Okay, well first, there are more than three, but still not enough to make me a floozy. Second, the Vikings are kicking my ass slightly less than my now 41 year old hormones are. Third, I believe I have a multiple personality disorder.
Let’s deal with each one of these things separately, shall we?
More than three, but less than floozy...
So the last year of my dating life has been filled with a Goldilocks metaphor. This one is too soft, this one too hard (I’m sensing a double-entendre here, do you sense it too?), this one too cold, this one too hot... I haven’t found the one that’s just right, quite yet. And at this point, I’m not sure I should keep sampling the porridge.
Here’s the thing... no matter their Goldilocks category, the Vikings have all been good guys, each in their own way. But this dating thing hurts. It hurts to be dumped. It's even painful to hurt someone else’s feelings. And they feel exactly the same way in both regards. I’ve heard that geese mate for life, I’ve often wondered if they hurt this much while they’re trying to find their mate. Note to self: Ask a goose for dating advice. Believe it or not, I will actually do this.
The reason that I’m considering not sampling any more porridge is that I don’t want to get hurt or hurt anyone else, again. My last few experiences have broken my heart even if I was the one saying goodbye. That’s the thing about relationships, I guess. You can’t guarantee anything to the other person. You just can’t. No matter how much you want to. You can believe you can with all your heart, but people, including myself (and that's a huge understatement), are unpredictable. Circumstances change, people grow or change, life changes in general and there we are back in Kansas stealing sparkly red slippers off a dead witch so that we can try again.
I’ve found that if I’m honest about this concept, Vikings interpret it one of three ways: They think I don’t want a relationship or want to be alone ("relationship" and "alone" as defined by them); They think I just want sex... Most of the time they’re perfectly fine with this, but they also think it means they can ask my massage therapist out for coffee after they leave my house; or they think I’m playing with them like a cat plays with a three-legged mouse. None of these are the case, but usually I don’t have an opportunity to explain why.
The case is, in fact, that I want to be happy. And if being with someone doesn’t make me happier than I am by myself, then I’ll stay by myself. I don't expect someone to be perfect. I don't expect them to change. I want to love them for who they are. I want to be able to see a future with them. I don’t want to be in a relationship so that I have someone to share half the expenses with. That’s not ethical, and it’s not love. But trust me, a lot of people do it. And if I’m really honest, I’ve thought about it. I also don’t want someone to take care of me in any sense. I want to take care of each other. But again, it would be nice not to feel like I’m holding up the world all by myself all the time. I can’t put into words what happy looks like. At least not specifically... But I think I’ll know it when I see it. Until then, I’m not going to pretend that I can guarantee anything at all.
The Vikings are winning...
Yes, the Vikings AND my hormones are kicking my ass. First I should tell you that I only started dating when I turned 40. Yep. I know, long story, one I’m saving for a book I’m writing. It’s completely true, with the exception of having a few movie or dance dates in high school and college. And by few I mean between five and eight. Pathetic, I know.
Here’s the problem with not dating until you’re 40:
You have no schema! In fact, you’re up a creek without a schema. You just don’t have a clue what to do. This puts you at an extreme disadvantage and means that you’re going to do a LOT wrong. You’re going to hurt yourself and others in the process. You’re going to feel one minute like the world is the most glorious place in the universe (this is an oxytocin rush, just so you know). And the next minute, you’re going to feel like you can’t do anything right.
Let me put this in perspective. I’ve spent 19 years, just shy of half my life span, living alone. I had one roommate for a short period and it was actually good (maybe not for the roommate, because I’m pretty sure I’m hard to live with).
The point of telling you this is that I haven’t done a lot of the relationship-y things that most people have. I haven’t shacked up with a guy. I haven’t had a guy spend the night. I’ve never had a morning after breakfast. Bear with me, the TMI will be over soon. I’ve never cuddled on the couch to watch a movie with my significant other. I’ve cooked dinner for a few people, but the only one I was dating, I wasn’t really dating. It’s complicated. I’ve never had a joint checking account. I’ve never had anyone pay my bills for me, but I helped the it’s complicated guy financially a couple of times. I’ve never rented an apartment, bought a house or a car or even a teddy bear on joint credit. Never adopted a dog with anyone. Never had a child. I’ve never said “Honey, pass me the ketchup.” to anyone.
I have a vastly different perspective on life than most people and it’s tough for anyone to put themselves in my shoes. I don't blame them, I'm kind of a weirdo. Imagine going nearly 15 years without a kiss of any kind. Fifteen years without someone ever holding your hand. I’m not telling you this to garner sympathy, I’m trying only to describe my perspective.
I woke up this morning with a huge epiphany. One I didn’t like very much. It was: I may never be capable of having a significant other. This is a relief in a lot of ways because let’s face it, dating is hell. It takes an enormous amount of time and effort. This isn’t bad. It should take an enormous amount of time and effort or it wouldn’t matter. It hurts like hell when something doesn’t work out. And again, it should. Without hurt, you wouldn’t have a context for joy. But the other edge of this double-edged epiphany is that there is a pretty good chance (not 100%, mind you, but so far that’s my track-record), that I’ll grow older and eventually die having never experienced the relationship-y things I referred to above. So, yes I’m relieved, the pressure’s off, I can get back to work. But, I am also deeply and profoundly saddened. That takes me to my third point.
