Tall Tales and the Number 7

Honesty.

The Truth.

Refraining from Lies, Fibs, Tall Tales, Exaggerations.

Where on earth did lying come from I often wonder? I wonder how human beings got into saying the opposite of what was true? Whoever brought into existence the lie was setting us all up for failure, you see. Now we have to wear clothes we don’t want to be wearing, smile when we don’t want to be smiling, tell people they look good when they look bad, say we like a disgusting plate of Green Eggs and Ham when in reality we will not eat them on a bus, on a train, in the rain, with a cat, or while wearing a hat. And by this very belief, society lies again. They lie by telling us we have to lie to keep up, to be in line with the status quo, and to fit in. “Fake it til’ you make it,” or how about this one when you’re getting your photo taken, “SAY CHEESE!”

I’m not bashing the land of the free and the home of the brave here, just saying….I have a really hard time telling the truth. Sometimes to myself, sometimes to others, and sometimes when it matters most.

I’ll use today as an example, and then I’ll digress, because digression is the reason for the season.

Today I was sick at work. I had chills, like the type you get when you’re about to spontaneously combust into a fever, or puke up ever section of your jejunum into your cubicle trashcan. Fortunately, the dizziness and nausea (I won’t lie, I can’t spell nausea without spell checker) were manageable while I was sitting still, with my head down, doing absolutely nothing. But that is not the way my job works. I’m running around like a chicken with her head cut off and helping out this, that and the other person. So, needless to say, I was about to start sprinting to the ladies room when my boss noticed my paleness and asked me what was wrong. The worst part of all this was that she was on her way to a meeting, and I had the opportunity to tell her my woes. Instead, I said in my head, “It’s ok, just another half hour like this….” and I told her I would tell her when she returned. When she came frolicking back down through the cubes, she asked me to tell her what was up, and I practically swallowed my tongue and every tooth in my mouth that I just ferociously ground with terror while telling her the truth –“I think I’m sick.”

Socrates

Now here is the truth, personally, I don’t know what “sick” is because I don’t get sick. My stomach hurts everyday all day, but that is another thing entirely. Illness, this chick just does not do. And so I left, I went home for the day. Cautiously driving my car so as not to give myself motion sickness and I fell asleep. I guess I really WAS sick because there is no way, over my dead body or any other grave for that matter that I would fall asleep in the middle of the day.

I will tell you what though, it was hard to tell someone my truth. Hard to tell them what I wanted, what I needed. It was hard to grant myself the gift of expression.

Fast forward to everyday life. When you know that everyday, or nearly everyday you’re misrepresenting yourself. Trying to be someone you’re not, and living in your own lie. I know what you’re thinking (remember, I always know what you’re thinking). You’re thinking, “This Chick thinks she’s Dexter and has her own dialogue in her head to narrate her life.” Well, that’s true, I do have my own running narrator. But that aside, ask yourself this question today, if I’m ME, who does that make me? Who am I? What are 124 things that make you unique? What are 6 things you would enjoy reading about? What 7 songs are your favorite?

You know, while I don’t believe the world revolves around me, I do believe that my truth is the only that I can know, and I need to work everyday to fully understand and express all that that is comprised of.

Part II . The Magical Number

7 Is indeed a lucky number. 7 Dwarves, 7…uh….ok…that’s all I can think of. But hey, it’s everywhere! It’s supposedly the “perfect number”, the amount of years in which your body ebbs and flows into new phases, and that brings me to….the fact that I will be 28 soon!

I think I am personally entering my own next 7 of something! The last time this happened was when I was 21, and I truly DID feel that emerging into a new era (or that could’ve been the result of my 21st birthday bash and one too many free beverages). I think I made a good first step by lowering my car insurance rate. I feel an excitement in the air like the next 7 years are going to be something really great. Does that make me weird?

 

 

Sometimes I Want to Throw Things

Yes, well, like a true Bedilia, it’s been awhile since I’ve last written. I’ve been busy working, being a space cadet, working some more, moving into my new luxurious mattress, and working a tad more. Then I enjoyed the most amazing, or at least ONE of the most amazing Thanksgivings ever. Relaxing, totally pressure-free. I missed my family, my friends, but alas threats of the snow kept me walking around the same lake I’ve been walking around for the past 7 months.

Now it’s back to the real world. The real world. The real world. The sound echoes through my head, clangs against my skull bones, because I’m having a hard time believing that this could possibly be real life. Is unhappiness and discomfort everyday supposed to be how life goes? Do I have to constantly be telling myself to think and feel a way that I don’t?

