Delusions of a Realist

What makes the window hum?

2011-12-18T21:22:00.001-08:00

What makes the window hum?
Too much energy pushing to get out?
Or is it the din outside the building
Snaking its way between the grout?

Maybe it's the force of gravity
Crashing down from up high.
Or the heat from the Earth's surface
Rising a crescendo into the sky.

What makes the window hum?
Soft vibrations that quietly moan
And why don't others hear it?
Except for me alone?

'Tis the Season for Giving

2011-12-12T13:37:00.000-08:00

Christmas is only a couple of weeks away and the canned holiday music and commercials are in full swing. I don't care too much for the forced commercialism of Christmas, and for that I blame the 5 years I worked at the mall in college. But what gets me more than the spirit of "Buy! Buy! Buy!" is that almost all companies encourage buyers to get a little something for themselves, as well. Why not? You deserve it! Don't risk waiting until Christmas morning to see if you got that perfect gift. Get it now and make sure you have a merry little Christmas.

When did people forget how to give to others instead of thinking about what they might receive? Isn't that the whole point to the gift-giving season? I truly enjoy trying to find the perfect gift for my family and seeing the look of surprise when they open something that they hadn't expected but love.

In case you are shopping for others this season and not just yourself, here are a few tips I use for gift-giving:

1. Put yourself in that person's shoes. Don't get something that you like hoping they will like it, too. Most of the time they won't, unless it's a shared interest. So take a look at what they spend most of their time doing or talking about and look for an item that matches this.

2. Listen carefully. Most people will drop hints, whether subtly or not, when the holidays are nearing. Pay attention and you will likely find the answer has already been revealed.

3. Budget properly. In tough economic times, everyone is looking for ways to make their dollar stretch. You can still give a thoughtful, appreciated gift without taking out a small loan or maxing out your credit card. For example, my dad joked a few years back that he wanted an Indian motorcycle. I had no way to buy one and I'm sure my mom would have passed out if I had. Instead, I bought him an Indian motorcycle baseball cap which he loved.

This strategy doesn't work for everyone, though, so don't think you can substitute that engagement ring for some costume jewelry. It ain't gonna work.

4. Streamline the gifts. In other words, don't waste money on a bunch of small gifts hoping that one will be the magical one that is appreciated by the receiver. Take time and carefully choose one, just one, that you know will be loved. Or two if you really aren't sure. But blindly throwing gifts at someone is sure to make them more frustrated as each gift they open is one step further away from the one they really wanted.

5. When all else fails, ask. It's not my chosen method, since I love the look of surprise when the presents are opened, but at least you know you can't go wrong.

As long as you are being considerate of the person you are shopping for and not looking only for yourself, everyone should have a Merry Christmas. Despite what the commercials may tell you, it does feel better to give than to receive, especially when you know you made your loved ones happy.

Occupy My Mind

2011-11-04T14:09:00.000-07:00

The Occupy Wall Street protestors have been taking up a lot of space lately. Not just in the news and on the street, but also in my mind. Looking over their 99% Declaration, I'm still not sure what it is they want. Limited terms for senators and house reps but also higher taxes for the wealthy? Do you want more government or less? Oh, and let's hang those who destroy the environment as well. Because I'm sure overpopulating an area with a bunch of squatters is really saving our green spaces.

If you take a look at the 99% Declaration, it's a little scary what they are proposing. It's a drastically different America where Big Government is in control of everything, from your health to the car you drive to your money. Not just some of your money, all of it.

Did they not learn anything from socialist countries that are falling apart at the seams? Or read any of the dystopian novels like 1984 or Brave New World? I don't want Big Brother watching me. That's not freedom. Freedom is finding my own way, despite how little money I have.

What these people don't realize is that jobs are already available for any one who wants to work. The fact that companies can no longer keep freeloaders on the payroll is not a bad thing. I can't tell you how many people I worked with who did absolutely nothing to contribute to the GDP. They simply showed up to work, punched the clock, and pretended to look busy until the day was done. Do you know how much money is wasted on people like that?

Granted, I do feel bad for those who went in debt for their college degree thinking they would be guaranteed a good-paying job when they graduated. All I can say is there are no guarantees in life. I feel like I wasted money on my education when I could have been at a minimum-wage job while writing. I'd be a much wealthier person today, but I probably wouldn't have found my husband and had the most amazing son ever (I'm biased, whatever). I digress.

Instead of sitting around in a drum circle not bathing for weeks on end, how about scraping yourself off and find something to do with your idle hands? Everybody has the freedom to make their own way doing what they love. This is the Creative Age. Find what you love and start doing it. Eventually, business will realize they can save money by hiring a new start-up for their latest project instead of going corporate. That start-up could be you.

People do have the power, and we don't have to go through the government to get it.

the great think

2011-10-25T04:58:00.000-07:00

I'd like to believe the above average thinkers outnumber the non-thinkers, and that when the smarter people do something stupid it's because they weren't thinking with a certain part of their brain. The mind is a complex tool, and it's nearly impossible to use it to its maximum potential all of the time. Those who seem to crack the code, like Einstein, probably had more patience and the ability to tap into every part of their brain. They can stretch their mind, as a teacher of mine used to say.

When you meet someone who is obviously smart but for all of the wrong reasons, it is frustrating. The people who are too smart for their own good are usually the mastermind criminals or simply useless to society because they know quantum physics but can't function in social situations. Good luck trying to get them to go through an interview. Those with book smarts sometimes come across as pretentious because they know the facts about everything and are not afraid to let e v e r y o n e know.

But those people are missing out on the great think. Being smart is not about how many books you've read or how well you can debate philosophy or theology or any other -ology. Life is about people, connections, relationships and understanding. Do you ever find yourself in the middle of a conversation and you realize you are seeing the person differently because they shared something really meaningful about themselves? Sometimes I like to remember what a close friend looked like when I first met her, and how I no longer see her physical features. Instead, I see her essence, or soul, or it-ness, or whatever term you want to apply.

It can be frustrating to be in a friendship or relationship and know that you see the depth that person has to offer, but they aren't even considering yours. It's the theory of reciprocity, which is what forms friendships in the first place. I wonder sometimes how those who have book smarts can function in a relationship. Maybe it takes another book smarts or non-thinker to be happy with those folks. Then neither one cares that the other is incapable of the great think.

I believe the great minds who left the world better were more observing and considering of others. I suppose you can invent products that you find useful, but you don't become rich and famous unless millions find it useful too. And you don't become happy by thinking about yourself. You find wealth in family and friends by thinking about others and placing them first. It takes a little effort and the ability to dig deeper and look beyond the outer shell, but it is rewarding.

Can you dig it?

Those Aren't The Facts, Actually

2011-10-14T15:25:00.000-07:00

Q: What's more annoying than a know-it-all?
A: A know-it-all who starts their corrections with, "Actually..."

This overused word has been a burden to me for a long time, and it's only getting worse. Not only is it used to correct others, it is also used for self-validation and inflated emphasis. As in, "I actually made this myself." The hidden meaning in that phrase is, "Aren't you impressed? I made this simply to impress other and show what I can actually do." Or, "I can't believe he actually said that!" Meaning, "Doesn't he know how upset I would be by that comment? He doesn't know me at all."

When I looked up this exhausted word in the etymology dictionary, I was surprised to find this word has been haunting the English language since the mid-1500s. It replaced the phrase, "in fact," and almost a century later was used to state what was actually happening at the moment. Are we starting the meeting now? Actually, we have to wait until the boss arrives.

I think we should be replace actually with it's French counterpart, actuality, meaning it exists now. Or what was once a possibility is now real, in all actuality. It's what actually should mean, but has been twisted to mean nothing more than a fancy "uh" or "well." And that's a shame, actually.

Eclectic Slide

2011-10-07T15:16:00.000-07:00

For the past couple of months I've been ranting about overused words and how much I detest them. This week, I decided to switch it up and write about underused words. We have so many words in the English language that are scarcely used, and I think it's time a few made their comeback.

The first word in this new series is one of my favorites that I would love to hear a little more often in everyday conversation. But not too much, because then it would be overused and I would have to rant about it from that angle. I digress...

The word is eclectic, and it stems from the Greek word eklektikos, meaning selective. In the 1680s it was used to describe a group of philosophers who made their own doctrines by borrowing from several different systems. Not the best start for a word, since it's essentially means, "I can't make up my mind so I'll have the combo platter, thanks." Still, it has many potential uses for today but continues to be passed up for overused words like interesting or diverse.

I use it because I love the way the tongue clicks against the teeth when it is pronounced. I don't even care what it means really, but as a decisive person who loves being selective, the meaning only makes me love it more.

I prefer eclectic music from a variety of musicians that most people have never heard of and that certainly won't be heard on the radio. I love eclectic art that makes you wonder what that person must have been feeling at the moment that they picked up the brush and spent hours creating an extension of themselves for all the world to see. I love an eclectic sense of humor that is surprising, witty, self-deprecating and knee-slapping all at the same time.

I love that while searching for an image to accompany this blog, someone else loved the word as much as I did that they named their wine after it. I'm not sure a wine that is essentially a hodge-podge of other wines will taste all that great, but I'm willing to try it if for no other reason than to say it's name when someone asks what I'm having.

...And Your Reason Is?

2011-09-30T14:55:00.000-07:00

Did you know there's a reason for everything? You did? Can you tell me what that reason is? If you are a believer, I suppose it is your deity of choice who is constantly at work in your life. If you believe in free will, then where does that leave you?

All theological discussions aside, the phrase "everything happens for a reason" has to be one of the silliest, senseless phrases ever uttered. I hear it all the time, usually in situations that really don't warrant a reason at all. "We went out to dinner and ran into so-and-so, and it was great catching up since we haven't seen them in so long. I guess everything happens for a reason." Or, "we got a flat tire on the way to the Grand Canyon and took a wrong turn in Albuquerque, but ended up seeing the balloon fest. Everything happens for a reason."

It's a simple phrase that disregards the biggest reason of all, in my opinion. If you know the reason something happened, why not say, "God really wanted us to see that balloon fest." Do you even know the reason? Maybe it's easier to say something as trivial as this instead of trying to find the real answers.

I'd like to think that people who use this phrase are trying to encourage their audience to think about the possible reasons. However, I think it's more of a filler to end a conversation when it's becoming a little too deep. Or maybe it doesn't make any sense to the speaker and they're fishing for reasons from their listeners.

Whichever the case, I'm sure it happens for a reason.

Epic Fail

2011-09-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

Netflix upped its prices in a confusing series of emails that left many customers upset and angry. Although they apologized, it still didn't solve any problems. Epic Fail.

Facebook changed its format to increase notifications with a complicated overload of unnecessary lists, sub-lists, stories, and stories that tell you why you should read those stories. The number of status updates on Facebook complaining about Facebook is staggering and slightly ironic. Epic Fail.

The government is tying its own noose with fighting and bills that are longer in length than the Bible and even more impossible to read much less understand and enact, causing the country to sink even deeper in debt as nothing can get done. Epic Fail.

