I'm finding out that the great thing about having a blog and followers, is that it forces a girl to get up off her duff and actually do something, particularly if your blog is about changing your life/bad attitude for the better. I have the tendency to sit around, worrying and fretting about things and not taking action. I end up even more discouraged than I was at the start. But having a blog and lovely followers means that people can call me on my sitting-and-whining b.s.
Late Tuesday afternoon, my mom and I were out shopping and she badgered me and badgered me to try on some dress pants at the store where we were. I planted my feet and grumbled and made faces like a 6-year old but Mum prevailed and before I knew it, I was walking into the fitting room. Maybe I should have actually thrown myself upon the floor, kicking and screaming to avoid this situation. Let me tell you, after trying on one pair of trousers, I was inches away from throwing a fit. Now, part of my getting a life has to do with the necessity of dropping some weight. I can't say that my weight is to blame for 100% of my dissatisfaction but I'd say it's good for about, ohhhhh, 70-75% of it. Lots of utter crap comes along with being chunky. It's difficult, it's discouraging, it produces and perpetuates the whole guilt-shame-fear roller coaster (actually, it can better be described with the slang term of "vomit comet" - if you'll excuse the dreadful picture I just placed in your heads). Being chunky complicates a lot of things in a lot of ways. One complication is trying on/buying clothes. The selection in plus-size departments sucks. The sizing is not consistent (the last thing a size 20W girl needs is to have to go up several sizes just to get a good fit). Clothing is either deadly plain or garish (looks like somebody might have had a seat on an actual vomit comet...sorry, sorry), or bimbo-esque or elderly-looking. It sucks! But I digress. Badly. Anyhoo, I got into my cubicle with a pair of black dress trousers, in my size. I couldn't even get them over the tops of my thighs. So, I had to throw my jeans and shoes back on and go searching for a larger pair. I went a size up. My heart dropped into my stomach. I could barely shoe-horn my butt into this 2nd pair, and there was no way on the Good Lord's verdant earth that I was going to be able to button and zip the damn things. To make matters worse, they had such a low flippin' rise that in order to wear them out in public, a girl would have to have a gosh-darn bikini wax first. I'd like to know what nutjob would design a pair of plus-size trousers to hit a girl right at the worst part of her body: her lower abs. I'm not saying I need a waistband that goes up to my bosom, but this just was not happening. All the pants I tried were like that. Talk about demoralizing.
So, here's where the getting up off my duff part begins. I walked out of that fitting room, thoroughly disgusted and fully in-touch with my inner Linda Blair. Once the head-spinning and levitating were over I decided that something is going to be done about this, damn it! Tuesday evening, I had my last soda (for some time) and my last piece of chocolate (for the next week). Six years ago, I swore off soda as well as high fructose corn syrup, aspertame, sucralose and other fake sweeteners. I eased up on the white bread/pasta/instant rice, too. I restricted myself to a maximum of 2 sweet treats per week and I exercised. In one week my appetite became smaller. In 10 days I'd lost 7lbs and in three months I'd lost 25lbs. and 2 or 3 sizes. Well, it's going to happen again, only this time I'm not dropping the lbs and sizes, only to let them return. It's going and it's going to stay gone, just like a relative who owes you money. I'm off the soda and I've begun ingesting more veggies and by Saturday morning (because I'm really, really dreading this next part and I need a little time to gird my loins, so to speak) I will begin exercising. In the past, I had great success with walking and weight training. This time, I'm going to do T-Tapp. If you go to www.ttapp.com you can read what it's all about - I'd explain it myself, only I wouldn't do it justice. I flirted with this regime on and off since last August and saw very fast results. I'm not going to say it's easy because it most certainly is not, but it's completely worth the blood, sweat, tears and initial screams of anguish. Tuesday's little kerfuffle should not have happened. Trying and buying clothes should be fun and a joy, not a source of misery. I'm sick of not having any damn fun or anything cute to wear. I'm sick of being invisible yet afraid to be seen. I'm sick of never feeling or looking feminine. I'm utterly through with the damn limitations and I'm over the damn whining.
So, sometime on Saturday, look for a progress report.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
This chick qualifies as my Hero of the Week.
