Today has been somewhat illuminating thus far. Today I found out that assumed sexism is likely alive and well..and so is my pugnaciously spunky inner child. Hell of a mix.
I started off this morning on the phone with a realtor and a city inspector, inquiring about the city inspection report for a house I want to buy and rebuild, a house that just happens to be, currently, condemned. It's in a neighborhood I like, the house still has intact period details I like, and the price is right for a nice little return on investment.
I've worked with and for contractors, and so I am no slouch at dealing with inspectors. Or realtors. I'm in my 40's and this isn't my first rodeo. You wouldn't know it from the reaction I got. Sometimes, being a woman does not necessarily work in my favor.
I was very stuffily informed upon my inquiry, that if I were to buy the property, I wouldn't be allowed to work on the property. I would have to have a licensed contractor do the work.
Rather than giving up right out of the box, I looked up what it would take to become a licensed contractor. I have been around long enough to know, that as the general contractor, I can hire my own subcontractors, and not be at the mercy of someone who either uses shoddy subcontractors, doesn't pay the subcontractors, etc. In my experience, when it comes to contracting, it's all about control of the process, and control of the money. Who has it, who wants it, where it's going and for what reason.
Turns out, that the license course would be the same freaking class that I would have to take to be in compliance with several other business-license-related laws anyway, so I may as well go for the general contractor license on principle. When it comes to professional & business licenses, the more, the merrier, right?
Having decided this, I broke for lunch, and discussed the situation with a friend of mine. I was asked just where I get my attitude, because my friend cannot imagine saying, 'ok, y'all want to play that way, fine.', and forthwith looking up the rules with an eye towards using them for my own benefit.
I thought about it for a minute, and I had a flash of memory of just where I did form that kind of an attitude, that core belief of 'I can do this'.
I was 7 years old the first time I realized that there were certain nonsensical rules to things; rules that could be turned on thier ear with a smile, a step forward, and the correct attitude, if not necessarily the skill set.
The time frame is the 70's. The Equal Rights Amendment is all over the news;, my dad had just walked out on my mom and I. My mom was devastated but thought she would be a bold, brave single mother. At least that is the face she initially turned to the world. Which didn't last long..
Wouldn't you know it, but in due course, my mother's car broke down. Something to do with the transmission, if I recall. I remember my mom being in tears about this situation. I cannot understand, at the time, why she is crying.
I trusted my mom. I trusted her when she told me to not be at the mercy of a man, and there she was, when things were good, telling me point blank that the Equal Rights Amendment all over TV is a Very Good Idea and About Damn Time and women can do anything men can do.
I flash back in remembrance, to her telling me that the ERA means that girls can do anything that the boys can do, and that the girls are just as good and as capable as the boys.
I flash back in remembrance, to her consciousness-raising group (which was really probably more of a coffee klatch) talking about big dreams and big ideals while drinking wine, listening to Helen Reddy, and lighting up slim cigarettes with big crystal tabletop lighters; tapping the ashes into the matching crystal ashtray that caught the light just right and cast rainbows upon the eggshell colored walls of our apartment.
I flashed back in remembrance, finding that when push came to shove, I found myself standing next to mom, in the ill-lit garage around the corner from where we lived. We were facing what, to me, were a couple of great big scary men. And my mom was crying. Crying!
I remember thinking in a split-second judgement that this was not simply not covered by anything I'd heard on TV or in the consciousness-raising group! Clearly, something had to be done about this, to make my mom not cry. Clearly, my mom was in no shape to be brave, single mom or not. It was clearly up to me. I remember feeling so horribly small and alone, and feeling as if I had to be the grown up.
So there I was, all little girl, shy as all get-out, gathering up every last ounce of my courage. I remember shaking in my shoes while walking right up to a great big (to me) mechanic, looking him in the eye, and pertly asking what could be done to fix the car, please? It seemed to be the right thing to do.
I wasn't being rude at all. I wanted my mom to not cry anymore. I wanted her to be proud of me for being brave and for doing what she and the television and her consciousness-raising group told me I could and should be doing; Being Assertive because my consciousness was raised, dammit! I was woman and I was roaring. I was seven and scared to death, so it was probably more of a squeak.
I remember the mechanic laughing like hell as he bent down and gently took my hand, led me to the workbench, and tried to tell me things were going to be all right, while my mom tried to put herself back together. I remember the mechanic having big hands inundated by the smell of something that stung my nose. I remember not taking my hand away as he explained things, because I wanted to Be Brave, and Be Polite. I wanted to not be scared. But I was anyway. and I didn't cry. Honestly, I think I was too scared to cry.
My mom was beyond embarrassed and wanted to fall through the floor. She hauled me out of the shop, took me home, and gave me a lecture about how there were things that men did, and things that women did; that men made the rules, and how sometimes, women had no choice but to be at the mercy of a man. How someday, I would understand.
This made no sense to me, as all previous instructions had been about telling me that anything boys could do, girls could do.
It all made no sense, because my mom had also taught me to not lie. Here she was, essentially lying to me and scolding me for questioning the lie. How could I trust her? How could I be strong, be invincible and be woman and yet still be at the mercy of a man? And why, if I could learn to do anything that boys could do, couldn't she fix the car? I'd seen grown-up ladies on TV putting cars together, so it was thereore not that big a stretch to my young mind that ladies couldn't also fix cars when they broke.
I protested. For which I was promptly spanked and sent to my room without supper, and I heard my mom cry off and on for hours that night. I could not comfort her.
My child self took grave offense to this series of events. I was doing what I'd been told I should do, acting on beliefs that I'd been taught I should have. Only to get spanked by the person who taught me I should have the beliefs in question.
It turns out that it was just my first big lesson, in that I should always question the rules. Especially those that make no sense, are contradictory, or are set down by those who 'mean well'. I learned that sometimes, 'the rules' might not be in my best interest, and might be meant to be bent just the tiniest bit to make them work. I learned that the person setting down the rules might be a liar and might flip-flop at the most inconvenient moment.. I learned, that I did not have to be a thing like my mom. And I learned that great big scary men in garages are really not all that scary at all.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Something I Learned Yesterday
I got up yesterday morning, unexpectedly faced with dealing with the latest in a long-standing dysfunctional issue with a family member, and I handled it with quick sharp efficiency and a piss-poor attitude. I acted out of pure frustration. By the time all was said and done, I was, by turns, alternately withdrawn and effusively cranky about the whole experience; tired of only able to be a relative of convenience/inconvenience, or alternatively, the family Elvis sighting.
I am tired of all the familial dysfunction. I know it is not likely to end. I am frustrated with both the dysfunction and the choices the families involved have made, that land us where we are. I know I did not cause the problems, for they are rooted in things that took place before I was born. I know I can't do anything about the problems, for they aren't mine to fix.
I vented the latest situation, along with my feeling and opinions about it, with one of my closest friends. My friend, never known as one who minces words, commented to me that while I was absolutely not the cause, nor the cure, I am part of the problem.
He went in to clue me in as to exactly what my contribution was, because I was clueless on top of speechless. How could I be a part of a dysfunctional pattern that I didn't cause, am not responsible for, and can't cure?
It turns out, that the dysfunctional dance I'm in, has patterns. In that pattern, my response to an initial dysfunction, means that I typically get quiet, preparatory to politely excusing myself from the scene, which, all these years, I thought was the most functional thing I could possibly do.
If basically quiet and polite doesn't work, getting excessively quiet and polite when faced with behavior that crosses certain lines of propriety, isn't going to work, either. It also doesn't make sense to the people around them that are also locked into thier own pattern of dysfunction.
Getting quiet, polite, and withdrawn doesn't get people to stop doing what they are doing. They don't see it as a 'danger, do not cross' signal. Getting quiet and polite, in actuality, teaches people that they are doing the right things. People who are taught that they are doing the right things will continue to do what they think are the right things. They will have no idea that they are crossing some sort of line, and that I am losing, or have lost patience with them entirely, until I either walk away, or scream at them, for doing what they thought was the right thing. Then they wonder why I'm hurt, angry or withdrawn, conclude that I am the strange one, go back to their dysfunction, and the dance continues. No one gets what they want, or need, and the cycle eventually begins again.
What I learned in that conversation, in addition to my friend being pretty much spot-on, is that I have to learn to stand firmly with my own boundaries, and how to state them more calmly at the outset, which will, he expects, make people understand where I stand. He says it might make things better, or, it might get me cut from the family entirely. But at least I would have finally said my peice.
After that chat, I had a long think about that, and had to admit that he was pretty much spot-on. My issue with him suggesting I tart drawing lines with my family, is that I don't want to have to keep practicing anything concerning boundaries with people I'm related to, who are well past the age of two.
There are limits to my patience and my boundaries, and they've been beaten on without mercy already. I have doubts that actually expressing this to my family, is going to do any good.
What I feel I can do, on the other hand, is to practice this boundary-setting and speaking up stuff with friends and anyone I might be in romantic relationship with in the future.
So, I think he and I are going to have more chats about this. Could be very..illuminating.
I am tired of all the familial dysfunction. I know it is not likely to end. I am frustrated with both the dysfunction and the choices the families involved have made, that land us where we are. I know I did not cause the problems, for they are rooted in things that took place before I was born. I know I can't do anything about the problems, for they aren't mine to fix.
I vented the latest situation, along with my feeling and opinions about it, with one of my closest friends. My friend, never known as one who minces words, commented to me that while I was absolutely not the cause, nor the cure, I am part of the problem.
He went in to clue me in as to exactly what my contribution was, because I was clueless on top of speechless. How could I be a part of a dysfunctional pattern that I didn't cause, am not responsible for, and can't cure?
It turns out, that the dysfunctional dance I'm in, has patterns. In that pattern, my response to an initial dysfunction, means that I typically get quiet, preparatory to politely excusing myself from the scene, which, all these years, I thought was the most functional thing I could possibly do.
If basically quiet and polite doesn't work, getting excessively quiet and polite when faced with behavior that crosses certain lines of propriety, isn't going to work, either. It also doesn't make sense to the people around them that are also locked into thier own pattern of dysfunction.
Getting quiet, polite, and withdrawn doesn't get people to stop doing what they are doing. They don't see it as a 'danger, do not cross' signal. Getting quiet and polite, in actuality, teaches people that they are doing the right things. People who are taught that they are doing the right things will continue to do what they think are the right things. They will have no idea that they are crossing some sort of line, and that I am losing, or have lost patience with them entirely, until I either walk away, or scream at them, for doing what they thought was the right thing. Then they wonder why I'm hurt, angry or withdrawn, conclude that I am the strange one, go back to their dysfunction, and the dance continues. No one gets what they want, or need, and the cycle eventually begins again.
What I learned in that conversation, in addition to my friend being pretty much spot-on, is that I have to learn to stand firmly with my own boundaries, and how to state them more calmly at the outset, which will, he expects, make people understand where I stand. He says it might make things better, or, it might get me cut from the family entirely. But at least I would have finally said my peice.
After that chat, I had a long think about that, and had to admit that he was pretty much spot-on. My issue with him suggesting I tart drawing lines with my family, is that I don't want to have to keep practicing anything concerning boundaries with people I'm related to, who are well past the age of two.
There are limits to my patience and my boundaries, and they've been beaten on without mercy already. I have doubts that actually expressing this to my family, is going to do any good.
What I feel I can do, on the other hand, is to practice this boundary-setting and speaking up stuff with friends and anyone I might be in romantic relationship with in the future.
So, I think he and I are going to have more chats about this. Could be very..illuminating.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Graffiti With a Message
I do not know who painted this graffiti, but I wish I did. I'd happily take the artist out for a beer.
The first time I saw this, I was struck. I still am.
Every time I see this print, I get to thinking about how much I want my own brick & mortar business, and what a frustrating road it has been to get there--lots of delays and not enough answers when I'm polite about things. I can sort of relate to perhaps why the artist in the photo finally spray-painted his feelings on the side of an defunct theatre--one way or another, 'S' was going to know how the artist felt. No doubt, no ambiguity.
I finally took a hint from this photo, and the other day, I wrote a letter to the powers that be over where I would have my brick & mortar biz, laid matters out factually, and asked why I wasn't getting a solid answer from all the departments that had to give me a yay or nay response?
So, to make a long story short, we had a conference call to discuss the situation, and I got my answer. and it was yes. I can have my biz more or less where I want it. Not necessarily in the form I'd want it, but at least I can have it in a way that is work-able for me.
This was great! At least until I discovered I'd have to jump through more hoops to get into a location for my business. I'll jump them, I suppose..but only for the 'just right' sort of place.
In the meantime, I continue to write about life, personal development, and my adventures.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
A Rainy Saturday
So here I am, completely disgusted. I've waited for days after having sent polite inquiries to the city clerk for some guidelines on how to go about having my boarding facility. The city clerk responded with an explanation about how she'd had to forward my inquiry to Animal Control and to the Office of Revenue, hoping they would know, because she did not. Apparently neither party that my inquiries were forwarded to knows, because I've not yet gotten even my first question answered.
So, in disgust, I've sent polite inquiries to the Director of Economic Development, in the hopes that someone there will know.
It has occurred to me that if I just set this business up and ran it, I just might be ahead of the game. If all else fails, and I get called on the carpet for it, I can explain that I *did* make every honest attempt to play by the rules, but that I was summarily passed around, ignored, and forgotten about by several local government agencies, and had little choice but to take matters into my own hands to avoid becoming a recipient of public assistance.
I think I just might do it that way.
So, in disgust, I've sent polite inquiries to the Director of Economic Development, in the hopes that someone there will know.
It has occurred to me that if I just set this business up and ran it, I just might be ahead of the game. If all else fails, and I get called on the carpet for it, I can explain that I *did* make every honest attempt to play by the rules, but that I was summarily passed around, ignored, and forgotten about by several local government agencies, and had little choice but to take matters into my own hands to avoid becoming a recipient of public assistance.
I think I just might do it that way.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Decided to Just Do It Already
I'm going for it. After much thought, I'm working to save money and have my own brick and mortar business; the cats-only boarding facility, that also makes a line of toys and scratching posts for the (ahem) somewhat oversized kitties. This is where I'd feel most 'at home', it's my passion, and as I've remarked before, I'd be very very good at it.
Maybe it makes me weird that cats are my first love (dogs are a close second). I've just gotten to the point where it's high time that I did what made me happy, for a living.
Now to go see a friend of mine who does some web design, because the website for a cat house...well..has no business being plain. :)
Maybe it makes me weird that cats are my first love (dogs are a close second). I've just gotten to the point where it's high time that I did what made me happy, for a living.
Now to go see a friend of mine who does some web design, because the website for a cat house...well..has no business being plain. :)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
An A-ha Moment
It's official. I've more or less actually tried being what I've threatened to do for a number of years. I gave an honest go to being a hermit. and I have failed. miserably.
I can't handle it. Absolutely, positively, cannot fucking do it. Too much silence, too much alone time, no contact with a variety of people or other beings, either gives me the fidgets or freaks me out.
..and here I thought I was an introvert. Maybe not. Perhaps I'm an extrovert masquerading as an introvert? If that's the case, then, why?
So I got into the car to have a think & drive about this.
Where do I wind up, but at the animal shelter. It was open. I walked in, and immediately felt like I'd come home, walking amongst the creatures. Puppies, adolescent dogs, old dogs, naughty dogs. Cats, kittens..all ages, stages and temperaments. Being me, I went and said hi to everyone of the 4-legged variety. There were a few creatures I'd have brought home if I didn't have to contend with the reaction of Lou.
