In My Words

On feeling anxious

2012-01-27T15:04:00.000-08:00

I have knots in my stomach. Literal knots. Loosening, tightening, slightly loosening, and really tightening. I can feel them in there like tiny tumors. Oh god, I hope I don't have a tumor....

I'm feeling a tad anxious, which is not uncommon because I get anxious and nervous about a lot of things. It's just my nature, unfortunately. In a way I've kind of learned to deal with it but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Why the anxiety, you may ask? Mainly it's because I'm traveling to Houston on Sunday with a colleague to attend a work conference, which in itself doesn't sound like a big deal but does in fact add to my nervous state of mind.

For starters, traveling makes me anxious. More specifically traveling on airplanes make me anxious. It's not that I'm one of those people who fears every single plane I ride on is going to crash, it's just the whole airport scene and all the "Please take off your shoes, belt, jacket, oh, and we're going to have to screen all your internal organs before we will even think about letting you on this flight" nonsense that accompanies all air travel nowadays. I think the lack of control I feel with flying is one of the things that just drives me crazy. Because if your flight is delayed or canceled you kind of don't have any options. Except to wait. And wait. And wait. You are at the mercy of the weather, the plane, the airline, basically a ton of outside factors that you can do nothing about. I'm just not flexible enough to deal with that kind of uncertainty. On the bright side, I'm not traveling alone which is a huge plus for me because even though I can and do enjoy being a solitary person at times, going places on airplanes is not something I enjoy doing solo. Plus, being in a new city with a familiar and favorite co-worker will help to loosen the knots a bit. But airplanes aren't the only thing freaking me out right now.

To somewhat tie into the above paragraph, I'm feeling a tad anxious about upcoming events at work. I'm feeling pressure on some things and while it's not to the point where I'm going to start ripping my hair out, I feel short of breath at times and am finding the environment somewhat stifling. I realize that all jobs come with stress in some way shape or form, and to go even further living a life completely free of stress is almost impossible. How one deals with stress is paramount and can essentially be the deciding factor in whether we succeed or fail at a lot of things in our lives. I know this, and I try to cope with my stresses and anxieties accordingly. But sometimes.....sometimes I just get tired of coping, of feigning calmness, of not freaking out. Sometime I just want to cry it all out and bitch and moan. In other words, I just want to throw a good ol' fashioned tantrum.

On the personal side of things, feeling good about everything for the most part but am slightly terrified that I recently put myself out there and have kind of been asked to do so again because a final decision has yet to be made. I know that probably doesn't make much sense because I didn't go into much detail on this subject, but essentially this new development is like drawing out the suspension which leads me to have second thoughts which means I am slightly in danger of crawling back in my shell and not taking a chance on myself. Of course I know that happens it will have a horrible side effect in that I will end up feeling guilty and bad about myself, which probably would be worse than the anxiety I am feeling now.

I need some confidence and I need it pronto. I need a way to relieve myself without resorting to mass amounts of alcohol. I just feel a bit detached from myself right now and I need to figure out how to reel myself back in.

I really need these knots in my stomach to go away.

Happy Birthday!

2012-01-26T13:02:00.000-08:00

Today is my husband's birthday. This is the ninth of Dean's birthdays that I have had the joy and the honor to celebrate with him. Nine. As in almost ten. As in almost a decade. As in where the hell as the time gone?

If you have been tuning into my posts on a somewhat regular basis you already are aware that Dean received his birthday present early, so alas, I am like the Little Drummer Boy with no gift to bring......except for the edible kind. Last night I baked red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, and tonight after we more than likely go out to dinner we will come home and feast on these sinfully sugary, delicious creations until we can stand it no more. My sweet tooth can hardly wait.

Dean never gets too excited about his birthday, or at least not outwardly excited. Of course, for those of you who know Dean this more or less describes his demeanor on a day to day basis. In a way, my husband and I are like two sides to two very different coins. He seems to wear a perma-Poker face while I am forever displaying my emotions. Except of course when it comes to sports. If you want to see emotion you should have seen his face last weekend as we were watching the Giants vs. 49'ers game.....now that really put him through the ringer.

I for one see birthdays as a wonderful time to remind people how much we care about them and appreciate their role in our lives. To celebrate them and all their wonderful qualities. And when it comes to wonderful qualities, my husband has quite a surplus.

When I met Dean we were both just kids in college, trying to navigate our way through the chaos that inevitably comes with being a young adult. I knew from the first night I met Dean that we were going to be together for a long time. I also knew after that first meeting that he was one of the most wonderful, decent people I had ever met. Maybe that sounds unconvincing, and maybe some of you out there are rolling your eyes, but it's the truth.

I've loved Dean almost since the day I met him, for a lot of big reasons and for hundreds of smaller ones. I love him for his honesty, his thoughtfulness, and his seemingly never-ending patience. I love that when I am anxious and freaking out about one thing or another he is there to calm me down, to always keep his cool.

I love my husband for not being afraid to speak his mind, for being someone who is not afraid to point out wrongdoing and work to make amends. I love that when we fight he forces me to talk things out so we don't go to bed angry, that he is always willing to go the extra mile, to lend a helping hand, to not shy away from something he wants just because it might require some work. I love that he's not afraid to be silly and spontaneous, that he's able to admit mistakes.

What I love the most, what I am most excited about, is that we are on a journey together. We have come so far since that first night we met, and have grown together as individuals and as a couple. We are building a life, a family, a home together that might not always be perfect, but that has been filled with so much happiness I wouldn't trade a single day for anything. I am thankful for my husband because he makes me a better person, and instills in me a confidence that no matter what challenges we might face, we will come through it all still in love and still together.

So happy birthday to my one and only. Here's to you and everything you are and have yet to become. I love you more each and every day.

Follow me.....please?

2012-01-24T15:22:00.000-08:00

Don't be shy. Don't be afraid. Don't worry about what might happen if you decide to click on the "Follow" button and officially follow my blog. I promise, it won't hurt a bit.

If there are any anonymous readers out there who drop in on this blog from time to time, go ahead and make my day by becoming an official follower. Do your part in helping to abolish my insecurities.

In all seriousness, what's it gonna hurt? I promise this is the only time I'll ask this of you because I'm not prone to begging.....even though I am sorta kinda begging right now, but let's just set that aside for the time being, shall we?

This is my plea, my big ask for the day. If you follow me I can't very well guarantee where we will end up, but I'm sure it will be an interesting journey.

So let's get going, shall we?

On random acts of kindness

2012-01-24T12:37:00.000-08:00

Winter finally hit the Palouse, and last week it bitch slapped up pretty hard. Snow, wind, ice, all the fun weather that I wish we could experience year-round but that eventually gives way to sun, summer, and non-studded tires (please tell me the sarcasm was evident there?)

When the snow first hit my immediate thought was, "Damn! Should have let Dean buy that snow blower." But once I got over that I grabbed a shovel and headed outside to chuck the snow out of our slightly steep driveway. For anyone who has never shoveled snow I can sum it up in precisely two words. It. Sucks. I told myself that on the bright side I was getting double the exercise and keeping my arm muscles in prime condition, but even that wasn't enough to keep my spirits up.

Fast forward to Saturday. Dean and I are outside shoveling for the ump-teenth time trying to clear away all the snow piled up from the snow plow so I can get my car out of the driveway, when we are approached by one of our neighbors across the street who is offering to help us with the shoveling. At first Dean tried to play the hero and said we could handle it, but the young man insisted and so the three of us began to shovel away. And you know what I thought?

"What a nice guy."

I also felt a tiny pang of guilt, because I had definitely seen this particular guy out shoveling his own driveway on several occasions, and my thought hadn't been to go over and help him out but instead to go back in the house because it was freaking freezing outside. Ouch. I fail in the category of being a good neighbor.

Unsolicited kindness always seems like such a surprise, probably because most of us go about our days and don't expect it. In a lot of ways we have become a self-serve society, and we try not to depend on other people for too much if we can absolutely help it. This also creates a counter effect in that we also don't expect much from the people around us. Inevitably, our expectations of strangers and even people we know are slightly lowered.

I have always wanted to be the type of person who radiates kindness, who is always there to pick someone up and to lend a helping hand. I've gotten better over the years but I'm afraid I still have a long way to go. Most of the time with me it's not a lack of caring but a lack of effort, and I'm trying very hard to get over the idea that it's too exhausting to make these kind gestures, especially when they are least expected.

I was and am quite thankful for the young man with the snow shovel who came to our aid this past weekend. He inspired me to exhibit the same kindness toward someone I may or may not know, simply on the basis of being a nice person. A random act of kindness should never go unreturned. It's time to start paying it forward.

On giving gifts

2012-01-23T15:23:00.000-08:00

My husband and I agree on a number of things, but we are usually somewhat at odds on the subject of gift giving. I am a big fan of giving gifts, big and small, for holidays, birthdays, or just for the heck of it. I enjoy the challenge of finding the perfect present for someone although I will admit there are times when my mind is so void of ideas it can cause moments of frustration. Of course when that happens I feel even better when I finally do come across a gift worthy of giving.

I was raised to believe that there are certain rules to giving gifts. Not necessarily set in stone, but rules nonetheless. For instance, you can't open gifts early. Yes there are sometimes exceptions to this rule but for the most part you should wait until the given day of celebration before unveiling any gifts. I have also always believed that gift cards should only be used as a last resort, or maybe as an addition to the overall gift. I don't know where this idea stemmed from....maybe because I never really received gift cards as part of any regular gift cache, but I always want to hunt for any other type of gift before giving into the plastic cards. Speaking of cards, I'm also a firm believer of including them (paper ones) along with the gift. In fact, I have a card collection....so that I will hopefully never be caught in a situation where I can't produce an adorable greeting card for any given occasion.

This particular subject is on my mind because Thursday just happens to be my husband's birthday. I actually got him a really fantastic gift this year (seat covers for his truck that he has been coveting for two years), but the manner in which he received his present was rather anti-climactic. First of all, he knew what I was getting him because I had to consult him before placing the order to make sure I was getting the right kind of covers. Strike one against the element of surprise. Secondly, he saw the package after it had been delivered and was practically chomping at the bit to open up the box and put the covers to use. Strike two against early gift giving. I protested and attempted to put up a fight. I wanted to wrap the box, give it to him on his birthday, and watch as he feigned surprise after opening. That's another one of my rules, by the way. Even when you know what you're getting, you damned well better act surprised. It's just part of the song and dance.

In the end I conceded. The odds weren't in my favor. Dean wasn't at all bothered by the lack of ceremony surrounding his birthday gift, but it's been lingering in the back of my head since last week. No surprise, no wrapping paper, and he received his present over a week in advance. Major fail.

Does anybody else share my OCD feeling on giving gifts? Does the process matter as much as the actual gift? For me, the process is half the fun, so maybe I'm being selfish in my desire to stick to these "rules." Then again, they do say anything worth doing is worth doing right.....

Oh, and by the way. I didn't fail on all my rules. Because my husband will still have one hell of a birthday card to open come Thursday morning. So I guess I've got that going for me.

On free days

2012-01-20T14:16:00.000-08:00

I didn't have to go to work yesterday. They closed down the campus due to severe winter weather, which meant I got to stay home all day long and do, well, whatever I wanted!

It was a free day. Not a weekend, or staying home sick, but a day where I should have been at work but instead was told to stay put, stay in your pajamas, stay comfortable.

Free days like this, little unexpected yet highly wished for gifts, are in a way better than the weekend. They're better because they aren't routine, aren't supposed to happen, and when they do the opportunities seem endless. It's like being in elementary school and instead of having to sit through a science lesson you instead are given "free time" to do whatever you want. And because you have the teacher's (or in this case, your boss's) permission, there aren't any guilty feelings attached. Win win!

So how did I spend my free day? I lay on the couch and drank coffee, I ran three miles on my treadmill while watching reruns of The Office, I played in the snow with my beagles and even did some snow shoveling, then I took a super warm shower and plopped back down on the couch with my pups to watch old episodes of Grey's Anatomy. In between all of that I finished the second book in the Hunger Games series, did some laundry, and even cleaned the downstairs bathroom. I topped off my free day by cooking some delicious manacotti for dinner. I'm telling you kids, I could do this homemaker thing with absolutely no problems.

I know I have written before about time, specifically the time that belongs solely to us, where we have the freedom to do as much or as little as we want. Yesterday was one of those glorious days where time that normally did not belong me suddenly was given back, and even though I still got up early like any normal work day, just knowing that I did not have to leave my house or that I was obligated to do anything at all the entire day was such an absolute joy.

Do I sound lazy? I sure hope not. I personally believe I am the complete opposite of lazy. I'm simply trying to drive home the point that free time is just as great as an adult as it was in elementary school. Maybe even better.

On putting yourself out there

2012-01-17T18:06:00.000-08:00

Today I took a step. A small step toward something I want to do, toward something that makes me happy. I've opened myself up to rejection, to criticism, and to possible praise. I have taken the initiative towards bettering myself as a writer. I don't want to go into too many specifics because, well, I don't know anything yet and won't for a few more weeks. But I saw a chance and I took it, hoping for nothing but the best.

Honestly? I feel a bit queasy.

I'm not good at putting myself out there. Myself or my writing. I don't share my stories with many people unless it is required of me, and when I think of people, of strangers, pouring over my words and my thoughts I feel a tad exposed.

And yet I have this blog, where I do in face share parts of myself, of my thoughts, with who knows how many people on a weekly basis. I guess I have always felt like on this blog I exist in the slightest form of anonymity. I also tell myself that no one reads my blog, which adds a level of security to hitting the "Publish Post" button at the end of each entry. And maybe it's true. Maybe nobody reads these words except me.

But then again, maybe people do. Maybe my words are already reaching more people than I assume they are.

Most of this is really a confidence issue. I am my own worst critic and while sometimes I think something I write is good, when I think about someone else reading it or lots of someone else s reading it I immediately decide it isn't good enough.

It's also a fear issue. Writing is my "big dream." It's what I aspire to do. What happens if I'm not good enough? If I try and try only to get the door slammed in my face time and time again?

I understand that I'll never get anywhere with this if I don't take chances and don't open myself up for failure. But it is oh so very scary. On a small level, on a big level, it is frighting. I have always had trouble breaking out of my comfort zone, so I know this will take some getting used to. I know I'm going to have to keep letting people in, letting my words get out, and hoping that they won't fall on deaf ears.

I know that writing is a very conditional medium, and what is good to one person may be not so good for another. So if I want to write I am going to have to get used to the idea that there will be pitfalls, bad reviews, and maybe downright rude responses. And if I let that bother me then who am I really writing for?

Hopefully I will have some good news to share on here soon. And if not, I will have disappointing news to share. Either way I have taken a step. And here's hoping I can continue to take a few more.

On being quiet

2012-01-12T09:17:00.000-08:00

I get told all the time how quiet I am. By friends, family, colleagues, and it's been this way my entire life. At 27 I definitely feel that I am more vocal than I was at say, 13, but generally speaking I truly am a quiet girl.

I get annoyed at times by this generalization. How is one supposed to respond to this accusation? Because that is what I usually take it as....an accusation. There is no question in the statement "You sure are quiet", and yet I always feel my accuser is looking for some kind of response, some kind of explanation, and to be honest I usually find this annoying. As a kid I would usually just shrug my shoulders, blush, and maybe mutter some kind of rebuttal. As an adult, I smile, nod, and usually say, "Yes I am."

Am I too sensitive about this? It doesn't bother me that I am a quiet person but is it a problem to the people around me? I guess I'm just not sure if I should be insulted by this typecasting or take it as just a spoken out loud observation of one of my character traits.

This quietness has been a trait of mine since I was a kid. Sure, I could be loud and outspoken with the right group of people, but for the most part I liked to observe, to keep to myself, or to only indulge ideas and confidences with individuals one-on-one. I had no qualms about speaking in class but it wasn't something I felt compelled to do all the time. I also had no fear of asking questions, but again I preferred the one-on-one setting as opposed to a large group.

I have to wonder if my quiet nature is somehow tied in with reading and writing, two things I obviously love to do but that are both very solitary acts. Very quiet acts. I have always felt most confident about speaking and expressing my opinions after I have had time to think them through completely and internalize my thoughts. I am a person who needs that time to process, to analyze, before making a definite conclusion. And again I ask, is this a bad thing?

Sometimes I think people assume that because of my quiet nature I must not have any thoughts, opinions, or ideas. Maybe they assume that by calling me out on my quietness it will prompt me to open up the floodgates and release a torrent of words that otherwise would have been hidden for all eternity. But when someone says to me "You're so quiet" it truly has the opposite effect. In fact, it usually adds a degree of pressure to future interactions, and I feel as if I have to say something, anything, just to try and prove them wrong. But does saying anything take the place of saying something substantial? Is an obvious and lacking statement better than saying nothing at all? I for one don't think so.

I know I'm not the only one out there who has been given the quiet girl label. And while I realize that some situations more or less require me to break out of my quiet shell, it doesn't mean that I have to be that way all the time. I consider myself a thoughtful person, but not all of those internal thoughts need to be shared and spoken aloud. I derive great pleasure from solitary activities such as my reading and writing, and both of these activities for me are at their most wonderful when they can be done in a calm, quiet environment.

Calm. Quiet. Maybe in this case beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

They're back......

2012-01-06T15:34:00.000-08:00

In case you hadn't heard, Jersey Shore is back for its fifth roller coaster season. That's right, those guidos and guidettes you love to hate are back in the U.S. and still up to no good in Seaside Heights.

I love me some good bad TV, and Jersey Shore is just one of those things that once you start, you just can't stop, even if you want to. At this point the show is cruising along like a speeding train that doesn't realize the tracks are out up ahead. Which means before too long the whole thing is just going to crash, and it's not going to be pretty.

Not that things have been very good looking up to this point.

For awhile all the clubbing, roommate drama, hook ups, and crazy pranks were kind of funny. But after a few seasons of Ron and Sam screaming at each other, Snooki's drinking getting crazy out of control, and Mike continuing to act like the worlds biggest trash bag ever, it's all starting to get a bit old....and a bit sad.

Some of these case members are pushing 30 years old, which to my 27 year old mind translates to "maybe you're too old to be acting like you're on your 21 run every single time you go out partying." Or, maybe I'm just a buzz-kill.

I have a theory that people (and by people I mean me) watch shows like Jersey Shore to make themselves feel better about their own lives. Especially when the show passes that "fun" point and simply becomes a viewing area of total self destruction. It sounds sick but I think there's some kind of reaffirming quality to watching shows where, to our perception, the people appear to be completely dysfunctional. Ugh, yes, that does sound completely awful.