Man, does this lady have guts. Posting her phone number might have been a bit of a risk but I admire her guts and attitude. I hope she wins the lottery and marries the man of her dreams if not this guy. She deserves it!.http://sports.yahoo.com/mlb/blog/big_league_stew/post/TMI-Fan-8217-s-plan-to-propose-to-Ryan-Braun-b?urn=mlb-wp4407
The Great Escape/Lily's Bucket List, Part I
It's late, and I'm chewing over a number of things so this is probably going to be a rather disorganized post. Thanks for bearing with me!
Another way I knew I needed to get a life was when I found myself constantly thinking along the following lines: "I want to wake up tomorrow morning to find myself an ideal beauty(e.g. perfect body, beautiful face, no flaws from head-to-toe, slim, at my ideal weight, etc.), filthy rich and extremely well-situated in life (e.g. done with college, working a darn good job, more independent, bigger circle of friends; things figured out). When I wake to find myself like this, the first thing I'm going to do is buy a great new car and immediately move to Minneapolis-St. Paul. Once there, I'll get a great townhouse/condo/house, fantastic furniture and an amazing wardrobe and I'll throw myself into city life and everything will be perfect." I thought this way every damn day. I still think it. I keep telling my favorite cousin that if only I had a magic wand, I would wave it and make her life and mine 1000% better. We'd both be multi-billionaire-supermodel-Rhodes Scholars. Attractive male celebrities from Hollywood, royalty and major league sports teams would be on their knees at our Louboutin-clad feet. We'd always be dripping in diamonds and always in evening gowns.
The magic wand thing ain't gonna happen. Neither is the waking up to a spontaneous and miraculous transformation.
I still want to move to the Twin Cities. Right now. I lived in Minnesota for three years as a kid, way, way, way up north. Like, 90 miles from the Canadian border. 3 hours south of Winnipeg (fantastic city, btw). 25 miles from North Dakota. We were so far north that snow in October wasn't uncommon. In those 3 years I'd never been to Minneapolis-St. Paul. It wasn't til I was almost 17 that I got to go. I fell in love on the spot. There's so much to do and see. People are nice. It's a hotbed of Hockey, too, which really floats my boat. Up until I went to visit a childhood friend last May I never even considered Minnesota as a place I'd like to live again. But last year's trip coincided with me being fed up and stressed-out and incredibly bitchy with PMS, and wanting to beat the hell out of everyone around me. It was time to get away. On Memorial Day, a bunch of us piled in my friend's conveyance and went to Mall of America, then dined at a kick-ass Asian restaurant in my brother's old neighborhood in St. Paul. Let me tell you, I was loathe to leave. On the way back to Wisconsin I had a little talk with St. Therese (she's HUGE in my book - more on her in future posts) and said of how badly I wanted to live there. Preferably with C.G. as my significant other (sorry for the mention).
These days, I've been envisioning myself in a new car, the radio blasting, C.G. nowhere in sight, and me speeding through the night, on my way to the Twin Cities. I've been really disgusted with several relatives from the snobby side of the family and disgusted with myself for sitting on my duff so long, mooning over a guy who just might be a jerk. The relatives I mentioned are busy either telling everyone how classy and elegant and brilliant and perfect they are, and how stupid/classless/inelegant/vulgar the rest of the world is(namely my family and me), or they're tossing off medical and/or psychiatric diagnoses. One of my loudmouthed cousins swore up and down that I was manic-depressive, just because I was having a lousy few days and in a less-than-chipper mood. This got back to a dear family friend who happens to be a shrink and he was appalled. He said that there's no way in hell (his exact words) I was manic in any way. Not so long ago, this same cousin declared my father to be senile. If he's senile, then I'm Angelina Jolie. In fact, Dad has way more on the ball than most people I know. I thank my lucky stars this broad and I live 30 miles apart. Unfortunately, I see her almost every week.
Another thing I've been thinking about lately is the idea of moving to the Cities and having a life that my family doesn't know about. I love the idea of my snooty relatives not having a clue what I'm doing, who I'm with, what I do on a daily basis. Just being totally out of reach and beyond their interference. And as for C.G., to heck with him. No standing on my head, no trying to be appealing and failing, no stupid mooning. I love the idea of a private Private Life. I love the idea of mystery.
