Frailty, Thy Name is Woman

My grandmother has moved to a new independent senior living complex. The good news is that she is no longer in the outer boonies –she is now in the “inner” boonies. It’s still a schlep, but the drive is a half-hour shorter for me and Mr. Random.

This place has better security, it has more activities for the residents and the apartment my grandmother is much larger, more spacious and more light-filled than her old one. In fact, I would argue that it is too large because her furniture now seems tiny and sparse in the big open space of her combo living room/dining area/kitchen and the expanse also gives the illusion that she is smaller and frailer than she truly is.

And seeing that makes me sad. Each time I see her, it’s like she moves a little slower and she’s shrunken a little more. She now walks slowly and gingerly with a cane – this being a woman who used to walk for miles back and forth across Philadelphia dragging her two little granddaughters behind her. I remember her standing strong (not tall, she’s always been kind of short) and being fearless, and now . . . while she still has a lot of spunk in her and her mind is still very sharp, something about her is a bit more tentative and she has to depend on more people to help her do many things that she used to just charge ahead and do herself.

Seeing my grandmother, helping her out when I can, brings me face-to-face with what it means to age and what it means to watch someone you love slowly decline. I am very lucky – my grandmother will turn 90 this year and I will have spent most of my life with her living within a 50 mile radius of me. She has always been in my life, one way or another, and I can’t imagine her not being here - being cranky and crotchety and hating people, while having a heart of gold.

At least I know that we have a good relationship. That I am still close to her. That I am one of the few family members that she relies on and talks to on a regular basis. It means a lot to me and I think it means a lot to her. My only regret is that I don’t have any children of my own yet for her to put her blessing.

When my grandpa died 21 years ago, it hurt. A lot. And it still hurts in some ways, but I’ve moved on and try to do the best I can to honor his memory. But my grandma? Oy! The dread I have! There are some situations where you won’t know how you’ll react until it happens but this is something . . . I don’t want to know right now. Yes, I am trying to be rational and I know that she has lived a full, exciting life and she is tired and has ailments and has already told us that when she goes she doesn’t want any fuss but to just put her “in a Hefty bag by the curb.” (No, seriously! She’s said that several times. She has a wicked sense of humor . . .) I know a lot of things intellectually. I get it. But still . . .

So a cloud hovers heavily on my brain, even though it shouldn’t. Every time I see her I hug her tight and tell her I’m so glad I could be there. What more could we do in this life that would be more important than taking the time to appreciate the moments we have remaining and making the most of those?

A Random Moment of Clarity

There are many days that I do write something for the blog, but don’t post because my thoughts are usually half-finished – for example, I think about something and start writing and then I get sucked into something that takes me away from writing and when I come back my entire train of thought is gone. And once that “train has left the station,” it’s really difficult for me to finish. Then I say “Oh, well” and delete what I’ve written. Usually, later in the evening, I’ve regretted doing that because at least at some point I had SOMETHING on paper – a half-formed thought that I could have probably taken up again at some later date. But even when I do save it, the day never comes that I do revisit the writing and so the file just sits there, taunting me because I can’t quite build up the full head of steam that drove me to start barfing my words onto the page in the first place. (Gee, isn’t *that* a lovely image . . .)

A post on Writer’s Block on the EconLog made me think of this.

This one comment struck me:

It's been a long time since I had that kind of problem. I stopped having writer's block when I learned that writer's block comes about because you're afraid of finishing the work, meaning you have to stand behind what you've written.

Sometimes you have to mull things over, though. You will note on my blog that I write something every day. Sometimes it's very short, though. Other times it's quite long. And that's on top of the other work I do off the blog every day. The habit of writing every day can keep the words flowing. Sometimes you have to accept that you are just going to write a bunch of garbage today. That's fine. Sometimes you have to write a bunch of garbage to get the one gem, the one line that you can use. Sometimes you have to write very long bridges between ideas and then go back and get rid of all the garbage. The important thing is that you don't think that everything you write is a wonderful gem (it's not, and you know deep down that it's not, and the fear that it's not will also cause the problem you described).

In other words, when you let fear drop away and recognize that much of what you write is scaffolding that you need to tear down when you're done, your writer's block will end.

I just realized – right now I’m suffering not just from writer’s block, but *life block*. There is a lot of fear here coupled with displeasure with my current job situation that forms a bit of paralysis on my part. I hate being a whiner and a complainer. I am a fairly optimistic person at heart; otherwise I wouldn’t throw myself into my community and my new studies with such abandon. But now, in the process of making a change, I have to wade through a lot of garbage and create a lot of garbage as I try to figure out who I am and what I want to be.

So I have to accept the garbage and realize that it isn’t ALL garbage. There are some real truths to be found in what I’m doing and I have to be open to the full range of experiences – good and bad – that I’m dealing with. And if I have a half-thought or a half-feeling, I need to put it down and keep it filed away in my brain, because by returning to it again and again and trying to make sense of it, one day a fully-formed thought might actually come through. And – Surprise! Surprise! – It might just be the gem I’m looking for . . .

