How it really is

Just so we are clear, it's not all doom and gloom. I'm not all doom and gloom.

The thing is that with everything I've been through, I had to learn to feel what I was feeling... and I had to be ok with whatever it was and whenever it was. And I talk about it when I'm feeling it, because it's very likely that later I won't be feeling that way.

But if I don't express it...  Well, it builds up. Just like a poison. Just like pressure in a volcano. Until it explodes. So I vent it off and I sound ridiculous and whiney and *very* sad. Mainly because I am at that point and time. But that's not really me. My base emotion is not a negative one. My main attitude is positive, and I'm normally hopeful for the future.

Unfortunately, I blog through the bad times. Blogging is how I get it out-- because I want to get through/past those emotions, which means it sounds like I'm constantly sad and dealing with hard stuff on my blog.

Plus who wants to read about the 3 hours I spent yesterday playing a Lego Harry Potter Wii game? That's boring as all get out.

And do you really want up to the minute info on my hair- (I somehow got it to hold itself up, and now I am afraid to move my head for fear it will fall. See now, isn't that the height of interest?)

I'm reading Brené Brown's book (The Gifts of Imperfection) and there is a lot of great stuff in it, but right now I just finished a section about "numbing and leaning into the pain." It's actually really great cause that's how I try to live. I try to numb as little as possible (everyone numbs things, but if you numb your bad feelings you are also numbing your good feelings) and I do lean into the pain though I never called it that before... because if you lean into it then you get past it, faster. At least I do.

Unfortunately for those of you who read my blog, my leaning shows up on here a lot. So I guess, what I'm saying, is, yeah, pray for me (and if you want to get specific- pray for a tallish, darkish, and handsomeish gentleman to sweep me off my feet.) But try not to worry about me too badly... I'm actually doing well... I think I'm in the healthiest place emotionally that I have been since Nathan died. I have silly crushes and serious crushes and super close friendships and regular type friendships. I've got plans for the future and back-up plans for the future and I'm overcoming a lot of fears that I once had and used Nathan to take care of for me. All in all, I've come back into my own.

Do I feel like something's missing?

Of course. Because something is.

But that doesn't mean I don't lead a great life. And it doesn't mean that I'm sad and mopey and miserable all the time.

Cause I'm just not.

Oh, and Merry Christmas. :)

Christmas Mobius

Why you crying, there, pretty girl?

Cause I'm alone and lonely and afraid it will always be this way.

I cry because it hurts.

I love the holidays... that's why this is so hard.

In a lot of ways Christmas is worse for me than Valentine's Day. Some people don't celebrate Valentine's Day. Some people hate Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day is easily avoided and often people celebrate it on days other than *the* day. Plus... I've just never loved Valentine's Day... it doesn't matter that much to me. It's harder to get upset over something you just don't care about.

That isn't true of Christmas... I *love* Christmas. And Christmas is for celebrating with the ones you love. It's all about family. And there isn't a time in the world that makes me feel more left out and alone, because I had my own little family, and it's missing now... and I still mourn for the family I haven't gotten to have. Right now I should be wrapping presents for my children and posting Christmas photos on fb, but I fear I will never get that chance.

It's not that I don't have family-- far from it, I've been blessed with an abundance of family-- every one of which I love very dearly.

But no one else has quite the same family as me and that's just hard, cause someone is supposed to.

My sadness is just so complicated. It's a mobius ribbon... it all seems to makes sense and but it loops around itself, and if you cut it in half you just get a longer ribbon.

In one respect it's entirely about Nathan and on the other side it has nothing to do with Nathan- It's about not having someone to share the wonderful mayhem and havoc of the holidays with... but that leads back around to Nathan which leads me on a merry chase right back to where I started.

Alone and lonely and afraid it will always be this way.

And probably more honest than you really want to read on Christmas Eve.

Home

Disclaimer on this post: Yes, there is a people element to the concept of "home," but I don't really feel like delving into right now. It is also important... maybe some other post...

I was talking to Kara the other day and she told me a short little story. Apparently when talking about their visit to Missouri she referred to Missouri as "home." Josh suggested that she refer to Philly as home and Missouri as Missouri. She then told Josh in no uncertain terms that she didn't appreciate the suggestion. Josh then decided he would let her refer to Philly as home on her own terms.

When Kara told me about this I laughed cause she's feisty that one, but I also sympathized. While I've never moved to another state, I have moved about as far as you can and still be in the state, and I had this issue in college--- where to call home. When I was in Springfield it was easy to call my parents' house "home." But when I went to my parents' house and called Springfield "home" it took a little adjusting --especially for my mom. I remember she had a verbal reaction and that almost never happens. I still regularly refer to both places as home, and I noted something when Kara was telling me this story.

Home is only home when you aren't there...

And then I said that was rather poetic and Kara told me I should write about it.

So here we are.

Another way of saying the above statement is: Home is whereever you aren't.

In the movie Garden State there is this speech about home which is beautiful but, (I think) hecka depressing:

You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your stuff*, that idea of home is gone. [...] You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.

*changed that word

It's a speech that resonates with college students-- displaced youth that they are. And maybe it sounds like I'm saying the same thing as the above quote, but I'm not. If you read a little deeper into my statement then it's clear that I don't agree with Garden State.

And what I was saying about home? Well, the thing is that you don't talk about "home" unless you 1) Aren't there, 2) Just arrived there, or 3) Want to remain there. We don't usually notice home when we are experiencing it, but when we leave (or consider leaving) that's how we remember it, because we notice the lack. Kara isn't going to call Philly "home" until both her feelings reflect it and she isn't there.

And the thing is that home spreads out. Her house is home first... When she's elsewhere in Philly it's easy to say, "ok, time to go home!" and mean her house. And eventually that will spread to the whole city, so when she's in New York, or Springfield, or St. Louis and refers to home she will mean Philly.... and then someday maybe soon, maybe not, when she refers to home she will mean like she does when she referred to Missouri it in the beginning story-- the whole state of Pennsylvania.

I do not think that home is imaginary, at all... Yes, perhaps it is a feeling. But so are some of the most wonderful things in the world. Love. Compassion. Empathy. All feelings. All quite real, and very powerful. The character on Garden State is numb-- he's been given prescription psychological drugs to numb his feelings since he was nine (not saying they are bad, just that this character was given/is taking them unnecessarily.) So it's no wonder that he thinks home might be imaginary. Home is a feeling, that he hasn't been able to experience since he was nine.

Wintry

Well, I may or may not be going home tomorrow. It's in the plan, but it sorta depends on if I can leave my parent's house. This was what it looked like from the second floor this afternoon.

The road that I take to get back to Springfield (for the first 45 minutes or so) was "closed" today. It's not so much the snow (or so I'm told), it's the drifts.

In other news, I made a baby car-seat quilt in about 2 days. I'm pretty impressed with myself. Technically I still have to bind it, but I forgot to buy binding at Hobby Lobby last time when I was there, so I have to wait till I return home. It's not the most beautiful quilting job ever... I don't have a quilting sewing machine and I don't have much experience with quilting, but I think it will be serviceable for it's purpose. Luckily, Annika is young enough that she won't notice.

Anyway, it means that I finished everything that I was going to do while at home and I managed to do it with many hours to spare, and we made nut rolls which I wasn't planning on doing. And I feel very relaxed. It's good.

Oh and by the way, Kara is coming back to Missouri and I get to see her over the New Year!! It's a very very good winter break.

