Today is the final day of my five off. Parting is such sweet sorrow. My co-workers have done well at leaving me to my peace and quiet.
What is most apparent about time off,and this is not a new revelation as I’ve said this after every break from work: I could be a woman of leisure so easily. If I won the lottery there’s no doubt how quickly I’d quit my job. There’s no pretending, kids. Not even a flippin’ part time job just to keep me occupied. Sure, I would learn by experiencing life instead of living vicariously. Honestly, I don’t even know that I’d put in a two week notice. Done would be done.
Alas, now isn’t the time to let my mind drift off to far away lands where being tutored in the native language is with a resident of said dream location. Nope.
Reality time.
Who is to say that I cannot live in the now? Live in the moment and embrace every opportunity that comes my way.
Have you ever seen the movie “Yes Man” starring Jim Carrey? He goes to a seminar and takes it literally by saying YES! to every suggestion and offer to cross his pass…that includes a sexual encounter with the elderly lady next door. Ewwww That will NOT happen in my case. I mean, my neighbor is a cigar smoking garden gnome. Ick.
Hold on. I need to go cleanse my brain with bleach.
All righty! So, the prospect of being more of a YES! person is appealing. Sitting on the sidelines of my own life is no way to LIVE. It’s especially no way to let my son live. We need fun and adventure.
Forgive me readers for I have been slacker. It’s been God only knows how long ago since my last blog post. What started out in 2007 as therapy became more of a platform for me to make money, but that wasn’t really what Marissology aka Wildhair aka Mental Origami was created for, you see. Just so you know, I did NOT make money and become the newest Jennsylvania — Jen Lancaster. Again, most likely to be blamed on the fact that every-freakin-body has a blog and, undoubtedly, because I am a slacker. Exhausted helping the world see one hour at a time. There are days that I feel quite accomplished. Then, a machine breaks down and sense of defeat creeps in. I’m not a flippin’ idiot, but if it involves wires and electricity I am NOT in my wheel house of comfort.
Anywho, I did romanticize that my life of trial and error in raising a teenage son without support from his jackass dad would some how have broad appeal and magically I’d be rewarded with prizes and monetary adoration. Hey, I even toss in the freak show known as my dating life and search for a bra that will properly lift and support the gazongas. Yeah yeah, it goes back to being lost in a sea of blogs and lack of expertise (laziness) in making this blog pop out on search engines.
::insert laugh track::
The sole intent of this post is to vent and whine. The rules of this blog remain the same: My blog; my rules.
While I cannot declare that I hate every aspect of my job, after sixteen years, it feels as if the shelf life has expired. But what should come next? I’m 46 years old. Oh, of course every job has ups and downs. Sometimes it feels more downs than ups. It’s called work instead of fun for a reason. Then again, all over the web people are shouting out how they love what they do and blah blah ‘secret’ yada yada. I’ve been trying to pretend I loooooooove my job and know where I am is where I belong. Poppycock! When instinct tells you to walk in and just flip off the place as a whole whilst declaring a big f*ck you! one might want to reassess the definition of happiness.
That is not to suggest I dislike every one who works with me nor does it say that business is a giant vortex of suck. It isn’t. This is NOT about the corporation or people. It’s about me MEMEMEMEMEMEME!
Maybe all I need is a period of respite. You know, that little doo hicky some people take for a week or two. Uh, what’s the word? The Brits call it holiday. We ‘Mericans call it a V A C A T I O N! The problem is that in spite of my efforts to pull a team together that can manage without me for a week, it seems futile. Do I just go and let them fend for themselves? Force them to step up and handle whatever comes their way? That’s how I learned, after all. Damn the torpedoes? If they can’t pull their shit together then it’s tough nuggets? The downside to that theory is that if they fail, it will be my failure. I’ll get the “how could you take time off and not have suitable coverage?” Right? Blah. Rock and hard place, meet Marissa.
