This will come up again because I am certain that I have not exhausted the topic. It has been bouncing around in my head for days or weeks or something like that and it has driven me mad. To the point that last night it nearly exploded - over some very poorly made Penne a Diablo with fresh vegetables. Magoo, myself, and my father sat down to dinner at a new Tampa restaurant - CDB's - at 7:30. After some initial discussions and a first round of cocktails we ordered. The waitress was mildly unfamiliar with the menu and I chose the dish above despite some confusion. In a timely manner our soup and iceberg lettuce salads with too much oil in their house dressing arrived with an extra side of bread. After the trays were picked up we ordered another round of cocktails and waited. And waited. And waited. We were told it would only be a minute. Or seemingly 45 of them. At 9 we flagged down the manager and kindly asked her to check on our food as we ordered it an hour ago. And again we waited and waited. Another 10 minutes go by and they arrived with our food and to no one's surprise mine was cold. It was evident it was cold before you even touched the entree - the sauce had hardened onto the pasta and vegetables, a sure (and unappetizing) sign. I asked the manager to please bring me a warmer dish and instead of apologizing for the wait or the food, she insisted that the food was just, "left on the line" and that, "she saw it there herself". Well to me that is not an indication the food was warm - in fact it tells me just the opposite - it was sitting on the line. But more so it looked cold and a quick taste told me I was correct. She left and brought me back a new bowl of pasta in mere minutes. This one clearly warm and fresh. Again without apologizing or even asking if things were okay she hovered over my shoulder and demanded that I eat it in front of her because she will not leave until I agreed with her that my meal was now warm. It was. I would have done anything to get her, her attitude, and her breath off my shoulder while I tried to eat. The food itself was mediocre to poor. Especially for something I waited for so long and for something I could have thrown together at home - in less time, for less money, and with far greater results. Certainly with less of a headache.
I was completely unsatisfied and totally disappointed. For quite the obvious reasons, but also because I don't get it. Why be NASTY? What benefit does it do to you or the business you are trying to run (into the ground)? This goes beyond customer service and the service industry. Why be nasty at all? I am trying really hard to understand what the need for it is in our society and in general in the human personality. I want to do my best to be a nice and charming person. No doubt I have my moments of shear and utter evil. I can be a complete bitch and a total crazy person. At times. Which is why I am working hard to curtail it. This attitude gets me all wound up and tired. It drains me and leaves me without any of the intended benefits and usually having to dole out apologies like candy. How about instead, I start with the candy and act saccharine sweet from the get go. Seems easier and more sane. Seems like I would get farther faster and with more overall success. Seems like a better perspective to enjoy. That would have made a difference in this evening's meal. If the manager had been apologetic, or even nice, I would have been far less disappointed. She achieved only one thing from her attitude - there will be three people who will never dine in their establishment again. Which to me seems to be the opposite goal of managing a restaurant. She should have started with dessert and let us decide based on our entree if we were coming back. A dollop of sweet (say like a free dessert) can last an entire meal - especially one that lasted two hours.
I get the flaws and see the other side - if we all existed in a nice friendly and peaceful bubble would these things happen? I am guessing so - shit happens. But we handle it differently, we look at it from a positive perspective and we move on from it faster because of all that. I would like to think that it would be helped overall. I will do my part to maintain that level - living my life with that existence. The best I can do is hope others do so as well. I can also hope others avoid that restaurant.
Labels: Breathing, Perspective
In our move I found stacks of old letters and cards. I was a keeper and have a ton of notes, birthday cards and funny memorabilia from the past decade or so. Included in the pile was an un-sent letter in a pink envelope with a teddy bear sticker addressed to Alli my old near and dear friend. I wrote it in college as it was going from my PO Box to hers, a testament of our age and that time in our lives, when we sat in our respective dorm rooms and chatted about everything for hours. The content of the letter is also a testament to a younger me. Something I appear to recognize in the letter and something I feel I actually achieved. In a way the fact that it was unsent was to be destined, as if it were just another journal entry or a letter to myself. Because I prophesize and I would like to think that prophecy came true.
April 24, 1999
Allison -
Hey Baby. I know I just talked to you this morning, but I really need to get this out. This whole situation with this guy is bothering me to no end. I've already bitched to everyone about it and I know I am annoying but I just can't shake it. This is/was precisely the reason I don't hook up randomly or drunk. I want the guy to call, I want respect and I don't want to be made to feel dirty.
I'm sitting here on a Saturday night and all I can do is think about him and
this fucked up situation and that just pisses me off. I had a great life before this happened and I was a strong minded person - why am I so weak now that I can't even plan a lesson plan? It makes me mad that I can't get over this or do anything. I've called him once (which in my mind is already too much.) I never open myself up because I thought I'd get hurt. When I do, guess what? I got hurt. Whats this going to do for my self esteem? I always thought that I was stronger than this, that I could handle something like this. Which makes me even more upset - that I am not handling the situation as expected.
My final closing thoughts are why the hell can't he just pick up the phone and call me? There is not time not to mention no reason to play games. I feel like he is getting bad advice from one of his immature and retarded fraternity brothers. I can't deal with the bullshit!!!
Please remind me of this letter one day - when we are old. So hopefully I can appreciate what a great life I have and to laugh at my youth. I'm hoping that one day this will seem funny!!!Thanks for listening and bearing with me.
Love Always - A
Besides the melo-drama the letter is dead on. I loved how strong willed I was, but I know that was what prevented me from taking those steps to be in relationships at that time and why this situation unravled me just so. Those are certain moments where we just don't know what to do. Some guy or some situation or whatever has made us so mad that we are at our wits end. Here I know that writing it down, even if unmailed, helped. I swear I don't even know who this is about. Nice, huh? But really that fact is just super telling and a great lesson - that life moves on and you will get over it. To the point where you don't remember who or what the tears were even about. It is just so incredibly true that time heals most all wounds and that you'll eventually get over those dramas and problems and move on. But more so I love how this truly became a prophecy and that I seemed to know I would move on, find it funny, and recognize that my life will be great enough to give me perspective. What is a little bit scary is that today is when I would have said I was "old." It probably would be now to my 20 year old self. Though, despite the aging, I'm in a place to do that appreciating now. Even more so, I would like to think that it can be the case in general, that dreams will and can come true, that your fantasies and day dreams will eventually happen. But it has to be in the time and moment that they are supposed to. This will happen to everyone in their time as well and we just need to remember that to help get past the drama.
