It was set in the 1930's, and I was an ex-Rockette, on my way to Hollywood. Between Mom's fake fur coat and the great hat we found for $3 at Party City, I think the outfit looked great. (I've got a great photo - I'll post it when I get around to downloading it from my camera).
Or like you're the hamster in the wheel - running as fast as you can but not really going anywhere?
That's what today feels like.
(No, I'm not saying this is a reflection on my life. Just on my current to-do list, both at work and at home. There's more there than I think I can ever hope to get done. Which I guess means I need to do something about the list itself, but I'm not really sure what, other than ride it out.)
Kate: Hi, Kristy.
Me: Kate, I think I'm completely screwed up.
Kate, laughing: I'm pretty sure we're all screwed up. What's going on?
Take today, for example. Last night and today (following a great conversation with my friend Kate) I've been thinking a lot about hope. Specifically, I've been thinking about how scary it can be when you begin to hope for something that you had previously shoved back to the realm of impossibility, because it's terrifying to consider that sometimes we hope for things that never come to pass. This morning, as I was driving to work, I thought about writing about these things, though really they're so elemental in my head right now, that I don't know what I would say. (They also resolve around a very specific circumstance, which I definitely am not ready to share.)
In addition to this, I've been thinking about how I really want to go over to the vending machine next door and buy a Coke, but I know I shouldn't, because nothing will bust the lose-weight thing faster for me. (Side note - I worked out yesterday. Yea!)
So, I started this post, and actually couldn't decide what to write about - hope or the Coke. How messed up is that?
I could go into the whys of it, but frankly, I'm just not comfortable going into that much detail about my personal neuroses when there are people I know that will actually read this. Suffice it to say that I'm doing some thinking, and I'm fed up of the status quo. This moment is a moment of commitment. This is where things change.
Starting tomorrow, I'll begin again to track everything I eat, and will attempt once more (really) to start a new workout routine. (Here's a side note - why in the world do I decide to start these things during probably the busiest week I've had in months?)
So, Jillian, if you're reading this - still interested in a work-out partner at the fitness center on base? And sorry, I'll be cutting back my participation in the Starbucks runs. I'll take out my frustrations with certain major-software-vendors-that-are-to-remain-nameless on the recumbent bike instead.
Sometimes I think there's just enormous benefit in getting away from home, even if it's not that far away. To be with friends, and have no real agenda to speak of, is a wonderful thing. I'm trying to think about what I would be doing this weekend if I was at home, and I think, really, I'd be spending much of it the same way - shopping, hanging out with the people I care about, laughing. The difference is that all the things I should be doing would be weighing on me.
So, I'm thinking that maybe the really wonderful thing about vacations is giving yourself permission to be distracted from the things you should do. And if that's the case, it should be possible to accomplish that at home. I think.
One thing, however, was so silly as to warrant mention.
(For those who don't know, I work on an army base. This means, among other things, that I stop at the gate for fort police to check my id each time I drive back on base.)
On our way back from grabbing lunch at Panera today, the cop checking our ids (mine and Jillian's) actually told us to have a happy Detrick day.
I think Jillian's response as we drove away pretty much summed it up: "Well. That was a new one."
Valentine's Day is a weird day. I actually don't have a really high opinion of it, but find it difficult to explain my feelings. I worry that I might give the opinion that the only reason that I don't like it is because I don't have a significant other with whom to celebrate it.
I just don't like the idea that we're told when to express our love for others. I don't like the expectation of a grandiose gesture.
And I don’t like our waitress at Olive Garden the other night, who divided our eight-person table into two checks (“the lovebirds” and “the singles”) and spent most of the night hitting on Josh (including asking him about his cologne before asking him for his drink order.Not that the guy at Ruby Tuesday's was much better - ever heard of personal space?
Here's the problem - I was never given a chance to provide an explanation. Instead, the judge asked me my name, if I was pleading guilty, about my driving record, then prounced me guilty and gave me fine.
The amount of the original ticket was $80, the new fine was $74.50, plus $25.50 in court costs. So, $20 extra dollars and total waste of my time to go to the courthouse.
Now, what, I ask you, is the point of "guilty with explanation" if you don't get a chance to give an explanation?
I don't really feel uncomfortable about saying that, because I've said similar things to him personally before, and because I doubt he's reading this anyway.
So, sorry for any confusion.
Then, I continued to use it as a sort of personal journal. Sometimes you just have something you need to say, you know? And really, typing has always been more of my thing than writing. But when people you know are actually reading what you write, it means you need to be wise in what you say.
Here's why I'm saying all of this. In a traditional journal right now, I would be venting frustration at a certain person in my life. Here, I'm still going to do that - I'm just going to veil my comments a bit.
If you're going to ask someone a question, you need to give them your attention for as long as it takes for them to answer, even if it takes longer than you expected. And looking at your computer and clicking your mouse while they're talking to you, even if you say you're listening and can repeat back what they're saying, does not count as giving someone your attention.
The funny thing is, most of you who know me will probably know who I'm talking about anyway.