On positivity

I've been doing a lot of complaining lately.  Out loud and in my head.  I enjoy a good venting session every now and then, but for the past month or so I feel like I've been going through just a daily stream of negative thinking, feeling, and saying out loud.  I know that when I get stressed, busy, and overly tired, I'm more prone to fall victim to the negative mindset, more likely to complain about things that in the long run aren't going to amount to anything of significance, and way more likely to focus on the not so great things in my life instead of the numerous wonderful ones.  

I also know I've written before about negativity but apparently I need a reminder right now about the importance of positive thinking.  I have been wasting way too much of my mental and sometimes physical energy on whining and complaining, and frankly I'm a bit tired of it all.  I can accept that there are aspects of my life that are less than ideal, that there are things I would like to be different.  Yes I would love to have a newer, bigger house in the country, to make more money and do more traveling, but these are things I can't change with the snap of my fingers.  It's going to take much longer and much more effort. In other words, I just have to get used to it and get over it.  Even though I'm just naturally one of those people who wants to make things sunny and wonderful and perfect all the time and right away with no delay, sometimes it's just not in the cards.  I need to stop dwelling and just take it all in stride, which can be really hard for me to do, hence my current state of mind.

I know I'm not the only person out there who complains about their job from time to time.  I'm willing to bet that complaining about work is right up there on the list of top complaint topics because I seriously doubt that most of us are living out our dream careers.  Lately I have made an art form out of work whining and, to be honest, I'm a bit sick of myself.  The more time I waste going over the things that irritate and annoy me, the more irritated and annoyed I feel.  Hmmm.....sense a pattern here?  I don't know why it's been so hard for me lately to just leave work at work, including all my annoyances, but I can't seem to stop going over, and over the irksome details, which in turn leaves me overly frustrated and mentally exhausted.  It's silly, really, because not everything about my job is complaint-worthy, but of course those seem to be the only details I am zoning in on right now.  Again I pose the question, why are we so much more inclined to focus on the negative instead of the positive?

I'm putting a stop to it here and now.  I'm going to actively start training my mind to be positive and optimistic.  I know it's not going to work all the time and in all situations, but when I feel the urge to complain I'm either going to bite my tongue, or think of something nicer to say.  I'm going to stop wasting time dwelling on the things that don't make me happy, and instead I'm going to redirect my attention to things that I value, that I enjoy, that make me less inclined to feel dour and unhappy.  I really feel like perception is everything, and if I can just start zoning in on the not-so-bad things I think it will really help me to get out of this negative funk I have been in.  If you have any extra positive energy, send it my way.     

On feeling magenta

My mood is slightly melancholy, slightly excited, and slightly.....off.  I don't quite have the words to describe it, but this is more or less an accurate portrayal:

"All kinds of feelings tumbling all over themselves.  Not quite blue, because you're not really sad, and although you're a bit jealous you wouldn't say you're green with envy.  And every now and then you realize you're kind of scared but you'd hardly call yourself yellow..."

In case you were wondering it was Blanche on the Golden Girls who delivered that memorable description.  She called it feeling magenta, because she hated feeling that way and she hated the color magenta.  Gotta love that, right?

I'd have to say that's the most accurate way to describe me right now. I think a lot of it has to do with transition into a new season.  Technically it’s still summer, but school is starting up again and with the hustle and bustle that comes along with fall it feels like the laid back attitude that encompasses summer break is quickly becoming a thing of the past.  For me, fall is go, go, go, can’t stop for a minute, don’t forget breathe, hope you make it out to the other side alive.  In other words, it’s busy.  And while I would much rather be busy and have things to do than be sitting around twiddling my thumbs, sometimes the amount of work and activities that come with the fall leads me to feeling negative rather than fulfilled.  It’s the whole switching of mindsets that has me off-put at the moment. 

Right now I am also dealing with the roller coaster of feelings and attitude changes about my current job.  I’ve been up and down for awhile now, and right now I find myself somewhere in between being happy with what I’m doing, and desperately seeking something new.  The thing is, I don’t know if a new job would change anything.  There is no guarantee, especially since the job I really want, independent free-lance writer, hasn’t shown up in the want-ads lately.  I know that the work I’m currently doing is not what I want to do forever.  There are aspects that I enjoy, but way too many that I don’t to say without a doubt that I’m content with doing this forever.  These up and down emotions are leaving me feeling restless, and wondering how long I stay content with where I’m at before contemplating a drastic change.

