Last Year

Last year for New Year's Eve, we didn't have much money, so I made dinner here at home. I decided to make Mexican food, since my guy had once owned a Mexican restaurant, and I thought I could show him how well I could cook any type of food, even Mexican (my pride issues, of course!)

I don't remember the meal - it was truly not memorable (which, I suppose is good - at least it wasn't so bad that it would be remembered as being one of the worst meals I ever made!) I do remember the Margaritas. It was the first time I made them, and they were awful. I didn't realize that the lime juice in the recipe was supposed to be Rose's lime (a sweetened lime juice). I used the lime juice from the store (Real Lime, or something like that). They were just terrible, but my guy just smiled and said, "No, these are great."

We ate at my card table that doubles as a dining table, set in the living room (the dining room was/still is filled with boxes left from the move.) The table was one of the few pieces of furniture in the room and in the apartment as a whole. By this time, I still had the bedroom sets in both my room and my son's; the entertainment unit in the living room; and a living room chair that I had gotten from the people who sold me my car. And the card table, complete with canvas chairs (the kind that are normally used outside.)

It didn't matter. We were happy with each other - I was happy that he accepted me as I was, and I felt the same way about him.

A year later, I have living room furniture, four dining chairs (but no table - the chairs are for a counter-height table that I have yet to find), and still eat off the same card table and canvas chairs. I have set up, for the first time in three years, a large Christmas tree. I have more artwork, and better dishes, and plans for a New Year's Eve outside of the apartment (no bad Margaritas!)

And my relationship with my guy (now past the one year mark!) gets better every day.

Looking forward to seeing with that new year brings!

Budget? I Don't Need No Stinkin' Budget!

As I've mentioned before, I hate checking my checking account, because, although I try to keep track of my expenditures in a less formal way (meaning, in my head), my figuring does not often take into account those little expenses that add up (sort of like those little extra calories from this piece of candy or that handful of potato chips that don't seem like much, until you wake up and realize you've gained 10 points from those little extra calories).

So, anyway, I looked today. Sure enough, it was lower than I had expected. Not so low that the bills couldn't be paid or that I couldn't get food for the next week. But low enough that I would have to reschedule that haircut. Again. Granted, this is a sort of luxury item - I could just go to the place that charges $10, but haircuts are something I prefer to pay a bit more for. I just like the better cut.

This isn't a bad thing. It's what we all do - cut back a bit here and there when we overspend. And I don't really regret the extra money I spent on gifts and food (including the nice roast for the Christmas dinner). It's not something I plan to do every week.

And, in spite of the title of the post, it has brought me back to the realization that I do need to keep on top of my budget a bit more. It has become my early New Years resolution. I've already started tracking my expenses again (I've done this before - last time I kept going for over 7 months!)

It will get easier, soon. But, for now, I'll just keep an eye on the numbers.

Starting With Oneself

Yesterday was one of the nicest Christmas days that I have had in a long time. I think I enjoyed every minute of it - from the first moment of midnight mass until the second my head hit the pillow and, moments later, I fell soundly asleep.

I even enjoyed the moments of quiet solitude. I think this was such an important lesson for me; a lesson  learned from past Christmas days, some that I endured, reminding myself it was just another day. We have such high expectations for this day - it is supposed to be spent surrounded by friends and family, or at least that is what the media tells us. Not just one or two members of the family, but large groups of people, sharing gifts and enjoying a meal together around a long dining room table.

I've had those Christmases in the past. Yes, they are nice - it's wonderful to share time with people you haven't seen for ages, to laugh and joke (and, yes, sometimes fight) with this extended group of relatives. But I have learned to enjoy spending the day with just myself, and then, later, extending that enjoyment to the few others with whom I am very close - my son and my guy.

Learning to be alone and enjoy one's own company is so important. I have spent many unhappy years pursuing that American vision of happiness, of wanting love and wanting to be loved. It took some tough years and hard times to make me begin to appreciate what I had, and to know that I was loved. I had to start by loving myself, and knowing there was One who loved me, no matter what.

