Happy

Day Two

2011-09-08T20:04:00.002-05:00

Today was a hard day and today was a good day. She was having a lot of trouble with bladder pain and she cried a lot, but she also stood up for the first time, with help of course. They took a urine sample and we should know by tomorrow at the latest, if she has a bladder infection. I was having a tough time with Toelle's concept of "complete acceptance of what is" in regards to this. She had the breathing tube in for so long that she developed pneumonia. She has had severe diarrhea. She has always had great trouble with back pain and after lying in bed for two weeks she moans all day and shifts around trying to get comfortable to no avail. And now her bladder. She just can't seem to win. She is already struggling trying to understand what is happening to her, trying communicate with us, feeling afraid and confused. I want to scream "Please God help her to feel comfortable!" I was able to stay in the room today during her physical therapy session. It was incredible to watch, to say the least. She lost her focus on and off throughout the session, but they did a remarkable job keeping her on track. She followed many of commands, but she is still not following them consistently which is why she will go to sub-acute rehab as opposed to acute and stay at Sparrow (unless we choose to send her to Origami - if Mom and Dad's insurance will cover it). When she would lose focus and they would get her attention again, she would sit straight up, say "Oooo kay", and put all of her attention on them with this determined look in her eyes that said "I am going to do this...I CAN do this". Sometimes she was able to do it and sometimes not, but it was a wonderful feeling to see that determination in her eyes. Watching her stand was a remarkable feeling as well. I can only imagine how good it felt after lying in that bed for so long. She was doing so well that her weepiness took my by surprise. Today was, by far, the hardest she's cried. She told us over and over again that she was so afraid and scared. We kept telling her everything is going to be OK, that this is only temporary, but she was having a tough time fighting the tears. At one point she said "I'm sorry, Lori, I'm so sorry" and my heart could hardly take it. Of course I told her there was nothing to be sorry for and that she was doing so well and would continue to get better every single day, but she couldn't shake it. Finally she stopped, took a deep breath, sighed it out, and gave us a look that said nothing short of "I will fight this and I will win." It was an incredible moment. Later she pumped her first, determined and said "I'm going to chop the process". She was able to maintain that for awhile, but by the end of the day she was just so tired. She needed to sleep, but stayed awake for a long time struggling to talk to us and getting frustrated because we didn't understand. Her aphasia is always worse when she is tired. To say it was difficult to watch, is an understatement. But still, it was a good day. A week ago she was lying in bed with the breathing tube in and would only open her eyes for a moment or two, let alone move the right side of her body. Today she got out of bed and stood up. I think today she was the most articulate she's been so far. I had been talking to Dad about ordering some dinner, but I kept putting it off. About an hour passed and I still hadn't called to place the order and out of the blue Mom said "Lori, order your dinner." At the end of the day, when she finally laid down to go to sleep, I was sitting by her side and she reached over to brush my hair away from my face and said something that clearly meant I should go home and get some sleep, even though I couldn't quite make out the words. I think my favorite moment was when I started to sing "Once there was a little old ant..." and she said "Nah, screw it, screw the ant". I asked her "Screw the ant, huh? You're going to do better than the ant? You're going to kick the ant's butt?" "Yeah" she said. It was so cute. I am pretty sure that she is the cutest, sweetest thing I've ever seen.

Day One

2011-09-08T09:38:00.007-05:00

Hemorrhagic Stroke
Cerebral Amyloid Angiopathy
Global Aphasia

It's hard to believe that two weeks ago these were words that would never even cross my mind, and now they are all I can think about. I can hardly believe that exactly two weeks ago today, at this time, I was standing at my mother's side in the emergency room at Sparrow hospital, watching as she suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. I can't really describe what I was thinking, what was going through my mind. I didn't have time to think as it was all happening so fast. It's funny how sometimes you just know something isn't right. Even though I wanted to believe it was a migraine or a pinched nerve, deep down I knew what it really was. She knew too. She told me in the car on the way to the hospital. "I have a brain aneurysm", she said, "I think I am having a stroke". Even though I was very calm on the outside, I was shaking with fear on the inside. Somehow, I think I was more afraid than she was. She told me "It's OK. If I'm going, I am in the hands of God". In the hands of God. I believe, more than I ever thought I could, that my mother was and is still now, in the hands of God. Everything progressed pretty quickly. One minute she was able to talk, to communicate with the doctors and nurses, to follow commands, to know who I was. The next minute she forgot where she was, had difficulty understanding what she was being asked to do, and had trouble getting her thoughts out. I remember distinctly the moment I realized she could understand, but couldn't say it. I asked her to say my name. "ooo eee...oo eeee", then a sigh and a drop of the head. I said to her "It's frustrating, isn't it Mom?" and she replied "Yes, yes it is." When Dad arrived, she knew instantly it was him. She turned to him, smiled, and said "Hi". I asked her "Can you say our names?" and she replied, after concentrating and struggling, "It's a secret agreement". When her friend Barb was standing by her side she clearly was trying to share a thought with her. She took her time, thought hard, and said "It came upon me like a possum". It's funny how I felt like I knew just what she meant. I responded, "It happened all of a sudden? Is that what you mean, Mom?" She said yes, it was what she meant. There's no way to know if that really is what she meant. It is frustrating and painful to watch someone you love struggle to communicate with you. In just two weeks time, however, she is alive and awake and trying to communicate. That in itself is remarkable and so I'll take it. For now. We have done a lot of waiting. Waiting for her to make it through brain surgery alive. She did. Waiting for her to wake up. She did. Waiting for the breathing tube to come out so she can breathe on her own. She is. Waiting for her to move the right side of her body. She has. And waiting for her to talk to us. Boy is she ever. When she is awake, that is all she does. That mind of hers is working non-stop to figure things out. She started speaking less than a week ago and she can already say all of our names and tell us that she loves us. It comes and goes, sure. There are moments when we aren't certain that she knows who we are and when we get no response to "I love you Mom", but there are also many moments where we do. The swelling is completely gone in her right hand. She can lift it all the way to her chest and she can move her fingers. She sings with me a lot. Sometimes she can say a few of the right words and sometimes not. Sometimes she will sing on her own, her own version of "This Little Light of Mine": "Me oh ine...I oh my ine". Listening to her sing is one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard. She says a lot of things that we simply just don't understand. Sometimes she answers "no" to a question and then will turn around and answer "yes", and sometimes it is so clear to us that she has understood. At times, she will speak perfectly clear, letting us know she wants to sit up or is tired or her back hurts. At times, we have no idea what she is trying to say and it breaks our hearts to watch her struggle. She will burst out with perfectly clear sentences like "Dag Gummit" (one of her favorites) or "I am pissed!" or "Dang it, Gerald!" or "No, Lori, I want up" and will turn around and will say things that make absolutely no sense like she did in the emergency room that day. And oh man, she will say things that make us laugh. Yesterday when my brother was talking to Samuel and said "Grandma" she said "No grandma! Nana!" We all burst out laughing. The boys have never called her grandma and apparently she likes it that way. She will tell us she'll get better and agree with us when we say everything will be OK, and there are times when she will weep and shake her head "No!" in fear when we tell her this is only temporary. One minute we are hopeful, the next fearful. Each hour is filled with ups and downs. Yesterday, when I first arrived, she didn't react much when she saw me. She was sitting up in the chair; back hurting and determined to stand up. She was playing with the blanket, curious and confused, and I didn't understand most of what she said. We took her down the hall to look out the window and she cried when we told her she was strong, and a fighter, and that every day she was getting better. By the time we had gotten back to the room she was already saying all of our names. I showed her the cards the boys made for her and it really seemed like she understood. Later, my sister brought the boys in, and her whole face lit up. When they said their good byes and hugged her, she put her arms around them and said "Oh Sweetie, I love you too" and kissed the top of their heads. It was the most beautiful moment of my life. We met two speech therapists yesterday who will be helping her with her aphasia. I was comforted by their determination. I have been a bit ashamed that I have allowed myself to feel defeated at times. Going back to work, having more time away, has made me more fearful. Meeting the speech therapists and knowing they will do all they can, that they will fight and won't give up, has made me more determined. They say that after a year you own your injury and we will never get her back 100%. Well then, for the next 365 days we will fight for 99%. I miss her. It's hard to believe you can miss someone so much when they are sitting right in front of you. I have learned a lot about life in the last several years. The most significant thing I've learned is how essential it is to live in the moment. Not just when life is going just as you hoped it would, but even more so when you're going through the toughest time in your life. When I sit by her side, I will be present with her in that moment. I won't think about the way she was or what she will be. I will simply cherish who she is at that moment. This is what will allow me to celebrate every teeny tiny baby step. This is what will allow me to remain hopeful. I will fill each moment with prayers and hope and light and love. And I'll do it one moment at a time. Even if every moment feels like an eternity.