Labels: Last Life, Perspective
We got all dolled up and attended a Hillsborough County Bar Association dinner. In a room with 600 lawyers we dined on hotel food and listened to Fred Thompson. He is hysterical and quite fortunate having experiences from Watergate to Hollywood to Washington DC including a current stint on Law and Order, where you probably know him best. I just don't know about him as President and that has some things to do with my registered status. But we had a great time pretending to be important. The 
things is amongst all the speeches about how wonderful and prideful it is to be an attorney it made me not want to me one. I was coming off a pretty crappy day which did not help my sentiment regarding the law. And all the reasons cited for why the law is great and fulfilling fell on my deaf ears. What was described was not something that I feel that I actually do or that I am helping to contribute to.
My legal world is not filled with altruism and doing good and I don't often feel a sense of pride. Not in the way that was described anyway. I feel it is just a job. A 
new office sure, but still just a job. With that made me really wonder, and not for the first time, if this is the right fit for the long haul. Whether I should continue down this path. Because really in only a few short years I will have hit the seven year mark. Which is not reserved for just itches but also partner status. That is tempting because there is a pride there, but that too may also be short lived. However, the money and lifestyle become increasingly difficult to walk away from. Even now I would say it would be a challenge. But of course it is not impossible and my sanity and happiness certainly are not worth any amount of high income. It is just something that I have to keep in mind.
Really I also know that I have to have perspective. It has only been three years and in that time I should not have been expected to find my place. It takes time, work and a dose of good fortune to get to those kind of right fit special places. That is true of not just being a lawyer but any career choice I chose to pursue. It is not going to happen overnight and it is not going to be easy as pie. Really that is true about anything in life including friendships and relationships - they take time to build, some effort and patience and finding the right fit for you. We all look for love and spend so much time dating and investing in that relationship. This really is not that different. You need to take the time and effort to find a career that fits for you in the same way a mate would. It does not happen over night and it is not automatic that the first one is going to be right. Same deal for a job, right? So really at this point I need to just be aware of that phenomenon and keep it in perspective. Recognizing that my time will come but also knowing that I need to work at it and work towards what I want. I cannot grow easily frustrated, rather I need to keep resetting goals and deciding what I want and need to be doing.
Fred Thompson was a lawyer trained at Vanderbilt who happened to fall into a political campaign which led him to Watergate. They wrote a movie about the event and he got to play himself, which led to a film and TV career. Along the way he stayed in the law game and ran into politics as well. For him it was about timing, hard work and that dose of good fortune. I am fairly certain when he set out 35 years ago he had none of this in mind and could not have generated it if asked. That is really the beauty of it.
It is that kind of perspective I need to hold onto. That and for him it has been over 30 years of building a life and career. My three by comparison pale. Not that I want his life, but just that there are other paths out
there and that life can often lead you down them without a lot of
forethought or planning. I am lucky to have been given the chance to make these decisions and really to whi
ne and complain about the whole thing. I also have to understand where I have come from, looking back to where I started three years ago and where I am now - knowing where I can go from here. I feel steps ahead of where I started and I can totally see new and different potential in the role I have not. Add into that what I really want to do, at least what I think that is, and I believe I should be just fine. It is not all peachy keen and wonderful, but I hope that some day it can be close to that. That and the picture below well that was my dessert, so how bad could it all really be? At least I had some chocolaty goodness to keep me warm and comforted. For the time 
being that is going to be enough.
Labels: J.O.B., Perspective
We need a tripod or to teach Ging to take pictures. We took a million one night, well not just one night it was my birthday and I wanted it to be special. These were mostly done holding our arms out and snapping the shots. We tried to just get a good one of us and finally pretty much gave up. I snapped pictures in the car and at the bar at the Capital Grille. We did the whole self timer thing and it sucked, we looked awful and uncomfortable. I mostly thought I looked fat. Magoo slanted his chin up. Whatever. Who can look through a dozen shots of them self and not find some that they are not happy with? One of us has something we don't find acceptable.
Isn't that just true about anything really? There is always something we can find wrong. Especially as Jews, I know that is the gospel we preach to our nearest and dearest. But really there is always something we can point to and say that it is off or that we are not happy. I am super guilty of it. You all commented that it was nice to see that I had been coming along at the new job. The thing is most days are not that way. Most of the time I am frustrated and unhappy. I can find a dozen and eleven things I dislike. Don't get me started, and as I said in an e-mail today, or I will cry. But really, isn't that how everything is in life? We can chose to fixate on the bad and look for it buried in every corner? Or we can gloss over it and enjoy the present for the good that it has to offer. Doing so keeps us in the good and alive with smiles and pleasure. It prevents us from inching towards the bad as well. We can forget that the bad is there and decide instead to revel in the good places, people, times and faces. I gave the same advice to a friend today, keep it even and steady and see where you wind up. If you move away from the negative you will find it may no longer be a problem, you will find the warmth of the happiness. You will find you can live in the fold of the good without so much as acknowledging the bads presence. Especially not when you don't have to and especially not when you shouldn't be giving into it.
The point is you make your own happiness. You live in it and you create it. There is always going to be something to pick out that is wrong or incorrect. Or whatever, who cares. Let it go. Really just get over it and let it go. You can chose to waste your energy and minutes of your day and life living in it or you can chose otherwise. A decision not to abuse the time but to enjoy it and revel in it. Why spend the time cranky and angry about what could be or should be. Or festering in the disgruntled. We can chose to give into the negative and find something wrong with every stare and whisper, every picture we take, and every aspect of our lives. Don't. Push it aside, wipe it off, take a deep breath and jump into the good. Take happiness by the hand and dive head first. It is your choice to do so. Your choices are your life and what you make of it. Make the choice to appreciate it all and make it the best it can be. Choose not to sit around and pick out the ills and the but it won't works. This is not just about attitude, it is about perspective and about acting on those ideas. It is not just about complaining about what is wrong and pointing it out. It is about doing something to address it and taking those steps. Extricate yourself from negative and make them a positive. See things from a new light and in a new way, instead of the same old whine and complain song and dance. Instead of just feeling the bad, take a turn for the good. See how that fits you for a while. I know I can change the zoom, the height, the focus, and my smile, but in the end I just need to be happy with who I am and to really know that these are good pictures. They are good because I decided that I like them and I choose to see the positive. It is a helluva lot easier that way, plus there was some good steak to enjoy.
Labels: Perspective
I attended a goodbye dinner for a friend with her friends, whom I don't really know. As an aside a goodbye dinner is such a terribly horrible thing to say, it really implies things that are sad and lonely. I prefer to think of it as the camp song went, "this is goodnight and not goodbye." But she is leaving town and so it is a congratulations for moving on, even if on is O-town. Okay my moving on. So, I don't know these girls but that does not stop me, it just means these words are not coming from an ill intent place, but just as an outsider invited to dine in. More so I cannot judge their sense of humor or the apparent fact that they have none.
