You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘thoughts’ category.
My to-do list lately has looked a little something like this:
- Write 25 more articles for the real estate agent living in fantasy-land.
- Clean off desk in classroom.
- Wash enough underwear so you don’t have to wear the 2-year old and 3 sizes-too-small stuff at the bottom of the drawer.
- Catch up on detention list.
- Call people for addresses for sister-in-law’s baby shower.
- Crochet two rows on cousin’s baby’s blanket.
- Order take-out for dinner.
- Update resume and call principals at local schools.
- Buy gifts for cousins’ children.
- Write 25 more articles for real estate agent who thinks she has brilliant ideas.
- Design sister-in-law’s baby shower invitations.
- Make it to GRE test on time and score at least 1000.
- Count the change sitting in the computer fund can.
- Write analysis paper for grad school application.
- Make quilt for new neice.
Somewhere in here I am supposed to clean my house, which for the record, now has a 1/2 inch layer of dirt across the entire floor, this week’s entire work wardrobe spread across the dining room table, and all the forks in the house sitting dirty in the sink. I think I lost the cat somewhere in the stack of papers on my desk.
I guess you could say it’s a little chaotic, but this morning, at 11:46, I crossed one item off my list. As I drove away from the GRE testing center (with an acceptable score for grad school), my mind filled with far too many ideas. I’ve been so busy trying to keep up with mundane tasks, that I’ve pushed the creative endeavors to the side.
They immediately noticed the free space on my to-do list and moved right in. I was designing a summer dress, arranging for some photographs, and even putting together the “family history” wall in my hall way. My new business idea lobbied for a more prominent position. Book topics loomed.
It was an epic battle in my brain, and I couldn’t help but notice these ideas clinging to my leg as I desperately tried to shake them free. Creativity can be forceful when it wants to be. That’s why I am writing this instead of finishing my article about real estate marketing mistakes. Even with my to-do list, I’m still a slacker.
I was standing outside in the rain the other day thinking about why I keep a journal. Since I was thirteen, I’ve written rather irregularly in spiral notebooks, hardcover books, the inside of envelopes, and on various scraps of paper. My journals range from essays to poetry, and even some one liners. I thought it might be convenient to scan them all and store them on a USB drive. Well, this isn’t entirely true. I actually was thinking of how much more I would write if I could do so without the fear of someone reading my innermost thoughts and using it as evidence to have me committed to a “facility” for the rest of my life.
All this led me to some of the more interesting moments in my life. In my 30 years, I’ve managed to collect a wealth of stories that range from the absurd to the tragic and the brilliant to the insane. I’ve shared several stories with dear friends and a few strangers., but many of these stories are doomed to collect dust in my head. Unless, of course, I go ahead and start writing some novels as my therapist once suggested. (He is one of the rare souls who knows these stories and thinks they are perfect fodder for some fiction.) In the end, I couldn’t help but think of how much of life gets taken to the grave.
Having rambled on through my disclaimer, I’m now too tired to continue. So here is a poem I started writing about my stories.
My Stories
They are sensual and seedy.
Some are tragic.
Some are greedy.
They are a part of me.
They are thriving and thrilling.
Some are magic.
Some are silly.
They are a part of me.
Last night, I shut down the computer and put away some work that I needed to do just because my body felt tired. I put a clay mask on my face, slathered on some organic lavender body lotion and painted my nails with my OPI Strawberry Margherita nail polish while watching some Seinfeld. It felt heavenly (and my nails look great).
In my study on the life of Christ, I was impressed yesterday with just how much alone time Jesus spent. I’ve always known that he withdrew from the crowds and prayed, but I think it was more than that. Check out the other blog for more on that.
I think the lesson here is to drop everything sometimes. It may require a surgical removal of the computer and television and telephone and all my mini-projects. I need this time, no matter how brief (last night’s break was only 20 minutes) to renew myself
Do you ever wonder what $390,000 can buy you? Apparently, it will get you a 10-year old 1300 square foot mobile home, detached 2 car garage, above ground pool, and a pole barn on 5 fenced acres. The neighborhood is a lovely patch of resurrected swamp land that will surely send you flocking to the beach in the summer just to get away from the mosquitoes.
