Books Read - Fall 2010

1. Julie and Julia by Julie Powell
2. Timeline by Michael Crichton
3. Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (updated by David Wright)
4. The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan
5. Rilla of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery (#8)*
6. Yoga for the Desk Jockey by Susi Hately Aldous
7. Eating Well by Heidi Murkoff
8. Pilgrim in the Palace of Words by Glenn Dixon
9. Emily of New Moon by L.M. Montgomery*
10. Maud: The Life of L.M. Montgomery by Harry Bruce*

This probably doesn't count

I'm sorry for the silence.
Now I'm going to bed.

Christmas Cards

All the Christmas cards that I'm using this year have sparkles on them. Sparkles everywhere. Sparkles kinda scare me - I'm always sure that/afraid that I will get sparkles in my eyes. They're tricky things, those sparkles. They fall off your Christmas cards and stick to your fingers, then you rub your face, and then five hours later you glance at yourself in the mirror and see the sparkles creeping towards your eye lashes. I'm afraid that if they do get in my eyes, they'll scratch my eyeballs. Sparkles be gone!
Yeah, I know, this is a bizarre quirky phobia.

I find that my writing has gotten a lot worse over the years. It's messier, less controlled. I think I blame work, the word "utility" comes to mind, I often write quickly, and having the paper at awkward angles doesn't help. I don't like this trend... but it's hard to turn around. Maybe I need to spend some time slowing down.

I'm having a bit of a Christmas Card List dilemma. Where do I draw the line, especially with people at work? Do I just give cards to the people I really like, or do I give one to everyone I regularly interact with? There are people that I'm really not a fan of, but maybe giving them a Christmas card would be a vote for a better future between us. And I guess it's not really that hard to write a quick Christmas greeting - and being remembered could be so valuable to them. Hmm...

I'm leaving sparkles all over the Starbucks table. Beware your eyes, next coffeehouse guests!

Relax

I am making a tradition of walking to Starbucks on one of my days off and taking some time for myself. Somehow that's easier when I'm away from home - at home there are too many distractions that make it hard to get things done and hard to sufficiently relax. Sometimes you just need to get away.

"Taking time for myself" results in writing a lot of letters. I think about someone and want to express those thoughts or memories to them. I want to stay in touch with my out-of-town friends, and writing letters has always been a big part of who I am. It feels good to embrace that. I know how good it feels to get real mail, and I am glad to be giving that joy. Also, writing to friends is a way of sorting through my life and reflecting.

(I'm having a hard time pluralizing things today... I've caught myself twice already. Weird. So if there are some I've missed, I'm sorry! But if I acknowledge this current propensity, it makes it less censurable. And see, I still know how to use big words!)

Today the comfy chairs were free when I got to Starbucks, so I got to relax in comfort. It's not as busy here on Saturdays as it is on Fridays. I tried to come yesterday, but I kinda spent the entire day sitting on the couch reading in my pajamas. I didn't actually face the day until seven o'clock. So my Starbucks time got moved to the second of my days off this week.

This is the third week of this tradition, and I love it. I hope it continues.

Singular

I got an email from my ex-step-mom a couple weeks ago:

That sounds fine Michelle. Just call me tomorrow and leave a message on my phone as to where I can find my car.
Thanks Mom

We haven't talked in over a year, and despite its specific and unexplained subject matter, this email was very out-of-the-blue. I don't have her car, and I never called her "Mom." But there's a very easy explanation: her daughter is also named "Michelle," and she must have just sent her message to the wrong email address.

I responded:

I think you sent this email to the wrong Michelle. =)

Short and sweet. And I didn't ever hear back from her. I thought that she might send some sort of Oh, that's funny! By the way, how are you doing? I'd love to get back in touch! sort of response... but I got nothing. To be fair, I could have said all those things to her and I didn't. But I did put an encouraging smiley face. And she was the one who had said back then that she would always be my step-mom. I guess that wasn't true. And I guess it still hurts.

Gigantic Starbucks

Today I found the biggest Starbucks cup ever:
WAHOO!!
It's as big as my head!
(It's actually a canister. Although I'm not sure what I'll use it for, I just had to have it.)

