I wanted to write something. I started. Then erased. Started again. Erased.
I'm in pain.
The end.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Lovin' is what I got.
Today, I was asked out by a 40-plus year old man. This is something I can typically field with ease, a simple "No", sufficient to drown any hopes he had of wining and dining me. But this particular experience came so far out of left field that I almost laughed in his face. The scenario began when he asked for assistance in locating some titles. Sure, that's my job. I looked up a business title for him first. Great, we had it. The next request caught me off guard. Perhaps it was the title "Box Lunch", or the fact that he subsequently followed that with a nonchalant, "Ees'a ses book." Oh, okay. Box Lunch (for those who are curious). I walk the section, pick out the book, and hand it to him. He seemed oddly interested in making eye contact while asking for my name, and so I smiled a wry smile, gave him my name whilst holding up my name tag, and exited. Fast-forward 20 minutes and a few customers later, as I am headed to the cash register, I saw him approaching quickly from my left. I turned to acknowledge him and he asked again, "What ees your name again?" Uneasily, I reply.
Manuel (An invented name. Creative, I know.) then asked, "How old are you?"
"Excuse me?" I questioned.
Again. "How old are you?"
"I'll be 25 this year," I confirmed, my eyebrows furrowing in feigned confusion.
"I woo'like to take you to dinner," he finalized.
I pressed my lips together tightly, a vain attempt at transforming my mocking smile into an enchantingly apologetic one. "I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend."
Seemingly unfazed by this he says, "Ah. I weel see you again." Gee, I hope not.
It is almost a shame I cannot accept tips for customer service. I am almost certain I would be putting money in the bank. At my last store, it was common weekly occurance to be hit on by a young to middle-aged male while engaged in business-related conversation. However, given the relaxed, business-casual setting of a bookstore/cafe, and the verbose abandon with which I speak, my male customers confused my sales tactics with actual attraction.
You may not believe me, but truthfully, when I began my work as a bookseller, I had no desire to flirt with and garner attention from my male customers. I sincerely loved books, and adored managing my own little nook in the store. I could talk about traveling and languages and wear cute heels to work, a large step up from my tomboyish hardware store days. You may be able to imagine my trepidation the first time I was asked out for coffee after engaging a customer in conversation about something entirely unrelated. Granted, I did have a boyfriend at the time, but I was unused to being sought out by unfamilar men. I was much more accustomed to joking around with my hardware store boys and being on the same side of the fence. I felt a slight thrill at this sudden shove into womanhood, but also a degree of frustration. "What is this?" I thought. "I just want to do my job, and here I am getting coffee date offers?"
Despite my efforts to keep things all business, the onslaught of suitors did not let up. I have been solicited for hugs, asked out for coffee, heckled by a homeless guy, and shamelessly ogled. As time wore on, I grew more comfortable with my body and the way I looked to men. Part of this had to do with my growth in relationships and my own self-acceptance. I was only frustrating myself by fighting what was clearly out of my control. Men found me attractive, and that was that. Unable to be genuinely caustic toward anyone, I continued to field their advances and let them roll off my back whilst still marveling at how I could suddenly be so desirable. Even my male co-workers would drop their own tasks if it meant assisting me with mine. The girls in café used to tease me, darkly curious as to why I had "so many boys in my section" all the time.
Less than a year after my first run with B&N, I left to travel abroad on a whim, only to return 4 months later slightly heartbroken, but with a new perspective that would change much of how I saw myself. For 6 months after my trip, I lived on my mom's couch, saving money to begin again. I was quickly rehired at B&N, this time in the café. As I look back on my café experience, I recall feeling a sexual charge that had never been their before. Do not misunderstand me, I have always enjoyed sex. However, this sexual energy was new and improved. It was not the familiar desire to be delicately wooed by a single lover, but had morphed into the desire to chase something seemingly unattainable. Like a tigress hunting her prey, it became an art. I saw how men saw me and I challenged it, unflinchingly. I played favorites with certain male customers, disregarding my previous formal approach in favor of a more flirtatious tone. Leaning onto one leg while steaming milk became my "stance", and I consistently became the punch line for many loving jokes from my café ladies. I prepared their drinks from memory, and gushed about the "cute ones" once they'd gone. I played like this for several months while very seldomly agreeing to date at all.
It is now almost precisely two years from that time. In that time, I have successfully supported myself, tried my hardest at cultivating a new relationship, moved clear across the country wearing nothing but my heart on my shoulder, had that heart broken, and then revived it with my own two hands. That very sexual energy I previously mentioned pulled me from a long week in March of tear-stained sheets, reminding me that though I had every right to mourn, I had no reason to punish myself. What would I have gained by post-poning my life for the sake of crying over someone who did not want me anymore? A long road of pain and slow healing. As the shock of my decision gave way to a new reality, I spent that initial week in my empty new room, licking my wounds and cuddling Stitch. After that, all bets were off. Fuck you if you didn't want me. Fuck you if you did. For nearly 6 months I didn't settle on anyone or anything. I went on dates, accepted phone numbers, gave out my number, almost never called anyone back, had bad sex, and loved every minute of it. Why? Simply, because I could.
It was only as I was coming down from this incredible high that I met someone who would hold my attention. The emotional sedation I felt with so many other men this year was slowly thawed, giving way to, yet, a newer version of myself. To his credit, I did not make it easy for him to win me, but he nevertheless still had me enamored. Unwittingly, I attempted to call his bluff, digging my heels in at every turn, questioning his motives outright. "So, what makes you different from other guys?" I asked, sharpening my claws. I made off handed comments about my ever-increasing standards, and my interest in why men and women could not ever have strictly platonic relationships. He stayed steadfast and remains so. For this, I am forever grateful.
As I approach my 25th birthday, I am overcome by a sense of empowerment and happiness. This does not stop me from indulging my anxiety once in a while, but not in the ways I used to. The anxiety I now feel is a tool through which I try to accomplish something. I have much to be thankful for, but simply put, I love being alive.
Manuel (An invented name. Creative, I know.) then asked, "How old are you?"
"Excuse me?" I questioned.
Again. "How old are you?"
"I'll be 25 this year," I confirmed, my eyebrows furrowing in feigned confusion.
"I woo'like to take you to dinner," he finalized.
I pressed my lips together tightly, a vain attempt at transforming my mocking smile into an enchantingly apologetic one. "I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend."
Seemingly unfazed by this he says, "Ah. I weel see you again." Gee, I hope not.
It is almost a shame I cannot accept tips for customer service. I am almost certain I would be putting money in the bank. At my last store, it was common weekly occurance to be hit on by a young to middle-aged male while engaged in business-related conversation. However, given the relaxed, business-casual setting of a bookstore/cafe, and the verbose abandon with which I speak, my male customers confused my sales tactics with actual attraction.
You may not believe me, but truthfully, when I began my work as a bookseller, I had no desire to flirt with and garner attention from my male customers. I sincerely loved books, and adored managing my own little nook in the store. I could talk about traveling and languages and wear cute heels to work, a large step up from my tomboyish hardware store days. You may be able to imagine my trepidation the first time I was asked out for coffee after engaging a customer in conversation about something entirely unrelated. Granted, I did have a boyfriend at the time, but I was unused to being sought out by unfamilar men. I was much more accustomed to joking around with my hardware store boys and being on the same side of the fence. I felt a slight thrill at this sudden shove into womanhood, but also a degree of frustration. "What is this?" I thought. "I just want to do my job, and here I am getting coffee date offers?"
Despite my efforts to keep things all business, the onslaught of suitors did not let up. I have been solicited for hugs, asked out for coffee, heckled by a homeless guy, and shamelessly ogled. As time wore on, I grew more comfortable with my body and the way I looked to men. Part of this had to do with my growth in relationships and my own self-acceptance. I was only frustrating myself by fighting what was clearly out of my control. Men found me attractive, and that was that. Unable to be genuinely caustic toward anyone, I continued to field their advances and let them roll off my back whilst still marveling at how I could suddenly be so desirable. Even my male co-workers would drop their own tasks if it meant assisting me with mine. The girls in café used to tease me, darkly curious as to why I had "so many boys in my section" all the time.
Less than a year after my first run with B&N, I left to travel abroad on a whim, only to return 4 months later slightly heartbroken, but with a new perspective that would change much of how I saw myself. For 6 months after my trip, I lived on my mom's couch, saving money to begin again. I was quickly rehired at B&N, this time in the café. As I look back on my café experience, I recall feeling a sexual charge that had never been their before. Do not misunderstand me, I have always enjoyed sex. However, this sexual energy was new and improved. It was not the familiar desire to be delicately wooed by a single lover, but had morphed into the desire to chase something seemingly unattainable. Like a tigress hunting her prey, it became an art. I saw how men saw me and I challenged it, unflinchingly. I played favorites with certain male customers, disregarding my previous formal approach in favor of a more flirtatious tone. Leaning onto one leg while steaming milk became my "stance", and I consistently became the punch line for many loving jokes from my café ladies. I prepared their drinks from memory, and gushed about the "cute ones" once they'd gone. I played like this for several months while very seldomly agreeing to date at all.
It is now almost precisely two years from that time. In that time, I have successfully supported myself, tried my hardest at cultivating a new relationship, moved clear across the country wearing nothing but my heart on my shoulder, had that heart broken, and then revived it with my own two hands. That very sexual energy I previously mentioned pulled me from a long week in March of tear-stained sheets, reminding me that though I had every right to mourn, I had no reason to punish myself. What would I have gained by post-poning my life for the sake of crying over someone who did not want me anymore? A long road of pain and slow healing. As the shock of my decision gave way to a new reality, I spent that initial week in my empty new room, licking my wounds and cuddling Stitch. After that, all bets were off. Fuck you if you didn't want me. Fuck you if you did. For nearly 6 months I didn't settle on anyone or anything. I went on dates, accepted phone numbers, gave out my number, almost never called anyone back, had bad sex, and loved every minute of it. Why? Simply, because I could.
It was only as I was coming down from this incredible high that I met someone who would hold my attention. The emotional sedation I felt with so many other men this year was slowly thawed, giving way to, yet, a newer version of myself. To his credit, I did not make it easy for him to win me, but he nevertheless still had me enamored. Unwittingly, I attempted to call his bluff, digging my heels in at every turn, questioning his motives outright. "So, what makes you different from other guys?" I asked, sharpening my claws. I made off handed comments about my ever-increasing standards, and my interest in why men and women could not ever have strictly platonic relationships. He stayed steadfast and remains so. For this, I am forever grateful.
As I approach my 25th birthday, I am overcome by a sense of empowerment and happiness. This does not stop me from indulging my anxiety once in a while, but not in the ways I used to. The anxiety I now feel is a tool through which I try to accomplish something. I have much to be thankful for, but simply put, I love being alive.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
BoA Constriction
I woke up this morning at 5am to a text sent to me from Bank of America. Thinking it was my loving boyfriend, who sends me random love messages at odd hours, I opened my phone elatedly, only to feel my heart drop when I read the cold, unloving, non-specific bank statement.
Bank of America free text alert! To avoid a service interruption on your account, please call ***-***-**** before 9pm today. To end alerts reply ****.
I mean, fuck, at least it was free! Stupidly, I cracked open Lil' Mac to inspect what exactly was wrong with my accounts now. I had a sinking feeling it had something to do with overdraft fees, as most of my banking problems seem to lately. Lo and behold, I was right; my balance was at a negative-something. WTF. Worry and panic ensued, which then led to crying, which then led to anger at myself for not having gotten after these assholes in the first place. I should not be suffering at 5am like that. No person should. We all work too damn hard to be shaking in our own warm beds, worried that the repo-man is idling just around the corner.
The last couple of times I've called customer service to get assistance in reversing these atrocious banking fees (a whopping $35 PER overdraft charge), I've gotten the cold shoulder. One woman sounded as though she could not care if that last measly $20 was my only grocery money for the week. "I swear to you lady, I cannot afford a Coach bag. I just want to make my car payment." The second guy was more pleasant to deal with, but simply stated that he could not help me because the fees were "valid", a term I'd also heard from Lady Freeze (aforementioned banker).
The fees were valid? What does that even mean? Oh, I get it. I screwed up; therefore, you reserve the right to screw me even more? Thanks. I don't have any money in the first place, and nevertheless, you are taking what I don't have. How is this not backwards? What happened to a bank supporting its customers and helping them work out the kinks? What is going on that customer service has just fallen by the wayside? I hate to pull the "I sign your paychecks" card, but, uh, I kind of do. You have a job because I am your customer, and because my tax dollars have helped bailout your place of business.
I'm not spitting fire for the sake of burning myself either. I do understand how customer service works; I've worked in retail and food service since I was 15. The number one correction or tip I would have to give customer service representatives right now is "Know Your Customer", and if you don't, you'd better learn.
For example, I currently work at literary giant Barnes & Noble. Having been an employee on and off since 2006, I've become one of the more highly trained employees in my current store and I get shuffled between the main customer service desk, kids department, music, cash-wrap, and café. Essentially, I am paid to assist customers and I firmly believe this is my priority, not the selling of memberships. Not only am I paid to assist my customers, but because of my operational soundness, it is my job to anticipate what my my customer needs. Granted, I do not always succeed; everything comes with a rate of failure. Regardless, I try my best.
