For old times, my dear, for old times sake.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for old times.

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup, and surely I’ll buy mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for old times.

For old times, my dear, for old times sake.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for old times.

We two have run about the slopes, and picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot, since old times.

For old times, my dear, for old times sake.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for old times.

We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dinner time;
But seas between us broad have roared, since the old times.

For old times, my dear, for old times sake.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for old times.

And there’s a hand, my trusty friend – now give me a hand of yours!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for all old times.

For old times, my dear, for old times sake.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for old times.

(and i don’t even like beer)

it’s been a long year; it’s been a short year. it’s been a fast year, that’s for damn sure. but all in all, it’s been a good year. i made yet another major change in my life by opting to stay with what i thought was an insane plan last fall, which was to become self-employed. it has it’s ups and downs to be sure, and there’s something to be said as to the implied “perk” of being able to work in your pajamas, but for the most part – it was a great decision and i’m glad i went with it.

and i guess that’s sort of the reason why i haven’t been blogging so much this year, or at least, these last few months. because for the most part, my blog was created as a place to blow off steam – at the world in general, at people around me in particular and what was usually my co-workers specifically. and like in other times in my life, when the chips were down for me, i focused all of my energies – good and bad – into my work; which usually resulted in having steam to blow off. but because my life is good now – great even (i won’t say “perfect” – no one’s life is perfect and if they say so, they’re lying), there’s far less steam. hence, less biotching. which is what i’ve been reflecting on these past weeks.

whether you know me or not, it’s usually pretty apparent that i *heart* alanis morissette. at barely 18 months my senior, she is easy for me to relate to in her life experiences (not the touring and being famous parts, the i have had my heart broken and dropped a spoon in the garbage disposal parts) and her ways of expressing herself have resonated with me for most of my adult life. granted, many artists have crafted songs, poems, lyrics, paintings, musings and photographs that have touched me in one way or another; but she has masterfully matched my life experiences year after year and given voice to the voice in my head by saying the things i could not say, relating to my joys and my pains in real, human ways and sharing the same feelings and emotions i have felt and had.

the first time i had my heart completely and totally trampled upon – i mean absolutely crushed; ripped still-beating from my body, thrown to the floor, stomped, kicked, cut up and ran over – was in 1998. i’d only discovered alanis about a year and a half previous, but imagine if you will how the lyrics to “you oughta know,” “right through you” and “you learn” gave voice to my anger and heartache. i would max out the volume and sing at the top of my voice to “Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity? I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner. It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced, are you thinking of me when you fuck her?“ how much i identified with “forgiven” having come from a strict christian upbringing.  then later, when i wanted so desperately to prove myself at the office and was repeatedly ignored, how much “wake up” resounded with me, with lines like, “there’s an underestimated and impatient little girl raising her hand.” later that same year, when a (much) older (married) ex-supervisor from a previous job starting calling me to offer his sympathy/get me to like him, i’d listen to “uninvited” off the city of angels soundtrack… “Like anyone would be, I am flattered by your fascination with me. Like any hot-blooded woman, I have simply wanted an object to crave. But you? You’re not allowed – you’re uninvited.”

the next two years or so, i dove headlong into my career, spending first nine, then ten, then sometimes up to twelve hours a day at the office. i didn’t know what to do with myself in my off time, really. i baked, a lot. and didn’t eat much at all. alanis released “supposed former infatuation junkie” in 1998 and i admit, i nearly wore it out. and as time went on and i was better able to turn my past pain into anger at my ex, the song “are you still mad” helped keep the tears in check as i learned of his life moving forward. instead i would hold my head up, and when at home at night and on weekends, baking or cleaning, i would dance and sing with “thank you” and “so pure.” sometimes in low moments, i’d listen to “unsent” and relate matthew, johnathan, marcus, terrance and lou to exes from high school, or crushes i’d had but ignored. her “mtv unplugged” album released around that same time, and because i was alone a lot, i would relate to “these are the thoughts” and “king of pain” easily. in fact, i found myself feeling sorry for myself a lot, come to think of it. making songs like “that i would be good,” “the couch,” “can’t not” and “your congratulations” feel cathartic to me. balm for my wounds.