Random Important Life Announcement

As you may or may not know, all spring and summer I have been agonizing over a decision that I had to make. I have been agonizing over this decision for years, but finally this year it came to a head, where I felt like if I was going to do this now would be the time . . . because there would never really be a good time for it . . .

So ladies and gentlemen, beginning next week, I will be returning to school on a part time basis to finish my undergraduate degree. I hope to study Economics and eventually set myself up to get a Master’s degree in Public Policy.

I have always felt bad about not finishing college 17 years ago. I started college when I was 16 (because like Justrose, I attended Doogie Howser High School) and once I got there, I SO did not fit in. Being the true introvert I am, I always tried to be well read and very conscientious - academics were not as much a problem as my absolute lack of social and coping skills. I left after my junior year at Ye Old Colonial College and lived at home for a while, working part-time at first, and then a year later getting a job at what was then one of the Big Six accounting/consulting firms.

Working there was actually one of the best things that ever happened to me. I learned so much about the business world and how things are supposed to be done – it was one of those firms that sort of beat good business practices into you and made you work a crazy amount of hours. The consultants I worked with were around my age and a little older, and while I was administrative, they accepted me as a peer and I had an opportunity to work on a lot of really interesting projects. That was another lucky thing – no matter what role I served, people treated me as a peer – I did witness many of my other admin friends being treated like crap and I did what I could to help the situation – try to coach folks as it were. I guess that’s when I started being an informal advice giver of sorts too . . .

I also started working in local politics and with community groups and made many lasting friendships that way. I worked at high levels on several local campaigns, with a lot of responsibility, and learned how to work with members of the public to disseminate information, solve problems, and answer questions in a way that a great number of people could understand. I learned the importance of tailoring information to an audience. I learned how to listen to figure out what the real problem was. I learned how to develop and manipulate databases and information in a way that was useful. I learned how a community works and where to go and who to talk to . . . oh, and I met Mr. Random through all of this too . . .

I was a busy beaver out in the world - learning, meeting people, trying to do good. I moved on to other jobs. I worked for a trade association for an industry that was/is in distress. There I learned about people who made actual THINGS, people who worked in factories in dangerous jobs, who worked hard for their 8 hours of pay: the type of people who are the backbone of this country but get little recognition, especially as their numbers dwindle and their jobs get sent elsewhere in the world. I loved working for those guys, and it was heartbreaking to watch what was happening to these people and their families and the factories they were so proud of. I could tell stories . . .

I had to move on from that organization because the industry was declining so much, the writing was on the wall that they would not be able to sustain the level of staffing that would allow me to stay. So I moved on to another association for 3 years, until I came to the Random Non-Profit.

As you can tell, the Random Non-Profit has been both a blessing and a curse. I was lucky enough to be able to work in the same place as my husband for five years, I have been able to work toward a social justice cause that I believe in, and I have been able to use and develop new talents while working with people that I care about and respect. The bad parts: I have never seen a place run so poorly, the workload is overwhelming for lousy-ish pay, and the morale here is beyond unhealthy.

So, for a while I have been taking stock in myself and wondering where to go from here. I am currently in a mid-level professional position, but on paper – without finishing my degree – I can’t really move much higher. A lot of places won’t even look at me, even though I have beyond enough experience in many areas. Some people have said that I should just lie about my degree, but I can’t do that . . . that would be SO wrong, and besides the truth would come out in the end . . .

For the past 17 years, I have had this inferiority complex. I don’t tell people that I don’t have a degree, but I also don’t say that I DO either. When people ask what school I went to, I tell them and say what major I was . . . but never say that I graduated . . . people just infer what they want. Mr. Random, the sweetheart that he is, says I’m one of the smartest people that he knows . . . but I know I’m not . . .

Now, I know that in the world having a degree does not necessarily mean that one is highly intelligent – I’ve met too many highly degreed idiots for that. But so many people place so much importance on credentials . . . and I always feel really stupid next to people . . . that’s why I try not to say very much . . . I feel very sensitive about people thinking I am kind of an airhead, that I have nothing to contribute . . .

So even though I’m doing pretty well in many areas of my life (and actually have advanced very well career-wise for someone who doesn’t have a degree . . . and even for some who do) I just have to do this for myself.

I feel kind of squirrelly admitting it though. . . almost ashamed, even though I have nothing to be ashamed of . . . but still . . .

But if I don’t do it, I will always feel bad . . . and not progress . . . and drive everyone bats because I feel so stuck . . .

This will be a long road to take, but I am happy that at least I will take a first step. The first steps can be the hardest though . . .

I’m so glad you guys are here and reading! I feel happy to get it off my chest . . . and also sad too . . . it is a very vulnerable thing to admit . . . please send happy vibes if you can . . . I’m going to very much need them!

I’m Sooooo Confused . . .

I’ve been feeling rather vulnerable and needy lately. Well, I usually AM very vulnerable and needy, if you’ve read my blog for a while, but really . . . these days I’ve felt even more keenly so.

