Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

Hello friends. Recently, I decided it's time for a change. At least a change in my blogging life. My blog has never really had much of a focus. Hence the "Rena's Random Ramblings" title. I have so much randomness in my brain, I thought I could translate it into a blog. However, it's difficult to keep up with how random my brain is, and often I would be so excited about something I was going to write that I would completely forget to do it. What? That makes perfect sense.

So, I am moving. My blog, that is. My new focus is going to be on those everyday things in life that you just have to laugh at. The absurdities of life. The things we do that are so silly when you think about it, and you really just have to laugh. Even those things about which, if you don't laugh, you might cry. I have already exported all my old entries from this blog to the new address. There are no new entries yet, but hopefully soon.

It's not really a complete change. It's still me, and I will sometimes still be random, and there will definitely be times when I ramble. I just want the new address/title to represent more of my view on life. So, the new address is...

spendlifelaughing.blogspot.com

Click, follow, and let's share some laughter!

Furious

I am not a violent person. I don't believe in the death penalty. I don't think violence solves anything. However. Today, I think that all monsters who think that hitting an innocent child is acceptable should be drawn and quartered. Twice.

And maybe I could watch.

My brain is full

Sometimes you read something, and it causes a sort of paradigm shift in your brain. An avalanche of sorts, wherein your comfortable life is suddenly thrown into chaos, where the way you are used to thinking and acting is suddenly in question. It seems silly, I suppose, to those who have never had such an experience. How could one book/story/article have such an impact? How could something so small be so significant? Now, to those who are not fans of reading, I will warn you, you may not enjoy what follows. I have no idea how lengthy my thoughts may become, and I begin writing this knowing full well that I may lose every last one of you by the end. After all, we are all far too busy to take time to read such ramblings and rubbish. There are far too many other important things to be doing. But I begin writing anyway, with this paragraph as my disclaimer, because I feel the thoughts bouncing about in my brain are too important not to piece together in some way. This may be the epitome of the title of this blog, full of random ramblings, or it may become the least random and, in my wildest dreams, most thought-provoking entry of all.

This morning, I woke up without the help of an alarm clock, because I forgot to set it last night before collapsing into bed. It was too late to get to church, too early to get up and be productive, so I burrowed under my covers with a book bought in a moment of childhood nostalgia. A book I had read when I was younger, and apparently loved, though I had since forgotten many of the details. Rereading it, I wonder how much the girl I was really understood of what she was reading. The ramifications of such a book, written so long again, yet so salient in today’s culture. I read it straight through, along with the notes from and interview with the author, and then just sat, thinking, rolling everything around in my head, trying to make sense of my own thoughts. I have since made it to the living room, but I dare not turn on the TV for fear that the spell will be broken.

The book was Fahrenheit 451, written by Ray Bradbury.

If you have not read this book, I strongly suggest you do so. It was written 50 years ago, so it may not flow in the same way as books of today might, but it is only just over 150 pages, fairly short for a novel, and has plenty of breaks and stopping places, though once the action starts it is difficult to put down. This entry will be a major spoiler, but hopefully will add to the desire to read the book instead of detracting from it. In fact, I plan to put many quotes in that I found fascinating, though I will surely miss many of them, since I, unlike my dad, do not read with a highlighter and sticky tabs next to me. For this book, I wish I had. But I’m getting ahead of myself. For those who have not read it, I will start with a general synopsis and a snapshot of the world of Fahrenheit 451.

The book is set in the future, though exactly when is never revealed, which I think lends to an underlying message of the book: it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. In this future world, cars travel at speeds hovering around or exceeding 100 mph, even in the city. Billboards have been stretched to be readable at such speeds. Houses are equipped with television walls, with which viewers can interact and become part of the fictional world. Gone are front porches, where people might sit and talk and discuss ideas, or sit and get lost in their own thoughts. Houses have been made completely fireproof. And reading has become an offense punishable at the very least by jail time. Firemen are now in the business of setting fires, rather than putting them out. Friends and neighbors become spies and report any suspicious behavior. Murder and death have become almost negligible aspects of society, with no time spent on remembering or mourning. Bodies are incinerated immediately, their memories gone as quickly as the smoke from the fires where they are turned to ash. Marriages are simply a matter of convenience rather than connection, two strangers living in the same house, going about their separate lives with little interaction, and if a divorce or a death occurs, they simply move on to the next placeholder.

The main character of the story is a Fireman named Guy Montag. He is about 30 years old and has been a Fireman for over 10 years. At the beginning of the story, it seems he has never questioned his vocation, but quickly the reader realizes that he has never been quite happy, though he may not even realize it. He has simply always done what was expected, and never questioned, because to question is to arouse suspicion, to stand out from the crowd as an “odd duck.” Coming home from work one day, Montag meets a neighbor, a 16 (almost 17) year old girl named Clarisse, and she turns his world upside down. She is the proverbial straw the breaks the camel’s back, and all of Montag’s hidden feelings, desires, thoughts break free from the dam of propriety he and society have so carefully constructed. Though Clarisse exists in the book for just a few short pages and conversations, the impact she has on Montag shapes the rest of the story. Montag starts to realize he is not happy, and begins to see the things that society does not wish people to notice. The sense of disconnection in an overly connected world begins to grate on him, and he becomes angry when his attempt to breach that disconnection with his wife is a miserable failure.

Through foreshadowing, the reader realized that there is more to Montag than was originally presented, and we find out that he has his own stash of hidden books, though he has been too wary to actually read them. An attempt to bring his wife into his confidence ends in her betrayal, and Montag’s flight into the unknown. He picks up another confidante along the way, a retired English professor by the name of Faber, and in Faber Montag finds that slight hope that he is not alone, and that there might be others of similar thought, though many, like Faber, are too frightened to do much about it, with good reason.

That will do for a summary, I think. After all, I can’t give it all away! The part of the book where I really started to feel the shift was when the Fire Captain, a man named Beatty, visits Montag at his house when he is staying home “sick.” He gives a lecture that explains somewhat how books came to be banned. Some of the highlights are below. I apologize in advance for the length of the quotes, but it is important to read them to try to understand.

“Picture it. Nineteenth-century man with his horses, dogs, carts, slow motion. Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests. Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending… Then, in midair, all vanishes! Whirl a man’s mind round about so fast, under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary time-wasting thought!”

“School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped. English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts… The zipper displaces the button and a man lacks just that much time to think while dressing at dawn, a philosophical hour, and thus a melancholy hour.”

“More sports for everyone, group spirit, fun, and you don’t have to think, eh? Organize and organize and superorganize super-super sports. More cartoons in books. More pictures. The mind drinks less and less. Impatience. Highways full of crowds going somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, nowhere.”

“ The bigger your market, Montag, the less you handle controversy, remember that! All the minor minor minorities with their navels to be kept clean. Authors, full of evil thoughts, lock up your typewriters. They did. Magazines become a nice blend of vanilla tapioca.”

“It didn’t come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time, you are allowed to read comics, the good old confessions, or trade journals.”

“… the word ‘intellectual,’ of course, became the swear word it deserved to be. You always dread the unfamiliar. Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally ‘bright,’ did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn’t it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike.”

“A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man’s mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man?”