So, I think one of the first entries on my bucket list would be to finish school/get into a career/move to Minneapolis-St. Paul and start living. But since I believe in the utter necessity of adventure and the idea that there might be something better out there, I'm going to say that the upgrade to the Mpls-St. P fantasy would be to finish school/get in a great place financially/move to Toronto or Montreal. Really be in a world-class, cosmopolitan place. We shall see...
Another way I knew I needed to get a life was when I found myself constantly thinking along the following lines: "I want to wake up tomorrow morning to find myself an ideal beauty(e.g. perfect body, beautiful face, no flaws from head-to-toe, slim, at my ideal weight, etc.), filthy rich and extremely well-situated in life (e.g. done with college, working a darn good job, more independent, bigger circle of friends; things figured out). When I wake to find myself like this, the first thing I'm going to do is buy a great new car and immediately move to Minneapolis-St. Paul. Once there, I'll get a great townhouse/condo/house, fantastic furniture and an amazing wardrobe and I'll throw myself into city life and everything will be perfect." I thought this way every damn day. I still think it. I keep telling my favorite cousin that if only I had a magic wand, I would wave it and make her life and mine 1000% better. We'd both be multi-billionaire-supermodel-Rhodes Scholars. Attractive male celebrities from Hollywood, royalty and major league sports teams would be on their knees at our Louboutin-clad feet. We'd always be dripping in diamonds and always in evening gowns.
The magic wand thing ain't gonna happen. Neither is the waking up to a spontaneous and miraculous transformation.
I still want to move to the Twin Cities. Right now. I lived in Minnesota for three years as a kid, way, way, way up north. Like, 90 miles from the Canadian border. 3 hours south of Winnipeg (fantastic city, btw). 25 miles from North Dakota. We were so far north that snow in October wasn't uncommon. In those 3 years I'd never been to Minneapolis-St. Paul. It wasn't til I was almost 17 that I got to go. I fell in love on the spot. There's so much to do and see. People are nice. It's a hotbed of Hockey, too, which really floats my boat. Up until I went to visit a childhood friend last May I never even considered Minnesota as a place I'd like to live again. But last year's trip coincided with me being fed up and stressed-out and incredibly bitchy with PMS, and wanting to beat the hell out of everyone around me. It was time to get away. On Memorial Day, a bunch of us piled in my friend's conveyance and went to Mall of America, then dined at a kick-ass Asian restaurant in my brother's old neighborhood in St. Paul. Let me tell you, I was loathe to leave. On the way back to Wisconsin I had a little talk with St. Therese (she's HUGE in my book - more on her in future posts) and said of how badly I wanted to live there. Preferably with C.G. as my significant other (sorry for the mention).
These days, I've been envisioning myself in a new car, the radio blasting, C.G. nowhere in sight, and me speeding through the night, on my way to the Twin Cities. I've been really disgusted with several relatives from the snobby side of the family and disgusted with myself for sitting on my duff so long, mooning over a guy who just might be a jerk. The relatives I mentioned are busy either telling everyone how classy and elegant and brilliant and perfect they are, and how stupid/classless/inelegant/vulgar the rest of the world is(namely my family and me), or they're tossing off medical and/or psychiatric diagnoses. One of my loudmouthed cousins swore up and down that I was manic-depressive, just because I was having a lousy few days and in a less-than-chipper mood. This got back to a dear family friend who happens to be a shrink and he was appalled. He said that there's no way in hell (his exact words) I was manic in any way. Not so long ago, this same cousin declared my father to be senile. If he's senile, then I'm Angelina Jolie. In fact, Dad has way more on the ball than most people I know. I thank my lucky stars this broad and I live 30 miles apart. Unfortunately, I see her almost every week.
Another thing I've been thinking about lately is the idea of moving to the Cities and having a life that my family doesn't know about. I love the idea of my snooty relatives not having a clue what I'm doing, who I'm with, what I do on a daily basis. Just being totally out of reach and beyond their interference. And as for C.G., to heck with him. No standing on my head, no trying to be appealing and failing, no stupid mooning. I love the idea of a private Private Life. I love the idea of mystery.
So, I think one of the first entries on my bucket list would be to finish school/get into a career/move to Minneapolis-St. Paul and start living. But since I believe in the utter necessity of adventure and the idea that there might be something better out there, I'm going to say that the upgrade to the Mpls-St. P fantasy would be to finish school/get in a great place financially/move to Toronto or Montreal. Really be in a world-class, cosmopolitan place. We shall see...
