An exercise in humility

Tonight at work, I (along with a coworker) managed to execute a pretty decent fuck-up.

Even though the circumstances (busiest day of the year, time constraint, pressure, and a lack of communication) were against us, we overlooked something that lead to a huge inconvenience. I felt stupid and humiliated - because well, when you pride yourself on being a person of intellect it just blows when you screw anything up.

I've always been an advocate of those "human moments" that we all have - however, I still feel as if we all need to be a little more humble about our lot in life.

From this day forward, I will work harder on pardoning others for mishaps that I would've otherwise frowned upon.

Be thankful, you bastard

Despite all the shit I could be shuffling around muttering under my breath about, I can always manage to be thankful this time of year. The "holidays" are always my favorite time - and I'm a complete traditionalist when it comes to celebrating them. Yes, I am a secular-Christmas fanatic and I am damn proud of it. Give me all the Santa Claus, gift-giving, songs-about-a-baby-Jesus-I-don't-worship goodness you can muster! I'll belt out "O, Holy Night" with such a wide grin on my face you'd think I never missed a Sunday in the front pew.

But, why? Well it's simple, really. For every year of my life that I can recall, my Grandparents made the holidays some of the best moments I've ever had. I remember absolute unbridled joy - the food, the music, the laughter, the presents, the hugs and kisses, the stories, the Christmas movies on television - everything. My childhood holidays were right out of a Hallmark commercial, and all I've ever wanted to do was to give that happiness back to everyone in my life. The positive memories I have of the Christmas season are even a driving force behind wanting to start my own family when for many years I thought I was never the girl to get married and pop out kids.

*Finger to lips* Now, on to the reflection of the past year and the corresponding thank-yous:

1) As every year, my Grandmother sits at the top of the list. Every single accomplishment I can lay claim to is ultimately because she and my late Grandfather have given me the opportunities to go out and achieve them. From putting a roof over my crazy head for the last 10 years, to putting up with my wild adverse ideas, they always believed that I would go far and did everything in their power to assure I had the chance. And here I am, a college grad and heading for a PhD - tattooed, earlobes distended and loved for all of it - there is no greater gift in life.

2) I made it through undergrad! Ugh, there were so many moments when I thought I would crumble - when I wanted to give in. But I finished, and I even did well! I am thankful for all those that supported me within the English department at WSU - they saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself and at times still struggle to do so. But, here I am - 25 and on my way to graduate school. Wow.

3) Love. Not just from my family and friends - but romantic love, as well. Earlier in the year, I had to make a very difficult decision that I wasn't sure I could bounce back from too quickly. I forced myself to give up on and walk away from something that felt entirely right and completely comfortable. Because I have the gift of foresight (which I do not always heed, but is always with me) I was able to do the right thing for myself and my future - which was to look out for number one, even if she ends up alone. I taught myself that one could be fulfilled in the absence of a romantic relationship and I set out to do so. I began a quest to better my mental and physical health. Somewhere in the middle of all my dedicated alone-time, I started to spend some time with a person altogether new to me. It wasn't really his existence that was new to me, but rather who he is that was conceptually novel.

He's hilarious. He's kind. He's patient.

He's giving. He's thoughtful. He's intelligent.

He's well-rounded. He's humble. He's curious.

At first you're thinking: "Impossible." But I insist! I swear he exists.

And you narrow your eyes and exclaim "And this person wanted to spend time around YOU?" Yeah, I know. It shocked me, too.

But regardless of how implausible it all seems, this man came into my life and single-handedly placed a calm over my heart that I've never felt before. And of all the times I felt as if I had done something wrong in my life - being around him always made me feel as if I had finally done something right. He made me feel less selfish, and more open - but above all, there were times when he made me feel beautiful both inside and out - honestly, more than anyone in my life ever has. It's that cheesy poetic nonsense that makes everyone gag - but before you vomit all over your shoes or mine, allow me to coat the lining of your stomach.