I like that.

2010-03-23T09:26:00.005-05:00

I like the color peach even though it does nothing for my skin tone. I like the sound it makes when leather and skin meet, as you slip on a high heel. And I like that I wear them even though they hurt my feet. I don't mind cloudy days, or snowy or rainy days; they just make me appreciate things that are far beyond my simple mind, like the change of seasons, the grass and trees, the rain, wind, snow, and sky above me. And I don't care if I should or shouldn't have started this sentence with an "and" or if the use of a semi-colon in the previous sentence was considered incorrect grammer. Or if it had too many commas. I just love words and how neat, yeah NEAT, super cool, it is to watch them move around, shift to the right or left, or in replace of one another, to express and communicate a thought or a feeling. I like the picture I took recently of a glass bluebird of happiness sitting on a window sill, looking out through a heart-shaped-condensation-streaked window at a lightly brushed snowy ground on the first day of spring. It is my "favorite picture I've ever taken" and yes, I have many of these and will have many more, all at the same time, which really isn't possible, but that's ok by me. When I like something, really like something, I say it is my favorite because I am someone who feels things with such an intensity that I'll just burst if it doesn't find a way out. So it's "my favorite" and "the best ever" and "I just love this or that or him or her so much". And I like that. I like that I tell people how I feel; that I am not afraid to tell someone that I like their shirt, ask them if they are ok today, let them know I was thinking about them, tell them that I love them or just how wonderful they made me feel. And that I choose to say bold things, things that are scary, things that people tend to think are "too weird" or "unnecessary". And I like that I think about what I've said and wonder sometimes if it was ok that I did; it means that I care about people's feelings and consider them. All the time. And I like that. I like that although I promised myself I wouldn't buy another white shirt because I have far too many already, that I bought one anyway just because it has butterfiles on it, they were pretty, and putting it on made me feel pretty. I like that I don't just listen to music. I think about the words; look them up, memorize them, and think about what they mean. And that when I listen to a song I love I want to share it with others, send them the words so they'll know just why "it's my favorite song" or why I thought it was something that might speak to them. I like how close I am to my family. I like shades of blue and peach, but mostly white and grey and beige. I like that I love scary movies, but I close my eyes during the gorey parts and fall asleep before the end. I like the smell of clothes that just came out of the dryer. I like cheap, tacky earrings, leather bracelets, and wearing a lot of mascara. I like sweat pants, wearing my hair in a ponytail, wearing yesterday's make up or no make up at all. I like that I say "I did it" when I accomplished a fairly-difficult task, and that I say it outloud to myself and to strangers. I like the sound of my nephews laughing. I like the look on my neice's face, when we haven't seen each other in awhile, as she walks through the door and catches my eye. I like walking, exercising, eating healthy, drinking water, and getting enough sleep. I like sitting, watching movies or tv, being lazy, eating burgers and fries, drinking beer, and staying up too late. I like my cats. I like the outdoors, swimming, camping, hiking, riding my bike. I like video games, card games, board games. I like challenging myself, every day, to be a better person. I like who I was, who I am, and who I will be. And I like that I don't just like all of these things - I love them with every fiber of my being.

Christmas On the Couch

2009-12-30T22:33:00.003-05:00

I have been sitting on the couch a lot lately. Practically all day long for the last nine days, to be exact. This is not my usual choice of activity. I have often found myself saying to others that I am a reasonably active person who does not like to sit on the couch for too long; someone who finds a lot of joy in walking, doing something active with my time, being up and on my feet out there enjoying the world. I would hear myself say that and think it a bit too "sef-aware" and probably not quite as true as I thought. Having surgery has proven me wrong. I am longing for something to do...on my feet. I want to go for a walk, to reorganize my bedroom, to work out, to go into town and take my time picking out my groceries, find a good movie to rent, anything really. I am recovering well, but it's tough to sit and sit, get up for a bit and then...sit. Although it may feel like a slow process as soon as I know it I will be up and out and about.

Christmas was interesting. I sat on the couch in the livingroom the whole time. I found this to be tough mainly during meal-time. It was a bit of a downer to sit in the other room and hear them all in the kitchen holding hands and saying grace together. At the same time, though, there was something to be said about sitting on the sidelines; to have the opportunity to see things from a different perspective. I saw a big, loud, expressive, interesting, and fun group of people laughing, loving, and enjoying one another. It was a good feeling. A really good feeling. I watched my almost 3 yr old nephew Samuel run back and forth and back and forth from the play room to the living room saying "Help me! Jeffey chasing me! Help me! Monster House scary!" I saw everyone helping each other cook, getting each other drinks, hugging, talking, and just being together. I watched my nephews playing with their new toys absorbed in the magical world of their imagination. I saw my neice sit in her own little corner and read a book from start to finish in a day or two like she loves to do, but doesn't always get the chance to because she works so hard in school. I loved just sitting back and watching. One by one, in their own tme, they would come up to me and ask how I was, if I needed anything, how I was feeling, or just to talk and spend some time with me. Johnny came up to me at one point and asked me why the dr's "cut me". I explained about the tumors and how they had to take them out of my uterus and asked him if he knew what a uterus was. Naturally he said no so I briefly explained it's purpose. His response? "Will you still be able to have babies Auntie?" I told him that was my hope. He said he hoped so too. He hoped I would have a baby some day so he could play with it and that it would be the smallest baby he had ever seen. How sweet; how heart-breakingly sweet. The boys were so careful with me and gentle. They would give me a kiss and tell me they loved me and then just stare at me for a bit with a pained expression as they looked down at my tummy. What loving, sweet little boys. I sat there watching them play and laugh and run around the house and couldn't believe how much they have grown. They really do grow up so fast and I feel glad that I had the chance to just sit back and watch. Normally I am a bit quieter than the rest of the family, more of an outsider. But this was the first time that I truly "sat out", the first time I just listened and took them all in with nothing but appreciation in my heart. I simply let them be. And although I was hurting and tired and wishing I could get up and get in the thick of it, I am thankful I got the chance not to. It was a Christmas I will never forget.

Maybe just poke them with kindness...

2009-11-18T08:31:00.007-05:00

When you feel like someone is doing all they can to hurt you or take something away from you, wouldn't it feel so wonderful to turn and say whatever is on your mind? To say just the thing that will put them in their place? Unfortunately, for me, I have recently discovered the answer is "No". I have never been in this position before. I have been hurt many times in my life, where someone "tried to take me out" and for whatever reason, I usually felt isolated. I felt like no one was on my side; I was the outcast who was left to suffer on my own while everyone supported that very person who had hurt me. I remember wanting everyone to walk straight up to them and tell them that what they were doing was wrong; to not talk to them anymore or fire them or stop being their friend. It has happened again. Someone is out to get me. And this time? I have everyone on my side. Just what I've always wanted, right? Wouldn't it feel great if everyone just stopped talking to her? If she was told she would lose her job if she didn't shape up? And if I just turned to her and said "Ha! No one agrees with what you've done and you are going down! I hope you get just what you deserve!" No, no, and no. I had a moment yesterday, a brief moment where I wanted to say it. But I didn't, and I won't. I used to love the phrase "kill 'em with kindness". Now, when I think of that phrase, it means something very different to me. When someone is trying to hurt you, surely they must have had a lot of pain and sadness in their life to feel jealousy and angry so strongly that they would go so far as to try to snatch happiness away from someone else at whatever the cost. Instead of lashing out, send them some love and hope they find happiness in their life so they won't feel the need to take it from others. Instead of killing them with kindness, shower them with love. This is what I know I should do and what I will do. It doesn't mean I have to forget about myself and my own needs in the process. But what would it hurt to just love her anyway? To hope that she finds all she is looking for, whatever would make her happy, and at the same time not allow her to take mine away from me? But, there is that part of me (hmmm...I wonder what part that is? Oh hello Mr. Ego, why is it again that you EXIST?) that says "Why does she deserve that? She isn't a nice person! She is trying to hurt you! Give her what she deserves!" But what purpose would that serve? It would only make matters worse; she would be even more angry and I would feel nothing but guilt, not a feeling of justice being served. So when she skips around the office whistling to herself as she hangs on to the hope that she will be able to stop me from enjoying my new position, I will just take a deep breath and let it roll off my back. I will be civil and kind, focus on taking care of tying up loose ends here at work before I go, and hope that she finds happiness some day because she deserves it just as much as I do. God loves her just as much as he loves me. "That's hard to believe!" Shhh..ego...shhhh......quiet now.