Friday, April 22, 2011
Blah, boring evening.
I wish I had something exciting and fabulous to post. Instead, all I've done this evening is eat too much pizza, watch the Buffalo-Philadelphia game, do some laundry, and sort of clean off my computer desk a little. That's it. Ooh, I might go to the grocery store a bit later. Real exciting stuff here. The trouble with refusing to stand on my head anymore for people (not just C.G.) means that my friend base is considerably diminished and I pretty much have nobody to hang out with on the weekends, which is the time I feel most loser-ish unless I have something fab to do. Well, this will be good impetus to get off my duff and go meet new people. One of the area museums is gearing up for a new exhibit in a few weeks and as of a few days ago, was looking for volunteers to hang new art up around the joint. If they're still in need of a hand, it might behoove me to get down there and drive a few nails, make a few new acquaintances. I'll have to look into this further.
It's a gloriously rainy, chilly night. The air smells and feels wonderful in spite - or perhaps because of - the chill. All I want to do is get in the car and go for a long, long drive. Unfortunately, gas is up to $3.89/gallon and the hoopty is still in need of repairs. I'd almost be willing to cruise around downtown to see if C.G. is in action but I know that that's a very bad idea. I admit it, I am having C.G. withdrawl. Saying I'm not going to give a damn about him anymore and actually not giving a damn about him anymore are two different things. This is what happens when events conspire to keep me at home, when what I really want is to go out and have some class of an adventure.
Enough complaining. Moaning and whining is not the way to improve matters.
It's a gloriously rainy, chilly night. The air smells and feels wonderful in spite - or perhaps because of - the chill. All I want to do is get in the car and go for a long, long drive. Unfortunately, gas is up to $3.89/gallon and the hoopty is still in need of repairs. I'd almost be willing to cruise around downtown to see if C.G. is in action but I know that that's a very bad idea. I admit it, I am having C.G. withdrawl. Saying I'm not going to give a damn about him anymore and actually not giving a damn about him anymore are two different things. This is what happens when events conspire to keep me at home, when what I really want is to go out and have some class of an adventure.
Enough complaining. Moaning and whining is not the way to improve matters.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Hooked On Phonics, Lily Style
I'm of the opinion that in order to have a fantastic, more rewarding life, you've got to read. Don't they say that libraries are universities for people who cannot attend university? Around Christmastime, one of my Facebook acquaintances wrote a post about how the BBC has a list of the 100 books it thinks that everyone ought to read but figures most people have only read about 6 of them. When I read that post, I decided right then and there, that I would plow my way through that list. I checked off the titles I'd already read and it came to 18 books. Here is the list. The titles I've read have a star next to them:
1 Pride and Prejudice* - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre* - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird* - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty-Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations* - Charles Dickens (I just finished this last Saturday)
11 Little Women* - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca* - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind* - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby* - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion* - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha* - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code* - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables* - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility* - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita* - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Inferno - Dante
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray (I'm currently reading this)
80 Possession* - AS Byatt (awesome, awesome, AWESOME book!!!)
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary* - Gustave Flaubert (one of my favorites)
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web* - E.B. White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince* - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet* - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
I must confess that I'm hugely enjoying this process. In the past, I'd always shied away from English Literature, particularly Charles Dickens, with the excuse that it was much too hard, slow-going and boring. Naturally, I was bored by Great Expectations at the age of 14, due to the thorough evisceration by my 9th grade English teacher. When I picked it up again last week, I was hooked instantly, and couldn't put it down. It doesn't help that we live in a bodice-ripper/tabloid society. Not that there's anything wrong with bodice-rippers, but too many of them do tend to addle the brain. An excellent life, a superior existence, cries out for "the meat and drink" of good books (thanks to Sally Beauman for that partial quote). Bon Appetit!
I must confess that I'm hugely enjoying this process. In the past, I'd always shied away from English Literature, particularly Charles Dickens, with the excuse that it was much too hard, slow-going and boring. Naturally, I was bored by Great Expectations at the age of 14, due to the thorough evisceration by my 9th grade English teacher. When I picked it up again last week, I was hooked instantly, and couldn't put it down. It doesn't help that we live in a bodice-ripper/tabloid society. Not that there's anything wrong with bodice-rippers, but too many of them do tend to addle the brain. An excellent life, a superior existence, cries out for "the meat and drink" of good books (thanks to Sally Beauman for that partial quote). Bon Appetit!