“If you don’t want a man unhappy politically, don’t give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. .. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of ‘facts’ they feel stuffed, but absolutely ‘brilliant’ with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy, because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy… So bring on your clubs and parties, your acrobats and magicians, your daredevils, jet cars, motorcycle helicopters, your sex and heroin, more of everything to do with automatic reflex. If the drama is bad, if the film says nothing, if the play is hollow, stick me with the theremin, loudly. I’ll think I’m responding to the play, when it’s only a tactile reaction to vibration. But I don’t care. I just like solid entertainment.” {emphasis mine}

(Fahrenheit 451, The 50^th Anniversary Edition, Ray Bradbury, 1953, Ballantine Books, New York)

I know, I know. That’s a lot to trudge through. Believe it or not, I cut what I wanted to share. In short, the idea is that by the time books were actually banned, the majority of people barely noticed because there were so many other things to capture their attention. They had already, bit by bit, begun to turn their backs on the written word, so it was a natural progression to simply do away with books, especially those that might upset people, or step on toes. It was decided that people would be happier if they were just told what to think, rather than deciding for themselves.

How much of this is reflected in society today? It seems like everything needs to be maximized to keep our attention. There’s a new commercial out now for a car, and most of the commercial shows people in every public arena saying, “Bigger, bigger, BIGGER” over and over, until someone realizes that less is more, and a smaller car might be the way to go. It seems like everything needs to be more colorful, more outrageous, louder, more extreme than ever to try to fulfill us. We need to dance faster, laugh louder, play harder, and be busier than ever before. The country spends billions on violence and entertainment, which feed each other in equal turns, while children become more and more illiterate. Recent SAT scores are at an all-time low for the reading portion. And yet, we dance on, ignoring the glaring inconsistencies in what we deem important. The most important thing has become entertainment, yet even with the technology available to us, we are harder and harder to please.

If I may take a sidestep to branch off this topic, which of course I can, because it is my blog, I attended movies the past two weekends, and things stood out each time. Last weekend, I took my nieces, age 6 and (almost) 4 to see The Lion King. The Lion King originally came out in 1994, when I was 10 years old. At the time, it was spectacular, and I watched it numerous times, until I had most of the lines memorized. What was interesting about watching it with my nieces was that they were almost bored halfway through. Allie leaned over halfway through and asked if it was almost over. Now, these girls can sit in front of the TV for hours if they are allowed, but cartoons and movies these days, just seventeen years after the original release of The Lion King, have become so full of bright colors and action that anything more tame is simply unacceptable and boring.

It’s no wonder so many kids are diagnosed with ADHD.

This weekend, I went with a friend to see the movie Drive. The first part of the movie was intriguing. The main character didn’t say much, but sent messages through facial expressions and body language. I was actually quite impressed with Ryan Gosling's ability to convey so much visually. And then, halfway through, someone’s head exploded. Literally. And the movie spiraled into sequence after sequence of bloody gratuitous violence. I kept my hands in front of my face to block out the images that were splashed across the screen without warning, that I had no desire to see and have stamped into my memory. As the final credits rolled, all I could do was turn to my friend and say, “What the hell?” All the build up in the characters from the beginning of the movie was lost, even the storyline became shaky, though I gathered we were supposed to be cheering for The Driver, as he was called throughout the film, even as he stomped a man’s skull to mush.

Now how can I be writing about the dangers of censorship and talking about the unnecessary violence in a movie in the same entry? Really, just to illustrate my point that it takes so much more to get a reaction out of people anymore. There is no emotional connection to the characters in this violent movie, and every scene is followed by nervous laughter, a tension breaker, a reminder that it’s not real, just a clever trick of special effects and makeup. How did we get so desensitized to violence? How is it that we hear about murders, real murders, daily, and have but a fleeting twinge of remorse for a life lost, if that?

Clearly the message of my writing and of Ray Bradbury’s “Farenheit 451” is not just about books. It’s about society. It’s a warning to not let yourself be drawn in and convinced that you don’t need to think for yourself. Don’t become complacent. Try to slow down. Spend some time just sitting. Take a day with no electronics. Do away with Facebook for a weekend. Disconnect from technology and reconnect with real people. Spend time listening and learning, instead of filling silences with empty words and meaningless gossip.

If you’ve made it this far, bravo. I have more to say, but it will keep for a few days. I would love to hear about times when a book/movie/song has touched/rattled you the way “Fahrenheit 451” rattled me. As always, I encourage you to read read read. But at the very least, think. :)

A letter to my friends

Dear Blog Readers,
How are you? I am fine. I know I do not update much, but I think of you lots. Sometimes I think about writing an entry, and then I see something shiny and I forget. I would say I am too busy, but that would be a lie, because I am not busy at all most evenings. In fact, I have lots and lots of time, I'm just very lazy. I remember how I used to write letters like this when I was little. "How are you? I am fine." Those were the days.

I have had a very fun weekend. I got to eat at Olive Garden last night with some friends, and then we saw the movie "Drive." The movie was very bad. I will never trust critics again. They love movies I hate, and hate movies I love. Maybe I will go see the Taylor Lautner movie tomorrow, because the critics really hated that one. It could be my new favorite movie. Today I woke up very early and that made me sad. Also, I woke up with a chip of one of my caps on my teeth floating around my mouth, which was very weird, and now I have a rough edge on the tooth that keeps cutting my tongue, but I can't stop feeling it with my tongue. Like when you have a bruise and you just have to push on it every once in a while to see if it still hurts. My tongue will be shredded by the time I call the dentist. It's a major bummer because I just went to the dentist on Thursday. Oh well. They like me there anyway. My nieces came over this morning and we watched TV while my sister and her husband went house hunting. I also got to see Maddy play soccer, which is fun because some of the kids are very into the game, and others prefer to practice ballet or do the splits out on the field. Quite entertaining. Maddy's team scored about 30 goals, and the other team didn't score any, which was kind of sad for the other team. It was a beautiful day for a game though. And tonight I went and saw Daphne Willis in concert, which was also fun.

It is fall now, which is my favorite season. I like to crunch the leaves. And the changing colors are awesome. And pretty. And beautiful. And amazing. If I ever get married, it will be in the fall.

Well, dear friends, this is quite long enough, and I have to go paint my nails and go to bed. I think tomorrow I will write some real cards to people and try to write more in my novel. Maybe you will all read it someday. Write back soon. Lots of love. Best Friends Forever. Call me.

LOVE, RENA

We all have our reasons

The picture above was taken in the staff bathroom at my school. Weird, maybe, but there are often questions written for people to answer, which is sometimes the most interaction we get to have throughout the day sans kiddos. This one struck me, because it brings to light all the different reasons people do what they do.

Teaching is similar to social services in that no one goes into it for the money. Whether it was a revered teacher or a family tradition, a surprise passion or planned from childhood, everyone has their own story. Working with people at all can be difficult, and working with kids can be especially trying, for a variety of reasons.

What I also like about the responses is that it shows the variety of people who choose the same career. From the serious responses to the fallback plan after failing as the fifth Beatle, people's personalities come out when asked questions like this. It's interesting walking around the school and hearing just bits of the teaching going on in each classroom. I might walk past a class where all the kids are sitting still as the teacher commands their attention with a firm voice, or a class where the kids are all hopping around the room like frogs. I hear laughter as kids walk in wobbly lines through the hallways, always accompanied by the "shhhh" sounds from other kids and adults.

I feel like a celebrity walking through the halls of my school. My clients go out of their way to give me hugs, or wave wildly from across the library. Sometimes they just give a small wave, not to be too uncool in front of their friends. There is always the question, "When are you coming to get me?" which I try to answer diplomatically as I pass. Many times even kids I have never met will run up to me and say, "Hi, Rena!" and grin as I return the greeting. When I sit in my office, it is not unusual for kids to run in and draw something on my chalkboard, or just run in and stand in front of me, smiling a little smile and waiting for me to say something brilliant. Sometimes they ask why I have so many toys, to which I always reply, "For me to play with." They tell me that I'm an adult and can't play with toys, and we argue back and forth.

