Lucky

I actually got the idea for this post while watching How I Met Your Mother, my new like, and if it continues to be this promising (I've only gotten to disc 2 of season 1 so far), then perhaps even my new love. The main character, Ted, was talking to his best friend Marshall about how he'd just broken up with his girlfriend as she was leaving the country for two years the next day. Marshall pointed out how stupid it was to not spend her last day in the States together: "If you knew that you were going to lose your leg tomorrow, would you sit on the couch and cry about it, or would you run, and jump, and do some awesome air kicks while you still could?" And, okay, that was a metaphor for "spending one last awesome night together" with someone you've just broken up with, but it got me thinking about something else.

It's recently occurred to me that I should really be more grateful for my all-around awesome well-being. Too often, I've heard myself utter things like,

"My knees hurt so bad."

"Fuck, my back is KILLING me."

I have horrible eyesight."

Dude....seriously? Why do I have any reason to complain? My legs work just fine, my back, while sometimes stricken with aches, is still going strong, and my eyes, while nearly blind without the help of my glasses, are healthy and not beyond saving.

What if I couldn't run at all? What if my back was so bad I couldn't walk? What if I couldn't see to watch all the new shows I'm discovering?

Maybe I should be more grateful for how well my body works for me, respecting how much it does for me every single day. And, by the same token, maybe I should take better care of it. Maybe I should at least get in enough shape so going up and down the stairs twice doesn't make me short of breath. Maybe I should eat more than junk. Maybe I should drink more water than soda.

So, in closing, appreciate your body and how freaking rad it is. Even if you're blind, or lame (not the slang way, the actual way), the parts of you that DO work work pretty damn hard. Don't be mean to them.






And yes, I know I am so late hopping on the How I Met Your Mother bandwagon.

Unexpected

Like every other typical teenage girl, I had this phase a few years back where I would obsess over some celebrity/musician, and find out everything I could about them just to...I dunno, just to know it, I guess. Invariably, there would always be some snippet somewhere about a significant other. And, again, like every other typical teenage girl, I would fly into a fit of irrational, idiotic jealousy. Like I had totally had a chance with said flavor of the week, and this biznatch had gone and stolen him right out from under me.

I know. Lame.

But one in particular has really taken an interesting turn.

A few years ago I was totally digging Ryan Ross, formerly of Panic! At The Disco. And in my research, I found that he had a dancer girlfriend named Keltie Colleen. Right away I thought things like "Oh, a dancer? Well she's probably a total ho. *Google image searches name* "Oh, god, TOTALLY." And thoughts like this just kept going on and on, until I stumbled upon her blog, and I discovered that this woman is a complete and total gem. She's worked her ass off for her dream since she was a kid, she totally handles nasty vibes in a calm and ladylike manner, and she never wishes bad things on anyone. She even posts total good karma-garnering responses to the shitty things said to her. Example: Bitch: I hope you die in a fire boo Keltie: I hope you have a life full of love and peace.I know that I certainly wouldn't have taken the high road. That snot-nosed brat would've gotten a piece and a HALF of my mind.

But not Keltie. Her personal mantra is "Courage. Passion. Hard work. Full-out fearless."

I love that. I love that she takes every day for what it is and gives credit to the universe for the experiences she's had and the people she's met and the places she's been. And I love that she will never, ever, ever give up on love. She has had her heart stamped in the mud so many times & she gets right back up.

I have pretty much forgotten about Ryan Ross, but now I follow Keltie on Twitter, I read her blog obsessively, and I even sent her a little message on Formspring (which she responded to!) It's funny the way life teaches you things. I have learned to not jump the gun so much and give people a chance before judging them. I never would have thought that a girl I automatically hated simply because she was dating a guy I was attracted to would become a total hero.

But she did, and it actually feels totally rad to have been proven so completely wrong.

Sometimes I miss him so much it feels like I'm mourning.

Existentialism. Mid-life Crisis. Dharma path. Spiritual realization.

What does it all mean?
Is it really supposed to mean anything?

I believe what I believe-can the same be said for all?
How can a path be so "right" if it forces you to question everything-to never stop questioning.

Why.

Why must we not be satisfied with who we are, where we are from, are, and going?
Can we not just sit back, think, b..r..e..a..t..h..e.

Every. Single. Thing. Does not need a reason to be.

Inhale. Exhale.

Calm yourself.

The Mean Reds

I love Breakfast At Tiffany's. Not because it's the cool movie to like, I just genuinely like it. At first glance, it's about a fabulously glamorous girl who knows exactly what she's doing and where she's going, but really, she's just a frightened girl whose only smarts are how to take care of herself.

