Let's talk about FEAR. I'm talking about walk-downstairs-in-the-dark-when-you-are-home-alone fear. What is it that makes us fear our own home when it gets dark? Is it the nagging feeling that someone snuck into the garage while we were unloading the car, and we didn't lock the door to the house, not soon enough? Is it the fear that there really is a monster that lives in the basement and who tries to grab our feet when we run up the stairs? Or maybe, it is the fear that when we turn on the light we will realize that the faint glows we see in the kitchen are actually the eyes of the rabid coyote who came in through the dog door and is now ransacking the trash.* (*Rabid coyote scenario is regional, please replace with raccoon/possum/radioactive spider based on your geographical location).
So, with all these possible scenarios, why don't we just turn on the lights? Is it because then we would see the stranger who was lurking in the shadows, or we would know that the understairs beast is real? No. It is because we are lazy. We would rather risk falling down the stairs, stepping on the KONG, or ramming our toes into the chair leg than deal with the bright light and eye squintiness. When we are rational, we realize that these scenarios are the only dangers we actually face. Right? Wrong.
Last night I took the walk down into darkness. Given the fact that I am writing this tale, you know that I survived the "When A Stranger Calls Back" lurker/Ankle Grabber/Old Yeller-esque perils. But, there was something waiting for me that I didn't anticipate. Something which left me spitless. Something more terrifying than a frothing scavenger with camouflage and a foot fetish.
I scampered into the dark kitchen, feeling for the pantry doorknob with my hands. I knew what was in there and I knew what I should feel when I reached inside, into the inky blackness. I moved my hand over the familiar items until I felt the box. The box of saltwater taffy. I reached inside to grab a piece, changed my mind and grabbed two. Two pieces of what I thought were delicious, sticky, "sure-to-please" confections. I. WAS. WRONG.
In the dark privacy of the kitchen I unwrapped my sweet guilty pleasure. From the moment it hit my tongue, I knew something was terribly wrong. As the taste flooded my senses, I felt the panic rise. IT WAS BANANA. With no escape route visible in the darkness, I did the only thing I could. I swallowed it while frantically unwrapping piece number two. It was going to be ok. The second piece would erase the memory. I felt the fear begin to subside. I could do this. I. WAS. WRONG.
As I stuffed the second piece into my mouth, I began to smell something. The scent caused all the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I knew that smell, and it caused my heart to pound and my hands to shake. It smelled like anise. It only took a second before I realized what was happening. The smell was coming from INSIDE MY MOUTH. I was eating black licorice flavored taffy. If there is a taffy fate worse than banana, this was it. The tears gathered in my eyes, my stomach heaved, and I did the only thing I could.
I turned on the light. I spit out the offender. I stuck my head under the faucet. I fought to slow my pulse and take a deep breath.
I went back to the pantry. I made eye contact with the box and its contents. And this time, I chose peppermint. I went into it this time, eyes wide open.
And the fear was gone.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Forget The Maybe
I originally wrote this for my Facebook page, but frankly, it made me so happy that I wanted to include it here.
OWNING IT!
So there I was, cruising home from work with the windows down, when what should come on the radio but "Call Me Maybe"- could the timing be any better? As I am singing, I notice the light is changing and I will be pulling up next to two other lanes of traffic. Now, I will admit that usually when I am getting my CR Jep on and I have to stop next to other cars, I hang back a few feet, but NOT TONIGHT! Oh no, tonight I was owning it.
I pulled up to the line, looked over to the driver on the right, locked eyes and sang my little heart out. In return, he cranked up his Five Finger Death Punch-esqueCMM on his radio dial, put his windows down, and joined me in a chorus of Canadian pop perfection.
It was beautiful.
It was beautiful.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
You Should Know This By Now
Fondue. Gold. Beach. Pineapple. The Olympics. Peppermint. Cats.
Name 3 things you like (to yourself, unless you are alone. We don't want people to think you talk to yourself, unless of course that is something you like. Different strokes and all that).
Name 1 thing you love (if your initial response is that you don't know what "love" really means, stop reading this right now and call Vicky the therapist, I won't be addressing that issue here).
Name something you know how to do better than your brother/sister/parents/boss (if you just reread the words above thinking that those words were my answers to these questions, you should rest assured that I don't do "The Olympics" better than anyone, though I *do* love pineapple).