This phrase, Epic Fail, is becoming increasingly popular for reasons I can understand, but still find irritating. What better way to describe a huge cock-up than two contradictory words that come off the tongue rather crisply?

Epic usually describes something wonderful, masterful, incredible and unlike anything else. It's like unique, except it goes to 11. Fail is, well, self-explanatory. The complete opposite of epic in every way. Combining these two words doesn't really describe anything except the healthy self-perception of the person using it. I'm willing to bet that it's used more by those who don't completely understand the situation, but still want to sound like they do in a clever, two-worded comment.

While I appreciate the idea behind this phrase, I'm frankly sick of hearing it. Like "hot mess," it lost its novelty rather quickly. In fact to continue using it to describe horrible mistakes is--you got it--an Epic Fail.

Hugely Exasperatingly

2011-09-02T15:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a couple of weeks since I've posted my overused word of the week, so I thought I should make up for it with something big. Or should I say, hugely big? If you look up hugely in my favorite online etymology dictionary, it will show that it started around the 14th c. and is the combination of huge and ly. And that's it. Do you know why that's it? Because it's not really a word. Sure, you can take any word and add -ly to the end to make it an adverb, but that doesn't mean you should. It's talking dumbly.

For some reason this dumbly made-up word has been finding renewed interest in the talking heads of today. I even caught one of my favorites, Conan O'Brien, throwing the word around, and he has a Harvard degree. You would think someone with an Ivy League education could find a better word than hugely. Extremely, perhaps? Or vastly? Or even exceptionally, greatly and extraordinarily would do the trick.

Although all of these words are just a fancy way of saying very, and very is very boring. It's very hugely boring. This blog post is now very hugely boring.

The The

2011-08-11T12:02:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not talking about the band. I'm talking about the word. For my next overused word of the week, my cousin challenged me with the.

I know what you're thinking. Don't be ridiculous. Everyone uses the. It's THE most used word in the English language, and for good cause. It points out the obvious. It adds emphasis to a title. And it's almost impossible to overuse.

Well, I beg to differ. I actually got into an argument once with an old boss about the correct use of the. You see, I would omit "the" when discussing the place of business because it wasn't in the title. I wasn't working at The Getty or The Museum of Modern Art. It wasn't written on the sign outside the building. It seemed silly and unnecessary to me to include "the" to a title that didn't need it. Unless you are trying to differentiate between two businesses that are close in proximity and have the same name, there is no reason to add "the." But my boss insisted, even when I asked if it should be added to my business card and email signature, and she said no.

I think we could all take a lesson from British folks who also find "the" useless and unnecessary. They go to university, not the university. Or take this example from one of my husband's nerd shows, Dr. Who, where the doctor's companion is getting hit on by William Shakespeare:

"I know for a fact you have a wife and kid in country," said Donna.

"But this is town!" William Shakespeare exclaimed.

See? No "the" needed. Try talking without it. It's quite fun.

The Day The Bookstore Died

2011-08-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was having an unusually bad day. I woke to a message from my wonderful internet provider telling me my latest bill was 4 times more than normal. Lovely. So as I went out to battle the Verizon-bots in person, I decided to stop by the only book store in Temple to buy a book on kicking corporate a$$. Not really, but I was looking for a relaxing browse session in the midst of books, one of my favorite things to do.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the mall to find the Borders Express was closing for good. I guess I wouldn't have been surprised if I stayed up on the latest trade news. Needless to say I was shocked and immedia

tely depressed. The only book store in my town, which wasn't that great to begin with, was closing. Now where am I supposed to shop?

I posted my lamentations on Facebook, of course, and was informed further that Barnes & Nobles filed for bankruptcy. What book stores are left, Half Priced Books? I guess with everyone having a Kindle or e-Reader or iPad or whatever, we no longer need to print and sell books? Which means my dream of seeing my own book in print will never be realized. I guess I'm old fashioned and love the feel of a real book in my hand. I can't cuddle up with a laptop or iPad. Seriously.

It's like something out of Fahrenheit 451, except we don't burn books. We make them obsolete.

So What?

2011-08-04T11:05:00.000-07:00

Another overused word that I hate to admit I use frequently is "so." So what's wrong with using so? It's sooo cool. Or is it so, so? I personally think it's so yesterday. So so so.

I think my newfound repulsion to this word stems from an old ex-coworker who used this as punctuation at the end of what she thought to be a profound statement. "I never have to work because I have the boss wrapped around my finger. So." Or maybe it was meant to continue an imaginary conversation where she would be the dominant person and therefore needed a lead-in to the next sentence. "I know more than anyone else here because I watch everyone else work instead of doing anything myself. So."

And I hate to admit that I start many sentences with so, usually because I'm still selecting the right words and hate to leave gaps in conversations. I really don't think a filler word is necessary in order to have a conversation, and I would so love to drop the habit. Ugh.

It's simply a nothing word that is used too much for little emphasis, often making the person sound pompous and arrogant. Did I say that out loud? So sue me.

How Nice!

2011-07-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

As a writing exercise, I've decided to start posting my favorite overused word of the week. This week's word is: nice. It's everywhere, and it means nothing now thanks to its overuse. My husband noticed its abundance in one of my favorite shows, House Hunters. Every room the potential buyers see is nice. It has a nice view. I can really see myself enjoying a nice glass of wine in this house. Nice nice nice.

When I decided to look up the origin of the word, it ironically found its origins in the late 13th century as an Old French word meaning ignorant, foolish, stupid or senseless. That makes sense now that the word has come full circle. In fact, it changed many meanings over the years including delicate, precise, agreeable, delightful and kind. It was in the 1920s that it found its niche in overuse, as one writer declared it became "too great a favorite with the ladies, who have charmed out of it all its individuality and converted it into a mere diffuser of vague and mild agreeableness." [Fowler]

So the next time you have a nice meal, drink a nice cup of tea, or sarcastically deem an idiotic act as "Nice," remember that there are many other words in the English language better suited for your meaning. Like delectable, scrumptious, kind, generous, or even foolish and idiotic. I'm sure all your nice friends will thank you for it.

Back on Track

2011-07-02T15:06:00.000-07:00

I've been working on a book for about six months now and recently started attacking it again with a vengeance. For a while I was lost in the plot and didn't know how to make the main characters come to life. I knew how they were, but wasn't sure how to get that across in the story. But I realized it is more about what you don't say than what you do say.

See? What were you thinking about in that blank space? Maybe your own book idea? Maybe questions of your own? Maybe that you think I'm full of it? Either way it's refreshing to have a chance for your own reflection while staring at a page of words.

I've also been reading Words That Work by Frank Luntz. Regardless of your political views, the guy knows what he's talking about. He knows so much about what he's talking about that, even as a Republican strategist, he has been hired by Ms. Liberal Huffington herself. You know, from Huffington Post?

Anyway, he brought up the great point from one of my favorite novels, 1984. In the climax of the book, the main character must face Room 101, where your biggest fear lies. The Room is unique in that what is behind the door is different for each person, as everyone has a different Fear. What makes the book so interesting is that it leaves the contents of the room to the reader's imagination. When the book was made into a movie, that element of imagination was gone, as you saw one person's interpretation of Room 101 instead of your own.

Maybe that's why I love books more than movies. I think most people would prefer books, but the words don't come to life for them as movies do. If only you could make a movie that is produced by your imagination. Like The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, without the weird soul-selling with the devil.

Father Knows Best

2011-06-19T12:49:00.001-07:00

My dad is a brilliant man. He knows the answers to everything, makes you laugh when you're feeling down and has brought me up to be the brilliant person I am today. Brilliance begets brilliance, and my son will one day be a brilliant dad. I learned by work ethic from him as well as other lessons most kids are taught. But the one lesson I will never forget is to always go with him when he gets ice.

I will never forget that day. We were camping in the Rockies of New Mexico near Cloudcroft with all of my mom's extended family. I am still not sure how it happened, but my aunt had convinced the group to have a weenie roast every night that we were there. By the fourth night, we had all had it up to here with weenies. Except maybe for my aunt and her son who was supposedly the weenie lover of the group. At the same time, we had run out of ice for our drinks. My dad was the brilliant man who volunteered to go get ice. He even asked me to come along, and foolishly I decided to stick it out with the rest of the group. So my dad and brother go get ice.

Two hours later they returned and turned down the delicious hot dogs we had prepared for the fourth night in a row. Yep, you guessed it. He and my brother enjoyed big plates of chicken fried steak with all the trimmings in the only restaurant in town while we all sat with hot cokes waiting for our ice. I learned my lesson along with the rest of the family that if anyone says they are getting ice, you go with them.

Happy Father's Day to my brilliant dad and his clever passive aggressive techniques. Now I'm off to get ice.

Finding Hope When There Is Nun

2011-05-13T15:05:00.000-07:00

It was a Friday night in Cahoma, Texas, and for some reason Carol was dressed as a nun. As a teacher in the public school system, a person will often be placed in moral conundrums and somewhat humiliating situations all for the sake of the children...and a paycheck. Such was the case this particular Friday night. Here is Carol’s account of that fateful night.

Well, I was supposed to dress up for the kids because it was the Halloween Spooktacular, and I got together with some of the other teachers and we thought we should dress as nuns. We even had names for each of our nun characters based off of the play, Nunsense. I was Mother Amnesia because the rest of them thought that I was the ditziest, but what they don’t know is that I’m actually very smart. I graduated at the top of my class but they think that because I have a fun, bubbly personality that I must be ditzy. I have them all fooled.

Anyway we couldn’t dress up for school because the principal wouldn’t allow it. He said it had something to do with the school’s policy but I think he was just afraid some of the kids would show up in gory costumes that might encourage violence. But what he didn’t get is that the school is in a small town and that kind of stuff just doesn’t happen in a small town. Or maybe it was the school board that didn’t approve it, I’m not sure. So the point is the kids couldn’t wear any costumes to school and neither could the teachers.

Since I lived 45 minutes away, I couldn’t run home and change into my costume like all the other teachers. So I brought mine with me to school and I had to change into it after school was officially over. The Spooktacular started at 6pm so the school pretty much shut down when school let out at 3pm. I took my costume and went into one of the bathrooms in the gym.

I thought I was the only one left in the school so imagine my surprise when I heard someone lock the door and shut out the lights! I started hollering my head off, and thankfully the janitor heard me. I guess he was the one that shut out the lights thinking as I did that everybody had left. But can you imagine? Being stuck in a bathroom all weekend long? The Spooktacular was in the cafeteria so I doubt anybody would have realized I was in there. And that was before cell phones too, and there were no windows. So I really would have been stuck for the whole weekend! At least I had some peppermints in my purse, so that would have tied me over I guess. And running water, thank goodness, but who wants to drink water out of a gym sink? I can't imagine that tasting good at all!

So anyway, to make a long story short, I would have been like one of the nuns in the play! Oh dear what can the matter be, Carol the nun is stuck in the lavatory! She was there from Friday to Monday, nobody knew she was there!

The Psychology of Atheism

2011-04-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

Over the years I've known several atheists, usually close friends or family. Despite the old saying about politics and religion, the conversation typically tends to drift in those directions. Because these deep issues are what defines us, and you can find friends or foes through these conversations.