Jersey Shore is just one more prime example of popular culture making celebrities (rich ones, no less) out of people who have not an ounce of talent and who have become famous for pretty much no reason at all. But it's kind of a fascinating phenomenon, isn't it? Within the span of a couple years phrases like GTL, grenade whistle, and t-shirt time have become commonplace and easily recognized by people everywhere. Which means that this "reality" show has literally taken on a life of its own. I suppose if I really want to complain about people like the Jersey Shore cast being famous I have no one to blame but myself, because like millions of other Americans I tuned in last night to see the beginning of what I pray will be the last season of this show.

But as I mentioned above we all need a little bad TV in our lives. And it looks like for the foreseeable future Jersey Shore will continue to be mine.

On a new year

2012-01-04T16:05:00.000-08:00

I know I'm a few days late, but welcome to 2012! The start of a new year always makes me a bit giddy. I get excited about hanging up a new calendar, seeing all the days yet to come, all the opportunity that lies ahead. There's no reason not to feel this way at any other time during the year, but starting at the beginning of something just makes it all feel a bit more real.

I haven't really made New Year's resolutions for a few years now. Not because there isn't anything I aspire to change about myself, but because every year and during all the months throughout the year I am always trying to improve upon myself in some way. But the start of a new year is also a good time to remind myself of those ongoing resolutions.....all those ideals I strive to incorporate.

Overall I am still trying to be a more forgiving person. To be a more honest person. And to be a less judgmental person. I strive everyday to be the type of person that sees the good and the beauty in others, and to also identify those qualities in myself. Sometimes I get too caught up in the little details that don't matter, and I lose sight of the big picture. I hope in the year to come I can keep focus on the big picture and not worry about the little things that aren't going to matter a year or even a month from now.

If I can accomplish all these things I'll be practically perfect, huh?

It's kind of a running joke that most people abandon their New Year's resolutions by the end of January, some people even sooner than that. This mostly applies to resolutions involving exercise, but I'm sure there are others that fall into that realm as well. It's so easy, so refreshing to start the year off with a new outlook and a new routine. Maybe that's part of the shine that January 1st evokes. But it doesn't take long for that shine to wear off, does it? It's a hard, hard thing to dedicate yourself to something for 365 straight days.

When our goals, our resolutions, are new it's exciting and challenging to think about tackling these new endeavors we set for ourselves. But when certain things don't come to us as easy as we think they should, or when too much time goes by and we still aren't as far along as we want to be, sometimes we choose to take the easy way out and just....give up. Then as more time goes by and another new year approaches we see another chance. Another opportunity to try again.

I'm not trying to be a downer. I'm not trying to say that resolutions made at the beginning of a new year are a waste of time, or that they can't be accomplished. I guess I'm just hoping that by addressing the new year's resolution phenomenon I myself can somehow avoid it.

Ultimately it's up to us. Whether or not we make our resolutions stick. Sometimes I think that's where the letdown comes. We say these things, these things about ourselves we want to change or improve, but then we don't take the actions, or enough actions, to make them happen.

Determination. Dedication. Maybe I'll try to work on these qualities as well.

On exercise

2011-12-20T11:08:00.000-08:00

There’s a great opening monologue in an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry is talking about working out and getting in shape. Essentially, he surmises that everyone is working out and getting in shape simply to get through their workouts. Aside from exercising itself, we really don’t have anything to get in shape for, so we’re sweating away at the gym simply to prepare for tomorrow’s workout.

The whole thing makes me laugh because, well, it’s true. Once you graduate from the high school and/or college sports arena you really don’t have a whole lot of reasons to stay in shape. Aside from all the health benefits associated with regular exercise, of course.

I just find it somewhat ironic that if I unintentionally miss a day of exercise I fret and worry and generally feel bad. And yet, I’m not training for a marathon, I’m not involved in any organized sports, and I don’t have to rely on my legs to get me to work each morning, so missing one day of working out probably isn’t the worst thing that could happen in my world.

Part of it is psychological. When I exercise I feel better, so by the simple law of mathematics the more I work out the better I feel. But I also like to just “stay in shape.” In shape for what, though? For cruising the aisles at the grocery store? For walking up and down the stairs at work? What am I getting in shape for? In reality it’s nothing. I’m getting in shape simply for the sake of getting in shape, and while that is a great thing sometimes when I stop and think about it I just can’t help but laugh.

I’m really not sure where I’m going with this one. And maybe that’s okay. Sometimes it’s good to linger on the path of rambling thought just to see where you might end up.

I suppose on some level the whole exercise deal has been ingrained in me since I was little. I played sports for god knows how many years and was essentially always “in season.” Working out is just a part of my life. And while it isn’t always something I enjoy doing or look forward to, I still feel better about myself when I step off the treadmill and start to catch my breath.

It feels like an accomplishment. And that is so important. Because that means even on my worst day, when nothing is going right, I know that I can throw on my gym clothes, fire up the treadmill, and see just how far I can go. Each day I can always go a little farther than the one before, and sometimes that’s all it takes to brighten up a dark day.

So maybe it’s not for nothing after all.

The spirit of the season

2011-12-15T09:14:00.000-08:00

We are halfway through the month of December, and a mere 11 days away from what has (sadly) become the most commercialized holiday of all.....Christmas. I for one have been relishing in the carols, the lights, the decorations, and the overall festive nature of the season. I find it's almost hard to be in a bad mood with the sights, sounds, and smells of Christmas everywhere I go. For instance, every night when I turn the corner onto my street it makes me smile to see our house aglow with lights, and baking cookies also is so much more enjoyable with Dean Martin crooning "White Christmas" in the background. And what is it about that tree in the living room that makes me feel so peaceful?

Yes, most of us out there are in full Christmas mode, which I imagine means different things to different people. And while this time of year is wonderful for so many things, it also brings up a lot of things which can be not so wonderful as well.

Since before Thanksgiving we have been bombarded by advertisements from all sorts of different media encouraging us to get out there and spend, spend, spend. To make us feel better about all the spending, these advertisements don't neglect to remind us that we will also be saving, saving, saving. Blowout sales, Black Friday, one-day-only sales, every day I get something in the mail related to shopping. And I have done my fair share of shopping this month, in fact I still have more to do. Because Christmas is after all the season of giving. The problem for a lot of us is that we don't know when to stop giving, or we worry that if we don't give enough we will be looked down upon in some way. Gifts for family, friends, coworkers, students, the list goes on and on and bill keeps getting higher and higher. I'm not trying to discourage buying gifts for the people we care about, but this time of year it seems we are under so much pressure to give something to every person we have ever known in our entire lives. To give or not to give becomes the ultimate question of the month.

Then there's the guilt factor. And not just the guilt that comes with forgetting to buy a gift for someone, but the guilt we feel about not being able to donate to all the much needed and much appreciated charities. I know they say that every little bit helps, but after you have given a little bit to every toy drive, canned food drive, and donation box, that little bit has turned into a lot. I for one am happy to give to these wonderful missions, in fact I wish I was better at doing it year-round, but sometimes it's just too much. This is where the guilt kicks in. Not enough that I lose sleep over it, but enough to drain me a little bit each time I leave a store without dropping something in the charity box.

Believe me, I'm not trying to be down on Christmas. There are so many wonderful things associated with this holiday and so many great traditions to share with family and loved ones. I guess sometimes I get discouraged because, like so many people before me have stated, the true nature of the season gets lost and before we know it Christmas is over and we're not even really sure why we were celebrating in the first place. Many times during this month I feel a bit like Charlie Brown, wondering if someone can please remind me what Christmas is all about.

So yes. There are a lot of outside stresses that come along with Christmas. Every year we strive to create that perfect holiday experience for ourselves and our families, to give the perfect gifts to those that we know and love, to create an arsenal of perfect memories. But beyond perfection, I hope we all take some time for inward reflection. Some time to remember the reason for the holiday. No matter our differing religious views, we all understand the importance and the purpose of love in our lives. Love for our friends, our families, and for those who might be less fortunate than us.

If nothing else, take the time to appreciate the love. It will last a lot longer than some of those presents sitting under the tree.

Feeling "on top of it"

2011-12-01T16:22:00.000-08:00

I'm back again, boys and girls. Tell me you missed me. Tell me you couldn't live another day without an enlightening, stimulating, inspirational post from the endless bounty that is my mind. Just tell me you are reading my words.....so I don't feel like I am wasting my time sending these sentences into the oblivion that is the world wide web.

I was away for about 10 days, and did not return home until this past Sunday. The hubby and I dropped the dogs off at the kennel (I was so very sad to leave them), drove to Seattle, and hopped a plane to the state of New Mexico where we spent many happy days with Dean's family. The trip for me was a real treat because in all the years Dean and I have been together (nine years, to be exact), I have never really gotten to spend much time with his extended family. Most of them I had met exactly two times before this trip. Others I had only met at our wedding, and other still I was meeting for the first time. So I saw this trip, as Paul Harvey would have said, as an opportunity for me to learn, "the rest of the story."

And you know what? It was a blast.

I feel so incredibly blessed because while I love my own family with all their little quirks and eccentricities, I also have a super terrific in-law family that I now feel I can say I really belong to. I now fully feel that I am related to all these great people, and more than once throughout the busy week I felt that warm, fuzzy, happy all over feeling that I get during those particular memorable family moments. I truly am a lucky girl.

So. Great trip, followed by a return trip to Seattle where Dean and I manned the gates at the pregame function before Apple Cup. Was it difficult getting into work mode after a long trip? You betcha. Did everything go off without a hitch? More or less. At the end of the day we got to spend time with our best friends so it really wasn't all that bad.

Now we get to the heart of the post. We return home Sunday evening and immediately start unpacking, doing laundry, and decorating the house for Christmas. Because really, I couldn't wait much longer to pull out the garland and the snowmen....not to mention all my adorable Peanuts decorations. Flash forward to Thursday, which of course is today, and my house looks like a tornado has ripped right through. I can't see the floor of our den due to all the dirty clothes piles that are still there, not to mention the overcrowded coffee table that is holding fall decorations that need to be put away, or the kitchen, living room, hell, all the floors in the house that are dirty, covered with dog hair, and in need of some serious TLC. Friends, in my world this is what I call UTTER CHAOS!

You know that feeling you get when coming home from vacation? Like you are waking up from a dream and you feel like the world and everything about "real life" has been put on hold, only to find out that isn't the case and the world has basically continued spinning without you? Yea.....that's been like my entire week. I feel slightly frazzled, extremely tired, and every time I look around at all the piles in every room of my house I want to just run away. I know I'm a huge drama queen, and honestly I am handling the disarray much better than I thought I would. I can be so anal about things, I'm honestly surprised I didn't spend all of Sunday and Monday deep cleaning and organizing until the house shone like new again. Instead I have been living in squalor all week, and haven't complained about it once! Okay, maybe I have once....but not for very long.

I think what is keeping me balanced is the fact that I know once Saturday morning rolls around I will be in house cleaning mode, and by late that afternoon order will once again be restored and I can breathe easy again. Every time I go on a trip I am always amazed at the time it takes for me to once again feel on top of things, both mentally and physically. Going on vacation is hard work, kids. I seriously needed this entire week off just to recoup and get my bearings!

I am just one of those people who needs order in their life. In the evenings when I get home from work I know it would be very easy just to fling my clothes on the bed and not give them a second thought, but if I did that I would actually give them a second, third, and maybe even fourth thought. I know that if I don't put those clothes away in my closet it will just.....bother me. Same with making the bed in the morning. Even if I'm running a few minutes late, I still talk myself into making the bed because it just looks so neat and put together. And coming home at night and seeing that made bed just makes me feel a little more calm. I could go on and on but I think you get the picture. And you're probably shaking your head thinking I should be seeing a shrink to deal with my OCD. Don't worry, I've thought that myself a time or two.

So while I am proud of myself for my flexibility in dealing with a dirty, unorganized house all week (I haven't made the bed once), I don't think it's a habit I will be adopting on a permanent basis. Order and cleanliness are two things that make me extremely happy, so until that changes I'm just going to keep on keeping on.

Happy December everyone! Are you counting down to Christmas yet??

Who are you?

2011-11-08T09:55:00.000-08:00

I think an undisputed part of growing up is learning exactly who we are and being comfortable with ourselves. For some of us this is probably a lifetime process. Sometimes I will think back on my younger self and shake my head at the way I used to act, at the person I tried so hard to pretend I was. I've pondered on this blog before about growing up, about change, about becoming the person you are supposed to be. And yet I still don't quite understand a lot of things. I still feel like I have a long way to go before I know for sure who exactly I'm supposed to be in life and what the hell it is I'm supposed to do.

Do you often get the feeling that you are standing still, watching others around you evolve and change? Is that really the way it happens, or is it simply too hard for us to recognize the changes in ourselves?

If my life were a movie I feel like this is the point where I as the main character would take drastic action and leave everything behind, then set out on a whirlwind travel adventure where I would learn valuable life lessons and discover, finally, who I really am. All in the span of two hours.

But the thing is, this isn't a movie and I don't necessarily want to leave everything behind. I feel that despite all the questions I have floating around in my head about almost every conceivable thing, I know enough about myself to realize what I want.....what's important to me.

My family. My friends. My home. My writing.

I think what is throwing me off right now is that I feel like I should still be searching. I feel like I should want certain things or not want others.....and I don't know if I should already be so content.

I'm not trying to say I have it all figured out. But for once in my life I feel like I am ready and able to own my wants and convictions, which has never been an easy thing for me to do. Maybe I'm not currently undergoing any major life changes. Maybe I already have. But I know the next step is to capitalize on the things I finally know to be true, and not keep searching for things I have already found.

If you're a fish, keep swimming....

2011-10-31T15:14:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I come across things that just speak to me. I found the quote above during some Internet browsing and it instantly clicked for me. The concept of the message is quite simple, yet I find it's oftentimes hard to put into practice.

None of us are great at everything we try. There are in fact some things we will never master or have much luck with. And it is so often by these shortcomings and failings that we judge ourselves.....and others.

Why do we so often find ourselves dwelling on our mediocre abilities? Why is it sometimes so hard to focus on things we are not just good, but great at doing?

I know I have asked these questions before, but I feel that this quote really puts it all into perspective. If we are going to judge ourselves and others, why not focus on those qualities that make us.....geniuses. In some way shape or form.

Hello, fall

2011-10-26T15:27:00.000-07:00

I've been absent from my blog for awhile, although my mind continues to think about potential posts almost every day. This time of year, particularly this month, is always busy and try as I might I am never able to do all the things I wish I could. Plans and projects get pushed to the back burner until finally I emerge from what feels like a fog of constant activity and finally find the time to slow down again.

Time to slow down again. Quite the concept, isn't it?

At some point during my leave of absence Mother Nature decided that it was officially time to switch over from summer to fall. For awhile we were in a back and forth pattern, experiencing one very warm day followed by a couple cooler ones, but then one morning on my way to work I noticed the leaves of a particular tree were starting to turn red. Then little by little more leaves decided to start turning vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. The days started growing shorter and shorter, and the mornings became even more dark. You can smell fall. It has a smokey undertone, a brisk overture of cool air and changing foliage. You can feel the season as it creeps into being, and it attacks all your senses when it hits full force and decides to stay.

As far as seasons go, fall is easily my second favorite. There are times when I consider putting it at the top of my list, and if I didn't have a job where fall was the busiest work season then it might just be my favorite. But when it comes to laid back and fancy free, summer has yet to be beat.

But there are so many wonderful things about the fall, so many qualities that just get better and better. So as a way of easing myself back into the blogging routine, I am going to share with you some of my favorite things about the fall season, that I am currently enjoying in full force.

1. Meals in the Crock Pot. While technically this ingenious kitchen device can be used year round, food in the crock pot always tastes the best in fall and winter. Stew, chili, soups, there are endless opportunities for warm, delicious meals.

2. Pumpkin spice lattes. While the Starbucks original is hands down my favorite, I do also enjoy the pumpkin spice creamer that Coffeemate releases. Yummy goodness first thing in the morning!

3. Egg nog. Along the same lines as the lattes, egg nog is finally back on the supermarket shelves. So very delicious it just screams fall (and also goes well in coffee).

4. Halloween. As I proclaimed at this time last year, Halloween is one of my favorite holidays (yes, I consider it a holiday) because I for one am a fan of all things that go "bump" in the night. Spooky stories, movies, decorations, you name it.....I just can't get enough!

5. College Football. Even though my beloved Cougars aren't in the top of any of the rankings, there's nothing like college football season. Cougar Football Saturdays are like mini holidays in and of themselves.

6. Candles. Again, there is no law that says candles cannot be lit year-round, but for me the beginning of fall is also the beginning of candle season. Plus, they have the BEST scents out during the fall, so bring on the cinnamon, spice, and everything else that is reminiscent to being warm and toasty.

7. Scenery. Let's face it, some seasons are just prettier than others. Here on the Palouse we have some absolutely gorgeous days during the fall, and it is definitely one of the prettiest times of year for the area. Every day on my way to work I just want to pull over my car and go jump in a pile of multi-colored leaves.

8. Haunted Palouse. An annual event that takes place in a neighboring town, it has become a favorite fall activity for my family. You walk through old downtown buildings while community volunteers dressed in their Halloween best jump out and scare the daylights out of you. Not to mention the haunted hayride where you get chased by a chainsaw wielding maniac. Classic.

9. Colors. Between the bushes, the leaves, the sunsets, everything just seems so vibrant in the fall. The combinations of reds, browns, oranges, and yellows are simply stunning.

10. Sweaters. While I do not enjoy being cold, I do enjoy warming up....especially in a cozy sweater. This time of year I actually kind of enjoy perusing the "warm" side of my closet and bundling up against the chill in the air.

Ahhhh.....fall. Such a wonderful variety of things to enjoy. Now wait and talk to me when there is 12 inches of snow piling up outside and I will be pining for the first signs of summer. Such is the cruel reality of the changing seasons.

Blah

2011-09-27T15:25:00.000-07:00

I wasn't going to blog about this because it makes me feel like a whiny little child. But since I can't get it off my mind I'm going to do it and just face the judgment which will inevitably follow.

I'm feeling a bit blah right now. I'm not necessarily sad and depressed, but I'm just not excited about anything. I'm trying so hard to bombard myself with positive thoughts and little doses of inspiration but it's not working. I'm also being very hard on myself about things, and feeling bad about situations I don't have a lot of control over.