Only then could I enjoy my own company, and appreciate and love the company of others.

Journey of Light

Last night marked the second time that I sang at midnight mass with the choir from my current parish, and only one of a handful of times that I have sung midnight mass in total. I have limited memories of the others - many of them consisting of the same songs, late nights and groggy Christmas mornings. One Christmas I do remember coming out of church a the end of the mass, and taking in the sight of a snow covered front lawn, with the pattern and colors of the stained glass window from the top of the church reflected on the snow blanket. It was quite exquisite.

While I do remember a bit of last year, I think that my experience last night may be one that stays with me. There was a moment (there are always moments - that's what memories are drawn from) where we were singing "Lux Aurumque", a modern poem that was translated to Latin for this musical piece. It is a short, but somewhat difficult piece, as the harmonies are, at points, dissonant. We spent a good part of the fall learning it.

This night, as we reached a particular point in the song, the church grew very quiet. Out in the hallway, I saw one of the pastoral associates stop and watch; she was mesmerized. I remembered that our choir director had said this moment of the song represented the birth of Jesus, and the beauty of this particular moment seemed to magically recreate this moment with sound and light.

I remembered the moment of birth with my own son. While a great deal different from the birth of Christ, there was this sense of time standing still. In hospitals, it is often difficult to distinguish the time of night and day. Additionally, I feel at the moment when birth - and, I imagine, death - takes place, there is a sense that time almost stops. Connecting that personal experience to this song made the moment even more powerful.

And so, in this moment - the beauty of the music, the wonder of the parishioners - I felt myself absorbed in the moment. It is now, and, I imagine, will always be an incredible memory for me.

Welcome to the System

My son is working another full day today (he's in retail; nearly all his days are full days lately). On these days, I get up a little earlier and drive him into work.

This morning, we both commiserated on how we weren't ready yet for Monday morning, and both wished we could have just one more hour of sleep. Each time we talk like this, I know he is finally starting to get an idea of what the work world is really like. Not the 16-20 hour a week work world that you fit conveniently around your schedule.

No, the work world that seems to consume your days and make your weekends/days off seem too short. Now, mind you, I like my jobs (both of them). I don't really feel like the metaphorical cog in the machine. I do feel as if I learn something new about my job each day, and that makes it more interesting.

But I think everyone who works the 5 day (or more) work week wishes there was just more time to be home, relax, stay in bed on cold rainy days. While we have paid vacation available (something I didn't have for years!) we  know those days are saved for visits to our family or vacations at someplace else (preferably someplace warm and relaxing). Rainy days like this are spent in our offices, sitting behind the walls of glass that separate us from the cold, drismal outdoors.

But we make our way through it. After all, once the day is over it's only 4 more days until the weekend!

Continuity

As I walked my dog this morning, I looked ahead at the trees, now leafless, brown and tan against a slate blue sky. Fall was here and winter would be settling in very soon. The landscape would no longer be green and brown, but an endless blanket of white.

The trees in back were empty, too, save for a handful of birds perched on the top branches. Funny; their songs seemed less mournful, more similar to their spring songs than the type of music I would expect to hear on this cold fall day. It made me think of a conversation I had yesterday about the short days. We noted how the sun was setting earlier, but both agreed that even in this month with the shortest day of the year, one could look forward to knowing that by the end of the month, the days would be getting longer.

Perhaps this is an apt metaphor for life. Not a series of deaths and births, but a continuous changing of days; some shorter, some longer, None really worse than the other - just different.

Fear

I hate looking at my checking account statement. I try to get myself to check online on a regular basis, but so many times I have found myself overdrawn (or nearly so) that I am afraid to look.

I've tried keeping an electronic checkbook (the only way I can keep track of everything no matter where I am). But I get bogged down by those little debits ($6 for lunch, $21 for groceries). Ironic, though, because those are the same little debits that eat away at my account, making me wonder time and again where the money went.

