Tell Me A Story Pt.1

When I was a senior in high school, I would leave the noisy chatter of study hall and quietly tuck myself into a seat of our spacious silent auditorium.  The sanctuary built for nearly a thousand would house me in one chair and my then male friend next to me.

He loved reading and I loved being read to.  His baritone voice would lull me into a fantasy world of spells and magic.  A story of wizards before Harry Potter existed.  I vanished into a world of the supernatural and its mysterious far off places.

While the calm warm words dripped from his swarthy voice, a voice I was yieldingly mesmerized by, I found a piece of my soul in that auditorium which would drive my being forever more in this world.

I was unapologetically addicted to storytelling.

I am a slave to a good story.  Compliant.  Submissive.  Inclined to give in to an author who would hush my mind, captain my emotions, and silence my own raging journey to experience another’s.

The Long Road

Like millions, I used to watch Oprah when I came home from school.

I’m not saying she absolutely was but she was the first person I ever heard reference growing into your skin.  She spoke of getting older and feeling more comfortable in your body.

I was young but I could sparsely glean her meaning.  I mean, 17 felt a lot better than 12.  That was plain awkward.

I am not only 30 but am well into my 30s.  For so long I have felt ashamed of this.

I expected more from myself.  I thought I would have accomplished more by now.  I thought my achievements would have been splashed about for my family and friends to witness.  I expected my lifestyle would have borne the badges of acquired skill and outstanding talent.

I always felt incredibly gifted.  Naturally endowed.

I have always been passionately drawn to pop-culture and it has taken me many years to identify MY why. 

Because these were the outliers.  His movie moved me to tears.  Her voice moved me to tears.  And his book moved me to tears.  These were the extraordinary stories and abilities in an ordinary world.

And… I have always felt I too am an outlier.  Extra ordinary.

It has taken me many years to realize my skill is people and my talent is relationships.  These badges rarely payout in monetary rewards or in notorious awards.

These successes take place on a Saturday evening in a car parked in the driveway.  They occur with a well thought out and a well-placed comment in the classroom setting.  My feats of triumph are quietly hidden from the masses and are appreciated by an audience of few.

I’ve wanted so desperately to provide credentials for this trait of mine.  A great love story to a fabulous companion.  A home filled with laughter and love.  A family.

But I can't.  And I’m learning to reconcile my life to that.

Because the older I get, the more comfortable I feel in my skin.

I am loving.  I am cheerful.  I frequently bring joy where I go.  I laugh.  I navigate in tenderness.  I operate with passion.  I’m slow to warm in any new situation.  I’m open to many opinions.  I think.  I assess and I derive.  I stand firm in my convictions.

It’s been penned, “I believe in the sun when it’s not shining.  I believe in love when I’m alone.  And I believe in God when He is silent.”*

It’s been sung, “let me love you, and I will love you, until you learn to love yourself.”**

It’s been taught, “experience is that most brutal of teachers.  But you learn, my God do you learn.”***

These things are all me.  And I am learning to be more comfortable with who I am.  I am learning not everyone will esteem you.  Not everyone will appreciate you or value you.  You will always face opposition.  You will always have someone carelessly cast off that which is sacred to you.

Then again, the more you love your decisions, the less you need others to love them.

That’s the beauty of time.  You fall more in love with yourself and your decisions when they are good.  And there is peace in that.

*A Jewish Refugee   **Ne-Yo   ***C.S. Lewis

My Essence

There is one thing I do well in this world.

LOVE.

This I have always known.

Weathering The Storm

When you are in high school, everything feels big.

Your tests.  Your after school practices.  The nation’s political climate.  Your enemies.  Your love.  Your dreams.

I was a junior in high school with a hip English teacher who we all liked.  He was young-ish with an affinity towards the movies we all were watching and the music we all were listening.  He let us call him by his first name which earned him extra ‘street cred’ in our adolescent minds.

I had two best friends who I spent the bulk of my time with.  We talked about boys, school, and our jobs.  But mostly we talked about boys.  We would divide and share our chemistry and our physics homework in an effort to be done quickly with school work and get to the chatting about boys.

One spring, we had group English projects due.  My partners were my two best friends and we would meet during study halls to work on our project.  However, as is inevitable with 16 year olds, our conversation included more about our crushes than the Canterbury Tales.

It was a sunny Sunday after church and our project was due tomorrow.  My thoughts had been on the project all day and its need for completion.  My family and parents who were very religious held Sundays sacred.  We didn’t eat out, shop, or really play with our friends.  We kept close to home and observed a low-key, conservative Sabbath day.

