Nov 19, 2012 |
We all do it. Some do it better than most.
That would be me.
I articulate things you haven’t even considered. I am the expert when it comes to Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome.
No. I won’t give you specific examples. How could you even ask such a thing? Why add fuel to the fire, that should be my motto.
Should be.
I don’t intentionally do it. I just seem to have a low threshold filter when it comes to words. Don’t believe me? Ply me with coffee and cookies and get me talking. About anything. Anything. I can mumble my own monologue with a finesse not yet witnessed by others. The Guardian has flown the coup. I can crash right through those roadblocks with ease.
You know those dreams people talk about when you’re standing naked in front of a room full of people? Never had it. Nope. Not me. I dream about not being quiet. I’ve had nightmares of nonstop gibbering in the most ridiculous of places: telling my life story to the Grocery Store Clerk. Being brutally honest when someone asks, “How are you?”
But wait… there’s more!
I’m the person who, when I ask “How are you?” jumps ahead to the requisite “That’s nice” before hearing your response. Until you’re brutally honest with your answer and I realize I wasn’t paying attention.
Stutter Central: How may I offend you today?
I don’t mean to do it. I really don’t. The majority of the time, I’m a very good listener. But “majority of the time” is so not the same as “all of the time”. Trust me on this one. And with this new “honesty” onset for the Blog, my thoughts spill out of my head more often than they used to.
I’m afraid for you… very afraid.
Can I be insulting? Do birds fly? Am I glad for the ability to edit? Like gold attracts a Leprechaun!
The written word is my friend. The spoken word, notsomuch.
Which may be just one of the reasons I’m such a prolific writer.
You’ll thank me for it later.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 18, 2012 |
This last month has shown me so much. I’ve seen seen how to make ends meet when I didn’t think I could. I’ve learned how to cook rice in ways I didn’t know possible. I’ve managed to keep writing every day, even when I didn’t think I had anything to write about. And I’ve realized you want me to be honest.
For a few weeks, I’ve been finding that honesty. It’s led me to expose parts of my life that I hadn’t let too many see. And your outpouring has been so wonderful, so uplifting. Thank you.
Thank you.
My day job is going well. I’d forgotten more about the job than I realized. In the time I’ve been out of the industry, procedures have changed. My new office runs differently than the last. So ten days after my first day, and I’m still on the “learning curve”. My Boss is patient. Informative. Helpful.
I’m thankful.
I know my posts of late have been stricken with words like “poverty” mixed with “hope”. I’m not beating a dead horse nor riding romantically off into the sunset. Rather, I’m in between those two dynamics; I’m living life daily making choices that I intend to lead to a better 2013.
I don’t have the winning lottery ticket. No magic wand. It will take time to reach the quick goals. But it’s do-able. I can still write. Publish. Market. Earn. Work.
How wonderfully exciting the future seems to me right now. How intimidating and thrilling and workable.
Emily Dickinson said it best:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all …
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 17, 2012 |
Dot and I went car shopping today. I need her to have her own car. With my new job and her full-time college schedule, the car-sharing thing is getting tedious at best and a little frustrating at least. Thankfully, we’ve been able to borrow a second vehicle when necessary.
I know we can make the current situation work, but I hope it won’t last for long. When driving someone else’s car, I only drive it the necessary distance from home to work and back again. I wait until behind the wheel of my own vehicle before running errands like grocery shopping and mail dropping. My weekends are no longer my own.
So today we went car shopping. And we found one. Actually we found several, but we went back to the first one. It’s nice. Two years old. Affordable.
Except I couldn’t get it financed. My credit score is just a little too low, and I haven’t been on the job long enough. Re-ringing the poverty bell is not ~ repeat, not ~ my favorite pastime. And I know after a few more months on the job, after a few more on-time bill payments, I’ll be back in the swing of things.
I hate how a three-digit number defines whether or not I’m “responsible”. Yes, I’ve had to pay my bills late, but I’ve paid them. I haven’t defaulted. I haven’t allowed them to go into collections.
I chose to bear my burdens as best I could and not pass my struggles “down the line”. I hate listening to media and the public hate-monger against welfare and those who “abuse the system”. There are so many legitimate situations that require assistance; I’ve seen them and in earlier years been in them. But those are the stories we don’t hear.
I’ve been tempted to ride that train again. I sometimes so badly want to stand in the public square and scream, “Somebody help me!” To have someone pay the utilities, buy the groceries, take care of the bills. Whatever it takes to allow me to save enough money to buy my daughter a car. But I can’t go there. I don’t want to take funds away from some other family who needs it more: the homeless mother with a young baby. The unemployed Vet who can’t pay his mortgage. Those who don’t have family and friends to come alongside them for comfort or coffee or car-sharing.
The last year and a half, I held out hope that things would get better.
And I kept paying my own bills.
And I can’t buy my daughter a much-needed car.
And while it feels oxymoronic, I’m comfortable with this situation. Because it’s our situation.
It’s hard to explain the feeling of calm we have in our household right now. It may be months before things get “better”; but I know to so many others our situation is Golden.
Tomorrow is a new day. Tonight I’m home with Dot. We’re together. We’re healthy. We’re happy. In our home.
I’d say we’re faring pretty well.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