Now, on to the next vent of the morning. I pride myself on being somewhat emotionally stable in my world of singledom. Howevah! I miss companionship. I forget what it’s like to have someone look at me as if I’d hung the moon and vice versa. Sure, that dreamy crap may fade, but how terrific is it while it lasts? That’s a rhetorical question. I need to have my moment of lalaland romance. People on Facebook are constantly bitching about their significant others who don’t live up to their promises etc… Not everyone expresses such disenchantment, mind you. Some people actually LIKE the person they married or date. It’s possible that one day I could be one of those people. Oh, and while I’m on this subject, please don’t patronize me with the “when it is meant to be, it will be” m’kay? There are times when that advice is appropriate, but not when I’m on a rant-a-roni. With my current state of mind I may threaten to punch you in the face. Hey, it isn’t personal.
Did I mention that I am 46 and all that you have just read will later be blamed on jacked up hormonal balance? I won’t be able to deny it as once it is on the internet it NEVER leaves. This has all been quite therapeutic for me. Getting it all out helps. Admitting that I am merely human is quite cathartic. The ability to always rise above does not come easily every time.
The life I lead may look simple and easy for those of you on the outside. It ain’t easy to be me, but there’s no other way I know to be.
So, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. I’m tappity tap tapping this out on Monday the 13th. For anyone who knows me personally or simply via the internet, you are fully aware Cupid hasn’t had the best aim in regards to moi. The last “relationship” I had was doomed from the start. The word relationship is in quotes because it was far from being a full-fledged combination platter of boy meets girl; boy asks girl to be his one and only. It was clear after a couple of dates that he was too immature to realize that devotion doesn’t begin with the parting of the legs. See ya, losah!
I’m not really turned off of the concept of love and all the shmoopy-face stuff that usually comes with being in a relationship. That snarl and turned up nose look you see when someone mentions Valentine’s Day is just part of my middle-aged, bitter hag schtick.
The songs you see on this post today are ones that popped into my head, and for some reason or other, hold significance in my life. For instance, when the first tune, Old Fashioned Love Song, was popular on the radio I thought it was David Cassidy. Remember kids, videos were not around. We had to wait for a band to appear on a variety show to see them … or go to a concert. I was all of 10 years old. That wasn’t happening.
This song is just fantastic, isn’t it? I first saw the Defranco Family on American Bandstand. My sister Mary had the 45. If you’re too young to know what that is, Google it. Back to the song. It encompasses all the ooey gooey feelings when infatuation first strikes. It’s fabulous. I mean, that is what I have heard about falling in love.
Let’s bring it to the ‘80s, shall we? This song was popular during a period of time when I attended Kankakee Community College. There was a guy with great biceps and happened to be much taller than I. He had a way of walking that made it appear he was on one of those moving sidewalks in the airport. Literally, his gait was smooth. It fascinated me. Well, being too young for the bar scene and living in a town that offered very little for teens, we would cruise the square in search of thrills. It was rare for us to ever stop. We’d just ‘woot woot’ out our car windows and keep moving. Personally, I was too awkward to form a cohesive sentence around the opposite sex. Not much has changed. I seem ballsy on the internet, but it’s an act. That is a tidbit probably better not shared, eh?
Anywho, back to the song True. Every time it came on the radio, I knew that this smooth walking guy would make an appearance. Once, while going to Arby’s, the song was playing. Sure enough, the guy in question was in Arby’s, too! This sort of phenomenon convinced me that it was fate he and I would date. WRONG! He had the hots for my friend’s friend.… she was bow-legged.
OK, ladies, who didn’t absolutely love Jack Wagner on General Hospital? Did you swoon and turn into a puddle on the floor when he first sang this on the show to Felicia? I think it’s safe to speak for all of us that is a big affirmative.
When the Jack heyday was basically fizzled and we’d moved on, my brother and I had gone to a Chicago Sting (soccer) game with our parents. Jack Wagner was performing after the game. Dad had no interest in seeing him, but little bro and I hung around to witness Mr. Wagner live. What followed during the performance would bring sneers and “shhhhhh” aimed at my brother and me. We were hooting and hollering like stupid fan girls. Squealing “we love you Jack!!!” We giggled until it became apparent it would be best we bid farewell to Frisco.
There are thousands of fantastic love songs that I shamelessly croon along to when I’m in the car. Not in the shower. Believe it or not, shower singing isn’t something I do much. Romance isn’t lost on me. It’s just a waiting game until it finds me. That is all. Until then, and possibly during and after, I will continue to carry out my down with love state of mind for public consumption.