but then i met he-who-would-destroy-me. oh, not that i knew that’s who he was at the time. oh, no. at the time, he was every bit my knight in shining armor. he was the one who made me smile as i sang along with “head over feet.” he was my “prince familiar.” little did i know that only after i made the plunge – dove feet first into a relationship all my closest friends and my own father warned me against, not to mention my very own logic and reason, it would become apparent he was instead my “sympathetic character.” not that i ever let on.

in a matter of months, just under a year really, my strong, independent, free-thinking self became yet again an empty, blackened shell. i took all that was good in me, boxed it up and placed it on a high shelf in the back of my mind, where it’s warm glow peeking out of the cracks would burn me whenever i’d let myself wonder what i had gotten myself into. i had tried many times to explain alanis and what she meant to me to this man. i could have better explained it to a penguin. when i bought ”under rug swept” and listened to it (safely in the refuge of my car, on my long commutes), i found myself fighting back tears at lines such as “i’m 13 again am i 13 for good?” in “so unsexy.” or “I’ll be worthy right? Only when you realize the gem I am.” from “precious illusions.” later that same year, the album “feast on scraps” was released, and i found myself trying desperately to latch onto that precious little box i’d packed up. i looked in the proverbial mirror with lyrics such as, “This talk of liberation makes me want to go lie down under the covers til the terror of the unknown is gone” from “fear of bliss.” i’d lost all ability to stand on my own two feet. i felt abandoned by everyone i trusted, and found myself blaming them with lines like, “You’re essentially an employee and I like you having to depend on me. You’re kind of my protégé and one day you’ll say you learned all you know from me. I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian…” from “hands clean.” but the truth was it was me who had done the abandoning. i had gotten myself into this situation, i would have to get myself out.

somewhere along the way i got to see alanis live again. this time it was an acoustic set, and about halfway through that show, she sang “sympathetic character.” by that point, angry, hurt, and struggling to find any joy in being there at all, it was all i could do to sit still as the lines washed over me -

I was afraid you’d hit me if i’d spoken up,  I was afraid of your physical strength I was afraid you’d hit below the belt I was afraid of your sucker punch I was afraid of you reducing me. I was afraid of your alocohol breath, I was afraid of your complete disregard for me I was afraid of your temper. I was afraid of handles being flown off of I was afraid of holes being punched into walls I was afraid of your testosterone.

I have as much rage as you have - I have as much pain as you do - I’ve lived as much hell as you have - and i’ve kept mine bubbling under, for you.

you were my best friend, you were my lover, you were my mentor, you were my brother, you were my partner, you were my teacher - you were my very own sympathetic character.

I was afraid of verbal daggers I was afraid of the calm before the storm,  I was afraid for my own bones. I was afraid of your seduction I was afraid
of your coersion I was afraid of your rejection I was afraid of your intimidation I was afraid of your punishment I was afraid of your icy silences
I was afraid of your volume. I was afraid of your manipulation I was afraid of your explosions.

I have as much rage as you have - I have as much pain as you do - I’ve lived as much hell as you have – and i’ve kept mine bubbling under, for you.

you were my best friend, you were my lover, you were my mentor, you were my brother, you were my partner, you were my teacher, you were my very own sympathetic character. you were my keeper, you were my anchor, you were my family, you were my saviour. and therein lay the issue; and therein lay the problem.

by this time i’d settled into a routine; the real me buried, the outer me wooden and stoic, like a russian nesting doll. i almost perfected projecting this façade. i had to. to let it show any cracks or weakness was to invite punishment, and i had no strength to ward it off. every ounce of unused energy i had left had to go into the rediscovery and rebuilding of myself. i knew i was in there somewhere, i just had to get out. i listened to “sorry to myself” a lot then. “For blaming myself for all of your unhappiness and for my impatience when I was perfect where I was. Ignoring all the signs that I was not ready, and expecting myself to be where you wanted me to be.” i had to apologize to myself, before anyone else.

