eleven years

today marks eleven years since i started this little blog. it's unfathomable to think how far i've come in that time...how much about my life is so very different than it was then. at the same time, so many things are (for good and for bad) the same. i've had some lofty goals, you see, and very few of them have come to pass. i suppose that makes me a fickle soul...or maybe just someone who can't stay focused on one thing for very long.

actually, i think what it really is is that i have things i want to do, but i allow other stuff to get in the way. it's frustrating that i do this, to be sure, but one thing is true: i am farther down the road than i was back in 2002, and i shall not pass that way again....

once in awhile, i take some time to look back and lose myself in words i wrote years before, astonished at how much i need to hear them, even still today. they are gifts to me, reminders not to lose sight of what i hold dear...not to give up despite how hard things can be sometimes, or how much disappointment rears its ugly head. my past is a blessing to me, in spite of it all. it has made me stronger than i realized i was, and it consistently, gently reminds me of how fragile life is [read: don't take everything so seriously, sarah].

here's hoping that eleven years from now, i will look back on this day with a smile and say, 'oh, if you only knew that the very best thing was just around the corner. turn the page and keep reading, girl. it will get better.'

and dear reader, whether you're here for the first time, or the eleventh, or the hundredth, i hope you'll keep reading along with me. i want to know how this story ends....

sunday, not-so-fun day

i've made a decision: sunday is my least favorite day of the week. my bff and i were discussing this earlier today over lunch. and see, i actually LOVE sunday mornings (the brunching, the delicious sleep, the puttering about), but once noon/early afternoon hits, the all-too-familiar pit begins to form in my stomach. you know the one i mean—that sense of dread that accompanies thoughts of getting up to go to work on monday morning. and really, it isn't because i don't like my job. it's more about the fact that i have to have a job...that i am beholden to anyone or anything.... to make matters worse, even though i am closer to 40 than 30, the sunday night blues from my school days never really left me.

what i need, dear reader, is to win the lottery so that i can set my own schedule, be my own boss, and write my own story from minute to minute. it's not that i feel 'above' having to work, or that i wouldn't toil over something if i didn't have a job, but any such toiling would be over something (or somethings) that was on my own terms.... see? that's quite reasonable, isn't it?

i thought you'd think so.

'let the river run....'

last weekend, i traveled to the land of the great lakes (well, one of them) to see one of my most favorite people and her almost-9-month-old daughter. leaving my charming city was also on the agenda; i needed to get out of dodge for a few days to clear my head and go to a house in a remote location with a river lazily drifting by out back. a river, i might add, that was more than 3 feet above what it should normally be. this also meant that some fields...and front yards...looked like mini lakes. it also meant that the grasses were already lush and green with spring despite the snow that fell the night before i arrived.

i spent 2+ days in a house with the darling bebé, along with a sweet, huge yellow lab, a brand-spanking new golden puppy, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree (to say nothing of the mr. and mrs.). in the midst of this little family, making its way in the world, i was reminded of something: i am like that river, solitary and kind of mucked up and moving through life almost without even realizing it. no one depends on me for anything outside of work. i come home and i eat dinner (or not), wash dishes (or not), do laundry (or not), and talk to anyone (or no one) as i see fit. no one will die if i don't feed them. no one will object if there are socks on the floor of the living room. i have no one's mess to clean up but my own. and it's lonely. but it also can bring a measure of peace and calm.

that's the thing about life, i think: you have to find that balance between total independence/solitude and constantly surrounding yourself with other people/animals/things that need your attention. life on either end can be exhausting and make you feel like you're being sucked under by the currents, but if you can find that sweet spot in the middle, you can swim along happily for quite some time.

in the moments (few and far between as they may have been) i have been in that sweet spot, i feel the most like my pure self. there is a kind of sanctity in those times, and if i could bottle them up, i would. but the river of life continues to flow, and with it come the changing currents, the mud and sticks and other crap collected from distant shores, the knowledge that everything is temporary and what is good must be enjoyed now before it gets swept away in an instant.