Maybe this is some kind of crossroads.  Is it time to make a decision to go one direction or the other?  But what are the directions?  See what I mean about all the feelings tumbling all over themselves?

I’m sure we all go through our magenta phases, some lasting longer than others.  Regardless of the length, the best thing to do is keep going forward and trying not to dwell on the things that can’t changed.  That’s a really after-school special sentiment, isn’t it?  But really, what other choice do we have?   

          

On Sister Wives

Thanks to Netflix, I kind of became obsessed with the show Sister Wives.  Maybe obsessed is too strong a word.  Let’s just say I became heavily intrigued by the show, which follows the life of Kody Brown, his four wives, and their army of kids.  Okay, okay, there are only 16 kids, not quite an army.  Shame on me for exaggerating.  The Brown’s are modern day polygamists and they talk quite openly about their beliefs, about why they chose polygamy, about the pros and cons of the lifestyle, yada yada yada.  It’s reality TV, which we all know by now doesn’t even come close to showcasing reality, so one takes the show with a grain of salt.

I’m completely fascinated by the notion of polygamy and the men and especially women who choose that particular lifestyle.  It is hard for me to imagine myself being open to the concept of sharing my husband, in fact, who am I kidding, I would NEVER be okay with something like that.  I can’t imagine having Dean come up to me one day and saying, “I’m thinking about taking another wife.”  That’s weird, right?  How many women out there would be okay with something like that? 

Obviously at the root of polygamy is religion and the notion that living as a polygamist is the only way to get into Heaven, and that the more wives a man has the more holy he is, the more kids he produces shows he is doing his part to be bountiful and multiply.  This is a very loose interpretation and maybe there’s more to it than that, but overall I feel that is at least part of the argument for why polygamy is the way to go.

I wonder how happy a person can truly be in a lifestyle like this.  Only getting to spend time with your husband every three or four nights, depending on how many wives there are, pretty much being expected to pump out babies on a regular basis, and also pitch in to help raise a bunch of other kids that aren’t even yours.  Now, according to the wives on Sister Wives, it’s not like that at all.  In fact, they make the whole thing sound like a big sorority and girl’s only sleepover party.  But that’s not marriage.  That’s not building an intimate relationship with someone (i.e. your husband).  If every facet of your life has to be so scheduled, and quality time divided out in such small bits, how does that even come close to fulfilling a person’s emotional needs?  As a woman, when I think about having to structure my marriage in that way, I can’t imagine that I would ever feel completely happy and loved.  I can’t imagine you would ever feel entirely bonded to that other person, or that he in fact was entirely bonded to you.

I don’t want to sit here and persecute people for their religious beliefs, or for the way they choose to live their lives, but it’s hard for me to fully accept and understand this lifestyle.  Earlier I mentioned that Kody and his wives “together” had 16 children.  How close do you think any of those 16 children feel to their father?  How much one-on-one time do you think he really gets to spend with them?  Supposedly Kody has a job, then when he gets home he has four wives to tend to, and while I’m sure he gets to hang out with the kids a lot as a big group, that’s not really a surefire way to get to know each and every kid.  I would imagine a polygamist household is even tougher on the children for this very fact.

I’m sure modern day polygamy is a bit better than it used to be back with Brigham Young and Joseph Smith first preached the idea to their followers.  Stories circulated about men with over 50 wives, and women were more or less seen as possessions, married off to men old enough to be their father when they were barely 16 years old, sometimes even younger.  That’s probably a big part of how polygamy got such a bad rap.  But even though the Brown’s are doing their part to show the world that polygamy is a big ol’ party, I have a feeling they are the exception and not the rule.  It also makes you wonder how things really are when the cameras stop rolling.

While I would never in a million years agree to live this lifestyle, I am nonetheless fascinated by people who do.  And while I disagree with just about everything that comes out of Kody's mouth (the man is really quite obnoxious) I am totally hooked on watching this family.  Especially the wives.  Even though it's supposedly all about religion, I think a person also has to have some kind of unique mental aspect to buy into a lifestyle of this nature.  Especially if you are a woman.  I just can't imagine any woman waking up one morning and deciding she wants to share her husband with one, two, even three other people.  To have him MARRIED to these people.  This, I feel, takes a certain kind of personality.  And yet all the wives on the show seem to be quite different, so trying to find the common link (aside from the man they all married) is kind of tricky.  Again, one has to take reality TV with a grain of salt, but I can't help but try and get to the bottom of this pondering.