alanis released “so-called chaos” in 2004 and i bathed in it. it spoke to me. hell, it was me. from “8 easy steps:” “How to stay paralyzed by fear of abandonment, How to defer to men in solveable predicaments, How to control someone to be a carbon copy of you… How to keep people at arms length and never get too close, How to mistrust the ones who supposedly love the most, How to pretend you’re fine and don’t need help from anyone, How to feel worthless unless you’re serving or helping someone.” yeah, i could teach you all that in eight easy steps. then “My tendency to want to do away feels natural and my urgency to dream of softer places feels understandable.” from “out is through.” and then, from “excuses,” “These excuses how they served me so well; they’ve kept me safe, they’ve kept me stuck – they’ve kept me locked in my own cell.” and the hits just kept coming… from “not all me,” “It’s not all me, it’s not all my fault…” then, “Heartburn and headaches and soon-to-be ulcers. Compulsive yearnings non-stop to please others.” from “so-called chaos.” it was like i’d been doused with ice water the first time i heard “spineless:” “I’ll be low maintenance and agreeable. I will not talk about my dreams so much. I’ll listen to you for hours, won’t need anything…” is that what i had become? spineless? yes. so i began to grow a new one. i began to regrow altogether. it started with “everything:” “I can be an asshole of the grandest kind. I can withhold like it’s going out of style…”

like it or not, i taught myself to be an asshole. and i got out. i shed it all like 350 pounds of lead and learned to be weightless over the next two years or so. and, right on schedule, in 2008, alanis released “flavors of entanglement.” which was perfect. because i was finally, really, actually happy. not happy on the outside, dying on the inside. happy all the time.

well, most of the time. sometimes life at the office was a biotch. but since i was finally at a place in my life where my focus was on me, and not my work, it became easier to learn to leave it at the office at the end of the day. i stuck with eight-hour days. i think i gave up only one saturday in nearly three years. meanwhile, alanis sang, “I come alive and I get giddy I am taken and globally naturalized,” in “citizen of the planet.” i met the bf and laughed and sang with her, “You are the sexiest man I’ve ever been with. You, never hotter than with armor spent.” “in praise of the vulnerable man.” when i pushed back, it was he who said i was listening to bad tapes in my head. which was funny, really, because it just so happened there was a song called “tapes” on “flavors of entanglement.” those tapes said things like, “I’m but thorn in your sweet side” and ”You are better off without me.” i’m glad now i didn’t listen. and as time went on, i started to notice i hardly heard any of it at all. i began to feel like if i really had suffered a total rebirth, maybe, just maybe, i should let this go, too. and when i discovered that i couldn’t relate to a sadly beautiful song, “torch” but instead, only felt sympathy for her, and what she must be going through, i knew we’d come to a crossroads. when she said, “These are the days of raw despondence, and I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this.” it was no longer about me and someone. it was about her and ryan reynolds. and that’s all it would ever be about. well, fingers crossed, anyway ;op

but it was looking back at this path of rebirth and self-discovery that made it so much more fun to look to the future. to free myself from gut-wrenching worries. or at least, worry, but know that worrying was about as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. amiright? i look forward to horizons now. i’m still not the world’s biggest risk-taker, but i don’t automatically shy away from the unknown anymore. and fittingly, one last track of that last album was a perfect send-off, “giggling again for no reason:”

“I am driving in my car up highway one,  i left LA without telling anyone. There were people who needed something from me, but I am sure they’ll get along fine on their own. Oh this state of ecstasy; nothing but road could ever give to me. This liberty wind in my face – and I’m giggling again for no reason.

