Okay. Two weeks into the running thing, and I am super bored of it. This past week has been a bit weird health wise for me, so I have not been running as regularly as I would like, but by Friday AM, i should be hitting the pavement again (that's a phrase, right?).
Needless to say, I have had a lot of time to think about what my next activity will be. I am thinking something with a LITTLE less of an impact. I saw a sign for Tai Chi in a coffee shop. Maybe I will give that a shot. I wonder if I will be the only one under 55 years old. For now though, I need to get to work. Maybe this weekend I will have time to work on the blog for longer than 5 minutes.
What a crazy couple of weeks these have been! I am SO ready for a day off where I don't feel like just sleeping the entire day. I took a 5 hour "nap" yesterday.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Alone is not a dirty word.
Basically, I hate being alone. And recently, I find myself going solo a lot. And I figure that if I am going to be alone a lot, I need to get used it. I would like to eventually LIKE being alone, if that's possible.
...is that possible?
Last night, I was laying in bed, and was thinking about relationships. Like the VERY beginning of a relationship, when both people are trying to figure out what the other likes to do, and you spend time with that person doing things that you would not have done on your own. Eventually (in most cases), you end up liking those same things. Maybe you end up hiking or biking or LARP-ing. I think the point is that you would not have known what you were missing out on if you would have never met that person. Even relationships that don't make it have this one plus: you normally come out a more interesting person.
Here's the thing though. I don't want to have to wait for another person to figure out what I like. I have done that my entire life. I tend to look like/sound like/have the same ideas as the person I am spending the most time with. This does not just go for romantic relationships, either. I am a sponge when it comes to friendships. You know that girl that got her hair cut just like you in the third grade and wore the same kitty cat applique sweatshirt with the puffy paint? Yeah, that was me. And even though I (regretfully) wear far less puffy paint these days, I still desire to be liked so much that I have somewhere along the way forgotten to develop my own interests. Not that I blend into a crowd. I would not say that about myself. And I genuinely like the things I say I like. There are just days that I feel like there is not an original thought in my head.
These words are extremely uncomfortable for me to type ( I just had to take a 10 minute break that included one cigarette and two trips to the bathroom).
I need to figure myself out before I can ever let someone else give it a shot. I am going to try new things this year. What better year for it, anyway?
So, what's first? It is winter. So maybe a winter-time activity? What are winter time activities, anyway? I don't have a lot of money to spend on sporty stuff. I do have a good pair of running shoes and some warm pants or whatever. Maybe I could try running this month. It might be a good way to think of the other activities that I want to do when I actually feel like being outside without moving at supersonic speed. Here's a rough draft of the things that I want to try:
-Knitting
-Kayaking
-Fishing
-Rock Climbing
-Jazz Music (listening, not playing)
-Guitar
-Kickboxing
-LARPing (I mentioned it earlier for a reason)
And here are the rules. First of all, I can change my mind. And if I don't like something, I am not going to pretend like I do. Second, I can't take anyone with me on these adventures (does knitting count as an adventure?). If I meet people while doing these activities, that's cool. The point is not to isolate myself, it's to broaden my horizons to new things that I would not try without a bit of prodding. Only this time, it's self prodding (Note to my dear friends: thanks for the understanding, I love you guys).
January is running month. From January 13th to February 13th 2011, that's going to be my activity. When I am bored, I will run. A little Forrest Gump action never hurt anyone, right? Here goes nothing.
...is that possible?
Last night, I was laying in bed, and was thinking about relationships. Like the VERY beginning of a relationship, when both people are trying to figure out what the other likes to do, and you spend time with that person doing things that you would not have done on your own. Eventually (in most cases), you end up liking those same things. Maybe you end up hiking or biking or LARP-ing. I think the point is that you would not have known what you were missing out on if you would have never met that person. Even relationships that don't make it have this one plus: you normally come out a more interesting person.
Here's the thing though. I don't want to have to wait for another person to figure out what I like. I have done that my entire life. I tend to look like/sound like/have the same ideas as the person I am spending the most time with. This does not just go for romantic relationships, either. I am a sponge when it comes to friendships. You know that girl that got her hair cut just like you in the third grade and wore the same kitty cat applique sweatshirt with the puffy paint? Yeah, that was me. And even though I (regretfully) wear far less puffy paint these days, I still desire to be liked so much that I have somewhere along the way forgotten to develop my own interests. Not that I blend into a crowd. I would not say that about myself. And I genuinely like the things I say I like. There are just days that I feel like there is not an original thought in my head.
These words are extremely uncomfortable for me to type ( I just had to take a 10 minute break that included one cigarette and two trips to the bathroom).
I need to figure myself out before I can ever let someone else give it a shot. I am going to try new things this year. What better year for it, anyway?