2009-10-23T10:12:00.002-05:00

It is fascinating to me how much life has to do with balance. I heard once that someone asked the Dali Lama what the key to happiness was and he responded with just one word: "Balance". I can't tell you how much I believe that to be true. What made me think about that today? Well, I took the day off to do...what? Well, nothing really. I just wanted a day to myself. Kind of funny, actually, as I used to hate so desperately to be alone. Then? Then, all I wanted to do was to spend all of my time alone. And now? You guessed it, a little bit of both, thank you very much. Balance. I was able to sleep in today. So nice. Usually the sun is up and I am up. It just doesn't feel right to me, I guess, to sleep the day away. Sure enough 7:30 hit and, eyes wide, I sat up in bed. I decided to give it a shot and got back under the covers. I laid there, sort of just enjoying the quiet stillness, and to my surprise drifted back off to sleep. It wasn't until about 10 minutes until 9:00 that I woke again. Feeling nice and rested, I got up and headed straight for the coffee pot. What to do with my day? Naturally, I went straight to facebook, then on to youtube to get a Gavin fix. After checking emails, seeing what was going on in the world, and playing with the cats; I moved on to things I don't get the chance to do very often. Laying in the bathtub and reading; plucking my eyebrows, shaving my legs, painting my toes. You know, girl things. I am a girl, just in case you hadn't noticed, but have never been a "girly-girl". I like to look nice; wear make up, put on some high heels, a sexy shirt and some tight jeans. But, I am also comfortable in my knee length slippers, baggy sweater, sweat pants, with no make up on and my hair in a pony tail. What do I feel my best in? Somewhere in between there. I started to work on my eyebrows and found myself taking a good, long look at my face and thought "What happened? Where did these wrinkles come from? And my eyelids? They are beginning to droop". There are wrinkles in between my eyes and lines around my mouth. I can't lie, taking the time to really look at how "old" my face is starting to look could prove to be a bit depressing. But you know what's beautiful? I can move my face around and up and down, contort it any way I like, but the only way those lines will match up is if I smile. I smile and I watch the skin of my face slowly draw in and finally find its home in between those wrinkles and lines. My point? I would never have botox or any type of surgery to fix this. I will age gracefully and embrace all of changes my face will go through. They are part of who I've been and part of what I've become. They represent the fact that although I have struggled a great deal in my life, mostly self-inflicted, what I have done more than anything is smile. But, I won't let myself fall apart either as many women do. I will continue to pluck and shave and primp; wear make up, wear cute clothes that make me feel good, and make the most of what I have. I will find comfort in the happy medium. It's like that with everything in my life. With drinking, dieting, and exercising; with money and with love (some for you and some for me). And I know that it's what I am longing for with where I am at spiritually. I have gone through many changes in this aspect of my life and I am still searching for that happy medium. I am looking for a nice balance between what I feel is true and what I want to be true. And I like that about myself. I like that I don't have to label myself as anything. I don't have to say "I am a christian" or "I am a Buddhist". I believe a little of both, to be honest. I don't get stuck under the umbrella of one belief system and that gives me the freedom to search and explore. I don't have to say "I like country music" or "I like alternative music". I like all kinds of music and I love to sing. That's what matters. Music is a part of me; a very big part of me. I used to walk into a room and think "I hope these people like me". I went from that to walking in and thinking "I hope I like these people". And now I don't think anything really; I just hope we all have a good time. Allowing myself to like whatever I like, to think and feel whatever I may, allows me to find a balance, to live in the happy medium, and allows me to be a bigger, fuller person. I don't have to be a specific kind of person. I don't have to be anything. I simply have to live my life; trusting myself, my instincts, and my heart. Not wanting or needing to be something, but instead, just allowing myself to be.

Happy

2009-10-22T07:15:00.004-05:00

Maybe I should change the name of this blog? I came up with this title, over 2 years ago, when I felt like I was just about there, where I wanted to be; content and at peace in the present moment. It was almost as if everything I have learned in the past two years was already there, inside me. Like I knew it, but couldn't find the words to express it or hadn't a clue how to put it into fruition. I was almost happy; teetering precariously on the fine line between just accepting my life as it is and all that brings with it (a sense of balance, a feeling of peace, and thankfulness for everything I have...even the simplest things like the fact that I'm alive) and going on about my life the way I had been; pissing and moaning about all the things I wanted and didn't have, playing the victim, dwelling on problems, and making everything INTO a problem. I think I know what it was that tipped the scale and although, at the time, I could never have imagined being thankful for THAT, I am very thankful, indeed. But there is no borderline anymore and, aside from being human, no disorder. There is just happiness. I am certainly not implying that I am happy 100% of the time or never struggle with things; I do, all the time. The difference now is that I finally understand that happiness is a choice. No matter what happens, even though I might catch myself getting wrapped up in worry or frustration or disappointment for a moment (or sometimes two), I now know that I can choose happiness over any of those other states of mind. I can choose happiness and I can choose it every time. All I have to do is just surrender. And surrendering is not weakness, it is inner strength. At times I am blown away by how simple it really is, how easy it can be. And sometimes it isn't easy, sometimes I fight it and find myself just simply wanting to feel bad. But, all I have to do is remind myself that I have a choice, that happiness IS a choice and ask myself this simple question: "Why wouldn't I choose it?" I have yet to come up with a logical answer for that one. So, no more borderline and no more disorder.

Putting things back in perspective

2009-10-20T14:59:00.003-05:00

I don't know why I only post to this blog, what, once a year? That part of me that yearns to get thoughts and feelings out lies dormant, most of the time, I guess. I like to call it my "pensive" self. I would say that for many years this was a dominant part of my personality and now, well now it is simply a mood I get in to now and again. And sometimes, I need to purge to put myself directly in the spot I need and want to be: right here, right now. It's Gavin's fault. I start listening to him (really listening, not just background noise...but the whole "Oh wow, look at what he said there, etc.) You get what I mean. And suddenly my thoughts begin to wander here and there and I do my best to keep up with them. So here are my scattered thoughts for the day:

I miss my guitar. And I wish I knew how to play the piano. I used to be able to play the piano when I was younger, but I could only play really simple songs. And, in regards to my guitar, I can only strum (picking is out of the question). This is a coordination thing, isn't it? I would love to be able to play for myself, to accompany myself on either the guitar or the piano, while I sing. Because I love to sing. And wouldn't it be great to be able to write music too? So many things I WANT. Like what I've just mentioned and a home of my own, and a family of my own, and some new clothes. It is so easy to get caught up in the things we want and easy to forget about the things we have (over and over again it all comes back to "complete acceptance of what is"...bless you Eckart Toelle). So, I'll allow that to roll on off my back, and go on about my day. Run my errands (I have a car) and head home (I have a place to live). Then I'll work out (I have the motivation to keep my body in shape). Then I'll make something to eat (I have enough money to put food in my belly...mmm...spaghetti with whole wheat pasta). Then I'll plop down on the couch and study for my test (I have the passion to learn new and interesting things) with my cats by my side (I have many "people" who love me). Ahh...perspective. *sigh*.

Mothers and dating in your late 30's

2008-11-19T15:45:00.005-05:00

I have a date tonight. I'll go ahead and call it that, but I am not looking forward to it. Why? It never leads to anything. It could! You never know! That's what you're thinking and I can understand that. But believe me, after 11 years of being single and several scattered unsuccesful dates, one tends to sort of shrug instead and say something along the lines of well it's better than being whipped and hung by your toenails.* I don't want to go. But I'll go. Needless to say the last thing I need is more attention or drama attached to my "date" tonight. So what does my mother say to me? Call me tonight when you get to Melissa's. What?! Are you kidding me? I am 37 yrs old! And I am smart mother!! I'll be fine! So she, as expected, gets upset and goes on about how Dad worries about her because it's normal and natural and she certainly doesn't feel the need to remind HIM of her age and intelligence. Sigh. We both closed out of IM and let it go. Sometimes it's best to sit on things and take a breath before one attempts resolve. So I waited and finally I told her what I thought. Our conversation went something like this:

Lori Jean says:
sometimes I don't know why things upset me. I am going to assume that somewhere in my brain, probably surrounding my not really wanting to go tonight because it never leads to anything which makes me think about why and will i ever have it? which makes me think about how i don't have a family of my own either or a home. and sometimes, not always, but sometimes that makes me feel down about
Lori Jean says:
myself
Lori Jean says:
and like a kid, immature, who doesn't have an adult life. that's probably why.
Lori Jean says:
but i only get ONE mom
Lori Jean says:
and if i had my druthers
Lori Jean says:
i'd choose the one who wanted me to call because she is afraid i will be abducted
Lori Jean says:
over and over again
Lori Jean says:
i would choose her
vernie mae says:
lmao
vernie mae says:
you mean the "freak" mom?
vernie mae says:
lol
Lori Jean says:
yep that one
vernie mae says:
it's OKAY lori
vernie mae says:
i'm pretty sure i was jewish in my last life, and the risidual jewish mom thing is still
vernie mae says:
active
Lori Jean says:
oy vey!

