. The song is in reference to talking against someone who is coming down on her. Someone who thinks they know best and are objectifying anything otherwise. About a week ago, my classes ended. I had not been in one of them for three weeks with the Thanksgiving holiday and the class after turkey-ing was cancelled due to our professor visiting Paris (cest la vie!). So as we mustered up our final thoughts, fifteen-page paper, and thoughtful insights for a final gathering in mid-December, I was surprised at the end result.
In this theories class, we began the semester with our wonderfully vibrant, intelligent professor. She started the term by telling us that if she could be where she is today by earning her Bachelor's, Master's, then Doctorate -- over a thirty year period -- then any of us could do the same. Having not spent much time academically in Psychology courses, this was going to be a great test for me in concluding my decisions to attend school again for a career-worthy pursuit. Fortunately, because of this class and professor, and most of my peers, it proved to me that this is definitely something that I believe is a good choice for my future work. I learned to which prior pioneers in the field I felt most connected, and which styles of counseling would not work for me as a practicing therapist. More importantly, I was eager to attend this class each week because of the carefree, inviting nature of its content; more like group therapy, aside from investigating the different styles of the theories presented, our professor encouraged us to open up about our days, weeks, emotional setbacks and if so inclined, fellow students would best evaluate.
At first, I know, scary! Allowing second-rate, first-time students to delve into your personal life and dissect your feelings? Note: We spoke if we so chose. So, many of us would offer tidbits of distress, or happiness if feeling like good could be shared that night too. Some classmates did not but open their mouths when requested to offer responses (in that case, required by the textbook questions not personal digging). The point was, that it was up to you, then up to the classroom's discretion to interpret and support you. A team effort.
So, much to my dismay, we are ending the final class of this wonderfully interactive semester and our professor notes that two students are missing that evening. She pauses, elaborates on the notion that neither had been in touch with her, no wait, one had been in touch a couple of hours prior saying while late, she would make the class. Turns out, she is absent with less than 45 minutes until departure. Naturally, our professor gets frustrated. Naturally, our professor expresses her frustrations and begins to ask for what reason there is a lack of communication among her graduate-level students. It continues, and as she speaks on, others chime in. Before I knew it, I sat up front and center to the beginnings of what sounded like a debate, and yet all parties involved were saying the same things. They were negotiating arguing tactics for our professor to use when confronting the students. They were expressing their frustrations by the students' absences as if their lack of attendance affected (or should at least affect) them. It was a gossip circle gone bad, and after about 6 or 7 minutes of it, I raised my hand.
"Yes, Carly? My newlywed." (This is often how my professor referred to me -- I'm telling you, she was cute!)
"Well, Dr. So-and-So...I want to say...that I don't see why we are discussing this right now without them here."
"Well, Carly -- would you talk to them for me if you could?"
"If you're asking would I confront them about their absences (it had happened with the same two women a couple times previously in the semsester), then I may be partial to inquiring with them about why they have not come tonight. But I do not see the point in debating about a decision which is ultimately yours. And I would not want to be placed in their shoes, discovering that as soon as a peer of mine came and spoke to me about my absence/neglected work, I would find out that the entire class spoke of me behind my back. I would then feel more than embarrassed and hurt by actions from soon-to-be professionals in a sensitive field."
Pause. More pausing. Unrelenting silence. Oh boy, Carly. Now you've done it. Gone and shot yourself in the foot again. Just about 12 minutes left of the semester, in a class where you've shared, cared, and written about situations like this in relation to clients, and the professor had nothing but positive things to say about your insight, and of your nature. Go ahead, confront her (and the entire class) about what they're doing. Forget the 'A' you planned on.
"Thank you, Carly," said our professor. "You're absolutely right, and I apologize. It is not the place nor time to bring this up. Thank you."
(Phew!) I barely muttered an "it's fine" with rosy cheeks as she apologized, for it was not my intention to make anyone feel badly. It was the exact opposite of this mini-protest. I just felt so inclined to be empathetic and understanding that one's actions, which will not be affecting my own in an academic setting, need no judgment from me. I guess it was a primal act of my counseling efforts in trying to convey gratitude for us to speak our minds, but not to do it with sinister motives. On a personal level with other classmates there, I'm sure I was forseen from here now as a "goody-goody," and they may continue such name-games. There is undoubtedly a competitive nature within school, and the real world in general. If you want to achieve, many of us believe it is relative to those around us. But I guess my heart had spoken in opposition of that myth, and realized I needed to disclose how I felt, and shed light on the fact that it is in fact what we achieve within ourselves that encourages positive growth.
We finished class happily as our professor raved about the local "Stag and Doe" night where stores would be kept open late, and offer wine and cheese in spirit of the holiday shopping. Our final papers landed on her desk in front of her, and when I approached a bit feverishly, she stood up (all 4.5 feet of her) and willfully spread her arms to give me a hug, repeating, "thank you." I simply said, "I understand your frustrations," and smiled with her, leaving my first heartwrenching, thoughtful, challenging course towards my future degree.
Wrapping it up again by the holiday bookends, just remember to be kind. The kind of compassion and generosity should not be set aside for winter months, but it is often when emotions are most magnified. The good and bad are confronted every day, so just aim to stay true to how you would like to be treated in return. Happy Christmas, and will probably be writing again in 2011!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
would you, if you could?
Believe you me, based on the past six months of unemployment, I am not the first person even I would normally turn to when searching for the rightfulness about regret. "Regret" in itself is a pretty negative word, and to assume that we need a little in our life, may in fact be coming from someone who is doubting even that assistance of mistakes. Would you, if you could, leave out regrets in your life by searching forward?
As far as my job stuff goes, I can honestly say that I would have searched ahead, sought out the career I wanted and taken the appropriate classes/life experiences ahead of time. Granted, this would probably have prevented me from meeting some wonderful coworkers, friends, and the like...so what can we take from these regretful regrettings....?
Clearly, this blog is just a mosh of questions. Doubts. Pending possible regrets turned upward? Let me face the inevitable this week: missing out on what is done (turned down from 2 jobs this past week). How to move along? "We are what we think, we think what we become." So true! So difficult to master. Mantras help. A mantra is a thought, phrase, feeling that you think either during a set time of the day, perhaps throughout if you can make the time. Positive is the message you claim to render, and at best your message to the universe is not only answered within a time frame you can work with....it's simply answered! A mantra is meditation's grandkid. It takes just as much effort, but is typically a sentence you murmur to yourself to compose constructive thought. "I work in a job that ties my diligence to my passions." "I work excitedly each day towards a steady, enjoyable profession." "I....???" How does doubt not creep itself in? How did I make this decision to attend school without being 100% sure of my career choices? Let's take a gander into other options, shall we? :
Counseling Psychologist (check)
Marriage and Family Therapist (check)
Nurse
Human Resources
Teacher
Childcare Administrator
Peace Corps Member
Nonprofit Administrator
Chef
Paralegal
Anyone's list could go on...and on...and...
This post could too.
Attempting not to feel self-destructive though certainly self-defeated. On a happier note, Thanksgiving was this past Thursday, and it was ventured by gobbling into Maine with Mike and my family. The wolfpack of ours is expanding with brethothed pairs, workaholics, and booming businesses. Life moves steadily along. Now if I can mantra my movement along this tightrope a little more steadily....
As far as my job stuff goes, I can honestly say that I would have searched ahead, sought out the career I wanted and taken the appropriate classes/life experiences ahead of time. Granted, this would probably have prevented me from meeting some wonderful coworkers, friends, and the like...so what can we take from these regretful regrettings....?
Clearly, this blog is just a mosh of questions. Doubts. Pending possible regrets turned upward? Let me face the inevitable this week: missing out on what is done (turned down from 2 jobs this past week). How to move along? "We are what we think, we think what we become." So true! So difficult to master. Mantras help. A mantra is a thought, phrase, feeling that you think either during a set time of the day, perhaps throughout if you can make the time. Positive is the message you claim to render, and at best your message to the universe is not only answered within a time frame you can work with....it's simply answered! A mantra is meditation's grandkid. It takes just as much effort, but is typically a sentence you murmur to yourself to compose constructive thought. "I work in a job that ties my diligence to my passions." "I work excitedly each day towards a steady, enjoyable profession." "I....???" How does doubt not creep itself in? How did I make this decision to attend school without being 100% sure of my career choices? Let's take a gander into other options, shall we? :
Counseling Psychologist (check)
Marriage and Family Therapist (check)
Nurse
Human Resources
Teacher
Childcare Administrator
Peace Corps Member
Nonprofit Administrator
Chef
Paralegal
Anyone's list could go on...and on...and...
This post could too.
Attempting not to feel self-destructive though certainly self-defeated. On a happier note, Thanksgiving was this past Thursday, and it was ventured by gobbling into Maine with Mike and my family. The wolfpack of ours is expanding with brethothed pairs, workaholics, and booming businesses. Life moves steadily along. Now if I can mantra my movement along this tightrope a little more steadily....
Monday, November 1, 2010
the age of wisdom
Certainly not as deliriously as I assumed I would be, I write a blog tonight from the comfort of my desk, in the warmth of a "November 1st heated" apartment, with gauze tucked below one of two recently pulled wisdom teeth. Recently -- as in 1o:00 a.m. this morning.
I was dreading this surgery, today. I never had any issues with my teeth as a kid -- well nothing out of the ordinary: only such matters claimed as "preventative in nature," but maybe it was just the dentists/orthodontists who call it "preventative in nature" ($$$). No cavities, though. Nothing pulled. Only braces for a year on my top row. Fortunately without the headgear to which I had friends succumb. Overall, my oral issues have been nil. The fact that all four of my wisdom teeth would need to come out appeared to me during the fall of 2006, however -- as I was amidst a big time application for the Peace Corps. As far as glitches go, that seemed to be one possible setback that may have been reason for my application to be wandering aimlessly among the appropiate governmental offices. (Or this is what I like to assume happened when I was informed hearing word of my status would take 8 weeks, when it in fact took about 20.) And despite never enjoying going to the dentist (really, who does?), I knew that as part of the extensive physical required for the application, seeing my former Dr. Wagner was in order.
Like a fool, I felt like collecting all my physical health tests in one solid week while at home over winter break. Dr. Wagner turned out to be the least of my problems (turns out the nurse who was a part of collecting samples of my blood was a serious hematomaniac -- I distinctly remember needing to get blood taken from either vein in either of my arms, and she had to do it six times for three viles. I couldn't straighten either of my arms for two days and the bruising looked like a had tried to catch dumbbells with my elbows.) But, I digress... Dr. Wagner informed me that he would need to make mention on the application that since I still had all four wisdom teeth, and there was definitely not room for safe growth, subsequent removal of the little buggers would have to happen "down the road."
"Down the road?" Granted, the Peace Corps is a monumental undertaking. At least two years of wonderful volunteer efforts; the first year without any visitors or visits home unless necessary; typically meeting and interacting with individuals and groups of other cultures, different foods, different lifestyles; all the while maintaining a key stance of independent living and not mingling with lots of other PC members, or perhaps on the site placement, none others. "Down the road" to me sounded like lightyears away and unnecessary to comment in regards to a pretty competitive life-changing opportunity. What would my wisdom-teeth sentence mean to those evaluating my physical well-being for their organization?
Following the dentistry-consult and waiting out the months of Peace Corps anticipation, my life turned in a few directions and while I was (so gladly!) accepted in the volunteer opportunity, my letter of approval arrived at my Boston doorstep after moving there just two weeks prior to work at a childcare company. I'm not one for actively letting others down, and I was committed to my job. The rest of my Peace Corps chances (for now) are history.
After that, I truly never gave much thought to my wisdom teeth. "Down the road" did turn out to be years of pain-free wisdom-teeth (damnit), and while I was in and out of a couple of childcare positions and an administrative stint when we first moved to PA, I never paid any more attention to the fact that the teeth could really be an issue someday.
As you know, this summer I left my most recent toddler teaching position to puruse a little bit of life changes and a little sanity in regards to my time outside of work. My top third molars, however were just deciding to come out and "play," and so within the week of leaving the childcare center (and my health insurance plan, of course), I had a consult with one of the top DMDs in the area. He was wonderfully honest, but kind, and not unlike Dr. Wagner was keen on the idea that the sooner I took the teeth out the better -- actually, after finding out I was the age of one of his own daughters, he was pretty surprised I hadn't been enouraged to have them removed when I was a teenager. Nevertheless, it was confirmed that the top two would be removed, and the bottom two would have to stay put. The lower wisdom teeth are so entangled in nerve bundles that my new doc warned me not to let any one else convince me they also needed removal for fear of (permanent) numbness in the gum. I don't go to the doctor's office for every little thing, so when something is strongly advised like that, I really listen!
So while the office friendly, and the DMD just enough nutty to make the consult entertaining, I worried -- what about the cost, here? I was on a limited plan for just the next month, and then would be getting married in September. Could I physically afford to wait to have the surgery done? Financially, it would save me nearly $2,500. So Dr. Moriconi assured me that I had likely a three-four month time frame before I would want to come in for either another consult, or the actual surgery (phew!), and that's exactly what happened up until November 1.
This time around, it didn't take much more than the support of family and friends to let me know that everything would be okay. And while I had never been put out before with any type of anesthesia, I definitely had a case of the jitters driving over with Mike this morning. But as we walked in, there weren't really any butterflies in my stomach, and I realized that it would probably be a quick procedure as promised, and I was ever glad that I had done research to find a DMD that desired the surgery on behalf of his patient, and not on his paycheck. Doctors Wagner and Moriconi are fortunately two professionals that haven't muddled my opinion of physical health.
Let's hope the two teeth removed today truly didn't contain all the "wisdom" I needed to figure that one out.
I was dreading this surgery, today. I never had any issues with my teeth as a kid -- well nothing out of the ordinary: only such matters claimed as "preventative in nature," but maybe it was just the dentists/orthodontists who call it "preventative in nature" ($$$). No cavities, though. Nothing pulled. Only braces for a year on my top row. Fortunately without the headgear to which I had friends succumb. Overall, my oral issues have been nil. The fact that all four of my wisdom teeth would need to come out appeared to me during the fall of 2006, however -- as I was amidst a big time application for the Peace Corps. As far as glitches go, that seemed to be one possible setback that may have been reason for my application to be wandering aimlessly among the appropiate governmental offices. (Or this is what I like to assume happened when I was informed hearing word of my status would take 8 weeks, when it in fact took about 20.) And despite never enjoying going to the dentist (really, who does?), I knew that as part of the extensive physical required for the application, seeing my former Dr. Wagner was in order.