I am sitting at the set of cali sun,  we’ve gotten quiet for its’ last precious seconds. I can feel the salt of the sea on my skin, and we still hear the echoes of abandon.  Oh this state of ecstasy; nothing but road could ever give to me. This liberty wind in my face – and I’m giggling again for no reason.”

alanis is happy now, too. last i heard, she was in love in her new nuclear family. she got what was surely the best christmas gift ever; her first child, a son, was born this year. his name is Ever Imre. imre is hungarian (fittingly) and, loosely translated his full name means “always in charge” or “forever ruler of the home.” i think she’s come to a crossroads, too. and i think she, too, might just decide it’s time for rebirth and refocus and to leave the past behind. we’ll see.

so happy new year to you. i hope the next year – the next decade – all of your tomorrows give you some opportunity to find yourself giggling for no reason.

it’s a sin that somehow light is changing to shadow and casting its shroud over all we have known. unaware how the ranks have grown, driven on by a heart of stone – we could find that we’re all alone in the dream of the proud.

on the wings of the night as the daytime is slurring where the speechless unite in a silent accord using words you will find are strange and mesmerized. as they light the flame feel the new wind of change on the wings of the night.

no more turning away from the weak and the weary. no more turning away from the coldness inside. just a world that we all must share – it’s not enough just to stand and stare. is it only a dream that there’ll be no more turning away?

i did. twice. and i didn’t. and i did, twice – both before 40. and i’d have to be really f$%#ing old to make a 75th anniversary at this point. so there you have it. three bits of truth about this enigma, wrapped inside a puzzle, hidden in a mystery that is me. i’ve been married, twice. and divorced, twice. and i never had children (and surely never will).

i tell you this because quite frankly, i don’t recommend you do any of those things. well, except maybe not have kids. you gotta be some kind of crazy to have kids. kids are only cool when they’re not yours. screw ‘em up, send ‘em home, that’s what i say.

but listen, really i just thought, you know – maybe i could be a little more honest and open here. why not? since the inception of my blog, a great many reasons for my not revealing my identity have faded into obscurity. no – obsolescence. yeah, that. and i have to admit, there have been several occasions now when it would have been far more fulfilling to just reveal myself to someone i was interacting with. to wit: i am owed a lunch i’ll probably never receive, i’d like to get to know someone a lot better, and, most bothersome, i may have missed out nearly entirely on being the real kind of friend i’d like to think i can be to someone.

sadly, though, there are still some very strong reasons why it’s best that i not jump the shark and give up my anonymity. out there in the “real world” i interact with a lot of very prominent business persons and community members. and i may not always agree with them, or their business practices. and if i rant about them, well… that’s just not good for business, is it? and personally, i was reminded again just this very week why i cherish the anonymity. someone very closely related to all things i want to put behind me reached out to me. it’s comforting still to know there are so few ways, really, to find me. security is a warm blanket.

so for those that owe me a meal… or want to swap geek-girl tech-talk… or those that just want to talk, know this: i find other ways to reach out. and i’m sorry that makes it seem that i’m the one in charge, if that’s something that bothers you. but for me, well, after all these years, dammit, it’s good to be in charge. 

Whatever you do don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either, your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

or maybe it’s because i value my own personal safety and those around me. either way, i want those friggin’ bike taxis out of the woodlands. they are a nuisance. they are a danger. oh, and since i’m on my soap box, they’re not local, either.

last night i got a good look at several of them. i sort of had to – they were swarming around my car in bumper to bumper traffic. turns out they’re up here from houston (surprise, surprise, right?) from a company called “space city bike cab.” i tried to figure out why they were here and how they got here by looking at their site, but seeing as how they only say they’re around reliant center, minute maid park, the grb, toyota center and downtown – we’re certainly off their radar. and since their rates page clearly states they don’t charge fares, only accept tips, i have to surmise someone is paying them to be here. the question is who? i of course know the answer to the question why. because we’re all too lazy to walk anywhere. sadly.

look, i admit to being lazy, so don’t jump my $hit for calling you lazy, too. and if you’re not, well, then you really can’t take offense. my point, and i do have one, is that the bike taxis are a pain in the ass. for several reasons.