..and it hit me, once again. What I want most of all is a cats-only boarding facility. It's not like I don't have the handling skills and the love for the animals and the work. I do have the handling skills, and they've been honed over many years with the young, the old, and the weird.
It's my dream, to have that in my home. I would be happy, I could be as soft-spoken as I wanted to be, and it would be just noisy enough that I wouldn't get the creeps. Plus, it pays well, and I'd definitely be all set with that. I'd just have to make sure Lou didn't mix with the boarding kitties.
I shall have to look into this further. :)
I can't handle it. Absolutely, positively, cannot fucking do it. Too much silence, too much alone time, no contact with a variety of people or other beings, either gives me the fidgets or freaks me out.
..and here I thought I was an introvert. Maybe not. Perhaps I'm an extrovert masquerading as an introvert? If that's the case, then, why?
So I got into the car to have a think & drive about this.
Where do I wind up, but at the animal shelter. It was open. I walked in, and immediately felt like I'd come home, walking amongst the creatures. Puppies, adolescent dogs, old dogs, naughty dogs. Cats, kittens..all ages, stages and temperaments. Being me, I went and said hi to everyone of the 4-legged variety. There were a few creatures I'd have brought home if I didn't have to contend with the reaction of Lou.
..and it hit me, once again. What I want most of all is a cats-only boarding facility. It's not like I don't have the handling skills and the love for the animals and the work. I do have the handling skills, and they've been honed over many years with the young, the old, and the weird.
It's my dream, to have that in my home. I would be happy, I could be as soft-spoken as I wanted to be, and it would be just noisy enough that I wouldn't get the creeps. Plus, it pays well, and I'd definitely be all set with that. I'd just have to make sure Lou didn't mix with the boarding kitties.
I shall have to look into this further. :)
Friday, March 11, 2011
A Bumpy Road Indeed
I need a life makeover. Do-over. Whatever the hell it's called these days, I want it, and I want it now, more than ever.
I have all sorts of dreams, goals and aspirations. I have people who love me. I have time--well, I hope I do anyway. I have skills. Just seems that most of them aren't what decently-paying employers will jump up and down over.
I have discovered that where I'm at, at the moment, is not necessarily a good place for me. Relationally, physically, financially... It's really dry & dusty here right now. My joints love it. My eyes, however, do not. My eyes burn & itch. I look like I've been crying, even when I haven't.
To top it off, I've been advised about the local flora and fauna here, some of which are poisonous. I will spare my gentle readers my exact thoughts on that, as they were pretty unflattering all the way around, and I do try to be ladylike sometimes. Early social training kicks in again. dammit.
At this point, I'm seriously contemplating selling my car, going to tractor-trailer school and going out on the road, to make some money, buy a condo, feed Lou, all that jazz. I like driving. I'm nervous because I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do some of the tractor-trailer things, though.
Internet writing, I'm finding, is not as quickly profitable as I'd hoped, and I am simply not the kind of person who sells Tupperware or Mary Kay or anything like that. It has dawned on me that I could be doing something, or a few things, wrong, so that I've gotten this result, but I don't know what they are.
Trouble is, if I sell my car, I have no way of getting back & forth to school unless I find a cheap POS to make do with.
Gack. I'm tired of difficulties and poverty in my life.
I cried about it last night. My sweet, sweet friend tried to make it better, by folding up a tissue for me to blow my nose into. I'm afraid I did NOT come back with the action/reaction he expected. I was actually rather horrified that he'd do that. I was crying, not helpless for crying out loud. I have a funny feeling we damn near had a fight about it.
I woke up crying about the whole mess again this morning, and even snuggling Lou didn't help all that much. I wandered off in the car to try and do some meditation and a walk and have a good solid cry in the desert not far from me, and the dust be damned, but it wasn't to be. I kept getting pulled aside by complete strangers who either fell in love with the license plate on my car, or by my regional accent. So not what I wanted today.
It appeared I was not going to be left in peace. So I drove to the library, figuring that for a nice quiet place to hide. Well..the Universe is possessed of a twisted sense of humor. Apparently today was the day for the library to be a swingin' hotspot. By the sheer volume of folks here, one would think they were serving drinks. Alas, no.
So I distracted myself from my sorrows in a few magazines. and let a few tears slip when the burning in my eyes got to be too much. and here I am. Still not sure of much of anything, other than maybe driving home, having some lunch and trying to snuggle Lou again might be a good thing, while I wait to hear back from a tractor trailer school about the cost of tuition and all that stuff, while trying to not feel like a failure as a coach, a writer, or even a human being.
I have all sorts of dreams, goals and aspirations. I have people who love me. I have time--well, I hope I do anyway. I have skills. Just seems that most of them aren't what decently-paying employers will jump up and down over.
I have discovered that where I'm at, at the moment, is not necessarily a good place for me. Relationally, physically, financially... It's really dry & dusty here right now. My joints love it. My eyes, however, do not. My eyes burn & itch. I look like I've been crying, even when I haven't.
To top it off, I've been advised about the local flora and fauna here, some of which are poisonous. I will spare my gentle readers my exact thoughts on that, as they were pretty unflattering all the way around, and I do try to be ladylike sometimes. Early social training kicks in again. dammit.
At this point, I'm seriously contemplating selling my car, going to tractor-trailer school and going out on the road, to make some money, buy a condo, feed Lou, all that jazz. I like driving. I'm nervous because I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do some of the tractor-trailer things, though.
Internet writing, I'm finding, is not as quickly profitable as I'd hoped, and I am simply not the kind of person who sells Tupperware or Mary Kay or anything like that. It has dawned on me that I could be doing something, or a few things, wrong, so that I've gotten this result, but I don't know what they are.
Trouble is, if I sell my car, I have no way of getting back & forth to school unless I find a cheap POS to make do with.
Gack. I'm tired of difficulties and poverty in my life.
I cried about it last night. My sweet, sweet friend tried to make it better, by folding up a tissue for me to blow my nose into. I'm afraid I did NOT come back with the action/reaction he expected. I was actually rather horrified that he'd do that. I was crying, not helpless for crying out loud. I have a funny feeling we damn near had a fight about it.
I woke up crying about the whole mess again this morning, and even snuggling Lou didn't help all that much. I wandered off in the car to try and do some meditation and a walk and have a good solid cry in the desert not far from me, and the dust be damned, but it wasn't to be. I kept getting pulled aside by complete strangers who either fell in love with the license plate on my car, or by my regional accent. So not what I wanted today.
It appeared I was not going to be left in peace. So I drove to the library, figuring that for a nice quiet place to hide. Well..the Universe is possessed of a twisted sense of humor. Apparently today was the day for the library to be a swingin' hotspot. By the sheer volume of folks here, one would think they were serving drinks. Alas, no.
So I distracted myself from my sorrows in a few magazines. and let a few tears slip when the burning in my eyes got to be too much. and here I am. Still not sure of much of anything, other than maybe driving home, having some lunch and trying to snuggle Lou again might be a good thing, while I wait to hear back from a tractor trailer school about the cost of tuition and all that stuff, while trying to not feel like a failure as a coach, a writer, or even a human being.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Well, Finally!
Today I'm finally over the flu enough to write again. Part of me is having a hard time wrapping my head around what I learned while having the flu while at the same time driving x-country. Part of me is telling me to just relax, go with the things I've learned, and have done with them all.
I've learned that I really really like driving. As in, I should do it for a living and write about the experience. So I am looking into ways of getting my CDL-A. I already have the blog, and this will be transferring over to the new domain at some point soon.
I learned that the freak who designed the tollways in NJ needs to be taken out and shot for his idiocy. That is all there is to it.
I learned that I *love love love* the area around southern Virginia. I must have a house there, and soon! Of course, if I am going to be out driving & writing for a living, I'm going to need to have a roommate/pet-sitter for Lou.
I learned that I never should have left the south the last time I was there. Love the food, the people..all of it.
I learned that I am very grateful for tech-savvy people. I would be lost without them. One of the techies I know managed to fix in an hour, problems I'd been having with my computer for months on end. Now my baby laptop (an HP Mini) runs like freshly (and correctly) tuned classic car. I am happy about this.
I've learned that there is an assclown out of Utah with an autodialler that has apparently gone insane. It calls me several times a day. There is never, ever anyone at the other end. This pisses me off, and I wish I could do something about it.
I've learned there is a scam artist from somewhere that wants to help me with my mortgage. BWAHAHAHAHA. Nothing like telling those idiots to not call me again.
I've learned that I really don't like really large wide-open spaces as much as I thought I did--they freak me out more than the closed-in spaces I used to think I feared. This neatly explained why I freaked out so badly & so frequently back when I had acreage. Those largely-silent nights I thought I was going to love, were not, for the most part, peaceful; rather they were more a form of tortuous reproach as I heard the unconscious leftover noises of living coming from the families whose property abutted my own.
I learned that I'm not nearly as claustrophobic as I thought. I learned that I do just fine so long as I have windows and nothing/no one directly in my face.
I learned that I really really really don't like living alone. I thought I knew that going in, but this particular lesson has been brought home more strongly than ever. All those lonely places, driving cross-country is what brought this realization about, especially going through Texas.
While I was suitably grateful for a clean place to sleep each night, it would have been better if I had consistently shared the place, and the experience, with someone who cared about me, as I cared about them. I really do, do better with having someone around, that I can say goodnight to. Do I understand in the slightest why I have this need, still, after so many years of either being on my own, or living alone? Nope! Just learning that I'm not as much of a lone wolf as I'd thought, is ok.
I learned that Texas is really a godforsaken place. SO much lonely country. They need developers.
I learned that I kind of like having other people around, when it comes to day-to-day living. Just so long as they aren't clingy about it. Clingy completely turns me off and weirds me out with an 'I can't breathe! help help help!' feeling. Yuck.
I learned that I am still somewhat conflicted about the whole either having a family or being part of a family. On the one hand, I would like being part of a (reasonably) functional family scene and likely do well with it so long as I had some understanding guidance. On the other hand, the concept of family scares the hell out of me.
I learned that I have a completely awesome cat. Lou travels *beautifully*. No howls of protest, so long as I don't play Elton John on the car stereo--Lou is apparently not a fan. I've learned that Lou likes mozzarella cheese, and hamburger from Wendy's. I've learned that Lou will pretty much sleep for as long as I let him, when he's in his carrier and the car is moving.
I learned that Border Patrol agents get lonely for 'home' just like everyone else. I got to talk to this *kid* that was from Vermont (if he was any more than 23 I'll eat my shirt), when I got stopped at a checkpoint in New Mexico to make sure I wasn't transporting illegals or something else with nefarious intent. He was all excited to hear my accent--I sounded like home, I guess.
I learned that when the chips are down, that I *do* have people who love me, and who *will* help out. And that they aren't who I thought they would be. This came as a suprise.
I learned that the people I thought *would* be helpful, are the ones who are actually the least so.
I've learned who believes in me as a human being, and who is all too easily inclined to be an asshole. Again, a suprise.
All things considered, this move was a good thing, so far.
..until next time..peace!
I've learned that I really really like driving. As in, I should do it for a living and write about the experience. So I am looking into ways of getting my CDL-A. I already have the blog, and this will be transferring over to the new domain at some point soon.
I learned that the freak who designed the tollways in NJ needs to be taken out and shot for his idiocy. That is all there is to it.
I learned that I *love love love* the area around southern Virginia. I must have a house there, and soon! Of course, if I am going to be out driving & writing for a living, I'm going to need to have a roommate/pet-sitter for Lou.
I learned that I never should have left the south the last time I was there. Love the food, the people..all of it.
I learned that I am very grateful for tech-savvy people. I would be lost without them. One of the techies I know managed to fix in an hour, problems I'd been having with my computer for months on end. Now my baby laptop (an HP Mini) runs like freshly (and correctly) tuned classic car. I am happy about this.
I've learned that there is an assclown out of Utah with an autodialler that has apparently gone insane. It calls me several times a day. There is never, ever anyone at the other end. This pisses me off, and I wish I could do something about it.
I've learned there is a scam artist from somewhere that wants to help me with my mortgage. BWAHAHAHAHA. Nothing like telling those idiots to not call me again.
I've learned that I really don't like really large wide-open spaces as much as I thought I did--they freak me out more than the closed-in spaces I used to think I feared. This neatly explained why I freaked out so badly & so frequently back when I had acreage. Those largely-silent nights I thought I was going to love, were not, for the most part, peaceful; rather they were more a form of tortuous reproach as I heard the unconscious leftover noises of living coming from the families whose property abutted my own.
I learned that I'm not nearly as claustrophobic as I thought. I learned that I do just fine so long as I have windows and nothing/no one directly in my face.
I learned that I really really really don't like living alone. I thought I knew that going in, but this particular lesson has been brought home more strongly than ever. All those lonely places, driving cross-country is what brought this realization about, especially going through Texas.
While I was suitably grateful for a clean place to sleep each night, it would have been better if I had consistently shared the place, and the experience, with someone who cared about me, as I cared about them. I really do, do better with having someone around, that I can say goodnight to. Do I understand in the slightest why I have this need, still, after so many years of either being on my own, or living alone? Nope! Just learning that I'm not as much of a lone wolf as I'd thought, is ok.
I learned that Texas is really a godforsaken place. SO much lonely country. They need developers.
I learned that I kind of like having other people around, when it comes to day-to-day living. Just so long as they aren't clingy about it. Clingy completely turns me off and weirds me out with an 'I can't breathe! help help help!' feeling. Yuck.
I learned that I am still somewhat conflicted about the whole either having a family or being part of a family. On the one hand, I would like being part of a (reasonably) functional family scene and likely do well with it so long as I had some understanding guidance. On the other hand, the concept of family scares the hell out of me.
I learned that I have a completely awesome cat. Lou travels *beautifully*. No howls of protest, so long as I don't play Elton John on the car stereo--Lou is apparently not a fan. I've learned that Lou likes mozzarella cheese, and hamburger from Wendy's. I've learned that Lou will pretty much sleep for as long as I let him, when he's in his carrier and the car is moving.
I learned that Border Patrol agents get lonely for 'home' just like everyone else. I got to talk to this *kid* that was from Vermont (if he was any more than 23 I'll eat my shirt), when I got stopped at a checkpoint in New Mexico to make sure I wasn't transporting illegals or something else with nefarious intent. He was all excited to hear my accent--I sounded like home, I guess.
I learned that when the chips are down, that I *do* have people who love me, and who *will* help out. And that they aren't who I thought they would be. This came as a suprise.
I learned that the people I thought *would* be helpful, are the ones who are actually the least so.
I've learned who believes in me as a human being, and who is all too easily inclined to be an asshole. Again, a suprise.
All things considered, this move was a good thing, so far.
..until next time..peace!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
A Moment of Deep Clarity
Not long ago, I was reading the blog of Hiro Boga. What I took away from reading her post was about one's congruency between the person you are in your private life, vs. the person you are in your public life, and how important it is to have congruency between the two, instead of keeping them as fragmented and as far apart as possible.
Suddenly, the wheels in my mind began to turn, which led to a long round of internal clarity and questioning. I realized with a start, that I'd been anxious around people for most of my life, because many of them did not, could not, or would not practice that congruency, for many reasons. People who act like that (one way in private; a different one in public) have always freaked me out.
My first lessons in dealing with others weren't much better, as I was taught that most people could not ever be fully trusted, despite me wanting desperately to be able to do the whole trust thing with other people. Dishonesty and distrust were skills I was going to have to pick up, like it or not.
