I have always had issues with labels. Not so much the labels themselves, but trying to figure out exactly where I "fit" in regards to those labels. I am not sure why I was even pondering this in the first place but I came to the conclusion that one could tell his or her life's story through the different labels they have worn through the years. It makes no difference if the labels are self-imposed, brought about by teasing from so called "peers", or simply the way you are viewed by the world at large.
Take me, for example. From childhood to present day I have been the pretty girl, the good girl, the shy kid, the weirdo, the dork, the fat chick, the drama geek, the misfit, the know-it-all, the wife, the divorce', the toker, the wife (again), the mom and lately the daydreamer.
The problem with all of these perfect, cookie cutter ways of describing someone is they never give you the full story. You hear any of those labels and you form a picture of me and what was going on in my life at the time. Sadly, most of the time the very thing that is supposed to convey who you are to the rest of the world often belies the truth of what is actually happening within that person.
As a child I remember countless shopping trips with my Mom during which strangers would stop us to comment on how beautiful they thought I was, quickly following with "what a good girl" I must be. Even then I found the link between my supposed behavior with my appearance very odd and uncomfortable. So many adults said the same thing, I reasoned not that they assumed I was well behaved but that I was supposed to be. No different than any child liking attention I tried to live up to this idealized image. Needless to say trying to attain someone else's view of who you "should" be is ridiculously pointless.
No matter how unreachable the goal of trying to live up to everyones expectations is, it is a theme that has defined my life. Forever trying to be the good student, daughter, wife and mother. Only lately have I come to the realization that it is MY definition of myself that has any relevance at all. Furthermore, it is the only label that I have any control over, what so ever. If ever I wish to change how others see me, I must first change how I see myself...... the big ol' dork singing my head off in the car next to you while dancing like the whitest person on earth.
until next time.....
be kind,
me
----------------
Now playing: Sia Furler - Breathe Me
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Sticks and Stones
The first time I ever felt ashamed of who I was, or was aware that other people didn't "approve" of me, I was in the first grade. Before this day I was blissfully unaware that others were judging me. I don't even remember who started the snickering, but it spread rapidly through the huddled group of older boys standing in the hallway leading to my classroom. Until one of them pointed directly at me I hadn't realized that the laughter was at my expense. I will save you the gory details but just know that from that moment on I was painfully aware of every inch of my body and all of the reasons that chubby little girls should NOT wear elastic waisted, corduroy pants. The good news is the class picture was taken that day, so I will always have a little memento of exactly how I looked that day..... yippee...
The rest of elementary school, save several vivid memories (accidentally squirting my fifth grade teacher in the face with ketchup while stomping packets of the stuff on the playground, to name one) pretty much all blends together into one big awkward jumble. Middle school was no day at the beach, either. By the time I was in eighth grade the boys would tell me one of their friends liked me and wanted me to ask him out, specifically so the little jackass could tell me no, in front of all his buddies no less, all the while laughing as loudly as possible to drive home how insane I must be to think that he would EVER consider holding hands with someone like me. I would love to tell you I only fell for that once but I'd be lying. Of course, I get no satisfaction in the fact that the little schmuck was shipped off to military school the next year...... OK, maybe I do a little.
High School....... it's never easy. It doesn't matter if you were the quarterback, the class clown, the Prom Queen, or...I don't know....me (the short, chunky, drama geek), those four years tend to be quite a roller coaster. Add an insatiable need for approval and acceptance to normal teenage angst and you get a fairly miserable high school experience.
Having finally reached adulthood, I thought I had moved past much of the self-consciousness of my adolescence. It took a very long time, but I found I was finally able to walk past a group of teenagers without my stomach churning for fear of name calling. I had even begun to entertain the notion that, to some, I might even be considered pretty. For the very first time in my life I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. It's funny how little it can take to turn your opinion, of how far you think you have come, upside down.
A short while back I received an instant message from someone I had never met. There was no "hello", or any other greeting for that matter. Only a short, to the point description of just how undesirable I was in his eyes. At first I shrugged it off, chalking the whole thing up to him being an immature asshole (an opinion I still hold, by the way). But, the more I thought of it the more it bothered me. The more it bothered me, the more pissed I got at myself for letting him get to me in the first place. Shortly thereafter I decided not to dignify his stupidity with any more of my time, as I am sure he hadn't given his actions towards me a second thought. Try as I might, I wasn't able to follow through with that goal.