"I need to find out who I am", "I don't know what it means to be me", "I'm trying to find myself". I don't want to hear these phrases from a grown adult, unless it is from an adult who recently suffered a major head injury. While you may not know what you want your life to be, you should know who you are at the most basic level. There seems to be some confusion when it comes to the question of "Who Are You?".
Not knowing what you want to do for a living, but knowing it isn't what you are doing- this isn't YOU.
Knowing that you enjoy the city, but not knowing if you want to live in the city- this isn't YOU.
Dating someone who you think is great, but not knowing if you want to move in with him/her- this isn't YOU.
Your essential "YOUness" is composed of what you love, like and believe, completely absent of anyone else. Your "YOUness" travels with you, works with you, dates with you, and dies with you. My "YOUness" is made up of a fondness for peppermint ice cream, a love of travel, a dislike of cream soda and spiders, the need for sun and surf and to never have to work in Excel or Access again. In my opinion, your "YOUness" is who you are at your most basic- the simple parts.
Because I think that "YOUness" is so simple, I find myself concerned by those adults who say that they don't know who they are, that they need to find out- find out who they would be without this job/partner/responsibility, without this "life". I would argue that without my current job, I would still like peppermint ice cream. Regardless of who I am dating, I still don't like cream soda. If I didn't have bills to pay, I would still choose the beach over the snow- I would just choose it more often. I may not have a 5 year plan, but I know that it won't involve spider-wrangling. Whether I am in Denver, Denmark, or Down Under, I know that when push comes to shove- I'm more interested in breaking up the fight than jumping into it.
So here it is, the 6 word challenge. In 6 words, write who you are, define your "YOUness". Own It.
Globetrotting Arachnophobic Activist Cheesehead Encouraging Tomfoolery
Name 3 things you like (to yourself, unless you are alone. We don't want people to think you talk to yourself, unless of course that is something you like. Different strokes and all that).
Name 1 thing you love (if your initial response is that you don't know what "love" really means, stop reading this right now and call Vicky the therapist, I won't be addressing that issue here).
Name something you know how to do better than your brother/sister/parents/boss (if you just reread the words above thinking that those words were my answers to these questions, you should rest assured that I don't do "The Olympics" better than anyone, though I *do* love pineapple).
"I need to find out who I am", "I don't know what it means to be me", "I'm trying to find myself". I don't want to hear these phrases from a grown adult, unless it is from an adult who recently suffered a major head injury. While you may not know what you want your life to be, you should know who you are at the most basic level. There seems to be some confusion when it comes to the question of "Who Are You?".
Not knowing what you want to do for a living, but knowing it isn't what you are doing- this isn't YOU.
Knowing that you enjoy the city, but not knowing if you want to live in the city- this isn't YOU.
Dating someone who you think is great, but not knowing if you want to move in with him/her- this isn't YOU.
Your essential "YOUness" is composed of what you love, like and believe, completely absent of anyone else. Your "YOUness" travels with you, works with you, dates with you, and dies with you. My "YOUness" is made up of a fondness for peppermint ice cream, a love of travel, a dislike of cream soda and spiders, the need for sun and surf and to never have to work in Excel or Access again. In my opinion, your "YOUness" is who you are at your most basic- the simple parts.
Because I think that "YOUness" is so simple, I find myself concerned by those adults who say that they don't know who they are, that they need to find out- find out who they would be without this job/partner/responsibility, without this "life". I would argue that without my current job, I would still like peppermint ice cream. Regardless of who I am dating, I still don't like cream soda. If I didn't have bills to pay, I would still choose the beach over the snow- I would just choose it more often. I may not have a 5 year plan, but I know that it won't involve spider-wrangling. Whether I am in Denver, Denmark, or Down Under, I know that when push comes to shove- I'm more interested in breaking up the fight than jumping into it.
So here it is, the 6 word challenge. In 6 words, write who you are, define your "YOUness". Own It.
Globetrotting Arachnophobic Activist Cheesehead Encouraging Tomfoolery
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Fear of Giving
Some of us, when we see someone careening towards the edge of a cliff, can't stop ourselves from getting involved. We drop the 20 packages we are carrying, race towards the car, and say, "STOP STOP! You'll go right over the side if you keep going that direction! You need to take a left." Next thing we know, the occupant has hopped into our passenger seat and we are driving him to California, paying for gas, lodging, and food along the way. Did I mention that we were headed to Boston?
