A Sentimental Journey

The air is warming up (I forgot how early Spring comes to Birmingham), daylight savings time is about to make me the happiest girl in the world and I have felt physically healthy for the longest time since my journey down a health spiral began almost 5 years ago.

I believe life has peaks and valleys. A lot of bloggers, I've noticed recently, call them seasons. It's your season to have kids. It's your season to work hard. It's your season for stress.

Well let me tell you I was in a real shite season for a long time. As people always remind me (like I would forget) it hasn't all been bad this past season. I got married and had an incredibly wonderful Lil' D.

True dat.

But I also have lived in 5 houses in five years (about to be 6). Made two huge moves. Experienced more physical pain than I would wish on my worst enemy. Experienced some loneliness from moving to a city where you don't speak the language, real or cultural. Had 4 surgeries. Been forced to abandon two jobs before I was ready to go.

I lost a lot of myself in this past season because I had to focus on that boring self that is just surviving day to day, not the self that thrives or grows or can give to others.

I feel like I'm finally, finally getting out of this season and moving on up to another. A peak (I'm just going to put it out there). This last month, especially, has introduced me to new people whether real or just in the cloud that have pushed me out of my rut into something light and new. I've been given books that have changed my perspective on everything from writing to purchasing to organizing to religion. I've listened to podcasts that have made me think hard about what it means to be a working woman, a productive member of society, and what makes one truly happy. I've devoured blogs about budgets and schedules and menu planning. I went to a museum for the first time in as long as I can remember for fun. I went to the park on a sunny day which I hadn't done since I lived in NYC so many moons ago.

And I'm not going to let my superstitions get the best of me. In the past, I've never wanted to celebrate anything good for fear the gods would strike me down. But guess what, they strike you down whether you are celebrating the good times or not.

So I'm celebrating.

The dogwood outside my door is opening up in time for Easter. Life is opening back up for me.

I've really missed you. It's been too long. Let's sit a spell.

Ed notes: This post originally featured Doris Day but I thought this song better reflected my mood.

To Friendship and Beyond!

My list of 2013 New Year's resolutions was a pretty tall order.

I have definitely accomplished 3 out of 15 goals and for the other, more vague resolutions, I feel like I've made some progress. (And hey, what was I thinking with #10 - meditating?! With a new baby  I might as well have put try to sleep every night near a construction zone or iron all the sheets in the house.

But I've been thinking ahead to what I want to do next year (because I'm that type of person) and I think I'm going to keep it simple and focus all my efforts on #6 from this year:

BE A BETTER FRIEND.

Why suddenly so motivated?

Because I'm a Kappa Delta and in September they sponsor International Women's Friendship Month, silly! It's been on my mind all month!

No really, it's even MORE simple than my sorority bonds:
I've simply come to the harsh realization that I'm not that good of a friend.

In my head I'm a great friend. I'm as loyal as a dog with a shock collar. Or a squirrel to a power line. Or a unicorn to it's rainbow tail. But out in the real world the truth is I do not show this by words or actions.

Big Clue:
I had 10 women in my wedding (and wanted to add more) and I've only been a bridesmaid 4x (three of them were family weddings and my bestie who had me in her wedding deserves a patience medal of honor). That to me means that I'm not doing a good enough job staying close to people. My head is one place and my actions are in another.

This year I've come to terms with the fact that I'm a procrastinating introvert. I mean well, but I dislike (strongly) talking on the phone and I put off writing by e-mail or letter until the moment has passed.




So here are some concrete steps I'm going to take to be a better friend!

1) Communicate. Stop trying to pretend I am ever going to call someone but instead use the written word with abandon.

2) Participate. A lot of the time I get stage fright about going somewhere (a la new mom groups) and isolate myself. This is a bad habit. I don't have many regrets from my 20's but one big one is that I lived alone in college, grad school, and New York.

Yes, alone.
That's right, by myself.
Yup, even at nineteen.

This means that when people had impromptu get togethers because they lived in the same house or had late night heart to hearts I wasn't there. I missed a lot of bonding moments. I never had to go to the library to find some quiet. I was lonely a lot. And I still have a hard time sharing.