now hear me: i'm not saying all of this to be negative. if anything, i feel encouraged and reminded that, to find that sweetest place in life, i must open up to the uncertainties...to what lies around that next bend in the river's path. i must continue to be vulnerable and to put my heart on the line for the things that i want. i must seek to avoid regret and invite the cleansing and renewal that new waters bring. it's not natural for me to do this, you see, but i figure if i'm going to conquer my own destiny and find the life i want, i have to plunge head-first into the rushing waters rather than simply allow life to float me along. and yes, that also means that the possibility of drowning is real, but i have those swimming lessons under my belt from 30+ years ago and just enough hope to keep me afloat. it's a start.

'[none of] my bags are packed; i'm ready to go....'

this weekend i will board a jet plane and leave my charming city for a couple of days. to say that i need this getaway is more than a bit of an understatement. and what's more, i'm going to spend time with one of my favorite people on this earth - and her wee little one.

most of the time, i'm all for facing troubles head-on, but sometimes what is required is departure. at least for a time. my stress built up for too long until i had a bit of a meltdown a few months back. since then, i'm trying to be more cognizant of the slippery slope that often means me sliding quickly into a place of muck and meh. i would prefer to keep my feet on steady ground and take care of myself, you know? i feel like i deserve to give myself at least that much.

so, in the interest of mental health and the aforementioned handling of problems, i've been trying to spend more time outside of my own head, open my heart a bit more, disconnect from the drama around me (because even though i loathe it, it is easy to let it affect you), and do things that i enjoy. novel concept, no?

and now what i know is this: in 2 short days, i will be face to face with a river, a baby, a soul sister, and a margarita machine. what more does a girl need? at this point, just clean laundry and a boarding pass. i think i can handle that.

neurotransmitters FTW!

some days, i'm just thankful to be alive to see some sort of resolution come to fruition. i mean, really. do you know how many loose ends are lying all over God's creation just waiting to be tied? it's staggering.

the last couple of days have been particularly stressful due to some conversation hanging in limbo and making me CRAZY. crazy, do you hear me? i do not do well with periods of radio silence or failure to come through and return a call. it does not sit easily in my little ocd heart and mind. no, instead i obsess and require myself to take melatonin (or something stronger, if need be) in order to sleep at night.

and speaking of melatonin, other than the fact that it gives me incredibly strange, almost hallucinogenic dreams, can i just say that i love how calm it makes me? how perfectly relaxed and carefree about most anything? as soon as a stressful thought enters into my mind, my brain will literally instruct me not to think about it, and i just drift peacefully off to sleep. brilliant! oh, how i wish i had thought of these little magic pills. i would be SO rich right about now!

and speaking of those beautiful little tablets, i'm going to take one post haste and drive myself straight to wacked-out dreamland. goodnight, internets!

boston

i am decidedly anti-news. my best friend considers herself a bit of a junkie on that front, but i do my best to avoid the daily influx of mostly useless information coming in from sources 'round the globe. when tragedy strikes, however, i tend to go the other way, finding myself all-too-sucked in by the constant stream of video after video, until i cannot do anything but dream the events through fitful nights of pseudo sleep. 9/11 was the most extreme case of this for me. for days on end, i did nothing but watch or listen to the news, unable to tear myself away from the television and the endless barrage of pain. after that event, i vowed to try and avoid such extreme behavior, in a somewhat futile attempt to protect myself.

what happened yesterday at the boston marathon is yet another reminder that life is a tenuous thing. we are clinging to the brink every day, and all it takes is one lunatic to change it all. in a situation like this, i really cannot avoid the stories, the pictures, the human side of the mess. it is the only thing real that unites us.

so with the others still clinging to the brink, i will do the only thing i know to do: pray for the lost, pray for their families, pray for all those affected by this event.

