When I discovered the show "Sex and the City" I was instantly addicted. Wow, that's a shocker isn't it? If you haven't been living under a rock for the past ten years and happen to know even a little bit about the show, you probably know that the main character, Carrie Bradshaw, is obsessed with shoes. And not just any shoes, but designer shoes that go for $300 and more a pair. Not a cheap obsession.
Of course, Carrie was also a newspaper columnist for most of her life which meant that having the liquid funds available to purchase outlandishly priced footwear was sometimes difficult, if not impossible. But she always found a way. Isn't fiction fun?
When I started watching Sex and the City I wore sneakers just about every day of my life. I can't even think of a pair of footwear I owned that didn't have shoelaces, aside from the proverbial black dress shoes that everyone's mother insisted they own until they were old enough to move out of the house. But something happened to me once I discovered SATC. Maybe it would have happened regardless, but this show awakened something in me that I never had thought about before.
A love of shoes.
A love of stilettos, and wedges, and pumps. A love of darkly colored suede and bright, funky patterns. Shoe shopping became a new favorite pasttime. Zappos.com became my new favorite website. I suddenly found myself transforming my style. I was no longer content with my tomboy attire on a day-to-day basis, I was ready to create outfits and top those outfits off with my new favorite accessory: fabulous shoes.
Here's a newsflash for you. Shoes take up a lot of room in one's closet. Because you see, there are two of them. So after awhile it takes a lot of creativity and superior organizational skills to make room for all those shoes. Luckily for me, I now live in a house and have access to more than a couple closets in which to store my treasures.
But no matter what I do, I can't get people to stop asking me the same question over and over again.
"Don't you have enough shoes?"
Boy, that's a brain teaser. I suppose to some people I probably do have enough shoes, more than enough, even. But to me.....I just can't endorse the idea that the footwear I currently own is all I will ever need.
What is it about shoes that is so wonderful? I mean after all, these things go on your feet and inevitably get sweated in and eventually become rather smelly, dirty.....you know the deal. Suddenly these brightly colored contraptions aren't as appealing as they once were.
For me, certain pairs of shoes encompass different attitudes. I have pairs that make me feel bold and in-charge, other pairs that are more subtle, others that are flashy and just scream "PARTY!" Then I have my workout shoes, which I actually love just as much as any pair of heels I have ever owned. With the right footwear, I can be exactly the person I want to be and convey exactly the type of persona I want to convey. Pretty sweet, huh?
New shoes are like new possibilities. And, okay, they're just downright fun to buy. And I will rationalize everything to death in order to convince myself that a new pair of shoes must be purchased.....today.....this very minute. Closet space be damned.
So to answer the question, no, I don't think there is such a thing as too many shoes. I don't think it's silly to pack four pairs of shoes when I go home just for two nights, and I don't think that limited closet space will ever stand in my way of purchasing the most perfect pair of black stilettos (that I have seen this month).
I have been told numerous times that life is all about choices. Now wouldn't it be a shame to go through your life, making those choices, and wearing the absolutely wrong pair of shoes?
Think about it.
I go home at lunch most every day to let my dogs out. Every afternoon I walk through the front door, let the dogs out of their kennels, and then turn on the TV. At night when I get home from work, if Dean hasn't already done so, I will turn on the TV. When Dean and I crawl into bed at night the TV is always on until we fall asleep. On the weekends I will usually dedicate at least a few hours to house cleaning, during which time I have the TV on. Not necessarily being watched, but on nonetheless.
I have been watching TV since I was a little kid. So have a lot of people in this country. However, I feel like I watch more TV now than I ever did when I was growing up. Does anyone else feel this way? When I was a kid, I had so many other things to amuse me, so many other things that I spent my time doing, TV wasn't really one of my top priorities. From a child development standpoint I guess this is a good thing, but I'm wondering why TV has become so much more a part of my life now. Is it because I don't have as much outside stimulii? Or am I becoming lazier?
It's true that spending hours in front of the TV is often construed as being lazy. But TV can also provide one with a sometimes much-needed escape. From work, from a fight with your spouse, from just about anything that might be weighing on your mind. And let's face it, sometimes we need an escape, or at least a couple hours of distraction before we let oursleves sink back into reality.
Also, as much as I am absolutely in love with Netflix and the fact that they have hundreds and hundreds of movies and TV shows available on instand download, I admit that it has definitely contributed to my inclination to flip on the tube rather than turn on the radio. Come on now, how awesome is it that in a matter of minutes I can access the entire first season of "Friday Night Lights" and watch it as long and as many times as I want? (On a side note, has anyone ever noticed how much beer Tim Riggins actually drinks on that show? The boy NEVER has a glass of water!)
I guess the one thing that confounds me more than anything is my habit of having the TV on even if I am not watching it. For instance, during my weekend house cleaning I am upstairs, downstairs, running the vacuum, doing dishes, all sorts of activities that do not involve sitting on the couch and paying attention to a particular program. And yet the TV is on, the volume is up, and I in turn am wasting electricity all for the sake of background noise.
Even in the mornings when I sit on the couch and read. I am engrossed in a book, paying attention only to the words on the page, and the TV is still on. Some people might find this a distraction, but I'm very good at tuning things out. That and multi-tasking....perhaps this is an example of both.
Here's my question. Why are we (because I'm sure I'm not the only one) so inclined to watch TV even when we aren't watching TV? What is it about that box with the startingly clear picture that keeps us coming back for more, even when we should be doing other things? Is it more than wanting an escape.....are we all addicted to TV?
I will sometimes force myself to not watch TV. To sit and read a book in total silence. To turn on my iPod when I am cleaning. I find it refreshing to take a break from TV, to force myself to become creative again in the ways of entertaining myself. It's like I want to prove to myself that I still got it, that I don't need TV in order to be occupied.
Of course, this can only last so long. Because when I see those new episodes of "Glee" scheduled for Tuesday nights you will find me right back on the couch.
Perhaps you have noticed the new look that "In My Words" is sporting. Yes? No? First time visiting? In any case, I was feeling restless with the old look and decided with the new year fast approaching an aesthetic layout change was in order.
Today Christmas is on my mind.....and all the things that go hand-in-hand with the holiday. Not just the shopping and the giving of gifts, but more specifically the decorating. Think of all the things we do for Christmas. We run out and buy live trees to disply in our living rooms, we cover these trees with ornaments of every size, shape, and color, we hang up string of lights in our windows and outside our houses, then on top of everything else we buy all sorts of other decorations to display inside our homes. Decorating for Christmas alone can sometimes last from the day after Thanksgiving right up until Christmas Eve. And for some people that still isn't enough time.
Before I get too much further along let me say that I love decorating for all holidays. I may not have the largest decoration collection, but I make do with what is available. Of course I am also extremely cheap, which is probably a good thing in some respects, but it also means that it will take me awhile to grow my various decoration collections.
