Fun games I love to play. This is a list I stole from one of the dearest, most witty, intelligent and entertaining of friends. It's like some lady said ( I think Anatole might have been her last name, but I'm not sure. And for some reason, the name "France" comes to mind. Anatole France? That could be it...) : if someone has said something, and said it well, have no scruples. Take it and copy it. And so I shall.
Three-Word Answers:
1. Where is your cell phone? In my purse.
2. Boyfriend/girlfriend? Has great patience.
3. Hair? getting slightly bored.
4. Your mother? neurotic, nurturing, lovely.
5. Your father? gotta love him.
6. Your favorite item(s)? I love Pam.
7. Your dream last night? disturbingly high school
8. Your favorite drink? I don't know.
9. Your dream guy/girl? Can handle me.
10. The room you are in? has high ceilings.
11. Your fear? haven't considered recently.
12. What do you want to be in 10 years? Alive. Happy. Active.
13. Who did you hang out with last night? Ben, Gretchen & Daniel.
14. What are you not? Argumentative, lazy, meticulous.
15. Are you in love? hard to say.
16. One of your wish list items? 3 months vacation
17. What time is it? 1:30 pm
18. The last thing you did? Volunteer group scheduling.
19. What are you wearing? very pretty shoes.
20. Your favorite book? Adrian's quote book
21. The last thing you ate? Pad Thai Noodles
22. Your life? not enough dancing.
Your mood? a little lazy.
24. Your friends? worth every penny.
25. What are you thinking about right now? vacations, procrastination, volunteers.
26. Your car? Indispensable. My lifeblood.
27. What are you doing at this moment? Procastinating at work.
28. Your summer? not long enough.
29. Your relationship status? confused - healthy - confused
30. What is on your TV screen? Don't have one.
31. When is the last time you laughed? right about noon.
32. Last time you cried? Two sundays ago.
33. School? done for now.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Mama Mia, Papa Pia
I just got back yesterday from a fabulous trip to Vegas. I was accompanied by three friends who are just as fabulous, if not more so. Throughout our girl's weekend, we got to discuss everything and do whatever we wanted. And it was all ever so enlightening.
I learned that there's a fire still aburnin' through my veins when it comes to wanting to rock out as a lead singer in a band. Or maybe just a jazz lounge singer. Really. I would love to croon while suggestively draping myself over a piano. Doesn't that sound fun? Someday. For now, karaoke will just have to do. I also learned that others in our group have their own hidden, inner desires for becoming an exotic dancer. And to that, all I have to say is.... Who knew? And if anyone knows when that pole-dancing workout class for soccer moms is coming to Utah, please shoot me an email with applicable information. I know a few ladies who might be interested.
It was SO nice to be out of town. And SO nice to have nothing pressing to worry about. We just had fun. All weekend.
We saw the show "Mamma Mia". I wasn't previously a huge Abba fan. But I have also previously never been to a show where the urge to jump up out of my seat and dance, dance, dance was almost uncontrollable. Don't get me wrong. It takes little to make me want to jump up and dance, dance, dance. Most often, the urge goes uncontrolled and I end up dance, dance dancing myself into a drowned-rat-like, sweaty and drunkenly happy little mess. I just don't usually encounter stimulants for that kind of thing at a broadway show. Clearly, I'd never seen Mamma Mia before. I have since been completely converted to Abba. Well, at least as far as the show is concerned.
We went shopping. We hung out by the pool. I won a whopping $15 at blackjack. I subsequently learned that blackjack is just as good as making out. That's why I stopped at $15. I think this is very dangerous information for me to have.
It was quite the trip. Full day every day. Good thing we all remembered to wear our 18-hour bras.
I learned that there's a fire still aburnin' through my veins when it comes to wanting to rock out as a lead singer in a band. Or maybe just a jazz lounge singer. Really. I would love to croon while suggestively draping myself over a piano. Doesn't that sound fun? Someday. For now, karaoke will just have to do. I also learned that others in our group have their own hidden, inner desires for becoming an exotic dancer. And to that, all I have to say is.... Who knew? And if anyone knows when that pole-dancing workout class for soccer moms is coming to Utah, please shoot me an email with applicable information. I know a few ladies who might be interested.
It was SO nice to be out of town. And SO nice to have nothing pressing to worry about. We just had fun. All weekend.
We saw the show "Mamma Mia". I wasn't previously a huge Abba fan. But I have also previously never been to a show where the urge to jump up out of my seat and dance, dance, dance was almost uncontrollable. Don't get me wrong. It takes little to make me want to jump up and dance, dance, dance. Most often, the urge goes uncontrolled and I end up dance, dance dancing myself into a drowned-rat-like, sweaty and drunkenly happy little mess. I just don't usually encounter stimulants for that kind of thing at a broadway show. Clearly, I'd never seen Mamma Mia before. I have since been completely converted to Abba. Well, at least as far as the show is concerned.
We went shopping. We hung out by the pool. I won a whopping $15 at blackjack. I subsequently learned that blackjack is just as good as making out. That's why I stopped at $15. I think this is very dangerous information for me to have.
It was quite the trip. Full day every day. Good thing we all remembered to wear our 18-hour bras.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Why I Don't Spend Money on Pedicures
The end to a training season has finally come. Saturday was my long-anticipated 1/2 marathon. This season had been riddled with little hang-ups for me. I am happy to report, despite the hangups and at the end of it all, it has been a strengthening, motivating, inspiring and overall very good experience. Yeah for accomplishing goals! Yeah for 1/2 marathons! My feet definitely got the short end of the stick this year. I don't think they're saying, "Yeah!" I think they're saying, "Did you have to do this to us right at the start of sandal season? I really liked having a full set of toenails. We're so embarassed to be seen." But that's the way it goes. They always fair poorly. They are forced to make a noble sacrifice for the greater good of the rest of me.
When not in training season, I still exercise. It has so many good effects. It's like a fountain of youth, health, energy and loads of other things. But this year, early on in my training, I realized that along with all of exercise's usual splendid benefits, my training was having additional side effects. In particular, It was causing me to gain weight.
GAIN?!?! What?!?! This is not an effect that I consider desirable. Admittedly, I am very anal about my weight and I watch my numbers like a hawk. I don't diet. Ever. But I do monitor.
