I love my back porch. I'm going to move out here and sleep on my grandma's glider and never leave. Do you think Kelli will bring me my meals, magazines and books to read and go to work as me so that I don't lose my job? No? Oh well, I will just have to enjoy the time that I do have out here. I'm trying to listen to a Quickmix on Pandora, and I will just say that today, its a little disappointing. But wait... The Kinks just came on... I take back what I said about you, Pandora.
Last night I drove practically to Frankfort (home of the hotdogs and my newspaper friend Austan Kas) to pick up Michelle. And on the way up there I finally finished listening to all of the songs on my ipod. Is it sad that I felt pretty accomplished about this. Also, I have a lot of crap on there, like "Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong," that I don't ever remember downloading. I think that my red ipod has a mind of its own, and a tendency toward sappy 80's songs.
But I picked Shelle up at a gas station and got to see Sam for five seconds (I heart Sam) before we drove back to Spencer. Fun, fun. Actually, it was a pretty good night because I got to meet Barb's GIGANTIC pumpkins. And she made Robbie and I some hummus that was amazing. It was my lunch today. And probably tomorrow, and the next day. And now, I can make my own hummus.
Plus, Barb, who said she wants to be referred to as "the quirky Dentist," gave me a beautiful gourd and I am going to try to learn how to make it into a birdhouse. We'll see. Robbie has one too and we are going to have a craft time I guess, even though my craft year is well over.
Ooh, John Lennon is on. I will finish out with his genius....
Instant karma's gonna get you
Gonna knock you off your feet
Better recognize your brothers
Everyone you meet
Why in the world are we here
Surely not to live in pain and fear
Why on earth are you there
When you're everywhere
Come and get your share
And we all shine on... :)
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sick and tired
So lately I'm starting to become dissatisfied with my life. I promise that this is a healthy thing. Because my life right now is not how I ever thought it would turn out. It is not even a proper reflection of me, or at least who I want to be.
I'm not really talking about my job. Although, yes, I would love to find something to do with my life that I care about... if anyone would like to hire me to work for them... I'm ready and willing to get out of Boston... And I'm not talking about relationships really, either. I have good people--fantastic people-- in my life. They have sort of surrounded me in a protective bubble while I've found my way out the mess I made for myself the past year. They cover me with prayer and give me healthy doses of advice and reassurance that if I am a screw-up, it is a completely normal thing.
What worries me about my life right now is how little I'm giving. There are people in my life who end up getting neglected because I'm sooo needy right now. And I'm not used to being the needy one, I usually have the bare essential crap together in my life. And maybe they don't feel that way, like I don't care anymore, but they probably do. I have a contact list on my phone full of people I need to be catching up with, but I call the same 4-5 people when I have a few moments to chat. I used to call my mamaw at least once every few weeks, and I haven't spoken to her in months. I suck. I used to think that that is just how it goes. You move away... get a new job... make a life-transition and just sort of transition friends at the same time. But that just seems like laziness to me, and carelessness.
I'm sick of my day revolving around me. My life, my needs, my interests, my stomach, my aches and pains, my anxiety, my sadness, my sense of humor... Its all about me and I have a hard time stomaching myself because of it.
I need to revolve around life, not the other way around.
I'm not really talking about my job. Although, yes, I would love to find something to do with my life that I care about... if anyone would like to hire me to work for them... I'm ready and willing to get out of Boston... And I'm not talking about relationships really, either. I have good people--fantastic people-- in my life. They have sort of surrounded me in a protective bubble while I've found my way out the mess I made for myself the past year. They cover me with prayer and give me healthy doses of advice and reassurance that if I am a screw-up, it is a completely normal thing.
What worries me about my life right now is how little I'm giving. There are people in my life who end up getting neglected because I'm sooo needy right now. And I'm not used to being the needy one, I usually have the bare essential crap together in my life. And maybe they don't feel that way, like I don't care anymore, but they probably do. I have a contact list on my phone full of people I need to be catching up with, but I call the same 4-5 people when I have a few moments to chat. I used to call my mamaw at least once every few weeks, and I haven't spoken to her in months. I suck. I used to think that that is just how it goes. You move away... get a new job... make a life-transition and just sort of transition friends at the same time. But that just seems like laziness to me, and carelessness.
I'm sick of my day revolving around me. My life, my needs, my interests, my stomach, my aches and pains, my anxiety, my sadness, my sense of humor... Its all about me and I have a hard time stomaching myself because of it.
I need to revolve around life, not the other way around.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Goodbye, Maddie
Dear Maddie
We had to put you to sleep yesterday. You had stomach cancer, which is really sad. But I just wanted to take a few minutes to tell you how great of a dog you were. You were the best dog.
We got you at the fair. I was riding the ferris wheel with Amy, and I looked down and Mom and Lauren were at the bottom, and they told me we were going to take home a puppy. I named you, you know. Madeline, after the Hanson song. Now that sounds kind of lame, but I was twelve at the time so that is okay. And you were so tiny and the first night we laid on the floor with you watching a movie, and you let us pet you forever. We got you a collar with a black and white polka dot bow on it. And we tried to walk you down our hilly sidewalk but you never really liked being on a leash.
You loved to play with your ball, and you loved to try to fit two of your toys in your mouth at the same time. You were so smart too, Maddie. I don't care what people say about dogs, I know that you always understood everything that I said to you. Which made it even more annoying when you disobeyed. But you always apologized when you were bad... you'd come in the house and slink away with your ears down. It was kind of hard to stay mad at you.
I missed you so much when I went away to college, but I tried to scratch your belly a lot to make up for the days I wasn't at home. Thanks for always getting so excited when I came in the front door. It really made me feel special.
We buried you next to your best friend Luke. I hope you like it there. When I sit in the armchair of Mom's living room, I can look out the back door and see where Dad put you. And it is going to make me sad for a long time. But mostly thankful that we had you for eleven great years. Thanks for being such a huge part of our family.
You were a really great dog. The best. I love you, Maddie.
Goodbye.
We had to put you to sleep yesterday. You had stomach cancer, which is really sad. But I just wanted to take a few minutes to tell you how great of a dog you were. You were the best dog.
We got you at the fair. I was riding the ferris wheel with Amy, and I looked down and Mom and Lauren were at the bottom, and they told me we were going to take home a puppy. I named you, you know. Madeline, after the Hanson song. Now that sounds kind of lame, but I was twelve at the time so that is okay. And you were so tiny and the first night we laid on the floor with you watching a movie, and you let us pet you forever. We got you a collar with a black and white polka dot bow on it. And we tried to walk you down our hilly sidewalk but you never really liked being on a leash.
You loved to play with your ball, and you loved to try to fit two of your toys in your mouth at the same time. You were so smart too, Maddie. I don't care what people say about dogs, I know that you always understood everything that I said to you. Which made it even more annoying when you disobeyed. But you always apologized when you were bad... you'd come in the house and slink away with your ears down. It was kind of hard to stay mad at you.