My husband doesn't quite get into the spirit of all-out decorating. Especially when it comes to the Christmas lights. He argues that it isn't worth a more expensive electricity bill just to have some colored lights on our house. Okay, so in realist terms that is probably true. But I can't buy into it. For me, Christmas lights, tree, decorations, and everything else are essential.
Decorating is an element that helps make any holiday more than average. It sets the scene and amazingly enough can set your mood. Once all my decorations for Christmas were appropriately displayed, the tree assembled (yes, it's fake) and decorated, the lights hung and plugged in, I felt darn good. Every night when I come home at 5:00 and it's already pitch black outside, I see my Christmas lights shining bright and feel a little happier inside. When I'm in my house with my candles burning and illuminating the nativity scene, I can't help but instantly relax. Sure, part of it is probably the essence of the season, but there is something to be said for WSU Santas and fat snowmen smiling down from the TV stand.
Is all-out decorating what Christmas is all about? No. Is it essential to having the perfect Christmas? Probably not. But for some, and for others who might not like to admit it, decorating in any way shape or form just has a way of elevating spirits.
Would I trade these happy feelings for a lower electricity bill? Nope. Sometimes it's worth it to plug in some Christmas lights.
The OMG moment of Monday came when my sister and I were strolling through the WSU Bookie, searching the new release book tables for potential Christmas presents. And that's when I saw it staring up at me. The book that made me stop dead in my tracks and say, "Oh. My. God."
In case you haven't heard of this upstanding young man before, it is none other than Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino from Jersey Shore. That's right kids, The Situation has infiltrated your local bookstore to regale you with advice on the following topics:
- How to creep on chicks
- How to avoid gernades (FYI: not the ones that explode when you pull the pin and throw them)
- How to get your GTL on in the Jersey Shore
I think I died a little inside seeing this book on the same table as a biography on George Washington.
Of course, as the saying goes, everyone and their dog has a book out these days. Literally every reality TV star eventually makes their way into a Barnes and Noble store, and the majority of those "stars" probably had someone ghost write their book while all they had to do was pose for the cover photo. Let's face it, if they let The Situation actually write his own book one would probably need a translator to decipher all the crude, obscure references.
So as I sit here and ponder my own future in the land of writing, I can't decide if this book bodes well for my chances of one day being published, or if it represents the low I will have to sink to in order to see my words in print.
Perhaps that is a question best pondered on another day.
Last week was Thanksgiving. The holiday centered on a golden turkey with neverending side dishes, football, and eating until you're ready to pass out.
And one other thing.
Family.
Thanksgiving is the kick-off to the holiday season. A prelude to the magic that is Christmas and a step up in seriousness from Halloween. Thanksgiving does not receive the same heavy commercialization as Christmas, in fact I believe advertising gurus nationwide have pretty much stricken Thanksgiving from their calendars altogether and just decided to move straight into Christmas promotions. But Thanksgiving provides a day, a time, a moment, for us to come together with those we love and do what we should always do.
Give thanks. Give love. Feel blessed. Make others feel blessed.
As I sat around the crowded dinner table passing dishes of mashed potatoes, cranberry salad, turkey, and asparagus salad, I took a moment to soak in the moment, the faces, the conversation, the smiles, the laughs. I sat and said my own silent thanks.
For family. For tradition. For being able to have such a special place to call home.
While the holiday was not without the normal stresses, it was still a thing of imperfect perfection. While we all were still mourning the loss of Grandpa, we found a kind of solace in sitting together, sharing stories and memories.
There's something endearing about returning home to family. To a home where members of the same family have gathered for generations.
Family is one of those things that you come to appreciate more and more over time, for most of us a thing that grows better and better over time.
Here's hoping you all found something wonderful to give thanks for on Thanksgiving.
I don’t think I am cut out for home improvement projects.
I have a tendency to get crabby when faced with set-backs, and more often than not I take out this crabbiness on my husband. Not because it’s his fault, but because he always seems to be in the immediate area. Trust me, it’s not the best strategy.
When we bought our house we did so with the knowledge that there would be many small and large projects to tackle. The house was built in 1971, something you could discern just by looking at the flooring, cabinetry, and wallpaper throughout the house. But we weren’t fazed. We were not intimidated by a little painting, a bit of tiling, and a whole mess of extremely unflattering light fixtures.
Over a year later and we have made significant strides. We have also spent a good chunk of change bringing our house into the present day, and no, we do not plan on figuring out exactly how much money has gone into the process….the total could very likely cause us heart failure.
I have done my fair share of work. Dean has done more, and my parents have probably done just as much as both of us. So we are all contributing. Making the house a home to reflect our style, our taste, and our personalities.
And I am ready for it to be done.
At first it was fun. It was exciting. It was breathing new life into a space in need of TLC. Now….it’s just work. And really, it has always been work. Not to mention a huge investment of our time, energy, and pocketbook. Now when setting out to tackle a new project I think to myself, Can’t we just hire someone?
Sometimes my husband will take this as a sign that I don’t think he can do certain elements of a project, which is absolutely not true. For me, it’s more about not having to be present when the work is taking place, and not having to witness any mistakes and deal with any problems. If someone else does the work, I just walk away for awhile, come back, and everything is exactly the way I wanted it.
It’s a very idealistic viewpoint and also a very lazy one. It’s also quite dangerous considering the fact that I should be concerned about keeping the costs of these projects down to a minimum.
I am well aware of the satisfaction that comes with doing a job yourself. I am also well aware of my own personality type and how not suited it is for home improvement jobs. I am a person who likes order, and neatness, and everything to be just-so. Home improvement does not fall into any of those categories. At least, not until the end of the project, and this sometimes does not happen for weeks or months. I am also the type who likes to get things done quickly. In my mind this is equivalent to being efficient. With home improvement it can mean skipped steps, messy work, and mistakes. Luckily, Dean is always there to make sure things are done right.
Do-it-yourself home projects are definitely character builders. They can test the fabric of your patience and your relationship. They can make you feel wonderful, and they can make you feel like crap. For us neat freaks out there, it’s a test of willpower to see how long we can go without running around the job site organizing tools, picking up clutter, and scrubbing down surfaces.
In conclusion, I am not against the do-it-yourself approach, simply anxious for the day when there won’t be so much to do.
The art of remembrance is a sometimes fleeting endeavor. The human memory is not capable of keeping our entire lives on file, meaning that every encounter, feeling, and person we experience in our lives has the potential to be forgotten.
Forgotten.
It’s a frightening concept. To think the possibility exists that we might not remember something which at one time was important to us is enough to cause concern. Even more frightening is the notion that this same phenomenon applies to people.
I think we assume that if we care for someone a great deal it’s almost impossible that we would forget things about them. Maybe sometimes this is true, but it’s amazing how foggy one’s memory can become over the space of even a couple years. Certain things like the inflection of a voice, the way someone’s hands looked and felt, their favorite ice cream, all these things are ingredients, components of a real person. As we lose these recollections are we at the same time losing parts of the person? What enables us to remember certain elements over others?