Gilbert, Matthew, and Mocha

This morning I went into town and baked nut rolls with my mom and Pappy. Well, Pappy was more there for moral support... The nut rolls were *for* him, but he couldn't (and shouldn't) do too much. He's still hurting, "everyday."

It breaks my heart. I love him so much and I hate that he's in so much pain all the time. He's just like Nathan-- fiercely independent, even when he's hurting... but I recognize the sudden sharp intake of breath whenever he moves... And I want to be there, but at the same time it's so hard for me to see how similar things are with them. I'm just so torn.

I have a great wish in me-- that since I've lived through Nathan's death that my life's sorrows would be over. Surely that is enough for one person to endure? But I know that's ridiculous. There are still many and sundry pains and sadnessess waiting for me at unknown junctures down the road. My heart still has a lot of breaking to do-- if I'm lucky... because having a broken heart means that you have loved someone enough for it to matter.

When we got home I did a lot of sewing. I'm making two big projects for my nieces for Christmas- an apron and a car seat quilt (You tie it on the handle so it won't slip off.) I finished the apron today and I got a good bit into the quilt, and I watched cable for a while, but then I watched Anne of Green Gables, because I've had a hankering ever since I wrote my paper in my "Form and Theory of Prose" class.

It's such a good movie-- in part because it's my nostalgia at it's finest, in part because I identify so closely with Anne and Diana, and in part because it's just a good story.

I tell you what. You can keep your Mr. Darcys and your Prince Charmings. Find me a man who is a mixture of Matthew Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe and I'll love him forever and ever. (And I'll admit I also "wouldn't holler if he were as handsome as anything!" to mix my movie metaphors.) But seriously, there is a sweetness-- a tenderness-- that Matthew, Gilbert, have that I'm searching for.

It didn't used to, but these days the movie always makes me cry.

I cry about Matthew, which I wrote about in a different blog. And I cry because I somehow convinced Nathan to watch the movie once, and after suffering through for a while he actually really liked it and every once in a while when Anne does something especially ridiculous it brings back his laugh to me. I can't recall his chuckle on cue, anymore... we are far enough away that it's hard to hear his voice sometimes, and having something that brings it back for a moment... Well, it feels good and hurts all at the same time.

There was once a time when I loved hot cocoa, but now that I drink coffee, cocoa always seems like it's missing something for me... the chocolate isn't as good if it doesn't have that coffee bitterness mixed in...

My life is sorta like a mocha.

Christmas Songs

I have a lot of favorite Christmas songs. Two of my favorites are from movies.

Interestingly enough, one is a Christmas song in a non-Christmas movie and the other is a non-Christmas song from a Christmas movie.

(The first is "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" from Meet Me in St Louis.)

But the second is from White Christmas- "Count Your Blessings (Instead of Sheep)"

After the terrible shooting in Connecticut, the song seems even more fitting for this season.

If something awful were to happen tomorrow, there is not much we could do to stop it. Which is why I think it is so important to be grateful for what we have... and count our (many) blessings.

Plus Bing Crosby... his voice... it's butta.

Being there

There is very little in this world which I feel better about than being there for a friend when I'm needed.

I appreciate the trust that is implicit in them telling me about their problems and I value the relationships that it builds.

It's not that I enjoy "drama." I like the stuff that's *real.* And sometimes that's dramatic and sometimes it's intense, but I like feeling as though simply being a listening ear can help. I like feeling as if I've made the tiniest difference even if I said almost nothing.

I really like being able to feel like I've repaid even the tiniest bit of what was offered up to me by family and friends when going through cancer and Nathan's death.

But the thing that I love the most? It's that stirring of my heart. It's the aching and the longing. It's the empathy of love that I feel so deeply within me that it's almost as though this person were my child. It's the feeling that lets me know I've somehow managed to keep my heart soft despite everything. It's the echo of what I think God feels for this person, and it's so very reassuring.

Because if I can love them this deeply...

how much more does He?

Renée in Real Life

Watching Dan in Real Life for the first time in a long time-- a good holiday feeling movie with family. I really like this movie. It's that beautiful mix of sad and funny.

Funny thing about Renée: Since Nathan died, I normally sleep with a huge pile of laundry on one side of my bed. I thought this was a weird thing that I did to make the bed not seem too big, to not feel so alone. I don't do it if I have company (in part cause my laundry is all put away in that case) but in part cause I just thought it was super weird and I try and hide my neurosis from other people... you know until I write about them on my blog.

But it turns out I'm not weird. Dan, who isn't really in real life, sleeps with the other side of the bed completely taken up with books.

I find a strange comfort in knowing I'm not alone... even if the only other person I know who is like me is in a movie.

"I'm looking for a book... something that can help me deal with what might be an awkward situation. Something funny might be nice, but not necessarily big, 'ha, ha, ha,' 'laugh, laugh, laugh' funny, and certainly not make-fun-of-other-people funny but rather something human-funny. And, uh, if it could uh, sneak up on you, surprise you, and at the same time make you think that what you thought wasn't only right, in a wrong kind of way, but when you're wrong, there's a certain rightness in your wrongness... Well, what I mean is, more importantly, I'm looking to be swept up! And at the same time, not." -Marie from Dan in Real Life

"It was all so beautiful."

"I love Bartok's music, as did Mr. Teszler, and he had virtually every recording of Bartok's music ever issued. And it was at his house that I heard for the first time Bartok's Third Piano Concerto and learned from Mr. Teszler that it had been composed in nearby Asheville, North Carolina in the last year of the composer's life. He was dying of leukemia and he knew it, and he dedicated this concerto to his wife, Dita, who was herself a concert pianist. And into the slow, second movement, marked 'adagio religioso,' he incorporated the sounds of birdsong that he heard outside his window in what he knew would be his last spring; he was imagining a future for her in which he would play no part. And clearly this composition is his final statement to her -- it was first performed after his death -- and through her to the world. And just as clearly, it is saying, 'It's okay. It was all so beautiful. Whenever you hear this, I will be there.'" - Ben Dunlap

http://www.ted.com/talks/ben_dunlap_talks_about_a_passionate_life.html

Oh Look, a Procrastination Blog!!

Last night I literally would not let myself work on my presentation for my Form and Theory class until I finished my book report for my Shakespeare class. My book report is technically not due until Sat, but I have a research paper due on Monday for Shakespeare that I haven't even started (looked at some of the research-- that's all) so I really needed to get that out of the way and my presentation for Form and Theory is based on the paper which I've already written, and it's just a lot more fun than Shakespeare. Plus, since it was due today I knew I wouldn't go to bed before I finished the presentation, and I cannot say the same about that stupid book report which I've been putting off for weeks now.

And it worked. The book report is done and I think the presentation went well. Plus I got two new facebook friends as a direct result of my presentation, where I quoted a facebook conversation. (Whatever. It was a totally brilliant analogy- don't give me that look. At least two (TWO!) people physically reacted by leaning back in their seats and nodding when I came to the crux of the analogy.)

The cookies that I made for it were certainly a hit. I made special oatmeal raisin cookies for one of my friends in that class, and he says he's going to write me a jingle to use in my fictional cookie business.

Soon I will have a fictional cookie making empire. (The cookies will be real, the empire will not.)

I love making people happy with baked goods. I really do. It's so easy and people are so grateful/impressed. (I won't lie, I totally love the compliments, too.)

Now I need to be working on my Shakespeare paper, but a friend just came over to talk out some relationship issues she was having, and people are more important than papers.