Of course, being me, I had to flip that around and ask myself if there had been times where I had been incongruent, and of course, there were, and from there I had to ask myself why--naturally, it all came back to roughly the same thing.
I had the feeling though, that there was something more, and I was right. I sensed the beginnings of a pattern starting to emerge for unravelling, beginning with that whole trust thing.
From there I skipped to a side issue of Armoring. Physical armoring. Weight, clothes, usually making the effort to blend in when I really wanted to do was shine. Finding myself frequently alone and having
to be tougher, smarter and more capable than everyone else in the room to be thought of as half as good.
Occasionally doing everything in my power to push people away.
Being surrounded by either a physical, paperwork , financial or social mess as a reminder of that I exist. Or as a punishment for existing. Or, as protection from others--but could it be I want to protect them from me because I am terrified I will hurt someone as I've been hurt before, because I just might be a sleazball?
After some consideration, I realized that all of the salient parts of this essential distrust and disconnection were all old stuff, and that I'd spent a lot of time, and more than a few relationships of any stripe, going over this old stuff that, for me, was just...well..old and not service-able anymore. I didn't need, or want, to do all that anymore. It doesn't fit who I am. And I realized all at once that my deepest fear about myself wasn't correct. Thank Goodness!
I felt a shift inside myself then, to ask what I needed, in order to move forward into a reality that feels much, much better. I need space. I needed to give myself compassion and meet myself where I was. I needed to give myself the feeling of 'home' I've always craved. I needed to realize that I'm not at all sleazy, as I'd feared.
I do, however need to pay more positive attention to myself and meet my own self-needs, and have an eye on my own self-worth.
I need to start looking at making some new friends, while keeping the old ones that seem to want to stick around for the best of all possible reasons.
My lesson for today seems to be that all of my values, qualities, feelings, experiences, etc. are not just fragments, as I'd been treating them for oh-so-many years. They are parts of a whole, and there is still a bit of work to be done to bring them together. I I know now, that it's nothing scary, it's just all just part of the face that I show the world, personally or professionally--and it's OK.
Until next time....peace.
Suddenly, the wheels in my mind began to turn, which led to a long round of internal clarity and questioning. I realized with a start, that I'd been anxious around people for most of my life, because many of them did not, could not, or would not practice that congruency, for many reasons. People who act like that (one way in private; a different one in public) have always freaked me out.
My first lessons in dealing with others weren't much better, as I was taught that most people could not ever be fully trusted, despite me wanting desperately to be able to do the whole trust thing with other people. Dishonesty and distrust were skills I was going to have to pick up, like it or not.
Of course, being me, I had to flip that around and ask myself if there had been times where I had been incongruent, and of course, there were, and from there I had to ask myself why--naturally, it all came back to roughly the same thing.
I had the feeling though, that there was something more, and I was right. I sensed the beginnings of a pattern starting to emerge for unravelling, beginning with that whole trust thing.
From there I skipped to a side issue of Armoring. Physical armoring. Weight, clothes, usually making the effort to blend in when I really wanted to do was shine. Finding myself frequently alone and having
to be tougher, smarter and more capable than everyone else in the room to be thought of as half as good.
Occasionally doing everything in my power to push people away.
Being surrounded by either a physical, paperwork , financial or social mess as a reminder of that I exist. Or as a punishment for existing. Or, as protection from others--but could it be I want to protect them from me because I am terrified I will hurt someone as I've been hurt before, because I just might be a sleazball?
After some consideration, I realized that all of the salient parts of this essential distrust and disconnection were all old stuff, and that I'd spent a lot of time, and more than a few relationships of any stripe, going over this old stuff that, for me, was just...well..old and not service-able anymore. I didn't need, or want, to do all that anymore. It doesn't fit who I am. And I realized all at once that my deepest fear about myself wasn't correct. Thank Goodness!
I felt a shift inside myself then, to ask what I needed, in order to move forward into a reality that feels much, much better. I need space. I needed to give myself compassion and meet myself where I was. I needed to give myself the feeling of 'home' I've always craved. I needed to realize that I'm not at all sleazy, as I'd feared.
I do, however need to pay more positive attention to myself and meet my own self-needs, and have an eye on my own self-worth.
I need to start looking at making some new friends, while keeping the old ones that seem to want to stick around for the best of all possible reasons.
My lesson for today seems to be that all of my values, qualities, feelings, experiences, etc. are not just fragments, as I'd been treating them for oh-so-many years. They are parts of a whole, and there is still a bit of work to be done to bring them together. I I know now, that it's nothing scary, it's just all just part of the face that I show the world, personally or professionally--and it's OK.
Until next time....peace.
True Love Stories Don't Have Endings
A note from my own practice..
I'm really of two minds today. On the one hand, I wish the subject of my title were true, in that true love stories don't have endings, although my life experience of love strongly suggests otherwise. On the other hand, I certainly hope it isn't true, as I am a strong closet romantic.
I'm having that push-pull over love today, because part of me wants to continue to, for lack of a better expression coming to mind at the moment, do the whole love thing.
Yet, there is another part of me is through with the love thing, and not-so-secretly suspects the love thing to be a load of horsepucky.
The irony to this is that I teach people about unconditional love of and for all things; how the heck am I going to apply my knowledge to this particular issue I'm feeling in the moment?
The first thing I had to do was get clear with myself about how I was really feeling about this particular issue, the experience of which , methaphorically at least, was somewhat akin to peeling an onion under running water, in that there was a solid object of resistance in the middle of a flow.
In the end, I realized that I am glad that I had the option of getting into love relationships in the first place. Grateful that I've meet some really neat people. Sad that some relationships just don't work out the way that people involved intended them to, no matter how much care, time, money and hard work are put into them. Angry that sometimes the sad situation erupts for reasons out of the control of the people in the relationship. Ambivalent and shy/scared about ever wanting to go forth and do it all again.
In that moment, I knew that what I needed to do, was feel and recieve love from myself, as well as from the Universe; and so, I gave myself Reiki.
I feel better now. Not perfect, not just yet. Just better, and sure that I'm going to be OK.
Until next time..peace.
I'm really of two minds today. On the one hand, I wish the subject of my title were true, in that true love stories don't have endings, although my life experience of love strongly suggests otherwise. On the other hand, I certainly hope it isn't true, as I am a strong closet romantic.
I'm having that push-pull over love today, because part of me wants to continue to, for lack of a better expression coming to mind at the moment, do the whole love thing.
Yet, there is another part of me is through with the love thing, and not-so-secretly suspects the love thing to be a load of horsepucky.
The irony to this is that I teach people about unconditional love of and for all things; how the heck am I going to apply my knowledge to this particular issue I'm feeling in the moment?
The first thing I had to do was get clear with myself about how I was really feeling about this particular issue, the experience of which , methaphorically at least, was somewhat akin to peeling an onion under running water, in that there was a solid object of resistance in the middle of a flow.
In the end, I realized that I am glad that I had the option of getting into love relationships in the first place. Grateful that I've meet some really neat people. Sad that some relationships just don't work out the way that people involved intended them to, no matter how much care, time, money and hard work are put into them. Angry that sometimes the sad situation erupts for reasons out of the control of the people in the relationship. Ambivalent and shy/scared about ever wanting to go forth and do it all again.
In that moment, I knew that what I needed to do, was feel and recieve love from myself, as well as from the Universe; and so, I gave myself Reiki.
I feel better now. Not perfect, not just yet. Just better, and sure that I'm going to be OK.
Until next time..peace.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Awakening
I completely failed to sleep worth much of anything last night. I'd sleep for a little bit, wake up, attend to the feline preschool session in full swing (the cats were in rare form last night) toss and turn, then go back to sleep again for a little while. Rinse, repeat.
Upon my final awakening this morning, roundabout 5 AM, my thoughts were something along these lines, and I am not quite sure where the heck they came from. "you know at least these things inside out: Cats are occasionally affectionate aliens in fur coats, you know how to listen to people without judgement, you know how to teach people to set and maintain boundaries like nobody's business because you've learned the hard way, you understand that love is not always a pretty thing, and people need to hear that and *get it*. Now get on with explaining that to the world, willya?"
While I have absolutely no problem in doing those things, first, I needed to get my sleepy butt out of bed. First things first and all of that. First I made tea. Drank that while setting up the coffee and moving my car so that my roommate could go to work.
Drank coffee while sitting in rumination about the way I woke up, and here I am. I understand what I want to do, and what I'm called to do. Still, however, I came up against the same problem--where do I physically put this business, and how do I go about purchasing the building for this business that will also afford me a place to live?
That's where this blog comes in, but how it exactly comes in is still a little unclear. I have more work to do on that, I know.
So off I go to search for the 'how to' on pulling it all together into a cohesive package.
Until next time..peace.
Upon my final awakening this morning, roundabout 5 AM, my thoughts were something along these lines, and I am not quite sure where the heck they came from. "you know at least these things inside out: Cats are occasionally affectionate aliens in fur coats, you know how to listen to people without judgement, you know how to teach people to set and maintain boundaries like nobody's business because you've learned the hard way, you understand that love is not always a pretty thing, and people need to hear that and *get it*. Now get on with explaining that to the world, willya?"
While I have absolutely no problem in doing those things, first, I needed to get my sleepy butt out of bed. First things first and all of that. First I made tea. Drank that while setting up the coffee and moving my car so that my roommate could go to work.
Drank coffee while sitting in rumination about the way I woke up, and here I am. I understand what I want to do, and what I'm called to do. Still, however, I came up against the same problem--where do I physically put this business, and how do I go about purchasing the building for this business that will also afford me a place to live?
That's where this blog comes in, but how it exactly comes in is still a little unclear. I have more work to do on that, I know.
So off I go to search for the 'how to' on pulling it all together into a cohesive package.
Until next time..peace.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Peace in the Present Moment
I felt weirdly unsettled, alone, back at the house, so I packed up my netbook and decided to go find someplace populated. Tried to get together with close friends, but, that was a no-go. So, I got into the car, and zipped up a couple of towns to the nearest local city; Manchester, NH.
I found myself steering into Barnes and Noble, and quickly found myself in competition for a parking space. I pulled into a space that opened up, to avoid being hit by another motorist, and into the bookstore I strolled.
I was hungry, so I ordered some tea and a sandwich, while wishing the tea was really a nice glass of wine, and sat down to eat and type. I looked around while I was at it, and realized I had seated myself in front of the section of sex books aimed at women. Gods. That was a mis-placement, as I could care less about books like the Daily Sex Bible and Red-Hot Sex Secrets right now. Whatever happened to the days when men were supposed to be masterful, romantic, seductive and lead women into happily ever after? I want me some of that action, please.
So I turned my head to gaze at the other books. Now I'm convinced the Universe is laughing at me, for I'm looking at the self-improvement books. I dunno..heck of a choice, between looking at The Power of Now, and Red Hot Sex Secrets.
Oh wait, it gets better. There are two girls behind me, discussing weight, calories and diets. One is cheering the other because she's gone from 110 to 103 lbs. Like I needed to hear that. Please.
..and, in the loveliest of lovely endings, there is a parent sitting next to me with a couple of bratty kids. On my other side, is a man with the most annoying goddamn cell phone.
And it hits me. I'm surrounded by all the things I rejected many years ago, while thinking about my business. I figure I have had enough of trying very hard to be a sex goddess, artificial beauty standards (to a point), children that I never had, and annoying little devices that buzz, beep, ring and squeak. And the time to get on with my own life, and my own business, is now. Which is a repeat of a message I got earlier today. I want to say to the Universe, 'ok, I get it'. Because I got that far.
My next question is, which step do I undertake next, and what is the business ultimately going to look like? That would be..really helpful information.
For right this very second, though..I am going to take a deep breath and finish my tea, no matter what's going on around me. Peace, in my present moment.
Until next time...peace!
I found myself steering into Barnes and Noble, and quickly found myself in competition for a parking space. I pulled into a space that opened up, to avoid being hit by another motorist, and into the bookstore I strolled.
I was hungry, so I ordered some tea and a sandwich, while wishing the tea was really a nice glass of wine, and sat down to eat and type. I looked around while I was at it, and realized I had seated myself in front of the section of sex books aimed at women. Gods. That was a mis-placement, as I could care less about books like the Daily Sex Bible and Red-Hot Sex Secrets right now. Whatever happened to the days when men were supposed to be masterful, romantic, seductive and lead women into happily ever after? I want me some of that action, please.
So I turned my head to gaze at the other books. Now I'm convinced the Universe is laughing at me, for I'm looking at the self-improvement books. I dunno..heck of a choice, between looking at The Power of Now, and Red Hot Sex Secrets.
Oh wait, it gets better. There are two girls behind me, discussing weight, calories and diets. One is cheering the other because she's gone from 110 to 103 lbs. Like I needed to hear that. Please.
..and, in the loveliest of lovely endings, there is a parent sitting next to me with a couple of bratty kids. On my other side, is a man with the most annoying goddamn cell phone.
And it hits me. I'm surrounded by all the things I rejected many years ago, while thinking about my business. I figure I have had enough of trying very hard to be a sex goddess, artificial beauty standards (to a point), children that I never had, and annoying little devices that buzz, beep, ring and squeak. And the time to get on with my own life, and my own business, is now. Which is a repeat of a message I got earlier today. I want to say to the Universe, 'ok, I get it'. Because I got that far.
My next question is, which step do I undertake next, and what is the business ultimately going to look like? That would be..really helpful information.
For right this very second, though..I am going to take a deep breath and finish my tea, no matter what's going on around me. Peace, in my present moment.
Until next time...peace!
Unintended Consequences
For the past several months, almost everywhere I go are people who do nothing but bitch about their SO's, spouses and families, to the point where one would think it was a national pastime. Public bitching about one's partner or children, although I have done it myself when really frustrated in the past, is a pet peeve of mine.
Despite trying to be understanding, and despite having been an occasional perpetrator of this behavior myself, it still aggravates me when I hear others bitching about thier partners.
The last straw for me, was a couple of nights ago, when a someone I know decided it would be appropriate to get started with the bitching. I didn't really want to hear it, but I quietly listened anyway, although I wasn't really certain as to why, at that particular moment. So I sat and listened and hoped for the best of the lesson that was to be learned by this, would be learned painlessly and quickly so I could go on my merry way. My wish wasn't entirely granted.
A few days later, after a lot of flailing about and doing the 'why do I always get to deal with the kvetching people?' thing, I got a dose of clarity on exactly why I had started this blog, which in turn has evolved over a few months with an aim towards the business I am founding.
What I envision is a safe, wholistic retreat for people to actually do the work that prepares them for the best of what they were meant to do in this world, bringing skills from the corporate world, the business world, and the relationship counselling world, together. We've all heard the phrase 'For love, or money.'..well this place would bring the practical skills that could be taught in either the love arena, or the business arena, together.
I envision a place where people can learn how not to screw up thier relationships with the folks that they love. I envision a place where folks can learn to repair relationships that have gone off the rails. I envision a place where people can learn how to do or get thier businesses right. All this as opposed to flailing about in a sea of confusion.
I envision founding a charity of some sort, although that part of the picture isn't clear to me yet.
Then I realized what the Universe had been trying to tell me..it was to keep going with my dream!
Until next time..peace!
Despite trying to be understanding, and despite having been an occasional perpetrator of this behavior myself, it still aggravates me when I hear others bitching about thier partners.
The last straw for me, was a couple of nights ago, when a someone I know decided it would be appropriate to get started with the bitching. I didn't really want to hear it, but I quietly listened anyway, although I wasn't really certain as to why, at that particular moment. So I sat and listened and hoped for the best of the lesson that was to be learned by this, would be learned painlessly and quickly so I could go on my merry way. My wish wasn't entirely granted.