How does one anticipate their customers' needs? Well, by keeping your eyes and ears open. Example: One particular scenario I always encounter in the café setting is a mom and her antsy children. Each sticky, grabby-hands child wants a cookie, and poor harrowed mom just wants her GD caffeine fix. Add a potential crier in there, or a terrible toddler, and you've got yourself some good family fun. Mom orders her latte, reprimands the kids, orders a cookie or two, goes back to reprimanding the kids. My automatice response, "Do you need these in separate bags?" Sounds stupid, yeah? I cannot even tell you how many mothers I've made happy by asking that one question. "Oh yes, please!" and "How did you know?!" are among the responses I've received.
If there is one thing I've learned in my years of customer service (and babysitting), it is that kids are selfish and moms stress about bringing their selfish children to public places. Does this slow down the line slightly? Yes. Am I being wasteful by using an extra bag? Perhaps. But if I can make everyone's day a little brighter by preventing little Johnny from going ape-shit and destroying everyone's eardrums with his sonic wail, I'll go with that. At this point, you may be wondering why I've digressed. I haven't, I assure you.
Back to this idea about "Knowing Your Customer"... The same goes for banks, and bankers. Yes, you wear business casual, and you stand behind bullet proof glass, or sit at a desk that houses your numerous Banker of the Year awards, but it does not mean you are above anyone. Essentially, you are helping people manage their livelihood. Our capitalist nation thrives on the consistent flow of money from one hand to the next, and you, bankers, are the people who manage that. So, when a frustrated customer sits across from you, pleading for some understanding, I ask you for empathy. You can see that person's account history and activity. If you see that there is one deposit going in per week for no more than $200 dollars, or that they have nothing in savings, you may want to ask that person if they are under financial hardship. Ignoring the issue does not lessen its severity or the effect it has on a person. You, bankers, are the ones who have the information regarding hidden fees, overdraft protection, credit limits and policies; therefore, you are the ones charged with divulging this essential information to your customers.
I cannot truly expect to be an exception to the rule. However, I do truly feel that many of these institutions keep their customers in the dark because it is that much easier for them to turn you away. I understand that there are 50,000 others looking for the same retribution. However, I find it looks terrible when you see your bank getting a multi-million/billion dollar government--issued bail-out, when just the day before they denied you a basic satisfactory customer service experience. "Satisfactory" doesn't even have to mean that I get money returned to me. I simply want to deal with a human who empathizes with my situation. The stone cold faces and voices leave me ashamed for even asking in the first place.
I am so fed up with getting run around by these people. I just want to encounter someone with an honest, empathetic approach to dealing with people. I'm trying so hard... I'm a good person in a bad spot, like so many other Americans to this day. What are we going to do, if we cannot rely on anyone but ourselves? My humanitarian side just may be the death of me. Emerson, were you right? Do we walk alone?
Bank of America free text alert! To avoid a service interruption on your account, please call ***-***-**** before 9pm today. To end alerts reply ****.
I mean, fuck, at least it was free! Stupidly, I cracked open Lil' Mac to inspect what exactly was wrong with my accounts now. I had a sinking feeling it had something to do with overdraft fees, as most of my banking problems seem to lately. Lo and behold, I was right; my balance was at a negative-something. WTF. Worry and panic ensued, which then led to crying, which then led to anger at myself for not having gotten after these assholes in the first place. I should not be suffering at 5am like that. No person should. We all work too damn hard to be shaking in our own warm beds, worried that the repo-man is idling just around the corner.
The last couple of times I've called customer service to get assistance in reversing these atrocious banking fees (a whopping $35 PER overdraft charge), I've gotten the cold shoulder. One woman sounded as though she could not care if that last measly $20 was my only grocery money for the week. "I swear to you lady, I cannot afford a Coach bag. I just want to make my car payment." The second guy was more pleasant to deal with, but simply stated that he could not help me because the fees were "valid", a term I'd also heard from Lady Freeze (aforementioned banker).
The fees were valid? What does that even mean? Oh, I get it. I screwed up; therefore, you reserve the right to screw me even more? Thanks. I don't have any money in the first place, and nevertheless, you are taking what I don't have. How is this not backwards? What happened to a bank supporting its customers and helping them work out the kinks? What is going on that customer service has just fallen by the wayside? I hate to pull the "I sign your paychecks" card, but, uh, I kind of do. You have a job because I am your customer, and because my tax dollars have helped bailout your place of business.
I'm not spitting fire for the sake of burning myself either. I do understand how customer service works; I've worked in retail and food service since I was 15. The number one correction or tip I would have to give customer service representatives right now is "Know Your Customer", and if you don't, you'd better learn.
For example, I currently work at literary giant Barnes & Noble. Having been an employee on and off since 2006, I've become one of the more highly trained employees in my current store and I get shuffled between the main customer service desk, kids department, music, cash-wrap, and café. Essentially, I am paid to assist customers and I firmly believe this is my priority, not the selling of memberships. Not only am I paid to assist my customers, but because of my operational soundness, it is my job to anticipate what my my customer needs. Granted, I do not always succeed; everything comes with a rate of failure. Regardless, I try my best.
How does one anticipate their customers' needs? Well, by keeping your eyes and ears open. Example: One particular scenario I always encounter in the café setting is a mom and her antsy children. Each sticky, grabby-hands child wants a cookie, and poor harrowed mom just wants her GD caffeine fix. Add a potential crier in there, or a terrible toddler, and you've got yourself some good family fun. Mom orders her latte, reprimands the kids, orders a cookie or two, goes back to reprimanding the kids. My automatice response, "Do you need these in separate bags?" Sounds stupid, yeah? I cannot even tell you how many mothers I've made happy by asking that one question. "Oh yes, please!" and "How did you know?!" are among the responses I've received.
If there is one thing I've learned in my years of customer service (and babysitting), it is that kids are selfish and moms stress about bringing their selfish children to public places. Does this slow down the line slightly? Yes. Am I being wasteful by using an extra bag? Perhaps. But if I can make everyone's day a little brighter by preventing little Johnny from going ape-shit and destroying everyone's eardrums with his sonic wail, I'll go with that. At this point, you may be wondering why I've digressed. I haven't, I assure you.
Back to this idea about "Knowing Your Customer"... The same goes for banks, and bankers. Yes, you wear business casual, and you stand behind bullet proof glass, or sit at a desk that houses your numerous Banker of the Year awards, but it does not mean you are above anyone. Essentially, you are helping people manage their livelihood. Our capitalist nation thrives on the consistent flow of money from one hand to the next, and you, bankers, are the people who manage that. So, when a frustrated customer sits across from you, pleading for some understanding, I ask you for empathy. You can see that person's account history and activity. If you see that there is one deposit going in per week for no more than $200 dollars, or that they have nothing in savings, you may want to ask that person if they are under financial hardship. Ignoring the issue does not lessen its severity or the effect it has on a person. You, bankers, are the ones who have the information regarding hidden fees, overdraft protection, credit limits and policies; therefore, you are the ones charged with divulging this essential information to your customers.
I cannot truly expect to be an exception to the rule. However, I do truly feel that many of these institutions keep their customers in the dark because it is that much easier for them to turn you away. I understand that there are 50,000 others looking for the same retribution. However, I find it looks terrible when you see your bank getting a multi-million/billion dollar government--issued bail-out, when just the day before they denied you a basic satisfactory customer service experience. "Satisfactory" doesn't even have to mean that I get money returned to me. I simply want to deal with a human who empathizes with my situation. The stone cold faces and voices leave me ashamed for even asking in the first place.
I am so fed up with getting run around by these people. I just want to encounter someone with an honest, empathetic approach to dealing with people. I'm trying so hard... I'm a good person in a bad spot, like so many other Americans to this day. What are we going to do, if we cannot rely on anyone but ourselves? My humanitarian side just may be the death of me. Emerson, were you right? Do we walk alone?
Monday, October 19, 2009
When Randy Moss is happy, I am happy.
"Greatest Show in Snow"
Joe and I got to watch the Pats dominate yesterday. Blogging this because I need to remember what is probably the greatest shut-out ever.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Biting the hand/licking the wounds.
Reading, it seems to me, is no longer about educating oneself. No longer do we read in search of a means to empathize with the human condition, or a cure for an aching heart, or a way to enrich our minds. Novels are now marketed to various genres and classes of people. They are no longer the beautiful, prosy works of art I have come to know and love. I have become the tool through which these marketers keep their jobs.
Forced to upgrade that tall to a venti so that I can earn a measly 20 hours a week feels rather degrading, and yet, I am forced to swallow my morals for the sake of survival. The very fiber of my being is tethered to the work I do, and my belief in it. I do not believe in our capitalist idea of consumerism, this need to convince you that you need something you truly do not.
It is in vain that I "sell" $25 memberships. I do this several days each week, only to still feel that ever-familiar sinking feeling each time I sign in to check my account balance. It feels as though the only thing that has changed is my ability to deal with change itself. This is growth, of course. In spite of this, I still need to spend a few minutes each day reminding myself that I am doing the best that I can.
I cannot say I have done the most fantastic things with my life so far. Most of my decisions have not been the most economical either. And yet, I would not change the direction I have chosen. On low days I wonder if graduate school might have been a better choice in place of moving to San Diego on a whim. These feelings now quickly transitions into my intrinsic understanding that I would simply not be the Lahnna I have come to know if I did not walk the paths I have chosen.
What I may lack in formal education (which, in truth, is no more than an extra slip of paper and two more years worth of debt), I easily replace with self-knowledge and the ability to persevere in the harshest of situations. I have seen and experienced extraordinary places and people, and I want that to be the constant in my life, not this worrying over financial sickness.
Ironically, despite being the poorest I have ever been financially, I am experiencing more love than I have ever felt. The absence of an integral family member and the distance of my family as whole does not prevent this sensation from overwhelming me and rendering me speechless. Never have I been so enraptured by the people in my life. I need you all to know this. Through all of my supposed anxiety, and my moments of weakness, I still see these things you do even if you do not.
I may be somewhat jobless, and nearly destitute, but this does not stop me from remembering just how lucky I am. Money is worthless in my eyes. I despise its necessity, but I shall save the Marxist rants for another post. As I end this rather lengthy, loopy stream of consciousness, I feel nothing but love for everyone in my life.
Forced to upgrade that tall to a venti so that I can earn a measly 20 hours a week feels rather degrading, and yet, I am forced to swallow my morals for the sake of survival. The very fiber of my being is tethered to the work I do, and my belief in it. I do not believe in our capitalist idea of consumerism, this need to convince you that you need something you truly do not.
It is in vain that I "sell" $25 memberships. I do this several days each week, only to still feel that ever-familiar sinking feeling each time I sign in to check my account balance. It feels as though the only thing that has changed is my ability to deal with change itself. This is growth, of course. In spite of this, I still need to spend a few minutes each day reminding myself that I am doing the best that I can.
I cannot say I have done the most fantastic things with my life so far. Most of my decisions have not been the most economical either. And yet, I would not change the direction I have chosen. On low days I wonder if graduate school might have been a better choice in place of moving to San Diego on a whim. These feelings now quickly transitions into my intrinsic understanding that I would simply not be the Lahnna I have come to know if I did not walk the paths I have chosen.
What I may lack in formal education (which, in truth, is no more than an extra slip of paper and two more years worth of debt), I easily replace with self-knowledge and the ability to persevere in the harshest of situations. I have seen and experienced extraordinary places and people, and I want that to be the constant in my life, not this worrying over financial sickness.
Ironically, despite being the poorest I have ever been financially, I am experiencing more love than I have ever felt. The absence of an integral family member and the distance of my family as whole does not prevent this sensation from overwhelming me and rendering me speechless. Never have I been so enraptured by the people in my life. I need you all to know this. Through all of my supposed anxiety, and my moments of weakness, I still see these things you do even if you do not.
I may be somewhat jobless, and nearly destitute, but this does not stop me from remembering just how lucky I am. Money is worthless in my eyes. I despise its necessity, but I shall save the Marxist rants for another post. As I end this rather lengthy, loopy stream of consciousness, I feel nothing but love for everyone in my life.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Kickin' my brain's ass.
I gotta say, I love free downloads. Thanks for the new indie tunes, Landmark.
In other news, it is time to resume my workout schedule. I broke my streak and smoked too many cigarettes last week, leading to lung frustration, leading to Lahnna frustration. My anxiety never becomes more manageable the more cigarettes I smoke. I've gotten incredibly used to this bullshit notion that it "calms" the user down. This is a complete fallacy. The only thing smoking a cigarette does is allow the smoker to confuse necessity with desire.
I have no physical dependency on tobacco. I don't shake when I don't smoke at regular intervals. I don't get irritable. Hell, I don't even know how people find the time to smoke an entire pack in a 24-hour period. I reach for a cigarette when I'm 1. bored, or 2. telling myself that smoking one will quell my anxiety. This is an entirely mental thing and I need to stop BS-ing myself.
There are a million and one things I could be doing in place of puffing away. Art, reading, writing, looking for a job, eating ice cream, running, yoga-ing, playing Scrabble, thinking of Joe... you get it. A much more respectable agenda, don't you think? Time to log some sleep hours and get started.
In other news, it is time to resume my workout schedule. I broke my streak and smoked too many cigarettes last week, leading to lung frustration, leading to Lahnna frustration. My anxiety never becomes more manageable the more cigarettes I smoke. I've gotten incredibly used to this bullshit notion that it "calms" the user down. This is a complete fallacy. The only thing smoking a cigarette does is allow the smoker to confuse necessity with desire.