And now she has left and I know when I finish this blog I have to buckle down...  so I'm stalling for time a little.

It's a bit weird how being stressed out and super duper busy puts me in a really good mood, but it's as though every laugh has to be extra joyful to make up for the fact that I'm stressed. I think laughing is just my favorite. I think I'm a Care Bear in people clothes.

Shakespeare can't handle a Care Bear Stare!

To the Care-a-lot! (otherwise known as my upstairs office)

2nd Christmas

I've noticed I'm much more prone to tears this holiday season.

Now some might blame that on how little sleep I'm getting of late.

Not gonna lie- that's possible. I left work early today because my head hurt so bad I couldn't think and I slept from 2:00 ish until 6:30 without any hesitation.

But I think what it really is, is that this year my heart is more vulnerable. Last year I was so guarded about it being the "first" Christmas... and I was so aware of the upcoming 1 year mark. So I just didn't let myself think about it or feel it. And I've always loved Christmas... but I just kept it shut down, cause I couldn't handle it.

I can handle it this year... but it still makes me sad. Christmas is not the same without your person. Have you listened to Christmas music lately? It's all about being with the ones you love (most especially the *one* you love) or missing the one you love. (...or Jesus. There's a goodly amount of Christmas music about Jesus, too. :) )

But Christmas just isn't as much fun without your person.

All the driving... no good without someone to share it with-- or to just drive for me, who am I kidding?

There is a lot less sneaking around-- which is also less fun.

I don't decorate because it makes me so sad. Nathan hated decorating a tree when we got married and slowly but surely I was convincing him that 1) decorating a tree doesn't take any talent. and 2) it is fun... But it's not fun when you are doing it alone. At least not for this extrovert. Plus you know what I don't want to see? The beautiful "our first Christmas" ornament that's hiding somewhere in my boxes of Christmas decorations.

And taking it down would be even worse, because even that has memories attached. One year I took our tree down on Valentine's Day as a gift to Nathan. He was so exasperated. :)

So maybe next year I'll be able to decorate. I'm not sure.

Last year I was just trying to survive. This year I'm *trying* to enjoy. But it's not easy, because there is nothing like the holidays to make you feel even lonelier than you normally do.

Not-so-trivial Thankfulness 30

Seems fitting that for my last entry I talk about something I'm thankful for that isn't trivial.

And that something (shocking, though it may be to you) is people.

I've said it before and I will say it again, many times. I've been blessed. Blessed beyond my wildest imaginings with friends and family.

I can come on pretty strong when I feel like I have a connection with someone and I'm thankful for the people who are patient with me.

I can also be very shy and come across as uninterested in a friendship, and I'm thankful for the people who can push past my seeming standoffishness.

I'm grateful for the people who think I'm worth getting to know and the ones who don't really have a choice in the matter, but still manage to love me and think I'm funny.

I don't think there was ever a girl so lucky in her birth or in the people who choose to be her friend, and I'm thankful. So very very very thankful that you are in my life.

Trivial Thankfulness 29

Today I'm thankful for color. I really like color... If Pleasantville and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz have taught us nothing, it's that a world without color would be boring.

Trivial Thankfulness 28

Today I'm thankful for my craft-loving nature. I really enjoy creating things with my hands... art or sewing projects or clay sculptures or whatever. I just like making stuff. It's also super relaxing for me... which may be why I have given myself 2 sewing projects to complete between now and Christmas.

Perhaps not my most genius idea ever?

And yes, crafting is genetic. I'm sure of it.

Trivial Thankfulness 27

Today I'm thankful for my ability to fall asleep despite having just drunk a  cup of coffee.

My sleep schedule is insane, but if I had to alter my coffee consumption or suffer consequences it would make me a very unhappy camper.

Vulnerability: The First

Today Melissa and I were talking about something... and then the same subject came up on a television show I watched online... and then again in a different way on a different show. (To be fair I also read an entire Shakespeare play this evening, so don't judge me too harshly.) So because the same subject came up so very often today I thought I would talk about it.

Melissa and I were talking about Brené Brown's book. She is reading it and recommended it to me. I know of Brené Brown from a couple of TED talks that she did that I love. (I blogged about them here.) Melissa and I were talking about communication and being yourself and being straightforward and power dynamics and the lack of power dynamics. And that got us on the subject of admitting ones needs/wants/desires.

There is something in us, and I'm not sure if by "us" I mean "Americans" or I mean "human beings," but there is something that feels like we should not admit what we want or need. That somehow, by being honest about who we are, we are displaying weakness and declaring ourselves pathetic. No one wants to be thought of that way and so we hide our wants and desires. We don't share what we actually want, deep down, because we are afraid that we will be judged for it -- labeled as "needy" --or we will be told no and that will hurt.

So we bottle it up and tamp it down and generally try as hard as we can to avoid being vulnerable. Brené Brown says that vulnerability is essential to living a full and content life, though, and while I've not read her book I do greatly agree with those TED talks, so I've put her book on hold at the library.

Then I was watching Hart of Dixie, (because I'm totally hooked even though I wouldn't call it good television by any stretch of the imagination.) And the theme of the episode was romance... and how romance is about the willingness to take a chance and be a fool. It's true... love and marriage isn't about being cool, it's about being silly and being real and being ok with all that. At one point the main character says of a fifteen year old kid that he is tough, that expressing his feelings took guts, and she tells him that he is braver than most grown men that she knows. Again: vulnerability is hard but it's commendable and something to be respected.

And then I was watching Go On which is that widower show that I've mentioned a few times and the main character had an old friend from college come visit, and through the course of the episode he discovers that he has feelings for her (though he's not ready yet to act on them) and at the end they talked about it and she is really honest/vulnerable and admits that she has feelings for him, too (and has since college) but they can't date, because she knows he's not ready and she doesn't want to be "the first" after his wife.

That last part kinda slayed me... cause 1) it was so cool that they just talked about it, straightforwardly. --Ach, to just talk about romantic feelings as though they aren't something to hide from or be ashamed about.... that's my dream world! But 2) because she didn't want to be first.

 I think that's a real thing that people get concerned about with widows/widowers... and if I'm gonna be honest about my needs/desires: I want to date, I want to get married and I want to have children... and I really want that all to happen relatively soon. I'm going to be 30 next year and my biological clock has been primed for five years now... but for any of those dreams to happen, someone has to be the first. And if there isn't (at least) a first then I won't get any of those things... And that is a dream that will very much hurt if I'm told no.

And I am afraid to say it, for fear that it makes me sound desperate (when I'm really not) or unhappy (which I'm also not) or trolling for a husband (still, not.) But if you can't be real on your blog where can you be real?

Trivial Thankfulness 25

Today I'm thankful for amazon.com

It makes my shopping so easy!

Trivial Thankfulness 22, 23, 24

Whoops... Sorta fell behind on account of the holidays.

I'm thankful for cute kids... I'm such a sucker for an adorable kid and there are so many out in the world just roaming around.

I'm thankful for a bit of disposable income so I can go Black Friday shopping.

And tonight I'm thankful that I don't eat like it's Thanksgiving every weekend or I'd weigh a million pounds.

Trivial Thankfulness 21

I'm thankful for this time of year. I sincerely love the holidays... Once a year everyone gets on board my "humanity is good" train. And I think the world is a better place for it.

Trivial Thankfulness 20

This evening I'm thankful for Spotify.