1) their “drivers” don’t give a flying rat’s ass about traffic laws. case in point, last night. i’m in the bumper to bumper traffic on lake robbins drive, just before the pavilion. there’s a crapload of cars and pedestrians milling around due to the oktoberfest at town green park (and that’s another thing… hello? it’s september! and they wanted friggin’ $10 to go in to spend more money!!) and the old guys tom petty/zz top/joe cocker playing at the pavilion. while we’re waiting to go at the green light, because some asshat in a minivan has stopped in the street to offload his passengers, three bike taxis, one with people in it, come zipping up between us and the cars next to us in between the lanes, one between us and the sidewalk on the passenger side and two more between the other lane and the median. those two clowns stop traffic in that lane and the left-turn crossover because one of them is trying to turn around and has to lift his rickshaw up over the curb in the median. he nearly tipped it over. twice. and the four that passed my car on either side? the one with the people in it decided to squeeze between me and the car in front of me to turn right into the pavilion to drop his fare. except he couldn’t fit, so he was stuck there, sideways, inches from my bumper, with people sweating it out between my engine and the other cars exhaust.

2) they’re not from here. this is a two-fold issue for me. first of all, i like all things local. the woodlands is large enough now to be self-sustaining. if you don’t believe me, consider this: i haven’t been down to houston in over a year. prior to that it had been almost two. my doctor is here, my dentist, my bank, all my favorite stores, fabulous groceries, our mall has nearly all the same stores as the galleria (and those it doesn’t have i couldn’t afford anyway). i know this isn’t the same for everyone, especially if you have to work down there (i don’t, i work from home). but it is possible, that’s my point. the other issue i take with them not being local is tied to the first – which is, if you’re not from here, you don’t know anything about what is here. consider this: not everyone that goes to a concert at the pavilion lives here, yes? of course not. a lot of them come up out of houston. so, when they get here and find their way through the trees to park their cars, other than knowing that they’re headed for the big white tent, they don’t know where to go eat, where to have a drink after the show. so they hop on a bike taxi. they ask their peddler. guess what? he doesn’t know, either. so at the end of the night, they go home to houston with the same tired, biased opinion everyone in houston has of the woodlands which is there’s no place to go, no culture, no good dining establishments, etc. etc. because they didn’t know who to ask! because they asked the guys that came up here from houston with them!

3) they’re limited to two people (or one lardass; someone has to say it). so if you’re here from out of town and you’re in a group – maybe you all get to where you’re going at the same time, maybe you don’t. “oh, let’s hop on two (or three or four) little bike taxis and try to figure out where to go grab dinner before the show!” yeah, that works. you can talk to each other by text, right? and all decide to go to the cheesecake factory because at least everyone knows it and the bike taxi guys can find it. stupid. stupid, stupid.

there’s a much better alternative if i do say so. they go against all the reasons i’ve given for avoiding the bike taxis. they’re safe; because they’re street legal and obey traffic laws (they even have seatbelts if you’re so inclined). they’re local, so they know where stuff is (besides the big chain places). they’re local, so they know how to get from point a to point b. they’re local, so they’re not taking your money back down to houston. they’re larger, so you and all your friends can ride all at once and converse along the way. and they’re environmentally friendly, if that’s your thing (as in, “that’s why i like the bike taxis, they’re green”) because they’re all electric. that’s right, i’m talking about these people:

i’ve ridden on the go green eco taxi twice now. once some guy was driving (with the cutest little dog) and once with a woman (i think it must have been sara, the owner, cause that’s her in the video on their website). they’re both the nicest people. they know about the local restaurants, the best routes to take if you’re walking around, where the cops harass the drinkers and where they don’t. they’re cheap, too. $3. i mean, come on. three bucks no matter where you’re going or how long it takes them. that’s no worse than what you’d normally tip those bikers, right? plus they’re a wealth of information. plus they’re far safer than the rickshaw (i didn’t fear for my limbs when i was aboard, and i always see them in traffic when i’m driving). so why not? am i endorsing them? yes. do they know it? probably not (feel free to tell them, tho). and besides, aren’t they the cutest little cars you ever did see?