I believe I have a multiple personality disorder:
Most of the last year has been maddening! Mad-Hatter maddening. Too many fairy tales in this blog? Well, anyway... When I meet someone, sometimes even before I physically meet them, let’s say we text or talk on the phone, I can usually tell if we’ll be mostly compatible or not. I say mostly because no two people are ever 100% compatible. It’s just not possible to agree on EVERYTHING, or like ALL the same things. That’s why we’re called individuals. But, we can be mostly compatible and in my observations, those seem to be the happiest relationships. I can usually get a sense for compatibility with someone pretty quickly. And on the flip-side I can generally sense when something’s off as well. I don’t believe I’m always right about these things, but I try and make the best decisions with the information I have when I have it. I’ve also learned to trust my Spidey-sense in the last year, because if I ignore it, I regret it. Where are the multiple personalities, you ask? Well...
I seem to vacillate between the realist, the epically horny teenager and the pink sparkly tutu clad princess looking for her prince charming.
The easiest one to explain is the epically horny teenager. Fifteen years of no dating. Nuff said!
The realist. This is the woman who knows things sometimes work out and sometimes they don’t She is too honest, too logical (Lori-logic is a little different than say... Einstein-logic), occasionally skeptical, and always has a plan, flexible though it might be. She tries to be honest with her potential mates because if she fails them, she wants them to be prepared. She wants to spare their feelings right off the bat. In a twisted way, she ends up hurting their feelings by being honest about her own shortcomings. The trouble with the realist is that she never wants to count her chickens before they hatch. In some respects, she robs herself of her own potential futures.
The sparkly pink princess has counted the 5th generation of hatch-lings and built little pink chicken condos with her prince charming. She wants the fairy tale. She believes in the fairy tale. She believes every “this one” might be THE ONE. And with every potential prince charming, she floats around to the beat of her own drum... heart... something. I kind of lost that metaphor somewhere in the middle, sorry. My point is, she wants to jump in with both feet, tutu flying up over her head laughing all the way.
As you can imagine, the realist and the sparkly pink princess don’t get along all that well. For me, that means I’ve got a constant war going on in my head. Take a chance! No, wait and see. TAKE A CHANCE! No, I already know he’s not the one. TAKE A CHANCE, DAMMIT! But what if I do and it doesn’t work out and I hurt him? Argh!!!! Throw in the teenage harlot and I’m ready for meds and a comfy padded room.
Meanwhile, the Vikings end up hating me or dumping me.
At the end of the day, here we all are... Me, the realist, the sparkly pink princess, the teenage harlot and some Vikings, all special in our own way. I don’t know where we’ll all end up, but I know this. Eventually, we’ll get where we need to go. It might hurt, it might never work out. It might be happily ever after. Who knows? None of us. And fate has a funny way of making it happen although she beats the hell out of you along the way.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Oowa Means Yellow
"It is a scientific fact that hearts and clocks slow down as they approach the speed of light."
It's a goofy quote from a stupid television show, but I think it's a beautiful thought. Could it work the other way? If, as the heart slows down, the soul approaches the speed of light. Its a thought that gives me comfort and makes death feel less permanent.
Now, imagine that every person has a little light inside of them. It might be the soul. It might be neurons and synapses firing. I'm not smart enough to know for sure what it is... I don't think anyone is. The thing I do know is that about an hour ago, a beautiful soul approached the speed of light. His name was Jason.
When I got the news, I remembered fighting with him when we were young, particularly around the junior high age when all kids hit that smart ass stage that lasts too long. There were moments when I thought I never wanted to see him again, because we were so mean to each other. Its a wonder that any kid makes it past fourteen quite honestly. Everything is so dramatic.
I remembered his "hip-hop" phase which is kind of hilarious now considering he was such a skinny blond white kid. I remembered my mom driving the two of us to Red Lodge to buy my first mountain bike. I had saved for so long and for some reason he wanted to come along. On the way, we pulled into the Rockvale cafe, where we sat among old men in John Deere caps and cowboy hats while we ate our breakfast. Me in my sweats and Jason in a faux silk purple pants suit, matching tops and bottoms. I kid you not. Buttoned to the last button, adorned with a thick gold chain. Shiny shoes. I loved that confidence, "that dare to be different--just because I feel like it" attitude. I think he was twelve or thirteen at the time.
I remembered two summers ago... I think it was two. Eating lunch. The two of us, now adults, having a real conversation for the very first time. We talked about the things that hurt, the things we struggled with, the things and people we loved, and we both wondered how we actually survived. That's a story for another time. But I remember thinking how amazing it was... that we were both still standing. And that no matter how many times we got knocked down, we also got back up. I remember thinking that the odds against us as kids were nearly astronomical, but we made it. Not only did we make it, we did pretty damn well. Yes, we'd made some doozy decisions. And yes, we'd screwed up. But we'd also built a life. Each of us. He'd soon be marrying a kind-hearted and fiery redhead who he loved like crazy. I was still on my own, but almost always happy. At least content. We talked about letting go for the past, finding a quiet place to live--not outside, but inside ourselves. We laughed. A few days later, I took the pictures at their wedding.
And I remembered the wedding. Certainly not traditional. That's why it was beautiful. Two people, in jeans and t-shirts, standing in the middle of my grandma's big back yard, each telling the other "I love you". And I remembered his ring. An enormous silver skull. Definitely not traditional. But beautiful because it fit him, not just his finger. I remember looking at their hands in my camera's viewfinder. Her hand resting on his. Their crazy rings saying very clearly, we are individuals, but we are together. From that skinny blonde in purple silk to a strong, tall man in a crisp white t-shirt and tattoo sleeves and a skull ring and a beautiful wife. His Great Dane Grimm, the best man in the affair... well, he shared that job with my grandma, actually.