My taste in music can be eclectic and I go on some serious "kicks" (meaning I play songs over and over and over.) Spotify helps me legally sate my musical appetite, while allowing me an almost endless sea of songs to chose from, and that makes me a happy gal.

Trivial Thankfulness 19

I'm thankful for upcoming vacations...

It's only 3 extra days and they will be full of things to do, but it's a little extra time to do homework and a great excuse to see family.

Trivial Thankfulness 18

Tonight I'm thankful for accents... They make life fun.

Also, am I the only one who suddenly finds herself singing along with twang when she's listening to country music? I crack myself up.

Trivial Thankfulness 17

Tonight I am thankful for days when I can give over to my insane sleep schedule. Yesterday I slept from 8:30 -midnight, was awake from midnight till about 5 AM, slept again from 5 until 10 or so, was awake from 10-3, slept from 3-5 and then have been awake since 5.  (It is currently 8:30)

You know how some people like to snack throughout the day rather than eating one big meal?  Well, today I nap-snacked.

So this evening I'm thankful for nap-snacking.

And also the ability to make up words.

Unfair

Last night I was trying to write when I was hit with some pretty intense upper back pain. I think that it was from taking a nap and sleeping on it wrong and then sitting strangely on the couch while writing... Well, to be honest, I sit strangely pretty often... always have.

Yep.

Anyway, I was trying to write, but pretty soon I couldn't. So I went and took a couple of Tylenol because that's a muscle relaxant, and I dug out my heating pad and put it on my back and waited.

And there was no position that made it hurt any less and it took quite some time before it I started to feel even mildly better... and it made me cry. It didn't make me cry because my back hurt so much, though it was rather painful. I cried because Nathan went through that... only his didn't end with a few tylenol, a heating pad and some sleep. It kept going for months and months on end. And it just made me even more aware of how amazing he was and how sad I am that he had to hurt for so long.

I hate how unfair life is sometimes. He didn't deserve the pain he went through.

I miss him. Still.

Always.

Trivial Thankfulness 16

I feel like I could say I'm thankful for the internet like every day. It's how I find cool gadgets, how I keep in touch with people and how I see super sweet pictures of my new baby niece.

Today I'm thankful for socks. Socks keep my feet warm and protect my heels from blisters. They also look cute under boots.

Trivial Thankfulness 15

Today I'm thankful for soup.

It is warm when I am not.

Trivial Thankfulness 14

Today I'm thankful for coats and gloves and hats and scarves and all manner of winter attire.

I'm also thankful for the tall boot trend that's been going on.

Everyone on campus looks so cute these days!

Bittersweet

So I've been watching this show on TV called Go On. It's a Matthew Perry show about this guy whose wife died, and now he's in a grief group.  And after that is a show called The New Normal which I'm really enjoying. And then after that is a show called Parenthood. And every Tuesday I think that I should stop watching after The New Normal... and every Tuesday I watch it anyway. Lorelai Gilmore (otherwise known as Lauren Graham) is on Parenthood, and a husband and wife are dealing with her cancer diagnosis.

And it hurts to watch but I do it anyway, because it feels like someone else understands.

For an example: the husband had a mini rant about how someone came up to him and said "God only gives you what you can handle" and how angry that made him.

I literally gasped.

And then when the wife went in to have her first chemo treatment I cried. They get it right on that show-- it really looked like a hospital room.

I want so badly to have a place to go when I'm sad.

I mean, it's tomorrow now and I'm fine, but I really wish I had a shoulder to cry on when I need to cry. Crying alone is the pits.

I've healed up really well, but there are always going to be moments that hurt, and as it stands now I just have to soldier on...

Yesterday I seriously considered posting on fb that I would make baked goods for the next single guy to give me a hug... and then I realized how few single men I knew and got bummed out all over again.

Also, since it's fb official now, I can announce that I have a new niece!

Annika (ah-nik-a) Joy was born yesterday... which may have contributed to my sadness as well... not because I'm sad for a new baby, of course, but because Nathan should be here for this.. he was always so excited about a new niece or nephew.

I'm really ready for things to not be so bittersweet.

Just sweet, please.

Trivial Thankfulness 13

Thankful that I live in a time in which capes are sold commercially.

And that I've somehow managed to find the guts to wear mine non-ironically.

Trivial Thankfulness 12

Have I been thankful for the internet yet? I feel like I should be thankful for the internet. *goes to check* Yep, sure 'nough... I was thankful for the internet two days ago.

Soooo tonight... I guess tonight I'm going to be thankful for...

Electric blankets.

Being a widow (who is apparently also completely terrifying to men**) there is a severe lack of snuggling in my life, so an electric blanket is about the closest that I can come, and it's pretty nice on super cold nights.

** I'm not sure that I'm actually all that terrifying but it's how I make myself feel better than Nathan's grandfather has had five women propose marriage to him since Nathan's grandmother died a month and a half before Nathan passed away and I've had only had one guy express any interest at all.

Trivial Thankfulness 11

Today I'm thankful for chocolate chip cookies. I'm not sure how this shy extrovert ever would have made friends in college without them. As icebreakers go, they are some of the best.

Trivial Thankfulness 10

Today I'm thankful for laptops.

It's so nice that I can take my computer wherever I need to go and do whatever I need to do on it.

I can write in a coffee shop.

I can check facebook in McDonalds.

I can revise a story in a vehicle.

That range of mobility is super neato.

Trivial Thankfulness 9

Today I'm thankful for the internet... our lives are *so* much easier because of it.

Also it makes being a textrovert a lot more fun than it would otherwise be.

Trivial Thankfulness 8

Today I'm thankful for couches. They are really great. For sitting, for napping, for playing video games, for skipping the light fandango... They simply can't be beat!

...actually I bet couches are terrible dancers.

Trivial Thankfulness 7

Today I'm thankful for text-message pictures and liquid eye-liner. The latter for giving me cat-eyes and the former for giving me the opinion of my best friend, despite her 1,000 mile distance from me.

Trivial Thankfulness 6 (Shakespeare edition)

Today I'm thankful that 3/4 of the Creative Writing program at Missouri State are men. It's as though I suddenly find myself in possession of 30 new brothers, or having no actual brothers, what I perceive brothers to be like. This one tells me of an animated Anne of Green Gables series, that one promises to bring in a Harry Potter crazy fan documentary for me to borrow. Another makes me a copy of a story that he thinks I will like and that my story harkens to. One I run into all the time so it's as though I'm strangely (and happily) never far from a friend, and still another just walks up to hug me when he feels that my story has been unfairly and unjustly critiqued and tells me not to listen to anything that one (sadly also a male) has said-- which manages to prompt five other people into telling me that they wrote on their critiques that the cad was entirely mistaken.

Truly, also I say unto you that if my pattern of speech does seem most strange, and if it brings unto your mind a different time then the fault solely can be laid at the feet of Shakespeare. A most elevated bard whose plays this very election night I have read and from whom I have only been parted e'en these few blog penning minutes.

Peace be with you.

Trivial Thankfulness 5

Today I'm thankful for libraries and my ability to read quickly. One gives me the books for class and one gives me the knowledge inside them.

I'm also thankful for the BBC Shakespeare series which the MSU library has the entire collection of... meaning that I can watch people perform a play as I'm reading it... everything makes so much more sense that way!

Trivial Thankfulness 4

Today I'm thankful for Germans... or at least their love of board games, but it seems mean to only like a country for their fondness for games, so I'm just going to be thankful for them all.

