Tag: family

Little siblings

I never had little siblings, younger brothers or sisters… I was the baby of many, and by a bit.

My eldest sister would be mistaken as my mother whenever we would go out places… eleven and a half years difference can do that.

And so, I grew up learning loads of things not to do, loads of mistakes not to bother making, because at least one of my older siblings did that thing, made that mistake, and I learned the result long before I might have considered doing any of it myself.

Therefore, I’ve always struggled to understand what it could be like, having your younger sister in grammar school or still in high school… going to their terrible school performances or sports games… my siblings were all older by a good amount, so their performances and games were always awesome to me – in my child mind, they could have been pro compared to my own performances or games at the same time.

Tonight, I ran into two old classmates who were attending the art show of their little sister… and it reminded me that people actually do that, come back to the high school because of the younger sibling… I’d forgotten.

I’d thought people only really returned to visit for themselves, see old teachers and new buildings… that sort of thing… or to work there.

As I pondered how odd that idea feels, I suddenly recalled that I actually can relate a little bit.

You see, it’s almost like I have a borrowed younger sister.

My best friend lives in England, but her youngest sister lives in Houston, and she’s in high school right now.

Though I mostly am at the school for work purposes, I occasionally arrange my schedule around seeing her or spending time with her.

For the art show tonight, I had already planned to attend it, because it is always amazing.

However, I also knew that she would be performing in it, and so made sure to arrange accordingly to be there when she performed.

I always record her performance, and send it to her sister, who, naturally, is too far to make the trip for a short little performance every time.

So, in a way, I have a borrowed little sister: my best friend’s little sister.

It’s not exactly the same as her being my real sister, because I’d have attended loads more of her events and such…, but it has enough similarities for me to be able, ever so slightly, to relate to those who have younger siblings.

You know what I mean?

Post-a-day 2019

Wowzer

I started today with lots and lots and lots of tears… and a decent amount of snot, too….

And then, as though I had just ended a long-term dating relationship, I finished crying, cleaned myself up, and spent the day with my mom, my eyelids weary and, ever so slightly, burning…. every mirror glance made it look as though I had just been crying, though I hadn’t cried since hours earlier…

I felt a heavy weight had lifted away from me, one I had very much grown accustomed to being ‘normal’… and the ghost of a weight still lingers, as though my emotional and psychological muscles are gushing back to normal size, the blood finally flowing through much more freely again, oxygen reaching the muscles fully, at last… and a certain sense of nervousness at what is to come from this openness, this space that had been so large and so occupied (and heavy) for so long…

And I can feel how much my everybody wants this rest that tonight has to offer me in this big and cozy bed at my mom’s house… I cannot quite imagine what tomorrow will bring, but I can sense that there will be a sort of ‘other side’ I will reach, come morning…

Although, this dog that just began barking next door… could be a problem here… when the neighbors first got him, months ago, he barked all night long for days… and I slept almost not at all, until the dog went hoarse from the barking, and I couldn’t hear it anymore……… oh, goodie(!) – he’s stopped.

Anyway, I await happily the person I will be not only free but able to be tomorrow.

Thank you, God, for today.

It was terrifying.

And I think I’ve been working toward it for quite some time now…

So, it is nice to have it somewhat handled, at last.

Thank you. 🙂

Post-a-day 2019

Pity party

Some days, I think I’ve just got to go ahead and pity myself… not so much as a big deal or anything, saying how sad this and what a poor, poor dear I am…, but as a short and sweet, compact little pity party.

We talk about how part of facing our fears is being able first to name them… and I think my little spells of depression can relate much to that idea.

I always acknowledge that I feel I am sucking at life…, but I don’t ever really list it out, say it all out loud.

Tonight, I kind of did in a phone call to my mom… sure, she had some not-so-uplifting, but true things to say, and that didn’t help much in the moment, but it was a good reminder for now.

However, by stating all these things where I felt like I was totally sucking at life, it was like putting a name and face to my current sources of this panicky depressive state from this past week and weekend.

‘This sucks and this sucks, and I feel this way because of this, which totally sucks…., and I feel like a total crap woman because of this, and a total failure in this part of my life, because of this…, etc.’