How about the rest of the ladies out there?  Think you could handle the polygamist lifestyle?  I'd love to hear some feedback on this, and if you haven't done so yet, check out the show on TLC.  I'm not guaranteeing quality entertainment, but I suppose it's entertainment of some kind. Now, comment away!         

On journals

I have always been a diary/journal girl.  Every year for Christmas I would get a new diary, and for the next year I would try to write in that diary faithfully every day.  My very first diaries are filled with sentiments along the lines of, “Today I went to Grandma’s house.  I watched Nickelodeon.  It was fun.”  But before long I finally started to progress in my writing capabilities and began to record more intricate thoughts and feelings, and going back to revisit these entries can be a real trip.

I’ll admit it, I was your typical teenage romantic.  I wrote love letters, love poems, and to top it off I wrote it all down in my journals.  I shake my head sometimes at the things I wrote, wishing at times I could go back and tell my teenage self not to sweat the small stuff.  But I guess that’s a part of being a teenager, right?  Any slight shift in the perceived perfectness of our universe obviously means the world is coming to an end.  At least for that day.

But I didn’t just record my thoughts and feelings about boys.  Don’t worry, I wasn’t that superficial.  I wrote about my family, my sports teams, my goals and hopes for the future, as well as my fears.  I poured everything I had into some of those entries and it definitely shows.  The emotions practically leap off the page and it amazes me to see some of these words, to revisit the depth and impact certain experiences had on me.

I still keep a journal, but for some reason I don’t write in it nearly as often as I used to.  I’m not really sure why.  I used to get constant cravings and urges to write in my journal, and while I sometimes still do those cravings don’t come around nearly as often.  But the experience for me has always been so cathartic.  Sometimes I would literally be exhausted after writing a single entry, but I would feel so good at the same time.  I don’t know if it was the act of writing, or the experience of seeing my thoughts down on paper, but my journal has always been the one place where I can be completely honest with myself about what I’m feeling.  Some of the stuff I write in my journal I would never think about posting on this blog, and while I am as honest on here as I can possibly be, I definitely censor myself to a degree.

But not in the journal.  There is no holding back within those pages.  I don’t think I have ever not been honest about what I record because if I lied to myself and about myself in those pages then what really would be the point of the whole exercise?  I feel like the journal and the act of writing in the journal is about getting to the truth.  To seeking out your true thoughts and feelings, regardless of whether they are deemed right or wrong by anyone else.  I’ve always adhered to this philosophy, even if I didn’t necessarily like what I was about to write.

I’m not sure there is an overall point to this post, so let’s just call it a musing.  Even though I don’t pull out my journal every single day, I believe I will always have one on hand.  Sometimes you need that outlet, or a place to record the big moments in your life.  That’s something I have always worried about….that one day I might forget how I was feeling during a certain event, or that I would forget certain days and memories altogether.  Having a journal to jot down these impressions gives me an added level of security, like a savings account that I can dip into to remember, and reminisce.

And if nothing else, sometimes going back to reread certain entries makes  for a good laugh.  

So I read 50 Shades of Grey.....

You know those books that are just instantly popular and every one and their dogs read them right away, and while you are slightly curious you just can’t quite bring yourself to see what all the fuss is about?  That’s how I’ve been about 50 Shades of Grey.  I’d seen enough reviews to get the overall premise of the book and figured I didn’t need to read the whole thing to get what it was really about.

Sex.  It’s a sex book.  But not just sex in general, S&M type sex.  So a tad on the kinky side it that’s not your normal cup of tea.  As I was saying, I wasn’t going to read the book but then one of my book clubs chose it as our August discussion book, so not wanting to be totally alienated from the upcoming conversation I took the plunge and started reading. 