There's something Holly Golightly, the heroine of the story, mentions a few times: The Mean Reds. And no, they're not like the blues. According to Holly, the blues are because you're getting fat, or maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible; suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. And the only cure for those, for Ms. Golightly, anyhow, is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's.

For a while I couldn't relate to the Mean Reds. Tiffany's, certainly. I've never gone into a Tiffany's boutique, but I do quite frequently troll the website, drooling over enormous, perfectly cut jewels and yards of diamonds and pearls. It was perfectly clear to me from the start the appeal that Tiffany's has; what girl doesn't adore beautiful colors and sparkle? And having a pastry and coffee while seeing them in lovely window display certainly seems a good way to end a rough night.

But only recently have I begun to relate to the bulk of Holly's fears and feelings. The Mean reds are horrible. The sudden creep of some unknown fear just chokes you, makes it impossible for you to see the light at the end of a suddenly very long, very dark tunnel. I've been in a state of depression once before. It lasted for quite some time and it was the scariest time in my life. I felt like a complete failure, like I disappointed everyone just by being, that I couldn't do anything right or good enough, that I'd never get anywhere, that I'd never meet anyone because I was too ugly, too loud, to confused. It really does shake you to your core. It's terrifying.

The scary thing is that lately the meanest of the Mean Reds are starting to come back. I think part of it is that I don't understand myself. I can make myself go to work way early in the morning, work overtime that no one asked me to work without even expecting to be paid for it week after week, and yet I can't go to a single one of my classes. Why the hell is that? Money is a factor, certainly, but shouldn't the promise of a degree be motivation enough? I'm certainly not making a long-term career out of my current job. Why can't I go to classes that aren't even that challenging?

And why can't I ever see myself as pretty for more than a month? I'll FINALLY get to a point where I'm not insulting myself every time I see my reflection, and I feel so good about everything, and then suddenly, it all just...falls apart. And each time it falls apart feels harder than the last. Right now I feel fatter an uglier than I have in a really long time. I feel alone, ugly, dumb (and not unintelligent-I feel I'm making stupid choices), unmotivated, and basically an overall failure. And it sucks. It's the shittiest feeling in the world. It feels like the Mean Reds just up and sucker punched me in the throat. Suddenly I'm afraid and I don't know what I'm afraid of, other than life itself. I spend so much time living in this fantasy world, making myself okay in my head, that I can't even face the real one anymore. I'm afraid of never finding the things that make me truly happy. I'm afraid of wasting my life. I'm afraid of letting every person I've ever looked up to down.



I don't know what my Tiffany's will be, but I'd really like it to come along soon.

This shit is getting to be too much.

Things You Should Never Ask Or Say....

Today I was going through boxes in my garage, since we're beginning to put things into storage, and I wanted to make sure that we weren't putting things that I wanted to have with me away. The few boxes we have left have really random things in them: old textbooks, duffel bags, baseballs (why we have an entire box full, I'll never know). But there was also one with slightly more meaningful things: drawings and letters and cards from when I was small. These have an especially significant meaning to me, because a lot of them have my mother's handwriting, and some of them are from her to me.

For those of you who don't know, my mom died when I was four. I'm okay with it. I'm not over it, because you can never get over a loved one's death. I have, however, learned to live with it, and to just live my life in a way she'd be proud of.

Something I've noticed over the years is that whenever I tell people my mother passed away, the majority of people make the face. The face one makes when consoling someone over a recent loss, like when you're at a funeral telling someone you're sorry for their loss: eyebrows furrow, eyes soften, lips frown in a sort of kind, pitying way. Now, I am in no way saying that the people are insincere in making the face, but honestly.....after a while, that shit gets irritating. She didn't die last week. I've had a long time and a lot of love to cope with it. I'm not going to burst into tears about it. Really, it's okay. We don't have to dwell on it. (For the record, I do still cry every once in a while, but that's always in private, and I don't go on all day about it. But that's beside the point.)

I am always polite about people acting this way, since they're only trying to be kind, and they mean well. But I always thought it would be nice for there to be some sort of guide to how you act when someone tells you they lost a parent when they were young. Not a completely serious one, mind you, more like a humorous one that gently tells you to lighten the hell up.

I got the idea for this post about a week ago while reading the blog of someone whose loved one served in the armed forces. They talked about a book they'd recently read a book about questions you should never ask a soldier. Some were funny, and some were serious. On their blog, they had made their own list of things you should never say to a military man/woman's lady/man. Both the wit and poignant intellect really struck me, and I absolutely loved the idea. So, at the risk of completely ripping off a genius idea (screw it. I'm totally stealing.), I present:

Things You Should Never Say To/Ask When Someone Tells You One Of Their Parents Passed Away

[I Know. The title is way too wordy and just kind of sucks.]