Like a fool, I felt like collecting all my physical health tests in one solid week while at home over winter break. Dr. Wagner turned out to be the least of my problems (turns out the nurse who was a part of collecting samples of my blood was a serious hematomaniac -- I distinctly remember needing to get blood taken from either vein in either of my arms, and she had to do it six times for three viles. I couldn't straighten either of my arms for two days and the bruising looked like a had tried to catch dumbbells with my elbows.) But, I digress... Dr. Wagner informed me that he would need to make mention on the application that since I still had all four wisdom teeth, and there was definitely not room for safe growth, subsequent removal of the little buggers would have to happen "down the road."
"Down the road?" Granted, the Peace Corps is a monumental undertaking. At least two years of wonderful volunteer efforts; the first year without any visitors or visits home unless necessary; typically meeting and interacting with individuals and groups of other cultures, different foods, different lifestyles; all the while maintaining a key stance of independent living and not mingling with lots of other PC members, or perhaps on the site placement, none others. "Down the road" to me sounded like lightyears away and unnecessary to comment in regards to a pretty competitive life-changing opportunity. What would my wisdom-teeth sentence mean to those evaluating my physical well-being for their organization?
Following the dentistry-consult and waiting out the months of Peace Corps anticipation, my life turned in a few directions and while I was (so gladly!) accepted in the volunteer opportunity, my letter of approval arrived at my Boston doorstep after moving there just two weeks prior to work at a childcare company. I'm not one for actively letting others down, and I was committed to my job. The rest of my Peace Corps chances (for now) are history.
After that, I truly never gave much thought to my wisdom teeth. "Down the road" did turn out to be years of pain-free wisdom-teeth (damnit), and while I was in and out of a couple of childcare positions and an administrative stint when we first moved to PA, I never paid any more attention to the fact that the teeth could really be an issue someday.
As you know, this summer I left my most recent toddler teaching position to puruse a little bit of life changes and a little sanity in regards to my time outside of work. My top third molars, however were just deciding to come out and "play," and so within the week of leaving the childcare center (and my health insurance plan, of course), I had a consult with one of the top DMDs in the area. He was wonderfully honest, but kind, and not unlike Dr. Wagner was keen on the idea that the sooner I took the teeth out the better -- actually, after finding out I was the age of one of his own daughters, he was pretty surprised I hadn't been enouraged to have them removed when I was a teenager. Nevertheless, it was confirmed that the top two would be removed, and the bottom two would have to stay put. The lower wisdom teeth are so entangled in nerve bundles that my new doc warned me not to let any one else convince me they also needed removal for fear of (permanent) numbness in the gum. I don't go to the doctor's office for every little thing, so when something is strongly advised like that, I really listen!
So while the office friendly, and the DMD just enough nutty to make the consult entertaining, I worried -- what about the cost, here? I was on a limited plan for just the next month, and then would be getting married in September. Could I physically afford to wait to have the surgery done? Financially, it would save me nearly $2,500. So Dr. Moriconi assured me that I had likely a three-four month time frame before I would want to come in for either another consult, or the actual surgery (phew!), and that's exactly what happened up until November 1.
This time around, it didn't take much more than the support of family and friends to let me know that everything would be okay. And while I had never been put out before with any type of anesthesia, I definitely had a case of the jitters driving over with Mike this morning. But as we walked in, there weren't really any butterflies in my stomach, and I realized that it would probably be a quick procedure as promised, and I was ever glad that I had done research to find a DMD that desired the surgery on behalf of his patient, and not on his paycheck. Doctors Wagner and Moriconi are fortunately two professionals that haven't muddled my opinion of physical health.
Let's hope the two teeth removed today truly didn't contain all the "wisdom" I needed to figure that one out.
Monday, October 25, 2010
october skies
A wonderful family moment tonight of walking Windsor out in temperate temperatures, holding hands underneath an iridescent moon.
1 month we've been newlyweds...
Thank goodness for the fall <3
1 month we've been newlyweds...
Thank goodness for the fall <3
Friday, October 15, 2010
mrs.
I didn't believe when friends warned me that getting married would be so exhausting. This is an important statement/piece of advice for folks following the traditional route as we did -- get engaged, plan for a year, enlist a church/reverend to marry you, use a reception hall to host a big party. Exhausting! Fortunately, the fatigue from the experience can't outweigh the monumental gratification of being surrounded by our closest friends and family, and solidifying the chapter of our lives as one unit.
Moreso than even the six years preceding, the week after Mike and I were married, I felt so whole. We had just signed a couple papers, and recited loving words, and danced the night away. The wedding didn't change the love behind our union, but it really grounded the relationship for me as part of a married couple. Partners-in-crime we tackled selecting photos to put together our album (not finished yet), and closed and joined and refurbished bank accounts under our married alias (almost there), and finally -- I am personally with health insurance again (horray!). These technicalities of course do not create a marriage, but they help outline the kind of working relationship that we have always had.
Honesty has always been at the forefront of our friendship/intimate relationship, and discussing openly how we wanted to finance, and set goals for our shared life can be a scary thing. Internally, you think you already know how your partner stands on certain issues, including that of buying a future home, having children, raising children in a certain environment. But people change. From experiences together, and experiences apart; from interactions with coworkers and other married couples, Mike and I have really exposed our truest urges and feelings regarding what had been whispered before as the "future." The future is always happening, you live another minute and you're saying goodbye to the present. Fortunately, between the pair of us, one is generally peering into later months and aspects of our life that take a little planning, and the other is holding on to how to reach that distant life by examining how we're living now to plan for it. (Can you guess who is who?) The best part of all of this new couple of weeks? ...
Love has never left us feeling more confident.
Moreso than even the six years preceding, the week after Mike and I were married, I felt so whole. We had just signed a couple papers, and recited loving words, and danced the night away. The wedding didn't change the love behind our union, but it really grounded the relationship for me as part of a married couple. Partners-in-crime we tackled selecting photos to put together our album (not finished yet), and closed and joined and refurbished bank accounts under our married alias (almost there), and finally -- I am personally with health insurance again (horray!). These technicalities of course do not create a marriage, but they help outline the kind of working relationship that we have always had.
Honesty has always been at the forefront of our friendship/intimate relationship, and discussing openly how we wanted to finance, and set goals for our shared life can be a scary thing. Internally, you think you already know how your partner stands on certain issues, including that of buying a future home, having children, raising children in a certain environment. But people change. From experiences together, and experiences apart; from interactions with coworkers and other married couples, Mike and I have really exposed our truest urges and feelings regarding what had been whispered before as the "future." The future is always happening, you live another minute and you're saying goodbye to the present. Fortunately, between the pair of us, one is generally peering into later months and aspects of our life that take a little planning, and the other is holding on to how to reach that distant life by examining how we're living now to plan for it. (Can you guess who is who?) The best part of all of this new couple of weeks? ...
Love has never left us feeling more confident.
Friday, September 10, 2010
molehills
I just had my second week of classes - half (1) of which were cancelled due to the Jewish new year. And just as the usual beginning anxieties started stirring up trouble just fifteen minutes before I was to head out the door for round two ("you sure you want to go there again? are you sure you've read all the material right?"), Mike walked in from his long day of work with a smile. He had plans to play basketball and was excited to see me all ready with my books and intellect about to drive off to the university. I upheld my confidence level to a moderate stance, and headed out of the apartment to my unknowing evening ahead.
USA Today founder, and midwestern business man, Al Neuharth once quoted, "The difference between a mountain and a molehill is in your perspective." Akin to my view of further education, depending on the day I can see both angles of this opportunity: for one, the chances, luck, and perserverance that helped me get into the program was a mountain of work and nerves. on the other hand, the varying range of folks in the program I worked so hard to get into, can honestly make me feel like it wasn't necessarily worth all the fuss (perhaps a bit harsh, but merely I mean the tales of others' non-academic experiences that helped them get into the same grad program which I had to prove was an academic fit for me). Secondly, I am on the track of concentrating in Marriage and Family therapy, of which many people I know well or barely at all have had the audacity (or insecurity) to say, "Oh, well we could certainly use some of those" (a point made to me by two separate divorcees), or "You're too young to be counseling others on that matter!"
Granted, I have already come to the conclusion that there certainly will be some resistance, or at least hesitance from future clients who sit before a twenty or young thirty-something eager to discuss their mid-life crises, or sexual intimacy issues that are intruding upon their marriage older than me. Nonetheless, the time warp has not got me as worried, as much as the promise I have made to myself to simply be as educated, and thus prepared by the books to handle all the objections to my practice. Emotionally, I know I will be as ready as any graduate (no matter what the age) to assess and interpret clients' problems and aid them in whatever way possible. Not to mention that anyone working the mental health field is not likely to go at it alone. Mentors, supervisors, and coworkers will always be a brief consult away for me to gather my thoughts and request assistance whenever needed in a potentially "unknown" situation. So, ultimately, the capability of my future services are only bound by the initial openness and faith of my clients.
On a lighter and more present note, I will be getting married (just two weeks away now!), and am thankful to be taking on this career challenge with a new kind of partner, my husband. My husband. My hubs! It will be a wonderful introduction to that slight kind of shift in a relationship that at first seems so mountainous, but overall should remain "molehill" in action. (Un)fortunately Mike and I have really never experienced the kind of vast change in our pairing that shook our core love for one another, we've truly only gained uphill views of the future ahead of us. And it is with our wedding that there will be a sort of "proof-by paperwork" commitment to one another, and for that I am grateful...if it only helps "solidify" my molehill experience as a therapist with her Master's.
USA Today founder, and midwestern business man, Al Neuharth once quoted, "The difference between a mountain and a molehill is in your perspective." Akin to my view of further education, depending on the day I can see both angles of this opportunity: for one, the chances, luck, and perserverance that helped me get into the program was a mountain of work and nerves. on the other hand, the varying range of folks in the program I worked so hard to get into, can honestly make me feel like it wasn't necessarily worth all the fuss (perhaps a bit harsh, but merely I mean the tales of others' non-academic experiences that helped them get into the same grad program which I had to prove was an academic fit for me). Secondly, I am on the track of concentrating in Marriage and Family therapy, of which many people I know well or barely at all have had the audacity (or insecurity) to say, "Oh, well we could certainly use some of those" (a point made to me by two separate divorcees), or "You're too young to be counseling others on that matter!"
Granted, I have already come to the conclusion that there certainly will be some resistance, or at least hesitance from future clients who sit before a twenty or young thirty-something eager to discuss their mid-life crises, or sexual intimacy issues that are intruding upon their marriage older than me. Nonetheless, the time warp has not got me as worried, as much as the promise I have made to myself to simply be as educated, and thus prepared by the books to handle all the objections to my practice. Emotionally, I know I will be as ready as any graduate (no matter what the age) to assess and interpret clients' problems and aid them in whatever way possible. Not to mention that anyone working the mental health field is not likely to go at it alone. Mentors, supervisors, and coworkers will always be a brief consult away for me to gather my thoughts and request assistance whenever needed in a potentially "unknown" situation. So, ultimately, the capability of my future services are only bound by the initial openness and faith of my clients.
On a lighter and more present note, I will be getting married (just two weeks away now!), and am thankful to be taking on this career challenge with a new kind of partner, my husband. My husband. My hubs! It will be a wonderful introduction to that slight kind of shift in a relationship that at first seems so mountainous, but overall should remain "molehill" in action. (Un)fortunately Mike and I have really never experienced the kind of vast change in our pairing that shook our core love for one another, we've truly only gained uphill views of the future ahead of us. And it is with our wedding that there will be a sort of "proof-by paperwork" commitment to one another, and for that I am grateful...if it only helps "solidify" my molehill experience as a therapist with her Master's.
Monday, August 30, 2010
summer endeth.
So here we are, the end of summer. For me, and I imagine for many other whiney children, August's final days are upon us, which means school is around the corner. So there -- even though our calendars make us check off the equinox in a few weeks, the end of summer is...well, tomorrow.
I shouldn't have said whiney. Whiney is what I was during the last couple weeks available to me in order to cram in all that summer reading I danced around with procrastination as a swing partner. Whiney is the way I felt when I first got to college and was unsure if I should be feeling as close to my Syracuse friends after two semesters, as I did to high school companions I had known for over 10 years. The whine, this time, is just the nerves building up to Wednesday's first graduate class.
I think you know what I'm talking about when I say nerves; I mean one of two kinds of nerves: the hole in your stomach that swallows a symbolic peach pit each time your conscious drifts by the thought of doing something you're afraid of. Or it's the kind of flutter-butterfly that flickers a mix of hope, happiness, and excitement amidst your white and red blood cells, swimming vibrantly in your veins. School's always been a combination, dependent on so many other factors, and this time around it's a banter in my brain such things like my ability, my time away from school, my belief in what I chose to pursue, my faith in the program I selected, and the other extracirriculars that are my life, and soon to be a newlywed life. Shouldn't I spoil that man I'm about to marry with nothing than myself working along his schedule so that our time together is even more special because we can actually do things, together?
No, I know this is the right choice. The right discipline. The right time for me. I put forth a little of my patience and timeliness in "angels" (whomever they be) that encompass me, but I more importantly took the measures I needed to involve myself academically at this juncture in my life. I went out and bought my little notebooks, tried to salvage the right kind of "used" book from Amazon to make my textbook purchasing worthwhile...perhaps setting aside my "first-day outfit" on my dresser is in order! (Not too much for a graduate, I don't believe.) Whatever nerves hit me Wednesday, my first fall day, they'll be carried with me and my belongings, as I meander around my new campus, only to be greeted with a kind, intelligent professor I'm sure. From the third grade to my first post-undergraduate term, I'll enter this fall like any other:
I'll clutch my books a little tight, scan the room for possible workmates and friends, and diligently shorthand the lecture notes with a clear and probably impossible intent to keep them organized the same way throughout the semester. I'll shoot for the A, and I'll be happy with what I get only when I know it's what I earned. I'll aim to be a student again, and this time not just of the college experience, but of a deserving life-changing career, possibilities open to what I take in and what I give back to myself.
I shouldn't have said whiney. Whiney is what I was during the last couple weeks available to me in order to cram in all that summer reading I danced around with procrastination as a swing partner. Whiney is the way I felt when I first got to college and was unsure if I should be feeling as close to my Syracuse friends after two semesters, as I did to high school companions I had known for over 10 years. The whine, this time, is just the nerves building up to Wednesday's first graduate class.