Ooh, speaking of down with love …
And I cannot possibly end this post without sharing one of the world’s most ultimate love medleys… also starring Ewan McGregor.
and then there is this one from the same soundtrack
Which leads to this song. I love it beyond comprehension.
See, I am not such a bitter, frigid cynic after all
For what it’s worth, it makes me weepy every time I attempt to sing along.
Here I am again attempting to take a stab at a weekly feature on this blog. This inspiration stems from an online photo album I started on Facebook that is entitled “Hell to the Yeah!” Some of the quotes will be heart felt. Others will be cheeky and snarky in their delivery. Here and there (a lot, really) are empowering to women. Men will still be able to appreciate the sentiment, though. I mean, it’s not like I am forcing you to watch a chick flick or read my chick lit. If you have daughters, guys, you’re surely wishing for them to embody independent spirits, right?
Oopsies! I went off on a tangent. Here is week one of
Speaking Words of Wisdom
Javier Bardem played the character Felipe. Yeah, it makes it all much more sexy now, doesn’t it?
The link for this video was sent to me (and my siblings) via my sister, Karen. The email was simple with a direction to scroll down the page and watch the video. It captivated me. Call me a sucker for a touching story,but I’ve been blessed through kindness and generosity on various levels. I believe. Small changes can lead to bigger changes if we just keep the faith.
Armed Forces — Without the selflessness of men and women who choose to serve in America’s military branches, I wouldn’t have freedom as I know it.
Beachbody — Without the amazing group of people and programs made available through this company, I wouldn’t have managed to lose weight without a gimmick.
Coffee — Miracle elixir of the morning.
Doppelganger — I love the word. I’m not so sure I’d ever want to meet mine.
Estrogen — I enjoy being a girl! OK, not ALL the time, but I’m grateful menopause hasn’t hit me yet.
Food — Seems rather basic, huh? There’s always food on my table and in my son’s belly… and a bit too much in mine. It’s a love/hate relationship.
Girlfriends — Every woman needs close-knit female friends. Mine are diverse and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Hummus — It’s delicious and good for you! Think the kids won’t like chick-peas aka garbanzos? Have them try Hummus.
Idioms — I use them freely. They are fun and add color to conversation.
Jumping Jacks — Two years ago I couldn’t do them. Today I am able to thanks to losing weight and increasing my strength and mobility. YEA!
Kitties — I love my feline friends. They may be aloof and annoying at times, but I love ‘em.
Laughter — Yours or my own. It’s the world’s best medicine.
Mancub — He is my world and reason for getting up daily. He teaches me lessons daily.
Neanderthals — The jerks who haven’t evolved. Why am I grateful for them? It helps me teach my son what NOT to be.
Open minds — We need more of them in this world.
Patience — It is a virtue and not something I typically possess. However, when it counts the most it’s with me.
Quality — In this world of excess, I have learned that quality of time and product is the better partner.
Resilience — My parents blessed me with the ability to be resilient. Try to knock me down and I bounce right back. A proud family trait.
Sisters — I have four fabulous female role models. Each one has offered amazing lessons in my lifetime.
Technology — This blog brought to you by Apple.
Unconditional love — Best feeling in the world to give it and receive it.
Vernacular — OK, it’s an unusual thing to be grateful for, I guess. Welcome to the melting pot! Plus, I’m currently watching Swamp People on History Channel.
Water — Basic. Simple. Not available to everyone on this planet.
XX — chromosomes that make me a girl! This makes me think of a Seinfeld episode when Elaine declares to George and Jerry, “I don’t know how you walk around with those things. ”
Zippity Doo Dah! — Yes, I sing it when I’m happy. I sing it when I need to get happy. I sing it when I’m being sarcastic.
OKAY, you know me and I am a snarky, sarcastic chick. I find a little pleasure in playing devil’s advocate from time to time. However, on the whole I am happy. Content, if you will. While i do have dreams of building a better life by way of higher income that affords me my own house and vacations to destinations that aren’t family members addresses, on the whole I am HAPPY.
You might ask how that is possible when there are so many things happening in the world that are dreadful. Darkness is spreading. Hate is more and more evident. Sure. It is. But in my world, where I have control, I find reasons to negate all the horrendous events that are not in my control. Do you dig? I’m controlling my personal state of mind.
