Back to the basics

It's January 31st!  Finally January's over which means that February will be over sooner rather than later.  I've made it through a full month now of writing everyday and I'm proud of myself.  Before I began this resolution I was having a hard time to committing to anything for more than a couple days so this is a big accomplishment.  That and I personally believe that we don't celebrate the small steps along the journey to our destination enough. I mean, sure I still have 11 months to go and 361 days left but I've also written for one solid month and a full 31 days. That's worth recognition.  So many of us are too focused on achieving their goal to see how far they've come.

As I've said in past entries, I'm going into February filled with feelings of dread, anticipation, and hope.  It is my worst month psychologically by far and every year, just like this one, I hope that it will surprise me.  If it's to be expected, I'm prepared.  My psychologist is willing to see me every week this month (I had my first one of the month today) and I have my first massage scheduled for Thursday morning.  Dave and I are also hoping to battle the even more ridiculous snow that is coming our way tomorrow and Wednesday to go down to Rhode Island for our getaway.  Because of the snow, we're actually leaving tomorrow night when I get home from work at 11pm.  I'll be driving as Dave does still have a normal person's schedule with the usual sleeping hours.

My therapist and I discussed February today and she stress the importance of not allowing my thoughts and feelings to control my behavior.  I'm not a behavioral therapist like she is so there's a chance that I may not say this sufficiently but cognitive behavior therapy works with this basic premise:  You cannot control your feelings but you can change your thoughts to control your behavior.  From my therapy lessons and talks with fellow participants using this kind of therapy, I've gathered this to mean that as humans we cannot control what we feel at any given time.  Our feelings are instinctual and raw; however, many of our feelings are associated with our thoughts and thought patterns without our knowledge.   Sometimes something as simple as changing what you think can affect how you feel.  By changing our thoughts, we can change our behavior and our response to those feelings can be productive and positive which will then contribute to better thoughts and happier feelings.

For example, one of my biggest lessons this year was that every feeling that comes up does not need a reason.  If I'm feeling anxious or depressed, sometimes all that's needed is to acknowledge it.  Many times I'd be feeling that way and I'd try and ask myself why.  If I couldn't find something legitimate, I'd create something or give myself the "excuse."  For example, I'd be feeling depressed and I'd ask myself, "why do you feel depressed?"  If it wasn't something specific then my response would be something along these lines, "Nothing.  You're just being stupid.  There's no reason to be depressed but you're unhappy anyway. You take everything for granted; you take work for granted and people for granted.  Really, you're just useless.  It's a wonder how anyone can like you when you're so selfish..."  These thoughts would normally be my "excuse" for feeling depressed.  Not to mention, compounding those feelings. This is what my therapist would call, "a negative thought pattern."

It's better for it to look something more like this: I'd ask myself, "Why am I feeling depressed?"  Instead of that barrage of negative thoughts I could think something like, "There really isn't an exact reason but that's okay.  There are times when everyone feels depressed or down.  Right now, I'm feeling that way and it will pass.  It's not good to fight it as that can just make it worse so just let it be for now.  Give yourself some time and space and it will go as naturally as it came."   That's healthy and guess what?  It actually works just not right away. This brings me to this year's second lesson: sometimes you just have to "sit with it."  Just sit with all the uncomfortably and emotion.  Acknowledge and let it be.  My therapist is also trying to get me to do determine where, in my body, I'm feeling it.  So rather than thinking, "why am I feeling" I think "where is this feeling?"  This one I've yet to master but I'm getting there.

Today, we had a discussion about how to not allow it to affect your behavior.  For me, most of mine is anxiety driven so we talked about staying "present."  If I have to get ready for work, I should focus to what I'm doing at the moment; not what I have to do in the immediate future.  Even if it's the most mundane thing in the world, I should "ground" myself with it.  For example, when I'm in the shower-instead of obsessing about why I don't want to go to work or how my hours are terrible or listing all the other thing I'd rather be doing, I should be focusing on the actual shower.  I'm washing my hair now, I'm rinsing my hair now, my right arm, my left, etc.  Of course, my mind will naturally wander but when it starts to go down that path I need to refocus my attention on what I'm doing.  Sure it seems silly, but so far it's working.  You don't have time to think about the other stuff if you are focused on the "now."   Not to mention that one of the biggest suggestions people have for aspiring writers is to pay attention and try and notice those things that you otherwise wouldn't.  Try to experience the simple activities with all five senses and no, that does not mean taste the soap if you are taking a shower.

So really, this paying attention to the now serves a duel purpose.  One, it benefits me psychologically and two, it may be useful when I'm writing.   Sometimes things might come up and I've been asked to write them down for next week's session but to really work at going back to the basics.  So with the reminder of my learned skills-- February, here I come.

Beyond Ourselves

Deep within the wintry forest, far away from the remotest village lay giant circles of the brightest gems from beyond this world.  The center of each of the circle contain the best our natural world has to offer.  Magnificent caves provide the most beautiful dwellings for the visitors and hidden desires can be grasped easily.  Anyone can enjoy the world's Eden, though few know of its existence and those who have heard of it only believe it to be a romantic fantasy.  It is also impossible for to happen upon it unknowingly as the surrounding areas are not only treacherous but terribly uncomfortable for mere humans to wander aimlessly.

Enormous glaciers surround the quiet and serene setting; it's slow yet constant shifting keeping the land and any paths that were attempted to show others the way in are forever changing.  Immediately within lay some of the largest snowcapped mountains.  A small set of this vast range is enclosed by cream colored pearls that have long since been enveloped by layers of ice.   Just beyond the mountains, another oval of crystals encases the frozen pond, completely unbreakable and slightly wet snow.  Moving closer to the center of this magical land lies small stones the color of brilliant emeralds where the world's grandest rainforest is the home for all it's beautiful creatures.  The large canopy trees trapped the heat and moisture along with providing ample shade; it's grand and wild river thoroughly carves the land.

In the center is the most perfect place of all. Surrounded by large redwoods and small pine trees lakes and streams provide the freshest water.  Inside a circle of turquoise gems lie those magnificent caves where one finds the temperature set at its most comfortable degrees.  The soft mossy stones stir the most serendipitous dreams and any cares that remain in the world left behind disappear all together.  Within these walls, one has to the ability to do whatever they imagined and it will never be the same as someone's imagination but ensures to provide exactly what you need be it simple solitude and peace, images of pure inspirations, or adventure that excites and thrills.

How does one find such a magical place?  That's the greatest mystery of all and many people will tell you that their teachings will show you the way.   All of these people are so certain and few of them have hardly seen it themselves; if they had, they would know that there is not just one correct path but many.   As said earlier, anyone and everyone can get there, they just need to open their heart and let go.  If you think that sounds easy, then you'd be right.  The problem is that many don't know how to do that and are too afraid.  You might even remember a place that sounds just like this and you may have ventured there yourself for children have naturally open hearts and find it naturally.   The trick for everyone is to believe that it exists and to unburdened themselves for just a few moments, then and only then the may feel the locks around their hearts unlock allowing this most magical land will find them.

If you trust in its existence, forget about your mental limitations, and open yourself up the most beautiful of all the world's places will find you and touch you in a way that you never dreamed.

Bar Goodbyes

What an evening! So, if a black cat crosses in front of you and then walks back the other way crossing you in the opposite direction, is that double bad luck or does it negate the initial bad luck?  I'm really hoping the latter.  I have to wake up and be at work for 7am tomorrow and it's already 1; it would be terrible luck for me to sleep in.  Because of this sad state of affairs, this will be another post that will be written in fifteen minutes tops.

Back to this evening.  One of my favorite people is moving to Phoenix, Arizona and she threw herself a going away party tonight.  Although I am happy for her, there's that selfish part of me that feels sad that she is leaving as we are all just beginning to become closer since the college first separated us.  However, if there is anyone who can pick up and leave, it's her.  She is one of the most friendly people and she gets along with quite literally everyone she meets and is always the life of every party.  I really hope that she will be able to make it back in October for the wedding because she will definitely be missed.

She is also one of the only people that would ever get me to go to a Haverhill bar.   Jamie and I went together and the combination of the large sum of alcohol in her system and her happiness to see us, she began crying right when she saw us.  It felt really awesome even if it was the result of a bit too much alcohol.  She never thought that we would show we are not exactly what you would call "bar people."  However, when she said she was going away she didn't say when and for all I knew she was leaving tomorrow morning and there was no way I was going to let her go without giving her a proper goodbye.

The bar is an extremely popular one in my hometown and this was the first time I've never stepped into it.   As I said earlier, I'm not really a bar person.  It's not that I have anything against them.  More that if given the choice to meet and drink at someone's apartment or in a bar, I'd choose the apartment.   I just find that the vibe tends to be better.  If we want to sit down and talk for a while, we can do that.   If we decide to blare the music ridiculously loud, get totally drunk, and take turns singing along to a karaoke tune that's fine too.  This bar, like some of the others I've gone to, was very loud and very difficult to speak with anyone.  