As I thought back I was blown away at just how much our actions affect others. Not only can the smallest thing you do or say to someone today stay with them for years(my fifth grade teacher says she can't see ketchup packets without wincing to this day), but it can also have an impact on the way that person then treats someone else. For visualizations sake, it's like dominoes. One tiny bump to the first tile sets off an incredible chain reaction. Whatever happened to piss off the guy that cut me off in traffic yesterday could have been set in motion by someone in Prague for all we know. It made it's way across the ocean, to him, then me and now you.
I guess the point to all of this is to say, you are not living if you are living for the betterment of no one but yourself. Everyone you meet is going to have something about them that gets on your nerves, that you don't like or that you downright detest. The trick is remembering that there are things about you that others find loathsome as well. Keeping that in mind makes it a little easier to smile and say it's not a problem when your server brings your dinner to you loaded with the onions that you asked to be removed in the first place. Who knows, just that one gracious gesture could save the servers job that had been threatened by just ONE more screw up, thus keeping him from throwing in the towel on living overseas and telling his girlfriend that he's moving home, causing her to go in to her job as a flight attendant quite upset and distracted which was the reason for her spilling an entire soda in a passengers lap, who was on his way to a job interview to which he was late for after having to mop soda from his crotch in an airport bathroom, causing him to drive like a maniac to try and make up time and subsequently nearly running me off the road.
My friends in Blogville, if you would grant me one favor I would ask it to be this - be kind, be very kind, be ridiculously kind. Teach your children to be kind (especially to chubby little girls wearing corduroy or dejected drama geeks). For granting me this, I will thank you in advance for making my drive home just a little nicer. :-)
Until next time.....
and as always - be kind,
me
The rest of elementary school, save several vivid memories (accidentally squirting my fifth grade teacher in the face with ketchup while stomping packets of the stuff on the playground, to name one) pretty much all blends together into one big awkward jumble. Middle school was no day at the beach, either. By the time I was in eighth grade the boys would tell me one of their friends liked me and wanted me to ask him out, specifically so the little jackass could tell me no, in front of all his buddies no less, all the while laughing as loudly as possible to drive home how insane I must be to think that he would EVER consider holding hands with someone like me. I would love to tell you I only fell for that once but I'd be lying. Of course, I get no satisfaction in the fact that the little schmuck was shipped off to military school the next year...... OK, maybe I do a little.
High School....... it's never easy. It doesn't matter if you were the quarterback, the class clown, the Prom Queen, or...I don't know....me (the short, chunky, drama geek), those four years tend to be quite a roller coaster. Add an insatiable need for approval and acceptance to normal teenage angst and you get a fairly miserable high school experience.
Having finally reached adulthood, I thought I had moved past much of the self-consciousness of my adolescence. It took a very long time, but I found I was finally able to walk past a group of teenagers without my stomach churning for fear of name calling. I had even begun to entertain the notion that, to some, I might even be considered pretty. For the very first time in my life I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. It's funny how little it can take to turn your opinion, of how far you think you have come, upside down.
A short while back I received an instant message from someone I had never met. There was no "hello", or any other greeting for that matter. Only a short, to the point description of just how undesirable I was in his eyes. At first I shrugged it off, chalking the whole thing up to him being an immature asshole (an opinion I still hold, by the way). But, the more I thought of it the more it bothered me. The more it bothered me, the more pissed I got at myself for letting him get to me in the first place. Shortly thereafter I decided not to dignify his stupidity with any more of my time, as I am sure he hadn't given his actions towards me a second thought. Try as I might, I wasn't able to follow through with that goal.
As I thought back I was blown away at just how much our actions affect others. Not only can the smallest thing you do or say to someone today stay with them for years(my fifth grade teacher says she can't see ketchup packets without wincing to this day), but it can also have an impact on the way that person then treats someone else. For visualizations sake, it's like dominoes. One tiny bump to the first tile sets off an incredible chain reaction. Whatever happened to piss off the guy that cut me off in traffic yesterday could have been set in motion by someone in Prague for all we know. It made it's way across the ocean, to him, then me and now you.