Giving of yourself is a wonderful thing. Ideally, you make a difference for someone else and you feel good about yourself. Giving too much of yourself is a terrible thing. You begin to resent what you are doing, who you are doing it for, and find yourself ready to forget the whole damn thing. Revisiting those 20 packages, you envision yourself dropping your arms to your side, letting them fall to the ground, hearing the "Fragile" items break, seeing the "This End Up" packages turn on their sides, and with complete satisfaction, screaming "%*@# THIS" as you stomp on the packages and storm off. A satisfying image, isn't it? Well, until you realize that the packages are your career, your marriage, your dog/cat/guinea pig, your student loan, your Fantasy team, your best friend, your kids, your annoying coworker, and that ridiculously overpriced platter from the P Barn that you just bought off your distant cousin's wedding registry. Trust me, no one likes someone who swears at a cute, fuzzy G-pig.
Ok, so we shouldn't overextend ourselves. Got it. So, where should we give our time? Our talents? Our money? This is where the fear enters into the joy of giving. Everyone you know has a cause. Everyone you know has kids/grandkids/neighbors/relatives who are selling something to raise money for something so they can go somewhere, do something, get something, or make a change. The causes usually all have merit and will bring great benefit to the recipient. If someone asked you to buy butterbraids to help purchase poison to "handle" the local prairie dog population or help canvas neighborhoods to raise awareness about the lack of real diamonds in the bedazzled cheerleading outfits in the area high school, it wouldn't be hard to say no. But- no one is asking you for those things, right? (Right?!)
Any good fundraiser will tell you that people donate money as much for the cause as for the story; the relationship they have with the person doing the ask, the person for whom the cause is personal. We all have limited resources, especially time and money. What do you do when you can only support a few causes, but you have so many friends, coworkers and neighbors? What happens when multiple people are vying for your support, for cookies/popcorn/wreaths/wrapping paper? Some people employ the "I will buy a little from everyone" strategy, some people employ the "I won't buy any from anyone" strategy, and some people employ the "I will avoid everyone I know with children" strategy. Avoiding fundraisers which center around food can be easy with a simple, "No cookies for me! Watching my sugar.". Try using that line when it comes to wrapping paper..."Uh, we don't wrap gifts at my house. We just put them right out in the open."
Guilt. In some cases it comes from the fundraiser or charity, and in some cases it comes from ourselves. Many of us don't want to have to rank charities, or prioritize our causes. To say to ourselves or someone else, "I really care about animal abuse and pancreatic cancer so I want to help agencies who work with those populations, but I don't know anyone with a developmental disability or who has been a victim of violent crime so I don't want to donate my dollars to those causes" is difficult, but it is true. We all have the freedom to help where we can and are able, and helping one cause, or 100, does not mean that you don't care about the other thousands of causes out there. This is where it can get difficult with friends and family. Donating to one person's cause may make you feel that you have to donate to everybody's cause. This gets stressful, prohibitive, and can make you want to avoid charitable giving all together. If I can't donate to everyone, I'm not donating to anyone.
So, what prompted today's post? I am constantly asking people for donations- money, shoes, school supplies, volunteer hours, pop tops, clothing, medical supplies. I will take on just about any cause if I believe in it, if I think I can help, and if I think that I can raise awareness. It can be exhausting, not just for me, but for my friends, family, coworkers, local businesses, and others who are frequently asked for donations. Saying no is hard, and saying no to a good cause is even harder, but we each have a limited amount of "YES" to give. Give it when it matters most to you. And for the other "frequent fundraisers" out there, let's accept the "No" and the no answers with as much grace and gratitude as we accept the "Yes". This month's no may be next month's yes.
Giving of yourself is a wonderful thing. Ideally, you make a difference for someone else and you feel good about yourself. Giving too much of yourself is a terrible thing. You begin to resent what you are doing, who you are doing it for, and find yourself ready to forget the whole damn thing. Revisiting those 20 packages, you envision yourself dropping your arms to your side, letting them fall to the ground, hearing the "Fragile" items break, seeing the "This End Up" packages turn on their sides, and with complete satisfaction, screaming "%*@# THIS" as you stomp on the packages and storm off. A satisfying image, isn't it? Well, until you realize that the packages are your career, your marriage, your dog/cat/guinea pig, your student loan, your Fantasy team, your best friend, your kids, your annoying coworker, and that ridiculously overpriced platter from the P Barn that you just bought off your distant cousin's wedding registry. Trust me, no one likes someone who swears at a cute, fuzzy G-pig.
