my world is round

a fresh start

The occasional blogger has surfaced. For at least the next fifteen minutes. My thought run to this...

The first day of school. Every year this was a huge event. New clothes, new school supplies got us all geared up. The homeroom assignment or schedule would come in the mail and we began to discuss with our friends where we would end up together. New possibilities, new options, new classes.

And most importantly, a new chance at life. Every fall came the opportunity to re-invent yourself, to start over. You weren't the same you as last year. The three months of summer had provided distance and time for you to become someone else. Maybe someone better. At least someone different. The embarrassments suffered last year were forgotten. The gradebooks were wiped clean. That cute guy was once again a possibility.

It was stressful and exciting. Scary and limitless. Above all -- the chance to do whatever you wanted to do with your life.

As we turn into adults, we lose this opportunity for an annual spring cleaning of our psyche. I think this is why people go on annual retreats or even switch jobs. To regain this feeling of being someone new, someone with life stretched before them in a way it hadn't been a week before.

I am struggling right now with that need for newness. We are searching for a new house and when our last attempt fell through, I was a wreck. I think the thought of a new house, a new neighborhood, walls to paint and a garden to build were more important to me than the actual dollar-based purchase. So while we continue the search, I can't help but dwell on my lost opportunity at starting over with a fresh palette.

Another chance will come. Either in the form of a new house or a new book. Is this why women love to buy a new outfit -- or get a new haircut?

Feeding the Beast

The holidays are here, and with it, comes the stress that invades families during this "happiest of times". What makes people go nuts as we near Thanksgiving? We overeat, overdrink, and overindulge until we are sick, of ourselves, of each other, of everything surrounding the holidays. If you take down your Christmas decorations on the morning of December 26, please raise your hand.

But thinking about this brings to light another issue. What makes us do the "bad" things we do? What makes us an outcast or defensive or petty or bitter or anti-social? Camus would argue that we don't do bad things, only make different choices. That one choice is as good as another. Who are we to classify and judge one decision over another?

I disagree. To me, the primary goal in life is to love and be loved in return. To this end, I do think there are social contracts in place, things you must do even when you don't want to. Apologize if you were wrong. Fulfill your promises. When you act as though you don't care about other people -- whether out of apathy or laziness -- they begin to shut you out. Not intentionally but there is only so much energy to give. And when you give and don't get back, re-energizing the emotions spent, it is natural to turn away.

I have wondered recently what drives people to separate themselves from the love of others. And I think it comes down to fear. I think fear of rejection keeps people from reaching out to other people. And therefore becoming lonely. Fear of getting fired keeps people from speaking up at work. And therefore becoming disgruntled. Fear of confrontation keeps people from honest discussions with their family. And therefore becoming estranged. Fear feeds fear. And once the cycle is started, it is hard to stop.

I have a family member who has spent her life feeling powerless. Something again I think stemmed from a fear of not being able to take care of herself. As a result, when she has found herself in positions of power -- as a mother or caretaker -- she has used her position for ill gain. Not knowing how to handle the power, she abuses it. Positions where she could have been a great leader and role-model, a benevolent guardian to whom others turn for support. Instead she has bred bitterness and distrust, dispensing her love and her money conditionally. I don't know that she can ever be happy as she lives a life of biting her own tail.

True there are sociopaths in this world, The Sociopath Next Door, is a real eye-opener. These are people without a conscience. Who truly care about noone but themsleves. But I think many of the people who hurt themselves and others suffer not from sociopathy but from fear. A fear that will destroy them and those around them.

Just No

Here's a tip for all you guys that sit outside the convenience store at two o'clock in the afternoon in the middle of the week drinking a beer hidden by a tiny paper bag.

Just no.

Don't give me that "how you doin'" look as I pass by. I'm not interested. The slight uptick of the chin that says "hey -- but I'm too cool to actually speak." The lazy eyed, pouty-look. No. Just no. Call me sexist, but if you are hanging out in a parking lot while the rest of the men are at work, you're fishing in the wrong pool.

The dirty undershirt's a nice touch. The scruffy, bedhead look that says I haven't showered in three days. That's hot. Blow me that air kiss. It just might work today.

Or not.

Ever.

Get a job.

rocks, not islands

I think old people -- as a general rule -- are happier in their day to day life. The experiences of life have just worn them smooth. Like a rock thrust from the earth is jagged and sharp, determined to make its mark on the world and then over time, is worn down by the elements until it is smooth and comforting. That's what happens to people. You weather enough storms that eventually the wind and rain just wash over and around you. You feel them, to be sure, but they don't catch in your corners, you don't fight them until they send you tumbling down the hill.

My grandmother who, at the amazing age of 96, has outlived her husband, her daughter, brother and sister, and countless friends, was an incredible source of strength and peace when we lost my mom last year. Not that she loved my mom any less than we did but she had the wordly experience to know death as a part of life. To mourn but not let it consume.

I look forward to the day when I am old. When I can wear tennis shoes with long, full skirts and not care. When I can embrace my children as friends and dote on their children. When I can let the waters of time smooth my rough edges into gentle curves that add to the music of life.

your life, in one sentence

So I wrote my About Me page this morning. And I had to come up with a one-line biography. Sum up my life with just a few words. And as I sat here on the sofa, trying to be witty and terse, I realized that the sum of my life history is more than a collection of actions completed. To list everything I have done does not tell you who I am. My one-line biography can be no more than a snapshot of where I am today, right now at this moment. And that point is coming off of my 38th birthday, searching for inner peace.