Jess and I went to see the movie “Post Grad” last night. A so-so romantic comedy with several high points mixed with plenty of predictability. Even though the movie was just on the high end of okay, it did get me thinking. I walked down the dark steps of the theater considering how believable I found the movie. All I have to do is remember my senior year of college and the year that followed and I can confirm that it is possible for every single well-made plan to crash and burn. When that’s the case, the level of frustration can reach a point where you simply aren’t sure which direction you want/should/could turn. It becomes nearly impossible to trust yourself to take the reigns again and move your life forward because clearly your odds of screwing it up are sizable. Truth is, I still have days where that distrust in myself is a defining characteristic. They pass, sure, but eventually they come again. When I am able to clear my head I like to think that in a few years I will be happily able to look back on this time (this in-between time, such as it is) and realize I had no reason to worry while I waited.
Category: Personal Reflection
The Thursday I Wish Was Friday
So, my boss compared me to Craig Counsell today. An ‘ultimate utility player’ was his phrase. You have to be a Brewers fan to understand, but that’s a darn good compliment. 🙂 Makes me a little less impatient with the fact that I’ve spent three-fifths of my work week covering three other people’s jobs when they each took a different day off.
I’m looking forward to this crazy weekend. Not sure how I’ll be fitting everything in but the attempt should prove itself fun. Let’s see… house & dog-sitting for friends, a cookout with a group of friends (really must figure out what I’m contributing to that meal and when I’ll find time to make it), a zany olympics competition with the same group (here’s hoping I don’t fall off the balance beam or fall victim to any of the other ready occasions for humiliation), cooking an owed dinner for someone and watching the Brewers game with him on Saturday night, and (hopefully, hopefully, hopefully) finishing chapter six and at least starting chapter seven of the new book. The only reason I’m not mad at myself for having this kind of weekend after this kind of week, is that next week looks to be full of chill out evening hours and very little scheduled activity. So as long as I am still standing come Monday, I’m confident I’ll recover.
Tonight is my last tennis lesson of the summer. I’m really glad I signed up for it. Am I a better tennis player now? Weeeelllllll…. let’s just say I am a tennis player now. I do actually know what moves to make and swings to choose and how to serve properly, which wasn’t the case at the start of the summer. However, learning how to play doesn’t guarantee being able to play. But the absence of ignorance of the game has at least been replaced with the slightest amount of skill, and I’m glad for that.
This morning I thought it was Friday. One of the truly great disappointments in life, in my opinion.
I Really Should Know Better
9: the number of days my two fish survived. That has to be a new record for how quickly fish in my possession have perished. I ought to know better than to get fish ever again. I had them on several occasions during college and it never ended well for the fish. It should be illegal for me to take any more into my home. At least these two weren’t homicidal. They seemed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Yes, I’ve had homicidal fish.
Makes me wonder though, with my proficiency for killing aquatic, finned creatures, might I make a fine fisherman?
Whines, Weddings and Wines
The crying, screaming, whining children were out in full force at the grocery store today. WOW. It is fifteen minute intervals like those that remind me how glad I am to be an aunt and how little of a hurry I’m in to be a mother.
During lunch break I posted pictures on facebook from my friend Tina’s wedding this past weekend. It was a rather gorgeous event. I enjoyed every minute and drove away from the reception hall thinking how extraordinarily blessed I am by the friends and family who surrounded me as I grew up. It was a weekend of realizing how much I’ve overlooked the many ways the Lord took care of me simply by placing me in the circumstances He chose when I was born.
I just received an email from 2 Lads Winery on Old Mission Peninsula. The Chardonnay that I had a chance to taste from the barrel in May is now bottled and ready to sell. Would it be an inexcusable waste of time and money to drive down there to buy some? Don’t judge me. You haven’t tasted it. I emailed to ask if they ship their wines for out of town orders. Here’s hoping…
Listening and Lacking
“It’s like forgetting the words to your favorite song. You can’t believe it; you were always singing along. It was so easy and the words so sweet. You can’t remember; you try to feel the beat.” I’m listening to the new Regina Spektor album, “Far,” and I’m loving this tune.
