face it.

You would think I would have thought of this before I was 31 years old. 

Yesterday, having had a procedure done at the dentist, the right side of my face was numb for the entire afternoon.  During this time I realized not only that I slightly resembled that dude who played Peter Petrelli on "Heroes" with his crooked mouth, but also that I should really wax my upper lip.  Ah, the joys of being a woman.  So, light dawned on marble head and I realized I should have been waxing all along whenever I had an administration of Novocain.  I mean, it doesn't happen that often, but I should totally have taken advantage of that numbness and used it to be a big wimp and not feel the pain of tearing all of my hair out by the roots.  Duhhhh.

Just wanted to point that out in case you hadn't thought of it either.  Good stuff!

telephone.

I'm sure you remember that game from back in the day where you stood in a circle with your friends and gave the person next to you a verbal message.  Then that person would pass it to the person next to them, and it would pass around the circle from person to person.  The message would be nothing close at the end to what it was to begin with.  I remember that being a fun game.

But it's not so fun when you're an adult and half the things you say (or rather, 90% of what you say to one particular person) gets passed to other people incorrectly.  Or passed to you incorrectly from someone else.  In fact, almost nothing frustrates the shit out of me the way that does.

For a while, I thought it was me.  That I'm some sort of alien who just doesn't belong on this planet (and I reserve the right to come back to that theory again at some point in the future), but I am starting to realize that some people just suck at relaying messages.  Maybe it's the tone, maybe it's the wording, I don't know, but I do find it curiously funny that the one person I'm thinking of when I'm describing all of this has a job where their only function is to communicate information between clients and a company.  Irony at its best.

What it all boils down to is that I try very hard to be nice..to think about other people's feelings and try to keep them in mind when I do or say anything so I don't create or add to conflict.  I think I spend more time doing that than the average person does, so it really bothers me when people think I'm an asshole because some dipshit can't speak or understand their own native language.  But, as I said in my lesson of the other day when I said we must all live for ourselves and not to make other people happy, I can only do what I can do.  If I have the opportunity to show people who I am, they will know who I am.  If they only know me as an asshole through the words of a dipshit relaying bad messages, so be it.

crossroads.

First, I must say, Crossroads Music in Hanover is the best music store in the world. You will not find more knowledgeable and friendly people anywhere, and their instruments and music lessons are phenomenal. Hi, Paul and Bobby Doo!

But that's not the type of crossroad this blog entry will be about. I've had several of those moments in life when you wonder what the fuck it is your doing, and whether or not you're doing the right thing. I'll give you an example.

Way back in the day, ten years ago, I was working on a film called Osmosis Jones. Bill Murray was in it and the Farrelly Brothers directed. I worked in the production office at the time, and it was extremely busy. We were consistently there longer than most of the other crew, finishing up sides and skins for the next day.

This one night came along that I was invited by one of the cameramen to go have dinner with Bobby and Peter at Bobby's house. I considered it. Then I looked over at my boss in her office, running around working her ass off, and I knew I shouldn't bail on her just because an interesting opportunity had presented itself. I told myself I would be able to dine with the Farrellys another time. So I stayed, and worked, and she told me she appreciated it.

The next night, I had the night off. Everyone else went to dinner with the Farrellys, no one told me, and there was never another opportunity for me to go. Did I do the right thing? Yes. Did I do what everyone else would have done? No. Why is it that I hold myself to different standards than everyone else does? I couldn't tell you. But I can't help it.

You would think I would regret that decision, and I definitely do wish I had had an opportunity to go; it would have been cool to hang with those guys in a non-work setting. But I am proud that I didn't desert my boss, who was also a friend of mine. A friend who happened to die of breast cancer several years later at the age of 36. I got a few extra hours with her. Not a bad deal, when you think about it in those terms. But am I a jackass for not doing the more fun thing, when almost anyone else would have?

What's more important? Knowing people will remember you as being honorable after you're dead, or having fun when you're alive? Please tell me your thoughts.

please yourself.

If you thought this was going to be about masturbation, you're going to be disappointed. And you should probably read on.

You can't please everyone. That is the lesson of the day. And I think a life spent trying to please everyone else is a waste of a life. Yes, it's important to be kind, and helpful, and build strong, solid relationships with people in your life, and to help them when and if you can, but making the majority of the decisions in your life with a focus on pleasing someone else (or several someone elses) is a terrible, terrible thing.

I think I may have ADD. This is a somewhat new realization, and it may not be the case (it may be fallout from a concussion I had this summer, but I do doubt that) but to diagnose it, apparently the most common procedure is having people close to the person suspected of having ADD fill out questionnaires.

For me, it made sense to have the ex-husband fill one out, because he did live with me for many years. Maybe that was not my most brilliant idea, however, since there's still some animosity there due to us divorcing. It was quite a scathing result. I'm speechless, really. Or, well, I'm typing here so I guess I'm not speechless. But, after my initial period of feeling upset (and speechless), I'm now thinking it makes more sense to just realize that I'm not his favorite person right now, and maybe he really does feel the way he wrote about. And he's entitled to that opinion, even if I happen to think it's untrue. And, it doesn't matter.