I missed you so much when I went away to college, but I tried to scratch your belly a lot to make up for the days I wasn't at home. Thanks for always getting so excited when I came in the front door. It really made me feel special.
We buried you next to your best friend Luke. I hope you like it there. When I sit in the armchair of Mom's living room, I can look out the back door and see where Dad put you. And it is going to make me sad for a long time. But mostly thankful that we had you for eleven great years. Thanks for being such a huge part of our family.
You were a really great dog. The best. I love you, Maddie.
Goodbye.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Don't You Forget About Me
Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...and an athlete ...and a basket case...a princess... and a criminal...
Does that answer your question?...
Sincerely yours,
the Breakfast Club.
John Hughes... this meant so much to me in high school.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
My Brothers&Sisters Life
Have you ever seen the show Brothers&Sisters? Well, is amazing. Its about a family that has three brothers and two sisters, and none of them can keep their mouths shut. They always say that they will keep a secret but they never do. And someone gets drunk and tells the person with the secret that everyone knows their secret and a big fight happens.
I love that show. But also, my friends are kind of like that family. :)
I love that show. But also, my friends are kind of like that family. :)
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
The Book ListShare
The BBC believes most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books here. How do your reading habits stack up?
Instructions: Copy this into your NOTES. Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read. Tag other book nerds.
1 Pride and Prejudice - X
2 The Lord of the Rings -
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte - X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling - X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee - X
6 The Bible -- X
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte - X
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell -
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman -
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens -
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott - X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller-
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare-
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier -
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien -
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger -
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger- X (disclaimer: I'm halfway through it, reading it now)
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell-
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald - X
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy -
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams-
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky -
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck -
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll -X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame -X
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens -
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis - X
34 Emma - Jane Austen -X
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen -X
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis - X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini-X
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres-
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden-
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne -X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell - X
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown-
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving-
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins -
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery - X
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy -
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood-
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding -
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan- X
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel -
52 Dune - Frank Herbert -
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen - X
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth-
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon-
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens -
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley -
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night - Mark Haddon-
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez-
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck- X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov -
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt-
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold -
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas-
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac-
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy -
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding- X
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville -
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens -
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker -
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett-
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce -
76 The Inferno – Dante -
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome -
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt -
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens - X
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell-
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker-
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro -
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert -
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry-
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White - X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom- X
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle -
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad -
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery-
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Bank
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams -
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole-
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas-
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare -
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - X
100 Les Miserables — Victor Hugo - X
My score is... 28
Instructions: Copy this into your NOTES. Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read. Tag other book nerds.
1 Pride and Prejudice - X
2 The Lord of the Rings -
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte - X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling - X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee - X
6 The Bible -- X
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte - X
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell -
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman -
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens -
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott - X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller-
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare-
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier -
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien -
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger -
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger- X (disclaimer: I'm halfway through it, reading it now)
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell-
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald - X
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy -
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams-
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky -
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck -
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll -X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame -X
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens -
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis - X
34 Emma - Jane Austen -X
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen -X
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis - X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini-X
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres-
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden-
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne -X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell - X
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown-
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving-
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins -
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery - X
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy -
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood-
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding -
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan- X
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel -
52 Dune - Frank Herbert -
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen - X
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth-
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon-
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens -
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley -
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night - Mark Haddon-
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez-
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck- X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov -
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt-
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold -
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas-
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac-
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy -
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding- X
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville -
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens -
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker -
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett-
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce -
76 The Inferno – Dante -
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome -
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt -
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens - X
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell-
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker-
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro -
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert -
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry-
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White - X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom- X
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle -
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad -
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery-
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Bank
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams -
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole-
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas-
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare -
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - X
100 Les Miserables — Victor Hugo - X
My score is... 28
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Is it possible to be this pathetic?
What happens when you are the only single (woman? girl? lady? can't figure out the appropriate noun) in a department full of bored women? Death by embarrassment, that's what. Yeah today... my colleagues picked out my new boyfriend for me (a man can only walk in front of them so many times before they can't help themselves, they pounce) ... gave him the third degree ("what size SHOE do you wear?") and forced him to write down his phone number for me... then gave him mine. I'm an idiot, an IDIOT for giving any one of them my phone number.
I don't think I have stopped blushing all day. I haven't been this mortified ever... unless you count the time I earned the nickname Peabody at church camp.
But the thing is, these women (sort of) have good intentions. They really do love me, and want to see me happy. I am just not sure that they know me well enough to understand the kind of things that make me happy.
But I guess it was a good, and very bold shot.
I don't think I have stopped blushing all day. I haven't been this mortified ever... unless you count the time I earned the nickname Peabody at church camp.
But the thing is, these women (sort of) have good intentions. They really do love me, and want to see me happy. I am just not sure that they know me well enough to understand the kind of things that make me happy.
But I guess it was a good, and very bold shot.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Saturdays nights...
Today was a good day. I got up and had breakfast and got to talk Kelli for awhile. She and Jimmy are leaving for a week. The house is so very quiet when they are gone. Its kind of like living alone again.
I cannot believe the weather. I got to wear one of my scarves today. My mom calls them my security blanket because in the fall and winter I barely went without one. But I just love them, they are warm and cuddly and perfect. I decided I didn't want to sit around the house all day. I went to Chipotle, got a burrito and headed to the movies. Saw 'Away We Go' and loved it. Dave Eggers is amazing, really. And it just made me feel... so many things really. It was a laugh-through-your-tears film, at least for me it was. I went to Ezra's third birthday party, and he was sooooo excited. He got a tricycle, a new twin bed and an Elmo cake. For my third birthday, my cake was shaped like a panda bear. It was beautiful and the best I ever had. I came home from the party a little while ago, and now I am waiting to go out with some friends. I love Bloomington in the summer, because there are so many places to go hang out but you don't have to worry about all of the students.
So if you think about it... I had a pretty spectacular Saturday, and its not even over yet. But all day I have just been feeling kind of off. When I was driving to Gosport, I just started thinking about all the things in my life that are just lacking. But I don't have the motivation to do anything about these things, and if I did, I'm not even sure how I could fix it.
I kind of opened up to one of my co-workers the other day about the scary/dark part of my life. I've been not feeling great lately... I've had a lot of down days, and my parents have noticed. And that makes me feel so guilty because they worry about me so much and I know that they are trying so hard to be there for me and be patient and let me find my own way out of this. Well, my co-worker said that he's not surprised at all that I deal with this stuff. Which surprised me, because I feel like the only people who should be able to notice are those who can see that I'm not really myself.
"Sarah," he said, "It is not uncommon for brilliant, creative people such as yourself to deal with depression and other demons. The smarter you are, the more you feel how shitty this world really is."
I don't even know what to think about that.