It wasn’t long before the phone call came and we were to all meet at K’s house to pound out this project.  Only my permission was quickly declined when I presented this before my parents.

In hindsight, perhaps I could have given it a better sell.  But honestly, my shame was strong going into it.  I knew the rules.  I knew I failed to timely manage my business.  Mostly, I knew I was asking for a pardon from a paradigm I knew was deeply ingrained in my parents and our family lifestyle.

That night, my mind raced at the thought of my two friends working on it without me.  I was hyperaware I had placed myself in a position where my hands were wholly tied.  And I felt sick.

The next morning, I greeted them before homeroom with the same enthusiasm I had hundreds of times over but was met with chilly dispositions.

By the time our second period English class came, we were asked to all turn in our projects.  I watched as my friend turned in our project and my mind raced how I could make it better.

Class was nauseatingly terrible.

As the bell rang to let us out, I heard our teacher speak my name and ask me to stay behind.  He explained how my friends informed him of my lack of contribution.  He told me I would receive an ‘F’ and our next group project starting the follow week would be a project I would do alone.

My disgrace knew no bounds.  I was humiliated.  I was embarrassed.  I was angry with my friends.  I knew even then it was a harsh sentence for the crime. 

Now, if I had a dime for every work project or task coworkers failed to pull their weight on, I would be a rich girl.  If we fired each coworker who failed to perform his part, we’d all have an instance when we earned termination at some point.

The social implications in society and government to leave everyone callously to his own demise, whether of his making from mistakes or life circumstances, would be destructive to our greater good.

I didn’t speak to either one the entire week.  Every class we shared and each moment we would have shared was sheer torture.  I didn’t eat.  I didn’t sleep.

I ached.

I remember thinking one day I would look back on all of this and see it wasn’t as big of a deal as it felt.

The fact of the matter is, if we are the character make-up of some sum of striking life events, this is one of mine.

To know me is to know I value my relationships above all.  I hurt most when my relationships hurt.

There are many reasons for ailing relationships.  Some are a derivative of malnourishment.  Others are from a lack of nourishment entirely.  Perhaps the most painful are the expiring relationships from personal growth spurts.

Everything in my life is in a state of drastic transition right now.  When describing all of the change I’m experiencing to my dear friends last night, my one friend pointedly declared, “I think it’s YOU who is changing.”

He quickly detected what I was oblivious to connect.

My momentarily rapid evolution has strained some of my relationships.  Today I felt similar to that 16 year old girl many years ago.

And I ache.

Another Five

My previous entry was completed 5 months ago. How appropriate since the timing is entirely accurate. Short story: Broken heart. Pray for a new boy. Get him the day after the prayer. Date him for five months. Break up. Pull up my blog. 5 months later.

As you may be able to tell, everything is going as I planned. (Sense the sarcasm for it has been laid on thick.)

There are days I feel no different from the 14 year old I once was. Will I ever be smart enough or pretty enough? Will I ever get the boy? Will I get the job of my dreams? Will I ever be gut-wrenchingly happy? Just a painful sort of” stomachache, post-Easter sugar gluttony coma” happy?

Alright. Just a “I feel peace” happy?

And still, I feel extremely blessed. Because thirty something could be a whole lot worse.

My Recent Heart Doctor

I’d be completely ungrateful if I didn’t take time to share a well earned shout-out.

My mama doesn’t read this blog. But this entry is dedicated to her.

My mother bore MANY children. I have mixed feelings about this fact mostly because of this one subsequent fact.

I feel she could only lend herself out so much. And usually the recipient of her uh-may-zing maternal care-giving skills was whoever needed it the most. With a few “more-needy” children, I feel like I frequently got lost in the shuffle.

But this isn’t to commentary on what I didn’t get. Rather my mom pulled through like a champ for me this past couple of weeks.

I had my heart broken as badly as I ever have save one other time and the pain was acute. I thought I would explode and I didn’t know who to turn to. My mind would throw out my mother as an option and many times I batted away the thought.

Until one day when I was driving home from work and could shoulder the burden no longer, I phoned the woman whom I NEVER speak with about any of my relationships and broke down in complete bedlam.

Luckily she had visited in February and whatever miniscule insight it gave her into the situation was the perfect starting point from there until now. I gave her all of the good, the bad, and the ugly of the relationship.

I cried. I cried. And I cried.

Every day for 5 days straight. And she soothed every day for 5 days straight. Then I weaned myself to every other day. Then every couple of days.

So mama (even though I know you are NOT reading this), thank you for being everything I needed anyone to be for me in that situation.