Do I sound jaded yet? Keep reading. I checked the tax records for this piece of property and discovered that the seller purchased the property recently for $78,000. It gets better. The just market value is $208,000. We all know this person got a deal when they bought this. Hooray for them!
Do we ever learn? I’m all for capitalism and free trade, but when did free trade become synonymous with screwing other people? Don’t get me wrong…go ahead and make as much money as you possibly can. But be fair. Be just. Be reasonable. (This is why I could never sell time shares or be a pharmaceutical rep.) It breaks my heart that we all seem to sacrifice our humanity for cash.
What are these people thinking? Who in their right mind would even think of placing an offer on this property? I can’t help but think back to the Florida land boom of the 1920s. People bought property in Florida (often sight unseen) on the belief that the value would go up and they would become rich. Most of them lost their shirts. Is it ever enough?
Women pretty much fall into one of three categories: Dominating Women [...You are weak and untrustworthy. I am strong. Let me lead and things will go fine...], Desolate Women [...Her heart is shut down. She hides behind her prayers and her 'good works of service'...], or Arousing Women [...A strong and self-confident woman, she is also soft and inviting...]. (from “Captivating” by John & Stasi Eldredge)
Who am I? Sometimes I’m not sure. For much of my life I’ve not been sure. I’ve covered the full spectrum and still haven’t found a safe place to land. I can’t help but wonder just where that safe place is. I’ve received too many mixed messages to figure it out.
I’m intelligent…then someone felt stupid because I used a *big* word or rambled on about the cosmic theory of the Black Death.
I’m beautiful…then someone pointed out the width of my nose and my crooked smile and my round heart-shaped face.
I’m passionate…then someone accused me of being a bitch for having an opposing opinion and being willing to stand up for it.
I’m kind…then someone took advantage of my kindness and it cost me far too much money for emotional bandages and body casts.
I’m creative…then someone got scared because my idea challenged what was established and comfortable.
Someone will undoubtedly point out that each of my examples relies far too heavily on someone else’s opinion. That’s true, and I wanted to make a point with that. I know who I am. I know the soul God instilled in me. I also believe that He created me *just like this* for a very specific reason. And although other people certainly have an affect on me, the far greater concern is that there’s always the chance that someone will find a negative spin on even my best qualities.
I’m still a little confused about just what a strong, self-confident, soft, and inviting woman looks like. Is her hair curled? Does she dress daily in shades of pink? How on earth would we know what she looks like? It’s like a really bad “Who’s on First” routine.
My experience tells me that when I’m strong, I find myself stuck with too many responsibilities and risk alienating people with both my competence and the effects of the added stress in my life. I’ve done self-confident and been blasted for my arrogance with too many, “Just who do you think you are walking around with your head held high like you think you’re better than me” speeches. Soft and inviting leaves me worn out, spread too thin, and walked on. So I dig deep to find strength to go on and the cycle starts all over again.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Is there really a way to win? Can I really be all that God has made me to be and find myself reveling in it? How do you respond to wounded people who lash out, especially when that person is a spouse or family member? How do you resist the overwhelming urge to pull away and hide the *pearls* of your soul from such a brutal world?
Here’s my little confession for the week: I LOVE techno music. I could so live in Germany just for the music. I’m addicted to the way the music’s pulse reverberates through my own veins. It’s an abstract art form springing to life within my own body. It’s also super-easy to dance to. All you have to do is stand there, close your eyes, and feel the pulse. Any left-footed white girl can find a groove. Really, it doesn’t matter what you do. Everyone on the dance floor does their own thing. Cathartic dance is liberating.