Usually we are more inclined to remember things if they are tied to big moments in our lives. Big events such as graduations, weddings, anniversaries, these are things that might enable us to commit certain things to memory and keep them there. But once they are there, housed in our memories, we really don’t have any guarantee that they will always be there. My wedding was one of the biggest days of my life, and I couldn’t tell you half of the conversations I had that day, let alone who all I saw and hugged. However, I do remember the feelings I felt that day. I remember seeing Dean for the first time and my heart being so filled with happiness that I couldn’t even speak. I remember dancing with my grandfather to “Unforgettable,” laughing at his jokes and feeling so thankful that he was there to share the day with me. I remember driving away after the wedding, feeling the cool night breeze, and wondering if I would ever be able to stop smiling.
And maybe that’s the key. It’s not about details, or exact words, or even setting. It’s about feelings. Feelings can sometime paint a more vivid picture than words ever could. As people come and go in our lives, the extent of our memories will be based entirely upon the feelings we had while we were around them. Losing a loved one, whether it is a relative or a close friend, will more often than not bring us into a panic over our memories. How can we force ourselves to remember? How can we truly never forget someone? Whether or not there are answers to these questions, I think we should try and take the pressure off ourselves to have photographic memories. Certain things will stick and other won’t, that’s just a fact of life.
But the feelings will always linger. Of this we can take some comfort.
I've been going through an emotional tumult the past week. My kitty cat of six years, Juliet, has disappeared. I don't know where she is, if she is hurt (or worse....God forbhid), or where to even start looking for her. I feel helpless, and that is such an awful feeling.
I grew up on a farm out in the country, and while growing up I had tons of cats as pets. I think at one point in time we had over 20 cats that lived on our farm and more than a handful of those cats were "my" cats. So I am not new to the ordeal of losing a pet and the grieving process that goes along with it.
But there's something different about it this time around.
Don't get me wrong, I am trying to stay positive and hold fast to the idea that Juliet will come home. Yet as each day goes by my hope wanes little by little. Juliet was mine and Dean's first pet. She was with us through our years at WSU, through moving into our first house, and through our first year of marriage. We taught her how to play fetch with a little toy mouse, and spied on her as she would sit in the window and squack at the birds outside.
I'm reminded of her absence everywhere I look. Her half empty food dish, the empty guest bed that she would nap on, even the litter box that I haven't had to clean for a week. I never realized how big a void one little cat could leave in someone's life....but that is glaringly apparent now.
My sadness sits just under the surface, every now and then overtaking me. Everytime we take the dogs out for a walk I find myself scanning the park for a glimpse of her brown fur, or the sound of her tiny jingle bell collar. I'm hoping and praying she finds her way home.
Until then, I'll allow myself to feel, to go through the grieving process. It's really the best way to heal.
Last week the hubby and I spent some time outside doing yard work. We mowed, edged, raked, watered, did just about everything we could think of to get the front and backyards looking in tip top shape. As the sun set that Thursday evening we sat on the porch, admiring our hard work, and taking silent satisfaction in a job well done.
Later the next day, we started devising a plan for spring. We talked about where to plant new grass, when we should fertilize, and the prospect of planing new bushes and trees. The momentary satisfaction of the work we had accomplished the day before was soon forgotten. Our minds were moving ahead to progress. To change.
Satisfaction is such a fleeting concept. When we have it, we feel complete and accomplished. When we don't have it, we're unfulfilled and striving to find a way to make our yearnings a reality.
As humans we get bored. We long for change. This causes dissatisfaction to a certain degree. But is it possible to keep that feeling of satisfaction around, or is it inevitable that before long we are back to feeling unsettled?
Small moments of satisfaction can go a long way, but if you're like me, your mind is constantly running down the list of endless To-Do's, wondering how there can possibly be enough time for everything. This is overwhelming, and for me personally leads to feelings of dissatisfaction.
I feel like we are constantly bombarded with messages of "bigger and better." We are being subliminally coached into thinking that what we have is never good enough, and that we should be making steps toward change.
Change can be refreshing. Sometimes even a necessity. But there is something to be said for staying put, for accepting things the way they are and being content. Is it possible to feel this way always, or are we conditioned to eventually cave in and search for ways to further increase our satisfaction?
I suppose I don't have definitive answers to these questions, and maybe that's alright. Maybe it's up to each of us to find our own personal limits, and once those limits are met, our own personal satisfaction will be, too.
My fascination with urban legends began when I discovered the wonderful collection of stories by Alvin Schwartz. Perhaps some of you remember "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark," "More Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark," and "Scary Stories 3: More Tales to Chill Your Bones." In these collections Schwartz gathered a wonderful assembly of urban legends, some in their original forms, some rewritten, and presented his readers with some truly classic stary tales.
As a kid I never really paid attention to where these tales came from, but recenly as I was flipping through the indexes of the books I found that Schwartz made a point to not only include American folklore in these books, but also legends from other countries.
Urban legends, in my mind, are cautionary tales. They are vehicles for lessons on how our lives should be lived, and the sorts of situations and people that should be avoided. I love these stories for their ambiguous nature, which in a way is odd because as a writer I have always been taught that details and establishing time and place are imperative. But urban legends don't have to have a setting. You don't have to know the time of year, or the backgrounds of the characters involved. These are probably the only types of stories where you can get away with that. Of course, this goes along with the notion that urban legends were commonly used as a vessel for passing down lessons. In that respect, because the stories were being told over and over again, year after year, things like place, time, and setting weren't really a necessity. They could be adjusted and changed as often as the story was told.
Imagine you are sitting home late one night. A storm is raging outside, rain is pattering against all the windows, and the wind is howling so loud it sounds like a large animal is waiting outside your door. Suddenly, all the lights in the house start flashing, until finally the go out completely. You're sitting in the dark....alone. Then you hear a noise from upstairs. Footsteps. Someone is in the house. You feel yourself start to panic, you start to breathe faster and heavier, you become lightheaded. Just as you're about to run for the door, you look up the stairs and see your dog come racing down. He had been upstairs the entire time, you simply forgot.
And yet....
Even if you had rememberd that your dog was upstairs, would you have immediatly dismissed the footsteps? Or would you have wondered if something or someone else had found their way into your home?
What you just experienced, just for that split second, was fear. But why? And how? What exactly causes us to be afraid?
According to Discovery Health, fear is a chain reaction in the brain that triggers our fight-or-flight response. The stimulus for this reaction can appear in many forms, from a bee, to a clown, to an auditorium full of people waiting for you to speak. Strangely enough, fear is an autonomic response, which means that we don't conciously trigger it, or even know what is going on until it has run its course.