I've heard that numbers don't matter. And while those words are perfectly audible and straightforward in definition, they really make no sense to me. No matter how low my numbers on the scale, I can't ever recall thinking they were too low. And no matter what numbers they have risen to, I can't ever recall feeling glad about it. And then my clothes were fitting tighter this season. Mmmm hmmm. Don't try to tell me I'm looking leaner. I am well aware muscle takes up room. Room I have not made accomodations for in my jeans. The sad truth is that I am a very typical, pathetic, superficial girl. I am small. And I like being small. And I do not desire that there should ever be MORE of me.
Training continued anyway. And I would look at the scale, week after week of training, and see that the numbers were consistently staying up. "No matter," I would tell myself. "It's muscle. At least most of it is. It is muscle, isn't it? How can I be sure? Does my waist look bigger to you?"
I didn't own a submerssive tank of water where I could dunk myself and accurately test the exact composition changes in my body each week. I hear they're expensive. I soothed myself, unable to test the actual changes in my body makeup, with the idea that it was only temporary and the glory and accomplishment of running the race would make it all worth it. Such a small sacrifice for the cause. I could be little again later. I'd be glad.
Then you add scheduling problems. I was working about 60 hrs/wk most weeks this training season. You add in making time for dates, commuting, and life as it comes, --- it does not make for an easy and consistent training schedule. I tried to schedule a couple sessions with a trainer. Ha! That was a laugh. I met with him once. And then, the next 7am appt. was thwarted by a change in work schedule, having to go to work early and off-site. It seemed to be a good indicator that I really just didn't have time for that. I got to the gym 3 x's/wk, on average. That was my goal.
But then there were a few weeks I missed my goal. And a few weeks when the long run I had planned just didn't fit in. Argggghh. Why does everyone marry in the spring? Don't people know there are races to train for? But it wasn't so bad. Since I had run 1/2 marathons before, I had the confidence and experience I needed in order to know what I could do. And I was able to train just enough to be able to do it.
And then there are all my injuries. I'm always injured. Call it Fibromyalgia. Call it a need for new shoes. Doesn't matter what you call it. It still hurts like hell. But after all that training, and ESPECIALLY after having already sacrificed my tight leash on the numbers of the scale, no ache or pain could keep me from my goal. I would run the race, I would finish, and I would finish respectably. I had an ankle ailment that was plagueing me for probably a good 1/2 of my training. But I was able to run on it anyway. After about 2 months and, coincidentally, about a week before the race, the ankle ailment moved and became a hip ailment. Gotta love Fibromyalgia. The hip ailment was a sharper pain, and seemed much more alarming and threatening to me. So, while I knew I was cardiovascularly ready and capable in strength, this new development caused me to worry thatI might be in for a disappointing finish.
The week before the race I did nothing. I was ready enough and there seemed no good reason to aggravate my ailments before race day. My weight had loomed up to it's highest during this week of inactivity. This is mostly because, in an effort to make sure I had enough energy, I made sure I ate more than enough all week long. Not completely logical, as I was just creating more of myself to cart around on the run. But from personal experience, I would say that it's the lesser of two evils. It really sucks to run a race when you're low on fuel. You feel weak, you don't perform well, and, basically, it completely destroys any training you've done. You might as well not train at all. So, despite myself, I ate. Lots. "It's all temporary," I kept telling myself.
Race day came. I didn't sleep very well the night before. I was TOTALLY anxious. Who sleeps well the night before the race? The guy I met the morning of the race does, apparently. His name is Bilal. He flew in for the race from LA. As luck would have it, however, his good night's sleep was thwarted by a crying baby a few hotel rooms away. Tough break.
Bilal happened to be running the marathon, but both races started together. So he and I, since we had struck up a conversation, started running together. He happened to be my exact pace. That was great. We clipped along with great conversation. We discussed different races. We talked about college. We talked about positive energy. He said I had great positive energy. I think he was hitting on me. And as we continued to chat, I mused about how funny it would be if I ever ended up dating a Lebanese accountant from LA who I met at a marathon. We ran together for the first 4 miles until our race courses diverged. Then I was on my own.
My hip had started to notify me that it wasn't feeling the best at mile 3. At mile 4, it notified me a little more loudly. At mile 6.5, it had stopped notifying me. Instead, it started to boycott. I was struggling to keep a smooth stride. The pain in my hip began to make me flinch with the impact of each step on that leg. As I continued to disregard it, the sharp, shooting pains persisted and the flinching became worse. I assessed things in my head and realized I had about 1/2 the race to go. And with a flinching right side, the miles ahead suddenly stretched before me, covering an expanse that was very long, grueling and quite painful. Before, those miles had seemed challenging, fun and surpassable. The reality of my situation was sinking in.
I stopped running and I began to walk. I walked for about a quarter mile. And I thought. I wasn't quite sure what to do at that point. I could walk the 7 remaining miles. It's long. But I'd finish. Eventually.... Some time... In a few hours. I was so disappointed. All the glory and accomplishment I had hoped for seemed unattainable-- keeping my 9 min pace, finishing under 2 hrs, improving -- all I had trained for. And I know I already mentioned this, but I was so disappointed. I think Bilal would have been disappointed too, if he knew. All that work for this? A bum hip and a long walk. Most irksome of all, my muscles weren't even tired yet. It felt like I hadn't worked at all.
Finally, I thought, "Screw the hip. I'm running anyway." I AM aware this makes me sound like I'm as bright as a caveman and quite juvenile. I don't deny either completely. We all have our moments. But logically, the worst prospect was that maybe I wouldn't run for a while. Who cares? My race is today. Not tomorrow. So, I ran. I ran lower to the ground. I ran my toes into the front of my shoes. And I ran more slowly. But soon I ran more confidently. And with a very sharp learning curve, I figured out how to maneuver so that I would cause my hip as little pain as possible. And I ran for the rest of the race. I even was able to put up a bit of a sprint at the end! I ran till I wasn't sure what hurt more: my muscles, my hip or any number of other joints from my waist down. And I finished my race w/ 1:57:38, an 8:59 min mile pace. Booyah!
Two days after the race, I am delighted to report that I have VERY VERY VERY SORE muscles. And I think I avoided permanent damage (The beauty of Fibromyalgia is that, though you may FEEL very wholly and truly injured, you're really not. You just feel that way.). Most happily, I walk ever so gingerly. I proudly hobble down stairs. I joyously (and more ably than going down) ascend stares with a huge lack of grace. And I am quite sure I will lose 3 toenails. I wore sandals to church yesterday and I am wearing sandals to work today, which I never do. But I can't put anything else on my feet at the moment. And I don't care. And next year, I will try to knock my time down to be somewhere below 1:50. Maybe. I think that's doable. We'll see. That'd be sooo cool. Someday I may have feet that will stay nice enough to make a pedicure worthwhile. That day is not today. Can't say I'm too choked up about that.