I just want to shake myself back to normalcy. I just want to snap out of this and feel happy with everything because life on all fronts is actually going very well. You know those people who complain about every little thing just because they like to complain? That's what I feel like right now. I also in a way feel like I'm being ungrateful. I mean, who feels like this when there is nothing inherently wrong?

I'm one of those people who tries really, really hard to avoid bad moods. And most of the time I'm pretty good at it. But right now none of my regular methods are working. I just can't trick myself into a good mood right now and I think I'm just going to have to ride this out until I a) figure out what the real problem is, or b) just snap out of it.

I've been know to over analyze, to think a situation to death and take things a bit too seriously. Sometimes, yes, it is hard for me to just lighten up. Is this one of those times? Am I making something out of nothing?

I guess time will tell. In the meantime, I can only hope that something comes along to excite and motivate me. A new project I can tackle that will somehow bring me back from this feeling of.....blah.

On newspapers

2011-09-23T11:08:00.000-07:00

We recently canceled our newspaper subscription. It was a mutual decision between my husband and I, and at the time we felt certain we were doing the right thing. As of late it seemed that neither one of us had the time or energy at the end of the day to leaf through the stories, which meant that my recycling bin was filling up with newspapers that often never even got unrolled. I found that I was going online to get my news from a variety of different sources which seemed to suit me better seeing as how I spent most of my day in front of the computer. But perhaps our biggest reason for not renewing our subscription was that we were less than satisfied with the content of the newspaper. It’s not that we weren’t getting the skinny on local happenings; we just felt we were missing out on everything that was happening in, well, the rest of the world. And yes, I know that most all newspapers around the country are in dire straits at the moment so I have been trying to set realistic expectations for our small little paper that serves two communities.

And so. We are going on week two of no newspaper and I think I’m ready to throw in the towel.

You know how when you have something you’re more inclined to complain about it, but once it’s gone you can’t help but feel withdrawals and realize it wasn’t as bad as you thought? That’s kind of what I’m going through right now.

The newspaper used to be a staple in the lives of almost all Americans. You would read the newspaper in the morning as you sat eating breakfast, or at night when you got home from work. It was your source for televised sporting events, movie listings, and job advertisements. The newspaper was kind of a catch-all for American society. And now?

We have the beast known as the Internet. More and more people are going online for news because they are already online for entertainment purposes, so it’s like two birds with one stone. Plus you can access so much more online. The New York Times, The Washington Post, Entertainment Weekly (admit it, we’re not solely checking out legitimate news sites). This is not a new trend, it’s been in the works for quite some time and if you are involved in any way with the newspaper business you know that for a lot of papers it’s do or die time.

But I digress. No more than five minutes after I got off the phone with someone at the paper telling them that, sadly, I wouldn’t be renewing my subscription at this time, I wanted to call them right back and say that I made a terrible mistake. I didn’t mean what I said, of course I still want to get the paper! What was I thinking? They must have been talking to someone impersonating me.

Because the truth is boys and girls, even with all my level-headed reasoning for deciding not to renew, I miss my newspaper. I miss having it sitting there on my coffee table, the front headline emblazoned across the page, just waiting for me to pick it up and start reading. I like being able to hold the newspaper in my hand, to see the words on the page, with no pop ups or extra links to click in order to get to the story. On the days when I did find time to read the paper, I found the process of skimming the stories to be relaxing. I even enjoyed the sound of the pages as I would turn them.

Okay, enough with the sentimental garbage. Maybe I’m going through some kind of twisted guilt thing since I used to write for my college newspaper and feel that my recent lack of newspaper support is somehow a mortal strike against my character, or maybe I’m just too old fashioned to be satisfied with online news. I’m a purist at heart. And even with the flaws, I’ve decided that I simply cannot live without the daily thump on my door alerting me that my newspaper has arrived. (Actually, in all honesty, I could do without the thump because they deliver our paper at like, 5 a.m., and sometimes that thump is so loud I wake up in a panic thinking something or someone is trying to get into my house, and by the time I realize it’s just the paper I’m too wired to fall back asleep, so….yea. A little less thumping would be appreciated).

What about you? Do you think Americans are giving up on the daily newspaper or will print journalism continue to survive in the coming years and decades?

Are you happy or content?

2011-09-20T16:57:00.000-07:00

I have so many moments throughout my day where I just stop what I'm doing and try to decide if I'm happy. Does anyone else do this? Happiness is so fleeting, I will literally feel euphoric and on top of the world one minute, then no more than a few seconds later I'm feeling just....blah.

I battle with myself a lot on the matter of happiness vs. contentedness. I think these two feelings are definitely related, and definitely share some overlap. I can't really decide if one feeling is better than the other, but I do think it's extremely easy to mistake feeling content with being truly happy.

Now I suppose you're going to tell me that I have to put a definition on these terms. A most impossible task, I'm afraid, but I'll do the next best thing and ramble on about the two until I reach some kind of random, possibly off the mark point.

I think most of us are pretty good at figuring out what makes us happy, at defining certain places and people that bring us the most joy. On the same end of the spectrum it's also easy for us to figure out those things, people, places in life that don't make us happy.

Yes, it's easy. Except when it's not.

I think sometimes we talk ourselves into happiness. Whether it's with certain people or situations, we rationalize away all the warning flags and somehow convince ourselves that we are, in fact, happy. But why do we feel the need to do this? Why is it sometimes so hard for us to admit that happiness eludes us, and that something needs to change?

I think this is where contentedness comes in, which I categorize as the middle ground between happiness and unhappiness. I think it stems largely from being comfortable with something or someone, and when you are more or less satisfied yet still experience moments of slight panic and yearn for instant escape and reprieve. Okay, maybe that's a tad dramatic. But you get my point, right? Contentedness is okay for awhile....until it's not.

I think that sometimes, at least for myself, it can be hard for us to break out of our content states because to do so means taking a bit of a risk. And taking a risk is often a very scary thing. We lose our security blankets, our sense of familiarity, and failure becomes a very real possibility. Besides, who out there likes to fail? How does that in any way lead us to be happier?

What I've come to discover is happiness is something that must be worked toward. It doesn't just happen on its own and it takes a lot of our own mental energy to make the leap from content to happy. I struggle a lot in my own life with deciphering between these two states, and even when I know I should make a change and take a chance to better my situation, it's sometimes very hard to take that leap. I also did not mean to suggest by this post that I am inherently unhappy with my life, but I am working to evaluate things more and trying to force myself to take the steps necessary for some of the things I truly want.

The picture which accompanies this post is also entirely appropriate because lets face it, dogs know a thing or two about happiness and life's simple pleasures. Plus, whenever my two beagles do the head tilt similar to the one pictured above, those are moments that make me incredibly happy.

My love yet mostly hate relationship with my cell phone

2011-08-30T16:11:00.000-07:00

I’m not even going to beat around the bush with this one, kids. I’ve needed to get this out for a long time so I’m just going to go ahead and put it all out there in the open.

I hate my cell phone.

God, it feels good to write that. It might also feel good to shout those words but I have neighbors and don’t want to tarnish the illusion of normalcy I have so tediously created for myself. Of course, now that I have written those words and subsequently published them here in the blogosphere, I suppose I need to explain myself. So pardon me while I stretch out on the imaginary psychiatrist’s couch in front of me and bear my soul about my love/hate (but mostly hate) relationship with cellular telephones.

I’m not sure when it began. I’m not sure how it began. But I think the turning point was definitely around the time I purchased my iPhone. To go on record officially, I did not want an iPhone. I had no inherent desire to own an iPhone. But standing there in the AT&T store I let myself fall under the persuasion of my husband and a fast-talking salesman. I let myself be seduced by a touch screen and instant compatibility to iTunes, email, and “apps.” I cannot tell you the memory capacity of my iPhone or any detailed, specific information most technologically educated people would rely on when making the decision to buy a product. Hell, I just recently learned how to look up a phone number while on the line with someone else. That’s about as advanced I can get.

So, let’s move this story along. I get the new phone and okay, it’s kind of cool. I mess around with downloading some apps, I connect it to my email account, I surf the web faster than I can on my overloaded laptop, and I think that maybe this phone is one of the greatest things I have ever owned. With the passing of time I soon come to the realization that this phone isn’t the greatest thing I have ever owned and has in fact ruined any chance I ever had of being able to disconnect. I realized that apps such as Drinking Games, Mike Tyson Main Event, and Calorie Calc really didn’t do much to better my life (by the way, two of those apps came from my husband’s phone. I’ll let you guess which ones), and in fact the app I used the most on my phone was the free version of solitaire I downloaded on the very first day. Also, as time goes by I realize that my hatred does not extend merely to the smart phones, but to all cell phones throughout the four corners of the earth. But back to the disconnect statement….what does that even mean? I’ll tell you what it means. It means that I have now become an absolute FREAK about checking email on my phone. Sometimes I’ll do it several times in the course of ten minutes. It’s not even a conscious choice anymore, I just do it whenever I happen to be in the vicinity of my phone and not because I care if I have new email, not because I feel like writing an email, no, I check simply because of the fact that I CAN. With the swift touch of my pointer finger I am instantly connected to my inbox. It’s so convenient, so effortless, and really helps me stay efficient and on top of things. Yea, okay, except for the fact that I don’t want to be checking work email at 10 p.m. on a Wednesday night. Yet when I see that number “1” staring back at me from the bottom of my screen I am almost powerless to resist the urge to see, to just peek, at who is the sender of the note. This is infuriating behavior and yet I feel powerless to stop.

My next rant can be applied to all cell phones. I am an equal opportunity insulter of all phones, all shapes and sizes. And believe me, I feel like such an old person when I say this….but texting for the most part drives me nuts (as I typed that last sentence my little sister sent me a text....man I love her). Most people describe texting as quick and instant communication. I call it the longest most drawn out way to have a conversation with someone. Plus, people can choose to ignore text messages for hours, days even, without any kind of reply. At least when you are talking on the phone or in person it’s usually a quicker response time. Texting also forces you to split your concentration for an unknown amount of time. You could potentially be attempting to carry out a verbal conversation with someone while intermittently taking breaks to respond to a conversation you are having via text. Kind of an exhausting process, and kind of super annoying for the person who has to watch you text.

I think the thing that bothers me the most about cell phones is that, hypothetically, they make us accessible to everyone at all times. And I know this has benefits, such as if you are being chased by a crazy axe murderer all you have to do is pull out your nifty little cell phone and presto! Help is on the way! This is comforting and probably could have saved the lives of many doomed characters in those campy horror movies I love so much. But herein lays the ultimate question. How accessible do we really want to be? Why do we feel the need to be connected to so many channels and so many people at all times throughout the day? I will admit, I feel lost when I don’t have my cell phone tucked away in my purse or, more often than not, clutched in my hand and ready to be used in a moments notice. I resent that lost feeling I have when my phone isn’t with me and hate that I am so committed to this one device.

So what is one to do? Is there a happy medium that exists between staying technologically current and blissfully unconnected?

Maybe this is about more than cell phones. At the root of it all the emails, the texting, the apps, and all the other fantastic features of the modern cell phone are nothing more than distractions. I personally am coming around to the idea that when it comes to a cell phone, less is oftentimes more. And by less I mean less of my personal time wasted on simply playing with my phone. Therefore, I am on a mini cell phone strike until the day when my cell phone can clean the house, walk the dogs and fold my never-ending pile of laundry. But really, who am I kidding. They probably have an app for that.

Vacations and book reviews

2011-08-25T14:52:00.000-07:00

I am back after a minor hiatus. After some much needed time at the Oregon Coast admiring the beauty of the Pacific Ocean and walking the beagles for miles and miles along the shore, I am back in the swing of everyday life. Am I happy or sad about this? The jury is still out. Let’s just say the return to normalcy was inevitable so I have no choice but to suck it up and start fantasizing about the next vacation.

One of the great and wonderful things about vacation is that you have all this time on your hands to do pretty much whatever you want. Before leaving on this trip my family and I made all these plans about what we wanted to do at the coast, what sites we wanted to visit, how we wanted to spend our days. But when we got there we kind of realized the one thing we really wanted to do was lie out on the sand, stare at the water, drink beer, and read. Okay, mainly it was me and my mom who did the reading, but everyone else still had a fabulous time watching us. I had recently been going through a reading slump. I could only read for a few minutes at a time, couldn’t get into the subject matter, and just was overall restless with the act of reading itself. This is highly unusual for me, so I was hoping it was just a phase which, thankfully, it was.

At the ocean I immersed myself in a truly remarkable, fascinating, all-around marvelous story by Laura Hillenbrand. The title of the book is “Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption.” If you keep up at all with the New York Times Bestseller lists you have more than likely run across this title a time or two. The book follows the life of Louis Zamperini, a record-setting Olympic runner who joins the Army during World War II. During a mission, Louie’s plane is shot down and he and two other soldiers are lost at sea for an astounding 30-something days before they are captured by the Japanese and sent to a POW camp. This however is only the beginning of Louie’s trials. He is a prisoner for the entirety of the war, moving around from camp to camp, forced into slave labor, and beaten severely almost every day. It’s an understatement to say that the man went through hell and back, and the fact that he survived it all and eventually made his way home truly does boggle the mind.

I won’t get into the nitty gritty details of the book too much for really there is far too much to cover. In its entirety the story of this man’s life, of his will to survive, is something I have never come across before in my history as a reader. Reading about Louie, about the situations he faces and the awful things he has to go through, feels like reading about a fictional character. It is extremely hard to wrap your mind around the abject cruelty and menace that was directed toward these American POWs. I could feel myself shaking my head as I read and exclaiming out loud during particularly incredulous passages. However, due to the superb writing and research done for this book I also felt instantly connected to Louie as a person, as the main character of this story. I could feel his determination radiating from the pages, his hurt and anger manifesting through the seemingly never-ending days of being a prisoner. I found myself silently cheering him on as I got deeper into the story, and cried like a small child when he finally made it home and got to hug his mother again. Let’s face it; stories like this are inevitable going to be an emotional roller coaster and I did my best to prepare for that going into the first chapter. But I did not expect to be so amazed, so in awe, of this one human being and the different courses his life took. The writing is superb and even if you aren’t a WWII buff you will have no trouble following the events and keeping track of what is going on.

This book was exactly what I needed to break me out of my slump and it is hands down the best book I have read this year. I was so sad to reach the last page and have my brief glimpse into this man’s life come to an end. I sound a bit like a stalker, don’t I? Well, I challenge everyone out there to read this book and come away feeling any different. I completely and totally recommend this book to, well, everyone! Please read it, tell me what you think, and we can gush about it together. Go, fellow bookworms, go forth and read!

On painting

2011-08-02T08:40:00.000-07:00

The art of painting is in the preparation. Have you ever had to paint something? A wall, a door, window trim, no matter what the job the true work is in the preparation. You can’t just open up a can of paint, dip in your brush and get to work. No, there are steps to be followed in order to make sure the job is done right.

First you fill the holes. Once the holes are filled you sand down the rough spots, until you are working with a perfectly smooth canvas. After you have sanded your area you wipe everything down with a wet cloth, removing the dust and grime and exposing a clean surface. When everything is clean and ready to go, you tape along the edges and around anything you wish to protect. This is one of the most important steps in your preparation, and should be done slowly and with great care. Once the surface is clean and smooth, once the edges are taped and protected, the easy part of the project begins, and that is lathering on the paint.

Of course, painting is the easy part. It’s everything that comes before that takes the most time and requires the most attention to detail. If you skip even one step or try to cut even the tiniest corner, it can make a noticeable difference on the final outcome of your project. While this isn’t always entirely detrimental, it can take away a small piece of one’s self satisfaction.

I feel through the course of our lives we are always undergoing painting projects, and not just on walls, windows and doors, but on ourselves. We are constantly filling holes, working hard to eliminate our rough patches, and yearning always to wipe the slate clean and start again, fresh and new. We get tired of the person we are and think, maybe I’ll try being something different. Someone different. Someone more colorful.

So we slap on a new color to try out for awhile but it doesn’t always….fit. Sometimes no matter how diligently you complete the prep work, the final outcome just isn’t what we wanted, what we expected. Sometimes we are actually better off with what we started with.

I’m not sure if this rambling metaphor has a conclusion or a definite point. But I will try in the least amount of words possible to sum up what I think I was trying to say. Sound fair?

We spend the majority of our lives prepping; for new careers, new haircuts, new houses, and new babies. We spend so much time getting ready for all these major milestones in our lives, and then we spend even more time sanding them down to make them absolutely perfect, wiping them off so they always stay clean and new, then taping them off to protect and keep things just the way they are. We do all these things, and it all takes so much time. I’m wondering if our lives are just an endless series of painting projects, and I wonder if even after all the prepping are we ever really ready for what life has to throw at us. On top of that, if we are keeping ourselves so busy with preparing, when do we finally get to start living? Is living in the preparations, or can we actually skip all the tedious steps and get right to the heart of the matter?

I have never pretended to know the answers to any of the questions I pose, but I think at some point we have to just say enough is enough. Sooner or later we need to just put down the sanding block, throw down the wet towel, and call it good with the painters tape.

At some point, we have to just pick up our brushes and finally start to paint.

On writing at work

2011-07-19T15:13:00.000-07:00

If you have ready any of my posts on this blog before you know that I am a freak about organization and multi-tasking. I am on a quest to be as efficient as possible during every second of every day. We don't need to to delve in and over analyze this for the umpteenth time. It is what it is, that's all there is to it.

I am one of those fortunate people who has a fairly flexible job. When I say flexible I mean that I'm not chained to my desk for the entire eight hours of the workday. I can take breaks, I can surf the web, and occasionally, I use my free time at work to compose delightfully witty blog posts. It's part of my desire to effectively manage my time. And usually when I effectively manage my time at work, I end up with, *gasp* down time! Totally, freaking, awesome.

So when I find myself with minutes to spare I might pop open a new Microsoft Word document, start typing away on my chosen blog subject, then I'll just....stop. I'll go back to work, wait for my next break, click back to the Word document, and then.....nothing. I sit and I stare. Some days I'm just so bursting with words and ideas that there is no stopping. I'll breeze through an entire post and never look back. But lately, the whole writing at work thing just isn't happening.

I've decided the reason I can no longer write at work is because there are too many people around. No, they aren't hovering behind me, breathing down my neck, reading every word I type, but they are here, in the same room, and for whatever reason their very presence distracts me to no end. Then there's the issue of inspiration. When I'm at work I'm surrounded by work "things." This is not so conducive to penning a personal blog. And my work environment just does not lend itself to being a place where I am completely comfortable and inspired to write.