I think you know what I'm talking about when I say nerves; I mean one of two kinds of nerves: the hole in your stomach that swallows a symbolic peach pit each time your conscious drifts by the thought of doing something you're afraid of. Or it's the kind of flutter-butterfly that flickers a mix of hope, happiness, and excitement amidst your white and red blood cells, swimming vibrantly in your veins. School's always been a combination, dependent on so many other factors, and this time around it's a banter in my brain such things like my ability, my time away from school, my belief in what I chose to pursue, my faith in the program I selected, and the other extracirriculars that are my life, and soon to be a newlywed life. Shouldn't I spoil that man I'm about to marry with nothing than myself working along his schedule so that our time together is even more special because we can actually do things, together?
No, I know this is the right choice. The right discipline. The right time for me. I put forth a little of my patience and timeliness in "angels" (whomever they be) that encompass me, but I more importantly took the measures I needed to involve myself academically at this juncture in my life. I went out and bought my little notebooks, tried to salvage the right kind of "used" book from Amazon to make my textbook purchasing worthwhile...perhaps setting aside my "first-day outfit" on my dresser is in order! (Not too much for a graduate, I don't believe.) Whatever nerves hit me Wednesday, my first fall day, they'll be carried with me and my belongings, as I meander around my new campus, only to be greeted with a kind, intelligent professor I'm sure. From the third grade to my first post-undergraduate term, I'll enter this fall like any other:
I'll clutch my books a little tight, scan the room for possible workmates and friends, and diligently shorthand the lecture notes with a clear and probably impossible intent to keep them organized the same way throughout the semester. I'll shoot for the A, and I'll be happy with what I get only when I know it's what I earned. I'll aim to be a student again, and this time not just of the college experience, but of a deserving life-changing career, possibilities open to what I take in and what I give back to myself.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Merv
"Did I tell you the one about the guy who only ever ordered matzah-ball soup?" I overheard this joke at the pool this morning. A lovely accomodation in our apartment complex, that come to find out, is seldom used -- even if it is a Tuesday. Myself, one lifeguard, a mom with her 4 or 5 year old, and two elderly folk -- one, an accomplished swimmer; the other, an accomplished schmoozer. I selected my chair, aligned it with the mid-morning sun and its path, and got down and sweaty for the first twenty minutes. I hadn't been to the pool since....mid July? Is that right? (I told you it was seldom used.) Our weather has been steadily 90+ degrees, but I suppose I didn't find the pool all that attractive even with the stickiness, and I hate to propose that I would have any actual fashion-forward thinking, but this year a bikini was a must regarding my wedding dress silhouette. I was not too eager to be melting all summer while not being able to assure my suit wouldn't melt off too, since straps have been untied! I digress....
One flip of the body over, and I was listening to one man's entrance into the pool deck as clearly as he had wanted to make it. "Afternoon, all!" The mom and her little girl replying, "Hi, Merv. How are you?" "Just fine, thank you!," he exclaimed. Sounded like from afar he got himself settled, and let out a big sigh of relief and relaxation. The older woman swimming laps in the pool continued to stride, and yet she ended up pausing by Merv's end of the pool to say hello. I'm sure they had been in talks before, and he opened their conversation with that line above. "No, Merv. I haven't heard that one yet," she says smiling.
"So this man, a real old-timer, has been going to this hoity-toity New York City restaurant nearly every day of his life for lunch, to order his favorite matzah-ball soup. He walks in one day, having ordered the very same soup dozens, probably hundreds of times. The waiter brings his soup over, puts the plate down, and recites: 'Enjoy your lunch today, Mr. Max.'
"'Why, waiter! I cannot enjoy this soup today!'
'Whatever do you mean, Mr. Max?'
'Waiter, I simply cannot eat this matzah-ball soup today.'
'Mr. Max, I assure you it is matzah-ball soup. I even tasted a little of it this morning myself!'
'Waiter, I can't eat this soup,' says the man.
'Mr. Max, Sir, we've had the same chef creating this recipe of matzah-ball soup ever since the first day that you ordered it. Please! Why can't you eat this soup today?'
'Simply, waiter -- there's no spoon!'"
"That's great, Merv -- I hadn't heard it!" said the swimmer. Merv just smiled, and began to wade himself into the cool water. "How many laps have you done today, Linda?" "I just finished my mile, I think I'll take a break. But I won't forget that joke Merv. It's the way you tell 'em that keep 'em funny."
I myself had been listening in, and was trying hard not to snicker too loudly so that Merv would know he had more of an audience -- though he probably wouldn't have minded. I peeked at the woman stepping out of the water, impressed to hear she had already lapped a mile in our little Meadowbrook pool, and looked as cool as a cucumber. Merv asks the lifeguard, "How many laps in this pool to swim a mile?" "Sixty, I think." "Linda, you swam sixty laps and it's barely lunchtime?!" She smiled and started to skim a magazine she had brought with her. Merv, as you may have assumed, kept on conversing with our young lifeguard, no doubt working this job as a summer interim from school (though secondary or collegiate, I'm not sure). Then to my surprise, Merv heard my thoughts and found out for me:
"So, heading back to school in the fall there?"
"Yes, sir. Philadelphia University."
"What year are you, son?"
"Sort of a junior-senior mix, I have to figure out all my credits and courses and stuff."
"What's your major going to be?"
"I want to do Phys Ed, or maybe teach middle school."
"That's fabulous, son. Good luck."
"Thanks, Merv."
"Just remember one thing as you finish up your schooling, all right?"
"What's that?" the lifeguard asked.
"Do what you love, and love what you do. Because school will help you get the job, but make sure it's a job you really enjoy so that you can retire early like me!"
"Oh yeah? When did you retire, Merv?"
"I'm going on my 20th year of no work, and I'm just 78!"
"You did retire, early, Merv. Did you get a good serverance package or something? What was your trick?"
"No, son. Truly when you find out what you're good at, and then you find out it's also what you love to do, you'll make the most out of whatever it is. I was able to work hard, pay off my house and raise my family because I had a job I loved, and loved doing it. There is no secret! Just wish you the best of luck."
"Thank you, Merv, I'll take it."
As you might have guessed, this made me smile. It made me snicker more, too, because I just cherish these hidden moments in daily life, even more so when overhearing the dialogue among men separated by a stretch of generations. And, it's probably no surprise that I felt this conversation was intended for everyone there at the pool. I hadn't been down to sun bathe in over a month, and there was this gem of a man exploiting only lighthearted nature, and simple wisdoms that remain true over time. I found it to be quite meaningful for my life, and was happy to have encountered Merv today. Hopefully we can all end up like him. Healthy, happy, hardworking, and always ready to find a little good in the people around us to make connections strengthened by shared experiences and good humor.
One flip of the body over, and I was listening to one man's entrance into the pool deck as clearly as he had wanted to make it. "Afternoon, all!" The mom and her little girl replying, "Hi, Merv. How are you?" "Just fine, thank you!," he exclaimed. Sounded like from afar he got himself settled, and let out a big sigh of relief and relaxation. The older woman swimming laps in the pool continued to stride, and yet she ended up pausing by Merv's end of the pool to say hello. I'm sure they had been in talks before, and he opened their conversation with that line above. "No, Merv. I haven't heard that one yet," she says smiling.
"So this man, a real old-timer, has been going to this hoity-toity New York City restaurant nearly every day of his life for lunch, to order his favorite matzah-ball soup. He walks in one day, having ordered the very same soup dozens, probably hundreds of times. The waiter brings his soup over, puts the plate down, and recites: 'Enjoy your lunch today, Mr. Max.'
"'Why, waiter! I cannot enjoy this soup today!'
'Whatever do you mean, Mr. Max?'
'Waiter, I simply cannot eat this matzah-ball soup today.'
'Mr. Max, I assure you it is matzah-ball soup. I even tasted a little of it this morning myself!'
'Waiter, I can't eat this soup,' says the man.
'Mr. Max, Sir, we've had the same chef creating this recipe of matzah-ball soup ever since the first day that you ordered it. Please! Why can't you eat this soup today?'
'Simply, waiter -- there's no spoon!'"
"That's great, Merv -- I hadn't heard it!" said the swimmer. Merv just smiled, and began to wade himself into the cool water. "How many laps have you done today, Linda?" "I just finished my mile, I think I'll take a break. But I won't forget that joke Merv. It's the way you tell 'em that keep 'em funny."
I myself had been listening in, and was trying hard not to snicker too loudly so that Merv would know he had more of an audience -- though he probably wouldn't have minded. I peeked at the woman stepping out of the water, impressed to hear she had already lapped a mile in our little Meadowbrook pool, and looked as cool as a cucumber. Merv asks the lifeguard, "How many laps in this pool to swim a mile?" "Sixty, I think." "Linda, you swam sixty laps and it's barely lunchtime?!" She smiled and started to skim a magazine she had brought with her. Merv, as you may have assumed, kept on conversing with our young lifeguard, no doubt working this job as a summer interim from school (though secondary or collegiate, I'm not sure). Then to my surprise, Merv heard my thoughts and found out for me:
"So, heading back to school in the fall there?"
"Yes, sir. Philadelphia University."
"What year are you, son?"
"Sort of a junior-senior mix, I have to figure out all my credits and courses and stuff."
"What's your major going to be?"
"I want to do Phys Ed, or maybe teach middle school."
"That's fabulous, son. Good luck."
"Thanks, Merv."
"Just remember one thing as you finish up your schooling, all right?"
"What's that?" the lifeguard asked.
"Do what you love, and love what you do. Because school will help you get the job, but make sure it's a job you really enjoy so that you can retire early like me!"
"Oh yeah? When did you retire, Merv?"
"I'm going on my 20th year of no work, and I'm just 78!"
"You did retire, early, Merv. Did you get a good serverance package or something? What was your trick?"
"No, son. Truly when you find out what you're good at, and then you find out it's also what you love to do, you'll make the most out of whatever it is. I was able to work hard, pay off my house and raise my family because I had a job I loved, and loved doing it. There is no secret! Just wish you the best of luck."
"Thank you, Merv, I'll take it."
As you might have guessed, this made me smile. It made me snicker more, too, because I just cherish these hidden moments in daily life, even more so when overhearing the dialogue among men separated by a stretch of generations. And, it's probably no surprise that I felt this conversation was intended for everyone there at the pool. I hadn't been down to sun bathe in over a month, and there was this gem of a man exploiting only lighthearted nature, and simple wisdoms that remain true over time. I found it to be quite meaningful for my life, and was happy to have encountered Merv today. Hopefully we can all end up like him. Healthy, happy, hardworking, and always ready to find a little good in the people around us to make connections strengthened by shared experiences and good humor.
Friday, August 13, 2010
one step forward, and two steps back.
Steps.
Step one. Step two. Back one. Step three. There's a certain instructional rhythm when you prioritize the goings-on in your life, but there's also a real meditative quality to it. Step four. Back two. Step five. Its that rhythm that can make you believe, these steps are worth taking. Step six, step seven....
Steps are all about babying yourself, really. Well, I should speak only for me. I feel like steps are a way to manage the things in my life that are too scary to leap for. In certain aspects I can make the jump. Family, love, friends. Maybe because those components are so enriched in my every day -- I've always got someone on my mind, either in relation to where I'm going and/or how they've helped me get there. I don't believe I can take claim to much in my life without acknowledging someone(s) assisted me along the way. Steps are the "micro-moments" that can numb us for a while when they become routine. Like when you're driving along a highway in the misty rain, and suddenly don't remember exactly driving the whole way? Steps can get lost, just as dreams can. And steps can be loud, just as dreams will be. Its just I can't forget that if you dream it, it can be true, but it doesn't mean that it will be true for you.
A man once loved by and married to Elizabeth Gilbert (the 'Eat Pray Love' phenomena) was divorced in part to his dreams awry, and also his lack of steps that brought him to fulfill any of them. At times, most recently in fact, I have felt like that person. That individual that speaks effortless philosophies about her life so open and free, time off feeling only empowering and that there are too many dreams to select which one should be achieved first. I realized tonight, that there are dreams meant to come to fruition, and others meant always to remain unattainable. That's why we dream. We are never meant to stand still and be complete with where we're at. It's true that you can find oneness, and set still your mind because of a great balance in your life. But I think what resonates most with me now, is understanding that humanity is not an entity intended for concrete boundaries. There are those who say "rules were made so that rules can be broken." Dreams, and steps are among the same. I think we are meant to strive for something more, something greater. And something as simple yet as challenging as finding work (for instance) is a boundary I find gets further from me with the more time I have off. And it's not always because the work isn't present. Granted the times are not perfect for choosing to quit your job right now, but the distance between me and the next gig also increases because I have this ability to choose and be picky. I am sidestepping my life so that what greets me down the road aligns with the balance I seek. School, marriage, family -- all of these things are important and dependent on what my job will be, so why wouldn't I take such finicky steps to make an assured leap of faith into a new position?
A lot of the time off has been "time on." I wheel myself back into this drone of job searching because it is the goal of my sabbatical, and still I want to believe that not all steps need to take me forward. Two months in, I have been able to put steps towards "the job" on hold to dance into other aspects of my life lost during my last role: reading, walking, yoga...even lovemaking. It's an amazing energy that gets absorbed in that M-F pattern, and I don't want to step aside any more of my hobbies, interests, or instincts. School starts at the end of the month, and so there is some sort of light ahead. As long as I do continue forward, despite the tangents along the path, I shall embark onto something wonderful, find the passion, and greet one of my dreams with a vigorous certainty that I took the right step.
Step one. Step two. Back one. Step three. There's a certain instructional rhythm when you prioritize the goings-on in your life, but there's also a real meditative quality to it. Step four. Back two. Step five. Its that rhythm that can make you believe, these steps are worth taking. Step six, step seven....
Steps are all about babying yourself, really. Well, I should speak only for me. I feel like steps are a way to manage the things in my life that are too scary to leap for. In certain aspects I can make the jump. Family, love, friends. Maybe because those components are so enriched in my every day -- I've always got someone on my mind, either in relation to where I'm going and/or how they've helped me get there. I don't believe I can take claim to much in my life without acknowledging someone(s) assisted me along the way. Steps are the "micro-moments" that can numb us for a while when they become routine. Like when you're driving along a highway in the misty rain, and suddenly don't remember exactly driving the whole way? Steps can get lost, just as dreams can. And steps can be loud, just as dreams will be. Its just I can't forget that if you dream it, it can be true, but it doesn't mean that it will be true for you.
