Sunday, January 30, 2011

shy

I used to be shy. It was my protection, my barrier, my excuse. Do you know what being shy is? It's being a coward. A mother fucking coward. It's keeping to yourself so that you don't have to take a chance, a risk. If you don't let people in, don't let them know you, then you don't have to risk them not liking you. By not letting people know the real me, I became immune because if they didn't like me, it was their fault, because they didn't somehow magically discover the "real" me. The person they didn't like had nothing to do with me.

Was I getting to know the "real" them? How were they going to get to know the real me? Was there some magic question I was waiting for them to ask? Like a secret knock or hand shake that would tell my soul that these people were worthy of my innermost thoughts?

I discovered that other people were a lot more interesting when I actually put forth the effort. I've never met someone that I couldn't connect with on some level if I actually tried.

I used to get angry that people couldn't see the "real" me, couldn't appreciate how awesome I was. But I got so good at hiding and protecting that piece of me that I forgot it was hidden.

There are still some situations where it is hard for me- big groups where everyone else already knows each other. And not being shy is still a conscious decision I have to make. I may not talk non stop but I make that effort to be open, to share myself. And my life is better for it.

And you know what? It's okay. People might not like the real me. But most people do. And they like the real me a lot more than they like the cowardly me that I was putting out there.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

writing

I had my first creative writing class yesterday.

And it was... AWESOME!

The space was awesome. The teacher was nerdy, but awesome. There are fifteen very supportive and friendly other students in the class. There is one black guy and one woman from the Ukraine, otherwise not a whole lot of diversity but I feel like we all have a lot of different backgrounds and will all bring a lot to the class.

The teacher is actually a writer. He teaches and writes. Which isn't always the case. You know the old adage, "Those who can't do, teach." He does both. We went around at the beginning of class and introduced ourselves and said a little something.

The girl next to me actually majored in creative writing but then went on to sell bonds. "Ah, that's what I did wrong!" my teacher joked.

Then later we talked about some guy selling his writing and again my teacher piped up, "Again, that's where I went wrong! Why didn't someone tell me these things earlier?"

We did a bunch of exercises. We started by coming up with the blandest, most boring sentences you can think of.

The dog ran.
He drove to work.
It's cold outside.
Close the door.
I did my laundry.

And then we had to change them to make them more interesting. You can do it by just changing a word.

He swam to work.

Or by adding an adjective, adverb, pronoun, etc.

Close the trap door.

Or by just totally expounding on it.

It was fun. And so easy.

I love to be writing again. It makes me so happy.

I know that I write all the time on my blog but it is not at all the same thing. I know that my readers have limited time and energy and don't want to read ten pages about each little thing that happens in my day. So I make it simple. I used expository (telling language) rather than showing language.

I simply tell you that I loved my class. I don't take you through each step of it. Don't tell you about the nervous laughter at the beginning. Or the warm glow that spread through me when the teacher praised my idea. I could write three paragraphs on each of those things.

And I wasn't even nervous. I never even got butterflies. It just felt like returning home. It was where I belonged and where I wanted to be.

taking life for granted

This post is going to be sad and depressing. Sorry.

My uncle Roger had a stroke back in November and was paralyzed on his left side. Some of the movement is coming back but he is an old stubborn man who is not the best patient to say the least. He is not allowed to drink anything because he can not swallow and apparently our ability to swallow is what makes the liquid go into our stomachs instead of our lungs.

He started at one hospital and just got moved to another place but it nowhere near ready to go home. Though of course that is what he wants to do.

He never took care of himself. In fact, he rather abused his body. He told my mom when she went to visit him that he had "thought he was invincible." He never thought that something like this would happen to him.

I'm racked with guilt because I haven't been to visit him. Mind you, we aren't super close or anything. It's not like I am not visiting my mom or something. But I just can't bring myself to go over there. I don't want to see him like this.

My Aunt Claudia sends out updates to the family. Mostly she just repeats whatever my Aunt Pam and cousin Butch (Roger's wife and son) tell her.

Here is the latest update...