I've noticed some trends with my atheist friends, and agnostics too. Because let's face it, if you don't know if you believe then you're not a believer, which makes you an atheist or non-believer. They are usually very smart people, analytical and for some reason have a passion for economics. I guess it's a field like science or math where everything makes sense and there is a right or wrong answer. I enjoy having discussions with them because I respect the fact that they are thinkers. They are not choosing to not believe because someone told them to or they just never got around to thinking about it. They've obviously taken some time, probably read the whole Bible, Koran, Wiccapedia, and the like, and made an informed decision on the matter.

But what bothers me about these logical, left-brained thinkers is that their logic is flawed. They are forming their theory based on the assumption that the mind is the greatest tool we have. I find a couple of things wrong with this. First of all, as someone who has a passion for psychology, I know our human minds are flawed. The chemical imbalances that inhabits the brain's functions and causes depression prevent the mind from working to its greatest potential. The degenerative effects that steal a person's memory in victims of dementia and Alzheimer's are proof that the mind is not perfect. It's fallible, just as man is fallible and makes mistakes.

Secondly, as a mother I know that the mind is not what makes the deciding judgement in most cases. If someone had told me that in order to have a son I would have to spend over 18 hours in a hospital room and feel like someone drove over me with a mack truck repeatedly, I'd tell them there is no way in hell I would endure that. But I fell in love with my son the moment I heard his heartbeat when he was 6 weeks old in utero. I felt like a mother when I could feel him kick and turn and knew that I was already caring and providing for him long before he was ever born. And if anything happened to him, I would act irrationally and do anything in my power to keep him safe because my connection to him comes from a place much deeper than my mind. It comes from my soul, and you only have to look in a child's eyes to know that the soul does exist. If energy is neither created nor destroyed, then what happens to your energy when you die? I believe this energy is your soul. Have you found yours?

What's Your Verbiage?

2011-04-09T11:35:00.001-07:00

While having lunch with my mother-in-law today, she brought up a good point about knowing the right words to say. She was talking in the context of pitching an idea to a potential new customer, but I think it's something that should be used every day.

I'm horrible with verbal communication. I often don't say enough or sometimes say too much and the point that I was trying to make gets buried under words. Trifle, meaningless words. It's particularly difficult when someone asks a question and you know the answer is just going to bore both of you. Do you bother answering? Is staring appropriate?

Or sometimes my problem is the lack of words, since I like to keep a lot of what I'm thinking to myself. My husband would disagree with this, but that's his privilege to hear everything I want to say, and then some. He signed up for it.

The art of communication is so incredibly tricky. I've met many people who can command your attention with just a few simple words. And of course there's those on the other end who talk continuously and are difficult to follow, but you still find yourself fascinated. Maybe in that instance it's more like watching a train wreck and you just can't pull yourself to look away.

Then again, I knew someone who was so careful about the words he chose that the other person would sit in silence for a good minute before he finally spoke. That may be taking the fear of verbiage overboard. Timing is everything with communication, and knowing when to start and stop is essential.

Which is why i believe I'll stop...now.

You've Got Personality!

2011-03-28T12:05:00.000-07:00

Personality is defined as character, disposition, temperament, persona, psyche. Likewise it can be charisma, magnetism, presence. It's the first thing you notice about a person, and if you can judge a person past their appearance, it's how you know whether they are friend or foe. Sometimes a person is skillful at hiding their full personality. They change faces for the appropriate occasion or person. They'll kiss up to the person in charge and bite like a bull dog to those they consider below them.

Now some are fooled into thinking this type of person is a strong person. They mistake the yelling, cussing and balking as charisma, magnetism, presence. In fact, the person who feels they have to throw their weight around in order to be heard has a very weak personality. They are more like a scared chihuahua rather than a Rottweiler or pitt bull. They are full of fear and panic, knowing that they may be crushed at any moment due to the small size of their personality. Their bark may be loud, but everyone knows it's just noise. And one can easily ignore noise.

But a weak personality attracts other weak personalities. Perhaps they go by the old adage of there is strength in numbers. But a group of weak-minded individuals produces weak results. They pat each other on the back after each brain trust meeting, knowing that they are the best they've ever seen. Outside the group their weakness is exposed and laughed at for its ridiculousness. No one can tell a fool that they are a fool, since it makes no matter to them.

A strong personality is usually a quiet, thoughtful, persuasive person. They are not easily affected by the growling or howling of others. A strong person can see the truth through the lies and is not swayed by majority. Their confidence and lack of fear comes from a self-reliance and independence that a weak person would never understand or possess. Weak people are often insecure and lazy, but feel they must cover their inadequacies with the same old tricks. A strong person realizes this and doesn't fall for it, because they know that when the crap hits the fan, they will be long gone.

Insecurity & Infinity

2011-01-22T15:54:00.000-08:00

Not sure why I chose that title. I guess I felt like using in words.

Lately I've been struggling with serenity. That is probably something most people deal with, but when it starts invading my sleep, then it's serious. The other night I had two dreams about zombies. When I looked it up in the dream dictionary, it said I'm under some tremendous stress, and that I feel dead inside. How nice, right? I knew I was feeling stressed, but didn't think it was that serious to have zombies invade my dreams. I did kick their butt, though, so that says something.

But to return to the blog title, I'm not an insecure person. I've always been confident in who I am, almost to a fault. In high school and college, I would crack sarcastic jokes all the time and just assumed my friends were taking it with a grain of salt, as I would. It wasn't until I was in grad school that I realized they were really upset by the stupid things I said. Even though I wasn't really serious, it still hurt because there is always some truth to the things we say.

After realizing that sarcasm is a tool best left to talk show hosts and comedians, I started changing the way I interacted with others. It turns out people respond to kindness and sincerity, rather than insults and stupid jokes. Ok, so I still make stupid jokes, but they are no longer at anyone's expense. Because sarcasm is really a tool for the insecure. I realize now that I had to hide my insecurities by being a wise-ass.

Now I'm encountering others who use this same tool of sarcasm, and it brings me back to high school days. This is really sad when the people I'm encountering are at least 20 years older than me. Do I want to slap them because they don't realize how hard they are making things for themselves and other? Or do I want to slap them because it brings up my regrets from my own life? I think it's a little of both.

As for infinity...umm...it's out there, man. And it's really big.

Politics & Religion

2011-01-09T13:38:00.000-08:00

Lately our Sunday School class members have been bringing up politics in our discussions. Well, maybe not politics as much as the foundation of America, what our fore fathers intended and whether we are following their intentions. A few of the members seem to think that America is the only nation in history that was founded on God and Christian-based. Of course, they are also the same ones who think we have strayed immensely from those origins and that unless we act now, we are all going to you-know-where in a hand basket.

I’m confused by all this. How can a nation created by man be ordained by God? America certainly isn’t the first country to have a proclaimed Christian as its leader. Constantine was known as the first Roman Christian emperor, and of course Moses, Abraham, Solomon and many other Biblical kings led their people according to God’s orders.

But man is fallible. Throughout the Bible, the trend is that man sins, God punishes him for that sins, he repents and comes back to God, only to sin again as soon as things are going well. That doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t strive to do God’s will, but we can’t put all our hope and faith in man. We will fail each other every time.

While I agree with my classmates that times are a-changing and probably not for the better, I think that we first need to focus on our Christian nation. We can only change the world by turning to God, not our political leaders.

As for America being #1, I am proud to live in a country where I can freely go to church and worship God and not in the Middle East where I would be stoned for showing my face in public. However, I don’t believe that our fore fathers created a Christian utopia, or even a nation that was built on Christianity. They were sinners just like the rest of us, and they only wanted the chance to worship the way they saw fit, whether it was Quaker, Puritan, Roman Catholic, Baptist, Jewish, and the rest.

The separation of church and state is one of the best aspects of our nation’s foundation, in my opinion. It allows me to go to the church of my choice, listen to the opinions of others with whom I may not agree, cause me to question my own opinions, and freely speak and write about it for any one to read. Thank God for the freedoms we enjoy in this country we call America.

where's the mystery?

2010-11-28T14:05:00.000-08:00

It is gone. Vanished. Maybe it's a vanishing mystery?

With so many people posting their personal info, pictures, videos...essentially their entire lives online through facebook, twitter, and other social media sites, the mystery is gone. Before the internet not so very long ago, you would meet somebody in person, shake their hand, have a little chit chat, and walk away wondering what that person is like in real life. Once you take away all the facade and pleasantries and how-do-you-dos. What tics them off? What's their favorite guilty pleasure? What would their answers be to the ten questions from In the Actor's Studio?

There is no need to ask these questions any more. You simply request them as a friend on facebook, learn all these answers and more. Sometimes too much. Even if your profile is set to "private," there are ways to find this information. And once it's published online, it's there forever. You can delete it, but the google search engine keeps archives. And I'm sure the government is keeping tabs too, at least for those potential criminals.

From now on I'm only posting daisies, rainbows, and puppy dogs. And I think I'll just start making stuff up, just in case. Like I invented the internet. You would think I would have done a better job with the security.

Children of the Corn

2010-10-31T11:38:00.000-07:00

It's Halloween! One of my most favorite holidays, mainly because it's the only one where you can truly act like a kid. And I love figuring out costume ideas too. Oh and the candy doesn't hurt either.

But I'm not really all that into the scary side of Halloween. Ghosts and goblins and such just don't really amuse me. And scary movies are just too gory and predictable. Plus there are plenty of scary things in real life to deal with, why try to make up more? Like money problems and spiders and disease and people with evil intentions that are out there everywhere. Makes your skin crawl, doesn't it?

This is our boy Arty's first Halloween, and we dressed him up as King Arthur. After we dressed him up we realized we have nowhere to go. Our original plan was to take him to the mall. But he can't eat the candy at 8 months, and it would feel silly for us to wade through the crowds of kids and ask for candy for ourselves, so then what? Fall festivals at the churches are the same thing, mainly for big kids. At least they have games, but how silly would it feel to stand in line with a bunch of kids to "fish" for a prize or throw a football through a loop that's at waist-level.

So we dressed him up and took him trick-or-treating at Granny B's house. We even brought our own pumpkin to carve and made bruschetta with fresh basil from the herb garden. Pretty uneventful compared to Halloweens from years past, but it was actually more enjoyable than trying to find our own costumes and worry about driving home with all the riff-raff.

Ode to My Morning Commute

2010-08-27T16:46:00.000-07:00

The highway looks a battlefield
Tire parts splattered around
Broken cars sit left and right
Summer heat got them down

Everyone slows for the trooper
Parked in his "hiding" spot
Ready to ruin someone's day
Wonder how many he's caught

Sunrise is gorgeous today
Casting its warm amber light
Over the peaceful pastoral
Soft rolling hills passing by

As I reach my destination
I breathe a sigh of relief
Despite the odds, this warrior
Made it through another week

The Art of Listening (or At Least Pretending)

2010-08-01T13:35:00.000-07:00

I've never really considered myself a people person. In a room full of strangers, like an after-hours mixer, I would generally head to the refreshments and drinks and try to find at least one person I knew. My husband, on the other hand, goes to a new place and says, "Let's sit by some new people so we can make some friends." I guess I get the anti-social behavior from my mom, but sometimes it's just easier to stay to your self than try to ask all the typical questions and get all the typical responses that you likely won't remember anyway.