If you read my last post you can now see just what I meant when I said that I am forever grateful. I look at what she wrote there, and think about how funny it is. And I almost feel slightly ashamed. How could I have been so angry? I have a mother who loves me, who thinks the world of me. I have a mother who cares about me, who worries about my safety and well being. I have a mother who can't imagine what life would be like without me in it. Does it get any better than that?

I do hope I won't be abducted. God does tend to have a pretty good sense of humor.

*My sister and I have always said that about being whipped and hung by our toenails. I have no idea where it came from.

Blue(ish) Christmas

2008-11-19T14:49:00.009-05:00

Although I feel I look 27 and act 19 the majority of the time, judging by the looks of my hands I am, in fact, 37 yrs old and 40 is fast approaching. How did I get here? And so quickly too?? It is interesting how aside from the number, the years that have gone by, and the experiences you've had; the experiences you have NOT HAD can affect how old you feel. I tend to find myself in this place, mentally and emotionally, when I know the holidays are approaching. As I know I have mentioned in past posts, and when I say past I am talking ancient times here as I tend to post approximately once every 6 months, I am the only individual in my pool of family and friends who is not married and either has or will have kids. And I am the only person who understands the simple fact that THIS MAKES ME FEEL OLD. Wouldn't you think it would make me feel younger? I am single and relatively do what I like without having to answer to someone else or take their feelings, wants and needs into consideration. Wouldn't that be exciting? Wouldn't that make you feel free and...well...young? Nope. Not me. It makes me feel old. Old. Old. Old.

I recently downloaded some Christmas music to my ipod. And this is related to what I was just saying. I promise. I was in a rush as I usually am when I am attempting to download music at work where anyone who walks by can see my screen; so I clicked on anything that looked like Christmas music. To my surprise; as I was humming along, merrily working away and not thinking about my age and all the things I want and do not have, the song from Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Where Are You Christmas? came on and I found myself in tears. It goes something like this:

Where are you Christmas?

Why cant I find you?

Why have you gone away?

My world is changing, I'm rearranging, does that mean christmas changes too?

Where are you christmas?

Do you remember the girl you used you know?

You and I were so carefree, now nothing's easy.

Did Christmas change? Or just me?

I am sure it seems odd that a song like that would make a person tear up, but for me it summed up just the way the holiday's make me feel. For me, in my heart, Christmas is the same as it was when I was a kid. I have no family of my own. My parents and my sister and brother are my family. For them, however, their spouses and children are their immediate family and Christmas is now about the excitement surrounding their children opening gifts on Christmas morning. I sleep on the couch upstairs and stare at the tree remembering when my sister and brother and I would all sleep in the same room and fantasize all night long about the wonderful and exciting toys we would be getting the following morning. How we would sneak out of our room to take a peek at the stockings. How we would wake up in the morning and run as fast as we could to see all the presents under the tree. How we would play together all day long. As we got older, the playing became trivia, cards, drinking wine, and socializing with the friends we had invited over for the day. So even though the toys changed the simple fact that we played stayed the same. Now they have three kids each and although they try to sit at the table and enjoy a game of euchre or trivia they are constantly up and running around getting the kids something they need or changing a diaper or, God forbid, taking a nap. Don't get me wrong, my family means the world to me and I am forever grateful to have them in my life. It all boils down to the simple fact that things have changed for them, but they have not changed for me. I find my own things to do and am happy. I look forward to exchanging gifts and watching my neice and nephews open the presents I spent forever picking out for them. And although it may be 9:00 pm by the time we all get sat at the table, I look forward to the playing; the games and the laughter we share. I am blessed and I know it. I am also lacking something and that's ok. I am old. er. but I am also young. And I hope I never lose that.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2008-06-06T10:13:00.006-05:00

A comment Karen left on a post from awhile back:

"Toes crossed too. And since I have no fresh thought
of my own I will rely on cliche. You really never know
what lies around the next corner.
Here's hoping he is tall, dark, naked and funny."

I bended that corner. And? To sum it up: he is definitely tall, dark-haired (which is a form of "dark"), funny in his own way, and as for naked? Well, sometimes he is. And I am surprised. This is the most accurate word I can attach to the overall feeling surrounding me lately. Surprised that he is still around. The fear referenced in the post Karen had commented on did all it could, did it's very best, to prevent me from giving him a chance. There were times I thought for sure it had won. I have told him twice now that I only wanted to be his friend. But he has not gone away and I am thankful for that. Mostly, however, I am surprised. I have allowed myself to get to know him. I have pushed past that fear and all of the doubt and worry and nervousness and allowed myself, given myself the chance, to find out who he is. Even when I thought I couldn't do it, or when I didn't think I WAS doing it; I could, I was, and I did.

As for that fear? I know it is hiding out somewhere, I can feel it lurking in the darkness, crouched in a corner. But it's like a distant fog. It's a place I could go if I wanted to. And sometimes, in spite of myself, I go there. I hang out for awhile in that dank and miserable place until (usually by the grace of people who love me) I am pulled out of it. So it isn't that I don't have that fear anymore, it's that I choose not to let it get the best of me. What a wonderful, new, and freeing feeling that is.

I know now there is nothing wrong with me regarding my abilities to feel and express love; to experience it. I used to say that I had somehow lost the ability to love someone. I actually thought it possible. Looking back, all I can think now is: what a ridiculous notion! Funny how something so ridiculous can feel so real when we are so afraid. Afraid of what? Of never feeling it or of feeling too much. Of hurting someone or being hurt. Of missing out or of throwing away something that will never come again. I don't know where all of this fear came from, but the one thing I do know is that I won't let it stop me from taking a chance. I don't know where it's going, where it will take me, how it will end up, what I will feel or won't feel, but I am not turning away and hiding behind fear. Give it to me, I'll take it; whatever IT is and whatever happens. I'll give it a shot man even if if means hurting him or getting my heart broken. Bring it on.

Neverending Bliss

2008-04-14T12:40:00.008-05:00

It happened! It finally happened! All of my dreams came true yesterday when, after 37 years, I walked down the aisle and finally tied the knot! And let me tell you folks, he is simply amazing! I have never been so happy in my life! He is a little quiet, to be honest; a bit stiff really and isn't very active. As a matter of fact, he hasn't said much. And I don't want to call him lazy, but in all honesty, he hasn't really moved around too much either. But I don't care! I love him!

We have been moving fairly quickly (she blushes), as you can see from the picture on the left. We have already been blessed with twin girls! Just what I have always wanted. They are so grown up already! My how time flies. It seems like only yesterday when they were itty bitty babies and I could hold them in my arms.

Anyway, I have been so excited I just had to share! I know you are excited for me too. Unlike my cat, Possum, as you can see. When I told her? She didn't even blink! She didn't even move a muscle. I turned to her, on my wedding day might I add, and said: "Oh, Possum! This is just so wonderful! Can you believe it?!" No response. Nope. She just simply shifted her position and let out a sigh. And just as I turned back toward the church, I could have sworn I saw her roll her eyes.

Feeling restless

2007-09-20T22:59:00.000-05:00

I am having a rough night. It is after midnight and I just can't sleep. I am missing my friend Karen terribly, I am feeling so worried and scared for another friend because her father is sick, and I am missing my students at my last job.

Do you ever have one of these nights? Where, for no reason whatsoever at all, it all hits you at once? Everthing that has happened over the past few months comes tumbling down upon you? Well that is the kind of night I am having. I couldn't seem to shake it so I figured I might as well embrace it. And even though it's been an eternity, why not post about it?

There is a play going on this weekend at my previous job and although a big part of me wants to go and see it, I am having a difficult time making a decision. Who will I see? What will they say? What will I say? Probably something along the lines of: "Oh, things are going well. I am figuring out what schools I want to apply for and really enjoying my time off." Translation? I have no clue what I am going to do with my life, I am lonely, and miss all of you desperately. I will probably go anyway. Maybe the play will be good, even though the review was awful, and plus it will be nice to see my students.

Well, I am beat so I am heading off to bed. Maybe I will start posting again.

Scattered Thoughts

2007-05-14T11:24:00.000-05:00

I am sitting in my office, scattered with pictures and show posters, cards from my students; looking around and feeling a bit pensive. The school year is finally over. It was a stressful year, and an even tougher semester, for me. I prayed many a day and counted the classes until it would come to an end. Well it's over now and the things that were bringing me down and stressing me out have finally faded away. All that remains is a feeling of relief, mixed with sadness, add a touch of confusion and uncertainty, a dab of worry and a splash of fear.