He comes with his fair share of baggage - heavy enough to crush even the strongest of possibilities. I gave him all that I had and offered more, but all that I received in return was a luggage tag with someone elses name printed on it. The dust settled and collected, and now it's been swept under a rug very carefully woven. So you might be asking, "How are you thankful for that?"

Easy. Though the depth of my love is ultimately unrequited - and I am stuck with having opened myself to a world of pain - the whole experience has proven that I can still feel. It's like that scene in High Fidelity when Luara asks Rob to have sex with her after her father's funeral. She tells him that she needs to FEEL something, whether it be sex or sticking her hand in a fire. That's how I felt after my last bout with love and loss - and my experience with this man helped me to understand that I am not cold, and I am not hopeless.

I realized it when we'd look at each other and smile.
I realized it when he held my hand and I caught my breath.
I realized it when I would think about all the things I could do to make him smile.
I realized it when he played the songs he knew would make me happy.

And now it's back to emptiness, and now I've lost the hope. But somehow, some way, I'm still thankful for what all of it could've become. I'm thankful that the feelings of bitterness pass as quickly as they set in. I'm happy that I have my friends, my family, and the passion for my future career to occupy my heart and my mind, essentially allowing me to ease out of heartache and resentment.

I'm thankful for living my life with intellectual curiosity and passion - for always pursuing my goals even when it felt futile. I'm thankful that I am on the road to having my dream career and the ability to wake up every day and do what I love.

I'm thankful that at this time of year, I can smile knowing that someday I will make a great wife and a great mother - and one day I will be able to share my love of the holidays with my own family, generating the same peace and happiness that my Grandparents gave to me.

Cheating death

24 hours ago I was kickin' it bed-rest style.  

Today, I'm struttin' around my room in a really cute outfit I put together - part of a tradition I developed for myself whenever I drop another 10 lbs.  It might sound ridiculous to you - valley girl-ish?  Cheesy?  Both A and B?  Probably, but I believe in rewarding myself when I feel particularly lovely about my health and my appearance.

Regardless - I'm not going to die anytime soon.  False alarm with the heart/chest pain business yesterday.  Back to your regular scheduled programming!  Errr... or mine?  Which consists of writing, researching, prepping for grad school, and dancing around my room to Phil Collins and Huey Lewis.  Either way - yesterday's brush with absolute fear has made me appreciate every day even more.

This is the face of a very grateful lady:

Illin'

As a wee child, I used to get tonsillitis every six months or so.  I was a mess.  Finally, at age 12 my mother said "enough is enough" and had the docs yank all those bacteria-snagging organs from my throat/nasal passage.  Since that surgery, I have never been sick in any way.  I don't even get a common cold.  No fevers, no sniffles, no coughs or sore throats.  Straight up Unbreakable shit.

On top of the fact that I just seem impenetrable is the fact that I take better care of myself than most people my age.  I passed my last physical with flying colors - even my resting heart rate was better than the average.  I'm picky about what I ingest, and physical activity is one of the biggest parts of my life.

So, I'm sure you could imagine the shock when I woke up this morning to find I couldn't inhale without excruciating pain.  At approx. 5:40 this morning I felt as if someone had balanced ten bricks on my chest - and I was more afraid than I have been in a long time.  Immediately, I began different breath control exercises that I'm familiar with from yoga - thinking maybe it would help.  For a moment I thought maybe I was still dreaming.  When I started to shake and get dizzy I headed downstairs to wake up my Grandmother and proclaim that I might be having some sort of heart attack.

But how could that be, I thought.  I have excellent blood pressure, excellent cholesterol, my lipids are perfect, I'm a normal weight, and there isn't any history of heart disease in my family.  I couldn't be 25 and on the verge of a coronary.  As I considered all these factors, the pain in my chest grew heavier and I knew I had to make a decision - drive myself to the Emergency Room and rack up another 3000 dollars of non-insured debt -or- relax, breathe, and assess the situation.