Does God have a garbage disposal?
It's nearly 3:30 a.m. and for some reason I'm wide awake. However, the house and my mind are both quiet so I thought I'd post.
Sunday night, the evening before my cousin's funeral, I had the oddest dream. I dreamed that I walked into a dentist's office and encountered Matt, one of the people who bullied me terribly and turned high school into 4 years of hell. He was genuinely happy to see me. I was genuinely pissed off to be in the same room with him and let him know it. I sat on the receptionist's desk while he tried to talk to me and steadily tried to hate him. He really wanted me to forgive him and I was close to doing it but I was afraid to. I didn't trust him to be the nice guy he was, plus I was in the habit of hating him passionately, as I have in reality for quite some time. It was hurting him, that much I could see. The next thing I knew, my arms were around his neck and all was forgiven. After that it got weird because then I found myself in bed with him. Thankfully, just before one of us lit a cigarette, I woke up.
At B's funeral, the pastor talked about how B battled his demons all his life, anger being one of them. I have to admit, there's a huge stain of anger in my family, and it's not petulant, spoiled-brat anger but justifiable ire. It's been passed down several generations and when it reached B it got kind of scary. He had been teaching a class at a local tech college and the people there, both students and faculty, got into the lamentable habit of making fun of him incessantly. It lasted for a couple of years until it grew so intolerable that he got a gun, put it in his car, drove over to school and told his tormentors that he'd start shooting if they didn't stop. As you can imagine, all hell broke loose. The campus was thrown into lock-down. He was arrested and placed in the county mental hospital for several days observation. When questioned by authorities, he told them that he never intended to open fire, just to scare his tormentors into leaving him alone.
I sat in the church listening to the eulogy, thinking of this story and of my strange dream. What crossed my mind next was the idea of how short our lives are, and how important it is to get rid of toxic crap like rage. For a few seconds I got a feeling of the most incredible peace and security and utter freedom that must come with the ability to forgive and leave all the crap of the past behind. Forget the whole idea of accounts payable and just lay it all to rest. And I thought of how nice it would be to do that well before our time is up, rather than at the 11th hour. My insides felt like they'd been scoured clean of a lot of slime and muck and filth. I freely confess that I hold grudges and find it very difficult to forgive. This seems to be a trait that runs in my family - not that I'm judging, though.
Since the eulogy, I've been wondering. What happens with anger? What does God do with anger or any negative emotion when one of His kids prays and spills his/her guts? We all know what anger can do to people, physically and mentally. We see it manifested as illness. I know that I've had some of my worst colds after a bout of terrible anger and upset, and Freud says that depression is anger turned inwards. I can dig that, too. Anger can lead to verbal and physical fights, murder, rape, theft, you name it. But once it's over, where does it go? I recently read that an emotional state is a state of energy and we all know that emotions have some sort of vibe but I can't help but think that emotions, particularly strong ones, must have actual molecular structure and they must leave a trace. Where do those traces go? If you turn to God in your rage or fear or sadness what does He do with the atoms? I can't imagine why He'd want that kind of trash lying around His house. Does He have some sort of garbage disposal or a machine that turns crap into mulch? Does that mulch go on His garden or on ours? Does He let it go to some distant part of the universe so it can get sucked into a Black Hole and become nothingness?
I know I need to learn how to forgive. Right now, all I can manage is saying a little prayer for my enemies once a day. I ask God to bless anyone who has ever messed with me or inconvenienced me, intentionally or unintentionally, directly or indirectly and then I ask Him to grant those people good health and to give them whatever it is they most need in this life, both spiritually and temporally. I haven't been doing this for more than a few weeks and I don't know if it's working yet but it's got to be worth something doesn't it? All I know is that the family anger has got to stop somewhere. I don't want to waste the remainder of my life, pissed off and hating people. I want that crap to go in God's mulcher long before my 11th hour arrives.