I have given up the teaching life. Well, as a career anyway. I know things are never certain, but at this point in my life I just don't see any opportunities to make a career of it without moving half way across the country. So, it looks like I will be going back to school to get a degree in computer graphic design. Why? It pays well, there's a market for it, and there is a much greater chance I will find a job close to home. That is my priority right now in my life. Being close to my family. And to think, just a few weeks ago I was in the throws of sending out application after application. Yep, things have shifted for me considerably and it's confusing and scary.

As I have mentioned in a post quite awhile back, I feel like I live my life in a constant state of transition. When will it end?

All I have ever wanted in my life is to be a mother and a wife. I fear, every day, that these are things I will never have. Is it wrong to want that over teaching? Why, in this day and age, do we pressure our kids to establish themselves in their careers? To really make a name for themselves? I long to establish myself, I do, but I want to establish myself as a happy mother and wife.

Speaking of mothers. Yesterday was Mother's Day and I didn't give my mother a card. I had been camping so I didn't get the opportunity to pick up a card for her. I was just telling myself I would pick one up today but I can't stop thinking, what would I write in it? I just recently told her about my change of heart regarding my career. I fear I have let her down terribly and even though I know she would never let me know that, it kills me to think that I have. All I can think of putting in the card is "Thank you for loving me even though I have let you down." Seems silly, I know, but it is how I feel. My mother loves me no matter what, I know that. But you still can't help the way you feel.

I feel afraid that I will never find what I really want and then I will have to deal with whether or not it was all worth it; letting go of teaching and putting my focus on settling down and starting a family.

I had my first class today for Summer session. They seem like a great group. All women. That should be interesting. I feel happy and excited about teaching them. But there is still that hollow feeling in my heart. I imagined myself, for one moment, married with beautiful children and a cozy home, working with computers from 9-5 AND teaching that class. That would really make me feel happy and excited.

Umm...socks.

2007-04-22T08:24:00.000-05:00

I added some new pictures of my cats. Note the one of Posey with the sock. She has always loved my socks. Only mine. She carries them in her mouth, throws them up in the air attempting to catch them, rolls unto her back with the sock in her front paws kicking at it with her back paws. The fat cat just lies there watching. She isn't into socks. She loves her string. I have never seen or heard of a cat obsessed with socks before.

The other day I came home and there were 5 on the floor upstairs and 3 downstairs. Friday I came home and there were 6 upstairs and 2 downstairs. Last night there was only 1 upstairs and 2 downstairs. In case you are wondering where they are all coming from; I have yet to fold the socks sitting in my laundry basket and put them away. This is how she is getting her little paws on them. I picked them up and put them back in the basket each day, but this didn't stop her. She just really really loves socks. Last night I was thinking about how long those socks have been sitting in that basket and how lazy I am with getting laundry put away and how I really should take care of them. But why take her fun away, right?

The Crazy Thoughts of Single Women

2007-04-19T11:25:00.000-05:00

My students are in the process of working on an audio project where they provide the character voices for an animated film. I really wanted this to be high-tech project with professional looking results. So, I contacted the media department and, to my delight, they said they were not only willing to let us use their recording studios, but do all the recording for us as well. Yesterday was our first "take" (notice how I am using the lingo now) and my students did a fantastic job. I had wondered to myself whether or not the graduate student who would be doing the recording would be cute. I do this all the time. I go to a meeting, the gas station, or even into Walgreen's thinking maybe there will be someone cute there and he will sweep me off my feet. Did you ever hear someone say: "I met my husband at the gas station. It was very romantic! (sigh)" There never is, of course. So I headed into the studio yesterday with my coffee stained pants (see previous post), my hair in a ponytail, and no make up on. And yep, you guessed it! He was rather attractive. Very cute, really nice, sharp and stylish dresser, good sense of humor, smart and, most importantly, wearing a Tigers hat! I instantly felt myself blush and looked down at my jeans to see how apparent the coffee stain was in the studio lighting. Difficult to see it, thank goodness. We sat down and started recording.

Overall, we didn't say much. Mainly we talked about the recording, when/if we should do a do-over, and how it was going. There isn't anything very interesting to note about our conversation. As per usual, he didn't show much interest in me. I was very nervous. The thoughts that were running through my head and the things I imagined! I kept wondering if he could smell the stale coffee or see the stain on my jeans. I wondered if he had a girlfriend, how old he was, what his "type" was. At one point, I noted his Tigers hat, asking if he was a fan. He said yes and I shared that I was one as well. A few moments later I imagined him turning to me and saying: I know this probably isn't the best time to ask, but would you like to go to a game with me sometime? How ridiculous is that? I am sure that was the farthest thing from his mind. I was chewing on my fingers out of nervousness and kept wondering whether or not he noticed and did he think it a disgusting habit. He smiled at me a couple of times but, overall, didn't show much interest.

When were finished and getting ready to leave, I told him if he had any questions he could just email me. He said he wouldn't need to pretty quickly. So I left thinking that he somehow must have heard all those crazy thoughts in my head. I will see him again on Monday and, naturally, I don't want to show up in a ponytail with no make-up again. But I also don't want him to think I am interested and spend the whole session hoping I don't hit on him. But then again, as he is only a graduate student he is probably way too young for me anyway. So none of this even matters. Ah, the joys of being single as I often say.

Oops

2007-04-18T15:13:00.000-05:00

Last week at rehearsal I spilled coffee all over the front of my jeans. I had to sit with my pants cold and sticking to my legs and reeking of coffee, for the remainder of rehearsal. I got home and changed into my pajamas later that evening. Apparently I got up the next morning and as I was tidying up I picked up the jeans, forgetting about the "coffee catastrophe" from the night before, folded them up, and put them away neatly in my drawer.

This morning as I was choosing something to wear I went to my jeans drawer, out of habit, pulled them out, and put them on. It took me until about half way through the day (after I had smelled something a bit stale but couldn't place it). I looked down and saw a giant stain covering both legs and, yes you guessed it, my crotchal region. Oh joy. One can only hope no one noticed. That's what I get from trying to better about keeping my bedroom picked up.

bye bye blues

2007-04-12T11:47:00.000-05:00

It's nice to know that although it can be tough to shake things off at times, if you keep on shaking you'll get there. Regardless of all the negative thoughts that kept threatening to take over my birthday, in the end, it turned out to be a pretty good day.

The cast of the show I am directing surprised me with a little singing and a lot of ice cream cake. Yes, I know, the "Blue's Clues" theme may seem a bit juvenile but it's a long story. I have to admit, it was nice to get a surprise like that, and to feel special on one's birthday. I mean, who doesn't want that, right?

The evening ended with some Tomb Raider action at my friend Melissa's house. As she put it, we made some real nice progress. The game playing, mixed with the traditional green olives, triscuits, and assortment of cheese spread (yes, we take our game playing very seriously folks), some rum and diet colke (hee hee...sorry, inside joke), and fantastic company, made for a really nice birthday celebration.

And just like that...poof! Yesterday's dark mood disappears in a puff of smoke.

A Birthday Wish

2007-04-11T08:24:00.000-05:00

Well, today is the day. A few Happy Birthdays from some very good friends have already been sent my way. And I just received a birthday card from my mother and father. It goes something like this:

Today is your day, Daughter.
It's a day to look back and celebrate
all the ways you've grown and changed
and blessed the lives of those around you.
It's a day to look forward
to the many exciting moments ahead-
moments just waiting for you to live them
in your own unique way,
with laughter and beauty and grace.
And it's a day to remind you
of two important things:
You are a beautiful gift to this world.
And you are always, always loved.

My mother has always done that. She is one of those people who stands in the card aisle for hours, looking for the perfect card; the card that says exactly how she feels and just what that person needs to hear.

Interesting. It is just a Birthday card but it made me sit and think. It's a day to look forward to the many exciting moments ahead- moments just waiting for you to live them... I am not sure why I find this so difficult.

I can remember when I was 17. I had met this boy and was hoping he would ask me to the Homecoming dance. I was a Senior and I had never been asked to Homecoming, let alone Prom. I had confessed this secret wish to my mother and expressed my fears that it would never happen. My mother asked me to close my eyes. She told me to really see myself there, at the Homecoming dance with this boy. To picture my dress, his suit, the smile on my face. To see us dancing, with our arms around one another. I did as she asked and then I opened my eyes. She told me that if I could see it and believe it could happen, then it would happen. He asked me to the dance. He was my first boyfriend and my "first love", as the saying goes. She was right. It worked.

Of course it isn't that easy with everything. But this morning, on my 36th birthday, when I am having trouble not focusing on all the things I don't have, that I thought I would; I am realizing it is about hope. I am afraid to hope. I guess so much time has gone by I have somehow allowed hope to fizzle out of my life. So today, I will take a moment to close my eyes and really see myself exactly where I want to be. To picture myself in a wedding dress. To see the baby in my arms with him, whoever he may be, at my side. To picture my family outside in the backyard on a sunny day. And, one day at a time, I will do all I can to hold on to the hope that it will happen.

