Opportunity, that is.
Prior to this past week, I have been suffering a drought in my life. There have been little actual and promisingly realistic opportunities. This is not as depressing as it may sound, I just have not had that really positive feeling about something in a long time. Now I am feeling it about almost too many opportunities, if that is possible.
I definitely feel as if I am at a major crossroads in my professional life right this moment. I feel as if it raining chance, and I am just waiting for the thunder and lightening to make this experience even more dramatic.
I don't want to sound selfish. Here I am, with two advances in my life, possibly just within my finger tips, yet I am nervous about one and both.
I don't think I have more than I can handle, I just don't know how to accurately predict the future, and thus do not know how to proceed in such a way that guarantees my success without the expense of someone elses'.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Sweetest Thing
This evening, my husband and I are watching "Happy Feet" for the first time, and several thoughts are coming to mind....
Firstly, it is incredible that penguins mate for life. I think this is so beautiful, and really incredible that they are able to understand the importance and the precious gift monogamy is. Monogamy, as far as I am concerned, is much more than simply reducing the urge to sleep with someone else. It is a commitment, yes, however, one that goes beyond physical intimacy. It is about generously sharing responsibilities, loving and cherishing every bit of a person, and promising yourself and your partner a lifetime of love.
Also, I am toying with the idea that the reason penguins are able to remain monogamous is because the male partner shares a lot of the parenting responsibility. While the female goes off to work, she trusts her male partner with the child, trusts him enough to leave. In a comical sense, this would reduce the chance of infidelity by 50%- it would be pretty difficult to seduce another female with an egg between your legs. However, to assume this is why they can be monogamous would be sexist, yet it is a funny thought. I do believe that the sharing and equal distribution of responsibility does aid in a successful, and monogamous, relationship.
Speaking of lifetime relationships, I currently read to a senior man who is in his nineties. His wife and him will be celebrating their 68th anniversary tomorrow, and I think this is so amazing and admirable. This afternoon, I went to the bakery and spent a considerable amount of time choosing a cake for such a beautiful relationship. This was no easy task. If it were a cake for myself, it would have taken less than five minutes, however, aside from the fact that I do not know their taste, I also wanted to ensure that my gift would show how much I honor and respect their commitment to one and other. Sixty-eight years calls for much more than a Red Velvet Cake topped with Cream Cheese Icing, but I know they will appreciate every bite. They are the sweetest couple, and deserve so much more than I can give them, yet they already have so much more, and they give it to one and other.
I hope in 67 years, my husband and I will find ourselves devouring a Red Velvet, Cream Cheese Iced cake, and will find that there is nothing sweeter in life than true love with a soul mate whom has made a monogamous promise and kept it.
Firstly, it is incredible that penguins mate for life. I think this is so beautiful, and really incredible that they are able to understand the importance and the precious gift monogamy is. Monogamy, as far as I am concerned, is much more than simply reducing the urge to sleep with someone else. It is a commitment, yes, however, one that goes beyond physical intimacy. It is about generously sharing responsibilities, loving and cherishing every bit of a person, and promising yourself and your partner a lifetime of love.
Also, I am toying with the idea that the reason penguins are able to remain monogamous is because the male partner shares a lot of the parenting responsibility. While the female goes off to work, she trusts her male partner with the child, trusts him enough to leave. In a comical sense, this would reduce the chance of infidelity by 50%- it would be pretty difficult to seduce another female with an egg between your legs. However, to assume this is why they can be monogamous would be sexist, yet it is a funny thought. I do believe that the sharing and equal distribution of responsibility does aid in a successful, and monogamous, relationship.
Speaking of lifetime relationships, I currently read to a senior man who is in his nineties. His wife and him will be celebrating their 68th anniversary tomorrow, and I think this is so amazing and admirable. This afternoon, I went to the bakery and spent a considerable amount of time choosing a cake for such a beautiful relationship. This was no easy task. If it were a cake for myself, it would have taken less than five minutes, however, aside from the fact that I do not know their taste, I also wanted to ensure that my gift would show how much I honor and respect their commitment to one and other. Sixty-eight years calls for much more than a Red Velvet Cake topped with Cream Cheese Icing, but I know they will appreciate every bite. They are the sweetest couple, and deserve so much more than I can give them, yet they already have so much more, and they give it to one and other.
I hope in 67 years, my husband and I will find ourselves devouring a Red Velvet, Cream Cheese Iced cake, and will find that there is nothing sweeter in life than true love with a soul mate whom has made a monogamous promise and kept it.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Visiting Reciprocity
On an older blog, and in many of my personal journal entries, I have discussed my contempt against people who do not follow the norm of reciprocity. Today during one of my classes, we actually discussed equality and reciprocity within relationships, and my professor picked up on my smug grin. Had this conversation and lesson taken place a year ago, I may not have been so content with my thoughts. The professor called on me to share my thoughts, and I told the class about my experience with a "friend" whom I was a slave to for practically seven years. It was not until I truly gained the courage to focus on the meaning of the relationship that I realized I had been putting in a lot of work, and truly, for nothing. Once I realized that I actually did not care whether or not this person and I were friends, and after we had a very civil conversation following another one of her selfish events, I felt totally liberated and freed.