I have no physical dependency on tobacco. I don't shake when I don't smoke at regular intervals. I don't get irritable. Hell, I don't even know how people find the time to smoke an entire pack in a 24-hour period. I reach for a cigarette when I'm 1. bored, or 2. telling myself that smoking one will quell my anxiety. This is an entirely mental thing and I need to stop BS-ing myself.
There are a million and one things I could be doing in place of puffing away. Art, reading, writing, looking for a job, eating ice cream, running, yoga-ing, playing Scrabble, thinking of Joe... you get it. A much more respectable agenda, don't you think? Time to log some sleep hours and get started.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Fruits of My Labor - The Fuck You Edition
Just the other day I applied for a job as an Office Assistant for a small practice in La Jolla. To my surprise, I received an e-mail that same day inviting me to an interview session on the following day (meaning Tuesday). To my dismay, I had a shift at B&N that same evening, and so I promptly returned the e-mail with a request to reschedule, questionnaire filled out, resume reattached. The whole she-bang. Proactivity is the name of the game, folks. Lahnna was on the ball, and here is the response I got:
"Hi Lahnna,
Dr. K- is the one who is in charge of hiring and thus the one who meets with all potential employees. He is busy treating patients during the day and the only is only available to interview this evening at 7:30 PM. I will hold onto your e-mail and let you know should we decide to have another interview soon.
Again, thank you for your interest.
Sincerely,
NoName"
At your request, I just sifted through your website, looked at cutesy office photos, read your client stories, only to have you tell me that you won't even consider sitting down with me and my very awesome resume? Fuck you. Apparently all that bullshit about wanting a proactive, multi-tasker is exactly that: bullshit. You want someone who is going to think for themselves, but only when it is right for you. "Don't color outside the lines, Lahnna! Did pre-school teach you nothing!?"
Did these people honestly think that posting an ad on Sunday would enable people to just wipe their weekly schedule clean? Is that what makes me worthy of this job? My ability to drop prior commitments? Fuck that. Some of us do work at night, and some of us can't afford to call out of an 8-hour shift when it was by the graces of some god that we earned those hours in the first place.
Jesus H. Christ. I am trying to support myself, an almost 25-year old woman with bills for children. I have a friggin' Bachelors in English, a minor in B.A., extensive Spanish studies, non-profit experience, education experience, customer service experience. I did not spend 4 years supporting myself through school to get shafted by the Golden State.
Bonus for the Day: My car is not getting repossessed. (Yeah, a pretty big bonus.)
"Hi Lahnna,
Dr. K- is the one who is in charge of hiring and thus the one who meets with all potential employees. He is busy treating patients during the day and the only is only available to interview this evening at 7:30 PM. I will hold onto your e-mail and let you know should we decide to have another interview soon.
Again, thank you for your interest.
Sincerely,
NoName"
At your request, I just sifted through your website, looked at cutesy office photos, read your client stories, only to have you tell me that you won't even consider sitting down with me and my very awesome resume? Fuck you. Apparently all that bullshit about wanting a proactive, multi-tasker is exactly that: bullshit. You want someone who is going to think for themselves, but only when it is right for you. "Don't color outside the lines, Lahnna! Did pre-school teach you nothing!?"
Did these people honestly think that posting an ad on Sunday would enable people to just wipe their weekly schedule clean? Is that what makes me worthy of this job? My ability to drop prior commitments? Fuck that. Some of us do work at night, and some of us can't afford to call out of an 8-hour shift when it was by the graces of some god that we earned those hours in the first place.
Jesus H. Christ. I am trying to support myself, an almost 25-year old woman with bills for children. I have a friggin' Bachelors in English, a minor in B.A., extensive Spanish studies, non-profit experience, education experience, customer service experience. I did not spend 4 years supporting myself through school to get shafted by the Golden State.
Bonus for the Day: My car is not getting repossessed. (Yeah, a pretty big bonus.)
Saturday, September 26, 2009
? Sleep
Last night, I dreamed that many people I knew died. We were trapped, or maybe we just lived, in a vast cavern.
There was a warning and then the lights went out. People began dying. I remember running, tripping over people, being tripped over.
I could feel the bodies of the fallen under my feet as I felt for a path. Eventually the screaming stopped and all was quiet. I was alone.
There was a warning and then the lights went out. People began dying. I remember running, tripping over people, being tripped over.
I could feel the bodies of the fallen under my feet as I felt for a path. Eventually the screaming stopped and all was quiet. I was alone.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Head above water.
Life grows steadily more difficult as time presses on. I am unsure of what to do about my ever-mounting bills and my lack of a financially stable job. However, as it looks in California, no job is financially stable. The unemployment rate is just over 12% now. Rates of pay are low low low. Part of me is kicking myself for the loss of my job with High Tech High, but I don't think it could have been helped either way...
I am attempting to bite the bullet now, pay off what bills I can, and stay in contact with my landlord who has been more than his share of understanding. I feel my anxiety grow a little each day and I am trying to create space in my mind where I can feel sane.
Something needs to change. I need to figure out what I am doing wrong because my job situation certainly is not for a lack of trying. Thank goodness for Barnes & Noble, or I'd be completely destitute.
--When you're in the middle of the ocean, no flotation device in sight, you have no choice but to tread water. Your legs tire, you swallow salt water, throw it back up when you get too full, swallow more. But you have no other choice. Death is never an option. And so you continue to tread.
I am attempting to bite the bullet now, pay off what bills I can, and stay in contact with my landlord who has been more than his share of understanding. I feel my anxiety grow a little each day and I am trying to create space in my mind where I can feel sane.
Something needs to change. I need to figure out what I am doing wrong because my job situation certainly is not for a lack of trying. Thank goodness for Barnes & Noble, or I'd be completely destitute.
--When you're in the middle of the ocean, no flotation device in sight, you have no choice but to tread water. Your legs tire, you swallow salt water, throw it back up when you get too full, swallow more. But you have no other choice. Death is never an option. And so you continue to tread.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
I am the Royal English Breakfast of women.
“A woman is like a tea bag, you can not tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”
Saturday, September 19, 2009
"Silence is a source of great strength."
I don't like to fill silence for the sake of filling the silence. Sometimes it is just better to be. To sit, and think, and be with one's own mind. If I cannot think of something to say, I know it is because I was not meant to say anything in that moment. The music takes over. Or the sound of the cars rushing past. Or the night sky closing in around me.
At times, those moments are better. The ones when you can sit beside the one you love, contemplating two very different ideas, but still simultaneously share in the moment. You are both a part of it. Independent and together.
I grow frustrated when conversation turns trivial sometimes. I am then forced to remain invisible on Facebook, or to make up excuses as to why my desire to converse has waned. I suppose I should simply tell the truth: that I have no desire to speak with that person about such details. I feel as though I am not practicing love in this way. The desire to roll my eyes and grit my teeth grow strong as I laboriously concoct a half-interested response, or feign amusement with the overt use of "LOL" and "Haha".
Is it because I find my own agenda that much more amusing and important? I wish I could simply shut my mind off, and be able to listen to everyone. My apathy towards the trivial is not attached to a lack of feeling for the individual. Sometimes I simply need to shut my brain off. I spend more time doing and being, and so the time I do take to stop and breathe is best spent reflecting and resting.
At times, those moments are better. The ones when you can sit beside the one you love, contemplating two very different ideas, but still simultaneously share in the moment. You are both a part of it. Independent and together.
I grow frustrated when conversation turns trivial sometimes. I am then forced to remain invisible on Facebook, or to make up excuses as to why my desire to converse has waned. I suppose I should simply tell the truth: that I have no desire to speak with that person about such details. I feel as though I am not practicing love in this way. The desire to roll my eyes and grit my teeth grow strong as I laboriously concoct a half-interested response, or feign amusement with the overt use of "LOL" and "Haha".
Is it because I find my own agenda that much more amusing and important? I wish I could simply shut my mind off, and be able to listen to everyone. My apathy towards the trivial is not attached to a lack of feeling for the individual. Sometimes I simply need to shut my brain off. I spend more time doing and being, and so the time I do take to stop and breathe is best spent reflecting and resting.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The mind is its own universe.
I really want to take a moment to explore why I enjoy Rilke's quote so very much. It touches upon this idea that I feel is never seen in a positive light, the action of wanting. That idea alone, can we even call it an action? Its very structure does not imply action, but it fails to fall short for its learned meaning does implicate the desire we all have toward bettering ourselves and our life situations. But is that the correct path? I do not think so, however; I do not think there is any one correct path. Please, humor me.
For years I have been taught the notion that "to want" is synonymous with being "incomplete" and "unfulfilled". However, Rilke has opened a door in my mind. Why must we despise the very nature of wanting when realistically it is what drives us forward? I do not feel that our human desire is an inherently dark cavern, never satiated, never filled. I do feel that it is obscure and blurred by the very fact that so few refuse to ever explore why they want. Everyone seems hellbent on destroying the beast; no one truly takes the time to understand it. Truly, we and this monster are one and the same.
Rilke is talking about wanting, yearning, desiring for all that life has to offer him. He wants to feel the cold sting and the warm touch. To me, this is a far more vast method of acceptance than even Taoist or Buddhist scriptures reveal. Religion and spiritual followings remain adamant that desire is forbidden. To desire is unclean. To want something means that you do not appreciate who you are in the present. Therefore, you must practice not wanting, not desiring if you seek the stillness and peace of mind that escape so many of us.
I appreciate what Rilke has to say due to the very nature of myself, a human. Who Lahnna is has become wrapped in my past, present, and future endeavors. My hopes, my dreams, my desires are all a part of this. I love to want and to be wanted. All humans thrive on this give and take of affection and attention. Our brains and bodies work in such delicate and intricate ways that we almost have no choice, but to feel what we feel. Even if we have no words for the particular brand of sensation coursing through us, we still feel them. I would rather honor myself and my mind by learning about these urges and responses than simply deny myself.
This discussion with myself, of course, has no segued into deeper discussions about who exactly Lahnna is, and what does she want? These are questions I ask myself time and time again. I like to think I am closer to knowing a definite answer; however, I also enjoy the not precisely knowing anything. The organization of this particular entry is atrocious, and most of my thoughts have escaped me. Consider this a free association, if you'd like.
After all, this is a topic I return to continuously. I am not my wants and desires. I am not my needs. What exactly am I? Is there a purpose to all of this? Am I merely an accident, wading through a myriad of currents and natural forces like all the other accidents?
For years I have been taught the notion that "to want" is synonymous with being "incomplete" and "unfulfilled". However, Rilke has opened a door in my mind. Why must we despise the very nature of wanting when realistically it is what drives us forward? I do not feel that our human desire is an inherently dark cavern, never satiated, never filled. I do feel that it is obscure and blurred by the very fact that so few refuse to ever explore why they want. Everyone seems hellbent on destroying the beast; no one truly takes the time to understand it. Truly, we and this monster are one and the same.
Rilke is talking about wanting, yearning, desiring for all that life has to offer him. He wants to feel the cold sting and the warm touch. To me, this is a far more vast method of acceptance than even Taoist or Buddhist scriptures reveal. Religion and spiritual followings remain adamant that desire is forbidden. To desire is unclean. To want something means that you do not appreciate who you are in the present. Therefore, you must practice not wanting, not desiring if you seek the stillness and peace of mind that escape so many of us.
I appreciate what Rilke has to say due to the very nature of myself, a human. Who Lahnna is has become wrapped in my past, present, and future endeavors. My hopes, my dreams, my desires are all a part of this. I love to want and to be wanted. All humans thrive on this give and take of affection and attention. Our brains and bodies work in such delicate and intricate ways that we almost have no choice, but to feel what we feel. Even if we have no words for the particular brand of sensation coursing through us, we still feel them. I would rather honor myself and my mind by learning about these urges and responses than simply deny myself.
This discussion with myself, of course, has no segued into deeper discussions about who exactly Lahnna is, and what does she want? These are questions I ask myself time and time again. I like to think I am closer to knowing a definite answer; however, I also enjoy the not precisely knowing anything. The organization of this particular entry is atrocious, and most of my thoughts have escaped me. Consider this a free association, if you'd like.
After all, this is a topic I return to continuously. I am not my wants and desires. I am not my needs. What exactly am I? Is there a purpose to all of this? Am I merely an accident, wading through a myriad of currents and natural forces like all the other accidents?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
When there are no words.
"He drifted off into sleep and she looked down on him and felt a self-crushing love. So her soul crawled out from its hiding place"
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Kinship
You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes from every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
So many live on and want nothing...
You have not grown old, and it is not too late
to dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Friday, August 28, 2009
The riptide that is my life.
Today was spent sleeping in... Sunlight poured through the slats in the blinds and my mind desperately tried to hang onto some semblance of REM. Too many concerns are rolling around inside my head lately. San Francisco. Money. Him.
Sleep was intermittent as the heat pressed in on the afternoon, cloaking my world in its golden aura. I learned about the authenticity of taco shops over lunch. We spoke in Spanglish.
Later, the beauty of Del Mar and I finally became acquainted. The droves of devoted beach-goers brandishing surf and boogie boards. The happy dogs kicking up sand and surf. We stood side by side in the water, letting its lukewarm ease the summer heat off our bodies.
