So I got this temp contract position. I'm working for the next few weeks...HALLELUJAH! I can breath a sigh of relief because:
1. The work is not over my head (as I feared it might be) AND, better yet,
2. I'll get paid actual money. A novel concept after years of raking in the debt.
Even better still? I remembered something. After several months of living in slackers' paradise, I realize that I like being busy and I like work! Imagine that! Liking work, that is...hmmmm. And the work isn't all that difficult, really. But it doesn't have to be. Just doing something productive makes the day fly right by me. It makes me WANT to find a job all the sooner.
Ahhhhh...my bed. I think I'm going to get some rest now. Besides, after the last seven novels...I mean posts...well, you get the idea.
Good night!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Faves...2010
A few years ago I went with a sweet friend of mine on a spontaneous trip to Disneyland. It was awesome. One of my favorite memories from the trip happened when we were waiting in a line for Soarin' Over California. I thoroughly enjoy that particular ride and think it is worth waiting in long lines...which, btw, we were. Waiting in a very long line, that is. And then Jamie turns to me and says something along these lines, "So let's play the favorites game." And then we took turns, back and forth, naming some of our favorites...because that's what Jamie and I do. We discuss all of our loves and faves. We have lots of them.
Welp, I've been wanting to count down my favorite memories of 2010. So let's start with number ten.
10. There's nothing particularly special about this memory. It was just a moment, really. I was walking by the law school in Newark. Graduation was over, and most of my things were packed up and shipped off...or sold...or waiting to be sold. Time to move on. I walked by the the high rise our law school inhabits. Isn't it that way it is now? It will always be "mine" or "our" school.
There I was, just thinking about how I was leaving and it was great. I couldn't wait to get the smokey out of Newark! But then I looked through those big glass windows. I could sort of see my reflection, you know, looking back. And I flashed back for a second or two to first year, walking into the building at seven a.m., classes, professors, events in the atrium, lunches in the cafeteria, the library, friends and lots of them. It all sort of skipped through my mind on fast forward, and I felt nostalgia creep in, the way it sneaks up on you and surprises you.
I won't lie. My eyes filled up a little; my breath caught just above my heart and stuck there in my chest. I was sad for all I would leave behind. My apartment and my friends and professors and study sessions. It was a tough three years, no doubt about it. But it was also an amazing blessing.
I wonder sometimes if I would do it again. But in moments like that, and moments like right now, when I can remember how beautiful the world can be when you are learning and being stretched that way, well, how could I not say yes all over again? And so I would. I would say yes.
9. My friend, Mike, introduced me to something quite delightful. One night he and I went to the city for dinner and a movie. It was probably March. The weather was perfect - just a light sweater and scarf for outerwear and a cute pair of flats, minus the socks, thank you very much. Don't you just feel so happy when, after a long winter, you can ignore the coat and the gloves and the hat and just head out... shedding your winter hide, the extra layers going...Going...GONE! It feels like freedom!
So we went out for dinner, and Mike insisted I try something new. Fried pickles. Yep. Fried and delish. That's it. I mean, any night in the city, wandering a bit, eating good food, enjoying the company of a friend, going to a movie. Well, that is a fave for me. Because I love food and I heart movies and time with friends is always a good thing. But fried pickles. What a treat!
8. Thanksgiving...running the Turkey Trot with my sisters-in-law. It was tough mostly because I wasn't totally ready and because it was cold, brutally cold. But I was sure I could run the whole thing. I'm pretty sure we didn't come in first place. Still, we crossed the final line together (holding hands...how cute are we?), and we ran the entire course. Of course, we then went home and stuffed our faces silly. I'm proud of us. That was a great day!
7. There was this one day, where I just went for a run and realized the beauty that is an outdoors run. Living in Newark did not afford such luxuries as outdoor running. Sure, I could have gone into the city and done a long run through the park, but that would include riding into the city on the train, going up to the park on the subway and then coming home in sweaty clothing. I actually have to admit that I regret not doing it at least once. But I didn't, and there it is.
Moving to Texas? Well, that was good for a lot of things...what with family and everything being here and all. But running outside? I've finally felt myself hitting a stride with my running efforts. I'm no Flo-Jo. But I enjoy it. I especially like being out in the elements. Not the rain, of course. I just mean the fresh air and space. It feels liberating. It's no secret how I felt about Newark. But now that I can really move in the open air...ahhhh. I can breath.
6. I don't love graduations. Do you? They are rather dulls-ville. Let us be honest. Listening to a bunch of strangers' names being announced as you await the one person you know to cross a stage is not spectacular fun. But none-the-less. I graduated from law school. And Chris Christie spoke at my graduation. He's rather conservative, as conservative folks go. Not really my taste, I would think. But his speech was actually quite fab. I felt like he was talking to me about "other" choices, other paths a law degree might take me (but that is an entry for another day). And then I came outside and my dad and mom were there. And my dad gave me flowers and they got to meet my friends...these great gals who got me through law school. And then we went to see Mamma Mia in the city and had Junior's because I needed my parents to eat real NYC cheesecake. We even bartered for purses on the street, and my dad bought me an adorable little purple purse. Those parents of mine - I sure do like them a lot.
5. I love NYC. I miss NYC. One particularly delish memory involves Max Brenner. YUM! Kamilah...delightfully preggers for the first time. And a snow storm. I came into the city for a little dessert fest at the best little chocolate shop in town - that's Max Brenner. It was starting to snow a little. But I trekked into the city anyway because hey, I've suffered through some serious blizzards and this one wasn't supposed to be so bad.
I enjoyed some good company. I just love my little Kamilah and her cute new baby. I enjoyed some delish dessert, as always. Seriously if you go to New York, go to Max Brenner. And then I enjoyed the snow storm.
Actually, I got lost. GOT LOST! Me...after three years of traveling into and out of the same spot in the city, over and over. But the snow bedazzled me...confused me...made the familiar seem mysteriously foreign. It was lovely and cold. And there I was, looking mighty cute in my navy blue trench, my tall black boots (surprisingly warm and comfy, even with lots and lots of snow pouring down from the sky), my scarf, my Paris chapeau. I was quite stylish if I do say so myself...and I do!