Sometimes, kids have it so lucky. If things are not going their way, they whine, they cry, they scream. They throw stuff. They hit people. The repercussions are minor, like sitting in time out, losing cookies and getting grounded from TV. Grown ups have to hide so many emotions. They have to kid themselves into so many things, and talk themselves into feeling or acting certain ways. So I want to ask…what is up with the facade? I wanna drown the fake me, so she can’t screw up my soul searching. How am I supposed to find myself if she gets in the way and pretends to be someone I’m not?

Life can really put you between a rock and a hard place. I noticed that when I arrived there, I stopped expecting everyday to present a miracle. I stopped thinking something special might happen, or I might get a little closer to my center. I stopped hoping and dreaming…

But I’m taking two big steps towards change. The question now is, can I trick myself into gradual acceptance of myself?

One foot. Two foot. Left foot. Right foot. One right in front of the other.

“You’ve been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.” Louise L. HayTexasRoadhouse086

The Best Post You’ve Ever Read

It’s not enough that I am at work forty hours or more a week, it’s not enough that I have to think about it two hours prior to going, and two hours after…now I’m awake, on a Friday night, Saturday morning mind racing, heart racing, dreams spilling around in my head about work. Is it about work? Is it the mold that they found in my apartment? Is it because I have to sleep on a futon until the mold is cleaned and I woke up with my face against a cold wall? Is it too many brussel sprouts for dinner? I feel more trapped in this  mental cubicle than I have ever felt in my life. More anxious and unsure of what is to happen next with each passing day. I can’t keep up, I have friends and relationships slipping through the cracks because I am working so hard to keep afloat. All the while, disliking and wishing to be further from the ME that is not who I AM. fabulous

I watch them everyday, the ones who dream of their bank accounts. Carefully accruing their pennies in their minds rather than counting sheep at night. They smell of strong detergents, stale coffee, and microwave lunches. They stumble from their desks to the “break room” (which you would never actually take a break in, as it’s so small one would have to devour over the sink like a ravenous animal on the kill). They pour their 20 oz of coffee into their designated coffee mugs. Mugs with words like, “Mom” “Java” “13.1” and “I Hiked to the Top of Crowder Mountain and all I Got was this Mug”. It’s the workforce of America. While we type away, there are a million things at home left undone, a thousand passions left uncaptured, and opportunities that lie by the wayside. There are connections to be made, relationships to be stoked, and dreams to pursue. They seem OK with it, but the feeling stirs me awake every night, feeding off my brain cells that should be used for snoozing.

But I let it all lie dormant, stagnant, all for helping to push this giant hamster wheel around in yet another circle.

We are the ME’s that are losing touch with who I AMs. I am the me that can only dance on this line for so much longer. I’m so ready for this phase to be over, the one where every other day I am just asking myself, “WHY?” Is it just that final feeling as the 20’s taper off? Will it ever end?

A girl needs her beauty sleep!

dream

Cells, Cubes, and Faces.

Lately my most wild and adventurous ideas has been to delete my Facebook. I know right, you think that’s wild? My second most out-there thought was to wear no socks to work, and that proved to be a disaster; hence the reason I’ve decided to formulate my decision making process into a narrative. Although, I love Facebook as much as the next Jane Doe that is out there, but this past week I’ve realized that it, along with my smart phone, is a very distracting feature in my life. Now, the question remains as to whether or not it’s a welcome distraction, or one I wish to get rid of. After all, not everything is BAD, it can be used in moderation…right???Gamers

Why Facebook is like Working in a Cubicle

Half of my Facebook friends are folks I never talk to on a regular basis. In fact, they are much like the people in a corporate cubically-oriented and squarely structured environment. I see their faces everyday and being my nosy self, am very interested in eavesdropping on their lives, comparing my life to theirs, and gawking at all the clothes they have that are better than mine. I use these mysterious non-interaction interactions for self-beration, self deprivation, and of course….killing time. There are the folks I actually do want to know about and talk to, and then there are just the ones that pop up in my News Feed everyday as they post what their iPhone paparazzi has caught them doing today. It doesn’t stop there. Facebook has my pictures stored in the world wide web, it has everyone seeing what music I listen to, it wants to know where I work. Heck, my cell phone KNOWS where I work! It tells me no matter where I am how long it is to get either to work or home, depending on my circumstance. My phone knows what I typed into my computer and Googled that morning, last night, and last week, and who I “might know”. I’m scared it might know more, but I’m too frightened and paranoid to ask Siri what she really knows.

Facebook makes me feel more guilt than I should because when I want to go delete someone, I feel guilty. Like they’ll find out. When I want to stop seeing someone’s daily life in mine, I am hit with another twinge of guilt. If someone finds me and tries to friend me, and I really don’t feel like being friends… I freeze with guilt-ridden panic. It’s like being stuck by the coffee pots at work and the awkwardness ensues where you’re both taking a while to mix up your Joe and subject to painfully surface level conversation or deafening silence. Why can’t I just be normal and not think about such things?