and my hope is that the lunatic will not win. that the runners' spirits will not be daunted in the face of this terrorist act. that hope will prevail. that real humanity will.

tweetin' ain't just for the internet

i'm not sure whether this is a new thing, or whether i haven't noticed this until just this past weekend, but there are some birds in the city that chirp/tweet/sing 24-7. seriously. these little guys (or gals) have been up at 3:00 a.m., 6:00 a.m., 8 p.m., etc. and i'm just wondering whether they're working in shifts or if they just never sleep.

i suppose this means that there is no rest for the weary, the wicked, OR the little birdies?

in any event, it's monday all over again. here's to hoping it ends better than it started...which, if i'm being honest, could apply to anything in life at any point in time. i just know one thing: if i were a bird, i'd be taking a nap right about now.

v-neck sunburn: a glimpse into something more

my life is, for all intents and purposes, rather boring and limited. i know that may sound like a really negative thing to say, but it's true. really, it is. i hardly leave town. i primarily visit only my 'typical' haunts (i.e., restaurants, stores, etc.), and my phone rarely rings (and when it does, it's often one of maybe three or four people). these days, anything outside of my usual routine feels extravagant, exciting, and/or downright scandalous! and, mind you, this is entirely the result of choices i have consistently made over, well...much of my life.

so yesterday, when i went out into the sunshine with some friends and came home with a slight sunburn, most of which can be found on the lower part of my forearms and on the front of my chest where my button-down shirt hadn't covered my skin, i felt downright rejuvenated. up for adventure. wishing i could do this kind of thing every day.

that's the thing about real life, isn't it? to suck the marrow out of it makes a person want to live even more. it has compounding effects. it is, in essence, the opposite of where i spend most of my time.

so really, i have nothing profound to say, except that i want to make different choices. here's a small hope, put out there into the void, that i will be able to do so. sunburns and all.

To have and to hold....

This morning found me at the funeral of the father of my high school best friend. I sat there in the church, hard pew beneath me, and thought about how time passes so quickly (truly) and how much I wish I had given less of a damn for so many years what others thought and had worried less about what ‘might’ happen if I had chosen my dreams over the safe path. But my road was my road. And my pain was my pain. It’s best, I think, to make peace with that while one can before half your life disappears out from under you. A hard truth to feel…more uncomfortable than the cushionless pew beneath me....

The service was a basic catholic Eucharist, and I managed to hold it together for much of it until the priest was wrapping up his homily. He recounted that toward the end of his life, my friend's dad was trying to communicate something to her mother, his wife of 43 years, but he was struggling to speak. When he finally got the message across, he repeated it to his bride, over and over: 'to have and to hold...to have and to hold....'

In his final breaths, it was the LOVE that mattered most. It was the love for her, for his family, that he wanted both to leave behind and to take with him into his final sleep. It was that love that, beyond the grave, left me in tears that still, hours later, continue to catch in my throat.

Days move quickly lately. Months slip past, almost unnoticeably. Years are gone in a matter of breaths. It is the LOVE that carries us through. It is the LOVE that makes the hard pew of life more bearable for one more day, one more hour, one more minute.

I don't know what to do with myself, half the time, but I do know what I want. I want the 'til death do us part kind of love. I want to make my peace with what still needs to be surfaced in my own life...to put to rest the things that are preventing me from living more deeply, from having what I want out of life.