And I remembered getting the picture of him holding his newborn son. A tiny little baby in a crazy blue fuzzy beanie. I remembered how in love he was with that tiny bundle. A boy. Another little light in the world. His name was Acen. I realized today that the name was actually a combination of the names of his parents. I'm not sure why I didn't get that before. Their DNA, their love and their names with him forever.
And then I remembered a tiny toe-headed boy. Mind like a sponge, in fact he learned the expletive alphabet way before I did. And he loved flowers. We had that in common. He loved being in the garden with my grandma. He loved pansies most of all. He thought they looked like little faces, and he told me his favorites were the purple and yellow ones. But, he couldn't pronounce yellow. Instead, he said OOWA, and he called me Yori. From that day on, I could imagine the pansies dancing... Just dancing and laughing every time no one was looking.. I could tell sometimes, when he was staring at a thicket of itsy bitsy pansies, that he was just waiting for them to say something. I could see it in his face, holding his breath with wonder. Waiting. I wish I would've asked him if they ever said anything. Wouldn't that have been something?
And the little boy, the fearless purple tween, the tattooed adult... now a light that seems so very far away. Like so many people we love, gone far too soon. Most of you probably didn't experience his warmth or his twinkle, but you will have that chance now.We all will.
Because "Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thanksgiving Gladness
Dear Spirit,
As I sit in front of my zombie movie enjoying my non-traditional Thanksgiving with my dog Hairy, I realize that I want to take the time to thank you for a number of things.
I recently discovered that I have a brother and sister-in-law who are beautiful and extraordinary people. By recently, I mean within the last few years. As a little girl, an only child, I wished for an older brother. I didn't realize that this was basically an impossible request because when you're little, you don't know how big brother's are actually made and that they have to be born BEFORE you. But, Spirit, you surprised me and granted my wish anyway. You just didn't tell me about it, so I'm grateful to know now and proud to call him, them my family. Oh, and I'm also grateful to know his mom. She's beautiful too.
And, Spirit, you've brought people into my life just when I've needed them. I hope that you've put me in the path of others as well, when they needed me. I don't always understand why they go, sometimes permanently, and you could make that a little easier you know. But I know you must have a reason. Each person I come in contact with changes me or teaches me something. Whether I like them or not is irrelevant it seems because I learn from all of them.
One may teach me math, another fun, another respect. Some teach me to value myself and some are reminders to stand up for myself. They are all purposeful. And I'm grateful for each and every one, especially the ones I call "friends".
And Spirit, you've also given me challenges. Let's just say I'm never happy about them at the time, but I always understand them later. I try to remind myself that with every challenge there is eventually joy and happiness again and it seems even sweeter.
For all of the material things, I thank you as well. I'm grateful for a warm bed and a roof over my head even though it leaks it little. I know the people in my life are extremely grateful I have clothes to wear, as am I. No one wants to see a pantsless Lori, trust me on this.
And thank you, Spirit, for me. For giving me strength, hope, tenacity and kindness when I need them. Again, do I really need so much strength and tenacity? Even still, I am grateful.
And thank you for the ridiculous things that I just enjoy, like zombie movies, feeling the sun on my face, warm cozy boots, bubble baths and smelly candles. These things are good too.
Most of all, thank you for Hairy. Because when I forget to be grateful, his "dog-ness", the spontaneity and joy that are inherent in his nature, remind me what's important.
For all of these things, and the things to come, Spirit, I am grateful.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
-L
As I sit in front of my zombie movie enjoying my non-traditional Thanksgiving with my dog Hairy, I realize that I want to take the time to thank you for a number of things.
I recently discovered that I have a brother and sister-in-law who are beautiful and extraordinary people. By recently, I mean within the last few years. As a little girl, an only child, I wished for an older brother. I didn't realize that this was basically an impossible request because when you're little, you don't know how big brother's are actually made and that they have to be born BEFORE you. But, Spirit, you surprised me and granted my wish anyway. You just didn't tell me about it, so I'm grateful to know now and proud to call him, them my family. Oh, and I'm also grateful to know his mom. She's beautiful too.
And, Spirit, you've brought people into my life just when I've needed them. I hope that you've put me in the path of others as well, when they needed me. I don't always understand why they go, sometimes permanently, and you could make that a little easier you know. But I know you must have a reason. Each person I come in contact with changes me or teaches me something. Whether I like them or not is irrelevant it seems because I learn from all of them.
One may teach me math, another fun, another respect. Some teach me to value myself and some are reminders to stand up for myself. They are all purposeful. And I'm grateful for each and every one, especially the ones I call "friends".
And Spirit, you've also given me challenges. Let's just say I'm never happy about them at the time, but I always understand them later. I try to remind myself that with every challenge there is eventually joy and happiness again and it seems even sweeter.
For all of the material things, I thank you as well. I'm grateful for a warm bed and a roof over my head even though it leaks it little. I know the people in my life are extremely grateful I have clothes to wear, as am I. No one wants to see a pantsless Lori, trust me on this.
And thank you, Spirit, for me. For giving me strength, hope, tenacity and kindness when I need them. Again, do I really need so much strength and tenacity? Even still, I am grateful.
And thank you for the ridiculous things that I just enjoy, like zombie movies, feeling the sun on my face, warm cozy boots, bubble baths and smelly candles. These things are good too.
Most of all, thank you for Hairy. Because when I forget to be grateful, his "dog-ness", the spontaneity and joy that are inherent in his nature, remind me what's important.
For all of these things, and the things to come, Spirit, I am grateful.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
-L
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I'm Cuckoo for Zombies!
YES! I'M cuckoo for zombies like a tiger digs frosted flakes. All zombie movies are excellent, but the ones with humor are the cream of the crop.