A few days later, after a lot of flailing about and doing the 'why do I always get to deal with the kvetching people?' thing, I got a dose of clarity on exactly why I had started this blog, which in turn has evolved over a few months with an aim towards the business I am founding.
What I envision is a safe, wholistic retreat for people to actually do the work that prepares them for the best of what they were meant to do in this world, bringing skills from the corporate world, the business world, and the relationship counselling world, together. We've all heard the phrase 'For love, or money.'..well this place would bring the practical skills that could be taught in either the love arena, or the business arena, together.
I envision a place where people can learn how not to screw up thier relationships with the folks that they love. I envision a place where folks can learn to repair relationships that have gone off the rails. I envision a place where people can learn how to do or get thier businesses right. All this as opposed to flailing about in a sea of confusion.
I envision founding a charity of some sort, although that part of the picture isn't clear to me yet.
Then I realized what the Universe had been trying to tell me..it was to keep going with my dream!
Until next time..peace!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Unexpected Small Joys
Yesterday morning, I woke up miserable and inclined to cry. I'm not sure why, I suspect it had something to do with the cold, clouds, and yet more hard-to-manage snow that continues to blanket my little part of New England. All I know is that, psychologically, I was down in the dumps, and the first thing I discovered is that my usual morning practice of reflection was doing me no favors; if anything, my mood was getting worse.
I tried to write anyway. I did. I was so, so miserable, however, that every attempt I made at actual writing, came out saying the exact opposite of what I had intended. Ack. Finally, I gave myself permission to back away from the writing and reflecting for a day, and instead busied myself with other things. Or tried to. I just couldn't bring myself to actually *do* much of anything. I felt..utterly worn out on all levels, and upon that realization, I began to cry about the current conditions of my life, and did not bother to try and resist it. I gave myself permission to just let it out and have done with it, and I did feel a bit better afterward.
However, my slightly improved mood was promptly dashed when my roommate asked me if I would bring her cats to the vet. They've been having issues that needed to be seen to, and so, we made the arrangments.
I was a bit annoyed when I went to catch my roommate's cats to get them into carriers. My roommate's cats do not have what Hiro Boga would refer to as sovereignty, by a long shot. So, there were instances of feline resistance and carryings-on which did not impress me one bit.
Finally, the lot of us make it to the vet, where they are, thank the heavens, fans of what they call 'caliente cats' (what I would affectionately call 'opinionated bastard cat'). The exam starts up, and, sure enough, it's as my roommate and I thought. One cat has an infection. The other cat, is apparently an asshole.
So armed with this confirmation of opinion, I agree to take the cats home, while my roommate hits the pet supply store to get the items the vet recommends to solve the 'out of litterbox experience' problem she's been having with the asshole cat.
On my way out the door, I spot a 4 month old German Shepherd puppy in the vet's waiting room, and my bad mood evaporated as if it had never been present. I love most animals anyway, and this little fellow was no exception. He was a the cutest thing, all ears and paws and 'ooooh won't you pleeeeease come play with me' expression. He was just too cute to *not* say hello to, and so I did.
The next thing I know, I've got an armload of a very enthusiastic GSD pup who is giving me kisses; I'm happy, laughing, and in that instant, it didn't matter if the rest of my life was pick-an-adjective-that- translates to -crappy..I was having a moment of joy, that ended all too soon, and that reminded me that once I have money, a farmhouse and some acreage again, I must look into the possibility of getting another dog.
Skipping forward over details that don't matter, I got the cats home, and waited for my roommate to return home with the items from the pet supply store that the vet had recommended. The look on my face when my roommate walked in with boxes and bags of stuff, must have been *priceless*. There were *huge* litterboxes of differing configurations, three different kinds of litter, and special doodads on top of that. One would have thought that the cats were visiting dignitaries.
Of course, right at that point, my roommate's dog starts barking his fluffy little head off. I am not known for how well I deal with pandemonium, so, I excuse myself to go snag wine at the store down the street, because my roommate is looking a little shell-shocked and like she could use a drink.
My next round of joy was when I purchased the wine. There I was at the checkout, with no makeup on, hair blown all over creation--and I got carded! This completely made my day, as I am, to be polite about it, well over twenty-one.
This round was immediately followed by another round of joy, when I wandered back into the house, and my roommate and I sat back, ate dinner, drank wine, and shot the breeze as girlfriends. I really enjoy these times with her.
..and the best part, this morning..I don't think either of us woke up to discover any 'out of litterbox experiences' had occurred during the night. Yahoo!
..and I am surrounded by happy pets.
So my lesson for the day yesterday and today, was to find and take the small joys when I could, which, in turn, makes room for the larger joys in life. I felt (and feel) blessed.
I tried to write anyway. I did. I was so, so miserable, however, that every attempt I made at actual writing, came out saying the exact opposite of what I had intended. Ack. Finally, I gave myself permission to back away from the writing and reflecting for a day, and instead busied myself with other things. Or tried to. I just couldn't bring myself to actually *do* much of anything. I felt..utterly worn out on all levels, and upon that realization, I began to cry about the current conditions of my life, and did not bother to try and resist it. I gave myself permission to just let it out and have done with it, and I did feel a bit better afterward.
However, my slightly improved mood was promptly dashed when my roommate asked me if I would bring her cats to the vet. They've been having issues that needed to be seen to, and so, we made the arrangments.
I was a bit annoyed when I went to catch my roommate's cats to get them into carriers. My roommate's cats do not have what Hiro Boga would refer to as sovereignty, by a long shot. So, there were instances of feline resistance and carryings-on which did not impress me one bit.
Finally, the lot of us make it to the vet, where they are, thank the heavens, fans of what they call 'caliente cats' (what I would affectionately call 'opinionated bastard cat'). The exam starts up, and, sure enough, it's as my roommate and I thought. One cat has an infection. The other cat, is apparently an asshole.
So armed with this confirmation of opinion, I agree to take the cats home, while my roommate hits the pet supply store to get the items the vet recommends to solve the 'out of litterbox experience' problem she's been having with the asshole cat.
On my way out the door, I spot a 4 month old German Shepherd puppy in the vet's waiting room, and my bad mood evaporated as if it had never been present. I love most animals anyway, and this little fellow was no exception. He was a the cutest thing, all ears and paws and 'ooooh won't you pleeeeease come play with me' expression. He was just too cute to *not* say hello to, and so I did.
The next thing I know, I've got an armload of a very enthusiastic GSD pup who is giving me kisses; I'm happy, laughing, and in that instant, it didn't matter if the rest of my life was pick-an-adjective-that- translates to -crappy..I was having a moment of joy, that ended all too soon, and that reminded me that once I have money, a farmhouse and some acreage again, I must look into the possibility of getting another dog.
Skipping forward over details that don't matter, I got the cats home, and waited for my roommate to return home with the items from the pet supply store that the vet had recommended. The look on my face when my roommate walked in with boxes and bags of stuff, must have been *priceless*. There were *huge* litterboxes of differing configurations, three different kinds of litter, and special doodads on top of that. One would have thought that the cats were visiting dignitaries.
Of course, right at that point, my roommate's dog starts barking his fluffy little head off. I am not known for how well I deal with pandemonium, so, I excuse myself to go snag wine at the store down the street, because my roommate is looking a little shell-shocked and like she could use a drink.
My next round of joy was when I purchased the wine. There I was at the checkout, with no makeup on, hair blown all over creation--and I got carded! This completely made my day, as I am, to be polite about it, well over twenty-one.
This round was immediately followed by another round of joy, when I wandered back into the house, and my roommate and I sat back, ate dinner, drank wine, and shot the breeze as girlfriends. I really enjoy these times with her.
..and the best part, this morning..I don't think either of us woke up to discover any 'out of litterbox experiences' had occurred during the night. Yahoo!
..and I am surrounded by happy pets.
So my lesson for the day yesterday and today, was to find and take the small joys when I could, which, in turn, makes room for the larger joys in life. I felt (and feel) blessed.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Day After a Panic Attack
It's the morning after a panic attack. Didn't sleep well. Still a bit queasy. Still anxious. Otherwise OK, except for the mental gear grinding going on in my head, that I promised myself I wasn't going to do--at least not while alone. My psyche, however, seemed to have other ideas, so, I went ahead did it alone. Miraculously, it helped more than it hurt, when I was scared that the opposite would turn out to be true.
I got as comfortable as I was going to get, let my mind drift a bit, and started wondering why I'd had this panic attack and what I needed to learn from it, because I couldn't quite see any logical rationale behind it.
So I sat with the question, and, in due course, the answer came. Of course it was a facepalm moment, because, along with answering the primary query, it answered many other 'why the hell do I do that/think that way?' questions.
The whole panic attack thing came about because I am still working on so many things related to love, and fear; they got all jumbled together yesterday morning in a horrible mishmash that I wouldn't want to try to sort out on a bet, but, the message was clear--there are so many lotteries to win--and some, you don't want to win.
That's right about the time that I realized that I panicked because parts of my own internal support structure were still out of whack, and that if I wanted to actually have them all lined up and functional (as I do), I was going to actually have to re-develop a belief that when I voice to people what my needs and wants are, I would be doing so with confidence that I would be met where I was in the present time (as opposed to past or future time), and that my needs, or at least an acceptable compromise on those needs, would actually be met, and not get shot down for fun, or out of malice.
That belief is a big huge honking uncertain thing for me, with tremendous odds, to say the least. Kinda like playing any lottery I would want to win.
Until next time..peace.
I got as comfortable as I was going to get, let my mind drift a bit, and started wondering why I'd had this panic attack and what I needed to learn from it, because I couldn't quite see any logical rationale behind it.
So I sat with the question, and, in due course, the answer came. Of course it was a facepalm moment, because, along with answering the primary query, it answered many other 'why the hell do I do that/think that way?' questions.
The whole panic attack thing came about because I am still working on so many things related to love, and fear; they got all jumbled together yesterday morning in a horrible mishmash that I wouldn't want to try to sort out on a bet, but, the message was clear--there are so many lotteries to win--and some, you don't want to win.
That's right about the time that I realized that I panicked because parts of my own internal support structure were still out of whack, and that if I wanted to actually have them all lined up and functional (as I do), I was going to actually have to re-develop a belief that when I voice to people what my needs and wants are, I would be doing so with confidence that I would be met where I was in the present time (as opposed to past or future time), and that my needs, or at least an acceptable compromise on those needs, would actually be met, and not get shot down for fun, or out of malice.
That belief is a big huge honking uncertain thing for me, with tremendous odds, to say the least. Kinda like playing any lottery I would want to win.
Until next time..peace.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A Devotee of Personal Development Falls Down on the Job
This morning I woke up to my roommates having a discussion about lottery ticket numbers, that rather uncomfortably reminded me of a whole bunch of circumstances I went through as a kid, that oh-so-co-operatively played out in my mind's eye in what is best described as a rattly- jerky, time-faded, poorly-spliced series of Super 8 films.
That series of not-fun scenes, coming into my semi-consciousness so suddenly after having just awakened, freaked me out so hard that I didn't even even stop to think about why I was freaked out, nor did I even stop to shower. I had the heebie-jeebies at that point such that I threw some clothes on, and tried like hell to maintain my composure in front of my roommates when I encountered them in the kitchen, on my way out the door to just *flee*.
Even though I wished I could have floored the accelerator of my car once out of the driveway, thereby launching my little pocket-rocket of a car into next week, I had to drive with diligence, due to the roads being treated for ice in a somewhat half-assed fashion.
I vociferously cursed the Road Agent as I meandered the familiar, curving streets, slipping every so often until I made it to a main road, closer to my objective, which in that moment, was coffee and a spot where I could just breathe for awhile. What I really wanted to do was hit the racetrack for a high-speed sanity run (the racetrack is closed for the season, alas). I was in full-on panic-panic-panic-RUN mode at that point, and I knew the best thing I could do was stay on the main roads and stay focused on the familiar streets, sounds and buildings until I got some coffee and got to a safe place to stop.
Coffee finally in hand, I made a beeline to my go-to spot to get my head back on straight, which is the park that houses the pond where, as a child, I had taken swimming lessons. I figured that I'd pretty much have the place to myself, save for the few other die-hard regulars of the coffee-sipping brother-and-sisterhood that I'd see sometimes on Sunday mornings, along with a couple of brave dog-walkers.
Imagine my surprise when this did not turn out to be the case. The edge of the park that overlooks the water, where I usually park, had a boatload more people than usual..either reading, or staring blankly down at the water as they absently sipped coffee. My first thought was that maybe they were all freaked out about something too.
Parking the car at the edge of the water in the company of my fellow consumers of coffee, I was struck by how quickly we all fell into sync. Looking at the water. Looking at the silly person walking their dog. (it was cute. Someone was throwing snowballs for the dog to catch) Sip coffee. Read. Rinse, repeat.
After settling down some, I concentrated on my breathing. Nothing else as I breathed in, and out. Long. Slow. It only went so far, though, as I'm still getting the shaky feelings. Hours later.
I still don't know for sure what underlying something set me off this morning, and I don't know as I want to look at that one too closely just yet..at least not while alone. Ah well..so much for being done with this panic stuff.
It's a good thing that being in personal development doesn't mean that one has to be panic-attack-free.
Until next time..peace.
That series of not-fun scenes, coming into my semi-consciousness so suddenly after having just awakened, freaked me out so hard that I didn't even even stop to think about why I was freaked out, nor did I even stop to shower. I had the heebie-jeebies at that point such that I threw some clothes on, and tried like hell to maintain my composure in front of my roommates when I encountered them in the kitchen, on my way out the door to just *flee*.
Even though I wished I could have floored the accelerator of my car once out of the driveway, thereby launching my little pocket-rocket of a car into next week, I had to drive with diligence, due to the roads being treated for ice in a somewhat half-assed fashion.
I vociferously cursed the Road Agent as I meandered the familiar, curving streets, slipping every so often until I made it to a main road, closer to my objective, which in that moment, was coffee and a spot where I could just breathe for awhile. What I really wanted to do was hit the racetrack for a high-speed sanity run (the racetrack is closed for the season, alas). I was in full-on panic-panic-panic-RUN mode at that point, and I knew the best thing I could do was stay on the main roads and stay focused on the familiar streets, sounds and buildings until I got some coffee and got to a safe place to stop.
Coffee finally in hand, I made a beeline to my go-to spot to get my head back on straight, which is the park that houses the pond where, as a child, I had taken swimming lessons. I figured that I'd pretty much have the place to myself, save for the few other die-hard regulars of the coffee-sipping brother-and-sisterhood that I'd see sometimes on Sunday mornings, along with a couple of brave dog-walkers.
Imagine my surprise when this did not turn out to be the case. The edge of the park that overlooks the water, where I usually park, had a boatload more people than usual..either reading, or staring blankly down at the water as they absently sipped coffee. My first thought was that maybe they were all freaked out about something too.
Parking the car at the edge of the water in the company of my fellow consumers of coffee, I was struck by how quickly we all fell into sync. Looking at the water. Looking at the silly person walking their dog. (it was cute. Someone was throwing snowballs for the dog to catch) Sip coffee. Read. Rinse, repeat.
After settling down some, I concentrated on my breathing. Nothing else as I breathed in, and out. Long. Slow. It only went so far, though, as I'm still getting the shaky feelings. Hours later.
I still don't know for sure what underlying something set me off this morning, and I don't know as I want to look at that one too closely just yet..at least not while alone. Ah well..so much for being done with this panic stuff.