So, what's first? It is winter. So maybe a winter-time activity? What are winter time activities, anyway? I don't have a lot of money to spend on sporty stuff. I do have a good pair of running shoes and some warm pants or whatever. Maybe I could try running this month. It might be a good way to think of the other activities that I want to do when I actually feel like being outside without moving at supersonic speed. Here's a rough draft of the things that I want to try:
-Knitting
-Kayaking
-Fishing
-Rock Climbing
-Jazz Music (listening, not playing)
-Guitar
-Kickboxing
-LARPing (I mentioned it earlier for a reason)
And here are the rules. First of all, I can change my mind. And if I don't like something, I am not going to pretend like I do. Second, I can't take anyone with me on these adventures (does knitting count as an adventure?). If I meet people while doing these activities, that's cool. The point is not to isolate myself, it's to broaden my horizons to new things that I would not try without a bit of prodding. Only this time, it's self prodding (Note to my dear friends: thanks for the understanding, I love you guys).
January is running month. From January 13th to February 13th 2011, that's going to be my activity. When I am bored, I will run. A little Forrest Gump action never hurt anyone, right? Here goes nothing.
Monday, January 10, 2011
new-ish. story.
They say there are always regrets. At the end of everyone's life, there will always be things you did that you wish you hadn't, places you wanted to go but never did, and things you just never got the chance to say. And, I don't know, really, but I would guess that a lot of last thoughts are of those regrets.
My life, though, has relatively few regrets. Today I am 73 years old, and there are only three things that were significant enough to remember in all my years. I guess you could say that for the most part, things were pretty mundane for me. I've lived in Baltimore for my entire life, and I have enjoyed it. I learned to walk, talk, read, kiss, and love here. After I married my husband and we had our own children, I watched them do the same. Some people might say that living in one neighborhood for your entire existence is worth regret, but not for me. I found the knowing to be the best part of my life. I know when things open, close, come and go. I know my neighbors (well, those who are still around, anyway), and I think there's a lot to be said for knowing your neighbors these days.
There are some things I remember, and a lot of things that I do not. It is also funny to me what your mind chooses to remember. For example, I remember the smell of the strawberries on my wedding cake, but find it hard to remember the color of the Bridesmaid's dresses. I remember the sound of my first daughter's cry, and the look in my husband's eyes when he held her for the first time. I remember the taste of my daughter's tears and I kissed them away after telling her that her Daddy would not be coming home. Some days, I feel like I just sit around, constantly flooded with memory triggers. From the steam wafting off of my morning coffee to a young couple walking hand in hand down the street. I guess that's what happens when you get older. You sit around remembering and trying not to forget. I know a lot of my friends in the neighborhood don't like to talk about the fact that we are old, and that our time is running out. I guess for me it's a little more practical than that. I've lived, and I will die. And so will everyone that you come into contact with. All that you can do before that time is try to pass along the lessons you've learned to anyone who will listen. Or any piece of paper that happens to be blank, as is the case right now.
Regrets. I have been remembering my regrets today. I saw two young girls playing on a corner earlier today, braiding each others' hair and singing songs about it. It reminded me of my childhood best friend, Sarah. We grew up together in Highlandtown. She lived three doors down from me, and was always getting me into trouble. I guess you could say she brought out my rebellious side. We would go down to the shipyard and try to throw rocks at the barges coming in (which was, by the way, impossible). One particular day, I had gotten it especially hard from my mother after she heard about Sarah and I spitting on some boys in the park, and I was not looking for any more trouble.
"Sorry, Sarah. My mom says we can't be friends."
Sarah did not respond, just hung her head and walked toward the water.
And that was the last time that I ever saw my best friend. The details are really vague in my memory, or maybe I just never knew them in the first place, but her body was found in a ditch three days later. I have always thought that if I could have been there, maybe she would have made it home that day. Maybe I could have helped her out of whatever crazy situation she had gotten herself into. That's what best friends are for, and I was not there. I don't think that I can ever get to the point to not regret that day. The other two things that I regret are not nearly as sad as this, and for that I am thankful.
My life, though, has relatively few regrets. Today I am 73 years old, and there are only three things that were significant enough to remember in all my years. I guess you could say that for the most part, things were pretty mundane for me. I've lived in Baltimore for my entire life, and I have enjoyed it. I learned to walk, talk, read, kiss, and love here. After I married my husband and we had our own children, I watched them do the same. Some people might say that living in one neighborhood for your entire existence is worth regret, but not for me. I found the knowing to be the best part of my life. I know when things open, close, come and go. I know my neighbors (well, those who are still around, anyway), and I think there's a lot to be said for knowing your neighbors these days.
There are some things I remember, and a lot of things that I do not. It is also funny to me what your mind chooses to remember. For example, I remember the smell of the strawberries on my wedding cake, but find it hard to remember the color of the Bridesmaid's dresses. I remember the sound of my first daughter's cry, and the look in my husband's eyes when he held her for the first time. I remember the taste of my daughter's tears and I kissed them away after telling her that her Daddy would not be coming home. Some days, I feel like I just sit around, constantly flooded with memory triggers. From the steam wafting off of my morning coffee to a young couple walking hand in hand down the street. I guess that's what happens when you get older. You sit around remembering and trying not to forget. I know a lot of my friends in the neighborhood don't like to talk about the fact that we are old, and that our time is running out. I guess for me it's a little more practical than that. I've lived, and I will die. And so will everyone that you come into contact with. All that you can do before that time is try to pass along the lessons you've learned to anyone who will listen. Or any piece of paper that happens to be blank, as is the case right now.