The best zombie movie ever is Shaun of the Dead. It's a British film and I love the snarky humor that the Brits do oh so well. In fact, I sell a lot of t-shirts and bumper stickers in that part of the world (insert shameless plug here >> www.cuckooforzombies.com. )
I'm not a fan of all horror movies. The slasher and senseless violence movies like My Bloody Valentine or Friday the 13th: number 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...42 are just stupid and I have to say pretty formulaic. I've been looking for a chance to use the word formulaic without it looking like it was on my word of the day calendar and LOOK-here it is!
I think that's why I enjoyed Scary Movie so much. I mean, we all know what's going to happen in a slasher movie, right?
And I hate shutting my eyes at the gory parts. Instead I will pause the movie, jump around for a while and sing a happy song until I'm calm enough to continue with the show. This means it took me three days to watch Zombieland... and I loved every minute of it. The best part was that every time I would scream and jump from the couch, my dog would run to the window barking, scaring me even more. So, if you can imagine me jumping up and down singing, my dog barking at the window, intermittently looking to me for some sign of sanity and then... me laughing my ass off when I realized how ridiculous it all was. It's the BEST!
Zombieland is actually my second favorite zombie movie. Woody Harrelson and Jesse Eisenberg are brilliant and Bill Murray has a cameo near the end. Let's just say... Bill Murray, always funny! The best part of the story--and a good zombie movie ALWAYS has a story and good character development-- is Woody Harrelson's epic quest for the last Twinkies in a post-apocalyptic-zombie-infested-world. The survival list is fabulous, the humor is pee-your-pants funny and the characters actually pretty endearing.
So, I'm not sure what you're going to dress up as this Halloween, but I can guarantee you I will be on the lookout for roving zombies, probably screaming my head off and then laughing like a loon! It should be a sight.
The best zombie movie ever is Shaun of the Dead. It's a British film and I love the snarky humor that the Brits do oh so well. In fact, I sell a lot of t-shirts and bumper stickers in that part of the world (insert shameless plug here >> www.cuckooforzombies.com. )
I'm not a fan of all horror movies. The slasher and senseless violence movies like My Bloody Valentine or Friday the 13th: number 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...42 are just stupid and I have to say pretty formulaic. I've been looking for a chance to use the word formulaic without it looking like it was on my word of the day calendar and LOOK-here it is!
I think that's why I enjoyed Scary Movie so much. I mean, we all know what's going to happen in a slasher movie, right?
- No! Don't go into the basement/woods/tool shed/serial-killer-rec-room-that's-clearly-marked all by yourself!
- ACK! Look behind you! [they never never DO even when I try to warn them by screaming at the television.]
- All minor characters get taken out one at a time to build the suspense of the final dual between the bad guy and the main character. However, the minor characters are always killed off one by one in order of importance, which generally means in order of minority/gender/ or funny but expandable sidekick.
- Flashlights NEVER work, or only work long enough to make you feel safe about going into the basement/woods/tool shed/serial-killer-rec-room-that's-clearly-marked!
And I hate shutting my eyes at the gory parts. Instead I will pause the movie, jump around for a while and sing a happy song until I'm calm enough to continue with the show. This means it took me three days to watch Zombieland... and I loved every minute of it. The best part was that every time I would scream and jump from the couch, my dog would run to the window barking, scaring me even more. So, if you can imagine me jumping up and down singing, my dog barking at the window, intermittently looking to me for some sign of sanity and then... me laughing my ass off when I realized how ridiculous it all was. It's the BEST!
Zombieland is actually my second favorite zombie movie. Woody Harrelson and Jesse Eisenberg are brilliant and Bill Murray has a cameo near the end. Let's just say... Bill Murray, always funny! The best part of the story--and a good zombie movie ALWAYS has a story and good character development-- is Woody Harrelson's epic quest for the last Twinkies in a post-apocalyptic-zombie-infested-world. The survival list is fabulous, the humor is pee-your-pants funny and the characters actually pretty endearing.
So, I'm not sure what you're going to dress up as this Halloween, but I can guarantee you I will be on the lookout for roving zombies, probably screaming my head off and then laughing like a loon! It should be a sight.
Happy Halloween everyone!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
You Diane, Me Jane
Now, you may be saying to your screen, "I thought you're name was Lori?" or "Maybe we should call you Sybil!". Very funny, but actually I'm referring to more of a state of mind than a name.
I'm talking about Jane Goodall and Diane Fossey.
You probably know Jane Goodall as the species activist and anthropologist who lived with chimpanzees starting in the 1960's. She's advocated for environment and species protection ever since. I was lucky enough to attend one of her lectures about a decade ago and I was struck by how 'kindly' she was. In fact, she's downright 'grandmotherly' now. Her mannerisms and way of speaking were so gentle and wise that I was drawn in immediately and by the end of the speech, I was ready to follow her absolutely anywhere rescuing chimpanzees along the way.
In contrast, Diane Fossey was an outright warrior. Unfortunately she was murdered in her pursuit of species protection. Her cause: the Mountain Gorilla. If you don't know the story, watch Gorillas in the Mist starring Sigourney Weaver as Diane Fossey. It's an oldie but a goodie. Fossey's approach was the polar opposite of Jane Goodall even though they were really working on the same type of goal. Fossey was loud and violent and fierce in her attempt to protect mountain gorillas. I think the movie does a nice job of showing this. And when I watched it again, I was moved to do something fierce. Both approaches worked on me. But I'm fickle that way. If someone makes a good argument, the very least I'll do is respect them even if I don't ultimately agree with them. Even though she wasn't well liked (that's an understatement), like Jane Goodall, she was also deeply respected. And in the end, her work & murder have drawn a great deal of attention to a very dire situation, so ultimately she accomplished her goal.