I cannot believe the weather. I got to wear one of my scarves today. My mom calls them my security blanket because in the fall and winter I barely went without one. But I just love them, they are warm and cuddly and perfect. I decided I didn't want to sit around the house all day. I went to Chipotle, got a burrito and headed to the movies. Saw 'Away We Go' and loved it. Dave Eggers is amazing, really. And it just made me feel... so many things really. It was a laugh-through-your-tears film, at least for me it was. I went to Ezra's third birthday party, and he was sooooo excited. He got a tricycle, a new twin bed and an Elmo cake. For my third birthday, my cake was shaped like a panda bear. It was beautiful and the best I ever had. I came home from the party a little while ago, and now I am waiting to go out with some friends. I love Bloomington in the summer, because there are so many places to go hang out but you don't have to worry about all of the students.
So if you think about it... I had a pretty spectacular Saturday, and its not even over yet. But all day I have just been feeling kind of off. When I was driving to Gosport, I just started thinking about all the things in my life that are just lacking. But I don't have the motivation to do anything about these things, and if I did, I'm not even sure how I could fix it.
I kind of opened up to one of my co-workers the other day about the scary/dark part of my life. I've been not feeling great lately... I've had a lot of down days, and my parents have noticed. And that makes me feel so guilty because they worry about me so much and I know that they are trying so hard to be there for me and be patient and let me find my own way out of this. Well, my co-worker said that he's not surprised at all that I deal with this stuff. Which surprised me, because I feel like the only people who should be able to notice are those who can see that I'm not really myself.
"Sarah," he said, "It is not uncommon for brilliant, creative people such as yourself to deal with depression and other demons. The smarter you are, the more you feel how shitty this world really is."
I don't even know what to think about that.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Am I a loner?
I think I had an anxiety attack yesterday.Who am I kidding? I definitely had one. My heart started racing and I couldn't breathe. I was sitting at my grandparents' house... there were six of us there in a confined space and everyone was talking and talking, and asking stupid questions and it got to be too much. Too much for me to handle. I couldn't find an empty room so I went into the garage and calmed myself down. Afterward though, it was like I was on edge. I love my family, and I love visiting my grandparents and going to my cousin's wedding that evening was sort of fun. I just feel like sometimes I cannot handle being around other people... at least people I care about... I don't want them to think I am annoyed with them or don't like them. I think that is why I'm always fine at work, because ultimately I feel free to be myself there. When I'm annoyed with someone or I don't want to talk anymore, I just do what I want, which is retreat back into my own little world.
Lately I just want to be by myself. I have stopped making phone calls and talking to friends I usually speak with every day. I have been turning my phone of more and more, too. i just feel like i need space or something. I don't really know why.
Sorry if you feel like I haven't been there for you... I can't help it right now. Maybe I am a loner.
Lately I just want to be by myself. I have stopped making phone calls and talking to friends I usually speak with every day. I have been turning my phone of more and more, too. i just feel like i need space or something. I don't really know why.
Sorry if you feel like I haven't been there for you... I can't help it right now. Maybe I am a loner.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Holiday in the sun
Woke up kinda early this morning. Well, early is relative I guess. It was 8:30, but yesterday I got up at 3:30... so I guess you could say I got to sleep in today. Off for the fourth of July holiday. I have to admit I'm not the most patriotic of persons, but I do like this weekend. Just because it gives people the chance to slow down and enjoy summer for a little bit. When we were kids, everyday got to be about this. The sun, the water, the bicycles, the playgrounds, the beach... the friendships. Now we just work and squeeze the fun in somehow. Fun usually replaces sleep for me. Not healthy.
Tuesday night I saw Mat Kearney at the Bluebird. So many people crammed into that very tiny venue. He was magical, though. He played all of my favorites from his new album, which I has been in a constant rotation in my car on my way to work and back. Can't get enough of it or the new Snow Patrol cd. The new Mrs. Morgan came to the show with me and we had so much fun enjoying the music and laughing at the stupid people who kept getting in our way.
This morning I woke up and turned on Pollyanna, which is an old movie starring Haylie Mills. And I have this problem when I watch these dramatic movies, because I always want it to stay happy. Pollyanna is climbing that tree to sneak back into her bedroom, and I know she's going to fall. But at the same time, all I'm thinking is... "I don't want her to fall." Like I don't already know that everything is going to turn out okay. I want the happiness without the uphill battle, I want it all to be alright all of the time.
You know the movie is just a metaphor for my life... right?
Tuesday night I saw Mat Kearney at the Bluebird. So many people crammed into that very tiny venue. He was magical, though. He played all of my favorites from his new album, which I has been in a constant rotation in my car on my way to work and back. Can't get enough of it or the new Snow Patrol cd. The new Mrs. Morgan came to the show with me and we had so much fun enjoying the music and laughing at the stupid people who kept getting in our way.
This morning I woke up and turned on Pollyanna, which is an old movie starring Haylie Mills. And I have this problem when I watch these dramatic movies, because I always want it to stay happy. Pollyanna is climbing that tree to sneak back into her bedroom, and I know she's going to fall. But at the same time, all I'm thinking is... "I don't want her to fall." Like I don't already know that everything is going to turn out okay. I want the happiness without the uphill battle, I want it all to be alright all of the time.
You know the movie is just a metaphor for my life... right?
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Thursday, May 07, 2009
The middle
I have started to feel like young adulthood is not unlike adolescence... let's think about this for a second. It is still just a series of stepping stones. College graduation... first full-time job...Wedding...kids...first credit card bill...first trip abroad... all these firsts and the changes they bring to our lives. Is life really a checklist of things I need to? If that were true, mine would look like everyone else', wouldn't it?
What if my life right now... living in this house, not doing anything related to journalism, working in a factory... is just a stopgap... something I hastily put together so that I could survive. Everything did fall into place so quickly once I figured out all the things I lined up for myself were things that were terrible for me, i.e. living alone, grad school, trying to become some accomplished reporter. Looking back on the entire year of 2008, it was like months of slowly sliding into a place where I didn't recognize myself anymore... the thoughts and emotions I had weren't like me, and they were dark and irrational and really scared me sometimes. But the end of the year came when I could not stand myself anymore, and I got desperate, so much so that I literally had to remove myself out of the life I thought I wanted and had worked hard to create. And I feel better and completely blessed where I am now, to be making money doing something useful where I am appreciated and I feel like I am doing something that helps others in an immediate way.
And, day-to-day, I'm a very happy person. I think that is all that I can really be asking for, isn't it? A lot of my good days come from getting to work with kids and doing ministry in the only way that ever made sense to me... and I'm so incredibly grateful that these amazing students have let me get to know them.
My biggest struggles lately have been feelings of inadequacy... which isn't something that I've ever shaken really, even at times where I accomplished great things. I know that there are people in my life who love me, they truly care, but they think that right now I'm wasting my life. I'm not living up to my potential, and I could be doing more. And I know that I have felt that way about my friends and family so many times... especially girls I knew from high school and college. And I had some grandiose dreams when I was younger, and I have no doubt that I could have reached a little higher to get actually get to some of them.