So, as I explained, my smug grin was a product of my liberation. There really is nothing sweeter than when you can finally be honest about something or someone or some relationship, nothing more empowering that realizing that you have a choice. For so long, I did whatever it took to make her happy, and I truly have no clue why. I think it was simply to avoid listening to her complain, which she did anyhow.
It also is ironic that while out Saturday night I somewhat ran into her, and although we did not talk to one and other, I am pretty sure we both know where the other stands.
In closing, I think reciprocity is the most important gift you can give to someone else. In many of my relationships, there is a strong sense of equality, and those are the relationships that I hold dear, and not because I am getting as much out of them as the other person. Reciprocity creates respect and is best done when it goes under the radar, when no one is keeping score of who does what.
So, as I explained, my smug grin was a product of my liberation. There really is nothing sweeter than when you can finally be honest about something or someone or some relationship, nothing more empowering that realizing that you have a choice. For so long, I did whatever it took to make her happy, and I truly have no clue why. I think it was simply to avoid listening to her complain, which she did anyhow.
It also is ironic that while out Saturday night I somewhat ran into her, and although we did not talk to one and other, I am pretty sure we both know where the other stands.
In closing, I think reciprocity is the most important gift you can give to someone else. In many of my relationships, there is a strong sense of equality, and those are the relationships that I hold dear, and not because I am getting as much out of them as the other person. Reciprocity creates respect and is best done when it goes under the radar, when no one is keeping score of who does what.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Although I venture out in the world daily, and encounter many people and witness many encounters, I have not written in ages, and I think in a writer's world, decades. Allow me to catch up on some encounters:
I started reading to a senior who resides within a nursing home with his wife. He is over ninety years of age, and simply one of the sweetest people I have met. He sits in his wheelchair, facing me, and I read the headlines from the newspaper, carefully skipping the news about rape and murder. I don't think I am protecting him, but myself, from having to actually say those words in front of such a nice human being. He is cognitively well, and I do not know what experience left him bound to his chair. I do have to admit, as much as I adore him, I worry throughout my entire visit that he will have a stroke. This is a symptom of my paranoia.
The swine flu is making me sick. Fortunately, I have not actually been plagued with it, at least not literally. I am very scared of the flu in general, yet I cannot explain why. I am a healthy adult, who takes in plenty of antioxidants and gets plenty of exercise, so I know the flu won't kill me. I am so paranoid about getting it though, I actually despise people who are sick and near me. At the salon where I work, I am constantly in the line of fire- that is, people coughing in my face and telling me their ill-fated stories regarding their encounter with the flu. My extreme efforts (taking Airborne, washing my hands for at least twenty seconds, wiping down everything with Clorox wipes, checking my temperature several times a day despite the absence of any symptoms), are really taking over. Maybe this is a control issue for me.
During my Thanksgiving gatherings, I was ignored by a child who was intent on watching the football game, claiming his male standpoint. I finally gave up trying to talk to him, and offered to get him something to snack on, to which he replied, "That would be good," without peeling his eyes from the television. They start early these days, which only proves to me that this behavior may simply be inborn.
There have been more, but it is unfair for me to create an enormous post in a selfish attempt to prove to myself that I am a dedicated writer. I need to strength to write everyday. I need to make the time.
I started reading to a senior who resides within a nursing home with his wife. He is over ninety years of age, and simply one of the sweetest people I have met. He sits in his wheelchair, facing me, and I read the headlines from the newspaper, carefully skipping the news about rape and murder. I don't think I am protecting him, but myself, from having to actually say those words in front of such a nice human being. He is cognitively well, and I do not know what experience left him bound to his chair. I do have to admit, as much as I adore him, I worry throughout my entire visit that he will have a stroke. This is a symptom of my paranoia.
The swine flu is making me sick. Fortunately, I have not actually been plagued with it, at least not literally. I am very scared of the flu in general, yet I cannot explain why. I am a healthy adult, who takes in plenty of antioxidants and gets plenty of exercise, so I know the flu won't kill me. I am so paranoid about getting it though, I actually despise people who are sick and near me. At the salon where I work, I am constantly in the line of fire- that is, people coughing in my face and telling me their ill-fated stories regarding their encounter with the flu. My extreme efforts (taking Airborne, washing my hands for at least twenty seconds, wiping down everything with Clorox wipes, checking my temperature several times a day despite the absence of any symptoms), are really taking over. Maybe this is a control issue for me.
During my Thanksgiving gatherings, I was ignored by a child who was intent on watching the football game, claiming his male standpoint. I finally gave up trying to talk to him, and offered to get him something to snack on, to which he replied, "That would be good," without peeling his eyes from the television. They start early these days, which only proves to me that this behavior may simply be inborn.
There have been more, but it is unfair for me to create an enormous post in a selfish attempt to prove to myself that I am a dedicated writer. I need to strength to write everyday. I need to make the time.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
I hope the Universe Comes Through
I have been so busy, that I have not had the chance to write AT ALL. I am very saddened by this, and really do not have the time right now as this is "our" TV night. I am home from work early for once, and feel guilty that the only thing I can think about right now is blogging and checking other blogs that I follow.