I use these two women as examples because their approaches are so very different. Sometimes you need to be wise and grandmotherly and sometimes you need to be a raving bitch. Whichever is appropriate. I have raving bitch moments... but mostly I'm grandmotherly, or at least that's what people think. Hopefully they don't think I'm actually a grandmother and are just referring to my nature. I mean, for God's sake, I just barely turned 40!
I have friends who try to approach everything in a kindly diplomatic sort of way. This is nice and gentle and it's their way, and it can accomplish a lot. So there's no criticism here. But there are times that require fierceness! I think the trick is in knowing the difference. So for my gentile friends, the phrase "choosing your battles" really means "I'm walking away now." I think the phrase "choosing your battles" should mean "be fierce when you need to be."
You also have to know what kind of people you're dealing with. For instance, if you're trying to get a group of nuns to let you bathe in the church's fountain, then fierceness... probably not a good idea. If your upset with the TSA because they fondled your junk... let me just say... fierce = Guantanamo!
BUT, if you're doing a midnight rescue of an abused dog... well, fierceness is just the ticket. If you're defending someone against a bully, again... be fierce. Remember that by fierce I don't mean raise your hand to someone. I absolutely do not support violence. But defending yourself is an option at any time. And, there are ways to be fierce without being violent.
So, gauge the situation. Gauge the people you're dealing with. Take inventory of yourself and whether or not you're prepared or qualified to deal with the situation. Then breathe. Then GO JANE! Uh... or DIANE!
I'm talking about Jane Goodall and Diane Fossey.
You probably know Jane Goodall as the species activist and anthropologist who lived with chimpanzees starting in the 1960's. She's advocated for environment and species protection ever since. I was lucky enough to attend one of her lectures about a decade ago and I was struck by how 'kindly' she was. In fact, she's downright 'grandmotherly' now. Her mannerisms and way of speaking were so gentle and wise that I was drawn in immediately and by the end of the speech, I was ready to follow her absolutely anywhere rescuing chimpanzees along the way.
In contrast, Diane Fossey was an outright warrior. Unfortunately she was murdered in her pursuit of species protection. Her cause: the Mountain Gorilla. If you don't know the story, watch Gorillas in the Mist starring Sigourney Weaver as Diane Fossey. It's an oldie but a goodie. Fossey's approach was the polar opposite of Jane Goodall even though they were really working on the same type of goal. Fossey was loud and violent and fierce in her attempt to protect mountain gorillas. I think the movie does a nice job of showing this. And when I watched it again, I was moved to do something fierce. Both approaches worked on me. But I'm fickle that way. If someone makes a good argument, the very least I'll do is respect them even if I don't ultimately agree with them. Even though she wasn't well liked (that's an understatement), like Jane Goodall, she was also deeply respected. And in the end, her work & murder have drawn a great deal of attention to a very dire situation, so ultimately she accomplished her goal.
I use these two women as examples because their approaches are so very different. Sometimes you need to be wise and grandmotherly and sometimes you need to be a raving bitch. Whichever is appropriate. I have raving bitch moments... but mostly I'm grandmotherly, or at least that's what people think. Hopefully they don't think I'm actually a grandmother and are just referring to my nature. I mean, for God's sake, I just barely turned 40!
I have friends who try to approach everything in a kindly diplomatic sort of way. This is nice and gentle and it's their way, and it can accomplish a lot. So there's no criticism here. But there are times that require fierceness! I think the trick is in knowing the difference. So for my gentile friends, the phrase "choosing your battles" really means "I'm walking away now." I think the phrase "choosing your battles" should mean "be fierce when you need to be."
You also have to know what kind of people you're dealing with. For instance, if you're trying to get a group of nuns to let you bathe in the church's fountain, then fierceness... probably not a good idea. If your upset with the TSA because they fondled your junk... let me just say... fierce = Guantanamo!
BUT, if you're doing a midnight rescue of an abused dog... well, fierceness is just the ticket. If you're defending someone against a bully, again... be fierce. Remember that by fierce I don't mean raise your hand to someone. I absolutely do not support violence. But defending yourself is an option at any time. And, there are ways to be fierce without being violent.
So, gauge the situation. Gauge the people you're dealing with. Take inventory of yourself and whether or not you're prepared or qualified to deal with the situation. Then breathe. Then GO JANE! Uh... or DIANE!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Little Things Make Me Happy
So, I've been thinking... I do a lot of thinking while I'm driving and I'm sure it would be better if I was concentrating on driving, but there you go. Anyway, I was thinking about the measure of a life. What makes it special and worth living?
Of course the answer to this question is vast and depends a great deal on what's important to you. These are the things that are important to me.
Take a ride in a Jeep (or another less superior convertible): You knew this was coming right? But it really is an important one. I had the privilege of driving in scenic Glacier National Park this summer. It was in August and the days were warm and filled with sun, the nights colder than I like. But driving through sun-dappled trees, listening to birds and the breeze rustle through ancient pine trees was just short of an out-of-body experience. I would describe my faith as something other than Christian, but I do believe in spirit... in connectedness... in something larger than me. And if you ever doubt that Spirit or God or Goddess exist, take a convertible ride through Glacier. You'll feel it when the sun and shadows touch your face and run their fingers through your hair.
