Well, so far my self-imposed prompt hasn't yielded the outpouring of blog wisdom that I was hoping to have. One of my friends has a knack for telling even the shortest of stories in minute detail, and I occasionally catch myself feeling like I'm doing the same and hoping that I'm not boring a patient and long-suffering listener. Through years of writing to page limits and column inches and editing myself (and others) mercilessly, however, I seem to have robbed myself of the ability to be verbose in print (or blog). None of the few memories that I have churned up to commit to this screen for posterity have yielded more than a few lines of text, despite all my efforts to embellish them.
As I pondered this dilemma, I realized that the problem lies not in my inability to recall the word-count-building details, but in the fact that I no longer see them as the most important element in capturing the meaning of the event. From where I'm standing now, funny moments have become bittersweet, painful experiences have been softened by time and distance, and I'm more inclined to try to fit the pieces of my past into the puzzle of the present than to see them in isolation. Part of me worries about losing sight of the person who lived all of those moments, but the rest of me finds it far more satisfying that I have a better picture of the person I am now.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Pearl Harbor Day
Had I not made that decision on National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, I probably wouldn't remember the date at all, but over the years the two things have become tied together in my mind, and probably always will be. Another thing that I will always remember is how amazingly lucky I was to have good friends who supported me in my decision, and in the months and years that have gone by since then. The circle has changed and grown and shrunk over the years, but it has always been there to surround and encourage me.
On that particular day all those years ago, someone stepped up for me in a way that was completely unexpected, but very, very much appreciated. I've always remembered her kindness to me, and today I took a small step toward repaying it in a way that I hope will make the same difference in someone else's life.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
A December to Remember
As I glanced at my "Blog Archive" after finishing my post yesterday, I realized that I've been blogging for almost five years now. If I blogged more than twice a year, I might actually have enough material for that memoir I'm going to write. The one where every chapter starts with a few lines from a country song.
Last night, as I sat musing at the end of a long and complicated week, I found myself wishing that I had a "prompt" to get me writing every day. The November of Thankfulness, had I thought of it soon enough, might have worked well to do just that. Starting it a whole month after the fact, however, seemed like even more of a cop-out than being a only few days late to the party.
The answer came, of course, from ESPN. As a member of the rapidly-shrinking DVR-less minority, I am forced to suffer through commercials with my SportsCenter. Which means that I spend every December being repeatedly reminded that every woman who is not yet married (with the notable exception of myself) is about to receive a sparkling surprise and every married woman will soon be peering out the window to find an oversized red bow on wheels parked in the driveway. I console myself with imagining that the squeals of joy are actually cries of dismay when the wife that discovers that the husband has traded in her trusty old reliable roadster for something with half the gas mileage and twice the insurance premiums, and stuck her with a $500 a month car payment to boot. Who, me, cynical? Not at all. But I digress...
So to get back to the point, at least once every evening I find myself stuck watching an ad for the "December to Remember Sales Event," during which men with more money than good sense can purchase bow-bedecked luxury sedans for their doting wives. And from this inspiration, a prompt was born.
So today I will -- I hope -- begin a month of writing each day about memories. Some significant, some humorous, some that maybe I would prefer to forget, but all part of the past that has brought me here.
I'm writing this post in the bar area of one of my favorite Italian restaurants, with one eye on the Alabama-Georgia game and one ear on the conversations of the waiters who keep drifting by to check out the score. College football has never been a huge part of my life, which is a comment akin to blasphemy here in the South, but I'm a long-suffering Philadelphia Eagles fan. Apparently I'm among friends, a fact that has just come to light as the bartender (who I overheard a few minutes ago mention that he was born in the same year that "Cheers" went off the air) and I shared a lament over the laundry list of injuries that have plagued us this year.
I could continue this post with a laundry list of memories about my football-watching exploits, from the time I almost started a bar fight with a 49ers fan in Omaha over a game that we ultimately lost, to the slightly more romantic road trip that I took to Nashville for a game that we lost, to my first game at the Linc -- in a luxury box, no less -- which we, imagine that, also lost. But I think I'll just end here and let one of these college football fans have my seat.
Last night, as I sat musing at the end of a long and complicated week, I found myself wishing that I had a "prompt" to get me writing every day. The November of Thankfulness, had I thought of it soon enough, might have worked well to do just that. Starting it a whole month after the fact, however, seemed like even more of a cop-out than being a only few days late to the party.