Honestly, I wasn’t completely blown away by the sex stuff.  And yes, there was a lot of it described in excruciating detail, making this one of the most popular erotic fiction stories of all time, I’m sure.  I think there’s an ongoing joke on the Internet about how lots of women finally started having sex with their husbands again since reading 50 Shades of Grey.  Whether or not that’s the case, if you don’t want to read about sex in great frequency and intricate detail, don’t even bother trying to read this book.

In a nutshell the overall story is about Anastasia Steele, recent college grad from WSU Vancouver who dreams of working in a publishing in Seattle after graduation.  Right before graduation, her roommate, Kate, convinces Anastasia to interview Christian Grey, a big wig businessman in Seattle.  Kate is too sick to do the interview but still wants to get the story (oh, those persistent journalists), so Ana graciously agrees to take over for Kate.  Ana fumbles her way through the interview because she is quite taken with Christian Grey who is not only close to her age (he’s 26), a Billionaire (yes, with a capital “B”), but is also Greek god style drop dead gorgeous.  And since Ana is kind of socially awkward and a total klutz to boot, she starts the interview by literally falling into his office, staring up into his eyes, and rendered almost speechless by this pristine male specimen looking down at her.

After the interview Ana has a couple more chance encounters with Christian, including him visiting the hardware store where she works…..can you say stalker?  Anyway, after a drunken night at the bar, which as the reader finds out is the first time Ana has EVER been drunk, she drunk dials Christian and of course he magically shows up 20 minutes later to save her from an unwanted advance by one of her male friends, then proceeds to take her back to her apartment (or his hotel…doesn't quite matter, honestly) and they have sex, which is also a first for Ana because as the reader has discovered Ana is a virgin.  But even she cannot resist the charms/creepiness of Mr. Grey.

The rest of the book covers the beginnings of Ana and Christian’s “relationship,” which essentially amounts to them having unheard amounts of sex, Ana having about 500 orgasms in the span of 380 pages, and the two of them going back and forth on the terms of the contract Christian wants Ana to sign which will make him her Dominant and her his Submissive.  Sexy, huh?

My biggest, biggest, hugest issue with this book is that the writing is downright awful.  The dialogue between the characters is laughable and someone should seriously send the author a thesaurus because the same phrases, thoughts and descriptions were used on each and every page which essentially created some of the most vapid, shallow characters I have ever come across in my years of reading.  I know I was supposed to be rooting for Ana to break through Christian’s internal walls, to heal him from his difficult childhood, and for the two of them to completely fall in love and embark on a real relationship, not one that is solely based on spanking and blindfolding. 

But I couldn’t do it, kids.  I can’t count the number of times I rolled my eyes (which, by the way, is something Ana does A LOT), and I don’t know that I have ever been so happy for a book to finally end.  I know as a reader one needs to give into the suspension of disbelief and try to imagine things the way the author has them set up, but some of the things in this book are just so not in tune with reality I just couldn’t do it.  For instance, Ana, who just graduated from college, mind you, doesn’t own a computer nor does she have an email address.  Okay, maybe the computer thing isn’t too big of a stretch, but no email address?  Sorry, don’t buy it.  I also don’t buy that Ana had never been drunk until the night she went out and got hit on by one of her guy friends, because through out the entire book she is drinking bottles of wine with her friends, drinking champagne with Christian, cosmos with her mom…..obviously the girl isn’t new to drinking so the fact that we are supposed to believe that was her first time being drunk is just…well, a joke. 

Then there’s Christian Grey.  The 26 year old billionaire who is so perfect to look upon people find themselves oftentimes blinded by his beauty.  He’s made all his money by trying to feed people in Darfur, or something along those lines, anyway.  Yet the guy never works.  He’s too busy tying Ana up and ravaging her to yet another multiple orgasm.  Oh, and he plays the piano better than Chopin, knows everything about wine, keeps a perfect physique even though he never goes to the gym (must be all that sex….), speaks like a proper English gentleman, and apparently has already had 15 women commit to him as submissives.  All by the ripe old age of 26!  I know there are a lot of different people in the world, but someone like this doesn’t exist.  Not in reality.  I can’t picture Christian as a real person because frankly, too much of him is doused in fantasy.