And I cried a little as I said them, though not lots.

And, now, I feel significant improvement… almost good.

I think I was resisting feeling miserable, because I was ashamed of the circumstances in the first place, and disappointed in my being upset in the second…. and by declaring each upset, without getting all dramatic and angry or anything, by just stating what each piece was, I was able to being letting it all go, letting it all let go of me…

I didn’t tell everything to my mom, so not everything is freed, but everything I told her is mostly totally over for me now.

(There’s one final piece to my weekend stress, and I’m not quite ready to let it go, so I’ll reevaluate it in the morning, if I even still remember it, and I suspect things will go very well after that point.)

So, it seems to me* that this little miniature version of a pity party, in which I say out loud all of the sucky things going on for me in life at the moment, is actually a practical and beneficial means of letting it all go and moving forward with empowerment.

Who’da thunk that a pity party ever would be the answer to truly good things in life? 😛

Maybe that’s why we started them in the first place… we just tend to have a little (read ‘a lot of’) trouble with keeping our words simple and not intensely and immensely dramatic…

Post-a-day 2019

*Dagny would be furious, I know! 😛

Missing Context Clues

“I don’t think it needs the liquid… I think it needs the skin smashed across it.”

“Then smash the skin across it… I’ll go get the tray…”

And, yet again, my mother and I are able to crack up at our own conversations… it happened many times today…, especially when we kept returning to the blueberry-dyed eggs that ended up looking, as I called them, like they were covered in dinosaur boogers… which, I suppose, is another story for another day.

For now, I leave you with little context, and instead give you our thoughts about a lack of context. ;P

You see, we regularly laugh at our own conversations, my mother and I, not necessarily because the conversation itself is funny – though it sometimes and sometimes often is – but because we consider how it would sound to a passer-by, someone hearing it out of context or without the visual guidance of what is currently in front of us… imagine a person standing on the other side of a doorway, hearing our conversation passively…, or someone on the other end of a phone, overhearing things, but seeing nothing…, and you can imagine how absurd that person must find what he or she hears from a great deal of our conversations.

Just the other day, we were discussing how ‘he wouldn’t necessarily look fat, because it depends on whose hand it is…’

Our topic of discussion is clear as day to just about everyone, right?

Oh, wait… it’s just clear for me. 😛

So, that’s what we do oftentimes with our conversations – we realize how crazy they could and likely would sound out of context… and then we laugh a bunch, because it is totally laugh-worthy. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Stressed irony

Jump– jump– jump– jump

—-jump-jump

Aaaaaaahh!

Fleas are just darn terrible, especially without a pet… at least, with a pet, they stay on the pet… without the pet, they spread everywhere, and attack every warm body that passes through (which happens to be my warm body, my being the only one who actually lives here and isn’t a big of some sort)…

Ugh…

Help me, Lord… I have a struggle beyond this, and the fleas are just making everything worse and somewhat terrible.

……..

You see, have you ever heard the song “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette?

This section has lived in my head off and on ever since I first learned the song, way back when:

A traffic jam when you’re already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It’s meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife…
And isn’t it ironic, don’t you think
A little too ironic, and yeah I really do think

It is all too ironic, I dare say, that this line about the man and his wife always stuck with me as a child, and now it has resurfaced in the face of reality hitting the mark of a reasonable validity in the statement.

That is, in more sensical wording, that line has come true for me.

I met this “man of my dreams” several months ago – and he even became the actual man of my daydreams over time.

Every time we are together, I am filled with light and love, and I am inspired to be the best version I can be of myself… and I want him to enjoy himself and have a wonderful time, and I take care to help along his enjoyment in the interaction.

We inevitably have a wonderful time.

And I drink up his smile.

And his eyes… those eyes that keep contact… they are that kind of eyes.

Every new thing I learn about him and every new experience I have with him increases his perfection as this “man of my dreams”.

Everything except the seemingly inevitable, that is…

I finally paid attention enough to his hands this last time I saw him – something I never seem to check on people, and so it had to be a conscious effort this time – and discovered a wedding band.