A man once loved by and married to Elizabeth Gilbert (the 'Eat Pray Love' phenomena) was divorced in part to his dreams awry, and also his lack of steps that brought him to fulfill any of them. At times, most recently in fact, I have felt like that person. That individual that speaks effortless philosophies about her life so open and free, time off feeling only empowering and that there are too many dreams to select which one should be achieved first. I realized tonight, that there are dreams meant to come to fruition, and others meant always to remain unattainable. That's why we dream. We are never meant to stand still and be complete with where we're at. It's true that you can find oneness, and set still your mind because of a great balance in your life. But I think what resonates most with me now, is understanding that humanity is not an entity intended for concrete boundaries. There are those who say "rules were made so that rules can be broken." Dreams, and steps are among the same. I think we are meant to strive for something more, something greater. And something as simple yet as challenging as finding work (for instance) is a boundary I find gets further from me with the more time I have off. And it's not always because the work isn't present. Granted the times are not perfect for choosing to quit your job right now, but the distance between me and the next gig also increases because I have this ability to choose and be picky. I am sidestepping my life so that what greets me down the road aligns with the balance I seek. School, marriage, family -- all of these things are important and dependent on what my job will be, so why wouldn't I take such finicky steps to make an assured leap of faith into a new position?
A lot of the time off has been "time on." I wheel myself back into this drone of job searching because it is the goal of my sabbatical, and still I want to believe that not all steps need to take me forward. Two months in, I have been able to put steps towards "the job" on hold to dance into other aspects of my life lost during my last role: reading, walking, yoga...even lovemaking. It's an amazing energy that gets absorbed in that M-F pattern, and I don't want to step aside any more of my hobbies, interests, or instincts. School starts at the end of the month, and so there is some sort of light ahead. As long as I do continue forward, despite the tangents along the path, I shall embark onto something wonderful, find the passion, and greet one of my dreams with a vigorous certainty that I took the right step.
Friday, July 30, 2010
some favorites.
With recent reflection, introspection, self-afflicting emotional roller coaster rides....it's time to be reminded of all the good, and the good to-be:
Dinner tonight with friends at a wonderful pizza place recommended by another good friend.
Dinner followed by some sweet, nostalgic galactic bowling!
Little W taking a nap between our desks, happy to have us both home on a Friday afternoon.
A wonderful 85 degree, sunny day that makes it feel like summer without making it feel like the tropics.
A nice leftover lunch including steak, fish, rice, and a naughty cocktail :)
Being productive, sending out paper/email/faxed resumes and finalizing some student loan gunk.
Watching a repeat of 'Ellen' at 3 o'clock.
FRIDAY.
Congrats all, on finishing another big, long week!
Dinner tonight with friends at a wonderful pizza place recommended by another good friend.
Dinner followed by some sweet, nostalgic galactic bowling!
Little W taking a nap between our desks, happy to have us both home on a Friday afternoon.
A wonderful 85 degree, sunny day that makes it feel like summer without making it feel like the tropics.
A nice leftover lunch including steak, fish, rice, and a naughty cocktail :)
Being productive, sending out paper/email/faxed resumes and finalizing some student loan gunk.
Watching a repeat of 'Ellen' at 3 o'clock.
FRIDAY.
Congrats all, on finishing another big, long week!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
mirror, mirror, on the wall...
Reflections. They provide insight and safety.
I let out, for the first time this past (interesting) month of no work, a big, big cry. It's a little overwhelming to feel useless in a major way, in which I haven't felt so since I began working pretty steadily at 16. Now I realize the cry really wasn't out of weakness or disappointment in myself, but in the nature of the beast that is this recession. Finding work is very hard, and with the liberal education I've received, but the lack of technical experience in which I am searching for jobs, sometimes I feel like I'm the double-edged sword of this economy. I can't reach for a job too high, because my resume will be filtered out swiftly among other candidates that do have the years of management skill. But I can't propose my sights too low because for all the hundreds of people appropiate for such jobs, the employer's may see a Bachelor's (of any degree) as an educational "alert" for someone just looking for a temporary, financial fix.
Okay, insight generally covered. Are reflections always safe? By this, I mean that this past month has made me feel like a mirror at times. I've been trying to convince myself and others that everything is fine, there's no worries because this was my choice, I'm calm knowing that the support I'm receiving is full and out of love. All of which is true, but I can't deny that there aren't some worries. Of course there is concern as to how long my search will last. I'm getting married, which joins a lot of our pricey-parts of the relationship, but the wedding will not grant me relief from this declining checkpoint. I'm attending school which will eat up funds that aren't being added to right now, and as Suze Orman says, school loans is some of the best debt you can accrue, but it's still debt!
I don't want to be the two-dimmensional bright plate of a mirror, that only offers what we give to it. I want to reflect something unseen, my truest self, which is that I am at times scared of this decision. It's not easy being wrong, and parts of this choice do seem incorrect. Emotionally it was the best one, that's for sure. But a big part of it is all kinds of mess, it just seems so uncharacteristic of someone who has worked for the past 10 - 12 years of her life. And not just out of need, but out of fun. I enjoy work, I enjoy the interaction among other people. Solitude can be truly lonely when there's too much of it. The voices in my head only carry out conversations so far :). My parents told us that work was not an option if there were things we wanted to pay for. We always knew that by the time we were old enough to drive, we had to help pay for such bills surrounding our new freedoms like the car. But work was never made out to be this evil plot against our freedom of childhood. It only gave us further responsibility which was rewarded with things other than a paycheck. It provided confidence and diligence that wasn't supported by a textbook. It gave us the right to be bold, ask for raises, and greet customers with a new sense of self. It gave me a great range of what I could do. I worked in a bakery for a good four years and developed amazing friendships with the owners there, whom are now creating my wedding cake! Work has always been something I had a little control over, and now that it's literally out of my hands, it makes me wonder why I gave that up.
Despite the emotional outcry today, one certainty in my life that is ever powerful and a wonderful reflection of myself, is Mike's support. Without it, this decision would not have been made so surely, and because of him, my search for a job as he says "you can enjoy," continues.
I let out, for the first time this past (interesting) month of no work, a big, big cry. It's a little overwhelming to feel useless in a major way, in which I haven't felt so since I began working pretty steadily at 16. Now I realize the cry really wasn't out of weakness or disappointment in myself, but in the nature of the beast that is this recession. Finding work is very hard, and with the liberal education I've received, but the lack of technical experience in which I am searching for jobs, sometimes I feel like I'm the double-edged sword of this economy. I can't reach for a job too high, because my resume will be filtered out swiftly among other candidates that do have the years of management skill. But I can't propose my sights too low because for all the hundreds of people appropiate for such jobs, the employer's may see a Bachelor's (of any degree) as an educational "alert" for someone just looking for a temporary, financial fix.
Okay, insight generally covered. Are reflections always safe? By this, I mean that this past month has made me feel like a mirror at times. I've been trying to convince myself and others that everything is fine, there's no worries because this was my choice, I'm calm knowing that the support I'm receiving is full and out of love. All of which is true, but I can't deny that there aren't some worries. Of course there is concern as to how long my search will last. I'm getting married, which joins a lot of our pricey-parts of the relationship, but the wedding will not grant me relief from this declining checkpoint. I'm attending school which will eat up funds that aren't being added to right now, and as Suze Orman says, school loans is some of the best debt you can accrue, but it's still debt!
I don't want to be the two-dimmensional bright plate of a mirror, that only offers what we give to it. I want to reflect something unseen, my truest self, which is that I am at times scared of this decision. It's not easy being wrong, and parts of this choice do seem incorrect. Emotionally it was the best one, that's for sure. But a big part of it is all kinds of mess, it just seems so uncharacteristic of someone who has worked for the past 10 - 12 years of her life. And not just out of need, but out of fun. I enjoy work, I enjoy the interaction among other people. Solitude can be truly lonely when there's too much of it. The voices in my head only carry out conversations so far :). My parents told us that work was not an option if there were things we wanted to pay for. We always knew that by the time we were old enough to drive, we had to help pay for such bills surrounding our new freedoms like the car. But work was never made out to be this evil plot against our freedom of childhood. It only gave us further responsibility which was rewarded with things other than a paycheck. It provided confidence and diligence that wasn't supported by a textbook. It gave us the right to be bold, ask for raises, and greet customers with a new sense of self. It gave me a great range of what I could do. I worked in a bakery for a good four years and developed amazing friendships with the owners there, whom are now creating my wedding cake! Work has always been something I had a little control over, and now that it's literally out of my hands, it makes me wonder why I gave that up.
Despite the emotional outcry today, one certainty in my life that is ever powerful and a wonderful reflection of myself, is Mike's support. Without it, this decision would not have been made so surely, and because of him, my search for a job as he says "you can enjoy," continues.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
don't blink!
Just a quick note to say hi to myself, "the fans" and all :)
Have been spending lots of time in and out of my own head being unemployed. It's been trying and fantastic all in one. Got into graduate school, and I'm so glad to be headed in a direction that I want to travel for once! I feel like a trip to Staples to collect supplies, and Target to pick out a first-day outfit may be in order!
Not to mention it's only 2 months more until I am the legal wife I always knew I could be!
Happy hot summer everyone. Fall is near...
Have been spending lots of time in and out of my own head being unemployed. It's been trying and fantastic all in one. Got into graduate school, and I'm so glad to be headed in a direction that I want to travel for once! I feel like a trip to Staples to collect supplies, and Target to pick out a first-day outfit may be in order!
Not to mention it's only 2 months more until I am the legal wife I always knew I could be!
Happy hot summer everyone. Fall is near...
Thursday, July 8, 2010
homesweethome.
"I thought if I could touch this place, or feel it....this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself..." These lyrics come from country singer phenomena Miranda Lambert's 'The House that Built Me' and I feel its connection wholeheartedly when I think about my home in Maine.
Growing up in a north, northeastern state like Maine provided many things. Seclusion from the hustle and bustle of a busy suburb outside of say, Boston, NYC, or even Philadelphia. It provided land and sustainability that we learned as kids, growing small, seriously some teeny-weeny carrots in our little garden plots in our first hometown of Gray. We learned that if you can't keep a sister as your best friend, you may end up playing alone, because during those first years we truly kept ourselves close to one another and to nature surrounding us. In addition, Maine has always provided a comfort for me, that eminent green bridge that tells you where you've crossed the state line into "Vacationland," and the air smells of ocean salt and campfires, opposed to the either lack of breeze, or whatever scent city hustle and bustle tends to sweat.
Not that I don't enjoy where I am today--nor where I've been until now. I was in D.C. for the fourth of July, and what better place to see the fireworks at our nation's capital? I was also, fortunately, visiting with some of our nation's best, 2 college roommates, and much discussion about what 'home' means to us came up during our weekend banter. One so wise Patty said she felt 'just at home' with us at the dinner table, out conversing over sangria and margarita pitchers, and pausing to inhale some delicious quesadillas at a fave Mexican restaurant in Dupont Circle. The other so talented Lindsey had been home in central NY, (her summers off from teaching in hot Charlotte), and she was happy to finally be lounging with Mom when she wasn't working, and otherwise enjoying her travels visiting friends. I, myself, having been unemployed for a little while felt so inclined to offer, 'home really is where you make its place, and I too felt like my heart had settled in more than one.'
This sentiment, I'm sure has crossed paths of other posts, but nonetheless, being out of work really helped put this idea of what home is into perspective. I find myself mainly in three places. Maine, Syracuse, and "Current." Maine offered the foundation upon which I thought I knew myself, SU provided the means on which my roots could establish, and whereever I am today is in part home as I begin a family I am so luckily able to grow alongside (that's you, Michael and little Windsor). I don't suppose there is any formula for where one's home is or will be, but if you cannot share it with someone, at least a neighbor down the road, or the sun that wakes with you and tucks you into your bed at night, if there is not one being that bestows its presence in your life, I am not sure you have yet found your home....ever.
So, as I sit here in lonliness in the grand state of "Vacationland" - alas the lobster dinner hangovers have sent the working minions to sleep; baby W is tucked in her travel kennel, and the family dog is none the wiser about another Michel up and about...I am grateful to be home, if only for a few days. For I know that my other homes are still out there supporting me, and they are ever waiting for me to return. I suppose it's not often a life, so lucky as mine, feels that it can be in many places at once and find a hug in return, or memory to welcome one back.
Growing up in a north, northeastern state like Maine provided many things. Seclusion from the hustle and bustle of a busy suburb outside of say, Boston, NYC, or even Philadelphia. It provided land and sustainability that we learned as kids, growing small, seriously some teeny-weeny carrots in our little garden plots in our first hometown of Gray. We learned that if you can't keep a sister as your best friend, you may end up playing alone, because during those first years we truly kept ourselves close to one another and to nature surrounding us. In addition, Maine has always provided a comfort for me, that eminent green bridge that tells you where you've crossed the state line into "Vacationland," and the air smells of ocean salt and campfires, opposed to the either lack of breeze, or whatever scent city hustle and bustle tends to sweat.
Not that I don't enjoy where I am today--nor where I've been until now. I was in D.C. for the fourth of July, and what better place to see the fireworks at our nation's capital? I was also, fortunately, visiting with some of our nation's best, 2 college roommates, and much discussion about what 'home' means to us came up during our weekend banter. One so wise Patty said she felt 'just at home' with us at the dinner table, out conversing over sangria and margarita pitchers, and pausing to inhale some delicious quesadillas at a fave Mexican restaurant in Dupont Circle. The other so talented Lindsey had been home in central NY, (her summers off from teaching in hot Charlotte), and she was happy to finally be lounging with Mom when she wasn't working, and otherwise enjoying her travels visiting friends. I, myself, having been unemployed for a little while felt so inclined to offer, 'home really is where you make its place, and I too felt like my heart had settled in more than one.'
This sentiment, I'm sure has crossed paths of other posts, but nonetheless, being out of work really helped put this idea of what home is into perspective. I find myself mainly in three places. Maine, Syracuse, and "Current." Maine offered the foundation upon which I thought I knew myself, SU provided the means on which my roots could establish, and whereever I am today is in part home as I begin a family I am so luckily able to grow alongside (that's you, Michael and little Windsor). I don't suppose there is any formula for where one's home is or will be, but if you cannot share it with someone, at least a neighbor down the road, or the sun that wakes with you and tucks you into your bed at night, if there is not one being that bestows its presence in your life, I am not sure you have yet found your home....ever.