On an equally distrubing note, a job I applied for is no longer seeking employment. Another job I have an interview with next Thursday has asked if we can reschedule. Is the Universe listening to me? I have been doing all sorts of "Secret" things, like envisioning myself a published writer, or at the very least a woman wearing reallt fancy business clothes, finding herself in a new- and rewarding- profession. None of this has happened yet, and the "Secret" tells me to wait, to not act, as the actions will fall into place as they should.
I am constantly in fear that every move I make ends up one step backwards. Although I make attempts to head foward, I seem to fall a step behind my intentions. I know things will happen, they must happen
On an equally distrubing note, a job I applied for is no longer seeking employment. Another job I have an interview with next Thursday has asked if we can reschedule. Is the Universe listening to me? I have been doing all sorts of "Secret" things, like envisioning myself a published writer, or at the very least a woman wearing reallt fancy business clothes, finding herself in a new- and rewarding- profession. None of this has happened yet, and the "Secret" tells me to wait, to not act, as the actions will fall into place as they should.
I am constantly in fear that every move I make ends up one step backwards. Although I make attempts to head foward, I seem to fall a step behind my intentions. I know things will happen, they must happen
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Taste of My Own Medicine
We are all guilty of it. It is rude, disrespectful, bias, yet we can not help ourselves but do it. Everyone does it, one way or another, at one point in their lives-and dare I say day-or another. It is passing judgment, making fun of someone, snickering, creating a connection with other people sharing knowing glaces, grins, and smirks. Someone says something or does something, and we are all almost always thinking the same thing. We all do it, yet we all can't believe it when we are a victim of it. We feel betrayed by people we don't even know, ostracised by those we wouldn't even want to be connected with.
This afternoon, I experienced this, although I am unsure if it was firsthand, or a type of contact experience I had simply because I was sitting close enough to someone who I am sure hears the snickers, sees the glares, and shrinks a little more each day due his encounters with simply rude and judgemental people.
As I said before, we all do this, and despite my best intentions and what this blog entry says today, I am sure I will do it again.
There are a few people I am acquainted with that are very close with one and other, and seem to have the nonverbal cues down pat. They can converse with one and other practically without even looking at each other. Today, I felt as if they were openly judging me. Although, it could have just been a paranoid induced coincidence, they could have simply been whispering, exchanging glances, and stifling giggles at the exact moments I was speaking. Nonetheless, they also were entertained at the expense of this other person, the one who experiences this probably every day of their life. This person endures criticism, ostracism, and seems to feel a lack of confidence because of it, yet tries hard no to show it, or self-handicap by offering explanations that most people would use as ammunition.
I heard the explanation not too long ago, and I no longer look at this person differently out of pity, but simply because as a human being we all deserve, at the very least, a chance. Pass judgement if you like, after you know the story, the background of someone. At least give them that chance.
We all have encounters in our lives that result it us feeling like the other person, encounters that teach us a lesson about our own behavior. We can't change our taunting ways until we experience our actions ourselves. So, the best thing to do is learn from these, take each encounter as a lesson. Don't stop believing in change and in each other.
This afternoon, I experienced this, although I am unsure if it was firsthand, or a type of contact experience I had simply because I was sitting close enough to someone who I am sure hears the snickers, sees the glares, and shrinks a little more each day due his encounters with simply rude and judgemental people.
As I said before, we all do this, and despite my best intentions and what this blog entry says today, I am sure I will do it again.
There are a few people I am acquainted with that are very close with one and other, and seem to have the nonverbal cues down pat. They can converse with one and other practically without even looking at each other. Today, I felt as if they were openly judging me. Although, it could have just been a paranoid induced coincidence, they could have simply been whispering, exchanging glances, and stifling giggles at the exact moments I was speaking. Nonetheless, they also were entertained at the expense of this other person, the one who experiences this probably every day of their life. This person endures criticism, ostracism, and seems to feel a lack of confidence because of it, yet tries hard no to show it, or self-handicap by offering explanations that most people would use as ammunition.
I heard the explanation not too long ago, and I no longer look at this person differently out of pity, but simply because as a human being we all deserve, at the very least, a chance. Pass judgement if you like, after you know the story, the background of someone. At least give them that chance.
We all have encounters in our lives that result it us feeling like the other person, encounters that teach us a lesson about our own behavior. We can't change our taunting ways until we experience our actions ourselves. So, the best thing to do is learn from these, take each encounter as a lesson. Don't stop believing in change and in each other.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Plan of a 16 Year Old
This afternoon, at the salon, a tall and slender young man came in, interested in a walk-in appointment. I have cut his hair before, and knew what a respectful young man he is, so I volunteered to cut it for him.
This young man, and I say young man instead of boy because he truly is responsible enough to be considered a man. He is more responsible than some of the adult men I know. This person has a plan for the future, is already considering saving money for his retirement and his unborn children; already understands the high you get from buying your own items, like a car; the importance of a good education, and the steps necessary to reach his highly ambitious goals. (Some goals, let's be honest, that other hold are truly lacking ambition.)