The answer came, of course, from ESPN. As a member of the rapidly-shrinking DVR-less minority, I am forced to suffer through commercials with my SportsCenter. Which means that I spend every December being repeatedly reminded that every woman who is not yet married (with the notable exception of myself) is about to receive a sparkling surprise and every married woman will soon be peering out the window to find an oversized red bow on wheels parked in the driveway. I console myself with imagining that the squeals of joy are actually cries of dismay when the wife that discovers that the husband has traded in her trusty old reliable roadster for something with half the gas mileage and twice the insurance premiums, and stuck her with a $500 a month car payment to boot. Who, me, cynical? Not at all. But I digress...
So to get back to the point, at least once every evening I find myself stuck watching an ad for the "December to Remember Sales Event," during which men with more money than good sense can purchase bow-bedecked luxury sedans for their doting wives. And from this inspiration, a prompt was born.
So today I will -- I hope -- begin a month of writing each day about memories. Some significant, some humorous, some that maybe I would prefer to forget, but all part of the past that has brought me here.
I'm writing this post in the bar area of one of my favorite Italian restaurants, with one eye on the Alabama-Georgia game and one ear on the conversations of the waiters who keep drifting by to check out the score. College football has never been a huge part of my life, which is a comment akin to blasphemy here in the South, but I'm a long-suffering Philadelphia Eagles fan. Apparently I'm among friends, a fact that has just come to light as the bartender (who I overheard a few minutes ago mention that he was born in the same year that "Cheers" went off the air) and I shared a lament over the laundry list of injuries that have plagued us this year.
I could continue this post with a laundry list of memories about my football-watching exploits, from the time I almost started a bar fight with a 49ers fan in Omaha over a game that we ultimately lost, to the slightly more romantic road trip that I took to Nashville for a game that we lost, to my first game at the Linc -- in a luxury box, no less -- which we, imagine that, also lost. But I think I'll just end here and let one of these college football fans have my seat.
Friday, November 30, 2012
A Reason to Be Thankful
Last year, several of my Facebook friends made (or at least tried to make) daily "Today I am thankful for..." posts throughout the month of November. I made a mental note that I wanted to try to do that this year. Of course, I forgot about it until I started seeing my friends' posts this year, and it seemed like a cop-out to start a few days late. So I put it on my calendar for next year, and decided instead to do a blog post on November 30 entitled "30 Reasons to Be Thankful."
Change in plans.
My blog post for today will be about my great-aunt, who passed away early this morning. I have many more than 30 reasons to be thankful that she was a part of my life.
My cousin, who writes an awesome and far more consistently updated blog than I do, mentioned in one of her posts that she barely knew her mother's father, who died when we were young. I vaguely remember learning that he had died, but I don't really remember him at all. I know a lot of people, including my mother, that never met at least one of their four grandparents. In comparison, I had an embarrassment of riches, because I had not four, but five.
My great-aunt was very much a third grandmother: my Confirmation sponsor, daily homework helper, and the provider of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum, which she would chew a half-stick at a time. I would kneel at the coffee table in our family room, writing the answers to my Social Studies questions as she read them from my textbook. Afterwards, we would work together on word search puzzles, or play 500 Rummy. She taught me to do cryptograms and Fill-Ins, but she wouldn't let me read her Harlequin romance novels.
I'm struggling with losing her today, but the hardest part is feeling like I lost her a long time ago. Today is simply the last step on our journey away from each other, over the miles that I've traveled across the country and the distance that illness put between me and the great-aunt that I knew. For her, it's the first step on the journey that will someday bring us back together again.
Change in plans.
My blog post for today will be about my great-aunt, who passed away early this morning. I have many more than 30 reasons to be thankful that she was a part of my life.
My cousin, who writes an awesome and far more consistently updated blog than I do, mentioned in one of her posts that she barely knew her mother's father, who died when we were young. I vaguely remember learning that he had died, but I don't really remember him at all. I know a lot of people, including my mother, that never met at least one of their four grandparents. In comparison, I had an embarrassment of riches, because I had not four, but five.
My great-aunt was very much a third grandmother: my Confirmation sponsor, daily homework helper, and the provider of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum, which she would chew a half-stick at a time. I would kneel at the coffee table in our family room, writing the answers to my Social Studies questions as she read them from my textbook. Afterwards, we would work together on word search puzzles, or play 500 Rummy. She taught me to do cryptograms and Fill-Ins, but she wouldn't let me read her Harlequin romance novels.
I'm struggling with losing her today, but the hardest part is feeling like I lost her a long time ago. Today is simply the last step on our journey away from each other, over the miles that I've traveled across the country and the distance that illness put between me and the great-aunt that I knew. For her, it's the first step on the journey that will someday bring us back together again.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
A Question of Courage
Even when two people want the same thing, sometimes other things get in the way. Sometimes people take the easy way out, even when it means giving up on a good thing.