I'm pretty sure that by the time I figured out where in the hannah banana Penn Station had gotten to in all that snow that mascara was running down my face, and I wasn't feeling so cute anymore. But who cares? For twenty glorious minutes, I was walking in the hush of the snow as it fell over New York City, just appreciating the way the lights glowed all around me. It was pretty perfect.
4. Upstate NY with the rents. When my parents came out for my graduation, I decided that they might want to see a little bit more than just NYC. I love NYC. But I know it's overwhelming. My parents were super good sports and we saw lots of the city, but taking the opportunity to see upstate while they were here was great. We got to see some Church sites and visit Niagra Falls. It sure is pretty up there in the rolling hills. Lots of green trees - which are pretty much top on my list when it comes to flora and fauna. I love trees.
3. Passing the Texas State Bar Examination. Enough said.
2. I have this strange obsession with the desert. It's a love/hate thing. I hate how hot and dry a desert can be. I hate brown deserts...a la Las Vegas. Sorry...no offense to my peeps in V-town. But when you look around the valley, it is really, really brown. And dusty. And brown. But there are things I find fascinating and lovely in the desert. Like the rock formations.
Once, when I was in high school, we took a trip...the fam, that is...to New Mexico. We had a Native American student living with us, and she invited us to a Zuni celebration in November. It was actually pretty cool. By the time we got to New Mexico, dusk had fallen. And there were these amazing rock formations in the distance - giant monoliths rising up out of the desert floor. They were just dark shadows in the night, and their strangeness was beautiful.
Well. Last Summer I was at my bro's house in Colorado He lives about just one hour from the New Mexico border. And there I was, gushing about how I just HAD to see Shiprock...how coooooool it looked and how I just really wanted to see it up close and personal. I think everyone BUT my brother thought I was certifiable. Who wants to go see Shiprock? (No...not the town...the actual rock). So Chad says "Sure, we can go see Shiprock." So we went.
I don't get to see a whole lot of my bro these days. I don't love that so much. But I do love that he was willing to take his crazy sister on a three hour (round trip, that is) drive out into nowhere New Mexico, just so I could see that rock up close. It is pretty freaking awesome. Actually, nature sort of is that way, isn't it? Overwhelming and beautiful and perfect. I loved driving out there with him, and Tara and Chris. I loved talking and laughing again. It felt like old times...from back in the day when we were in high school together. Man that Chad - he's a good kid. And he's got a great family. I sure do love him.
1. And here it is, my favorite memory from 2010. Going to Yankee Stadium for a ballgame with my parents. It was awesome to be with my dad the first time he's ever been to a Yankee's game. He bought a baseball hat before we went in. We ate hot dogs. I ALWAYS eat a hot dog when at a baseball game. How can you not? Maybe in real life, hot dogs are gross (but I don't think so). In Yankee Stadium, they are de.light.ful. The Yanks lost, which was disappointing. But I'm glad I got to take my parents anyway. Our seats may not have been the best. But there we were. Experiencing a New York classic...a tradition for the ages. American baseball at Yankee Stadium. With Mom and Dad. Priceless.
Welp, I've been wanting to count down my favorite memories of 2010. So let's start with number ten.
10. There's nothing particularly special about this memory. It was just a moment, really. I was walking by the law school in Newark. Graduation was over, and most of my things were packed up and shipped off...or sold...or waiting to be sold. Time to move on. I walked by the the high rise our law school inhabits. Isn't it that way it is now? It will always be "mine" or "our" school.
There I was, just thinking about how I was leaving and it was great. I couldn't wait to get the smokey out of Newark! But then I looked through those big glass windows. I could sort of see my reflection, you know, looking back. And I flashed back for a second or two to first year, walking into the building at seven a.m., classes, professors, events in the atrium, lunches in the cafeteria, the library, friends and lots of them. It all sort of skipped through my mind on fast forward, and I felt nostalgia creep in, the way it sneaks up on you and surprises you.
I won't lie. My eyes filled up a little; my breath caught just above my heart and stuck there in my chest. I was sad for all I would leave behind. My apartment and my friends and professors and study sessions. It was a tough three years, no doubt about it. But it was also an amazing blessing.
I wonder sometimes if I would do it again. But in moments like that, and moments like right now, when I can remember how beautiful the world can be when you are learning and being stretched that way, well, how could I not say yes all over again? And so I would. I would say yes.
9. My friend, Mike, introduced me to something quite delightful. One night he and I went to the city for dinner and a movie. It was probably March. The weather was perfect - just a light sweater and scarf for outerwear and a cute pair of flats, minus the socks, thank you very much. Don't you just feel so happy when, after a long winter, you can ignore the coat and the gloves and the hat and just head out... shedding your winter hide, the extra layers going...Going...GONE! It feels like freedom!
So we went out for dinner, and Mike insisted I try something new. Fried pickles. Yep. Fried and delish. That's it. I mean, any night in the city, wandering a bit, eating good food, enjoying the company of a friend, going to a movie. Well, that is a fave for me. Because I love food and I heart movies and time with friends is always a good thing. But fried pickles. What a treat!
8. Thanksgiving...running the Turkey Trot with my sisters-in-law. It was tough mostly because I wasn't totally ready and because it was cold, brutally cold. But I was sure I could run the whole thing. I'm pretty sure we didn't come in first place. Still, we crossed the final line together (holding hands...how cute are we?), and we ran the entire course. Of course, we then went home and stuffed our faces silly. I'm proud of us. That was a great day!
7. There was this one day, where I just went for a run and realized the beauty that is an outdoors run. Living in Newark did not afford such luxuries as outdoor running. Sure, I could have gone into the city and done a long run through the park, but that would include riding into the city on the train, going up to the park on the subway and then coming home in sweaty clothing. I actually have to admit that I regret not doing it at least once. But I didn't, and there it is.
Moving to Texas? Well, that was good for a lot of things...what with family and everything being here and all. But running outside? I've finally felt myself hitting a stride with my running efforts. I'm no Flo-Jo. But I enjoy it. I especially like being out in the elements. Not the rain, of course. I just mean the fresh air and space. It feels liberating. It's no secret how I felt about Newark. But now that I can really move in the open air...ahhhh. I can breath.