Happy Birthday to Me

2007-04-10T12:16:00.000-05:00

I am turning 36 tomorrow. No, I am not too excited about this. Maybe 36 doesn't seem old to you, but I tell ya, it does to me. I feel very old. I feel this way mainly because I wanted to have so much more accomplished in my life by the age of 36. I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I would be living in my parents basement, very soon to be jobless, with not even a glimmer of hope for a relationship, and motherhood simply being a constant ache in my chest and lump in my throat. But, alas, I feel there isn't too much to gain from going on and on, wallowing in the negative. So, I have decided I would put down 36 things that make me happy. They are as follows:

1. spending time with my family
2. hanging out with my friends
3. playing with my neices and nephews
4. all the babies and little kids in my life
5. the time I have left with my friend before she moves away
6. the little bit of sun that has been in and out today
7. my cats
8. cheese, beer, and pizza
9. the swimming pool
10. movies
11. my cute clothes and my flip flops that I get to wear soon
12. my master's degree
13. singing
14. music
15. the trees and the sky
16. toenail polish
17. my make up
18. the casino
19. video games like the tomb raider I am playing right now
20. the sun that is on it's way
21. my car
22. my new windshield wipers
23. card games
24. microwave popcorn
25. going to the movies
26. the popcorn at the movies
27. homemade choclate chip cookies (you know who you are)
28. my mom's cooking
29. lying in the sun
30. my hoop earrings
31. sleeping
32. driving with the windows down when it's sunny and warm out
33. holidays
34. camping
35. fishing
36. and me, i guess

Check, please!

2007-03-30T08:24:00.000-05:00

It is difficult being 35 years old and being single. As one would probably guess, all of my friends are married and half of them have kids. So, needlesss to say, I am the only one on a mission to find my other half. This is a frustrating mission because of where I am in my life. The chances of finding that person at a bar, like we did when we were in our 20's, are pretty slim and the whole online thing? I've tried it time and time again. In the end it gives me nothing but a head ache. So what's left, right? Not much. But, as I always say, who am I going to meet staying inside watching movies and drinking beer by myself? Am I going to fall madly in love with the mailman? Or the meter-reader dude? I have to do something. So, I like to try and go out for drinks and something to eat a couple of times a week to at least "put myself out there" as the saying goes. And, as all of my friends are not on a mission like I am, they aren't always up for it.

Yesterday the mission was in full force. I looked online a bit, thinking to myself all the while "Why do I do this to myself? Isn't this the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?". I gave it my best shot for a good hour or two but gave up in the end as the task was proving fruitless yet again. I decided I would go out for dinner and drinks, by myself, and see where that lead me. In retrospect, if I were to do it over again, I would have stuck with my alternate plan...going home, doing my laundry and talking to my cats.

I got to the bar and the scene was pretty lame, as to be expected. There were only a few scattered people. A couple of families and a slew of older men. The majority of these men were regulars who are married and in their 50's. I searched for a spot and chose one of the only empty stools at the bar. My plan? Order some pizza, have a couple of beers, and see what happens. I had been sitting there only a couple of minutes when I sensed someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I glanced quickly and saw a short, stocky man, with greying hair, easily in his mid 60's, fairly drunk, and apparently headed my way. I looked back to the television, so as not to stare, and felt him standing there, taking a real good look at me. He sat down next to me, where his beer had been sitting, and immediately began talking to me. And talking to me and talking to me and talking to me What was he talking about? He was talking about cell phones and whether or not we could get a signal in the bar and if not it was probably because of some metal plates placed in the ceilings and how he was supposed to meet his uncle but he wasn't here and blah blah blah. I was very polite. This is something I used to be awful at. I would go so far as to say I used to be rude. Not that I was trying to be rude, by any means, it just made me feel uncomfortable. Over time, I learned that the majority of these men are fairly harmless and so I smiled, answered his questions, and was pretty polite. He then said he was going to go outside to make a phone call. This is where it gets interesting. He came back in and realized there were, in fact, 2 stools next to me, the one he was sitting in and the one next to that. So he stares for a moment and finally asks me, with slurred speech: "Which one was I sitting in?" I smiled and said: "Oh, I don't know. I think that one.", pointing to the one next to me. He first sits in the one next to me but doesn't say much. Then he says, out of the blue: "Would you rather I sit in that other one?" I answered a bit confused: "Oh it doesn't matter to me, whichever one you'd like to sit in is fine with me. I'm not too worried about it." He stands there for a moment, looking at me, and then answers, a bit "put off": "Oh good answer, gooooooood answer." He moved to the other stool, sat down, and stared at me for a bit with a look of drunkened irritation. I sat there for a moment, sort of just staring at the TV in disbelief, and then turned to the bartender and said: "Can I have that pizza to go, please?"

Spooky

2007-02-15T11:51:00.000-05:00

I direct plays. And as many of you know, even you non-theatre goers, every play has a theme. I would presume it is only normal that I would chose to direct a play I like, that has a theme I can relate to. Is it normal, however, that every play that I direct has a theme that completely reflects the ongoing "theme" in my own life at this present moment? I think not. The last play I directed focused around faith, learning to have faith in one's life, to give up control and let what is meant to be, be. One rehearsal after the next I would leave thinking "wait a minute here, this is my life!" I would sit in rehearsal, coaching the actors, and hear myself say: "you're frustrated because you know what you want but you aren't getting it and you want to be able to control the situation, you want to make it happen, you don't know how to just relax and let things happen the way they were meant to". This was something I was struggling with in my own life. I would hear the thoughts echoing in my head, thoughts I had been saying to myself on a daily basis. It was just so weird.

So I moved on to the next play. Theme? The struggle to find one's purpose in life. Um...if you have read any of my past blogs, you can imagine how much that relates to exactly where I am in my life right now. And it's not like I FORCE this theme. It's not like I am directing Hamlet and I tell my actors "this play is about not knowing if you will get a job".

I mean come on, this is weird right?

Where did I go?

2007-02-02T15:33:00.000-05:00

Yes, I know, I haven't posted in a million years. And for two reasons. I have been extremely busy and I tend to think of things that might be interesting to post just as quickly as I toss them out in case they are, in retrospect, uninteresting. I would like to bring your attention to my last post which was titled: "Impatiently Waiting". Hmm...maybe that is another reaon why I haven't posted in so long. Things haven't changed much. That title sums up my current state of being quite accurately. I have, at this present moment in time, applied to approximately 20 positions. And I am waiting and waiting to see what will come of all of this.

I have acquired phone interviews with three of them. The phone interviews went well, I would say. And one University in particular has gone as far as to call my references. Two of the Universities left me with the dreaded comment "We will be in touch with you in a week". This is where the trouble comes in. One would think that would be a fantastic thing to hear, wouldn't one? For me, however, it is a very dangerous thing to say, indeed. I would do much better with something more cold and vague like: "Thanks. Bye." But to tell me they would be in touch with me in a week? What were they thinking? Didn't they know what they were doing to me? Why would this affect me in this way, you may ask? Well, because I can tell you that exactly ONE minute ago was officially "one week" that I last spoke with the aforementionedcheckedmyreferences University. So, naturally, I am sitting here thinking "Well, it's been a week. I haven't heard from them. Why haven't they called me? What does it mean? Did I not interview well? Did they not like what my references said?"

There is no point to any of this, I know that. They could call in 20 minutes or tomorrow or Monday or who knows when. It really doesn't mean anything. But still. People should learn to not say such specific things to such a literal person like me. It's sheer torture.

Impatiently Waiting

2006-12-19T09:21:00.000-05:00

As of last Thursday, I have successfully applied to ten new positions in, I think, ten different states. The thing is, I didn't think I would do it. I know that might sound a bit harsh to say about oneself. But, I have never been a very patient person and I fear the unknown. So, naturally, the thought of taking the time to apply for a new job half-way across the United States doesn't appeal to me. I will have to wait to hear from them and it could take weeks, even a month or two before I hear anything. And there is no way of knowing if I will get hired anywhere or not, let alone get an interview. But I did it.

I was, and still am, just so tired of doing something over and over again, day after day, that I don't love. Granted, there is a great deal about my job that I DO love, so that is what makes it tough. But the main focus of my work is not where my passion lives. So each and every time I walk in that door, my heart isn't really in it. It is a BIT, of course, but it isn't really in it. So I decided I would give it all up and face the great unknown.