And although I am sad that it was death that brought me to these thoughts this morning, I am profoundly grateful for the chance to redirect myself while there is still daylight to burn. It's life I'm after. It's love I want. It's continuous perspective I need. I'll take these gifts where I can get them. However they come, let them come.

walt whitman would be so proud....

this weekend has been quiet. not that i haven't listened to music, watched movies, etc., but i really haven't spoken to anyone (save the pizza delivery guy when he phoned to verify my apartment number last night). sometimes silence is the right choice.

i'm in a headspace right now that i would define as not entirely great. there's a lot going on, to be sure: some good, some not so good, and as i'm typing these words, i'm realizing that i'm not even sure how to articulate where i am.

but i can say this: i have been mostly head-down, nose to the grindstone for the last few years, and in being that way, i had shut off parts of myself for the sake of productivity [read: just to make it through the day, the week, the month]. and until recently, i kind of knew that, because every once in awhile, something would occur that would remind me of the rather empty interior life i'd been living. the light would go on for a few days and then shut back off again [read: again, survival mechanisms kicked in].

recently, however, an external force cracked a fissure in my armor, and the gap has been slowly widening. and with it has come some really good and happy feelings...a lot of hope, even. but then rushing behind all of that is everything i've been packing away and not giving air time to because, again, ijustneedtomakeitthroughtheday!

so i find myself here, in a place of true in-between, and it's a lonely place to be. i comfort myself a bit with the fact that it's likely no one is reading this, so maybe i can be a little bit honest for a minute....

i need a new daily life. i need to find a way to open the long-neglected closets and sweep away the dust that's been settling there for the last few years. i need the mental energy to be myself, to be creative, to cook and write and do the other things that feed my soul. i need to give hope the space it deserves in my life. and what's more, i need to start actually living that hope again.

so, maybe just saying it out loud will be enough (doesn't the internet count as 'out loud'?). silence may be golden, but in my life, what is more often called for is a barbaric yawp from the rooftops. so here, i am, world. hear this:

YAWP!

(and let it be so.)

anything could happen

no disrespect to ellie goulding's pop hit, but i don't get most of the lyrics. no matter, though, because the refrain rings true nevertheless.... "anything could happen."

if the last month of my life has taught me one thing, it is to listen to the voice inside that rises up over and over, telling you what is yes and what is no, guiding you to turn down one street and avoid another, and reminding you that the face you see in the mirror—while very much you—is only just a piece of who you are. it is quite easy to distract yourself from hearing it, because the world is filled with loud noises, internet feeds, and shiny baubles, but there is truth at the bottom of the can and it would do us all well to pour ourselves out and let it be what it is.

it might sound silly to mention this, but for the purposes of cataloguing my own existence, my ravens won the super bowl. yes, this is an exciting thing, and yes, it has been a long time coming. but what is even more miraculous about it is that my whole heart knew this would be the outcome. i do not take credit for this knowing, because it came fully from outside of myself, and yet that voice...it was that voice that told me to believe what i could not yet see and what most people said was impossible. and during every game, when things could have gone another way, i heard that voice coming out of my own mouth, proclaiming victory for my birds and, moreover, for this underdog city i hold dear.

and if this town, more than scruffy around the edges, known for the wire and an at-times hellish crime rate, can rise up and make a name for itself, surely i can as well, no?

this week, i found a fortune cookie in my car. not sure where it came from or how it got there, but its message was clear to me: "a dream you have will come true."

oh, if you only knew what dreams still lurked there, deep inside. if you only understood the precipice upon which i find myself standing, over and over, only to turn back around and head the other way because i'm afraid, or because i don't feel like i have any other options. i just can't do it this time, though. i have to turn my face to the wind and let myself be blown back, undaunted. the truth drives me into the unknown and gives me the faith to keep moving when hope seems farthest from me. in this vast world, with all its hurts and all its uncertainties, it is hope that reminds me that 'anything could happen. anything could happen. anything could happen. anything could happen. anything could happen....'

and there goes the little voice again....

Not Just Where You Hang Your Hat....

In my life, I have done very little traveling, and what traveling I have done has been mostly by car, up and down the East Coast. And though I want to see and taste and feel so much more of the world than that and am sure I have yet to see the most amazingly beautiful place I'll ever see, one of my favorite places in all of life is in the mountains in Centre County, Pennsylvania. For the first 20-some years of my life, my grandparents had a home up in those hills, and 150 acres of land to boot, with horses, pastures, gardens, and lots of open space to run and play. Those mountains were where I went to escape from the stresses of home life, to be myself, to sing at the top of my lungs while running through green fields, and to sit at the feet of my amazing grandparents whose wisdom and kindness refreshed and nurtured my little-kid heart.