After he left, I had mentioned to my boss and her client that had there been more young men like him when I was in high school, I may have made better decisions. Simply being in the presence of someone who is that young yet that wise really gives hope for the future. I hope his parents are proud of him, and I know he realizes his potential, which is a gift in itself.
This young man, and I say young man instead of boy because he truly is responsible enough to be considered a man. He is more responsible than some of the adult men I know. This person has a plan for the future, is already considering saving money for his retirement and his unborn children; already understands the high you get from buying your own items, like a car; the importance of a good education, and the steps necessary to reach his highly ambitious goals. (Some goals, let's be honest, that other hold are truly lacking ambition.)
After he left, I had mentioned to my boss and her client that had there been more young men like him when I was in high school, I may have made better decisions. Simply being in the presence of someone who is that young yet that wise really gives hope for the future. I hope his parents are proud of him, and I know he realizes his potential, which is a gift in itself.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
More on this Later....
All I have to say right now is, why does it feel so long that I have to wait for everyone to realize things I have already concluded?
I have great intuition. I just pick up on things, and I believe it is because I pay attention and I notice change, especially in peoples' behaviors. This is why I am able to call something before it evens happens, and no matter how many times people witness this, they don't buy it when I first say it.
I can just tell when something is "off," or when someone is portraying themselves differently than the person they actually are; or when someone is lying about something or has done something they should not do.
My most recent proof lies in the hardship of a friend. For the sake of his privacy right now, I won't give the details, however I was right.
Anyway, I just felt like tooting-my-own-horn over my intuition.
I have great intuition. I just pick up on things, and I believe it is because I pay attention and I notice change, especially in peoples' behaviors. This is why I am able to call something before it evens happens, and no matter how many times people witness this, they don't buy it when I first say it.
I can just tell when something is "off," or when someone is portraying themselves differently than the person they actually are; or when someone is lying about something or has done something they should not do.
My most recent proof lies in the hardship of a friend. For the sake of his privacy right now, I won't give the details, however I was right.
Anyway, I just felt like tooting-my-own-horn over my intuition.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
I am a Newlywed No-No
My poor, lonely, hardworking, neglected newlywedded husband. Even as I type this, he sits patiently beside me, all the while knowing we probably won't say much to each other tonight. We probably won't have any encounters anytime soon.
School is really leaving me pressed for time. I also, in addition to the two jobs I am currently working, have received an opportunity to freelance write. I was really excited the day I opened the email, I believe it was Tuesday morning. I sat at the computer and saw that the editor from a local newspaper had responded, saying she was willing to "give [me] a try." She drew up a freelance contract, and it is in the mail. Although I told her I have never done anything like this before, she does not seem to be too concerned. I have been only in email contact with her, I do not even know what this woman's voice sounds like. I hate to admit it, but I am already somewhat regretting this. Here are my list of reasons (this is something I should not do, I know....)
1). It is more of a reporting job, and I am not interested in journalism at all. Aside from the fact that I feel it will limit my freedom, I know that many journalists get into PR, and although I know I would neverdo that, I really do not want to head down the same/similar path.
2). I do not live in the town for this publication, thus I am unfamiliar with events, people and places.
3). It does not pay much. At all. Nothing. Well, something, but might as well be nothing.
4). I do not have time to attend events, ask questions, and report. I am a writer, not a reporter. This is not meant to devalue reporters, by any means. They have a tough, cut-throat, demanding job. But I hope they could admit that writing and reporting are different.
5). I have not experience, no clue, and the editor is leaving it up to me to figure it out.
I should be grateful for this opportunity, and I am.... Or I would be under different circumstances, ie., it was a chance to write what I want to write. Personal essays, columns, opinions, etc. I am going to go and cover a story at a nursing home type of place. (Why I keep encountering elderly people, I can not explain.) I am only going to contribute monthly, and who knows how long this will last. I am just stressing everything about it right now: the newsness, the ambiguity, the stress, the time constraint, the lack of experience. (I know, this will build on my experience.)
A fellow student mentioned in class the other day that he has a book waiting to be published. Although I have yet to put together all my projects and ideas I have in a ready-for-publication manner, I am still jealous, and feeling sorry for myself. I have got to do this. I have to write full time. This is my passion, my dream. I just don't know the "how" right now.
What I do know is that my gift from the people, the virus or whatever that caused me to endure laryngitis; my hectic school and work schedule; and my tendency to take on more obligations that I should is preventing me the most important person in my world. He has been patient, kind, considerate, loving, understanding, everything. And I know why, it is because he truly believes in me and knows that someday it will all be worth it.
He is my everything, and he is more than I need.
School is really leaving me pressed for time. I also, in addition to the two jobs I am currently working, have received an opportunity to freelance write. I was really excited the day I opened the email, I believe it was Tuesday morning. I sat at the computer and saw that the editor from a local newspaper had responded, saying she was willing to "give [me] a try." She drew up a freelance contract, and it is in the mail. Although I told her I have never done anything like this before, she does not seem to be too concerned. I have been only in email contact with her, I do not even know what this woman's voice sounds like. I hate to admit it, but I am already somewhat regretting this. Here are my list of reasons (this is something I should not do, I know....)