Regrets. I have been remembering my regrets today. I saw two young girls playing on a corner earlier today, braiding each others' hair and singing songs about it. It reminded me of my childhood best friend, Sarah. We grew up together in Highlandtown. She lived three doors down from me, and was always getting me into trouble. I guess you could say she brought out my rebellious side. We would go down to the shipyard and try to throw rocks at the barges coming in (which was, by the way, impossible). One particular day, I had gotten it especially hard from my mother after she heard about Sarah and I spitting on some boys in the park, and I was not looking for any more trouble.
"Sorry, Sarah. My mom says we can't be friends."
Sarah did not respond, just hung her head and walked toward the water.
And that was the last time that I ever saw my best friend. The details are really vague in my memory, or maybe I just never knew them in the first place, but her body was found in a ditch three days later. I have always thought that if I could have been there, maybe she would have made it home that day. Maybe I could have helped her out of whatever crazy situation she had gotten herself into. That's what best friends are for, and I was not there. I don't think that I can ever get to the point to not regret that day. The other two things that I regret are not nearly as sad as this, and for that I am thankful.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Conclusion
It was unseasonably cold the day of the party. Luckily, I had not planned on getting into the pool, although I was a bit upset about possibly missing Veronika in her bathing suit. My mom had me help with the banana pudding, and my brothers were making hamburger patties. Somewhere between slicing the bananas and layering the Nilla wafers, I found myself having easy conversation with my mom. We talked about school, and how I had learned to tolerate it. She asked me if I had any thoughts on college, and I told her that I had not thought about it, but I knew I wanted to get the hell out of this town. I think she was a little taken back by my use of “hell,” but did I guess she decided to let it slide. She asked me why I had been wearing makeup, and if I had taken any of her eyeliner. I hadn’t, but I don’t think she believed me. After a little while, we were laughing and talking like we were friends. The weird spell was broken when my brothers got into an argument over if the raw meat looked more like brains or intestines. I personally thought that it looked like the inside of a stomach, but I didn’t want to interject.
The rest of the day passed without consequence. My mom was frantically running around the house making every thing look perfect. She gave up on enlisting anyone else’s help after my dad hung a sign slightly askew on the living room wall. I spent most of the day in my room trying on different clothes. I had a feeling this was not quite typical for boys my age, but I needed to look good tonight. I settled on a plain white t-shirt and jeans (which I had gotten new, but spent three hours making them look well worn). After putting on enough eyeliner to look a little bit like David Bowie, it was time for the party. I headed to the back yard, took a seat, and pretended to read a book. I needed to look like I was not interested when Veronika showed up with her family.
When she did arrive, I had been staring at the same page for almost thirty minutes. I would not go so far to say that she did not know I was there- it was my house, after all. I think she must have just been distracted, because she didn’t speak to me. For the entire evening. I gave it till 9:30 and headed upstairs to my room. I fell asleep about 2 hours later, and never woke up.
I slipped into death quite apathetically. No fighting, no protests, no thoughts about the life I was losing. I suppose I would have liked to go in a more dramatic way, to offer some contrast to the monotony of my existence (maybe a car accident, head trauma, or a gunshot?). But that was it. I died in my bed, a virginal 16 year old David Bowie look alike in fifty dollar jeans.
*Note.* I thought long and hard about how to kill this kid. It just did not seem right to do anything too dramatic, because his life was so simple...and, like most of us, boring. It really depressed me this week, and I didn't publish the conclusion for a while, because I was sad about the state of his life. After thinking though, this was the absolute right way to tie it all up.
The rest of the day passed without consequence. My mom was frantically running around the house making every thing look perfect. She gave up on enlisting anyone else’s help after my dad hung a sign slightly askew on the living room wall. I spent most of the day in my room trying on different clothes. I had a feeling this was not quite typical for boys my age, but I needed to look good tonight. I settled on a plain white t-shirt and jeans (which I had gotten new, but spent three hours making them look well worn). After putting on enough eyeliner to look a little bit like David Bowie, it was time for the party. I headed to the back yard, took a seat, and pretended to read a book. I needed to look like I was not interested when Veronika showed up with her family.
When she did arrive, I had been staring at the same page for almost thirty minutes. I would not go so far to say that she did not know I was there- it was my house, after all. I think she must have just been distracted, because she didn’t speak to me. For the entire evening. I gave it till 9:30 and headed upstairs to my room. I fell asleep about 2 hours later, and never woke up.
I slipped into death quite apathetically. No fighting, no protests, no thoughts about the life I was losing. I suppose I would have liked to go in a more dramatic way, to offer some contrast to the monotony of my existence (maybe a car accident, head trauma, or a gunshot?). But that was it. I died in my bed, a virginal 16 year old David Bowie look alike in fifty dollar jeans.
*Note.* I thought long and hard about how to kill this kid. It just did not seem right to do anything too dramatic, because his life was so simple...and, like most of us, boring. It really depressed me this week, and I didn't publish the conclusion for a while, because I was sad about the state of his life. After thinking though, this was the absolute right way to tie it all up.
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