The waves crashed into me over and over, leaving me exposed for the majority of our stay. But I did not care. The salt water transported me to a time and place that only exists in my mind. A place where I don't have to care about the rest of my life's trivial details. He remained by my side, concerned I would be taken out too far. Only leaving to surf a few waves onto the shore, and then returning. I felt beautiful, standing in the Pacific, water cascading from my cut-off shorts and hair.
I grew tired, constantly recovering from being overtaken by the powerful waves. And so we swam in, huddled in our towels, and ate cherries, watching the sun dip lower. Our sweet snack a complement to the day's sweet endeavors.
After piling into the car, sand, salt, and skin, we headed for home. I cooled his shoulders with my icebox hands and tried not to fall asleep on the ride for fear of missing a moment.
Sleep was intermittent as the heat pressed in on the afternoon, cloaking my world in its golden aura. I learned about the authenticity of taco shops over lunch. We spoke in Spanglish.
Later, the beauty of Del Mar and I finally became acquainted. The droves of devoted beach-goers brandishing surf and boogie boards. The happy dogs kicking up sand and surf. We stood side by side in the water, letting its lukewarm ease the summer heat off our bodies.
The waves crashed into me over and over, leaving me exposed for the majority of our stay. But I did not care. The salt water transported me to a time and place that only exists in my mind. A place where I don't have to care about the rest of my life's trivial details. He remained by my side, concerned I would be taken out too far. Only leaving to surf a few waves onto the shore, and then returning. I felt beautiful, standing in the Pacific, water cascading from my cut-off shorts and hair.
I grew tired, constantly recovering from being overtaken by the powerful waves. And so we swam in, huddled in our towels, and ate cherries, watching the sun dip lower. Our sweet snack a complement to the day's sweet endeavors.
After piling into the car, sand, salt, and skin, we headed for home. I cooled his shoulders with my icebox hands and tried not to fall asleep on the ride for fear of missing a moment.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I don't deserve any of this. But I do.
I am hopefully headed to San Francisco for an interview for a prospective job.
Lately, I've been spending tons of time con un chico especial.
I am addicted to TJ dogs. It is very sad, and also very awesome.
Tonight I will be rockin' out at 4th & B with Lauren and Holly.
Life is tenuous, but I am so fucking happy. My wonderful friends, my caring roommates, a special guy, and plenty of Mexican food in my life.
Lately, I've been spending tons of time con un chico especial.
I am addicted to TJ dogs. It is very sad, and also very awesome.
Tonight I will be rockin' out at 4th & B with Lauren and Holly.
Life is tenuous, but I am so fucking happy. My wonderful friends, my caring roommates, a special guy, and plenty of Mexican food in my life.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ain't Nothin' But a Number
At least that's what I felt like upon being let go from Nuyo yesterday afternoon. Ah, the sweet, sweet burn of rejection. I was brought into the back to be given my haphazard 1-month evaluation.
The manager listed a myriad of reasons as to why things just "weren't working out". Most of them had to do with my apparent incompetence at putting the frozen yogurt machines together without error and how a month of scant, and unorganized training should have been more than enough to make me an efficient worker and manager. My mother contributes it so the fact that their very small business most likely realized they cannot afford to pay me.
Whatever the reason, the manager and the owner had their own issues with one another. From what I gathered from the current staff and the manager himself, he and the owner frequently disagreed on things. During my first interview, I asked the manager what he liked about the job and he replied, "It's a job." He also explained that they were looking for someone to potentially take over as store manager. As I look back on this after the fact, it further explains the manager's rushed methods in training me and shuffling me into a managerial position. That is not how it works and only sets new employees up for failure. The "sink or swim" method is really more like a "throw you under the bus and see if you can still walk" method.
I was told that they expected more from a person who has such a high level of supervisory experience. That is bullshit because all of my faults were nothing to do with being supervisory. They were to do with the technical aspect of building and maintaining machines that I'd never used before my employment with Nuyo. Knowing how to put them together doesn't mean that I can trouble shoot when there is a problem. And knowing how to trouble shoot doesn't mean that the machine won't have the occasional malfunction regardless. Apparently, at the first sign of trouble, I was supposed to call the manager or the owner and let them micromanage the situation via the phone. This is a waste of time and damaging to employee morale.
I received no training schedule or formal introduction to the staff. I was thrown into the shop, instructed twice on how to build the machines, once on prepping and cutting fruit, twice on the safe/deposit procedure, and once on how to take down the machines for cleaning. I was given lists created by other supervisors on what must be done upon opening and closing. Then I was told to open the store by myself. As a manager.
There was no look taken at how I accommodate customers. There was no look taken at how I support my employees/coworkers. All of my performance reviews were based on whether or not I could build and/or fix the machines in a timely manner while servicing customers and keeping the shop cleaned up after rushes.
No. No, thank you.
The manager listed a myriad of reasons as to why things just "weren't working out". Most of them had to do with my apparent incompetence at putting the frozen yogurt machines together without error and how a month of scant, and unorganized training should have been more than enough to make me an efficient worker and manager. My mother contributes it so the fact that their very small business most likely realized they cannot afford to pay me.
Whatever the reason, the manager and the owner had their own issues with one another. From what I gathered from the current staff and the manager himself, he and the owner frequently disagreed on things. During my first interview, I asked the manager what he liked about the job and he replied, "It's a job." He also explained that they were looking for someone to potentially take over as store manager. As I look back on this after the fact, it further explains the manager's rushed methods in training me and shuffling me into a managerial position. That is not how it works and only sets new employees up for failure. The "sink or swim" method is really more like a "throw you under the bus and see if you can still walk" method.
I was told that they expected more from a person who has such a high level of supervisory experience. That is bullshit because all of my faults were nothing to do with being supervisory. They were to do with the technical aspect of building and maintaining machines that I'd never used before my employment with Nuyo. Knowing how to put them together doesn't mean that I can trouble shoot when there is a problem. And knowing how to trouble shoot doesn't mean that the machine won't have the occasional malfunction regardless. Apparently, at the first sign of trouble, I was supposed to call the manager or the owner and let them micromanage the situation via the phone. This is a waste of time and damaging to employee morale.
I received no training schedule or formal introduction to the staff. I was thrown into the shop, instructed twice on how to build the machines, once on prepping and cutting fruit, twice on the safe/deposit procedure, and once on how to take down the machines for cleaning. I was given lists created by other supervisors on what must be done upon opening and closing. Then I was told to open the store by myself. As a manager.
There was no look taken at how I accommodate customers. There was no look taken at how I support my employees/coworkers. All of my performance reviews were based on whether or not I could build and/or fix the machines in a timely manner while servicing customers and keeping the shop cleaned up after rushes.
No. No, thank you.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Love, life, lyrics.
Portugal. The Man "Colors" (acoustic) from Portugal The Man on Vimeo.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
empathy.
- “I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another 'till I drop. This is the night; what it does to you. I have nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” - Jack Kerouac.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Cashing in. Literally and figuratively.
I am very hard on myself at times. My elementary school teachers used to tell me to stop erasing so much as it made my papers illegible. I had a thing for perfection at an early age. However, this has slowly evolved over the years. At one span in my youth it took the form of extreme anxiety, in which bouts of depression and an ever-mounting work load would culminate in tearful distress. I still battle with this, though it is not nearly as awful as it once was.
Nowadays, I suffer small bouts of anxiety whenever I see my bank account balance, or when my bills start piling up. Most of this stress is centered around money. My family has a rough history with money and it was the source of my parents' stress and a large part of the reason for their divorce. This, in turn, told me it was something worth arguing and crying over. My anxiety was, in this sense, a learned behavior. I do not believe in indulging my anxiety anymore; however, after years of one certain behavior, it has taken great strength and a lot of patience to show my mind a new way of seeing things.
A large part of my ability to see outside of myself at this juncture is thanks to a young student of mine. This student has the constant task of dealing with the supposed life-long complication that is Bipolar Disorder. Helping him grow and develop as a person throughout this last year has been an amazing and exhausting endeavor. To see his physical and emotional response to stress was an eye-opening experience that inspired me to reexamine how I see myself. I was forced to really stare into the depths of my own heart and determine why I felt the need to indulge in my self-consuming behavior. Why do I want to be the victim?
(to be continued)
Nowadays, I suffer small bouts of anxiety whenever I see my bank account balance, or when my bills start piling up. Most of this stress is centered around money. My family has a rough history with money and it was the source of my parents' stress and a large part of the reason for their divorce. This, in turn, told me it was something worth arguing and crying over. My anxiety was, in this sense, a learned behavior. I do not believe in indulging my anxiety anymore; however, after years of one certain behavior, it has taken great strength and a lot of patience to show my mind a new way of seeing things.
A large part of my ability to see outside of myself at this juncture is thanks to a young student of mine. This student has the constant task of dealing with the supposed life-long complication that is Bipolar Disorder. Helping him grow and develop as a person throughout this last year has been an amazing and exhausting endeavor. To see his physical and emotional response to stress was an eye-opening experience that inspired me to reexamine how I see myself. I was forced to really stare into the depths of my own heart and determine why I felt the need to indulge in my self-consuming behavior. Why do I want to be the victim?
(to be continued)
Monday, August 10, 2009
Yo vivo en San Diego.
Rolando.
I found this very interesting as Rolando is the current San Diego neighborhood in which I reside.
I found this very interesting as Rolando is the current San Diego neighborhood in which I reside.
Monday, August 3, 2009
All these colors will change.
Little things mean big things.
All the time.
Pictures harbor memories. Stories create dreams. Everything in the world opens into a bigger, more vast collection of other stories.
I am an ever-changing creature, hell-bent on finding what is right for her. Is that a job? Is it art? What is it I want? What makes my blood pump? What makes the world look beautiful to me?
I can't pinpoint it. It is not something I can pick out and name. When people ask me what I want to do with the rest of my life, all I can respond with is, "What don't I want to do with the rest of my life?" I want to be a teacher, an adventurer, a humanitarian, a lover, an inspiration. I want everything. Where do I start? What do I do?
I equate this feeling with walking into a beautiful garden. So many beautiful flowers. I want to smell them all, but I have trouble distinguishing them from one another. Or the kid in the candy store. What do I choose first? I can't have it all right now. But I want it. The world is my candy store.
The possibilities are endless. Ever-flowering. Wilting, dying, cycling. I am collecting stories and scars. What is it for? Why am I here? I feel this serene sadness weighing on my heart. I am so enamored with life, and yet I feel stagnant. I keep meeting these amazing people. These wonderful, kind, welcoming people. This is a new chapter. I am changing.
I am afraid. And I am sad. It is time to let go of what was...
Bits and bits of cane, burning burning burning
bit by bit away
they grow as people grow
and glow as people glow
All the time.
Pictures harbor memories. Stories create dreams. Everything in the world opens into a bigger, more vast collection of other stories.
I am an ever-changing creature, hell-bent on finding what is right for her. Is that a job? Is it art? What is it I want? What makes my blood pump? What makes the world look beautiful to me?
I can't pinpoint it. It is not something I can pick out and name. When people ask me what I want to do with the rest of my life, all I can respond with is, "What don't I want to do with the rest of my life?" I want to be a teacher, an adventurer, a humanitarian, a lover, an inspiration. I want everything. Where do I start? What do I do?
I equate this feeling with walking into a beautiful garden. So many beautiful flowers. I want to smell them all, but I have trouble distinguishing them from one another. Or the kid in the candy store. What do I choose first? I can't have it all right now. But I want it. The world is my candy store.
The possibilities are endless. Ever-flowering. Wilting, dying, cycling. I am collecting stories and scars. What is it for? Why am I here? I feel this serene sadness weighing on my heart. I am so enamored with life, and yet I feel stagnant. I keep meeting these amazing people. These wonderful, kind, welcoming people. This is a new chapter. I am changing.
I am afraid. And I am sad. It is time to let go of what was...
Bits and bits of cane, burning burning burning
bit by bit away
they grow as people grow
and glow as people glow
Friday, July 31, 2009
Buying me a drink does not permit you to touch me.
Oh, I'm cute? Great. Thank you. But no. I'm beautiful? Aw, you're sweet. Still no.
Why is this a constant? Men who seem to think that because they pull out a couple of 20's, or drop some money on a few rounds that it's okay to start getting touchy-feely with a woman you just met. Or better yet, heaven forbid a woman find you interesting and make eye contact when conversing. This is not a sexual, come hither stare. By my social standards, it is courteous to look someone in the eye whilst talking to them.
I love to converse in social settings. It is called being social. I like to drink alcohol while conversing in social settings. This in no way gives you license to start putting your arms around me or trying to pull me in and kiss me. I do not want this. If I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn't constantly walk away, or verbally say, "No." No amount of "Come on." or, "Please." is going to work. I do this to be nice, but apparently you don't take to subtlety very well. This then results in my getting bitchy and forces me to defend my personal space by publicly humiliating you. I don't want to get to that point, but you usually leave me without a choice.
If pulling out your wallet is your way of getting women to warm to your sexual advances, then you need a new game plan. Maybe it works on other women, but no matter how intoxicated I get, if I don't want it, I will say it. And then if you continue to be an asshole about it (like grabbing my face and trying to redirect toward yours), I will kick you in the balls. It's that simple.
Want to know a little secret? I know I'm good looking. I know that I am beautiful. I know that I am friendly. I am a gregarious person by nature. Throw a couple of drinks in me and that magnifies. However, until I start touching you on my own terms, my friendliness toward you is nothing sexual or romantic. I simply find people interesting and am fascinated with learning about them. If you want to take this as a romantic gesture, then fine, but the joke is on you.