However, despite my introverted-ness, I do have what they call "the social skills." I can meet new people and usually get a first impression of them that turns out to be accurate 90% of the time. Maybe it's my intuition, but my sister has asked for my opinion on many boyfriends to find out what kind of relationship she could expect. That doesn't mean she always listened to me, but at least she asked.

But after getting a reading of someone or sizing them up, I can then continue with making friends with that person. Ask the questions that you know interest them or that they want to answer. Try your hardest to not ask the wrong question or ask too much, as some people are also introverted and would like to stay that way. It takes compassion and attentiveness to navigate a conversation. I've been able to hold conversations with some of the strangest people I've ever met. I think working in retail gave me the majority of this experience.

The most important part of a conversation is not just asking questions, but listening to the answers and learning more about that person. You will then be able to make friends with them as you know about where they're from, their family, interests, etc. That being said, there are some people out there who lack "the social skills."

Trying to make polite conversation with these people can result in either dead silence or an entirely me-centered conversation (in this case, the me is actually them, or maybe you. But never I.) They don't care one thing about you, and even if they asked a question, it's only so they can bring the conversation back to themselves. It's pointless to try talking to these people, you can only nod and look like you're listening while you're actually in your happy place, like Catalina Island or the Bahamas. When you notice a silence, you really don't need to ask a relevant question, just say, "Oh really? That's interesting." And the one-sided conversation will continue. If you finally do get a break and a chance to put in your own 2-cents, just make up some random story like, "that reminds of the time I was wresting a polar bear in the Alps," or "I remember when I joined the circus as a fire-breather..." It doesn't really matter what you say, as the other person isn't listening. They are usually just pausing to think of the next thing about themselves they want to assault you with as they haven't had nearly enough of themselves yet to stop now.

The best way to get out of these conversations is to either fake a phone call and just walk away, like it was urgent and you have to leave now without explanation. Or just walk away without saying anything. It may be rude, but so is hogging the conversation and forcing people to listen to your self-centeredness drivel. Pretending to fall asleep can also work. Tell them later that you have narcolepsy, or some other health condition that causes you to become unconscious against your will. They aren't really listening to that either, and will probably start in on their next story, or maybe even the same story. Just repeat the above steps, again and again and again...

Toy Story Tears

2010-07-05T08:46:00.000-07:00

For our 2nd anniversary, my husband and I decided to take in a movie that really applied to our current place in life: Toy Story 3. With Granny B watching our 4-month-old son, Arty, we headed down to Austin to enjoy the flick in 3D at the original Alamo Draft House. We sat in the theater next to all the families and sipped our Guinness milk shakes and sangrias just having a fun, light-hearted time when suddenly, it happened.

This children's movie started one series of tearjerker plot twists after another. *Spoiler alert* Like the mom realizing her son is leaving for good, and will never live in her house again. And the poor little baby doll realized she was loved and missed by her owner, and Lotso was just an evil strawberry-smelling bear that had lied to her this whole time. Then the toys are facing certain and imminent death in the dump inferno. And then Andy gives his toys away to Bonnie, a sweet little girl who will surely take good care of them, but he still can't help but gasp when she waves Woody's hand goodbye to him.

Maybe it's because we just had a child of our own, and the life-changing experience makes you relive your own childhood while also watching your own child experience everything for the first time. So instead of just enjoying a light-hearted kid movie, all of those sentimental moments really hit home.

I blame the makers of Pixar. First Up, which was the complete opposite of its title, now this. What's next, a remake of Old Yeller?

All of West Texas

2010-06-28T07:10:00.000-07:00

As soon as I open my mouth, I immediately give away that I’m not from around here. People ask me where I’m from and I reply, “West Texas.” Well, where in west Texas, they want to know. But the truth is, all of it.
I was born in the small oil town of Iraan, named after the couple that first struck oil there, Ira and Ann Yates. My class had about 40 students, and despite its small size, it was a wealthy school thanks to the oil. I never really understood that until I moved the summer before my eighth grade year to Midland, only 80 miles north on the map, but thousands of miles away in cultural differences.
In Midland, you could actually go to the mall, or watch a movie in a theater, or even play miniature golf. You didn’t have those luxuries in Iraan. The only thing kids could do there were drive the plateaus that surrounded the town, drive dirt bikes in the pastures, or in our case, a golf cart, and generally get into the innocent small-town mischief characteristic of a town that size. I remember when I was in junior high, a huge party of high schoolers and some my age were busted in the roadside park up the hill to San Angelo. I believe all who were present were issued MIPs and could be seen picking up trash on the side of the road for their volunteer hours. I was still innocent when it came to partying, and I stayed that way all through high school. Who needed alcohol or drugs when you had plenty of great friends to have fun?
All of that changed when I went to college in Lubbock. Texas Tech University is known as a party school, but aren’t they all, really? I remember the first time I got drunk was from jello shots at my cousin’s house party. Say what you will about party schools, I never went to a party where the people weren’t friendly, no matter what your race, sex, religion, whatever. At the time I attended, Lubbock was still a dry city, and everyone who wanted any kind of alcohol, beer, wine, or otherwise, had to make the trek out to the strip. Despite the inconvenience, there was a sense of camaraderie in our shared misery about that drive, and we would try to stock up and make sure we would have enough supplies to make it through without a beer run.
The Tech campus is one of the most beautiful campuses I’ve visited, and I’ve seen some as prestigious as Harvard. The old Spanish-Renaissance style buildings, the red and yellow tulips in the spring, and the wrapping of the Will Rogers statue for every home game were just a few of my favorite sightings as I walked the ten minutes from the BA to Holden Hall. Of course there were ugly days too. The horrible ice days in the winter, and the brownish red dust storms in the spring. It usually rained mud at least once every year, when a dust storm would combine with a rain shower. And the wind would blow you over if you weren’t careful. During one of the last finals I ever had to take in school, I was struggling against the wind to get to the Art building, and the dirt made my eyes water and nose run so much that the snot was literally flying out of my nose. You would have to take a shower after a day like that.
For every horrible day in west Texas, there are equally gorgeous days, too. They say the sky is bigger in west Texas, and I have had the pleasure of viewing the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets in the huge expanse of sky growing up there. My sister and I would climb onto the roof in our house outside of Midland and stare up at the blanket of stars. We had some of our best conversations up there, especially when we both were older and could relate more about boys, friends, and other girl drama.
For vacations, our family would travel almost every year even further into west Texas to Alpine and the Fort Davis Mountains. We knew about Marfa and its lights before it ever became a hot spot for blossoming artists. We would take a day trip out to Balmorhea and swim in the natural springs, with water so cold it would take your breath away. At our church camp outside of Alpine, we would climb Fat Man’s Misery, a small mountain of rocks with a tiny crevice you had to squeeze through to see the view. Once when we were traveling back from camp, I looked up at the sky from the car window and saw a rainbow in a complete circle, something I had never seen or even heard of before. I felt it was God’s way of showing his love and blessing as we made our way home.
All of these memories are etched in my mind and I only have to close my eyes to find myself there again, with the giant blue sky above me. There’s something about that never-changing landscape that gives you a sense of stability. No matter how much the world is changing, those plateaus, desert, and mountains are still there, calling me back home. Any time someone comments on my accent and asks where I’m from, I proudly reply “West Texas. All of it.”

Goodbye

2010-05-10T11:31:00.000-07:00

The most awkward part of a conversation, especially a phone conversation. My husband brought it to my attention the other day that I have a nervous habit of sort of laughing when I say bye, so it sounds like "Hmmbye." I didn't see anything wrong with this, but now that he's pointed it out I can't help but be self-conscious about it. Thanks, honey.

I've always had a hard time with goodbyes. I remember as a kid I would cry in the car anytime we said goodbye to someone after visiting them. Especially my grandma. And I would stare out the back window and think that the lights in the distance were my grandparents coming to get us and say hello again. You see, I thought back then that when you said goodbye, it was for good. That was the last time you would ever see them. And it could very well be true, as my grandfather passed away when I was 3.

But now it's just a casual part of everyday conversation, and we are expected to treat it that way. So what am I supposed to say now, adios? Hasta la vista? Maybe I just won't say bye at all, I'll just hang up when I feel like I'm done, like they do in the movies.

And of course there are those who can never seem to say goodbye. They just go on for 3 minutes with "I love you," "Talk to you later," "See you soon." People like my mom. Maybe they just have trouble saying goodbye too, so they have to drag it out.

Reminds me of the song "Hello Goodbye" by the Beatles. I think I'll do that from now on. "You say goodbye, and I say hello."

Hello hello

a post-postmodernist's life

2010-04-05T07:37:00.000-07:00

I suddenly realized yesterday that my life has taking a turn from just thinking about living life to actually living it. All through college and the wandering years of my 20s, I had way too much free time to think about my life and "what does it all mean." It was a postmodernist's life, meaning I spent all my time thinking about life instead of actually living it. I would search for music and movies and books that I thought would help define who I was. And when I hung out with friends we would just talk about the ideas we had from these movies and music instead of what was really going on in our lives. Maybe we thought our lives were too boring, or we just didn't know what to say about it.

Now that all my time is consumed with my newborn son and how my husband and I are taking care of him, I have no free time to expound on life and "what does it all mean." I'm too busy living it. And while I used to search for music and movies that spoke to me, I now find myself reverting back to the familiar classics that I've known for years. I guess I've reached the point where I no longer care if I'm hip. I always wondered before why parents would just listen the oldies they grew up with, and now I know. Your free time is no longer a never-ending bank, it's just a few minutes here and there while your baby sleeps.

It's a strange new life for me, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

awesomely bad commercials

2010-03-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

For the past 4 weeks I've been at home on maternity leave, which has allowed me to spend countless hours watching tv while feeding/burping/changing baby. During this time, I've had the pleasure of watching one awesomely bad commercial after another. So many products out there to help solve the problems of stupid people everywhere. Here is a list of my favorite products, counting down from 5.

5. Snuggies - Okay, it's a no-brainer, but it was the popularity of this awesomely bad commercial that just really captured my fascination. Not to mention how frustrated the people get when they have to answer a phone with a blanket on. I can't tell you how many times I just got so upset when this happened to me, because it's never happened.

4. Magnetic jewelry clasp - I haven't seen this one in a while, but I just love the look on the faces of the woman who just can't get her necklace on. It's always so hard for women to work a simple machine like a necklace, but now with the magnetic clasp, it goes on in seconds! No more struggling for hours to put that necklace on!