I guess the point to all of this is to say, you are not living if you are living for the betterment of no one but yourself. Everyone you meet is going to have something about them that gets on your nerves, that you don't like or that you downright detest. The trick is remembering that there are things about you that others find loathsome as well. Keeping that in mind makes it a little easier to smile and say it's not a problem when your server brings your dinner to you loaded with the onions that you asked to be removed in the first place. Who knows, just that one gracious gesture could save the servers job that had been threatened by just ONE more screw up, thus keeping him from throwing in the towel on living overseas and telling his girlfriend that he's moving home, causing her to go in to her job as a flight attendant quite upset and distracted which was the reason for her spilling an entire soda in a passengers lap, who was on his way to a job interview to which he was late for after having to mop soda from his crotch in an airport bathroom, causing him to drive like a maniac to try and make up time and subsequently nearly running me off the road.
My friends in Blogville, if you would grant me one favor I would ask it to be this - be kind, be very kind, be ridiculously kind. Teach your children to be kind (especially to chubby little girls wearing corduroy or dejected drama geeks). For granting me this, I will thank you in advance for making my drive home just a little nicer. :-)
Until next time.....
and as always - be kind,
me
Friday, September 7, 2007
The Wheels on the Bus Go Round & Round......
Suffice it to say, there are very few times in life you may find yourself in the type of situation that would generally only occur in the movies. One of those "I can't believe this is really happening" moments. Had this not happened to me I probably would not have believed it, but it did. I, by no means, want this post to feed into any stereotyping. I wholeheartedly believe the most saintly act that anyone could commit would be kindness. However, stereotyping does exist and in some instances can be ridiculously hilarious - ESPECIALLY if you find yourself in the situation that I did, on my wedding day, no less. After all, in the name of stereotyping honesty, I am a white chick, from the south, who went to Vegas to get married while already three months pregnant...... but I digress.
As some of you know, my sister is a photographer. So, when the day came that I was to wed of course she was my shutterbug of choice. The wedding wasn't until nine o'clock that night, partly because it's too fucking hot during the day in Nevada and partly so that my sister could snap some photos during that perfect time of day that hovers in between early evening and sunset.
My sister and I scoured the city looking for photo ops. In case you are wondering, there are about a million breathtaking spots screaming to be used. Our challenge was to find one that would make an interesting backdrop but kept the fact that it was in Vegas a bit of a secret. Honestly, when someone looks at your wedding portrait you don't want the first thing out of their mouths to be "Oh cool! I've been to The Bellagio too!". This was a little more difficult than we had anticipated. We drove around for what seemed like hours. It was probably more like 45 minutes or so, but when you have a veil stuck to your head and three miles of wedding dress shoved up your ass, trust me the time moves a little slower.
We ended up at one of the hotels rear entrances. It doesn't sound all that great, but it was beautiful and the light was PERFECT!! Best of all there were no neon lights nor Elvis sightings, not that there's anything wrong with either of those..... So, we set up for the shoot. I stood on the sidewalk in full wedding regalia as I waited for her to get things in order. Those "things" included tripods, several different cameras, various lenses and even those big, hand held, light reflecting thing-er-ma-bobs.
I am not into the posed, highly artificial, "traditional" genre of photography. That being said, my sister had me all over the place getting tons of shots and to our surprise no one had even so much as walked though this area the whole time we had been there. Strange, we thought, but appreciative of the privacy we carried on. That is, until a group of around 100 people on a bus tour showed up in what looked like a motorcoach on steroids. Upon the arrival of said bustrocity (yep, I made it up) we stopped the shoot and kindly stepped aside.