There were a few times when I would bring my short stories into the office and try to work on my lunch hour or on my breaks. Oh wow....that didn't get me very far. Same problems I listed above. It just. doesn't. work. I figured the blog would be easier, maybe because I didn't have so many elements to worry about such as plot, dialogue, and characters. I just assumed that writing my thoughts and observations wouldn't require such an inspiring atmosphere. Apparently, I was wrong. Writing at work is not the solution for me, in fact I think it lends itself to my frustration because I end up getting pissed off that I can't write while sitting at my work desk. So guess what? No more.

From now on the creative genius that is this blog will likely be developed at my house, down in my office, in the early mornings or evenings. There I can be completely alone and comfortable and able to zone in and give these posts (and my stories) the attention they deserve. I truly believe this is an important step for me. I am learning about my preferred writing habits and figuring out what I need to do in order to be more productive. So, I feel good about my decision and hopefully the noted improvements of these postings.

P.S. I am writing this at work. If it sucks, that's why.

The power of a shower curtain

2011-07-12T16:09:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned the following fact on my blog before, but I hate my upstairs bathroom. Luckily, Dean and I bought a house with two bathrooms so I am not always forced to endure the awfulness that is our upstairs bathroom.

I suppose I'm exaggerating just a little bit. I've definitely seen worse bathrooms in my lifetime. But I think that when you own your own house you just want everything to be exactly the way you like it....and I have to say I don't care to have a bathroom that serves as a tribute to the design styles of the 1970's.

One of the most endearing features of our bathroom has got to be the shower doors. They are really something, let me tell you. One of the doors has a glass front, and the other one is frosted glass with a towel bar, covered in hard water stains. In other words, the doors don't match and they are pretty hideous. While the shower doors are just the tip of the ice burg in my bathroom nightmare (there's the yellow, green and blue floor that is starting to come up around the tub, the toilet that is barely hanging on, the yellow tile in the shower that is starting to show its age), they are the first thing I notice when I walk in the bathroom, and thus one of the things I have been anxious to get rid of.

Low and behold, the moment of truth came this weekend via a simple suggestion from my mother. Why don't we just take the doors off the track? she says. Hey, great idea! So five minutes later, the doors are off and my bathtub/shower is fully exposed, and looks much, much bigger. Then my handyman of a father take a screwdriver and removes the top part of the shower enclosure, making it much easier to put up our expandable shower curtain rod.

I was instantly rejuvenated and inspired. The doors were gone and even though other problems in the bathroom were still evident, one of the biggest ones had been removed in the blink of an eye. A quick trip to Bed Bath and Beyond later that afternoon and I now have a completely different bathroom. The curtain hides the icky yellow tile (although I still see it when I shower), and it also hides the nasty old shower enclosure (which will come out when we finally remodel the rest of the bathroom). I hung up the curtain and spent a good five minutes standing there staring. It didn't even look like the same bathroom. I was thrilled beyond words.

This is the story of how a simple shower curtain changed my weekend, and surprisingly managed to alter my attitude toward my upstairs bathroom. I no longer cringe when I walk down the hall and happen to glance in the bathroom, because it isn't two ugly old shower doors staring back at me.....it's a lovely spa-inspired shower curtain.

I'm sure there's a metaphor here somewhere. Something along the lines of taking things we dislike in our lives and making small changes to them so they appear new and exciting, or at least more to our liking. Something about how the smallest changes can make the biggest impacts on our overall outlook of a situation. Regardless of the implied metaphorical musings, I am just overall thrilled to be rid of the awful shower doors, and thankful for the wide range of shower curtain selections carried by Bed, Bath and Beyond.

On fashion

2011-07-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

I have this love/hate relationship with fashion, and with shopping in general. There are days when I am totally inspired to dress to the nines, accessorize to the max, and really step out looking like a total fashion plate. Then there are those other six days of the week when the effort of simply getting dressed seems about as daunting as climbing Mt. Everest. The trouble with me and fashion is that I don't really know where I fit in that whole crazy world. I go from preppy to modern to sporty to sloppy all in the span of a week. So, much like other aspects of my life, I don't quite know how I'm trying to dress.

Clothing can and does send a very strong message about us and our personalities, even if we don't realize it. What we wear can sometimes send a stronger message than the words that come out of our mouths, and let's face it, it's usually the first thing that people notice about us. We can dress to become any type of person we want to be, even if what shows on the outside doesn't exactly match up on the inside. But that's a subject for an entirely different post.

I'll touch on the issue of shopping in just a minute, but another thing that drives me crazy about fashion in general is all the other girls who can so effortlessly (or seemingly effortlessly) pull off a look and make it appear that anyone can do it. Skinny jeans? Yea, they're great for girls who are tall and have pencil thin legs....not so much for this muscular 5'2'' girl. I see women all the time who can just "do" certain styles and look fantastic. They can wear jeans and a t-shirt and look cute and put together. I try to pull off the same thing and just come off looking dumpy. Now, I watch enough "What Not to Wear" to know that we all have to dress our body types accordingly, but sometimes I can't help wishing that I had the type of body structure that looks good in everything. Of course, I realize that would be way too easy.

Now as for shopping. This is something I enjoy to no end, although my bank account at times wishes I could show a bit more self control. The thing is, Pullman isn't exactly a shopping metropolis. The Macy's in Moscow is about as good as it gets, and after awhile I just feel like I am buying the exact same clothes over, and over again. This probably explains why all the jeans in my closet look. exactly. the same. And it's not just because they are all denim. Limited shopping options leads to frustration with outfit creation. What I mean by this is that I can put together a great outfit one day, feel totally inspired to do the same thing the next, and then come to the realization that there isn't anything else in my closet that can live up to the challenge. Of course, then there are the days when I just don't care and jeans and a sweatshirt is as creative as I get.

Fashion is just overall tricky. And when you don't really know what kind of look you are going for, it gets even more tricky. Right now I feel like I am caught between still dressing like a poor college student, and a more or less young professional. I wouldn't say I'm a fashionista, but I do love staying somewhat up-to-date on the latest fads and trends (even if I won't/can't wear them). But I keep coming back to the idea that clothing is a reflection of our inner selves and personalities. To what extent is this true?

Lately I have been giving a lot of thought to this notion, and to the question of who I am as a person. I suppose this is turning into a summer of self-reflection for me because all these ponderings about clothing and personality are really tied into the larger question I have been grappling with....who the hell am I? While I am not yet prepared to delve into that topic, I have a feeling I will be giving it a lot more thought over the weekend. Maybe while shopping.

Reading urges

2011-07-06T10:45:00.000-07:00

I don't know what it is about summer, but during this warm and wonderful season I always get the urge to lock myself in a room (or lay out on a blanket next to the pool) and reread every wonderful, fantastic book I have ever read in my life. Crazy, huh?

I think this stems back from my youth, when I used to participate in the summer reading challenge at the public library. The concept was pretty easy. You set a goal of how many books you plan to read during the summer, then you keep a list of all the books you successfully complete. If by the end of the summer you reach your goal, you get some type of fabulous prize. I don't quite remember what the prize was....probably because I was too focused on seeing how many books I could finish in the 2.5 months before school started to really care. I was probably the only kid in the program who cared more about the act of reading books than getting to the ultimate end prize.

If you read this blog with any regularity (all two of you), then you know I am a bit of a nerd when it comes to reading. And when I say nerd I mean that I love to read, will read anywhere at anytime, and have willingly chosen to stay home and read on more than one occasion. I don't see this as a character flaw, in fact I see this as a time investment toward my hopefully future career as a full-time writer. I firmly believe that all good writers are also avid readers so really, I am just doing what I believe goes along with the job description.

But back to the urge to read. Dean and I spent a long and relaxing weekend at my parent's house for the 4th of July holiday, and while there we crammed in a number of hours by the pool soaking up the sun and listening to the sprinklers. Seriously, it was pretty close to absolute perfection. And what made the entire scene even more perfect in my eyes was the book in my hands. I used my poolside time to finally finish up Margaret George's wonderfully researched novel Elizabeth I, and then proceeded to start a new book on my Kindle that I have been wanting to read for years. A little gem entitled Sex and the City. I mean really, I've been watching the show for ages so why shouldn't I see where it all stemmed from? And it all felt so good. To finish a book then instantly start on a new one. To have open hours, open DAYS, that I could fill doing nothing but reading. Of course reading wasn't all I did, but the notion that if I wanted to I very well could, that alone was enough for me.

Throughout the weekend I often times felt the urge to sit out on the porch with not just one, but a pile of books next to me. A pile of soon to be conquests, a to-do list to be checked off, one glorious read after another. Yesterday when we arrived home I sat down in my office and examined all the books on the shelves; some I've read numerous times, others I still haven't found the time to finish (or start). I sat there and stared at the spines, took some off the shelf and read the backs, and I instantly wanted to read them all. Again and for the first time.

As I said earlier, I'm not sure if it's something to do with summer or something to do with being on vacation and finally having the time to dedicate to marathon reading, but I am in such a state right now it's all I can do to force myself to get dressed, go to work, and not lay around on the couch all day and indulge myself with book after book.

Ahhh....why didn't I become a teacher? They get summers off!

On writing and distractions

2011-06-24T16:26:00.000-07:00

I recently read a blog post on Procrastinating Writers about how to avoid distraction while writing. Articles like this always appeal to me because sometimes, a lot of the time, I am very easily distracted. I feel like I only rarely get into a zone of complete focus and am able to work solely on one given task/project/story for a given length of time without taking a break to do something else in-between. Perhaps a side effect of my constant need to be multitasking....?

In any case, I really did find value in the advice listed out in the blog post. An eye opener for me right off the bat: the first two recommendations were about distancing yourself from the computer. Or, better yet, from computer applications, Internet, games, etc.

What a truly novel idea. I guess I had never thought before about how distracting simply being on your computer can be....even if one is on the computer for the purpose of writing! Luckily for me my writing computer is not hooked up to the Internet, but I still have games and music applications on there that I sometimes mess around with while trying to write, not to mention my iPhone, which gives me instant access to email and the greatest time vampire of them all: Facebook.

Writing is a very solitary act. It is not a group event and it is not something that can be done in conjunction with several other activities. A writer has to be willing to isolate themselves, to face the thoughts and ideas in their head, and commit to getting them down on paper. When too many outside forces come into contact with you trying to write, the result is, well, there usually isn't any result because it's usually too hard to focus and actually form complete sentences. TV, Internet sites, games, phones, even music can sometimes just be too much competition for someone trying to write.

Why had this never occurred to me before? How many times had I sat down in my office, a story pulled up on Microsoft Word just waiting to be further developed, and I was too preoccupied with finding the perfect song on my play list? How many times had I sat there responding to text messages, ultimately breaking my concentration and my train of thought?

This is a true testament to the times we live in. Honestly, it's amazing we are able to get anything done with all the different technologies we have access to and are able to utilize each and every day. For a writer, these different technologies, these various distractions, have no place or purpose when one is trying to bring life to a story. I realize that each of us is able to focus and create under varying circumstances, and while some people can type away without a pause while music is blaring in the background, others of us need the quietness of an empty room in order to hear what is happening in our creative imaginations.

Do I dare go back in time? To tackle my writing without the aid of modern technologies? I am referring, of course, to the longhand method of pen and paper. Do I even remember how to write this way?

I'm sure it's just like riding a bike.

On Themes

2011-06-21T12:24:00.000-07:00

I read a lot of blogs, some religiously, some only on occasion. Some are professional blogs while others are just everyday people sharing their thoughts and ideas. I think our fascination (or some people's fascination) with blogs is the fact that these blogs are another source of insight into another person. Compelling characters always make the best stories, and in that same vein blogs with compelling authors make the best reading.

One thing I notice about most of the blogs I read is that they all have some kind of theme. Maybe not in all the posts, but usually there is an underlying commonality that is shared throughout, something that ties everything together. Reading back through some of my posts, I'm not sure that there is any kind of theme. I guess in some way writing and writing is a bit of a common denominator through a lot of my posts, but they are scattered throughout and overall the blog just feels kind of.....random.

Is this bad? Am I floating in the blogosphere with no direction, completely wasting my time? Should I have a mission, a goal with each post, or is it okay to write on a whim and mix things up?

In a way I'm not entirely surprised that I never settled on a true theme for my blog. Back in the day when people still burned CD's (and yes I still do that), I never stuck to one type of music for a single CD. I would mix some rap songs in with some country, throw in a couple tunes from Ray Charles, then maybe finish it out with a throwback song from my middle school days. I like randomness, I like surprise, and sometimes I just don't feel like committing to a set direction.

I feel like I'm something of a walking contradiction. On the one hand I thrive on routine and having a set plan, and on the other I yearn for change and unexpectedness. How exactly can these two very different feelings coexist within me?

Maybe this blog is the outlet. The sounding board for the random side of me to explore those thoughts and feelings that the routine side of me doesn't always embrace. If that is the case, then I am prepared to sail along with my blog, theme-free and ever-changing. I won't cage myself into a single topic but will instead dare myself to write about anything and everything that interests me on a given day.

And on those days when nothing seems to interest me, I can always blog about my love for Peanuts. Random or not, one must always have a fallback plan.

Morning pages

2011-06-13T15:02:00.000-07:00

This week I am embarking on an experiment with my writing. I was inspired to try this after a post I read on the Procrastinating Writers blog, in which the author related her findings after two weeks of writing Morning Pages. The idea behind this exercise is to get your thoughts, ideas, complaints, anything that has you stuck both in life and writing, down on paper and out of the way. The concept is simple. You get up in the morning, you grab a notebook and pen, and you write without picking up your pen until you have filled three pages. Stream of consciousness writing would be another term for this.

This is not just an exercise to do once in a while, every other day or just on week days. This is literally an every single day process that you are supposed to go through, no ifs ands or buts.

It makes sense that I would be reading a blog called Procrastinating Writers because I told myself I would start writing my Morning Pages today.....but I didn't. Truth be told I just plain forgot, which I realize doesn't necessarily serve as the greatest excuse. But tomorrow morning I am completely committed to knocking out those three pages. I am also hoping that this little experiment becomes an effortless morning ritual for me and not just a one time experiment. But I do have my reservations.

For some reason I have never been that good at stream of consciousness writing and I think it's because I am such a perfectionist. I am always wanting to insert punctuation, or make complete sentences, or make things flow in an easy to read manner. This of course interferes with the whole "write without stopping" rule, and then I have to refocus myself to start writing in a steady stream again. The thing is, this type of writing should not be hard. You can write anything, even if it's just the same word over and over again. The main point is to keep writing. I'm hoping that this exercise will help to unlock some creativity, give me some ideas for future blog posts, and yes, help me to get in the flow of writing without constantly stopping to reread, edit, or get distracted.

Day 1 of Morning Pages officially kicks off tomorrow and I am very excited to see what lies ahead!

On gambling

2011-06-09T16:17:00.000-07:00

I recently returned from a trip to Reno with the hubby and his business partners. It felt so amazing to get away, even for just a few days. And even though my fantasy of sitting poolside all day long while sipping fruity drinks didn't quite come into fruition (the weather was not very warm), a good time was still had by all (and there were still many fruity drinks consumed).

Reno is known as the biggest little city in the world, and while not quite as popular as Las Vegas, it is still something of a gambling destination. Casinos rule the town, slot machines rule the airport, and just about everywhere you turn there is another opportunity for you to throw money away on something. I was not naive enough to believe that we would go on this trip and not end up losing some money to the casinos. Considering we had an $11 per day casino fee tacked on to our bill at checkout, we were losing money whether we wanted to or not. This was not the first time I had been to a casino, but it was the first time I had been to one with the actual intention of gambling.

Now see, even that isn't entirely true. I am not a fan of gambling, and while I don't hold anything against people who do happen to enjoy it, it is not my cup of tea. I have never been able to wrap my mind around the idea of willingly throwing money away for absolutely no reason. Yes, I have heard the old adage you have to play big to win big, but how often does that really happen? I am willing to be the odds are pretty low (no pun intended).

So the first night there my husband and his buddies decide to play a little blackjack. After standing behind them for a good ten minutes bored out of my mind, I decided to try my hand at the penny slots. I figure I can handle the idea of penny wagers, plus if I sit at the machine long enough I am guaranteed a free drink. I find a machine, sit down, and search through my wallet for a small bill to enter. Of course all I have are $20 bills. Okay, I tell myself. I'll just play for awhile then cash out and use the rest on another night. I start playing the machine and before long I'm down about $3. Getting frustrated I decide to up the ante. Instead of only betting one line I go up to 15 lines, then 20. This of course costs more money, so that loss of $3 quickly turns into a loss of $6 and then $7. Throughout I made some small gains, but then of course I had to re-wager my winnings in order to keep getting ahead. I worked my way back up to $15 before cashing out, but over the next two days I probably lost around $20 in the penny slots. Who knows, it probably was more. After awhile you kind of start to lose track.

I realize that my losings don't really stack up to the hundreds and sometimes thousands of dollars that people often lose at casinos, but in my mind it was significant. That $20 could have bought me a new shirt, or dinner, or a new book. Instead it's sitting in the belly of a penny slot machine, lost to me forever. And all it took was the pressing of a button over and over again.

I did a lot of people watching while in the different casinos we visited and realized something else. All the commercials you see on TV for resort casinos with the young, healthy, well-dressed people are slightly off mark. Maybe Vegas is a different story, but in all the casinos I visited I found, let's just say, an interesting mix of individuals. In a way it was kind of depressing. All these people sitting around at a table staring at cards, or sitting at a slot machine mindlessly pressing buttons while lights flashed and loud noises reverberated around them in all directions. It didn't necessarily strike me as a happy place, because frankly I didn't see too many people smiling.

All in all I was somewhat fascinated by the casino culture, and spent a lot more time people watching than I did gambling. From this trip I learned that I am definitely not a gambler, and in fact get no joy out of the process whatsoever. But while I was sitting there at that machine pressing that wager button over and over again, I definitely fell into the gambling trance. Every time I would lose I thought, I'll make it up on the next round. This thought surprisingly brought me an ounce of calmness, and as the lines were spinning on each ensuing round I eagerly waited to see if this time would in fact be my lucky break.

It's a fascinating and dangerous idea that simply by pressing a button or rolling some dice you can instantly find yourself richer by thousands of dollars. And even if you don't gamble on a regular basis, even if you don't necessarily enjoy the process, this is still the idea, the dream that sits in the back of your mind. It's what causes people to sit hour after hour at the poker tables and slot machines, long after they have fallen deep into the hole of debt.