Chosen

Katie and Patrick got engaged a few months ago. Then the day before yesterday, they stopped by work and Katie asked me if I would be her bridesmaid! (She had hinted at this possibility beore, so I wasn't completely shocked.) First I think I said "Okay!" in an excited voice, then I asked her what I'd have to do and warned her I'm bad at planning parties. She said all I have to do is wear a dress and shoes, come to the parties, and help her write thank you cards. I can totally do all those things!

Although I wasn't shocked to be chosen as one of Katie's bridesmaids, I am surprised. Am I really that important of a friend in her life - one of the top few? I remember all of the times I haven't really appreciated her and feel ashamed. I want to feel like I am a good friend to her, someone worthy of being her bridesmaid.

I guess Katie and I have known each other for six years now and have been good friends for about four. We trained at work together, we've gone shopping together, we go out for coffee and lunch and dinner together. When she moved away to go to school, I went to visit her. We've baked cookies together and had crocheting parties together. And her family likes me (and I guess they thought I'd be a more deserving bridesmaid than another friend of hers). I've also been a good friend of Patrick's, and I've seen their relationship develop. The three of us hung out together before they started dating, and I was the one she talked to when things started developing between them.

Choosing a wedding party really makes a person rate their friendships. And I feel like it's also a vote of confidence for the future: I will be in their wedding pictures, and their kids will either say, "Who's that?" or "That's Michelle!" If I'm going to be given an honored role as they get married, I ought to remain around for everything else too.

Motto

So, I have discovered that my motto these days is, "I'm so not impressed." I've found this to be my exclamation in situations like "You didn't tell me he wasn't transferring? I'm so not impressed," and, "They reloaded this Starbucks card, when I very clearly told them I wanted the other one? I'm so not impressed."
It's a pretty crappy motto, isn't it. Pretty negative, at least - it doesn't really inspire appreciation for life. But I do like having an expression of displeasure, and being able to admit that things aren't ideal and that that is okay. There's something nice about acknowledging dissatisfaction.

Books Read - Summer 2010

1. Cheats, Charlatans, and Chicanery by Andreas Schroeder
2. Star Wars: Children of the Jedi by Barbara Hambly
3. Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton
4. Speaking Truth to Power by M.A. Apostol
5. The Reader by Bernhard Schlink
6. Boundaries in Marriage by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend
7. Rainbow Valley by L.M. Montgomery (#7)*
8. Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Work News

I work alone now.

There have been a lot of changes at work lately; two new stores are opening in the area (and a new competition has taken some of our people as well), so as a result of transfers we've got a whole different array of staff. All the managers I report to are different, including my direct manager and our store manager. And Geoff, my Payroll coworker, got a promotion at the new store, so he is leaving too.

Today was Geoff's last day. And I've gotten used to the idea of not having him around - months and months ago he anticipated quitting to pursue other ventures, then I knew about his application to transfer, then I knew when he got the new position, and now he is gone. I'm not as afraid of my new role (as the most knowledgeable Payroll person) as I was at first - I've had time to grow into it. And it'll be okay. Of course, it will suck for a while too because there is no one to replace Geoff (or perhaps to replace me, as I move into Geoff's role). We've known that Geoff was leaving for quite a while, but they haven't given us anyone new. Boo. Whenever I do get a helper, I hope they're competent. I can't handle another training episode like the last one.

Geoff wrote me a goodbye card, in which he said: "I'm very thankful to have gotten to know you over the past year and a half. You're a very kind and intelligent woman, and have improved both the company and me as a person. Thank you for everything!" I was really touched by this. I know I've frustrated him at times (and vice versa), and I'm glad to know that in spite of that we part on very good terms. He appreciated me too. He complimented me on kindness, which is something I don't really expect these days, and he complimented me on intelligence, which is nice because he also gets to see pretty un-intelligent sides of me. (I make dumb mistakes and then we laugh at them. Today I kept writing "gong" and "gene" while trying to write "gone" over and over.) I feel like these compliments are sincere - something I can believe and not just brush off as flattery. And he accompanied his kind words with a Starbucks card, which I'm super excited about.