Roger's been transferred to the 2nd floor in Manor Care.
He was transferred because a bed became available and if he stayed on the 1st floor and his insurance ran out and there was no bed available on the 2nd floor, they'd have to transfer him out of Manor Care.
Pam didn't see Roger today (Tuesday), because on her way to the dentist, her car started steaming and smelled like something was burning, so she went right to her mechanic. He told her it was a metal pipe from the cooling system that rusts out and there's no 'after market' product, so the part had to be ordered from Ford. It's supposed to come in tomorrow. So she had Eric pick her up and she went home to go through more paperwork. Someone also smashed one of the windows in her van on Sunday, so it was not a good car day for her.
Monday, Roger had his therapy with George in the morning, then in the afternoon, Bonnie gave him his therapy. When Pam got there, Roger told her to go find Bonnie, because Bonnie told Roger they weren't done and she would be coming back. So Pam found Bonnie in the therapy room and gave her Roger's message. Bonnie said she didn't say that and that Roger was done with his therapy. Bonnie did say that Roger was very tired that day and she had taped his hand, because it was very swollen and she put the edema glove on him, because the brace was too tight now.
When Pam was back in the room, Roger told her that he had a dream that he didn't know where he was and was abducted by aliens. Then he told her when he woke up, he got in his wheel chair and heard Ronnie Frank (a friend of theirs) telling him to go by the window. Pam told him Ronnie Frank was dead, so Roger said it must have been his brother Jack. Roger told Pam the Notre Dame Church was going around visiting people and that's why Jack was there. (Unfortunately, none of this was true, but again, Roger knew the alien abduction was a dream, but he believed that Jack had really been there and that he had gotten himself up and in his chair. ???)
Pam asked Roger is he remembered how he got to Manor Car and Roger said no. Then she asked him is he remembered coming to Manor Care in the wheelchair, riding in the medi-van and again he said no. At 5:45 p.m. Roger rang for the nurse and Pam asked him why. Roger told her he had to get dressed for therapy. (Before that, Dorothy, the speech therapist, had her session with Roger and said he did okay but that he was very tired.) Pam told Roger he was done with therapy, but Roger thought it was the morning. Pam told him it was night and showed him the television shows that were on at night. Then she asked Roger if he remembered when he got sick in Reno, (16 years ago, I think). They had come home Sunday night and Pam was taking him to the ER and they were crossing over the bridge in the dark. Roger had commented that he couldn't believe there was no traffic because it was rush hour. Pam told him it wasn't rush hour, it was night. Roger said if it was night, they were going to Al's, so they went to Al's and the next day Roger saw Dr. Monoco. Pam told Roger she told him that story to explain to him that this is what he was going through now - that his mind is not focusing on stuff the right way.
Then, George, the therapist, walked past and Roger told Pam to call George, because Roger's leg brace had come in and was there. Pam told him the brace wasn't coming in until Tuesday, but Roger insisted it was there and told Pam to go find George. So Pam found George and told him that Roger said to tell him his brace was in. George, said, "Okay, you told me. Just like I told him it wouldn't be in until Tuesday."
Now it's Tuesday and Pam is at home and Butch calls her to tell her that Roger is being moved to the second floor. Prior to that, Roger told Butch he needed to go and wanted a bed pan. So they pushed the button for the nurse, but no one answered and Roger pooped all over. (I know it's gross, but you have to know this for the rest of the story to make sense.) Butch told Pam the smell was making him sick and Butch didn't know how Pam could do this every day. Then Butch asked if Pam washed his clothes, or if the nursing home did it. Pam told him to bag everything and bring it home and she would take care of it. By 6 p.m. Butch wasn't by Pam, so she assumed he wasn't coming. Pam was upstairs doing paperwork when she heard Butch come in. She went down to talk to him and again Butch told her he didn't know how she was handling all this, because it was such a mess and Roger was telling Butch his weird dreams and Butch was gagging just telling Pam about the mess Roger had made.
Then Butch told Pam that Roger's new roommate has his area set up like home. He's got a plastic storage unit with drawers and a shelf set up with all his snacks on it. Butch told Pam he didn't know what to do with Roger's stuff, so he just put it in the room and told Pam she'd have to take care of it.
Wednesday, Pam has to go downtown for a copy of her marriage license, so Kim and Ali are going to go with her.
At some point during all this, Dorothy, the speech therapist, told Pam to prepare herself that when Roger leaves, the stomach tube will still be in and she'd have to learn how to take care of it. Pam said that's one of the reasons she doesn't want him home all that soon. Plus, she's afraid that once he's home, he'll sneak food. Dorothy told her that if he did that, he'd get pneumonia and be sick again. (Even Dorothy has had the experience of swabbing out Roger's mouth and him trying to suck all the liquid off of it. She told him he couldn't do that or he'd get sick, but you can imagine how hard it must be, not to be able to eat or drink.)
Since Roger can't eat, Pam was telling him about Samantha's family questionnaire and the question "Which food would you miss the most?" She asked Roger what his food would be. At first he said coffee, but then changed his mind and said bananas. Then Pam asked him another question from the questionnaire: If he could only eat one food for the rest of his life, what would he choose? Roger's answer was hamburgers. Pam said her answer was cookies, but that hamburgers made more sense.
Back to Butch - (I write these reports up as Pam tells them to me, so forgive me for the jumping around, but as you know, Pam has a lot on her mind.) When Butch was with Roger on Tuesday, he noticed Roger was huffing and puffing and thought all that Roger had been through with the poop mess and changing rooms was too stressful for him. The nurse checked his oxygen level and it was down to 70. (I think it's supposed to run around 90.) So the nurse said they would give Roger 2 liters of oxygen. Butch told her that wasn't enough and that he needed at least 5. (Pam doesn't know why Butch thinks he knows how much oxygen Roger needs.) Anyway, after Butch said he needed 5 liters, the nurse gave Roger 3 liters. But Roger was still huffing and puffing and had ragged breath, so Butch called the nurse and told her Roger still couldn't breath. So the respiratory therapist was called and gave Roger a breathing treatment and eventually his breathing was back to normal.
And, believe it or not, after all that, this report is done.