6. I don't love graduations. Do you? They are rather dulls-ville. Let us be honest. Listening to a bunch of strangers' names being announced as you await the one person you know to cross a stage is not spectacular fun. But none-the-less. I graduated from law school. And Chris Christie spoke at my graduation. He's rather conservative, as conservative folks go. Not really my taste, I would think. But his speech was actually quite fab. I felt like he was talking to me about "other" choices, other paths a law degree might take me (but that is an entry for another day). And then I came outside and my dad and mom were there. And my dad gave me flowers and they got to meet my friends...these great gals who got me through law school. And then we went to see Mamma Mia in the city and had Junior's because I needed my parents to eat real NYC cheesecake. We even bartered for purses on the street, and my dad bought me an adorable little purple purse. Those parents of mine - I sure do like them a lot.
5. I love NYC. I miss NYC. One particularly delish memory involves Max Brenner. YUM! Kamilah...delightfully preggers for the first time. And a snow storm. I came into the city for a little dessert fest at the best little chocolate shop in town - that's Max Brenner. It was starting to snow a little. But I trekked into the city anyway because hey, I've suffered through some serious blizzards and this one wasn't supposed to be so bad.
I enjoyed some good company. I just love my little Kamilah and her cute new baby. I enjoyed some delish dessert, as always. Seriously if you go to New York, go to Max Brenner. And then I enjoyed the snow storm.
Actually, I got lost. GOT LOST! Me...after three years of traveling into and out of the same spot in the city, over and over. But the snow bedazzled me...confused me...made the familiar seem mysteriously foreign. It was lovely and cold. And there I was, looking mighty cute in my navy blue trench, my tall black boots (surprisingly warm and comfy, even with lots and lots of snow pouring down from the sky), my scarf, my Paris chapeau. I was quite stylish if I do say so myself...and I do!
I'm pretty sure that by the time I figured out where in the hannah banana Penn Station had gotten to in all that snow that mascara was running down my face, and I wasn't feeling so cute anymore. But who cares? For twenty glorious minutes, I was walking in the hush of the snow as it fell over New York City, just appreciating the way the lights glowed all around me. It was pretty perfect.
4. Upstate NY with the rents. When my parents came out for my graduation, I decided that they might want to see a little bit more than just NYC. I love NYC. But I know it's overwhelming. My parents were super good sports and we saw lots of the city, but taking the opportunity to see upstate while they were here was great. We got to see some Church sites and visit Niagra Falls. It sure is pretty up there in the rolling hills. Lots of green trees - which are pretty much top on my list when it comes to flora and fauna. I love trees.
3. Passing the Texas State Bar Examination. Enough said.
2. I have this strange obsession with the desert. It's a love/hate thing. I hate how hot and dry a desert can be. I hate brown deserts...a la Las Vegas. Sorry...no offense to my peeps in V-town. But when you look around the valley, it is really, really brown. And dusty. And brown. But there are things I find fascinating and lovely in the desert. Like the rock formations.
Once, when I was in high school, we took a trip...the fam, that is...to New Mexico. We had a Native American student living with us, and she invited us to a Zuni celebration in November. It was actually pretty cool. By the time we got to New Mexico, dusk had fallen. And there were these amazing rock formations in the distance - giant monoliths rising up out of the desert floor. They were just dark shadows in the night, and their strangeness was beautiful.
Well. Last Summer I was at my bro's house in Colorado He lives about just one hour from the New Mexico border. And there I was, gushing about how I just HAD to see Shiprock...how coooooool it looked and how I just really wanted to see it up close and personal. I think everyone BUT my brother thought I was certifiable. Who wants to go see Shiprock? (No...not the town...the actual rock). So Chad says "Sure, we can go see Shiprock." So we went.
I don't get to see a whole lot of my bro these days. I don't love that so much. But I do love that he was willing to take his crazy sister on a three hour (round trip, that is) drive out into nowhere New Mexico, just so I could see that rock up close. It is pretty freaking awesome. Actually, nature sort of is that way, isn't it? Overwhelming and beautiful and perfect. I loved driving out there with him, and Tara and Chris. I loved talking and laughing again. It felt like old times...from back in the day when we were in high school together. Man that Chad - he's a good kid. And he's got a great family. I sure do love him.
1. And here it is, my favorite memory from 2010. Going to Yankee Stadium for a ballgame with my parents. It was awesome to be with my dad the first time he's ever been to a Yankee's game. He bought a baseball hat before we went in. We ate hot dogs. I ALWAYS eat a hot dog when at a baseball game. How can you not? Maybe in real life, hot dogs are gross (but I don't think so). In Yankee Stadium, they are de.light.ful. The Yanks lost, which was disappointing. But I'm glad I got to take my parents anyway. Our seats may not have been the best. But there we were. Experiencing a New York classic...a tradition for the ages. American baseball at Yankee Stadium. With Mom and Dad. Priceless.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Making Up for Lost Time
Oh boy...so I just thought that I had to make up for missing a day. And that last post was super angsty. I'm trying to swear that behavior off, I promise I am. Anyway, I can't lie. The angst is just under the surface and my heart is pretty much behaving erratically. One minute calm. Next minute, not so much. Back and forth. I'm really trying not to think about Monday. But isn't it typical? When you are trying to not to think of something, it just keeps coming back to you. Over and over and over. So I can write...gives me something else to think about!
Here I am trying to distract myself. I'm watching my new fave show. Nope...not Biggest Loser! Surprise!!! My new fave is Castle. (But don't worry...still heart Biggest Loser.) I'm really into it because I think it's funny and campy. What can I say? I'm a sucker for campiness. Books like The Scarlet Pimpernel. Shows like The A-Team. I used to like CSI. Hmmm...I don't think that was every really campy though, and then that became sort of gore filled and dark. In fact, I swore off all such shows because I was sick of how they took themselves so seriously. Law and Order, Bones, Criminal Minds.
But a show about a writer...HELLOOOOO!?! That and I think Nathan Fillion is pretty adorable in that funny, self-effacing sort of way. Yes please! Of course, I watched. I loved. And now I'm sitting here in the living room. It's Saturday night. I'm alone and happily camped in front of Hulu Plus, thank you very much!
And that got me to thinking about being alone. I'm alone a lot and I think about it a lot. But tonight it hasn't been in a sad, self-pitying sort of way. I'm working on that, too. The self-pity thing. Useless and destructive, self-pity is. So I'm actually working really really super hard on ridding my life of that particular indulgence.