When not in training season, I still exercise. It has so many good effects. It's like a fountain of youth, health, energy and loads of other things. But this year, early on in my training, I realized that along with all of exercise's usual splendid benefits, my training was having additional side effects. In particular, It was causing me to gain weight.
GAIN?!?! What?!?! This is not an effect that I consider desirable. Admittedly, I am very anal about my weight and I watch my numbers like a hawk. I don't diet. Ever. But I do monitor.
I've heard that numbers don't matter. And while those words are perfectly audible and straightforward in definition, they really make no sense to me. No matter how low my numbers on the scale, I can't ever recall thinking they were too low. And no matter what numbers they have risen to, I can't ever recall feeling glad about it. And then my clothes were fitting tighter this season. Mmmm hmmm. Don't try to tell me I'm looking leaner. I am well aware muscle takes up room. Room I have not made accomodations for in my jeans. The sad truth is that I am a very typical, pathetic, superficial girl. I am small. And I like being small. And I do not desire that there should ever be MORE of me.
Training continued anyway. And I would look at the scale, week after week of training, and see that the numbers were consistently staying up. "No matter," I would tell myself. "It's muscle. At least most of it is. It is muscle, isn't it? How can I be sure? Does my waist look bigger to you?"
I didn't own a submerssive tank of water where I could dunk myself and accurately test the exact composition changes in my body each week. I hear they're expensive. I soothed myself, unable to test the actual changes in my body makeup, with the idea that it was only temporary and the glory and accomplishment of running the race would make it all worth it. Such a small sacrifice for the cause. I could be little again later. I'd be glad.
Then you add scheduling problems. I was working about 60 hrs/wk most weeks this training season. You add in making time for dates, commuting, and life as it comes, --- it does not make for an easy and consistent training schedule. I tried to schedule a couple sessions with a trainer. Ha! That was a laugh. I met with him once. And then, the next 7am appt. was thwarted by a change in work schedule, having to go to work early and off-site. It seemed to be a good indicator that I really just didn't have time for that. I got to the gym 3 x's/wk, on average. That was my goal.
But then there were a few weeks I missed my goal. And a few weeks when the long run I had planned just didn't fit in. Argggghh. Why does everyone marry in the spring? Don't people know there are races to train for? But it wasn't so bad. Since I had run 1/2 marathons before, I had the confidence and experience I needed in order to know what I could do. And I was able to train just enough to be able to do it.
And then there are all my injuries. I'm always injured. Call it Fibromyalgia. Call it a need for new shoes. Doesn't matter what you call it. It still hurts like hell. But after all that training, and ESPECIALLY after having already sacrificed my tight leash on the numbers of the scale, no ache or pain could keep me from my goal. I would run the race, I would finish, and I would finish respectably. I had an ankle ailment that was plagueing me for probably a good 1/2 of my training. But I was able to run on it anyway. After about 2 months and, coincidentally, about a week before the race, the ankle ailment moved and became a hip ailment. Gotta love Fibromyalgia. The hip ailment was a sharper pain, and seemed much more alarming and threatening to me. So, while I knew I was cardiovascularly ready and capable in strength, this new development caused me to worry thatI might be in for a disappointing finish.
The week before the race I did nothing. I was ready enough and there seemed no good reason to aggravate my ailments before race day. My weight had loomed up to it's highest during this week of inactivity. This is mostly because, in an effort to make sure I had enough energy, I made sure I ate more than enough all week long. Not completely logical, as I was just creating more of myself to cart around on the run. But from personal experience, I would say that it's the lesser of two evils. It really sucks to run a race when you're low on fuel. You feel weak, you don't perform well, and, basically, it completely destroys any training you've done. You might as well not train at all. So, despite myself, I ate. Lots. "It's all temporary," I kept telling myself.
Race day came. I didn't sleep very well the night before. I was TOTALLY anxious. Who sleeps well the night before the race? The guy I met the morning of the race does, apparently. His name is Bilal. He flew in for the race from LA. As luck would have it, however, his good night's sleep was thwarted by a crying baby a few hotel rooms away. Tough break.
Bilal happened to be running the marathon, but both races started together. So he and I, since we had struck up a conversation, started running together. He happened to be my exact pace. That was great. We clipped along with great conversation. We discussed different races. We talked about college. We talked about positive energy. He said I had great positive energy. I think he was hitting on me. And as we continued to chat, I mused about how funny it would be if I ever ended up dating a Lebanese accountant from LA who I met at a marathon. We ran together for the first 4 miles until our race courses diverged. Then I was on my own.
My hip had started to notify me that it wasn't feeling the best at mile 3. At mile 4, it notified me a little more loudly. At mile 6.5, it had stopped notifying me. Instead, it started to boycott. I was struggling to keep a smooth stride. The pain in my hip began to make me flinch with the impact of each step on that leg. As I continued to disregard it, the sharp, shooting pains persisted and the flinching became worse. I assessed things in my head and realized I had about 1/2 the race to go. And with a flinching right side, the miles ahead suddenly stretched before me, covering an expanse that was very long, grueling and quite painful. Before, those miles had seemed challenging, fun and surpassable. The reality of my situation was sinking in.
I stopped running and I began to walk. I walked for about a quarter mile. And I thought. I wasn't quite sure what to do at that point. I could walk the 7 remaining miles. It's long. But I'd finish. Eventually.... Some time... In a few hours. I was so disappointed. All the glory and accomplishment I had hoped for seemed unattainable-- keeping my 9 min pace, finishing under 2 hrs, improving -- all I had trained for. And I know I already mentioned this, but I was so disappointed. I think Bilal would have been disappointed too, if he knew. All that work for this? A bum hip and a long walk. Most irksome of all, my muscles weren't even tired yet. It felt like I hadn't worked at all.
Finally, I thought, "Screw the hip. I'm running anyway." I AM aware this makes me sound like I'm as bright as a caveman and quite juvenile. I don't deny either completely. We all have our moments. But logically, the worst prospect was that maybe I wouldn't run for a while. Who cares? My race is today. Not tomorrow. So, I ran. I ran lower to the ground. I ran my toes into the front of my shoes. And I ran more slowly. But soon I ran more confidently. And with a very sharp learning curve, I figured out how to maneuver so that I would cause my hip as little pain as possible. And I ran for the rest of the race. I even was able to put up a bit of a sprint at the end! I ran till I wasn't sure what hurt more: my muscles, my hip or any number of other joints from my waist down. And I finished my race w/ 1:57:38, an 8:59 min mile pace. Booyah!