Visit one place that makes you feel insignificant: Now, this sounds a little counter-intuitive, but it's a continuation of the theme above. Standing in a place that makes you feel insignificant gives you valuable perspective. It helps you to understand your place in the world and how miraculous your life is no matter how you think of it most days. For me a place that makes me feel insignificant could be any stretch of wilderness. A gigantic mountain, the middle of the woods, or sitting next to a wild stream. For you it may be standing at the foot of the Eiffel Tower or at the Vatican or even at Ground Zero. Find that place and just be.
Have a reliable "in case of emergency" contact: I recently started the paperwork for my very own passport, but in doing so, I realized that I didn't have anyone to name as my "in case of emergency". This was the case for a couple of reasons. First, I don't have much immediate family left and those who are, really don't know me well enough to effectively carry out my wishes. Either they will be unwilling or incapable. That sounded pretty snooty, but it's true. But then something amazing happened. I found out a few years ago that I have a 1/2 brother & a sister-in-law I didn't know about. I met them in person on my birthday which was also the memorial service for my beloved dog. They flew in to attend the service and my brother helped me plant a sturdy oak tree for the occasion. They are amazing people. And when I talked to them about my dilemma, they volunteered to be my emergency contacts! Having someone to play that role for you isn't just a matter of paperwork. It means that somewhere in the world, someone cares about one of the most fundamental needs a person can have... knowing that someone, somewhere, will notice if you were gone from the earth. No matter how independent we are, we all need this. We need someone to acknowledge that we lived, that we touched their life for good or for bad.
Achieve one big goal: Everyone deserves one big thing to be proud of. And when I say big, remember that it's a subjective term. For some people, making a friend is big. For some, selling 10 Cadillacs is big. Don't forget to take stock of what you've already accomplished because you might have already done it. If not, decide what your big thing is and go after it. If you get it done, pick something else. Life is short, live it.
Recognize a miracle: Real miracles happen around us everyday. Things that we take for granted. Most of them aren't biblical or epic, they're little things that make us happy or catch our attention. Remember that getting out of bed can be a miracle. So is the fact that your heart beats without you doing a thing to make it so. Look for miracles everyday. I will guarantee that you will find them. They are all around us in the little details of life.
Have one devoted friend: I've been lucky in this area. I've had lots of people that I could call to have fun or help me move or even cheer me up. And I hope that I have been this for others as well. Friends are important. They connect us to the world. The person that I counted on the most recently had to move to a different state. I didn't realize how much I would miss her, but it's a good thing to know it now. It means that she made a difference in my life and now I can truly appreciate her.
Have one day you can call "the best ever": Wouldn't it be nice if everyone had a day that was perfect. Like big, perfect is also subjective. Obviously, there are a lot of things that are not under our control. But the way we choose to react to them can make a world of difference. I'm not saying you should go through life with an artificial smile and pretend that nothing is getting you down, but even sad or frustrating times can be lessons. Learning what you need to and moving on is the gift. So start thinking about what your perfect day would look like. Imagine it with all your might and do this until it actually happens.
Have one epic love affair: I'm not talking about cheating. Not at all. But everyone deserves one big love, even if it's short-lived. I am not a conventional woman. I've never actually been able to picture myself married with the white picket fence. And I haven't actually had my epic love affair yet, but all good things take time. It's something I will never lose hope in, although I have to say my hope has been flickering lately. But here's the thing... it doesn't matter to me if it lasts a weekend, a summer or a lifetime. Of course I'd be lying if I said I didn't think a lifetime sounded like the best option. But really, I just want to have experienced that one connection. To meet someone who gets me and that I feel the same way about. Someone who I can talk to for hours about ideas and life and love. Someone who is passionate and kind, happy and affectionate... and maybe a little viking if you know what I mean.
Of course the answer to this question is vast and depends a great deal on what's important to you. These are the things that are important to me.
Take a ride in a Jeep (or another less superior convertible): You knew this was coming right? But it really is an important one. I had the privilege of driving in scenic Glacier National Park this summer. It was in August and the days were warm and filled with sun, the nights colder than I like. But driving through sun-dappled trees, listening to birds and the breeze rustle through ancient pine trees was just short of an out-of-body experience. I would describe my faith as something other than Christian, but I do believe in spirit... in connectedness... in something larger than me. And if you ever doubt that Spirit or God or Goddess exist, take a convertible ride through Glacier. You'll feel it when the sun and shadows touch your face and run their fingers through your hair.
Visit one place that makes you feel insignificant: Now, this sounds a little counter-intuitive, but it's a continuation of the theme above. Standing in a place that makes you feel insignificant gives you valuable perspective. It helps you to understand your place in the world and how miraculous your life is no matter how you think of it most days. For me a place that makes me feel insignificant could be any stretch of wilderness. A gigantic mountain, the middle of the woods, or sitting next to a wild stream. For you it may be standing at the foot of the Eiffel Tower or at the Vatican or even at Ground Zero. Find that place and just be.
Have a reliable "in case of emergency" contact: I recently started the paperwork for my very own passport, but in doing so, I realized that I didn't have anyone to name as my "in case of emergency". This was the case for a couple of reasons. First, I don't have much immediate family left and those who are, really don't know me well enough to effectively carry out my wishes. Either they will be unwilling or incapable. That sounded pretty snooty, but it's true. But then something amazing happened. I found out a few years ago that I have a 1/2 brother & a sister-in-law I didn't know about. I met them in person on my birthday which was also the memorial service for my beloved dog. They flew in to attend the service and my brother helped me plant a sturdy oak tree for the occasion. They are amazing people. And when I talked to them about my dilemma, they volunteered to be my emergency contacts! Having someone to play that role for you isn't just a matter of paperwork. It means that somewhere in the world, someone cares about one of the most fundamental needs a person can have... knowing that someone, somewhere, will notice if you were gone from the earth. No matter how independent we are, we all need this. We need someone to acknowledge that we lived, that we touched their life for good or for bad.