Both of my grandparents are gone (grandpa in '97, grandma in '03), but those mountains still calm my blood whenever I see them, even from a distance. The winding roads bring back so many memories of summer afternoons on the way to a lake for a swim and picnic. The little farm houses tucked up on a hill might contain some distant cousin...some little old lady who has my grandmother's eyes. There's family there, still, both living and passed on. The little church down the hill from my grandparents' former house is a historical site in Pennsylvania, my grandmother having led the charge to restore the building when she was in her 70s (yes, the woman was up on scaffolding from early morning until the sun set each day, doing much of the work herself!). And next to the church is a cemetary in which those dear souls were laid to rest. It is appropriate, I think, that the mountains hold them now. So many salt-of-the-earth folks returning to the dust from which they came. It is the dust that I, too, hope to make my final resting place someday.

So, while I do not now, nor may I ever have a house or apartment in those Pennsylvania mountains, the hills and valleys hold some of my sweetest memories, my songs, my tears, my heart, much of my very childhood. And for that, they will always feel like home to me.

I am participating in Reverb Broads December 2012 writing project. Today's prompt: What is your favorite place in the world? What makes it so special? (via Kate)

holiday memories

as a child, i never ONCE sat on santa's lap or got my picture taken with him. why? because i thought he might abduct me. so here's a shout-out to my grandma (may she R.I.P.) for instilling in me a healthy (?) paranoia and/or right-off-the-bat suspicion of all strangers. especially those wearing costumes or waving from the fields outside a penitentiary. God, i miss that woman.

writing to reach you

it has been an age since i've put finger to keyboard and thrown my thoughts out into the void. but it's a friday night, i'm home alone (as usual), and something has compelled me to write. i was talking with a work friend earlier, and after a meeting about "important matters," we wound up getting into a conversation about things that really matter...specifically, the freedom in living outside of people's expectations. growing up, i cared deeply about what everyone thought. i cared so much, i was paralyzed by too much fear to do most things. i was worried about whether i'd get teased, or whether i'd get shamed, or whether i'd get in trouble, or whether someone would stop loving me if i messed up. honestly, it was just exhausting. in my 20s, i did a lot of soul searching, of tearing down and rebuilding, of breaking free and walking down new roads. my 30s have been about carving out space for myself, pursuing my interests, furthering my education, and drawing lines in the sand. and believe me when i say, that's been so freeing for me, in so many ways. i have made a life for myself that i wouldn't have imagined 10 years ago. and yet, in the midst of my carving, i may have closed myself off a bit to things that i never intended to...throwing the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. so here i am, a month before a new year begins, and i'm feeling the need to reconnect to something. maybe even to someone. i've missed writing. i've missed listening to music and digging in deeper. i've continued to let work consume me for the better part of two years, and even though i keep promising myself i won't do that anymore, i still do. now, having said that, i'm not trying to please anyone here. this isn't about performance or approvals or anything of that nature. this is about getting in touch. with me. with you. so that's it. i'll try to write more. i want to do it. let's see if i can....