Anyways, back to the whole being by my lonesome. I remembered this one particular sort of perfect afternoon. I decided I wanted to go to Eastern Market in D.C. This was pre-burned down Eastern Market. I haven't been to new, shiny Eastern Market. Anyway, I decided to hop on the metro instead of drive in because I hate driving in D.C. Anyone who has driven in D.C. knows why. Traffic circles and the four grid sectors...K Street NE...K Street NW...K Street SE...K Street SW. How does one ever know where in the world one is in that city? Stick to the mall, I say. And Eastern Market isn't on the mall. So I can't drive there.
So there I was, going into Eastern Market on a Saturday afternoon all by my lonesome on the metro. I was feeling very grown-up, very East Coast girl. It was September, closing in on fall, so the city wasn't so hot and sticky like it is in the dead heat of summer. I even had on my cute orange J. Crew sweater. I bought some crisp apples, of the Fuji variety. Thanks Alison...for introducing me to my fave apples. I heart them. I bought some fresh veggies and wandered through the jewelry and art.
And you know what I thought, walking back to the metro at the end of the afternoon out...my afternoon out? I'm pretty good company for myself. And it isn't so bad, having a fall-ish afternoon to wander around Eastern Market all by one's lonesome, just to see what one can see. To buy a few yummy apples and some vegetables and to ride the metro there and back again. Actually, it's pretty awesome.
And you know what else? A quiet evening at home with some Castle isn't so bad either.
Here I am trying to distract myself. I'm watching my new fave show. Nope...not Biggest Loser! Surprise!!! My new fave is Castle. (But don't worry...still heart Biggest Loser.) I'm really into it because I think it's funny and campy. What can I say? I'm a sucker for campiness. Books like The Scarlet Pimpernel. Shows like The A-Team. I used to like CSI. Hmmm...I don't think that was every really campy though, and then that became sort of gore filled and dark. In fact, I swore off all such shows because I was sick of how they took themselves so seriously. Law and Order, Bones, Criminal Minds.
But a show about a writer...HELLOOOOO!?! That and I think Nathan Fillion is pretty adorable in that funny, self-effacing sort of way. Yes please! Of course, I watched. I loved. And now I'm sitting here in the living room. It's Saturday night. I'm alone and happily camped in front of Hulu Plus, thank you very much!
And that got me to thinking about being alone. I'm alone a lot and I think about it a lot. But tonight it hasn't been in a sad, self-pitying sort of way. I'm working on that, too. The self-pity thing. Useless and destructive, self-pity is. So I'm actually working really really super hard on ridding my life of that particular indulgence.
Anyways, back to the whole being by my lonesome. I remembered this one particular sort of perfect afternoon. I decided I wanted to go to Eastern Market in D.C. This was pre-burned down Eastern Market. I haven't been to new, shiny Eastern Market. Anyway, I decided to hop on the metro instead of drive in because I hate driving in D.C. Anyone who has driven in D.C. knows why. Traffic circles and the four grid sectors...K Street NE...K Street NW...K Street SE...K Street SW. How does one ever know where in the world one is in that city? Stick to the mall, I say. And Eastern Market isn't on the mall. So I can't drive there.
So there I was, going into Eastern Market on a Saturday afternoon all by my lonesome on the metro. I was feeling very grown-up, very East Coast girl. It was September, closing in on fall, so the city wasn't so hot and sticky like it is in the dead heat of summer. I even had on my cute orange J. Crew sweater. I bought some crisp apples, of the Fuji variety. Thanks Alison...for introducing me to my fave apples. I heart them. I bought some fresh veggies and wandered through the jewelry and art.
And you know what I thought, walking back to the metro at the end of the afternoon out...my afternoon out? I'm pretty good company for myself. And it isn't so bad, having a fall-ish afternoon to wander around Eastern Market all by one's lonesome, just to see what one can see. To buy a few yummy apples and some vegetables and to ride the metro there and back again. Actually, it's pretty awesome.
And you know what else? A quiet evening at home with some Castle isn't so bad either.
Oops...Missed a Day!
I honestly forgot to post yesterday. I suppose that happens when you begin creating a new habit. I've actually thought about deleting some of my first posts. I don't know. We'll see, but I'd like to start fresh, with some more concrete goals in mind...and written down.
And now to move on to what this post is about. I can't stop worrying. Well, I can, but I am not sure how. Worrying has always ALWAYS been a problem for me. It's an old habit...I've been worrying since childhood. I remember when I was little, we had this yellow station wagon. Whatever, the car isn't important, really. I just remember that I was in that car, cowering in the space in front of the middle seat. Why, you may ask, and just what does a child have to worry about? (And I don't remember how old I was. I want to say four or five, maybe?) I was worried about dying. Yep. Dying. There I was, in my puffy winter coat, sitting on the floor of the station wagon in fear of death. That wasn't the only thing I worried about. Once my mom gave a man from our ward a ride home after a church function during the week. I thought that they were in love, and I remember worrying that my parents would get divorced. I have no idea why. It was entirely innocent...just a ride home. Do four-year-olds worry about those things? I mean, can that possibly be normal?
So now I am a grown up. I don't worry too much about death or my parents choosing to divorce. I am worried about going to work on Monday. Yep. Work. That is my boogie man under the bed. What's worse is that I've been looking for a job for about eight or nine months now. Surprising, I have felt very calm about it - until the last week. The last week, I've felt much more anxiety. A contract agency called me Thursday about a position. I found out yesterday that I'd be going in on Monday.
I should be jumping up and down for joy. I should be excited about the opportunity. I should be happy.
Instead I am worried. Don't misunderstand me. I'm grateful for work and to be doing something again. I'm glad I won't be stuck at home worrying about paying school debt. It's a foot in the door and a step forward. But that also means that I have to move forward with finding a car. So that's more debt. And then I start thinking about finding an apartment...which means buying furniture. Which means more debt.
I've wanted a job for so long. I've been praying for a job, and all along I've felt peace that the right thing would come along and that everything would work out the way that it should. And now something is happening and I feel anxious. Why? I suppose some of it is first day jitters. I remember how anxious I was when law school started. I angsted over the first day of orientation. I angsted that Professor Denbeaux didn't post his first day assignment until Friday night. Of course, his class was first thing on Monday morning. I angsted about going to class the first day. In fact, I angsted the entire week and then calmed down when I adjusted. I could say the same for all of the times I've started a new job, for all the moves, the first day of class at BYU.
