Moving is a beast. but I have a boyfriend who makes it easier on me - makes it even bearable. And what a huge difference that makes.
I love my doggie. And he has a new long-distance girlfriend named Razzle. They look the same!! Except she has better ear fringe.
Cleaning my apartment is a bit un-fun. And I don't want to do it. Like, not at all.... which is why I'm blogging!!
The countdown has begun! in the meantime, back to the grind...
5.24.2007
5.23.2007
off to a great start
Well, I had part 2 of my last entry ready to be proofed and posted... and I opened up my dashboard today and it was poof-gone. And as this is moving weekend, and I'm sick, I don't expect I'll be re-creating the post any time before next week.
So, I leave you with this. Now, aren't you glad you know me?
So, I leave you with this. Now, aren't you glad you know me?
5.20.2007
Complaints, pt. 1
"women hear complaint as an invitation to move closer, but a man hears it as, 'somehow i have failed, because if i were doing my job you would be happy' "
I jotted this note on a desktop stickie the other day as I was lstening to a podcast put out by the Conscious Relationship Institute. The recording was of one of the weekly tele-seminars that CRI puts on. I've been listening to the podcast versions for over a year now - one of my longer-lived subscriptions. This series is hit or miss, but the hits are REALLY hits and worth wading through the less relevant stuff. In my opinion, anyway...but I dig self-help. So.
The particular hit that I reference above is a discussion with Dr. Pat Love. She's written a few books - I think her most popular is called Hot Monogamy - and she's some kind of relationship expert or something. (With a name like Dr. Love, how could she not be??) (Read her bio here.) RCI has hosted her for several seminars, but with most of these the dialogue goes something like, "Do you have this problem or one of these problems? Well then, you need my book because it has all the answers." A lot of the time, no actual content is delivered. This seminar was different, though, because she discuseed a lot of the content of her latest book, called How to Improve your Marriage without Talking about It (coauthored by some dude named Dr. Steven Stosny, whose bio I didn't look up). I haven't read the book, but I'll be scouting for it in subsequent bookstore adventures.
(Did you notice that every other word in the book title is not capitalized? yeah, me too... anyway.)
It's another gender-difference book, but it doesn't quite take the extreme categorization stance that the Mars/Venus guy does. It also seems to be written with an assumption of an intelligent readership. This brings me to my first rant:
If you've taken the time to poke through my personal library, then you've probably realized that I kinda like to read self-help books, and relationship/family books in particular. I've read quite a few of these, and have only come across a couple that were helpful - and ONE that was worth reading from cover to cover. actually, make that 2. (Fascinating Womanhood, and It's Called a Breakup because It's Broken.) A lot of self-help books are built on a good premise, but ultimately suck. You know why? (I bet you don't, I bet I'm the only goober you know who goes and spends an hour in the self-help section of the book store!) Well let me just tell you. Self-help books usually start off with a bang, and then get exraordinarily tedious, because the authors tend to take an insight or a principle, explain it, and then spend the subsequent 12 chapters applying this principle to every scenario that they could imagine - one application per chapter. Really, most self-help books could be cut in half, with the explication chapters condensed into bullet paragraphs. It isn't that the insights themselves are bad or worn out, they just get so. tired. after. one. or. two. chap. ter. s. My survival tactic (ha! surviving self-help!) is, once I get to the part of the book that talks about issue by issue, chapter by chapter, I just...skip. Pages. Sections. Whole chapters, even. I mean for real tho, once you get it, good Lord you get it!
But I digress.
When Dr. Love said what she said, my ears did a double-take. I listened again. It resonated. And I wrote it down.
More on this later... for now, back to the boxes.
I jotted this note on a desktop stickie the other day as I was lstening to a podcast put out by the Conscious Relationship Institute. The recording was of one of the weekly tele-seminars that CRI puts on. I've been listening to the podcast versions for over a year now - one of my longer-lived subscriptions. This series is hit or miss, but the hits are REALLY hits and worth wading through the less relevant stuff. In my opinion, anyway...but I dig self-help. So.
The particular hit that I reference above is a discussion with Dr. Pat Love. She's written a few books - I think her most popular is called Hot Monogamy - and she's some kind of relationship expert or something. (With a name like Dr. Love, how could she not be??) (Read her bio here.) RCI has hosted her for several seminars, but with most of these the dialogue goes something like, "Do you have this problem or one of these problems? Well then, you need my book because it has all the answers." A lot of the time, no actual content is delivered. This seminar was different, though, because she discuseed a lot of the content of her latest book, called How to Improve your Marriage without Talking about It (coauthored by some dude named Dr. Steven Stosny, whose bio I didn't look up). I haven't read the book, but I'll be scouting for it in subsequent bookstore adventures.
(Did you notice that every other word in the book title is not capitalized? yeah, me too... anyway.)