However, it was a very entertaining experience nonetheless.  While I was there, I realized that I was missing out on a large aspect of my generation's subculture.  I hate the feeling of missing out on anything and it kind of makes me want to visit more, though probably not in Haverhill.  I love Haverhill and I love the people but there's a reason so many people look upon their high school reunions with hesitancy.  For me, I'd prefer to go to a bar in Boston where the odds of running into someone who remembers me as that awkward theater girl from high school are lower.

Tonight turned out to be a really good time.  Walking into it, I felt really nervous but watching drunk people sing along to the most random songs in the universe helped make me more comfortable.  Thank goodness Jamie was with me though because it was not quite my scene (especially as I couldn't get drunk along with everyone else).  We had a great time laughing, so much so that I walked out feeling super snobby.  But I suppose I wouldn't fault anyone for laughing at my drunken songs of soul like, "Who let the dogs out?" and "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" interspersed between heartfelt country ballads and rap songs from the late nineties.  It was very surreal but incredibly funny.  In the end, my first trip at OGs at the old age of twenty six was a lot of fun and certainly will be remembered.

It came early this year

How is it still January? I feel like it should have ended last week sometime.  My February doom and gloom seems to be settling within me earlier than normal which makes me nervous.  I mean, if I'm already counting down the days to January, what's February going to be like?  For those who don't know, I sort develop this entirely different personality during the month of February.  During the other eleven months, I am an upbeat, positive, sweet person who can see the views tough situations the way the world views a solar eclipse.  The moon may "cover" the sun and turn the afternoon to darkness but always seems to be that bright ring that screams, "Don't worry, I'm still here.  Just wait a few hours for the moon to get out of my path."

Okay, that was a strange metaphor for "every dark cloud has a silver lining" but I suppose that works too.  Anyway, during the summer my overall mood tends to be a happy one.  June, July, and August I'm bubbly and relishing in the extreme heat of New England summers.  Many people complain about how it's too hot and gross during the summer, but I'll be honest I love it.  I also firmly believe that those who hate the summer are those who don't have central air.  Of course it terribly unpleasant then; even winter lovers would hate winter if they didn't have heat.  You'd have a hard time finding a home down south that doesn't have AC but up here, it's still a very expensive purchase that you only use for maybe 3 months of the year (depending on how hot the summer is).

September, October, and November represent new beginnings for me. I don't know if that's because September is when school started or because November brings my birthday.  There's something nostalgic and crisp in the air; not to mention that it's absolutely gorgeous.  September ushers in the Big E and The Topsfield Fair which has become a mini heaven for the some of the most tasty treats.  Then there's Halloween in Salem, Massachusetts and long leisurely drives through the mountains during the peak of foliage sipping on warm apple cider and thoroughly enjoy cider doughnut or cream puffs.  Not to mention all of the November birthdays and when I love capping off Autumn with the great feast of thanks with my family.

December, as anyone who goes in public notices, brings Christmas and merriment.  As the days get shorter and colder, the Christmas lights go up in all the town centers and their are all kinds of fun activities.  I enjoy Boston's tree-lighting ceremonies and I try to go down to New York City for at least one day every Christmas.  Snow is welcomed with open arms in December as the large, cold, fluffy flakes paint the world in white that the lights twinkle beneath.  There's the most beautiful music and next year, I need to get a caroling group together for real.   I used to love singing the songs in high school chorus.    As everyone quietly makes their New Year's Resolutions the atmosphere seems to take on an "anything is possible" potential.   The beginning of January is spent practicing your resolutions and shoveling snow.   For me, after the first week of January I can feel a shift in my mood and it tends to roll down the hill.

Then February comes and like a roller coaster making it's plunged down at crazy angles, my mood just plummets and it's nowhere near as thrilling as the roller coaster.   No, suddenly it's like every room has shrunk and all your clothing feels like it's restricting me.  My once comfy sweaters become itchy vices that close around my body and it feels difficult to breath.   Cold and tolerable air suddenly takes on this harsh and bitter quality as temperatures drop in the low teens or single digits for multiple days in a row.  Going outside I have to bundle myself like that kid in A Christmas Story because the frigid temperatures are literally painful as any exposed skins stings the way that 50 degree water hurts when first immersed.  If you're lucky, whatever is exposed will go numb quickly enough to stop it from hurting.  The combination of this and the knowledge that there is still weeks of winter left to go tints my world with despair and fear.   Last February, I quite literally had a nervous breakdown and although that was particularly a rare episode that I was totally unprepared for I can't help but dread what sort of internal misery my mind is going to put me through this year.   Little irritants are magnified and each day feels more and more hopeless.

Thank goodness, I have my amazing therapist.  I'm seeing her Monday and I might suggest going back to weekly appointments for this month.  Last year I also signed up to get monthly massages and I've carried the last three months worth just to help me get through this month as I am totally planning of going for a massage every week of February.  Maybe I'll schedule my therapy appointment and my massage appointment for the beginning and end of each week.  Dave and I are also going to spend the night in Newport, Rhode Island at the beginning of the month.  It's just one night but I'm hoping it is enough of a "getaway" for me.   I'm pretty sure I am hanging out with friends the first weekend but because crazy, irritating, depression and lethargy is hitting early this year, I haven't returned two very good friends phone calls.  Every day I think, "it's your friend, just call them when they get out of work."  Then the time that they get out of work comes and you pick up the phone and might even pull up their name in your contacts but you can't press send because all you can think is, "you're so bitchy right now.  Don't ruin their day."   At the end of the day, you kick yourself and wonder what your issue is and why you're completely incapable to doing something that is normally a simple, pleasant treat.

I honestly don't know what I'd do if February was any longer.  It's crazy, it's the shortest month of the year but it seriously feels as long as all three months of summer for me.  Please, if you're not from around here and you were thinking about coming up to New York or Massachusetts, don't let me deter you.   I assure you that there are many more people who aren't affected like me and they love the season.  Everyone is different.   For me, as March approaches, my mood seems to peak out from under the covers like a small child who tentatively comes out of hiding in the hope that the horrible storm has passed.   April is a month that I am normally tending to the emotional battle wounds that still remain from February's mental onslaught and as I heal and the weather warms, I begin to feel like myself again.   Then finally it's May and the weather is warm enough to dance in the spring rainstorms and you are looking forward to the next renewed happiness that comes with the warmth.

That's what I'm try to remember as I cross out each day of the upcoming month.  I'm far more prepared than I've ever been and who knows, maybe this year won't be so bad.

The breakup

The blue minivan parked outside the gate.  Unable to see beyond the black iron bars, the small cottage hid behind the hill.  Up in the grayish sky, no birds flew; their feathers unable to withstand the hollowing wind.   The air, heavy from impending rain warned every living creature to find shelter.  The now yellow grass looked up with a desperate thirst for water as the long, hot summer had supplied the area with about as much rain as the desert.  

Inside the van, two college students sat in silence.  This wasn't how their relationship was supposed to end.  Actually, their relationship was never supposed to end but the events of this afternoon were two difficult to ignore.  Still, pressing the small button to open the gate to drop her off for the last time seemed almost impossible.  Within the car, the dense quiet that had grown louder on the drive home now screamed with anger, disappointment, and pain

Looking at her now, she seemed to look entirely different than the girl who he fell in love with on the snowy evening two years ago.  Her green eyes had sparkled under her snowflake sprinkled auburn hair and her beautiful smile took him by surprise.  It was her who had fallen first and he had asked her to walk with him so he could attempt to explain why he didn't think it would workout between them.  But somehow, as he tried to speak the words he realized that he couldn't let her go and that he was spending all his time trying to deny his real feelings.  After that evening, she had written him a letter using her favorite peacock feathered quill saying how it was the best night of her life when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

From that point they had been inseparable both in and out of school but all of those memories just seemed so far away right now.  Confusion was mainly responsible for his silence.   He had been contemplating proposing to her spending hours trying to think about just the right way to ask her to be his fiance.  How did everything change so quickly?  As the moments ticked by he struggle with what to say.  She was waiting for him to say something tears slowly trickled down her cheek as she sat just a few inches from him.  Even crying she was still beautiful but his feelings were now the complete opposite of what they were before.  

Her desperate apologies didn't make him feel any better.  Even if she apologized a million of times or wrote a million letters on that same parchment as her original couldn't remove the knowledge that she betrayed him.  Trust is something that is so easily broken and so difficult to repair.  Did he even want to try and repair it?  No, this was the final straw.  He could never look at her the same way.   Not now.  It was just too much.  Still without saying a single word, he pressed the button and the large gate opened.  

Her sobs seemed to get louder.  She knew exactly what he knew.  It's not fair that she gets to cry; he didn't do this to her.  Arriving at her cottage, he reached up and unclipped the gate opening button and handed it back to her.  "Please don't end it," she whimpered.   "It's only made me realize that I want to work on us."   He shook his head.  If there were problems, he wasn't even entirely aware of them.  Sure they had fought a bit but they had done that before.  No, she should have talked to him.   He didn't want it to end either but he couldn't allow it to continue.  