Achieve one big goal: Everyone deserves one big thing to be proud of. And when I say big, remember that it's a subjective term. For some people, making a friend is big. For some, selling 10 Cadillacs is big. Don't forget to take stock of what you've already accomplished because you might have already done it. If not, decide what your big thing is and go after it. If you get it done, pick something else. Life is short, live it.
Recognize a miracle: Real miracles happen around us everyday. Things that we take for granted. Most of them aren't biblical or epic, they're little things that make us happy or catch our attention. Remember that getting out of bed can be a miracle. So is the fact that your heart beats without you doing a thing to make it so. Look for miracles everyday. I will guarantee that you will find them. They are all around us in the little details of life.
Have one devoted friend: I've been lucky in this area. I've had lots of people that I could call to have fun or help me move or even cheer me up. And I hope that I have been this for others as well. Friends are important. They connect us to the world. The person that I counted on the most recently had to move to a different state. I didn't realize how much I would miss her, but it's a good thing to know it now. It means that she made a difference in my life and now I can truly appreciate her.
Have one day you can call "the best ever": Wouldn't it be nice if everyone had a day that was perfect. Like big, perfect is also subjective. Obviously, there are a lot of things that are not under our control. But the way we choose to react to them can make a world of difference. I'm not saying you should go through life with an artificial smile and pretend that nothing is getting you down, but even sad or frustrating times can be lessons. Learning what you need to and moving on is the gift. So start thinking about what your perfect day would look like. Imagine it with all your might and do this until it actually happens.
Have one epic love affair: I'm not talking about cheating. Not at all. But everyone deserves one big love, even if it's short-lived. I am not a conventional woman. I've never actually been able to picture myself married with the white picket fence. And I haven't actually had my epic love affair yet, but all good things take time. It's something I will never lose hope in, although I have to say my hope has been flickering lately. But here's the thing... it doesn't matter to me if it lasts a weekend, a summer or a lifetime. Of course I'd be lying if I said I didn't think a lifetime sounded like the best option. But really, I just want to have experienced that one connection. To meet someone who gets me and that I feel the same way about. Someone who I can talk to for hours about ideas and life and love. Someone who is passionate and kind, happy and affectionate... and maybe a little viking if you know what I mean.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Indiscriminate Peeing and Other Debacles
I haven’t been blogging in a while and I’ve really missed it. I have to apologize to my loyal readers, and by loyal readers, I mean those people I relentlessly hound until they read my blog. I’ve been out this summer living life in full mid-life crisis mode. In fact, I’ve been doing things that have flabbergasted my friends and thoroughly surprised even me.
Honestly, it’s really a summer that I should have had when I turned twenty. You know, when you’re young and naive and full of “I’m indestructible” narcissism. But my life has been a bit outside the norm as far as rebellious phases go. I’ve been falling down drunk only one time in my life. I’ve been to eight states in these states United and I’ve never been out of the country, even though Canada is just a few hours from my home town. Speaking of home town, I’ve lived in Billings my entire life, yep I was born here. In fact, I’ve been experiencing adulthood since I was about four years old. Without reliable parents, you learn a lot of things early, like how to get ready for school on your own, how to do your homework without asking for help, and how to make ramen noodles in order to keep yourself alive. It’s good practical experience, but you swap that “I’m an invincible rebel” stage for working four jobs to put yourself through college and make your life better. And I wouldn’t trade any of the ‘responsible Lori’ that experience bore... or so I thought.
It seems trading or not wasn’t really a conscious decision after all. Apparently, if you don’t experience crazy teenage impulses at the time you’re a teenager, you might come face to face with them during your mid-life crisis. For me, it happened in the summer of year 40. I’ve been saying things like “How bad could it be?” or “What’s the worst that could happen?” or “I can take care of myself, I’m freakishly strong.”, yeah right!
If you don’t know me in real life, you may not know that I’m a bit reserved, a bit cautious and also a bit unconventional. It’s an odd mix of personality traits and sometimes the opposing sides cause a full on war in my head. Honestly, I’ve spent most of my life just fitting in and trying not to be noticed. It turns out, this is not who I am at my core. Consequently, I haven’t lived as the real me quite yet. This summer, I think I finally met the real me and let’s face it, she’s a little nuts. She’s also kinda fun, adventurous, outspoken, artsy-fartsy, very emotional, a little irresponsible and... did I mention, nuts?
Let me try and nutshell my summer of indiscriminate peeing and debauchery.
May: Spent my 40th birthday alone, well actually with my dog. Spent the rest of the month working my conventional job, throwing pots and medicating my rain-depression with too much coffee and obsessive tv-watching.
June: More pot-throwing, it seems I don’t have a realistic sense of time, so consequently I was throwing and firing right up until four days before my big summer art show. EGADS! I would not recommend this although I seem to be fairly consistent about doing it. Got a couple of topless road trips in (the Jeep, not the girl!) and put in some hard labor trying to get my yard ready for the big show day. Started a life-altering diet. Had my show, which turned out fantastically! Also, met a fascinating, funny, beautiful man who played the guitar, got stuck in the rain with me and politely ignored my craziness. Met another interesting, bright, creative man who’s own craziness seemed to amplify mine. Watched some more TV.