Gratitude is Attitude.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. For Americans it begins the holiday season. Our hearts are more open; pockets more empty. It also makes people make deliberate attempts to find things in their lives to be grateful for. My suggestion is not to let it just be a seasonal duty or chore. Do it daily. No need to write about it but if it helps you to do so, then do it. There is a bounty of social networking sights for you to share it on. The first one is your own family. Write a note on a Post-It to your husband or child for why you’re grateful. Share the positive. Make use of the front of your refrigerator. Dry erase boards are for more than grocery lists. Make your gratitude list.
Start a movement and make it begin under your own roof. A doctor I once worked with, Dr. William Grant, was notorious for handing a person a piece of paper with the alphabet written vertically in the margin whenever he’d hear someone complaining incessantly. He’d instruct them to start with A and work down to Z listing things that person is grateful for. Sure, X and Z often stump folks, but you get the general idea of the task. Some days we have to stop and smell the roses and appreciate that we can see and smell their aroma.
Mancub and I have traveled to Springfield for a wedding. The bride is my niece; one of my brothers daughters. This excursion marks the third wedding we’ve attended in 2011. Third, but not last. The fourth will be in October when a friend weds. Truly the year of commitment.
Here’s a little known fact to people outside of my family circle: I have been the official wedding crier since my first flower girl experience in my sister Karen’s wedding a billion years ago. All of 6 years old, I sobbed uncontrollably at the altar. Talk about a pathetic sight. To fully grasp what it is about weddings that makes me cry so much is fodder for the psychiatrists couch. At that age my estimation is fear that my sister was being taken away from me forever! Of course, that theory doesn’t make sense when you consider the fact that I can cry at the nuptials of someone who is a relative stranger.
After several years of seeing myself in wedding photos with smudged eye make up, shining bright red nose and generally looking as if someone beat me up, I had to do something. With FOUR weddings to attend in a year, I didn’t want ugly memories of myself for the loving couples.
It is bizarre.
As I have matured, it has become a smidgen easier to stop the tsunami of tears. That is not to say I do not cry at all. Even though I got teary eyed at my own wedding in 1990, I didn’t sob. I should have RUN, but that’s for another day. So many things went wrong on my wedding day and the days leading up to it I think I was just relieved it was finally commencing. Another instance where I didn’t lose control was recently at my sister’s civil union. Taking deliberate steps to maintain control during the ceremony was executed. I followed these three simple steps:
When music plays or someone sings (before or during the wedding), start running through a mental to-do list for work. A grocery shopping list or a tally sheet of all the people you believe to be morons are options, too. Just keep your mind preoccupied.
Scan the other guests and find someone who is crying and laugh at them (mentally) for being an ugly crier. If no one else is crying, seek out the worst dressed woman and pick apart her ensemble as if you’re Stacy and Clinton from What Not To Wear. Yes, it seems cruel but you’re trying to save yourself from hideous wedding photo ops.
Hum the theme song from The Family Guy anytime you feel the burning sensation in your eyes, nose or throat indicating you are about to lose it.
The last one is the hum-dinger of no-fail techniques for me. Sharing this information may make me appear to be a lunatic or I’ll be given high praise. Oh, this is just for the ceremony. Ask me to make a toast and all bets are off. Have you ever tried to mentally sing something while reading a heartfelt dedication to the happy couple? Niagra Falls, baby.
For days I have been contemplating today. If you’re looking at the date as you begin to read this, you realize it is September 11. Marking the tenth anniversary of tragedy on United States’ soil.
It is always my effort to write something that is poignant and meaningful regarding significant dates in our history. Today isn’t just about the terror that struck our nation in its heart, but how such an act brought our hearts together.
I’m not one to spew politics or theories. Remembrance of my own range of emotions and how it affected my, then, 7 year old son. How would I explain what it all meant? Could he possibly manage to grasp the concept that a group of people could hold such contempt and loathing toward our “Land of the Free; Home of the Brave” or would it go over his head?