And isn't that how it is? I know once I'm there, I'll be fine. I'll start to work, and I'll forget there was ever a reason to worry at all, and I'll adjust to the environment. That is one thing I've discovered after all these moves, new jobs, new school, new situations. I adapt very well and very quickly. It's just the part leading up to what is new that freaks me out. Why, when experience has taught me that I will adjust, do I do that?
In any case, I'm grateful. Monday is a new day. I have work...something to do. I am grateful for that because that is one less loan that has to be deferred. I am grateful because it is one step closer to getting a permanent position. I am grateful because kind friends loaned me a car so that I don't have to rush out and look for one right away. I can take my time and make a good decision. I am grateful. And that is what matters.
And now to move on to what this post is about. I can't stop worrying. Well, I can, but I am not sure how. Worrying has always ALWAYS been a problem for me. It's an old habit...I've been worrying since childhood. I remember when I was little, we had this yellow station wagon. Whatever, the car isn't important, really. I just remember that I was in that car, cowering in the space in front of the middle seat. Why, you may ask, and just what does a child have to worry about? (And I don't remember how old I was. I want to say four or five, maybe?) I was worried about dying. Yep. Dying. There I was, in my puffy winter coat, sitting on the floor of the station wagon in fear of death. That wasn't the only thing I worried about. Once my mom gave a man from our ward a ride home after a church function during the week. I thought that they were in love, and I remember worrying that my parents would get divorced. I have no idea why. It was entirely innocent...just a ride home. Do four-year-olds worry about those things? I mean, can that possibly be normal?
So now I am a grown up. I don't worry too much about death or my parents choosing to divorce. I am worried about going to work on Monday. Yep. Work. That is my boogie man under the bed. What's worse is that I've been looking for a job for about eight or nine months now. Surprising, I have felt very calm about it - until the last week. The last week, I've felt much more anxiety. A contract agency called me Thursday about a position. I found out yesterday that I'd be going in on Monday.
I should be jumping up and down for joy. I should be excited about the opportunity. I should be happy.
Instead I am worried. Don't misunderstand me. I'm grateful for work and to be doing something again. I'm glad I won't be stuck at home worrying about paying school debt. It's a foot in the door and a step forward. But that also means that I have to move forward with finding a car. So that's more debt. And then I start thinking about finding an apartment...which means buying furniture. Which means more debt.
I've wanted a job for so long. I've been praying for a job, and all along I've felt peace that the right thing would come along and that everything would work out the way that it should. And now something is happening and I feel anxious. Why? I suppose some of it is first day jitters. I remember how anxious I was when law school started. I angsted over the first day of orientation. I angsted that Professor Denbeaux didn't post his first day assignment until Friday night. Of course, his class was first thing on Monday morning. I angsted about going to class the first day. In fact, I angsted the entire week and then calmed down when I adjusted. I could say the same for all of the times I've started a new job, for all the moves, the first day of class at BYU.
And isn't that how it is? I know once I'm there, I'll be fine. I'll start to work, and I'll forget there was ever a reason to worry at all, and I'll adjust to the environment. That is one thing I've discovered after all these moves, new jobs, new school, new situations. I adapt very well and very quickly. It's just the part leading up to what is new that freaks me out. Why, when experience has taught me that I will adjust, do I do that?
In any case, I'm grateful. Monday is a new day. I have work...something to do. I am grateful for that because that is one less loan that has to be deferred. I am grateful because it is one step closer to getting a permanent position. I am grateful because kind friends loaned me a car so that I don't have to rush out and look for one right away. I can take my time and make a good decision. I am grateful. And that is what matters.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
365 Days of Writing
That's a hopeful title. I like the way it sounds. A full year of keeping track; a full year of keeping a promise. It makes me smile a little. It helps me to hope that my goals are not so far off and that I can reach them. It only takes a day. One day and then the next.
Actually, speaking of hope, I've been thinking a lot about that today. A sweet friend might lose her newly adopted baby. In fact, it looks likely. She's been waiting for seven years to be a mother. I think of others who wait. Some wait for enough money to make ends meet. Some wait for jobs. Some wait for companionship. Some wait for good health. We all wait for something.
I was going to say that it seems unfair. But that isn't true. If we all have to wait, then everyone experiences the anxiety and fear that come along with waiting. Then I was going to say that the easy thing to do would be to give up. But that isn't true, either. Giving up hope only makes life more difficult. The point being that in the end, there are no easy answers. Sometimes life is really good and peaceful and the universe feels kind. And sometimes it does not feel warm and cozy at all. Sometimes it feels like a cold shaft is opening up inside of my chest, like Pandora's Box letting pain slip slowly, silently out of the cracks and crevices. And then that pain creeps through my heart and moves upward, drifting and wafting into my mind. I wonder how anything will ever come out right.
But then things do come out right. Pandora's Box contained more than just the evil in the world. Of course, it contained hope. I know life isn't all darkness and worry. There are good things to be grateful for, always good things, even when I feel hopeless. I have a family and friends and support when I need it. I have a warm place to put my head down at night. I don't go hungry. I was given talents and the intelligence to use those talents wisely. I have been told "I love you" countless times in my life; I've been able to say it countless times in return. I have faith in God and Christ and that my prayers to Them mean something.
I hope my friend will keep her baby. I hope I will find a job. I hope I will find love and marriage. I hope for friends and family every where to be at peace. I hope, even if the odds are long. Most especially, I have hope in Christ. And that, in the end, is all there really is - a loving Brother of a loving Father who both know. And so I hope...I hope...I hope. And then I try to remember that it only takes one day. One day and then the next.
Actually, speaking of hope, I've been thinking a lot about that today. A sweet friend might lose her newly adopted baby. In fact, it looks likely. She's been waiting for seven years to be a mother. I think of others who wait. Some wait for enough money to make ends meet. Some wait for jobs. Some wait for companionship. Some wait for good health. We all wait for something.