You were my light in the middle of a very dark moment and I’m grateful for that.

Who Hasn't Said It?

I love listening to music pretty much any time of day. I listen to it when I get ready in the morning. I listen to it when I’m working. I listen to it when I want to rev it up. I listen to it when I want to chill it out. I listen to it before a date. I listen to it while I write in my journal.

Needless to say, I do a lot of collecting.

Every now and again, I will hear a song on the radio or in a movie and think, “I NEED that song. How do I not have it yet?” Inevitably, I’ll go home to download it and upon adding it to my library, I’ll discover it’s already there.

I loathe this feeling so much in a way I have a hard time articulating. Often times it comes down to this thought. “You mean I've had it all the time? I could have been enjoying it this entire time? It’s been right here?”

The metaphor, my friends, closely follows what I've discovered of late.

My life is good. Still my life is hard.

I've discovered a difference between those who succeed and those who fall short. Those who succeed dig in and hold on through the storm. I don’t mean merely wade through the storm. Rather, they look around and find some useful tools to help them best weather that storm.

In these storms I’ll frequently look around to acquire some useful tool to help me and frequently when I go to add it to my ‘character traits library,’ I’ll discover it’s already there.

“You mean I’ve had it all the time? I could have been enjoying it this entire time? It’s been right here?”

I once had a wise man pronounce to me, ‘trials are for defining your character to you.’ I suppose this is one of life’s best kept secrets … or most cliché phrases. You are stronger than you think you are.

And me… I’m a rock.

When One Moment Came That Stopped Me On A Dime

Day 30: Listen to some words of wisdom.

My next thirty years I’m gonna settle all the scores,
Cry a little less, laugh a little more.
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear,
Figure out just what I’m doing here. – Tim McGraw

So Fresh and So Clean

Day 29: Clean house.

This was no figure of speech. To have a happy mind is to have an uncluttered mind. To have an uncluttered mind is to have a clean home.

I started with the abyss better known as my bedroom, moved to the living room, opened up a window in every room of the house to air it out, my roommate came home and jumped right in with the kitchen, and I completed six loads of laundry.

The vacuum was emptied three times, all of my hangers are being used, and there really is a desk in my bedroom.

C’mon. What more is there to recount? Happy? Check.

Ain't Gotta Rush (I Just Want To Take It Nice & Slow)

Day 28: Go slow.

My eyes sleepily parted. The sun was shining through my window and I just wanted to sleep in. I pulled my cell from the night stand and looked at the time. 7:30AM.

If it had been any other day than Friday, I would have been up and moving by now. As it was, I placed the phone back, pulled the covers tighter around me, and rolled over for one more hour.

8:30AM. This time I needed to get up. I went to the bathroom and put in my contacts on the way back to my room. I climbed into bed and was easily reminded I am my mother’s daughter. Our family can sleep like champs.

I didn’t sleep though. I just needed a break from routine. I pulled open my laptop and watched an episode of Bones from the previous night.

9:55AM. After a text from my brother, a call to my sister, and an episode later, I showered and got ready for the day. Against the business casual normal, I pulled on a pair of jeans, a clean white shirt, and a black leather jacket.

11:20AM. I emerged downstairs. “It’s so nice being home all by myself. I wish I had so much more of this so much more often.”

11:45AM. I started the car to drive to work. As soon as it the engine came to life, the radio did too. It took me two seconds to realize it was too much for my slow morning. I immediately turned it off.

11:55AM. I logged in to my computer. I pulled up my email. There was one. I had been working on them all morning from my phone as they were coming in. Yet the truth of the matter was the morning was slow and I had dealt with a total of four emails in four hours.

12:00PM. “Well there you are. Are you coming?” one coworker of three asked as they were walking from our department towards the lobby.

“Where are you guys heading?” I inquired back.

“To the cafeteria. Are you coming?” he invited again.

“You guys go ahead. I have to return this one phone call and then I’ll be over.”

12:25PM. I strolled over to the corporate cafeteria. The place was empty. I easily spotted my friends tucked away in a corner of the seating area, placed my water bottle on the table, and proceeded to stand in line behind the only other person there. Our CEO.

1:15PM. I had just completed one of the most incredible conversations of my life and was still surprised to realize it involved the chief of our company. My head was reeling at the man and at the tender moments we shared getting to know one another better.

I disclosed more than I would usually find comfortable and he displayed remarkable interest in my stories. I am still astounded as I sit here and recall the incident.

2:00PM. We meandered back to our desk because someone had mentioned we ought to. It took us each five minutes to realize there was no work to be done. The day was uncannily slow.