Dinner arrived and as all plates were laid down we noticed she was missing hers. Forks raised not wanting to be rude someone asked what she ordered. Nothing. Sure, fine. Well not really - I have always hated those people. You knew you were going to a dinner, how can you not be hungry. Whatever their deal not mine. I enjoy company, food, and dining out too much to pass that up. Oh but she continued with a dead pan face, she does not eat after five. I swore on my Gucci kitten heels that she was kidding. It was her way of poking fun at the poor service. Those who were her friends seemed to realize not. "Aren't you at work at 5?" And in stride, without breaking a smile, because I don't think she smiles, she says, "Yes, I eat at work, so I can avoid eating after five." She was not kidding. This is bizarre and very uncomfortable as I stab my spicy chicken. Well not that uncomfortable because I don't really care and the chicken was fantastic. These are her issues which run DEEP. There are diets, weight management, healthy eating, exercise, allergies and then there is ridiculous. She had crossed ridiculous a quarter mile ago. How can you enjoy life with those rules and attitudes? This is someone who needs the rules to live by, this seemed obvious. Which means she was not enjoying. She was not living. She had a rule that she was supposed to follow or else. Or else what? Nothing. Take a bite and celebrate your friends and their company and their success. Five is for the eighty plus crowd or the insane. I judged her to be about 26. Keeping it in check at that age was scary. The food I ate was EXCELLENT. A edgy nuevo Vietnamese place with impeccable design and a chef. She was missing out. On the spices, aromas, tastes and flavors. Of what it means to be full and happy. What it is to savor and crave. These are normal and wonderfully delectable natural emotions and ideas. They show you what alive is. How to breathe, grow, and learn. They make up our world. Sitting with friends over food, sampling on small plates, taking sips of a French red, agonizing over too many options on the menu. That is socializing. It bonds you to people and to the earth. To the chef and her world and you get glimpses of heaven. This is why we eat out - to take in all of these emotions, experience new ideas and sensations, and to spend quality time with our friends and family across a dimly lit table. That is how memories are made and when special moments are shared. It is life. Her deadpan face was an absence of any of this and apparently not just some poor joke about her delayed entree. Her face lacked those emotions. Her face knew no such joy. Her face was probably hunger.
Labels: Perspective
I had another post planned for today, which will likely arrive tomorrow. But all day I have not been feeling it. I feel gross. Blah. Icky. My pants are too tight and it is my fault - I should not have worn them. I am just aggravated and my boss did nothing to alleviate that fact. The decision was prompted by a quick run at the NYTimes headlines. I was decided in my decision to hold off on something silly, though important to Magoo and I, in the wake of the Virgina Tech shooting.
To me college was a safe haven. We walked around freely and liberally and did whatever we wanted. I am not kidding - I saw people having sex in the quad outside my window. Seriously though we did not consider risks and safety, let alone a crazed gunman shooting at us. And this was New Orleans, a place with the highest murder rate in the country. While there were no walls and stranger danger was present, the University did an excellent job in making it a non-issue. At least to the point we did not have to think about it. It was a time for carefree carelessness and a time to revel and celebrate. Certainly this time of year when the weather changed and summer break was this close. We could taste the freedom, as we held classes on the grass and laid out during study breaks. For us it meant French Quarter festival back to back with Jazz Fest. Nothing short of perfection. And nothing to worry about, except maybe studying for your Spanish Final. But like today and my hatred of my clothing, really nothing to worry about. I know the same is true across the country littered with universities, including Virginia Tech. That is what college is about. It is the best thing about those blissful four years. That, in part, is what makes this so horrific. It is tragically sad what happened but it is worsened by the fact that college does not mean that anymore. Not to these kids, not to the ones who lost their lives and not to universities who now have to deal with this reality. The freedom of learning, living, growing, and relaxing was so harshly interrupted that it can never be the same. At least not there. That is so terrifically terrible.
So tomorrow it will be back to my reality, but for now I pause and think about real problems and issues and am thankful that mine are only the communication problems I have with the jefe. Truly thankful.
Labels: Last Life, Perspective
The last time I can remember being at home just watching TV was hurricane day. The anniversary of Katrina. When Ellen was too much - the tears were more than I could handle - I flipped to Oprah. It was late summer, August, and she and Gail were debuting their road trip. Now here I am several months later, home again, and it is part two and three of the road trip. Are the TV gods telling me something? Road trip? Girl time? Get out and see America? I am never home at 4. I always wonder about signs like that. Road signs if you will. Some kind of sign that I can figure out later. Maybe when I get some more signs or clarity. Because at least she appeared to have a true real time out on the highway. Her and Gail in love with the moment. God they are not gay - they are just true to life best friends dealing with the ups and downs holding hands and smiling all the way. They just seemed happy.
Now it is time for Ina. I am not sure why she is the Barefoot Contessa. She is one of my favorites. Magoo and I also love the decadence of Paula and her obsession with butter. But Ina is so soft spoken and always has a ton of references to our traditional Jewish foods, she could be my mom or my best friend. But what about her is Contessa like? Or barefoot for that matter? She is Martha Stewart-esque, minus the annoying over achieving aspects. Martha's attitude makes me feel bad about myself. That I don't own actual linens and that I don't iron them. Or even have a proper room for them. But who the hell really does? I doubt Ina does. She seems real and always in love with her friends. Martha has no friends. At least no real ones. But Ina seems to possess an Oprah/Gail ability to be happy and in love with her friends in the moment. It seems genuine. Martha is just a plain mean girl and we know what I think about that.
I continue by breaking up teeny-tiny pieces of bread to shove into my mouth. A snack. Uh yeah whatever. My co-workers are on the cleanse diet and in a sad way I am too. I know that the adage that if you chew your food slowly and in small portions you will become fuller. I know it because it happens to me. Three bites of oatmeal and I am done. I've gotta be down a few. I turn back to my TV lady friends and notice that they consume and enjoy. No cleansing diets for them. They love their food, both dedicating their shows to it. Well all three, lets throw Paula in there too; she is gentile, kind, funny and welcoming. And they all have shows. How 'bout that? They are warm, smiley, and successful. Open about the whole thing. But they hold onto those extra lbs - lovingly almost. Like old friends who just don't care. So I stop worrying. When my ability to chew is back I will enjoy the hell outta a burger. Surrounded by my friends. Maybe this attitude will give me my own show. Probably not, but at least it will make me smile and happy and I can embrace them, hold their hands, and laugh. That may mean we are gay but it does not make us gay. It just makes us happy.