No sooner than the bus came to a stop, there were smiling faces in damn near every window facing us. There were ooooh's and aaahhhh's being thrown all over the place and a steadily building, giddy chatter among the passengers. Through one of the open windows my sister and I heard a someone start speaking over some type of in-bus PA system, giving what we assumed were instructions on when to meet back at buszilla (yep, did it again, I am the biggest dork on the planet). Well, instructions is what we figured were being verbalized, since neither of us spoke Japanese the bus voice could have been giving pointers on how to reach Nirvana and we would have been none the wiser. We did begin to notice something as the bus voice carried on, though. Those faces that were gleefully peeking out the windows had risen in number and there were quite a few people now beginning to point and talk about something they had spotted and were terribly excited to have found. My sister and I turned and looked behind us, in what we thought was the direction they were gesturing towards. For the life of us, we couldn't see ANYTHING that would warrant that type of reaction.
It turns out that we didn't have to wait long to find out just what could have been so very exciting. The bus voice seemed to be done telling everyone how to beat video poker, or whatever it was he was saying, as the PA system made that horrible static filled "CLICK" as the mic was turned off. I swear, the only things missing from the opening of buszilla's doors were the theme of " 2001: A Space Odyssey" playing, and everyone moving in slow motion...... which, come to think of it, would have been pretty cool. (that's right, not only am I the worlds biggest dork, I am in fact, a total geek..... and you are now collectively feeling sorry for the guy I married that day, aren't you?? I can tell, no biggie. hehe)
The people that were aboard that bus should give classes on how to exit any mode of travel in a safe and TIMELY manner, because I have never seen it done quite so efficiently. The doors swung open and everyone hastily made their way towards the object of their continued interest, but not before strapping their cameras around their necks and taking all sorts of pictures of, well, of damn near everything around them. Maybe it was the glare of way too many camera flashes or the fact that I was still trying to figure out what these people were seeing that I wasn't, but I didn't notice that a small group of people started to form around me. I turned around one last time to try and get a glimpse of this mystery thing. I still had no clue.
Upon turning back around I was nearly nose to nose with the most excited of the group. Nearly falling on my ass from trying to simultaneously back up and say hello, I realize that nearly everyone on the bus is standing, staring straight at me. My sister, by this point, had inched away from me so that she was outside of this semi-circle of temporary fanaticism.
From that point on there were lots of handshakes, some hugs and pictures with just about everybody on the bus, save the voice of buszilla. To this day I have no idea who they thought I was or why they were so very trilled to meet me. As the last of my adoring fans fulfilled their wishes for pictures and hugs, they merged into a group again and made their way inside the hotel, camera flashes and shutter clicks-o-plenty. It was probably the most surreal moment in my life. I look over to find my little sister laughing her ass off and telling me "Apparently, you're huge in Japan." hehe Yep, apparently.
Until next time.....
be kind,
me
As some of you know, my sister is a photographer. So, when the day came that I was to wed of course she was my shutterbug of choice. The wedding wasn't until nine o'clock that night, partly because it's too fucking hot during the day in Nevada and partly so that my sister could snap some photos during that perfect time of day that hovers in between early evening and sunset.
My sister and I scoured the city looking for photo ops. In case you are wondering, there are about a million breathtaking spots screaming to be used. Our challenge was to find one that would make an interesting backdrop but kept the fact that it was in Vegas a bit of a secret. Honestly, when someone looks at your wedding portrait you don't want the first thing out of their mouths to be "Oh cool! I've been to The Bellagio too!". This was a little more difficult than we had anticipated. We drove around for what seemed like hours. It was probably more like 45 minutes or so, but when you have a veil stuck to your head and three miles of wedding dress shoved up your ass, trust me the time moves a little slower.
We ended up at one of the hotels rear entrances. It doesn't sound all that great, but it was beautiful and the light was PERFECT!! Best of all there were no neon lights nor Elvis sightings, not that there's anything wrong with either of those..... So, we set up for the shoot. I stood on the sidewalk in full wedding regalia as I waited for her to get things in order. Those "things" included tripods, several different cameras, various lenses and even those big, hand held, light reflecting thing-er-ma-bobs.
I am not into the posed, highly artificial, "traditional" genre of photography. That being said, my sister had me all over the place getting tons of shots and to our surprise no one had even so much as walked though this area the whole time we had been there. Strange, we thought, but appreciative of the privacy we carried on. That is, until a group of around 100 people on a bus tour showed up in what looked like a motorcoach on steroids. Upon the arrival of said bustrocity (yep, I made it up) we stopped the shoot and kindly stepped aside.