I was going to say that it seems unfair. But that isn't true. If we all have to wait, then everyone experiences the anxiety and fear that come along with waiting. Then I was going to say that the easy thing to do would be to give up. But that isn't true, either. Giving up hope only makes life more difficult. The point being that in the end, there are no easy answers. Sometimes life is really good and peaceful and the universe feels kind. And sometimes it does not feel warm and cozy at all. Sometimes it feels like a cold shaft is opening up inside of my chest, like Pandora's Box letting pain slip slowly, silently out of the cracks and crevices. And then that pain creeps through my heart and moves upward, drifting and wafting into my mind. I wonder how anything will ever come out right.
But then things do come out right. Pandora's Box contained more than just the evil in the world. Of course, it contained hope. I know life isn't all darkness and worry. There are good things to be grateful for, always good things, even when I feel hopeless. I have a family and friends and support when I need it. I have a warm place to put my head down at night. I don't go hungry. I was given talents and the intelligence to use those talents wisely. I have been told "I love you" countless times in my life; I've been able to say it countless times in return. I have faith in God and Christ and that my prayers to Them mean something.
I hope my friend will keep her baby. I hope I will find a job. I hope I will find love and marriage. I hope for friends and family every where to be at peace. I hope, even if the odds are long. Most especially, I have hope in Christ. And that, in the end, is all there really is - a loving Brother of a loving Father who both know. And so I hope...I hope...I hope. And then I try to remember that it only takes one day. One day and then the next.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I Heart E. Lockhart!
Short disclaimer here. I first got the idea for this particular blog from Goodreads. If you haven't signed up, and if you are any sort of reader whatsoever, you should. It's one of my daily five. You know...the daily five websites you go to religiously. Mine include, in no particular order, the following:
1. Gmail
2. FB (for the time being...I keep waiting for the novelty to wear off)
3. Webcrosswords.com and or usatoday.com (for crosswords...I love crosswords)
4. Goodreads.com
5. Sporcle.com (I am sort of obsessed with sporcling)
It's sort of embarrassing that my list does not include sites of more sophistication, or at least one news network! Alas, that is the list. I make no apologies. Anyway, back to Goodreads. The idea came when I realized I could copy my reviews into my blog and share my opinings about various novels with a broader audience. And there you have it. The birth of my blog.
This particular review concerns a new favorite author. I've taken quite a fancy to her books. E. Lockhart. Enjoy!
The Treasure Map of Boys: Noel, Jackson, Finn, Hutch, Gideon—and me, Ruby Oliver by E. Lockhart
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Dear Miss E. Lockhart,
I cannot ardently enough express my love for this book...best in the series so far. Ruby makes me jittery and uncomfortable, just like I am reliving my teenage years...something I know I should not enjoy so very very much, but I'll be darned if I can put your books down. Seriously.
Love,
Michelle
Disclaimer/confession...before I tell you why I love this book, and all the books I've read by Lockhart so far. I jumped on the Twilight bandwagon...I'm not ashamed to say I enjoyed the ride while it lasted. Pure escapism - nothing wrong with that. And yes I realize that Bella is somewhat of a twit, that her romance with Edward is entirely unhealthy and obsessive and nothing like that exists in real life without heads exploding or other horrible happenings. But I'm kind of over the whole "oh my boyfriend is so dreamy/perfect/gorgeous/what a demi-god and I am so in love with him and life will be perfect when we are together...always...when he turns me into an immortal vampire/werewolf/whatever..." blah, blah, blah. Because (OBVI) that is not real life. Most especially, I'm sort of sick of all the other writers jumping on the bandwagon. Every time I check out the young adult section at the library or B&N, I find myself cringing. Vampire, werewolf, vampire, werewolf. Oh brother. Enough already. Angsty, teenage drama over immortal, or better yet, sycophantic love please die!
And please, PLEASE replace said genre with more E. Lockhart...more Ruby Oliver...more Frankie Landau Banks! As my good friend Adrienne said, these books are restoring my love for YA literature. Single-handedly. They are fresh and smart. Hilarious comes to mind. And they still contain all that teenage angst and drama, just toned down to a realistic, intelligent level. Lockhart is not pandering to her audience. She's creating lovably flawed characters. They have substance and wit of their own. Ruby may be boy crazy - don't know many sixteen year old girls who are not - but she isn't insane. I guess what I am saying is that I wish more authors would write characters like Ruby and Frankie. You can even keep the fantasy elements (hello, Hermione Granger is one of my fave characters of all time...and a. she's smart; b. she kicks trash, to boot!). But please, please, please can the female lead have a voice of her own...or at least honest feelings about navigating the dating world whilst only sixteen? And can she realize her life will go on if the "love of her life" turns out to be not so much the "love of her life"?
Conclusion? The fantasy, escapist lit of the vampire world might be a fun treat once in a while. But reality is really just so much much much better!
View all my reviews
So that's it. For now. More musings to come tomorrow.
1. Gmail
2. FB (for the time being...I keep waiting for the novelty to wear off)
3. Webcrosswords.com and or usatoday.com (for crosswords...I love crosswords)
4. Goodreads.com
5. Sporcle.com (I am sort of obsessed with sporcling)
It's sort of embarrassing that my list does not include sites of more sophistication, or at least one news network! Alas, that is the list. I make no apologies. Anyway, back to Goodreads. The idea came when I realized I could copy my reviews into my blog and share my opinings about various novels with a broader audience. And there you have it. The birth of my blog.
This particular review concerns a new favorite author. I've taken quite a fancy to her books. E. Lockhart. Enjoy!
The Treasure Map of Boys: Noel, Jackson, Finn, Hutch, Gideon—and me, Ruby Oliver by E. LockhartMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Dear Miss E. Lockhart,
I cannot ardently enough express my love for this book...best in the series so far. Ruby makes me jittery and uncomfortable, just like I am reliving my teenage years...something I know I should not enjoy so very very much, but I'll be darned if I can put your books down. Seriously.