Kids are unpredictable. They're hilarious. They are my passion, and as hard as it can be sometimes to work with them, there is nothing else I could see myself doing. What is your passion? How did you choose your path?

Generations

I have always been somewhat of a history nerd. I find it fascinating to learn about how people used to live, how they did everyday things, what would have been the norm for them. It's no wonder, then, that I find even the differences in the generations surrounding me to be interesting. For example, I never owned a cell phone until college, and now elementary schoolers have nicer phones than I do. I got my first CD in middle school. Now my 3 year old niece has her own iPod Touch. I realize that these are not just generational, but cultural norms. But I have already turned into that old lady that says to kids, "Why, when I was your age, I had to go sit on the basement stairs to talk on the phone because that's all the further the cord would reach!"

In recent conversations with my mom, I have discovered that in some cases I am even more of a crochety old lady than she is! Not that my mom is a crochety old lady. Not in the least. Of course I didn't mean it that way. (Hi, Mom!) Here are just some of the ways that we differ in opposite ways than you would expect.

BOOK VS KINDLE
I inherited my love of reading from both my parents, but my mom and I share a similar taste in reading materials. For her birthday last year, we all pitched in and got my mom a Kindle. Since then, my mom and I have had many debates over which is better: a real book or a book on Kindle. I totally understand that a Kindle is lighter than most books, and you can put hundreds of books on a Kindle, so they're all right there. Easier to carry around, easier to hold in many cases. Definitely quick and easy access to books. But for me...I love the smell of books. I love buying new books that have that "new book smell," and I love going to the library and smelling the old books. (Shut up, it's not weird.) I like to be able to hold a book in my hands, turn the pages, know at a glance how far into the book I am. I love the ink stains on my fingers after spending hours immersed in a book. I will confess that I'm a flipper...I like to sneak a peek at the end of the book, just to see what names are still around...and I'm not ashamed. :) I like marking my place with momentos that I use until I lose them. (Currently, a musician's business card) Even though I'm all for instant gratification, there's something fun about the anticipation of waiting for a book to arrive from Amazon. Clearly, I am a big dork, and it's possible that if I had a Kindle I might be swayed, but I don't know...

PHONE CALLS VS TEXTING
I worked with teenagers for two years, and one of the common complaints from parents was that their teenagers wouldn't pick up the phone and call, but resorted to text responses. It also seems like it's parents who tend to feel slighted when their kids don't call them. Not so with my parents. They are busy little beavers, and I'm pretty sure, much as they love me, they probably wouldn't call me unless they hadn't heard from me at all in over a week. Several times I have called my mom to chat, only to receive a text in response, asking what I need. I have joked with my mom about this, so she made an effort to call me to tell me I got her hooked on a new book series I forced her to read (REAL books, mind you). Again, total role reversal, as I would talk to my mom several times a week if it was my choice.

MARRIAGE
Okay, so this isn't a versus topic, and my mom and I actually don't disagree on this one. Much as other mothers might needle their 27 year old daughters about being married, my mom could care less. That sounds mean, but it's true. Not that she doesn't want me to get married. She wants whatever will make me happiest. Now, my niece Madelyn, on the other hand, plays the part of the interfering mother quite well. Almost every time I see her these days she comments on my marital status, and makes suggestions about how I should go about 'fixing' the fact that I am single. She's even got the passive aggressive guilt tripping down: "I'll just live with Auntie Rena when I'm in high school...she probably won't be married by then anyway." Yeah. Hilarious. Mostly ;)

In conclusion (this is how you end essays), the way generations look at things can be extremely different, but clearly there are abberrations, as is the case with my mother and me. (Yes, I called us abberrations.) But my mom is my best friend, and anyone who knows me knows that you have to be somewhat bizarre to be my friend, even if you're my mother. Yes. Crap, I have no good way to end this.

Oh! The other half of my brain and I started a blog together. It has exactly one entry. But there will be more. Hopefully. We need topics, so if you read this, check it out and leave a topic or question for us to ramble about. (Unless, of course, weird and random doesn't 'do it' for you, in which case, disregard this paragraph.)

Like the Tin Man. You know, from The Wizard of Oz?

I have been practicing therapy in some capacity for almost five years now. First in grad school, then as a Functional Family Therapist, and now as a school-based therapist. In the grand scheme of things, that's not very long. In many ways, I still feel very ill equipped to deal with some of the things that are brought into my office, and I know that I have much to learn as I continue on in my career. (That's why they call it practice, eh?) The thing with therapy is that you can never be fully prepared for things clients might bring to you. Each case is different. No two kids/families are alike. Even within the same families, there are different perspectives and dynamics. One of the reasons my job never gets boring. There's always something new coming up, a new challenge to conquer.

I have to wonder though, if I have come to see clients more as challenges than as people. I feel in some ways as if I have been jaded in my short time dealing with the problems of others. I went into this field because I feel for people, because I wanted to be able to help them through difficult times, help them to find ways to cope and to see things in a new and more hopeful light. To be able to improve their world even in just a small way, and thereby help improve the worlds of others as well. The ripple effect and all that. But again, I wonder, have the past few years built up a wall? Have I become someone heartless in all my magic therapist wand waving? Has the challenge of solving everyone's problems started to dehumanize the people with whom I work?

This isn't a new question. I have often had people ask me if it's ever hard to hear the things I hear. I have to be honest with them when I say, no, typically I can distance myself. Uncomfortable, sometimes, yes, but it doesn't do the client any good if I go to pieces when they're telling me their story. The other day, though, I went to talk to one of the teachers about a student who will be starting in her class. I wanted to let her know about some very traumatic things that have happened recently and are still happening, so that she would be prepared to deal with a kid who has the potential to act out when things are tough at home, but who is such a sweet kid otherwise. As I was talking, the teacher dropped to her seat, hand on her heart, and listened with tears in her eyes. She was truly feeling all this trauma that I was explaining to her, and it brought me up short. I don't remember when the last time was I truly let myself feel like that for one of my clients. So what does that mean?

This is where I have always been torn. I care about my clients. A lot. I will fight for them with parents, teachers, other therapists, whoever, to do what is best for them. But I can't honestly say I spend a lot of time thinking about them outside of work. They cross my mind, as surely as any other coworkers or acquaintances with whom I come into contact regularly. But they rarely even enter my dreams. Sometimes that has made me feel uncaring and, yes, heartless. I have talked to other therapists who care so deeply for their clients that they dream about them constantly. But would that be helpful, for me, or for them? I don't think so. I have had to build that boundary, that wall, to keep out the emotions that could drag me down and prevent me from doing my job, which is to help clients and families work through their trauma. How can I help them if I am feeling traumatized myself?

I worry, though, that this is leaking into my personal life as well. How do you separate how you operate in your career from how you operate the rest of the time? They are bound to overlap. I don't have the answer. I just pray that I am not becoming as heartless as I sometimes feel.

Back in the day

When I was younger, I always hated it when adults would talk about how fast time was going. For me, it was going sooo slooowww!!! A week seemed like an eternity, especially if I was looking forward to something. However, I have now become one of those old lady types who constantly comments on how fast time is moving. I am shocked when I realize that my youngest niece will be three next week, or that my oldest niece will be in first grade already. My nephew starts kindergarten, and little Allie will be attending preschool. What?? When did this happen? I'm not even their parent and I'm amazed at how quickly they have grown.