1). It is more of a reporting job, and I am not interested in journalism at all. Aside from the fact that I feel it will limit my freedom, I know that many journalists get into PR, and although I know I would neverdo that, I really do not want to head down the same/similar path.
2). I do not live in the town for this publication, thus I am unfamiliar with events, people and places.
3). It does not pay much. At all. Nothing. Well, something, but might as well be nothing.
4). I do not have time to attend events, ask questions, and report. I am a writer, not a reporter. This is not meant to devalue reporters, by any means. They have a tough, cut-throat, demanding job. But I hope they could admit that writing and reporting are different.
5). I have not experience, no clue, and the editor is leaving it up to me to figure it out.
I should be grateful for this opportunity, and I am.... Or I would be under different circumstances, ie., it was a chance to write what I want to write. Personal essays, columns, opinions, etc. I am going to go and cover a story at a nursing home type of place. (Why I keep encountering elderly people, I can not explain.) I am only going to contribute monthly, and who knows how long this will last. I am just stressing everything about it right now: the newsness, the ambiguity, the stress, the time constraint, the lack of experience. (I know, this will build on my experience.)
A fellow student mentioned in class the other day that he has a book waiting to be published. Although I have yet to put together all my projects and ideas I have in a ready-for-publication manner, I am still jealous, and feeling sorry for myself. I have got to do this. I have to write full time. This is my passion, my dream. I just don't know the "how" right now.
What I do know is that my gift from the people, the virus or whatever that caused me to endure laryngitis; my hectic school and work schedule; and my tendency to take on more obligations that I should is preventing me the most important person in my world. He has been patient, kind, considerate, loving, understanding, everything. And I know why, it is because he truly believes in me and knows that someday it will all be worth it.
He is my everything, and he is more than I need.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
A Gift from the People
Well, back to reality in this germ-infested world. After a nice two week minimoon, I got back into the full swing of things with school and work. Both places involve face to face communication with people, and the latter requires me to actually be hands-on with the public (I am a hair stylist, I figured I shouldd clear that up so I don't sound shady!). Begining on Thursday, I noticed a little tickle in my throat, which I attributed to smoking cigarettes. I normally do not smoke full-time, I am a part-time, social smoker, however first week back in reality found me smoking a butt or two in the evening.
Friday, it was worse. Everyone I talked to agreed it must be allergies. Thank you, end of summer pollutants and allergens. Saturday, work was busy and I talked all day, even though it was painful. By Saturday evening, my voice was that of a phone-sex operator. My neck ached, it hurt to even turn my head. Sunday morning, this morning, I woke up way too early for a Sunday, with the most painful throbbing all around my neck. No voice, and a bit of a headache. A visit to the Urgent Care unit nearby resulted in the diagnosis that due to my recent heavy exposure to people has resulted in a viral infection that is attacking my vocal chords, throat and tonsils. No talking for me for several days, and my husband is THRILLED. This is hard, this not talking thing. It feels lonely :(
Friday, it was worse. Everyone I talked to agreed it must be allergies. Thank you, end of summer pollutants and allergens. Saturday, work was busy and I talked all day, even though it was painful. By Saturday evening, my voice was that of a phone-sex operator. My neck ached, it hurt to even turn my head. Sunday morning, this morning, I woke up way too early for a Sunday, with the most painful throbbing all around my neck. No voice, and a bit of a headache. A visit to the Urgent Care unit nearby resulted in the diagnosis that due to my recent heavy exposure to people has resulted in a viral infection that is attacking my vocal chords, throat and tonsils. No talking for me for several days, and my husband is THRILLED. This is hard, this not talking thing. It feels lonely :(
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
This morning I went on a tour with my class to an assisted living residence. The building was gorgeous, it seemed more like a hotel resort than the sterotypical "home." As we walked through, we noticed that many of the residents also did not fit the description of residents in such a building. Most of them were self-sufficiant, and I figured if I had the money, I would probably live some place that has a housekeeper and provides three meals a day, not to mention the ammenities and activities. They had a pool, I mean, this place was nicer than most of the apartments my friends live in.
After awhile on the tour, we came across a wing of the building, seemingly tucked deep within it, where the other residents lived. We walked through a small room that had a few tables set up, resembling a breakroom. Within it there were several woman who looked as if they had no clue what was going on, and if they did, they did not seem happy about it. I suddenly felt embarrassed for them, even if some of them could not possibly feel embarrassment anymore. I felt as if someone should have warned them that a group of healthy, young students would be parading through their home, as if it were some type of field trip. It was just so saddening to see the one woman, head hanging back in her wheelchair, eyes closed as if she was in the eternal sleep. I literally had to look several times to make sure she was breathing.
Then there was a woman who looked simply distressed that we were there, and even more upset that she could no longer formulate the words to describe her emotions. She looked like maybe she had had a stroke, and I almost felt the worst for her.