Facebook frightens me by knowing all, by pressuring me, by enticing me with it’s time-killing offer, but I like it to connect to the world around me. I think. Am I really even connecting?

My smart phone distracts me from the present moment, but I really like knowing that there is at least something smarter than me. I like playing Scrabble when I want to. I like zoning out of a moment and looking on Craigslist. And I like checking my email at the drop of a hat.

But is this all good for me? I’m starting to wonder, and my finger is hovering over “delete”.

To be continued….

Know When to Hold Em’

There are some aspects of life in which you feel you’ve mastered what you need to and getting better is not necessarily a priority, nor need it be, unless you suck and no one is telling you. For example, driving a car. If you’re decent at driving a car, and you can navigate without too many fender benders, tire squeals, horn honkers, and road blocks, you’re good to go! You don’t need to constantly study the latest “How to” guide teaching you how to more efficiently press the gas, more gracefully turn the wheel, or more presumably run red lights. A steady pace is all you need to cruise.

Take another example, cooking. If you’re a decent cook, and the folks like what you make, you like to eat your own concoctions, and no one is hiding with a napkin under the table and ducking their head every few moments to spit into it, it’s a cake walk from here on out! Sure, add to your repertoire by adding new recipes here and there, or blowing your own mind, and taste buds too. But you don’t have to go grab a copy of Martha Stewarts, “How to Make Prison Porridge and Inmate Gruel”, you can kinda sit, back, relax and enjoy your own dinner show. Ham Mock

Then, there are areas in our lives which feel as though the task of learning is never through. At work, in our relationships, areas of particular and specific knowledge, with our own bodies and minds. Some people might have it easier than others in any given area, and these things come in waves. Waves when it’s OBVIOUS you need to up the learning curve, and waves when you’re getting straight A’s and you can let someone else in the class do the talking for a while.

I can tell you right now. I wish these things were as easy as raising my hand in college and impressing my professor. I wish it were as easy as the flashcards I made after thorough highlation (new word) of my Communications book, and I wish it was as simple as writing a ten-page paper, while pulling an all nighter and binge drinking on a Thursday. But, fact of the matter is. It’s just not. Relax

I’m learning more and more. Coasting is not really an option. When you try to sail, sometimes you are just faced with tumultuous seas and choppy ocean. It’s almost always work. There are occasions when the work is painless, effortless, and enjoyable. Like riding a bike, a rich payoff for a minor burning of the quads. And then there are moments when you’re so overcome with worry, anxiety, fear, anger, or any number of emotions that you nearly throw your cellphone into the lake. Fortunately, you realize your irrationality in time and pickpocket a fellow joggers new iPhone 5 before throwing your own into the murky abyss.

Not like you need a phone anyway.

C’est la vie. Hello, inner angst.

Cry Baby

I have watery eyes. No, not allergies, no excess of eyelashes falling into my line of vision and causing me distress. I just cry a lot. I cry when my feelings get hurt, I cry when I do something wrong, I cry when I’m angry, I cry when I’m overwhelmed, and sometimes I just cry because I drank too much water. Broken

What I really cannot handle is when people are disappointed with me, or do not like me. I am not sure why this is but it’s been like this since I was very young. When kids made fun of me, or rejected me, I would snap like a mouse’s spine under the pressure of a deadly THWAP. Perhaps it’s because I lack confidence, or because I have this need to please everyone, but lately I’ve been struggling with trying so hard to please everyone, including myself, and coming up short. Why? Well, because I do things I don’t like –I drink coffee once in a while, I take bites of cookies when there are treats in the office, I make mistakes on my bosses’ calendars and have to run around and fix everything. I can’t always keep my bills straight. I can’t seem to get myself to the place a 27-year-old should be. And because of that, I tend to take things very deeply, and personally and excruciatingly painfully. Yesterday was one of those days.

The first incident occurred when a co-worker (who I’m pretty sure is not wild about me) dropped off a stack of papers for me to have my boss sign, as well as some other top dogs. I had her sign them, but I missed one of the lines which were not intended for her, and so I had to bring it back to the woman who had to reprint the page, and give it back to me to get it off and signed by the right person. You see? Even YOU got confused by all that! It was a confusing stack of papers, and I’m still feeling relatively new at times, I don’t know all the ins and outs, all the bundles and jumbles, and her attitude makes me flustered through and through because I can tell she hates my guts and would like nothing more than to run over me with her car. Combine that with the fact that I was stressing out about her papers in particular, because I wanted her to see me as a good little girl who did what I’m told, and did it perfectly. Because of the mistake and the whole experience, I just cried and cried and cried feeling like I had done a piss poor job and would never amount to anything. Unfortunately, someone caught me in the act and I had to explain myself later. The woman who saw me was a sweet, able secretary who used her years of wise experience to comfort me with her kind words. It helped.