This past weekend I spent some time with my extended family at our (sometimes) annual reunion. The first part of the weekend was spent at the Presbyterian Camp on Okoboji. I worked at that camp during the summer of 2003, and it was one of the best and worst summers of my life. I loved working at camp. It was a ton of work, but it rarely seemed overwhelming. Of course, that was eight years ago, so who knows how accurate my memory is.

Wait.

EIGHT years ago???

See how quickly time goes? It's always fun to get together with my mom's side of the family. We have gotten together almost yearly for as long as I can remember. Of course, as we have gotten older, not everyone is able to make it. This time, eight of the ten cousins were able to come, which was nice. After Okoboji, we headed up to Windom, MN, where my grandparents live, and where I was born. The first day we were there, we started pulling out old pictures. Pictures of when our parents were younger, before we were even on their minds. And pictures of each of us as we came into the world and into our crazy family.

So much has changed since many of those pictures were taken. I remember long summer days at my grandparents' cabin on Fish Lake outside of Windom. I would be in the water as early as possible, and stay in until I was threatened to be left, only taking breaks for lunch and cookies. I loved the lake. There were two metal flights of steps down to the dock, and if you were especially tough, you would do it without shoes on. Some of us would run and jump into the freezing water all at once, while others might take an hour to fully submerge, preferring to acclimate a little at a time. Hours were spent having underwater tea parties and doing underwater acrobatics. We would make special trips to Pamida to buy floaties and noodles, and then wait expectantly for one of the few boats on the lake to whiz past and create perfect waves for floating. When we were younger, my younger cousins and I were not allowed past the end of the dock without an adult present, and we would grumble as we watched the older cousins trek out to the middle of the lake to find the dropoff, or just float where no trees could create a cold shadowy area on the water. As we got older, we would make the trek ourselves, toting large rocks that would pull us down down down, our goal being to touch the bottom of the lake and bring back a handful of sand as proof of our accomplishment. We rarely achieved the goal. This weekend we were discussing the fact that our parents couldn't possibly have known what we were up to, or they would have put it to an immediate stop. My grandparents sold the cabin years ago, but the time spent there is one of my happiest memories.

Back in town, when we were little, we would spend hours in the basement at my grandparents' "house on the hill." We would have ping pong tournaments or play on the piano. The best thing to do was raid the old clothes in the laundry room. Prom dresses and other clothing that had been kept for one reason or another became our costumes for the plays we would write and act out every summer. We found pictures of a group of us dressed up in such costumes, and as soon as I get it scanned, I'll post it, because it's too great not to share. As we got older, my younger cousins and I would spy on the older cousins as they met up with other teenagers around Windom. I remember being extremely jealous when my brother and another cousin would take the youngest girls to McDonald's to pick up girls. I wasn't cute enough to be bait. My grandparents sold their house and moved into a condo more their size several years back. There's not nearly as much room for kids to run and play, but since everyone is only around once a year, it hardly made sense for them to keep such a large house. I don't even drive past the old house on the hill anymore. It's changed almost beyond what I can recognize.

There are so many memories I would like to write down, to share with others and to keep for my own. Memories of walking to the Pine Inn while it was still open and getting ice cream. My grandparents were part owners of the Pine Inn back in the day. Now there is only a dealership where the rustic old restaurant used to stand. Memories of walks to the park and downtown shopping. Windom's downtown has gone the way of so many small town downtowns. I don't even make it there when we are visiting anymore.

There have been so many changes just in my lifetime, and I can't imagine how it must be for my parents and aunts and uncles who grew up in a completely different Windom. One thing that is always constant, while still changing, is my family. They are the type of people who I can barely say boo to for an entire year, and pick up again right where we left off. People I am never uncomfortable around. These people have seen me through my awkward stages, including the current one, and (mostly) love me anyway. I love my family. They drive me crazy sometimes, but I love them all the same. I'm already looking forward to next year's reunion, where we will celebrate my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary! The amazing couple that started it all :)

The truth...

I suck at blogging.

I slay me

So today I checked my hotmail account, which I rarely use, and found that I had a comment on my livejournal blog, which I haven't used in...ohhh...five years or so. I clicked on the link and was plunged into nostalgia. Right smack in the middle of my senior year of college. I spent far too many hours reading through those entries, and then suddenly they ended. My 23 year old self decided to post exclusively on myspace! So I followed the trail to myspace, and was skimming through my entries, trying to find my place, when I found this beauty of an entry. Some things will never change...

You'll never guess what happened!

The craziest thing happened tonight. I was in my apartment and I had just finished talking to my grandparents. I like them a lot, they are fun talk to, and I learned a lot. I learn a lot at school too, although sometimes not as much as I should. It's cuz I play on the computer, and I love it, but it distracts me. Like bubbles. Bubbles are fun and remind me of sparkly things. My ring is sparkly. Sometimes I stare at it for hours on end. Then I realize I was supposed to be doing something else...

Oh yeah! So anyway, after I hung up, I decided to check the mail. I love snail mail, even though I don't get much. I don't really love snails though. They are slimy. One time I found a snail shell on a gravel road. That was when I lived in the country and I would ride my bike down to some mulberry bushes. I loved those mulberries. I would eat a lot of them and my whole face and all my fingers would be purple. That would have been better if purple was my favorite color. I don't remember what my favorite color was, but now it's red. I'm wearing red pants. They're comfy. I love comfy pants. I have to wear dress pants a lot of the time now and they're not so comfy. But that's part of the job, I suppose. Jobs are hard. And annoying. Cuz sometimes I just wanna lay around and do nothing. But I can't. Cuz I work. But I don't whistle while I work. Kids and clients would find it annoying. Actually sometimes I whistle for the kids and they try but they can't do it and if we have crackers for snack they spew crumbs all over. I don't like the word spew...

So I got Jill's mail and was headed back to my apartment when I saw that the door to an empty apartment was open. It was dark inside. I don't like the dark. Or open doors when it's dark. Nothing good can come from a dark open door. In scary movies there are always dark rooms and the people always go in and that's where the bad guys are always hiding. Bad guys are not funny. Well sometimes they are, but not in real life. But real life sucks sometimes. I would rather live in the not real world. But not really cuz then it wouldn't be real. You know what I mean, right?

So I ventured into the apartment cuz I was wondering why the door was open. It was cold in there. Cold is no fun. I am not happy that it's winter. Christmas is the only good thing about winter. I love Christmas. We have a Christmas tree. Trees are nice. They give us air. Air is nice, it keeps us alive. Being alive is nice because you get to eat chocolate. I really like chocolate. I went through a phase once when I always craved chocolate cake. I also went through a phase when I did my hair differently every day. I like my hair. It is growing long. I used to have long hair when I was little, and it was cuter then cuz it was thinner, not big and bushy. Bushes are nice, but they can hurt if you try to play in them.

I turned on the light and have you ever wondered how electricity works? I mean, wow, those people are SMART. Like computers, or any technology. I can't believe what they've come up with. I doubt I will ever come close to being that smart. My sister is smart. She is probably a genius. Maddy will be a genius too. She talks a lot. The other day she was calling her doll Auntie Rena and feeding her rice crispies. I like rice crispies, but I don't eat them very often. I prefer honey nut cheerios because they don't get soggy as fast. Soggy stuff is gross. It reminds me of the word moist, which I really don't like. Ya know the grossest sentence ever? The gynecologist had a moist uvula. Yeah it just sounds dirty, but it's not at all. Actually that would be quite healthy, cuz a dry throat is no fun, and you would assume if the uvula was not moist the rest of the throat wouldn't be either. One time I had my tonsils out. They used to be big enough so that I could touch them together. They were right by the uvula.