So, as I sit here in lonliness in the grand state of "Vacationland" - alas the lobster dinner hangovers have sent the working minions to sleep; baby W is tucked in her travel kennel, and the family dog is none the wiser about another Michel up and about...I am grateful to be home, if only for a few days. For I know that my other homes are still out there supporting me, and they are ever waiting for me to return. I suppose it's not often a life, so lucky as mine, feels that it can be in many places at once and find a hug in return, or memory to welcome one back.
Friday, June 18, 2010
a stillness.
Already into my second week of unemployment-by-choice, and it is an entirely different feeling than the antsy, I-need-to-help-provide-financially for our family kind of emotion, that was present last year when we first moved to PA. That period of time was only two weeks, and I can pretty much guarantee myself it will be far longer than a half month this time around. There are major differences, however, that make this "mini vacation" a little bit easier.
Firstly, the unfounding support of my (very soon!) husband-to-be is supremely appreciated. When you have faith from someone you love in your decisions - be it family or friends - it's amazing how you perceive your time, fulfill your days, and recognize the work that goes into being a stay-at-home someone. Secondly, though I try not to mess with her situated schedule of 10+hours sleep during the workday, we have a little one at home with me. Our dog, Windsor, has been a great companion for me, providing constant pestering...er....attachment and need for attention. Just at 8 months old, W is a reminder that the day is full of opportunity to play, walk, chew, lick, and sleep. Ahhh....sleep! Mike would like to think that I gain so much more shut-eye, and yet how much lazier would I feel?! Still, I don't shy away from getting up at eight o'clock to start the day; when was the last time that happened?
Don't get me wrong, I'm looking for work! As I told my neighbor the other night, the search has primarily been from within the walls of our apartment, so my headhunting skills have been a little bit on the technical versus face-to-face side. Not to mention, I was also searching for a job before I left the childcare center. With the support from previous supervisors, that was a decision made easier. And, thankfully, to this day I have yet to feel like any bridges have burned when I left a job. No lay-offs yet, and no one boss I felt I could not turn to for recommendation. I just had two of my former directors write letters towards my application to graduate school. Even my further education is up in the air right now, but I know its process will pan out to whereever I need to be. Speaking with family and Mike recently, I think part of my problem in searching for the "next step" in my life, is that I'm actually clueless to what that step will or should be.
During college I felt like the world was, as they say, my oyster. How could I not? Syracuse was large enough, eclectic enough, orange enough :) for me to delve into different aspects of study I had yet to ponder. Were I to go back now, I wouldn't hesitate to take an even wider range of classes, and stimulate parts of my mind that I am interested in advancing today. And honestly, that is part of the problem when that feeling of failure creeps into my soul search. If there was some sense of security and assurance in all of this, if I could actually pick a dream job and run with it, believe me I would. So many entrepreneurs associate the mantra, it's one life, go with your gut and your dreams. What if you have many? Do you dream them all into reality? Yoga is a part of my life that is a constant reminder to live presently. And even that extracurricular takes the occasional backseat. But when I return to it, I am enlightened yet again, feeling like the prolific oyster is ever attainable.
Somehow, the calm of my heart overrides my worries, and I remember that if I can truly apply myself to what I value and dream, than whatever result it is which fulfills me, will be enough. It will be the right choice. May that be studying as a full-time student again, or participating in part-time education with part-time work. It could be volunteering my mind and being to the benefits of non-profit organizations. I'm not desperate for the answer, but I am looking forward to pondering the questions to get me there.
Peace, love, and here's for hoping that everyone else keeps reaching for their own oyster!
Firstly, the unfounding support of my (very soon!) husband-to-be is supremely appreciated. When you have faith from someone you love in your decisions - be it family or friends - it's amazing how you perceive your time, fulfill your days, and recognize the work that goes into being a stay-at-home someone. Secondly, though I try not to mess with her situated schedule of 10+hours sleep during the workday, we have a little one at home with me. Our dog, Windsor, has been a great companion for me, providing constant pestering...er....attachment and need for attention. Just at 8 months old, W is a reminder that the day is full of opportunity to play, walk, chew, lick, and sleep. Ahhh....sleep! Mike would like to think that I gain so much more shut-eye, and yet how much lazier would I feel?! Still, I don't shy away from getting up at eight o'clock to start the day; when was the last time that happened?
Don't get me wrong, I'm looking for work! As I told my neighbor the other night, the search has primarily been from within the walls of our apartment, so my headhunting skills have been a little bit on the technical versus face-to-face side. Not to mention, I was also searching for a job before I left the childcare center. With the support from previous supervisors, that was a decision made easier. And, thankfully, to this day I have yet to feel like any bridges have burned when I left a job. No lay-offs yet, and no one boss I felt I could not turn to for recommendation. I just had two of my former directors write letters towards my application to graduate school. Even my further education is up in the air right now, but I know its process will pan out to whereever I need to be. Speaking with family and Mike recently, I think part of my problem in searching for the "next step" in my life, is that I'm actually clueless to what that step will or should be.
During college I felt like the world was, as they say, my oyster. How could I not? Syracuse was large enough, eclectic enough, orange enough :) for me to delve into different aspects of study I had yet to ponder. Were I to go back now, I wouldn't hesitate to take an even wider range of classes, and stimulate parts of my mind that I am interested in advancing today. And honestly, that is part of the problem when that feeling of failure creeps into my soul search. If there was some sense of security and assurance in all of this, if I could actually pick a dream job and run with it, believe me I would. So many entrepreneurs associate the mantra, it's one life, go with your gut and your dreams. What if you have many? Do you dream them all into reality? Yoga is a part of my life that is a constant reminder to live presently. And even that extracurricular takes the occasional backseat. But when I return to it, I am enlightened yet again, feeling like the prolific oyster is ever attainable.
Somehow, the calm of my heart overrides my worries, and I remember that if I can truly apply myself to what I value and dream, than whatever result it is which fulfills me, will be enough. It will be the right choice. May that be studying as a full-time student again, or participating in part-time education with part-time work. It could be volunteering my mind and being to the benefits of non-profit organizations. I'm not desperate for the answer, but I am looking forward to pondering the questions to get me there.
Peace, love, and here's for hoping that everyone else keeps reaching for their own oyster!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
up for a gamble.
So, I told work today. Time to tell you, too. Last day is later this month. Fortunately, any support one could hope for was offered, even from my immediate coworkers. Unfortunately, that can make you feel worse when you just want to be sure of your decision, and when a supervisor asks what she can do to convince you to stay....it makes you feel guilty and good at the same time.
Nothing lined up yet as far as future work. Of course, why yes I would love for that to fall in my lap, thank you! How many things do you really earn through chance? Through luck? 20%? 0%? Whatever it is you need to be a little proactive. And though I've been fishing for a few months, that by no means grants me the right to have anything yet. And while I do not, it doesn't mean that I haven't been granted the opportunity to get closer. Taking a gamble, but I believe that it will pay. For what better stroke of luck can you get than the one you make for yourself by trying.
Here's hoping, and here's doing. Glad now that I can devote the time and effort to achieve it! Some of the toughest decisions are the healthiest!
Nothing lined up yet as far as future work. Of course, why yes I would love for that to fall in my lap, thank you! How many things do you really earn through chance? Through luck? 20%? 0%? Whatever it is you need to be a little proactive. And though I've been fishing for a few months, that by no means grants me the right to have anything yet. And while I do not, it doesn't mean that I haven't been granted the opportunity to get closer. Taking a gamble, but I believe that it will pay. For what better stroke of luck can you get than the one you make for yourself by trying.
Here's hoping, and here's doing. Glad now that I can devote the time and effort to achieve it! Some of the toughest decisions are the healthiest!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
brand name
So I have allergies. Some serious allergies. I get them every year now, but they're always worse than the year prior. I remember being a kid, seeing my dad (hearing, him too) sneezing, coughing, gruffing, pissed at the world during marigold season come autumn. Now, and for the last 6-8 years, I comprehend and pass along the pissy attitude to Earth's spring season. Damn pollen.
Not to mention that this whole "moving south" that happened a year+ ago has not adjusted my nose to the more temperate climate. Mike and I traveled, dog in tow, a couple weekends ago to Rhode Island to visit my sister. It was wonderful, and gorgeous. Earth hadn't looked so luscious, so virginal. Just five hours north of us, RI was receiving the glorious blossoms that PA had nearly a month before. This is probably the trip that my allergies decided to boost up.
So, I come home - we're nearly there - and I decide it's time to give in and take the allergy pills. "Pull over at CVS!" Get out, get pills - cheap, store brand. Home. Take one of the "24-hour" tablets and sleep. Scratch that. Try to sleep.
Guess what didn't happen?
So on to work I went that Monday and happened to be sneezing - STILL! (I know...) - and decided I was going to be proactive. After all, the universe responds to what we send out, not necessarily what we desire. How can the sneezing go away without some serious effort on my part? Off to CVS, then the grocery store to find the best, most affordable Claritin package possible. 24 hour coverage = take two just in case. Nothing helped! I'd like to say they're almost gone, but it's not fall yet...
On to the next brand name. Is it convenient that "brand" sounds like "grand?" In either case, that's what brand names do, they want you to believe that they're more worthy, or powerful, or special. They know best because they cost more. They out-do the other generics because they have the trademark to prove it. Isn't it just a name? I could brand myself and I would be no different until I gained a super power. I could earn all the money I want and do with it as pleased and deep down I would still be myself. I would still be Carly.
Some people change as a result of great change. But I don't believe that brands are the great change. They're facades. They're veneers. They're the outside aesthetic and people perceive, but are being deceived by. More recently I've been struggling with this realization in regards to my professional life. What at my job is defining me, and what am I defining? Should they really be different? I support the company, but don't agree to all of their policy. I work hard, but at times it's not enough by the brand's standards. And certainly not enough education. I struggle to BELIEVE that I can make the change I wish, even thought i KNOW it's that simple. So you work it at. You stay proactive. There will be lulls, but on the upswings, create an upside.
There's no other brand that I wish than being myself. And while making mistakes will help me, I'm rather shoot for the mis-nots.
Not to mention that this whole "moving south" that happened a year+ ago has not adjusted my nose to the more temperate climate. Mike and I traveled, dog in tow, a couple weekends ago to Rhode Island to visit my sister. It was wonderful, and gorgeous. Earth hadn't looked so luscious, so virginal. Just five hours north of us, RI was receiving the glorious blossoms that PA had nearly a month before. This is probably the trip that my allergies decided to boost up.
So, I come home - we're nearly there - and I decide it's time to give in and take the allergy pills. "Pull over at CVS!" Get out, get pills - cheap, store brand. Home. Take one of the "24-hour" tablets and sleep. Scratch that. Try to sleep.
Guess what didn't happen?
So on to work I went that Monday and happened to be sneezing - STILL! (I know...) - and decided I was going to be proactive. After all, the universe responds to what we send out, not necessarily what we desire. How can the sneezing go away without some serious effort on my part? Off to CVS, then the grocery store to find the best, most affordable Claritin package possible. 24 hour coverage = take two just in case. Nothing helped! I'd like to say they're almost gone, but it's not fall yet...
On to the next brand name. Is it convenient that "brand" sounds like "grand?" In either case, that's what brand names do, they want you to believe that they're more worthy, or powerful, or special. They know best because they cost more. They out-do the other generics because they have the trademark to prove it. Isn't it just a name? I could brand myself and I would be no different until I gained a super power. I could earn all the money I want and do with it as pleased and deep down I would still be myself. I would still be Carly.
Some people change as a result of great change. But I don't believe that brands are the great change. They're facades. They're veneers. They're the outside aesthetic and people perceive, but are being deceived by. More recently I've been struggling with this realization in regards to my professional life. What at my job is defining me, and what am I defining? Should they really be different? I support the company, but don't agree to all of their policy. I work hard, but at times it's not enough by the brand's standards. And certainly not enough education. I struggle to BELIEVE that I can make the change I wish, even thought i KNOW it's that simple. So you work it at. You stay proactive. There will be lulls, but on the upswings, create an upside.
There's no other brand that I wish than being myself. And while making mistakes will help me, I'm rather shoot for the mis-nots.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
the messy stuff
Call it greed, call it puppyhood, call it indecisive, but our little dog Windsor has been doing something very curiously ever since we got her, and only this morning did I reflect on her actions as something much more than what they probably actually are. She's not quite a large dog yet (she'll get there I'm sure), but her size is all irrelevant to her personality. A smaller body does not mean her character is lacking. She obtains her individual personality just as much as any young puppy, toddler, adult, regardless of her physique, and maybe this comical behavior of hers is just a result of her feeling limitless and without recognition that boundaries do exist.
The toys, for example. We have what most would buy for their dog I assume - the rope toy (in 2 sizes), a Kong, tennis balls, a frisbee, and this wonderful plastic ball with a net-like exterior in which you can stuff treats for her to work at excavating (bought for us, acutally! Thanks M and R!). Windsor will take out each toy one a time from her little pile in between bookshelves along the living room wall, and systematically places them about the carpet. Setting up what looks like either an obstacle course, or laziness on the part of Michael and me not cleaning up. When a ball and/or rope toy is thrown across the room and down our little front hallway, she'll zoom up to it as any dog would, and collects it in her mouth to return to owner as any retriever should. The funny thing is, she picks up all the toys in line of her retrieval, disregarding that the pair of them (i.e. two tennis balls) may not yet fit in her sweet, little, 5-month old mouth.
But, despite our doubts, her smarts got the best of us, and she has proven once and again many times over that yes, she can fit two toys in her mouth, and I'm betting she won't stop at two toys before she grows to her full size.
Walks, for example. We take her out in the morning before and the evening after work and she is always eager to march on with her mom and dad. She pulls a little still, so many Spring smells to ponder, and people to see, but overall she walks very well, and is getting better sticking close to our hips, walking in a "lion-stride" alongside us. The one aspect of her daily walks that never ceases to make us laugh, is the way in which she goes about her "stick time." She'll spot a twig, a stick, a branch about 100 yards ahead of us, and will focus full speed on retrieving that very limb at no cost to the ambition of herself. Mind you, this is not just any stick, typically. Imagine those pine branches that fall or break off trees with about a foot or foot and a half of stick, followed by the brush and pine needle clusters that feather the end. Got it? Now, imagine to yourself which is the hardest piece the pick up (if you're a dog) - actually - even if you're not a dog, imagine which to you would make the MOST sense to pick up. Got it? The stick part, right? Wouldn't that be the most logical place to wrap around your hand and grip the limb forcifully so as not to let it go? You guessed it, not little W.