Love,
Michelle
Disclaimer/confession...before I tell you why I love this book, and all the books I've read by Lockhart so far. I jumped on the Twilight bandwagon...I'm not ashamed to say I enjoyed the ride while it lasted. Pure escapism - nothing wrong with that. And yes I realize that Bella is somewhat of a twit, that her romance with Edward is entirely unhealthy and obsessive and nothing like that exists in real life without heads exploding or other horrible happenings. But I'm kind of over the whole "oh my boyfriend is so dreamy/perfect/gorgeous/what a demi-god and I am so in love with him and life will be perfect when we are together...always...when he turns me into an immortal vampire/werewolf/whatever..." blah, blah, blah. Because (OBVI) that is not real life. Most especially, I'm sort of sick of all the other writers jumping on the bandwagon. Every time I check out the young adult section at the library or B&N, I find myself cringing. Vampire, werewolf, vampire, werewolf. Oh brother. Enough already. Angsty, teenage drama over immortal, or better yet, sycophantic love please die!
And please, PLEASE replace said genre with more E. Lockhart...more Ruby Oliver...more Frankie Landau Banks! As my good friend Adrienne said, these books are restoring my love for YA literature. Single-handedly. They are fresh and smart. Hilarious comes to mind. And they still contain all that teenage angst and drama, just toned down to a realistic, intelligent level. Lockhart is not pandering to her audience. She's creating lovably flawed characters. They have substance and wit of their own. Ruby may be boy crazy - don't know many sixteen year old girls who are not - but she isn't insane. I guess what I am saying is that I wish more authors would write characters like Ruby and Frankie. You can even keep the fantasy elements (hello, Hermione Granger is one of my fave characters of all time...and a. she's smart; b. she kicks trash, to boot!). But please, please, please can the female lead have a voice of her own...or at least honest feelings about navigating the dating world whilst only sixteen? And can she realize her life will go on if the "love of her life" turns out to be not so much the "love of her life"?
Conclusion? The fantasy, escapist lit of the vampire world might be a fun treat once in a while. But reality is really just so much much much better!
View all my reviews
So that's it. For now. More musings to come tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Keeping a Promise
A little bit of anxiety and stress can be a legitimate motivator. I was going to say good, but upon further reflection, I don't think good is a fair or correct modifier, especially when it comes to words like anxiety or stress. So I'll say legitimate and leave it at that. You know what I mean. You have a deadline, an exam, an assignment and you feel a bit of pressure and that pressure gets you moving. It tends to work for me; although I make no claims that that is the best way to get the job done.
But what happens when those two things explode into fear? Say sayonara to motivation, at least for me.
So what exactly is it I'm afraid of? I'm afraid that whatever I have to write down here won't be good enough. I'm afraid that people will read it and think "hmmm...garbage." I'm afraid to even tell people that I'm doing this yet because I'd be telling people I know... people I care about. Naturally these are the people who will read it. And so naturally, I would care about those opinions most.
You can all see the inevitable end that my line of thinking leads to... the ugly "what ifs". (Note that I use "you". I assume that eventually I'm going to have to open myself up to outsiders becoming privy to this blog and my thoughts. But I digress...back to those awful "what ifs".)
1. What if you critique me and I fall short?
2. What if I alone think that what I am writing is good?
3. What if you want to say stop writing...stick with the whole attorney thing...but you don't want to be honest because you don't want to hurt me?
4. Or, what if the worst happens? What if it's just blah? What if it inspires nothing? Worst possible outcome in my mind is that my writing is trite, boring, unoffensive but uninspired.
Of course, I know that those voices are in my head. It's fear, really, that tells me that people will reject what I have to say. I know, inevitably, that some people won't like the way I write. That's life. How else can one explain the classification of On The Road as a modern masterpiece? I detest that novel, and yet it holds its place in canonical literature, or at least literature taught in by modern American Lit. professors around the country. So whatever I say, I have to accept some level of rejection. Being afraid is not a reason to give it up.
I wonder sometimes if I am the only person who thinks about things like this. Do other people get so afraid that it stops them from pursuing the thing they want and love? It's a painful thing to admit. I risk exposing a vulnerability. The truth is, I DO care what people think. It makes me feel weak, at a disadvantage...like someone can hurt me. On the other hand, what is the alternative. To delete this paragraph, this page, this blog? And really what disadvantage is there to pursuing a passion and accepting rejection?
Writers are sensitive. Better yet, humans are sensitive. But here is a list of some particularly sensitive writers.
1. The Bronte sisters
2. Emily Dickinson
3. Margaret Mitchell
Alright, those are the only ones who I know for certain were sensitive souls. Still, pretty impressive line up. Pretty successful, albeit for some, posthumously. Dickinson might have been mortified at the thought of publication or any sort of public exposure. I personally hope she's up in heaven doing a dance of joy at the success of her writing, though. In any case, point being, if they can put aside fear and go forward, so can I. Maybe they never fully got rid of the fear anyway. Maybe the point is to do what you want to do even if you are afraid.
I promised myself, when I sat down last night and wrote my first entry, I would make a commitment to write every day. And this is me, keeping the promise. I cannot get better at writing without the critique and the daily practice. I cannot become what I hope to become sitting under a rock. I hoped that by doing nothing, by just dreaming and forgetting the rest, I would be okay. Ummm..big shocker...I'm finding that is not the case. Living in fear is worse. It's suffocating and demoralizing. And I honestly cannot do it anymore. So I have to keep this promise to myself.
I'll be like Julie (from Julie and Julia) except I won't be cooking (duh). I'll be writing. Writing my way through my fear one day at a time for a full year.
So, here is to day two of keeping a promise.
But what happens when those two things explode into fear? Say sayonara to motivation, at least for me.
So what exactly is it I'm afraid of? I'm afraid that whatever I have to write down here won't be good enough. I'm afraid that people will read it and think "hmmm...garbage." I'm afraid to even tell people that I'm doing this yet because I'd be telling people I know... people I care about. Naturally these are the people who will read it. And so naturally, I would care about those opinions most.
You can all see the inevitable end that my line of thinking leads to... the ugly "what ifs". (Note that I use "you". I assume that eventually I'm going to have to open myself up to outsiders becoming privy to this blog and my thoughts. But I digress...back to those awful "what ifs".)
1. What if you critique me and I fall short?
2. What if I alone think that what I am writing is good?
3. What if you want to say stop writing...stick with the whole attorney thing...but you don't want to be honest because you don't want to hurt me?
4. Or, what if the worst happens? What if it's just blah? What if it inspires nothing? Worst possible outcome in my mind is that my writing is trite, boring, unoffensive but uninspired.