Because Germans love board games they give out a big muckety muck award every year-- the Spiel des Jahres. It's like the Oscar of board games. and because they give out this award my friends and I know what are some really great games to purchase/play, which means we have reasons to get together, which means we have fun.

And I am firmly in favor of having fun.

Fun makes the world go round.

Trivial Thankfulness 3

Today I'm thankful for hair dye.

I love that I can go from this 2 months ago:

 To this: This morning (You can sorta see a little tiny bit of bluish tinge at the ends)

 To this (Fried hair, after bleaching out the ends-- see the lovely shade of moss we managed to get?)

 To this: Red ends that you can actually see!

Also, my hair stylist is pretty great, so I'm thankful for her, too.

Trivial Thankfulness 2

Today I'm thankful for beef jerky. Mainly because I have a craving for some. The problem is I'm terribly picky about jerky and the kind you can buy at grocery stores is horrendous. I either need to find a dehydrator to make my own or have someone ship me some from Rutledge. You see, Rutledge (A tiny town near the tiny towns that my home address is at and my school was in) has a meat locker that makes the best/saltiest beef jerky ever known to man... but it's the real deal and it's mighty good.

I guess I'm actually thankful that the Rutledge Meat Locker exists?

Trivial Thankfulness 1

Because my facebook is exploding with thankful posts...

Once upon a time I tried to write thankful posts.... only I was too hard-core about it and thus it was too hard, and I dropped the ball after a mere 7 days. Seven is the number of completion, right?!

But I want to give it another go. This time, though, I want to write short blog posts-- which is impossible with serious topic matters. So I'm going to take the serious out of the thankful. In fact my goal is to take this most sentimental of traditions and use it to give shout-outs to things that are not sentimental, but I'm glad exist anyway.

Today I'm thankful for outtakes and blooper reels. I find a lot of things in this world amusing but few things are as patently hilarious as watching actors crack themselves up or randomly get hit in the nose, or deliver line after line of hilarious improv. Sometimes I wish movies were just made up of outtakes, but then the outtakes wouldn't be so funny.

Also, just fyi, I'm probably not going to post the thankful blogs (other than this one) onto fb, because they will be short and not worth blowing up everyone's fb feed. I'll continue to post the "real" blogs when I write them, I just thought this would be kinda fun.

So feel free to check in every day or so. 

Or not. 

...I'm also thankful that I'm not privy to everyone's innermost blog reading schedules. Can we say hecka boring information?!?

Yes, but we probably shouldn't.

Loitering

And lo, it came to me then, that verily I am terrible at loitering.

Seriously.

I think there is a skill you learn when you are a teenager and don't want to go home, and I think the skill is that of loitering.

In my home town loitering was done around the square. On Friday and Saturday nights teenagers would get in their cars and in their friends' cars and drive around the square. Then they would drive out to the edge of town to the bowling alley, circle around and drive back to the square. They "cruised" until it was boring or they saw someone they wanted to hang out with and then they would go park on the square and loiter with more people than could fit in one car. (Sometimes this happened at a gas station on "the strip" or the bowling alley, but the square had a heck of a lot more parking spaces than anywhere else in town.)

I was a gigantic nerd/goody-two-shoes/stick-in-the-mud and I did this one time. In part because I lived in the country and wasn't in town on Friday or Saturday nights, in part because I didn't have a car, and in part because none of my friends really did this very often.

But I think that in missing out on this Scotland County right of passage I missed out on a valuable learned talent: How to just stand around.

I can't do it. I hate the random eye contact where I don't know what to say. I suck at small talk. I never know how to interject myself into a conversation that someone else is having, and above all this I have a very intense fear of being disliked or annoying people... which might be one of my most annoying traits, paradoxically.

I know how to look at my phone as if something very interesting is happening on it, but that is just a time-killer, not a connection-maker. I can hold a reasonable conversation with people. I can even yell out "Hippopotamus!" in a room full of people whom I all want to like me.

But when an event is over, if I don't have a reason I can't leave (aka riding with someone else) or a good friend to chat with, I'm screwed and I end up running away even when there are a few people who I would like to say hello to, or greet, or otherwise acknowledge.

This is why I'm so much better at online interaction than in person interaction. My feelings don't get hurt if someone makes a face at something I say online or ignores a facebook status and I can't just pick up from their body language when they really don't care for me.

I'm like the "True Life Tales of a Cinderella Time-Dud."

When it's over

It's one of those melancholy evenings. When I just want someone around. Unfortunately for me, I'm picky about who I want around.

One of the things that I really loved about marriage was that it didn't end. I hate it when things end.  I always have.

I hate it when a show is done for the night, and even more when you strike set and it's done forever. I hate it when everyone goes home, when everyone gets tired, when everyone falls asleep.

When you are married, it doesn't end. You can literally fall asleep while laughing. Then you just wake up and start laughing again.

Ok, it's not quite like that... but a little, it is.

Only mine ended.

And pretty often I still get the feeling. The feeling that I used to get after a show... when there was nowhere to go and the world was shut down... but I wasn't done.

I'm not done.

I mean I could go downtown to where I'm sure there are still people who are insanely drunk wandering about, but that isn't what I want... I just want to have a conversation. I want to laugh until I fall asleep.

I want to have my head on someone's shoulder and talk about really personal things and really stupid things while tracing his hand with my finger. Not looking at each other- except for his hand. Except for my finger following each knuckle.

Relationship Status

Today marks a big day: The day I changed my relationship status.

I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now.

Gone back and forth more times than I can count, consulted with several friends about it-- but today I took the plunge and changed my status from "widowed" to "single."

The thing is that I will always be a widow. For the rest of my life. But it's not my relationship status, anymore.

I will always be extra sensitive to cancer when I see it- in real life or just portrayed on television.

I will always miss Nathan.

I think Kara put it really well in an e-mail exchange we had about it- (I mentioned how terrible it would be if I started dating someone, changed my relationship status, and then we broke up):

"Change it to single.  That WOULD be horrible, "broke up with John Doe, back to being a widow...?" No.  You are a single window.  There are also categories of dating widow and married widow.  Your relationship with Nathan is a different category than all future relationships.  It's not Nathan or new guy.  It's always Nathan - you will always have been married to him, but that doesn't preclude other relationships.  Mark Zuckerburg needs to figure this shit out.  He should pay you to be his consultant on these matters."

Widow is not all that I am, and in relationship it is not all that I want.

"Single" means "available." It means "up for possibilities." It means "keeping my eyes open."

"Widowed" means "back the heck off-- I'm dealing here."

And while I think I'll always be dealing-- as anyone with pain and sorrow in their past does-- I don't want people to back off. I want people to come in.

I don't want to shove people away.

I want to hug them.

I want to bake them cookies and hear their life stories.

I dreamed a dream in time gone by...

I think I'm developing an earache.

I used to get them all the time when I was little and had to take really gross tasting medicine that was kept in the refrigerator. It was pink and tasted like "bubble gum." Haven't had one for quite some time now. Weird.

My brain confounds me sometimes. Why do I remember things like this??

Oh on a side note- You know how I made that post last time that was all sad about how that drunk guy didn't hit on me when he hit on the other girls??

Well, the next day I was in Wal-mart looking at the cake pans and this guy walks up behind me and as he's passing me says, "Man, you are very beautiful."

I looked up and around, but I was the only one in the aisle. I started to say thanks to his back. I got out, "Th-," before he turned back for a moment to say, "Your man is a real lucky guy."

Then he turned and kept walking as I actually got out, "Thank you!"