It's a strange form of hope that constantly lingers, even after your money has left you.

Phobias

2011-05-31T12:10:00.000-07:00

We are all afraid of something whether we admit to it or not. And whether we harbor rational or irrational fears, there is a delicate line that some of us walk on a day to day basis. This is the line between fear and phobia.

Before delving much further, let me provide some background on the inspiration for this post. I had been at work not even an hour this morning when I heard some very distinct buzzing coming from one of the light fixtures in our office. For whatever reason, we always have had issues with bugs, mainly flies, getting into our office via the light fixtures. So I look up, and to my absolute abject horror I see that it's not a fly up there making the buzzing, but a huge wasp. Let me also preface this by saying that I have a huge, slightly irrational and completely consuming fear of bees, wasps, yellow jackets, anything that buzzes, flies, and has a stinger.

So, here I am sitting at my desk with this giant wasp ready to dive bomb me at any moment. The ceilings in our office are about 15 feet high so there was no way I could just swat him and put an end to my misery. Instead I had to sit there and watch and he crawled in and around the light fixture, flew from one end of the room to another, and crawled along the wall. There was absolutely no way I could concentrate on anything work related. My eyes were glued to this wasp, watching his every move and ready to bolt as soon as he made a move toward me.

The end result of this tale is that eventually the little devil's spawn finally landed on a window (mine, of course), and I smashed him with my shoe. This is not the first time I have had to defend myself against these evil, evil creatures and it likely won't be the last. What worries me is that the more and more I am pitted against them, the stronger my fear of them becomes. Don't they usually say exposure to the things that scare you help you to cure, or at least lessen the fear?

I decided to do some minor non-scholarly research to see if my fear of flying, stinging creatures might actually be a phobia. Some of the symptoms for phobias include: the need to escape, sweating, heart palpitations, nausea or abdominal discomfort, shortness of breath, feeling lightheaded, and so on, and so on. While examining the symptoms on the list was interesting, it really didn't bring me any closer to discovering the truth. Everything listed was rather generic, not too specific, and overall could be applied to a number of situations. However, I examined some of the differences between everyday anxieties and phobias and found that to be a bit more helpful. I'll highlight one example.

Everyday anxiety: Feeling queasy while climbing a tall ladder.
Phobia: Not attending your friend's wedding because it's on the 25th floor of a hotel.

Okay, the difference between the two is duly noted. People with phobias will go out of their way to avoid situations involving the person/place/thing they are afraid of, and if they are forced to endure the stimulus they do so with great distress. Given the example above, it is highly unlikely that I have a full blown phobia, but I would say on the everyday anxiety scale I am scoring pretty much off the charts. After I smashed that evil wasp with my shoe, my hand was trembling so bad I couldn't hardly tie my shoelace. My stomach is still in knots almost three hours later, and any little sound from the light fixtures makes me jerk my head up to see what kind of killer insect is waiting to descend on me next.

I am definitely walking the fine line between fear and phobia. Of course, knowing this does not make my irrational fear any easier to deal with. So as the summer months progress and as the temperatures increase, I have a feeling I will be forced to ward off these inhuman terrorists time and time again. Unless conditions improve, I might just start working from home.

Sisters, big and little

2011-05-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

I am a big sister. I have been a big sister since I was four years old, and I will be a big sister for the rest of my life. I remember when my baby sister was brought home from the hospital and I sat on the sofa in our living room while she was gently placed in my arms. I was cautious, careful, and gentle with this little creature, treating this bundle of a baby like she was made out of porcelain.

Being a big sister was not always easy or fun. I'm sure the same can be said of being a little sister. During sleepovers with my friends there was always a little voice, a little girl, who wanted to play outside with us, play checkers with us, and watch movies with us. At times I thought of her presence as annoying, but when it was just the two of us, just me and my little sister, I was always so grateful for a constant companion to ride bikes, to go swimming, or to play catch in the backyard.

Being a big sister made me a natural protector. I wanted so badly to protect my younger sister from thoughtless taunts and mean words, from failure and from tears. And yet, there were times as a big sister when I thoughtlessly caused pain during the adolescent fights that all siblings go through.

Being a big sister meant I observed and watched. I watched as the little baby who I once held so carefully in my arms grew up. I observed as she excelled at everything from softball, to piano, to showing animals at the county fair. I watched her transform from a quiet little girl into a strikingly mature young woman. The years of our young lives passed with by with countless laughs and a million hugs, recorded forever in photographs and remembered always by the two of us.

When my sister and I finally lived in the same town again, I never knew our relationship would continue to grow, both as friends and as work colleagues. I didn't realize how much I would grow to depend on her, to value her input and seek her advice. Having her so close these past few years, it was easy to imagine that nothing had to change.

When my sister decided to move away, to seek her professional destiny on the other side of the state, we started to make plans for new adventures. Yet even through all the job applications, resume drafts and interviews, I never completely believed she was really going to leave. Even as the months on the calendar fell away, even as the weeks began to dwindle, even as the days became fewer and fewer, I thought maybe, just maybe, nothing really has to change.

When I became a big sister, I never knew I would treasure it so much. When I saw my sister's face for the first time, I never knew she would one day become the best friend I have ever had. As we grew up together in a house nestled between golden wheat fields, I never knew that one day I would look up to her, would admire her for so many qualities I feel are lacking in myself.

As I watch my little sister prepare to start a new chapter, to open a door to new adventures, I feel a pang of sadness and wonder if we will ever be this close again, both geographically and emotionally. I wonder also what the future holds....both for her and for myself.

Being a big sister is not always easy, and it's not always fun. Sometimes there are fights, annoyances, and sibling unrest. But sometimes there are late night talks and memorable road trips, inside jokes, and a confidant who will always keep your secrets. Being a big sister means having a partner in crime, someone who will finish your sentences and who will always watch Lifetime movies with you. Being a big sister means there will always be another person who knows how your heart is hurting when you both lose someone you love.

Being a big sister has meant a lot of things to me over the years. And now, as my little sister fills her moving boxes and makes plans for a new life in a new city, it means I have to see beyond my own sadness, my own insecurities, and offer her nothing but well wishes and unwavering support.

Sometimes, being a big sister means you have no choice but to say goodbye.

Classic Nickelodeon

2011-05-13T10:47:00.000-07:00

I don’t watch a lot of children’s television anymore, for obvious reasons. I’m 26, I don’t have kids, and I have a husband which means I watch (sometimes against my will) a fair amount of sports programming. ESPN even has its own special button on our remote. All this aside, I am somewhat aware of the program choices out there for kids today and I have to say that I feel sorry for them. I mean, I’m sure they believe what they are watching is just about the coolest thing ever, but guess what?

They are wrong.

Travel back with me if you will to the early 90’s. These were the years that encompassed of the bulk of my childhood and were also one of the best times in recent history to be a kid…..that is, of course, we are gauging “best times” solely on TV programming. What made this possible you may ask? Oh, you know, just a little network called Nickelodeon.

I firmly believe that Nickelodeon was ahead of its time in the quality of shows it offered to the youth of America. Compare any of the classic Nickelodeon shows to what kids see today and the differences are blatantly obvious. In terms of quality, the 90’s has current day television beat by a long shot. Quite the bold statement, isn't it? The shows of classic Nickelodeon, while still at times a bit silly (they were for kids, after all), had a level of maturity to them that is missing from TV today. Okay, maybe maturity isn’t exactly the correct word. I mean, a lot of classic Nickelodeon’s legacy is tied up in the pouring of green slime over unsuspecting victims. But the old Nick shows had something…..some special element that is flat out missing from the shows of today.

Most people look back fondly on the shows of their youth. Haven’t you ever heard your parents talk fondly about the old shows they used to watch, don’t we ourselves hold a special place in our hearts for what we used to watch growing up? I don’t think this happens very often as we get older, but during those carefree childhood years the TV shows we become involved in will make a lasting impression on us, will stay with us into adulthood, and essentially become a part of our own personal histories.

An example. As I’ve stated many times before I am a confirmed horror junkie. I love to be scared, I love a good mystery, and for me it doesn’t get any better than curling up on the couch, turning off the lights, and indulging in a scary movie. I can’t pinpoint exactly when my fascination with the macabre occurred, but I do know that as a kid Nickelodeon gave me a show that without a doubt further increased my love of the dark side. “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” was, in my humble opinion, a pure genius of a show. A group of kids knows as the Midnight Society gather around a campfire and do their best to scare each other silly with ghost stories. As the person is telling the story, it is subsequently being acted out for the viewer. The intro to the show was delightfully creepy, which you can view here. And the stories themselves are utterly fantastic. Watching these same episodes as an adult I still find myself getting freaked out. I don’t think there has ever been another show on TV like “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” that can match the caliber of the original. I encourage all of you to go to You Tube right now and watch an episode. Just keep in mind that the show is designed for kids so the acting caliber isn’t going to be superb, but the stories themselves are what really make this show work. Isn’t it funny how it always comes back to the story?

While I won’t go into too much detail on some of my other favorites, including but not limited to “Clarissa Explains it All” (I so wanted to be her), “Salute Your Shorts”, “Hey Dude”, “Welcome Freshmen”, “The Adventures of Pete & Pete”, “Ren & Stimpy".....we could be here all day.

We always like to think that our generation got it right. Clothing, cars, TV, you name it and we will claim at some point in our lives to have done it better than anyone else. But in the case of classic childrens television, the early 90's have it in the bag. Nickelodeon has always been a fantastic network for kids, but during the golden age of programming referenced above it's hard to imagine how they could have done any better. I still look back on these shows fondly, and watching old episodes is like a wonderful little trip through time. And I'll say it again, I feel sorry for kids today because they are really missing out.

The classics of anything will never die, and I sincerely hope that these shows are soon revived in reruns or made more accessible on DVD. Given the quality of most television shows today, I for one would rather spend my time watching 90's Nickelodeon. And yes, I realize that statement officially brings me one step closer to sounding "old."

Injured Reserve

2011-05-10T11:34:00.000-07:00

One of my co-workers recruited my husband and me to play on a co-ed softball team. Having come from a mostly fast pitch background I find switching to slow pitch can sometimes be a challenge, even though just about everyone assumes it would be a lot easier. But, despite my initial reservations, Dean and I added our names to the roster and now every Sunday evening our athletic talents are on display at the city play fields.

My first game went very well. No big defensive plays in the field, but my hitting was extremely on the mark (much to my pleasant surprise). Sprinting around the bases felt amazingly good, even if it left me a bit winded, and jogging to the outfield each inning while inhaling the smell of warm grass reminded me of something.

I have really missed this game.

This past Sunday I was actually looking forward to our game. My arm was feeling a bit more in control (after a couple years of not playing catch those first few throws felt terribly foreign), and I was looking forward to more base running and maybe even chasing down some gappers in the outfield. So finally game time rolls around, and I prepare to make my first appearance at the plate. I let the first pitch go by.....it was way too deep. The second pitch comes floating toward me, I swing, see a ground ball go racing between the short stop and third base, throw my bat on the ground and take my first step to go tearing down the first base line.

I can't even really describe what happened next. I was setting off to run, and felt a pop in my left quadriceps. I tried to run, and found I could only hobble. I urged my right leg forward, trying to force my left leg to pick up the pace. But there was such a pain in my quad it was all I could do to finish my trek to first base (safe, by the way).

I stood on the base and tried to stretch my leg a bit, expecting the tight, sore feeling in my quad to gradually fade away. But damn, it sure hurt. As the next batter launched a line shot into the outfield I tried to run to second base.....and still found I could only hobble. This was more or less my status for the remainder of the game, and while my leg actually began to feel slightly better the more I moved around, I was nowhere near 100%. I had officially pulled a muscle.

This might not sound like a big deal to anyone who has ever played sports. Pulled muscles happen all the time, in every single sport. Except, they have never happened to me. I have never pulled or sprained anything in my life. I have never not been at 100% and unable to run, jump, dive, slide, you get the picture. Sitting at home that night with ice on my leg, feeling the tightness in the muscle and my inability to walk like a normal person, I realized that jumping back into the whole "athlete" scene wasn't going to be as easy as it used to be. I was going to have to dedicate a lot more time to stretching, warming up, and all those other things that I used to do but sometimes only halfheartedly. I always took for granted to fact that I never seemed to get injured or have major aches and pains. This limited mobility I now faced was not my cup of tea.

Is this a sign that my age is catching up with me? Like most people I have always just assumed that I would always be young and able to do the things I have always been able to do. Is the universe's way of telling me that my theory is flawed?

Today I will subsequently spit in the universe's face. I refuse to let a little pulled muscle keep me down, which is why I plan on running this afternoon. Probably no sprinting quite yet, but my goal is to hopefully be free of the tightness in my leg by Sunday.

And yes, from now on I will probably take a few extra minutes to give the quads a good stretch before each game. And yes, if my leg starts to ache while running I will probably scratch a mile or two off my workout. I guess sometimes when the universe talks we have no choice but to listen.

Burnt out

2011-04-19T10:27:00.000-07:00

I've been away from blogging for a few days. Okay, more like a couple weeks. But I am not without reason. This time of year always seems to have a rush, rush feel to it, and this also seems to be the time of year when things are especially busy with work, life, everything in general. Because of this and more, I have had neither the time nor the energy to post.

Do you know what that was? That was a paragraph of vague and not entirely true excuses. Yes, I have been busier than usual. Yes, I am also sick. But there have been moments over the past couple weeks when I could easily have logged in and penned a fascinating and insightful blog post. There were hours during my evening at home when I could have torn myself away from the TV and spent some time exercising the keys on my laptop.

But here's a statement that is entirely true. I'm burnt out. I know, I know, who isn't, right? But I can feel myself starting to go under a little at a time, more and more each day. I'm stir crazy in my surroundings and I just want to run away. My lack of motivation is completely apparent (at least it is to me), and I feel like week in and week out all I am doing is counting the days and counting the hours until the weekend. Sitting here at my desk it's all I can do to make it through this blog post.....a post which obviously has no direction whatsoever.

Direction. Is that what is missing from my life right now? Am I restless and unmotivated because I am off track, wandering aimlessly, looking to be set right?

Or am I just looking for a different road....a more exciting one?

I'm holding fast to the notion that once I kick this cold and actually have some energy things will start to look up. It's so much easier to be positive and optimistic when you aren't exhausted and feeling like crap.

Do you want to know what your co-workers get paid?

2011-04-05T16:01:00.000-07:00

Our perception of wealth experiences an evolution over time. When we are little kids we are happy just to have enough money for a soda or a bag of chips from the vending machine. As a teenager having enough money to go to a movie and maybe a fast food restaurant is sufficient. Eventually we try to earn enough money so we can buy our own clothes and entertainment items, maybe if we're lucky our own car. Then we upgrade by quite a bit and start saving for a house, kids, all those grown up things that we knew nothing about when we were younger....especially how expensive they all were.

In each stage of our life we are usually adjusting our perception of what makes someone wealthy and how much money is enough to get by. Some don't want to settle with just getting by, as they push and push to break into the upper barriers of the pay scale, while others are fine toiling away for what could be considered mediocre compensation.

Money is such a funny issue. And it's a sensitive one. Whether it be between spouses, friends, family, money does change things and is usually one of those off-limits conversation items right up there next to politics and religion.

What makes money so funny? It's the way it can skew our attitude about another person. Most of us out there do not believe for a second that we are getting paid enough for what we do. Those of us that do agree with our compensation maybe wish we could find a position with more prestige and responsibility so the monthly check will in fact be significantly higher.

In our work lives there is usually a hierarchy of authority, a chain of command if you will. The people at the top get paid the most, while the ones at the bottom are paid the least. Pretty standard. But how much are those people at the top really getting paid? And if you are one of the poor souls in the bottom tier, do you really want to know how much more your colleagues are making than you?

If you said yes, then I urge you to reconsider. Because once you satisfy your curiosity and know exactly how much more others are getting paid, it's going to be very hard to look at them the same again. The next time you find yourself hating your job, or frustrated with someone at work, you will inevitably come back to the subject of money and that will fuel your fire even more. Once you have that dollar figure in your head it becomes very hard to forget, and whether you mean to or not you run the risk of always resenting this fact.

Some might be reading this and thinking what a shallow, awful thing it is to judge someone by how much they earn. I agree, it is shallow, but it is also commonplace. We know we shouldn't do it, we know it isn't right, and yet we just can't help ourselves. As proper and polite as we try to be sometimes our baser tendencies get the better of us. I think it's quite common to turn to the deserving argument. For instance, so and so doesn't deserve a large salary because they don't even do any work. It isn't fair that so and so makes so much more than us, because WE do all the work. Does this ring a bell with anyone out there? It's probably the most standard complaint about differentiating salaries, and true or not, we would love to trade places with so and so because we perceive that they don't have to do a single thing as far as actual work goes, plus it comes with a huge paycheck.

Perception is everything.

The thing is, we have to work with our co-workers on a daily basis. It's essential to build good working relationships in order for everyone to experience success, and it's terribly difficult to do that if you have money on the mind. We're not stupid, we realize our bosses make more than us. But do we really need to know how much more? Honestly, why would we even want to? Aside from the fact that knowing could prove to be overly depressing, it doesn't do us any favors when trying to establish a strong work relationship. Some will say to just forget about it, push it to the back of your mind. Okay, yes, that's exactly what we should do.....but how easy is that really?

Maybe I'm reading too much into this (wouldn't be the first time), but I truly think the income of our co-workers is something best left in the dark. What you don't know can't hurt you.

Facebook Fast conclusion

2011-04-01T14:40:00.000-07:00

Today was the final day of the Facebook fast. And surprisingly enough, it was the easiest day out of the entire week. I realize I didn't post yesterday but for the most part I made it through my Thursday with very limited Facebook withdrawals. In fact, I don't even recollect wanting to log into the site. In my mind that's a huge accomplishment.

Today has been amazingly smooth sailing. Maybe because it's Friday and I'm filled with cheerful thoughts of the weekend ahead, or maybe because I have finally trained myself to get through the day without wasting time on Facebook, who really knows. Whatever the reason may be I am feeling much more optimistic about my Facebook-free life, so much so that I might just continue to abstain in the coming days ahead.

I still like Facebook, and I will still argue that it's an incredible medium for communication, but I can't deny the fact that the site is a HUGE time vampire. I don't even want to think about all the hours I would waste away on that site in a given week, but when I would reflect on it I truly felt depressed. So for me, this little experiment was more than necessary not only to quell my own personal curiosity of what a week without Facebook would be like, but also to help me just feel better, happier overall.