2:07PM. Me and the coworker from the entry before last engaged in another conversation mostly comprised of a “return and report” nature.

4:00PM. “I’m going home,” I declared. This is nonsensical to stay any longer.

If ever there was a tolerable day to be employed by the man, today was it. It felt so nice to take everything back a notch and to move at a pace so contrary to everyday living.

Mental note: take one slow day per month. It’s good to refresh your inner clock every now and again.

To Kids From 20 To 92

Day 27: Spa treatment!

Two weeks ago, my friend, S, walked into my living room, sat down, and started telling me a story. I was mesmerized. S’s face was glowing and my entire focus rested upon her skin.

I immediately stopped her and asked her why she looked so dang good. I knew I needed her secret. “Microdermabrasion,” she replied as simply as I queried.

So tonight I made my first appearance to receive a magical counteragent treatment to aging. The aesthetician asked me to take off my shoes, undress from the waist up, and climb onto the massage table under the sheet. This astonished me.

I’m no stranger to exhibition. Now I’m not like my sister, M, who seems to always be looking for a good reason to strip down and usually finds it in as simple an excuse as “it’s evening”. Yet, I’m not shy. Who knew the procedure would take an element of nudity to execute?

I climbed into the bed and that aspect alone brought about a level of peace. Me and massage tables have a quiet and satisfying relationship.

The aesthetician proceeded to cleanse my face via a hot white towel draped over my skin. It felt soothing. Relaxing. Calming. Amazing.

Then she continued to micro blast my skin from my forehead to my chest through my cleavage. It was so cool. I could feel the crystals sanding my skin in the most fragile way. Another hot white towel.

She continued to place the most deliciously scented mask all over the newly polished area. As she allowed it to completely saturate my skin, she commenced with a neck massage. Then a scalp massage. Then a back massage (while I faced up.) Ending with a foot massage. Again, another hot white towel.

All I know is I walked out of her wassail smelling establishment with an additional appointment for next Thursday.

And my face, it’s glowing!!

Maybe We'll Find Better Days

Day 26: Be Surprised

Folks, I’ve officially evolved from recording something I did to evoke the sentiment of happiness to recording moments of happiness. What’s entirely cool about the experience is finding joy in things which have been present all along however placing myself in a mind frame to be able to recognize them.

I have often times mentioned my employment with a sour taste in my mouth. It is a place I feel so much consternation towards. Yet I work with some of the most wonderful people. Some of my coworkers have become some of my valued friends.

A male coworker of mine and I had been discussing on end lately a topic in our lives we both wish to improve. It has been incredible to find support in a place where improvement will be the most difficult to execute. The workplace.

Still it’s been fun to notice each other taking a stab at this betterment and being able to silently rejoice in the success with nothing more than an insider’s glance at one another upon our minimal victories.

Today I was tried to the nth degree in a situation anyone would have been justified in losing this battle to. Yet I prevailed.

Up jumped my male coworker who immediately and in the presence of anyone watching in our department embraced me in triumph.

Straightforward, unfiltered, affection in the face of elation. I was surprised but I was happy.

A Silver Lining

Day 25: Hot tub in a snow storm.

The great state of Utah continues to flex its muscles.

Is it Spring you ask? Well apparently at home in Pennsylvania it’s summer. Meanwhile I had my wipers on high battling the frozen precipitation this state boasts of in the winter… in April.

SKI UTAH. Sure. I’m all for it. However... in April? I urge you to put your snow away.

Tonight at my friends' house, we rigged the television into the window sill and watched two hours worth of shows such as the Colbert Report while sitting in the sizzling, silky, ph balanced water which is the common hot tub.

Life is stinking good sometimes.

Follow the Leader?

Day 24: Resolve to lead the troupe… next time.

I think it’s fair to say I’m a natural leader. This has been a luxury I have long since enjoyed.

But I remember a dynamic a little more than a decade ago where I was not so confident of this trait within me. In high school, it seemed there was a fine balance between influencing and being influenced. At least there was for me.

You wanted to speak up and be heard; it’s what made you a leader and what gave you voice.

Surprisingly, half of being a leader was just having the guts to grab the mic and say something. I believe people are generally listening and watching for someone to do or say something so they can more easily and also more passively agree or disagree.

As an adult, I have become comfortable in life securing that mic and giving my opinion freely from it. Sometimes it is well received. Sometimes it is not.

There is a group with which I associate on a regular basis. I am surprised to have seen our dynamic shift many times in the course of the relationship.

Today I sat at lunch in the throes of conversation and in an effort to influence them kept finding myself being influenced by them. I clearly could discern this fact and yet could find little sway over the matter.