Maybe the unknown isn't such a scary place afterall. This has been a recent discovery of mine. I tend to look at things in black and white. It has always been either this or that, no in between. Take that and add a little, no, A LOT of impatience and you get: "Either I will stay in Michigan or I will get a new job half way across the world and live there for the rest of my life and never get to see my family". That thought right there is what has been bothering me the most. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life living that far away from my family. Then the other day, out of the clear blue sky, it finally HIT me. Who said it had to be the rest of my life?! I could take the job, move there, live there for the next two or three years, and then take yet another job much closer to home. In my line of work it isn't unusual at all to not stay in the same place for twenty years. Usually one does eventually, later on in their life. But this technically isn't, no matter how old I FEEL, "later on in my life". So what am I waiting for?

Now I find myself in an even worse position. I am excited. I could move anywhere! There is nothing holding me back! I am not married or dating anyone. I don't own a home. Hell, I don't even have an apartment. Now is the time to do it. Go out and explore, meet new people, make new friends. I need that in my life right now. Unfortunately, this is a much scarier place to be in. What if I don't get hired? What if I get my hopes up, apply to all these places, and I don't get hired anywhere? There is no way to know the answer to that question, I know. I will just have to be patient. Or should I say learn to be patient? Who knows where the tide will take me. All I can do is just ride the wave and do my best to find the joy in it. A few years ago I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have said "No, I will not take this life just because it is easy and safe, thank you very much. I am going to take my chances on THIS one over here." So at least I have that.

Viva Las Vegas or get out the crackers cause there's plenty of cheese in this post

2006-12-15T16:00:00.000-05:00

Viva Las Vegas my ass. I just found out today that one of my best friends is moving to Las Vegas. And, being the selfish person I am, I said on the phone to her: "I don't think I can handle this!" This situation and all its frustrations and complicatons does not need guilt added to the mix. Hopefully she knows just how very proud I am of her. She amazes me. All of my friends do in so many ways. With my sister it is motherhood. She has 3 boys ages 4, 4, and 3. And not only can she handle it with flying colors, they are the sweetest, cutest, most well-behaved and loving little boys I have ever met. How does she DO it, I often ask. And my friend Melissa. She is so smart. In my eyes, there isn't anything she doesn't know. I often get frustrated with her when I ask her a question about one of my classes that I teach that she knows nothing about and she says she doesn't know. What do you mean you don't know, I ask. That's just not possible. Not to mention she is the most non-judgemental person I have ever met. And my friend Rachel. She can get along with anybody. It is impossible, in her presense, to not feel abosolutely wonderful about who you are. I once read that having grace means making everyone around you feel comfortable. This is Rachel. With Melanie it is her loyalty. Ever since we were young she and I vowed we would never let a boy come between us. This still holds true today. We have a list of things we wanted to do when we grew up and I think we are juuuuust about done with it. She is so committed and dedicated to everything she does and she deserves the Teacher of the Year award, in my opinion. And with Karen it is her strength and her ability to believe in herself. She worked so hard throughout this application process and I was constantly amazed by how she persevered. She never gave up. She wasn't afraid to reach for her dreams. I envy that quality in her just as I envy all the wonderful traits my friends possess. Naturally they possess much more than what I have listed here. There simply isn't enough room to explain just how wonderful they all are. Looking back at this post I think, my GOD, could I be more of a sap? Sheesh! But then again...each and every one of my friends always knows just how much I love them and how important they are to me. Is that such a bad thing? So Vegas here she comes. I can't imagine her and her husband and my peanut not being a part of my day to day life. But I also can't even put into words just how proud and happy I am for her either. That's life for you. Give and take.

Random Thoughts

2006-12-15T15:40:00.000-05:00

I have been feeling a bit soft around the middle lately. I have always been slim or thin or small-framed, but I have NOT always been soft around the middle. I entered my thirties and everything seemed to fall apart. I crave afternoon naps, my joints hurt, wild night outs are few and far between and when they DO happen, midnight hits and I am ready for bed, and the list goes on and on. I didn't know it happened all at once. Isn't it supposed to happen gradually? Never-the-less a simple workout routine would do the trick, I am sure, but I just have never been able to get into it. Why go to the gym when I can sit and relax and watch some tv? And plus, beer is just way too good.

Lost in TransITION

2006-12-08T08:32:00.000-05:00

This past Sunday I officially moved out of my apartment. This means there is no turning back. This is probably a good thing since all of my stuff is in my parent's basement now and the rest is in storage. I can't imagine how my family and friends, who helped with the move, would react if I suddenly said "Hey, you guys? Yeah, I was TOTALLY kidding, by the way! I didn't really want to move out! Isn't that funny?" So, yes, it is a good thing that there is, indeed, no turning back now. I am a procrastinator by nature. It is in my blood, I fear, to wait until the last possible moment to do anything. I was due to move out of my apartment, clean it thoroughly as to avoid any unwanted costs, and turn in the keys by December 3. So, naturally, I went about this task on December 3. I picked up my little sister, Kaylee, and she and I set off to pack up the few remaining items (notice I said few), clean the apartment, and drop off the keys. It is important to note here that I got to the apartment around 10:30 am (we would have gotten there sooner but Kaylee needed a pair of snow boots and so we had to go to Walmart first. I am telling you we had to) and that I needed to be done by 12:30 because I had to go see a play. If everything had run smoothly I do think I could have done it in the 2 hours I had alloted for myself. But as Murphy's Law states, what can go wrong will go wrong, or something like that. And thus it began. My sister gave me a vaccum sweeper when I moved in and it is incredibly old. I could not figure out how to open that thing up to change the bag. And the bag was not just fill it was spilling over and absolutely nothing was getting swept up. I beat it profously, I cried, I begged for mercy, and I wrestled with that thing for nearly 30 minutes. I tried to call my sister but she was not able to be reached. I called my brother-in-law but he seemed to be completely lost when it came to the ancient appliance. I thought it best if I simply set the vaccum aside and focus on something else before I completely lost it. I went on to cleaning out the refridgerator and as I was passing by the vaccum cleaner to begin to work on the bathroom, I thought I would try just oooonnnnnne last time. Turns out, all I had to do was SLIDE it to the left and wahlah! So naturally, all the tugging and upward pulling motions was never going to get me anywhere no matter how much force I exerted. I didn't have any extra bags though. I didn't realize this until after I had already gotten the old bag out. I looked at the time. It was almost noon. It didn't take me long to realize there was no way I was going to get this done before 12:30. So I had to come back after my shift at Buddies, after a trip to Meijer to get the vacuum bags. I got there around 11 pm. I worked in a frenzy and finished about 1:30 am. The few things I thought I had left? They turned into about 5 boxes, a broom, a mop, 2 baskets of random items, 2 shelves, an iron, an ironing board, and the vacuum sweeper. To this day I will never know how I got all that stuff in my car. It's amazing what you can accomplish when it's 1:00 am and you are on a mission. After I had packed the last item, I ran upstairs to grab my purse and turn out the lights. I was overcome by a feeling so intense, it really took me by surprise. I was going to miss it. I was going to miss it more than I thought I would. Yes, I was proud of making a difficult decision that not many people would. But it was my home. I thought back to the day I moved in. How excited I was and how good it felt to climb into bed that first night after unpacking and organizing. I thought about the day my friend Melissa came over and we spent a long time figuring out just where everything should go: "Hey, Lori? I think the cereal would be perfect here, in this cupboard!" and "Melissa, do you think this is a good drawer for the pot holders and towels?" I felt so indpendant and grown up. I thought about when I bought my Christmas tree and how much fun it was to decorate it and put up all the lights. I thought about the many meals I tried to cook on my own, not really knowing what I was doing. I thought about my cats sitting on the balcony and me laying out in the sun. I thought about Melissa and I playing our video games and she checking her email on the breaks. I thought about how, for as long as I could remember, I have been in transition. One transition to the next. I live my life in a state of transition and I wonder when the day will come when I feel I have reached that place of stability and consitency and groundedness that I so long for. I stood there looking at that bare and still apartment, doing what I could to hold back the tears. I took a deep breath and I shut the door. Making sure to do so quickly so as the cats wouldn't run out into the hallway, out of habit. By the time I got about half way home, to my new home, I felt much better. I turned up the Christmas music, breathed a sigh of relief, and thought: "Onwards and upwards, baby".

Moving Time

2006-11-13T20:31:00.000-05:00

I spent the majority of last weekend cleaning my parent's basement in preparation for my arrival. If it is at all possible to be equally excited and mortified at the same time about my new living arrangements then that would best sum up my emotional state. It has nothing to do with my parents. I love my parents. We get along well, enjoy one another's company, and living with them ensures an increase in extended family time. So, naturally, I am excited. On the other hand, I am moving into a basement. Yes, this was my idea. I am 35 years old and I am moving into a basement. I have no husband, no job security, no savings, and I am moving into a basement. So, naturally, I am mortified.