Today was Mother's Day... and i got up early and made pancakes for my family before my parents went to church. It was gorgeous outside and I had so much energy that after I cleaned the kitchen I went for a walk. I ended up all the way across town, at the cemetery. I don't know about you, but cemeteries really used to freak me out, but this one was really pretty and hilly and I ended up sitting for awhile on a cement bench that was on a hill overlooking all of it. And I don't say this often, and I really haven't been able to say it in a while, but while I was there I had a pretty profound meeting with God. I was just looking at all of the headstones below me and they all looked the same. They all sat in a line and created this windy, circular pattern in the grass. And they were all the same. But they weren't really, because each one of them represented a valuable life that was lived. For each grave, someone was born, lived a life--no matter how short--and then died.
And I felt like God was there in this. Like he was telling me that we can't do much to deviate from the beginning or ending of our lives. He knew exactly what i was going to be born into, and he knows how I'm going to leave this world and there is not much control I get over any of that. And I think we do get angry with God about death. A lot of times for us it comes like a thief in the night, and turns our comfort levels and our sense of security as the rulers of our world completely upside down. And it really hurts to live without the people we love. There is a part of me that aches for my grandma sometimes, because when she died it felt like my entire childhood was buried with her. And God, who both creates and destroys, who births and lays to rest, is in charge of our beginning and end. But I think what he was trying to tell me today in the cemetery was that he gives us license to do with the middle what we will. It is my life, and my responsibility when I do great things that honor him just as much as I'm responsible when i screw everything up. Our life is really his gift to us, the freedom to figure things out for ourselves.
There were hundreds of lives laid to rest in this cemetery, but not one was lived exactly like any of the others. We are all the same, but unique in our thoughts, emotions and decisions. So life is not a checklist...we are not on a conveyor belt. I'm free to take or leave any rite of passage I come to. The middle... our lives... are for trial and error, and freedom to love and live as we choose. How i'm living my life now, even if it is in error, could never be a waste.
What if my life right now... living in this house, not doing anything related to journalism, working in a factory... is just a stopgap... something I hastily put together so that I could survive. Everything did fall into place so quickly once I figured out all the things I lined up for myself were things that were terrible for me, i.e. living alone, grad school, trying to become some accomplished reporter. Looking back on the entire year of 2008, it was like months of slowly sliding into a place where I didn't recognize myself anymore... the thoughts and emotions I had weren't like me, and they were dark and irrational and really scared me sometimes. But the end of the year came when I could not stand myself anymore, and I got desperate, so much so that I literally had to remove myself out of the life I thought I wanted and had worked hard to create. And I feel better and completely blessed where I am now, to be making money doing something useful where I am appreciated and I feel like I am doing something that helps others in an immediate way.
And, day-to-day, I'm a very happy person. I think that is all that I can really be asking for, isn't it? A lot of my good days come from getting to work with kids and doing ministry in the only way that ever made sense to me... and I'm so incredibly grateful that these amazing students have let me get to know them.
My biggest struggles lately have been feelings of inadequacy... which isn't something that I've ever shaken really, even at times where I accomplished great things. I know that there are people in my life who love me, they truly care, but they think that right now I'm wasting my life. I'm not living up to my potential, and I could be doing more. And I know that I have felt that way about my friends and family so many times... especially girls I knew from high school and college. And I had some grandiose dreams when I was younger, and I have no doubt that I could have reached a little higher to get actually get to some of them.
Today was Mother's Day... and i got up early and made pancakes for my family before my parents went to church. It was gorgeous outside and I had so much energy that after I cleaned the kitchen I went for a walk. I ended up all the way across town, at the cemetery. I don't know about you, but cemeteries really used to freak me out, but this one was really pretty and hilly and I ended up sitting for awhile on a cement bench that was on a hill overlooking all of it. And I don't say this often, and I really haven't been able to say it in a while, but while I was there I had a pretty profound meeting with God. I was just looking at all of the headstones below me and they all looked the same. They all sat in a line and created this windy, circular pattern in the grass. And they were all the same. But they weren't really, because each one of them represented a valuable life that was lived. For each grave, someone was born, lived a life--no matter how short--and then died.
And I felt like God was there in this. Like he was telling me that we can't do much to deviate from the beginning or ending of our lives. He knew exactly what i was going to be born into, and he knows how I'm going to leave this world and there is not much control I get over any of that. And I think we do get angry with God about death. A lot of times for us it comes like a thief in the night, and turns our comfort levels and our sense of security as the rulers of our world completely upside down. And it really hurts to live without the people we love. There is a part of me that aches for my grandma sometimes, because when she died it felt like my entire childhood was buried with her. And God, who both creates and destroys, who births and lays to rest, is in charge of our beginning and end. But I think what he was trying to tell me today in the cemetery was that he gives us license to do with the middle what we will. It is my life, and my responsibility when I do great things that honor him just as much as I'm responsible when i screw everything up. Our life is really his gift to us, the freedom to figure things out for ourselves.
There were hundreds of lives laid to rest in this cemetery, but not one was lived exactly like any of the others. We are all the same, but unique in our thoughts, emotions and decisions. So life is not a checklist...we are not on a conveyor belt. I'm free to take or leave any rite of passage I come to. The middle... our lives... are for trial and error, and freedom to love and live as we choose. How i'm living my life now, even if it is in error, could never be a waste.
Friday, May 01, 2009
ABC's...
You've been tagged. You are supposed to write a note with the ABC's of YOU. At the end, choose 26 people to be tagged. You have to tag me so really you just need 25 more people. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you - but not in a creepy stalker kind of way.(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your ABC's of Me, tag 26 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)
A - Age: 23 in a week and a half
B - Bed size: twin, I'm still a kid
C - Chore you hate: Cleaning the top of the stove
D - Dog's name: Maddie
E - Essential start-your-day item: caffeine in any form
F - Favorite color: green
G - Gold or silver: silver
H - Height: 5' 7 1/2"
I - Instruments you play: the kazoo.... the recorder?
J - Job title: Product Builder
K - Kids - None
L - Living arrangements: Three-bedroom condo with three roommates
M - Mom's name: Barbara
N - Nicknames: Goody, Sgoddard
O - Overnight hospital stay: When I was born?
P - Pet Peeve: Condescension
Q - Quote from a movie: "When we go to Morroco, I think we should take completely different names and be completely different people." - Almost Famous
R – Right- or left-handed: Right
S - Siblings: 2 Sisters, Katie, 25 and Lauren, 19
T - Time you wake up: Most days, 3 a.m.
U- Underwear: Yes... the boring kind.
V - Vegetable you dislike: I don't really like Fennel
W - Ways you run late: Getting caught up watching something on tv
X - X-rays you've had: teeth, left index finger
Y - Yummy food you make: cheesy chicken crescents
Z - Zoo favorite: Dolphins, polar bears
A - Age: 23 in a week and a half
B - Bed size: twin, I'm still a kid
C - Chore you hate: Cleaning the top of the stove
D - Dog's name: Maddie
E - Essential start-your-day item: caffeine in any form
F - Favorite color: green
G - Gold or silver: silver
H - Height: 5' 7 1/2"
I - Instruments you play: the kazoo.... the recorder?