It's another gender-difference book, but it doesn't quite take the extreme categorization stance that the Mars/Venus guy does. It also seems to be written with an assumption of an intelligent readership. This brings me to my first rant:
If you've taken the time to poke through my personal library, then you've probably realized that I kinda like to read self-help books, and relationship/family books in particular. I've read quite a few of these, and have only come across a couple that were helpful - and ONE that was worth reading from cover to cover. actually, make that 2. (Fascinating Womanhood, and It's Called a Breakup because It's Broken.) A lot of self-help books are built on a good premise, but ultimately suck. You know why? (I bet you don't, I bet I'm the only goober you know who goes and spends an hour in the self-help section of the book store!) Well let me just tell you. Self-help books usually start off with a bang, and then get exraordinarily tedious, because the authors tend to take an insight or a principle, explain it, and then spend the subsequent 12 chapters applying this principle to every scenario that they could imagine - one application per chapter. Really, most self-help books could be cut in half, with the explication chapters condensed into bullet paragraphs. It isn't that the insights themselves are bad or worn out, they just get so. tired. after. one. or. two. chap. ter. s. My survival tactic (ha! surviving self-help!) is, once I get to the part of the book that talks about issue by issue, chapter by chapter, I just...skip. Pages. Sections. Whole chapters, even. I mean for real tho, once you get it, good Lord you get it!
But I digress.
When Dr. Love said what she said, my ears did a double-take. I listened again. It resonated. And I wrote it down.
More on this later... for now, back to the boxes.
5.19.2007
buon giorno
Recently I have been learning about the inordinate amounts of pressure I put on myself to be the right thing, know the right thing, do the right thing...and if I can't, to shut up and stop trying. Sometimes I don't even try. With writing, this is no different.
Writing. Writing! For its own merit, and not for selfish (though necessary) purposes. Instead, because I have things that I am pondering. Because I have things I want to share. Because I want to interact in a thoughtful, interesting way, that doesn't dry my throat out.
Because I miss the feeling I get when my thoughts take on characteristics, draw themselves out like a map on a blank white space. The satisfaction, the resolution. The evidence. The risk. The record.
I didn't write, for what feels like a long time. I was injured. I wasn't capable of writing the way I was used to. And even when I was physically able to start writing again, I felt so rusty, out of touch, unpracticed, and limited, that I hardly tried.
Every now and then things would require me to write. Work. A break-up. Therapy. Even just an overwhelming desire to try to be whoever it was that I used to be. I've spent a lot of the past year or so emerging from what was for me a dark, scary time, and grieving the loss of who I was and where I thought I was going. I don't claim to have a fantastically dramatic story. Everybody has a burden, though, and I've spent the past while adjusting to a piece of mine. Sometimes it felt heavier than I could handle. And to cope, I turned inward. To remember, to forget, to heal.
And now! And now. Here i am! I'm back. Alive and well, happy and scared, lost and inextricably caught up at the same time. I don't have everything I ever wanted - I was wanting the wrong things. But I do have everything I need, for now - and a few extras that make every day sparkle. I know what it feels like to receive support from people who love me. I have a boyfriend and a dog, I'm moving to a new city, and soon I'll be starting a new job (that I haven't found yet). This is a whole new beginning.
I'm so excited!
Writing. Writing! For its own merit, and not for selfish (though necessary) purposes. Instead, because I have things that I am pondering. Because I have things I want to share. Because I want to interact in a thoughtful, interesting way, that doesn't dry my throat out.
Because I miss the feeling I get when my thoughts take on characteristics, draw themselves out like a map on a blank white space. The satisfaction, the resolution. The evidence. The risk. The record.
I didn't write, for what feels like a long time. I was injured. I wasn't capable of writing the way I was used to. And even when I was physically able to start writing again, I felt so rusty, out of touch, unpracticed, and limited, that I hardly tried.
Every now and then things would require me to write. Work. A break-up. Therapy. Even just an overwhelming desire to try to be whoever it was that I used to be. I've spent a lot of the past year or so emerging from what was for me a dark, scary time, and grieving the loss of who I was and where I thought I was going. I don't claim to have a fantastically dramatic story. Everybody has a burden, though, and I've spent the past while adjusting to a piece of mine. Sometimes it felt heavier than I could handle. And to cope, I turned inward. To remember, to forget, to heal.
And now! And now. Here i am! I'm back. Alive and well, happy and scared, lost and inextricably caught up at the same time. I don't have everything I ever wanted - I was wanting the wrong things. But I do have everything I need, for now - and a few extras that make every day sparkle. I know what it feels like to receive support from people who love me. I have a boyfriend and a dog, I'm moving to a new city, and soon I'll be starting a new job (that I haven't found yet). This is a whole new beginning.
I'm so excited!
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