She sniffs the stick, opens her mouth, and takes a chomp onto those silly little feather-pine-needle-ends and slaps the one or two smallest ones into her mouth and begins to drag. Don't ask me why, she honestly trips on it and reassesses her grip more frequently that walking in a straight line with it. Because it's so easy to trip on when walking, I thought, is that the fun in it? She must know that the stick is present, we can all hear it dragging on the pavement, and so why not try to bite the part that is easiest to carry? She could prance a lot easier, showing off her victory. Why make it harder on herself?
This is why the reflections began. As most people in my life know, I have been struggling with work (fomer and current) and education, among finding the personal niches in my life that make me happy, and feel present. So what if little W has it right? I take on the job that I once had, and expect it to be easy, to make me happy. Granted I like the people I work with, and the kids are as cute as any group of toddlers will be, but it's not what I am meant to do, I don't feel that kind of connection to it, so why choose it? Because it's easy? I went to college already, and yet I definitely took an easy route doing what I thought I enjoyed, not what I thought would get me somewhere economically. And now I find that without specific coursework in a career-altering world, there is no easy way to escape that reality. Have I made it harder waiting to apply to graduate school? Have I made it harder never taking certain courses that would help my acceptance? What of my hobbies? Thank goodness for this blog, it may be one of the only creative outlets I'm giving myself at the moment.
I'm a photographer. A reader. At times, a writer and poet. I like to shop, garden, and exercise. I'm getting into golf. Where are all those things? In the warmer months ahead? Why? I need to remember that sometimes the stick isn't what makes the walk of life more fun. Sometimes I need to just nuzzle into a bed of pine needles and get messy. Life is about efficiency, but it's also about challenge. And it's about fun. The day to day can be mundane, so it's okay to grab the rough end of it and muck on through, and be proud of what you have. The rest of it is with you, maybe dragging behind you, but it's there. The simpler stuff comes, once you remember the way in which you get there can involve all the mishaps and trips and prancing, along with the hard work and obtaining all you can. Prove to yourself you are capable.
The toys, for example. We have what most would buy for their dog I assume - the rope toy (in 2 sizes), a Kong, tennis balls, a frisbee, and this wonderful plastic ball with a net-like exterior in which you can stuff treats for her to work at excavating (bought for us, acutally! Thanks M and R!). Windsor will take out each toy one a time from her little pile in between bookshelves along the living room wall, and systematically places them about the carpet. Setting up what looks like either an obstacle course, or laziness on the part of Michael and me not cleaning up. When a ball and/or rope toy is thrown across the room and down our little front hallway, she'll zoom up to it as any dog would, and collects it in her mouth to return to owner as any retriever should. The funny thing is, she picks up all the toys in line of her retrieval, disregarding that the pair of them (i.e. two tennis balls) may not yet fit in her sweet, little, 5-month old mouth.
But, despite our doubts, her smarts got the best of us, and she has proven once and again many times over that yes, she can fit two toys in her mouth, and I'm betting she won't stop at two toys before she grows to her full size.
Walks, for example. We take her out in the morning before and the evening after work and she is always eager to march on with her mom and dad. She pulls a little still, so many Spring smells to ponder, and people to see, but overall she walks very well, and is getting better sticking close to our hips, walking in a "lion-stride" alongside us. The one aspect of her daily walks that never ceases to make us laugh, is the way in which she goes about her "stick time." She'll spot a twig, a stick, a branch about 100 yards ahead of us, and will focus full speed on retrieving that very limb at no cost to the ambition of herself. Mind you, this is not just any stick, typically. Imagine those pine branches that fall or break off trees with about a foot or foot and a half of stick, followed by the brush and pine needle clusters that feather the end. Got it? Now, imagine to yourself which is the hardest piece the pick up (if you're a dog) - actually - even if you're not a dog, imagine which to you would make the MOST sense to pick up. Got it? The stick part, right? Wouldn't that be the most logical place to wrap around your hand and grip the limb forcifully so as not to let it go? You guessed it, not little W.
She sniffs the stick, opens her mouth, and takes a chomp onto those silly little feather-pine-needle-ends and slaps the one or two smallest ones into her mouth and begins to drag. Don't ask me why, she honestly trips on it and reassesses her grip more frequently that walking in a straight line with it. Because it's so easy to trip on when walking, I thought, is that the fun in it? She must know that the stick is present, we can all hear it dragging on the pavement, and so why not try to bite the part that is easiest to carry? She could prance a lot easier, showing off her victory. Why make it harder on herself?
This is why the reflections began. As most people in my life know, I have been struggling with work (fomer and current) and education, among finding the personal niches in my life that make me happy, and feel present. So what if little W has it right? I take on the job that I once had, and expect it to be easy, to make me happy. Granted I like the people I work with, and the kids are as cute as any group of toddlers will be, but it's not what I am meant to do, I don't feel that kind of connection to it, so why choose it? Because it's easy? I went to college already, and yet I definitely took an easy route doing what I thought I enjoyed, not what I thought would get me somewhere economically. And now I find that without specific coursework in a career-altering world, there is no easy way to escape that reality. Have I made it harder waiting to apply to graduate school? Have I made it harder never taking certain courses that would help my acceptance? What of my hobbies? Thank goodness for this blog, it may be one of the only creative outlets I'm giving myself at the moment.
I'm a photographer. A reader. At times, a writer and poet. I like to shop, garden, and exercise. I'm getting into golf. Where are all those things? In the warmer months ahead? Why? I need to remember that sometimes the stick isn't what makes the walk of life more fun. Sometimes I need to just nuzzle into a bed of pine needles and get messy. Life is about efficiency, but it's also about challenge. And it's about fun. The day to day can be mundane, so it's okay to grab the rough end of it and muck on through, and be proud of what you have. The rest of it is with you, maybe dragging behind you, but it's there. The simpler stuff comes, once you remember the way in which you get there can involve all the mishaps and trips and prancing, along with the hard work and obtaining all you can. Prove to yourself you are capable.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
savings
I'm not sure what kind of "savings fairy" was created this time of year to make us think that we would be helped - but whoever did think that March and April were to be particularly cruel instead, shame on you.
First off, daylight savings. So I have a little more sunlight guiding me home in the evening. For the time being, it's still an hour ride home, and in fact, it is almost consistently a 60 minute ride any of time my shift ends considering the mass of people that want to get out of work and enjoy the warmth. Who knew? Granted, there isn't much better than driving home with the windows down, music blaring, and just the air between my bare feet and the pedal as my worn shoes from a long day's work are nestled under my seat. Okay, daylight savings has its perks.
And yet, there is still some unforseen forces that occur when the hour "jumps ahead." What about the 10 children in our classroom every day that now have to adjust to a "new" lunch hour or nap time? There behaviors are by no means fluid, they're toddlers. But this lost hour has also skyrocketed this "terrible two" syndrome for the week, causing upturns in eating habits, tantrum throwing and the like. Surely it will be Friday tomorrow, and therefore the day should ideally go by quickly despite the (more?) chaotic week. Maybe parents will even come and pick up early! And by the following week, the kids should feel back to normal, so to speak, and just be back to their usual tantrum-throwing, newly discovered hitting, screaming selves. :)
What else is saved over the course of the spring? Certainly not one's sanity. And all the worse is what's known as the dreaded: tax season. Never have I had to accomplish this on my own. My own mom has been kind enough to cover each of my sister's and my taxes over the years, no major questions asked of us. And as college ended and "real life" began, we started to accumulate our own love-hate relationship with the IRS. Could it be simpler? Yes. But then what would happen to the field of accounting, right? And while there are years when you save a little through a deductible (horray for counting up mileage), the money refunded and the money one has to pay doesn't hardly matter when you examine the actual accumulated time spent on filling out forms and worksheets, and making sure the right copy of the right W2 is sent to federal not state, no which state? Sheesh. Knowing that this pile of procrastination waits for me at my office desk, I've saved hardly any room in this post to complain further about it.
So, be thankful for the extended sun, right? It doesn't save us from tiring our eyes, or feeling like the week's work is too long, and the nights are too short. But it may give us a little more light to ponder among the various neighbors outside, other dogs that are wandering the out in the park. And be thankful for the 15th of April to freaking get here already. Bring on the spring cleaning, and not just the cleaning out of someone's bank account, please.
First off, daylight savings. So I have a little more sunlight guiding me home in the evening. For the time being, it's still an hour ride home, and in fact, it is almost consistently a 60 minute ride any of time my shift ends considering the mass of people that want to get out of work and enjoy the warmth. Who knew? Granted, there isn't much better than driving home with the windows down, music blaring, and just the air between my bare feet and the pedal as my worn shoes from a long day's work are nestled under my seat. Okay, daylight savings has its perks.
And yet, there is still some unforseen forces that occur when the hour "jumps ahead." What about the 10 children in our classroom every day that now have to adjust to a "new" lunch hour or nap time? There behaviors are by no means fluid, they're toddlers. But this lost hour has also skyrocketed this "terrible two" syndrome for the week, causing upturns in eating habits, tantrum throwing and the like. Surely it will be Friday tomorrow, and therefore the day should ideally go by quickly despite the (more?) chaotic week. Maybe parents will even come and pick up early! And by the following week, the kids should feel back to normal, so to speak, and just be back to their usual tantrum-throwing, newly discovered hitting, screaming selves. :)
What else is saved over the course of the spring? Certainly not one's sanity. And all the worse is what's known as the dreaded: tax season. Never have I had to accomplish this on my own. My own mom has been kind enough to cover each of my sister's and my taxes over the years, no major questions asked of us. And as college ended and "real life" began, we started to accumulate our own love-hate relationship with the IRS. Could it be simpler? Yes. But then what would happen to the field of accounting, right? And while there are years when you save a little through a deductible (horray for counting up mileage), the money refunded and the money one has to pay doesn't hardly matter when you examine the actual accumulated time spent on filling out forms and worksheets, and making sure the right copy of the right W2 is sent to federal not state, no which state? Sheesh. Knowing that this pile of procrastination waits for me at my office desk, I've saved hardly any room in this post to complain further about it.
So, be thankful for the extended sun, right? It doesn't save us from tiring our eyes, or feeling like the week's work is too long, and the nights are too short. But it may give us a little more light to ponder among the various neighbors outside, other dogs that are wandering the out in the park. And be thankful for the 15th of April to freaking get here already. Bring on the spring cleaning, and not just the cleaning out of someone's bank account, please.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
when you see a robin
Today is one of those bright, sunny days, at about 50 degrees, when more than ever you can hear the birds singing away. Sure the nasty crows and honking geese are flying up overhead, but this time there are other chirps, other colors soaring about the blue sky. The robins are about the apartment complex, confusing poor little Windsor who just wants to play, but despite her pulling on the leash to chase them, it makes me happy thinking that Spring is actually just around the corner.
Mike's mom is visiting this weekend, and aside from her bringing along the sunshine, she is the first overnight visitor we have had with Windsor. And W loves the extra company! Nothing wrong with a little extra play time for a growing girl. The benefit of the springtime is that daylight savings is round the corner, just as Mike's mom happened to remind us. It will be so nice to come home with natural light on past the rush hour. Past the dinnertime. Just to be out and free without extra wear, such as a fleece or heavy sweatshirt, to be roaming the woods among the flickering sun and gentle not-so-harsh breezes, it is Spring kissing our backs, and our heels kicking up the edge of winter wears.
So at the park today, we happened to see that robin bouncing on the logs, on the grasses with her eyes just as flickering and proving in disbelief that we may have been fooled; that the sun is only passing among the gray clouds hovering behind her. Any yet, as the hours passed, there the sun and all her warmth, there the robin and her song stuck with us, guiding us on a memorable, restful day. A busy, extreme stretch of exercise, book-ended by the hints of Spring, and peaceful calm it evokes from a hard, untrusting soul. Thank you, Spring, please join us!
More deep breaths needed to pass through these months ahead.
Mike's mom is visiting this weekend, and aside from her bringing along the sunshine, she is the first overnight visitor we have had with Windsor. And W loves the extra company! Nothing wrong with a little extra play time for a growing girl. The benefit of the springtime is that daylight savings is round the corner, just as Mike's mom happened to remind us. It will be so nice to come home with natural light on past the rush hour. Past the dinnertime. Just to be out and free without extra wear, such as a fleece or heavy sweatshirt, to be roaming the woods among the flickering sun and gentle not-so-harsh breezes, it is Spring kissing our backs, and our heels kicking up the edge of winter wears.
So at the park today, we happened to see that robin bouncing on the logs, on the grasses with her eyes just as flickering and proving in disbelief that we may have been fooled; that the sun is only passing among the gray clouds hovering behind her. Any yet, as the hours passed, there the sun and all her warmth, there the robin and her song stuck with us, guiding us on a memorable, restful day. A busy, extreme stretch of exercise, book-ended by the hints of Spring, and peaceful calm it evokes from a hard, untrusting soul. Thank you, Spring, please join us!
More deep breaths needed to pass through these months ahead.
Monday, February 22, 2010
just because
What a whirlwind the past couple of months have been, and there's no sign of it stopping!
Just want to shout out to Mike that I love you and our life together. Our Enchilada dinner was delicious tonight, yummm. And thanks for all your help with our little W.
Happy feasting to all!
Just want to shout out to Mike that I love you and our life together. Our Enchilada dinner was delicious tonight, yummm. And thanks for all your help with our little W.
Happy feasting to all!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
closing time
Ohhhh, to relax. Yes, take it in - deep breath - ahhhhh.
How often does that happen?
Snow day number 2, today. For only the second time in 10 years has the daycare closed for an entire day of work. But, for two days in a row? Apparently insane weather must be happening, and we're receiving the benefit of this stormy week by staying home for some snow days! I know, it sounds so enticing and glorious and all things magical that hot chocolate and sledding bring about. But, let me remind you - I'm not in school, I just work there! And so, responsibilities you never had to worry about when meeting your neighbor in the middle of the street to play some winter capture-the-flag, or have a snowball fight, those responsibilities you vaguely remember seeing your mom orchestrate, have come back to haunt you.