Labels: Everyday Life, Perspective
I wrote this and minutes later my doorbell chimed. I peaked out and no one was there. I opened anyway and there were tulips. Sent from a dear true old friend. One who I met at the same time as the other, but whom I actually became and maintained a friendhisp with. By choice and not by circumstance. Who I have remained such even under circumstances. One of which passed not too long ago and that we were not too removed from dealing with. Though she still cared enough to send flowers. A quality we should all have in our friends and ourselves for that matter. But one I found he did not possess.
The bigger point is that I need to keep that in perspective. I do it all the time, not just with her. In a lot of my life and relationships. Forgetting the larger picture and living in the details. The moment of it all should not erase what has been done in the past, especially when it is voluminous. One time should not cost us the total love. We all fail. We all make mistakes. Some are unintentional. Which is equally as wrong and very difficult to swallow. But so long as those times happen with infrequency we can continue down the rose garden of friendship. It is when the wrongs out number the rights or they are just so wrong that we put the friendship down. At least we should. But that was not the case here. I just needed a drill to my mouth and a mystery doorman to remind me of it.
Labels: Friends/Family, Perspective
"I am so pale"
"Oh my god me too. I would love to pick this hot pink, but I am like so pale."
"We HAVE to go to the beach. Like now"
"Ahhhhh such a good idea!. Lets go to Boca Grande, like next weekend"
"Hell yeah. We are so going."
"Does this red make me look slutty?"
Scenes from a South Tampa nail shop one Friday afternoon in January. Scenes between two high school aged chickies. No older than 18, with no perception of the world. Really. None. Boca Grande? Tanning does not mean a three hour trip to an expensive island get away. Not at 17 and not on a whim. And not just so the barbie pink Essie nail polish will look better on your toes.
I sit and think if I was ever that bad. If I ever came across to strangers in such a way. I understand my lot and position and how I can be perceived. I know what it is like to be in a group with girlfriends, loud and unaware of people listening in. It can get out of hand and it can look, well, like a snotty mess. I am aware of that possibility and aware of what is going on. This seemed different as it smacked of indifference. A lack of understanding or appreciation of what was going on around them.
I have to think that in a Sweet Sixteen Laguna Beach world this type of open display of vapid wealth has been deemed acceptable. They see the shows and think that it is the norm. With little understanding how ridiculous they sound. How overly grown and yet totally unsophisticated they come across. But with disposable wealth at their newly painted finger tips. That when we watch the train wreck that are those shows, we laugh and point and shake our heads. Wondering how much is played up for the TV. How much is edited and prompted by the producers. And who really has parents that are willing to drown their kids in spoils, without realizing the repercussions of their actions. But I fear that when that generation, because yes this is a different generation, views these shows they look at it as examples. Of how they can and should behave. And that it is okay for their parents to provide them with every amenity. That there is no perception of reality, aside from what is splayed on MTV and a determination is made that this is what they want as well. With no grasp of the absurd nature. That instead of an understanding that these shows are ironic and are meant to point out just how ridiculous these kids actions are, the exact demographic embraces the life. They mimic it to the best they can and then display it openly as if proud that they resemble the spoileds of Orange County. Not fully realizing how they look or what message they are sending. Or what life is really like for these kids. No perception.
With no boundaries and endless wealth at 16, things are lost. And those things are ideals, morals, and values. Those come with boundaries, lessons, and earning things. We are taught by our parents and by looking to our peers. We learn lessons from their examples and the tough way, through failure. These roads are important to gauge yourself and learn trust. To experience, cry, pick yourself up and become stronger. Perspective is key to seeing all that and understanding the privilege as well as the struggle. But with the world in your Gucci wallet, it no longer matters what the rest of society deals with. It is not about learning lessons the hard way, because that has been paid for and bought. You can see only as far as the next manicure or tanning session. And as teenagers we are all short sighted and self absorbed. This is not going to change. But when the habit is fed with a bottomless pit of green, it knows no limits and can't possibly be learned. They are not going to recognize or see that this is not how the world functions. They are indifferent. There is no one and nothing to stop it and give them a reality check. Especially when reality TV shows that this is what is the norm. And that upsets me. Which is big coming from somone with a love for pink toes, tanned legs and MTV.
Labels: Everyday Life, Perspective
In elementary school they were the mean girls, Nina Monroe and Lisa Berger. A tag team, arriving to our class in the same year. Revered because they were new and because of the triangle. The upside down triangle on the back pocket of their jeans. Guess Jeans. They had them and matching outfits from Limited Too and Burdines. But they were mean. Prank callers, hair pullers, and note passers. The notes were the worst, written in spite to instigate trouble and hatred between girls. Always. And it usually worked because we believed what they were saying. They were those girls. With that kind of power. But boy did they have fun. You know it because of the giggles, but also because you joined them from time to time. There was a rush, with the planning and the anticipation of how it would all turn out. Of course the smugness when their plan sprung into action on an unsuspecting victim. Pure seven year old bliss. Like riding your bike so fast that you can feel the wind in your hair with your mother's warnings echoed in your ears. Extreme fun, the kind with consequences. The best kind.
I met one again this summer. She was a summer associate and the only thing I could think about her was that she was mean, in the way that Nina and Lisa were mean. But she was 25. And in law school. This is not the law firm, cut throat mean I am talking about either. This was elementary school hair pulling and finger pointing antics. She just had that it about her. The one that says she never outgrew it. She truly was still a mean girl. In the way that I know she intimidates her friends. Gets her way through bully tactics. And it is allowed, until the girls grow tired and move on. She finding her next "friend". I have to think she is the word frenemy. We quickly grew tired of it all and she will not be joining us.
Do Nina and Lisa still do it? Have they toned it down? Or are they now mean women? I hear they live in New York City, where such behavior is groomed, displayed and cultivated to a lifestyle. I am certain they are still well styled individuals. But it has been 20 years, I have to give them the benefit that they have outgrown the note passing stages of 1989. But really, more so, am I still a mean girl? To people I dislike or I feel have hurt me. I gossip. I know I do and talk ill of others who I find humorous or even feel threatened by. This is different. At least I tell myself it is. This is not done to their face and even more importantly it is not used to harm or dismantle them. It is done for myself, usually to make me feel better. It goes no further. The mean girl outwardly projects onto it's victims. That is what makes it mean.