the hush of a turned page, the beating of my heart

i have decided that this is the summer of reading and daydreaming. okay, maybe more reading than daydreaming, if i'm being honest, because i don't know that i have much whimsy winding through my cardiovasculars just now. but reading? reading i can get into. good prose takes me to a happy place. even though my eyes get tired and i stay up WAY too late on most weeknights, i find my creativity returning to me. and that makes it entirely worth it. right now, i'm about 10 pages away from finishing a fantastic book by tiffanie debartolo called 'how to kill a rockstar.' her first novel, 'god-shaped hole,' devastated me when i read it in the early 2000s. i mean, it completely broke my heart and i walked around in some type of stupor for several days, unable to handle what leapt up off the page at me and choked tears out of my eyes. there are some books that i just devour, and both of debartolo's books fit that bill most appropriately. so much so that when i tear myself away at the end of a chapter, i feel my pulse racing a little, wondering what's going to happen next. and the characters' angst? i connect with it, deep in my bones. seriously, as i'm typing this, i'm realizing that although i live much of my life in a very cerebral place, how can i deny that i'm anything other than a total romantic? and when i close this book, i have many more waiting in bags lying about my living room (either from my latest trip to the used bookstore or my jaunt over to the huge, old library less than 2 blocks from my downtown apartment), ready to take me on my next emotional rollercoaster. in the absence of male companionship this summer, these books have become my lovers. i take them to bed. i think about them while i'm at work in a particularly long meeting. i avoid answering the phone in the evening just so i can soak up one more page, one more chapter. they are what quicken my breath. they are what trouble my soul. they are what calm me and bring me back to life when i'm feeling particularly blah. and if i play my cards just right, maybe they will be my muse and lead me to pick up my own pen again....

cold showers: not just for the lust-ridden anymore

apparently here in charm city, we skipped winter and spring and went straight for 'how the hell did it get this hot?' we're over-achievers like that, i guess.

this time of year, i look forward to the slightly warmer days and cool nights. the breeze tends to blow, making me feel like anything is possible, even for me. this year? notsomuch.

instead we've had haze, fog, humidity, temps in the upper 70s to mid-80s, and for me—a girl without a/c until her building decides to fork it over—that has meant a lot of guzzling ice water, eating creamsicles, and taking showers with barely any hot water mixed in. y'all, i don't love heat, and i feel that it doesn't love me either.

all of this lack of control over my surrounding temps has made me want to move out of this apartment and into someplace that gives me dominion over my climate. yes, that's what i need: full control!!

i wish i could say that my less-than-hot bath water was because i was all ruffled under the collar, but no. this is a dose of heat and hot without any sizzle and burn to accompany it.

boo! hiss!

ringing out, ringing in....

so my attempts at writing every day in december fell flat on their collective face; HOWEVER, i'm proud of myself for even trying...and isn't that all that really matters?

it's an hour and ten minutes from the new year and i'm so damn thankful to say goodbye to 2011. this year, while a blessing in the sense that it was another 365 days around the sun that i spent above ground, was taxing, tiring, tremendously tense, and a few other 't' words i can't think of just now. i need a new frame of reference, and i'm hoping 2012 can be just the change i'm in the market for.

while i can't recap most of what was difficult for me this year (this is a public blog, after all), let's just say that i'm glad i ended it with my best friend in the world. we spent the day just as girlfriends should: brunching, shopping, laughing our asses off, singing random songs, driving around town, watching movies, talking about men-people, and just getting to enjoy each other's company. i am so thankful that regardless of what kind of madness comes my way, i have someone in my life who's always on my side, always got my back, always the keeper of the things i hold dear. there is nothing in all the world like a true friend...and i'm just so fortunate to have a few to call my own.

in the coming year, i want to dig deeper into my relationships (the ones i've had to shelve for the sake of my busy-ness), pursue my creative leanings, make more time for true rest (not the counterfeit version i've been trying on for size), drink more water, eat better, and turn off the devices a bit more often. i want to carve out a new path for myself...one that means me getting to be happy and to live some of the dreams i'm still holding out for 'someday.' someday is now. someday is 2012. day one starts in an hour, and how shall i spend it?

first, i intend to get up at a reasonable hour. then, i'm going to go see my favorite almost-one-year-old and his phenomenal parents. i'm going to soak in the love of people i hold dear to me. and then i will get out all my pent-up aggression while watching my favorite football team kick the collective bee-hind of the cincinnati bengals (Lord, let it be so). i will have madcap fun with my bff. i will think positive thoughts and make grandiose plans. i will not regret one moment.

and then the next day, and the day after that, i will make every effort to taste the sweetness of what is in front of me. this past year may have left a bad taste in my mouth, but the coming year will be delicious. i just know it....