Anyway, I saw...oh crap, I need to get to bed! Goodnight!

The anatomy of a surprise

I love surprises. I love the planning and the sneakiness and especially the reactions of people when you pull it off. Just a couple months ago my friend Angie and I surprised our friend Kristen with Angie herself. They hadn't seen each other for almost a year and a half. I thought Kristen's jaw was going to fall off her face. It was awesome.

A couple weeks ago, my brother in law, Martin, texted me to ask if I could watch my nieces on Mother's Day so he could take my sister out. Unfortunately, I had plans already, so I suggested a Saturday overnight instead. Martin quickly made the reservations, probably so I couldn't change my mind ;) Then came the waiting. This is the planting seeds phase. I watched the girls for the day last weekend, and was joking about how it wouldn't happen again until next year. When Emily inquired about my weekend plans, I told her it was cleaning day, but I might need to come to laundry. She had no clue. None. I got up this morning and did not clean. Whoops. I texted Emily to see when they were going to be home so I could do laundry. A couple minutes later I received a text from Martin that read, "She suspects nothing." We're like surprise ninjas. I arrived home before the family did and Emily stood outside as I took my laundry inside. "Whoops, I forgot something in my car," I said, and got my duffel from the car. Emily suspected nothing. Martin and I looked at each other and shrugged. I made a show of turning around and locking my car, duffel in full view. "Man, it's so nice. I just want to stay out," Emily commented. "Well then let's go out," Martin said. Blank stare from Emily. This is about when I started laughing. Emily finally caught on. "You guys are both dorks," is about the extent of the comments we received. Could have been much worse :P All in all, pretty fun.

I love watching my nieces. They are so funny. We have the best conversations. Allie never wastes an opportunity to let me know that she's three and a half. Maddy usually follows with the assertion that she is six and a quarter. Just to be sure I don't forget. Allie wants to be a princess, so Maddy decides to be queen. Maddy is the quintessential older sister, always telling Allie what she's doing wrong. It reminds me of my days as the little sister. Emily always got to be in charge. She would force my friends and me to play school with her and give us extra worksheets she got from her teacher. She would send us out for "recess," fill in the worksheets with the incorrect answers, and then mark them all wrong with her red pen. But that's a sidenote. Allie doesn't take Maddy's crap. She marches to the beat of her own drummer. It is funny how the two of them seem to be patterned after Emily and me. I guess there is something to that birth order stuff.

I took the girls to see the movie Rio tonight. As we were leaving, the sky was beautiful. The sun was setting in the distance, which I pointed out to the girls. "Can we drive there?" Allie asked sweetly. "No, Allie, it's too late to drive anywhere!" corrects Maddy. "Can we drive there in the morning?" Allie wanted to know. "No sweetie, we can't drive to the sun." (Words I never thought I'd say.) "It's way out in outer space." Allie took a few minutes to think about that. "I think I'll be an astronaut when I grow up!" she declared. (How a three year old [excuse me, a three and a half year old] can put that together is pretty impressive!) Maddy was alarmed. "No, Allie!" (she says this a lot) "You can't be an astronaut! If you're an astronaut you have to stay in space for a year!"

The conversation went on, including a gentle reminder from Auntie Rena to Maddy that her sister has time to decide what she wants to be an it's okay for her to dream. These are the sorts of conversations we have frequently. "Look what I can do!" is said so often I can barely turn my head quick enough to watch both of them. They are always trying to marry me off one way or another, whether by offering to come with to search for a husband, counting money out to try to buy me a man, or attempting to get me engaged to the furniture, there's always a new plot with them. In fact, they are always plotting. Lil scamps.

So it's a double-win weekend. I love surprises and I love my nieces. I get to live vicariously through my sister being swept away for the night, and I get to pretend to be a mom for a little while. On Mother's Day, no less! My life is pretty much great :)

Let's get traditional

Yesterday, while running to Hy-Vee for a few basic grocery staples, I was sucked in by the half price Easter candy. Now, I'm not a big candy person, but there are a few things I have a hard time turning down. Pretty much anything foil wrapped is my weakness. Chocolate eggs...Reese's peanut butter cups...yum! So I carefully picked through the mountains of chocolate, selected a few favorites, and skipped merrily on my way.

While consuming just a couple (handfuls) of the brightly foiled chocolates, I began to make a foil ball from the wrappers. It is second nature to do so, and I got to wondering how on earth such a habit had begun.

When I was a kid, we never had Easter egg hunts. Well, I shouldn't say never. I don't remember having them. Mostly because we had pets, and pets get into things. My dog Maggie would have LOVED to get a chance to have some of those treats! Instead, we just had Easter baskets in which candy-filled eggs would magically appear. I was never a fan of jelly beans (Starburst being the exception!), so I concentrated on the chocolates. I'm not sure who started it, but my brother and sister and I would have competitions to see who could make the largest ball of foil. I think we were inspired to PeeWee Herman, who had a giant foil ball (AND a giant rubber band ball). I always thought if I saved my ball of foil for years, maybe I could get one as big as PeeWee's. Of course, if anyone has seen me try to keep track of something for a year...well...it was pretty much a big fail. But I started over with good intentions every year.

We have had some other holiday traditions, but the best was Christmas. Since we first lived in New York, which was 24 hours away from family, and then my dad became a pastor, which made it impossible to travel on Christmas, we created our own little family traditions. We always opened one gift on Christmas Eve, and the rest Christmas morning. We went in order of age with opening presents, and had to watch each other. This was especially difficult when it was my sister's turn, as it seemed that to rip the paper would result in a Christmas disaster, so she carefully peeled back every bit of tape until she freed each gift.

Now, the absolute BEST part about our Christmas when I was a kid was our practice drills. That's right. Practice drills to check our stockings. See, the rule was that we weren't allowed to go downstairs until 1am to look in our stockings. I guess that's because Santa was scheduled in the window between bedtime and 1am. My brother would run drills with us weeks in advance. My sister and I would pretend to sleep, and he would come in and wake us up, and we would sneak down the stairs, picking out the least creaky parts (the outside edges), and making sure we could get past my parents' bedroom door. I remember feeling so proud when Ben would turn around and tell me he didn't even realize I was behind him I was being so quiet. Good times. It wasn't until years later that Emily and I discovered that Ben actually snuck down and checked out the contents of all of our stockings before waking us up. Punk. Wish I'd thought of it.

Now that I'm all grown up, things like Easter baskets and stocking practice drills are a thing of the past. I'm watching my siblings and their families create their own traditions, and my nieces and nephews create their own memories. I had so much fun watching them hunt for Easter eggs this past weekend. I can't wait to have my own kids someday and create traditions with them as well. A little old and a little new. What are your favorite traditions?

Lyle picked a special container for his hunt.

I am socially awkward

You know those people who can walk into an unfamiliar situation and instinctively know exactly what to say? The right amount of humor to use, the safe topics and taboo. The ones who have never met a stranger, only a potential friend, who everyone loves immediately just because of their aura.

I am not one of those people.

