January 1st! Happy New Year. Apparently, I was anxiously awaiting this day to ensure that my writing another post would in fact happen in '11, and here it is. No worries, nothing of incredibly noteworthy importance, but it's nice to be sitting at my desk with a second cup of coffee at nearly 3pm, having been allowed to sleep until 11:30 this morning by my husband(!), and to be enjoying another two (well, 1.5 now) days of relaxing with Mike and the dog until the "Monday grind" begins again...
Well, Christmas was a wonderful collection of family and fun this year, as it normally is, but this year like Thanksgiving, our first as a bethrothed newlywed pairing. Windsor also really enjoyed getting to see her friend, Mike's family dog, over the break and teasing one another by dangling toys in front of each other to engage in a little "tag" and "chase." Mike's family also took her out two days in a row for some trail runs, tuckering her out nicely for our long commute on Sunday home! Much eating, much gift unwrapping, and many memories shared over a few days. Enjoyable to connect with other family members in Maine and across the country on 12.25, so another holiday season delightfully came to a close.
Is New Year's Eve a holiday season starter or end? Not sure, really. Our neighbor had to work last night, and it was her only holiday she'll have to work in 2011, so I guess it could be perceived as the beginning. And the with champagne drunk and kisses given after the ball drops, technically after the old year is washed away with confetti, we begin anew. However, there is all this anticipation to the NYE night. Sales at department stores highlighting insane percentage drops so sequin tops and platform shoes will be worn to your bustling event that culminates the former year. And aside from the numerical notation of this calendar transition, is no other night during the 12 months as spectacular? Perhaps not so much attention should be granted to the great division among years, but the energy which connects them.
Whether or not you believe the year is ending or the new year is beginning, whether or not you want to place your hopes in the resolutions of what is to be, or bask in the joys of what you have already accomplished, know this: The excitement which leads up to 11:59 and maintains after 12:00 is something that should be endured throughout Jan-Dec. If we could take the happiness and spirit between each changing year throughout our calendars, imagine all the possibilities for your life. Your school. Your home. Your family. Your goals, whatever they be. I only suggest living each morning hour into the afternoon, or the Mon- into Tuesday no matter what date, as if it were as special as the New Year instigates. Present moments enjoyed with nostalgic looks into what has been achieved, and with future mindsets engaged with a fervent purpose.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
out of the grey.
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.
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.
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.
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