It's a good thing that being in personal development doesn't mean that one has to be panic-attack-free.
Until next time..peace.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Letting Go of a Very Important Object
It's getting ready to storm again in New Hampshire, which is getting somewhere between ridiculous and oppressive. All this snow, towering all over everything. Roofs caving in under snow loads. Roof contractors making megabucks shovelling snow off of roofs--and being able to pick and choose the roofs they will and will not work on.
Pipes freezing, heating systems quitting, more than one contractor friend of mine going flat-out...
..and here I am, debating on whether it is time for me to give up a winter coat that advertises a company that makes a product I don't currently use.
Now, on the surface of the matter, one would think I was nuts. I have Raynaud's Disease, which leaves me intolerant to cold, and this is a very warm coat, so giving it up could safely be considered a foolish move, on the surface of the matter. Looking past that, however, is the history of the thing, moving forward to the present day.
I got this coat from a contractor when I really needed a warmer coat, because it was cold out and I was freezing my ass off. I was (and still am) very grateful for this coat, and to and for the person who gave it to me. However, due to time and use, I've got to decide whether to repair the coat, or retire it.
The zipper is breaking in chunks, and because I've lost weight, the coat is now several sizes too big. Monetarily, I could probably buy a new coat for what it would cost to repair this coat I love so much. and I'm getting kind of tired of, but not intolerably so, of being approached by older gentleman contractors and engineers and being asked "Honey, do you know what Slant Fin makes?" (Older gentlemen contractors and engineers seem to adore me for some reason, and I do know what Slant Fin makes.) At any other time, in any other place, I'd have given up this breaking down coat and replaced it in a heartbeat. I'm having a hard time with this one, despite the fact that I do have a coat that would replace it.
I still love that I have the co-ordinating-with-a-clash accessories (my Scarf-of-Many-Colors and black fleece mittens), that, coupled with this big bright red coat, assure that I am seen no matter where I go. I consider this a win on all fronts, because many of my activities are solitary, and if something goes horrendously horribly wrong, I do want to be rescued.
Well, last night, while I was doing my grocery shopping, I was also doing some musing about why I haven't replaced or repaired this coat. Then I saw this older couple. Maybe in their seventies. They were so small, fragile and cute together as they did their grocery shopping, holding hands and lost in each other. So careful and courteous of each other. It was a thing to watch, and it made me smile. *I* want a marriage like that--although I can do without the physical fragility part for myself, thankyouverymuch.
It hit me. I wasn't giving up this coat willingly just yet, because it represents the gift of a literal security blanket from the person who gave it to me. While it also garnered positive and safe attention, I realized that it really wasn't the sort of attention I really wanted. If I'm going to get approached by folks, I want to be asked about my own business, dammit!
Obviously this state of realizations required some further thought. So I finished my grocery shopping, and headed home for a glass of wine, a square of dark chocolate, and some dinner. When I walked in the door, I was greeted by my roommate's dog, a Pomeranian puppy, barking his furry little head off for attention.
So while I got dinner going, thinking about this state of affairs, the dog just kept barking and barking and carrying on, while Lou and Bullet (two of the three cats in residence) kept jumping on the table and getting into things. Quiet thought was completely failing to happen. Finally, I snagged the puppy, dispensed with the household rules of no cats on the kitchen table, and between the dog winding up in my lap, along with the cats being on opposite sides of the kitchen table, we all had family time, with much love, petting, and touching of noses until the oven timer bing-ed; I put the puppy back in his playpen, and shooed the cats off of the table--and all parties stayed quiet and well-behaved, as I finally understood the lesson.
People and other beings give the kind of love, appreciation and gratitude they are capable of in a given moment. Not all of them are meant to last forever, and that's OK.
Until next time...peace.
Pipes freezing, heating systems quitting, more than one contractor friend of mine going flat-out...
..and here I am, debating on whether it is time for me to give up a winter coat that advertises a company that makes a product I don't currently use.
Now, on the surface of the matter, one would think I was nuts. I have Raynaud's Disease, which leaves me intolerant to cold, and this is a very warm coat, so giving it up could safely be considered a foolish move, on the surface of the matter. Looking past that, however, is the history of the thing, moving forward to the present day.
I got this coat from a contractor when I really needed a warmer coat, because it was cold out and I was freezing my ass off. I was (and still am) very grateful for this coat, and to and for the person who gave it to me. However, due to time and use, I've got to decide whether to repair the coat, or retire it.
The zipper is breaking in chunks, and because I've lost weight, the coat is now several sizes too big. Monetarily, I could probably buy a new coat for what it would cost to repair this coat I love so much. and I'm getting kind of tired of, but not intolerably so, of being approached by older gentleman contractors and engineers and being asked "Honey, do you know what Slant Fin makes?" (Older gentlemen contractors and engineers seem to adore me for some reason, and I do know what Slant Fin makes.) At any other time, in any other place, I'd have given up this breaking down coat and replaced it in a heartbeat. I'm having a hard time with this one, despite the fact that I do have a coat that would replace it.
I still love that I have the co-ordinating-with-a-clash accessories (my Scarf-of-Many-Colors and black fleece mittens), that, coupled with this big bright red coat, assure that I am seen no matter where I go. I consider this a win on all fronts, because many of my activities are solitary, and if something goes horrendously horribly wrong, I do want to be rescued.
Well, last night, while I was doing my grocery shopping, I was also doing some musing about why I haven't replaced or repaired this coat. Then I saw this older couple. Maybe in their seventies. They were so small, fragile and cute together as they did their grocery shopping, holding hands and lost in each other. So careful and courteous of each other. It was a thing to watch, and it made me smile. *I* want a marriage like that--although I can do without the physical fragility part for myself, thankyouverymuch.
It hit me. I wasn't giving up this coat willingly just yet, because it represents the gift of a literal security blanket from the person who gave it to me. While it also garnered positive and safe attention, I realized that it really wasn't the sort of attention I really wanted. If I'm going to get approached by folks, I want to be asked about my own business, dammit!
Obviously this state of realizations required some further thought. So I finished my grocery shopping, and headed home for a glass of wine, a square of dark chocolate, and some dinner. When I walked in the door, I was greeted by my roommate's dog, a Pomeranian puppy, barking his furry little head off for attention.
So while I got dinner going, thinking about this state of affairs, the dog just kept barking and barking and carrying on, while Lou and Bullet (two of the three cats in residence) kept jumping on the table and getting into things. Quiet thought was completely failing to happen. Finally, I snagged the puppy, dispensed with the household rules of no cats on the kitchen table, and between the dog winding up in my lap, along with the cats being on opposite sides of the kitchen table, we all had family time, with much love, petting, and touching of noses until the oven timer bing-ed; I put the puppy back in his playpen, and shooed the cats off of the table--and all parties stayed quiet and well-behaved, as I finally understood the lesson.
People and other beings give the kind of love, appreciation and gratitude they are capable of in a given moment. Not all of them are meant to last forever, and that's OK.
Until next time...peace.
Friday, February 4, 2011
A Night of Observations
Yesterday, I finally got the chance to sit down and have coffee with a gentleman friend, to talk about my new business, The House of Clues, and get his take on a few things. I also wanted to ask him to join me in the teaching of processes that I don't feel comfortable taking on alone.
So we're talking, and I'm bouncing ideas off of him while we're shooting the breeze, and he kept coming back to the point of that I should be teaching what I know. Which is an even throw between obvious, helpful and non-helpful. Because it is, obviously, something I'd intended to do in the first place. I already learned how not to bite off more than I could chew, back when I lived in the needy old house.
I was resistant to what he was saying to me, too, because what I know-- and can teach on my own-- is not always the prettiest of processes. Quite definitely not pretty, as a matter of fact. I can teach people ways to get unstuck from the emotional aspects of chronic pain, and ways to detach from the toxicity in relationships, and approach either issue from a standpoint of unconditional love, using experiential and mind-body techniques; but when folks are processing heavily emotional things, it isn't always pretty. I know this, I accept this; I had envisioned something rather different for my business, than requiring a paper goods contract with Kleenex with which to sop up tears!
What I thought I wanted to teach was something different. I thought I wanted to teach basic survival skills leading up to not getting stuck in an emotional experience of chronic pain, or avoiding getting caught up in a toxic relationship in the first place. I had thought, initially, that would be better.
There was laughter. There was an internal, 'oh shit', as I realized my gentleman friend was right. Quickly followed thereafter by an expression of concern immediately followed by an order from him to take care of myself. We were so involved in the conversation that we had not realized that the Raynaud's Disease, a condition which I have,was flaring up again, and my hands were blue as a result. Whoops.
We both know from experience that the best thing to do to stop a flare, is to get me into a controlled, calm & warm environment ASAP, and so, cutting our meeting short and getting me into the car was the best thing to do.
By the time I got to my car, I knew it was going to be a bad flare; I wasn't too worried, since, in the car, I can turn the heater up full blast and the only person that is going to melt, is me--and this is a good thing.
Making a long story short, I got through the flare, and, when I was in a safe place to do so, even got to go into self-hypnosis to ask some questions; the information I got in returns was actually something I could do something with, for a change. Maybe not first calling the disease every name in the book helps.
The crux of the matter is that I am on the right track towards wanting to blog and teach via many methods. I just have to actually *do* it, one step at a time, using my gentleman friend as necessary, and not be afraid of the process, because I will survive, and thrive.
Until next time..peace!
So we're talking, and I'm bouncing ideas off of him while we're shooting the breeze, and he kept coming back to the point of that I should be teaching what I know. Which is an even throw between obvious, helpful and non-helpful. Because it is, obviously, something I'd intended to do in the first place. I already learned how not to bite off more than I could chew, back when I lived in the needy old house.
I was resistant to what he was saying to me, too, because what I know-- and can teach on my own-- is not always the prettiest of processes. Quite definitely not pretty, as a matter of fact. I can teach people ways to get unstuck from the emotional aspects of chronic pain, and ways to detach from the toxicity in relationships, and approach either issue from a standpoint of unconditional love, using experiential and mind-body techniques; but when folks are processing heavily emotional things, it isn't always pretty. I know this, I accept this; I had envisioned something rather different for my business, than requiring a paper goods contract with Kleenex with which to sop up tears!
What I thought I wanted to teach was something different. I thought I wanted to teach basic survival skills leading up to not getting stuck in an emotional experience of chronic pain, or avoiding getting caught up in a toxic relationship in the first place. I had thought, initially, that would be better.
There was laughter. There was an internal, 'oh shit', as I realized my gentleman friend was right. Quickly followed thereafter by an expression of concern immediately followed by an order from him to take care of myself. We were so involved in the conversation that we had not realized that the Raynaud's Disease, a condition which I have,was flaring up again, and my hands were blue as a result. Whoops.
We both know from experience that the best thing to do to stop a flare, is to get me into a controlled, calm & warm environment ASAP, and so, cutting our meeting short and getting me into the car was the best thing to do.
By the time I got to my car, I knew it was going to be a bad flare; I wasn't too worried, since, in the car, I can turn the heater up full blast and the only person that is going to melt, is me--and this is a good thing.
Making a long story short, I got through the flare, and, when I was in a safe place to do so, even got to go into self-hypnosis to ask some questions; the information I got in returns was actually something I could do something with, for a change. Maybe not first calling the disease every name in the book helps.
The crux of the matter is that I am on the right track towards wanting to blog and teach via many methods. I just have to actually *do* it, one step at a time, using my gentleman friend as necessary, and not be afraid of the process, because I will survive, and thrive.
Until next time..peace!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Business Lessons by Way of the Kitchen
It was a wickedly snowy day today, here in New Hampshire. It was a good day to stay in and make all manner of yummy homemade foods in between the acts of reading instructional materials for the business. So, that is what I did, along with my roommate.
Now my roommate and I have, between us, engaged in some very interesting life experiences, to put the matter mildly. While we sliced, chopped, sauteed, mixed, baked and stewed, we got to chattering a bit about our experiences back in the day, as women do.
Now, lost in the moment, I just started to cook pretty much on a loving autopilot, as I've been doing the cooking thing since I was old enough to see over the top of the stove, and so completely failing to realize at first, that my roommate, who hasn't had the benefit of either my years of experience, nor my practical instruction at the art of cooking, was losing some of the love for what she was doing.
When I finally realized that, I promptly, and hopefully not too abruptly, stepped in, solved the problem, showed her how to address the problem, explained why she had run into trouble in the first place, and how to avoid it going forward.
From there, she and I started talking about how sad it is, that some folks just don't have some of the necessary survival skills to make it in the world. At the time, we were talking about basic culinary skills, but, wouldn't you know it, from there, the wheels in my head began to turn.
My business, still in its formative stages, originally started off as practical instruction about the basics of business and relationships, with a slightly sarcastic edge. I can do sarcastic and edgy (and how!), when the occasion calls for it. However, there was something about the sarcastic approach for the business that just didn't sit right with me.
I know that I have never appreciated being responded to in a sarcastic manner by someone when I've had questions about a given thing, and I only rarely see the point in inflicting that sort of behavior upon anyone else. Why I agreed to the sarcasm thing in the first place--well, it seemed like a good idea at the time it was initially posited.
It dawned on me then, standing in the middle of the kitchen, that what I wanted to accomplish in my business, could be much more effectively communicated with love, respect, kindness and a gentle sense of humor, and that what I wanted to communicate, had to be dropped down a couple of levels, back to the very basics, and built up from there.
I rather uncomfortably realized, too, that I simply did not want to do this by myself. I could definitely use another set of hands, but also sadly, yet radically accepted that I might not get this other set of hands straightaway, if at all.
By this time, the active part of the cooking was done, so, with all the fresh realizations in my head, I started reading the manuals for putting together an Internet business, and started to put the information to work. But not before emailing the person I'd want to be my second set of hands and at least respectfully giving them the chance to help.
Until next time..peace.
Now my roommate and I have, between us, engaged in some very interesting life experiences, to put the matter mildly. While we sliced, chopped, sauteed, mixed, baked and stewed, we got to chattering a bit about our experiences back in the day, as women do.
Now, lost in the moment, I just started to cook pretty much on a loving autopilot, as I've been doing the cooking thing since I was old enough to see over the top of the stove, and so completely failing to realize at first, that my roommate, who hasn't had the benefit of either my years of experience, nor my practical instruction at the art of cooking, was losing some of the love for what she was doing.
When I finally realized that, I promptly, and hopefully not too abruptly, stepped in, solved the problem, showed her how to address the problem, explained why she had run into trouble in the first place, and how to avoid it going forward.
From there, she and I started talking about how sad it is, that some folks just don't have some of the necessary survival skills to make it in the world. At the time, we were talking about basic culinary skills, but, wouldn't you know it, from there, the wheels in my head began to turn.
My business, still in its formative stages, originally started off as practical instruction about the basics of business and relationships, with a slightly sarcastic edge. I can do sarcastic and edgy (and how!), when the occasion calls for it. However, there was something about the sarcastic approach for the business that just didn't sit right with me.
I know that I have never appreciated being responded to in a sarcastic manner by someone when I've had questions about a given thing, and I only rarely see the point in inflicting that sort of behavior upon anyone else. Why I agreed to the sarcasm thing in the first place--well, it seemed like a good idea at the time it was initially posited.
It dawned on me then, standing in the middle of the kitchen, that what I wanted to accomplish in my business, could be much more effectively communicated with love, respect, kindness and a gentle sense of humor, and that what I wanted to communicate, had to be dropped down a couple of levels, back to the very basics, and built up from there.