J - Job title: Product Builder
K - Kids - None
L - Living arrangements: Three-bedroom condo with three roommates
M - Mom's name: Barbara
N - Nicknames: Goody, Sgoddard
O - Overnight hospital stay: When I was born?
P - Pet Peeve: Condescension
Q - Quote from a movie: "When we go to Morroco, I think we should take completely different names and be completely different people." - Almost Famous
R – Right- or left-handed: Right
S - Siblings: 2 Sisters, Katie, 25 and Lauren, 19
T - Time you wake up: Most days, 3 a.m.
U- Underwear: Yes... the boring kind.
V - Vegetable you dislike: I don't really like Fennel
W - Ways you run late: Getting caught up watching something on tv
X - X-rays you've had: teeth, left index finger
Y - Yummy food you make: cheesy chicken crescents
Z - Zoo favorite: Dolphins, polar bears
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Clearing the air
I love the fall, the crispness in the air and the colors. But right now, laying outside and smelling this spring afternoon, the grass and flowers and warmth, it seems like nothing could top this.
Since I started my 40-50 Hour job that has me waking and sleeping at funny hours, I haven't had a lot of down time. Last Friday we had a paid holdiay for Good Friday, and I will tell you one thing, I had no idea what to do with myself. I slept in... but then I cleaned, and baked and dyed Easter Eggs. That is how lost I was, I was an adult dying easter eggs by myself. i don't know how to sit on the couch all day. movie and television marathons... i haven't watch seasons 1-3 of veronica mars since I was depressed and only left my apartment when I hated myself so much I wanted to eat double cheeseburgers (the entire months of October and November, I lived off Steak N' Shake, Wendy's and Rally's... YUCK
But the question is this... what do you do with your life if you don't want to be a lazy, depressed sack? I started to read a book, but that feels like something foreign to me right now, I just can't focus on anything. I have been reading a lot of magazines and online articles, but I haven't read a book since I stopped going to school. That, to me, is a very sad fact. I'll get there though.
You know the phrase, "You just need to get this off of your chest." Well, words have never rang truer for me lately. I have sort of started to regret my last post, and i appreciate all the kind words that I have gotten about it, but I'm glad I did it because it might have been the kick I needed to get over my issue (which isn't a guy, I promise, it's about something a little bigger and dearer to my heart). It's not fixed, but I think I'm at a place where I don't need to be. The air is clear, I'm not feeling constantly stifled anymore like I have something to hide... Breathing in deeply the air of openness and a clear conscience.
I hope, if anyone is still listening, that you are blessed today.
Since I started my 40-50 Hour job that has me waking and sleeping at funny hours, I haven't had a lot of down time. Last Friday we had a paid holdiay for Good Friday, and I will tell you one thing, I had no idea what to do with myself. I slept in... but then I cleaned, and baked and dyed Easter Eggs. That is how lost I was, I was an adult dying easter eggs by myself. i don't know how to sit on the couch all day. movie and television marathons... i haven't watch seasons 1-3 of veronica mars since I was depressed and only left my apartment when I hated myself so much I wanted to eat double cheeseburgers (the entire months of October and November, I lived off Steak N' Shake, Wendy's and Rally's... YUCK
But the question is this... what do you do with your life if you don't want to be a lazy, depressed sack? I started to read a book, but that feels like something foreign to me right now, I just can't focus on anything. I have been reading a lot of magazines and online articles, but I haven't read a book since I stopped going to school. That, to me, is a very sad fact. I'll get there though.
You know the phrase, "You just need to get this off of your chest." Well, words have never rang truer for me lately. I have sort of started to regret my last post, and i appreciate all the kind words that I have gotten about it, but I'm glad I did it because it might have been the kick I needed to get over my issue (which isn't a guy, I promise, it's about something a little bigger and dearer to my heart). It's not fixed, but I think I'm at a place where I don't need to be. The air is clear, I'm not feeling constantly stifled anymore like I have something to hide... Breathing in deeply the air of openness and a clear conscience.
I hope, if anyone is still listening, that you are blessed today.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Disappointment and harsh words that need to be said without an audience
I'm sick of being sad because I don't feel like writing. If I stopped doing everything I didn't feel like doing, I would lay in bed all day, for all the days. It's been that bad, really.
Right now, I'm going to take some space to vent to someone I can't speak to personally. Well, I could speak with them, but I'm not going to...
I know that I set a higher standard for you, and that I have a habit of being more forgiving to total strangers than to the people in my life. But you let me down. All of us really. People who are a part of it, who don't really know what has gone on in the last month, you've let them down the most. Because these people trust you, all of you, to be honorable...men of your word. Your attitudes in secret should be your attitudes in public. And you got caught being crappy people, which is your right, but you have placed yourself in a postition of responsibility. You are responsible for something I cared a lot about. You forfeited your right to act as you wish, to treat people with disregard and unkindess. You have no right.
What is going to take me the longest to get over is how much I got duped into thinking this was all going to be something different. We talk about being different. And we talk. And we talk. And we talk. You know, I can say I have purple hair, I could even go and buy bottle of hair dye. But until I actually do the deed, my hair is still brown, its just a bunch of meaningless and USELESS words. You are all talk and no follow-through. I'm exhausted from thinking about this, and I'm not going to be a part of it anymore. In short, I think we are breaking up, for good.
This doesn't mean that I don't think that you can come out of this mess, if you can see what has been wrong and let God show you how to do things better. Not so that people will stop leaving you, but because that's how we honor God, by doing the right thing in the right way. With courage and honesty and integrity. But I am saying that I'm not going to be there to help us get through it. It's my weakness this time, not yours. I'm not strong enough right now, not patient enough to wait for you to see that I might be right, and I know in the deepest part of me that I cannot be a part of something when I don't believe in the way its being handled, I can't be with you when there's no trust.
That is where i'm having a hard time. Reconciling my call to have unconditional love for you with these feelings of disappointment and resentment. I guess, in truth, I can't stay with you, because I didn't love the real you. I have turned you into something you aren't, I always thought you were something better.
So goodbye, you know who you are. I love you and wish you well, but my life will be better without you in it.
This doesn't mean that I don't think that you can come out of this mess, if you can see what has been wrong and let God show you how to do things better. Not so that people will stop leaving you, but because that's how we honor God, by doing the right thing in the right way. With courage and honesty and integrity. But I am saying that I'm not going to be there to help us get through it. It's my weakness this time, not yours. I'm not strong enough right now, not patient enough to wait for you to see that I might be right, and I know in the deepest part of me that I cannot be a part of something when I don't believe in the way its being handled, I can't be with you when there's no trust.
That is where i'm having a hard time. Reconciling my call to have unconditional love for you with these feelings of disappointment and resentment. I guess, in truth, I can't stay with you, because I didn't love the real you. I have turned you into something you aren't, I always thought you were something better.
So goodbye, you know who you are. I love you and wish you well, but my life will be better without you in it.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I wonder what it feels like to write again. What it feels like to WANT to write again.