It was sad, and made me think a lot about what happens on this ride. I want to live each day as if I would live it all over again. I want to always have that feeling that I just had the best experience of my life. And, I think I should be thankful for what I have now. Sure, for most people getting older is a smooth, uninterupted ride that everyone would want to take, however for some getting older is hardly their golden years. Instead, it can be the darkest and most lonliest years of their lives, and I think we forget that too often.
I think that by engaging in this project for the class I am, I will get more out of the experience than the elderly people I encounter.
After awhile on the tour, we came across a wing of the building, seemingly tucked deep within it, where the other residents lived. We walked through a small room that had a few tables set up, resembling a breakroom. Within it there were several woman who looked as if they had no clue what was going on, and if they did, they did not seem happy about it. I suddenly felt embarrassed for them, even if some of them could not possibly feel embarrassment anymore. I felt as if someone should have warned them that a group of healthy, young students would be parading through their home, as if it were some type of field trip. It was just so saddening to see the one woman, head hanging back in her wheelchair, eyes closed as if she was in the eternal sleep. I literally had to look several times to make sure she was breathing.
Then there was a woman who looked simply distressed that we were there, and even more upset that she could no longer formulate the words to describe her emotions. She looked like maybe she had had a stroke, and I almost felt the worst for her.
It was sad, and made me think a lot about what happens on this ride. I want to live each day as if I would live it all over again. I want to always have that feeling that I just had the best experience of my life. And, I think I should be thankful for what I have now. Sure, for most people getting older is a smooth, uninterupted ride that everyone would want to take, however for some getting older is hardly their golden years. Instead, it can be the darkest and most lonliest years of their lives, and I think we forget that too often.
I think that by engaging in this project for the class I am, I will get more out of the experience than the elderly people I encounter.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A Glimpse....
Today I watched one of my professor's discuss how gratified she feels by her career, how each encounter in her life has led to this position. She commented on how she will always remain in this career, and that she is finally doing something that incorporates all that she has ever enjoyed doing.
As I listened along with the other students, I felt, for the first time in my life this could be my future. I more than felt, I could see myself in her position, or at least something very similar. Maybe I just want the feeling of overjoy that she has over something most people feel as if they have to do: work. It could be the career or simply the happiness associated with finally feeling accomplished.
After hearing her, I truly felt more motivated, and this is something that I have been feeling a lot lately. Like something great is about to happen, and I am just a tiny ripple in the ocean that is about to explode into a smooth, swift wave of positive encounters. Today, I feel empowered by possibility.
As I listened along with the other students, I felt, for the first time in my life this could be my future. I more than felt, I could see myself in her position, or at least something very similar. Maybe I just want the feeling of overjoy that she has over something most people feel as if they have to do: work. It could be the career or simply the happiness associated with finally feeling accomplished.
After hearing her, I truly felt more motivated, and this is something that I have been feeling a lot lately. Like something great is about to happen, and I am just a tiny ripple in the ocean that is about to explode into a smooth, swift wave of positive encounters. Today, I feel empowered by possibility.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Graying America
My fall semester kicked off today with my first class being one I have been looking forward to: The course is a psychology class, which focuses on adult development and the aging process. During the professor's introduction, I learned that not only will I have to attend class twice a week (truly a non-issue, I have not missed a class since I began my college career), however I also need to commit about an hour each week to an elderly person or persons. This causes me discomfort, and not because I am afraid of elderly people, as some of my classmates confessed. I am afraid I do not have the time to commit. My schedule is hectic this session, and I barely have an hour a day to shower and primp, let alone spend with a stranger.
After class I went to the grocery store to buy some cheese for the burgers we would be having this evening. The deli lady, I swear, is someone I know, yet each time I see her, we have nothing more than a professional grocer interaction. I can not place who she is or where she is from. I was starving, and seriously contemplating eating the cheese I had just ordered in the car on the way home and then tell my hubby I forgot to buy some. Then I thought of the calories, so I popped a piece of gum in and told my belly to hold off the bitchfest until I got home and could get a healthy, dairy-free lunch.
During the day, there are not many registers open at the grocery store, and much to my belly and my own dismay, the one that was for 14 items or less had three seniors standing in it, each with a basket full of what I expected to be more than 14 items. I saw the fourth and final senior making her way to the line, and I snuck in, attempting to beat her to the position. She saw me. I felt embarrassed, so I let her go ahead. Then she insisted I go, as I only had my cheese. I suddenly felt cheesier then, well, you know, the cheese. Then the lady in front of me insisted I go ahead, and the final lady who already had her items on the conveyor belt (which, by the way, only invites more than 14 items), insisted I get in front of her. I felt so relieved, and really fortunate for these happy seniors, who were more than willing to let a sneaky youngster get in front of them. If only they had known what I had been thinking just seconds before, regarding their inability to count correctly.
I walked out to my car, a big smile on my face. I mean, a big, shit-eating grin. Getting into my car, I realized this was no chance occurrence. These elderly women made time for me, sacrificed their spot in line. The least I can do is spare them an hour a week. I feel as if the Universe was showing me that not all of them are mean and angry, and that maybe the small gesture of spending time with them once a week would mean the world to them.