Sunday night, the evening before my cousin's funeral, I had the oddest dream. I dreamed that I walked into a dentist's office and encountered Matt, one of the people who bullied me terribly and turned high school into 4 years of hell. He was genuinely happy to see me. I was genuinely pissed off to be in the same room with him and let him know it. I sat on the receptionist's desk while he tried to talk to me and steadily tried to hate him. He really wanted me to forgive him and I was close to doing it but I was afraid to. I didn't trust him to be the nice guy he was, plus I was in the habit of hating him passionately, as I have in reality for quite some time. It was hurting him, that much I could see. The next thing I knew, my arms were around his neck and all was forgiven. After that it got weird because then I found myself in bed with him. Thankfully, just before one of us lit a cigarette, I woke up.
At B's funeral, the pastor talked about how B battled his demons all his life, anger being one of them. I have to admit, there's a huge stain of anger in my family, and it's not petulant, spoiled-brat anger but justifiable ire. It's been passed down several generations and when it reached B it got kind of scary. He had been teaching a class at a local tech college and the people there, both students and faculty, got into the lamentable habit of making fun of him incessantly. It lasted for a couple of years until it grew so intolerable that he got a gun, put it in his car, drove over to school and told his tormentors that he'd start shooting if they didn't stop. As you can imagine, all hell broke loose. The campus was thrown into lock-down. He was arrested and placed in the county mental hospital for several days observation. When questioned by authorities, he told them that he never intended to open fire, just to scare his tormentors into leaving him alone.
I sat in the church listening to the eulogy, thinking of this story and of my strange dream. What crossed my mind next was the idea of how short our lives are, and how important it is to get rid of toxic crap like rage. For a few seconds I got a feeling of the most incredible peace and security and utter freedom that must come with the ability to forgive and leave all the crap of the past behind. Forget the whole idea of accounts payable and just lay it all to rest. And I thought of how nice it would be to do that well before our time is up, rather than at the 11th hour. My insides felt like they'd been scoured clean of a lot of slime and muck and filth. I freely confess that I hold grudges and find it very difficult to forgive. This seems to be a trait that runs in my family - not that I'm judging, though.
Since the eulogy, I've been wondering. What happens with anger? What does God do with anger or any negative emotion when one of His kids prays and spills his/her guts? We all know what anger can do to people, physically and mentally. We see it manifested as illness. I know that I've had some of my worst colds after a bout of terrible anger and upset, and Freud says that depression is anger turned inwards. I can dig that, too. Anger can lead to verbal and physical fights, murder, rape, theft, you name it. But once it's over, where does it go? I recently read that an emotional state is a state of energy and we all know that emotions have some sort of vibe but I can't help but think that emotions, particularly strong ones, must have actual molecular structure and they must leave a trace. Where do those traces go? If you turn to God in your rage or fear or sadness what does He do with the atoms? I can't imagine why He'd want that kind of trash lying around His house. Does He have some sort of garbage disposal or a machine that turns crap into mulch? Does that mulch go on His garden or on ours? Does He let it go to some distant part of the universe so it can get sucked into a Black Hole and become nothingness?
I know I need to learn how to forgive. Right now, all I can manage is saying a little prayer for my enemies once a day. I ask God to bless anyone who has ever messed with me or inconvenienced me, intentionally or unintentionally, directly or indirectly and then I ask Him to grant those people good health and to give them whatever it is they most need in this life, both spiritually and temporally. I haven't been doing this for more than a few weeks and I don't know if it's working yet but it's got to be worth something doesn't it? All I know is that the family anger has got to stop somewhere. I don't want to waste the remainder of my life, pissed off and hating people. I want that crap to go in God's mulcher long before my 11th hour arrives.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I think there's a wee bug here.
For some reason, I cannot answer your comments on this blog, nor can I comment to your blogs. I went in the coffee shop and it seems that this is a common bug that Blogspot says it has to work on. So, please know that I appreciate all your kind comments and good wishes. Just Me, I hope your ears stop bothering you soon. I'll pray for a speedy recovery for you. Mlle Sunshine Awesome, you are a fabulous lady and I thank you for all your support and I'm saying a jolly-good prayer for you, too. I shall post at length a bit later, for it has been a sort of trying day (trouble with the computer printer, subsequent running out of ink despite buying/installing a new black cartridge 24 hours ago, had some trouble making dinner, keep losing internet connection, not sure if I'm coming down with something and to top all it's snowing and we're expecting 8-10" by morning and it's almost May). I don't want to attempt to be profound when I'm in a foul humor. I don't know if I have profundity in me. I think all I'm going to do is watch some playoff Hockey and take a shower and coax myself out of this.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Has the Clock Stopped?