I walked away from it disappointed. I felt stripped of my maturity and witnessed the return of a fifteen year old girl within me desperately wanting approval, desperately seeking to fit in and be cool.

While putting myself through the ringer, I remembered, half of being a leader is losing a fight. After all, people want to feel like they elected you rather than feel ruled by you.

Don’t seek to control others. Seek to influence them.

I Know The Answers Lie Far From This World

Day 23: Free write.

For the past two weeks, I’ve had the most atypical and quite frankly anomalous song in my head. The composers. Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. The song. Any Dream Will Do.

And not the prologue version. The finale. The Any Dream Will Do completed by the final vindicated lyrics of “give me my colored coat.”

You’re singing it, huh? “May I return, to the beginning, the light is dimming, and the dream is too. The world and I, we are still waiting, still hesitating, ANY DREAM WILL DO… (dut dut dut dut duh)… give me my colored coat, my amazing colored coat.”

What if the bohemian writers of Happy Feet were right and we all have a “heartsong” inside of us? Only it can and does change with your standing in life?

Why is my suppressed soul singing Sir Webber and what does it all mean right now?

Yeah. You’ve all just witnessed one of many random musings I entertain in my psyche at any given time.

But The World Is Sleeping

Day 22: Embrace your spiritual side.

Four years ago, I was approached by an older man at a luncheon I was attending. Our conversation started light but rapidly grew intense as he made a comment about the peculiar nature of my aura. Yep, you heard me.

Caught off guard, I sought clarification. What color was it? What did it mean? What was peculiar about it?

I didn’t ask one question as he merely answered them as though he were picking thoughts out of my head. It was two colors, which wasn’t as uncommon as the mixture of the two colors I was sporting at that time.

I was fascinated with him. My desire to dive into my unconscious was strong and despite what I had been taught, to steer clear of psychics and the likes, I was captivated. However, I didn’t have it in me to blatantly seek out anything more about me.

I allowed him to speak about my aura and decided that would be it. So we pressed forward in another vein as soon as he had completed his elaboration on the aforementioned subject. We spoke of my job and my family and frankly little else.

Our encounter lasted under 5 minutes. Yet as I was departing from him, he pulled me aside and in an intimate fashion barely whispered towards my ear and candidly declared, “You are one of the most spiritual creatures I have ever met.”

I looked at him for a second entirely disarmed. I fumbled for the only retort I could offer in explanation.

“Well you know how orthodox our religion…”

He promptly cut me off. “I didn’t say religious. I said spiritual.”

I stared in disbelief. I knew, as certain as I breathe now, how accurate this statement was regarding me. I have always known it. It was one of the very first things I had ever come to learn about myself.

He expounded, “Should you never have been religious, you still would have been highly spiritual.” He finished with a prediction, the second of two made by him in our short visit.

The first was entirely flawed and erroneous. Yet the second I’ve never shared with anyone and am loosely waiting to see what happens.

I try to be a religious girl. It is not something which comes easily to me and my way of life. A single gal of my age should be out painting the town red every weekend and occasionally weeknight.

Yet I feel extremely anchored to a higher being. Bound by morals I feel would exist with or without religion. So I lead a rather conservative standard of living.

Today I listened intently as men from severely traditional times past counseled those within the sound of their voice. Those who are presently apart of a chaotic contemporary existence removed from the era of the speakers' maturation.

I’m not here to claim one generation superior or enlightened to another. I believe there is no better, only different. Nonetheless I discerned, truth now was truth then and I expect truth as it has always been so long as it has existed.

This much I know. Any honest seeker of truth can find it. You only need look as far as your spiritual self will allow and the rest, the rest will all shake out in the wash.

A Weekend Off

Day 21: Forget it’s a Friday night.

As a single girl, my social life has a lot to do with what evening of the week it is. Fridays are big. Saturdays are bigger. I decided to forfeit my social self for one evening to see what it would yield.

I listened as my peers discussed their weekend plans. I declined invitations to join them. I was surprised to feel as much anxiety as I did while my uneventful evening crept nearer to reality.

I reiterate again my “go go go” approach to my social life. I never slow down and I have a feeling this has been a detriment to me in some way. I can’t pinpoint it. The notion or the reasoning behind it. It just felt important to do this.

Slowing down through all of this has been good. I’ve had to slow down to think of and execute as well as record these happenings. I don’t honestly know yet what I will harvest from this.

I left work and meandered to my friend, A’s, home. She’s been like a sister to me for as long as I’ve known her, which has been the better part of ten years. So I had to laugh when upon entering her living room at 2:30pm, she asked, “Again?”