[note: if you've intentionally or unintentionally found your way here—and whether you know me personally or not—my hope for YOU is that 2012 brings you all the joy and laughter and love your heart can hold. may you be overwhelmed by all that is good and lovely in this world of ours. and then may you share that goodness and loveliness with someone next to you who needs a little of it. happy new year. today and every day.]

today's prompt: what is your "one word"? One word for this year, one word for next year—courtesy of Amy.

the book shelf

friday's prompt (i'm running behind): What was your favorite children's book? —courtesy of Niki

when i was little, i didn't have a boatload of fancy, brand-name toys and trinkets (no barbie dream house for me, folks!), but what i did have, i had in spades. like my father, consumer of all things literary, i had a shelf (or two, eventually) packed full of books.

for one thing, i learned to read when i was 3, so my voracious kid-brain started devouring stories as soon as i knew what they were. also, my dad read to me practically every night (even long after i could read for myself)...it was our little ritual. sometimes i would spend what seemed like hours in my room, just reading and re-reading the books from my shelf. some were brand new, many were hand-me-downs from my sister, but i didn't care. i loved them all. the pictures, the smells, the feel of the pages beneath my fingers. i would sometimes bring a flashlight to bed so i could stay up as late as possible to keep the magic of a story alive.

to add beauty upon beauty, my aunt was a librarian and would often send some lovely book to me for christmas, signed by the author and/or illustrator (i thought this was magical somehow, never once considering that she probably had to attend some library conferences for work). i still have all those treasured gifts stored in boxes, along with a few dozen other books that just meant the world to me: where the wild things are, bread and jam for frances, the little bear series, the very hungry caterpillar, anything by dr. seuss...the list goes on and on.

even now, when i'm feeling particularly blah, i'll go into the bottom of my closet and open those boxes, look at all the familiar faces and stories, remember writing my name on the inside covers (sometimes in crayon), and get swept away once again in the magic and adventure of the stories they contain. those books kept me busy on rainy days. they taught me lessons about how to treat other people. they opened my imagination and sparked my creativity. and they are the reason i learned to love words.

so, yeah. if i had to pick a favorite? i'm going with the whole shelf:)

mom, jr.

i've done a lot of soul searching and self-examination in my adult years, and one of the many conclusions to which i have arrived with little to no effort is this: the apple does not, in fact, fall far from the tree.

as a kid, i always remember my mother wearing high-heeled pumps and suits and going off to work early in the morning and coming home long after dinner was done. she put in hours over the weekend. she worked on family holidays at my grandparents' house. and she talked about work (and the people at work) constantly. these things drove me batty as a child, when my one and only wish in all the world was for someone to take me to disney world and pay attention to me, for God's sake. i promised that i wouldn't ever be shackled to my job when i grew up, and i'm generally happy to say that, except for the last 12 to 18 months of my life, that's been true for me.

but more than the workaholic i knew and loved as a child, my mother was (and is, and ever shall be) someone who got things done. she took charge, she rallied troops, and people generally followed suit (often so relieved that someone was willing to take the reins). she has always been able to pack a suitcase like a champ, figure out how to jerry-rig a sagging curtain rod (with fishing line, tied to a heating vent!), iron some complicated garment with precision, sew a costume, and can help you pick some good stocks, write a killer resume, and rearrange your whole apartment in a matter of days. she is a workhorse. she is relentless. she is a chip off the old block (the old block being my grandmother, a 4'11" spitfire named sarah).

and who am i? um, pretty much someone following in many of this woman's (and the woman before her's) footsteps. i am pushy. i will follow up until action is taken. i see things through to completion. i always carry tissues in my purse in case of allergies.