If you're the type of man who seems to think that any women who dress sexily are out for something, then fuck you. Perhaps we dress up to look nice for the men who aren't trying to grab our asses.
Thanks.
~ Lahnna
Why is this a constant? Men who seem to think that because they pull out a couple of 20's, or drop some money on a few rounds that it's okay to start getting touchy-feely with a woman you just met. Or better yet, heaven forbid a woman find you interesting and make eye contact when conversing. This is not a sexual, come hither stare. By my social standards, it is courteous to look someone in the eye whilst talking to them.
I love to converse in social settings. It is called being social. I like to drink alcohol while conversing in social settings. This in no way gives you license to start putting your arms around me or trying to pull me in and kiss me. I do not want this. If I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn't constantly walk away, or verbally say, "No." No amount of "Come on." or, "Please." is going to work. I do this to be nice, but apparently you don't take to subtlety very well. This then results in my getting bitchy and forces me to defend my personal space by publicly humiliating you. I don't want to get to that point, but you usually leave me without a choice.
If pulling out your wallet is your way of getting women to warm to your sexual advances, then you need a new game plan. Maybe it works on other women, but no matter how intoxicated I get, if I don't want it, I will say it. And then if you continue to be an asshole about it (like grabbing my face and trying to redirect toward yours), I will kick you in the balls. It's that simple.
Want to know a little secret? I know I'm good looking. I know that I am beautiful. I know that I am friendly. I am a gregarious person by nature. Throw a couple of drinks in me and that magnifies. However, until I start touching you on my own terms, my friendliness toward you is nothing sexual or romantic. I simply find people interesting and am fascinated with learning about them. If you want to take this as a romantic gesture, then fine, but the joke is on you.
If you're the type of man who seems to think that any women who dress sexily are out for something, then fuck you. Perhaps we dress up to look nice for the men who aren't trying to grab our asses.
Thanks.
~ Lahnna
Thursday, July 23, 2009
espanoles suenos
yo no estoy segura
por que me despierto ahora
pero yo se que yo puedo mirar
tu cara en mis suenos
tal vez que es el razon
mis ojos me impugnan
en los dias que estoy sola
yo querio nada mas
que a ver tus ojos
se parece las olas
la espuma rellena mi corazon
y en la manana
yo tengo que tragar el orgullo
para vivir
por que me despierto ahora
pero yo se que yo puedo mirar
tu cara en mis suenos
tal vez que es el razon
mis ojos me impugnan
en los dias que estoy sola
yo querio nada mas
que a ver tus ojos
se parece las olas
la espuma rellena mi corazon
y en la manana
yo tengo que tragar el orgullo
para vivir
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
so beautiful it hurts.
Kuroshio Sea - 2nd largest aquarium tank in the world - (song is Please don't go by Barcelona) from Jon Rawlinson on Vimeo.
this video is unreal. it hurts my heart to know that we humans feel entitled to capture and encase something this beautiful. and yet, to be able to see this, right next to you... there are no words. my eyes water every time i watch this.
we don't deserve things like this.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
music for animals.
I met these guys at Beauty Bar last night. And they were awesome live.
I love small venues. Where you and everyone else packs in tight, trying to get close enough to feel the music run through you. Sweat is in your eyes, your hair is matted, and your mascara is running. But you don't care. All that matters is that feeling. The feeling of the bass rippling down your spine and the drums beating to the time of your heart.
And there is always that moment when the lead singer opens his throat. The sound that comes out draws you like a magnet. You and the sound meld together. It's euphoric. A drug. You move and shake and sweat in time to the music because there is simply no other natural response. Your body knows what to do. You let go. Sweet release.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
earthly journey
i wade northward
toward ice floes
and glaciers
swimming in this sea
of magnetic currents
pushing
and pulling
all the way
depositing molecules
expelling vapors
making my mark
upon the surface
(6/30/08)
toward ice floes
and glaciers
swimming in this sea
of magnetic currents
pushing
and pulling
all the way
depositing molecules
expelling vapors
making my mark
upon the surface
(6/30/08)
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
A slight dip in productivity.
"Siddhartha wandered into the forest, already far from the town, and knew only one thing--that he could not go back, that the life he had lived for many years was past, tasted and drained to a degree of nausea."
black leather journal v.3
i grow weary of my daily routine. i would travel further every day were it not for the rain. then again it is not as though i have somewhere important to be. calmly waiting under a tree is not a problem.
it is officially spring here. it's raining quite often, thundering and lightning at night. sometimes so loudly my bed shakes. in a way the storms make it feel more and less lonely. rain during the day is intermittent. then a moment later one can hear the birds again.
i was reading in the square today and this little greek boy came up to me. he leaned on my leg and spoke to me in greek. i have no idea what he said or what he wanted. he repeated the same sentence a few times, then ran off. no adult around. i checked my things to make sure he had not taken anything.
it was strange yet simultaneously adorable.
(4/5/07 Greece)
it is officially spring here. it's raining quite often, thundering and lightning at night. sometimes so loudly my bed shakes. in a way the storms make it feel more and less lonely. rain during the day is intermittent. then a moment later one can hear the birds again.
i was reading in the square today and this little greek boy came up to me. he leaned on my leg and spoke to me in greek. i have no idea what he said or what he wanted. he repeated the same sentence a few times, then ran off. no adult around. i checked my things to make sure he had not taken anything.
it was strange yet simultaneously adorable.
(4/5/07 Greece)
Monday, July 13, 2009
San Diego exists 1 mile from the Sun. I am sure of it.
Something. Something. Something. It's too friggin' hot. Something. Going to North Park.
Bleh.
Effin' funny.
Bleh.
Effin' funny.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I know I'm no astrologist, but...
I manage to find numerous reasons to stay out at all hours of the day and night. Last night's excuse was a new friend, delicious beer, a diner breakfast, and one of the best animations of all time, The Brave Little Toaster.
I do not meet many who understand the sheer magic and nostalgia (mastalgia?) that wells up inside me when I think of this movie. This flick instantly takes me back to the days when I ran around barefoot on the hot pavement, pretending I was some equine-related creature.
All this complicated growing up certainly aids in my need for these nostalgic moments. Not in a yearning for days long gone way. Simply to honor and appreciate what a relatively happy childhood I did have at that time. When all my problems centered around maintaining friendships and whether or not I had enough change when the ice cream truck rolled through.
Ah, and here I sit, typing with an air of sobriety, as though my youthful days have passed me. In reality they are far from over. I have accomplished much in my near 25 years of existence and I'd be short-changing myself to think that there isn't more to do. Silly, Lahnna.
It is interesting to observe how quickly a feeling can change.
Not a moment ago, my mother, who is lending me a bit of money, just called to request that, because she is doing me this wonderful favor, I do everything in my power to ensure I will get one of these job positions. A bit flustered by her quick transition from yesterday's loving acknowledgment to today's sharp skepticism, I bit back my instinctive reaction and replied with a definitive, "Yes." (You have learned well, Lahnna-san.) After some digging, I realized my mother is herself currently flustered with my sister's continued lack of judgement in areas that require considerable financial conscientiousness.
Despite the overall feelings of hurt and frustration that arise when my mother uses me to blow off steam, I have learned to accept it as an inevitable. It is not my job to parent or instruct her on how to behave. I know that her actions do not mean she loves me less, or that I am the source of her anger. Simply put, my mother fails to reflect before reacting sometimes. Despite that, progress has been made. I remember not too long ago her calls used to come in waves of audible panic and worry, inciting my own anxiety. It has taken immense practice in self-control to respond to my mother's worry with a clear head and a calm voice. Since I have made that change I notice our interactions are no longer two hostile beasts clawing for the jugular of the other, but more bent on understanding one another. The very fact that I see all this in such an objective way makes me all the more responsible for my actions.
I enjoy these moments when I can observe my learning and appreciate the progress.
I do not meet many who understand the sheer magic and nostalgia (mastalgia?) that wells up inside me when I think of this movie. This flick instantly takes me back to the days when I ran around barefoot on the hot pavement, pretending I was some equine-related creature.
All this complicated growing up certainly aids in my need for these nostalgic moments. Not in a yearning for days long gone way. Simply to honor and appreciate what a relatively happy childhood I did have at that time. When all my problems centered around maintaining friendships and whether or not I had enough change when the ice cream truck rolled through.
Ah, and here I sit, typing with an air of sobriety, as though my youthful days have passed me. In reality they are far from over. I have accomplished much in my near 25 years of existence and I'd be short-changing myself to think that there isn't more to do. Silly, Lahnna.
It is interesting to observe how quickly a feeling can change.
Not a moment ago, my mother, who is lending me a bit of money, just called to request that, because she is doing me this wonderful favor, I do everything in my power to ensure I will get one of these job positions. A bit flustered by her quick transition from yesterday's loving acknowledgment to today's sharp skepticism, I bit back my instinctive reaction and replied with a definitive, "Yes." (You have learned well, Lahnna-san.) After some digging, I realized my mother is herself currently flustered with my sister's continued lack of judgement in areas that require considerable financial conscientiousness.
Despite the overall feelings of hurt and frustration that arise when my mother uses me to blow off steam, I have learned to accept it as an inevitable. It is not my job to parent or instruct her on how to behave. I know that her actions do not mean she loves me less, or that I am the source of her anger. Simply put, my mother fails to reflect before reacting sometimes. Despite that, progress has been made. I remember not too long ago her calls used to come in waves of audible panic and worry, inciting my own anxiety. It has taken immense practice in self-control to respond to my mother's worry with a clear head and a calm voice. Since I have made that change I notice our interactions are no longer two hostile beasts clawing for the jugular of the other, but more bent on understanding one another. The very fact that I see all this in such an objective way makes me all the more responsible for my actions.
I enjoy these moments when I can observe my learning and appreciate the progress.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Part of growing up is knowing when to ask for help.
I am so full of anxiety at this moment. My car needs to be re-registered and needs California insurance.
I had just enough money to pay the deductible.
I need a full-time job and to stop being jerked around by Barnes & Noble. I need to rock these two interviews on Monday.
I can do this.
I had just enough money to pay the deductible.
I need a full-time job and to stop being jerked around by Barnes & Noble. I need to rock these two interviews on Monday.
I can do this.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
it lingers still...
you are forever
embedded
in my consciousness
locked away
like the pages
of the journals
i keep
locked away.
sometimes
i take them out
to peruse
it fills my heart
like bath water
but i cannot
linger for too long
because the water
grows cold
embedded
in my consciousness
locked away
like the pages
of the journals
i keep
locked away.
sometimes
i take them out
to peruse
it fills my heart
like bath water
but i cannot
linger for too long
because the water
grows cold
and i have
things to do.
things to do.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
black leather journal v.2
i dreamt i was sleeping in my old bunk bed again. but i wasn't home. i was in some other country, a newcomer about to start a new job. melanie was sleeping above me. the bed was surrounded by a thick jungle of leaves and bamboo. natives lived in it. you could hear them throw bird calls to one another. i was afraid of them, of the strange noises. mel poked her head down. i said, "they are so loud." she said, "that's because you are. don't be afraid of them. they watch over us at night, like guardians." i grew calmer.
the next moment i left my bed. standing by the water. you could see the feet of the natives in the jungle. then faces. they smiled at me. their chief came. he drew a line in the dift with his toe, connecting me to him. we played a game with his tribe. he set up small carved figures and a woman rolled a ball to knock them over. inside one object was a map.
next we were on top of a tall building. the tribe was in street clothes. i realized then they were not a jungle tribe, they were only pretending. the chief turned out to be a failed rock n' roll musician with one song to his name. he taught me about history. we looked at the horizon. i looked at the skyline of building tops emitting endless clouds of smog and began to cry because i could not see the sunset.
clouds came. lightning, a hot pink, struck a building. i thought, "how pretty." then i remembered where we were. as soon as i stood up, lightning struck the building and electicity shot through me. i made everyone run underground, to the subway. the chief fell into a coma. i do not know if he wakes up.
(2:30am : 4/20/07 : Greece)
black leather journal v.1
i love the brown skin of the mother downstairs. it shimmers with gold in the sun. her hair is ebony black. she looks Mexican, but i cannot really tell. she seems to always be doing laundry. her son wanders on his bike and looks at me in wonder as i walk by.
Tips, the cat, wanders along the drive, looking for bumble bees with broken wings no doubt. the woman next door is always doing laundry as well. she is heavy set, sturdy. i see her husband ride on his motorbike.
a boy, their son perhaps, does maintenance around the apartments. he has dreaded hair and looks as though he knows how to get some hash.
Tasha's kids are beautiful. her daughter is all smiles when i come around. the sturdy wife next door stares at my bare breasts from the ground.
i can see the mainland crystal clear today from my balcony. the coast and mountainous silhouettes. the sun bakes again. i hosed the salt water from my clothes yesterday. the sun dries them in hours.
(4/12/07 Greece)
Tips, the cat, wanders along the drive, looking for bumble bees with broken wings no doubt. the woman next door is always doing laundry as well. she is heavy set, sturdy. i see her husband ride on his motorbike.
a boy, their son perhaps, does maintenance around the apartments. he has dreaded hair and looks as though he knows how to get some hash.
Tasha's kids are beautiful. her daughter is all smiles when i come around. the sturdy wife next door stares at my bare breasts from the ground.
i can see the mainland crystal clear today from my balcony. the coast and mountainous silhouettes. the sun bakes again. i hosed the salt water from my clothes yesterday. the sun dries them in hours.