That’s really all I want, is to be perfect. I just want to do things right. It’s not so much to ask, and mind you, it’s not a bad goal.
That is, unless you’re Amelia Bedelia and you fail left and right, right and left, front and center. I drop stuff, I break things, I leave a wake of destruction everywhere I go.  I think it’s because I was born illegitimately and it will forever haunt me. Once a life-destroying fetus, always a life-destroying fetus.

The second incident occurred at home. I’ve already mentioned that I break everything. Well, last night, I broke my 2nd wine glass, which is the 4th of all of the fine china and glasses  that I’ve broken of my boyfriend’s. These do not include the 6 fine pieces of serving /dinner ware I broke while living at my parents, and the multitude of glasses I broke in France, and the…..I’ll stop there, but you see what I’m saying?! At first, I laughed at my blunder because being a klutz is hysterical, right? Well….unfortunately, when I confessed my sin to the man in charge, he informed me that these glasses have sentimental value. He tried to brush it off as nothing, but I could tell they were important to him. I guess there is no replacing those……

Well, what other option does that leave me with? Time to cry. I cried and cried and cried. I told my boyfriend he should break up with me so I can stop destroying his life. I didn’t really know what else to do at that point, and in fact, I still don’t. It’s a good thing I dehydrated myself today or else I would likely be crying right now. 143

I just want to be at peace. With myself, with the world around me, and with my limbs.

Sometimes I feel I have to be loved and adored by everyone simply because I love and adore everyone. But I suppose, the most important person to be loved and adored by is yourself. It’s just a lesson that is ever so hard for me to learn. I think I’ll go balance my checkbook instead and worry about loving myself later.

Help Jim Sell His House!

So, I’m not quite sure what I think yet about the power of positive thoughts. I listen to audio books telling me how to bring all good things into my life –finances, love, nice clothing, happiness, friends, vacations, and health. A dreamer, a chaser, a plan-alterer when things aren’t going my way. I read books about making agreements with yourself, I try to analyze my mental psychobabble, practice namaste and fire up my qi, and blah, blah, blah. Perhaps it’s for the very reason that I am skeptical, that these things are not all at my fingertips right now. Instead, I’m a “make do with what you got” kinda girl. I am also the kind of person who believes that if I say, “I have holes in my sweaters.” I run the risk of finding one in my sweater tomorrow. Cautiously and yet, skeptically, I hold my skepticism to myself. After all, you can’t always believe EVEN yourself. 

Last month, while I was knee deep in my audio books on my way to and from work (hi ho hi ho hi ho) the reader, Rhonda Byrne was saying how the mind is the rudder for your life, the actions you take begin in the mind and furthermore, what harm can it do from thinking good thoughts even if nothing WERE to come of it. At the very least, you’ve fooled yourself into feeling better. What could a little human experiment hurt? I thought to myself, as I picked out my test subject. 

8:38AM Enter Stage Left: My boss. 

She was having trouble selling her house, despite having shown it several times. She mentioned this in passing and my advice was this, “Close your eyes and REALLY FEEL like what it would be like to have sold your house! Imagine it sold. Imagine who lives there. Don’t you LOVE the fact that you sold your house!?” She is such a great gal, and humored me by not only saying she would do it –she DID it! All weekend she did it. You want to know something? HillHouse

Her house was SOLD on Sunday night at an hour that one would think is jussssttt a bit too late to be calling your realtor! Not to late to hear the best news! Monday morning, I open my email inbox and find her message, “I love that I sold my house!” 

I of course, thought she was just repeating the mantra as instructed. I expected it to take much longer. But lo, and behold, it had worked! 

When people in the other cubicles heard the news, I got an instant promotion and they began dancing around me, clapping, bringing me gifts when I walked in each morning and offering their firstborn child as my personal laborers. Ok, so that never happened. But people DID come ask me what they had to do to sell their houses…..

So, that is how I’m in the predicament that I am in tonight. 

A matter of coincidence. Or perhaps a truly altered reality has me reassuring another colleague, Jim, that HE TOO can sell his house with the positive power of LOVE. 

I need a little help, from any and all readers. Can you repeat the mantra with me? “I love that Jim sold his house!” If you have extra time on your hands, do some imagining for me also.  This is easy business, and I know you all have medulla oblongotas and therefore, imaginations.

Just picture him handing over the keys once and for all, signing those papers with a big smile on his face. Picture him coming into work telling me his good news! And then picture me with that promotion and the firstborn children as my servants. Oh ya, and money tree topiaried (new word I just invented) into the shape of a hammock. 

I knew y’all would do me a favor!