Ok, so we shouldn't overextend ourselves. Got it. So, where should we give our time? Our talents? Our money? This is where the fear enters into the joy of giving. Everyone you know has a cause. Everyone you know has kids/grandkids/neighbors/relatives who are selling something to raise money for something so they can go somewhere, do something, get something, or make a change. The causes usually all have merit and will bring great benefit to the recipient. If someone asked you to buy butterbraids to help purchase poison to "handle" the local prairie dog population or help canvas neighborhoods to raise awareness about the lack of real diamonds in the bedazzled cheerleading outfits in the area high school, it wouldn't be hard to say no. But- no one is asking you for those things, right? (Right?!)
Any good fundraiser will tell you that people donate money as much for the cause as for the story; the relationship they have with the person doing the ask, the person for whom the cause is personal. We all have limited resources, especially time and money. What do you do when you can only support a few causes, but you have so many friends, coworkers and neighbors? What happens when multiple people are vying for your support, for cookies/popcorn/wreaths/wrapping paper? Some people employ the "I will buy a little from everyone" strategy, some people employ the "I won't buy any from anyone" strategy, and some people employ the "I will avoid everyone I know with children" strategy. Avoiding fundraisers which center around food can be easy with a simple, "No cookies for me! Watching my sugar.". Try using that line when it comes to wrapping paper..."Uh, we don't wrap gifts at my house. We just put them right out in the open."
Guilt. In some cases it comes from the fundraiser or charity, and in some cases it comes from ourselves. Many of us don't want to have to rank charities, or prioritize our causes. To say to ourselves or someone else, "I really care about animal abuse and pancreatic cancer so I want to help agencies who work with those populations, but I don't know anyone with a developmental disability or who has been a victim of violent crime so I don't want to donate my dollars to those causes" is difficult, but it is true. We all have the freedom to help where we can and are able, and helping one cause, or 100, does not mean that you don't care about the other thousands of causes out there. This is where it can get difficult with friends and family. Donating to one person's cause may make you feel that you have to donate to everybody's cause. This gets stressful, prohibitive, and can make you want to avoid charitable giving all together. If I can't donate to everyone, I'm not donating to anyone.
So, what prompted today's post? I am constantly asking people for donations- money, shoes, school supplies, volunteer hours, pop tops, clothing, medical supplies. I will take on just about any cause if I believe in it, if I think I can help, and if I think that I can raise awareness. It can be exhausting, not just for me, but for my friends, family, coworkers, local businesses, and others who are frequently asked for donations. Saying no is hard, and saying no to a good cause is even harder, but we each have a limited amount of "YES" to give. Give it when it matters most to you. And for the other "frequent fundraisers" out there, let's accept the "No" and the no answers with as much grace and gratitude as we accept the "Yes". This month's no may be next month's yes.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Awkward Medicine
Full Disclosure: I am not a doctor. I have never played a doctor on TV. I have worn a white lab coat. I am not basing this posting on any sort of research other than my completely arbitrary observations. Ice cream makes all medical experiences better.
I have found a direct relationship between specialized medicine and awkwardness. Regular doctors and dentists are approachable. You could have a drink with them and next thing you know, boom, you are exchanging "Driving While Puking" stories and becoming Facebook friends. You trust their brilliance, but you are still comfortable talking about your summer vacation while their hands are down your shirt listening to your heartbeat.
Specialists are generally attractive, and they know it. Any hesitation you have to tell them about burning, itching, or midnight binging is due to the fact that you are imaging them naked at the exact moment they are holding up the film footage of your golf ball sized kidney stone. Specialists will inevitably be nearby once you're under the influence of sedatives or anesthesia, and you will ask them out...repeatedly....mostly because you have the short-term memory of a fruit fly.
Super Smart Extra-Specialists are awkward. It's almost as if they have been kept on a protective island and the only part of you that isn't scary is your disease/condition/films/medical history. You quickly realize that you are trying to put THEM at ease. You barely restrain yourself from speaking in soothing tones while gently stroking their frightened hands. You tell great jokes, and they don't laugh. You say something like, "I'm monitoring my sodium intake" and they laugh hysterically.