July: Did some t-shirt designing and worked my conventional job. Had some more topless road trips. Piddled around on Facebook. Met some new people on Facebook and “face to face”. Took Hairy (my dog) to the park, a lot. Lost 38 pounds. Got Apple TV and used it to watch Netflix way way too much! Started a long distance relationship I was completely unprepared for. Finally figured out what sexting actually was... and suddenly July was over!
August: Got hit on by a cowboy & an artist, but didn’t realize they were actually talking to me until it was too late to do anything about it. Huh? Up to minus 50 pounds. Realized that not dating for 15 years has put me up a creek without a schema! Took a whirlwind trip to Glacier National Park with someone I’d never actually met, but thought I knew. This included camping and nearly freezing to death, but that’s an adventure for another blog entry. Let’s just say this person was comfortable peeing whenever AND wherever the mood hit him.
September to Present: I tried to kayak and it turns out, I LOVE IT! My long distance relationship returned home which completely surprised and scared the bejeesus out of me! To this, I reacted with even more craziness and completely and unintentionally found myself saying “Come here! No, wait, go away! No, wait, come back!” You get the picture. I may have to finally admit that women are a little nuts and I AM a woman! In fact, I don't really know what I want to this very second. To date I have also lost 72 pounds. This is something I didn’t think I would ever share, particularly on a blog, but it seems to factor into the summer madness. You see the more weight I lose, the crazier I get. My body is slowly returning to it’s normal un-lump-like state and with each change I feel more like a girl. A crazy girl, but still... My only conclusion: I got my boobs back and completely lost my mind!
Honestly, it’s really a summer that I should have had when I turned twenty. You know, when you’re young and naive and full of “I’m indestructible” narcissism. But my life has been a bit outside the norm as far as rebellious phases go. I’ve been falling down drunk only one time in my life. I’ve been to eight states in these states United and I’ve never been out of the country, even though Canada is just a few hours from my home town. Speaking of home town, I’ve lived in Billings my entire life, yep I was born here. In fact, I’ve been experiencing adulthood since I was about four years old. Without reliable parents, you learn a lot of things early, like how to get ready for school on your own, how to do your homework without asking for help, and how to make ramen noodles in order to keep yourself alive. It’s good practical experience, but you swap that “I’m an invincible rebel” stage for working four jobs to put yourself through college and make your life better. And I wouldn’t trade any of the ‘responsible Lori’ that experience bore... or so I thought.
It seems trading or not wasn’t really a conscious decision after all. Apparently, if you don’t experience crazy teenage impulses at the time you’re a teenager, you might come face to face with them during your mid-life crisis. For me, it happened in the summer of year 40. I’ve been saying things like “How bad could it be?” or “What’s the worst that could happen?” or “I can take care of myself, I’m freakishly strong.”, yeah right!
If you don’t know me in real life, you may not know that I’m a bit reserved, a bit cautious and also a bit unconventional. It’s an odd mix of personality traits and sometimes the opposing sides cause a full on war in my head. Honestly, I’ve spent most of my life just fitting in and trying not to be noticed. It turns out, this is not who I am at my core. Consequently, I haven’t lived as the real me quite yet. This summer, I think I finally met the real me and let’s face it, she’s a little nuts. She’s also kinda fun, adventurous, outspoken, artsy-fartsy, very emotional, a little irresponsible and... did I mention, nuts?
Let me try and nutshell my summer of indiscriminate peeing and debauchery.
May: Spent my 40th birthday alone, well actually with my dog. Spent the rest of the month working my conventional job, throwing pots and medicating my rain-depression with too much coffee and obsessive tv-watching.
June: More pot-throwing, it seems I don’t have a realistic sense of time, so consequently I was throwing and firing right up until four days before my big summer art show. EGADS! I would not recommend this although I seem to be fairly consistent about doing it. Got a couple of topless road trips in (the Jeep, not the girl!) and put in some hard labor trying to get my yard ready for the big show day. Started a life-altering diet. Had my show, which turned out fantastically! Also, met a fascinating, funny, beautiful man who played the guitar, got stuck in the rain with me and politely ignored my craziness. Met another interesting, bright, creative man who’s own craziness seemed to amplify mine. Watched some more TV.
July: Did some t-shirt designing and worked my conventional job. Had some more topless road trips. Piddled around on Facebook. Met some new people on Facebook and “face to face”. Took Hairy (my dog) to the park, a lot. Lost 38 pounds. Got Apple TV and used it to watch Netflix way way too much! Started a long distance relationship I was completely unprepared for. Finally figured out what sexting actually was... and suddenly July was over!
August: Got hit on by a cowboy & an artist, but didn’t realize they were actually talking to me until it was too late to do anything about it. Huh? Up to minus 50 pounds. Realized that not dating for 15 years has put me up a creek without a schema! Took a whirlwind trip to Glacier National Park with someone I’d never actually met, but thought I knew. This included camping and nearly freezing to death, but that’s an adventure for another blog entry. Let’s just say this person was comfortable peeing whenever AND wherever the mood hit him.
September to Present: I tried to kayak and it turns out, I LOVE IT! My long distance relationship returned home which completely surprised and scared the bejeesus out of me! To this, I reacted with even more craziness and completely and unintentionally found myself saying “Come here! No, wait, go away! No, wait, come back!” You get the picture. I may have to finally admit that women are a little nuts and I AM a woman! In fact, I don't really know what I want to this very second. To date I have also lost 72 pounds. This is something I didn’t think I would ever share, particularly on a blog, but it seems to factor into the summer madness. You see the more weight I lose, the crazier I get. My body is slowly returning to it’s normal un-lump-like state and with each change I feel more like a girl. A crazy girl, but still... My only conclusion: I got my boobs back and completely lost my mind!
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