Last night, I was soaking up the strobe lights and floating disco stars on a revolving dance floor. It’s been a while since I’ve danced to techno music, and I was really savoring the sweet release of the moment. It was life in one of it’s purest forms right there. Lives collided with the humanities all at once. I love being willing to risk looking like a fool to enjoy my life, and I’ve always admired other people who can also do it.
I enjoy being out among people–on a dance floor, in an airport, waiting at a restaurant. Their mannerisms interest me, from the fights to the embraces. Last night, I was struck with the beauty of life in all it’s forms. We have moments of bliss. Of release. Of illness. Of sorrow. Of pain. Of anger. Though we prefer to live on the upside of the rollercoaster, the thrill isn’t complete without the dips and flips. My evening ended up as one of the most amazing, real life experiences I’ve ever known. I went from dancing in one of my favorite places to sitting on a carpet, crying and being vulnerable to another person to a degree I’ve reached few times in my life.
Life is beautiful…and messy…and amazing.
Do you ever feel like your life is a movie? I hope so because I certainly do, complete with an occasional out-of-body experience and a soundtrack. Right now, I hear Journey in the background and see myself out running each morning, conquering the evil vacuum cleaner, and throwing away my old flannel shirt.
The last few days were interesting. My husband and I had few good fights…and lots of laughs. I can’t help but think they were related. I know they are. The fights were about establishing boundaries. We finished our budget for June and updated our to do list. At the end of the day, he was completing something he had to have done, and I was working on final edits for my book.
I’m really proud of us. We looked at our situation together, set some goals, and we reached them. I’m really proud of him, too. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t stop until he’s completed what he had in mind. I love that tenacity. I guess that’s what makes us a good match. I see the big picture and the end result, while he tends to the finer details and drags me along to the finish line.
I’m still stunned by this. I guess it is actually possible that doing something to take care of ourselves is the motivation we need to be productive. Now I have this fabulous image of myself conquering my world. Adios body fat! Ciao credit card debt! Good riddance lazy writer! We’re not there yet, but I feel hopeful.
My school is the zoned school for our local children’s home. I actually tried to get a job there before I started teaching, but it wasn’t meant to be. Instead, I’ve worked with several of the kids in the classroom. They are interesting children from some challenging backgrounds. Some have been placed long-term by parents who could not or would not accept the responsibility of parenting. Others are there temporarily due to parental abuse or neglect or incarceration. Still more are living their lives in a group home, waiting for adoptions that may never happen because the parents wait too long to relinquish their rights.
It’s a rough life. Many of the children there have learning disabilities and emotional handicaps that impair their ability to function in society. They struggle with learning and practicing what most of us find routine and this results in a world where physical fights abound, the meal table is a battlefield, and the question, “Is it my turn to go home yet?” hover in the air. I cannot imagine the emotional pressure of living in this environment.
And yet, these children are in my mind tonight for a different reason. I know that local business and schools “adopt” the home by giving them food and toys and clothing. They wear name brand (albeit used) clothing, own Playstations and portable DVD players and MP3 players. I’ve watched groups go through and paint the walls and plant flowers in the front yard. Honestly, I was stunned to hear about all they have there…all but a chance at a regular family.
Look into their eyes and you see the longing and the desperation. It’s not an easy thing to walk in their shoes. We take for granted the little things that our parents taught us, like “cover your mouth when you cough” and “it’s not nice to stare.” The world is a little scarier when you don’t have someone there to tell you, “everyone feels this way at 13″ and “things will get better”. What do you cling to when your anchor is missing or gone?
And so they will drift. And we will throw more “things” at them because the world is imperfect and filled with opportunists and cowards. We’re too afraid of lawsuits and hurt feelings and protecting the rights of people who choose to be indifferent. And yes, I’m being judgmental because I’m sick and tired of hearing the whine, “Why didn’t anyone do anything?” The answer isn’t pretty…and we don’t like the ugly answers.
Please, hug your kids tonight. Tell them that you’re proud of the person they are and that you believe in them. There are too many children in this world who won’t have that opportunity today or tomorrow or next week. And it’s the most important “thing” we can possibly give them.