…::face palm::…

He had on another ring, too, so there was a chance it was just a ring and not a wedding band…, but then I learned of his beautiful and wonderful wife, and their beautiful darlings of children.

It was confirmed…

When I considered it all, I discovered that I truly was unsurprised by the information… just bummed.

All the good ones really are taken…(!!!)

A somewhat jokingly thought thought, but it seems to strike rather truly these days. :/

I never really expected him to be single, available… he’s too great, too comfortable in himself and with me and others… he has confidence in his place with his partner and family.

But there’s always a chance that a great guy won’t be unavailable, I tell myself, because I’m not with anyone, you know, and I’m great…

Anyway…, moving onward…

It stresses me sad to know that this guy, for sure, is not a potential partner in my life.

And… surprisingly,… yet not surprisingly,… I find hope in it all.

Firstly, that this guy exists suggests that it is possible someone else like he is could exist, someone so wonderful.

Secondly, that this guy is such a good guy that he can have a wonderful, non romantic time with me, even though he is married, makes him an even better guy than thought….

Which, then, makes the first point an even bigger and better deal…

Thirdly, there were two tiny, unchangeable aspects to him that I don’t particularly love (but that I found myself to be okay with reasonably quickly as I spent more time with the guy), and perhaps this is a piece of why he is not the one for me nor I the one for him… and perhaps the one for me will share many qualities with this guy, and yet those tiny disliked aspects will be gone in the one for me…

So, ultimately, it’s a good thing… all of it.

And… I’m even relieved a bit… no offense, but I didn’t and don’t want to have those tiny drawback aspects if I don’t have to have them, you know?

I mean, I definitely am still not quite over it all… it is still a blow to know for sure something like this, even when you had somewhat suspected it all along…, but I also can see that I will be over it, and likely rather soon.

I don’t recall at present which character where said it, but pain demands to be felt… I agree with that… when we ignore pain, it changes, but ultimately worsens.

So, I talked with my cousin, just to communicate my frustration and sadness today, because I realized it was time to let this all go… we discovered that I think I need to have a final cry to get the last dregs out and gone in the matter, so that then I can resume a wonderful friendship with a wonderful, inspiring guy.

Post-a-day 2019

Look what we found…

R(ac)oonmate Part III

Within just two days of two guys stepping up and volunteering their time and efforts to help where pest control has thus far failed, we have evidence to support my case…

Evidence beyond doubt of a raccoon’s living with me:

Further evidence to support my belief and argument that it had become a family living with me:

Appropriate reaction to evidence:

“D’aaaawwwwwww!!!”

So, we’ve only one captured so far, but they are so darn cute, these babies!

Almost makes the whole thing immediately forgives me.

(Actually, I’ve already forgiven the raccoon, but maybe don’t tell anyone about that yet…)

There are still more to gather – they ran off to the far side of the house, and then light ran out for the day, so the search had to stop… also, rain is expected, so it might be a bit before the walls can be opened up again (since it is done from the outside of the house).

The saga is coming to a close, but not before we’ll have to deal with a “monster rat” seen under the house today…, so there’s still a bit more to go, in addition to the raccoons.

Hopefully, all goes well, and the critters all move out!

As for now, signing off – goodnight!

Post-a-day 2019

Speedboats and slow thoughts

I might have shared about this already, but I’ll share it again, because it’s on my mind…

I was thinking tonight about this boat thing.

(Well, actually, I was thinking about Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and how I’m looking at reading it with a friend, so we can talk about it, but that this time I might do well to make a list of reasons why it’s good that I didn’t live in Pride and Prejudice times.

You see, I usually get lost happily in the story, such that I am sad when I finish it and just return to real life… it only ever takes me a couple or few days to read, because I end up doing little else once I start reading it.

And so, at the end of it all, I am covered with a sort of depressive feeling of my life being inadequate and/or uninteresting and I likely to be anything wonderful compared to the world of which I’d just been dreaming in Jane Austen’s book.

Anyway, so I was thinking about making a list of reasons, right?