I rather uncomfortably realized, too, that I simply did not want to do this by myself. I could definitely use another set of hands, but also sadly, yet radically accepted that I might not get this other set of hands straightaway, if at all.
By this time, the active part of the cooking was done, so, with all the fresh realizations in my head, I started reading the manuals for putting together an Internet business, and started to put the information to work. But not before emailing the person I'd want to be my second set of hands and at least respectfully giving them the chance to help.
Until next time..peace.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
What a Moment of Discomfort Can Teach
I wrote this longhand a few days ago, and am now coming back to type it out as a post.
Today, I was in the mood to go for walk and maybe snap some photos. However, it's pretty cold here in New Hampshire, and, in places, there are several feet of snow on the ground. Not exactly ideal conditions to go traipsing around in.
I realized that my best and safest choice was to snag the camera just in case I saw something interesting, dig the car out of the snow, and take a drive to the Mall to do some walking around. Once dug out, I drove a different route than usual, on the still-icy streets, in the hopes of seeing something interesting, but, that was a no-go. Just more suburbia. Foo.
Finally arriving at my destination, I realized I was still chilled from having dug out the car in the first place, and with that realization, the first thing I did was snag a little cup of coffee to warm myself with while I set about my walk.
Coffee in hand, the first thing I noticed was that the 'buy buy buy' thing was *everywhere*. It was really uncomfortable at first. Yes, I know it was a shopping mall, and I know we're in a recession and all that jazz, and I know the competition for dollars is intense. It was still almost surreal how much blatant marketing there was, though. There was just so *much* of it. Too much for the space, really.
The vague sense of discomfort continued to get stronger, the further into the Mall proper I wandered, and I elected to do something different. Getting ahold of myself, I allowed the lights, the sounds, the smells and the ads to be self-hypnosis aids, and from there, I asked the discomfort I was experiencing to show me what it wanted to teach me, and it did not disappoint as I wandered around, looking at all the goods for sale, and watching all the assorted people around me scurrying to and fro. Allowing the whole scene to just be what it was.
Slowly, it dawned on me that I had either owned an object similar already to what I was seeing in the window, currently owned it, or had no need for the given object--and that it was all good.
Looking in the shop windows, I inwardly laughed politely at the Victoria's Secret display, because I'm a bit too well-endowed to carry off those sweet little nothing bits of lingerie. Once upon a time, however, I loved the stuff they put out.
Observing the offerings in some of the other shop windows, I realized with a smile that the fashions of the 80's are making a comeback. However, I'm not wearing seriously short skirts ever again, and I realized that I was OK with that.
I continued to stroll, and feel my feelings, and walking back and forth in my head between present time and a life already lived, smiling a bit at the memories, and being completely ok with where I was, rested spiritually, and ready to take on the next part of my evolution as a person.
Once I fully processed that realization, the sense of un-ease went away, and I was filled with a sense of calm and happiness. At least until I walked out of the Mall and back into the weather, whereupon I swore a bit at the cold and promised myself that I was moving to a warmer climate asap.
Until next time..peace
Today, I was in the mood to go for walk and maybe snap some photos. However, it's pretty cold here in New Hampshire, and, in places, there are several feet of snow on the ground. Not exactly ideal conditions to go traipsing around in.
I realized that my best and safest choice was to snag the camera just in case I saw something interesting, dig the car out of the snow, and take a drive to the Mall to do some walking around. Once dug out, I drove a different route than usual, on the still-icy streets, in the hopes of seeing something interesting, but, that was a no-go. Just more suburbia. Foo.
Finally arriving at my destination, I realized I was still chilled from having dug out the car in the first place, and with that realization, the first thing I did was snag a little cup of coffee to warm myself with while I set about my walk.
Coffee in hand, the first thing I noticed was that the 'buy buy buy' thing was *everywhere*. It was really uncomfortable at first. Yes, I know it was a shopping mall, and I know we're in a recession and all that jazz, and I know the competition for dollars is intense. It was still almost surreal how much blatant marketing there was, though. There was just so *much* of it. Too much for the space, really.
The vague sense of discomfort continued to get stronger, the further into the Mall proper I wandered, and I elected to do something different. Getting ahold of myself, I allowed the lights, the sounds, the smells and the ads to be self-hypnosis aids, and from there, I asked the discomfort I was experiencing to show me what it wanted to teach me, and it did not disappoint as I wandered around, looking at all the goods for sale, and watching all the assorted people around me scurrying to and fro. Allowing the whole scene to just be what it was.
Slowly, it dawned on me that I had either owned an object similar already to what I was seeing in the window, currently owned it, or had no need for the given object--and that it was all good.
Looking in the shop windows, I inwardly laughed politely at the Victoria's Secret display, because I'm a bit too well-endowed to carry off those sweet little nothing bits of lingerie. Once upon a time, however, I loved the stuff they put out.
Observing the offerings in some of the other shop windows, I realized with a smile that the fashions of the 80's are making a comeback. However, I'm not wearing seriously short skirts ever again, and I realized that I was OK with that.
I continued to stroll, and feel my feelings, and walking back and forth in my head between present time and a life already lived, smiling a bit at the memories, and being completely ok with where I was, rested spiritually, and ready to take on the next part of my evolution as a person.
Once I fully processed that realization, the sense of un-ease went away, and I was filled with a sense of calm and happiness. At least until I walked out of the Mall and back into the weather, whereupon I swore a bit at the cold and promised myself that I was moving to a warmer climate asap.
Until next time..peace
Monday, January 31, 2011
Today I Rant--Politely
I'll be honest. I'm in a crap situation right now and have been for awhile. I have been searching obsessively for paid work which actually amounts to a living wage, and on top of that I've been writing and giving and being a decent person when I'm not crying in private, or putting a brave face on my situation in public, or in front of people I know; or worse, being criticized for being unable to get further than an interview.
I *hate* the fakery involved of putting a brave face on it, or being able to take the criticism like a lady, but I've noticed that when I don't do that, a lot of the people I know whom I might feel comfortable displaying any real sort of emotion to, freeze up and get absolutely horrified at the thought that I might actually have feelings, much less that I might actually go and display them.
On the flip side, however, these same people who have had the balls to complain that I lack warmth and emotion when I keep a straight face, in almost everything that has come down the pike in my life. I've stopped trying to figure that one out, and have chalked it up to knowing some people who have some very deep conflicts within themselves that I do not have to, and just plain do not care to explore.
The only person I can do anything with, is myself. and so I have, with at least the effort equal to, if not greater than, the effort I employed towards reaching gainful employment.
Despite positive visualization, forming positive intentions, using the Law of Attraction, et cetera, I am battling exhaustion, frustration, and feelings of doubt, and I dislike very much this experience of being unable to regain traction in my life, although it is my hope that at least I'll be a better person in the end.
I hate this situation. I would like very much, at this point, to have my own home/work space and actually be able to keep that home without any financial help from anyone else.
I have an offer for another place to live, but, it is another roommate situation, located across the country from where I live now. While I really don't want to move to the other side of the country, it does seem to be about the best option for me right now, although I am very much open to other options.
I fought with my mother about it this morning. I think I made her cry when I got short, and downright chilly with her. She worries that I'll be out across the country and get stuck somehow. I countered with a couple of choice comments. I wonder what, exactly, she expects me to do? Snap my fingers and voila there's a house?!
While I have every confidence that I will eventually make it out the other side of this experience of poverty, pain and exhaustion, but the immediate past and current moments feel like one curve ball after another, and that I have nothing but my wits and my bare hands to deal with the balls.
I can write. I can coach like nobody's business, because I've got the piles of life experience, the coaching methods, the contacts, etc. to help people pull off some pretty radical life or business shifts--and believe me, I know *all* about consequences, intended or not.
I'm not an axe-murderer by a long shot, I do have a fairly functional belief system, and I'm perfectly willing to do what it takes to get out of this bad situation, save for taking on yet more very poorly-compensated work that sucks up all my time, energy and joy. Been there, done that, and I dead-set refuse to do it again.
My stumbling block is that I'm quiet, my potty-mouthed alter ego to the contrary. People literally don't hear or even see me much of the time. There were once some advantages to this, but, there have always been painful disadvantages, and I am working my ass off to overcome them, for all the good it has done me lately.
I've set up this blog and went to monetize it. Only to find out AdSense doesn't like it for reasons unknown to me, and with instructions for correction that, even when followed, make not a bit of sense or don't apply to my situation. AdSense is being no help at all, despite repeated polite yet impassioned requests for assistance from one of the AdSense professionals.
If there are better ways that are not scams, I am open to them.
I've got products and classes in mind, to develop and sell, and I am researching the best way of accomplishing this.
I want to do affiliate marketing as well. I'm a reader as well as a writer, and there are a lot of books that I could wholeheartedly endorse without feeling icky about it, along with products that would bring in a fair amount of revenue, too.
I would like, very much, for all of this to result in a safe, secure home/workspace for Lou and myself, and to keep our home/workspace safe and stable going forward--but what I wouldn't give for some help doing the things that I love--writing and teaching--to actually get there.
Until next time..peace.
I *hate* the fakery involved of putting a brave face on it, or being able to take the criticism like a lady, but I've noticed that when I don't do that, a lot of the people I know whom I might feel comfortable displaying any real sort of emotion to, freeze up and get absolutely horrified at the thought that I might actually have feelings, much less that I might actually go and display them.
On the flip side, however, these same people who have had the balls to complain that I lack warmth and emotion when I keep a straight face, in almost everything that has come down the pike in my life. I've stopped trying to figure that one out, and have chalked it up to knowing some people who have some very deep conflicts within themselves that I do not have to, and just plain do not care to explore.
The only person I can do anything with, is myself. and so I have, with at least the effort equal to, if not greater than, the effort I employed towards reaching gainful employment.
Despite positive visualization, forming positive intentions, using the Law of Attraction, et cetera, I am battling exhaustion, frustration, and feelings of doubt, and I dislike very much this experience of being unable to regain traction in my life, although it is my hope that at least I'll be a better person in the end.
I hate this situation. I would like very much, at this point, to have my own home/work space and actually be able to keep that home without any financial help from anyone else.
I have an offer for another place to live, but, it is another roommate situation, located across the country from where I live now. While I really don't want to move to the other side of the country, it does seem to be about the best option for me right now, although I am very much open to other options.
I fought with my mother about it this morning. I think I made her cry when I got short, and downright chilly with her. She worries that I'll be out across the country and get stuck somehow. I countered with a couple of choice comments. I wonder what, exactly, she expects me to do? Snap my fingers and voila there's a house?!
While I have every confidence that I will eventually make it out the other side of this experience of poverty, pain and exhaustion, but the immediate past and current moments feel like one curve ball after another, and that I have nothing but my wits and my bare hands to deal with the balls.
I can write. I can coach like nobody's business, because I've got the piles of life experience, the coaching methods, the contacts, etc. to help people pull off some pretty radical life or business shifts--and believe me, I know *all* about consequences, intended or not.
I'm not an axe-murderer by a long shot, I do have a fairly functional belief system, and I'm perfectly willing to do what it takes to get out of this bad situation, save for taking on yet more very poorly-compensated work that sucks up all my time, energy and joy. Been there, done that, and I dead-set refuse to do it again.
My stumbling block is that I'm quiet, my potty-mouthed alter ego to the contrary. People literally don't hear or even see me much of the time. There were once some advantages to this, but, there have always been painful disadvantages, and I am working my ass off to overcome them, for all the good it has done me lately.
I've set up this blog and went to monetize it. Only to find out AdSense doesn't like it for reasons unknown to me, and with instructions for correction that, even when followed, make not a bit of sense or don't apply to my situation. AdSense is being no help at all, despite repeated polite yet impassioned requests for assistance from one of the AdSense professionals.
If there are better ways that are not scams, I am open to them.
I've got products and classes in mind, to develop and sell, and I am researching the best way of accomplishing this.
I want to do affiliate marketing as well. I'm a reader as well as a writer, and there are a lot of books that I could wholeheartedly endorse without feeling icky about it, along with products that would bring in a fair amount of revenue, too.
I would like, very much, for all of this to result in a safe, secure home/workspace for Lou and myself, and to keep our home/workspace safe and stable going forward--but what I wouldn't give for some help doing the things that I love--writing and teaching--to actually get there.
Until next time..peace.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
A Test of Temper
These past few months have been a test for my temper.
Most people I know or meet would never think that I even have a temper. Or that it can be nasty. Outwardly, I'm usually as mild-mannered as people come. I frequently hear myself described as 'sweet', 'mild-mannered', and the description that makes me (secretly) giggle the most at the irony, 'angelic'.
For I also have the gift/alter ego of an inner temperamental wisecrack-maker, complete with an expanded vocabulary, a brash attitude, and a knack for incredibly raw curse words. When that side of me gets turned loose, I have been known to occasionally shock contractors and make sailors blush.
I used to beat myself up and laughingly dismiss myself for this duality, saying that I was/am no angel; that I was/am only all too human. However, given my understanding and admittedly limited biblical or religious education, I've come to understand that angels, if not Jesus himself, had moments or even extended periods of time, experiencing humanity in its imperfection. I know now, too, that I am not the only one that has felt this way or that has that duality.
I used to beat myself up and laughingly dismiss myself for this duality, saying that I was/am no angel; that I was/am only all too human. However, given my understanding and admittedly limited biblical or religious education, I've come to understand that angels, if not Jesus himself, had moments or even extended periods of time, experiencing humanity in its imperfection. I know now, too, that I am not the only one that has felt this way or that has that duality.
So, it's with an inner disbelief, that I admit that despite having recently faced down repeated rations of crap, having heard loads of self-defeatist beliefs, or heard cries for help that are really a subterfuge for only God knows what else, I've faced it all down, not with the in some cases, richly-deserved battle cry of 'Bullshit!' , but rather with a curious mix of quiet shock and dismay, blended with patience, light, and class.
Lately, I'm really *seeing* more and more people walk around with the withdrawn hunched-shoulders blinders of defeat in their lives firmly attached, and actually believing that is the right and just way of the world. I'm seeing blinders of impossibility just as firmly attached.
I'm seeing more people not only willing to dish out gratuitous acts of blind conversational cruelty, but actively engaging in doing so with bared-teeth relish and razor-sharp skill. I'm seeing more and more people walk around in physical or emotional pain, venting that pain in whatever way they think they can get away with, but at the end of the day, not doing jack to heal that pain.
I'm seeing more people not only willing to dish out gratuitous acts of blind conversational cruelty, but actively engaging in doing so with bared-teeth relish and razor-sharp skill. I'm seeing more and more people walk around in physical or emotional pain, venting that pain in whatever way they think they can get away with, but at the end of the day, not doing jack to heal that pain.
So much pain out there in the world right now. So many patterns of behavior, belief or being just begging to be changed. I find it somewhat akin to being wide awake yet stuck in the vestiges of a bad dream.
I've realized that until there is less pain in the world, that I might do better modulate the mouth and use my power to spread joy, dignity, gentleness and compassion, as well as alternative ways of seeing and experiencing reality. In that way, it is my hope that I can help lessen some of that pain flying about in the world, as opposed to furthering it. Doesn't mean I'm not going to occasionally drop some raw language in doing so when the occasion calls for it, however.
My challenge is this; based on the premise that in order to change the world, one is to be the change that one wants to see. I intend to find and remove my own blinders, where applicable, take a fresh look at how I speak to and treat others, as well as myself; while also taking a good solid look at how others speak to and treat me, and acting accordingly. As a wise teacher once told me, 'it's always a process.'