It makes me so grateful for what I have. And it makes me want to take care of myself better. And it makes me want to jump and laugh and smile and enjoy every moment that I am given.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

catch up

I'm cracking up because every room that I walk into has a post-it note that says "Massage 11:30." I needed to make sure that I did NOT forget to go into work today to receive a free massage from a woman who is trying to get a job there. My bosses wanted one of the therapists to receive some work from her to make sure she is good before we let her work on actual clients.

Why did I need a thousand post-it notes to remember that? Because last week was when it was originally scheduled and I completely, totally, not even a blip on the radar screen, forgot about it.

Who forgets to go in for a FREE massage? Dumbass.

So I made sure not to forget it this time around when we rescheduled it for today.

So I got my stuff together and walked over to the train and was watching the train starting to pull up when I got a phone call from work... the therapist had to cancel.

Karma, I guess.

Which leaves me all sorts of time to blog. And watch the end of Social Network. And maybe even clean my apartment a bit. But let's not get too crazy, we'll start with the blogging.

***

Do you want to hear a funny story?

My coworker, D, has a friend who is a bartender and he invited her to come hang out at the bar where he was working. It is just your typical Chicago dive bar. The only foreign beer they have is Corona and that is what she was drinking. D was sitting at the bar, talking to her friend and a bunch of the other locals who hang out there.

One of them asked her if he could buy her a drink. D said, "Sure, I'm drinking a Corona." And he looks at her like that is really high brow and says, "Um, I'm drinking a MGD."

So D says, "Well, an MGD would be fine," yet all the while thinking, "REALLY? You can't splurge for a friggin' Corona?"

The dude proceeds to basically tell her what a loser he is. How he used to be a millionaire but now he has been divorced twice and has to rent an apartment.

Note to guys out there... while it is okay to be humble, it is not okay to be a loser. It's not going to get the girl.

So a while later he asks D, "Do you wanna do a shot?"

D said, "Sure."

So he orders a shot. One shot. And he turns to her and goes, "We can split it."

Really? You are going to split a shot? You are going to split an ounce of liquid?

Geez Louise!

***
My mom started her chemo and radiation last Monday. So far everything is going fine. Lots of my siblings are going out to visit her. That makes me happy. And she is setting up little projects for us to do for her. I'm down with that. Her love language is doing things so it is nice to be able to have something to be able to do for her.