After class I went to the grocery store to buy some cheese for the burgers we would be having this evening. The deli lady, I swear, is someone I know, yet each time I see her, we have nothing more than a professional grocer interaction. I can not place who she is or where she is from. I was starving, and seriously contemplating eating the cheese I had just ordered in the car on the way home and then tell my hubby I forgot to buy some. Then I thought of the calories, so I popped a piece of gum in and told my belly to hold off the bitchfest until I got home and could get a healthy, dairy-free lunch.
During the day, there are not many registers open at the grocery store, and much to my belly and my own dismay, the one that was for 14 items or less had three seniors standing in it, each with a basket full of what I expected to be more than 14 items. I saw the fourth and final senior making her way to the line, and I snuck in, attempting to beat her to the position. She saw me. I felt embarrassed, so I let her go ahead. Then she insisted I go, as I only had my cheese. I suddenly felt cheesier then, well, you know, the cheese. Then the lady in front of me insisted I go ahead, and the final lady who already had her items on the conveyor belt (which, by the way, only invites more than 14 items), insisted I get in front of her. I felt so relieved, and really fortunate for these happy seniors, who were more than willing to let a sneaky youngster get in front of them. If only they had known what I had been thinking just seconds before, regarding their inability to count correctly.
I walked out to my car, a big smile on my face. I mean, a big, shit-eating grin. Getting into my car, I realized this was no chance occurrence. These elderly women made time for me, sacrificed their spot in line. The least I can do is spare them an hour a week. I feel as if the Universe was showing me that not all of them are mean and angry, and that maybe the small gesture of spending time with them once a week would mean the world to them.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Minimooning
I have had the most amazing time of my life, for this is truly the "Summer of Love" for myself and a very special person. My boyfriend of over five years and I have committed our lives to one and other, promising ourselves through a beautiful marriage ceremony. The day was picture perfect, beautiful blue clouds that can only be seen along the seacoast; a breeze that felt like cool kisses on our skin; a feeling of excitement and true happiness in the salty air.
We experienced what it is like to become two seperate individuals that have been so overcome with love and fondness for one and other that we felt that marriage was the most precious gift we could give to one and other. Yes, I am still very much on a newlywed bliss high, yet I don't want this feeling of love and pride to ever evaporate.
Following our celebration, we spent the week minimooning. In lieu of an immediate send off to an exotic island the morning after our weddng, we chose to simply play the following week by ear, not allowing anything to take the wind out of our sails. We spent a couple of nights in the town which we were celebrating, and then came home for a few nights. We had an amazing day at the beach, and decide that day to get away for a few nights.
Minimooning is so relaxed, so chill, so perfect. Planning a wedding is certainly stressful, regardless of your calm, cool intentions. I don't like to use the word "stressful," however, because it sounds so negative. We had a blast planning our special event, and although there were times we both felt as if it couldn't get here any sooner- for both the excitement of becoming husband and wife, but also to finish the planning- the whole experience is one I wish for everyone.
Our guests have since expressed how perfect the wedding was, and although I am bias of course, it truly was the best wedding I have ever witnessed. The ceremony was personal but sweet, the reception venue was taken out of a dream, and the atmosphere and energy in the night was intoxicating.
I have truly had the best time, the proverbial "time of my life." Not only did we get married and have an amazing minimoon, I had met the nicest and warmest older lady at the hotel we stayed at following our wedding. Her and I had met in the elevator the evening before our wedding, and had exchanged a few smiles and hellos. During the evening of our wedding, she presented us with a beautifully and carefully written note of congratulations. We were both intrigued with her thoughtfullness, her aura. My husband said he felt as if he met a celebritity, she was simply wonderful. The night after our wedding, we were sitting on the balcony of or suite, and I got the urge to go check the door to ensure it was locked. As I approached the door, I immediately noticed that another note had been quietly slipped through the door.
We read the note together, and found that she truly was a celebritiy.... Even though on a small scale compared to the overpaid celebrities, she was still an extraordinary person. She had enclosed with her note a little brochere of sorts that was a biography of her life. Come to find out, not only was she an active member of the community, she was a also a writer. This, I do not find, to be a coincidence. I feel as if I met her in order to energize my desires, to overcome my fears, and to just start doing something about my passion.
Instantly, I knew that I had to create this blog. It has been a dream of mine to write and be read, and hopefully, someday paid!
I hope to encounter this woman again. She is wonderful, insightful, intuitive, and amazing.
We experienced what it is like to become two seperate individuals that have been so overcome with love and fondness for one and other that we felt that marriage was the most precious gift we could give to one and other. Yes, I am still very much on a newlywed bliss high, yet I don't want this feeling of love and pride to ever evaporate.
Following our celebration, we spent the week minimooning. In lieu of an immediate send off to an exotic island the morning after our weddng, we chose to simply play the following week by ear, not allowing anything to take the wind out of our sails. We spent a couple of nights in the town which we were celebrating, and then came home for a few nights. We had an amazing day at the beach, and decide that day to get away for a few nights.