Additionally, fear is created in the brain and is entirely subconscious. In the process of feeling fear, we are actually using two different paths in which to "handle" whatever it is that is scaring us. By taking the low road, we are literally taking no chances with what has scared us. Sure, those footsteps upstairs could belong to the dog, but then again they could also belong to someone who isn't supposed to be there. It is much less risky for us to assume they are the footsteps of a stranger. On the low road, one does not take the time to analyze and ask questions.
Contrarily, the high road to fear response takes a much more methodical approach. Your brain passes along the information of the footsteps upstairs and tries to establish context. The brain will ask questions such as, "Have I come across this stimulus before? Are there other possibilities?" This all happens at a much slower pace, and yet it happens in conjunction with your reaction on the low road. Therefore, by the time you have reacted to the footsteps as possibly being an intruder, your brain is working out the possibility that the footsteps could, in fact, be something entirely different. The high road takes longer to travel. This is why you can literally feel yourself calming down after a startling incident, because your brain has taken the time to tell you that no, in fact, there is nothing to fear from that particular stimulus.
The overall purpose of fear is to promote survival. If we weren't afraid, or better yet, didn't know what to be afriad of, we would get ourselves into all kinds of precarious situations that would ultimately lead to disasterous results. Fear serves as a protecting agent against a number of things. For instance, many of us have never been bitten by a poisonous snake, and yet we know that if we come across a rattlesnake we shouldn't reach down and try to handle it. The fear of being bitten has been conditioned in us, and we have learned over time the consequences of handling poisonous snakes.
To boil it all down, your brain is what allows you to feel fear. Over time you learn to be more afraid of certain stimuli, and on that same note you learn how to determine if it is entirely rational to be afraid of something (i.e. the footsteps upstairs). Of course, we will at times fear irrationally. Sometimes we will feel afraid for no particular reason, or at least no rational reason. This most often happens to people who are considered heavy media users. People who are considered heavy media users consume more than 16 hours of media content in an average day. Aside from an overall lack of satisfaction with their lives, they are also prone to irrationally fear normal, everyday situations based on the premise that something bad could happen. The term "You've been watching too many movies," can be adequately applied to these situations.
So, there's our lesson for today. Now that we are all a bit more educated on the basics of fear, we can dive into the really good stuff and start exploring some of the tantalizing stimuli.
Alright, I'm just going to let the cat out of the bag and break the news to everyone out there who wasn't already aware of this.
I am a confirmed horror junkie.
I have lived with this addiction, no, preoccupation my entire life, and there is absolutly nothing that could ever rid me of it. You wouldn't know it to look at me, would you? I know, I know, I'm a master of disguise.
So why the personal confession? Well, in case you haven't looked at a calendar lately we are already halfway through the month of September. Fall is in the air everywhere I go, which means that Halloween, the horror addicts most treasured holiday, is just around the corner. This time of year my mind cannot help but wander over to the dark side, over to thoughts of restless spirits, haunted locales, and things that go bump in the night.
In my opinion, there are a couple different kinds of horror addicts. I consider myself to be of the classic breed, the kind who are naturally drawn to unexplained tales of strange happenings and cases of the supernatural. The classic horror addict can appreciate a good campfire ghost story, and is known to partake in the original cult classic films of the horror genre (I'm thinking "Friday the 13th," "Halloween," and "Psycho" to name a few).
On the other side of the spectrum, there is the shock horror addict. A more modern breed, this is the addict who needs the blood and guts factor in order to appreciate a thrilling tale or movie. The shock addict thrives on the gore, demanding something even more outlandish and outrageous with each viewing. The shock addict mainly sticks to movies, as the visual appeal of blood and guts is usually too tempting to pass up. For this addict, the story does not matter nearly as much as the special effects.
Of course, there is usually some overlap between the two breeds. One does not have to be completely one or the other, but more often than not a person will fall into one category a bit more than they do the other. I am not here to say that one addict is necessarily "better" than another; we can't help what we're drawn to.
Being of the classic breed of addicts, I am currently fixated on the subject of urban legends. Tales passed down, often as warnings, meant to scare and to educate an audience. I'm not yet prepared to delve into the subject on this post, but you can expect one in the coming days.
For now I will leave you with this dislcaimer. For the next month (possibly longer) the posts on IMW will have a darker edge. There will be noticably less light shining through the windows as we close the blinds and prepare ourselves to explore the unexplained. We will be delving into the subjects of fear, of monsters real and imagined, and trying to get to the bottom of what we're really afraid of.
I think this is going to be an interesting ride.
You may recall a few posts back I made the conscious decision to abandon my fears and insecurities of my writing being nothing but garbage, and finally set out to do the thing I have been talking about doing for months (maybe years).
Write.
I made a huge step the other night in this process. I sat down at my desk. I turned on my computer. I inserted my thumb drive and scrolled down through the list of unfinished stories. At random I chose one of the documents, opened it up, and read through five pages of the infant manuscript.
Wanna know a secret? It wasn’t half bad.
I was instantly energized, somewhat impressed with myself, and excited about the possibilities that lay before me with this as of yet unfinished work. But despite my excitement, I knew I couldn’t just dive right in and expect the words to pour forth like water from a stream. No, first I needed a game plan.
Therefore, like any good writer and mater of organization, I proceeded to make an outline. An outline of my story.
I detailed my characters, setting, background, potential plot twists. I thought of potential problems with the plot, then thought of ways to get around those problems. I wrote, and underlined, and crossed out, and circled, and after about 45 minutes I had in my hands an almost complete outline. (Because really, when is any piece of writing totally complete?)
I felt so good, but rather than let myself rest on this accomplishment I kept going. Four pages later I was actually starting to see things happen. I could feel characters taking shape, I could see the end of my story tying back in with the beginning, and for the first time in a long time I felt like I had direction.
Now for the bad news.
I am not anywhere near the end of this process. In fact, I am barely scratching the surface. There are a lot of things that need to happen between the first draft, the second draft, the third draft, and who knows how many after that. There is also no guarantee that the end product will be as exciting, as promising, as those first five pages. There is also no guarantee that I will finish.
I promise I’m not trying to sabotage myself. If anything, I’m trying to force myself to keep things in perspective. Writing is such a solitary activity. You have to completely lose yourself to the people and things around you and just live in your own thoughts, your own ideas, until everything of every possible meaning is finally down on paper. If you can’t do this, it will show in the writing. If you can do this, it will show in the writing. In this game, the words rule.
For me, writing is a lot like warming up for a softball game. I kind of have to ease into it. I have to sit down, read through a few pages of what I last wrote, and sort of digest it. That’s like my warm-up jog. Then it’s time to test the waters with a few paragraphs, see if I can figure out what’s going to happen next. You know, like stretching one’s muscles.
Then there will be periods where I just have to sit and stare. Not necessarily at my computer screen, but at the room around me, the pictures and books on my shelves, anything at all. I just have to look and think before proceeding, because maybe I’m in danger of losing focus and taking the story somewhere it doesn’t need to go. Sort of like sitting and listening to your coach before taking the field.