No sooner than the bus came to a stop, there were smiling faces in damn near every window facing us. There were ooooh's and aaahhhh's being thrown all over the place and a steadily building, giddy chatter among the passengers. Through one of the open windows my sister and I heard a someone start speaking over some type of in-bus PA system, giving what we assumed were instructions on when to meet back at buszilla (yep, did it again, I am the biggest dork on the planet). Well, instructions is what we figured were being verbalized, since neither of us spoke Japanese the bus voice could have been giving pointers on how to reach Nirvana and we would have been none the wiser. We did begin to notice something as the bus voice carried on, though. Those faces that were gleefully peeking out the windows had risen in number and there were quite a few people now beginning to point and talk about something they had spotted and were terribly excited to have found. My sister and I turned and looked behind us, in what we thought was the direction they were gesturing towards. For the life of us, we couldn't see ANYTHING that would warrant that type of reaction.
It turns out that we didn't have to wait long to find out just what could have been so very exciting. The bus voice seemed to be done telling everyone how to beat video poker, or whatever it was he was saying, as the PA system made that horrible static filled "CLICK" as the mic was turned off. I swear, the only things missing from the opening of buszilla's doors were the theme of " 2001: A Space Odyssey" playing, and everyone moving in slow motion...... which, come to think of it, would have been pretty cool. (that's right, not only am I the worlds biggest dork, I am in fact, a total geek..... and you are now collectively feeling sorry for the guy I married that day, aren't you?? I can tell, no biggie. hehe)
The people that were aboard that bus should give classes on how to exit any mode of travel in a safe and TIMELY manner, because I have never seen it done quite so efficiently. The doors swung open and everyone hastily made their way towards the object of their continued interest, but not before strapping their cameras around their necks and taking all sorts of pictures of, well, of damn near everything around them. Maybe it was the glare of way too many camera flashes or the fact that I was still trying to figure out what these people were seeing that I wasn't, but I didn't notice that a small group of people started to form around me. I turned around one last time to try and get a glimpse of this mystery thing. I still had no clue.
Upon turning back around I was nearly nose to nose with the most excited of the group. Nearly falling on my ass from trying to simultaneously back up and say hello, I realize that nearly everyone on the bus is standing, staring straight at me. My sister, by this point, had inched away from me so that she was outside of this semi-circle of temporary fanaticism.
From that point on there were lots of handshakes, some hugs and pictures with just about everybody on the bus, save the voice of buszilla. To this day I have no idea who they thought I was or why they were so very trilled to meet me. As the last of my adoring fans fulfilled their wishes for pictures and hugs, they merged into a group again and made their way inside the hotel, camera flashes and shutter clicks-o-plenty. It was probably the most surreal moment in my life. I look over to find my little sister laughing her ass off and telling me "Apparently, you're huge in Japan." hehe Yep, apparently.
Until next time.....
be kind,
me
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Literary Yoga
As you are aware, I have not walked the streets of Blogville in quite some time. I
have an idea (what I think to be a great idea) for a short story (maybe something
longer) but I just can NOT seem to get the words to travel the route from brain to fingers to keyboard. In an attempt to remedy this I researched writing exercises, which, thanks to ADD, brought about lots of other topics to research and a few epiphanies. All those to be shared in a later post. The task at hand is to engorge my long dormant literary muscles with fresh creative blood.
The exercised was described as follows....
"Write a scene that involves two people in a car on their way to a family Christmas party."
So, here it goes..... hope I warmed up enough first, cramps are a bitch.....
I will post the scene when I am able to wrap it up.
be kind,
me
have an idea (what I think to be a great idea) for a short story (maybe something
longer) but I just can NOT seem to get the words to travel the route from brain to fingers to keyboard. In an attempt to remedy this I researched writing exercises, which, thanks to ADD, brought about lots of other topics to research and a few epiphanies. All those to be shared in a later post. The task at hand is to engorge my long dormant literary muscles with fresh creative blood.
The exercised was described as follows....
"Write a scene that involves two people in a car on their way to a family Christmas party."
So, here it goes..... hope I warmed up enough first, cramps are a bitch.....
I will post the scene when I am able to wrap it up.
be kind,
me
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