Two days after the race, I am delighted to report that I have VERY VERY VERY SORE muscles. And I think I avoided permanent damage (The beauty of Fibromyalgia is that, though you may FEEL very wholly and truly injured, you're really not. You just feel that way.). Most happily, I walk ever so gingerly. I proudly hobble down stairs. I joyously (and more ably than going down) ascend stares with a huge lack of grace. And I am quite sure I will lose 3 toenails. I wore sandals to church yesterday and I am wearing sandals to work today, which I never do. But I can't put anything else on my feet at the moment. And I don't care. And next year, I will try to knock my time down to be somewhere below 1:50. Maybe. I think that's doable. We'll see. That'd be sooo cool. Someday I may have feet that will stay nice enough to make a pedicure worthwhile. That day is not today. Can't say I'm too choked up about that.
Friday, April 20, 2007
What's TOO Different?
I've been freaking out over the past couple of weeks. I freak often, actually. This is not abnormal for me. I've been doing it for about a year. And for this whole year I've been freaking out over the same thing. Go figure. In all other respects, I'm quite a non-freaker. But on this one, itsy-bitsy, tiny, miniscule aspect of my life that has existed since some time last year, I freak. Regularly. That special, volatile, calm-shattering part of my life that causes me to freak happens to be.......... drumroll, please........... the current relationship that I am in. Surprise, surprise. Sometimes I think all this freaking out is a very unhealthy side effect and that I should get rid of said relationship. It's really undesirable to freak out regularly. It's kind of unsettling. And then, sometimes I think it's normal. Unavoidable, even.
The other party to this relationship is a boy/man/what-have-you. He is, as far as physical details and descriptions, cute. As for years, His age ranges from 5-52, depending on the day. Sometimes he behaves like he's five. Sometimes he seems to act like a parent, ranging more around 52. And sometimes, most frequently, he acts a very likeable age. We'll call this boy/man/what-have-you "Male".
I have had MANY reasons for freaking out in the past over my relationship with Male. There is not enough blogging that exists to cover these episodes. And oh, my poor little hands if I were to try. We'll just address this last freak-out.
Male has been driving me nuts lately. When we hang out, I've found I'm not having the best of times. And I've been wondering why on earth I'm still dating Male if we don't have a good time together.
Why the sudden change? Well, its' not THAT sudden. I've always wondered if we have a good enough time together. How "best of friends" are you supposed to be in order to be happy together? In order to be, dare I say, "Right" for each other? In regards to expectations, I wonder where on the spectrum between Hollywood and Reality, mine lie. I feel like we're trying to cook something without the recipe. And with ingredients that lack labels. And I would like it better if I could do something as straighforward and easy as giving our relationship a litmus test to see what color on the scale of ph healthiness for relationships we might be.
But that aside, back to the problem at hand. Lately, I find that Male and I end up arguing. And we argue over things I had no intention and no desire to argue over. Inconsequential things. How did I find this conversation? Why am I here? Let me out post-haste! And then, how do I avoid it in the future? I wonder. I'm not an arguer. Debater, surrrre. Especially if you've got something intriguing. But arguer, no. I hate real conflict.
I take note of this new phenomenon. And aside from expressing to Male the undesirability and my frustration of individual arguments as they arise, I make a personal, mental note that if this continues, "Houston, I think we may have a fatal problem." Then Male and I talk about movies. We like to watch different movies. He errs on the conservative side in his movie choices. I.... Well, I happen to think I don't err at all in this area of my decision-making. (Don't we all?) So, we're different. I knew that. I'll go watch some of these movies without Male. Then I plan a vacation with a bunch of friends. Male does not approve of the coed housing arrangements, so he's not coming. I find this rule very traditional, old-fashioned and not at all to my understanding. So, we're different. I knew that. I'll go on the trip without Male.
But then all these arguments and differences concern me. I think they really could be fatal. I think each one is a reflection of a basic difference that could represent innumerable other different viewpoints and loads of future differences. Enough to fill buckets and buckets of years. And enough to cause even more frustration... enough to fill an eternity. We may be chronically doomed to come from different places and also end up in different places. I don't LIKE this. I'm very concerned.
So, I talked with Male about my concern with all these arguments and all these differences. Turns out the "arguments" as I call them, were just him "giving me a hard time" as he likes to call them. I have trouble computing this concept of what it is to "give a hard time". I do not do this. This is new. Why does one do this? What kind of sport is this? And why does Male think it is fun? To these questions, Male has few answers that are informative. Again, we're different. I knew that.
"But what about the differences?" I say. "You like having more rules than I like having. And I refuse to follow your rules. And we don't meet in the middle anywhere with these rules. We are missing that 'common ground' that I thought we might find after we started dating."
Male's response: "There are lots of things couples compromise on: jobs, children's education, whether to move or not, parenting.... lots of things."
I'm not seeing how this gives us hope. I say, "If there are all these compromises, doesn't it makes sense to try to minimize the differences two people have, so there is less compromising to worry about?"
Male says, "Yes."
I also fail to see how this gives us hope. Male doesn't seem phased. I'm a bit perplexed.
Male is no help to me here, so I go talk to my sister. She is married, so probably knowledgeable on the subject. She has a boy/man/what-have-you that she has to deal with ALL THE TIME. And she listens to me. And she is, for the most part, impartial when it comes to my relationship with Male. I love that about her.
Her take on it: "Duh, Sharon. Men and women are different. If you knew that going in, then that should make these realizations easier for you."
Hmmm.... she doesn't think it's cause for breaking up. It doesn't phase her either. Peculiar. And I wonder if I'm blowing it out of proportion. And then I wonder if "differences" are really what I'm worried about. Yes. And no.
Once again, I find a huge lack of people who have "The Answer." Not advice. I hate advice. I always think it's wrong and I rarely follow it. What I am always searching for is the answer, which so far I have not found in myself or anyone else (as I have searched endlessly in thought and conversation with myself and anyone, and found it in neither place). No one can tell me if Male and I are a good or bad match. But I've never met no one. So I don't know if we're doomed or full of promise. Whether I'm with him because I really like "us", and "we"make me happy, or because I am a pleaser, hate conflict, and haven't found the good enough reason I'm looking for to leave "us". How can I know myself so little? Well, honestly, I don't know. That's a very good question. But my guess is that "myself" and "anyone" still don't know, "no one" still evades me, and "somebody" who does know has yet to tell me. So, for now, I choose to continue and embrace the life I currently lead of freaking out on a regular basis.