I know the rest of us have outgrown that, if it ever existed. We are mature adults. But does some of that still resonate? I just wonder how much we outgrow and how much we chose to retain. The lessons we learned as fourth graders, on how to intimidate and manipulate. Using our power to make others feel poor and ourselves feel rich, at least for that momentary high. Do we incorporate those techniques into our everyday, in ways to get a job, a date, a car, or a home. They are power moves after all. Used to place you above the others. But there is a difference between mean and savvy. Between nasty and smarts. That is not what mean girls are made of. I have learned these differences and appreciate the nuances. I try my best to live a decent, kind life. With no intention to harm or even manipulate. Knowing those scars run deep and how poorly it is received by the rest of society. It is just plain ugly and there is nothing more that I hate than ugly. But there are flashes and moments when I can feel the mean. When I am doing to my friends what I learned on a playground in the sunshine of Miami and sometimes it feels pretty good. Especially when I am just retaliating. It feels excellent. Like wind in my not yet died blonde hair. It feels like freedom. Of course there are consequences. But damn, mean can be fun. The best kind of fun.
Labels: Last Life, Perspective
When I moved to NOLA in 1997, it was solely to attend school. Not to live in a city, per se. I was going to college. (!). Exclamation point included. I was dead set on leaving Florida, pinkie swearing on the corner of Dixie Highway that it would not later be used against me in a guilt trip. It never was. But there I stood all of 18 years, thinking I knew every damn thing there was to know about every thing. I swear I knew everything. And I was going to college.
What I didn't know was there was this entire city of people, places, and history that I was going to be introduced to. That would come well after I spend my requisite nights at frat parties and the Boot. Weeks and weeks and weeks there. But eventually I would take my nose out of the vat and would learn of this wonderful world built around one of the greatest cities. Where history meets personality and there is culture in every space you turn.
What I didn't know was that the first two people I befriended would not make it through the first year. Both owing their departure to some nose candy and an inability to handle the consumption of the city and of the affluent influences of Tulane's study body. I too had no idea. I had a foundation, I had seen it. To a degree as a highschooler. Lexis' in the parking lot and party hopping at the age of 17. But this was country club, private school, nuevo riche with all the trappings that came with it. We drank keg beer in backyards out of red plastic cups. They did coke. A whole different ball game that claimed each individual separately. I would learn that Tulane was not for everyone. Also claiming two of my suite mates after the first year. For totally different reasons, but still it was not meant for them. Really that glamour does not translate to sustainability. Reasons we chose the school in the first place do not match what our day to day experience are. On all ends of the spectrum
What I didn't know was that when I asked for a restaurant referral on the first parent's weekend was that there was not really a place called Emeralds. In those days before google, I tried my hardest to find this place that came so highly recommended. What I didn't know was that she meant Emeril and that he was a cooking legend and his food was a phenom. Something that I will learn as we later enjoy his BBQ shrimp and visit and revisit his restaurants across the continent.
What I didn't know was how much I would hold so close those memories and times. I think back fondly on my undergraduate days despite all the turmoil, trauma, and young girl mistakes. More importantly is how much you learn in college about, well, about life. Things I swore I already knew as a so so very sophisticated high school grad. I had spent a lot of time discussing such with my very brilliant colleagues at Miami Palmetto Senior. I knew everything about everything. So I went to university to major and learn of macro economics and Latin American studies. But that really became secondary to all the education going on around me. Since what we truly learn are lessons about people, behaviors, friendships, our own limits and strengths and of course great food.
Labels: Last Life, Perspective
I went to the same Starbucks twice in the same day, 13 hours apart. The second time I was given a free cup of decaf. Not because I was a repeat customer, because how would they know, but because people are good. Really it may have been laziness or just ease. But her simple action, my belief that she meant good, was enough to make me smile. It was a long day (evidenced by the stop at the 'bucs on Dale Mabry twice) and her easy gesture was a nice one. The idea that someone else's off handed thoughtfulness could make me so happy, is an interesting one. A science of happiness. It does not even depend on her intent or desire to do good. Like I said, it was probably that they were closing and she had shut the register. But it was that it meant a lot to me. Maybe I was in need of a boost, caffeine or otherwise, but it hit the spot and made me feel good about people. In the pop study of happiness psychology, reflecting on what makes you feel good at the end of each day is considered an important innervation. Doing so is supposed to be good for you. In the end, it makes you a happier, healthier person.
I got this "ticket" while dining at Acropolis the other night. A fun-spot Greek restaurant in Ybor. Could the people of Tampa be any nicer? A warning, that was so kind and unassuming. Smacks of good people. Again, a decision on the part of the government not to ticket those visiting or those who made a "mistake". Mine was laziness; I just didn't feel like putting money in the meter. It was dark, I was alone and running late. I would rather pay a ticket than stand and feed money into a machine, especially in a dimly lit lot at night. Seeing that the city was willing to forgive my transgression again made me smile. Very generous. Made me feel good about people, myself, and this time specifically the city of Tampa. You don't get this goodness in a bigger city. And isn't that why we live here? An affirmation of good on a number of levels; especially that I chose to live in the right place and park in the right spot. A good decision. Oh and a crazy good meal - those Greeks know how to have a good time.
Labels: Everyday Life, Perspective
She was the first person to tell you that you look thinner. That is the greatest compliment possibly ever and probably means an instant serotonin boost, if I had an ability to measure those sorts of things. Because now you feel thinner and inspired to continue. That's why my mom told me to always compliment a person who has lost weight. They need to hear it. And when it is your hair dresser who has styled you for the past three years it feels pretty damn good. From her you demand bold bright and funky, as a way to get out of the blah. You then get to chatting, because we all know that is what happens at salons. And you explain the blah to her. But with an understanding and a preface, that you cannot complain. Because really you can't. There is nothing wrong with your life and there are a million and a half things to be thankful for. Don't get me wrong because I totally know. But you describe the blah. And in a word, the too tall, all legs, blonde, who makes your hair shine says, "well, you're just bored." Bam. Like that she has the diagnosis. And we know I had been looking for the diagnosis. She continues, "for me, I was bored, and then I booked a trip to Thailand, and I leave in three weeks."
Oh shit. That sounds fantastic. Clearly, Thailand is out of the question. You can barely get time off to go to the dentist. But something. Just a fantastical whimsical trip. Even if it is being a tourist in your own city. I really love that idea. Just a destination and event to look forward to and plan for. Not an Asian country necessarily. But the idea is there. Something. So while the foil sits, I plan my plan. My Thailand.
Labels: Perspective
I have started this before after glasses of wine and bottles of beer sipped at the counter of a bar. Surrounded by noise and conversations unnoticed as we were in engrossed in ours. Girlfriend to girlfriend and a week’s worth of stories to tell marked by, “why’s” and “how’s” of text messages and unreturned phone calls. These kinds of stories have been told countless times, by me, to me, multiplied by us all. These stories were created in bars just like that one started on nights just like that with a girl, a boy and a Gucci bag full of stories left for their friends in the nights to come. I have had this thought countless times.