i know i committed to writing a post about all the advice to be offered in “wear sunscreen.” and i guess because of that, i keep putting off writing anything new because i think, well, i’ll have to come up with what i want to say about the next line, and oh, look, the laundry is waist deep again and oh, crap, i really gotta finish that site update before my client calls one more time asking about it and oops! off to the midwest, i should tell people about that…

so let me tell you. i’m busy. but aren’t we all? really? thank some higher-power entity for twitter. because at least that i can do 1-50 times a day while i’m working and let you know i’m alive… amiright?

so; these past few weeks, yes, i went to the midwest to see my family. this was bittersweet. on the upside, we spent a ton of time getting to know my nephew, who you might recall is just one year old. after he warmed up to me, we spent far too much time letting him crawl at me at top-speed and butt heads with me, goat-style. it hurt! but it was adorable!! so i let him do it over and over and over. went to bed with a headache both nights. the downside was this: my mom and my brother & sister-in-law hadn’t been getting along so well lately. mom’s a whiney-ass. s-i-l is a control-freak. bro’s caught in the middle. so we went up there thinking we needed to kick the kid’s asses. turns out, mom needed a talking-to. and in order to do that – we ended up hurting everyone‘s feelings. and pride. but in the end, in hindsight, i think they think it was for the best.

after we left there, we went to saint louis for a while. we didn’t tell them that. i realize that by writing the way i write, i’m simply asking to be outcast from my family one day. why the hell you think i’m so careful to not say who i am? anyway… we went to saint louis and did fun stuff like tour the budweiser brewery. we got to drink some bud light straight from the vat, pre-bottling. i hate beer as a rule – smells, looks and tastes like carbonated horse piss i say – but this stuff? holy crap! if beer always tasted this good, i’d drink it every day. we also went up in the arch, because, you know, ya gotta.

and since we were coming home from the east side of missouri, our travels took us through memphis. and you know what you gotta do when you go to memphis. so i’d never been to graceland and had to go. the boyfriend, he’d been three times before, but he assures me there’s more to see every time. we were kind of in a hurry, and the girl at the ticket counter assured us the tour we selected would take about an hour. maybe hour and a half. nope. three and a half hours later we were back on the road. but i now know more about elvis than i ever thought i would care to know!

what else? well… worked my ass off to be caught up to take a vacay (bor-ing! i know). took the vacay – six days of nearly no work at all! and a grand total of 33 hours and 2000 + miles behind the wheel. got back from vacay – found ourselves working 14-hour days for a week, when not stopping to go out for client meetings, grocery runs, pay the bills, run errands, etc. etc.

oh! and did i mention that i saw john mayer? *still grinning ear-to-ear* i mean, seriously. i loved his music before i went. i can’t say i love him – i mean, i don’t knowhim, it’s not fair to say. and he certainly doesn’t know me. but my god that boy can play! and yes, i get to call him boy because he is, after all, ever so slightly younger than me. slightly. a little. anyway… he’s positively masterful on the guitar, and an excellent songwriter to boot. and the closer the date of the show got, the more i found myself wanting to learn about him, and it turns out, despite his super-stardom level of famousness, he really is just about the most down-to-earth person you could hear about. seriously! and then, at the show, among his anecdotes about his wiffle-ball injury and his accidental funniness regarding which cover-tune he was gonna do next, his voice broke, and he stumbled while grasping for the right words, to express what it felt like – or at least attempted to express what it felt like – to be in a position wherein you’re famous enough that your name is mentioned in a story of a teenage girl who died on her way home. this poor 17-year-old girl, her whole life ahead of her, all she did was go to a mayer show, get in the car, and died on the way home. and his pain, his difficulty in comprehending this, stems from knowing that if she hadn’t been at the show, which she wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for him performing, she might not have died that day. some would call this narcissistic, i call this heavy. that’s a lot to take on.