The other party to this relationship is a boy/man/what-have-you. He is, as far as physical details and descriptions, cute. As for years, His age ranges from 5-52, depending on the day. Sometimes he behaves like he's five. Sometimes he seems to act like a parent, ranging more around 52. And sometimes, most frequently, he acts a very likeable age. We'll call this boy/man/what-have-you "Male".
I have had MANY reasons for freaking out in the past over my relationship with Male. There is not enough blogging that exists to cover these episodes. And oh, my poor little hands if I were to try. We'll just address this last freak-out.
Male has been driving me nuts lately. When we hang out, I've found I'm not having the best of times. And I've been wondering why on earth I'm still dating Male if we don't have a good time together.
Why the sudden change? Well, its' not THAT sudden. I've always wondered if we have a good enough time together. How "best of friends" are you supposed to be in order to be happy together? In order to be, dare I say, "Right" for each other? In regards to expectations, I wonder where on the spectrum between Hollywood and Reality, mine lie. I feel like we're trying to cook something without the recipe. And with ingredients that lack labels. And I would like it better if I could do something as straighforward and easy as giving our relationship a litmus test to see what color on the scale of ph healthiness for relationships we might be.
But that aside, back to the problem at hand. Lately, I find that Male and I end up arguing. And we argue over things I had no intention and no desire to argue over. Inconsequential things. How did I find this conversation? Why am I here? Let me out post-haste! And then, how do I avoid it in the future? I wonder. I'm not an arguer. Debater, surrrre. Especially if you've got something intriguing. But arguer, no. I hate real conflict.
I take note of this new phenomenon. And aside from expressing to Male the undesirability and my frustration of individual arguments as they arise, I make a personal, mental note that if this continues, "Houston, I think we may have a fatal problem." Then Male and I talk about movies. We like to watch different movies. He errs on the conservative side in his movie choices. I.... Well, I happen to think I don't err at all in this area of my decision-making. (Don't we all?) So, we're different. I knew that. I'll go watch some of these movies without Male. Then I plan a vacation with a bunch of friends. Male does not approve of the coed housing arrangements, so he's not coming. I find this rule very traditional, old-fashioned and not at all to my understanding. So, we're different. I knew that. I'll go on the trip without Male.
But then all these arguments and differences concern me. I think they really could be fatal. I think each one is a reflection of a basic difference that could represent innumerable other different viewpoints and loads of future differences. Enough to fill buckets and buckets of years. And enough to cause even more frustration... enough to fill an eternity. We may be chronically doomed to come from different places and also end up in different places. I don't LIKE this. I'm very concerned.
So, I talked with Male about my concern with all these arguments and all these differences. Turns out the "arguments" as I call them, were just him "giving me a hard time" as he likes to call them. I have trouble computing this concept of what it is to "give a hard time". I do not do this. This is new. Why does one do this? What kind of sport is this? And why does Male think it is fun? To these questions, Male has few answers that are informative. Again, we're different. I knew that.
"But what about the differences?" I say. "You like having more rules than I like having. And I refuse to follow your rules. And we don't meet in the middle anywhere with these rules. We are missing that 'common ground' that I thought we might find after we started dating."
Male's response: "There are lots of things couples compromise on: jobs, children's education, whether to move or not, parenting.... lots of things."
I'm not seeing how this gives us hope. I say, "If there are all these compromises, doesn't it makes sense to try to minimize the differences two people have, so there is less compromising to worry about?"
Male says, "Yes."
I also fail to see how this gives us hope. Male doesn't seem phased. I'm a bit perplexed.
Male is no help to me here, so I go talk to my sister. She is married, so probably knowledgeable on the subject. She has a boy/man/what-have-you that she has to deal with ALL THE TIME. And she listens to me. And she is, for the most part, impartial when it comes to my relationship with Male. I love that about her.
Her take on it: "Duh, Sharon. Men and women are different. If you knew that going in, then that should make these realizations easier for you."
Hmmm.... she doesn't think it's cause for breaking up. It doesn't phase her either. Peculiar. And I wonder if I'm blowing it out of proportion. And then I wonder if "differences" are really what I'm worried about. Yes. And no.
Once again, I find a huge lack of people who have "The Answer." Not advice. I hate advice. I always think it's wrong and I rarely follow it. What I am always searching for is the answer, which so far I have not found in myself or anyone else (as I have searched endlessly in thought and conversation with myself and anyone, and found it in neither place). No one can tell me if Male and I are a good or bad match. But I've never met no one. So I don't know if we're doomed or full of promise. Whether I'm with him because I really like "us", and "we"make me happy, or because I am a pleaser, hate conflict, and haven't found the good enough reason I'm looking for to leave "us". How can I know myself so little? Well, honestly, I don't know. That's a very good question. But my guess is that "myself" and "anyone" still don't know, "no one" still evades me, and "somebody" who does know has yet to tell me. So, for now, I choose to continue and embrace the life I currently lead of freaking out on a regular basis.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Money, money, money
Last week, a friend offered me a job. Actually, she told me about two jobs at her company to which she wanted me to apply. Two jobs that pay considerably more than my measly little nonprofit job. Not only do they offer more, but they require less of me. For them, I need to know how to run an office and answer phones. For my job, I have to have a master's degree......
That's enough to make a girl think. And boy, have I been thinking! I thought a lot about the money. I like money. Heck, I have TWO JOBS, just so I can do stuff with all that money. But then I decided not to apply.
"Sharon, you are nuts!" you say. I know. I can also hear my dad's advice playing in my head over and over, as it's never quite drowned out. He says, "Ultimately, you work to make money. The end." So true. And yet, not ONLY to make money. There are louder voices.
Why I'm not going to apply:
1) My job hired me with the desire/intent to have me stay for about 2 yrs. Maybe I won't give them a full two years, but I've only given them 11 months so far. And they've had a lot of staff leave lately. I'd really be screwing them over if I left. So, I don't think I'd leave even if I applied and they offered me the position.
2) I'm actually using my degree at my job, and it gives me great experience. That could be very valuable for a future doing what I WANT to do and getting paid more later, rather than taking a no brainer job that could lead me to more no brainer jobs in a career that pays but has no appeal to me. If money was the only priority, would I have studied nonprofit management?
3) If money was the only priority, would I have studied nonprofit management? (I thought that point was worth reviewing... why DID I study nonprofit management????:))
4) I think I can convince my boss to give me a raise at my year mark. And that's only a month away.