There seems to be a perfect storm of things going on around me and with me – time for me to “fish or cut bait” in a number of areas at the same time, and it is all so overwhelming.

Mr. Random was in a car accident on Saturday – no one was injured, but it was scary just the same. The Random car is banged up a bit, but luckily it is built like a tank despite its comparatively smallish size.

I finally heard about something I had applied for a few months ago, and the answer I received was not what something I expected. It is an answer that leaves me in limbo, scrambling to figure out what to do and how this decision affects my plans for the fall. I cannot make any other plans until this is sorted out, however, the uncertainty at the Random Non-profit makes another part of my life quite iffy too.

There is too, too much going on right now – too much change . . . too many decisions that have too many possible consequences. I’m scared and confused and tired . . .

I thank both Mr. Random and my friend J for putting up with me and listening to my angst, even when they’d like to strangle me. I have not been easy to live with the past few days, and I realize that. I am trying to not dump all my problems on others, but at the same time it is really difficult to try to figure these things out on one’s own. I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing, you know? I want to know that I’m not going completely bonkers.

Sometimes I get really depressed, I’m so overwhelmed with the choices before me. I do realize that I am lucky to even HAVE choices, but it is still hard to deal with. I am hoping that this is just a rough stage in my life, and once I push through it, everything will be OK for while . . .

Or, I may just be delusional. That’s an option too . . .

OK, this is a post that probably made no sense, but I did feel compelled to write it. It does help to put all of this stuff out in the ether sometimes. Tomorrow, I will be back to my normal randomness and kvetching, I promise.

Being Comfortable in One’s Own Skin

Going to Macbeth on Sunday got me thinking: To be able to show yourself to world without any clothes on means you have to be really comfortable with yourself – comfortable with who you are, as you are. No, it is definitely not for everyone, of course. But the symbolic act of putting yourself out there without hiding behind a costume, whatever that costume may be, seems to me like a goal that one should aim towards.

Like I said earlier, to first look at the unclothed actors was a bit jarring. In a play, as in daily life, we count on costumes to tell us who someone is – who is the servant? Who is the soldier? Who is the King? Who is a witch? When you don’t have that in front of you, you really have to take notice of how a person carries themselves, the tone of their voice, the content of what they are speaking to know who they are and where they stand. Many of the characters played multiple roles, so you could tell when a person changed from being a witch to a soldier just by how she straightened up and presented her lines. One of the male characters (and they all had beards) played both the elder MacDuff and the young MacDuff. He played young MacDuff hunched on his knees and the way he held himself and delivered his lines was quite affecting – he really made you believe he was a little boy, which made the moment when young MacDuff was killed feel that much more wrenching.

But back to my original statement . . . right now, I know that I’m not feeling all that comfortable in my own skin. There are so many changes going on both inside of me and outside of me, that I barely feel competent half the time. As I continue to figure out who I am and who I should be, I seem to find myself shopping for new clothes much more often than I have in the past – a new sundress here, a new shirt there. It is almost as if I’m trying to find the clothing persona that will fit me best during this time period. Some clothes work and some clothes are like “why the heck did I spend money on THAT?”

Maybe the first work to do is to be happy with who I am, as I am. I am slightly overweight, short, with interesting hair. I tend to be quiet unless I know you really well. I like going out and seeing things in the world. I like learning new things. I like eating at restaurants. I like cooking for people I care about sometimes. I like sitting off by myself and reading sometimes. I like having people I adore really close to me sometimes. I am loyal to a fault. I sometimes create hurts toward myself so that others don’t hurt me later. I have an interesting sense of humor. I feel stupid often, but usually know what I am talking about when I do speak. I like observing and listening to others.

I need to feel confident enough to say “Look at me. This is who I am - Warts and all.” I need to have the courage of the actors in Macbeth and show the real me to the world and not be phased by it. I need to stop hiding behind my insecurities . . .

Easier said than done, of course, but I really need to try.

Waiting for the Rain to End

The Fourth of July passed away uneventfully here at the Random Household. It was a blustery day, with rain and lots of tornado watches in the area, so we weren't in the mood to try to see fireworks. I spent the day mostly sleeping and reading, while Mr. Random went out running and watched the Twilight Zone marathon on TV. Excitement abounded at the homestead!

I took Thursday and Friday off because I needed some space from my work. The Random Non-profit has always been dysfunctional, but now that Mr. Random is no longer working there with me, I feel the dysfunction ever more keenly. It was easier to have to sit through meetings discussing the same thing over and over when I had someone to share the pain with and put it all into perspective. Nowadays, I just don’t want to deal with it anymore. I am hankering for something new, something different, something else.

I am going to try to be able to work from home more often this summer, which should help a little. Just sitting in my office can be stifling sometimes, with the constant interruptions and barrages of random information that only serve to make me more agitated and unhappy. In theory, I should be able to divorce myself from the political machinations of the office and just focus on my job, but the frustrating thing is that I can’t – all of these stupid meetings ARE a part of my job and dealing with our lack of purpose is part of what we are supposed to be doing. It just really sucks that we haven’t solved fundamental problems yet – once those are solved everything will fall into place, but since we can’t get out collective acts together, we seem to be locked into a death spiral of inaction, rushed deadlines and perpetual confusion. Mission? What IS our mission? We are not sure. If we cannot define it for ourselves, how are we supposed to help others?