Let my lack of going to the gym lately, for instance, not fool you. I have worked out plenty, just not under the roof of an organized facility with weights, treadmills, and meatheads. Aside from walking running and tuckering out with Windsor and all her puppy-antics, Philadelphia has been hit, and hit hard with snow. Just last weekend we got around 20 inches, and then three days later, this Wednesday into Thursday we got another 20 or so. Shoveling 6 cars in less than a week (4 in the past two days), has proven to be very, very tiresome. Back aches are not overrated. But shoveling with guts and glory to get the job done can make the bach ache overlooked. So I am thankful that the past shoveling escapades have not been lonely, either. Whether we were digging out the cars to go to work, or just to break up the day, there have been plenty of neighborhood friends out and about with their (real) shovels doing the same. And fortunately, their efforts keep them motivated enough to come by and assist us, and trust me, I am so grateful! I am proud of the way I can dig out a car, but to do it in half the time, means a lot!
It's eerie to see how stranded we get when a snow like this does occur. Growing up in Maine, I remember most winters with lots of snow. I remember waiting for the school bus one day, standing in about 6 inches, with more snow coming down on us, and our neighbors down the street screaming, "Guess what? School got canceled!" Elated, my sisters and I started our tundra tumble back home which smelled of firewood and chicken soup - only to be cast back to our stop when the boys snickered yelling, "Just kidding!"
Then there was the Ice Storm of '98. Wow, that is a distant memory. We were one of the lucky families on our side of town who only lost power for four days. Others in Maine were without for over two weeks. Sheets of ice just covered every inch around us, and packed down the snow so much that my sisters and I were literally riding bicycles out ON the fields behind our house. Seriously, we have pictures to prove it.
But here in PA, though still a part of the Northeast, the city of Philadelphia and neighboring suburbs are so frequently sans-snow even in the midst of winter, that a New England dusting (1-3 inches) will cause schools to cancel classes and extracirricular activities even the night before the snow accumulates! At first I laughed seeing schools close over such a small amount. I mean it's like your parents tell you how they, "walked uphill both ways in the snow." That's how I feel! And part of this is Maine, or choosing to attend Syracuse where snowfall was not only a season, but a second mascot to Otto the Orange. I mean snow happens, but you deal with it.
So, this morning when I got another phone call about not going into work because of snow, I smiled for two reasons. One, c'mon, Philly we can do this. Second, hey a day off, despite the shoveling, is still a day off. And when you're working full-time no matter what you do, any day to kick up your feet is appreciated. Now we just need to get people around here used to the fact that the groundhog did see his shadow, so we've got about 5 more weeks of this stormy weather! Time to go out and buy that pair of boots and ice scraper you never thought you would need. Until then, time to take Windsor out for a romp in the snow! Love that it is taller than she is, and she couldn't care less. That's what snow days should feel like.
How often does that happen?
Snow day number 2, today. For only the second time in 10 years has the daycare closed for an entire day of work. But, for two days in a row? Apparently insane weather must be happening, and we're receiving the benefit of this stormy week by staying home for some snow days! I know, it sounds so enticing and glorious and all things magical that hot chocolate and sledding bring about. But, let me remind you - I'm not in school, I just work there! And so, responsibilities you never had to worry about when meeting your neighbor in the middle of the street to play some winter capture-the-flag, or have a snowball fight, those responsibilities you vaguely remember seeing your mom orchestrate, have come back to haunt you.
Let my lack of going to the gym lately, for instance, not fool you. I have worked out plenty, just not under the roof of an organized facility with weights, treadmills, and meatheads. Aside from walking running and tuckering out with Windsor and all her puppy-antics, Philadelphia has been hit, and hit hard with snow. Just last weekend we got around 20 inches, and then three days later, this Wednesday into Thursday we got another 20 or so. Shoveling 6 cars in less than a week (4 in the past two days), has proven to be very, very tiresome. Back aches are not overrated. But shoveling with guts and glory to get the job done can make the bach ache overlooked. So I am thankful that the past shoveling escapades have not been lonely, either. Whether we were digging out the cars to go to work, or just to break up the day, there have been plenty of neighborhood friends out and about with their (real) shovels doing the same. And fortunately, their efforts keep them motivated enough to come by and assist us, and trust me, I am so grateful! I am proud of the way I can dig out a car, but to do it in half the time, means a lot!
It's eerie to see how stranded we get when a snow like this does occur. Growing up in Maine, I remember most winters with lots of snow. I remember waiting for the school bus one day, standing in about 6 inches, with more snow coming down on us, and our neighbors down the street screaming, "Guess what? School got canceled!" Elated, my sisters and I started our tundra tumble back home which smelled of firewood and chicken soup - only to be cast back to our stop when the boys snickered yelling, "Just kidding!"
Then there was the Ice Storm of '98. Wow, that is a distant memory. We were one of the lucky families on our side of town who only lost power for four days. Others in Maine were without for over two weeks. Sheets of ice just covered every inch around us, and packed down the snow so much that my sisters and I were literally riding bicycles out ON the fields behind our house. Seriously, we have pictures to prove it.
But here in PA, though still a part of the Northeast, the city of Philadelphia and neighboring suburbs are so frequently sans-snow even in the midst of winter, that a New England dusting (1-3 inches) will cause schools to cancel classes and extracirricular activities even the night before the snow accumulates! At first I laughed seeing schools close over such a small amount. I mean it's like your parents tell you how they, "walked uphill both ways in the snow." That's how I feel! And part of this is Maine, or choosing to attend Syracuse where snowfall was not only a season, but a second mascot to Otto the Orange. I mean snow happens, but you deal with it.
So, this morning when I got another phone call about not going into work because of snow, I smiled for two reasons. One, c'mon, Philly we can do this. Second, hey a day off, despite the shoveling, is still a day off. And when you're working full-time no matter what you do, any day to kick up your feet is appreciated. Now we just need to get people around here used to the fact that the groundhog did see his shadow, so we've got about 5 more weeks of this stormy weather! Time to go out and buy that pair of boots and ice scraper you never thought you would need. Until then, time to take Windsor out for a romp in the snow! Love that it is taller than she is, and she couldn't care less. That's what snow days should feel like.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
7 days
I know that I have talked a lot about timelines, and what can happen in a period of time. In my last post, I discussed perspective and what sorts of angles one takes on his or her life, depending on the situation at hand. So, for this entry, let me just reinstate that much can happen in a week's time, any week of the year. But this week in particular has been pretty life-changing, since Mike and I brought home our first dog.
Not to be that kind of pet-owner/mom already - but she is completely fantastic. Yes, I believe she was our greatest choice, and like any parent or pet-owner, I suppose it is good to believe so! We searched for a couple weeks for litters online, and ended up calling a couple breeders in the area to go out and see some pups. She and her sister (the only 2 of 9 who were left) were so sweet, it was definitely hard not to want to take them both home. But the one we chose, had a little endearing teardrop-shaped spot under her right eye. Knowing what we wanted to name the dog (Windsor, and I will explain), we felt like the little bald "drop" was a perfect "Windsor wink." Plus, she nearly followed us right to the car after our first visit out to see her.
Sidebar: "Windsor" has been an inside joke/possible dog name for Michael and I since 2005. In college, I surprised him with a mini vacation to Philadelphia, where we were lucky enough to stay with my aunt, who at the time lived by the Art Museum in Center City. In order to do all the touristy things each day, we would walk by the Windsor Suites and Hotel off the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. The name just hit us like a "snooty" type of establishment - even though we're sure it's not! - and so we would tip our noses in the air walking by and pretend we had just come down from our room there and were on our way to observe the finest luxuries the City of Brotherly Love had to offer. ... Anyways, it's our own little story from our life together, and it just stuck with us all these years! Thus, little W's name, Windsor. :)
It was a great experience finding her and going through our selection process. The family had both Mom and Dad on site, so we could tell that she was going to be a big girl! Her mama is about 85-90lbs herself. But both parents were calm and excited to meet us too, licking our hands from behind their kennel. We brought little Windsor home and she was both excited, and a bit shy at first. No doubt, there was a number 1 & 2 accident in the house within 10 minutes of walking in. That first day of piddles in the house, we told each other, "Okay, here we go, this is what we signed up for, so let's gear up." We played, went for a quick walk. Attempted stairs (we live on the second floor of our apartment building), and tried our best just to make the first day be about her. Seemed to work, because she slept the whole night! Barking and whimpering surely ensued, but after about 10 minutes of crying, she put herself to sleep in her crate, and slept nearly 9 hours until waking her new Mama up on Sunday, around 6:45.
This past week has proven to be new, tiresome, challenging, but hopeful. We have met many people in our complex with dogs, and they all have opinions on her temperament and size. And about other dogs in the neighborhood. Truly, never would I have thought that you get a dog, and then you get neighborhood gossip. It's comical! There is an off-leash dog park by the complex's main office, and we interacted with some dogs there, and therefore gained some insight (both good and bad) to how people train their own puppies.
Coming home after working with kids all day, I find I am still working with a toddler, and then hearing what people want to say about Windsor, I know I am in the same boat with other "parents" as well. There is always a "way" to train your dog, or to raise your kids. At work, it can be a struggle just utilizing your philosophies with your company's, not to mention the requests of your clients (families) and the kids desires - hey, I believe their opinions matter, too! So with Windsor, even just in the past week, Mike and I are trying to accumulate all the positives and negatives of her desires, our background with raising pups with our families, our families' opinions and ideas about their experiences, professional outlets (stores and online), books, the Internet, all venues. There is much to be said about whose research and reputation matters most, so we're trying to take it all in, while doing what's best for our Windsor. Working full-time we have to think dearly about the time she spends in and out of her kennel. Mike can get home during lunch to take her out, which has been phenomenal, and while I feel somewhat guilty about this reality, she will (and has begun to already) adapt to her structure and routine. It's going to be what she knows, and let's face the fact that a dog just wants your love. So if you at least have that when you come home, she'll be happy happy happpy (wag wag wag!). Not to mention that weekends will be that much more special when she does get your extra time!
She has experienced a lot so far with us, and us, through owning her. Talk about switching up priorities and appreciations! Mike, thank you for waking up early with me to take care of her and to come home during lunch to do the same! She is worth it, I promise. And we have the next 12-15 years to live our best lives with her, and give her all the love we can offer in return for her undying affection.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
the beholder
I've been thinking a lot about this particular blog because of many different "downs" that have occurred - personal mishaps that have made me question perspective. What I feel may be important, and seriously wrong about my day (i.e. traffic jams in the morning and the evening, a cold that hasn't quit, a long day followed by a long class session ... lists can go on). Where does your list start? Where does it end? It's your perspective, you're allowed to confess what disappoints you, what frustrates you.
I guess my face was expressing my emotions earlier this week because a colleague asked me what was wrong. And unfortunately, it was the kind of passive-agressive question that left me feeling guilty about my frustrations, instead of feeling touched by a concerned coworker. Why do we judge others' issues in relation to our own? In relation to the world? A terrible, tragic earthquake shook Haiti two weeks ago, and many were lost. Many still missing. I worked with women from Haiti at my first daycare, and when the event happened, I knew I wanted to reach out to them. I felt compelled as a person who formerly worked with them and befriended them, to reach out. And it was an incredible feeling to do so. I felt connected to something hard they were going through, and then I turned inward to gain control on my perspective about what was bothering me. How could I come home and feel mad about a bad day that encompassed traffic, when I knew where all of my family was? How can I sit at home tonight and write a blog on my wireless internet connection, when there are hundreds of life-saving individuals down in Haiti, all over the world, without so much as a lightbulb to help them aid others?
I don't have the answers to these questions. There will always by cycles of life surrounding us. People are always dying. People are always raising money for great causes. Frivilous spending happens more than I care think about. People are always choosing to do what's right for them. The last statement is the best way I can sum up my feelings about perspective. Think about the quote "beauty is in the eye of the beholder." What if you swap out "beauty" for "perspective?" When someone asks you to "gain some perspective" is that an underminding way of that person to make you feel lousy? Why does "gaining" perspective cause so much guilt? Bad things happen to us, in small and large capacities. The strength of the demise can be shaped by our emotional and physical health. Whatever happens to you, happens to YOU. It can't be helped to feel like you're at your wits end sometimes. Just remember that it does get better. Life fluctuates so that we stay healthy. If we remained rigid, permanently happy, permanently guilty, we would break.
I don't want to break. I don't want to conform. I just want my perspective to be my own. For yours to be yours. I guess I'm not sure what do with perspective yet. But I can hold out. There will always be situations to make me feel like I should look back and question.
I guess my face was expressing my emotions earlier this week because a colleague asked me what was wrong. And unfortunately, it was the kind of passive-agressive question that left me feeling guilty about my frustrations, instead of feeling touched by a concerned coworker. Why do we judge others' issues in relation to our own? In relation to the world? A terrible, tragic earthquake shook Haiti two weeks ago, and many were lost. Many still missing. I worked with women from Haiti at my first daycare, and when the event happened, I knew I wanted to reach out to them. I felt compelled as a person who formerly worked with them and befriended them, to reach out. And it was an incredible feeling to do so. I felt connected to something hard they were going through, and then I turned inward to gain control on my perspective about what was bothering me. How could I come home and feel mad about a bad day that encompassed traffic, when I knew where all of my family was? How can I sit at home tonight and write a blog on my wireless internet connection, when there are hundreds of life-saving individuals down in Haiti, all over the world, without so much as a lightbulb to help them aid others?
I don't have the answers to these questions. There will always by cycles of life surrounding us. People are always dying. People are always raising money for great causes. Frivilous spending happens more than I care think about. People are always choosing to do what's right for them. The last statement is the best way I can sum up my feelings about perspective. Think about the quote "beauty is in the eye of the beholder." What if you swap out "beauty" for "perspective?" When someone asks you to "gain some perspective" is that an underminding way of that person to make you feel lousy? Why does "gaining" perspective cause so much guilt? Bad things happen to us, in small and large capacities. The strength of the demise can be shaped by our emotional and physical health. Whatever happens to you, happens to YOU. It can't be helped to feel like you're at your wits end sometimes. Just remember that it does get better. Life fluctuates so that we stay healthy. If we remained rigid, permanently happy, permanently guilty, we would break.
I don't want to break. I don't want to conform. I just want my perspective to be my own. For yours to be yours. I guess I'm not sure what do with perspective yet. But I can hold out. There will always be situations to make me feel like I should look back and question.