After all this, I can usually get in the zone and keep the story afloat. This would be like taking outfield and finally feeling ready to go after a dozen or so fly balls. Writing is a major exercise for your mind, your imagination. I envy people who can just sit down at the computer and without a moment’s hesitation start pounding away at the keyboard. Of course, these might also be the same people who get a side ache while running around the bases because they didn’t take the time to warm up.
Writing is a process. It is also a craft that can’t be taught out of a textbook (well, certain kinds anyway). For some, writing can be one of the biggest gambles ever because there is no guarantee that anything you write will ever see the light of day. This is a gamble not only of your personal time, but also your self esteem.
I used to think I could get everything right on the first try. I used to think that editing, and multiple drafts, and drastic changes to the plot were nonsense and time consuming. But it was this frame of mind, this pressure I put on myself to be perfect and get it right the first time, it was this pressure that was really holding me back.
So. I have started the process. I have committed myself and no matter how long the commitment I will stay the course until the final word in typed. I am crawling inside my mind, looking for direction and trying to figure out what these characters are saying to me.
I hope they speak loudly.
Last night as hubby and I were out walking the beagles, we found ourselves walking behind a couple of high school girls. They were young, probably no more than 15, and due to our proximity and the decible volume of their voices, I happened to overhear a bit of their conversation. Below is a somewhat official transcript.
Girl #1: "Look, I have all this fat skin on my stomach." (Words spoken as she lifts up her t-shirt to expose her stomach).
Girl #2: "You are so crazy! Everyone has fat on their stomach."
Girl #1: "I'm not saying I think I'm fat, I used to think I was fat but not anymore. But I hate the fat on my stomach, its gross!"
Girl #2: "But everyone has that, it's not a big deal. I can see your ab muscles, you are so not fat." (Yes, Girl #1 still has her shirt lifted up).
Girl #1: "I just wish I could get rid of it. I exercise, like every day. Every morning, every afternoon, and I do, like, everything."
Girl #2: "Well I'm just saying that you aren't fat. You are so much skinnier than me."
Girl #1: "Oh my god, you are so not fat!"
I'm really not trying to make fun of these girls (not entirely, anyway). Because the truth is I remember what it was like to be that age, to suffer through those periods of insecurity, and unfortunately a lot of that insecurity is directly related to one's body image.
As hubby and I kept walking, we eventually veered off in a different direction than the girls. Once out of sight, we each looked at each other and exchanged knowing smiles. I secretly thought to myself how thankful I was to no longer be caught up on teenage insecurities...then I wondered if this was, in fact, true.
I decided a long time ago that I didn't have the energy to be completely superficial. I don't obsess about my weight, refuse to leave the house without makeup, or worry about how un-tanned my skin is.
And yet there are still moments of insecurity, moments of comparing myself to others and wondering if something about my outward appearance needs to change in the quest for outward perfection. There are times when I yearn for longer legs, a smaller nose, or a flatter stomach. It seems no matter how comfortable we are in our own skin, there's still a wish list that never quite goes away.
I am fairly certain these insecurities begin during our teenage years, and I am almost positive that the conversation I overheard could have easily been a carbon copy of various exchanges between my girlfriends and I during high school. And no, I'm not about to veer off on a rant about how inward beauty is so much more important than outward beauty, blah, blah, blah. I'll save that speech for the after-school specials.
I guess overall I was struck by the notion of how teenage insecurites don't always go away. Years from now these girls might still think they are fat, and there will probably be a list of other attributes about their appearances they wish could be changed. I wonder if they will remember this conversation years from nowm and I wonder how many other teenage girls across the country are having these exact same exchanges with their friends.
Growing up puts a lot of things in persepective, but when it comes to something as cut and dry as physical appearance sometimes it takes even more than the passage of time to help us see and accept ourselves. I think as teenagers most of us just don't have the life experiences to appreciate this fact.
All in all, life is too short to worry about a little bit of fat on your stomach.
I am a firm believer in the power of positive thinking. Our state of mind is extremely crucial to our overall well-being, and one's mental attitude has everything to do with whether a certain situation in enjoyed or detested.
But regardless of our own state of mind, I can't help but wonder how much we are affected by the mental attitudes of others. Even if we force ourselves to have a positive attitude about something, how much does the negativity of others still manage to drag us down?
It's quite unfortunate that humans have a greater tendency to be negative rather than positive. Or maybe it just seems that way. I find that it takes more energy, at times, for me to look on the bright side of things. Wallowing in negativity and self-loathing is such an easy thing to do....why can't it be the other way around?
This is why I am not always a fan of venting sessions. Of course we have all had these. Those times where things get too crazy, too out of control, where you're so stressed or so irritated you just have to let it all out, so you literally vent your feelings, frustrations, anything and everything to anyone who will listen. For some people this is theraputic. For others, it seems to just be a part of everyday life.
Does venting actually serve its purpose and relieve our anxieties, stresses, etc, or does it do nothing more than fuel the fire? From my own experience, I find that the more I analyze and talk about a negative situation the more upset I end up feeling. I talk and talk, and my words become more and more heated, until I literally have to force myself to step away from the issue and leave it alone for awhile.
Venting is a common feature of the workplace. We look to our coworkers as the ones who will listen to our complaints and lend a commiserating shoulder. It's only natural, and in a way can serve as a form of bonding between colleagues. But how beneficial is it to bond over negativity? And if all we do is complain to the same people over and over, doesn't that run the risk of wearing the relationship thin rather than build it up?
Some people, by nature, will always look to the negative. They will try to shoot down and idea before considering its potential, and they are quick to point out mistakes before complimenting what was done correctly. However, this doesn't necessarily mean anything. Some of us need to work through the problems at hand before we can dwell on the good things. Not necessarily a major character flaw, just a different process of thinking and communicating.
But how much of the negativity from others impacts our otherwise sunny dispositions? I think it affects us much more than we might think possible. As I mentioned above, it takes much more of our mental energy to stay upbeat. If others around you are looking at the glass half empty, the chances are significantly higher that you will soon adopt that same outlook. All it takes sometimes is comment, a look, hushed whispering, and suddenly your mind is reeling with suspicions.
Is there a solution? Probably not a definite one, especially if life circumstances force you to deal with secondhand negative energy on an almost daily basis. The best we can try to do is shut out bad thoughts and attitudes with a counter of positive thinking. If we do our part and keep our own positivity up, perhaps it will slowly infect those around us.
Throughout the course of a normal day we are surrounded by sound. Alarm clocks, music, conversation, the tapping of keys on our keyboard, it seems at every turn there is something to be listened to and absorbed.
I went for a run yesterday after work. I was somewhat in the "zone" having just reached the top of a hill with no pain in my sides, and some very good music blasting through my headphones. After a quick stretch of the legs I turned to continue on my way, but was stopped in my tracks.