5) If I don't get a raise, I can at least give back to the org. for the great experience they've given me. And I am optomistic that after that point, there will be more opportunities to make more money. It's not like that's the only job on the planet that will ever come my way.
6) Ahh, but HR's look at my previous salary, and just having a higher salary might get me better pay doing what I like to do in the future... I thought about that. But I don't think that applies the same way to the nonprofit field. They don't have the flexibility with their salary budgets that for-profit companies do.
7) Why be faithful to an empoloyer? Employers aren't that faithful to employees. Do what's best for you... a sound, good argument. I've been burned before and am leary of employers. But my job is pretty secure where I am. And they've treated me well. And it is a cause I am passionate about. And I have projects I want to see through to the end.
8) One could always make more money. But do I really need more money? Right now? Nah...
9) I really am a little crazy.
That's enough to make a girl think. And boy, have I been thinking! I thought a lot about the money. I like money. Heck, I have TWO JOBS, just so I can do stuff with all that money. But then I decided not to apply.
"Sharon, you are nuts!" you say. I know. I can also hear my dad's advice playing in my head over and over, as it's never quite drowned out. He says, "Ultimately, you work to make money. The end." So true. And yet, not ONLY to make money. There are louder voices.
Why I'm not going to apply:
1) My job hired me with the desire/intent to have me stay for about 2 yrs. Maybe I won't give them a full two years, but I've only given them 11 months so far. And they've had a lot of staff leave lately. I'd really be screwing them over if I left. So, I don't think I'd leave even if I applied and they offered me the position.
2) I'm actually using my degree at my job, and it gives me great experience. That could be very valuable for a future doing what I WANT to do and getting paid more later, rather than taking a no brainer job that could lead me to more no brainer jobs in a career that pays but has no appeal to me. If money was the only priority, would I have studied nonprofit management?
3) If money was the only priority, would I have studied nonprofit management? (I thought that point was worth reviewing... why DID I study nonprofit management????:))
4) I think I can convince my boss to give me a raise at my year mark. And that's only a month away.
5) If I don't get a raise, I can at least give back to the org. for the great experience they've given me. And I am optomistic that after that point, there will be more opportunities to make more money. It's not like that's the only job on the planet that will ever come my way.
6) Ahh, but HR's look at my previous salary, and just having a higher salary might get me better pay doing what I like to do in the future... I thought about that. But I don't think that applies the same way to the nonprofit field. They don't have the flexibility with their salary budgets that for-profit companies do.
7) Why be faithful to an empoloyer? Employers aren't that faithful to employees. Do what's best for you... a sound, good argument. I've been burned before and am leary of employers. But my job is pretty secure where I am. And they've treated me well. And it is a cause I am passionate about. And I have projects I want to see through to the end.
8) One could always make more money. But do I really need more money? Right now? Nah...
9) I really am a little crazy.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Being Comfortable with Being a Slacker
Most days, I feel a need to improve myself. I feel a need to work hard. I feel a need to eat healthy, work towards my goals, and seek after my destiny.
Then, some days, I'm just plain tired. I get tired of worrying, I get tired of planning, I get tired of being diligent. Doesn't just the word, "diligent" sound tired to you? Just the thought of it could be enough to make one tired. Being prudent and careful... you're just GONNA get tired. Sometimes, a person needs to relax. And know it's ok to relax. They need a kind of a nap, in more than just the literal sleeping sense of the word. Such is today and yesterday for me. I think I ate 5 rice crispy treats yesterday for lunch (LARGE, home-made rice crispy treats... mmm). And today, 3 of those chocolate-peanut butter eggs accompanied my breakfast. I had no plan to deviate from a healthy eating schedule. And I still don't think I'm overeating and gorging, so I don't feel REALLY bad. Just a little mischievious. :)
The glitch is, I have a 1/2 marathon in 2 weeks, and this is REALLY not the time to pack on a couple extra pounds, as it will just be more for me to cart along on the 13.whatever-it-is mile journey. But one doesn't plan when they need a nap. And I need a nap. So, I am taking one.
Then, some days, I'm just plain tired. I get tired of worrying, I get tired of planning, I get tired of being diligent. Doesn't just the word, "diligent" sound tired to you? Just the thought of it could be enough to make one tired. Being prudent and careful... you're just GONNA get tired. Sometimes, a person needs to relax. And know it's ok to relax. They need a kind of a nap, in more than just the literal sleeping sense of the word. Such is today and yesterday for me. I think I ate 5 rice crispy treats yesterday for lunch (LARGE, home-made rice crispy treats... mmm). And today, 3 of those chocolate-peanut butter eggs accompanied my breakfast. I had no plan to deviate from a healthy eating schedule. And I still don't think I'm overeating and gorging, so I don't feel REALLY bad. Just a little mischievious. :)
The glitch is, I have a 1/2 marathon in 2 weeks, and this is REALLY not the time to pack on a couple extra pounds, as it will just be more for me to cart along on the 13.whatever-it-is mile journey. But one doesn't plan when they need a nap. And I need a nap. So, I am taking one.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Biker Man
Yesterday I did a very awful thing. Very awful. And the results of this awful thing could have been much worse and horrific than they were. But now the awful thing is kind of a funny thing. I have found this thing which is luckily not tragic to now be a little humorous. Isn't it crazy how that works?
I was turning right from one street to another. The light was red. So, I waited for a break in traffic and then I went for it. The big mistake was that I perfunctorally glanced right after I saw the break in traffic to my left. I clearly did not thoroughly look right because as I started to "go for it", a biker man came out of nowhere from my right and wisked himself across the street right in front of my car. If I'd really looked, I imagine he would have not appeared "out ot nowhere". All was fine, ...except for the fact I'd already started to move by that time.
Of course, how he got across my car so quickly when I was moving makes me wonder how fast he was going. At least now it does. I hadn't considered it much yesterday. And suddenly, as I write this, I wonder if I would have been ABLE to see him. At that speed, how far away was he when I would have looked? But that's another story. And a pointless story or perusal, as I have already accepted blame.
Anyhow, I nipped the back of his rear bike wheel. He kind of tipsied to a stop, put his legs firmly on the ground and managed not to spill his large slurpee beverage. I saw this, as I had pulled over to the side and was looking back to see if I'd killed him or horrifically twisted his leg off or sent him crashing to the ground with a load of scrapes and cuts. No, no, and thankfully no. Instead I was delighted and thankful to find him capably and coherently cursing at me and calling the police on the phone. I really was delighted. When I got out of the car to talk to him, he told the police I had stopped, he was fine, and that he was going to talk to me first before he would ask them to come. I was thankful for that too.