3. WOW containers - No, these are not containers for storing your World of Warcraft figures. These are the incredible mix and match containers that allow you to store any food above the rim! And it holds 6-foot-long subs too! Because I can't tell you many times I've made a huge mess by piling more food than a container could hold and trying to force the lid on, making everything spill out of the overflowing container. So frustrating! check it out

2. Extended magic shoe horn - I couldn't find the link to this one, but watching people fall over because they can't take their shoes off is just classic. Whatever happened to sitting down to take off your shoes? Or maybe untying them first? The extended arm of the magic shoe horn solves all of these problems, and no more scuffing your shoes to slip them off!

1. And the number one awesomely bad commercial: Hoodie Footie - These came out around Valentine's Day as a "slightly sexy" gift for your wife or girlfriend. Yeah, nothing puts me in the mood than wearing an adult onesie. It combines all the comfort of hoodies, sweat pants, and slippers! check it out

Maybe I should make better use of my leave and invent a miracle product like one of these. Then I can have my own awesomely bad commercial!

The Reicherts Made the News!

2010-02-25T07:35:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my husband's relentless twittering and facebook updates during my labor, the local news decided to do a story on us and how common it is these days to post your entire life online for others to see. Here's the link:
Documenting a Birth Via Twitter

It is interesting to think how much we expose of ourselves online, but my opinion is that most people may read a little about you and then forget almost immediately as they are wrapped up in the drama of their own lives. At first, I thought it may be strange for everyone to know the specifics of what was going on with my body while giving birth, but really, it's what happens to every woman. Nothing new there. And it was fun to think of how many people were interested in the birth of our son, and the support that we felt from their comments made the labor pains much easier to bear. But the best part was that after 14 hours of active labor and several days of early contractions (oh, and 9 months of pregnancy), we finally got to meet our newborn son Arthur. And I have to say, he's pretty much perfect.

second nature

2010-02-09T16:59:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, my church started a 90-day challenge to read the entire Bible. Although we have enough to keep us preoccupied right now, my husband and I decided to jump on board because without the pressure of some outside force, I don't think I'll ever read the book on my own. And it's important to me to read the book that is the foundation of my spiritual beliefs, instead of blindly believing what other people tell me about it. Go figure, huh?

So we are making our way through the Old Testament right now, all the way to the book of 1 Kings. It's been really interesting to see how everything relates and just how violent things were back then. We think the movies and tv shows we have today are bad, but it's nothing compared to a women being handed over to a pack of men who wanted to know her husband "carnally" and describing her night-long torture and death. Then she was cut into 12 pieces and a part of her taken to all of the different tribes of Israel as a warning. Crazy.

But what also amazes me is how God's chosen people continue to follow the same path over and over. They are blessed by God, they become disenchanted with this blessing and take it for granted, they sin in one way or another, and then they are punished and beg forgiveness. Sounds familiar to what I do, but I didn't live through the parting of the Red Sea and witness the other miracles that these people did. You would think that would be enough for them to stay close to their faith and to always follow after Him. Especially since the punishment was usually a really painful death if you didn't.

I guess it's our human nature to get comfortable in the way things are going and take for granted the good things. Instead, we start to focus on the bad or whatever it is we wish could change. It's the same way in relationships. I think so many marriages fail because people become immune to all those warm fuzzies they had at the beginning of it all, and over time the only things they notice are the everyday annoyances. How the other person never cleans or cooks, or maybe the little things they used to love about the other person now bugs the crap out of them. I think if we could just take a breath and put things back in perspective, we would all realize just how often we get stuck in our heads and take things for granted. Easier said than done. Especially when the grass is always greener on the other side.

please do not belittle me

2010-01-14T18:18:00.000-08:00

While walking around JC Pennys yesterday, trying to spend a gift card from my recent baby shower, I realized that it is almost impossible to find baby clothes without some cute or clever saying. Why does the clothing industry think that every baby needs to be saying something? It's always, "I love Mommy" or "Daddy's Little Superstar." I have to admit, I also thought these things were cute when I was single and wasn't even close to having a child of my own. But now, I don't know. I don't like the idea of my baby being a walking, or crawling, billboard. My baby can't talk yet, but if he could, of course he would say he loves his mommy. He's a baby. All he knows is Mommy and Daddy.

I think the best ones are "Little Outlaw" or "Here Comes Trouble." The kid can't even talk yet and you're already setting him up for a life of crime. What's next? "Mommy's Little Overachiever, Who Will One Day Become President"? Or maybe, "Daddy's Little Scientist Who Will Grow Up and Discover the Cure for Cancer?"

All of the cute little sayings don't mean anything, and it just seems like the people making the clothes slap whatever they feel like it on there and people buy it thinking it's cute just cause it's small. I know because I used to think they were cute just cause they are small. It didn't used to bug me, but having some fashion designer or factory worker determine what my kid is supposed to be saying to the outside world is silly and ridiculous. And I know my reaction is silly and ridiculous, but can't we think of something more clever than, "I Love Mommy"?

It's kind of like making boys wear blue and girls wear pink. I'm a girl and I hate pink. Blue is actually my favorite color. And if my son ends up loving pink, power to him. It's just a color after all. And I guess I should say they are just clothes, after all. But c'mon. This is the one time in your little one's life where you can determine how cool they are and actually dress them yourself. Shouldn't we be a little more picky?

now breathe

2010-01-12T18:28:00.000-08:00

I've always hated breathing exercises. I enjoy yoga for it's stretching and strength-buiding, but I really can't stand how they force you to breathe at certain times. "Breathe in through your nose...now exhale through the mouth into a downward dog." Isn't breathing something that comes natural, not something you have to consciously think about, unless you're about to, you know, die?

Since I'm the final countdown for having my first kid, I've been reading up on lamaze and we actually attended our first and only childbirth class last night on how to deal with the traumatic process that is labor and delivery. It's funny when they call it that, makes it sound like a business model instead of a very real event that will be emblazoned in my mind forever. But anyways, all the couples had to sit on the floor with pillows while we practiced different breathing patterns. A little "hee hee hee hoo" here and a little "hee hoo hee hoo hee hoo" there. It made me want to hyperventilate. And it felt silly that we were sitting with our backs to our husbands, since they won't be in that position when we actually give birth, and they won't really need to practice breathing. But I guess it goes with the whole support thing.

I'm just confused on who thought up this whole process of breathing as a way to deal with labor. It must have been a man, because no woman who has actually given birth would decide, "I think the best way for coping with something as exhausting as labor is to breathe. Yep, that's it!"

Maybe I'm just anxious about the big day coming up and I'm nervous about everything that will happen. Somehow I doubt that focusing on my breathing will be enough to get me through the ordeal. Thank God for drugs.

who needs reality? make mine virtual

2010-01-03T16:29:00.000-08:00

My husband and I trekked out to the movies today to see what will most likely be the last movie we will see in the theaters for awhile. I hear once you have a baby you don't have much time for movies, drinks, or eating out. We decided to see Avatar because it has had so many rave reviews and I was curious about the 3D effects. The movie itself was so-so. I really enjoyed the experience of seeing a new planet and its people in 3D, but the story line was something like a cross between the Matrix and Pocahontas. Humans have to "plug into" a network to join the aboriginal people and learn their culture. And the "white boy" ends up falling in love with one of the "savages" as they are called in the movie, much like John Smith and Pocahontas. Not to mention the dialogue left something to be desired. I almost wish they would have left out the plot of humans coming to conquer and destroy and just focused on an original story about these people on a strange planet. But that wouldn't have been a blockbuster.

The entire 3D experience was amazing, however, and it left me wondering how much longer it will be until we have an entire virtual reality experience at the movies. Or we wouldn't even have to go to the movies, you could sit in the comfort of your own home and strap on your virtual helmet and suit where you can see, smell, taste and touch everything in the movie. Kind of like those rides at Disneyland or Disney World where they blow air in your face or release scents to make it seem like you are flying over California or whatever. Or even further in the future, you wouldn't even need a suit and helmet. Instead you just plug into a machine like the Matrix or Avatar and become fully immersed in the experience. The idea of that scares me though, as someone could destroy your real body while you are plugged into the system. Like astral projection. I read a story once where a woman was out of her body during astral projection and another person took over, leaving her soul in limbo, so to speak. Fictional, but still, strange, crazy stuff.

I may be jumping ahead too much and being a little paranoid. After all, it's only entertainment. Now if only I could invent those virtual reality machines and make a gold mine.

all is quiet on a new years day

2010-01-01T18:31:00.000-08:00

Another year has come and gone, and it seems like they go by faster each year. It's crazy to think how much has changed in just a few years' time. I was celebrating new years 2007 in Lubbock, having just graduated with my master's and no idea where I would find my first full-time job. That year was mostly crap, as I spent the majority worrying about my future, trying to distract myself in all the wrong ways, and basically moving backwards in life. Until I finally got hired in October at my current position, which I was incredibly grateful for at the time. I'm still grateful, as I was fortunate to meet my husband there and learned many life lessons about work ethics and staying employed in the worst of circumstances.

Fast-forward to new years 2008, which turned out to be one of the best so far. I met Skeebo, got married on July 4th, and relished in the newlywed stage despite stresses from work and money management. New years 2009 had an odd start with work stress continuing to pile up to the point where every day is a struggle, but I manage. The surprise of becoming pregnant earlier than we expected has been a wonderful blessing in our lives and we are looking forward to the adventure of raising our own son. Knowing that I am now working to support my family has made it easier to overcome those stressful 8 hours, as well as making efforts to change job fields into teaching. My mom was a teacher and so I am aware that it won't be a cake-walk, but it will be a change and an increase in my paycheck. Not to mention some extra time off during holidays and summers. If only I could have all the time off to enjoy my family, but a mother has to do what a mother has to do.

And so, welcome new years 2010! Or as we toasted last night, cheers to the year of Arthur! Every day is one more closer to his arrival, and we can't wait to see if he has my eyes, or Skeebo's smile and curly hair. And the thought of teaching him everything and seeing the world new through his eyes, and all the love and joy he will bring, just makes it that much harder to wait through these last 6 weeks. I guess I'll have to distract myself by making those last-minute preparations. All I can say is, the new years just keep getting sweeter and sweeter!

tis the season to be crazy

2009-12-14T16:14:00.000-08:00

I've been noticing more weirdos and crazy a**holes lately this holiday season. For example, we usually get weird people in the museum. By weird, I mean lonely and incapable of making polite conversation. You know the type, usually older folks who jump at any chance to relay any and all knowledge they have about any random subject. I had one such gentleman the other day who called the museum and I answer with my usual, "Bell County Museum, this is Kristen." His response to that? "Should I visit the museum?" I don't know, should you? Is that where you were planning to go today? Cause if you are already 3 minutes away (information he told me, along with his enthusiasm for the GPS in his car) then I guess you should visit. Or not, I don't care. Then once he got there, he opened up his "conversation" with, "I have a comment to make to someone, could you be that person?" And this is the point when I should have said, I'm sorry, I'm busy. But instead I reply, I guess so, really confused about what he was saying. And he then tries to lure me into an exhibit, which I avoid by saying I have to stay at the desk to answer the phones, which was true. So he tells about 2 long stories about people he knows, both of which have little to do with our museum, and I'm trying my best to be polite but feeling really creeped out by the way he's staring at me. At one point he was interrupted by our mailman. I take the opportunity to become really engaged in my work and try to ignore him. He continues to stand in the doorway for about 2 minutes before finally saying, "Should I finish my story or come back later?" I say, "Sounds great," hoping he'll be confused and just walk away. No such luck, he repeats himself and I say, "Oh, I thought you were finished." This doesn't work either, and he just starts his story over. Now, I'm not usually this rude, but I'd had enough of the creepiness and the fact that I was the only other person in the place, besides the mailman who had just left, was pretty freaky. Thankfully he took the hint after that story and continued on his way.