The place where Mr. Random works now is very structured – a well-oiled machine – which is what you would expect a daily journalistic enterprise to be. I will from now call it the Random Publication. It is a small daily which is part of a larger media empire. They have money, and the Random Publication is a profit center for the larger company. Every day, Mr. Random comes home in awe of the resources they have available. He also rubs it in that they get bagels, pastries, fruit, juice and coffee brought in every morning for the staff, along with afternoon snacks. What? You mean treat your employees like you actually like them? What a concept!

I am home now, trying to figure out what next steps to take. I am still waiting to hear about an opportunity that I applied for earlier – if I get it, my schedule will change drastically and Mr. Random will have to figure out how to make things work so that we have enough money to pay the mortgage while still leaving me with enough time and energy to keep my sanity. I do hope I get it . . . the short term pain will yield very big benefits in the end . . .

So I am frustrated and exhausted, but full of hope. At least, I’m clinging to hope that I will only have to put up with the Random Non-profit’s BS for only a few more months before some changes happen. The only problem is figuring out how to survive that period without throwing myself in front of a bus out of angst and anger . . .

Party of One

As a child, I often tended to sit alone, away from all of the other kids. I wasn’t the most social of children. It wasn’t that I didn’t like people or enjoy the company of others, but I just never really liked dealing with groups and group behavior. I somehow seemed to learn early that people act differently when you are talking with them one on one than when they are hanging out with a group of people. I grew up surrounded by a gaggle of loud, boisterous cousins and I wasn’t a fan of the noise and the ruckus and the mess.

You could always find me off to the side – sitting quietly in the corner or tucked away at my desk – with a book. I loved to read, and I read everything I could get my little hands on. The world was full of interesting things, and since as a child I wasn’t going anywhere, the easiest way to escape was to read. It was a comfort and a crutch. Books don’t hurt your feelings the way people do sometimes, and they tend not to disappoint.

So as my life went on, I found that I wasn’t exactly comfortable in most social situations. One on one, yes, I can be myself, but in groups I tend to just sit back and be an observer. I never knew what to say anyway, and I didn’t want to sound stupid. That’s a recurring theme in my life – not wanting to let people down and not wanting to appear stupid.

Even today, at lunchtime I don’t seek out people to eat with – I always eat lunch at my desk and then go for a walk. When Mr. Random and I worked together, we would always eat lunch together and then go for a walk. For five years, it was quite a blessing to have that time and that give and take in the middle of the day. But now that he’s gone, I’ve reverted to my natural state. Now, folks in the office peek in on me from time to time – they were all so used to me and Mr. Random hanging out in a collective unit – and making sure that I’m OK. I’ve never been a social person at work – I tend focus on the tasks I have to do, although I am sociable and am always there to help folks with their projects and offer advice – both professional and personal (I’ve always been kind of an informal life coach/resume consultant to all of my friends.)

I guess what got me thinking about it was that in a group conversation while waiting for a meeting to begin (because meetings at the Random Non-profit always start late), someone was talking about remembering the weird kid that sat off by himself at lunchtime in school – and I thought, “hey, I was a weird kid!” I was happy being the weird kid – I didn’t notice otherwise – but I guess other people don’t see it that way.

One day I was home watching a Gilmore Girls rerun, the episode where the principal makes Rory act more social at school and so she starts eating lunch with a group of girls who eventually end up getting her almost suspended in her efforts to fit in. The story ends with Rory standing up for herself by saying that she has a pretty full life outside of school – lots of friends and activities and even a steady boyfriend – and so the principal really didn’t need to be worried about her being anti-social . . .

I guess I can say the same thing – I have a lot of very awesome people in my life, and many fun and exciting things to do outside of work, so I don’t feel compelled to hang out at work – I just want to get my work done and go out and get to do my fun stuff. Now, I do “work and play well with others,” but not as much as one does when one is say, 23 and going to happy hours all the time.

Did this post make any sort of sense? It’s just been on my brain for the past few days because I guess it’s been bothering me somehow. I do miss having Mr. Random with me at work, but I also like my quiet lunch hours too . . . I just don’t like feeling like I’m being a pariah on top of all of my other issues going on right now . . . Oy!

Happy Friday, everyone . . .

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

I had a dream last night/this morning that kind of disturbed me:

I was in what seemed like an old house or old building of some sort, and I was trying to take a shower, but for some reason I had to do it in the middle of the room where people where coming in and out and just sitting around. I was trying to find a closet to shower in, but there were no closets. So I was standing in the middle of the room, with all of my stuff around me but far enough away so that they didn’t get wet from the showerhead in the ceiling, trying to take a shower while wearing a bathing suit. Of course this was not working well, but I was really frustrated because all these people were walking in and out. I was trying to suds up while wearing the bathing suit, feeling stupid wearing a bathing suit, and feeling so embarrassed just for being there . . .