And there is more, so much more that is wrong with this book.  And yet, it’s a huge hit!  In fact there are two more sequels that are probably international bestsellers as well.  So what does this tell us?  Is this nothing more than people’s curiosity to read a book so heavily doused in fornication that it doesn’t matter how god-awful the story is?  Or is this what women (yes, I pretty much assume that it’s mostly women reading this book) are really looking for?  A stalker billionaire who wants a woman to submit to him whenever he desires, a man who designs a contract outlining what type of clothing to wear, food to eat, exercise to complete, and days of the week to be available for submissive duties.

I don’t have the answer.  For all I know people are reading the book just to talk about how awful it is.  But it just goes to show that no matter how bad the writing, if you’ve got that word of mouth and subject matter that slightly pushes the envelope people will eventually succumb and see what all the fuss is about.  Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.          

On three years of marriage

August 1, 2009 was the hottest day on record in Walla Walla that summer. At the height of the afternoon the temperature reached 112 degrees. Even the shade offered little in the way of relief.

Around 8 a.m. that morning I was out on the tarmac of the airport watching my Grandpa climb inside a B-17, the type of plane he rode in as a tail gunner during World War II. It was already hot outside, and the heat radiating off the asphalt of the runway didn’t help to cool anything down. It was a big moment, watching my Grandpa climb inside that plane. I watched the sky as the plane rose higher and higher, wondering what he was thinking and feeling. When the plane touched ground and the engines shut off, I watched Grandpa crawl out, smiling from ear to ear. It was beyond special.  The first special and unforgetable moment of the day. 


After snapping some pictures and exchanging a good number of hugs, I was off to Mill Creek Gardens, the site of my wedding which was taking place later that evening. Once the car was unloaded, my dress hanging in the bridal suite, I paced around the room as anxiety slowly started to settle in. My hairdresser hadn’t yet arrived, I worried about the photographer being able to find the venue, the cake getting delivered in a timely manner, and everything else that needed to come together in just a few short hours. Even in the air conditioned room I started to perspire.


Then it all happened at once. My hairdresser came walking through the door, hair and makeup supplies in tow, the photographer arrived a few minutes later and started in on the action shots of getting ready, then my bridesmaids all came walking in with my adorable little flower girls. Before I knew it my hair was pinned and hair sprayed to perfection, my makeup was skillfully applied, and the girls were working together to lace me into my dress. My sister, the maid of honor, helped me with the clasp on my brand new necklace, and with slightly shaky hands I put on my Grandma’s pearl earrings. Suddenly, I was ready. We all were. But before we could jump right into the heart of the main event, there were pictures to be snapped. Tons and tons of pictures.


Dean and I decided we were okay with seeing each other before the ceremony in order to get the bulk of the photos out of the way. However, to still get the “surprise” element the photographer had Dean stand with his back to me out on the porch, then it was up to me to get him turned around. He was standing there, looking incredibly handsome in his tux, and I placed my hand on his shoulder and urged him to turn around to face me. The moment, even though it was set-up, felt so genuine and sincere. We both looked at each other, eyes starting to glisten, and the emotion of the day, the enormity of what we were doing, set in. We smiled and hugged, he told me I looked beautiful, then we started laughing as we both started to dry our eyes.


I have so many wonderful memories of that day; dancing with my Dad and my Grandpa, drinking champagne with my bridesmaids before the ceremony, driving off in the cool summer night in the back of my uncle’s Model T, laughing with our friends and family as we busted a move out on the dance floor, but seeing my future husband for the first time that day was one of the most amazing moments ever. I also remember the feeling of total instant happiness that washed over me after we said our vows, had our first married kiss, and started back down the aisle. I felt so light, so completely and utterly happy, not nervous or worried about the remainder of the event, just so grateful to be in that moment with Dean right next to me.


Today we are officially married for three years. And while our wedding feels like it was just yesterday, a lot has happened and continues to happen as we work to build our life, our home, and our family. Neither of us is perfect, but we are learning how to balance and learn from the imperfections. At our wedding my Aunt Marian gave us some advice that I know I have found to be invaluable: Never go to bed angry. I remind myself of this little tidbit whenever we have an all too common marital spat, and trust me, they are words to live by.


Our wedding day was just the beginning, and looking back it was the absolute best start either of us could have asked for. A day of big moments, laughter, friends, family, and the happiest of tears. Today, as I look back at where we started I’m excited to continue down the road and see where we end up.


I love you, babe. Happy Anniversary.