So that was creep #1. Creep #2 and #3 happened today while shopping. My husband and I were at Cracker Barrel making use of a gift card when one of the employees, another older man, came up to me and said, "Are you ok?" I had my hand on my pregnant stomach, just because it's an easy place to rest it, and I didn't really know how to respond. I say, "I'm fine," and the guy continues to tell me and Skeebo how in the movie Gone With The Wind the nanny had a line about "I don't know nothing about birthing no babies." Now, I've heard this line many times from my mom, but I didn't really know why a stranger thought this was appropriate conversation. He then continues to say how he had to watch the pregnancy video in school but he didn't think that would really make him prepared. We were both creeped out and tried to put some distance between us, but he continues on by asking when I'm due and telling us his birthday. Seriously dude? I don't know you at all, and I now have more information about you than I ever wanted.

Creep #3 happened at the grocery store a little later today. We had a fairly successful shopping trip without wanted to deck anybody, which usually doesn't happen at the store. Then we got to the checkout. I had barely started unloading my basket when some jerk comes hauling ass behind me, puts a divider down, and starts unloading his own cart. I wasn't even close to being finished with mine, and he was practically trying to jump the line. I was tempted to stop and tell him that if he was in such a big ass hurry, he could go right ahead. His wife comes up behind him and says loudly, "Honey, she isn't even done unloading hers!" And he responds with a lame, "I left room." Then he tries to act like he was being considerate and ask me, "do you have enough room?" And I really wanted to say, "I guess we'll see, won't we?" But instead I just say, I think it should be fine. But seriously people, I'm pregnant and trying to unload a cart, it takes time. And room. Have some consideration for other people, dang it. Step outside of yourself for one second and reconsider what you are saying and doing. Then try to imagine how you would react if someone was acting that way to you. Crazy.

balcony seat

2009-11-29T10:32:00.000-08:00

I love going to my church, especially my sunday school class. It's a very small white church that has been there over 100 years and was first started by Czech immigrants who settled in east Bell County. If you visit the church cemetery, most of the epitaphs are written in Czech, it's that legit. It's also the church where I got married, which is another reason it holds so much value to me. But back to the sunday school class.

Because our church is so small, I attend a class with people from all ages. I'm the youngest at 27, and I'm pretty sure the oldest is in her 90s. That's 70 years of living in between us. I'm humble enough to realize that my fellow classmates are much wiser than me because they've seen so much in their lifetimes. Two world wars, the Great Depression, the introduction of tv, followed by color tv, followed by cordless phones, followed by cell phones capable of playing tv shows from wireless internet. It's no wonder they stick to the basics of what's real, what they can see, touch, and feel. We can learn a lot from that sort of groundedness (is that a word? Is it now.)

The topic of our class today focused on what we are supposed to do as Christians. If God were to come back right now, would we be serving his purpose? One of the ladies in the class mentioned that she was watching Rick Warren who said the best way to answer this would be imagining yourself sitting in a balcony seat at your funeral and listening in on what others had to say about you. Granted, most of the times nice things are said at funerals regardless of how good the person actually was. But I actually know of people who have passed away and didn't have a funeral at all. Some were just buried without any family or friends, others were cremated and still waiting to have their remains scattered in the Guadalupe River. And this could have been what the deceased wanted, no fuss, no worry, just passing quietly from this world to the next. But how sad is it to think that at your death there were no good things or bad things said. In fact, there was nothing. It's enough to make me realize that I want to matter to others and make a difference, hopefully for the better. Hopefully, as a Christian, the least that will be said was that I loved Him and it showed.

taste less

2009-11-25T17:06:00.000-08:00

For the past few weeks, I've been forced to suffer with listening to the local radio, mainly due to my own laziness in hooking up my satellite radio. But through my suffering, I've come to realize why so many people think that their favorite type of music is rock, country, or hip-hop. These are the only types of music played by mainstream radio. Which is a tragedy, I think. There are so many other great types of music out there that don't fall into these 3 generic categories. It reminds me of when I was in high school and thought that my favorite type of music was "alternative rock," because that was the closest thing to my taste that I could listen to on the radio. Little did I know, my taste actually included many sub-categories and crossover types of music, like Canadian Indie Rock, ska, folk rock, new wave, experimental, and what have you. I just hadn't heard it yet.

I'm not saying the songs being played on mainstream radio aren't good, I'm just saying there are so many other songs out there that are as good or better but just don't have the best PR person trying to promote them. It's sad to me that bands have to sell their music anyway. It kind of cheapens it in a way. Think of how much better they could be if they weren't restricted by money or contracts. So much creativity kept within the constraints of the tin can that the huge corporations place on them. But I digress.

The same goes for food. We all have that one local restaurant that everyone swears has the best the food and are famous for one certain dish, but when you go and finally try it yourself, you can't help thinking, "really? This is what everybody thinks is so great? Am I missing something here?" I believe these false praises are based off the majority of folks who have no idea what good really is. Or, rather, their taste is on level 3 or 4, when it could go to 11. They have no idea that the dessert they think is great could actually be much, much better. They've never tasted anything better, so it's not their fault they think crap is great.

I've experienced this recently with my father-in-law's cooking. He was in the restaurant business for about 30 years and every dish he makes is simply amazing. It has layers that take your taste buds through a journey of delectable delight, it's that good. It's a talent that comes from many years of experience, and so many are content to stop when they've accomplished one good dish rather than seek to improve upon it.

My point is that we could all benefit from a more adventurous approach to food, music, clothes, movies, whatever. By only relying on what "the critics" think, we are selling ourselves short on discovering some untapped greatness. That's all for today. Next week's lesson: Learning to Think for Yourself and Discover Your Own Taste.

Broken Record

2009-11-19T19:05:00.000-08:00

One of the many joys of pregnancy, other than carrying and growing a human life, of course, is pregnancy brain. I used to be a real sharp thinker, the quickest wit in town. These days, I'm lucky if I can remember to...what was I talking about? Seriously, I have trouble following conversations, and I'm pretty sure I've told my friends at work the same stories several times. This scares me because it's a characteristic my mom has had for years and which slightly annoyed and confused me. Why she takes pleasure in repeating the same tales over and over is beyond me. Until now. Now that my synapses also fail to connect, I realize how easy it is to bore others because you think what you're talking about is entertaining. And it was. The first time.

Besides being forgetful, I've also been plagued by songs stuck in my head. Today it was "she's got the look (she's got the look) she's got the look (she's got the look) and I go lalalalala she's got the look." And then it was replaced with "you've got to get yourself together you've got stuck in a moment that you can't get out of." And then that was replaced with "I can get to sleep, I think about the implications, of diving in too deep, and suddenly the complications, especially at night, I worry about situations that, I know will be alright, it's just overkill." The last one is actually a pretty good song by Colin Hay of Men at Work fame, I highly suggest looking it up. At least it wasn't "hey Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind hey Mickey!" Oh, crap...

consumerism at its best

2009-11-08T19:25:00.000-08:00

Skeebo and I had a wonderful adventure in the big-D today. After a rushed start to get to a client's house in time for a family portrait shoot, Skeebo worked his magic and had some a great turnout on his photos thanks to the overcast day. Then the family treated us out for sushi and hibachi, which is our favorite. We shared a fried roll and chicken and steak, which was quite delectable. Afterwards, thanks to the influence of the youngest daughter, we made our way next door to Yogurtville, where you can create your own delicious dessert from about a dozen types of yogurt and hundreds of toppings. Skeebo impressed us all by opting for one-of-each-topping.
We then parted ways with the family and made our way to the cathedral of American consumerism...the mall. And Willow Bend Mall in Plano is nothing to sneeze at. All of the most awesomest stores are there, including the Apple Store, which is where we got sucked in. We innocently went in trying to find an answer to Skeebo's Final Cut problems, and instead came out with a new Mac for me! And a wireless printer that is only $30 after the rebate. Which is why you see this odd pic of me next to this post. I'm trying out the cool built-in camera that I've seen all the cool kids use on the facebook intraweb site. I'm just thrilled to have a reliable computer that actually completes a task when you push the button, and doesn't freeze and shut down every time you try to download something. Skeebo can attest to the amount of cuss words released on my last laptop, which is only 3 years old but acts like its 90. You know, forgets what it's doing in the middle of something, decides to nap at random points for no reason, and scares all the other drivers out there because you never know when or where it will crash. You get the drift. I love my mac.

Progress

2009-10-28T18:13:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted, and I've had an interesting week. Sometime last Friday I took a practice test for my 4th-8th generalist teaching certificate and began to freak out when I scored a 68. I'm usually a good test-taker, but these questions were unlike any I'd encountered on standardized tests. Most of the questions were things like: "A teacher of beginning readers designs a variety of instructional activities using "word families" (e.g., mail, tail, sail, trail), groups of words that have the same rime but different onsets. One important advantage of this approach is that it:"

Excuse me, what? First of all, I'm pretty sure you misspelled rhyme, and what's an onset? Needless to say, I had a lot of studying, or cramming, to do before I took the $120 test on Monday. I've never been so nervous in my life, mainly because I've never had to invest a dollar amount on a test before. I've had to invest in college, sure, but if you fail a test you still have a chance to make it up on the final. So after a weekend of freaking out, I am happy to report that I passed the test with a score of 280 out of 300, which is like a 93 for those of us who are more used to being scored out of 100.

So now I could officially be hired by a school with a probationary certificate, all I need to do now is finishing the online coursework and I'm set. Which brings me to my second point.

Why do so many instructional materials use crappy writing? It's like they got bored of writing it themselves and decided to hire a monkey to finish it for them. Here's an exaggerated example of what I'm talking about:
Why should a new teacher learn the different behavior strategies for managing a classroom? That's an excellent question. Here's the answer: It provides order in a room of chaos and gives the students structured boundaries in order to facilitate learning. This can be done in many ways...

Seriously? Can you just say what you mean in a way that does not make me want give myself a lobotomy? Just because you are adding extra words and making the text longer doesn't mean you are making it more meaningful. Trust me, I got my B.A. in B.S.

Sigh, only a few more courses to complete, though. And on a side note, I got side-swiped by a little old man while making my way home from work today. He decided he was going to change lanes whether I was in the lane or not, and my horn reflex was a little too late. But it just left a long scratch on the side of my van, no harm to me or my unborn child. And he was on the way to visit his wife in the hospital, which I felt bad about but c'mon. That doesn't give you free reign to drive wherever you feel like it. So many bad drivers out there, a person almost can't avoid it.