I woke up feeling very . . . unsettled . . .

So here I am. Lots of things going on in my life and I guess I am feeling kind of exposed (as my amateur dream analysis tells me) and embarrassed and naked . . .

Reflections from the past week:

The conference came off all right – a lot of things could have been done better, and there were two days straight when my entire food intake for breakfast and lunch was a bottle of water and a handful of cheddar cheese Combos. It was non-stop meetings and talking to people and being “on” and two days later, I am just SO exhausted . . .

It was not as weird as I thought without Mr. Random there, if only because I was so busy from the time I got there until the time I left. The only thing I missed was the ability to leave right away – Mr. Random had to come and pick me up each evening. I tried to get some rides home, but no one ever was able to go my way . . . even the woman who lives a few blocks over from me, usually had to go somewhere else after work. Luckily, I brought a book with me, but sitting in a hotel lobby is never fun when all you want to do is go home . . .

Next year, if they are going to cut back on anything, it definitely should not be the meals. The one meal a day thing was horrible, and most days it was just the “continental breakfast” – which is basically just some rolls and coffee. I don’t do well with just carbs in the morning – it makes me very cranky, and some folks have dietary restrictions in which they can’t eat that stuff. Restaurants are also really expensive in the area we were in, and we weren’t reimbursing folks – and a lot of our constituents come from struggling organizations and states and the cost of the hotel was about $250 a night alone. You would think that being in the field we are in we would know better, but nope, being cheap trumps all . . .

The high point of the conference was the last evening, which is our organization’s closing night dinner. Here we give out awards to several inspiring young people, ages 13-26, who are doing amazing things in our field. Listening to them tell their stories always energizes me for a little bit – they, and others like them, are exactly the reason I put up with all of the crap at the Random Non-profit. The fact that they things we do are helping to improve their lives, it makes it all worthwhile. If we could just get our acts together, stop the internal dysfunction and fulfill our movement’s TRUE potential, just think of the change we could make in the world!

Now after those four days of pure adrenaline, I need a long, long nap . . .

Scribbling: Wings

(Today I felt like trying another Scribbling Challenge. I’ll only get better at writing if I keep practicing . . .)

Moving out of my parents’ house was the best risk that I have ever taken.

Yes, I was a hopelessly naïve 23 year old, renting an attic room in a city I was unfamiliar with and with very few friends nearby.

Yes, I spent many evenings crying from loneliness.

Yes, I was horrible at managing my meager salary, often scraping together rent money at the last possible moment, eating ramen for dinner and vending machine food for lunch.

Moving forced me to learn how to live on my own, to put myself out there and make new friends, to go out on the town by myself and explore the world outside my door.

My parents loved me very much, but as their oldest daughter I was eager to please them. I never dated, never went out, was always at home trying to be helpful whenever I wasn’t spending long hours at work. My father is a very controlling sort of fellow, so I never wanted to test the boundaries at home. I mean, I was staying there rent free . . . and they were my parents . . .

But I was stifling there. I HAD to move out. There was a world out there I wanted to see . . . and besides, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to date anyone under the watch eyes of my dad – as protective of his “little” daughters as he was . . .

So one October weekend, I packed up my stuff into a small van and threw myself out on my own, jumping out of the warm, cozy nest, hoping that I could one day spread my wings and fly.

Fast forward almost fourteen years, and here I am. I’ve still got a lot of work to do in the confidence department, but somehow I managed to eventually get my own apartment, go through a few jobs, meet some amazing people, do some fun and fascinating things, get married to a very cool person, and have a pretty easy-going, interesting life.

Having wings means being open to risk – to put yourself out there high in the air with nothing but hard ground below and just see what happens. To thrust yourself out in the world with an idea of where you are going, but depending on which way the wind blows, you could end up anywhere. Sometimes you fall – and that really hurts! A wing breaks and you have to put yourself through the hard work of healing . . . and then somehow work up the nerve try to fly again.

It may be easier to stay in the nest, but in the long run it is always better to use those wings and try to fly.

The Sound of the Other Dropping Shoe

Sorry guys – I haven’t been very communicative the past few days and I haven’t been perusing that many blogs. I haven’t fallen off of the face of the earth entirely and I did want to let folks know what’s up so far . . .

Mr. Random and I are still employed at the Random Non-Profit. The layoffs did occur on Friday morning, with the CEO and the Board chair walking around the halls, stopping in the offices of those who were being laid off. There were 8 people let go in all, out of a staff of less than 50, one whole department let go along with several longtime employees – one person had been here for 19 years. It was horrible and soul sucking and afterwards there was a horrible staff meeting that reached the heights of Dilbert-esque-ness. It is a lot to process, and while I am happy not to have lost my job, I really hate the whole way this was handled and the whole new outlook of the place. That’s all I will say for now on that topic . . .