Boy, for a week of no Facebook I sure have done a lot of writing about it! While I can't say that I will never log into the site again, I have a feeling that in the future I will be much less inclined to fill my empty hours with a Facebook fix. In a way it's quite a liberating feeling. Now I'm off to celebrate my new-found independence!

Facebook Fast Day 3: Conquering the boredom

2011-03-30T11:18:00.000-07:00

Welcome to day three of the Facebook Fast! I'm struggling right now, fighting every impulse and muscle in my hand to not log into Facebook. I'm trying to console myself by explaining to myself that it isn't my fault. You see, the reason I'm having such a hard time with this is really just because of one tiny minuscule feeling that is all too common during the work day.

I'm bored. I'm restless. And I need a way to distract myself until it's time to throw on my gym clothes and escape for my noontime workout session. Thank God it's finally after 11 a.m.. Right around the 10:15 a.m. mark I was silently going crazy at my desk, not knowing how the hell I was going to make it until noon when I could escape from the small corner that is my office and release myself from the confines of this computer screen.

I hate boredom. Hate it with such a passion there are no words to describe. I feel so useless when I'm bored, and worse I lose my motivation to do, well, ANYTHING! The mornings at work are the worse. Don't ask me why, but the hours just drag and I find myself cruising from one pointless website to another and daydreaming about all the other things I wish I could be doing instead of wasting away in silence. I have quite a flair for the dramatic, don't I?

To read this you would probably think that I don't do any work at all. I promise you this isn't the case, and between bouts of random Internet surfing I really do manage to get a sufficient amount of work accomplished. In fact, I am ahead of the game right now which might account for some of the boredom. And here I didn't think there would ever be a downside to being over productive.

So this is why I feel my urge to conquer the Facebook hold on my life has been something of a struggle. I am just so desperate for the distraction to pass the time it's literally driving me crazy.

Okay, only 45 minutes until gym time. Once you get over the noon hour hump the rest of the day is smooth sailing, right? Now I am off to see if I can think of anymore random, interesting things to Google.

Dear God, save me now!

Facebook Fast: Day 2

2011-03-29T10:58:00.000-07:00

Day two of my Facebook fast didn't start out as smoothly as day one. Upon arriving at work I did my standard perusing of blogs, checking email, and making my To-Do list for the day. But I had to fight, and I mean really fight against my finger wanting to click the mouse over the Facebook icon.

In a way I felt almost left out. Left out of whatever might be happening in the online world that I might want to know about, that I might need to be a part of.

Then I wondered exactly what that something could possibly be. Besides, wasn't my involvement in Facebook limited to more of a voyeuristic nature? Don't I subscribe to the notion of learning what I could about others, but not revealing too much about myself?

Regardless of what I think I might be missing out on, I have fought temptation and am still living a Facebook-free day. In all honestly I feel kind of silly about this confession. In fact this entire experiment reeks of silliness and utter ridiculousness. Not logging into a website for a week? How hard can that be?

As I am quickly discovering it's harder than it sounds. This leads me to believe that Facebook, that the simple act of logging into this site every day (usually multiple times), is an addiction. It's a conditioned response for me every time I sit down at my computer. Check the email, check the news headlines, log into Facebook. Respond to some emails, check the bank balance, log into Facebook.

At this stage in the game this I am still making the conscious choice to abstain from Facebook. I'm hoping by the end of the week it will just be a natural tendency.

The Facebook fast

2011-03-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

Last week I was a bit of a Facebook junkie. I was logging in on my computer, on my phone, posting status updates at 1 a.m., and trolling the News Feed for signs of activity from my friends.

Over the weekend I had a mini-intervention and have decided to undertake what I feel is a very important experiment.

I will not, I repeat, NOT log into Facebook for at least a week. No status updates, no looking at pictures, I am officially on a Facebook Fast.

I want to see exactly how much more productive I am when not wasting away on this social media site. I also want to see if I can detect any direct correlation between not using Facebook and my overall happiness. Sometimes when I get sucked into the Facebook vortex I will spend way too much time clicking from one profile to the next, searching for group and business pages, only to suddenly look at the clock and realize 30 minutes have gone by and I completely forgot about the thing I was reminding myself to do before I logged in and became enamored with photos and status updates. This leaves me feeling frustrated, and in a rush to get things done to make up for the time I just wasted doing absolutely nothing on Facebook.

I am curious....will there be withdrawal symptoms? Will I find myself asking other people to update me on Facebook activity? Will my absence from the social media giant even be noticed by others? The answers to these vexing questions will make themselves known as the week goes on.

I'm sure on the grand spectrum this Facebook avoidance isn't really going to affect my daily life one way or the other. I'm already 4 hours into my experiment and so far my day has moved along relatively smooth, in fact for being only 12:20 I have already accomplished quite a bit for a Monday work day.

Hmmmm.....maybe the positive side effects are already starting to show?

What is your dream job?

2011-03-23T10:45:00.000-07:00

On one of my job interviews as a college student I was asked a fun question. What is your dream job? Now, as a college student my dream job was anything that would pay above minimum wage and allow me to work flexible hours, preferably not on the weekends. Furthermore, why this question had any relevance at all for a job that entailed janitorial work at the Student Recreation Center I have no idea. But ask the question they did, which meant I had no choice but to come up with a creative answer.

I really love when I am able to surprise myself, because that is exactly what happened in this particular situation. This was a question I had never given much thought to, and while I knew it was a reality I would soon have to face the whole idea of working after college was still a foreign concept to me. Which is why when I opened my mouth to answer this question (and rather quickly, too), I was amazed at what I said.

My dream job was to own and operate a used bookstore. Those of you who know me well are probably thinking, "Well, DUH!" But I was stunned by the assurance of my answer, the conviction of the words, and the light bulb that instantly turned on in my head. In truth my interviewers were somewhat shocked by my answer (possibly impressed?) and proceeded with some follow-up questions. Well, just one question really. Why?

Hmmmm.....why indeed. Well for starters, I love books. Not just the act of reading but just books in general. They are (even the bad ones) parallel worlds made up of powerful words, images, ideas, and information. Books are a thing to be treasured, to be passed down through time, to be studied, and to inspire. (Note: I did not say these exact words during my interview, but given a few years to ponder the question I have since expanded on the answer). Aside from the books themselves, there is just something so enticing about used bookstores. The search for the perfect book, the discovery of a long forgotten favorite, and the satisfaction of finding something you weren't even looking for.

I feel like this is something I could be truly happy doing. My entire life there have been two things which have consistently made me truly happy, and that is reading and writing. I realize there would be more to this ambition than meets the eye, since a lot more goes into running a business than putting some books on a shelf and assuming people will come snatch them all up. But the notion, the very idea that this is something I would actually wake up in the morning and WANT to do.....that is something I cannot ignore.

On the front page of Monday's newspaper was the announcement that after 30 years a local bookstore owner was planning to retire and was hoping to sell the business, preferable to someone who would continue to run it as a bookstore. I read the article, folded up the paper, and thought back to those five loaded words.

What is your dream job?

I'm not in college anymore. I feel like I know what my dream job is. And now I see this article. I've never been one to believe in signs.....but is this a call to action of some kind? Is it time to consider doing something risky?

My head is suddenly filled with questions and I don't have definite answers. I feel like my entire life I have made a point to be practical and safe. And now? Now I'm ready to try a new approach.

The bearer of good news

2011-03-21T15:02:00.000-07:00

We all know how good it can feel to receive good news. Whether about major or minor subjects, it always feels nice to land on the side of good and not bad.

For me, delivering good news to someone else is also a most pleasurable experience. It's one of those things that brings on, for me at least, an instant surge of happiness and optimism. I can't help but smile and feel slightly euphoric, even if the news doesn't directly affect me in any way.

Today I had the pleasure of phoning a young man who is going to be interning at my work starting in May. He hadn't responded to my initial email about receiving the position, so I called to follow-up and make sure he had gotten my message. Turns out he hadn't checked his email yet, so this was the first he had heard about landing the position. He was ecstatic. I could literally hear the smile in his voice over the phone as he started telling me how this had made his day, and how he was so excited and grateful. The corners of my mouth couldn't help but turn up in a big grin, and my afternoon instantly went from mediocre to great.

I'm so glad that it fell on my shoulders to make this phone call, because I needed a small moment like this to remind me how nice it is to be the bearer of good news. Sometimes we get too caught up in ourselves, too worried about spoiling ourselves, and we forget how nice it can be to contribute to the happiness factor of others.

Talk about a very satisfying moment to what would have otherwise been a drab Monday afternoon. Hopefully Tuesday will be just as inspiring.

Who we were in high school

2011-03-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

There are so many wonderful things to remember about high school. The friends, the sports, the jokes, the fun teachers, and the trips. There are also a lot of not so wonderful things to remember about high school. The so-called friends, the gossip, the failed romances, the bad decisions, and those all too common feelings of teenage angst.

We should all consider ourselves lucky to have survived such a tumultuous time. And while I'm sure it was more tumultuous for some rather than others, we all have our own private collections of great and not so great memories.

At some point during the end of my college career, I was thinking back on high school and my friends from that time, and it amazed me how many of them I simply didn't talk to anymore, as well as how many of them I did not even consider a friend. Of course, this is what happens after high school as people move on, meet new people, and create new lives and new existences for themselves. Not a huge revelation by any means.

The other day I was sucked into that parallel universe we call Facebook, and I found myself cruising through the profiles of a lot of my old high school friends. Some I had graduated with, some were a few years older, and others who graduated while I was still in middle school. As I looked at the pictures and posts of these people, I found old feelings being stirred up. High school feelings. People who I had been close with at one time or another, people who had intimidated me with their perceived cool factor, and others who I had never been on great terms with but for some reason or another decided I was a Facebook-worthy friend.

It was a weird sensation, because by all intents and purposes we are all different people now. Most of these people I never even talk with anymore, and yet those teenage feelings still linger. They are still there just beneath the surface and no amount of time can diminish them completely.

This led me to an interesting thought which I'm sure has crossed all our minds at one time or another. Do we ever really change, or are we simply the same people we were in high school?
And on another note, do we want to be the same person we were in high school?

I for one know I have changed, and all for the better. I have become more outspoken, not so inclined to follow the lead of others if I don't believe they are right. I am less inclined to tolerate backstabbing, something I now realize I put up with on almost a daily basis in the halls of my school. And I have learned how to be in a relationship. How to love someone truthfully and completely and not worry about what I might be missing with someone else.

But in other ways I haven't changed....not entirely. I still try to avoid confrontation, and am still on my endless quest for perfection in everything from writing, to arranging pictures on my TV stand. I'm not completely comfortable standing out from the crowd, even though I try to pretend I am. I'm still quiet, still a bit shy, and I still try to spare people's feelings, even if I don't really like them.

It has been almost ten years since I graduated from high school, and in that time I suppose I thought more things about me would be different. I also thought more things about my life would be different, and maybe they are, just not exactly in the way I pictured all those years ago. I am still close with a few of the people I graduated with, and over the years I have been able to observe the changes in them, and the way they have grown. But I have also been able to see how some things about people never change. The insecurities, the likes and dislikes, the trust, the dependability.

So what is it about high school that creates these everlasting feelings and traits? What happens to us during those four years that shapes us for the rest of our lives? Is it just going to school, or is there more to it than that?

I think it's a little bit of everything. It's the friends we make, break, and keep. It's the sports we play, lose, and win. It's the romances we commit to, break up, regret, but ultimately learn from. It's the process of being knocked down and learning how to get back on our feet. A lot of this takes place within the walls of a school, but so much of it also happens outside the walls, and within ourselves.

I don't think it's a bad thing to be the same person you were in high school. I also don't think it's a bad thing to change a little along the way.....in fact, it might be impossible not to. The way I see it, those four years of unpredictability are nothing more than a crash course to what lies in not so far off distance.

Real life. Which in some ways might actually be scarier than high school.

Honesty

2011-03-17T10:22:00.000-07:00

Most of us are not naive enough to believe that people are completely honest all the time. And yet most of us will always proclaim that being honest in any given situation is always the best way to go. Do we all agree? Don't lie.

I am not honest all the time. I lie about stuff almost every day, usually about small things like "No, I'm not too busy to work on that," or "Yea, my day is going great." We usually don't make too big a deal over statements like this, which are commonly referred to as little white lies. And they are little, and pretty insignificant, and we usually make them without giving it a second thought. It becomes natural to tell these lies to people we encounter everyday. Because let's face it, does the checker at the grocery store really want us to go into detail on the terrible day we've been having? I seriously doubt it, and on top of that I don't want to take the time and energy to talk about it.

The thing about lying is that it's contagious, kind of like a cold. We will do it to other people, spread it around as we see fit, until eventually it comes full circle and we are lying to ourselves.

Lying to ourselves.

It doesn't even really seem possible, does it? I mean, how can a person lie to themselves about anything, when it's inevitable that they know the truth? While this is a hard phenomenon to explain, the fact is that it happens every single day, and we all do it.

What do we gain from lying to ourselves? What purpose does it serve? Ultimately it allows us to put off dealing with tough situations. And it also means that we can continue to think of ourselves as practically perfect....because we can just lie away our faults, and skip over certain situations in our life that we aren't particularly proud of. So maybe it isn't even the fact that we're lying to ourselves, but instead denying certain things and refusing to examine them in the correct light.

I see this as a type of internal defense mechanism. If we aren't honest with ourselves about certain things then we are inevitably sparing ourselves pain or potential awkwardness. It's hard for us to willingly put ourselves in vulnerable situations, so we choose to go on the defensive and not face up to the facts.

I always feel more guilty about lying to myself than when I do to other people. Is this a sign of selfishness? Is this a strange thing to feel guilty about?

Unless we make a conscious effort, I suppose we can't help but always be on the defensive about our feelings and about the way we look at things. I suppose the important thing is to eventually come around to being honest and facing the truth, even if it just takes a little longer.

Productivity

2011-03-14T16:36:00.000-07:00

A lot of us won't admit it, but there is a point during almost every work day, when we know for a fact that we will do nothing at all productive for the remainder of the day. Sometimes there is no reason behind this, it just happens and we have to ride it out.

Sometimes I don't even have to be at work and I will still find myself up against this conundrum. For instance, I tell myself I'm going to sit on the couch and watch the remainder of a TV show. This leads into sitting through another show, and another, until I look at the clock and decide it's too late in the day to start any other projects and I resign myself to sloth-like status for the remainder of the evening. I'm not exactly proud of these moments, but I'm only human and they happen to everyone.

It is entirely my nature to be a productive person. I don't feel truly at ease unless I have about five different projects happening simultaneously, and five more waiting on the back burner. Usually when I get home from work my first move is not to sit down and relax but to do the dishes, walk the dogs, sort through the mail, anything to make me feel like I am being productive.

Ahhhh, productive. How we love to throw that word around. Doesn't it just elicit warm, happy feelings? Doesn't it just completely reaffirm your self-worth? Case and point: if you are being productive you are not being lazy, and if you are not being lazy you are not a worthless human being. Yes, I would say that's an instant mood booster.

Of course, it isn't enough to just be productive at work. Most of us will try to continue the trend into our non-work lives as well. We pack our weekends with an endless list of To-Do items, we try to think of every little possible thing we have been putting off and decide that this is the weekend it's all going to get done. We say this on a Friday, and when Sunday rolls around we think, "Well, guess I'll get to that next weekend."

Maybe not everyone faces this dilemma, but I for one feel strange when I am not being productive. I find it hard to sit still, hard to turn my mind off and focus, hard to just.....relax.

I fear I may suffer from over-productivity.

Where does this obsession come from? Is it a cultural thing? A genetic thing? Or do some of us just get a natural high from checking things off a list?

A couple posts back I wrote about time, and the feeling I constantly have that there just isn't enough time in any given day to do all the things I want to do. Perhaps these two feelings are connected. If I am being overly productive, I am in a sense in a race against time. I am getting things done even with limited hours, even with the clock bearing down on me and ultimately forcing me to call it quits. Is this normal.....or slightly disturbing?

Whatever the case may be, I honestly feel that To-Do list or not, sometimes it's better if we allow ourselves the freedom to be unproductive. To just be.

For some us, being able to do that might be the best productivity of all.

New age reader

2011-03-14T09:51:00.000-07:00

Last week I made a decision that will forever change the way I read.

I purchased a Kindle.

I have resisted the e-reader craze for quite some time now. Being a purist at heart, I couldn’t bring myself to trade the feel of a book in my hands, with actual pages to turn, for something that I essentially figured was akin to reading off a computer screen (which I hate).

Of course, I also couldn’t deny the fact that my already overflowing bookcases were not going to magically expand, and while I knew there were probably some paperbacks in the collection I could bear to part with, others I knew would be with me for life.

So I researched, polled my friends, and in the end decided the Kindle was the way to go. I am more than halfway through my first book on the device, and so far I have zero complaints. I am honestly amazed at how well I have made the adjustment from printed to electronic word. I am very impressed with how closely the typeset on the screen resembles that of a real book. Much easier on the eyes than your run of the mill computer screen, that’s for sure. And of course, the accessibility to literally thousands of titles with a less than 60 second download is quite enticing. It’s the kind of instant gratification I have been yearning for my entire reading life.

However, my new-found love of the Kindle has not diminished my appreciation for the printed word. Books, real books, have always been such an important part of my life I don’t think I could ever completely trade them in. Sitting down in the evening with a book in your hand, hearing the quiet rustle of the turning pages, this is a timeless experience that will never be able to be fully duplicated by an e-reader. There’s something about the weight of the book, the smell of the pages, the anticipation that builds as one nears the end of a story, it’s that something that has shaped my love of reading from a very young age, and I will never be able to let it go.

But, in the interest of reducing clutter in my house and still being able to indulge in near obsessive reading habits, I have a feeling my Kindle and I are going to be the best of friends.

Urge to explore

2011-03-08T17:13:00.000-08:00

As a kid growing up, I was big on exploration. Lucky for me I lived on a farm out in the country so I had literally miles and miles at my disposal. Out in back of our house was a farm equipment graveyard. Old combines, trucks, headers, not to mention several old, dilapidated sheds. I can't begin to put a guess to the number of hours I spent back there looking through these old treasures. Not in search of anything in particular, yet secretly hoping for a grand discovery, the key to a long forgotten mystery, something that would in some way alter my life.