Life is hard. And I don't mean the tragedies of life. Death, crime, violence, sickness, suffering and hunger. But the everyday. The mundane. The waking and the sleeping. The ruckus and the stillness. It is the day-to-day living that makes me feel like I'm just not going to make it. Make it to what, I'm not sure.
I'm glad I'm not sure anymore. Surety was certainly my downfall.
Life is hard. And I don't mean the tragedies of life. Death, crime, violence, sickness, suffering and hunger. But the everyday. The mundane. The waking and the sleeping. The ruckus and the stillness. It is the day-to-day living that makes me feel like I'm just not going to make it. Make it to what, I'm not sure.
I'm glad I'm not sure anymore. Surety was certainly my downfall.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Life's going on...
"Our youth is fleeting, old age is just around the bend, and I can't wait to go gray...." -Death Cab For CuteSo, I graduate in two weeks, as long as I can get all of my shit done. And there is A LOT of it. I have procrastinated like no other. But there are some things to look forward to. I'll list a few of them.
-I got into the IU School of Journalism Master's program. I'm starting in the fall and I got an assistantship to help pay for tuition, that's all I know. I'm completely pumped, and really intimidated at the same time.
-My sister is getting MARRIED in August and I'm her maid of honor, which I am completely excited about. She is so happy that I no longer feel like Jo March from Little Women. I guess it's okay that my sisters and I are growing up. Sometimes it is kind of fun.
-I am moving into my own apartment in less than a month. Yesterday, I bought a futon, and felt like a grown-up. But if I had really wanted to be an adult, I would have bought a full-blown couch. A futon is like the teenager of furniture.
-Reading, reading and more reading. I'm totally going to get a Bloomington library card. I love libraries... FREE BOOKS and FREE INTERNET. I have a running list in my head of books I need/want to check out. The first one I'm going to tackle is Les Miserables. I'm studying the French Revolution in my Early Modern Europe class.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Impressions and Loss
I was the freak, the alien at the table full of pretty faces. Plates of chicken were garnished with things I’d never thought I’d see paired with chicken. Like strawberries. And I was just sitting there, the quiet one for once in my life. Among news editors and other female interns who, amidst these unending minutes of small talk, were chomping at the bit to talk themselves up. Sarah, another intern, was always my ally at events like this. She was the one person in the roomful of strangers who knew me, and just knowing that she cared as little as I did made the afternoon bearable. With Sarah there, sitting at my right-hand side, I didn’t feel like I was selling just myself but this special duo of sorts. “The Sarahs from Huntington,” is what the head of internship program called us.
The pretty girls at my table could all speak Spanish, including Sarah. “The Hispanic population, especially in this state, is really taking off,” said Mayer Maloney, the friendly, yet ever-intimidating publisher of the newspaper where I had spent the last ten weeks trying to prove myself. “What language did you take in school?”
“Well, actually, I took two semesters of Hebrew,” I said, “like the kind in the Bible.”
My tendencies toward a well-rounded, liberal arts education had failed me in this moment. Mr. Maloney nodded like he was unsure of something; the glint I had seen in his eyes as he spoke to the other girls disappeared. Why had no one warned me that someday very important people would ask me which language I studied in college and if it wasn’t Spanish, points would be deducted from my score? What I was actually being scored for, I couldn’t be sure. Probably just the vague hope that one of these men would recognize the name at the top my resume in a year or two when it hit their desk. My future was in their hands, and I‘ve never been comfortable in a situation where I had to sell myself. I just wanted to jump out of my skin, like my own body was poisoned or on fire or both.
I sat stiffly at the table, conscious that any movement I made meant a wrinkle in my brand-new black cotton button-up and gray, knee-length skirt. I had this irrational notion that if I could just make it out of that restaurant without any wrinkles, I could chalk the day up as a success. I had lost all this weight during the summer, almost twenty pounds and I didn’t have any nice clothes that fit me. I’d gone to the mall the night before, and I stood looking at myself in the dressing room mirror. The blouse had two purposes. It worked for my luncheon, but I also knew that I would be wearing it to my grandmother’s funeral, and soon.
I couldn’t get the scene from a few days earlier out of my mind, at least the one I had put together for myself from the fragments of real information I was given. She was on the bed in her tatty sweatshirt and soiled underwear. Her thin, 80-pound frame sprawled across the faded pink comforter trimmed in worn lace. The stroke had left her there for dead. I had never thought about my grandmother changing her clothes before. There really isn‘t anything to think about, I guess. It is an automatic in life, something any capable person can do for themselves. And my grandma, who grew up during the depression and married just after the war, was nothing if not capable. She fed us homemade food even when it was a dying art, and gift-wrapped every present with care, signing each card and tag with “Love, Grandmother”--though not once have we called her anything but “Grandma.” She was old-fashioned, yes, but the most competent woman in existence. Yet, just two days before, she could not manage to clothe herself without having a stroke. My aunt and cousin walked in on her in the early afternoon, half-naked.
Her mind died first. She became a little actress to cover up the memory loss. She pretended, badly, I‘ll admit, to recognize me when I would make a visit. Still, she stayed alone in the farmhouse those seven years after Pop died, which I can only attribute to stubbornness. Grandma’s body began to diminish months before the infamous morning she stroked out.
The day of my internship luncheon, she had been in the hospital for less than a handful of days. My Mom had been several times to visit her. Though Grandma couldn’t speak, her eyes said everything as she laid there. She was ready to be done.
We were finished eating, and it was time for show and tell. It was perhaps more uninteresting than that, like a shortened “What I did over my summer vacation” presentation. It was my turn to stand and tell the room I told the fellow interns and publishers about Grant, the autistic boy-wonder I’d done a feature on. He drew beautiful cartoon animals that his mom printed on greeting cards and baby onesies. For the first time all afternoon--all week, really--I didn’t have to force a smile. It was my last genuine smile for days. I sat down and tried to keep my hands from shaking. As soon as the last intern was finished sharing their story, I excused myself to the bathroom, sneaking my purse under my arm, so that I could check the voicemail I had gotten during lunch. It was my dad. He wanted me to call him back right away. Shit. She was dead and I knew it.
The dessert had come while I was gone, and tried my best to engage in the social ritual. I was smiling and trying my best to be charming, as if it is something one can achieve by sheer concentration. It felt like someone had seared two pieces of string to my face, one on each corner of my mouth, and yanked them as far apart as they could. I couldn’t help but feel like a stage actress-- maybe like my grandmother had felt when I made visits--as I was trying to convince these professionals how happy I was to be at that restaurant with them instead of at the hospital with my mom and frail, dying grandma. How could I be thankful for the me opportunities that had kept me from visiting her the entire summer.
Now I just had to make it through the group picture; then I could head to the parking lot. My suspicion that my grandmother was gone had yet to be confirmed--but there is really only one thing Dad could be calling about, interrupting the most important lunch of my semi-adult life. “I just know he is calling to say she’s dead,” I said to Sarah as we got to my car. My hands are clammy and shaking more than when I had made my presentation back in the banquet room. It was August, but I was so cold. I got my phone out again. My dad answered on the home line right away.