Minimooning is so relaxed, so chill, so perfect. Planning a wedding is certainly stressful, regardless of your calm, cool intentions. I don't like to use the word "stressful," however, because it sounds so negative. We had a blast planning our special event, and although there were times we both felt as if it couldn't get here any sooner- for both the excitement of becoming husband and wife, but also to finish the planning- the whole experience is one I wish for everyone.
Our guests have since expressed how perfect the wedding was, and although I am bias of course, it truly was the best wedding I have ever witnessed. The ceremony was personal but sweet, the reception venue was taken out of a dream, and the atmosphere and energy in the night was intoxicating.
I have truly had the best time, the proverbial "time of my life." Not only did we get married and have an amazing minimoon, I had met the nicest and warmest older lady at the hotel we stayed at following our wedding. Her and I had met in the elevator the evening before our wedding, and had exchanged a few smiles and hellos. During the evening of our wedding, she presented us with a beautifully and carefully written note of congratulations. We were both intrigued with her thoughtfullness, her aura. My husband said he felt as if he met a celebritity, she was simply wonderful. The night after our wedding, we were sitting on the balcony of or suite, and I got the urge to go check the door to ensure it was locked. As I approached the door, I immediately noticed that another note had been quietly slipped through the door.
We read the note together, and found that she truly was a celebritiy.... Even though on a small scale compared to the overpaid celebrities, she was still an extraordinary person. She had enclosed with her note a little brochere of sorts that was a biography of her life. Come to find out, not only was she an active member of the community, she was a also a writer. This, I do not find, to be a coincidence. I feel as if I met her in order to energize my desires, to overcome my fears, and to just start doing something about my passion.
Instantly, I knew that I had to create this blog. It has been a dream of mine to write and be read, and hopefully, someday paid!
I hope to encounter this woman again. She is wonderful, insightful, intuitive, and amazing.
Recognizing an Encounter
I came up with the title for this blog a really long time ago, and have wanted to eventually publish a book that goes more in depth, something that I can conduct research for and then dive into writing an amazing piece of work.
Everyone experiences or encounters events on a daily basis, and at times we want to share them right away. Sometimes we are overcome with joy, and other times we are frustrated and just need to sound off. Then, there are times when we cannot find anything interesting about our day's events, yet I think if you look deep enough, you can find something to share, something to talk about
en·coun·ter
Pronunciation: \in-ˈkau̇n-tər, en-\
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): en·coun·tered; en·coun·ter·ing \-ˈkau̇n-t(ə-)riŋ\
Etymology: Middle English encountren, from Anglo-French encuntrer, from Medieval Latin incontrare, from Late Latin incontra toward, from Latin in- + contra against — more at counter
Date: 14th century
transitive verb
1 a : to meet as an adversary or enemy b : to engage in conflict with
2 : to come upon face-to-face
3 : to come upon or experience especially unexpectedly
intransitive verb
: to meet especially by chance
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 : a meeting between hostile factions or persons : a sudden often violent clash
2 a : a chance meeting
3 : a coming into the vicinity of a celestial body
"encounter." Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2009.
Merriam-Webster Online. 30 August 2009
The definition provides proof that no encounter lacks significance. An encounter is anything from a chance meeting, to an argument, to a transaction of communication between two people, even an example of love and romance. Encounters can be revealing, enlightening, educational, sometimes disappointing.
As I write this, I imagine which recent encounter I want to start this blog off with. I have one in mind, although it is more of an accumulation of recent events. I will post it under the title "Minimoon," and if you feel you want to read my experience, continue on to the next post, and come back for more soon.
Everyone experiences or encounters events on a daily basis, and at times we want to share them right away. Sometimes we are overcome with joy, and other times we are frustrated and just need to sound off. Then, there are times when we cannot find anything interesting about our day's events, yet I think if you look deep enough, you can find something to share, something to talk about
en·coun·ter
Pronunciation: \in-ˈkau̇n-tər, en-\
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): en·coun·tered; en·coun·ter·ing \-ˈkau̇n-t(ə-)riŋ\
Etymology: Middle English encountren, from Anglo-French encuntrer, from Medieval Latin incontrare, from Late Latin incontra toward, from Latin in- + contra against — more at counter
Date: 14th century
transitive verb
1 a : to meet as an adversary or enemy b : to engage in conflict with
2 : to come upon face-to-face
3 : to come upon or experience especially unexpectedly
intransitive verb
: to meet especially by chance
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 : a meeting between hostile factions or persons : a sudden often violent clash
2 a : a chance meeting
3 : a coming into the vicinity of a celestial body
"encounter." Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2009.
Merriam-Webster Online. 30 August 2009
The definition provides proof that no encounter lacks significance. An encounter is anything from a chance meeting, to an argument, to a transaction of communication between two people, even an example of love and romance. Encounters can be revealing, enlightening, educational, sometimes disappointing.
As I write this, I imagine which recent encounter I want to start this blog off with. I have one in mind, although it is more of an accumulation of recent events. I will post it under the title "Minimoon," and if you feel you want to read my experience, continue on to the next post, and come back for more soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)