"I can't do it.  I can't love you anymore.  I'm sorry."  He said quietly as he looked into her eyes full of regret and fear.  His voice felt strange, even to him.  Pain made him sound gruff and cold.  He wanted to tell her that he did still love her.  He knew he was hurting her and that was something he never wanted to do.  Still, the words stuck in his throat.  Telling her would only give her a reason to hope and make his leaving only that much more difficult.  

Hearing her take a deep breath, her tears stopped.  Her eyes hardened a bit and after a few more silent moments she muttered, "I guess this is it then."  When he didn't say anything and just nodded, she grabbed her bag, struggled with opening the door, and ran into the house without looking back.   It all happened so quickly  that for a moment he wondered if he had made the right choice.  Numbness overtook him as he put the car into reverse and turned around in her long driveway.  Outside the parched blades of grass waited for the downpour of rain, but it never seemed to come.  Instead all that was heard was the creaking and scratching of the gate as it slowly closed behind him.  

"Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto"

The above quotation,  "Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto" by Publius Terentius Afer translates to "I am man.  I consider nothing that is human alien to me."  I heard this quotation the other day and again today.  I liked it when I heard it and today, I determined that I must discuss this in writing tonight.  There is such power in this quote; it both inspires me and repels me at the exact same time.  I can't, however, argue the truth within this Latin quotation from approximately 160 B.C. 


I consider anything that any human being has done, both horrific and inspirational, as something that I could also be capable for I am human too.  This could possibly explain why I have such a hard time thinking about things like the Holocaust and the tortures that occurred there as so personally painful.  I cannot say that I would've done anything differently if I was in the shoes of the Nazis committing those horrible crimes.  Specific situations dictate specific actions and there have been enough studies on the human psyche that show approximately fifty percent of people will do something they consider wrong certain circumstances.  


It reminds me of a study done by Stanley Milgram in 1963 who researched how people would respond to an authority figure who requested them to do something that conflicted with their conscience.  For those that may not have heard of this experiment, he had a "scientist" ask the study participants to electrically shock the person on the opposite wall if they were unable to memorize something properly.  He told the participants that the experiment was to see if people would remember things better if shocked any time it was incorrect.  He then hired actors who purposely would  recite it back incorrectly and scream progressively louder as the voltage was increased.  His findings were that 50% of the people continue to shock people (after showing that they were not comfortable and thought it was wrong) past the point of even death just because they were being told to continue by what seemed to be a "respectable authority" (the scientist) and also weren't going to have to take responsibility.


That figure is staggering.  I can't help but ask myself, "would I also do that if someone told me to or would I refuse?"  Milgram proposed this study after learning about the holocaust.  Please remember that after blatantly stating, that what they were doing wasn't right, the study participants would continue because they were told, "The experiment requires that you continue" by the scientist.  That's not even taking anything drastic into consideration like, "do this or you and your family might join them."  Even if I did refuse initially, would I still refuse if they threatened my family?  I honestly don't know.  I'm just as capable of it as any of the Nazis; they couldn't have all been sociopathic sadists.  


Of course, Milgram's study isn't the only one of this type of nature.  They do all kinds of these types of studies.  Thinking back to the show, "What would you do?" which is basically like candid camera where regular citizens would witness something that may be controversial (two men kissing, a woman being verbally abused by her boyfriend, a lost child asking for help) and see how people would respond.  I'm always surprised when people do the exact opposite of what I think I would do in the situation.  There are obvious ones, I've walked by two men kissing and I wasn't phased in the least but what about some of the other scenarios?  What would I do, indeed?  I want to say that I would assist the woman or the small child but would I?


Would remember my mom's story about her cousin Ann?  Her cousin Ann watched her boyfriend be murdered because she stepped between a man and woman during an abusive argument.  When he stepped in and pushed the man aside to protect the woman, she stabbed him in the stomach.  I can't imagine what that must've been like to witness.  In many cases, victims of abuse lash out at those who publicly try to protect them in front of their boyfriend or spouse because they know that when they inevitably return, their punishment for allowing that to happen would be so much worse than otherwise.  It's terrible on all ends.  It makes me what to hurt the man who is abusive.


There are times when I think about the man who abused me and think, "how could he have done that?"  But maybe under the same upbringing and social circumstances that he experience I would be prone to do something similar.  As it was, in an attempt to combat his sexual abuse, I resorted to some verbal abuse.  I said things to him I would never say to anyone because I had no other way to assert myself and the struggle for control and power was something I had never experience before then or since.  My verbal abuse did little to protect me, if anything, it made things worse but at the time it was the only thing that made me feel like I was "fighting back."  As you can tell, my domestic abuse was nowhere near as bad as some.  I struggle to think about what it would've been like if I lived with him.  I was lucky, I was in high school.  I had to go home.  There was a limit to his control.  


The idea that I would incapable of doing anything heinous is something that's conflicted me for sometime.  Really, there are certain situations where one doesn't know how they would react until they are in it.  Most people are afraid of this idea and cling to their assertions that they would never do that under any circumstance.  Maybe it's because I've already learned this for myself in other aspects of my life that I don't want to get into now.  All I can hope for is that if or when the time comes where I am given a choice like that, I am able to make the right one.


Now, that I've said all of the horrible implications that the above quote could derive, there are some really positive things.  Just as I could do those terrible things, I also have in me to do incredibly good things.  I could lead a group like Martin Luther King to further social rights, care for someone like Mother Theresa, or just choose to do the good deed rather than ignore a situation all together.  All of us have the potential to contribute something positive and as much as I've seen the studies that show people's capacity to dehumanize, I've also seen the exact opposite.  In that "What Would You Do" show, there are people who do help.  Not everyone walks by, unsure of what to do or not caring.  


I believe that our natural inclination is to help one another and I see this during any type of tragedy that may occur in the world.  Right now, I'm thinking about September 11, 2001.  For all of the terrible things that happened that day, I learned a lesson that I will never forget: it took the people who committed this crime months and months to plan and commit but it only took a few moments for regular American citizens to pull together and try to help one another be it forming a line to remove the debris or cooking food to feed the volunteers.  People are capable of doing those kinds of deeds and it is my personal belief that we initially think of the positive but then prevent ourselves because we're afraid or unsure what to do.


I see the positive deeds all the time and I don't believe that society does a very good job at promoting those.  We never hear about the young boy who helped an old lady cross the street or the person who returns the purse they found with all the money still in it.  No, it is far more likely that we hear about the hooligan to push the old lady down and ran away with her purse instead.  For all the bad things I hear, I try to believe that at least two positive things were done that I don't hear.  Maybe that's naive of me but I don't think so.  There is good in everyone, even the man who abused me.  It's just that sometimes we find it difficult to remember.

"Grr, argh"

I'm in a mood
It's not a happy one.
Cranky and irritable
I want it to be done.

Staring at a blank screen
I sit here with nothing to say.
Grumpy, morose, bitter
Can't get out of my own way.

Writing sentences I've used before
Frustrated that I care.
My furrowed brow full of self pity
Thinking life isn't fair.

Full of criticism and judgement
I create sophomoric rhymes.
Me, trying to write poetry
Is like a priest committing a crime.

In my mind all I hear is
"grr, arrrgh, smash!"
I think it's time to
Throw this attitude in the trash.

Seriously, is this what I'm writing?
I can already hear my readers sneer
This poem is such a load of crap
Tempting me to delete it out of fear.

It's just past midnight
I feel tired my not sleepy
Emotions stored underneath
I feel angry and not weepy.

Where this is coming from
I can't begin to guess
My shoulders pained and ache
Weary from unknown stress.

In reality, I know that
My life is far from bad.
Still, I don't feel any better
And that is just plain sad.

My tray of chocolate chip cookies
Are gooey and warm
It's amazing how comfort food
Helps quell the storm.

Are my fifteen minutes are up?
Does it even matter
Anything else I try to write
Is really just endless chatter.

Still, I pat myself on my proverbial back
For continuing to follow through
Simply knowing that my goal is still intact
Prevents this mood from being able to stew.

You work with imaginary money?

I don't know what it is about tonight but I'm just really not in the mood to write.  It's not that I'm suffering from writers block; it's more that I just don't feel like putting in the time.  I don't feel like thinking up or finding a prompt to write on and then spend the time to write it because let's face it, although I give myself the restriction of fifteen minutes sometimes that can turn into a forty or an hour depending on what I'm writing and I'm not in the mood for that kind of time commitment.  Yet, here I am at my computer and typing away so that's good news.  I haven't succumb to the usual laziness or procrastination that normally tempts me when faced with something I don't want to do.  I'm giving myself imaginary extra points for that.   As you can read, this post is going to be somewhat nonsensical and possibly even shorter than normal because literally once the fifteen minutes are over, I going to finish my thought and "publish."