True, there are the big items, too. In the past year, I've picked up a student loan payment, car loan payment and a monthly chiropractic bill. Additionally, I am teaching fewer courses online, so there's less coming in. And with two people here, the food and electric bills are higher.

I know I'm a big part of the problem, because I feel I need to take care of everything, and don't want anyone else to worry, so I just go on paying for everything. Fortunately my son has been pitching in some money, but I haven't had him pitch in enough to really make a dent. I'm too nice - I don't want to make waves, cause problems, etc.

Today I may just have to do that. I'm not looking forward to it (particularly seeing that he hates to part with his money as much as his father does). But, as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Yes, I know, I'm not desperate. But better do it now, before it gets too late.

Five Card: Life Goes On

I'm starting to enjoy writing these! When I don't have anything to say about the day, I think I will just add one of the five card stories I've created, just to keep writing. Here's my story for the day:

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Five Card Story: Life Goes On

a Northern Voice story created by peche1

flickr photo by dwtno

flickr photo by rwentechaney

flickr photo by D'Arcy Norman

flickr photo by dwtno

flickr photo by cogdogblog
The body bag was zipped up. Another life over, done. Outside of the family and a few friends, the funeral was sparsely attended. No one interested in the death of some old man, even someone who had served his country some 5 decades earlier. His life may have been a bright illumination to some, a swirl of colors, an impact on those who really knew him, knew what his dreams were. But that's all over. He is where he is. Life goes on.

---

Five Card Story

This is my latest, favorite tool for writing inspiration. Go to http://5card.cogdogblog.com; choose five photos then write a story based on those photos. It's great - good for getting those inspirational juices flowing! (btw - the story I wrote is at the very bottom!)

Five Card Story: Ghost Car 29

a Five Card Flickr story created by peche1

flickr photo by bionicteaching

flickr photo by Serenae

flickr photo by bionicteaching

flickr photo by Serenae

flickr photo by krutscjo
There's a ghost that haunts old race car 29. Ask the old fortune teller; she'll tell you how the driver died, left a family broke, broken-hearted and blue. You can hear him sometimes, when the building is quiet, so quiet you can't stand it. He'll whoosh down the hallway, a blue streak of nothing. Ask the old fortune teller; she knows.

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And What Would That Be Like?

My cat and dog have claimed their spaces on my bed for the day. They have found their most comfortable place on my comforter, and there they will stay, I imagine, until dinner time, when they know they will be fed.

How does that feel, to know that you can relax and not have to worry about anything, and everything will be taken care of? It feels as if it has been years since I've been able to experience that on a long term basis (as in, longer than a 3-4 day vacation).

But I know others who can go through life this way, and I wonder to myself: what would that be like? A friend from work and I were talking about someone who lived in a nice house, and didn't have to work (except for a few years when she was in her 20's). Neither of us knew what that felt like. With the exception of the short break (10 weeks) that I was allowed to take when my son was born, I've been working without a a break pretty much since my late teens. My friend said she had been doing the same. We've had to. Even in marriages, we needed to work to pay the bills.

And part of me thinks that even if I were given the chance to relax this way, I couldn't. Maybe for a few days, or a week or so, but over time I would get bored and would need to find some way to keep myself occupied.

Maybe I would. But I wouldn't mind seeing what it would be like, for once, to have someone else take care of me and pay the bills, and I could relax and not have to stay awake every night worry how it was all going to get done. Really - what would that be like?

Patience

I was waiting for my rental car. It didn't seem like such a big deal to me. The person who was taking car of my rental told me he wanted to check a few things out on the car and would be right back. So I sat and waited.

One of the other agents commented that "I'm so patient." I don't think of myself as patient, but I guess others can get impatient about things they have little control over. I've just learned to wait.