Probably the most exciting thing I ever found in those old sheds was my dad's old go-cart, and while exciting in its own right, it wasn't quite the fabulous discovery I had been imagining.

However, my lack of great discovery never diminished the excitement of the exploration. With each new trip out back and beyond there was new possibility, and that alone made me hunger for more.

During my sophomore summer of high school I went to Europe with some other kids from my school. I was young, too young to really know what to expect in regards to traveling overseas. My first couple days I was consumed by homesickness and overwhelmed by the enormity of being an entire ocean away from my family.

Then something happened.

I allowed myself to forget about home and focus on the here and now. I asked questions. I talked to locals. I rode a giant Ferris wheel with two boys from Scotland whose accents were so thick I could barely understand a word they said. I stopped being sad and started being curious.
I got lost in the Louvre, was rendered speechless by my first sighting of the Coliseum, and listened along with thousands of others to the Pope as he spoke from his balcony.

I wandered, and I explored.

Both of these examples, at their core, share the same moral of exploration, of discovery, or at least the possibility of discovery. And lately I have felt a familiar urge begin to stir. The urge to open doors and see what lies in the shadows, to visit a place I have never been before and learn all there is to know about this vast world we live in.

The urge to explore, to learn, never leaves us. And while sometimes we yearn for the familiar, every now and then we should do ourselves a favor and embrace the new, the unfamiliar.

The unknown.

Dinner for two

2011-03-02T11:16:00.000-08:00

Like most young adults, I didn't start cooking until I moved out of my parent's house. I would on occasion bake at home, but cooking meals was something I never actively participated in. Now I cook a lot, probably at least 4 days a week on average. For the most part I find it enjoyable, my least favorite part being the dirty dishes that accumulate by the end of the process.

I am also a pretty nonjudgmental eater, meaning that I love all kinds of food and am willing to try all kinds of food and different recipes. And while my husband is not too picky, there are times when my "different" dinner ideas get shot down for something more conventional.

This is the dilemma one usually faces when having to cook for two. But who really has the most control over the situation? The cook or the complainer?

Usually I only get my way on certain meals if I stomp my feet and throw a mini tantrum. It's shameless, I know. But when dinner ideas clash someone has to come out on top, and there are some nights when I will do everything possible to make sure it's me.

If I lived by myself I would eat pasta like it's going out of style. All different kinds, with all different sauces, and all types of meat/veggie combinations. Dean tires of pasta rather quickly, so I have to be strategic when working it into the weekly menu. On the other side of things, if he had his way we would eat Mexican food seven days a week. I suppose everyone has their niche.

My overall observation here is that it's kind of interesting what aspects of your life change or are altered when you are in a committed relationship. Especially if you happen to live with the person. I wouldn't go so far as to say I have given up certain foods because my husband doesn't like them, but I definitely don't indulge in them as often. Would this be different if i were single? You betcha.

It also leads me to wonder how much this principle applies to other areas of our lives. For instance, aside from dinner choices, what else do we adapt to, alter, change, even give up when we are in a relationship? Sure, we all say that you should never have to give up or change anything about yourself in order to be with someone else, and while this notion is most definitely grounded in truth, it still happens. Not always in big, outlandish ways, but definitely on a more subtle scale.

Part of this is compromise. Part of this is learning how to make a life with someone in the midst of work, school, hobbies, friends, and family. And all obstacles are never completely solved, even after marriage. Situations come up on a daily basis and sometimes we know we have to make the decision that will work for the betterment of two people, and not just ourselves.

Kind of incredible how a post about cooking dinner can veer off into a deeper tangent, isn't it?

And by the way, spaghetti is on the menu for dinner tonight. Isn't compromise a wonderful thing?

The value of time

2011-02-25T11:35:00.000-08:00

On a daily basis I usually get the feeling that I don't have enough time. The hours of the day will either rush or creep, but the end result is still the same.

There just isn't enough time to do all the things I want to do.

More and more in my life I have come to appreciate the value of time, and having more of it at my disposal. A day off from work means hours of endless possibilities, where I will finally have the chance to accomplish all those things I am always putting off, saving for a rainy day if you will. A weekend with no set plans means two days of freedom to lounge around and read a book, or tackle a time consuming (and scary) home project such as cleaning out my closets.

Just having the option of time is a luxury I no longer take for granted. Because what I have found to be true, especially since entering the world of working full-time, is that things come up. Responsibilities are always looming. And sometimes whether you like it or not, your work follows you home.

I encourage all of us to embrace the hours that belong solely to us. To view the free time we have earned as an opportunity, an adventure, or a much needed escape.

The days of our lives are long, but the years are short (thank you, Gretchen Rubin). And within those days that make up those years we have nothing but time. Time to work, play, love, cry, and contemplate. Time to plan, to dream, and to achieve. There are some hours, some days, that may not belong entirely to us. But for those hours and days that do, we would do ourselves a favor to embrace them. To relish them.

To live them.

Small moments

2011-02-24T14:48:00.000-08:00

Last night one of our beagles, Frank, was going through a bit of a stressful spell. Pacing, panting, shaking, Dean and I were both concerned and unsure how to help him. So we decided a walk might cheer him up. It was 9 p.m., about 20 degrees outside, and the outside world was covered in snow and ice. I couldn't think of anything I would rather do than take the boys for a stroll.

So we harnessed up the dogs, threw on several layers of clothing, and headed out into the night. Our journey led us up to the high school softball fields, where the snow was deep and as of yet untouched and pristine.

Then we were off. Running through the fluffy whiteness, holding onto the leashes for dear life as our dogs dragged us helplessly along. We finally stopped, gasping for breath, feeling the burn in our legs, and suddenly not feeling quite as cold as when we first started out. But our small break was short lived, for soon the beagles caught a scent and we were once again off to the races. Racing along behind the dogs, I laughed at the way their floppy ears flew back behind them as they ran, or how they had to hop like rabbits in order to navigate through the deep snow.   At our next stopping point Dean and I smiled at each other as the beagles buried their noses in the snow, sniffing at scents only their hyper active noses could detect.

It was a small moment, an easy moment. Just one of many that will make up the larger portion of my life. And it was a happy one.

Sometimes it's easy for us to get caught up in the overall big picture of our lives. We lose ourselves to big outcomes and huge events, forgetting that the entirety of our lives are made up of small moments, and it's only when we string all these moments together that we arrive at the huge end result.

It's easy to forget, to dismiss, the small events in our lives. The brief moments when we smile, laugh, or share a moment with someone special. How often do we put on the blinders to times like this because we are too busy, too preoccupied with something bigger to appreciate what is going on right in front of us?   I feel like all to often we don't believe we will be happy until something big happens to us. Until something truly monumental comes our way. And yet it's the simple things, the daily and seemingly meaningless occurrences that will sometimes bring us the greatest happiness.

As we walked home last night from the softball field, covered in snow and rosy cheeked from the cold air, I knew this was one of those small moments. Just another night, just another dog walk, but a moment filled with effortless happiness.

And by the time we returned home, Frank was back to normal. Perhaps beagles are able to appreciate these moments as well.

Oscar anticipation

2011-02-24T09:29:00.000-08:00

So we meet again, Oscar weekend. Confession time.....I kind of love the Oscars. I do not usually get excited about awards shows, and throughout the course of the year this is the only one that I will dedicate four, sometimes five hours of my life to watching.

And it is happening this weekend.

I don't know what it is. I mean, every awards show has the whole red carpet style scene, but for some reason it's only really exciting for me when it's happening at the Oscars. And while the Oscars still has the same usually awful and usually awkwardly executed teleprompter speeches, for some reason they don't annoy me nearly as much as on other shows.

I have a feeling my love of movies has something to do with my excitement for the show. And for those movies that truly give me a one-of-a-kind experience the first time I see them, I can't help but want them to be recognized for that achievement in some way. I realize that probably sounds corny, but I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time I have written something borderline dorky.

I also have a feeling that I am exactly the type of person the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences wants to watch the show. Because I will watch the show and promptly set about making sure I see most all the movies that were nominated for awards (if I haven't already seen them). Yep, I am a big sucker. And yes, I am aware that a lot of really great movies have been known to slip under the Oscar radar but there isn't a whole lot I can do about that. I don't use the Oscars as Bible on which movies are worth watching, but it's kind of nice to use as a starting point for a list of suggestions. Sort of like using Oprah's book club for book recommendations.

This year I have only seen three of the movies nominated in the Best Picture category. "Black Swan," "Toy Story 3," and "The Kids are All Right." I own "Inception" but haven't gotten around to watching it yet....might need to put that on the To-Do list before Sunday. I'm definitely rooting for "Black Swan;" Natalie Portman totally rocked this movie, and since we all know I'm a fan of the darker themed genres this should explain my choice. However, as much as I liked the movie I'm not quite sure it should or will win. When I think of Best Picture Oscar winning movies I think of "Gone with the Wind," "Million Dollar Baby," "The Godfather," "Casablanca,"......the list could go on and on. Just not sure if a movie about a psycho ballerina will make the cut. And while we are on the subject, even though I haven't seen it, I refuse to believe that the movie "The Social Network" deserves to be in this category. It's a movie about Facebook, people. Give me a break.

Many people snub the Oscars because they are tired of watching rich, beautiful movie stars pat themselves on the backs for being super awesome. I admit, that is essentially what is at the core of all awards shows, including the Oscars. But it's not just the shiny, glamorous people who are being congratulated. It's also the fascinating stories that make these incredible movies. I can definitely appreciate that concept.

Oscar Sunday comes but once a year. And I plan to give in to the glitz, glamor, and show off attitude of the entire affair. Hooray for Hollywood!

Sweet tooth

2011-02-16T12:30:00.000-08:00

For the most part I consider myself to be a very healthy person. I eat well, I exercise, and I generally have a low stress level which helps to maintain my mental health.

But lately I have noticed something. Well, a few things actually. It started out with the realization that certain pairs of pants were fitting a bit tighter than they used to, and maybe it looked like I was a little bigger around the midsection than I had been back in the fall.

No need to panic, I told myself. It's just time to buckle down, stop eating junk, and hit the gym extra hard. By the time spring hits I will be slim and trim.

Weeks go by, I'm working out and not going back for seconds at dinner, and I'm eating an increased amount of fruit and veggies throughout the day. But there is one itsy bitsy, teeny-weenie thing I have not been able to shake.

My sweet tooth.

Lord, do I love sugar. And chocolate. And frosting. And ice cream. The idea of giving up all these delicious concoctions is probably a good one, but tell me, would that kind of life even be worth living?

To my credit, I usually will only indulge in sweets when dessert time rolls around. Because let's face it, a small dish of cookies and cream ice cream is the perfect way to cap off one's day. Although this week I have been enjoying the leftover red velvet cake that my parent's conveniently left at my house after visiting for the weekend. Trust me, it's worth the extra time at the gym to consume those delicious calories.

And that brings me around to what is really on my mind. What does it matter? Any of it? Aren't things like moving up a size in pants just a part of life?

I really don't feel like getting into the whole tirade of unrealistic body image and the impossible standards of beauty that exist in our society, because frankly I don't think there is anyone out there who is unaware of them. And honestly, if looking like a supermodel requires eliminating all kinds of dessert foods from my life, I'm just not sure it's that important to me.

Losing weight has never been something I have excelled at. For starters I've never really been "overweight," and I have always been very muscular, which is nice, but also means the scale reads heavier. Dieting is torture for me, not that I've ever done it very long. I love food, I love planning meals, and if I don't eat I get really cranky. And while I realize dieting doesn't mean starving oneself, sometimes I need more than a rice cake as a snack in order to make it through the afternoon.

So where does this leave me? Am I on a downward spiral, having sold my soul to devil's food cake and ice cream sundaes? Does my desire to drop a few pounds mean I must also drop my sweet tooth once and for all?

I don't think it does. I'm going to stick by the adage that all things in moderation are a-okay. When it comes to choosing between skinny jeans and a brownie at lunch, the brownie is going to win almost every time. Plus, I feel if I eliminated all desserts and yummy sugary goodness from my diet I could potentially suffer a mental breakdown. The deprivation would drive me insane and Dean would come home from work one day to find me collapsed in the kitchen, empty containers of cookie dough ice cream and boxes of Oreos strewn all over the floor. Not a pretty picture.

I feel life is too short to completely give up things that bring us happiness. And food is a huge source of happiness for all of us....trust me, it's been scientifically proven. And if eating a few more desserts means I have to run a few extra miles, I'll start putting that trade off into practice.

Eventually.

In anticipation of things to come....

2011-02-10T16:12:00.000-08:00

I have posted before about anticipation. About how the build up to something can raise our happiness level and help us to maintain a positive attitude.

The sun is shining today, the sky is a magnificent shade of blue, and I am now hopeful that spring is actually getting closer and not just a figment of my imagination. I believe it is safe to say I am anticipating its arrival with open arms.

With that in mind, I have decided to share a list of some other things I am currently anticipating, both with the arrival of spring and the progression of time in general.

Margaret George's latest book, Elizabeth 1. With George being my most favorite author of historical fiction, and Elizabeth being one of history's most captivating characters, I cannot wait for April 5th to arrive so I can begin enjoying what I am sure will be a truly fantastic book.
Karaoke Revolution: Glee. What do I love to do? That's right, sing. What show do I absolutely love? That's right, Glee. I believe this one is pretty self-explanatory.
Running many, many miles outside. I get kind of stir crazy if I have to exercise indoors for too long. I like to be outdoors, which is why even though I am not a very effective long distance runner, I am still more than ready to lace up and start going for runs outside. I can't wait to feel the heat of the sun beating down and take in the smells of warm grass, dirt, and outside air. Ahhhh.....the elliptical machine has nothing on this.
Gardening. Last spring/summer was my first attempt at being a legit gardener. While I still have a ways to go, I am determined this year to step up my game and put in some effort to revolutionize my yard. I have plans, people, and I am ready to dig my hands into the awful clay soil which inhabits my flower beds and make things grow.
Cannon Beach. So I have awhile to wait on this one, but the second week in August I will disappear to what is perhaps my most favorite place in the entire world....Cannon Beach, Oregon. I cannot wait to feel the heat of the sand on my bare feet, listen to the crashing waves, explore the tide pools around Haystack Rock, and take the beagles for long walks on the shore.
Barbecues and dinner outside. Funny how a lot of these have to do with the weather. In any case, when it does warm up and one doesn't need a ski parka just to go outside, Dean and I will both cook and eat our meals outside on the deck. This is by far my favorite way to end the day. Food just tastes better outside, with a sunset, and beagles down playing in the yard.
Second and third drafts. I really used to hate finishing a story and then having to start on second, third, sometimes fourth drafts. I'm a perfectionist, I like to get it right on the first try. But since this is usually impossible, I have over the years come around the the idea that the draft phase of writing should be embraced, since it's only going to make the story stronger (hopefully). Soon I will be ready to start on second drafts of two stories, and a third draft of another. Excited to the max.
Spring release wine tasting. I pretend to be a wino, because even though I do love wine I'm definitely not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. But one does not have to be an expert to enjoy a good weekend of wine tasting, which is why this year I plan on being down in Walla Walla for spring release weekend. Cute spring dress, even cuter shoes, yummy wine, and most likely dinner out on the town. Yes please!

How do you handle criticism?

2011-02-09T14:19:00.000-08:00

Do you ever sometimes tell that common lie about loving constructive criticism? The whole notion of criticizing involves finding fault and passing judgment on someone or something they did, so I'm going to weigh in right now and say this is not my favorite thing to experience. Constructive criticism is supposed to offer a positive outcome, a chance to recognize errors and look at ways to improve them. Essentially, if you can get through listening to someone rip you and something you have worked on apart, the end result will be that much more impressive.

Okay, so maybe I'm taking this to the extreme. Because most of us are really nice people who know how to criticize and suggest changes without being mean about it....right?

I know perfection is impossible and I realize that a goal to be perfect is, to say the least, unattainable. But by no means is that going to stop me from trying. I like to think everything I do and everything I create is as perfect as it could possibly be. However, this is probably quite far from the truth, even if I won't admit that to myself. And it's not that I don't appreciate suggestions from others on how to improve and better myself or my work, it's just hard sometimes to separate non-offensive criticism from unnecessary criticism.

I will go out of my way to avoid confrontations and to avoid listening to criticism. Which in a way is ironic because if I am really able to make a go of this writing thing, that is exactly what I am going to have to deal with. Because not everyone is going to love what I write, and not everyone is going to be ready to sing my praises. When I used to write for my college newspaper I dreaded those instances when people would write letters to the editor about one of my columns. I would walk around the entire day imagining people looking at me and thinking, "That's the girl who wrote that column the other day." In reality, I doubt the majority of my peers even paid that close attention. But once your words are in print, sometimes you just feel like you have a sign on your back.

I try to be tough. I will talk big and act like things don't bother me as much as they do. But I am a habitual over-analyzer, and I over-think situations and comments all the time. Hence, criticisms stick with me. Outward I shrug, pretending to instantly recover and move on, while inside I feel the urge to run away and hide. It's really a terrible cycle, which is why I will go to great lengths of avoidance.

I realize I am probably not alone in feeling this way, and I know many an over-achiever who will break down at the idea that they did something wrong or forgot to do something altogether. Some people will argue that these are the instances that make us stronger and help us to grow as people.

In my mind, it just reinforces my original attitude of striving for perfection. And yes, I'm well aware that this is nothing but a vicious cycle doomed to repeat until the end of time, or until I learn how to handle criticism in a less detrimental manner.

Is this a learned trait, being able to listen to criticism and not internalize it? Or are some people just not cut out to handle scrutiny?

Feel free to leave your thoughts below. And please, be kind.

Tuesday's office moment

2011-02-08T16:37:00.000-08:00

"Usually the day we talk about sexual harassment at work is the day everyone harasses me as a joke."

Pam Beasley, "The Office"

________________________________________________________________________

Anyone who works in an office setting has probably had to endure some of those oh-so-enjoyable mandatory training sessions on riveting topics such as what you are allowed to look at on your computer, what you can and can't buy with the company credit card, and everyone's favorite little gem....sexual harassment.

It's one of those topics that is just ripe with low grade humor, and yet sadly is a situation that men and women experience all the time in the workplace.

Today it was my turn to sit through sexual harassment training. And as I sat there going through "hypothetical" situation of discrimination and harassment with our moderator, all I could think of was the sexual harassment episode of "The Office." The inappropriate email forwards, Michael's infamous "that's what she said," the sexual harassment training video, Pam's mom coming to visit.....I seriously could have laughed out loud. I know, I know, not my most mature moment.