I'm going to miss laughing with Geoff. We are really funny. We laugh at my dumb mistakes and irrational dislikes, I mock him for his slip-ups, we enjoy spelling and grammar disasters and have numerous crazy inside jokes. ("Have you seen Deb?" Frankie Smitherson!!! Chinbone! Chore!)

We can still keep in touch. There's the company mail bag, and email. I told him I'd continue to email him hilarity (which probably won't be all that funny at all if you're not there for it, but he said he'll laugh anyway).

And I've gotten better at losing people. Change doesn't seem so threatening; I find myself appreciating what I've had but believing that what's coming could be good too.

Labelled

As an alumni, I continue to be invited to potluck dinners with my major from school. I value remaining welcome and connected to them. It's neat to see the group evolve, although it feels a little awkward to be on the outside of it. Sometimes it also feels awkward to re-enter aspects of that phase of my life.

One of these gatherings occurred last night. It was a lovely time of reconnecting, and as hoped, I found a welcoming outlet for the books I've recently purged from my shelves!

At one point in the evening, our professor was telling us about how much she loves seeing her students grow and change throughout the years of her tutelage. As alumni, of course, we were the examples. "I was really, really quiet," Amanda volunteered. I didn't say anything, so our professor said of me, "Michelle was sceptical, but God is working on that in her." I continued my halfhearted smile.

Sceptical, huh. One word that begs so much explanation. What on earth is she referring to?

Is she saying I was sceptical about God? Although I am no longer a person of faith, I do not believe that this falling away was evident in me back then. If anything, I feel like I am an example against the idea that those who fall away were never really Christians to begin with (the perseverance of the saints). I was genuine. (Unless this is a matter of election... I was sincere but not chosen, and somehow she recognized that, although she would never put it that way?) And the events that led to my giving up were not so much a matter of scepticism as of pain and darkness. Even in those steps I was living genuinely out of my circumstances.

Is she instead saying that she found me sceptical towards our topic of study? I don't see that either. I came back to school because I was so excited about the mystics after reading John of the Cross. When I try to picture "sceptical," I come across synonyms like dour and uninvolved, but in my early memories of school I was anything but that. I remember how excited and involved I was in starting our community, and how I invited everyone out for coffee after class. I didn't start out sceptical. But eventually I started to feel angst in her classes. In addition, I was in a dry and dark place and "spirituality" wasn't very fruitful for me. But this is the field that recognizes and understands such arid times!

Maybe... maybe she feels like I was sceptical of her view of spiritual theology. Maybe it all boils down to her. We did stand on the opposite sides of some issues and we weren't always comfortable with each other. She prides herself on her intuition, but I have found it to be faulty when applied to me (like when she asked if my expression of painc was an attempt to control something). Maybe her statement reveals little more than her current feelings about me, and that some bitterness remains between us.

Based on the context of her speech, it seems that she should be identifying a characteristic that she saw in me early on and an area that changed significantly by the time I finished my college education. Her phrasing, however, suggests a current observation ("God is working on that"). I didn't start out sceptical, and if anything, I became more sceptical as my time at school went on. Another friend of mine from that time does not remember scepticism as a primary characteristic of mine at all when he first met me (and I didn't bother asking about now).

To be honest, I felt a little slandered by her description of me. There were new people in this group whom I hadn't met before, and who were forming their opinion of me based on the fact that I gave them books, and then the fact that she called me sceptical. It was as if this was how she was introducing me to them. They don't know what contributed to this statement; they are left to imagine. I guess it's a good thing I won't see them much in the future... or maybe that just makes it all immaterial.

Moving Concluding

Goal: to blog about moving in 20 minutes.
Setting: Personal Project Night at Danaya's, where we get together and get stuff done. I've spend the first hour and a bit addressing moving announcements. I should go soon, but if I don't do this here, I'm not sure when I'll get to it. (Oh no, two minutes gone already?!)

So, moving. I'm moved in. It's nice. I'm not unpacked and there's a bunch of work left to do at my old place, but I'm getting settled and I'm enjoying it. I'm just tired, and not so motivated to do more work. Sigh.