It was the most surreal experience, but completely wonderful. All I was doing was standing in a deserted aisle checking my phone. And like the guy was just there and gone again in 30 seconds. He kinda seemed like he was in a hurry, actually... It was like he just couldn't help but comment on it. Like I said- Wonderful.

I tried so hard today to get homework done and failed so hard at it. Tomorrow is going to be a heap-big-homework day.

Also my aunt Dawn sent me a card in the mail just cause she found it and it made her think of me... It was great... and the fact that there was a Starbucks card inside didn't hurt matters, any.

I've been going through my pictures on facebook and I saw a few I took of Nathan when I first got my digital camera... It's a really strange feeling. Like I see them and I love and miss him so much... but at the same time it doesn't even feel like it was my life. It still feels so much like a dream or a tv show or a movie... This delightful/ tragic story that happened to "me", but once removed. I can't help but wonder if that's all a coping mechanism or if it's always going to feel like a lovely dream I once had.

Being Fazed

Currently sporting my hair in Pocahontas style braids. This only happened *after* I came home for the night.

So last weekend during the drunken-ness, this guy kept asking Bailey if she knew how gorgeous she is.

And don't get me wrong-- she is, in fact, gorgeous. Then a little later he started complimenting a different girl on her looks.

There were three girls on the porch. He never said a word to me.

In fact, once when Bailey tried to steer him into complimenting me and he was obviously and awkwardly trying to come up with something to say I said, "Nah, it's ok. It's pretty clear he's not attracted to me."

Then I got the pity comment from one of the other guys, "No, it's just that he's so attracted to you that he can't even talk about it."

*sigh*

I'd like to say that I was unfazed.

I'd like to say that I haven't thought about it, since.

But the truth of the matter is I'm writing a blog about it. The truth of the matter is that it totally stung.

It probably makes me unenlightened, but a man's opinion of my looks matters to me.

Even when I know it shouldn't. Even when I barely know him. Even when I'm not attracted to him. 

I try to pretend like it doesn't get to me, because I know that so much of beauty is based on your self-confidence, but it's all an affectation.

I look at pictures of myself and wish that I could lose weight.... and wish that I didn't hate my profile... and wish that I was taller and less sturdily built.

And I know that almost every girl does the same thing.

I hate beauty sometimes.

Cause the truth is I actually think I have a lot of really good qualities going for me. But I forget all about them in a heartbeat, because one guy didn't drunkenly hit on me and it reminded me of how I'm never the girl who gets hit on.

And I've heard all the "It get's old" and "It's not all it's cracked up to be" lines before. And I totally believe it. I'm a pretty smart chick, I can easily see how it would get old/annoying.

Doesn't mean the opposite's not true, too.

And I guess that's the last reason why I hate it. Because I am smart and I know I should be above/beyond/past all that kind of shallow/ petty vapid-ness. Yet here I sit, wishing some drunk dude thought I was hot.

I'd say I should give up trying to be beautiful but I don't have the guts. I barely have the courage to wear my glasses in public.

The Compliment Huddle

Ok, stories that I promised- First off is the awkward one... though it's kinda hilarious.

So Bailey is one of the girls who I roomed with. I liked Bailey a lot. She was sitting between Patrick and I on Sat night at one point... and the subject of boyfriends and girlfriends came up and she asked Patrick about his girlfriend and then she asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said "No." But she could tell there was more to it, and I wasn't sure what to tell her so I started. "I..." and then I trailed off because I didn't know how to bring up Nathan. And then I looked at Patrick... and back at Bailey... and then back at Patrick, trying to figure out what to say... and then back at Bailey. But this point Bailey was giving me a weird look and I suddenly realized that it looked like I was trying to say that there was something between Patrick and I. So then I freaked out and just blurted the first thing that came to my head.

"I have a dead husband."

(Renée shakes her head at herself and puts her forehead in her hand.)

Yep. I really blurted it out just like that. And Bailey looked at me and said... "Are you for real?"

And I was like, "Yeah... I'm serious. It was cancer."

Oh Lawsie. You'd think after 20 months I'd be better at this. Nope. If anything I've gotten worse.

To her credit, Bailey took it like a trooper, and didn't freak out with the full force of my awkwardness.

And now the story of the compliment huddle.

It was raining a lot and there was a porch just outside of our room. At one point Bailey and I along with two guys I have classes with and a guy and a girl whom I really didn't know at all were sitting on the porch, (everyone was rather intoxicated except me and the other girl, Ellen) and Bailey says, "Guys. shut up."

Drunk people speak loudly. So then she yelled again, "Guys, Shut up! I just had a great idea." (I dropped out some of the expletives that were used.)

Everyone shut up.

And then Bailey proclaimed her great idea. "We should all get in a huddle and compliment each other."

Now the thing is... if everyone had been sober they wouldn't have done it. Heck, I'm not sure that Bailey would have suggested it if she had been sober. But she was right, it was a great idea.

So Bailey suggested a compliment huddle and one guy jumped up and then everyone else on the porch stood up too and got in a huddle- all six of us. And then we went around the circle, giving each other compliments. Honestly.... I think it was one of the best ideas I've ever heard. People don't do that enough and they should.

The next morning everyone was kind of embarrassed, but bonded at the same time. Bailey kept disparaging it... I think because sometimes giving a compliment is embarrassing. What are the people going to think about you the next day, when there isn't alcohol coursing through their system? And it was her idea... but I tried to tell her not to do that. It was a really *good* thing.

One of those moments that you hold on to- A great story you tell- That time six strangers had a drunken compliment huddle on a porch during a rainstorm. You can't plan moments like that. They just happen and leave you better for it.

I don't retreat, I advance

Home again, home again.

Ok, I think it's time to kill the word game. Two posts without guesses means people don't want to do it.
The final count was: Renée- 18, Dawn- 17, Paula- 13, Rhonda-12, Melissa-4, Katie-2, Michael- 2.

Now that the business is wrapped up, on to what I really want to talk about- the writer's retreat.

My goal going into the retreat was relatively simple. Learn a little bit about writing and make some connections. And I think that I accomplished those goals.

I got to drive up and back with my friend Patrick (the one who is in my critique group.) Patrick and I are eeriely similar in background and viewpoints. In fact our current novels have overlapping ideas behind them- but they were developed before we knew each other... Also I think Patrick is hilarious. Patrick says that most people don't think he's that funny, but I think being nearly identical people I get his humor. And seriously. Homeslice is hilarious. Emily Bronte has a great quote in Wuthering Heights, "Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." I think that could be said of Patrick and I-- as long as you take out the romantic context of Wuthering Heights- Patrick is firmly girlfriended and also seven years younger than I am. But that also means that we are free to just be friends without all the tension. So Patrick was great for my retreat experience. I had a friend I could sit with at meals and hang out with and who I could trust to like me and not think I was being clingy.

I'm always so afraid of being thought clingy.