Just like the ending of this post...it's awkward.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Sleepy Phenomena
You wake up and it is still dark. You stumble to the bathroom, catching your toe on the damn doorstop- again. (Why don't you just move it?) When you come back towards the bed, you debate glancing at the clock, well those of you who can actually SEE the clock might do that, or picking up your phone. Part of you is afraid that it will be closer to your alarm time than you think, and part of you hopes that it is only a little after 2 a.m.
Before you know it, the alarm sounds and you are hitting snooze. Even if you know the absolute latest time you can get up, you will still set your alarm in 10-15 minute increments before that, JUST so you can go back to sleep. You shower in the dark, brush your teeth with your eyes closed, and struggle to get dressed as though your limbs are made of lead. You're sleepy.
You yawn while you make/buy/grab your coffee/Mt. Dew/Gin & Tonic. You feel the scratchy eyes and sluggishness during your phone calls and emails. You perk up briefly when you know lunch is coming, and afterwards, you start moving in slow motion. You're sleepy.
Work is over! Hooray! You might have an hour or two of energy. You may even make dinner, call your Mom, or assemble some impulse purchase from IKEA. You will watch your favorite shows, and maybe even make it through the first 5 minutes of the news, just to find out what is in your morning coffee that *may* kill you. But then, it happens...you get sleepy.
You clean up the kitchen, pay that bill you forgot about, find that Snuggie you need for tomorrow's event, and you head to the bedroom. You take off your socks, stretch your legs, try to figure out why the dog/cat/boa constrictor doesn't realize it's bed time and instead insists on barking/rustling/constricting. You go into the bathroom and wash, brush, and stare at that tired person in the mirror. You're sleepy.
You turn on the fan. You turn off the light. You get into bed. You pull up the sheet, close your eyes and settle in. You think calm, serene thoughts. You think to yourself, I'm in bed on time! I will sleep for 8 hours! I will wake up refreshed and renewed!
2 hours later you have sent 5 texts, checked Facebook, read 2 chapters, written your grocery list, hung some art, dusted your furniture, and delinted the couch. And then you wrote a blog post.
You wake up and it is still dark..
Before you know it, the alarm sounds and you are hitting snooze. Even if you know the absolute latest time you can get up, you will still set your alarm in 10-15 minute increments before that, JUST so you can go back to sleep. You shower in the dark, brush your teeth with your eyes closed, and struggle to get dressed as though your limbs are made of lead. You're sleepy.
You yawn while you make/buy/grab your coffee/Mt. Dew/Gin & Tonic. You feel the scratchy eyes and sluggishness during your phone calls and emails. You perk up briefly when you know lunch is coming, and afterwards, you start moving in slow motion. You're sleepy.
Work is over! Hooray! You might have an hour or two of energy. You may even make dinner, call your Mom, or assemble some impulse purchase from IKEA. You will watch your favorite shows, and maybe even make it through the first 5 minutes of the news, just to find out what is in your morning coffee that *may* kill you. But then, it happens...you get sleepy.
You clean up the kitchen, pay that bill you forgot about, find that Snuggie you need for tomorrow's event, and you head to the bedroom. You take off your socks, stretch your legs, try to figure out why the dog/cat/boa constrictor doesn't realize it's bed time and instead insists on barking/rustling/constricting. You go into the bathroom and wash, brush, and stare at that tired person in the mirror. You're sleepy.
You turn on the fan. You turn off the light. You get into bed. You pull up the sheet, close your eyes and settle in. You think calm, serene thoughts. You think to yourself, I'm in bed on time! I will sleep for 8 hours! I will wake up refreshed and renewed!
2 hours later you have sent 5 texts, checked Facebook, read 2 chapters, written your grocery list, hung some art, dusted your furniture, and delinted the couch. And then you wrote a blog post.
You wake up and it is still dark..
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Things I Learned At A Country Music Concert
-100's of women who would deny it on any other day, will not only admit to being a redneck woman, but shout hey y'all and yee haw. -God, America, and the military will receive multiple shout outs. -It's possible to fit trigonometry into a rap song. -There are country rap songs. -Sometimes the biggest belt buckle is on a woman. -There will be at least one lady with a baby on her hip. -The hook 'em horns hand gesture is not limited to Texas or rock concerts. -Even the sternest cowboy needs a little rhinestone in his life. -Country women will kick your ass if you try to take their man, but they'll warn you first. -Sometimes you're too skinny to make skinny jeans look good. -Everyone wants to save a horse, ride a cowboy (and every man thinks he is a cowboy)
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