I'm not exactly sure what happens to me in social situations. It's like I forget what basic conversation should sound like. I tend to not speak, which is usually pretty safe, except then I am forever labeled as "the quiet one." It's when I start speaking that the problems really begin. You see, I tend to speak as if everyone in the room is hard of hearing. I haven't found my volume button yet. I also talk very fast. And make stupid statements. My freshman year of college, I was hanging out with some people, and somehow I realized that one of the guys had the same last name as me (though he spelled it wrong.) I hadn't really had this experience before, though I know it is fairly common. So I said (yelled), "Your last name is Olson? MY last name is Olsen!!!!" with a big cheesy grin. Cue the blank stare. "And?" "And..well...I just...uhhh...not used to...uhh..." Awkward...

I am not good at jumping into conversations when there are several people in a group. By the time I carefully formulate in my brain what I want to say, the conversation has moved three topics forward.
Them: I really think the government needs to pay more attention to education spending.
Me: Last time I was in Colorado I went white water rafting!

Part of my problem is that I have quite a bit of crazy that needs to be shored up until people get to know me better. Some may say that it is important to let at least some crazy out so people know what they're getting into, but I can't just let a little out. So I become bland and boring, like toast. "Hey, so this weather is awesome, eh?" "I'm a therapist!" (That's always a conversation stopper...)

Speaking of being a therapist...you'd think I'd be better at conversation as a therapist. It's what I do all day. Between coloring and playing board games and playing with action figures. But most people would take offense if I started asking them if they were naughty this week or not. I mean...I guess I've never tried it...but it's just a hunch that it wouldn't go over well.

So how can I fix it? Practice! Who wants to run social drills with me?

The PK Life, yo

It's Easter. Another holiday, the most important one on the Christian calendar, in my opinion. I spent Saturday and Sunday at my brother's house this year with the rest of my family, and I couldn't help but ruminate (yes, ruminate) on how different holidays are in my family than they were when I was growing up. Yes, I know, duh, because I'm like an adult (psh) and there are Littles running all over and all that, but I grew up a pastor's kid*, or PK. (*May also be referred to as TO, or Theologian's Offspring.)

My dad decided to become a pastor when I was in Kindergarten, and we moved that summer from upstate New York to Iowa. I was too little at the time to realize exactly what that meant. The most important thing to me was that we took a train to get to Iowa. Of course, that dream died as we piled into our two car caravan and headed west. It was kinda like the Oregon Trail. No, really, it was. Anyway, so suddenly life was very different. I grew up not getting to take trips for weekends, or be anywhere else for holidays. My dad was gone almost every evening at one meeting or another.

That's not the point though. The point is the as a PK, you are on the inside track of everything. My dad's first church was a tiny country church, and I had the run of that place. We would play hide and seek or "Indian princesses" in the cemetary, run up and down the aisles in the sanctuary, and make prank calls from my dad's office (sorry, Dad! He doesn't read this anyway...). After communion on Sundays, I would slip down to the kitchen and pilfer the remaining bread and grape juice. Sometimes I would share. I always felt like hot stuff. Everyone knew who I was. That was awesome when I was younger. Not so much when I got to be older, and felt slightly like I was under a microscope.

Holidays were always interesting. I was reminded of this at my church's Good Friday service. Two of the readers were the pastor's wife and oldest son. I remember being roped into doing readings for holidays. Not only readings, but any time special music was needed, I was up to sing, even if I had little warning. Easter morning when I was growing up I wouldn't see my dad until well after the service was over. He was up early and off to his office to do last minute tweaking/practicing.

This morning I got up and my dad was one of the first to wish me a Happy Easter. He gave me a hug, kissed my head, and told me he loved me. Even at 27, those things mean a lot. I know that my dad has touched many people with his preaching. He is amazing. But I'm glad he has moved out of that capacity. I like that my parents can come visit on weekends, and that we can spend holidays doing whatever and know that my dad will be with us every step of the way.

I am a PK for life, and I know that it has helped to make me who I am, but I'm glad for the stage of life my family is in now. Our time in ministry brought us closer together, but being out of ministry has added to that closeness tenfold. My family rocks :)

(PS - So sorry for the last blog entry...I remember thinking it was absolutely hilarious...until the cold meds wore off...)

You're never gonna believe it

YOU GUYS!

So I know it's been a while since my last blog. Apologies. But you'll NEVER believe what happened to me. See, right after I finished my last blog, I was attacked. By ninjas. See, they'd heard about my mad ninja skills, and they whisked me away to their super secret ninja cave hideout tower place thingy and forced me to teach them my ways. Of course, I could have escaped, but I felt so bad for them (they couldn't even go grocery shopping without being seen), so I chose to stay on and help out. I also helped them out with their taxes, which were a MESS. (Even ninjas have to pay taxes.) By the time I got home, my apartment was infested with nargles (shout-out to all the HP fans out there!!!) and my pet alligator had run away. I don't blame her. Nargles are not the best roommates. They never do the dishes or change the toilet paper roll. ANYWAY. By the time I found Eugene (the alligator), she had laid a nest of alligator eggs. They hatched soon after I arrived, and I had to travel around the country and find homes for all the baby gators. (The ninjas have a cuddly new pet!) You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find homes for lil alligators, even when you dress them up in cute outfits. I mean, come on, who wouldn't want a little sailor alligator? Really?

So anyway, I finally got rid of the nargles, Eugene is back in her tub, and now I have a huge mess to clean up.

Seriously.

I told you you wouldn't believe it.

(In completely unrelated news, did I mention I'm on high doses of cold medicine?)

Letting it all hang out

I've made a decision recently. I need to do some things differently in my life, and one of those things is to figure out ways to save time. Somehow time always seems to get away from me. I'm not sure how. I know it has nothing to do with getting sucked into addictive websites or watching seasons of shows on Netflix. I'm totally in control of that time. But for some reason, my apartment isn't getting cleaned, I'm always up so late that I have a hard time getting up in the morning, and my novel and blog are being neglected. I think I'm going to start with small changes. The first thing to go? Showering. That's right. In the olden days, they didn't shower that often, and they all turned out fine! I'm cutting down to once a week. Plus, it's totally green, because it saves water. I'm also going to stop shaving. Because, really, who needs the hassle? I mean, seriously, what do I care if I have hairy legs? And I shouldn't care if it bothers other people. I gotta be free to be me and all that jazz. Plus, once the hair grows long enough, it will get soft and silky, and maybe I can braid it. I'll start a new style! Awesome. I can't wait. Maybe I'll post pictures.

Ummm.

April Fools?

I apologize, that was really dumb. In reality, I really hate this day. Every year I want to call in sick to work and hibernate for all of April 1st. You think I'm paranoid on a day to day basis? (You don't? Oh...well...of course I'm not...) I am the jumpiest and most skeptical person you will run into on April 1st. Everything anyone tells me, I'm like, "Are you for real? Stop trying to trick me!" Today my principal asked me to come into her office and I refused because I was sure it was a joke. I turned off my light and hid under my desk until the knocking stopped. (Okay, not really, but it might have happened that way.) I fully plan to check my car from bumper to bumper when I head over to Katie's house.

I also feel like people use April Fools as an excuse to be cruel. There are lots of pranks that are just plain mean. A kid today called another kid "fatface" and then said it was an April Fool's joke. (I never know if it's April Fool's or April Fools. Punctuation Nazis, help me out here!) Other kids were telling someone their mom was here over and over, so the kid would go check and get in trouble for popping into the office constantly. Again, not funny.