I’d thought, ‘Oh, the whole bathing part makes me glad I don’t live there… that’s for sure,’ because I like being clean, and clean didn’t seem to be so precise a thing in those days, and smelly was all too common…

‘But then,’ I thought, ‘I couldn’t have ridden on speed boats or gone water skiing…, though I could have ridden on big boats between countries… like the Titanic!… only not the Titanic, because that was terrible, and, besides, it was much later in time, anyway…’

And that was then I thought of tonight’s topic renewal!)

Sophie Kinsella has a book where the main character has amnesia… when she watches her wedding and honeymoon DVD to help jog her memory, she sees herself beside her husband, who happens to be driving a speedboat.

She is absolutely delighted by the fact that her husband can drive a speedboat(!), and brings it up in her mind somewhat regularly, partly as a reminder that it it worth staying with him, despite the fact that she doesn’t remember him or seem to have a connection with him, and partly just as an adorable and silly reminder of how amazing her life has become (since she can last remember it), because, goodness, a man must be amazing if he can drive a speedboat(!), and it is even more amazing to be married to such a man.

Totally silly, I know, but that in no way changes the fact that I love it every time I think of it.

The main character does such a good job of convincing the reader of her belief in the fact that her husband’s skill is spectacular, that I found myself even thinking how amazing it would be, even dating someone who knows how to drive a speedboat.

‘Wow!’ I would think, ‘What could that be like, knowing, let alone dating or marrying, such a person?’

And this thinking continued for rather some time – even a couple or few years, I dare say – before something absolutely absurd hit me.

Growing up, two of my grandparents lived in a private community of lakes a ways North of Houston.

It would take us about two hours, door to door.

My uncle kept a ski boat there.

And we grew up kneeboarding and water skiing.

The damn broke terribly when I was supposed to start to learn to ski, but I eventually had the opportunity, when the damn and lake were restored.

And so, for the last couple years my grandparents lived there, I was the only child living at home, and so the only one who went to visit with my dad whenever he went up (the other went, too, but nowhere near as often).

My dad, therefore, taught me just about everything needed in terms of caring for and using the boat.

The ski boat… a speedboat…

Meaning, of course, that I not only know my dad as someone who can drive a speedboat, but that…, well,… I know… myself… you see…

Yeah… not too sure how I missed that one… for years.

😂😂😂

Not so impossible after all, to find someone who can drive a speedboat. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Eye See You

How often in life do you consider length of eye contact?

It comes up somewhat often for me.

When I was little, my dad usually would ask me, just after our leaving a conversation with someone who had just been introduced to me, what color the person’s eyes were.

We both knew that it was his way of getting me to look the person in the eyes when meeting him or her, and we both actually enjoyed the fun little game that had become of the goal.

It was partly a distraction from what the person was saying, because I was focusing on noting and remembering the person’s eye color, but it had me be conscious of my eye contact, and encouraged me well to increase the amount.

As an adult, I now occasionally have what feel like eye contests with people, usually men, where we seem to be aiming to stare into the depths of one another’s soul, because we neither of us have the tendency to look away upon making eye contact.

In all the movies, it is the love scene, where the two lovers first make eye contact, and it is undeniably clear that they are meant to be together.

In my life, it mostly just has a message of good manners on both sides… I know, totally lame in comparison… but real life can be at times, especially without the specifically designed soundtrack and close-ups to go with it.

Anyway, when these – now, I don’t want to call them staring matches, because it isn’t like staring, but it isn’t quite a soul-searching look either… let’s go with gaze sessions – gaze sessions happen, I inevitably get the impression that the other person has a vested interested in what I am saying, and, therefore, in me, too.

And it is odd at times to understand that this young and happy and beautifully in-love, engaged man is uninterested in me in a romantic sense, despite the fact that it is always totally easy to understand quite well, because his interest in and attention to what I have to share is so strongly pronounced by his continued eye contact.

I usually have no thought of looking away from eye contact, because the other person present looks away long before I might consider it.

But, with these guys, neither of us is used to looking away before the other person does, and so we end up in this love-scene-like gaze session with one another, unsure what to do, and even unsure as to what we want to do – we’ve never had to consider looking away, because the other person always does, so we don’t even know if we, ourselves, want to look away.