It seems like all I've been doing the past year is waiting and waiting and waiting. Waiting for the heat of summer to abate. Waiting for pay day. Waiting for the mail/UPS. Waiting for people. Waiting for a Certain...no, I'm not going to say it. Needless to say, I feel like a 747 circling the airport. I'm in a holding pattern.
I've been going kind of crazy this past week. I'm a bit broke at present and the car needs repairs, so I've had to stick close to home. It's enabled me to catch up on my reading but I feel like such a dork not being able to go out and do a little something. That's the trouble with making up my mind to get a life. If I'm not out having some class of an adventure every minute of every day, I feel like a loser. The past couple of weeks sort of spoiled me, too. In that time I saw a couple of movies (True Grit and Black Swan) and attended two art exhibits and an art lecture. I went to Starbucks (which I haven't done in forever) to enjoy an iced coffee and to write a letter. Everything was golden. Golden doesn't last forever, however, and I'm learning that getting a life is a one-step-forward-two-steps-back process. It's not a first-class ticket on a non-stop flight from O'Hare to Xanadu. Pity, because I could use a blanket and a refill on my champagne.
Things should get better though. Unfortunately, I have a funeral to attend tomorrow morning but on the bright side, my nieces will be here and a trip to the mall, specifically Sephora, is on the agenda. And come hell or high water, this week I'm going to find $5 to go to Starbucks and have another libation whilst I write more letters and people-watch. I don't care if it's cold and yucky or if I have to take the bus. I'm going to advance that one step and not fret about the retreat.
I've been going kind of crazy this past week. I'm a bit broke at present and the car needs repairs, so I've had to stick close to home. It's enabled me to catch up on my reading but I feel like such a dork not being able to go out and do a little something. That's the trouble with making up my mind to get a life. If I'm not out having some class of an adventure every minute of every day, I feel like a loser. The past couple of weeks sort of spoiled me, too. In that time I saw a couple of movies (True Grit and Black Swan) and attended two art exhibits and an art lecture. I went to Starbucks (which I haven't done in forever) to enjoy an iced coffee and to write a letter. Everything was golden. Golden doesn't last forever, however, and I'm learning that getting a life is a one-step-forward-two-steps-back process. It's not a first-class ticket on a non-stop flight from O'Hare to Xanadu. Pity, because I could use a blanket and a refill on my champagne.
Things should get better though. Unfortunately, I have a funeral to attend tomorrow morning but on the bright side, my nieces will be here and a trip to the mall, specifically Sephora, is on the agenda. And come hell or high water, this week I'm going to find $5 to go to Starbucks and have another libation whilst I write more letters and people-watch. I don't care if it's cold and yucky or if I have to take the bus. I'm going to advance that one step and not fret about the retreat.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Weird Weekend Thus Far
I don't really have anything profound to write this morning. It's turning out to be a strange couple of days. Thursday afternoon one of my cousins died. It wasn't expected, yet it wasn't surprising. He'd had a terrible spell with his heart 3 years ago but seemed to have gotten over it. Had a check-up a few weeks ago and was clean as a whistle. Ended up having a massive heart attack on Thursday. The cops think he was gone before he knew what hit him, and that's the way to go, really. So, yesterday morning, bright and way too early, his sister and I got on the road and made the hour or so drive out to his cabin to get his dog. I got to see all the damage done by this past Sunday's tornadoes - huge trees uprooted everywhere, parts of roofs blown off, gas station signs missing. Thank God nobody was hurt. Once we got to the cabin we saw that the crocuses and daffodils are coming up and all the garter and pine snakes are still snoozing. Another BIG "Thank God" on my part. I hate those damn things. I helped my cousin with several things out there and we returned to town. Made a quick detour to the stables where she keeps her horse. I'm covered with so much dog, cat and horse fur, I could start my own zoo. What can I say, I love critters. Anyhoo, after more errands and a tiny nap, a bunch of us went out for dinner. Italian. Had a Chianti that would strip paint off a cinder block building. Ate way too much but it was SO good. As we dined, it began to rain and it's still raining. It's cold, raw and windy too. Now all I want is to jump in the car and go for a long, long drive. What I really want to do is find a Certain Gentleman and bring him back here...but no, I vowed I was going to stop dwelling on him. I'm not finding it easy. A year and a half's worth of pining is a big investment, energy-wise, but ultimately, an exhausting one. That kind of thing is not conducive to a fantastic life. I keep telling myself that if I don't end up with C.G., it could be the Good Lord's way of saving me from great unhappiness. He's gorgeous but for all I know he could be the village idiot when it comes to romance and a selfish, arrogant, unfaithful jerk the rest of the time. That makes me feel better for a little while, and then I revert to wanting him. So, I keep reminding myself. Maybe one day it'll stick.