So what to write about.  I wanted a topic that's quick and easy to write about so I've decide on finances as that seems to be what's on my mind at the moment.  No, I'm not giving out specifics about my financial situation but will discuss on more general terms.   Over the past couple of years, I've developed a huge fascination with personal finance.  I don't know if it has to do with the fact that I've been out of college for a couple of years or the fact that I've worked in the financial industry for over two years now, but I'm loving learning about money and how to manage it by setting up budgets and savings.  Probably the fact that I got my job in financial services not long after I graduated but it honestly doesn't really matter.

For anyone who doesn't know, I work for a credit card processing company.   Normally, I'm told that I'm some sort of devil or thief about once a week because I'm stealing people's money.  Of course, I'm not doing anything.  When you do not handle credit cards responsibly, credit card companies will eat you alive.  Although the banks that I work will are actually relatively reasonable compared to some others.  However, here's the thing: if you know how to manage a credit card and don't have the tendency to overspend because you're using plastic rather than paper, there's really isn't that much to worry about.  If you pay your minimum by the due date, you don't get late fees.  If you pay your last statement balance in full (as in you pay all of it) you don't get charged interest.  Finally, if you don't go over your limit, you won't get over limit fees.   Now, I know that the majority of people reading this know all this already but I am continually shocked by just how few people get this simple fact.

Also, if you're bank asks you if you want to "opt in" to overlimit approvals... say no.  You have that choice based on the new laws in place.  This means that you will not be able to charge more than your credit limit or be able to spend more than you have in the bank.  Yes, this will cause your transactions to decline if you are close to your limit but that is better than the ridiculous fees that can and probably will be charged to you for going over the limit or over your balance.  Seriously, that's how most banks make their killing.  Also, if your bank offers you the ability to "monitor" your card for fraud, don't do that either.  Some companies don't have control over this but if you are responsible and you check your balance and transactions regularly (meaning at least once a week) then you do not need this service.   This service serves banks more than they serve you because it allows them to block any transaction that they deem possibly suspicious and it can cause an awful lot of hassle.

Finally, there is actual benefit to using credit cards over cash or debit cards.  The major benefit comes in the off chance that you find fraudulent activity on your statement.  Fraud consists of any activity where you did not give the company your credit card number.  If you did a "free trial" and had to pay $1.95 for shipping and then find that a month or a few weeks later you they charged for $89.00, it's not fraud.  You didn't read the fine print and they are trying to scam you.  However, if this does happen to you as it apparently does to a very large population (so much of my job comes from having to explain this) it is far easier to dispute the transaction if it's a credit card than a debit card.   Credit cards have a longer period of time that you are allowed to confirm fraud (90 days normally) than debit cards (something like 30-60 days) and will be able to refund you the money much more quickly if you do notice it.   Also, the benefit comes that if someone does have a field day with your card number (they don't actually need your card today with internet transactions), they're affecting the bank's money and not your hard earned dollars.  This means that if they get a hold of your credit card (as opposed to debit cards) rent checks and other bills won't bounce because someone has decided to buy themselves and their friends porn as early birthday gifts.

Phew, that was a lot of typing in fifteen minutes.  I don't know if anything I wrote above will make any sense but if you do read something and want clarification because I didn't explain it well enough or because I left out words and have terrible grammar, let me know.  I quite literally explain this for a living so I'm more than happy sharing this info with friends.  Also, if you'd just like to know more, I'm more than willing to talk about.  I didn't get into the other kinds of benefits that cards can get you regarding rewards or discuss the personal finance blogs that I've fallen in love with but that can be a different post for another day when I really don't know what to write about.

**I realized after writing this post that it may sound condescending to some.  I don't mean it that way. I sometimes need to realize that just because I spend everyday explaining this doesn't mean it's understood by everyone.  So really, if you didn't know any of this it doesn't make you stupid.  If everyone knew this, I might not have a job.

Imbalanced Perfection

Regina Ranck was an uptight woman who took herself far too seriously.  Thirty three years old, single, high-powered executive she had the life that many young feminists aspire to when they begin choosing their career and life pathways.  For Regina her job came first consuming sometimes fourteen hours a day.  Since so much of her job required personal contact with fellow executives her personal appearance came a close second.  Having fun, hanging out with friends, and even contemplating having a relationship took up too much time in her already overly scheduled day.

Every morning she'd rise at 5am, pull her hair back in a slick ponytail, and dress in her most form fitting work out clothes before proceeding to her personal gym she had designed in the basement of her condo equipped with the finest treadmill, weight machines, and stationary bike one money could buy.  For a grueling forty five minutes every morning she would push herself to the point of physical exhaustion using the silent mantra that much of her success depended on her slender figure.  Following her strict exercise schedule with some yoga exercises which did little to clear her mind as she watched herself with a critical in her wall to wall mirror intent on maintaining the most proper pose.

Upon completion of her workout, she would set the wall timer to exactly 5 minutes and 37 seconds which she determined to be the precise amount of time required for a morning shower.  Exiting the shower she would spend the rest of her morning blow-drying her hair to absolute perfection.  She had the financial means to hire someone that would come in every morning to do complete her hair and makeup for her but she didn't trust anyone but herself.  No one knew quite how her handle her hair more than herself.  After making sure each section was straighten just to her liking she would pull her hair into a tight bun securing it with 12 hairpins which matched her blond hair almost identically.  She had applying her makeup down to an art form and everyday leave the bathroom with such a pristine face, eyeliner and shadows showcased her ice blue eyes, barely there pink blush highlighted her cheekbones, and her "magnet red" lips gave her quite a "I mean business" pout.

Quickly dressing in the tailored, expensive suit she picked out the night before making her that her undergarments matched for those "just in case" circumstances and slipping her feet into the appropriate $600 heels, she would rush out of her apartment, into the elevator.  Brushing past her doorman without so much as a second glance and racing next door to the Parisian bakery only noticing the weather if it happened to be extremely cold or rainy.  As a regular at the bakery, her croissant and coffee would be waiting at exactly 7:20 am and handed to her immediately upon walking into the quaint little shop.

From the moment she stepped out of her private car at 7:45 am until approximately 9:30 or 10 in the evening she was nonstop delegating overwhelming job tasks to everyone who worked under her, maintaining appointments in her office, and overlooking the completed tasks of the evening and sending back anything that wasn't up to her high standards.  Most days lunch and dinner was served in the office and she would eat while surrounded by paperwork and in front of the multiple blinking "tasks to be completed" within her e-mail.   Arriving so early in the morning and leaving long after nightfall, the only daylight that she saw was through her floor to ceiling windows of her office on the sixty-fifth floor.  Though she was normally so busy she hardly noticed it at all.

It wasn't until she arrived back her condo exhausted and kicking off her shoes that the constant tension within her face would relax a little.  She would choose her clothes for the next day, begin her evening bath, and pour herself a glass of wine.  Slowly, she would undress in front of the mirror enjoying the curves she worked so hard to maintain and quietly imaging what it would be like to have someone else with her who might appreciate it.  Naked, she would walk into the bathroom, light some pomegranate scented candles, wipe off her makeup, and take down her hair.   It was at this time of the night when she did something that those who saw her daily would consider uncharacteristic but was who she was just too afraid to release.

Sinking in the warm water and feeling the jets gently massage her cramped muscles from the daily stresses she would relax for the only few moments of the day.  The hard lines on her face seemed to smooth and disappear under the steam.   It was during these moments that she would fantasize what it was like to not be alone, what it would be like to go out, maybe kiss the handsome stranger in the bar.  Like a turtle, her hidden smile would peek from behind her lips.  Possibly one day... one day she might have it all.   Until then though she took comfort in her favorite half hour of the day where she could expose her personality for what is actually was not what she thought she needed to be.  If she only saw herself in these moments, she would realize that what seemed so impossible was really right within her grasp if she only let go.

Oh yeah, I'm getting married this year.

While I was at work today, it was as if I suddenly remembered that we still have a wedding to plan.  After finding our venue (which includes catering), our photographer, my wedding dress, and taking our engagement photos we took a break for Christmas and New Years.  Since then, I've become focused on my resolutions and Dave was completely overloaded at work so we never really got back in the game.  Today though, I realized just how much I still need to do.

So far wedding planning hasn't been nearly as stressful as it's been described.  Granted I'm still in the beginning stages so maybe that will change.  Right now, my goals are to secure an officiant and a DJ.  Choosing an officiant  is a bit more difficult than I thought.  It must be from my Catholic upbringing that I have it burned into my head that the person who marries us must be a man.  Yes, I know it's totally sexist but that's just how I've always envisioned it.  There are times when I think it would be so much easier if Dave and I were brought up in the same faith but the fact that we didn't should allow us to customize our ceremony to fit us making it both more personal and meaningful.  We contacted a husband/wife team that does have our date and time available so we just need to call them to help us determine if they'll be a good fit for us. 