Sometimes, though, seeing the easy way isn't so clear. I thought I knew exactly what my next step should be, and part of me was ready to embrace the challenge. Then some unexpected advice from a friend made me reconsider, and suddenly I'm heading off in a completely different direction, at least for now.
Sometimes it takes more courage to make a change right where you are. It's definitely something I've done successfully numerous times over the past 12 years, so maybe it makes sense to try it one more time.
Sometimes, though, seeing the easy way isn't so clear. I thought I knew exactly what my next step should be, and part of me was ready to embrace the challenge. Then some unexpected advice from a friend made me reconsider, and suddenly I'm heading off in a completely different direction, at least for now.
Sometimes it takes more courage to make a change right where you are. It's definitely something I've done successfully numerous times over the past 12 years, so maybe it makes sense to try it one more time.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Just to recap...
I'm always right, even when my head and my heart are saying two different things. The beauty in that situation is that I'm guaranteed that one of the two has to be right. Usually it's my head, which leaves my heart broken. This weekend, it was my heart, which, admittedly, kind of left my head spinning, but in a good way.
Smart people don't make the same mistake twice. I should have trusted in that fact way more than I did.
You don't get to be jaded and cynical by being wrong all the time. It does comes from being right about people and the ways that they disappoint you. The cure is opening yourself up to people and the ways that they can surprise you.
Even if two people want the same thing, it isn't always easy to make it happen. Especially when there's more than a little bit of cynicism, a huge misunderstanding, and a healthy dose of wounded pride. Sometimes being stubborn pays off, though, especially if you can match it up with a whole lot of patience.
Smart people don't make the same mistake twice. I should have trusted in that fact way more than I did.
You don't get to be jaded and cynical by being wrong all the time. It does comes from being right about people and the ways that they disappoint you. The cure is opening yourself up to people and the ways that they can surprise you.
Even if two people want the same thing, it isn't always easy to make it happen. Especially when there's more than a little bit of cynicism, a huge misunderstanding, and a healthy dose of wounded pride. Sometimes being stubborn pays off, though, especially if you can match it up with a whole lot of patience.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
So, yeah...
... I didn't exactly keep my New Year's resolution. It's not that I haven't been thinking about coming back here. I actually started a couple of posts, which I might get around to finishing eventually, but I couldn't quite make myself make sense.
Since my last post was about falling in love, I suppose it would make sense if this one were about falling out of love. But long ago I promised myself and whatever patient readers I might have that this would not be a whiny blog. So let's just say that I've spent the past several months reminding myself that I'm always right, and if I ever think I'm not right, I should just remember that I'm always right. Even if I want desperately to be wrong for once, it just doesn't happen that way. Except on trivia night.
With all of that being said, it seems like my current predicament shouldn't be nearly as puzzling to me as it is. I was right about the same situation once before, so it seems beyond logical that the answer should be clear this time. And yet I keep telling myself: smart people don't make the same mistake twice. I certainly don't; I'm constantly finding new and creative mistakes to make. Especially on trivia night.
Just because I'm always right doesn't mean that I make good decisions. In fact, I make a lot of bad decisions in the name of trying to convince myself that what I know is right is really just jaded and cynical. Unfortunately, you don't get to be jaded and cynical by being wrong all the time. It comes from being right about people and the ways that they disappoint you. Not whining, just observing.
But, if smart people don't make the same mistake twice, then a certain person (who I happen to think is much smarter than a lot of people realize) should have learned from the last time we found ourselves in this situation. In that case, then the answer I was so right about then should be completely wrong now. Right?
Maybe I was wrong about being ready to make myself make sense, after all.
If two people want the same thing, then it seems like it should be easy to make it happen. But throw in a little bit of cynicism, a touch of misunderstanding, a healthy dose of pride, and more stubbornness than you'd think any two people could have, and suddenly nothing's easy. Which is, I guess, why it's taken me so many months to come back here and even start to try to make sense. But I promise not to stay away again for quite so long. If nothing else, it's only a couple more months till New Year's.
Since my last post was about falling in love, I suppose it would make sense if this one were about falling out of love. But long ago I promised myself and whatever patient readers I might have that this would not be a whiny blog. So let's just say that I've spent the past several months reminding myself that I'm always right, and if I ever think I'm not right, I should just remember that I'm always right. Even if I want desperately to be wrong for once, it just doesn't happen that way. Except on trivia night.
With all of that being said, it seems like my current predicament shouldn't be nearly as puzzling to me as it is. I was right about the same situation once before, so it seems beyond logical that the answer should be clear this time. And yet I keep telling myself: smart people don't make the same mistake twice. I certainly don't; I'm constantly finding new and creative mistakes to make. Especially on trivia night.