It was nothing in particular that caught my eye. Just the sight of seemingly endless rolling hills filled with wheat stalks, and the sun slowly starting to inch closer to the horizon line. It wasn't a new sight, considering I ran this route at least four times a week, and yet I couldn't help feel a bit overwhelmed.
I hit the pause button on the music. And I listened.
I listened to nothing and to everything. I heard complete silence for the first time in a long while. I could almost feel things slow down, as if a switch had been flipped. I had never really stopped to think about how much sound surrounded me each day.....it never dawned on me until I was no longer around it.
I suppose there is really no way to escape from sound, especially since there is no such thing as "complete" silence. And for a lot of us, we need certain elements of sound to make it through the day. Sometimes silence can cause anxiety to build, and we yearn for any kind of sound to pierce the silence so we can center ourselves again.
But yesterday the silence was perfection. It was needed. It helped provide an all too brief moment of reflection in a day that was nothing but go, go, go.
And as I continued on my run, hearing the gravel crunch beneath my shoes, I pondered the revival power of spontaneous silent moments. Coupled with the endorphins, I was feeling the best I had all week.
Silence. During the right moments it can alter you in the most wonderful way.
I'm sure that as a kid, all the way through school you were asked what you wanted to be when you grew up. Do you remember if your answer changed at all as you got older? Did you soon find yourself starting out your answers with, "Well I used to want to be....." and then going on to list an occupation completely different from your original ambition?
I did.
When I was a kid, I knew exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up. I wanted to be a writer and a singer. But not just any type of singer, a singer in theatre musicals. A writer of scary stories and a singer of songs. These were my ambitions. I sat up in my room in front of my typewriter hurridly, punching the keys, and pulling out the finished pages with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. I created several "volumes" of my scary stories, with the main title of the series being "Stories NOT To Be Read After Dark!" Catchy, huh?
I loved (and still love) musicals. I memorized the scores from "The Sound of Music," "Grease," and just about all the songs from every Disney movie I ever watched. I danced around the house, trying to master the ability to move around and still sing on key (although if you ask certain members of my family, they will tell I cannot sing on key even when I'm standing still. This topic is still up for debate).
I'm not sure when it happened, or why it happened, but at some point along the road I got it into my head that my chosen career paths were somehow not good enough. Or maybe that's not entirely correct. Maybe a better way to describe it would be they didn't seem practical anymore. Deciding I had entertained childhood fantasies long enough, I set about trying to determine my "logical" career.
Don't you at times get utterly annoyed by phrases like practical, logical, and grown-up?
When did our childhood aspirations suddenly become unattainable? Why are we so quick to give up on ourselves?
I went to college and decided to study communications. It was really a chance decision, and while I enjoyed the field to an extent, I couldn't help but feel that it didn't entirely fit me. So I made a spur of the moment decision my junior year and within the span of an afternoon declared a double major in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing.
It was one of the best decisions I ever made.
I was finally immersed in classes that FIT. I was studying and analyzing literature, I was exploring different genres of writing, I was critiquing and being critiqued and learning how to tell good writing from bad writing. I felt like I had tapped into a hidden passion, when really it had been there all along all these years, just merely supressed.
I think over all this stuff a lot, especially when I'm having a particularly low day at work. I wonder how and why I allowed myself to fall into the pattern of doubt. Why did I ever start questioning my abilities to write, to act, to basically do anything in the creative realm? At what point did I lose the confidence to say, "Yes, when I grow up I am going to be a writer."
Naturally I took the safe path. I chose the popular major and got the decent starter job right out of college. I entered the workforce and began seeking out ways to add to my resume, earn that promotion, and work on projects that would add to my professional credibility.
But it's not enough.
As I sit there during the quiet moments of my day I think about that bulging folder of short stories in my desk at home, or that VHS version of "The Sound of Music" collecting dust on our media stand, and I know that I am doing a disservice to myself.
I gave up on the little girl who worked so hard to write those stories and memorize those songs. Mainly because it was the easy thing to do.
Instead, I chose a seemingly more practical road, which luckily for me ended with a job. Which ultimately led to money and security. Both nice things to have, but not always fulfilling.
Has anyone out there experienced this in their own lives? What is it about growing up that makes us close off our minds and resign ourselves to simply getting by rather than thriving? Are we somehow programmed to believe that what we do for a living has to be the opposite of activities that give us pleasure?
If you've read this blog before you have heard me rant and bemoan the fact that I am struggling with my writing; with making the time to write in general. I believe I dedicated an entire post to the fear that I feel before writing, the fear that the words will not come or that they will simply be trash.
I'm tired of being afraid. And I'm tired of feeling I have to be practical and logical.
I won't be a victim of my own self-doubt any longer. There is no reason why I can't be the person I wanted to be when I was ten years old. Or at least there is no good reason why I can't try.
Pay attention, kids. Soon enough you will see me onstage belting out the words to "The Sound of Music."
Hard to believe, but the hubby and I are fast approaching our one year anniversary. It's exciting and a bit unbelievable to think that an entire year has gone by already, which I think is more or less the standard sentiment all couple exclaim during any anniversary.
The author of one of my favorite blogs, Gretchen Rubin of "The Happiness Project," has a splendid truth which states that the days are long but the years are short. So appropriate when applied to describing marriage.
Obviously there has been some discussion of an anniversary trip. An exotic locale would be most desirable, a road trip with no itinerary, camping in the serenity of nature....or just staying at home.
I have always been a firm believer in the art of celebration. Cakes for one's birthday, family vacations in the summer, and cards and presents to loved ones at Christmastime. Naturally, I felt that a nice little getaway in honor of our first year as husband and wife was more than appropriate. However, if there's one thing my man and I have in common it is our tendency to procrastinate, which means we didn't even start discussing vacation possibilities until this week. Couple that with the fact that we are trying to save up money for looming home improvement projects, we would need to locate a sitter for the beagles, and that we haven't had a nice lazy weekend since the beginning of June, and you have a recipe for an anniversary at home.
I'm not opposed to the idea at all. But I feel pressure, as if the anniversary is somehow more symbolic than the wedding we partook in just a year ago. Like if I fail at planning the idealic weekend I will regret it for the rest of my life.
Obviously I know deep down that this isn't the case. But it's hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea of a muted celebration for such a momentous occassion. It's just not my style.
Then again, the idea of waking up in my bed with a weekend of no plans, no commitments, and endless possibilities is also a bit enticing. Staying up late and waking up early for no particular reason, finally finding the time to do things around the house that we always say we "should" do but always seem to be too busy, laying out in the sun with a good book, maybe even partaking in an afternoon siesta.
The more I think about it, the more I think an anniversary at home could definitely have it's strong points. It almost seems more appropriate to quietly celebrate our first year of marriage in the home we are building together, day by day, slowly but surely.
Overall, the real celebration point of an anniversary is togetherness. I guess as long as we have that going for us any location will work.