so now i’ve nearly caught up to where i was before i got ready to go on vacay, and maybe next post i’ll pick up where i left off with “wear sunscreen” – or maybe i’ll post some pics. or vids. oh, yeah, i also went to goo goo dolls/switchfoot/green river ordinance. so that happened. oh, and i had some fantastically bad restaurant experiences. and some really great moments of hilarity.  yeah… so i’ll try to get back on track. we’ll see. but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? this vast, meandering experience that is a moment or two (or ten) in my head. welcome to my world. :o)

my mom recently asked me, nonchalantly, “do you think i should have seen a psychiatrist sometime?” of course she should have. so should i. i think, perhaps, a good 99.9% of us should. because we’re not as friggin put together as we all think we are. so i asked her, “well, if you think they do any good, why didn’t you let me keep seeing one after my childhood trauma?” to which her response was, “well, she was weird; all new-agey and crap. i didn’t like her.” as if that was the only psychiatrist that was available to us at the time, so she had no other choice. but i digress…

counseling doesn’t have to come from some shrink in a chair with a diploma over her head and the ny times crossword on her lap behind the notepad. counseling literally means “guidance: something that provides direction or advice as to a decision or course of action.” and that is never something you can get too much of. everyone could use a little input. some constructive criticisms (which aren’t necessarily all bad!). otherwise, you know what you get? an over-inflated (read: hollow) idea of who you are and why you think you’re perfect.

as for the knees… i’ve never necessarily been rough on mine, but i gotta say, they’re still going… and one day they’ll be gone. and then i’ll wish i had taken the stairs more often. so; be kind to your knees, yes. but take the stairs. that is all.

i’ve changed career paths some seven times now, and have only recently decided on self-employment. but deciding what you want to do with your life is more than just your work. it’s your life. it’s where you want to live, whether you want to be alone or surrounded by friends, what hobbies you choose, what god you believe in. it’s all of it. and those are all pretty big choices.

so don’t rush it. figure it out as you go along. because if you try to cookie-cutter yourself into some mould that you figure you’re “supposed” to be in so that you have that ready-made answer when people ask, “so, what do you want to do with your life?” there’s a pretty good chance you’re answer isn’t really based on what you want to do with your life. it’s based on what you think they want to hear. whoever “they” are.

some other advice that goes along those same lines comes from a book i’m sure i’ve mentioned before, called normal is just a setting on the dryer: and other lessons from the real, real world. she says, “figure out where you want to live and go live there. everything else will follow.” when i decided a few years ago to restart my life, my destination had been boston. i won’t lie, a small part of the decision had been based on the melodic image produced by augustana (a moment of silence for all the innocent pianos that gave their life in the making of the video). but there were several large factors that held me back; the fact that i had just started down career path #6 and had recently feathered a brand new, albeit rented, nest not the least of them. and of course now i’m glad i didn’t go. much like i’m glad i didn’t stay in l.a., when, on a whim thirteen years ago i greeted a new year there with old friends and considered staying.

my point, and i do have one, is that in both of these instances i thought i was deciding what i wanted to do with my life, while subsequently ignoring that the life i was currently living wasn’t so bad that it needed some sort of escape. i’d already made those “escapes” and was rebuilding already. there was no need to derail those plans in order to have a more interesting answer to the question, “what do you want to do with your life?” because the truth was, i already had my answer. it was, “live my life the way i want to. answer to no one. be happy.”

i confess; in a rubbermaid container, beneath a layer of dust and stored under the bed – between the dried remains of the first corsage i ever received and my mickey mouse ears from disneyland - there are a few sappy love letters from boys from back in my high school days. i confess this because they are the only ones i felt worthy of keeping. why? they were probably the most sincere. those that i received later in life, in the grown up years… well, those are gone. folded, spindled, mutilated, maimed, damaged, bowdlerized, butchered, crushed, cut to pieces, defaced, disable, expurgated, mangled, ravaged and burned.