I'm not as far along with finding a DJ but there are so many of them.  I think I'll probably start with the preferred vendors that our venue recommended just because we know that they'll already know how to set everything up for both the ceremony and the reception.  One of their website offers video clips of weddings they've done in the past so I'll just have to browse through a few of those, contact a couple that we like to get pricing and see if they are available for our date, possibly meet them, and then secure one.  Hopefully it won't be too difficult.  

I think what concerns me the most is choosing bridesmaid dresses.  I'm very lucky to have four beautiful bridesmaids who are all close friends of mine and have graciously agreed to help me out with my wedding planning.  Every time I think about finding them dresses, I hit a new snag.  Because I'm actually more traditional than most people expect after meeting me, I would like my bridesmaids to look like they all "go together." Maybe not necessarily the exact same dress but the same style and color would be super awesome. 

They all have very different body types so my biggest challenge is to find something that they will all feel comfortable and attractive in for a reasonable cost as none of us are made of money.  This task seemed relatively simple at first but now I'm nervous.  I thought I found a designer where everyone could find a style that they liked for a relatively reasonable price and they would all fit together but they one of my bridesmaids mentioned alterations.  I didn't even think about that; it's bad enough that they have to buy a dress for my wedding but to then have to pay for alterations and  just because I'd be willing to do it doesn't mean I should expect it from them.  I doubt that the "honor" that comes with being a bridesmaid is worth it.

So now my biggest concern is that I won't be able to achieve what I'm looking for in my wedding party which is probably the most stressful thing I've encounter thus far.  It is really important that they are happy with what they're wearing both for their bodies and for their wallets.  That said, I have to think about just how much having the unified look means to me.  One of my bridesmaids allowed us to choose our dresses in her wedding and it didn't look bad at all.  I really like it but if it's going to cause more stress than finding my own dress, it's totally not that important.  My mom is of the completely different opinion that wearing what I insist is one of the duties a bridesmaid agrees to and I agree with her.  Like I said though, I'm concerned that it's going to end up being a bigger deal than it should be.  It's just a couple of dresses; on the scale of importance, it's not that high.

There's also the honeymoon that I can't stop thinking about which is one of the most important aspects of the planning for me.  It will be what costs the most after the venue and it's approximately two weeks as opposed to the single wedding day.  I can't seem to say to myself, "okay this is where I'm definitely going and these are the things I'm looking forward to doing."  Because I love to travel, this will hopefully be just one of many vacations Dave and I will take together.  However, at the same time, this will be where Dave and I decide to spend the first two weeks as husband and wife so I feel like location is super important.   It's times like this where I wish I could just be satisfied with lying on the beach for weeks but I'm not.  I'm the kind of girl who likes to "do" things on vacation.  I want there to be a lot of activities and some adventure along with the romance.   On the other hand, I don't want us to be "go, go, go" throughout the whole thing.

I have it in my head that because it's our honeymoon, it should more luxurious and lavish than a typical vacation.  We're only going to have one.  But then, it's probably not the most practical.  As it is, paying for a wedding is no inexpensive task.  I just don't know if we'd be able to justify spending the kind of money we're thinking on a regular vacation.  It's a conundrum that is clearly going to take some more exploring.  Right now, we've tossed our the ideas of going to the Mayan Riviera or driving the coast of California.  I like the idea of being on a beach but October is hurricane season for the Caribbean and Hawaii seems so massive.   Other places like Fiji or Bali are just far too pricey; the airfare alone would max out our budget. 

Luckily I still have time for both the honeymoon and the bridesmaid dresses.  I'm sure it will all work out and not be too stressful in the end but today had one of those "AAAHH! WEDDING PLAN!" moments.  Really, I'm marrying a man that is totally amazing and who I'm so in love with.  At the end of the day, that's really all that matters.

A Daily Episode

In the middle of watching television one afternoon, the power went out.  My small apartment always peppered with some sort of background noise suddenly went quiet.  Opening the curtains to allow the brightly shining sun to lighten the room, I settled back down on the couch and looked at the now dark television.   My laptop was not currently working and my boyfriend was still at the office.  Suddenly alone in the silent room, I sat contemplating what to do next.  In many ways, losing power was a good thing.  It wasn't like I was watching anything all that entertaining, it was just something to do. 

Never been one to enjoy the quiet moments that life brings, I began to feel slightly anxious.  Why am not doing anything productive? When did I become so lazy? Where's that day job that I'm supposed to have by now?Unanswerable questions flowed through my mind and suddenly sitting on the couch was not where I want to be. Should I leave until the power comes back on? Where would I go? And her bookstore, perhaps?  Why am so uncomfortable here.  I began to pace back and forth in my long living room to try and quell the budding anxiety.  This isn't where you're supposed to be right now.  You're supposed to be working and earning your own living.  Instead, here you at working nights in a call center twenty five hours a week and are just barely able to cover your own debt. 

You've become a girl who's dependent on her boyfriend to provide for her. I picked up my cell-phone to call my boyfriend, he was always so good when I started thinking these thoughts. You're dependent on him financially and your dependent on him emotionally.  Right now, he's working and there's absolutely nothing he can say to make this better anyway so don't call him.  He's got enough at work to worry him; he doesn't need his crazy girlfriend.  You're really  being pathetic right now; seriously, you need to calm down.  The last thought seemed louder than the rest. 

It had only been three minutes since the power went down according to my phone and already my chest had tightened to slow my racing heart.  "Just breath...just breath...everything is going to be okay,"  I say aloud to myself.   I attempted to take a deep slow breath in and a gentle exhale but that only seemed to make things worse.  Suddenly I felt like I couldn't breath at all and I felt the phone slip out of my sweaty palms.  Oh god, it's happening again.  Denise, there is nothing wrong.. what's your problem?  I'm going crazy, Dave's going to come home again and I'm going to be an absolute mess.  He doesn't need this in his life.   This wasn't what he signed up for when he started dating me.  

But you need him!  My mind screamed at me full of judgement and rage.  You have allowed all of your happiness to be centered around him just like you did before and it ruined you.  You've given him all the power in the relationship and you've been lucky so far that he hasn't realized it or hasn't figured out how to use it against you.  My throat was aching so badly as I trying the hold back the tears and I couldn't contain it anymore.  Like water bursting from a recently hit fire hydrant, I began sobbing.   "What's wrong with me?" I cried in vain.  My whole body felt such immense fear; everything in me was telling to fight or runaway.  But there was nothing to fight and nowhere to run.  Gasping for air, I could feel the room begin to spin and I immediately feel to the floor shaking with uncontrollable sobs.  Maybe I should be committed to an insane asylum.  Clearly therapy is need more than just once a week. 

Dragging myself across the living floor and into the kitchen, I laid there with my sweaty palms and tear soaked face against the cool tile.  "Help me," I whimpered quietly.  "I need help.  Please help me," sobbed desperately.  There's no one hear to help you right now You need to help yourself.  I thought though the voice inside my head seemed calmer and stern.  You need to breath properly, no more gasping.   Now count with me as you breath in..1...2...3...4...5 and now breath out ....1...2...3...4...5....   I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing but after five breaths I still didn't feel any better.  "It's not working," I choked allow.  Keep going, the quiet, calm voice in my mind persisted.  Laying there for what seemed like forever, I counted my breaths and slowly I felt my sobs slow to sniffles and my breathing begin to feel normal.

Still shaking inside, I lifted my head from the floor.  The spinning had stopped.  Now, do not think about anything else but your breathing and go find something to take your mind off things.  Play solitaire, work on a puzzle, count the coins you've meaning to do.  I stood up and realized the dishes.  "I'm going to do the dishes" I thought aloud and I slowly turned on the water.  As the took the sponge, I focused on the warmth the flowed over my hands and took a few more lingering gasps of air.  Now, pour some soup into the pan and more the sponge around, once, twice, three times and change direction.  Like a surgeon trying to find the source of a bleed, I focused every once of my attention on washing the dishes.  My sanity depended on it.  

Twenty more minutes passed and soon the dishes were finished and I stepped away.  My mind felt quiet and tired.  My body felt weak.  You did it, I thought quietly.  You cleaned the dishes.  That's something right.  With a heavy sigh, I walked into my room and collapsed into bed.  My mind empty, I closed my eyes.   It seemed only moments later, my felt my boyfriend gently shaking me.  The sky had darkened and I felt exhausted.  "Another tough day today,"  he asked gently, his voice indicating that he understood.  I nodded silently and then remembered, "but I did the dishes"  I said meekly.  He smiled softly at me, "Yes, I can see that.  Thank you."  He kissed me softly and I felt myself drift back to sleep.  

An Admirer's Praise

Feeling the sun bearing down on my shoulders, I looked up from my book.  The soft, cool waves from the lake gently massaged the tops of my feet cooling the rest of my body but it had been a while since I last applied sunscreen.  Picking up my trusty high SPF sunscreen, I began to apply the white lotion to my reddening skin.  I wasn't too worried, whatever redness I hadn't prevented would leave my skin slightly tanned by tomorrow morning.  I had just finished smoothing the lotion over my right arm when I noticed her.  