These stories are not mine and are not unique to those who orbit around me. They are based on questions of, "why does this not work" and known for having such inconclusive answers as, “He’s an asshole”. In between the versions change but the message is the same. He said he would call and he didn’t. He spent the day with basketball, football, or anyone but you. You were neglected, trampled and made to feel less than. There were kisses, sex, but you were left in the morning with nothing to hold. Well maybe that phone when the texts came in that read, “Later babe, I am with the guys.” Taking solace in that he called you “babe”. But that is all there was.
It is clear it is not you, it is him. The problem is you want it to be a real relationship. You hope for it to be. In the moments of panic, when the call goes unreturned for three days, you reflect only on the good believing things will be fine. That last moment in bed, when he looked into your eyes and swore to your cuteness has to mean something, or everything. When he disappears at the party for twenty minutes and you find him in the corner talking to his ex-girlfriend, the tears and anger well up. But he makes it better by taking your hand and telling you that too expensive cleavage revealing BCBG top is hot. You know it and realize he does too. So you stay, squeeze his hand, and whisk him to the other side of the room. After all he came with you. And he leaves with you. That night it is again just the two of you, that sparkly top now on the floor in the hallway, but she still permeates the room as his phone chimes at 3:47 a.m. Just freshly asleep, you hear it and pray he does not move. Because it is supposed to be about you, snuggled in the pocket of his arm breathing in the D&G cologne. You think this is bliss and that this will last forever. But you are the only one who thinks so, you are the only one who is thinking, period. He checks that text. He makes plans around you, not with you. He spends whole uninterrupted days with no effort thrown your way. He cancels without an after thought. It is not about you. That is all about him. So why do we spend so much time thinking of him? Agonizing over him? Wanting to make it work? When he puts in the same effort as he does to pick out a pair of boxers in the morning.
These are the stories and questions that single girls lives are made of. What kills me and makes me want to dump the Stella Artois on top of the Chloe toting single-tte is that they stick around for it. Make excuses why it is okay, to make themselves feel okay. Excusing excuses. When inside they are hurt and tears maybe shed publicly and in the quiet of the down comforter. They wonder what they did wrong. When it was nothing. Not a thing. Except spending too much time wasting after a never will be guy. Basing their egos on a follow up date and his affirmation. When he is worth little and should not hold the balance of your worth in his effort to hit send. No person should make another feel that bad, that they excuse such horrible inconsiderate behavior. No person should hold that much power of your person and esteem. No person should allow that kind of respect-less attitude prevail. And what is worse is that no person should stick around once they are placed in that position. The excuses should not be excused. That should be it. One time and you are out; forget three strikes. That is too much to give to a person who has nothing to offer. It is never going to work, so why wait and try, again and again. It ends in tears and heartache each time worse and more humiliating than the time before. He cares less and less, keeping you intertwined and entertained. His entertainment at all expenses, with you left holding the bill. This is not it. This is a waste, of time, energy, emotion and tears. When it is real, none of this exists. Love is grander, easier, prettier and heartfelt. It will never wear this ugly mask not once, not ever. No excuses.
These tales are centered on the why did it happen and how do I get it back. When they should be focused on moving on and moving up. At that bar, next to cocktails and cell phones, we should not be looking for answers and making excuses. We should not be giving second, third and ninth chances. People make mistakes, but when your ego and heart are in the balance generally one is more than unforgivable. Especially in the early stages of love and smiles. It should be all good without the edge of anxiety and the possible tear fest. Those are saved for real drama and the meat of a relationship. Not the courtship. Our attention is focused on the negative looking for a way to make his ugly positive. When he has blown that wad early and already. When our attention should be focused on those around us, next to us at the bar stool to the left. Looking for new people, eager to buy the next glass of Pinot. Who have fresh chances at making it right, without the excuses. Who are ready for the pretty, to make you feel pretty, all the time. No excuses.
Labels: Breathing, Perspective
I dreamt we broke up in a heated fight. At the end I escaped to the mall and he passed by looking at me. I refused to smile or blink. I just stared hoping to convey my attitude and disdain. He got that and it was over. In the dream I sat for the next four months numb. And sewing. I needed to keep my hands busy.
The fight had been over privacy. He scoured through my personal belongings coming across journals from days of old. He read them. Then he used them against me. Some, he alleged, were about him and were unfair. Others were about my past and again somehow this was unfair. I yelled and screamed about decency and respect. There are limits and privacy. I never once made the argument that this was all in the past and that the writings he alleged concerned him really did not. He mis-read the dates and mis-understood the meaning. To me that was irrelevant. The lack of privacy and the lack of respect were unforgivable.
After months in a near catatonic state I approached him. He was engaged. To a high school love, who he reconnected with immediately after our dissolution. They had plans to marry soon, as she was set to graduate and move out of state. In fact, they were taking their engagement photos in a few minutes, so he really did not have time for me. I lay in him, again, for his wrongdoing. He stood there lifeless. This time not defending his actions, as he had in the past. Arguing that he had a right to read them since the words were so hurtful. He had a right to know my true feelings and understand my perspective. This time, finally, I clarified. I told him of how these were all of past men and indiscretions. That he misunderstood. Why it took me so long to speak up, I don't know. But that seemed to do it. In one minute, and in a movie like sensation, he broke up with the fiance and we got back together. Just like that, all was well. No questions asked and the topic was closed. No further discussion about those events or communication about what we were going to do. We were together again.
Amazing how a dream can span several months, extreme emotion, and heartache and can be so vivid. Are there lessons in them? Or is it a reflection of our waking lives sending us a message and clarifying some confusion points. This may have been a stressor of the remnants of sharing my space with another. After five years I again have a roommate. Of course this one is far different than the five girls I shared a cramped apartment with in college or my crazy roommate in law school. But it is about the sharing and the space and learning to deal. The law school roommate dropped a piece of tofu on the kitchen floor. Both of us leaving it there for days as neither wanted to be the one to clean it. That shit does not fly now. We are a team and not out to passive-aggressively manipulate the other while sitting in silence. Further, we have to understand our limits and respect each other's private spaces. It is a balance and we both work hard at it. Since we feel intimately connected, it is often hard to disconnect that we are not allowed into every space and nook and cranny of the other's life. There are still private moments and private thoughts.
