Opening Unlocked Doors

One goal I have for this year is to post more. In order to do that, I have to get less hung up on writing full-fledged posts and, as often as I can, do more sharing of the random detritus that runs through my head. Thus the Allison Krauss song - which is still running through my head. Help! I need something to replace it!

My new favorite blog: Serious Eats – www.seriouseats.com . It’s torture when you are hungry, but has a multitude of great ideas and information. For example, I now know not to waste my money on a *$ Tea Latte. I’ve already slowly weaned myself off of their Chai, so this should be fairly simple. Currently, I stick to the peppermint teas. What? Yes, I know that I’m basically paying for hot water and two tea bags, which I can easily do cheaper and more efficiently for myself at home. But sometimes I’m out and about and want a warm liquid, but I don’t want any caffeine or sugar. Ta da! Also, scroll down the front of the web page for recipes for homemade Girl Scout Cookies. Yum!

On Saturday, J and I went to see Twelfth Night, maintaining our two year old streak of seeing every major production of a Shakespeare play rolling into the new year. Yay! We watched a movie version of this play a couple of years ago, featuring Ben Kingsley as Feste and (I think) Nigel Hawthorne as Malvolio. The production on Saturday was SO much better. I was able to understand intricacies of the plot more and thoroughly enjoyed the acting throughout. We now have been to enough of these plays that we can recognize the actors from other productions. We can knowledgeably compare the merits and the failings of different productions. Our sophisticated theatergoing continues to get more sophisticated!

Did I mention that I’m not on my church’s Pastoral Search Committee anymore? Oh, yes. I dumped that activity a couple of months ago. Luckily, it was right before the Committee started meeting regularly and decisions were still being made about who else would be on the committee and who would chair it. I had delusions of being the Chair, but at this point I was in the middle of papers and exams and teaching and other draining, busy tasks, so I wised up and said, “NO. I cannot handle ONE more thing!” Of course, I felt horrible about resigning, even though those involved understood. Now, I am so relieved to not have another slate of meetings on my plate for the next 6 months.

There’s some lingering drama about whether I’ll be able to afford to take another class this semester. Don’t classes start today? Yes. Didn’t I already buy the book for my Social Psychology class? Yes. I am hoping upon hope something works out . . . which probably means it won’t, but I have to hope.

What else? I had a very lovely holiday. It was odd because Mr. Random went out to California to visit his family, but I remained alone in the DC area. I was much too worn out to want to spend two weeks visiting in-laws – my brain was simply fried and I just wished to revel in peace and quiet for a while. (Oh, by the way, Random Cat is much slimmer now than when she started on the “cat-kins” diet. However, she now acts as if she is starving all of the time and will take any opportunity to steal food off of your plate or out of your hand.) I did get to spend a lot of time with my own family, since both of my sisters were home for the holidays. It was nice to just have the Maiden Name girls together for a while.

Activities are slowly starting to ramp up again. I miss the quiet and self-directed-ness of the holiday break. Now it’s back to school and teaching and work and figuring out what the heck I’m supposed to be doing in this world . . .

Just so you know, I got an “A-“ in my Money and Banking Econ class. I worked my fanny off, so I feel I truly earned that grade. I’m rather disappointed that class is over. I thoroughly enjoyed both the professor and the topic. I have to figure out how to do incorporate more of those subjects into my current state of being so I don’t lose the knowledge I gained . . .

To end for today:

On Saturday, my friend J told me a story - the kind of story that comes up when you’re taking about random stuff and usually contains some larger, obvious truth that when you hear it you think, “I need to remember that!” I am hoping I get the story correct – I think I have most of it.

Some time ago, J had watched a show where there was a hypnotist. One of the things the hypnotist did was hypnotize a guy who was led into a dressing room at the store. The whole thing was filmed. The hypnotists told the guy that the door to the dressing room would be locked and that he wouldn’t be able to get out. Now, in reality, the door was NOT locked at all, but the man THOUGHT it was. The camera filmed the guy trying to get out of the dressing room and thinking that he was locked in, just working himself into a frenzy trying to get out.

How many times do we put “locks” around things that aren’t there? How many times do we have doors open in front of us, but for one reason or another we psych ourselves out of moving forward due to some imagined boundary?

After J told me that, we both thought about opportunities we had in the past that might have turned out differently if we hadn’t thought “Well, I can’t do *that*!” How many opportunities do I have in front of me now that I’m not recognizing?

I believe this is a good question to constantly keep in the forefront of my mind as I move forward though the year. Who knows, it maybe a good question for you guys too?

Waving warmly . . .

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.

Dealing with the Naked Emperor

Yesterday was a particularly craptastic day at the Random Non-Profit – one of those days where things start out poorly and just go downhill. However, a lot of my unhappiness was very self-inflicted, so I can’t really blame the day . . .

I tend to get very intimidated when I am around people who are supposedly experts and have a great deal more knowledge about topics than I do. If I am in a meeting and I hear something or notice something that is not quite right, I have a tendency to keep it to myself and think that I am the only person not getting it. But after the meeting is over and I have time to think about the situation some more, I realize that there was something off and that I should have spoken up and said something . . .

Part of the problem is that when I can tell something is illogical, I can’t quite place my finger on why at that exact moment – I usually have to chew on the proceedings for a while. I mean, I could stand up and say “something is wrong here!” but then when asked what it is, I’d have to say “I’m not sure . . . but there is something off, I swear!” and that just looks stupid. And if there is one thing I try to avoid at all costs, that is looking stupid. There is a saying that goes along the lines of “If you sit there, people may think you are stupid, but if you open your mouth, people will know it’s true.” I just prefer not to open my mouth unless I know exactly what I want to say . . .

This problem is doubly present when there are “elders” or people who I feel are above me in the room. Now, at this point in my life I know that just because you have a bunch a degrees by your name, or that you are a few years older than me, does not necessarily mean that you know what you are talking about at any given time (because heaven knows I’ve met lots of people who certainly don’t) but I guess it was always ingrained in me to be deferential to others. Plus, I generally have low self-esteem about my own talents so I tend to not want to contradict what people say in public . . .

It is so hard in an office environment to know what to say and what not to say, to know who might get offended and who might actually be glad you pointed out that something was wrong . . .

The really irksome thing about all of this is that I was talking to a co-worker after one of the meetings yesterday about something I thought had been handled incorrectly and that person had thought something similar, but she didn’t say anything either. What is up with us? Somebody needs be able to step up and say the emperor has no clothes . . .

I still have so much to learn . . . big sigh . . .