(4/12/07 Greece)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
in a cafe and out of cigarettes
Oh well, I suppose.
This place is full of 20-somethings searching for some semblance of a Tuesday night life. Laptops, mugs, and books. Here I am with Lil' Mac and a delectable slice of Tres Leches, typey-typing, listening in on everyone's conversations, and eyeing the cute, tatt'd guy at the other end of the room.
The Living Room is a wonderful ecosystem. Full to the brim with college students and late night wanderers, but not annoyingly so. Hearing such a concentration of babble makes me think about my own connections with people. Old high school classmates who have initiated conversation after years of distance. How far away I feel from Boston and my family. I want to know that everyone is happy and doing well. :there is some delicious custardy substance in this cake:
I am happy to be here. Perhaps that is what I am getting at. My bones feel settled now that my need of frivolous human contact has tapered off. I am preparing for all sorts of new challenges. They are coming. I feel it in the very depths of my stomach and as electricity over my skin.
:i should have ordered tea with this cake:
This place is full of 20-somethings searching for some semblance of a Tuesday night life. Laptops, mugs, and books. Here I am with Lil' Mac and a delectable slice of Tres Leches, typey-typing, listening in on everyone's conversations, and eyeing the cute, tatt'd guy at the other end of the room.
The Living Room is a wonderful ecosystem. Full to the brim with college students and late night wanderers, but not annoyingly so. Hearing such a concentration of babble makes me think about my own connections with people. Old high school classmates who have initiated conversation after years of distance. How far away I feel from Boston and my family. I want to know that everyone is happy and doing well. :there is some delicious custardy substance in this cake:
I am happy to be here. Perhaps that is what I am getting at. My bones feel settled now that my need of frivolous human contact has tapered off. I am preparing for all sorts of new challenges. They are coming. I feel it in the very depths of my stomach and as electricity over my skin.
:i should have ordered tea with this cake:
free frozen yogurt never hurt anyone...
I am scheduled for two job interviews. One at the Goodwill Bookstore in Eastlake, the other at Nuyo in Otay Ranch. These are not the jobs I really want, but I would be doing myself a huge disservice if I did not keep my options open.
The positions I really want? Assistant Director at Tutoring Club, an after-school educational program; Campus Organizer for another educational program that assists with student visas, job application, etc.; and the best one, the Membership Manager at the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla.
I have spent this last week in agony over my resumes. Various versions now litter my Documents folder, waiting to be sent out to all those important job people. It took several e-mails to mom, constant revision, and quite a few late nights, but they're done. And, not to give myself a hand, but they look pretty freakin' sweet. My mom, being the business savvy woman, gave me a lot of great verbiage and a couple of lovey, mom-style pep talks.
All right, me, let's do this...
The positions I really want? Assistant Director at Tutoring Club, an after-school educational program; Campus Organizer for another educational program that assists with student visas, job application, etc.; and the best one, the Membership Manager at the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla.
I have spent this last week in agony over my resumes. Various versions now litter my Documents folder, waiting to be sent out to all those important job people. It took several e-mails to mom, constant revision, and quite a few late nights, but they're done. And, not to give myself a hand, but they look pretty freakin' sweet. My mom, being the business savvy woman, gave me a lot of great verbiage and a couple of lovey, mom-style pep talks.
All right, me, let's do this...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Dear Holly,
You are a wonderful roommate. You drive me places.
And you share your food.
And you make me laugh.
I am happy to be your roommate.
Hearts,
Lahnna
And you share your food.
And you make me laugh.
I am happy to be your roommate.
Hearts,
Lahnna
Monday, June 29, 2009
applying myself.
So, there has been good news and great news in the life of little ol' LahnnaBell.
Liberty Mutual is still allowing me to collect to get my car fixed. Which means all I have to do is shell out for the deductible, and the rest is set. Mission Hills Collision Center, I heart you. Bella will have an new ass soon. And then shortly thereafter, I become a California citizen.
Got MS Office for little Mac here and I've got a sweet new resume to send out. There are a few positions I'm gunning for and hopefully whoever does the hiring has the good sense to know that I am awesome. I wish you could e-mail an aura. Mine would smell of night-blooming jasmine and radiate sunshine. If only...
I get a phone upgrade next month. Blackberry?
Gonna watch Bleach until I can't keep my eyes open anymore.
Much love!
Liberty Mutual is still allowing me to collect to get my car fixed. Which means all I have to do is shell out for the deductible, and the rest is set. Mission Hills Collision Center, I heart you. Bella will have an new ass soon. And then shortly thereafter, I become a California citizen.
Got MS Office for little Mac here and I've got a sweet new resume to send out. There are a few positions I'm gunning for and hopefully whoever does the hiring has the good sense to know that I am awesome. I wish you could e-mail an aura. Mine would smell of night-blooming jasmine and radiate sunshine. If only...
I get a phone upgrade next month. Blackberry?
Gonna watch Bleach until I can't keep my eyes open anymore.
Much love!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Options. Something I've never been good at.
But I have them nevertheless!
Looking at schools. The top of my list is Middlebury College for their Graduate Spanish Program where I would spend a summer session taking intense language courses and then an academic year abroad in Madrid doing the same thing.
Also, Monterey Institute of International Studies for either an MA in International Policy or Translation and Interpretation (for Spanish, of course).
Both programs are incredibly intense, and it will take some doing to get admitted to either. But if I could convince Endicott to take me on with a 2.5 high school GPA, this should be doable too.
Ugh. I've eaten enough oreos and I think I should pass out now.
Looking at schools. The top of my list is Middlebury College for their Graduate Spanish Program where I would spend a summer session taking intense language courses and then an academic year abroad in Madrid doing the same thing.
Also, Monterey Institute of International Studies for either an MA in International Policy or Translation and Interpretation (for Spanish, of course).
Both programs are incredibly intense, and it will take some doing to get admitted to either. But if I could convince Endicott to take me on with a 2.5 high school GPA, this should be doable too.
Ugh. I've eaten enough oreos and I think I should pass out now.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Why do Massachusetts insurance policies have to be so frustrating?
Today would be the perfect day for a panic attack. But I won't. Because they don't solve anything and I have a lot to do in the next couple of days.
1. Get my car repaired. At least the tail light.
2. Get a CA registration for my baby.
3. Sign a new insurance policy for CA.
4. Send my MA plates back pronto.
I know what I need to do. That's really half the battle. Now I just have to shell out some money (credit rather) to get this taken care of.
1. Get my car repaired. At least the tail light.
2. Get a CA registration for my baby.
3. Sign a new insurance policy for CA.
4. Send my MA plates back pronto.
I know what I need to do. That's really half the battle. Now I just have to shell out some money (credit rather) to get this taken care of.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
"these walls are paper thin and everyone hears every little sound"
Thanks, roommate.
I love listening to you and your boyfriend (my other roommate) tickling each other and squealing like school children.
I love listening to you and your boyfriend (my other roommate) tickling each other and squealing like school children.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Mondays tend to suck for various reasons.
Today's reason(s) are as follows: my awesomely awesome sunburn. We're talkin' sweet lobstah red. I'm sayin' it hurts to bend and unbend my legs. Mission Beach was gorgeous yesterday, but too much frisbee and a very interesting issue of Yoga Journal left my back and legs looking like someone had painted me a vibrant shade of "The Sun Hates You and Thinks You Should Burn". My fair French Canadian skin stood no chance against the mighty rays.
Last, but not least, I was just notified that my position at High Tech High would not be continued this fall. While it is quite a blow, I was not entirely surprised by it. Budgets have been really tight and funding for extra positions like "Tutors" or "Academic Coaches" has become unavailable.
Fran, my supervisor, found out last Thursday and decided it was best that we know as soon as possible. It is a bittersweet feeling for me. While I was looking forward to seeing my freshman become sophomores, I was not looking forward to another year of working with my ex. I am concerned about the economy and the lack of jobs, but I also welcome the new challenge that survival offers. Along with growing comfortable in a position, I also forget just how incredibly capable I am. This is something no one else truly knows but me. Even Patrick did not truly know how capable I can be until our break up became imminent and I was propelled to pack up and leave the apartment within a single weekend. Even I surprised myself then.
The only terribly awkward moment was Fran's intial address. I noticed that, though Holly, my roommate and coworker, was in the room, Fran spoke to me and the three other tutors, but would not look at Holly. Holly herself was doodling on a note pad, seemingly paying no mind to the conversation. I understood that this meant she had not lost her job and that she felt uncomfortable about the news and sad for the rest of us. She later confirmed my suspicions when we had time to talk at home. Regardless, it is not her fault and I harbor no anger toward her. Mostly, I feel frustrated with myself and the way my job performance took a nosedive after the break up. But that's an issue for another entry...
Last, but not least, I was just notified that my position at High Tech High would not be continued this fall. While it is quite a blow, I was not entirely surprised by it. Budgets have been really tight and funding for extra positions like "Tutors" or "Academic Coaches" has become unavailable.
Fran, my supervisor, found out last Thursday and decided it was best that we know as soon as possible. It is a bittersweet feeling for me. While I was looking forward to seeing my freshman become sophomores, I was not looking forward to another year of working with my ex. I am concerned about the economy and the lack of jobs, but I also welcome the new challenge that survival offers. Along with growing comfortable in a position, I also forget just how incredibly capable I am. This is something no one else truly knows but me. Even Patrick did not truly know how capable I can be until our break up became imminent and I was propelled to pack up and leave the apartment within a single weekend. Even I surprised myself then.
The only terribly awkward moment was Fran's intial address. I noticed that, though Holly, my roommate and coworker, was in the room, Fran spoke to me and the three other tutors, but would not look at Holly. Holly herself was doodling on a note pad, seemingly paying no mind to the conversation. I understood that this meant she had not lost her job and that she felt uncomfortable about the news and sad for the rest of us. She later confirmed my suspicions when we had time to talk at home. Regardless, it is not her fault and I harbor no anger toward her. Mostly, I feel frustrated with myself and the way my job performance took a nosedive after the break up. But that's an issue for another entry...
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
lust is delicious
something about the taste
on my lips
keeps me coming back
the scent you leave
on my clothes
has me daydreaming
i'm shakin' it off
shedding my skin
lettin' it go
on my lips
keeps me coming back
the scent you leave
on my clothes
has me daydreaming
i'm shakin' it off
shedding my skin
lettin' it go
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Ulenarga.
1 a.m.
in the Living Room,
Holly and I are
diligent, determined
Scrabbulous people.
2 a.m.
cools our tea
and ridiculousness
sets in
What is a "beer jedi"?
i will not make it to yoga tomorrow.
in the Living Room,
Holly and I are
diligent, determined
Scrabbulous people.
2 a.m.
cools our tea
and ridiculousness
sets in
What is a "beer jedi"?
i will not make it to yoga tomorrow.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Your words are like fire.
I couldn't stand the sound of his voice today. Echoing throughout the hallways of the school.
I don't know if I'll be returning to High Tech High in the fall...
I purged this bad energy from body today during my yoga class. Expelled it with my breath. I held it out in my hand. Looked at it. Transformed it. And took it back into myself. As oxygen. As forgiveness.
The faint burning I feel inside is only faint. I will mutate it into something stronger.
I don't know if I'll be returning to High Tech High in the fall...
I purged this bad energy from body today during my yoga class. Expelled it with my breath. I held it out in my hand. Looked at it. Transformed it. And took it back into myself. As oxygen. As forgiveness.
The faint burning I feel inside is only faint. I will mutate it into something stronger.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
stumble, eat dirt, stand up, do it again.
We had a group of students today completely bomb their presentation on China-U.S. relations. The scope of the assignment was that each student take on a different perspective looking from the U.S. into China's own way of life and how U.S. officials can assist China in affecting change (My disagreement with this project premise is the least of my worries at this point). Granted, they are freshman, and they are still learning... but they've had all year to refine their research and presentation skills. I would hope that at this stage in the game they would at least be able to identify when it's time to ask for help. But alas... I return to making up lists and rubrics for them after the fact.
This frustrates me. Perhaps because there was no rubric in the first place. No specific guideline stating, "Here is what I want to see..." But that is not my fault. My main responsibility is to now help my students, "my kids", as I call them, as much as I can.
In other news, yoga was even better today. I felt a better stretch, and Mark came over to help me straighten my leg once or twice. "Breathe through it," he said after noticing my wince. And so I did.
This frustrates me. Perhaps because there was no rubric in the first place. No specific guideline stating, "Here is what I want to see..." But that is not my fault. My main responsibility is to now help my students, "my kids", as I call them, as much as I can.
In other news, yoga was even better today. I felt a better stretch, and Mark came over to help me straighten my leg once or twice. "Breathe through it," he said after noticing my wince. And so I did.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Infinity is the same as finity.
I can't believe I gave up yoga for so long.
This feels amazing.
It felt amazing when Mark made me pull my arms back and pull my toes to my head into a full cobra.
Never have I had a better lower back stretch.
And I hadn't realized my left shoulder was as tight as it is.
I feel complete and endless simultaneously.
This feels amazing.
It felt amazing when Mark made me pull my arms back and pull my toes to my head into a full cobra.
Never have I had a better lower back stretch.
And I hadn't realized my left shoulder was as tight as it is.