That's not to say that I can't enjoy a good prank. As long as it's funny, and not hurtful. I am a really funny person, in case you didn't notice. In college, my freshman year especially, my friend Nik and I had lots of fun playing "pranks," if you can call them all that. As a floor, we painted a mural of Van Gogh's "A Starry Night." Nik and I printed cow pictures, colored them bright colors, and taped them jumping over the hills. The PA kept taking them down, and it took her a while to figure out who kept replacing them. Nik also had a ceramic squirrel (I don't know why) that was surprisingly lifelike, and we took great pleasure in leaving it random places...especially the shower. Nothing better than hearing someone shriek that a squirrel got into the bathroom. We also enjoyed sending things through campus mail. Sometimes nice things, like tiny playdohs, other times we found wrappers and pages of old papers and loved to comment, "Oh, don't you just hate junk mail?" when the poor unsuspecting friend opened the envelope and it all spilled out. One of my favorites was when we used packing tape to tape entirely over someone's door. We sat in the lounge of the dorm until he came back, just shaking his head. The best part was that he actually really enjoyed it, and stuck things to the other side as decoration. The worst part was that I'm pretty sure it took the paint off the doorjamb. But Nik and I got out of there before it was time for the cleanup ;)

I'm not sure why I hate this "holiday" so much, since clearly I enjoy having fun at the expense of others. But I do. Maybe I'm just waiting for payback...that's definitely a reason to be paranoid...

Life continues

So once again, I must apologize for my absence from the blogosphere. I know you have all been waiting, desperately longing for just a few wise words from my fingers. Strangely, I just haven't been in the mood to write lately. Of course, that means my novel isn't getting any attention either, so you're not alone ;)

So what fun things have happened? I had a roommate for two weeks. My dear friend Angie went from New Zealand to Australia to Iowa...which is, of course, the natural progression of travel. No one should ever leave Iowa off their world travel itinerary. I had the absolute best time with Angie. We haven't spent that amount of time together since college. Of course, I had to work, but she was waiting for me when I got home every day. Kind of like my lil wife. ;) Just kidding, we have a totally equal relationship. It was super fun to show Angie some of the things I love about my city. It was very sad to see her go though. I forget how nice it is to have someone around to talk to all the time. I mean, someone real.

Spring break has come and gone. My family and I headed south to Heifer International Ranch in Arkansas. Seriously an awesome organization. Check them out at heifer.org. My grandparents have volunteered at their educational ranch for over 15 years or something like that. We try and visit them down there every year, and it's always an amazing time. Much better now that I'm not in school and my mom doesn't stand over me and force me to work on homework. I got to road trip down with my parents. You guys, my parents are the best. For real. You wonder why I am the way I am? Just spend a day with my parents. You'll understand. For example, at one point my dad proclaimed that his colon was like, "YEEEEAAHH!!!" Then, as we passed an exit, my mom started giggling. "Hey, isn't that the Sonic where Rena fell down?" she asked, pointing before collapsing into more giggles. It was the Sonic where I fell down. Years ago. But my family never forgets.

At the Ranch we enjoyed the antics of the four Littles, who Maddy dubbed "The 4 Wild Poodles." She's kind of a city girl. We enjoyed lots of hikes around the Ranch, playing with the animals, including feeding the baby goats, a trip to Little Rock, a daffodil festival, and other fun. Time has a way of slowing down at the Ranch. It's been described as a "pocket of serenity." I could totally see that.

But, as always, life continues. Back in the reality of crazy work, I am missing the Ranch, and missing my dear friend. But I have lots of memories. And that makes me smile. For pictures, check out Facebook. I took a few...

It's a wonderful life

I have been told recently that it's high time for me to blog again. I was sooo tempted to just leave it at that sentence and call it happy. But I'm nicer than that. Truth is, and this might be shocking to you, my life is just not that interesting. Sure, my brain is an undiscovered treasure trove of wonderfulness, but most people aren't ready to experience it. So I get stuck. I'm not sure how. I just do.

I have been rolling a lot of topics around in my brain lately. One thing I have been meaning to talk about is text etiquette, or textiquette. I had this elaborate post in mind, where I demonstrated how it would be if we talked to people in real life like we do in text, especially when you're in the middle of a conversation and someone just quits texting, like just walking away from a conversation in the middle of it. One of my pet peeves. It was hilarious. Trust me. (Or not so much...)

But really, that entry would have been more complainy than I am feeling. Because life is good right now. I mean, REALLY good. I love my job, even though there are days when I wonder why the heck I got into this profession. I have some amazing friends, and I'm making more of an effort to rid myself of my hermit ways and go out into the real world sometimes. My family totally rocks. They came down for my birthday, which was totally cool. Plus, my parents got me guitar lessons!

I had my first guitar lesson last night. I really like the place. They're all so friendly. I felt kinda dumb because I've had my guitar for so long, and forgot pretty much everything I learned when I first got it. Even how to tune! Plus I forgot all my music theory because I was nervous and out of my comfort zone. But it will be good. I am determined to get my fingers nice and calloused by next week, and have wicked good chord changes. The main problem is that my hand doesn't like to bend how it's supposed to, and my pinky is too short! I have baby pinkies. The rest of my fingers became adults, but not my pinkies. It's weird. I'm deformed.

My addiction to reading has become slightly problematic. I've already read 13 or so books this year, and people keep telling me about more books I need to read, plus I keep getting coupons for specials on books. Yesterday I got home and had two boxes of books waiting for me. Yeah...it's a problem...but I LOVE it.

So many things to look forward to! This weekend I get to go see some of my favorite people in the world up in the Twin Cities. In three weeks I am leaving for Arkansas to spend a week at Heifer International Ranch with my family and my grandparents. I'm hoping to work on my book more, though my reading addiction has slowed me down on that. And something super exciting is happening TODAY but I can't tell anyone because it's a SECRET.

So life is good. I have been feeling great since turning 27. I think it's going to be one of the best years yet. Looking forward to what is coming!

(There, Nik, I blogged! Happy???)

Sleep = Happiness

Last week was a vacation week, and honestly, I spent most of the week sleeping. To be fair (to myself), I got sick Monday afternoon and was feeling the effects for several days. That's my excuse. Seriously though, I would sleep anywhere from ten to twelve hours, be awake for maybe twelve hours, and fall back into for another 10-12 hours. It. Was. Awesome. Don't worry, my mom made sure I was fully productive the first half of vacation, so I felt little guilt over my Sleeping Beauty routine.

So I didn't just blog because I wanted to tell everyone how lazy I was last week, though I'm not ashamed of it. I am more refreshed than I have been in...well...I honestly don't know the last time I was this refreshed! Usually when I take vacations it's to go somewhere. The last vacation I took was Thanksgiving, but was only three days off work, and I traveled to Minnesota, and the one before that was my cruise last January. If anyone has been on a cruise, you know that there is way too much to do to spend much time getting refreshed (though the beach day was pretty awesome). I need to take a week off and shut myself in my apartment at least once a month. ;)

I keep getting off track. The real reason I wanted to blog today was because in all my sleep last week, I didn't have a single really interesting dream, and that made me sad. If you've been in my crazy world for very long, you know that I have some of the strangest dreams ever, and I love them. I very rarely have nightmares, and usually my dreams are so ridiculous that I just wake up and smile when I think about them. I don't know if my lack of dreaming was because I was sick, but I didn't like it. Dreams make the night seem longer, I think, rather than going to sleep and waking up as if no time has passed at all. And I'm a big fan of making sure my night is stretched out (except last night I really couldn't sleep and that was annoying). That's why I set my alarm for much earlier than I have to get up...I love that feeling of looking at the clock and realizing I have more time to sleep. Even when I get to sleep in on weekends and don't have to get up, I like to lay in bed for a while after I'm awake and just enjoy the feeling. It's lovely.