Another thing that helps my experience is that writers drink... a lot. There were a few who didn't, but by and large if they didn't drink they also didn't hang around the people who did. Except, of course, for me. I didn't even have a sip of alcohol all weekend, but the great thing about everyone else being drunk when you are sober (and I put this on facebook, but it bears repeating) is that- at least for this shy girl- It's a lot easier to overcome your shy-ness because likely these people are not going to remember anything you said or did in the morning. Instead they will just have a generally positive impression of you with no real memory of why. And if you do say something stupid.. well.. so is everyone else. Also my chameleon-like abilities to mimic ensure that I don't stand out too badly as the sober one. :)

As far as writing goes, I think I learned several things, too. I think the most important thing was something one of the faculty said on Friday. "Don't be afraid to state the obvious." I am afraid to state the obvious sometimes. Most times even, especially if I'm writing for a literary audience. If it's for YA I think I'm less freaked, but for some reason I'm afraid of insulting adults... but then I got to thinking... Do you look at the Mona Lisa and are insulted because it's obviously the portrait of a woman? You look at Starry Night and are you angry that you know it's a landscape? No. It's about the style and the texture and the choices the artist makes that create the beauty. In fact, way more often people are angry if they look at some abstract piece and can't figure it out. So why am I afraid of being too obvious in my  own writing? Dumb.

I read (something I'd written) today at the last workshop before coming home. I was afraid to, but I did it anyway. I was scared because 1) It was non-fiction and referenced two people who were in the workshop with me-- not in a positive light and 2) I cursed in it... a lot. 3) I was angry in it and you know that's not how I normally roll.

But I read it... and my voice was all low and shaky cause I was so angry/emotional. (But the theatre kid in me was just a little pleased with that because it gave the piece even more verisimilitude.) And when I finished there was a pause and then everyone in the room sort of let out their breath heavily and started clapping. (The clapping was normal... the pause and the breath were not.) But the breath let me know. It let me know that I'd gotten them. Somehow I'd managed to *get* the whole room in half a page. One dude even spontaneously cried out, "How are you not published already?!"  Oh, and the guy whom I'd called out via words very generously announced to everyone in the room who he was in the story and then complimented me on my work.

I'm glad that I read it... though I sorta still can't believe that I was brave enough to do it... But in a way it feels like one more victory. A woman (who was also named Renee!) came up to me later and thanked me for reading it. She lost a sister to cancer and she said- "That was truth." Wow. *Such* a compliment.

I sorta hate that I made the widow "announcement" in such big public way, but at the same time, it might have been a good thing... there was no awkward searching for something else to say, no guilt-ridden changing of the subject. People could just comment on something that I'd done within the writing, and then we could all move on to someone else's piece. Then everyone could emotionally process me and put me into a new little box in their head before they had to actually interact with me one on one again.

There are a few other stories to tell- the compliment huddle and the awkward way I still haven't figured out how to tell an individual that I'm a widow, but those will have to wait for another day and another blog post. Maybe if you are lucky I'll have time tomorrow.

Blighted

Today a friend of mine (whom I met via the hospital) had her last IV chemotherapy. After 32 months she is finally finished.

I read about it on facebook.

Immediately after that was a status about it being someone's last day of work before they got married.

One time during the treatment process they told Nathan that they would be removing his port. We were really excited and it was all scheduled and then they took him back there and decided they couldn't do it (because of platelets or something.)

He was so upset.

We left the little office area and he got to the hall and he just slumped down the wall, tears rolling down his face. So disappointed, so upset, so devastated, because this symbol of his cancer remained in him. He'd set his hopes so hard on this one thing, and when it was taken away from him... It was the only time I ever saw him crack in public.

There are so many babies at my church. Everywhere you turn on a Sunday morning there is a baby... And that's just the people who have stayed... there are at least two other babies who have moved away.

And Nathan's cousins just had their third,

And one of the Pixelscopic guys is going to have a son within the next two weeks or so,

And Rhonda is due in November...

And I sorta feel like Nathan... slumped against a wall in the hospital because I can't hold it together any more...sitting in some random hallway with tears running down my face.

And it's not that I don't want people to complete their leukemia treatments.

And it's not that I want people to stop getting married.

And it's certainly not that I don't want people to have babies. I love babies.

I just... want to be able to join in. It makes me sad that Nathan never got to say he was done with leukemia treatments. And it makes me sad that I'm not married anymore and it makes me sad that I can't get pregnant (at least not in accordance with my morals.) But it's more than sad... I'm disappointed. I'm upset. I'm devastated.

My life isn't bad... it really isn't... but my hopes were set so hard on having a family. And all this other stuff... it's a really fun, interesting, great distraction. But in the back of my mind there is always this discomfort. I think I've managed to coat it enough to make it a pearl, but it's not like it goes away. My life has been blighted by Nathan's cancer and I don't know if it's ever going to grow properly again, no matter how much I long for it.

Kindness

The last word was tautology.

I've been thinking about kindness lately.

And how important it is.

There are people in this world to whom kindness is inherent. They are naturally considerate. They take other's viewpoints into account. They are just nice and when greeted with someone else's kindness they respond with even greater enthusiasm and generosity of spirit.

And then there are those who take kindess as their due, but who don't return it. They are blank, they are accept but do not give. They offer up very little to the world as a whole and somehow still make people want to please them. It's not that they are mean, it's just that they are a kindness black hole.

Some people are sneakier. They are only kind to their loved ones. They are nice as long as the world at large doesn't know. They have great hearts but only shine their light under a bushel.

And then there are a few who really are mean. The Scrooges of the world who I think are more prevalent on television than in real life.

I've sorta always thought that this was just how people were made. Some who have a generous spirit and some who don't.

But I'm starting to wonder... Is kindness a continuum that you can progress (and regress) on?

If you pour enough into a black hole will you find out they are not a black hole but just a really large vase?

Or will he/she always be a black hole?

Can Scrooge and the Grinch really be transformed by a Christmas miracle or are they really always gonna be a Scrooge and a Grinch?

How inherent are people's characteristics?? It's sorta like wondering if my favorite color is ever gonna change. Am I going to wake up one day and discover it's chartreuse rather than cerulean?

So Different

Three years ago today, at 8PM, the course of my life was inextricably altered from the path I expected it to go down with three words. Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

Today on my drive into work I saw a person being placed on a stretcher after a motorcycle accident.

Life is not always what you think it will be. Every day that your plans go as designed is a minor miracle.

My life is so very different from what it was 3 years and one week ago... So different that I often feel like it was another life, lived by another person. So different that it feels like something I watched happen on a tv show.

In my Creative Writing class, I really don't want to turn into the girl who only writes about death and cancer and dealing with it all. But at the same time... It's something that I know-- something that I know rather well. And it seems like everything keeps coming back to it, no matter how I try to run from it.

It's hard to know how to embrace and accept something you never wanted to be, but are, nonetheless.

It's hard because you desperately want everyone to know but you don't wanted to be treated differently.

Actually that isn't true. I do want to be treated differently. When it comes down to it I want respect for living through it. I don't need the sympathy, and I don't want the pity. I have no use for being treated with kid gloves or for "handle with care" signs. But I want the recognition that I know a tiny bit more about life than my age or my appearance would imply. I want the respect of somehow managing to still thrive despite tragedy. I want the acknowledgement that I make pretty kick-ass lemonade out of some horrendously rotten lemons.

There are times I just feel so different. I'm an okapi... I look like part zebra, part pony, but I'm actually a lot closer to a giraffe... and I don't really fit in anywhere. Heck, most people aren't really even aware that okapi's actually exist, beyond tangentially. They certainly don't expect to just run into one in the middle of their day.

Conference

Hi!

I've been luxuriating in the freedom of not having to blog. Last night I went to bed at midnight, because I could and I was tired.

But today I missed you.

Your bright shining faces. The way you make me laugh. The way you fill up my e-mail inbox every morning.

And also I wanted to talk.

I went to a conference this weekend in St. Louis. It was fun to travel with friends and meet new people.