I looked down at the poor guy's bike. As my eyes worked their way to the asphalt on the road where it was, I noticed the shaking legs of the biker man, which I'm sure was the result of all the adrenaline and endorphines running through his body from the great shock I gave him. After all, he just got hit by a car. My car!
Yes, at this point in time I am feeling badly. However, I admit that I am feeling significantly less bad than I would have felt had he actually been hurt. I am mostly feeling lucky. Very lucky. And then I'm telling myself I SHOULD feel bad because of how much potential I had to do a very awful thing just before. It's like my mother, principal and sunday school teacher have taken up a room in my head to be there and tell me how bad I am and what could have happened in the event I should do something bad, ...as I had just done. "I hadn't meant to," I argue. "But you did it all the same," they say. And to that I have no rebuttal.
Biker man calmed down. He was much nicer after he realized I was concerned for his well-being and that I wished to pay for the damage done. I made mention that his back wheel looked bent. He said he bought his bike for $120 and that he could get a new one probably for $100. I luckily had $100 on me. I was so glad. I gave him the $100 and then gave him my phone number and told him to call me in case he found that repairing the bike or getting a new one would cost more. I'm rarely so unphased at so unexpectedly and quickly parting with $100. But it didn't seem like a big loss, all things considered. He thanked me, told me to look more carefully in the future (it was a very kind chastisement, not at all mean or biting), and went on his way. The end. Except for the filed police report, of course. We did that (I may be quite naive, but I do also have moments when I visit reality).
And so, now I think, "I hit a biker man yesterday. How shocking. And frightening. And kinda funny. " I'm very glad, and very thankful, that this story is that kind of story.
I was turning right from one street to another. The light was red. So, I waited for a break in traffic and then I went for it. The big mistake was that I perfunctorally glanced right after I saw the break in traffic to my left. I clearly did not thoroughly look right because as I started to "go for it", a biker man came out of nowhere from my right and wisked himself across the street right in front of my car. If I'd really looked, I imagine he would have not appeared "out ot nowhere". All was fine, ...except for the fact I'd already started to move by that time.
Of course, how he got across my car so quickly when I was moving makes me wonder how fast he was going. At least now it does. I hadn't considered it much yesterday. And suddenly, as I write this, I wonder if I would have been ABLE to see him. At that speed, how far away was he when I would have looked? But that's another story. And a pointless story or perusal, as I have already accepted blame.
Anyhow, I nipped the back of his rear bike wheel. He kind of tipsied to a stop, put his legs firmly on the ground and managed not to spill his large slurpee beverage. I saw this, as I had pulled over to the side and was looking back to see if I'd killed him or horrifically twisted his leg off or sent him crashing to the ground with a load of scrapes and cuts. No, no, and thankfully no. Instead I was delighted and thankful to find him capably and coherently cursing at me and calling the police on the phone. I really was delighted. When I got out of the car to talk to him, he told the police I had stopped, he was fine, and that he was going to talk to me first before he would ask them to come. I was thankful for that too.
I looked down at the poor guy's bike. As my eyes worked their way to the asphalt on the road where it was, I noticed the shaking legs of the biker man, which I'm sure was the result of all the adrenaline and endorphines running through his body from the great shock I gave him. After all, he just got hit by a car. My car!
Yes, at this point in time I am feeling badly. However, I admit that I am feeling significantly less bad than I would have felt had he actually been hurt. I am mostly feeling lucky. Very lucky. And then I'm telling myself I SHOULD feel bad because of how much potential I had to do a very awful thing just before. It's like my mother, principal and sunday school teacher have taken up a room in my head to be there and tell me how bad I am and what could have happened in the event I should do something bad, ...as I had just done. "I hadn't meant to," I argue. "But you did it all the same," they say. And to that I have no rebuttal.
Biker man calmed down. He was much nicer after he realized I was concerned for his well-being and that I wished to pay for the damage done. I made mention that his back wheel looked bent. He said he bought his bike for $120 and that he could get a new one probably for $100. I luckily had $100 on me. I was so glad. I gave him the $100 and then gave him my phone number and told him to call me in case he found that repairing the bike or getting a new one would cost more. I'm rarely so unphased at so unexpectedly and quickly parting with $100. But it didn't seem like a big loss, all things considered. He thanked me, told me to look more carefully in the future (it was a very kind chastisement, not at all mean or biting), and went on his way. The end. Except for the filed police report, of course. We did that (I may be quite naive, but I do also have moments when I visit reality).
And so, now I think, "I hit a biker man yesterday. How shocking. And frightening. And kinda funny. " I'm very glad, and very thankful, that this story is that kind of story.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Kevin Bacon
Ok, so I finished The Secret yesterday. And I must say, after having finished it I agree with it more than I did before. But I'm still about a 80% good stuff vs. 20% hooey believer. Generally, anything that tells me to do things I think are nutty, ... I'm gonna think is kinda nutty. Doing things I don't think rational-- ditto. But I really did like it's theories and overall message. Some very good lessons to learn in that book. But I am totally sold on one thing from the book. I TOTALLY love the book on cd idea. I might have to join a library that has those. Otherwise, this new habit could be grow to be a very expensive hobby. Books are pricey enough. Books on cd -- ouch.
So, my big news from yesterday: Kevin Bacon came into the clothing shop where I work (I TOLD you it was high end clothes). I knew him the second he walked in the store, as if I'd seen him 5000 times before. Oh wait, I have. Anyway, SO Cool. And yet, what do you do when you see Kevin Bacon? I don't think I have the answer for you. Here's a rendition of maybe what not to do:
So, there I am, in the same room with Kevin Bacon... what to do... Act natural, right? I don't want to gawk and make him feel uncomfortable or do anything "unnatural", though I don't know what IS "natural" to do when you're in the same room as an incredibly talented actor who has his own game and is a phenomenon only equal to himself. I just don't run into that scenario very often. But I try anyway.... what's natural? what's natural? Hmmm....
Thinking... Thinking..., I'm still in the same room as Kevin Bacon. At the clothing shop. And what do I do? I pretend he's just another customer and don't acknowledge that I know he's Kevin Bacon. Why does this make sense? Why is "pretending" more natural in my logic? I have no idea.