I feel complete and endless simultaneously.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
I am not my stories. I am not my thoughts. I am not.
After the break-up, I regressed for a few months in the attempt to transform. It was some semblance of a breakdown although I was moving forward simultaneously. I wanted something exactly opposite of what the relationship had been. I drank, I smoked, I stayed up far later than was healthy, and then floated through days at work. This is the first time I dealt with depression in such a physically destructive way. When I was 15, I would spend days alone in my room, feeling sad, waiting for a rescuer. One day I woke up and simply decided I would never do that to myself again. This time happened a little differenty...
I don't regret any decision I have made in these last few months, including the break-up. It needed to happen. I also needed to shake off who I had been, shock myself out of my skin. I can feel electricity returning to my limbs. I don't want to surround myself with the people who bring out this destructive side of me.
I am happiest when I am working toward something. When I look at my students, it fills me with a light that I can't feel from anything else with the exception of horses. I see people in my life who have these stories. Stories of pain and anguish that they carry with them. They keep them close, like a treasure. They identify themselves through the pain they filter. I don't want that anymore. I want to see what is beautiful about my life. I want to bathe in it. I want to run with it and not look back.
I don't regret any decision I have made in these last few months, including the break-up. It needed to happen. I also needed to shake off who I had been, shock myself out of my skin. I can feel electricity returning to my limbs. I don't want to surround myself with the people who bring out this destructive side of me.
I am happiest when I am working toward something. When I look at my students, it fills me with a light that I can't feel from anything else with the exception of horses. I see people in my life who have these stories. Stories of pain and anguish that they carry with them. They keep them close, like a treasure. They identify themselves through the pain they filter. I don't want that anymore. I want to see what is beautiful about my life. I want to bathe in it. I want to run with it and not look back.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Your files have been restored.
I feel as though the last couple of months have consisted of me constantly existing in "restart" mode. I was not supporting my students in the best ways that I knew how. I was abusing my body by forcing myself to stay up late and then to fully function at my jobs. I was putting myself through unnecessary stress for the sake of finding out what I wanted. Again.
What did I find?
1. That my students are still as important to me as ever.
2. That I will be returning to High Tech High in the fall, whether as a tutor or a teacher.
3. I have made peace with the fact that I will most likely not be given a teaching position this fall. However, this by no means reflects on my inability to teach.
4. I am happy in San Diego for this time.
5. I miss horses. They are my little piece of Nirvana in this chaotic world.
6. I think I want to combine special education and horses.
It's amazing to feel this sense of relief. This sensation of sureness and confidence radiating from every part of me. New experiences, developments, and adventures await.
What did I find?
1. That my students are still as important to me as ever.
2. That I will be returning to High Tech High in the fall, whether as a tutor or a teacher.
3. I have made peace with the fact that I will most likely not be given a teaching position this fall. However, this by no means reflects on my inability to teach.
4. I am happy in San Diego for this time.
5. I miss horses. They are my little piece of Nirvana in this chaotic world.
6. I think I want to combine special education and horses.
It's amazing to feel this sense of relief. This sensation of sureness and confidence radiating from every part of me. New experiences, developments, and adventures await.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The plunge.
I did it. I bought my new little Macbook. She's so cute.
I can post videos. I have a 2GHZ processor now! I have room for my gobs of music. Yes, gobs.
I have 230GB on my external to transfer to CD. Flobots, Beatles discography, Animal Collective, Metric, etc.
Think I'm just gonna sit in a cafe somewhere and get down to it. After brunch time with Holly of course.
besitos.
I can post videos. I have a 2GHZ processor now! I have room for my gobs of music. Yes, gobs.
I have 230GB on my external to transfer to CD. Flobots, Beatles discography, Animal Collective, Metric, etc.
Think I'm just gonna sit in a cafe somewhere and get down to it. After brunch time with Holly of course.
besitos.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Line in the sand.
I want to know what goes on inside someone's mind. I want to experience their thoughts as though I were them.
I want to be a completely empathetic human being. I don't hurt because I hurt. I hurt because you do.
But sadly, this is where the line gets drawn.
I want to be a completely empathetic human being. I don't hurt because I hurt. I hurt because you do.
But sadly, this is where the line gets drawn.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I read into things way too much.
I am almost over it. This hanging back, chill, exterior. Feigning interest... whatever.
I lose myself in affection and attention. I lose myself over the stupidest things. It envelopes me like the soft, knitted blue blanket I had that always smelled of home. Full of holes, but still so warm and inviting. I make it work. Whatever it is that life hands me, I make it work.
What other option do we have?
I am not the type of person who flutters from one person to the next, though it may seem so. If I focus on you there is a reason. Problem is... I focus on everything. I want everything.
I want to breathe in life. I want to see it screaming at me. I want to be back on those cliffs in Greece. A moment where I felt alive because I could have died at any moment. Bleeding, scraped, burnt, wet, hungry, exhausted, alone.
I live my life at the edge of emotional exhaustion. I pour my heart into everything I do. I wrack my brain trying to figure out why this thing inside me needs to be this way. Why I am so immersed, almost drowning.
It's not the drama. I hate the drama. But I do love the rush of knowing that no matter how broken or scarred I am, or will become, it only makes me stronger in the end. The satisfaction of knowing that, yet again, I have conquered my fears and pushed forward. I love, I hurt, I fall, I hurt some more, I bleed, I die.
I rise again.
I lose myself in affection and attention. I lose myself over the stupidest things. It envelopes me like the soft, knitted blue blanket I had that always smelled of home. Full of holes, but still so warm and inviting. I make it work. Whatever it is that life hands me, I make it work.
What other option do we have?
I am not the type of person who flutters from one person to the next, though it may seem so. If I focus on you there is a reason. Problem is... I focus on everything. I want everything.
I want to breathe in life. I want to see it screaming at me. I want to be back on those cliffs in Greece. A moment where I felt alive because I could have died at any moment. Bleeding, scraped, burnt, wet, hungry, exhausted, alone.
I live my life at the edge of emotional exhaustion. I pour my heart into everything I do. I wrack my brain trying to figure out why this thing inside me needs to be this way. Why I am so immersed, almost drowning.
It's not the drama. I hate the drama. But I do love the rush of knowing that no matter how broken or scarred I am, or will become, it only makes me stronger in the end. The satisfaction of knowing that, yet again, I have conquered my fears and pushed forward. I love, I hurt, I fall, I hurt some more, I bleed, I die.
I rise again.
Friday, April 24, 2009
No wonder the Third Reich was such a big hit.
So, this week has been pretty low key. I've spent most of my time getting back into the swing of being with the kids and being a responsible adult. The students prepped for their STAR testing next week, which will hopefully keep next week pretty low key too.
However, one of the Humanities classrooms that I frequent was watching a documentary on the Third Reich and the start of WWII. I had never seen adequate footage of Hitler speaking before, and to be honest, I was blown away. Granted, the man promoted unspeakable acts against a mass of people undeserving of such behavior (although no one is deserves genocide). I had always heard in passing that Hitler's movement was so popular due to his unmatched charisma and speaking ability. To my horror, I watched this man speak and despite the impending doom he spoke of and the fact that it was in German, I was moved by the power.
Yes, this sounds sick to say, but I can't deny what I saw. The hundreds of thousands of people swept into this "extraordinary" club of Aryan Germans that seemingly blindingly pledged allegiance to this man's decrees. It was intense and astonishing.
I in no way promote or advocate what Hitler did, but I feel as though I understand more now why things happened. My heart went out to the Jews being shoved into the streets to scrub sidewalks, those shoved in dark, dank boxcars to be shipped off to concentration camps where they would become no more than the numbers tattooed on their arms, and then faceless corpses in a ditch.
Nevertheless, so much pain and so much anguish makes me appreciate who I am, and all that I have. I do not like that it is another's pain I look to to remind me of why my life is precious, but what else can we do but learn from the past and glean some sort of hope for the future? I only hope that I can give such an understanding to the students I teach. If I do nothing else with the rest of my life, that will be enough.
However, one of the Humanities classrooms that I frequent was watching a documentary on the Third Reich and the start of WWII. I had never seen adequate footage of Hitler speaking before, and to be honest, I was blown away. Granted, the man promoted unspeakable acts against a mass of people undeserving of such behavior (although no one is deserves genocide). I had always heard in passing that Hitler's movement was so popular due to his unmatched charisma and speaking ability. To my horror, I watched this man speak and despite the impending doom he spoke of and the fact that it was in German, I was moved by the power.
Yes, this sounds sick to say, but I can't deny what I saw. The hundreds of thousands of people swept into this "extraordinary" club of Aryan Germans that seemingly blindingly pledged allegiance to this man's decrees. It was intense and astonishing.
I in no way promote or advocate what Hitler did, but I feel as though I understand more now why things happened. My heart went out to the Jews being shoved into the streets to scrub sidewalks, those shoved in dark, dank boxcars to be shipped off to concentration camps where they would become no more than the numbers tattooed on their arms, and then faceless corpses in a ditch.
Nevertheless, so much pain and so much anguish makes me appreciate who I am, and all that I have. I do not like that it is another's pain I look to to remind me of why my life is precious, but what else can we do but learn from the past and glean some sort of hope for the future? I only hope that I can give such an understanding to the students I teach. If I do nothing else with the rest of my life, that will be enough.
Monday, April 20, 2009
A real conversation.
Teacher: So, what is ethnicity?
Student: Race.
Teacher: Well, then what is race?
Student: Black people.
If you knew this student, you'd understand. Nevertheless, a golden moment in teaching. Dios Mio.
Student: Race.
Teacher: Well, then what is race?
Student: Black people.
If you knew this student, you'd understand. Nevertheless, a golden moment in teaching. Dios Mio.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Once upon a time I pierced a Scotsman...
I have returned from Flagstaff, Arizona! I spent the last few days sleeping and showering in a boy's dorm and getting hit on relentlessly. The experience was interesting to say the least. The day after my arrival I spent the morning/afternoon battling elevation sickness. Thankfully, this did not last. I think it is due to the fact that my body is some sort of mini-tank with amazing girl parts attached.
I did have fun though. Ian and I hadn't seen each other in 5 years and we spent our time traipsing around the rustically quaint college town. I got a chance to experience a Diablo burger which was pretty much heaven. Oh, and I made love to the delicious rosemary-doused fries.
And what trip of mine would be complete without me being impulsive!? So, I have two beautiful tragus piercings. I've wanted them done for so long and the tattoo shop was in the right place at the right time. The right one still bleeds a little, but for the most part they're not sore. I think they look pretty awesome. Thanks to Ben at Tat-Fu for a quick, relatively painless job!
I made some new friends, something that always makes me happy. As many realize soon after meeting me, I love to have fun with people. Ian also pulled together a ton of music for me. This will keep me busy for a long time, even though I should be planning for next week.
I also had the privilege of guest starring on the radio show that Ian works on during the week. Here is the link to the podcasts. The Progrum No, I didn't speak much, but it was enough entertainment to just listen to the boys carry on. Yesterday was my drive home. Some Arizona snow, crazy winds, an In 'N' Out burger and milkshake, and tons of boredom later, I made it home in one piece. And without killing anyone else with my Bostonian rage.
All right. I've been lazy long enough today. Nos vemos.
I did have fun though. Ian and I hadn't seen each other in 5 years and we spent our time traipsing around the rustically quaint college town. I got a chance to experience a Diablo burger which was pretty much heaven. Oh, and I made love to the delicious rosemary-doused fries.
And what trip of mine would be complete without me being impulsive!? So, I have two beautiful tragus piercings. I've wanted them done for so long and the tattoo shop was in the right place at the right time. The right one still bleeds a little, but for the most part they're not sore. I think they look pretty awesome. Thanks to Ben at Tat-Fu for a quick, relatively painless job!
I made some new friends, something that always makes me happy. As many realize soon after meeting me, I love to have fun with people. Ian also pulled together a ton of music for me. This will keep me busy for a long time, even though I should be planning for next week.
I also had the privilege of guest starring on the radio show that Ian works on during the week. Here is the link to the podcasts. The Progrum No, I didn't speak much, but it was enough entertainment to just listen to the boys carry on. Yesterday was my drive home. Some Arizona snow, crazy winds, an In 'N' Out burger and milkshake, and tons of boredom later, I made it home in one piece. And without killing anyone else with my Bostonian rage.
All right. I've been lazy long enough today. Nos vemos.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
wanderlust
i wanted more, a
Mediterranean love.
abandon! adventure!
a fever cooled too quick
by a current too swift.
(photo: lahnna epolito, lagos, portugal)
i just want to blow bubbles alllll day long!
So, Holly and I had some interesting conversations this morning/afternoon. We frequently make breakfast together and today we began chatting about the book (Loving the Self-Absorbed) I've been reading over some eggs and bacon.
I asked her, "What makes some people reflective and others not?" What instills a healthy sense of empathy in a person? What is it that allows to create emotional boundaries so that we share ourselves, but also remain protected?
Most of the time the answer lies in our upbringing. The way our parents treated us and interacted with us lays the foundation for our interactions with others. Should our parents have interacted with us negatively or relayed unreasonable expectations unto us, the result is an unhealthy approach to fostering relationships.
I was thinking back to my childhood. I reflected on the friends I once had. Frequently, my "friends" would abandon me or plot against me. I cared very much for them and wanted to please them, but this only hurt me further as those friends used my concern to manipulate me. It wasn't until high school that I began to seek out people who I could have mutually satisfying friendships with. I am proud that I was able to establish such boundaries at such a young age. I now want to make it a constant in my life to indulge those friendships that are mutually rewarding.