It's been a bit of a heavy day. Sad news from back home first thing in the morning cast a somber mood over a startingly bright, hot summer day. Even though I was not directly impacted by this news, it has crept into my thoughts and caused me to tear up unexpectedly throughout the day. Please don't get me wrong, I am in no way trying to take someone elses tragedy and turn it into my own, but it's hard not to give in to emotions and let the sadness of the situation envelop you. Especially when it directly impacts so many people you care about.
Being from a small town, it's customary to share in the sadness and the hurt that can fall upon others. I think the only thing that spreads faster than grief in small towns are rumors.
But you don't have to be from a small town to be indirectly affected by sad news. The indirect effect of upsetting situations is perplexing to me because we still go about our days like we normally would, and yet we don't feel completely right. Something is off-kilter, out of balance. We feel sad and unsettled yet there is no direct reason to be feeling this way. We feel that what is really bothering us should not be doing so in such a profound way.
Then comes the backlash. Because once one floodgate opens several others must follow. One sad thought leads to another, which is followed by another, until we are practically in tears over things we thought we had gotten over years ago.
I mentioned heavy days in the opening sentence, because that is the exact result of indirect affect. The day just sits there, weighing you down, and the smallest of tasks seem impossible. The drive to accomplish is muted and all you can seem to do is lose yourself in thoughts of the past. You ask yourself impossible questions that demand impossible answers, and you wonder if there really is a reason for things happening the way they do.
For some people I know back home, heavy days are just beginning and will be here for awhile. For others, they will pass much quickly and we will soon find ourselves back in the swing of everyday life, back to the everyday thoughts, and the everyday worries.
It's just a simple fact that heavy days are a part of all our lives at some point. I suppose the only good thing is they help us to appreciate the light ones.
My husband gets insanely irritated everytime we go through a fast food drive-through together. Why you may ask? Because I insist on examining the menu each and every time before placing my order. Nine times out of 10 I will end up choosing the same meal I had the last five times we visited the eatery, but that is not the point. The menu must be scrutinized because I would hate to think that I missed out on something fantastic all because I didn't take the time to look and see what was there.
Life is all about choices. You heard that in all the speeches at your high school and college graduations, and it's touted in every self-help book, speech, and article that has ever been written. I think about choices all the time, not just when I am sitting in the fast food drive through. I think about past choices I have made, future choices I haven't made yet, and choices I will be forced to make as the day goes on. Choices rule our lives, from the color of shoes we wear on a certain day to where we decide to buy a house, you can't escape the everyday necessity of having to pick a certain thing over another.
So what drives us in our decision making process? The answer is everything. Maybe not everything all at once for every single decision, but there are a plethora of forces at work in our mind as we weigh the pros and cons of a given situation. I think emotions are at any given time the hugest factor in our decision making. How we feel about a situation or a person today could be vastly different tomorrow, therefore changing our overall decision.
As we get older we become much more aware of the choices we make. Where to attend college, when to get married, when to have kids, all pretty major life decisions, all usually preceded by much agonizing contemplation. It is absolutely terrifying to think that you might choose the wrong thing. What if the wrong choice can't be undone?
Then there is also the fear of missing out. Because let's face it, if you say yes to one thing you are also saying no to another. As you are preparing to walk through one door, another one somewhere is closing. Pretty soon you find yourself boxed in, choices made, and nowhere to go.
I sometimes jokingly tell my husband that I'm going through my quarter-life crisis. I'm married, we have a house, both have stable jobs, both are driving new cars, and we have two dogs. Nice, huh?
It is nice, except that sometimes I can't help but ask myself if all the choices leading up to this life also closed off experiences that I'll someday look back and wish I had. Should I have made the decision to jump into the work force right out of college instead of travelling and seeing the world first? Does buying a house at a young age mean my husband and I have resigned ourselves to living in the same town for the next 30 years? I think about these things and practically work myself into a panic at the thought that my life is already played out and decided.
The more seemingly permanent choices we make, the harder it is for us to tell ourselves these choices can be re-made. It takes a subconcious effort on our part to remind ourselves that these things are not forever, and that change is inevitable.
I think it's important to contemplate choices, although from time to time we should also throw caution to the wind and jump into something new, forbidden, and unknown. Whether good or bad, it's all a learning process. And isn't that essentially what our lives are about?
When we are forced to make hard decisions and close certain doors, I think it's important for us only to close the doors....not lock them up forever. Ultimately, we are the ones who tie ourselves to the things we like and dislike in our lives. The effort to change is a conscious choice, sometimes one that is easier to avoid than confront head on.
I think the best thing to try and do when it comes to the choices we make is to not look back. We have all made bad decisions before. Poor choices, spur of the moment gambles, call them what you will, but everyone has at one time or another strayed down a path they wish they hadn't. I look back a lot, sometimes to times and situations that would probably be best forgotten. And I can't help but wonder, is this some kind of ongoing self-punishment, or am I trying to remind myself what I have learned from these not-so-great decisions? How many times must a situation be examined before the lesson is truly learned?
The best thing we can do after having made a choice is to look ahead. Not behind. Don't think about the doors we have temporarily closed, but think about the windows we can open on our chosen path.
I will continue to remind myself of this everyday. And I will continue to study the menus at fast-food restaurants. Old habits die hard.
The beginning stages of a relationship are always so exciting. You're learning new things about a person, you're growing closer, and (in some cases) developing very strong feelings for this person you're spending so much time with.
After almost a year of marriage and over six years of dating before that, I feel like I have my spouse figured out. I know the traits I love and admire, as well as the habits that will forever drive me bonkers.
When we first started dating I loved absolutely everything about my husband. Everything about him was perfect and alway would be. Typical attitude of a person falling fast in love. As reality slowly set in I came to grips with the realization that there were some traits I wasn't particularly crazy about, but over time I figured these things could be worked on and modified.
They could be changed.
Ah, such an idealistic viewpoint. To change aspects about the one we love. Things that in and of themselves aren't relationship dealbreakers but would be oh-so-nice not to put up with. You know what happens when you try to up and change things about another person? Or tell them that they should be doing things your way because it's the right way?
You fight. And usually not very nicely. Guess who ends up winning these fights?
No one.
Change is something that some people crave, and others shy away from. There are also varying degrees of change and each of us are only comfortable with the concept to a certain degree. There are people out there who could up and quit their jobs, move to a foreign country, start a new life, and never miss a beat. Then there are some people who break into a nervous sweat at the thought of trying a new brand of coffee creamer.
But the changing of an individual, of a human being, is in my opinion a rare occurance. And no matter how many times we hear the sage advice of not trying to change others but simply accept them with all their faults, we can't help but think there's still a small chance that we can alter them in some way.