So that's been my life in a nutshell. Peace out.

turtles, seahorses, mice, oh my!

2009-10-05T09:39:00.000-07:00

My awesome cousin Donna and her newlywed husband Dan made a trip to visit yesterday and add some wonderful artistic touches to our nursery. We now have beautiful turtles above where the crib will be placed, a kickass octopus, seahorses, and dolphin next to the rocker, and a whale and bird above the changing table. Having an artist in the family is a wonderful blessing and saved Skeebo and me the hassle of figuring out how to stencil or otherwise decorate the baby's room.
In the midst of preparing for our baby boy, we have had another disturbing development...mice. Living out in the country, I guess it's expected that we have critters trying to move in and take over. We keep setting our steel cat trap and have caught over 12 now. The most mice at one time was five. FIVE. Yeah, pretty gross considering all the diseases and crap the mice carry with them. I thought they were just holing up in the kitchen and our spare room that is overflowing with crap, but as I was looking through my tupperware box of wedding memories today, guess what surprise awaited me? Yep, you guessed it. Underneath my album of wedding memories hid a real, live mouse. I about crapped my pants. My hero took the box outside and let the mouse out for the dogs to run down, and Jackie Brown did an outstanding job catching it and bringing it to its imminent death. Sigh, I was under the illusion that mice were avoiding our closet. Now I realize no place is safe, and considering how toxic mice are, it brings even more worries for me and my pregnancy.
I guess we'll just have to get some outdoor cats to keep the mice out, or find some way to exterminate the suckers. Yucky gross gross.

exhaustion & the fair

2009-09-28T08:02:00.000-07:00

I'm enjoying the third and final day of a three-day weekend thanks to one of my final vacation days, and I'm so glad it's almost over. Sounds crazy considering I cherish every spare moment I get away from work, but this has been more of a working weekend. The run-down went something like this:

Thurs., 5:30pm - I finally get home to see a good amount of crap set out for our garage sale the next day. Furniture, dishes, clothes, decorative things, you name it. This is all part of the cleaning out grandypa and grandyma process, and I'm thankful my husband has a good friend to help move furniture around, cuz even in my only 4-months-pregnant state, there's no way I could have lifted any of that.

8pm - We finally wind down with pricing all of the stuff, which is actually fun. I enjoy deciding the worth of objects I have no emotional connection to. 10 cents for a plate with a cat on it (which someone actually bought), $50 for a stereo that still works (someone got that too, but for $35), and an entire box of random kitchen crap for a buck a piece. And used bras and socks for 10 cents, actually sold some of that, can you believe it?

Friday, 5am - We are hopefully thinking that a mad rush will come clean out our garage sale very early in the morning, so we go ahead and set out signs, make coffee, and sit. And sit. And sit some more, until our first customer finally shows up at 7am but stop at the big house (Skeebo's parents house on the same property). I run after them to let them know we are next door, move a sign around and post a new one on the big house to let folks know we are here.

11am - We make our "big sale of the day" by selling the chairs to our dining set for $40, even though all of the wheels fall off as we're loading them, that didn't stop him. He also got a couple of meat grinders and a sprinkler for a grand total of $53, not too bad.

3pm - We finally decide no one else is going to show up, so we start putting everything away and of course get some last-minute shoppers who take off with the 3 twilight books I owned for $3. Works for me. We close shop with about $178 and some change, but no big furniture pieces gone. Bummer, dude. Anybody want a couch with a fold-out sofa bed? It's got a slipcover and everything, just too much furniture for us.

Saturday, 6:30am - For some crazy reason, we decided to go to the state fair the day after having a garage sale. Mainly because it was the only day we could make it. So we get ready and head outside to see the puppies had torn into my bag of clothes that were ready to be dropped at goodwill, as well as a book and one of the couch pillows. They didn't touch anything when we left it all set out for the garage sale, but now that it's over, I guess they decided it was ok to tear up crap. Oh well, I guess it's better it happened after and not before.

7:30am - Everybody's loaded in the car (Skeebo, me and his folks) and we are leaving the neighborhood when we see the dogs running loose. We decide they will be chained up the next day as punishment, since we don't really have a fence to keep them enclosed. Rascals.

10am - We arrive at the fair and make our first culinary stop of the day at Owen's sausage house, followed by the petting zoo and dog show. Then our next culinary stop is the chicken-fried bacon, which tastes just like it sounds, greasy and salty.

1pm - After perusing through buildings of art, food, wine, and cars, we make our next culinary stop where Skeebo and his folks enjoy a Texas-size plate of nachos and I enjoy a gyro.

2:30pm - We head to the bird show, where we saw huge cranes fly over the crowd, an owl fly out of the Texas Star ferris wheel and land on the stage, and a parrot that sings. Really fun, interesting stuff.

3pm - We ride the Texas Star ourselves, which was fun though kind of a rip-off at $7 for only two full turns. Oh well. Then we have our next culinary stop where I chow down on a corn dog and malt, while Skeebo and his folks enjoy alcoholic beverages. I'm ready to leave by this point, but unfortunately I'm only one person (with one on the way), so I don't have much pull.

7pm - After the boys have been harassed enough by the women-folk, we are finally on our way out the door and here the tail-end of a set by 38 Special. Funny thing is, we didn't realize it was the actual band until afterward, we thought it was just a really good cover band.

8pm - Our last culinary stop of the day is El Fenix for delicious mexican food. Then yours truly got the pleasure of driving home since the men had their bellies full of beer and Skeebo's mom isn't the best night-driver. I could tell that was gonna happen, which is why I was ready to leave by 3pm. Oh well. All in all it was a fun, exhausting weekend.

window to the world

2009-09-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

I work in an uninspiring place, with the one consolation being the wonderful view from my window. I'm on the second-floor and enjoy a great view of the quiet little town around me. When I'm feeling trapped, or severely depressed (which happens a lot these days) I simply turn my head and enjoy the window to the world. The possibilities that lie outside that window give me hope and keep me grounded. It also gives me a chance to check on my car and make sure no one is stealing my sweet soccer-mom van. I also get to watch who is coming and going, spy on my boss leaving for a brief moment, and prepare for her return.

Having a window seems like such a small thing, but I received a call the other day at work that gave me pause and made me realize my prison is not really much of a prison at all. A man called who had just retired as a teacher and spent those many years inside a stuffy classroom with no windows. Sounds a lot like my high school, and much more depressing than what I experience in my current place of work.

So much is out there, outside that window to the world. I just have to allow myself the opportunity to fly.

you get to teach college...just kidding!

2009-08-26T16:07:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to take the leap into teaching college for a few years now. Especially since my current field turned out to be something other than desirable (low pay, no respect, and you get to have a crazy person for a boss, yay!) I thought that my break had finally come when the art chair of a local university desperately needed someone to teach a couple of classes. The person who signed up to teach decided at the last minute to open his own "middle college", whatever that means, and left the university hanging 2 weeks before classes. So it seemed like a blessing when the faculty had their breakfast at the museum and asked if any of the staff would like to teach.

Discussions and meetings ensued, and I was told that everything was go! As long as the students could agree to meet only on Mondays, my day off, we would be good to go. Not so fast Kristen Reichert. Even after meeting with the class on the first day and getting everyone to agree to a different schedule, word finally came back from the provost that although I have an undergraduate degree in ancient art history, I don't have enough graduate hours to meet SACS accreditation standards to teach. That could have been brought to my attention yesterday!

But it's really a blessing in disguise. I'm trying to get my teaching certificate so that I might at least teach high school or such, and getting ready for baby in February and already feeling like all of my energy has been sucked out of me, it would have all been too much. At least that's what I'll keep telling myself.

when i grew up

2009-08-16T16:50:00.001-07:00

I decided to submit an entry in an essay contest for a magazine. It's about the first time I realized I had grown up. Feel free to read and give me feedback, but it is kinda long so I understand if you don't. Enjoy. Or not.

Growing up is a funny thing, almost like playing house. Except that instead of pretending to cook dinner and drive cars to work, it’s real. And so are the bills. When I talk to my friends I’ve had since high school, we lament to each other how difficult it is to have the responsibilities of adults: car payments, mortgage, insurance, utilities…it was so much easier when parents paid for everything. If only we appreciated it at the time, we could have taken advantage of it more.
My husband and I recently became pregnant with our first child. As most people with kids know, new parents feel so much fear, excitement, wonder, and ignorance about what the future may hold. We like to sit and discuss how things will change, what our kid will be like, which facial features he or she will favor, and so many more unknowns. One of the biggest unknowns is how much a kid will cost us and if we are ready for the financial strain a kid can bring. As the designated accountant of the family, I’m more worried about this than my husband as neither one of us is exactly making six figures.
The responsibility of caring and providing for another human being certainly makes you feel like you’ve finally reached the point of being a grown up. Before this I had thought that my first job with insurance and benefits officially made me a grown up, until I became unemployed for a time and had to rely on my own parents to help me through the tough times. This was after I had reached the adult age of 18, which is the assumed legal age that a person has reached maturity, responsible for their own actions. I think everybody knows someone much older than 18 who definitely hasn’t reached maturity.
The irony of it all is I had always considered myself to be mature for my age. Most kids in high school were ditching class and going to parties, drinking underage and who knows what else. I knew that their lifestyle wasn’t what I wanted and wouldn’t take me where I wanted to go. Where did I want to go? I didn’t know exactly, but include college, a good job, and eventually a husband and family. I thought that if I got carried away with drinking and parties, I would blow it all before I even had a chance.
Boy, did that all change with college. Despite graduating second in my class, I received only a small scholarship. I was naïve to think that if I worked hard enough in high school and made the grade, it would be rewarded with a free ride to college. But as we all learn in life, nothing is guaranteed and just because you work hard for something, doesn’t mean you will be rewarded for that work. I began to take a different attitude to drinking and decided that life was too short to be responsible all the time.
Since then I have found the love of my life and we are “settling down,” but I find myself reminiscing more and more about those so-called wild years of my twenties. I think I may be coming to terms with the fact that I have finally reached adulthood, and all I have left of my youth are memories. I certainly don’t miss those days or regret my decisions to have a family at all, but being able to do anything you want whenever you want is a luxury that you only experience at certain times in your life.
Being a grown up means you have more responsibilities than you ever imagined, but you are also free to make your own choices, such as choosing to have a family. Having a child of my own will be thrilling as I watch him or her learn and see the world in a new light. I can only imagine how it will feel to scold them for the first time, comfort them after their first heartache, and help them learn what it means to be an adult. In my efforts to raise them, however, they will be teaching me more about life than I could ever hope to teach them. And I will eventually see them become adults, able to make their own choices. My job as their parent may be officially be over, and I may be free to do whatever I want whenever I want again, but the carefree days of my youth will be long gone.
The first time I thought I was a grown up was with my first real job, but it wasn’t until I became pregnant that I finally realized my life had taken a path of no return. In the past, I was could blame my ignorance and youth for bad choices I made. When I became responsible for another person, I realized I really wasn’t allowed to make bad choices any more because they no longer affected just me; they affected my baby as well. I should have learned this lesson after falling in love and building a partnership with my husband. And I did, to some extent. But carrying another human life brings this realization to a whole new level.
Being a mother, to me, is when the realization of being a grown up finally hit home. And as I mentioned before, it’s been a scary, exciting, and wonderful realization.