She was absolutely stunning.  Walking down the beach with an air of casual confidence, she let her feet taste the water first.  Her sundress flowed with the wind showing emphasizing her small frame and long legs.  I was lucky that her attention was directed at the boats so she didn't realized I was staring.  For a moment she just stared out at the horizon and creating small circles with her feet under the water.  Slowly and completely distracted I began rubbing the sunscreen on my right leg and then my left.  Looking back at her, she had moved deeper into the water and was weaving her thick, curly hair through her fingers.  She secured her loose french braid with a dark hair elastic and swiftly removed her dress.  

With the grace of a ballerina, she threw her dress onto the sand, straighten the straps of her turquoise bathing suit top, and dived into the water.  It was obvious she was a strong swimmer from the beginning.  Each stroke cut through the water and her breathing was rhythmic.  She reached the bouys and then swam under them and for a few moments she seemed to have disappeared until I saw her climbing onto a blue boat sparkling under the sun and swaying under the gentle waves.  Dripping wet, she climbed into the boat and reemerged with a long white towel.  After allowing the towel to blow freely in the breeze, she smoothed it out onto the glistening front nose of the boat and laid under the sun.  

Remember my novel lying in the sand, I picked it back up and relaxed back into my green beach chair.  Two pages later, I realized that although my eyes were scanning the words I hadn't actually read anything.  I knew that boat and belonged to Mark, the campground heartthrob.  She must be his girlfriend then to be so comfortable climbing onto the boat that he prized so dearly.  Considering the size of the tiny, private campground and the fact that Mark was a "weekender" like myself, it was strange that I'd never seen her before. Having admired Mark from afar as he worked on his boats or practiced tricks on his jetski, it was hard not to pay attention the beautiful girl who was currently laying on his boat.  

Redoubling my efforts upon reading my book, I tried to force her out of my mind.  Of course she would be someone he'd go for; her grace, poise and beauty would be hard for anyone to resist.  Not to mention her body.  It was impossible not to think about her and unable to even pretend to read, I looked back up.  She had positioned herself into the warrior pose; one leg was bent at a ninety degree angle while the other stretched straight behind her and she was reaching toward the sun with both hands causing her back to arch slightly.  She looked positively picturesque as if she were posing to be on the cover of some Yoga World magazine.  

My initial admiration had quickly turned into jealously.  What a show-off posing like that on the boat so that everyone on the beach could see her.   It was something I could only wish was possible for me.  Closing my eyes, I saw myself as her.  Being watched with rapt attention, captivated by the beauty of my figure.  She was able to move herself into yoga positions that I had only fruitlessly attempted but unable to keep my balance would always end up on the floor.  I envisioned myself moving from one position to another on the bow of the boat; Mark completely captivated as he worked on restoring another watercraft.  What a life she must have; able to get anyone she wanted.

A quiet splashed caused me to open my eyes with a start.  She was no longer on the boat and the white towel, which I now realized was a yoga mat had been put away too.  Although there was relief that she was gone, I couldn't help but enjoy my fantasy inspired solely by her.   In the distance, I saw her make her way out of the water, grabbed her dress, and race to the back of the beach where her bag sat under a tree.  With a carefree air, she quickly stopped the water from dripping with the towel, slipped on her flip flops, and made way to cross the street back toward the campground.  

Turning back toward the lake, it was my turn to stare out at the horizon.  The feeling of annoyance seemed to linger with me more than any other.  Mark was dating her; the girl who was everything I want to be.  It's no wonder he hardly ever speaks to me.  Every time I've made eye contact with him this year, I felt a rush of hope that maybe he'd talk to me, but all I ever received was a short "hi" as he sped past or looked away.  How could he be interested when he had her?  The waves no longer felt comfortable and sitting on this chair for any longer now seemed impossible.  I shoved my feet into my sandals and my book into my bag.  Thankfully, it was still early enough that I didn't have to bring my stuff back to the campsite just yet.  I just wanted to walk, get out the frustration.  Carry a bag full of beach supplies and a large bulky chair just wouldn't do.  

Storming up the beach, I ran across the street.  The simple run in this heat winded me and I felt the energy drain as I continue to walk toward the campground.  The grains of sand stuck to my feet like salt on a french fry and after only I few steps, it became clear that I was too upset for it not to bother me.  I got to the washroom which served as a community bathroom and shower with a foot washing station in center.  Just as I turned on the water, I saw her again.  She had clearly just taken a shower as her long curly hair now hang wet and dripping over her shoulders and her dress was back on.  

This time, she caught me looking and smiled, "Hi, how are you?" she said brightly at me.  I felt my throat constrict and suddenly it felt like I was unable to speak.  For a few seconds, I stood like staring at her like an idiot before finally croaking, "um... hi.. I'm okay, you?"  Apparently used to people staring at her mindlessly, she responded, "Oh, it's just gorgeous here.  I'm so glad my cousin invited me up.  You might know him.  He's a regular here.  His name is Mark"  Before she finished her sentenced I blurted out, "I know him" and felt my ears getting warm from embarrassment.  "Oh awesome!" she beamed.  "What's your name?  My name is Miranda."  

Was she seriously his cousin?  I could feel my anger and resentment slip away as I reached out to shake her now extended hand, "Annabel."  She pulled back in excited surprise, "Annabel Watling?" she asked curiously.  Completely taken aback, all I could do was nod.  How'd she know my name?   "Yes, I see now why Mark talks about you all the time, you're gorgeous!  Oh, but don't tell him I told you, he'll kill me.  Anyway, I really must go, our grandparents are expecting us for lunch.  It was great meeting you!"  Then just as quickly, she turned and ran up the hill toward her grandparents' trailer.  

Stunned, I felt unable to move. Was she for real?  Did she really think I was "gorgeous?"  But then, she wouldn't have any reason to lie.  Thinking back, I did remember her vaguely.  She had come up a few years back with her family and it suddenly all seemed to come together.   My heart seemed to flutter within my chest and I felt my self-consciousness melt away.  Someone who looked like her called me gorgeous and indicated that Mark might actually think so too.  Forgetting about the sand on my feet, I continued on toward our campsite excited by all the new fantasies that were beginning to take shape within my head.   

Elementary writer's block

I can't think of anything to write about tonight.  Actually there a plenty of things to write about but nothing is coming when I sit down and try to formulate thoughts on the subject.  This was bound to happen at some point in this process and somehow I doubt that this will be the last time when I sit down and every thought somehow manages to vanish or be perceived as "not enough to say, "not the right time to discuss this," "too political," "too angry," "no one will know what I'm talking about."  Writing them down now, they are all just excuses.   Ways to discard the immediate thoughts that crop into my mind upon reading a prompt or contemplating a topic.  Wasn't the original purpose of this goal to just write and not worry about the audience?  I'm just supposed to write about whatever, whether it makes sense, offends, sounds disgruntled and angry.

Truth is, it's difficult to write with complete abandon when you know that someone may read it.  I've been doing well with it up until today.  There are times that I may breeze through a couple of prompts and write about the one that just strikes me for the day.  Once I start writing, I just write and I seem to stop thinking.  It's similar to what I'm doing now.  A few moments ago, I laid down next to Dave in utter frustration and said, "I've got absolutely nothing."  He looked up from the book he was reading and said, "All this time and you haven't been writing."  It's true, I gave myself a fifteen minute time limit to write but I seem to give myself unlimited time to determine which prompt I write.

While I laid with my head on his shoulder, I contemplated just not writing anything at all tonight.  As if he was reading my mind he said, "Just do what Frank Herbert does.  He said that he never got writers block.  There were times that he felt like writing and times that he didn't.  During the times that he didn't he just sat and wrote anyway.  He just started writing."  Of course, I had heard this before and in my readings about writing but it thus far hasn't really been necessary.  This whole experience of writing everyday is probably one of the best things I've done for myself in a long time.  I feel such a tremendous sense of accomplish when I finish and I can't actually believe I considered not doing it tonight.   At the time though, it just seemed easier to snuggle up to him, throw the blanket over us and close my eyes forgetting about until tomorrow.

That would have been a terrible mistake though because then I would've just felt completely miserable tomorrow.  Of course, I know it is inevitable that there will be a night at some point this year that I will be unable to write or that I choose not to but I would be really discouraged if it happened so soon.  Not to mention that in my own way I wouldn't be giving myself a chance.   I mean, the first night that finding a topic is more difficult than I expect, I throw in the towel saying, maybe tomorrow.  No, I'm glad I didn't do that.  Just like Dave said they would, the words are coming easily to me now that I'm writing.  I just needed to start and so what if there's nothing specific being written.  At least, I'm writing.   This will not be this last time where writer's block challenges me but then I'll just do something.  Maybe I'll write about why I should be writing again.

It's funny.  After all that thought about what to write, it turns out I wrote exactly what I needed.  And with that, I bid everyone a good evening (or good day as most of you won't see this until tomorrow at the earliest).