3) Forgive. This is a big one for me because I never even realized that I didn't. My aha moment came during my most recent move when I found a heartfelt apology letter from a friend from high school who did something to me (me being very important here) - something very typical for a high school girl to do. In my head this had been an egregious crime that ended our friendship. When I read her letter (which I didn't even remember her giving me) I realized that it was such a stupid, trite thing. And I had just not forgiven her. I still miss her being in my life some 15 years later. I come by my unforgiving nature genetically but it's time to cut the helix, so to speak. I need to learn how to forgive and practice it. I think my friendships will be stronger for it. Plus, people forgive me all the time. Time to return the favor.

4) Thank. A lot of people have done a lot of nice things for me. And I need to be better at thanking them.

5) Be Present. A little bit like participation but more in depth. I need to just be there for people. Be more helpful, be more there. I don't know how else to say it. A good friend's mother died last year (a woman who had been a 2nd mom to me) and I was so consumed with doing the "right thing" that I wasn't really present at the funeral. I didn't know what to say or do so I just did nothing. And I think all I needed to do was be more there and be myself.

Anyway- so that's what I've been thinking on this Fall day, this first day after Kappa Delta's International Friendship Month.

Watch out friends, you won't know what hit you.

Clue:

An Ode to Irresponsibility, 4 Rusty

Dear Reader (all three of you),

Sometimes I have the best of intentions to drink like a grown-up only to stagger home six hours later pondering what went wrong. Last night, after finishing responsible drinking at one lovely Village bar for a much needed girl's night-I was walking merrily home, arms linked with my great friend Susan when she suggests that we go to just one more bar before heading home.

"No, no," I protest, "I must go home and do my homework, clean the pigsty, wake up refreshed and bright for a new day."

To which Susan replies, "O.k."

We walk a few steps further, I turn and look back at the bar with its warm, glowing lights and say, "well just one more" (See! she twisted my arm, I swear!) and off we go for the night.

Saddled up at the next bar, heady on conversations about boys and love and life we start to notice two dudes staring at us. Dear Reader, I promise you these aren't the kind of dudes you want staring at you. So I whisper to Susan to not look at them at all so as not to encourage what would obviously be the worst interaction of the night. So we don't. We continue our heady conversation of boys and love and life and while we are just getting into the meat and potatoes of the point one dude staggers over and not so subtly smidges right on into Susan.

Oh no. Not good.

This is his opener:

"Are you girls from New York?"
(Seriously? Seriously?)

"No, no we aren't from New York"
(We can't even lie about this, our drunk drawls coming out of the bottom of our wine glasses.)

"I'm Rusty and I'm a drummer"

Hmmmm.....this is where I go, "But I've known a lot of drummers and you don't look like a drummer." I repeat this for effect.

Rusty assures us he is only in this suit (I will admit a disheveled suit!) because he came straight from his day job.

So we head straight into lying. Susan is in fashion design although she can't sew, but man is she a good drawerer. I burst out giggling never to return. Rusty undeterred by obvious lies and a good deal of my asshole laughing persists.

"What kind of music do you like?"

Susan goes first. Rusty responds that he likes, "grunge, Led Zeppelin (o.k. we are doing o.k at this point) and Foo Fighters! Oh! And I like new stuff too, like Fall Out Boy."

Fall out Boy? This 30 something man loves the eye make-up wearing, tight pant cramming, Ashlee Simpson canoodling, fake band member Pete Wentz? And readily admits it! Seriously? Seriously?

Dear Sir. I insist. You are no drummer. And you think we are 21.

We slam back the rest of our wine and God bless her, Susan takes my uncontrollable laughing self out of the bar (to the next bar).

I would on a normal day feel bad about laughing in this guy's face- but he committed what I find to be the most egregious bar sin. If two girls are deep in conversation, not looking at you, not even giving you the slightest hint that we are looking at you, and you do not look like an exact replica of Adrian Brody or Joaquin Phoenix or even Shia LaBeouf do not come over and interrupt our conversation and saddle in and think you are just what we need for the eve.
You are not. You are annoying. Please go away. Right now.

I will wax poetic about the #1 bar sin on another day, when I sit on a much higher moral perch, not having woken up with a teeny little headache and absolutely nothing accomplished other than being absolutely irresponsible, again.

Coming up soon, 30 days of sobriety- Stay tuned.