Part of me is afraid that sitcoms have officially ruined my ability to take anything serious, but deep down I don't feel that's the case.

Because sitcoms like The Office are priceless in their ability to take something like working in a normal, oftentimes boring office setting, and expose the humor that lies just beneath the oh-so-mundane surface. I'm not sitting here trying to argue that sexual harassment itself is a hilarious subject, but training on the subject will never be the same thanks to Steve Carell.

It seems to me that sometimes you just need to take a break from the seriousness and professionalism that working in an office more or less implies. For instance, in "Office Space," when Peter has to endure an onslaught of reminders when he fails to use the correct heading on his TPS report. One would think this was literally a life or death situation. (I realize both of these examples are based on television and movies, but they actually bear very similar resemblance to real world situations).

In other words, sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself and the things you are supposed to take seriously because of where you work.

Unnecessary guilt

2011-02-03T10:03:00.000-08:00

I recently found myself in a situation where I asked an individual if they would like to go out for coffee, an invitation to which this other person promptly replied "Oh no, I don't drink coffee."

Okay, no big deal. Not everyone does. But the reply did not stop at a simple no. Instead, this person had to elaborate further on all the reasons WHY they didn't drink coffee. Again, not a big deal, everyone is entitled to an opinion. But what I didn't appreciate was the way this explanation made me feel.

Guilty.

Because I for one DO like coffee. And here I was listening to someone lay out reason after reason why coffee was bad, bad, bad. Even worse, once this little tirade was completed I actually felt compelled to defend myself as a coffee drinker. Suddenly I felt as if I were being exposed as a bad human being because I enjoy a caffeinated beverage first thing in the morning.

This is just one example of many I can think of where I have felt unnecessary guilt. I'm sure you know the kind. Guilt that stems from something about yourself that another person doesn't agree with. It's the most infuriating type of guilt because, quite frankly, it's usually uncalled for.

From an early age we are taught that we should feel comfortable in our own skin. We should own our strengths and faults alike and not be ashamed or embarassed of how our traits, likes, and dislikes measure up to everyone else. These are strong words, true and logical, and hard to put into practice.

Because even though we are fully aware that we don't have to be like everyone else, as much as some say we should be, it's hard not to sometimes feel that urge to conform or hide certain things about ourselves to spare the reactions of others. It's really an infuriating decision, but one that I know I am faced with time and time again.

Where does this guilt stem from, and why do we feel the need to defend ourselves against people who don't share our likes and dislikes? Do we actually need solid reasoning in order to justify ourselves, or can we get by with "Just because" as a means of explanation?

I don't think this is something that happens overnight. I think sometimes it can literally take a lifetime before we are completely comfortable with ourselves and don't feel the need to appear to be just like everyone else.

As for the guilt that will sometimes overcome us, I think in these cases practice makes perfect. The only way we can truly be comfortable being ourselves, despite the mismatched opinions of others, is to practice being ourselves out in the open.

What does this mean exactly? Well, the next time I'm ordering lunch and the rest of the table chooses "just a salad," I think I will go ahead and get that plate of pasta whose description makes my mouth water.

Sometimes practice can be a lot of fun.

Click here to add as a friend

2011-02-01T16:06:00.000-08:00

You're sitting at the bar having a great conversation with someone you just met. This continues for upwards of 30 minutes until one of you pays your tab and commences with the standard "It was nice to meet you" departure speech. Do you exchange phone numbers? Email addresses? Home addresses? Work schedules? No. Instead you ask, "Are you on Facebook?"

You really have to be at least minorly ignorant to deny the fact that Facebook has completely changed the way we interact with each other. For one thing, we're doing it all online. Forget the telephone or actual face-to-face contact. Just log into your account and you have instant access to hundreds, even thousands of friends with the click of a mouse.

Social media has created this other world existence for users.  You don't just talk to your friends anymore, you chat with them on Facebook.  You don't play board games aymore, you tend to your farm in Farmville. And forget about sending birthday cards through the mail, just write a happy birthday message on someone's Wall.

However, the luxery of being able to create an existence in the online world is not without its awkward moments. And I believe a lot of those awkward moments are created through the act of friending (God, Facebook even has its own vocabulary....)

The first rule for making friends on Facebook: there are no rules. You can literally befriend anyone you want even if you have never met them before. Instant popularity right at your fingertips. But what is one to do if a friend request is ignored or worse yet.....denied?

I really don't know of too many people who track their friend requests. But I'm sure they're out there because deep down a lot of people are highly insecure and want, above all else, to be liked. Using the logic of more friends on Facebook means I am super cool, they will send friend requests out like they're gong out of style. But even if you don't fall into this obsessive friend collector category, do you still find yourself feeling slightly hurt when a friend request is ignored or denied?

I'm not going to act tough here, so I will admit to having felt a small sense of bitterness when this has happened to me. It brings up a lot of questions about what should stay in the online world, and how much of the online world can be brought into our everyday interactions. For instance, does one confront the individual about the friend request? Should a joke be made out of the situation? Or are you supposed to pretend like the friend request was never sent or at least never given a second thought? Do friend requests live and die only on Facebook, never to be brough into the light of the real world?

Thank you, Facebook, for creating yet a whole new level of social awkwardness that we as humans are so not prepared to deal with. I am not big on confrontation so, 9 times out of 10 I will go with the avoidance/denial route if I happen to see someone in person who has more or less rejected me online.  The idea of calling someone out because they have not admitted to liking me online makes me want to unfriend myself.

But say you pass the test. You send a friend request, the request is accepted, and your total number of friends continues its steady incline. A couple months go by and you decide its time to reconnect with this person by browsing through their status updates and newly tagged photos. You find their profile photo, click, and discover that this person has, for one reason or another, removed you from their friend list. Ouch.  How can this be? It's only been two months....where did you go wrong?

Moral of the story:  if you cannot maintain an online "friendship" with a person, you can just forget about forming a genuine friendship with the person in real life. If someone is not interested in getting to know the "online you" where interaction is completely optional and non-committal, there is no chance the relationship could survive without the buffer of the computer screen.

To be happy

2011-01-31T16:33:00.000-08:00

After a somewhat down in the dumps week, I spent a lot of time this weekend thinking about happiness. What it means to be happy, what makes people happy, and how we can tell if we really are happy.

I didn't arrive at a sound answer for any of those ponderings.

And that is because there is no universal answer.  People go their entire lives searching for happiness and sometimes never stumble upon it. People go their entire lives thinking they are happy, and sometimes discover that isn't exactly the case.

As we age and mature, I believe we are more open and able to finding happiness from the smallest and sometimes most unexpected sources. It is important to recognize these sources and embrace them, especially when some of the more dominant forces in our lives are not always sources of pleasure.

Nobody wants to be unhappy, and yet people choose to be unhappy all the time; whether it's with a job they don't enjoy, a city they don't like living in, or people they don't like to be around but feel they have to for one reason or another.  Sometimes these choices are unavoidable. Sometimes they are merely ignored. Unhappiness is usually much easier to stumble upon than its counterpart, and at some point we really need to ask ourselves why that is.

Could it be a mental thing? A lack of perspective? Or do we really have to work that much harder in order to feel that blissful feeling of just being....happy.

A complicated subject with many avenues to explore. A complicated question that begs an impossible answer. Are you happy?

I feel that a weekend is not time enough to come to the root of the question. For as simple as some of my sources of joy, there are others that aren't as easy to explain.....or attain. At this point I am learning that happiness, true happiness, is akin to a long run rather than a sprint.

I'm prepared to slow down in order to enjoy the rewards.

Polite for the sake of politeness

2011-01-28T16:36:00.000-08:00

This probably happens to us a lot. We're going about our day when we happen to run into someone we know. An aquaintance perhaps, not someone we would consider a close frined, and we engage in the obligatory "What's new?" chatter that these types of situations usually mandate.

Eventually, maybe right off the bat, you will arrive at the inevitable question: "How are you doing?"

It's nice, I suppose, to show an interest in how people we know are getting along. And generally speaking people like it when others show an interest in their lives and their personal well-being. The real question is, how much of your actual personal well-being are you willing to share?

Let's face it, when we ask people this question and when it's asked of us we will 98% of the time go with an answer of "Great!" "Good!" "Not bad!" Or something of similar effect. Hopefully we are being truthful when we say this, but if we are really being honest here I'm willng to wager that there are instances when we turn to these stock answers even when things aren't great, good, or not bad.

It's all for the sake of politeness and saving face. Do we really want to confide to someone in the middle of the grocery store that things aren't all rainbows and sunshine in our lives? Do we really want to complain about our job, or the fact that we're having the worst week of our life, or how we could use a few more dollars in the bank in order to make ends meet?

If you heaped all that baggage on anyone aside from your best friend or significant other they would most likely turn and run. Because when we ask people that question, we aren't always looking for the honest truth. We're looking for a polite answer. One that will be easy to process and not require too much extra work on our part. We can handle great, good, and not bad. Anything deeper gets a little messy.

What I find perplexing is that we are all aware of this rule, even if we don't stop to contemplate its existence. Whether we are the asker or the askee, we know our role and what is expected of us in these polite exchanges. The bigger question here is why do we bother to ask at all, when we already know what the person will say?

I think of it as being polite for the sake of politeness. For not rocking the boat with real answers and playing it safe, to spare yourself and the person you're talking to. This is just the world we live in. Honesty is hailed in just about every facet of our life, but when it comes to little encounters like this, honesty is written in shades of gray.

I can't decide if I am for or against this rule of social exchange. But just for fun, the next time someone asks me that question I might just tell them how I really feel. Even if it isn't all rainbows and sunshine.

The Twilight Zone and the art of the short story

2011-01-27T15:54:00.000-08:00

"You're traveling through another dimension -- a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's a signpost up ahead: your next stop: the Twilight Zone!"

What a fantastic introduction.

I recently finished reading a book called "The Twilight Zone and the Original Stories." This was a compilation of some of the original stories written by Charles Beaumont, Richard Matheson, Ambrose Bierce, and others, that were turned into Twilight Zone episodes. Some of the stories were no more than six pages long, others upwards of 30. The collection truly is remarkable, and reading the book got me to thinking about the art of the short story.

As an aspiring writer, I have dabbled with stories both long and short, and I can tell you that sometimes writing less is a whole lot tougher than writing more. Think of all the things we say a good story should have; a beginning, a middle, and an end. Not to mention fleshed out characters, a compelling plot, and a little bit of action (you know, like the actual story). Those are a lot of elements to effectively weave together and ultimately end up with something that reads well and makes sense.

And that is exactly what I loved about all the stories in the Twilight Zone book. The authors who composed these stories created memorable characters in just a few short pages, brought the reader immediately into the action while still managing to work in adequate amounts of back story, and ultimately ended the story without the reader feeling like things had been rushed or details left out.

I enjoy reading short stories almost as much as full length novels. I love to see how different authors handle the challenge because it is, in my opinion, a challenge to keep a story confined and not let it run wild. I have found that the longer I work on a story the greater the possibility that it will run off on tangents that aren't crucial to the overall plot. I probably have a handful of 30+ page stories that could be condensed down to half their size.

I often wonder if most authors make a concious decision to write short stories, or if that is something that isn't determined until knee-deep in the editing process. Kind of like the question about which came first, the chicken or the egg.

Stephen King (yes, I will take any opportunity to talk about my love of his work), is one of the best short story writers alive today.  Let's not even bother focusing on the raging success of every one of his full length novels, I'm talking specifically about the short story collections. The man can write short fiction just as effectively as he can write a 1,000 page novel, and he can do it without sacrificing any of the above mentioned traits which all good stories posess

It truly amazes me how an entire story (or at least the most important part of a story) can be communicated in such a condensed way. I think this is what makes short fiction so exciting to read, the fact that you more or less have to be brought right into the thick of the story at the very beginning, and there isn't a whole lot of time to waste with meaningless details and unnecessary scenes. True, no story whether long or short should bother with these things, but we all know that doesn't always happen.

All this rambling does in a way relate to a situation I am currently facing with a story I have been working on all month. I'm lost somewhere in the middle, not sure what direction my characters will head next, or what my ultimate outcome for the story will be. Part of me is chomping at the bit to start over, right in the middle, and flush the story out to an exhilerating ending, while another part of me wants to complete the 100 page compilation (seriously, if I keep dragging it along the way I have been this thing will probably be over 100 pages before an ending is reached), and then go through and figure out if there's really a story in there amongst all the character dialogue and attempted plot twists.

Regardless of what happens with this current tale, I am making a concious decision to dedicate myself to the short story. Challenging? Perhaps. Effective? Most definitely. Time to summon my inner Stephen King.....

Exceeding Expectations

2011-01-21T15:30:00.000-08:00

We are by all means a nation of overachievers. We work, work, work until we can't possibly work anymore, and then somehow we find it within ourselves to keep going. If we don't have a nervous breakdown first.

A lot of overachieving stems from the workplace. You know how it is....you want to prove yourself to the boss, or be the golden child of the office who can do no wrong, or you plain and simple just enjoy going the extra mile time and time again.

But how does overachieving play out in our everyday lives? When does too much literally become too much?

Take for example a normal day at the gym. For me this includes some cardio, maybe a circuit of weights, and some ab exercises just for good measure. I get to the end of my set of crunches, lie back on the mat, and think to myself that I should go ahead and do at least 10 more.....just to really push myself.

Okay, nothing wrong with a few extra crunches you might be thinking. And let's face it, I could probably use them, but why do I feel the need to add even more onto an already full workout?

For whatever reason, most of us are not completely satisfied with ourselves unless we exceed our expectations. It's not enough for us to simply reach a goal, do a task, and be done with it, we want to take that goal or whatever it might be to the next level.

Since the first of the year I have made a point to make time in my schedule to write. I don't always get to it every single night, but a good four nights a week I am down in my office clicking away on the keyboard.  Some nights are more productive than others, that's just a given with writing. But on those nights when I only pump out five instead of 10 pages, I actually feel somewhat disappointed in myself. As if I have failed at something or not given it my best effort. Those are the times when I have to kick myself mentally and remind myself that as of a month ago I wasn't writing nearly as consistently as I am now, which means I have made great strides in just a matter of weeks.

But you see what I mean? It's hard to celebrate the small accomplishments, or even the fact that we did what we set out to do. There is this ingrained sentiment that we must do it to the max each and every time.

I suppose not everyone thinks this way. But for those of us who do, I think we need to remind ourselves from time to time that underachieving is something to be celebrated. Sometimes it's worth cutting a few minutes off your workout to go home and spend time with family, and even though it doesn't always feel like it, that pile of work sitting on your desk probably CAN wait until tomorrow. We don't need to berate ourselves for not being perfect, for not being able to do every single little thing that comes our way.

There's nothing wrong with making progress in small increments. And yet it's hard to let go of the mindset that everything we are working for can be achieved all at once. There's a thought.....exceeding expectionas and instant gratification. A connection, perhaps?

Would you be friends with Jessica Fletcher?

2011-01-12T15:07:00.000-08:00

If you happened to be watching TV at anytime between 1984 and 1996, you more than likely stumbled upon an absolutely delightful show called "Murder, She Wrote." In the show, a small town widow turned bestselling mystery writer, Jessica Fletcher, helps out local law enforcement from around the globe by solving some of the most baffling of murder crimes. She also pumps out a few books along the way.

Jessica Fletcher is like your grandma. Only much, much cooler. She writes, she travels, she cooks, and she constantly proves she is smarter than most of the police officers in America by solving crimes that these so-called cops and detectives have been professionally trained to do. Pretty bad ass, am I right?

And still the question remains: who in their right mind would befriend this woman? Because no matter how many different ways you look at it, the fact remains that when Jessica Fletcher is around people seem to have a much higher possibility of not just dying, but being murdered. But maybe we shouldn't hold this against her. Below, I have compiled a Pros and Cons list to consider before signing on to be BFF's with Mrs. Fletcher.

Pro: A reliable exercise buddy. Most noticable in the first season of the show, Jessica is constantly being shown on camera in exercise attire. She runs, rides her bike all over Cabot Cove, and spends a lot of time sweating away the pounds out in her garden. If you've been looking for someone to get in shape with, Jessica is your woman.

Con: She is smarter, and makes more money than you. If you are one of those people who has to be the center of attention in your group of friends, who has to be the smartest, the prettiest, the richest, then you probably shouldn't spend much time with Jessica Fletcher. She will always, always outsmart you, even if she acts like she has no idea what is going on. Plus, she is a bestselling author with an endless supply of book ideas so you know she will always have more stashed away in the bank than you could ever hope to earn your entire life. So between the books and the murders solving her face is always going to be plastered in newspapers, bookstores, magazines, maybe even Times Square. All those with jealousy issues need not apply.

Pro: She will always defend your honor. Jessica is a true blue friend. She will go to the ends of the earth for you and back....as long as you're not a cold-blooded killer. If you need to know anything about Jessica it is this: she will stick by you to the bitter end, defend your name and your honor to the police, and work tirelessly until your good name has been restored. Hey, that's just the kind of thing true friends do for each other.

Con: You will always be a murder suspect. Okay, so this ties in with the pro that was just mentioned above. Unfortunately, one of the downfalls of befriending a woman who always is around when people are being killed is that before long, the police are going to turn a crooked eye on her and all her friends, no matter how many people she helps put behind bars. Which means that it's only a matter of time before the police will drag you off to jail, as you stare helplessly at Jessica through the window of a police cruiser, silently pleading with her to solve the crime in time enough for you to make it back to work and not have to explain to your boss that you missed half the week because you were rotting away in a jail cell in a small town no one has ever heard of. I personally would give Jessica a pass on this particular con as long as it only happened once. But repeated occurrences would force me to seriously consider the benefits of this particular friendship.

Pro: Lots of spontaneous travel. If you spend your days living and working in the quaint, small town of Cabot Cove, Maine, chances are you will need to escape every now and again to remind yourself there is a bigger world out there. And who better to escape with than your rich, generous, bestselling author buddy? Jessica travels a lot. She has probably travelled the entire continental U.S. and selected parts of Europe. Who's to say she wouldn't love to have a travel companion every now and then? If you're up for visiting some exotic and not-so-exotic locales, and doing a bit of amateur sleuthing along the way, you and Jessica were made to be pals.

Cons: People are going to die. Lots and lots of people. And somewhere along the line, one of those people could be you. Hey, I'm not trying to cast a dark shadow over your potential new friend but her track record should speak for itself. So go forth and make friends....if you dare!