After many tears of frustration and fear, I chose the latter.  My Grandmother suggested we call our family doc, spit the symptoms to him and hang on his directions.  The specs are as follows:

- No fever

- No congestion

- No cough

- No "shortness" of breath despite the pain of inhaling

- No pains/numbness in arms or other extremities  

Doc said I should relax and rest for the day - try not to move much at all and come in tomorrow for tests.  He didn't seem to think an expensive visit to the ER was necessary for my non-insured ass.  Good news for me.  I guess the chances of it being a blood clot in my lungs are low, but not impossible.  I go in tomorrow for x-rays to help determine that.  Fluid on the lungs is another possibility, but again, why out of nowhere?  It doesn't make any sense to me.

Hopefully, it's a passing symptom of a common cold - which, again, is very odd considering I haven't been sick for 13 years.  Either way you slice it, this sucks.  I hate not going to work, I hate not being able to move around - I hate not working out.  I hate sitting around and sleeping all day.  This is my own personal hell.

The only upside?  Season 7 of Scrubs and an opportunity to dive into Les Mis.  Oh, and Grandma is making Chicken, Brown Rice and Broccoli for dinner because she's amazing and she loves me! :D  I feel bad though - poor thing has had to babysit me all day per doctors orders - ya know, just in case I actually have a heart attack.  Very reassuring. 

Lies in the Meadows

Butch Walker released his new CD yesterday. It's been a little over 24 hours and I've already completely digested the album front to back - I have my favorite song, the song I like the least (but can't come close to hating,) and the song that conjures the most vivid memories and fantasies all within approximately four minutes.  It goes without saying that I think the man is a genius, but most importantly - he's all heart.  What I love most about Butch - what I connect with most in his music - is the fact he's an "all or nothing" type of person.  His approach to emotions is either immersion or disconnect - and sometimes a precarious combination of both.

He reminds me of myself.

Maybe it's a gigantic character flaw of mine - but I have a reputation of refusing to stand and face a situation if I feel it could potentially break me.  I won't sit and watch my emotions crumble to the ground - I won't stand back while my focus fades - and if gray begins to shade, I'm out of there.

It's not a complex thing - it's a defense mechanism, a survival tactic.  There have been times in my life where I have stuck around, held out hope, believed the hollow words people spit just to smooth things over - and every time I've come out empty-handed.  I'm only 25 and I can say with the utmost certainty that I've lost enough years already - I always like to refer to those years as "poor ontological investments" - but even the philosophy of it all isn't completely consoling. 

I don't know if it's just bad luck, or if karma really exists - but I consistently find myself in situations that, for lack of better words, simply go nowhere.  For a person as horrendously picky as I am, it's remarkable that I overlook obvious hurdles and go sprinting off with the finish-line in mind.  Of course you follow the metaphor to finding me curled up on the ground, face busted - silently screaming as the blood and tears create a caramelized cocktail of regret.

Dramatic?  Sure.  But it's a goddamned powerful recurring theme in my love life.  And yeah, every time something like this happens I retain a little bit of luck on one front - the fact that I have a contentment in my person to fall back on.  I'm very good at self-sufficiency - I can get along alone and find a genuine happiness in that.  I have immense career goals and a lot of passion.  I'm free to go where I please, do what I want - I don't have anyone to answer to, and  nobody that I'm responsible for.  My life is particularly ideal in many ways and at the end of the day, it's comforting to know how many possibilities are out there.  But these facts are the fallback - they're not the front-line.

Our emotions get us in trouble - they cause us to bend, to give, to compromise.  Sometimes that compromise means subduing aspects of our character that are painful to hold down.  When that happens, we are in essence living for another instead of living for ourselves.  The only time this is acceptable is when you're getting something equally satisfying in return.  You want me to dig a hole, that's fine - but you better be right there shoveling silver dollars and sugar-free peanut butter cups right back into it.  And, honestly, one or two lovely rhetorical flourishes do not translate into creamy sans-sucrose peanut buttery goodness.  The proof is in your actions - whether or not the effort exists and is genuine.