I repeatedly slip down that slippery slope of feeling sorry for myself. Not enough time to write; short on energy to clean the house; no free evening to tackle the yard work; still unpublished; still single. So go the thoughts, twisting my spirit into a taut braid of impatience and disappointment. This ditch of negativity isn’t where I’d like to be but sometimes the temptation to dwell there is stronger than my will to stay above ground. Thing is, my mind has been racked in the last two days with reminders of how protected I am from any real reason to pity myself. I think of my friend’s mother suffering through another round of debilitating cancer treatments. Or my aunt who just found out she has to have a hip replaced. Or my sister who has lived in perpetual and intense pain for the last 2 years. I think of them and realize how utterly selfish it is to spend so many moments thinking about myself and the way I wish my life would go, rather than praying for them and countless others.
The past several years have chipped away at my pride, leaving it scarred and defensive. It’s hard to pray when you’re tired of the answers God keeps giving. I guess that’s in keeping with the nature of humility though, isn’t it – to keep going back to the only One who can satisfy no matter how badly you wish you could tailor that satisfaction; to know, without doubt, that you must go back to Him again today or today will fall apart.
Procrastibloginating
Another entirely self-serving usage of this blog: procrastination. It’s time to file our company sales taxes again. As this is my least favorite job duty (i.e. I loathe it), I tend to set it aside until I really have nothing else to do and no excuses left. Every month I file sales tax in about 10 states, every quarter it increases to 30, and with every new year, I file in a total of 37 states in which we do business. It’s tedious and time consuming and throughout the process, I carry this vague feeling that I still have no clue what I’m doing and I might be setting my company up for trouble with the IRS. My boss continues to have confidence that I’ve figured this whole sales tax thing out and as I like gainful employment, I try not to undermine that impression.
It’s the weekend! Or it will be in 7.5 hours. This weekend I am staying in Appleton. June is disappearing by way of packed weekends, chaotic weeks and so far, very little warmth. But this weekend will be different. Sunshine and 70’s are forecasted. My car will not drive further than 8 miles in any given journey. (That’s the distance to the town where my church is located.) I’ll actually make it back to the gym now that my foot feels better. Tomorrow night I will chill at the minor league baseball game, assuming rain doesn’t ruin those plans. Any necessary preparation for the six week Bible study I begin leading on Monday will get done. Who knows, maybe I’ll even dust off my notepad and start chapter four of The Mercy Hour. My pen and paper ought to be taken into protective custody for how shamefully I’ve neglected them of late.
Alright, but first I have to trudge through these taxes. Copper Boom!
Slowly Going Mad
Song #1 in my head:
Oh simple thing where have you gone/I’m getting old and I need something to rely on/So tell me when/You’re gonna let me in/I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin/And if you have a minute why don’t we go/Talk about it somewhere only we know?/This could be the end of everything/So why don’t we go/Somewhere only we know?
Song #2:
If you could be in my life like you’ve been on my mind/It’d be so easy/Hello, it’s me again/It’s three days now that you’ve been in my dreams/And I don’t know, I guess you’ve just been on my mind/I don’t know, I guess I think about you all the time
Song #3:
‘Cause you and I both loved/What you and I spoke of/And others just read of/Others only read of the love/Oh the love that I love
That’s right, it’s a trifecta of good music rolling around in the empty spaces. Keane, Schuyler Fisk, Jason Mraz; not a bad mental mix tape.
My coworker has officially blamed me for the Brewers’ terrible performances in their last two games. I didn’t know I had such powers from my seat on the living room sofa. Personally, I place the burden on the shoulders of those fellows masquerading as pitchers: Suppan and Parra, and on the less than wise lineup on Monday night. But if I have to take some of the heat on their behalf, so be it. Have to stand by the team.
One of the lights recessed in the ceiling tiles above the reception desk is blinking at annoying intervals. Nothing adds to the office ambience like a flickering flourescent bulb.
Do you know what sounds ideal to me right now? An outdoor movie and an ice cream sundae. What do you think my odds are of experiencing that in the near future? Maybe “Singin’ in the Rain” shown on the side of an old brick building, or the original “Superman” playing at the local drive-in, or “The Natural” on a canvas screen in a park. Yep, I’d be glad for any of those options. Just don’t forget the ice cream.