Friday, January 22, 2010
pretty woman
"The bad stuff is easier to believe. You ever notice that?"
Though I find this can be true, the positives do make their way in and stick around as long as they can make you feel better. It's been two weeks in the classroom at the new center, and I feel sick. Not sick of it, but sick: ill, queasy, and not used to the germs and mishaps that most kids have this time of year. If you've never worked with or had children of your own, let me tell you, their little noses run a lot. You know, the cute noses that turn that bright shade of pink when they romp in the snow and on the playground? Those noses. The noses that squirm and twitch and react to a sneeze that they didn't know was coming until it literally hit them square in the face - and probably all over you. Yes, these noses of which I am proud to again be around, and aim to keep dry, these noses have made me feel ill. Any teacher or parent will go through this immunization, and that's why I know this "bad stuff" will get better. I will take care of myself as best I can, and I will get over this headache that's always just present enough to remind me that I have one. But for now, this bad stuff really is just easier to acknowledge, since it's keeping me up at night and tired during the day and all...
Otherwise, work is going well. I work with a good core group of teachers, most who have been at the center long enough to become friends, but not so long that they're leaving me out :) There's a learning curve with any job to understand your new responsibilities. But working with children, families, and caregivers combined? That's a whole new set of drama and learning curves to be figured out. And I know, it would have been in my best interest to remind myself of that catty banter among women upon women upon women - I did grow up with 3 sisters and worked at 2 other daycare centers - but there's a hope that when you enter the working world that all of that irrationality, gossip, and just plain spitefulness will disappear. Let's just say that the group of women I work with are like any other, they talk, and they talk honestly! I mean, okay, who doesn't mind getting a little inter-center news from their coworkers now and again...at least for now, I'm try to simply nod and smile, and act as a sounding board. Everyone has their needs to vent, and I will always try to be a safe place for that to happen - even when I do it for myself in the car on the way home!
Class has also begun. I'm taking a Psychology course this semester (how convenient with a new job), and I hope the class will guide me to a new future of schooling, eventually leading to graduate school and whatever career I find gives my life and soul the most purpose. I admit, I never thought I would be a "career-oriented woman," in the simplest of terms. I felt like family was the only job I would ever know. And that may be the case for a while, raising our children and keeping house. Actually, I know this is the case, and have been promised by Mike that my dreams of being a stay-at home mom for some time will be expected. But I find conflict with this truth and other day-to-day anxieties that stream in from the exterior: When will I have my Master's Degree? What field do I wish to pursue? What kind of long-term goals am I making professionally to show that I am a committed employee? All of these questions and I must find answers; so, I sign up for classes, and swear to study for the GREs and move forward.
There's no room to believe that I have just one purpose. Motherhood. Career. Wife. Friend. Cook. Traveler. Blogger? There is no one direction in which my life will be lead. Certain fortunes will appear and all of these roles will meld together, in whichever fashion that I find most pleasant and wholesome for me. When Vivian tells Edward that the bad stuff is easier to believe, it comes from her experiences where she was told no, and that she wasn't good enough. I refuse to accept I am not good enough. But it can be easier to believe for a time that this is true, when my life is compared to someone else's. "Belief," the word itself, can be defined as: upholding a firm conviction based on the goodness or ability of something. I am good and able. I am maleable, and as something so flexible, I am everchanging. So I know that there will be days I will feel for better or for worse, depending on the belief surrounding me or within me.
I am just glad to be in a place in my life, and by that I mean a quarter-life stage, that permits me to question, and to question my beliefs. For I would rather have resolve some inquiries before I do fulfill more of my future roles. I am lucky to have two parents that believe in me. And I have parents I work for that believe in my care for their children. I work hard, and work harder to study well. I love and I give to whatever means the most for me. I want to absorb all the confidence in my life now, so that I can exude it for the children I work with, and those I have yet to meet. There will be reason for my life, and I will not stop believing in that.
Though I find this can be true, the positives do make their way in and stick around as long as they can make you feel better. It's been two weeks in the classroom at the new center, and I feel sick. Not sick of it, but sick: ill, queasy, and not used to the germs and mishaps that most kids have this time of year. If you've never worked with or had children of your own, let me tell you, their little noses run a lot. You know, the cute noses that turn that bright shade of pink when they romp in the snow and on the playground? Those noses. The noses that squirm and twitch and react to a sneeze that they didn't know was coming until it literally hit them square in the face - and probably all over you. Yes, these noses of which I am proud to again be around, and aim to keep dry, these noses have made me feel ill. Any teacher or parent will go through this immunization, and that's why I know this "bad stuff" will get better. I will take care of myself as best I can, and I will get over this headache that's always just present enough to remind me that I have one. But for now, this bad stuff really is just easier to acknowledge, since it's keeping me up at night and tired during the day and all...
Otherwise, work is going well. I work with a good core group of teachers, most who have been at the center long enough to become friends, but not so long that they're leaving me out :) There's a learning curve with any job to understand your new responsibilities. But working with children, families, and caregivers combined? That's a whole new set of drama and learning curves to be figured out. And I know, it would have been in my best interest to remind myself of that catty banter among women upon women upon women - I did grow up with 3 sisters and worked at 2 other daycare centers - but there's a hope that when you enter the working world that all of that irrationality, gossip, and just plain spitefulness will disappear. Let's just say that the group of women I work with are like any other, they talk, and they talk honestly! I mean, okay, who doesn't mind getting a little inter-center news from their coworkers now and again...at least for now, I'm try to simply nod and smile, and act as a sounding board. Everyone has their needs to vent, and I will always try to be a safe place for that to happen - even when I do it for myself in the car on the way home!
Class has also begun. I'm taking a Psychology course this semester (how convenient with a new job), and I hope the class will guide me to a new future of schooling, eventually leading to graduate school and whatever career I find gives my life and soul the most purpose. I admit, I never thought I would be a "career-oriented woman," in the simplest of terms. I felt like family was the only job I would ever know. And that may be the case for a while, raising our children and keeping house. Actually, I know this is the case, and have been promised by Mike that my dreams of being a stay-at home mom for some time will be expected. But I find conflict with this truth and other day-to-day anxieties that stream in from the exterior: When will I have my Master's Degree? What field do I wish to pursue? What kind of long-term goals am I making professionally to show that I am a committed employee? All of these questions and I must find answers; so, I sign up for classes, and swear to study for the GREs and move forward.
There's no room to believe that I have just one purpose. Motherhood. Career. Wife. Friend. Cook. Traveler. Blogger? There is no one direction in which my life will be lead. Certain fortunes will appear and all of these roles will meld together, in whichever fashion that I find most pleasant and wholesome for me. When Vivian tells Edward that the bad stuff is easier to believe, it comes from her experiences where she was told no, and that she wasn't good enough. I refuse to accept I am not good enough. But it can be easier to believe for a time that this is true, when my life is compared to someone else's. "Belief," the word itself, can be defined as: upholding a firm conviction based on the goodness or ability of something. I am good and able. I am maleable, and as something so flexible, I am everchanging. So I know that there will be days I will feel for better or for worse, depending on the belief surrounding me or within me.
I am just glad to be in a place in my life, and by that I mean a quarter-life stage, that permits me to question, and to question my beliefs. For I would rather have resolve some inquiries before I do fulfill more of my future roles. I am lucky to have two parents that believe in me. And I have parents I work for that believe in my care for their children. I work hard, and work harder to study well. I love and I give to whatever means the most for me. I want to absorb all the confidence in my life now, so that I can exude it for the children I work with, and those I have yet to meet. There will be reason for my life, and I will not stop believing in that.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
exception proves the rule
"They say home is where the heart is ..."
... so where does this leave me?
Happy New Year, by the way! Hopefully the first line there doesn't catch anybody off guard, or make it seem as if I'm sad about wishing I could be in 2 or 3 places at once. Christmas in Maine. It was just as it should have been. It actually proved to be more than wonderful, considering our parents hosting 7 others was seamless and joyous! It was such a treat to sit together on Christmas night and giggle at Mom who had to end up leaving the table with happy tears in her eyes, finally surrounded by all her immediate family, who were home for the holidays. Too cute.
The "others," as we labeled them for the weekend, enjoyed their newly-made stockings, and could only get away with rolling their eyes a couple of times at our quirky family traditions and "clique-esque" attitude. I hope it just made the three of them feel more included - we Michel's don't always know how weird we're acting, so we just assume anybody with us will act the same! (This may or may not be in direct reference to our first night home: 9 out to dinner at a big public restaurant, all of us loudly conversing, gallivanting amongst our beers and cheers.) Honestly, the entire weekend was a superb end to the festive season and really, to 2009.
Driving away from Maine, then, seemed a little more than strange and sad this time around. We had been involved in such good company, and I felt like my heartstrings were still tied up in the Christmas lights, yet Mike and I continued towards our home, where my heart also lies. I think that's why they call it heartache: because although there may be just one organ, the infinite love inside leaves little pieces of itself whereever you travel and share time with those who mean the most to you. It ached me so to leave my parents, my sisters, my dog and house; I ached to get back to the place I was trying to make my own.
Three days of work later, and it was another long weekend. (By the way, when's the next one?) On New Year's Eve I said goodbye, again, to a job I had been at for 10 months. It was meant to be interim, but the friendships made there will hopefully last far longer than my hours worked. It was a final separation from 2009, a definitive move into the new decade.
We headed up to Allentown to spend the 2010 celebration with a couple of friends. They had received much more snow than us in the week prior, so we were able to shoot off fireworks and sparklers that didn't need any extra glow other than the white blanket on the ground. The next day we simply hung out, relaxed, and met the new year with an utmost sense of calm. And while I don't usually make resolutions, I can only hope that future New Year celebrations would result in the same sense of tranquility and openess.
A heart in Maine, a heart in PA, a heart among friends. What of a new job? Would I find heart there? For the same childcare company I had worked for ten months ago, I began with them again this past Monday. It's amazing what you don't realize your heart is missing until it picks up the pieces where they were left. As mentioned, I found good companionship and value in the job I had made for myself while living in Pennsylvania so far. But, it was on this past Wednesday morning, when I was able to get in a toddler classroom again, that all the sentiments and joys of working with young children came flooding back to my veins. I do not believe that for my life, teaching is the goal. I offer up all of my gratitude and appreciation for what good teachers do every day of their careers. It's not for me. But the chance to work with kids again, to be watching them experience some of their first big moments (walking, speaking), that is something I don't believe I will ever tire of. Their first realizations that they exist, that their feelings matter, it's a unique time to be around them. More importantly, you realize how good it you had it when someone knocking over your block tower was the saddest part of your day. I would give anything for a two hour nap right now.
The heart is such a unique aspect of our being. Its primary functions may not be to commemorate, laugh or cry. But it does. All memories of our past and the riches we discover today are felt by our heart, and when we feel such things so profoundly, the heart really says it all. I have left pieces of it in different places, and for different people. Some people have taken advantage of my heart. But today, I am happy for its diffusion amidst my life experiences, I can recall on them whenever I want. I just use my heart to help me remember.
... so where does this leave me?
Happy New Year, by the way! Hopefully the first line there doesn't catch anybody off guard, or make it seem as if I'm sad about wishing I could be in 2 or 3 places at once. Christmas in Maine. It was just as it should have been. It actually proved to be more than wonderful, considering our parents hosting 7 others was seamless and joyous! It was such a treat to sit together on Christmas night and giggle at Mom who had to end up leaving the table with happy tears in her eyes, finally surrounded by all her immediate family, who were home for the holidays. Too cute.
The "others," as we labeled them for the weekend, enjoyed their newly-made stockings, and could only get away with rolling their eyes a couple of times at our quirky family traditions and "clique-esque" attitude. I hope it just made the three of them feel more included - we Michel's don't always know how weird we're acting, so we just assume anybody with us will act the same! (This may or may not be in direct reference to our first night home: 9 out to dinner at a big public restaurant, all of us loudly conversing, gallivanting amongst our beers and cheers.) Honestly, the entire weekend was a superb end to the festive season and really, to 2009.
Driving away from Maine, then, seemed a little more than strange and sad this time around. We had been involved in such good company, and I felt like my heartstrings were still tied up in the Christmas lights, yet Mike and I continued towards our home, where my heart also lies. I think that's why they call it heartache: because although there may be just one organ, the infinite love inside leaves little pieces of itself whereever you travel and share time with those who mean the most to you. It ached me so to leave my parents, my sisters, my dog and house; I ached to get back to the place I was trying to make my own.
Three days of work later, and it was another long weekend. (By the way, when's the next one?) On New Year's Eve I said goodbye, again, to a job I had been at for 10 months. It was meant to be interim, but the friendships made there will hopefully last far longer than my hours worked. It was a final separation from 2009, a definitive move into the new decade.
We headed up to Allentown to spend the 2010 celebration with a couple of friends. They had received much more snow than us in the week prior, so we were able to shoot off fireworks and sparklers that didn't need any extra glow other than the white blanket on the ground. The next day we simply hung out, relaxed, and met the new year with an utmost sense of calm. And while I don't usually make resolutions, I can only hope that future New Year celebrations would result in the same sense of tranquility and openess.
A heart in Maine, a heart in PA, a heart among friends. What of a new job? Would I find heart there? For the same childcare company I had worked for ten months ago, I began with them again this past Monday. It's amazing what you don't realize your heart is missing until it picks up the pieces where they were left. As mentioned, I found good companionship and value in the job I had made for myself while living in Pennsylvania so far. But, it was on this past Wednesday morning, when I was able to get in a toddler classroom again, that all the sentiments and joys of working with young children came flooding back to my veins. I do not believe that for my life, teaching is the goal. I offer up all of my gratitude and appreciation for what good teachers do every day of their careers. It's not for me. But the chance to work with kids again, to be watching them experience some of their first big moments (walking, speaking), that is something I don't believe I will ever tire of. Their first realizations that they exist, that their feelings matter, it's a unique time to be around them. More importantly, you realize how good it you had it when someone knocking over your block tower was the saddest part of your day. I would give anything for a two hour nap right now.
The heart is such a unique aspect of our being. Its primary functions may not be to commemorate, laugh or cry. But it does. All memories of our past and the riches we discover today are felt by our heart, and when we feel such things so profoundly, the heart really says it all. I have left pieces of it in different places, and for different people. Some people have taken advantage of my heart. But today, I am happy for its diffusion amidst my life experiences, I can recall on them whenever I want. I just use my heart to help me remember.
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