It turns out that my sister that is going to Iraq on Thursday is actually going to be stationed in Bagdad, not elsewhere in Iraq as we had hoped. My parents are going down to visit her tomorrow to watch the deployment ceremony and say good bye. I am going to call her tonight when I get back from teaching. I am going to be perpetually worried about her now, even more than before . . .

Saturday was Mr. Random’s birthday and we held a really nice dinner at the local barbeque place, where lots of our friends showed up, and then we went to see the movie, “300.” I spent most of the movie looking at my scarf – it’s kind of violent – but Mr. Random and the other guys we were with really enjoyed it . . .

I’m kind of in a holding pattern right now – a lot to think about in my personal and professional lives, lots of big questions in my head. Is there something wrong with me or with the system? Do I want to change myself and my outlook or do I want to make the world change? Do I like who I am and where I am headed?

I’m just tired and trying to get through each day right now. I can’t wait for spring to get here and for the summer to begin . . .

I promise to be peppier later . . . I’m just a little cranky right now . . .

The Sound of Paper

I usually don’t go for mushy, self-help-y type books, but given what’s going on in my life at the moment, I felt like doing a bit of guided reflection. For a brief shining moment, I thought I had sorted things out in my head and had started making positive decisions about my future, but this little health scare is making me rethink everything I decided.

So while Mr. Random and I were rambling in the bookstore last Saturday (because you can’t keep me out of a bookstore!), I was unexplainably drawn towards the book, The Sound of Paper: Starting From Scratch, by Julia Cameron. It is a book on how to unlock your creativity as a writer, but in the way it is written it has amazing parallels in rejuvenating the way you think about how you look at life and how you are living in it. After each chapter, there is a suggested writing exercise. So far I have been faithfully doing each exercise and not continuing on reading until the writing is completed. The fact of actually having to think about things and write about them on a piece of paper (not a keyboard) seems to be very . . . reflective? Devotional? Ugh! I can’t think of the correct word right now . . .

Anyway, here was one of the exercises:

Each of us has a different idea of sophistication. Each of us has certain items that speak to us as tokens of success. Sometimes in all of our striving, we overlook treating ourselves symbolically in ways that match our accomplishments. Take a pen in hand and number 1 to 25. List twenty-five things that represent to you sophistication and success . . .

OK, so I’m not going to list 25 things here, but I will list five:

1. Having a room dedicated to being a library
2. Wearing a well-tailored dark suit, with a crisp white shirt
3. Having a cozy house that is comfortable, but good for entertaining family and friends
4. Being able to afford to go to as many plays and concerts as I want
5. Having very nice stationery and journals and a good pen to write with

Having a shiny, clean car that doesn’t have twenty empty water and juice bottles on the floor of the backseat, thus making it impossible not to be embarrassed to carpool with friends and coworkers (oops, that’s six . . .)

So, I ask my faithful readers, what things represent sophistication and success to you?

Piping Up

I’ve been laid low for the past few days after finally catching Mr. Random’s bad cold.

I’ve spent most of the time intermittently sleeping and watching all of the episodes of “Heroes” online – it’s quite an absorbing show, I was pleasantly surprised. Watching 6 episodes in a row also made it a lot easier to pick up on different connections. I guess this is what people experience when they get the DVDs for shows that they didn’t watch the first time, like “Buffy” or “24.” I’m not a big TV person, some I still clueless about a lot of shows – I don’t even watch American Idol – I just keep up with shows by reading the recaps in the paper, on blogs and on Television without Pity – it’s sometimes more entertaining that way . . .

I have a bigger post to write about my visit on Saturday to the Holocaust Museum – my friend, J, and I were there for over 5 hours and it was an overwhelming experience – one that takes a while to process the enormity of it all. It is one thing to read about what happened, but it is another to see and hear what went on . . . and to know how much or how little could have stopped everything from happening. It angered me, learning how much our country knew about what was going on and how our government did nothing to help – it even put roadblocks in the way of saving more people . . . to learn about all of the actions that lead up to the “final solution” and how many citizens just let it happen and how many were complicit . . . it all raises so many questions in my brain . . . and a resolve to do what I can to make others aware so that it doesn’t happen again . . . even though it IS happening again . . . what CAN one person do? . . .

All I know is that in my last post I talked about the need to speak up . . . and going to the museum on Saturday cemented that resolve to speak up about these seemingly piddly little work things . . .

For if you don’t start speaking up about the little things, how will one ever be able to stand up an speak up about the really big things that need attention?

Sunday Random Meditation

Sometimes you wake up and realize something you knew all along but just weren't paying attention enough to notice what it was . . .

Sometimes after you realize it, you then are faced with having to make the other parts of your life support that knowledge . . .

Sometimes you want change to happen immediately, but life doesn't - and can't - work that way . . .

How does one keep the faith in your gained knowledge when it feels like everything is conspiring not to let you achieve what you need to achieve? What is to keep you from saying "Oh, screw it. Let's just keep on keeping on . . ."

These are not entirely theoretical questions . . . but I'm just trying to figure things out in my head again. Sometimes I think I live too much in my head. (But it's so comfy! . . . although not helpful in getting things done . . .)