(i had some pain in the past – it doesn’t show, does it?)

the ones from the school years, though, the last time i read them – sometime in the last decade – they still made me smile. feel a little warm and fuzzy. shoot, had i had a glass of wine and some eighties love songs playing, probably would have cost me a fortune in long distance calls. good thing for me, and my bf, that i didn’t, eh?

oh, now… *his* love letters… well, those are keepers. but i digress… keep your old love letters, the ones that matter to you, because even when you are at your happiest in life, should you need a little pick-me-up, they’re good for that. to remember how special you really must be to have inspired such words from others.

bank statements, on the other hand, those can just go. why? think about it. those times in your life when you had no money, but now you do? nothing but bad thoughts there, amiright? and just the opposite… don’t have a lot of money now, but maybe you used to? doesn’t make the old heart warm, now, does it? or maybe you’ve been fortunate enough to have had a steady income for the past decade, and well, good for you. but when you’re looking back and seeing the $850 you spent on the water pump for your car or the $4500 for your kids braces (and then he never wore the retainer!) or the $1200 for the tickets to hawaii that you never got to use because your grandma passed away and you had to go to the funeral or, or, you see where i’m going with this, right? and trust me – worst case scenario, you get audited and the irs wants them? the bank can get them for you. that’s what they get all those ridiculous fees for. customer service.

now, for one that hit home just this morning (when we got up at 6 to go for the first bike ride in a month)…

Stretch.

i woke this morning to find that i had, in the tiniest of ways, aided a friend in her path to realisation that it really is okay to admit that some people suck, and to stand firm in your beliefs. and i’m glad i could help. i hope she sticks with it. we all spend too much of our lives trying to figure out how to fix whatever it is we think is “wrong” with us (the things we are insulted for) instead of cultivating and appreciating all the beauty we possess (the things we are complimented for). think about it; if at some point in your life, someone told you that you were smart, and someone else told you that you were stupid, which one stuck with you longer? it was the insult, wasn’t it? but now ask yourself this; if you’re so stupid, then why did someone else say you were smart? now, delve into this line of reasoning a little deeper. who was it that said you were stupid? someone who most likely doesn’t mean nearly as much to you as the person that said you were smart? so why let the stupid remark stick? what purpose is it serving you?

as for me, it’s an ongoing struggle, i admit. but the way that i blog and the way that i interact with the world in general, at least, as i have in these last few years, has helped me tremendously. i think, because i let myself get worn down to the lowest common denominator of myself, i had nowhere to go but back to the beginning, so i worked my ass off at making sure that was a strong base. i figured, hey, i may as well get something out of all that rebuilding. so i determined that my base needed to be my own sense of self. the very things i didn’t want to let go of ever again. and so i haven’t.

now, to tie this back to the u.s., and on the fourth no less - simple. we seem to think, as a nation, that when someone insults us, the best response is to insult them back. like baseball players kicking dust up on each other.  and how’s that been working for us so far? so we need to go back. we need to remember what makes us so incredibly great, and focus on that, instead of letting others’ insults about our greatness get us all pissed off and defensive. it’s one thing to defend yourself when under attack. it’s quite another to somehow thing you need to “defend your honor” when insulted. after all, if you have so much honor, why does it need defending in the first place?

all that “patriotic” chest thumping just embarrasses me as an american. when are we going to realize that citizens of all countries for the most part all think they live in the greatest nations in the world? and why does it have to bother us so much that they’re just as right as we are?

so, celebrate your freedom today; not your “greatness” – but your greatness sans quotation marks. makes a huge difference.