I have a tendency to want to leave people happier and more content than when I found them, so it bothers me whenever I don't accomplish that. But, you can't win 'em all. And I do think in some respects, I helped that brother out, so I feel good about that. And I hope he finds happiness in life, even if he is sometimes a big meanie.

So, do me a favor (or don't, if it doesn't please you), and don't live your life for other people. They are rarely, if ever worth it. The only exception I can think of is putting your childrens' best interests above your own, but I think that's just common sense.

Free yourselves. And go masturbate or something, because I know you're thinking about it.

i don't know if you saw that episode...

of SpongeBob Squarepants where SpongeBob orders a big TV so he can play inside the huge box it comes in?  He and Patrick jump inside and create a veritable playland in there which includes avalanches, car races, and all kinds of other really awesome sounding things.   But Squidward, who was at first the happy recipient of the huge TV, hears all of this fun stuff and starts to wish he could get in on playing inside the box too.  But every time he opens the flaps, Patrick and SpongeBob are just sitting there..no snow, no racecars, nothing.  Just an empty box (aside from his two neighbors).

So Squidward asks SpongeBob, "How are you doing that?!" and SpongeBob makes a rainbow with his hands above his head while he says, "Imaginaaaaation." 

I got a huge box in the mail today.  Yes, it came with something in it, so it wasn't just a box..but I hope my kids are still adventurous enough to want to jump in it and make it something awesome.  I've already given them the gift of imagination, and tonight, they can make use of it.  Life is good.

See you at the racetrack.

here comes the sun.

Nobody knows self-control like this creature.  My cat, Soleil.  She was two years old when my family adopted her from a shelter, and that was five years ago.  She may be seven years old (yay, I can do math!), but she's still as frisky as a kitten, and vicious.  My neighbor tells me stories about how he loves to watch her hunt mice.  He giggles every time he talks about it.  This is a seventy year-old man, folks.  Giggling.  And he says he hates cats.

Anyway, the area of self-improvement I have been putting the most energy into lately is self-control.  It's not easy!  Keeping all of the (usually unnecessary) things to myself that I would love to say out loud, not mentioning "I told you so"  when someone doesn't take my advice, not starting or contributing to a pointless argument...these things, for me, require effort.  So if I watch and learn from a cat who hates children, yet who does not bite or attack my two children when they get loud and stomp around or when they stuff her in a sleeping bag because they think she wants a ride, I can learn that sometimes elegance and composure is the best way to react to a situation.  And I can also learn that sometimes you get tossed into a situation you don't love, but you should concentrate on how to get out of it rather than reacting with emotions and not seeing clearly through it.

Today was not a great day for me, and at one point I went to my cat and buried my face in her belly fur, which she also hates.  And she patiently let me do it, because I think she could tell I needed to.  I really hope to master self-control as she has.  And I really hope someday she doesn't snap and bite out my jugular while I sleep, because we both know she can.

beet it.

In one of the more surprising developments of my life, I recently joined Jenny Craig.  I signed up roughly two weeks ago because my usual method of weight control, the low-carbohydrate Atkins Diet, stopped working for me.  Which is fine, because I'm not the biggest fan of meat anyway.  But I'm also not a fan of feeling like a fatty.  So after my discovery of additional poundage,  I tried to limit my calories and up the exercise, also to no avail.  As a last resort (or technically second to last; the last was bulimia), I thought of trying Jenny Craig.

I've always kind of thought of Jenny Craig as something old ladies do.  Not sure why, the two things are just synonymous in my mind.  So the fact that I joined was a really humbling experience for me.  Not sure whether I'm admitting I'm old, or whether I'm admitting it's not just for old people, but all I care about is that I really hope it works. And with their method of using pre-packaged food, it might just.  If it doesn't, something is seriously wrong with me.  (Yes, yes, I know you can all probably point out things that are wrong with me, but I mean biologically, not in all of my other eccentric ways *wink*)

But I'm getting a bit off-track here.  The point of the story, without going too hard into detail (because I'm boring even myself right now), is that this led me to start using one of my paternal grandmother's signature recipes on a daily basis so I won't feel like I'm starving to death.

Grammy, as she was affectionately known, was an intelligent, shrewd, proud, loving woman, and a damn good cook.  She excelled at preparing many dishes and desserts (though I will admit to not being a fan of the jell-o with chunks of peaches and grapes suspended in it..ewwww), but one of her most-loved was pickled beets.  I looked forward to her house because of her board games, her hugs, her tuna casserole, and her pickled beets.

She wrote out the recipe for me once, and I still have it.  A treasure to me now since she is gone.  And I realized, when perusing the list of "unlimited free foods" that I can now eat, that I can have as much vinegar daily as I would like, and as many beets daily as I would like..and while I can't use sugar I can use splenda in place of it, and bingo, baby!  I'm going to finally pickle some of my own beets.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy.  I cried a little the first time, I won't lie, but then I felt proud that she is living on in me.  Her memory is still alive...I still relish the taste and think of her fondly when I eat them.  So this new Jenny Craig "lifestyle change" has brought me closer in spirit to my Grammy.  And I am grateful for that.

P.S.  Leave me a comment if you would like the recipe.  I'm sure she wouldn't mind me sharing! And I'll say now, if any of you ever have any advice you would like to share, please do. I don't want to just talk at you, if you have something to say that you think can help, I would love to hear it.