I just have to be paitent, but I don't want to . . . waaaah!

Gee, am I vague enough for you? I promise I'll let you all know once things are actually decided and in motion, otherwise, I feel like putting words to cyberspace would commit me to things I'm not ready to even speak aloud yet . . .

Let's just say it is another stepping stone to me finally being the me I want to be . . .

Rearranging the Deck Chairs

As you can see I’ve been adding some new links to the sidebar, in my perpetual quest to keep things fresh here at the Random Blog. You can also tell I’ve been adding more pictures – although, no one ever said they would be GOOD pictures . . .

Of course, just as soon as I add some links, I find out that have to take some down. I must have the reverse Midas touch – whenever I discover a really great blog, that is the exact moment that the blogger decides to call it quits . . .

A lot of bloggers have been doing this pretty much everyday for several years now and they just can’t keep up the production – if you get a lot of regular readers, those people seem to expect constant, well-written posts which are hard to sustain if you have full life with other responsibilities and activities . . .

I’m in nowhere near the same league as a lot of the well-known bloggers, but I don’t think I’ll be burnt out from doing this any time soon:

First off, it isn’t that well-written. Most of the time, either I can sit and wordsmith and edit and make the post a beautiful work of art, or I can actually post something. I tend towards posting, otherwise there would only be about 10 posts on this blog . . .

Secondly, despite my best efforts I am not able to post every day. You know the deal – the Random Non-profit job, volunteering, meetings, husband, family, friends, excursions, manic Random cat pesterings . . .

Thirdly, much of the stuff on here is pretty random and I doubt that I’ll stop having angst and/or adventures anytime soon – in fact, if things work out the way I hope this year, I may have even MORE to write about (but less time to do so.)

Besides, I want to keep in touch with all of you guys – my faithful, but few, readers. Most of you I have never met in real space, but through your blogs your writings make me want to know you and worry about you and be your friends and learn from you. You’ve exposed me to so many different experiences and viewpoints, I feel so lucky to have stumbled into your lives . . .

And if one day you decide to give up the blog, just know that I will always be eternally grateful for your sharing your life with us all . . .

All is Calm, All is Bright

Mr. Random is home sick today. He came into my office around 3:45 yesterday afternoon and almost passed out on top of my desk, admitting that he didn’t feel well and that he needed me to drive him home. There are very few times that I’ve seen him that pale and drawn, and he rarely gets very sick, so I was beside myself with worry. When I told my boss I was leaving, she told me that I should go home too (one of the perks of having your husband work there – everyone understands when one has to leave for the other . . .)

I drove home and he promptly fell onto our bed. I had to coax him into taking off his clothes and taking some medicine – his voice sounded horrible and his coughs were so guttural. He had a quite a fever going, so I opened our bedroom window wide. Mr. Random fell right to sleep and slept for a good 3 hours. During that quiet time, I thought it was a good time to pull out the Christmas wreath to put on our door and find the Christmas lights to put on the tree. I didn’t really feel all that eager to do much more decorating, since I was rather exhausted from the day myself. When Mr. Random finally woke up, I made him some homemade pasta and bean soup for dinner, along with many, many cups of Earl Grey tea.

There are days I feel that I have fully satisfied the nurturing gene inside of me, and yesterday was one of them. For once I felt as if the hustle and bustle was stripped down, if only for a few hours, and there was time to be at peace and let the inner Martha Stewart come out.

I do wish it didn’t take someone being sick, or having to be on vacation for a week, to get to that place inside where I feel comfortable enough to be wife-y/motherly. Each day is always so jam packed with things to do, and Mr. Random hardly ever sits still himself (which is part of the reason he got so sick), that the mood never presents itself when I get home at night or on the weekends.

I think a goal for the new year is that I try to carve out a little more of my life so that I can have these moments a little more often, and not wait until an outside event forces me to do so . . .

I Wonder as I Wander Out Under the Sky . . .

I had my first performance review on Thursday with my new-ish boss. It was a rather glowing review – she’d like to see me do a bit more speaking and presenting and doing a lot less “support-role” type stuff . . .

All in all, she was rather pleased with me, and it was more than I could have asked for. No raises forthcoming though, since the Random Non-profit is not having a stellar financial year, but I am going to get a bit more vacation time next year.

So, why was I so despondent afterwards?

Well, I didn’t find out that I was having my evaluation until about 2 hours beforehand. I had a meeting in between, so I didn’t have much time to think about it and prepare for it mentally. She also asked me a lot of questions about things that I might be interested in and what I might want to do that I wasn’t quite prepared to answer – I was a bit thrown off guard, and I needed time to think through what was being asked of me. And the whole evaluation was rather rushed, since other than the time I was being asked questions, I really didn’t get to have any other input or state my own impressions of things, and have a bit of a dialogue about what’s happened in our department in the past year. I felt like I was being ambushed in a way . . .

So when I came home that night, and actually had time to sit down and think things through, I was not very happy at all with the situation. I came to the realization that I don’t like my job that much at all, and that if I had my druthers I’d find a new job in the new year.