I'm beginning to realize, though, there is a fine line between being patient and being taken advantage of. I am a fairly easygoing person, and I don't mind giving. I just feel, sometimes, the fact that I will be patient and that I will give makes me a target for anyone who wants to use me. I talk about it here - about not wanting to be a doormat, but often finding that I am.

Where is the line that defines this? How will I know when to stay quiet and when to speak up?

Where Should One Wear One's Heart?

I belong to a well known social media site. It never ceases to amaze me all the personal facts people willingly post about themselves and their lives on this site.

More than a few times (in fact, at least a couple times a month), someone (generally somebody younger) posts about a break up - a relationship over, a heartache begun. I know this is their way to reach out, to (hopefully) have others reach out to them. The maternal side of me feels their loss, their heartfelt pain.

The older, cynical part of me, however, wonders why they have announced this very personal fact for all the world (or at least their circle of friends, which is, in essence, their world) to see. I can't remember the last time I was able to wear my heart out on my sleeve like that, and I am (or have been in the not so distant past) a fairly trusting person.

I guess the repeated hurt of break ups brings about this cynicism, this lack of trust. Even in my new relationship, I tend to keep my heart hidden just a bit. I wonder which is better and which is worse?

Dreams and Reality

Interesting dream last night, and I think I can connect it pretty well to what is going on in my life (or, at least, in my head!). In the dream,  I was at an improvisation camp (hmmm...camp where things are improvised? Sounds like my recent unconference!) We were given ideas for scenes, but when I looked around, no one else was jumping in to act, so I did first. My scenes weren't great - not even that funny - and many of the group noted that. But I told them that no one else was doing anything, and, anyway, isn't the point of improvisation to just, well, improvise?

I remember that I even made the connect to writing; that one generally wrote down then threw away a number of bad, or not-so-great attempts before having something good (maybe this was telling me to write more?) Anyway, the atmosphere was still upbeat and pleasant; people laughed and agreed with me. It definitely was not a negative experience.

And then, at the end of the dream, we were standing around in a dining room, where the waitstaff was setting up places. I noticed one table set up just for one person, apart from all the rest, and wondered if that was for me. I asked someone in charge where I would be sitting, and I remember them distinctly saying that "they were going to put me with this group (pointing to a table), but Pat (perhaps my former boss?) wanted me to work with this group (pointing to another table)." Neither was the single table, and the feeling that I had from the conversation was that "Pat" was putting me somewhere where I could lend my expertise.

Then I woke up. I really think the dream was significant for me - to accept the fact that change comes with practice, trial and error. And that I am more confident that I realized.

Learning for Learning's Sake

By Lin Kristensen from New Jersey, USA (Books of the Past) 

I attended a conference this past weekend; a conference that effectively combined my two areas of work: technology and humanities. The first day was exciting and terrifying all at once. These people were so intelligent and were using technology in such advanced ways. Additionally, they had spent years in the field of humanities; all the theories and concepts they talked about that I was just trying to get a handle on came as second nature to them.

I felt I was in over my head, and contemplated returning home that night. But I didn't. I will say that night I was up most of the night, thinking about everything that had happened that day. I was upset, and part of me felt the participants, many of whom came from private colleges, surrounded themselves with this sense of elitism that seems to pervade that type of college setting. Them against me - how dare they be so damn intelligent!

But something today made me stop and think. I had been immersed in a more practical school environment, where the focus was on skills rather than just learning. I used to appreciate learning for learning's sake - just taking courses to learn about literature, for example. Now I had grown to feel that each dollar spent on education must serve a practical purpose, or else, why spend the money?

The economy may have driven me to this point (as well as the fact that one of my employers is a for-profit university, where the focus is on how to use your college courses to make money and survive.) But stepping back and looking at the whole picture, I realized that learning something - not just for work, but for mental stimulation- was not a bad thing, just as reading a book for enjoyment (something else I have done less and less as I have grown older) is not so bad, either.

Lots to think about. Now, how do I incorporate this into my daily life?

And More...