Just because I'm always right doesn't mean that I make good decisions. In fact, I make a lot of bad decisions in the name of trying to convince myself that what I know is right is really just jaded and cynical. Unfortunately, you don't get to be jaded and cynical by being wrong all the time. It comes from being right about people and the ways that they disappoint you. Not whining, just observing.
But, if smart people don't make the same mistake twice, then a certain person (who I happen to think is much smarter than a lot of people realize) should have learned from the last time we found ourselves in this situation. In that case, then the answer I was so right about then should be completely wrong now. Right?
Maybe I was wrong about being ready to make myself make sense, after all.
If two people want the same thing, then it seems like it should be easy to make it happen. But throw in a little bit of cynicism, a touch of misunderstanding, a healthy dose of pride, and more stubbornness than you'd think any two people could have, and suddenly nothing's easy. Which is, I guess, why it's taken me so many months to come back here and even start to try to make sense. But I promise not to stay away again for quite so long. If nothing else, it's only a couple more months till New Year's.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
This year, I resolve...
I'm not good at New Year's resolutions, although, like everyone else who fails miserably at keeping them, I always have the best intentions. Case in point: two or three years ago, one of my resolutions was to start bring reusable grocery bags to the store. Two or three years later, I have several of them hanging on my front door knob that never even make it to my car, let alone further than that. Of course, I rarely make it to the grocery store either. Which is why there's (a) leftover pizza, (b) leftover beer, (c) barely enough milk for a bowl of cereal, and (d) not much else in my fridge.
So I'm not going to say that I've resolved to blog more this year, although it won't be hard for me to blog more this year than I did last year. In fact, I'm already well on my way there. I also have an amazing inspiration in my cousin Nicole, who already has blogged more this year than I did in all of last year. Check her out at http://bestdressedtomboy.blogspot.com. Nicole posts her blog entries to her Facebook page (or "timeline," which is the new layout that I have yet to figure out), which gives me a daily reminder that she works a lot, spends more time in traffic in a day than I do in a week, has a kid, and still finds time to blog more than I do.
Being someone who lives and dies by reminders and increasingly depends on Outlook and my iPhone to do all of the remembering that I'm too lazy to do, getting a little bit of daily inspiration from Nicole might be just what I need to keep me motivated. Either way, it will definitely keep me laughing.
I did make one resolution, but only because it comes with built-in reminders. I downloaded the Project 365 app, and will be documenting my year with a daily picture and an occasionally-witty caption. Tonight I plan to take said picture at ClimBRIDGES, where I will attempt to haul my hasn't-been-to-the-gym-in-forever body up a rock wall. Hopefully the caption will not include references to brusied egos or broken bones.
So I'm not going to say that I've resolved to blog more this year, although it won't be hard for me to blog more this year than I did last year. In fact, I'm already well on my way there. I also have an amazing inspiration in my cousin Nicole, who already has blogged more this year than I did in all of last year. Check her out at http://bestdressedtomboy.blogspot.com. Nicole posts her blog entries to her Facebook page (or "timeline," which is the new layout that I have yet to figure out), which gives me a daily reminder that she works a lot, spends more time in traffic in a day than I do in a week, has a kid, and still finds time to blog more than I do.
Being someone who lives and dies by reminders and increasingly depends on Outlook and my iPhone to do all of the remembering that I'm too lazy to do, getting a little bit of daily inspiration from Nicole might be just what I need to keep me motivated. Either way, it will definitely keep me laughing.
I did make one resolution, but only because it comes with built-in reminders. I downloaded the Project 365 app, and will be documenting my year with a daily picture and an occasionally-witty caption. Tonight I plan to take said picture at ClimBRIDGES, where I will attempt to haul my hasn't-been-to-the-gym-in-forever body up a rock wall. Hopefully the caption will not include references to brusied egos or broken bones.
A Few More for the Bucket List
Maybe 2011 didn't go out with a huge bang, but I did manage to fit a few more special moments into the last few days:
- After 11 years in Memphis and over a year living practically in the shadow of the stadium, I went to a game at the Liberty Bowl. As is typical for my record in spectator sports, the team I was rooting for did not win.
- Finally christened the fire bowl that I bought a year ago as part of the most amazing New Year's Eve I've ever celebrated.
- Most importantly, I did the one thing that I never in a million years expected to accomplish: I fell in love. Not the measured, cautious, carefully-considered, practical kind of love that I thought was the best that I could do at this point in my life. The crazy, giggle-like-a-teenager, snowball-rolling-down-a-hill, can't-quite-wipe-the-smile-off-your-face, takes-your-breath-away kind of love that I didn't really believe existed any more. The kind that melts your heart and tears down the walls that you build to protect yourself. The kind of love that makes you feel as if you've never been hurt before and never will be again.
All in all, 2011 was a pretty good year.
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