It is so much more than that as well. It is respecting the other's habits and annoyances. After almost thirty years and several of our own single years, we both have those perfected. They don't often overlap and at times drive each other crazy. It is about speaking up and stating what the annoyance is. The other may not know it is even that irritating. Otherwise the anger builds and the frustration level expands with every action and moment. Then it is ugly and loud communication. Much better to have gotten it out initially and not let it develop into a storm of emotion. That kind of communication is so key.
That may be what part of the lesson was in the dream. It took me several months, despite heated argument after heated argument, to finally say what was important about those diary entries. After all that, it was what turned us around. Stating your piece and defending yourself may be what saves a relationship. Isn't that what communication is all about? Getting the other person to understand what it is that you need and getting them to realize how important that is to you. It may be picking up your shoes from the front door or not leaving glasses in the sink. Those needs need to be communicated. Other things, though, they go without saying. Those things include privacy. That is understood and respected by all. Until it is not and all hell breaks loose.
Literally, I don't think the dream is significant. I have old diaries and journals. They are openly displayed on the bookshelf next to a Bar-Bri review course and the Practices of Accounting. He knows they are not meant to be opened on his own accord. Like I said, that goes without saying. But what is the difference truly? Most of the stories and people in them have already been relayed first person. That kind of communication, told with love, to let the other person in, is wholly welcome. It helps prevent later communication, one where our voices are raised.
Labels: Dreams, Perspective
Friday nights spent alone are not shameful. They are beautiful. Wonderful excuses for time to get in touch with you. Oh yeah touching required. That is definitely not shameful. No way, they should not be considered anything but. It is very important time to yourself, by yourself. A weeks worth of workdays makes Friday night deadly. It is not just the tired, it is the time. Alone, with yourself. Books, baths, wine, TV, Thai food, magazines. It is all about you and yourself. Not such a fan of baths, sitting in that dirty water, but you get the picture; it is about getting back to you. Whatever that may mean. The week was about them. About your job. Your obligations. The laundry. Walking the dog. Going to the gym. But Friday night. That time is for you. Well at least it is for me.
Even single I felt this way. And now when there is a built in playmate it is no different. Run, play, gallivant with your boys. Because, at times, I prefer being here, alone. No I wouldn't turn down plans. I still don't necessarily. I mean "hey wanna grab a drink", may not drag me out. But concrete plans and events are not missed. I am not in the habit of arbitrarily turning down invites. I am not that pretentious. And I am also a big fan of the "lets get a drink after work" idea. It is generally not happy hour. Not with these hours. Not when there is a dog to go home and walk. It is closer to seven and others have had many happy hours by then. But once I am home, settled, fed and in new clothing, it is very hard to leave again. Very. Sometimes I assign myself tasks. Like checking out the cheesy clothes at Old Navy. The mall is a mecca for activity on a Friday night. But I am not self conscious, even if it is couple-rama at the mall. Movie and dinner dates. Babies, mommies, and daddies, shopping. Starbucks. You just breeze by on a mission for a short skirt. Holding shopping bags proudly as a display of freedom. Looking for something fun. Maybe to wear out the following night. Since that is when the plans happen. Content in that I have a couch and an over sized Tulane t-shirt to go home to.
And that is so what Friday nights are about. That and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Those are tasks I can conquer. And if I don't. Who the hell cares? It may not even mean getting into bed early. If there is a Sex and the City episode or a bottle of wine to finish, or both, it could easily be 1 am before the sheets are turned down. Or even a curfew of 9 pm; where the wine works its wonders and the week wears me down, it is all I can do to get through a whole episode of What Not to Wear. Really there is no rhyme or reason, it is just what feels good. And being at home enjoying the peace usually feels pretty flippin' good.
I just love love love the quiet. The calm. The decadent niceness of doing girly things. The fact that Saturday is there for the taking. Errands, the gym, dates and plans. The grind, well the weekend grind, starts up again. But I am ready for it, since Friday night was all for me. Damn if there is shame in that.
Labels: Everyday Life, Perspective
I think I figured it out. Something that has been itching at me. It hit me in between Lexis searches on a random afternoon. I was never, never the girl with the boyfriend. I went years without one. Who knows the reason for it. Did I not put in the effort? Was I too independent? Did I lack confidence? Was I unapproachable? No matter, it is done. Long ago history. But it stuck to me, as teenaged issues always do. I was always the girl having to search for a date to the dances. I never had a Valentine or a New Years' kiss. We already covered the absence of flowers. So I grew accustomed to it. That was me and that was how my life was. My girlfriends were my boyfriends. We went out to dinners on holidays, they bought me presents on my birthdays, my parents and sister filled in with the love and affection. I was great at phone calls, crappy TV, shopping trips and coffee shop chatter. I knew how to occupy time on Saturday nights. I always found friends in the same boat. I ate at bars alone and sat through movies by myself. Not only was it a custom, but it was easy. Comfortable. It is who you become. I never thought about it any other way. Going to the grocery when you want, just to buy Cheetos, heading to the gym at all hours, watching every episode of Sex and the City ten times, leaving your bra on the couch for days. All the joys of singledom. You listen to break up stories, wedding proposals and first date horrors. As a bystander reading a great novel or enjoying a Hallmark movie. But it is not really your life, it never was. In a way you determine it was never supposed to be. You never even entertain the possibility that it could be yours. Scratching that surface will lead to an explosion that is too much to contain. So don't bother. Just snuggle up in your flannel PJ's and continue to flip through In Style.
But then suddenly you are in the relationship. There are dates, kisses, hand holding and introductions. He is there. He is a we. You are a we. Time passes. There isn't even a chance to recognize you are no longer living in singledom. This is a relationship. You have a boyfriend. A what? Even saying it out loud is freaky and bizarre. Like someone else has taken over your mouth and pushed Greek out of it. He made it past a few dates. He is real and not there for tetherball; no game playing here. This is a grown up relationship and we are playing with big people here. I think about Alli living in L.A. and how we chat about hair and shoes. Theirs not ours. I smile and think of the commonalities of the two strangers. How a long term friend who is geographically apart ended up in similar place at the same time. Who would have thought that it would be us? Out of everyone? Then it really strikes. This must be why this has been so hard to wrap my arms around and accept this whole big thing. I am a single. At least for a very long time I was. Really single. So how did I end up here? How was it me that ended up here? How is this my reality? What about all the other girls with the stories and the drama. The ones with the checkered dating past? They played the game for years. So how did I end up the winner?