ANYWAY. I had some very random dreams last night that were too complicated to turn in to a facebook status. The funny part was that for one of them I was aware I was dreaming, and was trying to figure out how to explain the dream. As much as I love my dreams, this had to be the most tedious, boring dream ever. Seriously. Want to know what I was doing? Of course you do. You don't have a choice. Well, yes you do. You could quit reading. Go on. Get out of here. Still reading? Good. You must really like me ;) In my dream I had apparently broken my leg/ankle. It was the same one I broke in college, and I had to wear this combination of the moon boot I wore for that break and the giant knee brace I wore in middle school to try to correct my "floating kneecap." It was a big complication of loops and buckles, and I was trying to wear my snow boots. So I put the boots on, then the brace. Then I took them off because it wasn't right, and put it back on. Then my boot suddenly was off, so I had to do it again. And on it went. I kept putting it on and taking it off. And my family was waiting for me at Olive Garden but it took me like an hour and a half to figure it out. That was my dream. Totally lame. And now I've wasted your time telling you, just like I wasted my dream space by having that dream.

I also had a dream that I was making EZ Mac with my sister, but I added cheddar cheese and not the cheese packets. And then I was on a bus with a bunch of people I went to middle school with. Totally random. And those are the ones I like.

I have no good way to end this. It's Wednesday and that's happy.

Plagiarism

So I'm going to start off this post by saying I'm a big fat copycat. Yup, that's right. Devoid of originality, I am scamming the idea for this post from Emily at http://www.thewinkofaneye.com/. You see, this year I resolved not to make resolutions. They never stick anyway. (I am dreading visiting the gym, knowing how crowded it is during the first part of the year.) And when they don't stick, I'm stuck at the end of the year with a feeling of failure.

But then I argue with myself. "Sally," I say (since I sometimes call myself Sally), "isn't that just lazy?" I mean, if I don't set goals, how am I supposed to have any motivation for anything? I think what I don't like about New Year's resolutions (is it proper to have "New Year's" capitalized? I never know.) is that I don't think there should be a specific time of year for setting goals. People (me) should be setting new goals for themselves all year round, not just in the first few days of the new year (doesn't look right not capitalized, Sally, but that is the proper way to do it in that sentence).

So that brings me to my copycatting ways. Emily (at http://www.thewinkofaneye.com/, check out her blog!) set three categories for herself for the new year. The first was physical, second was spiritual/character, and the final one was creative/intellectual. I like those categories, so I'm *borrowing* them, taking special care to credit her genius (http://www.thewinkofaneye.com/). *deep breath* Aaand, here we go.

1) Physical
This is the one that always gets me off track. It seems like everyone and their dog (really!) makes a resolution resolving to do something physical. (Let's get physical, physical...) (Do you remember the saying "all that and a bag of chips?" "Everyone and their dog" reminds me of that.) (Gosh I'm ADD today.) ANYWAY. Everyone feels guilty following the holiday binging they did, and everyone promised themselves that this week it was all going to change. The cleanse, if you will. (Imagine saying "cleanse" in a pompous British voice, like an old man in a smokers jacket speaking around the pipe hanging out of his mouth) The fanatical, wild-eyed promises to do better this year, to eat healthy to work out 7 days a week for three hours and really drop those pounds...and two weeks later they are (I am) sitting on the couch, watching Biggest Loser and chowing down on french fries. Effective.

So. My first resolution is to get myself moving three times a week. No time limit. If it's 20 minutes, awesome. If it's an hour, even better. If I go to the gym, great. If I play Just Dance on Wii, that still counts. (It is a work out! Have you tried it? Do!) Just getting in the habit of moving is the first obstacle. Of course, if I do more, all the better. I'll also be attempting to eat better, but that's not part of this resolution. One thing at a time, people.

2) Spiritual/Character
This one is the hardest for me, I think. It's an area in which I have been extremely lacking over the past year. The spirituality part. (My character is awesome. Flawless.) I have joined groups and attended church, but not as regularly as I should. I think what I am lacking most is connection. With people and with God. So my resolution here is to get more involved. Make an effort. Don't just attend, do. Give up the excuses that I give for not being more present. Dive in and see where I land. Simple. Right? ...

3) Creative/Intellectual
This one is the one I'm actually most excited about. In November 2009 I started a novel as part of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). It actually has the potential to be a decent teen/young adult novel, but I have lacked the motivation to actually finish it. This year, I would like to finish the manuscript, and then look into what I need to do to submit it to a publisher. It's scary, and I know it's super difficult to get published, but I definitely won't know until I try, right?

My final (unofficial) resolution is to check in with the above resolutions at least a couple times and guage how I'm doing, tweak as needed. Maybe I need to increase one, or hone it. These are just general ideas, ones that hopefully by the end of the year will have me more active, more involved, and chasing my dreams like anything can happen.

Oh yeah, one more thing...

http://www.thewinkofaneye.com/

:)

When one book closes...

Happy New Year! Wow, 2010 was absolutely amazing. I did so many things, it's hard to summarize them. To try would be one epic blog post, that's for sure. Let's see...just a taste, I think.

This year I spent a few months planning weddings in the beauty of Connecticut, journeyed to another time, when the present is known only as "The Histories," spent some time at a magical castle in England, danced with vampires, and battled mythological creatures alongside the ancient gods of Greece. I fell in love numerous times, with various men, and went on dangerous missions to save the world.

You might be asking yourself how one earth I managed to do all of this in the space of only one year. It seems unbelievable. But, of course, the answer is obvious. I did it all from the comfort of my squishy leather couch. I read 66 books in 2010. I know it sounds corny, but for those of us with neither the time nor the resources to do a lot of traveling, the world of books is an easy escape from the day to day doldrums.

It still baffles me when people say they don't like to read. I just think they haven't found the right book. I, being me, like a wide variety of different books. Mostly fiction, but some autobiographical or historical stuff can catch my attention too. But in general, whether they are my cup of tea or not, I think books are amazing. They create entire worlds just using words. They paint word pictures that make those worlds come alive and become real, at least for a little while. The characters in most books evoke feelings of friendship and trust, or anger and dislike from the reader. At least that's how it is to me. I respond to characters in books much as I would to people in real life...perhaps more boldly because I do, in fact, realize they are fictional.

I'm working on creating one (or more) of those worlds myself. I am getting close to the finish of my first complete novel. Of course, that's only half the battle, the actual writing. But we won't get into the complications and impossibilities of getting my writing published. I feel the same way about the world I've created as I do about the ones I've visited throughout that past year and, really, my entire life. I don't control the characters as much as you'd might think, being the author and all. They are many layered, and I don't always even know what they're going to do. It sounds bizarre, and maybe a little crazy, which I probably am. I enjoy visiting them as much as I've enjoyed creating them though, even if the location isn't as exotic as some I've visited in my book journeys.

Perhaps if I weren't so ADD I would be able to finish my book. Just these few paragraphs have taken me almost an hour to write. As soon as I opened up the page to compose a new entry, I had the overwhelming urge to play some Solitaire, and Men in Black is on, which is always distracting due to Will Smith's hotness. So far, 2011 feels pretty close to 2010. I've already finished my first book of the year though. Percy Jackson is highly addictive. I think I'll go start another one. Go read, my friends! You never know where you might go :)