“Well, Grandma died at about 11 this morning,” he said softly, skipping the traditional scripted phone-pleasantries.
“Uh-huh.” The only syllables that I could manage. One tear escaped and made its way to my tight lips, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of my lungs.
“Take some time before you get in your car,” Dad said. “ Don’t drive until you’re ready, okay?” Sure, Dad. Like I would ever be ready to drive home and face the realities awaiting me there. I said goodbye and hung up.
Sarah stood there with me for a few minutes. She gave a look that attempted sympathy but looked more like awkwardness. I went ahead and got in my car. After she pulled away in hers, I finally let myself go. My Grandma was dead. I cried there in my car, my face in my hands. My blouse and skirt were a wrinkled mess by this point. When I finally looked up, most of the cars in the lot were gone. The members of the press association had probably seen me there, wailing into the steering wheel of my Hyundai Sonata. There was finally a moment of honesty that afternoon, and I didn‘t feel embarrassed. I could only feel sad, and drive.
In my Hebrew courses we learned about something called “Shiva,” the Jewish tradition of intense mourning. For a week, the family of the deceased won’t change their clothes, read scripture, or perform any “normal” activities. They refuse to even sit in chairs, but use special stools so that they will be closer to the ground. And everyday for a year, they say a sacred, scripted prayer for the one they lost. At the time, I had a hard time seeing Shiva as a good thing; I had always respected the idea of putting on a brave face and moving past the sadness in life. Dwelling in loss and mourning felt like a contradiction to that. But now moving forward was the last thing on my mind; I wanted to take up residence in the sadness of my situation.
I got out on the interstate and started the hour and a half drive home. I refused to try to make myself feel better by thinking of the good moments I’d had with Grandma. There would be time later, probably sitting in the funeral parlor with my sisters, to take turns telling Grandma Alice stories. Mine was how she always ordered her favorite sandwich, a BLT, whenever we would play restaurant with a set of small, plastic dishes filled with empty thread spools we used for food. I knew when I got home I would have a lot to do, especially since my mother and big sister wouldn‘t be there. The funeral was two hours from home, and our pets would need to be fed while we were away. My sister Lauren would need help putting clothes together for the funeral services, then they’d undoubtedly need to be ironed. I couldn’t believe it, but I even had a newspaper article to finish and send to my editor for Sunday’s edition.
I needed my own sort of Shiva, just some time to myself so I could reflect on all that I had lost that afternoon. But I didn‘t have seven days, let alone two hours. The only thing I had was my drive home. I turned my cell phone off, and I got lost on purpose.
The pretty girls at my table could all speak Spanish, including Sarah. “The Hispanic population, especially in this state, is really taking off,” said Mayer Maloney, the friendly, yet ever-intimidating publisher of the newspaper where I had spent the last ten weeks trying to prove myself. “What language did you take in school?”
“Well, actually, I took two semesters of Hebrew,” I said, “like the kind in the Bible.”
My tendencies toward a well-rounded, liberal arts education had failed me in this moment. Mr. Maloney nodded like he was unsure of something; the glint I had seen in his eyes as he spoke to the other girls disappeared. Why had no one warned me that someday very important people would ask me which language I studied in college and if it wasn’t Spanish, points would be deducted from my score? What I was actually being scored for, I couldn’t be sure. Probably just the vague hope that one of these men would recognize the name at the top my resume in a year or two when it hit their desk. My future was in their hands, and I‘ve never been comfortable in a situation where I had to sell myself. I just wanted to jump out of my skin, like my own body was poisoned or on fire or both.
I sat stiffly at the table, conscious that any movement I made meant a wrinkle in my brand-new black cotton button-up and gray, knee-length skirt. I had this irrational notion that if I could just make it out of that restaurant without any wrinkles, I could chalk the day up as a success. I had lost all this weight during the summer, almost twenty pounds and I didn’t have any nice clothes that fit me. I’d gone to the mall the night before, and I stood looking at myself in the dressing room mirror. The blouse had two purposes. It worked for my luncheon, but I also knew that I would be wearing it to my grandmother’s funeral, and soon.
I couldn’t get the scene from a few days earlier out of my mind, at least the one I had put together for myself from the fragments of real information I was given. She was on the bed in her tatty sweatshirt and soiled underwear. Her thin, 80-pound frame sprawled across the faded pink comforter trimmed in worn lace. The stroke had left her there for dead. I had never thought about my grandmother changing her clothes before. There really isn‘t anything to think about, I guess. It is an automatic in life, something any capable person can do for themselves. And my grandma, who grew up during the depression and married just after the war, was nothing if not capable. She fed us homemade food even when it was a dying art, and gift-wrapped every present with care, signing each card and tag with “Love, Grandmother”--though not once have we called her anything but “Grandma.” She was old-fashioned, yes, but the most competent woman in existence. Yet, just two days before, she could not manage to clothe herself without having a stroke. My aunt and cousin walked in on her in the early afternoon, half-naked.
Her mind died first. She became a little actress to cover up the memory loss. She pretended, badly, I‘ll admit, to recognize me when I would make a visit. Still, she stayed alone in the farmhouse those seven years after Pop died, which I can only attribute to stubbornness. Grandma’s body began to diminish months before the infamous morning she stroked out.
The day of my internship luncheon, she had been in the hospital for less than a handful of days. My Mom had been several times to visit her. Though Grandma couldn’t speak, her eyes said everything as she laid there. She was ready to be done.
We were finished eating, and it was time for show and tell. It was perhaps more uninteresting than that, like a shortened “What I did over my summer vacation” presentation. It was my turn to stand and tell the room I told the fellow interns and publishers about Grant, the autistic boy-wonder I’d done a feature on. He drew beautiful cartoon animals that his mom printed on greeting cards and baby onesies. For the first time all afternoon--all week, really--I didn’t have to force a smile. It was my last genuine smile for days. I sat down and tried to keep my hands from shaking. As soon as the last intern was finished sharing their story, I excused myself to the bathroom, sneaking my purse under my arm, so that I could check the voicemail I had gotten during lunch. It was my dad. He wanted me to call him back right away. Shit. She was dead and I knew it.
The dessert had come while I was gone, and tried my best to engage in the social ritual. I was smiling and trying my best to be charming, as if it is something one can achieve by sheer concentration. It felt like someone had seared two pieces of string to my face, one on each corner of my mouth, and yanked them as far apart as they could. I couldn’t help but feel like a stage actress-- maybe like my grandmother had felt when I made visits--as I was trying to convince these professionals how happy I was to be at that restaurant with them instead of at the hospital with my mom and frail, dying grandma. How could I be thankful for the me opportunities that had kept me from visiting her the entire summer.
Now I just had to make it through the group picture; then I could head to the parking lot. My suspicion that my grandmother was gone had yet to be confirmed--but there is really only one thing Dad could be calling about, interrupting the most important lunch of my semi-adult life. “I just know he is calling to say she’s dead,” I said to Sarah as we got to my car. My hands are clammy and shaking more than when I had made my presentation back in the banquet room. It was August, but I was so cold. I got my phone out again. My dad answered on the home line right away.