Oh, wow. How did he/she die?

That is an extremely personal question. Generally I tell people, (car accident, btw) if only to get them to stop asking questions, and because it requires minimal wording and no other explanation. But think about the question you're asking. what if she'd committed suicide? What if she'd died in front of me? What if I just didn't feel comfortable telling you in the first place? If I don't offer up the information, it's better to just not ask.

Car accident-was it a drunk driver?

What does it matter? Do you think I'll have some cool vendetta story about how I'm going to turn into a Batgirl of sorts to get my revenge? And what if SHE was the drunk driver?

Do you miss her/him?

Not at all! No mommy means no bedtime, and I can have all the ice cream I want!

Of course I miss my fucking mother.

Were you there when it happened?

Um. If I was, do you really think I'd want to talk to you about it? Only my closest friends would be privileged enough to know something like that, and they'd have enough sense not to ask.

So you're an orphan?

So you have the emotional range of a housefly? It's a very derogatory word. Calling someone an orphan is like calling someone a cripple-if THEY don't use the phrase, they're not comfortable with it. "Orphan" is the most hurtful thing I have ever been called, and I have been called a LOT of things.

How old was he/she?

I honestly never understood point of this one. But, if you must know, as old as Harry Potter's mother was when she died. Go look it up.

So you live with your mom/dad? (whichever isn't dead)

Not necessarily. What if I'd never known my father (I wish)? What if they're in prison for murdering the other parent? Honestly, if people ever stopped to think about the possible answers to the boorish questions they ask, they'd never ask.

Was it hard for you?

Nope! Having my mother pass away was a piece of cake. YES it was hard. And for the record, age has nothing to do with it. If you're young when it happens you're sad about all the time you'll never have with them, and if you're older when it happens you're sad about all the time you'll never have with them, regardless of how much time you had with them while they were alive.

In closing, kindness in regards to someone who tells you they've lost a parent is never unappreciated, but you don't have to go overboard. You didn't know them, and it's more than okay that you don't dwell on it. You don't have to console me, and it's not impolite of you to not ask any questions. I'm sure you don't really want to know all the details, and I'm more than happy to not be forced to dwell on one of the worst things that's ever happened to me. "I'm sorry" really is the nicest thing you can say. It is so underestimated, but it conveys so much. I think the unspoken part of "I'm sorry" in this context is, "How sad. That must have been/be hard. I would hate to go through something like that. You seem to be dealing with it very well. I'm sorry that you have to deal with that."

The absence of my mother is a personal thing. I look to the people I love most for support on the days when it gets particularly hard, and they're there for me. If someone reaches out to you and wants to talk about it, ask all the questions you want; they're inviting you to. But honestly, saying you're sorry and just moving on with the conversation is really a very caring gesture. It's like a spoken hug :)

I just found out that one of my favorite bands, Armor For Sleep, broke up a week ago.

I read this while listening to them, too-how ironic.

"What To Do When You Are Dead", their sophomore album, is one of the best concept albums-one of the best albums period-thatI've ever heard. It's powerful, poignant, and beautifully done. It's a story about a man, and what happens after he dies. The first song is his suicide, and the thoughts and emotions that run through his mind. The second song is his realization that the afterlife isn't what he expected; he can't outrun his pain like he expected to. The rest of the album follows him as he follows the woman he loves; she can neither see nor hear his ghost, but talks to him. He first is comforted by the fact that she still loves him, then despairs in the fact that she'll one day move on. One of the most powerful points in the album is when he says he'll be around her, just keeping watch over her, until she dies: "About 50 years left of this waiting around."

That gives me chills. He loves this girl so much that he'll dutifully follow her, despite the new men that will come into her life, despite the fact that her love will eventually fade, until she's gone. He won't move on to whatever comes after this, because it's not right without her. "I came down here to tell you: It rains in Heaven all day long. I wanna find you so bad, and let you know I'm miserable up here without you."

When I just sit and listen to this album in its entirety, I cry. Not always, but it's happened on several occasions. It's made me realize two things: 1) I hope and pray that I'll be lucky enough to find someone who loves me that much, and 2) If & when I lose my significant other to death, I will never again be able to listen to any of these songs. Ever. They're that powerful, and I would be so scared of them being there in spirit and not being able to hear them.

It's a beautiful work of art, and has been on my favorites list ever since I bought it four years ago.

So, in closing, thank you, Armor For Sleep, for the amazing music. I will miss you, but at least you've left something great for us to remember you guys. <3333