However, several things are holding me back from doing so. One thing is the benefits, which are rather generous for any sort of workplace – for profit or non-profit. If Mr. Random and I decide to try to have a child next year, those benefits will come in terribly handy. Second thing is the flexibility – if I do get pregnant, I would be able to negotiate a very sweet part time arrangement once the child is here. Both Mr. Random’s longevity and my own would help us be able to take off when we needed to, no questions asked, since they know we are committed to getting our jobs done no matter what.

These are not frivolous reasons for staying. I know my own sanity should take priority, but we have many bills to pay, and grad school to deal with, and introducing another unsettling element (in finding a new job, and the adjustments that may need to be made there, along with the loss of flexibility) is not an attractive or wanted option right now. Mr. Random has another year and a half to go in his program. I just need to figure out how to cope with what I have now until then . . .

I have probably talked about this before, but it keeps coming back, and keeps sitting in my head with everything else stuffed up there. Please forgive me if it is tedious to listen to again . . .

So many things to think about over the Christmas break . . .

Do You Hear What I Hear . . .

Say hello to Gertrude.

She is the “new” camera I bought on Sunday at a flea market. She was the object of my drooling last week and, as it turned out that she was available for an incredibly cheap price, I snatched her up as quick as I could.

She is a Kodak Duaflex IV, vintage 1950’s. She takes 620 film, which is slightly smaller than 120 film and a bit more expensive. However, the film is still being made, which means that I will still be able to use her to take pictures, but not very often.

Her lenses are in fantastic condition – I just need to take some lens cleaner and a cotton-tip and do some detailing work to clean it up a bit. The really cool part is the viewfinder on the top of the camera, which you can’t see because the little hatch is down.

Even if I don’t use her she is still a great find, and I will gladly display her – she has such a great old-time vibe about her. I love old, film cameras . . . maybe sometime soon, I’ll get a brownie and a pinhole to complete the collection . . .

In other news, Mr. Random is all freaked out about his final assignments for class that are due on Saturday. We have some other stuff going on at the Random Non-Profit that is adding to his workload, and which is not helping his stress at all. I’m doing what I can, being as much moral support as I can be, but also staying out of the way as he needs to get stuff done. I have plenty of my own work to occupy me, so I just stress out in my own little corner . . .

Happy news! Mr. Random and I finally did get tickets to a concert at the National Cathedral this weekend, and I am extremely excited. I can’t wait to hear the acoustics in that building . . .

Major boos to the Washington, DC radio market! The much beloved WGMS classical radio station is going off the air soon, despite that fact that it was a very highly rated station (which is rare). Mr. Random and I actually listen to that station both before going to bed and getting up in the morning, and I listen quite a bit at work. I’m fairly ticked off that a quality station is getting the boot so that they can put on more sports talk and ‘Skins games. It sucks that there is nothing we can do about it – and it annoys me that we are always told to go on the internet or get satellite radio. First off, I don’t want to sit in front of the computer, or have the computer on, all freaking day. Second, I don’t want to have to cough up more bucks just to listen to the radio. . .

Yes, I know . . . I’m a total anachronism. I love old cameras and books and print newspapers and black and white films and classical music. I always hoped to share some of these things with my future children, the way my family shared them with me.

I remember being a little girl in Philly and on Sunday afternoons my parents listened to a radio station that played Big Band music and old standards most of the day. My parents were way into the Disco and the R&B and the Top 40, but they also exposed my sister and I to other music like that through the radio, since we couldn’t afford to go to any concerts and stuff. (We also watched a lot of Lawrence Welk and Hee Haw – yes, we were weird kids . . .) I was exposed to classical music through being in choir and concert band and school field trips (oh, and Bugs Bunny cartoons . . .), and then finding music on the radio expanded my knowledge a bit more.

Yes, I know you can find all of this stuff on the computer now – but it’s not the same. Everything is so fragmented now, so “you have to pay extra” to get something different or hunt through a bunch of stuff to find what you like. I know things were never simple, but they just seem to be made so much harder now . . .

. . . wait . . . I’m not saying this right . . . what am I saying? It’s hard for me to say what’s in my heart sometimes . . .

Yes, there are more choices out there. Yes, you can find whatever kind of music you want now, all you have to do is search for it on the internet. But you have to know what you are looking for first . . . and sometimes, you don’t know what that is . . .

Wait. That doesn’t make sense either. What am I trying to say? . . .

Maybe I’m just raging against the dying of the light. Maybe I feel like a lot of things that have given me comfort are being taken away, or changing too quickly for me to deal with. So much is happening – so much change in our own lifetimes – I just want some things to stay constant, that I can count on to be there tomorrow, next week, next year . . .

It’s more than just some stupid radio station . . . I think it just makes me more aware that I am getting older, and time will not stop for me. That I will become one of those old people railing about the loss of traditions, of those things that they enjoyed and clung to in the prime of their lives. A new generation is here who totally doesn’t care – the future is cool and bright and now . . .

I care. And I guess I am being left behind too . . .