Of course, I know that those voices are in my head. It's fear, really, that tells me that people will reject what I have to say. I know, inevitably, that some people won't like the way I write. That's life. How else can one explain the classification of On The Road as a modern masterpiece? I detest that novel, and yet it holds its place in canonical literature, or at least literature taught in by modern American Lit. professors around the country. So whatever I say, I have to accept some level of rejection. Being afraid is not a reason to give it up.
I wonder sometimes if I am the only person who thinks about things like this. Do other people get so afraid that it stops them from pursuing the thing they want and love? It's a painful thing to admit. I risk exposing a vulnerability. The truth is, I DO care what people think. It makes me feel weak, at a disadvantage...like someone can hurt me. On the other hand, what is the alternative. To delete this paragraph, this page, this blog? And really what disadvantage is there to pursuing a passion and accepting rejection?
Writers are sensitive. Better yet, humans are sensitive. But here is a list of some particularly sensitive writers.
1. The Bronte sisters
2. Emily Dickinson
3. Margaret Mitchell
Alright, those are the only ones who I know for certain were sensitive souls. Still, pretty impressive line up. Pretty successful, albeit for some, posthumously. Dickinson might have been mortified at the thought of publication or any sort of public exposure. I personally hope she's up in heaven doing a dance of joy at the success of her writing, though. In any case, point being, if they can put aside fear and go forward, so can I. Maybe they never fully got rid of the fear anyway. Maybe the point is to do what you want to do even if you are afraid.
I promised myself, when I sat down last night and wrote my first entry, I would make a commitment to write every day. And this is me, keeping the promise. I cannot get better at writing without the critique and the daily practice. I cannot become what I hope to become sitting under a rock. I hoped that by doing nothing, by just dreaming and forgetting the rest, I would be okay. Ummm..big shocker...I'm finding that is not the case. Living in fear is worse. It's suffocating and demoralizing. And I honestly cannot do it anymore. So I have to keep this promise to myself.
I'll be like Julie (from Julie and Julia) except I won't be cooking (duh). I'll be writing. Writing my way through my fear one day at a time for a full year.
So, here is to day two of keeping a promise.
Monday, February 21, 2011
I'm Like Fancy Nancy...Sort Of
So I got this great idea about a month ago. You see, I want to be a writer. Full fledged for a living. I want to write fiction, and I'm pretty decent with words. But more importantly, I sort of love it...the writing that is. So I thought about what I need to do. A whole list of things, actually. To do, that is. But it really boils down to one thing: writing daily. My thoughts went thusly:
1. I thought about my blog.
2. I thought about how I rarely update it.
3. I thought that might be because I'm not really writing about things I want to write about.
4. I thought "I love books." I write my critiques on goodreads pretty faithfully. So
5. I thought maybe I should have a blog about that...
6. I didn't forget that I want to write fiction; I just thought the daily exercise of writing a blog about books I've read could be a start.
7. And then I thought maybe I could write about my musings as well.
8. I probably thought about chocolate after that!
6. I didn't forget that I want to write fiction; I just thought the daily exercise of writing a blog about books I've read could be a start.
7. And then I thought maybe I could write about my musings as well.
8. I probably thought about chocolate after that!
Anyway, in all that thinking, something has become increasingly apparent to me. It's one thing to dream about something, and then it is quite another to get outside of "dream" mode and actually do something about it. I'm kind of the type to get stuck in "dream" mode and forget that if I really and truly want something, then I really truly have to do it. I have to risk. And let us face reality. Risk=S.C.A.R.Y! Yes, risk means facing the fear and doing something.
UGH...sometimes I hate reality.
But then the good thing is this; the real life rewards of risk are so much better than my little fantasies. Embarrassing, albeit honest, confession. In my fantasies, I'm the American J.K. Rowling. I get to interview with Oprah, and she confesses to me that she loves my books. It's a nice dream. But that's all it is, really. Hmmm...so that gets sort of old and hollow feeling after a while. What's a nice girl like me to do when the dreaming part isn't fulfilling anymore?
A girl must get herself a plan and stick to it because actually reality can be pretty stinking awesome. The following are both real, and fabulous, moments from my life.
1. Getting accepted in law school after all that work. I'm not sure I want to be a lawyer. But...
2. Learning the law. I remember sitting in contracts and thinking to myself that I was really there, really doing it. It was a good feeling.
3. Kissing my first real crush - I was just certain he was NEVER going to kiss me.
4. Seeing the Louvre for the first time and getting all teared up.
5. Having the guts to backpack through Europe - maybe I'm not such a big scaredy cat after all.
6. Passing the bar. Anyone who has suffered through that torture knows what I mean.
I could go on, but you all get the point. Reality is good...really good. Nothing beats knowing you've set out to do something and then accomplished it.
Lately, I've seen quite a few of these "hipster/Mormon mommy/lifestyle blogs" floating around in articles and such. I love them. These girls have got some serious artistic skills. They write; they take photos; they bake. It's all very Martha Stewart for the younger, hipper set. And it's all very, very different from my life. I'm not married. I have no children. I'd like to learn to be a good photog and buy a really expensive Nikon camera. I rarely bake (but I do make some mean cookies and other such desserts). But one thing I know I can do? I can write.
And that's where Fancy Nancy comes in.
No, I do not want to write children's lit. I'm much more in with the young adult set. But here is the thing about little miss Fancy Nancy. She says things like this..."My favorite color is fucshia. That's a fancy way of saying purple." Or, "A princess is supposed to wear her tiara." Or, "Ooh, la, la!" That might be my favorite. Nancy knows what she likes and what she is good at. She isn't afraid to try. I'm aware...the girl is fiction. I'm not. I'm real.
However (that is a fancy way of saying but), these hipster Mormon mommy bloggers are real, too. Just like me. And like Fancy Nancy, they are confident in their efforts. Or at least confident enough to take the risk of writing for a public audience. They try new things. They write about life. And why can't I be like that? Nancy says, "No one in my family is fancy at all." That doesn't stop her from being fancy anyway. Nothing is stopping me from being a cool, hip Mormon blogger (even if I'm a single one).
So here is to beginnings and tryings. Here is to the adventure of making my life what I want it to be. Of living instead of just dreaming. Or maybe better yet, of living and dreaming at the same time.
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