Feelin' Fall

2009-08-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

It's only August, and I usually don't start wishing for fall until October. But this summer has been so long and hot I'm ready to jump start the cool weather. It doesn't help that we haven't seen rain in what feels like years. I'm used to that after living in West Texas most of my life, but, dang it, I'm not in West Texas anymore! And brown grass is such an ugly sight. Sigh.

I guess I'm also ready for cooler weather because I'm ready for change. A lot of change has happened lately, but I still haven't really felt the effects. It hasn't actually set in. Maybe I think that if my environment changes, I'll actually start to realize just how different my life has become.

In order to combat this feeling of staleness, we've been making long-needed renovations on our circa 1980s trailer. We've ripped out the cat-piss-stained carpet, which I'm now paranoid about because breathing cat fumes is apparently the worst thing you could do while pregnant, after breathing cigarette fumes, of course. And I had been breathing those fumes for at least 12 weeks of the pregnancy. At least it's gone now, and beautiful vinyl wood planks are beginning to take its place.

The next step is painting not only the baby's room, but also the hallway and bathroom that we've been neglecting. This also makes me paranoid because I've read that paint fumes are the third worst thing to enhale, at least according to some articles in books. In other books, it's "Go right ahead and paint that baby up!" Not the real baby, of course.

I've always been so independent that all of these handicaps are strange and a little unnerving to me. I guess it's a small glimpse of how having a family will change my life, and my independence, forever. I'm ready for the change, I just need the reality to set in...

Perks of Pregnancy

2009-08-10T10:53:00.001-07:00

I'm currently 13 weeks and 2 days into my first pregnancy. And while it's still hard to believe that I am carrying a new life in my belly, I am now feeling the side effects of being pregnant. Or the perks of pregnancy.

Since the beginning of it all, I've had a super-sensitive nose. I can smell anything and everything from miles away. This can be good when it's delicious food cooking, or really bad when it's someone's body odor or cigarette-drenched breath. At work, we have a security guard for our temporary Rembrandt exhibit that smokes so much I can smell him in the half-way down the hallway before even approaching the door to the exhibit. We call him Ol' Smoky as he takes a break every hour on the hour, regardless if there are people in the gallery that he is supposed to be "guarding". I am hoping my extra-sensitive sniffer will wear off after the baby comes, but I met a woman the other night who still has the spidey senses, even though she had hers over 2 years ago. Yikes.

Another wonderful side effect is acne like I haven't experienced since, well, ever. Even in puberty my face was relatively clear, with only a few breakouts every now and then. These days, my face looks like the surface of the moon. And what makes it worse is I'm limited in the products I use as anything that is strong enough to kill bacteria can also possibly hurt the baby. So I just suffer through with whatever cover methods makeup can afford. At least I'm still able to use that.

And the last side effect I'll rant about is my loss of memory. Did I already talk about acne? Just kidding, but I've never had a problem remembering things before pregnancy. I don't mean I can't remember my name or who my husband is, I just can't remember why I called someone after I dial the number or what I was going to get in the kitchen. So I just sit there for a while and tell myself that it wasn't important or I'll figure it out soon enough. Sometimes I do, some things I still don't know what I was doing. Mystery in life is so much fun.

It's silly to complain about the few things that happen during the process of carrying and giving birth to a new life, but what can I say. It's all new to me and I'm just trying to learn how the meaning of life works.

Conversations in Airports

2009-07-30T20:20:00.000-07:00

Spending 14 hours in airports and flying halfway across the country gives you plenty of alone time while simultaneously being surrounded by millions of strangers. It also gives you plenty of time to hear some interesting and strange conversations.

While waiting a couple of hours at John Wayne Airport, two elderly ladies sit behind me with overly strong perfume and talk about their visit to a relative who is giving birth to twins. "Both are 7 lbs! That's great. We won't make it there before she has them, though. How's Ricky doing?" My thoughts:I didn't know you could weigh babies before they are born.

During a 2 hour layover in Denver, a pretentious guy on a bluetooth calls several people to tell them the same story, his business is so successful. And the funny part is he is dressed like a college dude. But we all know only pretentious people use a bluetooth while they are just sitting in an airport, perfectly capable of using their hand to hold a cell phone to their ear. Are you really so important that you can't possibly bother to hold a phone? Instead, it's much cooler to clip something that looks like a garage door opener to your ear and look like you are talking to yourself. I feel bad for you and think that you're talking to me, and say, "Excuse me?" Because who else could you be talking to? You're looking at me and saying words, I'm sorry I interrupted your oh-so-important phone conversation because I assumed you were actually speaking to me.

I switch seats because the pretentious dude is just too much, and overhear an overly chatty older woman (aren't they all?) talking to a lesbian nurse about the connections they have to Seguin, TX. How do I know the nurse is a lesbian? During their conversation, she mentions that her connection to Seguin was a lady friend who was hit by a car while riding her bike and died. Why would you tell a complete stranger about someone's death unless you had such a strong emotional attachment to that person that you felt compelled to bring it up. Death is not usually a topic covered in conversations with strangers. Death is best left for funerals and the funny pages.

While waiting 3 hours on the plane for mechanical errors and a lighting storm (it was the best flight ever, arriving in Austin at 2am) the young girl behind me tells the strange man next to her many personal details. It's as if her mother never warned her not to talk to strangers, especially about where you're from, where you're going, who you're visiting, what you are going to do while there. At first I thought he was her father because she was talking to him like she knew him so well. That's a good way to get kidnapped and sold into the black market, kid.

But I think my favorite experience was the older lady asking if I would mind switching seats because her friend is afraid of flying. I trade seats and move to the second to last row, and found it ironic that the seat to me was empty. Her friend could have easily moved to the back with the woman I switched with. Oh well, at least I made it home and enjoyed seeing the Capitol from the plane at night.

To Live in Beauty

2009-07-26T16:31:00.000-07:00

My husband and I are currently spending our vacation in Huntington Beach, California, just 2 blocks from the beach with his friends Luca and Elisabetta. As you may have guessed, his friends are from Italy, Luca lived in a coastal town and Elisabetta lived near Florence. Italy has always been a place I've adored and dreamed of visiting, and it has been so wonderful to talk with them about their mother country and what life is really like there. And why any one would want to move away.

One of the topics we discussed was their nationalized health care. Since this is a big political shenanigan currently happening in our country, I was curious to hear from someone who had experienced it. According to Luca, if you have to have a major medical operation, or even something basic like an MRI, you have to be placed on a waiting list and it could take months for something that you really need to have immediately. If you decide that you would like to live a little longer, you can pay a private hospital to have the procedure in a more timely manner. So not only are you paying taxes for nationalized health care that doesn't work for you, you have to pay again to have whatever medical needs met by an outside, private doctor. You pay double for the same or worse care that you receive now.

Another reason they didn't want to stay in Italy is that their idea of service is much more relaxed than ours. You could sign up for internet service, wait 4 months, and still not have it. They had lived in Italy for a few months to be with family last year and never did get the internet they signed up for.

But then they moved to beautiful Huntington Beach, where Luca had lived for a few years before they met. The weather is a constant 72 degrees and as I mentioned before, the beach is just 2 blocks away. Not to mention you have all of the shopping, restaurants, and entertainment you could possibly want within a short (or sometimes long, depending on traffic) drive away. It makes me wonder why some people, like my parents, have lived for years in a barren dessert hundreds of miles away from the nearest metropolis. I guess their idea of a joyful life is different, and they relish the peace and quiet in the expanse of West Texas. For Luca and Elisabetta, however, they prefer to live in beauty.

you got a problem with the way I talk?

2009-07-16T19:45:00.000-07:00

So I'm in the middle of suffering through summer camp at work this week, and one of the most annoying experiences happened today and the shocker was it wasn't from a camper. It was from my oh so helpful "volunteer." I had just finished story time which involved a tall tale about Pecos Bill. We rounded the campers up and took them upstairs for their craft, and my volunteer decided that she would pull me aside and let me know that during the story I had mis-pronounced some words. Her exact words went something like this:

"I don't want to sound like a know-it-all, but I noticed you were having problems pronouncing some of the words. First of all, it's soe-belly, not sowbelly, because a sow is a pig. And a dogie is pronounced doe-gey, not doggie." She then rambled off some other things but the lesson was lost on me. My reply? "Ya, and I've got an accent too." Meaning, yes, I know I don't always say words the correct way. I do that because 1) I grew up in West Texas where it's impossible not to mispronounce words and 2) I pronounce words the way they are spelled. I'm a visual person. It's what I do.

It was ironic that this girl thought it was best to correct someone she had only known for 2 days when she herself has some lessons to learn. She had missed the previous day of camp because she had a migraine, which I guess also means you can't pick up a phone and let someone know when you are unable to fulfill an obligation. She also showed up the Saturday before camp started at 5pm to let me know she was interested in volunteering. If we had been walking out the door, she would have missed her opportunity, and I would have missed my speech lesson. And to top it all off, she told the campers about her experiences doing an archeology dig in Israel. Apparently, she went with her church group and sold the items that they found while digging. Any archeologists will tell you that's not archeology, that's looting and is everything that archeologists (the real ones) are against.

And did I mention that her idea of help is to sit around like a log until I finally ask her to do something? If you're volunteering to help, then help! That means you should be involved in the activities we are doing and helping the kids when they need it, without being told every 5 minutes to do something!

Oh, and then I heard her telling a camper almost directly after the lesson that it's important to pronounce words correctly and have a good vocabulary. I got some vocabulary for you, it starts with F and ends with U.

Removing Traces of Grandypa and Grandyma

2009-07-12T17:13:00.000-07:00

My husband and I inherited the house his grandparents used to live in, and although both have passed away, it's amazing how much of them is still left in the house. It's been a slow and painful process to clean out each room and remove all of the things that they felt were important to keep for years and years. The medicine cabinet was particularly amusing, and gross. Not to mention the cigarette smell that's only taken about a year to wash out of the carpet and walls, thanks to new flooring and Greased Lightning. The scattered array of books, souvenirs, and knick-knacks from a lifetime of hoarding the things they thought were important makes a person contemplate their own existence and the evidence they might leave behind.

I have had a similar problem with discarding these useless remains of the past with every move I make. Rather than sort through my things, I just pack up the boxes, move them to the next closet, and let them sit until the next move is made. What is in these boxes that is so important to keep? Notes and papers from old college courses, books that I will only read once, my own collection of Pez dispensers, old CD cases, electronic equipment that has long been outdated, and countless other random knick-knacks and souvenirs that I thought were sentimental and important to keep.

It's amazing to me that we think we need these things to give us daily reminders of how good or bad our life was and is. Shouldn't the memories be enough? Do we really think that we are keeping these things to pass on to our grand kids, when they have their own collection to keep? Maybe we just don't want to admit that things are not important, and that they will also one day remove traces of Grandypa and Grandyma.