Labels: Perspective
Today is Election Day. Warning, I am going to dork out here – it is truly one of my favorite days. I also enjoy the coverage at night, probably because I am competitive. The media gives into that urge and lets us spend the night rooting for our guy. Save for the garbage of the media campaign leading up to it, I just enjoy the hell out of the entire day. I wake up excited, like Christmas. It is our only real experience to participate in democracy. It is open, easy and accessible. I am a huge fan of the GOTV efforts, I love that idea. Of course not voting is also an expression and an exercise of ones rights, so long as it is a calculated decision and not just laziness. Yes, yes I get that our vote and the decision calculus used to cast that vote are a waste of time. Your vote does not really count, unless there is a tie. But it is the process of voting that is monumental, the participation in the system. It is also a statement against the other party or other candidate, that you don’t support them. That is the important stand to take, as we are allowed such a privilege. While we get to cast votes for leaders, who may or may not win and who may or may not actually make a genuine difference in the outcome of our political, economic and social landscape, the act of voting is where I get my high. I love the process. That we can contribute to a functioning system. Gripe what you may about the efficacy of politicians, term limits, career scoundrels, Republican, Democrat and all other transformations, the process itself works. That is where I am in awe and where the goose bumps come from. Created by the Founding Fathers over two hundred years ago without any of the luxury we have today. In that they thought, processed and philosophized a system and brought it to life without the amenities we have available. More so, without taking into account what we would look like as a country and world today. Yet that teeter-totter of a new government withstood their best efforts and exists as they envisioned it still. With all the conveniences of modern life, their checks and balances are alive and kicking. That is what gets me. Aaaa-mazing. Of course the politicians of today can be said not to take such bold strides or create such lasting efforts, but in a way as leaders they are filling the role initially laid out by the forefathers. They carry on the traditions. As do we when we vote. It is the union between all Americans, ties that bind us together that also tug at my heart. I am not overly patriotic; no flags in the front yard or anything like that. But the consensus and unity amongst all Americans participating in furthering our democratic processes is heart warming. It means there is a fundamental level of good. When push comes to shove we can do it properly. When the time comes and the shit really hits the fan here, those foundations, those fundamentals, that unity and our history will be able to carry us through.
**No comments on 2000, given the validity of the system and our roots, I lend myself to believe that the process of checks and balances worked and that the outcome was right. A belief in the system has to lead to that conclusion.
Labels: Breathing, Perspective
This morning, I took the deposition of a despondent man. He was injured and faced the possibility of amputation. He rolled to the elevator escorted by his wife, as I traversed the stairs in my heels. Thank god. For my strong legs that carried me down two flights of stairs. That allow me to don four inch black patent Charles David pumps. That let me do 90 minutes of yoga (though at times they did not want to cooperate). That let me take Ginger out for her morning walk. That let me reach over and straddle Magoo before I left for work. That let me stroll and enjoy viewing the Halloween decorations and trick-or-treaters. That let me powerwalk four miles on the treadmill. That let me delicately brush a toe against his when I got into bed. That let me shop, drive and ambulate freely. How thankful, grateful and complacent I am about these gifts. I cringe at the cellulite forming at my upper thighs (good god it seems to increase tenfold daily) and I constantly bemoan having to keep up with the shaving. But these babies carry me where ever I need to go. They are on call 24/7 and do a damn good job. They are strong, powerful, and have to be considered my best asset. How blessed and lucky to be in good health.
Labels: Perspective
At a recent lunch for ladies lawyers, we heard a group of “power” speakers. These women are not lawyers, but travel and put on performances meant to inspire and give women power. The stories we heard were their life stories condensed into five minutes and told to give maximum effect to their point. This experience stood out for a number of reasons.
1. I previously elaborated here, where I saw the different experience I was having vs. what may go on in other firms with women.
2. One women told of trying to breathe through every moment of life. She emphasized not missing moments or living for the future of “when I's…..” I realized that I have not done that in a long time. Sure I look forward to events, especially when I have planned things, like vacations. But that is healthy and positive. Hers was meant for a grander scale. I don’t do it like that, any more. With this outlet and my push to write everyday, I am forced to take inventory on a regular basis. I can assess and discern. I am acutely aware (maybe even too much so) of what is going on and where I am mentally. Check one for me.
3. But being there made me question why I have not turned my URL over to my actual friends and family. I let strangers read these thoughts. That is easy, who cares what they think? Chances are I am not going to offend them and they will not offend me. A harsh comment from a stranger can be blown off because they don’t truly know me. My fear paralyzes me. One speaker said that was our biggest impediment to enjoying life and fulfilling our goals, fear. She urged us to let it go. I also silently noted that these people had no problem displaying their lives and performing in front of people. They were not scared at all. They had no fear of being laughed at or getting a bad review. They were living their dreams and appeared extremely happy. They took the risk. The reality of that hit me, I need to follow both their spoken words and the example they set. Trade my fears for passions and follow my dreams. To me, that could be sharing my thoughts and writing with my friends and family. They love me and support me and will stand by me good or bad. I shouldn’t let fear of criticism stand in the way of that. Especially when a positive comment can make my day. I am shutting myself off from even allowing the positive and from the growth you get from allowing others to share in your work. Fear has prevented all that.
I finished writing this and then two days later attended a speaking event with Rachael Leeds. She writes, lectures, and aids women into creating what she calls “an ethical will”. This will is meant to be stories and blessing you write to pass onto your loved ones, family members, and children. So they know how you feel about them, they know your story and history, and they have some of your lessons to pass onto future generations. It was all very special and touching. Her message was clear and her stories were compelling. I cried as she read some examples. A grandmother’s tale to her granddaughter about how she cares for her now and in twenty years the roles will be reversed. A letter to a two year daughter on what she wants her to see in her life. Then I thought about #2 above and what I had been doing. It was exactly that. I wanted this not just as therapy for me, but a document of my life. For me to reflect on and my loved ones and future children to cherish. They can see the start of my relationship with Magoo and struggles I had as a young professional. I can see them too, and hopefully smile at how far I have come. God, do I hope I can smile then. The speaker made me keenly aware of what I already knew, the reasons I have been doing this. But this woman succinctly nailed them on the head and at the same time made me proud. I had been doing what she preached and what already sounded like an excellent idea. More so, writer or not, female or not, we should all do this. For our own sake and our families sake. It is truly valuable. Legacies, tradition and stories are valuable and they are powerful. They give you the power to understand your own voice. Get at the heart of it and hear yourself. They get you to look to where you came from, the whole family history and to rememberyour own mothers’ lessons. Those that affect and effect you. Those you want to pass on. Reflecting on your current mental and physical status. A quick status check to make sure you are okay. Sharing your dreams and aspirations, again a status check to insure they are what you are actually working for and what you still want today. Not what you wanted a dozen years ago or what your parents wanted for you. So that others know what a dreamer and a go getter you were. It is all powerful, for all involved.
Labels: Friends/Family, J.O.B., Perspective