“Well, Grandma died at about 11 this morning,” he said softly, skipping the traditional scripted phone-pleasantries.
“Uh-huh.” The only syllables that I could manage. One tear escaped and made its way to my tight lips, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of my lungs.
“Take some time before you get in your car,” Dad said. “ Don’t drive until you’re ready, okay?” Sure, Dad. Like I would ever be ready to drive home and face the realities awaiting me there. I said goodbye and hung up.
Sarah stood there with me for a few minutes. She gave a look that attempted sympathy but looked more like awkwardness. I went ahead and got in my car. After she pulled away in hers, I finally let myself go. My Grandma was dead. I cried there in my car, my face in my hands. My blouse and skirt were a wrinkled mess by this point. When I finally looked up, most of the cars in the lot were gone. The members of the press association had probably seen me there, wailing into the steering wheel of my Hyundai Sonata. There was finally a moment of honesty that afternoon, and I didn‘t feel embarrassed. I could only feel sad, and drive.
In my Hebrew courses we learned about something called “Shiva,” the Jewish tradition of intense mourning. For a week, the family of the deceased won’t change their clothes, read scripture, or perform any “normal” activities. They refuse to even sit in chairs, but use special stools so that they will be closer to the ground. And everyday for a year, they say a sacred, scripted prayer for the one they lost. At the time, I had a hard time seeing Shiva as a good thing; I had always respected the idea of putting on a brave face and moving past the sadness in life. Dwelling in loss and mourning felt like a contradiction to that. But now moving forward was the last thing on my mind; I wanted to take up residence in the sadness of my situation.
I got out on the interstate and started the hour and a half drive home. I refused to try to make myself feel better by thinking of the good moments I’d had with Grandma. There would be time later, probably sitting in the funeral parlor with my sisters, to take turns telling Grandma Alice stories. Mine was how she always ordered her favorite sandwich, a BLT, whenever we would play restaurant with a set of small, plastic dishes filled with empty thread spools we used for food. I knew when I got home I would have a lot to do, especially since my mother and big sister wouldn‘t be there. The funeral was two hours from home, and our pets would need to be fed while we were away. My sister Lauren would need help putting clothes together for the funeral services, then they’d undoubtedly need to be ironed. I couldn’t believe it, but I even had a newspaper article to finish and send to my editor for Sunday’s edition.
I needed my own sort of Shiva, just some time to myself so I could reflect on all that I had lost that afternoon. But I didn‘t have seven days, let alone two hours. The only thing I had was my drive home. I turned my cell phone off, and I got lost on purpose.
Monday, December 10, 2007
How did I get here?
As of Wednesday afternoon, when my last final is over, I will officially be one semester away from graduation...
That thought makes me want to freak out right now...but I still have to study for my two exams, there is not time for a freak out.
It's just... how did I get here? Really..
That thought makes me want to freak out right now...but I still have to study for my two exams, there is not time for a freak out.
It's just... how did I get here? Really..
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
When did life get so good?
The last week here at school has exceeded all of my expectations as far as being at Huntington goes. I mean, exceptionally good things have been happening to me.
Two weeks ago we had a chapel speaker worth listening to. First of all, he was a journalist, so I was pretty much interested right off the bat. But he came to talk about racial reconciliation and it was so, so good. At first, I was almost resentful of him coming. Whenever someone comes to my predominantly white, upper-middle-class college to talk about racism, I suspect the school invited him/her out of obligation. And even then, it is to puff us up about how far our actions and attitudes have come. "Look at me, my great-great whatever used to own slaves, and now we let minorities come to our school, sit in our churches, become fully integrated into our society..." But this particular speaker didn't come to make us feel good about our non-racist habits, but he shed some major light on how in our minds, integration really means assimilation. I loved how uncomfortable some his statements made me. I was second-guessing my own attitudes about minorities... It was so refreshing to be challenged in such a tangible way.
And then, that same week, we got word that last year's Huntingtonian placed first in its division in the best overall newspaper competition at the Baptist Press student journalism conference. I love affirmation... I'm pretty sure that it is my love language. Kind, encouraging words stick with me for a long time. And when they are accompanied by a trophy, I feel pretty good about myself, and my capabilities as an editor, and a journalist. Yay... the number of sleepless nights and members of administration that I alienated myself from were not in vain. So exciting.
And then this weekend, I got together with an amazing friend. I hadn't seen him in five years, but we've talked off and on throughout that time. It was just so good to get to talk for an extended period, and to get rid of all the awkwardness. We had such a good time walking down Massachusetts Ave. and getting pizza, then Starbucks. He's had a pretty rough year, and it's nice to see him doing so well finally. And I forgot how much we had in common, esp. when it comes to music... we walked into this store that had a lot of vinyl and it was fun thumbing through them and throwing band names back and forth, and just kind of remembering why we became friends in the first place. We've kind of been through a lot and it is just... refreshing to feel like I really have a friend again in my life.
That got a little mushy up there... I'm done now and must return to studying communication theory...
Two weeks ago we had a chapel speaker worth listening to. First of all, he was a journalist, so I was pretty much interested right off the bat. But he came to talk about racial reconciliation and it was so, so good. At first, I was almost resentful of him coming. Whenever someone comes to my predominantly white, upper-middle-class college to talk about racism, I suspect the school invited him/her out of obligation. And even then, it is to puff us up about how far our actions and attitudes have come. "Look at me, my great-great whatever used to own slaves, and now we let minorities come to our school, sit in our churches, become fully integrated into our society..." But this particular speaker didn't come to make us feel good about our non-racist habits, but he shed some major light on how in our minds, integration really means assimilation. I loved how uncomfortable some his statements made me. I was second-guessing my own attitudes about minorities... It was so refreshing to be challenged in such a tangible way.
And then, that same week, we got word that last year's Huntingtonian placed first in its division in the best overall newspaper competition at the Baptist Press student journalism conference. I love affirmation... I'm pretty sure that it is my love language. Kind, encouraging words stick with me for a long time. And when they are accompanied by a trophy, I feel pretty good about myself, and my capabilities as an editor, and a journalist. Yay... the number of sleepless nights and members of administration that I alienated myself from were not in vain. So exciting.
And then this weekend, I got together with an amazing friend. I hadn't seen him in five years, but we've talked off and on throughout that time. It was just so good to get to talk for an extended period, and to get rid of all the awkwardness. We had such a good time walking down Massachusetts Ave. and getting pizza, then Starbucks. He's had a pretty rough year, and it's nice to see him doing so well finally. And I forgot how much we had in common, esp. when it comes to music... we walked into this store that had a lot of vinyl and it was fun thumbing through them and throwing band names back and forth, and just kind of remembering why we became friends in the first place. We've kind of been through a lot and it is just... refreshing to feel like I really have a friend again in my life.
That got a little mushy up there... I'm done now and must return to studying communication theory...
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