This last month of emotional turmoil for me has generated quite a few of these half-workday tearful afternoons.

Thankfully, this was not like that. I smiled at her and sat on her couch talking to a girl I have stayed up with late on many nights. Even though our late nights have evolved into afternoons with her kids, she is family to me and I knew how I wanted to spend my Friday evening.

I left A and went home to my apartment. This place produces mixed emotions for me. I ascended the stairs to my room, closed the door, slipped into bed and pulled up my laptop.

Chapter one of the evening. Catch up on an episode, any missed episode.

Chapter two. Take a nap. While everyone else in the city is getting gussied up, sleep off the anxiety.

Chapter three. Wake up and smile at the daylight.

Chapter four. Contact the brother who wanted the New Moon dvd the previous night and see if he and the wife still want to borrow it.

Chapter five. Score an invite to the only place in the valley you want to be on your technical evening off. With family.

I decided to forfeit my social self for one evening to see what it would yield. I imagine I’m not surprised to see it involved the people who usually are around to see you fall and still regularly are the ones to help you back up.

Set You Free

Day 20: Speak the truth.

“Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.” – Thomas Jefferson

It’s hard not to notice my blogs degrading in content and quality. The truth is, no one can write about happiness for thirty days and be able to say something entertaining and eloquent consistently.

The truth is, in the beginning it was about a list of things I wanted to do to proactively encourage a smile in others which would provoke one from me.

The truth is, there has been so much happening behind the scenes than I wish to share with an audience anymore. This project has long since migrated away from a checklist and metamorphosed into a feeling which I am happy to report more easily penetrates my life.

My mother used to say the people who need the most love are the most unlovable. Tragic, huh?

When I started this gig, I needed a little love. I had just come away from something leaving me feeling rejected and unlovable. The fates are funny like that. It feels as though the emotionally rich get richer and the emotionally poor get poorer.

Luckily, there are ways to find that much needed validation and it usually comes from forgetting about yourself.

Last week, I received a text from a person I least expected and honestly from someone who has been instrumental of late in creating an environment in which I feel unloved. We’ve been sharing little bits and pieces back and forth. However, I am truly guarded.

Today is felt nice to have a moment when I could look him in the eye and while tears streamed from mine, tell him how much he hurt me.

Speak the truth.

I’m glad I did it. I don’t think it changed anything. I certainly don’t think most boys, especially this boy, are emotionally capable enough of understanding the emotional journey of a woman, much less a woman like me.

Nevertheless, I would not have been able to speak this truth twenty days ago and I have every reason to believe it is because I have built for myself a world where I am happy outside of him or any other.

This Door Is Always Open

Day 19: What makes you happy?

I have a friend who has been as close to me as any I’ve ever had. We’ve been through good times and bad but mostly just some really great times. I love her. I love her family which she has easily and generously shared with me.

She is married and the mother of three. She is beautiful. She is rational. She is truly the jelly to my peanut butter. We approach life differently and we are currently living nearly opposite lives.

But I love her so much. I will never understand how this match ever came to be. I know how it works. Many times it has been said “opposites attract” and she married a male version very similar to me.

As I drove home from work, she phoned me to tell me she was going to the store to get candy for her kids’ Easter baskets. She asked me if I wanted to tag along.

Absolutely. Anytime I get one on one time with her, I’m stoked. It’s hard to share one of the best friends I’ve ever made with a spouse, children, neighbors, etc… She is good to me. I know when she asks me which candy I love most, it’s because I will reap some of Sunday’s spoils.

I don’t know if she is making the biggest difference in the world, but she is making the biggest difference in the world to me. I’m inspired by her.

Tonight I had a meeting with a spiritual leader who I esteem highly. However, I was greeted by his executive secretary first. This young man, this peer of mine, visited with me for about ten minutes. In the ten minutes we shared, he asked if I was dating anyone.

I explained my classic story of girl meets boy, girl and boy become very close, girl falls in love with boy, and boy doesn’t feel the same. You know, regular Hollywood stuff. Heartbrokenly ever after.

In a world of people missing opportunities to connect with one another, this guy took it. At the end of the thirty second recap, he frankly stated the boy to be a fool. Then we shared a connection. He impressed me.

I work at a large corporation and have one thousand co-workers. Our company’s CEO and other executive administrators are fairly tucked away from us. Yet I have managed to put myself on the radar with them. They have talked with me, laughed with me, and even bought me lunch. I am fortunate to mingle with them and observe their expertise.

What makes me happy? People make me happy.