I wonder if any of my readers will take the same challenge, and what the results will be.
I wonder if any of my readers will take the same challenge, and what the results will be.
Until next time, peace!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
My Time in the Trades
For those of you who never would have guessed it of me, as I don't exactly look the type, I once believed that a career in the trades was the way to economic security, and on top of that, was a way to ensure that I knew how to fix the fershluggin' house when it broke, when the time came that I lived in something other than a crap apartment. Yes, I was a tin-knocker.
For those of you who don't know, a tin-knocker is a sheet metal mechanic, or, in my case, a sheet-metal mechanic apprentice, engaged in the hand-manufacture of heating and air conditioning ductwork. It is a tough job. I learned much from it, and while I don't think of those days much anymore, I treasure those memories..both of the job, and of myself.
At the time this was all going down, it was the late 80's, and I was all of 18 years old, and a tiny little thing to boot. Full of piss, vinegar, and an 'I can fucking *do* this--bring it on!' attitude, however.
Searching through the mental Rolodex cards of memory, what stands out, is that my first day of construction work happened to coincide with the first day of school, for my younger friends. It struck me at the time just how weird it was for me to be going to work on one end of town, while seeing some of my friends going to school on the other end of town.
I remember a moment of regret, mixed with a moment of elation that I wouldn't be spending the day in a boring classroom, and a feeling that somehow, I was finally taking steps towards making it out of the crap apartment complex I called home at the time, and never ever look back.
It struck me as a little weird to be a girl and going to work in construction. It did. That said, I had won the job on my own merits and I was determined at the time upon a goal--that someday, although I didn't know when or how, I would have total economic security.
I am so grateful that my then-employer gave me the chance to do this job. I learned so much.
I'm pretty sure he thinks I didn't pay attention to what he taught me about construction, but I did. I learned about what goes where, and in more or less what configuration. I learned about the tools of the trade, and I learned PDQ that I absolutely detested a tool called the reciprocating saw, while having been set to cut hole after hole after hole in subfloor.
Then, promptly being set to arranging and trimming collars in those holes in the subfloor..and from there, installing and securing the ductwork proper. Some of the tools used in that trade were bigger than I was at the time--I was a tiny thing then, maybe 120 lbs max, and there I was, playing with reciprocating saws, bulldogs, tin snips, etc. It's a miracle I didn't kill myself or anyone else.
My downfall in this job, was something so frigging simple that it's laugh-able in this day and age of the Internet. Gloves. Back then, they just weren't to be had in my size, and there was no amount of padding or bandaids or anything else to make the damn work gloves fit me properly. At least nothing that I knew of at the time.
Alas, despite having a love, an appreciation, and a talent for the work, I had to quit, because my hands resembled hamburger. It was with a heavy heart and much regret that I quit. I cried as I quit. My employer was very understanding. We looked for smaller heavy-duty gloves. They just weren't to be had at the time, and he let me go.
I went on to other things, obviously, but a seed was planted. I love seeing, physically, how buildings go together, especially in the mechanical systems.
What did I learn through all this? I learned about holding my own. I learned that it's OK to pack it in when necessary. I learned about determination and grit.
Not bad qualities for an 18 yr old girl to have, all things considered. :)
..until next time....peace.
For those of you who don't know, a tin-knocker is a sheet metal mechanic, or, in my case, a sheet-metal mechanic apprentice, engaged in the hand-manufacture of heating and air conditioning ductwork. It is a tough job. I learned much from it, and while I don't think of those days much anymore, I treasure those memories..both of the job, and of myself.
At the time this was all going down, it was the late 80's, and I was all of 18 years old, and a tiny little thing to boot. Full of piss, vinegar, and an 'I can fucking *do* this--bring it on!' attitude, however.
Searching through the mental Rolodex cards of memory, what stands out, is that my first day of construction work happened to coincide with the first day of school, for my younger friends. It struck me at the time just how weird it was for me to be going to work on one end of town, while seeing some of my friends going to school on the other end of town.
I remember a moment of regret, mixed with a moment of elation that I wouldn't be spending the day in a boring classroom, and a feeling that somehow, I was finally taking steps towards making it out of the crap apartment complex I called home at the time, and never ever look back.
It struck me as a little weird to be a girl and going to work in construction. It did. That said, I had won the job on my own merits and I was determined at the time upon a goal--that someday, although I didn't know when or how, I would have total economic security.
I am so grateful that my then-employer gave me the chance to do this job. I learned so much.
I'm pretty sure he thinks I didn't pay attention to what he taught me about construction, but I did. I learned about what goes where, and in more or less what configuration. I learned about the tools of the trade, and I learned PDQ that I absolutely detested a tool called the reciprocating saw, while having been set to cut hole after hole after hole in subfloor.
Then, promptly being set to arranging and trimming collars in those holes in the subfloor..and from there, installing and securing the ductwork proper. Some of the tools used in that trade were bigger than I was at the time--I was a tiny thing then, maybe 120 lbs max, and there I was, playing with reciprocating saws, bulldogs, tin snips, etc. It's a miracle I didn't kill myself or anyone else.
My downfall in this job, was something so frigging simple that it's laugh-able in this day and age of the Internet. Gloves. Back then, they just weren't to be had in my size, and there was no amount of padding or bandaids or anything else to make the damn work gloves fit me properly. At least nothing that I knew of at the time.
Alas, despite having a love, an appreciation, and a talent for the work, I had to quit, because my hands resembled hamburger. It was with a heavy heart and much regret that I quit. I cried as I quit. My employer was very understanding. We looked for smaller heavy-duty gloves. They just weren't to be had at the time, and he let me go.
I went on to other things, obviously, but a seed was planted. I love seeing, physically, how buildings go together, especially in the mechanical systems.
What did I learn through all this? I learned about holding my own. I learned that it's OK to pack it in when necessary. I learned about determination and grit.
Not bad qualities for an 18 yr old girl to have, all things considered. :)
..until next time....peace.
Lessons From the Acreage, #5, or, The Bushwhacker Story
OK, picture the scene. I'm on a couple of very overgrown acres in Southern New Hampshire. Overgrown shrubs, plants, herbs, grass..name it, it's running wild.
On this particular evening, I'm out on the screened porch with boyfriend; grilling burgers, drinking something or another, and bemoaning the state of events with the lawn. I'd been out there on the acreage with branch loppers, hedge trimmers, a machete... trying to get the vegetation under control, and the biggest change in the landscape is that I took out the rotten fence after having accidentally backed into it with my truck! Poor showing? Oh yeah.
Obviously, something had to be done about this sad state of affairs; since I didn't know the first thing about what the hell I was doing, I asked boyfriend his opinion, as he knew more about this stuff than I ever would anyway.
Boyfriend, in his wisdom, suggests that we go to the tool rental place down the street, and rent a brush hog. I had never heard of such a thing, so I asked what it was, and he gave me the short explanation that a brush hog was like a weed whacker, only for brush and bushes.
I was perfectly ok with that explanation, and thought to myself, that I would be a 'good girlfriend', go to the tool rental place, pick this thing up, bring it home, and have a high old time whacking on all this crap taking over my lawn. My thought and hope, at that point, was that my boyfriend would be proud of me for taking initiative.
The next day was a scorcher. So, I was doing the whole summer dress and sandals thing when I walked into the tool rental place. To say I was sorely out of place, in a store full of farmers and contractors, was an understatement. When the clerk asked me what I needed, I completely flubbed up the name of the tool, and wound up very confidently asking the clerk for a bushwhacker, completely unaware of the connotation.
How the clerk and everyone else in the place kept from bursting out laughing, I will never know. The clerk, to his credit, patiently shows me what I now know are heavy-duty weed whackers, while I conversationally dig myself in deeper as I innocently exclaim at just how darn big and heavy some bushwhackers are, and that I'd had no idea!
Finally the poor clerk can't stand it anymore, and sends me off to Home Depot, filling me with assurances that Home Depot had a better selection of bushwhackers, that I might find easier to handle. I thought that was strange, but, went with it anyway. What the hell did I know?
Walking into Home Depot and asking that particular clerk for a bushwhacker yielded similar puzzling results. I went home, sans bushwhacker, while wondering just what the hell was wrong with people that didn't understand that I was just trying to do something about my overgrown lawn, dammit.
The next night, boyfriend was back visiting, and I rather apologetically explained to him why I hadn't brought home a bushwhacker. I felt so bad. The look on his face was as equally as puzzling to me as the looks on the faces of the clerks I had tried to buy or rent a bushwhacker from in the first place. Finally I come around to telling him the whole story, and he burst out laughing at me!!
As I recall, the first coherent sentence post-laughter was something to the effect of 'You don't know what a bushwhacker is, do you, honey?'. That was my first clue that I might not have been asking for lawn equipment, after all.
My cheeks blushed hotter than Hell itself, as boyfriend patiently explained to me what a bushwhacker is, and how what I'd really wanted was a _brush hog_, and that it went on the back of a tractor, and that it wasn't something I could have just put in the back of my SUV, but that it was very sweet of me for trying!
It took awhile before I felt secure enough to enter the tool rental place again, never mind the local bar or hardware store. Or, for that matter, that particular Home Depot.
Moral to this story: That yes, I can live down a completely embarrassing incident in a small town. It takes awhile, though.
until next time...peace
On this particular evening, I'm out on the screened porch with boyfriend; grilling burgers, drinking something or another, and bemoaning the state of events with the lawn. I'd been out there on the acreage with branch loppers, hedge trimmers, a machete... trying to get the vegetation under control, and the biggest change in the landscape is that I took out the rotten fence after having accidentally backed into it with my truck! Poor showing? Oh yeah.
Obviously, something had to be done about this sad state of affairs; since I didn't know the first thing about what the hell I was doing, I asked boyfriend his opinion, as he knew more about this stuff than I ever would anyway.
Boyfriend, in his wisdom, suggests that we go to the tool rental place down the street, and rent a brush hog. I had never heard of such a thing, so I asked what it was, and he gave me the short explanation that a brush hog was like a weed whacker, only for brush and bushes.
I was perfectly ok with that explanation, and thought to myself, that I would be a 'good girlfriend', go to the tool rental place, pick this thing up, bring it home, and have a high old time whacking on all this crap taking over my lawn. My thought and hope, at that point, was that my boyfriend would be proud of me for taking initiative.
The next day was a scorcher. So, I was doing the whole summer dress and sandals thing when I walked into the tool rental place. To say I was sorely out of place, in a store full of farmers and contractors, was an understatement. When the clerk asked me what I needed, I completely flubbed up the name of the tool, and wound up very confidently asking the clerk for a bushwhacker, completely unaware of the connotation.
How the clerk and everyone else in the place kept from bursting out laughing, I will never know. The clerk, to his credit, patiently shows me what I now know are heavy-duty weed whackers, while I conversationally dig myself in deeper as I innocently exclaim at just how darn big and heavy some bushwhackers are, and that I'd had no idea!
Finally the poor clerk can't stand it anymore, and sends me off to Home Depot, filling me with assurances that Home Depot had a better selection of bushwhackers, that I might find easier to handle. I thought that was strange, but, went with it anyway. What the hell did I know?
Walking into Home Depot and asking that particular clerk for a bushwhacker yielded similar puzzling results. I went home, sans bushwhacker, while wondering just what the hell was wrong with people that didn't understand that I was just trying to do something about my overgrown lawn, dammit.
The next night, boyfriend was back visiting, and I rather apologetically explained to him why I hadn't brought home a bushwhacker. I felt so bad. The look on his face was as equally as puzzling to me as the looks on the faces of the clerks I had tried to buy or rent a bushwhacker from in the first place. Finally I come around to telling him the whole story, and he burst out laughing at me!!
As I recall, the first coherent sentence post-laughter was something to the effect of 'You don't know what a bushwhacker is, do you, honey?'. That was my first clue that I might not have been asking for lawn equipment, after all.
My cheeks blushed hotter than Hell itself, as boyfriend patiently explained to me what a bushwhacker is, and how what I'd really wanted was a _brush hog_, and that it went on the back of a tractor, and that it wasn't something I could have just put in the back of my SUV, but that it was very sweet of me for trying!
It took awhile before I felt secure enough to enter the tool rental place again, never mind the local bar or hardware store. Or, for that matter, that particular Home Depot.
Moral to this story: That yes, I can live down a completely embarrassing incident in a small town. It takes awhile, though.
until next time...peace
Lessons from the Acreage, #4
I was fully aware of the fact that dogs don't live as long as people, when I got my dog. I knew I would outlive him the day I brought home a squirmy bundle of ten-week-old fur and love. I just preferred to not think about it much, although I knew the day would come when I would lose him.
We had good years, dog and I. Romping, playing, dancing (yes, I taught my dog to dance!), hiking, car rides..all the good things that dog and owner can do.
Fast forward eleven years. Dog has gone from squirmy pup to dignified old dog. Dog is blind, arthritic, has acid reflux, from time to time forgets himself and wanders off, or takes unscheduled tumbles to the floor. The vet says he's just getting old, and the arthritis is impinging the nerves. There isn't much that can be done about that.
Still and all, I was not prepared for the day when I came home from work, to find dog on the floor. He had fallen. There was no getting him up this time, as when I stood him back to rights, he would topple over again. The realization that this was it, was a physically nauseating emotional blow.
I was far enough out in the country at that point, that the closest 24 hour vet that I knew of, was on the other side of the state. So I had to call my regular vet and leave a message; hell yes, I cried on the vet's answering machine.
The vet met me at her office the next day. We were both crying. The vet gave my dog one last quick exam, hoping that I was wrong. I was hoping so too. Alas, I wasn't wrong. Dog wasn't standing on his own ever again.
I don't know if I cried so many tears at one time before or since, either during or during the aftermath of signing the euthanasia papers. I got passed around the vet's waiting room, getting hugs and tissues and reassurances from everyone in the place. Complete strangers. I'm still somewhat startled that they did that for me. Not that I'd turn down anyone that clearly needed a hug, mind you.
The lesson I learned most thoroughly from the experience of having my dog, is to be damn aware that there is more than one side to love, and to be damn sure you can handle all the sides. Everyone wants the wonderful, giddy, happy expectation side to love; very few bargain on the sometimes-bumpy path of love maturing, or on the pain of the loss of that love.
until next time..peace.
We had good years, dog and I. Romping, playing, dancing (yes, I taught my dog to dance!), hiking, car rides..all the good things that dog and owner can do.
Fast forward eleven years. Dog has gone from squirmy pup to dignified old dog. Dog is blind, arthritic, has acid reflux, from time to time forgets himself and wanders off, or takes unscheduled tumbles to the floor. The vet says he's just getting old, and the arthritis is impinging the nerves. There isn't much that can be done about that.
Still and all, I was not prepared for the day when I came home from work, to find dog on the floor. He had fallen. There was no getting him up this time, as when I stood him back to rights, he would topple over again. The realization that this was it, was a physically nauseating emotional blow.
I was far enough out in the country at that point, that the closest 24 hour vet that I knew of, was on the other side of the state. So I had to call my regular vet and leave a message; hell yes, I cried on the vet's answering machine.
The vet met me at her office the next day. We were both crying. The vet gave my dog one last quick exam, hoping that I was wrong. I was hoping so too. Alas, I wasn't wrong. Dog wasn't standing on his own ever again.
I don't know if I cried so many tears at one time before or since, either during or during the aftermath of signing the euthanasia papers. I got passed around the vet's waiting room, getting hugs and tissues and reassurances from everyone in the place. Complete strangers. I'm still somewhat startled that they did that for me. Not that I'd turn down anyone that clearly needed a hug, mind you.