I'm in a position right now where what I want so desperately to believe is trumping what I fear might be the truth - and that's dangerous.   I'm not rooting myself in reality because at some point I figured, well, if we cracked the window surely we can open the door.  But, the walls are slowly bleeding black and white together, closing in just enough to cause concern.  I'm questioning everything - analyzing everything - weighing pros and cons - measuring prospective losses.  There's nothing right now that doesn't scream "Congratulations on drawing the short straw - better luck next time."

Until I feel like I'm not the only one with all my cards down on the table, my size 8 1/2 Nike is on the starting block.

(Yes, I mixed metaphors - intentionally, might I add)

Yes we did

When I was 16 years old, I started to have these funny feelings. I distinctly remember getting distracted, frequently, from important things like studying and maintaining the few friendships I had managed during highschool. Those "funny" feelings weren't the tingly kind that most teenagers may recall with an awkward fondness - rather, they were emotions fueled by political curiosity and social discontent. While most around me were prepping for the prom, I was beginning (unbeknownst to me at the time) an intellectual journey that would thrust me into subcultural identification and ultimately, what I refer to as a "convenient condemnation."

I bought books by Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky - I listened to bands like Bad Religion and Anti-Flag - I sewed upside down American flag patches onto my jackets and spoke out often against the atrocities of nationalism. I didn't hate America, but I hated borders and I hated xenophobia. I couldn't understand how people could lift one country above another, ignoring its own terrorism and dictatorship throughout the world. At the tender age of 17, I refused to pledge allgiance to any flag - and I vowed that I would instead devote my entire life to the constant, endless pursuit of knowledge - and to me, nationalism was the absolute antithesis to intellect.

It wasn't easy to maintain an adverse political ideology, even during the excitement of beginning my higher education career at the liberal university of my choice. I had been a college student for a little over one week when the United States suffered the attacks of September 11th, 2001. One day later, I wrote an essay highlighting the hypocrisy of the United States - citing all the foreign attacks and civilian casualties caused by our government - asking people to remember that we are not alone in the act of mourning the deaths of loved ones for idelogical gains. I asked that people let 9/11 be a lesson to them - one that would help us learn the importance of global unity, support and equality. The response to this eassy? Death threats, a flood of negative emails, and several campaigns to ban me from multiple forums of which I had been an active, respectful and engaging participant.

In the years following the backlash, I dropped out of politics. I watched from the background while the Bush administration committed crimes against humanity, fooled the American public into happily giving up their rights and liberties, and waged an absolutely pointless war. I gave up on trying to speak to the people around me, let alone reaching out the larger internet audience. I became cynical and resentful - I began to considering leaving the United States upon completion of my degree. And in November of 2004, I couldn't even bring myself to care about the Democratic opponent to the devil himself.

If you would have told me then that in four short years I would be sitting on my livingroom floor, sobbing tears of joy, feeling pride in being American - I would have suggested you never waste money on the 3-digit. If you would have told me that I would be getting a tattoo that had ANYTHING to do with nationalism, let alone one nation's electoral process - I would've laughed in your face. But here we are - here I AM - thinking about purchasing an American flag and feeling PROUD to live in a particular country - feeling HOPEFUL for the future of my investments and my career - Looking at my little sister who had a matter of days after her 18th birthday to register, watching the outcome of the election that saw her very first vote.

Six years ago I hated the idea of America. Today, I finally feel what I've heard so many talk about from years past - the idea that from many we are truly one. This is our history, our moment to appreciate the time that this country redeemed itself in our eyes and the eyes of the entire world. So stand up and embrace what, as a whole, you and your fellow Americans have done - you not only made history, but you made a future, as well.