I thank my mother for her devotion to me. I also reflected on my interactions with her. Yes, she could be mean, and I would get yelled at and reprimanded for behaving inappropriately. I would cry and feel remorse for my mistakes. Some parents might leave their kids alone to cry and recover themselves. My mother held me while I cried. She told me that I needed to learn from my mistakes, but that she never stopped loving me. That everything was okay.
And it is okay. And it always will be. Even when it isn't, it's all okay.
I asked her, "What makes some people reflective and others not?" What instills a healthy sense of empathy in a person? What is it that allows to create emotional boundaries so that we share ourselves, but also remain protected?
Most of the time the answer lies in our upbringing. The way our parents treated us and interacted with us lays the foundation for our interactions with others. Should our parents have interacted with us negatively or relayed unreasonable expectations unto us, the result is an unhealthy approach to fostering relationships.
I was thinking back to my childhood. I reflected on the friends I once had. Frequently, my "friends" would abandon me or plot against me. I cared very much for them and wanted to please them, but this only hurt me further as those friends used my concern to manipulate me. It wasn't until high school that I began to seek out people who I could have mutually satisfying friendships with. I am proud that I was able to establish such boundaries at such a young age. I now want to make it a constant in my life to indulge those friendships that are mutually rewarding.
I thank my mother for her devotion to me. I also reflected on my interactions with her. Yes, she could be mean, and I would get yelled at and reprimanded for behaving inappropriately. I would cry and feel remorse for my mistakes. Some parents might leave their kids alone to cry and recover themselves. My mother held me while I cried. She told me that I needed to learn from my mistakes, but that she never stopped loving me. That everything was okay.
And it is okay. And it always will be. Even when it isn't, it's all okay.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
oreos for breakfast
While doing some personal research, I had an interesting realization based on a link that I happened upon. This is the Wiki on a disorder called Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Something about it piqued my interest and so I began to read. As I read about this very complicated disorder, something clicked. I know I am not a psychologist or a therapist of any kind, but based on my experiences as a child and teenager, my father fits the description of this disorder down to the letter.
Some may say that this is no basis for a true diagnosis, and they would be right, but considering I do not make enough money to attend consistent counseling, and my father refuses to seek help for his very prominent mental issues, I am stuck with independent research. Locating this disorder and learning about its very real effects on people is helping to provide me with a closure I never had before.
I am reconciling with my own mind. I realize now that I am not crazy. That the emotional abuse I suffered under my father was real and that that was caused by this very real disorder. However, the trouble with this disorder is a catch 22. One of the symptoms or signs of a person with NPD is the inability to follow through on commitments (due to their ingrained belief that they are of sole importance). NPD isn't typically remedied through medication since it's basis lies not in a chemical imbalance (like Bipolar Disorder) but in an ingrained personality trait. Therefore, a commitment to long-term therapy is required.
After diving into more research, I came across another link that had very useful information about how the people in a Narcissist's life can help their disordered loved one, an article by Bruce Gregory, Ph.D. One of the most useful tips for me was to establish emotional boundaries.
I used to play the victim when the circumstances turned bad. My father would yell at me for something I had done, and, being the child, I would respond with crying, pleading, and yelling in response. However, when I grew older, I began to establish these emotional boundaries Gregory speaks of. This also did not go over well, because my father, the Narcissist, then became threatened by my ability to control myself. I realized that he thrived on making me lose control in order to gain the upper hand in conversation and essentially "win". Our relationship suffered due to my need to establish independence and self-confidence and his inability to empathize with that.
Interestingly enough, I was once in a relationship that frequently experienced the same turbulence. We would argue about something (even a more trivial topic like dishes), and I would allow myself to become incensed to the point where I'd break down and cry out of frustration and anger. No matter requires this level of frustration. The real problem was my inability to establish emotional boundaries and simply walk away from the situation. I allowed the anger I felt toward my significant other to cloud my judgement, making me believe that to walk away was admitting defeat. Only when I began to decide to disengage from arguments did I see a change. I could then return to the issue later, calmer and ready to find a mutually beneficial solution. Granted, this is only one side of the oreo. The other side lay in the frustration and aggrandizement issuing from my significant other. Even if I can begin to make the effort to improve my reaction to stress and frustration, what good does it do if he does not want to assist by improving himself? Here we reached an impasse. One that we tried to circle around many times, but to no avail.
There are some novels I need to pick up about how to deal with these issues. I'm hoping that I can glean something from them that will help me in conversing with my father and in dealing with future relationships in general.
Loving the Self-Absorbed by Nina W. Brown
Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited by Sam Vaknin
Some may say that this is no basis for a true diagnosis, and they would be right, but considering I do not make enough money to attend consistent counseling, and my father refuses to seek help for his very prominent mental issues, I am stuck with independent research. Locating this disorder and learning about its very real effects on people is helping to provide me with a closure I never had before.
I am reconciling with my own mind. I realize now that I am not crazy. That the emotional abuse I suffered under my father was real and that that was caused by this very real disorder. However, the trouble with this disorder is a catch 22. One of the symptoms or signs of a person with NPD is the inability to follow through on commitments (due to their ingrained belief that they are of sole importance). NPD isn't typically remedied through medication since it's basis lies not in a chemical imbalance (like Bipolar Disorder) but in an ingrained personality trait. Therefore, a commitment to long-term therapy is required.
After diving into more research, I came across another link that had very useful information about how the people in a Narcissist's life can help their disordered loved one, an article by Bruce Gregory, Ph.D. One of the most useful tips for me was to establish emotional boundaries.
Excellent individual emotional boundaries are so critical for dealing with narcissism. These emotional boundaries prevent the force of the narcissism emotions from throwing an individual off balance. The emotional boundaries are also helpful in not taking the narcissism's actions or positions personally. The narcissism, consumed and driven by the grandiosity, feels responsible for everything; therefore, all failures, frustrations, and disappointments are its fault, and are directed personally at it. In interacting with narcissism, one does not want to fall into the narcissist's world and take what is going on personally. Narcissism's actions are indiscriminate. They are directed toward any object, person or group that threatens its control, domination and grandiosity. An excellent emotional boundary system does not allow the force of another person's emotions to penetrate one's own personal space.
Accountability skills are another important tool in the sustainability advocate's arsenal. Accountability skills, used in group settings, are extremely educational to promote awareness regarding the dynamics of power. Accountability skills reduce the tendency to be a victim, and provide inspiration and support for persons looking for the courage to successfully challenge narcissistic forces. Accountability creates "space" by obligating narcissistic forces to substantiate positions, communication and behavior. Accountability skills generate the conditions that require narcissistic forces to take responsibility for their intent or give up their position.
I used to play the victim when the circumstances turned bad. My father would yell at me for something I had done, and, being the child, I would respond with crying, pleading, and yelling in response. However, when I grew older, I began to establish these emotional boundaries Gregory speaks of. This also did not go over well, because my father, the Narcissist, then became threatened by my ability to control myself. I realized that he thrived on making me lose control in order to gain the upper hand in conversation and essentially "win". Our relationship suffered due to my need to establish independence and self-confidence and his inability to empathize with that.
Interestingly enough, I was once in a relationship that frequently experienced the same turbulence. We would argue about something (even a more trivial topic like dishes), and I would allow myself to become incensed to the point where I'd break down and cry out of frustration and anger. No matter requires this level of frustration. The real problem was my inability to establish emotional boundaries and simply walk away from the situation. I allowed the anger I felt toward my significant other to cloud my judgement, making me believe that to walk away was admitting defeat. Only when I began to decide to disengage from arguments did I see a change. I could then return to the issue later, calmer and ready to find a mutually beneficial solution. Granted, this is only one side of the oreo. The other side lay in the frustration and aggrandizement issuing from my significant other. Even if I can begin to make the effort to improve my reaction to stress and frustration, what good does it do if he does not want to assist by improving himself? Here we reached an impasse. One that we tried to circle around many times, but to no avail.
There are some novels I need to pick up about how to deal with these issues. I'm hoping that I can glean something from them that will help me in conversing with my father and in dealing with future relationships in general.
Loving the Self-Absorbed by Nina W. Brown
Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited by Sam Vaknin
Monday, March 30, 2009
Oh, Monday. You're too good to me.
My stress seems to manifest in new ways all of the time. I suppose this is meant to keep me on my toes.
Today, my jaw decided to lock up. All of a sudden while driving, moving my jaw became excruciating. Given my already existing jaw problems, the added stress of clenching my jaw and teeth was enough to cause the muscle to freak out. And today was not the best of days as it involved menstruation, taxes, and my current feelings about my relationship status. It all just seemed to culminate on this glorious Monday.
Some Advil and menthol cream later, I'm still trying to soften it up. I'm predicting it's going to take a few days, in fact. However, with the craziness of Festival del Sol, I need to keep it together. The High Tech High students have this crazy Festival in order to present all their hard work and I'm sure many will be close to tears by Thursday evening.
I just hope this clears up soon. If not, well, I might as well start looking for a long-term remedy now. Stress prevention is my next project.
Today, my jaw decided to lock up. All of a sudden while driving, moving my jaw became excruciating. Given my already existing jaw problems, the added stress of clenching my jaw and teeth was enough to cause the muscle to freak out. And today was not the best of days as it involved menstruation, taxes, and my current feelings about my relationship status. It all just seemed to culminate on this glorious Monday.
Some Advil and menthol cream later, I'm still trying to soften it up. I'm predicting it's going to take a few days, in fact. However, with the craziness of Festival del Sol, I need to keep it together. The High Tech High students have this crazy Festival in order to present all their hard work and I'm sure many will be close to tears by Thursday evening.
I just hope this clears up soon. If not, well, I might as well start looking for a long-term remedy now. Stress prevention is my next project.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
you just don't understand
Holly lent me an interesting book titled You Just Don't Understand: Men and Women in Conversation. I've only just started it, but I'm intrigued. I'm sure I'll update this with my musings and rants on Tannen's subject matter.
However, Holly did mention that the book is structured to induce frustration. Or so it seems that way. I have an older copy so the pages are a yellowy-beige (note: old texts mean sage advice!) and it reads like a fiction novel. Usually, when it comes to non-fiction texts like this one, I like the reading to be broken up into small sections. I ready slowly and therefore the space in text provides me with a place to come up for some air. I like to read whole chapters and will rarely stop in the middle of one, unless perhaps there is a substantial section break. Perhaps I'm a tad obsessive in that way.
I have about 4 novels I'm in the middle of right now. I should probably be more proactive about finishing those. But laziness is just so delicious!
Another text that is really great Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes are High. My supervisor has this in her office and we all, students and teachers, have been benefiting from it.
Happy reading!
However, Holly did mention that the book is structured to induce frustration. Or so it seems that way. I have an older copy so the pages are a yellowy-beige (note: old texts mean sage advice!) and it reads like a fiction novel. Usually, when it comes to non-fiction texts like this one, I like the reading to be broken up into small sections. I ready slowly and therefore the space in text provides me with a place to come up for some air. I like to read whole chapters and will rarely stop in the middle of one, unless perhaps there is a substantial section break. Perhaps I'm a tad obsessive in that way.
I have about 4 novels I'm in the middle of right now. I should probably be more proactive about finishing those. But laziness is just so delicious!
Another text that is really great Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes are High. My supervisor has this in her office and we all, students and teachers, have been benefiting from it.
Happy reading!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
windows resemble empty eyes
moss and green slowly
mask the truth of stone castles.
love slumbers inside.
(photo: lahnna epolito, sintra, portugal)
creating bridges
It's the same with any relationship. You build one. You feed it. You nurture it. You do what you have to do if it is what you want. It grows. It creates purpose. It inspires us. It teaches us about who we are. It's painful, and magical, and agonizing, and unfathomable. You do crazy things, you wear your heart on your sleeve, you beg and plead, you cry, you bleed. You'll need space and time, you need standards. It'll make you scream and laugh at the same time. You'll know everything you've ever needed to know and nothing at the same time. You'll be a monster, the very person you never wanted to become. You'll hate it. You'll hurt people and let yourself be hurt. You'll make bad decisions. Maybe you'll abuse someone, maybe you'll cheat, maybe you won't do anything. This is what it's about. It's love. It's not supposed to be perfect. There's no norm, no instruction manual, no "pause" button, no rules. You're on your own.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
it's true. i'm looking forward to eating a bagel for breakfast tomorrow.
Today was a good day. Slept in. Called Patrick's parents, gave them my thanks for all their help and got some insightful advice. Bought some cute cute shirts! Ate some RIBS! Won an In 'n Out gift card!
I promised a student my undying allegiance, and must arrive bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morn.
With teeth brushed and face scrubbed, I sleep.
I promised a student my undying allegiance, and must arrive bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morn.
With teeth brushed and face scrubbed, I sleep.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
a day to breathe
Today. Today is the first day I've had all to myself. Sitting. And thinking. And being alone.
There is freedom in being alone and there is sadness.
Things to do to keep my mind at ease:
1. Not smoke
2. Eat chocolate eggs
3. Not smoke
4. Yoga
5. Arrested Development
There is freedom in being alone and there is sadness.
Things to do to keep my mind at ease:
1. Not smoke
2. Eat chocolate eggs
3. Not smoke
4. Yoga
5. Arrested Development
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