And so, I always end up considering afterward how I want that kind of interest and invested attention from someone to partner with me in life… while these gaze sessions are not filled with romantic love but human love, I want ones with my future partner to be the same kind of expression, but with the romantic love present, too.

And then I consider how I might be making other people feel.

Sure, the gaze sharers are probably in a similar boat with me, realizing that I, like they do, look into people’s eyes when they talk with me, and they therefore think little else of it.

However, the people who are always looking away first, what are they always thinking about my eye contact?

Do I intimidate them?… Falsely occur as interested in dating them?… Freak them out?…etc.

And then, after several minutes of dwelling in the whole conversation, inevitably going onto weird tangents, I shake it all off (quite literally), and move on with my day/night and life.

Perhaps I’ll talk with someone about it, and if I bother people with my eye contact…, but it is unlikely that I would be willing to change it simply because people are scared to make eye contact, so I’m not in any rush.

Anyway… a final note: I love having these gaze sessions… whether the person has the vested interest in me or not, the romantic interest or not, matters not to me… what matters is that it feels like they love me on some level of humanity, and that is a wonderful feeling.

🙂

Post-a-day 2019

Southern work

I have worked in private Catholic schools, and so prayer and Bible verses aren’t entirely uncommon here and there slash every morning.

However, any work that I have had outside of these private schools usually has little to do with religion or God.

Sometimes, a prayer or invocation will happen at some event or other, because, well, this is Texas – there is a certain wholesome Christian-ness toy the culture, and so prayer before their performances was entirely normal and acceptable for the theatre kids at my cousins’ public high school in small-town Texas.

Houston is a whole ‘nother story – big city here means a certain amount of he open Christianity is lost – we have people from all over the world living here, and I’m not so sure Christianity has the majority hold here, even.

Therefore, it is uncommon for me to have strongly open Christianity show up at work here – leave Houston and enter smaller towns, and it absolutely is the norm… but not here.

And so, it was extremely odd for me to have the Bible quotes to me as part of my internship training the other day.

Yes, it was totally relevant to what I was being taught, (the quote, I mean), but the assumed foundation of Christianity was never discussed and was somewhat irrelevant to the topic of discussion at the time.

However, it reminded me that, well, I am in Texas and I am in the South, and I’m working with someone who is not Houston…, so of course Christianity is the standard foundation for anyone around – being not-Christian is rather abnormal and extremely uncommon.

And something about it was beautiful to me – no one was aiming to convert or preach or anything like that at all… it was merely a matter of, ‘Well, it is our task, given even by God, to do this and that, so it brings everything full-circle,’ having it make even more sense that we would do something a specific way in this job I’m learning (which, recall, is not a job about religion, but about caring for animals).

In any city-like job, I think I would have been uneasy about the comment, concerned that it was a radical Christian trying to convert me from my sinful ways without even getting to know almost anything about me, let alone the fact that I am Catholic – yes, we have these radicals here from time to time, too – but in the somewhat countryside, working with horses, it was utterly normal and acceptable, and it even surprised me that I wasn’t expecting it.

I guess I was thinking more about how this is a ‘work situation’, which I relate to big city, as opposed to that it is a ‘country work situation’.

Because if I had put in the word ‘country’, I’d have been ready and waiting for all sorts of Bible and God tidbits to show up – countryside in the south equals God-fearing and God-loving brings who are grateful for the gifts that God has granted them in their lives… for men, it means Christian cowboys through and through.

Traditionally, anyway… I guess we’ll just have to see how things go for the future of our Southern countryside, but I do kind of like it – the kindness and love that is always there really is wonderful.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that right now.

Goodnight! 🙂

Post-a-day 2019

’S’wonderful (!)

Starlight, start bright

All you stars I don’t see tonight,

Take this wish I wish tonight –

I wish I may, I wish I might…

Have another day tomorrow that is as wonderful (or more) as today has been.

Thank you for the love, Universe, etc.

I might not be at par on the whole adulting thing, but I’m delighted with where I am on the whole pursuing passions and being self-expressed ones. (!!!)

❤

P.S. A selfie with the tubby guy at my internship

Post-a-day 2019