The lesson I learned most thoroughly from the experience of having my dog, is to be damn aware that there is more than one side to love, and to be damn sure you can handle all the sides. Everyone wants the wonderful, giddy, happy expectation side to love; very few bargain on the sometimes-bumpy path of love maturing, or on the pain of the loss of that love.
until next time..peace.
The Power of "I Quit".
It's a snowy early morning here, and I'm still recovering from my week thus far, which, being honest, has turned into the kind of week I wouldn't wish on anyone. It has been so hard and painful to live this week.
When faced with the truth of the people and situations in your life, I've learned that one can only do one of two things; keep making the same mistakes, and see the same thing happen again, or quit the relationship and situation, adjust your beliefs, and make better choices going forward.
Last night, in the midst of tears, I elected to quit and move on.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Lessons From the Acreage, #3
I'm currently sitting at my table during this dreary afternoon, waiting for more snow to fall upon New Hampshire, and I am reminded of a day much like this one.
This event occurred a few years ago, back when I owned acreage, and drove a rural school bus for a living. The days behind the wheel of the bus were long, more than occasionally interesting, and by the time I got home, I was frequently frazzled. Such is the state I found myself in when...
One afternoon, I came home, driving the school bus, and I could see from the driveway through my living room window, that there was an awful lot more movement than what I would usually see from cat and dog welcoming me back home. Something was up.
Not being sure what to think, I cautiously entered the house, and what do I see but that cat and dog have treed a squirrel on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, and naturally, the little SOB was high up. I was tired, frazzled, and not very much not amused, but, there was nothing else to do in that moment besides getting the critter out of my house.
Not wanting to appear to be a total girl, and call guy friends weeping about there being a wild animal in the living room, and would one please be big and brave and wonderful and come take care of it, I realized there was only one way to go. I left cat and dog to keep the quarry treed in the bookcase, marched to the pantry, and got the broom.
With little more than an attitude, and a determination that this creature wasn't staying, I marched back out to the living room with the aforementioned broom, and commenced offensive maneuvers. By that, I mean I clocked the little bastard with the broom, and knocked him to the floor, much to the delight of cat and dog. Pandemonium ensued, and I finally had to come down a little harder than I meant to with the broom, stunning the creature to keep it in check, and to keep cat and dog from eating it right there on the spot.
While keeping the squirrel covered with the broom bristles, I swept him through the living room, through the kitchen, through the pantry, and finally, out the pantry door. Once out the pantry door, however, the squirrel apparently had gotten a second wind, and had decided it was going to get back *into* the house, by way of attaching itself to the broom handle, and trying to climb up the broom handle towards me! This was not what I had bargained for, nor was it going to be allowed to happen.
Looking back, if I'd had any sense left at all after my day on the bus, I'd have let go of the broom, backed up a step, shut the door, gone back into the house and had done with the whole thing. Instead I got pissed and wasn't letting go of anything.
With a surge of adrenaline, regrouping of attitude and a plethora of dirty words uttered at top volume, I jumped off of the pantry stairs into the knee-deep snow, and proceeded to swing the broom against the corner of the house. and again. and again. While dog and cat were both trying to come outside to watch the show!
So, to recap, at this point I've just driven into my driveway in a school bus built for special needs children, only to promptly come out the back door, jump into knee-deep snow with a broom in my hands, and commence to swinging the broom against the side of my house, swearing at the top of my lungs, while also yelling at cat and dog to keep their butts in the house.
I was, at that moment, unaware that brand-new neighbors had just moved in next door. That non-awareness did not last long, for as soon as I made one last *thwack* against the house, the squirrel went sailing off of the broom and across the back yard, and I gave the dog permission to come outside and do his business, I got the distinct feeling I was being watched.
I turned around, and there are my brand-new neighbors, having a wonderful laugh at my antics.
There was nothing else to do at that point but blush, attempt to recover what dignity I had left, wave and slink back into my house in total embarrassment.
The moral to this story: You never know who might be watching. Conduct yourself accordingly.
Also: Mothballs in the attic are a good squirrel repellent.
This event occurred a few years ago, back when I owned acreage, and drove a rural school bus for a living. The days behind the wheel of the bus were long, more than occasionally interesting, and by the time I got home, I was frequently frazzled. Such is the state I found myself in when...
One afternoon, I came home, driving the school bus, and I could see from the driveway through my living room window, that there was an awful lot more movement than what I would usually see from cat and dog welcoming me back home. Something was up.
Not being sure what to think, I cautiously entered the house, and what do I see but that cat and dog have treed a squirrel on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, and naturally, the little SOB was high up. I was tired, frazzled, and not very much not amused, but, there was nothing else to do in that moment besides getting the critter out of my house.
Not wanting to appear to be a total girl, and call guy friends weeping about there being a wild animal in the living room, and would one please be big and brave and wonderful and come take care of it, I realized there was only one way to go. I left cat and dog to keep the quarry treed in the bookcase, marched to the pantry, and got the broom.
With little more than an attitude, and a determination that this creature wasn't staying, I marched back out to the living room with the aforementioned broom, and commenced offensive maneuvers. By that, I mean I clocked the little bastard with the broom, and knocked him to the floor, much to the delight of cat and dog. Pandemonium ensued, and I finally had to come down a little harder than I meant to with the broom, stunning the creature to keep it in check, and to keep cat and dog from eating it right there on the spot.
While keeping the squirrel covered with the broom bristles, I swept him through the living room, through the kitchen, through the pantry, and finally, out the pantry door. Once out the pantry door, however, the squirrel apparently had gotten a second wind, and had decided it was going to get back *into* the house, by way of attaching itself to the broom handle, and trying to climb up the broom handle towards me! This was not what I had bargained for, nor was it going to be allowed to happen.
Looking back, if I'd had any sense left at all after my day on the bus, I'd have let go of the broom, backed up a step, shut the door, gone back into the house and had done with the whole thing. Instead I got pissed and wasn't letting go of anything.
With a surge of adrenaline, regrouping of attitude and a plethora of dirty words uttered at top volume, I jumped off of the pantry stairs into the knee-deep snow, and proceeded to swing the broom against the corner of the house. and again. and again. While dog and cat were both trying to come outside to watch the show!
So, to recap, at this point I've just driven into my driveway in a school bus built for special needs children, only to promptly come out the back door, jump into knee-deep snow with a broom in my hands, and commence to swinging the broom against the side of my house, swearing at the top of my lungs, while also yelling at cat and dog to keep their butts in the house.
I was, at that moment, unaware that brand-new neighbors had just moved in next door. That non-awareness did not last long, for as soon as I made one last *thwack* against the house, the squirrel went sailing off of the broom and across the back yard, and I gave the dog permission to come outside and do his business, I got the distinct feeling I was being watched.
I turned around, and there are my brand-new neighbors, having a wonderful laugh at my antics.
There was nothing else to do at that point but blush, attempt to recover what dignity I had left, wave and slink back into my house in total embarrassment.
The moral to this story: You never know who might be watching. Conduct yourself accordingly.
Also: Mothballs in the attic are a good squirrel repellent.
How to Break the Cycle of Being Overwhelmed
I admit it. I had a not-so-great start this morning. I was awakened far too early this morning, by 3 cats engaged in their individual versions of being Growly McGrouchypants. The scene was thisclose to an all out war occurring at the end of the hall.
I did not know in that moment, exactly what the issue was, and given the hour and my level of wakefulness, did not care. I do not allow fighting between the pets, end of story. So, I got my ass up and got the cats separated.
At that point, I was a little more awake, and with a groan, I realized also, that my roommate's dog was pitching a fit. When the cats and the dog are in agreement at being upset, I know there is a problem that must be addressed.
With a sigh, I went and put on some clothes, and headed downstairs to see what was what.
Turns out all this distress, was over the water dish being empty, and that this whole issue could have been solved if my cat had come and given me the cold nose treatment.
After the pets got a drink and calmed down, I made tea as I got to reflecting about cycles of distress and overwhelm in both business and personal relationships and how to easily break them.
Once upon a time, I would get into cycles of distress and overwhelm easily, and would bitch, moan and cry about having to do everything, and not getting _any_ help, even when it was asked for. This was before I knew that all overwhelm was, was simply a case of me giving too much of myself, or too much of my power, to either people, things, or situations that really didn't deserve the energy; this was also before I realized that assistance could come in ways I didn't bargain on, if I were patient, observant, and held an attitude of gratitude for what assistance I did get, in whatever form it came, and it was also before I really got the hang of effective communication.
To get out of feelings of overwhelm, the first thing that I had to make happen was a determination that I was getting out of the feelings of overwhelm, no ifs ands or buts about it, and that it was perfectly all right at this point to not know exactly how I was getting out of the Land of Overwhelm; the important part was that the goal has been set.
I learned, perhaps the hard way, that thinking to myself, 'if I could just get (whatever creates feelings of overwhelm) accomplished, then I would not feel overwhelmed.', is the pansy approach to take to getting free of overwhelm, and it's just not going to cut it over the long haul when one is frequently overwhelmed. Making the goal, stating, 'I am going to get free of the feeling of being overwhelmed' is the way to go.
The next step, was for me to sit down and make a physical list of the things that left me feeling overwhelmed. I then thought about each thing, circumstance, what-have-you, and decided whether or not it is anything I could cheerfully fix, or if whatever it is, is better off being blown off entirely, delegated to another party, or hired out to a professional for whatever reason.
The step after that, was to actually do these things. Make the fixes, make the changes, call the helpers, do the delegations, then sit back and see what happened both within myself, my circumstances and relationships.
I knew that once the overwhelm was released, it was important for me to not promptly get back into that state of overwhelm again, so, it was time to sit down with pen & paper, and take stock again, and ask myself, what situations or dealings with people brought about the state of overwhelm? What needs to change within those situations, or within those relationships, to prevent overwhelm from occurring again? How could this be accomplished so that it could be a win-win situation? If there is no win-win possible, what outcome could be most beneficial, and how can that be made to come about? That and more are the questions I asked myself after having cleared a feeling of overwhelm.
Until next time..peace.
I did not know in that moment, exactly what the issue was, and given the hour and my level of wakefulness, did not care. I do not allow fighting between the pets, end of story. So, I got my ass up and got the cats separated.
At that point, I was a little more awake, and with a groan, I realized also, that my roommate's dog was pitching a fit. When the cats and the dog are in agreement at being upset, I know there is a problem that must be addressed.
With a sigh, I went and put on some clothes, and headed downstairs to see what was what.
Turns out all this distress, was over the water dish being empty, and that this whole issue could have been solved if my cat had come and given me the cold nose treatment.
After the pets got a drink and calmed down, I made tea as I got to reflecting about cycles of distress and overwhelm in both business and personal relationships and how to easily break them.
Once upon a time, I would get into cycles of distress and overwhelm easily, and would bitch, moan and cry about having to do everything, and not getting _any_ help, even when it was asked for. This was before I knew that all overwhelm was, was simply a case of me giving too much of myself, or too much of my power, to either people, things, or situations that really didn't deserve the energy; this was also before I realized that assistance could come in ways I didn't bargain on, if I were patient, observant, and held an attitude of gratitude for what assistance I did get, in whatever form it came, and it was also before I really got the hang of effective communication.
To get out of feelings of overwhelm, the first thing that I had to make happen was a determination that I was getting out of the feelings of overwhelm, no ifs ands or buts about it, and that it was perfectly all right at this point to not know exactly how I was getting out of the Land of Overwhelm; the important part was that the goal has been set.
I learned, perhaps the hard way, that thinking to myself, 'if I could just get (whatever creates feelings of overwhelm) accomplished, then I would not feel overwhelmed.', is the pansy approach to take to getting free of overwhelm, and it's just not going to cut it over the long haul when one is frequently overwhelmed. Making the goal, stating, 'I am going to get free of the feeling of being overwhelmed' is the way to go.
The next step, was for me to sit down and make a physical list of the things that left me feeling overwhelmed. I then thought about each thing, circumstance, what-have-you, and decided whether or not it is anything I could cheerfully fix, or if whatever it is, is better off being blown off entirely, delegated to another party, or hired out to a professional for whatever reason.
The step after that, was to actually do these things. Make the fixes, make the changes, call the helpers, do the delegations, then sit back and see what happened both within myself, my circumstances and relationships.
I knew that once the overwhelm was released, it was important for me to not promptly get back into that state of overwhelm again, so, it was time to sit down with pen & paper, and take stock again, and ask myself, what situations or dealings with people brought about the state of overwhelm? What needs to change within those situations, or within those relationships, to prevent overwhelm from occurring again? How could this be accomplished so that it could be a win-win situation? If there is no win-win possible, what outcome could be most beneficial, and how can that be made to come about? That and more are the questions I asked myself after having cleared a feeling of overwhelm.
Until next time..peace.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Four Tips for a Better Relationship
It happens. Sometimes a stressful event, busy-ness at work, issues with children or in-laws, etc., throws off the relationship with the person one loves. Here are simple ways to get the 'spark' back--or really get it lit in the first place!
Sometimes we all get a little overwhelmed, and that feeling can have some nasty side-effects. If the 'overwhelmed' feelings are taken out of the equation in either a beginning or established relationship, it can prevent problems from developing, or at least prevent present problems from getting worse.
Give each other a respite from drudgery, or overwhelming responsibility. For example, in a beginning relationship with, say, a single mom, a simple act of loving service, such as getting the oil in her car changed, would be welcomed.
In a more established relationship, you undoubtedly know what stresses your partner. Step in and take care of whatever it is. I'm sure your partner will thank you, or perhaps return the favor.
A little variety never hurt. Don't do the same old thing, all the time. Mix it up a little! Do an activity you've never done before. Try a different cuisine. It doesn't have to be expensive. Use your imagination.
Clear, decisive, honest communication. I know I would much rather hear a direct, 'I can/will do x, and this is when I'll do it.' (and it actually gets done!) or 'I cannot do _x_, but I can do _y_.' vs. 'You know I love you, but I don't know if I can do x. Let me get back to you.'
The first set of statements reduce stress, because they are clearly communicated and the person actually does them. The second set of statements is a deliberate stall tactic, leaving the person asking for assistance hanging, and I don't know of anyone who likes that.
Until next time..peace!
Sometimes we all get a little overwhelmed, and that feeling can have some nasty side-effects. If the 'overwhelmed' feelings are taken out of the equation in either a beginning or established relationship, it can prevent problems from developing, or at least prevent present problems from getting worse.
Give each other a respite from drudgery, or overwhelming responsibility. For example, in a beginning relationship with, say, a single mom, a simple act of loving service, such as getting the oil in her car changed, would be welcomed.
In a more established relationship, you undoubtedly know what stresses your partner. Step in and take care of whatever it is. I'm sure your partner will thank you, or perhaps return the favor.
A little variety never hurt. Don't do the same old thing, all the time. Mix it up a little! Do an activity you've never done before. Try a different cuisine. It doesn't have to be expensive. Use your imagination.
Clear, decisive, honest communication. I know I would much rather hear a direct, 'I can/will do x, and this is when I'll do it.' (and it actually gets done!) or 'I cannot do _x_, but I can do _y_.' vs. 'You know I love you, but I don't know if I can do x. Let me get back to you.'
The first set of statements reduce stress, because they are clearly communicated and the person actually does them. The second set of statements is a deliberate stall tactic, leaving the person asking for assistance hanging, and I don't know of anyone who likes that.
Until next time..peace!
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