but we're not entirely the same, you see. i am definitely less orderly in my life. and for years, i was embarrassed by my mother's diligence (especially when it involved her confronting someone in public - the humiliation!), but i have gotten to be not only like her in that way but even more so. during one particular incident in a video store a number of years back, i was confronting the manager about the store's horrid customer service and the fact that they were accusing me of stealing some ridiculous movie. after a particularly long string of rebuttals and announcements about the abject unrighteousness of the situation, my mother took my elbow and quietly said, 'i think you should back down now.'

i looked at her with something resembling horror. 'what?!' i said. 'do you even know whose daughter i am?'

and, dear reader, it should come as no shock to you that i pushed that man until i got back the store cred i deserved. it was only fair, really...the right thing to do! :)

in all seriousness, people love my mother. she is a guru of all things HR and has helped a lot of people in her day. but she's also the kind of person who will say a kind word to someone no one else pays attention to. she takes communion to shut-ins. she has been a huge advocate for a number of her elderly friends (sometimes right up to the very end of their lives) who needed someone to be there for them. and she has rescued (literally) family members from situations that would have destroyed them if she had not stepped in.

also, she does not back down from a challenge, even if that challenge is to have a relationship with me. and ours has taken time and patience and effort to get it to where it is now. i love that. my mom understands that things worth having are worth working for, just like any job or opportunity in life. and my mother has proven herself to be relentless in these things as well. i am more than glad to be called hers...and to call her mine.

and yes, i may be pushy as heck, but can you blame me? i'm the apple, remember? those seeds were planted early on!

sunday's prompt: How are you like your mother? And if you're a mother, how is/are your kid(s) like you? —courtesy of Jessica

just write

i still remember the first day i learned what a blog was. it was back in april of 2002. i was in the midst of clawing my way out of arguably the darkest place i'd ever been in and, on top of it, i had a lot of time on my hands. my dear friend tim had started this 'blog' thing (and at the time, i was in the habit of searching for friends of mine on the internet to see if there was anything to see), and i found it and started reading. then i clicked a few more links and, the next thing i knew, i had fallen down a rabbit hole straight into the blogosphere.

i knew almost immediately that i was hooked...and i just had to start one of these blogs for myself. i mean, what a great way to share all your random musings with the great unknown. what a great way to be 'heard,' even if no one ever saw anything i posted. (if someone writes on their blog and there's no one around to read it, does it make a 'sound'?) i didn't care one bit. the promise of the experience was too tempting....

i quickly discovered that my blog wasn't salacious enough to garner thousands of readers...which is fine, really. i don't need recognition to keep writing. Lord knows if i did, i would have stopped years ago. but it was enough to make ME feel better. it was therapy for my weary soul, and boy did i ever need it.

from that first day, april 29, 2002, i just kept writing whenever i felt like it...sometimes multiple times a day. i wrote about dreams i from the night before, things i made for dinner (not much has changed), moments of stillness and calm with God in the midst of utter chaos, wishes for my future self, reflections on my early life, letters i would never send, etc. it was just me, out there for all the world to see, but it was my eyes that needed to read the words.

every few months, i would go back and read where i had been and how far had i had come (or not, as the case may have been). i would learn from my own reflections, realize how prayer and meditation and good honest work had changed my heart and my perspectives on things. i had created a series of milestones for myself. and the looking back healed the me i was becoming.

it's been almost 10 years since it all began, and although few and far between, i've had others come to me...some friends, some strangers...and share how my words, my pain, my triumphs have helped them to see themselves—and God, life, etc.—more clearly. i've made some friends through the experience. i've learned about other people i might never have known. but i've also cleaned out the closets in my heart and kept my own inner hopeful writer alive. history really is the best teacher, and as much as i've grown and changed, i don't ever want to leave all this behind. i have so much more to learn.

Today's prompt: Why blog? Why do you or why do you like to blog (recognizing that these are not always the same thing)?—courtesy of Kristen