Then my store manager tells me to tell him that we have men's clothing next door. She's making me talk to him!!! That means I acknowledge that he's there, and my "I think you're just like anybody else" cover is totally blown! Slight panic on the inside, but I keep my cool. So, I tell him. Wooh, that was challenging. But good. I did it. I'm cool, yo. He's there with his daughters and this woman that is there with them (maybe his mom?). So, I kinda just told the group. That made it easier to do. The "maybe mom" tells me they've already been there. He (she means Kevin, of course, but she's not verbally admitting who he is either, apparently) really liked the men's selection and their t-shirts, but thanks for letting them know.
And then he and his little group casually and "naturally" peruse themselves over into the denim section of our store, where I don't work, so my opportunity to stare and revel in his presence is gone. The end. Brilliance, Sharon. Brilliance. Note to self - next time you run into a him, which will probably be never, or any other famous person you think is cool, it's probably ok to smile at them. I bet you even celebrities like smiles.
So, my big news from yesterday: Kevin Bacon came into the clothing shop where I work (I TOLD you it was high end clothes). I knew him the second he walked in the store, as if I'd seen him 5000 times before. Oh wait, I have. Anyway, SO Cool. And yet, what do you do when you see Kevin Bacon? I don't think I have the answer for you. Here's a rendition of maybe what not to do:
So, there I am, in the same room with Kevin Bacon... what to do... Act natural, right? I don't want to gawk and make him feel uncomfortable or do anything "unnatural", though I don't know what IS "natural" to do when you're in the same room as an incredibly talented actor who has his own game and is a phenomenon only equal to himself. I just don't run into that scenario very often. But I try anyway.... what's natural? what's natural? Hmmm....
Thinking... Thinking..., I'm still in the same room as Kevin Bacon. At the clothing shop. And what do I do? I pretend he's just another customer and don't acknowledge that I know he's Kevin Bacon. Why does this make sense? Why is "pretending" more natural in my logic? I have no idea.
Then my store manager tells me to tell him that we have men's clothing next door. She's making me talk to him!!! That means I acknowledge that he's there, and my "I think you're just like anybody else" cover is totally blown! Slight panic on the inside, but I keep my cool. So, I tell him. Wooh, that was challenging. But good. I did it. I'm cool, yo. He's there with his daughters and this woman that is there with them (maybe his mom?). So, I kinda just told the group. That made it easier to do. The "maybe mom" tells me they've already been there. He (she means Kevin, of course, but she's not verbally admitting who he is either, apparently) really liked the men's selection and their t-shirts, but thanks for letting them know.
And then he and his little group casually and "naturally" peruse themselves over into the denim section of our store, where I don't work, so my opportunity to stare and revel in his presence is gone. The end. Brilliance, Sharon. Brilliance. Note to self - next time you run into a him, which will probably be never, or any other famous person you think is cool, it's probably ok to smile at them. I bet you even celebrities like smiles.
Monday, April 2, 2007
The Secret
Last week, I had some friends rave about a book they'd read, called The Secret. Idon't have much time for books, but they really liked it, so I got the book on CD. I've listened to a little over 1/2 of the book (I'm quite the commuter), and I have found the book to be insightful, but not the wonder book that friends of mine have claimed.
It is based on the Law of Attraction, with the idea that thoughts are powerful and emit an energy. Based on this law, the frequencies of the thoughts you put out attract like frequencies, and therefore, positive thoughts about what you want in life will naturally make those positive things come to you, because they are attracted to you and its just a law of nature. It talks about gratitude, giving, and a whole bunch of stuff, all of which I think is great. However, I think it goes a bit too far in some places. It starts to sound like a bunch of hooey at times. Like when she talks about dreading receiving bills because of debt. So, instead think that you are getting checks. So, you pretend that when you get a bill, it's really a check, and be really grateful for it. Then pay your bill because you're so blessed with all the money you have been receiving from checks. And then, because of those positive thoughts and that energy you put out, you WILL actually receive checks in the mail.
Hmmm.... I think that thinking your bills are actually checks.... I think that's nutty. And thinking you'll get checks in the mail for no reason..... weird. Thinking of a plan to get the checks and following through with it... sure. But there isn't much discussion in the how or the why so far through the book. Just the thinking, but no plan....
Not to mention, this theory seems to advocate the idea, without saying it in so many words, that you are in complete control of your life, no matter what. Even freak accidents, being shot in a war and dying of a disease are all within your control to avoid or overcome. I don't think people who were killed by a drunk driver, burned in the holocaust, died of muscular distrophy or who have lost a loved one to cancer lacked enough positive thoughts or negatively thought their way to that end.
Positive thinking, I like. The idea that thoughts emit a frequency, I can dig that. Gratitude, also good. Giving, even better. Dealing with the flukes, accidents and even misfortunes that life may hand you -- something I just don't think you can always avoid, no matter how positive your thoughts. I'm not all sold quite yet. I'll let you know when I'm done.
It is based on the Law of Attraction, with the idea that thoughts are powerful and emit an energy. Based on this law, the frequencies of the thoughts you put out attract like frequencies, and therefore, positive thoughts about what you want in life will naturally make those positive things come to you, because they are attracted to you and its just a law of nature. It talks about gratitude, giving, and a whole bunch of stuff, all of which I think is great. However, I think it goes a bit too far in some places. It starts to sound like a bunch of hooey at times. Like when she talks about dreading receiving bills because of debt. So, instead think that you are getting checks. So, you pretend that when you get a bill, it's really a check, and be really grateful for it. Then pay your bill because you're so blessed with all the money you have been receiving from checks. And then, because of those positive thoughts and that energy you put out, you WILL actually receive checks in the mail.
Hmmm.... I think that thinking your bills are actually checks.... I think that's nutty. And thinking you'll get checks in the mail for no reason..... weird. Thinking of a plan to get the checks and following through with it... sure. But there isn't much discussion in the how or the why so far through the book. Just the thinking, but no plan....
Not to mention, this theory seems to advocate the idea, without saying it in so many words, that you are in complete control of your life, no matter what. Even freak accidents, being shot in a war and dying of a disease are all within your control to avoid or overcome. I don't think people who were killed by a drunk driver, burned in the holocaust, died of muscular distrophy or who have lost a loved one to cancer lacked enough positive thoughts or negatively thought their way to that end.
Positive thinking, I like. The idea that thoughts emit a frequency, I can dig that. Gratitude, also good. Giving, even better. Dealing with the flukes, accidents and even misfortunes that life may hand you -- something I just don't think you can always avoid, no matter how positive your thoughts. I'm not all sold quite yet. I'll let you know when I'm done.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)