Friday, January 21, 2011

perfect body


I really like the song Folding Chair by Regina Spektor because of one line in it...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_2KnNCSCPo

"I have a perfect body... but sometimes I forget."

How true is that?

Our bodies are amazing.

Not because they fit into a pair of size six jeans, but because of all the things they are capable of.

And I'm not just talking about bearing children, etc.

Walking around today. Running. Giving someone a hug. Breathing. Thinking thoughts. Loving people. My body does all that.

Our bodies rock.

I took a little (okay, a big) tumble down my basement stairs on Tuesday. Then Wednesday I played volleyball again for the first time in weeks.

Needless to say, my body wasn't feeling top notch. So I wasn't feeling tons of love for my body.

And I get sucked in every now and then into wanting to be skinny. Wanting to "be beautiful."

And then, every now and then, I remember A) how beauty is just dumb and subjective anyhow, and how B) my body totally rocks as is.

One of the best parts about my job is that it helps me to remember those things.

I had a client come in yesterday who had SEVERE scoliosis. She had metal rods in her back and she was still totally twisted and uneven.




How dare I be anything less than unbelievably grateful and proud of the body that I have?

Worrying about being beautiful is a luxury. And every time I think about it in the future, I am going to remind myself of that.

Am I too fat? Or am I thankful that I have food in my belly?

Are my thighs too big? Or am I thankful that I have working legs? That let me run and jump and dance?!

Am I getting lines on my face? Or have I had millions of reasons to laugh in my life?

I have a perfect body...

and sometimes I forget...

but sometimes I remember.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

good works

What is it about doing random acts of kindness that just makes you feel so darn good?

There are lots of things that make us feel good. Buying an awesome new outfit that makes us look and feel hot? Definitely. But then you feel guilty about spending the money on it. Eating a delicious meal? Sure, but then you worry about the calories.

But little acts that we get nothing out of except for a good feeling? Those are the best!

I was walking home from the el today and I spotted a dog wandering by herself along the street. There were no humans in sight so I bent down and called the dog to me and petted her for a bit and finally was able to read her dog tags. She lived only a few doors away so I grabbed her collar and walked her home. I rang the bell and knelt down and continued to pet the doggie while keeping one hand on her collar. The woman who lived there finally answered the door. She was on the phone and was looking upset. She saw her dog and smiled so big and thanked me for "rescuing her dog!"

It took very little effort on my part but I was just glowing with happiness the rest of the way home.

I don't think this is a feeling unique to me. Which makes me beg the question... why aren't we out looking for more nice things that we can do to help people? Don't we all want to have this glowy, happy feeling?

Saturday, January 8, 2011

tea time

This girl, right here (thumbs pointing back at me), is living proof that people can change.

Remember when I used to be a coke fiend? I mean, the soda, not the drug. I used to drink that stuff like it was water.

And then a few years ago I switched to diet coke, which I didn't think would ever happen. A friend told me just to try it (and only it) for two weeks. By the end of the two weeks I didn't want to switch back to coke.

I'm not a coffee person, so I would get up in the morning and drink a diet coke instead. Ahhhh, the perfect way to start your day!

Every now and then I would take a break from drinking diet coke so that my tolerance would go down and it would be much more effective when I started drinking it again.

And then, with the prodding/naggging/guilt tripping of a friend, I decided, "Hey, why not just give it up?"

That idea isn't so mind blowing. What is mind blowing is that I actually did it. Just gave it up cold turkey. Haven't had a diet coke in weeks, if not months. Not even during the holidays. Not even when I was hung over. Not even when I was eating Mexican food.

Now I'm onto green tea. And it has really sort of changed my morning routine. Slowed things down a bit.

It obviously takes a bit longer to make than soda. I have to heat up the water and let it brew, not just snap open a can.

But because it is hot, I also can't just chug it down. I sit there and enjoy it. I let the cup warm my hands. I inhale the sweet aroma. I feel the steam on my face. Now, it's an experience.

There's just something so damn peaceful about a cup of tea in the morning.

It makes me happy.

Yet, if you had told me even four months ago that I would give up soda and become a tea drinker, I wouldn't have believed you.

I wonder what other little changes I can make.