One Size Does NOT Fit All

Addendum to my music appreciation lesson.

For those of you who are looking for something prettier, I'm suggesting Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata 1st Movement. I will even spoon feed it to you here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lq4G3KRAuXc

Certainly you will enjoy this one!

Breather

Day 18: Know when to break.

When it's midnight and end of month at work, take a blogging sabbatical. Smile. Now go to bed.

From Romanticism To The 20th Century

Day 17: Share a piece of you with the world.

It seems to me nowadays, everyone keeps a secure lockdown on their inner selves to the world. So I figured I’d share a piece of me with you to combat any natural tendencies I may have lingering in the wake of an experience or two.

Tonight I present to you, after a very professionally difficult and emotionally stressful day, my top five songs I decompress to at work, home, or wherever else I may deem necessary. Of course they share matching genres but I listen to them in the same order each time.

Don’t rush the calm. Peace feels sweeter when you allow the unyielding angst to soften, liquefy, and then dissolve from your being.

5. Sergei Prokofiev – Toccata in D Minor Op 11: I love this piece. I always start with this toccata because although it may not be the most soothing classical piece out there, it is a piece which acts as a showcase for any virtuoso pianist. Every time I hear it, I dream about being THIS good. A piece so technically challenging, the composer himself confessed, while good with his technique, he was not good enough to master it. Uh-may-zing. (youtube the Vladimir Horowitz version. Wait until 3 minutes and 30 seconds into it until you hit that sweet spot (known as the theme) after those chromatic scales and repeating D’s… you’re welcome.)

4. Johann Sebastian Bach – Cello Suite No 1 G Major AND No 2 in D Minor: Though titled The Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello, most recognize them as the cello suites. I refuse to allow the commercialism of the first movement to offput me from the genius which is Bach even outside of the piano. I don’t care how many jewelry companies have corrupted these pieces in advertisements, I love them. Also I want to have the framed sheet music of the first movement hung as art in my home. It’s a visual masterpiece. (The melodic swelling from about 1 minute and 45 seconds until 2 minutes and 15 seconds.)

3. Frederic Chopin – Etude Op 10 No 3: Perhaps better known as his Etude in E, this piece stills my mind. I have a sentimental connection for it as I know it to be one of my mother’s very favorites. She would play and replay it over in the car and it is one of few pieces I ever heard my mom rewind and start again upon completion. Finally, I was asked to play this piece for my entire high school my junior year as National Honor Society inductees were announced. (Obviously I was not inducted as I sat in a corner of the stage creating an ambiance.) Playing publically and classically can be unnerving. Yet this piece was powerful enough in tranquility to easily combat both of those emotions.

2. Sergei Rachmaninoff – Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op 43 Variation XVIII: If you say 18th Variation to most pianists, they’ll know what piece you’re referencing. When I think back to my piano lessons, I think of my semi-Nazi teacher (oh but she was goooood) who commenced every lesson with scales, scales, and more scales. I am still faster at chromatic scales than any other person I’ve ever challenged. But on weeks when we did arpeggios, it just made mathematical sense to me. I enjoyed arpeggios. Even as cliché as this piece is, maybe I find it so soothing to hear those full keyboard arpeggio scales being pounded out in the middle of the piece. (youtube the Arthur Rubinstein version and you’ll get chills.)

1. Johannes Brahms – Klavierstucke, Op 118 No 2: The man invented the lullaby many times over. This is NOT his lullaby you are familiar with. This is nirvana. I lay my tongue to rest. If you listen to any piece listed here now, this one, I beg of you. (Go Go Go!)

Enjoy!

A Transcendental Hour

Day 16: Actively meditate.

Experience then move on.

I sat silently in the middle of the couch in an empty living room in a vacant house. The blinds to our front window were pulled up revealing one of the prettiest views of the setting golden sun against a snow-capped mountain with a clear blue sky for a backdrop.

It looked as beautiful as it sounds. Just when it seemed as though this painting was perfect, the moon crested the mountains and I couldn’t believe the sheer size and whiteness of it. Was it full? I glanced at the clock to see what time it was. 7:42PM on the most magnificently stunning, noiseless evening in over two years for me.

There was no television. There was no music. There were no stimuli.

Previously in the day, my mind drifted upon an earlier friend from a different time in my life. I was looking through my email searching for a specific letter I once sent and I stumbled upon another email thread with this friend.

My heart ached all over again as I re-faced some of the experiences we shared. Nostalgia has a way of romanticizing the past and I dove emotionally into an area I probably would have been better off not reliving.