So, while the past 36 hours have not exactly been glamorous, they have been part of life. And I got to try Chianti for the first time. And be glad that I still draw breath and didn't have to shell out anything in taxes. No such thing as small blessings. And no such thing as small adventures.
So, while the past 36 hours have not exactly been glamorous, they have been part of life. And I got to try Chianti for the first time. And be glad that I still draw breath and didn't have to shell out anything in taxes. No such thing as small blessings. And no such thing as small adventures.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
My theme song
Right about now, I think this blog needs a theme song. Hell, if t.v. shows can have theme, ol' Lily can have one too. I chose Learn to Crawl by the ever-fabulous band Black Lab. It was written for the Spider Man movie and I feel as though the lyrics are apropos to the subject of this blog and to my life. A huge, huge THANK YOU to Paul Durham and co.
In the Beginning...
It took quite some time but, a few weeks ago, I woke up at long last. I took a good long look around me and realized that things were NOT to my liking. At the top of the list were three things that rankled the most:
1. For the past year and a half, I'd been all but standing on my head, trying to get a certain gentleman to recognize and acknowledge my existence, to no avail.
2. A number of people who consider themselves my friends and loved ones, had been alternately ignoring, dismissing or taking advantage of me, still of the opinion that I was the same dipshit today that I was at 13.
3. The certain gentleman notwithstanding, I realized that I am invisible, PERIOD. To everybody.
It was devastating. First, I became catatonic with despair. Then, I progressed to rage. Finally, I concluded that I needed to get a life. So, that's where this blog comes in. I have decided to get a life. At first, I thought I'd do it for revenge. Sort of an I'll-show-the-bastards, middle finger in the air-type of thing. However, we all know that that attitude shows no one. The bastards don't care one way or another. Therefore, I am doing this for me. I want to see what kind of a life I can create for myself. I want to see if I can do it. For too many years I have allowed the unkindness of others to eat me alive. No more. I cannot take another minute. So, I am going to persue the things I love (art, literature, travel, music, HOCKEY), see what I can learn along the way, and give an accurate report. I hope that my experiences will help others who are feeling like hell. I love the underdog and I want to see all the underdogs in the world triumph.
I'm not waiting around for the Certain Gentleman to figure out that I draw breath. I'm not waiting around for family/friends anymore, either. There's a lot I want to do. There's a lot I need to do. Fingers crossed.
Lily
1. For the past year and a half, I'd been all but standing on my head, trying to get a certain gentleman to recognize and acknowledge my existence, to no avail.
2. A number of people who consider themselves my friends and loved ones, had been alternately ignoring, dismissing or taking advantage of me, still of the opinion that I was the same dipshit today that I was at 13.
3. The certain gentleman notwithstanding, I realized that I am invisible, PERIOD. To everybody.
It was devastating. First, I became catatonic with despair. Then, I progressed to rage. Finally, I concluded that I needed to get a life. So, that's where this blog comes in. I have decided to get a life. At first, I thought I'd do it for revenge. Sort of an I'll-show-the-bastards, middle finger in the air-type of thing. However, we all know that that attitude shows no one. The bastards don't care one way or another. Therefore, I am doing this for me. I want to see what kind of a life I can create for myself. I want to see if I can do it. For too many years I have allowed the unkindness of others to eat me alive. No more. I cannot take another minute. So, I am going to persue the things I love (art, literature, travel, music, HOCKEY), see what I can learn along the way, and give an accurate report. I hope that my experiences will help others who are feeling like hell. I love the underdog and I want to see all the underdogs in the world triumph.
I'm not waiting around for the Certain Gentleman to figure out that I draw breath. I'm not waiting around for family/friends anymore, either. There's a lot I want to do. There's a lot I need to do. Fingers crossed.
Lily
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