Is it simply human nature to try and change ourselves and others? We have all at some point in time made New Year's resolutions, gone on diets, and tried new hairstyles. These are all attempts at change. And don't we usually assume that changing one tiny thing about ourselves will cause others to change as well? It's only natural to strive for change every now and then, but how long does it take before we revert back to our old ways?
Ultimately what I'm curious about are the expectations we so foolishly hold about the person we love somehow changing over time. Why do we expect people to conform to our expectations, after a certain amount of time? Is there something about being with a person for a certain amount of time that leads us to believe somewhere down the road they will undergo a sort of metamorphosis?
A lot of questions. Not a lot of answers. What I have learned after almost eight years of being with the same person is that these traits and characteristics that we often wish would change, will not. As part of keeping balance you learn how to coexist, maybe even appreciate these traits, and stop thinking of how to change them.
Taking out the trash, making the bed, hanging up one's clothes, these are all things it's okay to nag about every now and then. But we should not try, nor should we want, to try and change our partner. Human relationships are the best arena to learn the art of acceptance and adaptation.
Go forth and learn.
I rediscovered an old love this week. My clarinet. The instrument I learned how to play in 5th grade has returned to me, and I couldn't be happier. I assembled the pieces, tightened the reed, and reached into the recesses of my memory to try and remember the fingerings for the notes. I started in on the warm up scales, slowly at first then with greater assurance. After about five minutes I was swimming with excitement. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed playing music.
How is it possible to forget about things you enjoy? Wouldn't the mere enjoyment of something pretty much guarantee that you keep engaging in the activity?
I don't think that we necessarily forget about the things we love as much as we get distracted, or simply lose access. Physical distance, time constraints, lack of resources, all of these can be pin pointed as reasons why we can't always spend time doing the things we enjoy.
For me, finding the clarinet again means I now have another creative outlet to turn to at the end of the day. Okay, maybe there isn't too much creativity in playing straight sheet music, but it sure works wonders for me. I thrive on the challenge of reading the music, hitting the notes, and hearing the song come together. It's mentally stimulating and I can actually feel my energy level increase as I work my way through a piece of music.
What are the importance of these outlets in our everyday lives? For me, they are extremely important. Whether it's writing, running, playing with my dogs, or playing the clarinet, having a mentally/physically stimulating energy source helps keep me balanced in the course of everyday life. On days where all I do is go to work, sit in front of the computer, then go home and sit in front of the TV, I feel unsettled and unfulfilled.
Maybe for others this isn't the case, or maybe it's just that they haven't found their outlet. It's different for everyone, with some discovering these outlets early in life, and others not until much later. I think you can also pick up new outlets along the way, but the truly good ones will stick with you your entire life.
I think we are all more creative than we give ourselves credit for. For some reason we trick ourselves into thinking that we are cookie cutter human beings, with nothing extraordinary or unique about ourselves, and we end up losing touch with that part of ourselves that IS a bit different, unique, and creative. This is synonymous with getting older and losing touch with the things we "used to do." Maybe this isn't the case for everyone, but I'm willing to bet that most all of us have lost touch with certain things over time that we enjoyed doing
So find your outlets. If you already have one find a new one. Don't let yourself become lost in the doldrums of everyday life. Creative outlets are the great escape.
I have become fixated on the topic of friendship. How we make friends, how we keep friends, how we lose friends, and everything in-between. There are many different levels of friendships, and as we go through life we experience the different phases of making and keeping friends. This, like everything else, changes with age and the circumstances of everyday life. (And yes, the picture below of the Golden Girls is entirely appropriate for this post. These ladies are perhaps one of the most glowing examples of true friendship I have ever seen. Even though they're entirely fictional.)
When you are an athlete (as I was all through high school and my first couple years of college), friendship comes fairly easy. Being a part of a team makes it incredibly easy to create bonds with the girls your are competing with, practicing with, and talking with on a daily basis. Sometimes it happens naturally, other times it takes work, but it usually happens nonetheless.
When the athlete portion of my life came to an end I became just another college student going to class everyday. At first I didn't give it much thought, but after a couple of months a startling realization dawned on me: I didn't have any close friends at college. I had aquaintances, people I would chat with in class before the professor showed up, study groups, and group projects, but all of my close friends were scattered throughout the state and not available to me on a day-to-day basis. It was a strange predicament and one I was not used to being in. Which got me to thinking....what does or does not enable a friendship to last? How are we able to maintain friendships with certain people and not others? And the inevitable: How do you go about building and maintaining these friendships?
If you ask me (and I know that you didn't, but I'm going to pretend like you did), relationships can sometimes be friendship killers. Or should I say, new friendship killers. When you are single the world is your oyster, in a sense. You can do what you want, when you want, etc., etc. When you are in a relationship you will usually commit the majority of your time to your partner and to activities the two of you can do together. This doesn't make outside friendships impossible, but if you are building a new friendship with someone it's not always convenient to have your other half around. It changes the atmosphere and whether you mean to do it or not, the majority of your attention is almost always more heavily concentrated on your partner. If your new friend is sans boyfriend/girlfriend/etc. this isn't always an ideal situation. And let's face it, no matter how good of friends you are with someone before you are in a relationship, once you make that commitment it is practically guaranteed that you will be spending the majority of your time with your partner than with your friends.
Married people, I feel, will more often tend to develop friendships with other couples, rather than one-on-one relationships. This isn't to say that people in a couple don't have friends they see without their spouses, but more often than not the group dynamic seems to be preferred. If my husband and I aren't going out by ourselves, we will most always seek another couple to hang out with. Not because we don't like each other's friends, but because it just somehow happened that most of the people we hang out with on a regular basis are also married or in a relationship. Perhaps this isn't a coincidence.
So if you're in a relationship, does that make the obstacle of developing new friendships harder to attain? I'm not talking about the aquaintances we interact with on a day-to-day basis like our colleagues at work or the girl who makes your latte at Starbucks every morning, but the people (besides your spouse) that you choose to make a connection with outside of your professional world because you genuinely like them and want to spend time with them.
Time is a fleeting thing in today's world. We dedicate at least 8 hours of our day to work, an hour to the gym, another hour to dinner, plus all the errands that seem to pop up in the course of everyday life. For some, this doesn't leave a lot of time for socializing. In the adult world, you literally have to make time to develop your friendships, they don't just happen on their own. For some people the effort is too great. For others, there just isn't enough time. But the simple fact remains that friendship is a crucial factor in our lives. Even if one is in a happy, healthy relationship, outside friendships are still crucial to one's well-being. In fact I'm pretty sure someone did a study about that.
Developing new friendships, and maintaining old ones takes work. And that work only increases as we get older. Life circumstances, professional circumstances, and the overall changes we experience as adults can all take a toll on our ability to keep and make friends. Friendship at any age is not impossible. Friendship when you are married is not impossible. Like everything else in life it just takes work.
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ALL CLEAR: FeedMedic Alert for thehalfwaypoint
2 years ago
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Dear Amanda,
12 years ago
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