So when I sat gaping towards the purple mountained majesty which was my front yard this evening, I decided to meditate. One full hour. Come what may.

In stillness, I watched the sun’s light wan as the moon’s light waxed. The sky went from a visible light blue to a heavy dark blue bowing in modesty before the fierce pose the fire white moon struck.

Another evening ushered in. Another chapter.

I am waiting right now for the response to something big. Something which will greatly impact my quality of life for the next little while.

Once I see this through, like the day, I am ready for another chapter.

Then Wake Up & Do Something More

Day 15: Wake up early and do something.

I’ve spent the better part of my life missing life before 8AM. I imagine my theory behind this was to see what exactly I am missing.

Well, I suppose I will never find out what happens WELL before 8AM.

Eight o’clock in the morning is the time I woke up this morning. However, I contest this still counts because I sacrificed a day to sleep in for a day to get going while others were sleeping in.

I had taken my mobile phone in my hands to look at the time no sooner than it started to ring. My friend, S, was phoning and there are a handful of people I answer the phone for while I’m in bed. S is one of those.

“Hello, girl,” I groggily croaked.

“Good Morning, E! What are you doing right now? What are your plans for the day?” she chirped cheerfully into my ear.

“Nothing. I have nothing planned yet.”

“Well then I’ll be at your house in a half hour. I need to go to Salt Lake to pick out bridesmaid dresses for all of us bridesmaids.”

“Yay,” I murmured in monotone. “I’ll get ready.”

Without missing a beat, I put down the phone and immediately got out of bed. I knew I wasn’t going to shower. I knew I would only pull on some old jeans and a top. I knew all of this would take me 5 minutes.

But I knew today was my fourth attempt to execute this early morning gig and I just couldn’t handle another failed endeavor.

I was out of bed. I looked around. Should I read? Should I listen to music? Should I clean my room? What do people do when they are up early and are not early risers.

So I knelt. Beside my bed I knelt. I rested upon the mattress as if I were preparing for prayer.

Of course I ended up praying. What else was that position going to lead to? I hadn’t intended to pray and yet there I found myself prepared for no other task but that one.

I finished and straight away rolled onto my bum. Now what? I gazed out my window and up at the clear blue sky. Today was sunny and beautiful and I was just excited to get started.

So I picked up some clothes, put away some shoes, and hung up a towel.

You know, waking up early probably means more to someone with a routine. Exercise. Meditation. Whatever. I'm glad this morning only provided me with thirty minutes of reverence versus an hour or two of such.

Still, by the time 3PM had rolled around, I had been to Salt Lake City and back. I had spent quality time with a dear friend. I had been to the gas station, mall, and grocery store. And I was with my roommate headed out for a tanning session.

However most importantly, I had been up and about for seven hours per my usual Saturday three. Yes. There is something to be said for the productivity of the morning hours.

Doing Some Dishes

Day 14: Unburden yourself from the unnecessary.

A plate can only hold so much. If you need to add something to it, remember to clear something from it.

This week, I had a few unpreventable scenarios come up which added to my plate. It is so easy for me to feel overwhelmed to the point of paralysis.

However today, I actively refused to be paralyzed by my load and actively unloaded some burdens. I did it in the form of bills.

I am fortunate to sufficiently have enough money for my needs. I’m lucky to say I can pay all my bills every month in totality. Yet, do I?

I have no excuses. There are times I slothfully dream of an assistant to look after the details of my life. I could tell you I’m so busy but exhaustion seems more accurate and also more defining of my indolent behavior.

Let me clear up a matter. I pay my bills. Rent. Car. Insurance. Utilities.

It’s the non-routine bills I struggle with. The two unpaid parking tickets. Why not just pay them? Because I want to fight the one. A car occupying three-fourths white curb and a quarter red should not be ticketed, right? Etc…

Today, I seated myself in front of my computer and minimized every work occupied window. I dug into my handbag for my wallet and pulled out my bank card. These bills would be paid in full and off of my mind, today.

I carefully brought up the websites to allow my payment, entered in passwords, and supplied billing information. When completed, I reviewed my 401K and increased my deposited amount. I phoned my broker and discussed my options for current and future investments.

Still most importantly, I devised a new found budget and implemented it immediately. I allotted a weekly amount to myself, went to the bank, withdrew the cash and am allowing myself to spend only that which I have allocated. IE. Until the cash is gone.

Perhaps there is no un-burdening which employs happiness more than financial freedom.

Happy as a clam from my spring cleaning, I booked a trip to Hawaii in the beginning of May for my friend and me. I get it. I'm ridiculous. Still, soon I'll be bronze and ridiculous.