"Just let it go"

One of my father's favorite things to say whenever we had some type of problem that we just couldn't fix was "Let it go."  He said it so casually, as if the giant crisis of the moment was something you were holding onto because you needed it.  It was almost never anything so simple as letting go of the heavy weight pulling at you as you're swimming, trying to stay afloat, or in rare and dreadful cases drowning.  Many of life's curve balls or even simple issues couldn't be easily resolved just by releasing your grasp, allowing it to sink to the unknown depths, and freely swimming back up to the surface as if it was never there at all.

It wasn't just that he made it sound easy.  There were times he made it look easy as well.   He's been through his share of hardship and has definitely had potential problems looming over his head like a dark cloud just waiting to rain.  He's just never let it affect him.  He takes the short time he needs on his own, does whatever he needs to express his feelings, and then he just lets it go.  All without us ever seeing anything.  I can't help but admire that in him and wish that he passed whatever genetics contribute to that down to me.  It's not an exaggeration when I say, I've never seen my father cry; there's was that one time I heard it in his voice when his father (my grandfather) died and he woke up me up to tell me.  Even then though, I never saw it.  My mother who's been with him for over thirty years can count on one hand how many times she's seen him cry.  Rarely does he find the time to worry about anything either.  Always saying, "I'll worry about that when it happens."

I long for that ability.  To not worry about things until they actually happen and if/when they do, I long to be able to have my moment and then move on.  I inherited the anxiety from my mom's side as did my sister.  Thinking about it, I commend him for living with three women who did take things so seriously, so personally.  It wasn't easy for us, but it couldn't have been much easier for him.  Growing up, I always thought "he just doesn't get it."  Maybe, though, it's me who doesn't get it.   Perhaps there is some secret formula that allows one to only deal with things when they happen and then to do it efficiently, drawing as little attention to yourself as possible.  My fiance has a similar ability.  Rarely have I ever seen him stress about something for more than a day.  I've always admired that in my dad so it's really no surprise that I consider it one of my fiance's best abilities.  Perhaps if I surround myself with people like that it will eventually rub off on me as well.

Oh and for anyone who tries to say that it's "a women thing vs a guy thing-" I personally don't buy that.  I've seen my fair share of guys who can't get over things and linger in their personal tragedy in a similar way that I've seen women handle heavy worries and hardship as if they're just another pothole to maneuver around.   Could it really be something that can be resolved with some cognitive behavior therapy?  Is it just that those who appear impervious really automatically think whatever happened or couple happen more productively?  I really hope so.  If so, maybe I actually can learn how to do it myself.   It would certainly help me get out of my own way, right?

The Look of Love

"Ow," I mumble quietly so as not to be heard.  My youngest son is behind me and I know he's watching my movements closely.  I raise my hands up hoping that one of them will find something I can brace myself on.  A hard but smooth surface greets both of my hands and let my hands follow it up and down.  I must be in the hallway of some sort as the surface beneath my hands stays flat indicating a wall.

"You're okay, mom.  Keep going."  My son's voice sounds so old, so grown up.  This is a responsibility he shouldn't have right now.  He should be out meeting girls, flirting, and asking them on dates, not worry about his ailing mother.  I hate this exercise but I refuse to make this any more difficult for him.  Placing my arms out in front of me, I continue walking.  The smells of the pizza I cooked for him last night still lingered in the air and I can still see the grease-covered pepperoni.

I've reached the end of the hallway and lightly touch the screen door in front of me.  I'm going to need to fix the tears in this soon before I eventually end up cutting myself on the extended wires.  I can sense my son move closer to me.  He's so much taller than he was last year and he was taller than me then.  His hands give my shoulders a squeeze and the warm breeze moves swiftly through the screen causing my skirt to dance.  "It's a nice day outside, isn't it?"  I ask him utilizing his young, healthy eyes.

"Go see for yourself," he says quietly.  Almost instantly, I remember that he's only fifteen and lacks the tactfulness  that normally grow stronger as you grow older.  He knows very well that I can't see right now.  Irritated, I stand still.  I've never ventured further than the house during this exercise; he can't possibly expect me to go outside.  I feel the wind again and decide that as soon as this exercise is over, I will go outside and enjoy what's left of the day.  Instead, I hear him say, "Go on."  It's the same voice his father used when he wanted my son to do something that scared him.  "Just feel for the handle. I promise I'm right behind you."

A part of me stalls.  This is too much.  It's bad enough having to walk around my home with his guidance but now I have to go outside.  Still, he's already been through too much.  His father left less than a year ago unable to deal with my condition and now his mother is going blind.  It's not fair for him.  I graze my hand against the screen until I feel the brittle piece of iron underneath my fingers.  I push down and the I feel the screen door give way as it opens; the warm air of spring welcoming me.  I grasp the handle and the frame of the door as I remember the step to our deck.  Once I'm securing, my son squeezes past me and takes my hand off the door handle.

Gripping his young hand I take my hand off the frame and allow him to guide me.  Behind me, the door creaks as it swings shut and the sound of it latching in the door frame has never been so noticeable before.   I can feel the wood of the deck under my slippers and the sun on my face.   The darkness seems to lighten a bit, becomes a different shade of black.  Until now, I never quite realized just how many shades black seems to have.

He stops me and lets my hands go.  Instinctively I reach out feeling through the air and taking a small step forward, my knee bumps into something soft.  Reaching down, I feel the plastic armrest of my patio chair and using my fingers walk around it slowly to the front of the chair.  Before sitting down, I make sure to that I can feel the cushion laying on top of the seat and keeping my hand on it, I turn and sit down.  The scent of smoke wafts through the air and I can almost hear the crackling of the fire underneath my neighbor's grill.  

What must he think of me sitting outside with a blindfold on?  I haven't had the courage to tell anyone yet.  The only reason my youngest knows is because he was with me when I was told that I was not a candidate for surgery and that my eyesight will deteriorate slowly until eventually I will be unable to see anything at all.  While I was still trying to cope with the news, it was my son who spoke first.  He wanted to know if it would help to practice "not seeing"  and strengthen the other senses.  The doctor didn't think it was a bad idea; I happened to think it was a terrible idea.  My feeling is that I should be enjoying to every last sight.

In the car, I begged him not to tell the others.  One is graduating next year and the other is in her first year of college.  He argued with me saying that they have every right to know and that they would want to know but in the end he agreed on the condition that I partake in these exercises with him when the other two aren't home.  Since then, he's come home right after school while my other son is at baseball practice and we "exercise my other senses."  Though I'm reluctant to admit it, he was right.  The periodic removal of my sight enhances the times when I do see.  During these exercises, I realize what I don't see and burn them into my brain as best as I can.  

Sometimes, when the natural darkness of night fills my room I cry silently to myself.  It's so unfair that I have to go through this, that my kids have to deal with this for the rest of their lives.  During those nights, it seems almost too much to bear but then I remember my youngest and how these exercises have made us some much closer.  Somehow, the thought brings me out of my self-pity.  Really, I'm lucky.  We never would've connected like this otherwise.  A heavy breeze blows under my hair and I'm brought back to reality.  I hear him pulling up a chair and sitting next to me.  "So," I say smiling, "have you asked her out yet?"

Letters to Sleep

Dear Sleep,

We've had a complicated relationship for a while now and I'm hoping that through this letter, we may be able to come to some sort of agreement.  Throughout high school, we had a difficult time for I found it hard to be tired enough to go to bed by 10pm, I felt so proud of everything I accomplished that day and it was around that time that I gave some time to myself.  I find it hard to not get overwhelmed when I a full day ahead of me (even if it is a day full of fun plans).  When the day ends, I feel a sense of freedom and it awakens me as I feel compelled to embrace every moment of that freedom and try to put of the next morning for as long as possible.  Sadly though, when my morning alarm sounded the next day, I found it practically impossible to open my eyes and drag myself out of bed.  Walking around my room like a zombie with my eyes still half shut with sleep, I'd fumble with my clothes and get myself ready for school.  During the day, I'd go through cycles and always resisted napping as I believed it would make going to bed that evening more difficult than normal.

Over the course of college, our relationship took on a different look.  One where I would try to assert my individuality and tried to give us as must distance as I could muster.  Hanging out with friends or working on assignments all night and going to classes the next day with little to no sleep at all.  When I couldn't deny my need for you much more, I would lie down and insist on taking twenty minute power naps.   They energized my body and stimulated my mind allowing me just enough to continue to living the life I was creating.  In fact, throughout most of college I came out the victor in most of our battles.  If you managed to get me to sleep more than four or five hours during those years, it was a major success.

Within the last year, our relationship has shifted again.  Your ability to overpower me is much stronger than it used to be when I was in college.  Some days, I feel like you are attempting to regain all the hours I stole from you those years ago.  There are times when I wake up from your hold only to realize that ten or sometimes even twelve hours have passed.  All of this would be fine, if I felt that I had extra amounts of energy and motivation during the day but I don't.  Since, then I've tried to accommodate myself to your desires and I realize that you are quite fickle with me.  There are nights when I feel completely overwhelmed by you but you won't allow me to drift off and then when I desperately need to stay awake, I find myself almost entirely unable.  I spend most days wondering whether or not I'll have met enough of your requirements to get through my daily tasks.