As I was driving home after a weekend of clearing cobwebs, sweeping dust, and coughing and wheezing, my sister called. I had been expressing my aforementioned conflicted feelings to her and she felt she hadn't been a good listener so, burdened with guilt, she decided to call in order to make it up to me. She told me she was sorry I was feeling down, wished she could make it all go away, and within only a few moments we were both in tears. NOTE: My brother-in-law once told my sister that our family was the most emotionally-driven, guilt-ridden family he had ever met. I have no idea where he got that from.

My sister offered to "tidy the place a bit" in order to lift my spirits. Did I mention I am moving into a basement? I told her I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It is bad enough to have to move into a basement. I am quite certain it is much worse to move into a basement and then "tidy it up a bit". In the end, I decided some candles would be nice to cover up the musty smell, which is extremely faint, thank you very much. And I allowed my sister to talk me into some curtains as long as they were plain and merely functional in order to help mask the plastic covering to block the cold. Maybe once the holidays approach I can bring myself to put some Christmas lights up. As long as no one ever finds out and the purpose would be to simply supply more light, of course. Certainly not for decoration.

Paranoi-ya will destro-ya

2006-11-07T13:59:00.000-05:00

I know I am not the only one out there who tends to think people are upset with them for some apparent reason or another. Or should I say for no apparent reason or another? Is it that I want people to be upset with me? What can I possibly gain from constantly worrying that others are angry with me? It doesn't happen everyday. "Constantly" is a bit of an exaggeration. But it happens often enough. Like today, for example. I was at a faculty meeting where I saw one of my colleagues. I waved, said good morning, the usual. His response was a bit aloof; which in my world can easily be transcribed as: " he didn't throw his arms around me declaring his unyielding love". Just the same, it triggered a thought process which still plagues me five hours later. It goes something like this:

Hmm...he seems a bit aloof. I wonder what is wrong? Is he upset with me? No, that's just silly. I haven't done anything to upset him. Well, maybe I have done something. But what could it be? Hmm...maybe he heard that I think so-in-so is negative all the time and he thinks I am being self-righteous for saying that. Or maybe I was supposed to be at that meeting yesterday and I didn't know it and so he thinks I am irresponsible? Or maybe I just look awful today, as usual, and he is thinking to himself that I am ridiculously dressed and that the dark circles under my eyes, hereditary or not, make me look 10 years older. Wait, did he just smile at me? No, he looks confused. I think he is just responding to what somebody else just said. No, that officially was not a smile. Why is he ignoring me like this? He must be upset with me. I wonder what I did...

And on and on it goes. Sadly, the concept of: "if I am unable to think of what I might have done I can logically presume I have, in fact, NOT done anything" never crosses my mind. I am not sure where this "paranoia" comes from. Nor do I enjoy it. Or have yet to find a way to conquer it. Have you ever heard the philosophy that only 10% of what we worry about actually happens? I am not sure I am getting that right. It might even be less than that. Sorry, I tend to get caught up with percentages and scales. Ask my friends. But, regardless, the idea of it is true. I would say 99% of the time the person I am currently thinking is upset or angry with me ends up not being upset or angry with me at all. (I am sure there were supposed to be some commas in that sentence) They are usually just having a bad day, or are tired, or maybe it's simply gas. Who knows? Nonetheless, it is tiring.

I am sure at least somebody out there suffers from this affliction as well. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it an affliction. That doesn't sound very nice and I wouldn't want to upset anybody. Wait, did I upset you? Are you mad at me?

The Biological Clock

2006-11-02T22:24:00.000-05:00

I am feeling a bit tipsy as I am writing this so who knows how it will turn out. I decided I would "log" my moments of unhappiness in order to accurately calculate just how often I am unhappy. It turns out that, so far, today I have only had one moment where unhappiness crept into my mood. It's still early yet.

I was at Buddies, where I work a second job waiting tables, and I saw a couple come into the restaurant. The man was holding a little girl around the age of two, I would presume. She was fast asleep, safe and nestled in his neck. Instantly I felt the lump forming in my throat, the tightness in my chest, the burning in my eyes as they began to well up with tears. The waitress standing next to me, surprised, said: "What's the matter?" "I want one of those", I said. She seemed a bit confused. I am sure she was wondering what "one of those" meant, as to be expected. I get along incredibly well with all the servers, but at the same time don't relate to them. Give or take a couple, the majority of them are in their early twenties, with "acceptable-for-the-time-being" boyfriends. So she naturally hadn't a clue what I could possibly be talking about. It's ok, not many people do. It is called a biological clock. They say it ticks. I call it a very real, and often overwhelming, want and need. And I say it hurts. I don't know how to describe it any other way. A constant pain or pang in my heart that I fear will never be fullfilled.

The feeling subsided. It eventually does. But the thought is always there. It doesn't help that, in my life, I am surrounded by children. My sister has three boys, fraternal four year old twins and a three year old. I have two very close girl friends who have young children as well. One has a four year old boy and a girl who is almost two. And another friend who has a little girl who just turned one. It doesn't help that all of these children love me. People have always said that "children love me" and "I have a way with kids". It is true.

I also have a little sister from Big Brother Big Sister. She was supposed to be a little sister and I was supposed to spend about an hour or two a week with her. In reality, she is like a surrogate daughter and I usually spend anywhere between 5-12 hrs a week with her depending on whether or not she spends the night. I don't know how to do anything in moderation. I used to think that maybe God put so many wonderful and beautiful children in my life because he knew it wasn't in my plan to have my own. Over time, with the help of my friends and family, I have done what I can to let that thought go and opt for hope instead. Hope. It drifts in and out of my life. Today, it prevails. For a moment, just a moment, I could picture it. Maybe a stroll in the park. He and I are hand in hand, the birds are chirping under the clear blue sky, and she, our beautiful baby girl, is asleep in his arms, safe and nestled in his neck. Who knows where my attempt at hope will be tomorrow.

I Am Not A Chef

2006-11-02T10:17:00.000-05:00

I made homemade soup last night. Well, if the corn comes from a can does it really count as homemade? It actually turned out really good and I was feeling pretty sassy about it. Hey, I can cook! I am GOOD at this! In retrospect, some things for me to think about before I label myself as one of those women who cook really well. 1. I ate a great deal of it while it was still in the pan and then had a bowl of it after it was finished and this, of course, ended with an upset stomach. 2. Being single, my tupperware selection is fairly limited and so I attempted to store the remaining soup in a ziplock bag. Just in case anyone is confused, it takes TWO people to accomplish this. One to hold the bag and one to pour. If you attempt to do it on your own it WILL spill out of that bag and all over the counter. And... 3. I think you are supposed to clean up the mess when you are finished cooking. Not the following morning.

Do you have to be a good cook to find a good man, I am wondering this morning? I ask this it being impossible, naturally, for me to not relate it to the neverending question that constantly races through my mind, "why am I single?" Good Lord, I hope not. Or I am in trouble.

Disclaimer

2006-11-01T12:59:00.000-05:00

To begin with, let me get one thing clear: Borderline Happy Disorder is not a real disorder. I haven't been diagnosed with it nor, to be completely honest, have I ever even heard of it. I just finished reading "Girl, Interrupted" and the central character in the book is diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I was searching for a name for this blog it was the first thing that came to mind having just finished the book last night. I certainly couldn't diagnose myself with her condition (although if you were to take a look at the symptoms you might ask yourself the same question she did...haven't we all had it at some point in our lives?) This caused me to ponder what condition I do have as I am sure I have something. For some reason I find comfort in that. Don't ask me why. And Borderline Happy Disorder is what I came up with. What does it mean? Well, just what it says. I have a disorder where I am on the borderline of being happy. I am consistently, on a day to day basis, right on the verge of being happy. But, one way or another, I can't quite get there. This probably doesn't sound like a problem to many of you; but, believe me, it is. Ok, so now that we have gotten that squared up...

A little about me: I am a 35 (going on 42) yr old woman who is certain that I am in the middle of an early mid-life crisis. Life has passed me by. I will never find love or have a family and a home of my own. I love and hate my job at the same time and am in the process of applyling to other places hoping to find something that really fulfills me. (I know, the American Dream, right?) If it is at all possible to be a "crazy cat lady" when you only have two cats then I am that woman. I have a fantastic family whom I am very close to and wonderful friends. Important note: In both of the aforementioned groups, every woman is married and half of them already have children. So life hasn't passed me by? Are you sure? Ohhh...OK.

I think that is all for now. After looking this over I am now thinking...who is ever going to read this? But, for some reason or another, I felt compelled to put myself out there. That is something I am slowly beginning to learn in my later years. You have to put yourself out there. I am beginning to accomplish this is some areas of my life. And not so much in other areas. Ah, the joys of being single...