September 11, 2001. The morning I sat in horror as I watched the events unfold live on television. Sobbing, I called work to inform them I’d be late. My managers at the time hadn’t heard of the tragedy. It was all just beginning when they received my call. As a result, they thought something horrendous had happened to me, or worse, Mancub. Through the panicked voice I told them what was happening in New York. Without hesitation I was told to take my time and to keep them informed as the radio wasn’t able to give extended coverage.
Schools didn’t officially let the kids out early, but they welcomed parents if they chose to pick up their child. There was a definite need to pull each other closer. There was such a sense of fear and recognition that during this crisis, people wanted to huddle close and mourn the loss of so much: Lives, sense of security and freedom. All that we’d grown to expect was suddenly ripped away.
A group of coworkers decided to meet up at a local eatery. Again, we just didn’t want to be alone. Prior to that I did go to the school to pick up Mancub. On our short drive from to the school to our home, I asked my little man if his teachers had talked about what was going on in America. While not going into detail, the teachers were instructed to use their best judgment and discretion based on the age of their students. At age 7, Mancub’s teacher simply told the children that something frightening was going on, but they were safe at school. She added that parents would further explain … or something of that nature.
First up in our conversation was explaining the meaning of terrorist. I struggled to find an age appropriate analogy. In his infinite wisdom, Mancub gathered that Bin Laden was like Darth Vader and his minions were Stormtroopers simply doing his bidding. Eventually, he’d make further comparisons to bad guys vs. good guy scenarios he’d seen in movies. Mind you, these comparisons were on a much smaller scale, but if it helped him understand the dire situation a bit better, I was OK with it. It seemed to me that he needed to comprehend the circumstances, but not with attaching fear that would keep him up at night.
The most shocking aspect of our talk was when Mancub sat for a bit watching television. Then, he turned to me and asked how I would feel if someone I loved was responsible for such an act of horror. “Do you think Bin Laden’s mom would be sad for what he has done?” It left me speechless. And then, he asked if the President was OK. We hadn’t talked about that.
On September 11, 2001 it was my duty to protect my son and help him understand what travesty had happened to our brothers and sisters in patriotism. But what happened on that date was that a seven year old boy helped me see beyond the scope of what I had witnessed … to look beyond my immediate anger.
You may have noticed that my posts haven’t revolved around my weight loss efforts. That’s due to me having less focus on it. I’ve not gained, but in the grand scheme of things that provides no solace. With a goal of 100 pounds to lose and only being 40% of the way there after a year and a half, that is not progress. I don’t know exactly WHY momentum was lost about a year ago. Yeah, that’s right. In six months I lost the weight I’ve managed to keep off for a year. For the average person that is something to celebrate. However, with the way my mind works it is not.
Refer back to the real goal of 100 pounds to lose. With that all being said, I have begun again. Since the clock has already ticked away the days; months; year, I can’t go back, but what can be done is look back to see what worked for six months in 2010. The workouts that I’ve purchased through Beachbody all have great aspects. I started out with Power 90 and Turbo Jam (loaned to my niece), it seemed natural to move on to their next level workouts: P90X and Turbo Fire. They are both very challenging. It felt good to push my body, though. Yet something happened and I can’t put my finger on it. Laziness? Boredom? Old habits? Whatever the reason, I couldn’t stick with the programs. Rather than follow the provided workout calendars, I deviated and did other workouts from Beachbody. Lack of consistency would prove to be my health and fitness demise. At the time, mind you, it wasn’t realized. Since it seems to have dawned on me that the problem was about accountability and consistency, a return to what worked a year ago is what will be done. The calendar for Turbo Fire is up on my refrigerator. Auto-Schedule in WOWY Supergym is set for TurboFire.
Now, when I do my workout I can post it on Facebook and Twitter — it will help me be more accountable. Announcing that this is my new path makes it known to all who read this blog (all 4 of you — thanks). For the past two days I’ve done Turbo Fire. Egads! I forgot how it works every muscle in my body. I’m sore. A good sore. Unlike some of the other programs I’ve been toying with, this one charges me and isn’t so boring that I countdown the seconds. It suits MY workout personality. Yes, we all have one. Some times it takes sampling and exploration to figure that out. Follow me for the next 12 weeks as I complete Turbo Fire. Message me if you’re interested in being a virtual workout buddy. I could use the encouragement
With 