So, I'm writing you this letter to propose a potential agreement.  I promise that I will try and get to go to bed at approximately the same time every night if you would allow me to actually sleep during those hours.  Also, I  will make sure that I will stay awake during the day to prevent difficulties later, but please allow me to feel semi well-rested at a reasonable hour in the morning.   I will give you a week or two to think about this and I will try to show you that I am committed to making this relationship work.  I hope that you will see my effort and maybe do a bit more on your end to help us both win.

Please think about it and let me know.

Sincerely and with much love,

Denise

Bookstores

There's nothing like walking into a bookstore.  Books are known for transporting you into a different world but I feel that every time I enter a bookstore, I'm walking into someplace new and different.  Yes, even if it's the same bookstore I visit all the time.  Upon walking in, I'm overcome by inspiration and am known to spend hours perusing the shelves or fingering through the pages of a book that may have piqued my interest.  Anytime I ever feel the need to get away and only have a couple of hours, a bookstore is the first place I go.  Oddly enough, bookstores never fail to provide me with hope.  Every time, I leave one I feel like anything is possible and that personal dreams are endless.

Opening a used bookstore is an ambition of one of my very close friends and honestly there are times that I wish we lived just slightly closer because I feel like it's something that I could totally see myself doing as well.  Though I've heard terrible stories about friends being business partners, who knows, maybe we could be like Ben and Jerry's but with books instead of ice cream.  I love places like Barnes and Nobles and Borders but the new releases are always so expensive and I like the idea of a small cafe type place in the middle of a town center.  Also, as much as I love pastries, I would love for the book's cafe to sell other, healthier options like salads or fruit.  I don't know where that sentence came from but I suppose that's the beauty of writing without thinking.  As I grow older and try and determine what I want to do with the rest of my life, I can't help but think that opening a small business would be right up my alley but somehow I doubt that my friend would want a business partner.  Still, we wouldn't actually be competitors if we didn't have stores in the same area.  I have to admit, I feel weird even humoring the idea because I feel like I'm stealing her idea.  Yes, I know she isn't the first to come up with it but it fits her more than me, I guess.  I know that she peruses this little blog too, so I really hope you're not offended by my throwing the idea around myself.  

As I write this post, I can't stop thinking of an idea that popped into my head earlier about bookmobiles and not the type you used to make in grade school.  More like an ice cream or candy truck but only filled with books.  I envisioned driving around in one and parking at a popular park or beach.  People could come up and buy a cheap used book to read while they relax in the sun and enjoy the scenery.  If I was rich or set for life, I would totally do that as I can't imagine this being any sort of a business where one could make a living.   I'd have little tables and chairs that could be placed in the area around where I stationed and maybe a cappuccino or smoothie machine that I could set alongside.  I'd love to talk books with people or have a "story time" where I would read a favorite children's book to the kids nearby.  Gosh, if I could somehow make a living doing that, I would love it - though it would have to be a seasonal thing in this area. 

Anyway, this post totally took control over my writing and I went into a different direction than I anticipated.  Until today, I didn't even realize that a small used bookstore would be something I'd even consider as a potential career path.  Maybe it isn't for me but I suppose it could be as much as any of the other crazy ideas that jump around my brain.  Who knows; but this whole, "what do you want to be when you grow" path that this post is too much for 2:00 am and it's really time for bed.

*So, apparently according to Wikipedia, Bookmobiles have been around forever as traveling libraries.  So maybe if I ever hit the jackpot, I can do that.  

Healthy Habits

Most people go to bed or are in bed by 12:30 am.  What am I doing?  Grabbing a jelly donut and sitting at my desk to write.  I'm not sure why I find that it is so much easier to do things at night but it's always been something that felt far more natural than getting up and trying to do anything early in the morning.   I've been a night owl from the time I was in the womb;  my mom once told me that I would be relatively calm and relaxed during the day as soon as she laid down to go to bed, I'd start kicking and moving.  Maybe it's something that really is completely out of my control.  If I had to choose between being an early bird or a night owl, the early bird would always win out.

People aren't meant to operate between the hours of 10:00 pm and 4:00am.  Normal people sleep during those hours and many find that waking up before the sun rises to be far more productive.   I envy those who wake up at the crack of dawn, exercise, get a healthy breakfast, prepare themselves physically for the day, and maybe even spend twenty minutes or so reading, writing, or checking e-mails-all before heading to work.  Upon leaving work in the evenings they come home, cook themselves something to eat, run a couple of last minute errands, and spend the rest of the night relaxing, winding down, and feeling thoroughly exhausted at a reasonable hour and go to bed.   I wish I lived liked that.

Me, on the other hand, consider waking up before 10am to be "early."  Not to mention that I am completely useless once I wake up.  If I'm not forced to go anywhere, I will normally lounge around mindlessly watching television or surfing the internet.  I might even read a book.   Breakfast is a very rare occurrence and if I have lunch, it tends to be something hastily thrown together lacking any type of proper nutrients.   Normally, I find that I come out of my mind coma around 2pm at which I tend to do something mildly productive, possibly run some errands, and then head into work for 5pm most nights.  At work, I eat something light (normally a personal size pizza that you can heat in the microwave) and come home at 11:30pm wired and hungry.  When most people are asleep or going to bed, I'm wide awake, alert, and active.  I hate it.

Over the past year, I have grown tremendously in the psychological department.  I've learned to recognize my anxiety and deal with it in a productive rather than aggressive way.   In addition, I am learning to face my past and personal demons in a stable environment. Overall, despite the few setbacks and difficult days, I feel generally pretty healthy mentally.  Well, I feel like I'm the road to decent mental health, anyway.  Physically, however, I'm an absolute mess and I'm not talking about weight gain (though it really wouldn't hurt to shed the excess poundage). Now, that my mind is beginning to "check in" with my body, I am realizing just how unhealthy I am and how that makes me feel physically crappy on most days.   I have zero energy, inability to sleep properly, no stamina, and even less desire to put any effort in to change it.  Most days, I physically feel like a slug and almost no motivation to get up and do anything about it.  I'm not eating properly as I skip meals and when I do eat, I tend to eat things like jelly donuts.

Out of all my personal goals that I've set for this year, it is the minimum amount of exercise three times a week that is killing me.  I don't want to work out because I want to lose weight; I want to work out because I miss the way I used to feel.  I hate that my body feels tense and tight all the time from sitting all day with terrible posture.  I used to never be able to sit still and now, even the simplest exercise or physical movement is an arduous task.   As I'm writing this, I'm thinking of excuses to not make exercise and proper nutrition a priority: "You've been doing so well with your other goals.  If you force this goal too, then you're going to screw everything up."  

Truth is, I have to keep moving forward.  I can't allow myself to throw in the towel just yet.  It's hardly been two weeks.  I've made the other goals the focus, but I think I need to give the physical health some attention too.  We'll see. I'll take it one day at a time and try and keep you all posted on the progress.

On a Spring Afternoon

Staring at the blank canvas

Her mind as empty as the page

There was a time when this was easy 

There was a time creativity was free

Desiring it to portray some deeper meaning

Fearing the judgement from those she let see

Looking at her supplies 

She contemplated which to choose.

The pencils gave her work a sense of realism

With structure, form, and shadows

Watercolor allowed for whimsical work

Its dreamy strokes emotionally evocative

Acrylics shout a strong story 

Brilliant colors and layers--its words.

Clay in the corner longed to make a statement

To sculpture masterfully an image.

Frustration became to climb 

For the choice seemed such a struggle.

"You're not listening to me"

She heard the whisper within her.

Sighing a heavy sigh, she knew- 

It wasn't for lack for trying.

"You're not listening to me"

she heard the voice grow insistent.

Closing her eyes, she waited

"This is so stupid, what a waste of time"

Why was her mind always much louder?

Ignoring it, she took a long breath

and released it; then she took another

"I just want some attention" 

the small voice urged more clearly

"What does it matter, the tools you use

Nobody but you needs to see"

Trusting that small voice was difficult

She buried it deep for a long forgotten reason

Opening her eyes

She reached for a paintbrush

Swallowing the paint and

Pulling it out before it drowned

Her brushed danced across the page

With each color it felt easier 

As picture began to develop

A playful feeling rose within 

Smiling, she allowed the brush to linger

"Thank you" 

Whispered the small voice.

Appreciation and gratitude replacing

The emptiness that existed mere moments before.

She stepped away for it needed space to dry 

And allowed herself to admire her creation

"I don't get it" 

Her confused mind scolded.

Feeling slightly anxious, and taking another breath

She was able to ignored her head once more.

"It's not meant to be understood" 

Spoke the little voice in response and 

Looking again, she remembered 

The painting that lay drying had

Expressed exactly what she needed to feel.