I had a couple of pre-moving parties before my actual moving party on Saturday. These were really lovely. They consisted in inviting a friend or two at a time to meet at my old place, loading up each of our cars with boxes, going over to my new place, unloading and having a tour, and then going out for coffee or something together. I felt like I wasn't asking all that much of them (it's possible they'll disagree though...) - it wasn't an endless moving party that couldn't end until all the work was done, and it gave them a chance to be involved in this important time of my life in a setting where we could spend some one-on-one time together and they were needed - no getting lost in the shuffle and not knowing what to do. I feel like the people who are important in my life should be involved in the moments that are important in my life, and I valued these mini-moving parties.

My major moving party was on the weekend and was pretty successful. My Mom came up for it, and it was really nice to have her. There was unfortunately still a bunch of moving left to be done (I hoped falsely that most of it would be completed by then), and I unfortunately wasn't feeling well (I almost always face the bane of women's existence during moving parties, and this was no exception). My friends worked tirelessly to haul stuff outside and arrange stuff in cars and the truck while I tried to pack up the loose ends inside. I felt like I wasn't pulling my weight, but I don't think I could have managed all those stairs and I was so grateful for their help.

Stairs. That's been the worst thing about this moving experience: stairs. 29 stairs to get things out of my old apartment, 35 stairs from top to bottom at the new place. I'm tired of stairs.

Ding! Time's up! And I'm out of things to say, so that worked out nicely. =)

Reasons for not blogging

inspiration
lack thereof
busy
sleepy

things fill my mind that aren't worth writing about
packing boxes, loading cars, climbing stairs
actively doing instead of sitting and thinking
buzz buzz buzz
and then laying down for a nap

carving out time for writing
doesn't guarantee the words will meet me there
but I'll try anyways
because I think doing something
is better than doing nothing
even if the finished product isn't that great

success!

Picture

I just thought this picture looked really cool:

(It's a shadow of strands of my hair on the shower wall.)

Update

Dear Friends,
You have all been out of town. I hope you've had lovely times away.
Thanks for your condolences upon your return!

(Come on, Michelle, just write something! This blog post should be more than three lines long, and you just took a three hour nap so you don't need to go to bed yet.)

So, I don't really feel well. I think that's because I got hit by a car. My bruises turned kinda green and are fading already, and thanks to Polysporin fresh pink skin has taken the place of scabs on my scraped leg. So I'm getting better. The other day I walked to Starbucks without getting hit by a car, and today I wore pants again for the first time (I've been sticking with skirts that are nice to my bruised hip and scraped shin). Maybe most of my residual problems are emotional? I feel nauseous a lot of the time. I'm not handling stress well - and this has been a high-stress time at work because Geoff is on two weeks of vacation and I am doing it all myself (or at least I need to be... the list of things I haven't gotten to yet is fantastically long). I am not prioritizing well and I don't feel able to make good decisions. I get overwhelmed by interruptions and the pile of tasks facing me, and then I get upset at things. I've been bringing roll-on anti-stress aromatherapy to work and drinking anti-stress juice (which they tell me looks like whiskey... but is really just some herbal Arizona iced tea I found in the States). Anxiety was getting me even on my day off though (yeah, singular, I had to work the other day I was supposed to be off because of all busyness at work; if I didn't it would have just made more work for me in the long run). I'm exhausted and sleep is my favorite (even more than usual). Even a week and a half later, telling the story of what happened makes me pretty shaky.

So, I'm just counting everything as a success right now. I got to work? Success! I got to work half an hour late? Success! Granted, not quite as much success as if I had gotten there on time, but success nonetheless. I keyed the sick log? Success! I answered someone's question? Success! I bought paper towel and laundry money? Success! I went to the bottle depot? Success! I wrote on my blog? Success!

On one hand, it's nice to have an excuse. "I got hit by a car! No wonder I don't feel well!" That's way better than feeling awful with no reason to show for it - which then compounds itself with the guilt and mystery. On the other hand, though, functioning is important, and at some point excuses wear out.