Honestly the conference itself wasn't that ground shattering, except for some really cool things that happened at the very end.

It seems as though the thing God wants to tell me... the thing that He's been telling me over and over is that I'm beautiful. It's certainly a tautology I need and want to hear. Heavens knows I've mentioned enough on here that it's one of the things I miss the most about Nathan. Someone came up to me at the same conference last year and told me that God wanted me to know I was beautiful and then two separate people at this conference told me the same thing (neither of them know me or my story.) One said that I was beautiful, but not just on the outside but because I was made intentionally that way that- "what God has made you, is beautiful." He referenced Psalm 139. The other said I was a "rare and beautiful flower" Then someone else came up to me and told me that off of the flower thing, he got "reborn or rebirth, like a perennial." And then he quoted Matthew 5: 14-16- “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

So, while I want and need to be called beautiful and it's pretty telling that it came from three different sources, the last thing is the thing which hit me the hardest... Because while I think this guy knew that my name is Renée, he didn't know that I am a widow and he certainly didn't know that I feel like I've gone through a rebirth of beauty... that I really do feel like an perennial. And there was no way for him to know that Matthew 16 is the verse which I most desire in all the world to live like.

In conclusion: God's sorta cool.

Oh, and the last word was monolith.

And in other news, I bought brown boots today and I love this song, which I've just discovered.

A Slow-down

Yesterday's word was miscreant.

So I have some possibly sad news...

The days (nights) of me blogging every day are going to be coming to an end. I've been doing this for over a year and a half, and when I didn't have this stuff called homework it was really a do-able system.

But I have homework now.

A lot.

And I keep not getting it done.

In part because I just want to revise a story, not work on anyone else's critiques.

And in part because I need to sleep sometimes....

The thing is I only have so many hours and the extra hour (or sometimes way more) that a blog post takes me is an extra hour of sleep I'm losing, or homework time I'm not doing....

And I just don't have that many hours to spare.

I'm not going to stop blogging. I love it too much... but I think I'm only going to blog when I actually have something to say... I just can't keep up this pace and it feels like a waste of time to be making up things to say, when I have things I need to be doing.

I'm not stopping the word game. I'm not ending my blog. I'm just trying to avoid building a monolith to my own stupidity. So I'm instituting a slow-down. I can't feel guilty for just needing to go to bed. I can't feel bad if I have things I have to get done.

I just need to go to bed. I just need to get things done.

I hope you understand.

I'm grateful that you have so incorporated me into your routines, but the frenetic pace is overwhelming.

Believe me, it's not you, it's me.

Miscreant Bear

I powered through and didn't nap today, when I really wanted to come home and just knock out...

but that means it's 11:23 and I'm completely wiped. And I don't get to sleep in, because of the conference this weekend, I have to work tomorrow morning.. Woot. :/

I got a really nice e-mail this evening. The high points were...

"I wish more people were like you. You went out of your way to say something nice to me, and it's those type of actions that make life endlessly pleasant and redeeming.

I will surely save and reflect on [what you said] when I need to remember people are good. And they are."

The thing is, what I said to this person wasn't that nice... but I have *always* wanted to live a life that made people believe in the good of the world, so it sorta made my heart glow, nonetheless.

Yes, I did just basically admit my life's goal is to be a CareBear...

I think I would be Miscreant Bear with my ebony and sapphire hair... and being a human and all. My tummy symbol could be my tattoo.

Yep, that's brilliant.

Oh and yesterday's word was hexagonal

Memory

I've been thinking a lot about memory.

In part because I remember a lot.

In part because it's a little bit about what my last story was about.

In part because Ryan sent me the link to this article.

In part because in the article it makes memory sound like a sandcastle... or a little kid's block set. Something you build and then every time you remember you knock it all down and build it up again. But it's never really the same as it was... not quite.

In part because there are so many things that I wish were written down, or video taped, just so that I would know exactly what happened... exactly how it happened...

In part because there are so many things that were once written down that have been lost now.

In part because Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has burst back into my life with a vengeance and I just watched it for the first time since I lived on the first floor of a hexagonal prism.

In part because I'm in one of those weird moods that artsy movies make you get into.

In part because I messed up my sleep schedule last week and it's currently 5:30 AM

In part because I want to have Clementine's hair.

The thing that I like about my blog is that it's a semi-accurate representation of what I'm feeling on a day to day basis, that I can always go back and look at. The thing I dislike about it is the same...

I say semi-accurate, for one reason- I still keep secrets from my blog. If I'm angry at someone I don't tell my blog. If I'm in love with someone I don't tell my blog. If I'm bored with someone I don't tell my blog. I don't (or very rarely?) express my political views on my blog. I don't tell other's secrets on my blog.

Sometimes I leave myself subtle clues, so that if I ever do go back and read my blog I can recall the emotion of that day.... What I was really saying. I try to be subtle enough that no one else knows they are clues, but sometimes I wonder if those who know me best.. can't see through the billboard sign that I call "subtle."

I have a pretty distorted view of myself... I think my mouth is open really really big when Kara says it's just barely open and I think my thoughts/emotions are locked up up tight when really they are on display for anyone who has eyes.

But then again maybe that just means I'm like the rest of the world.

Plain as the proboscis

So I sorta forgot something yesterday...

To be fair I was up till 6, editing a story, so by the time I went to bed I wasn't thinking clearly.

I'm sorry for being a terrible scallywag who forgets to blog.

Please tell me I'm not the only person in the world who suddenly realizes that they don't know the story behind a word and then they go look it up.

The Word Detective comes to my rescue again.

I have to warn you... this might happen more often... I kinda have a lot on my plate these days, and I don't get graded on or paid for my blog... Nor does my blog fufill my social needs as well as an actual person does... and some of my friends have already started making comments about never seeing me...

Heavens I *love* being busy... and I love being busy with something that I love, my blog might not love me being busy so much, though....

I also love my friends and how willing they are to be mad for me so I don't have to be mad for myself. It makes my life a whole lot easier.

I had to cut my nails off pretty short because one broke and the asymmetry was really bothering me.

I'm sleepy.

Exhausted, tired, entering a state of sombulance, worn out, tuckered.

Not-yesterday the word was proboscis... yes, sometimes I am just that obvious.

 Plain as the proboscis on your face.

Criticism, aka, "Yo girl, why you gotta be hatin' ?"

I got back critiques from class today.

The good thing is that the people who's writing I've most liked and respected also thought my writing was decent and gave me some helpful feedback.

The bad thing is that one girl told me that there were many things in my story "that are assumed and not actually factual or true" and she would suggest researching some facts.  (She doesn't actually tell me what "facts" I need to research.)

...This is a story that I was seriously considering not submitting because it's right on the line between fiction and creative non-fiction... But as I told a friend- I submitted it as fiction. There is no way for her to know that this story is based so closely in reality.

Must get thicker skin for people who don't know what they are talking about. After all, I can't have it all... I either get to be 24 and clueless about heartache, or 29 and a world-weary traveler, and I've chosen 24.

Thursday nights are my favorites because they are the only night I don't feel guilty about not doing one morsel of homework.

Oh and I'm going to a writer's retreat in the middle of October. I'm excited... and hoping I'm able to find a roommate or two for the retreat.

Yesterday's word was Meritocracy.

Anyone else think that Kara's been making the words extra hard to hide lately?? Yeah, me too! I mean how in the world am I supposed to be able to hide a word like proboscis??

YEAH.

And then I was all, like, "Check out the proboscis on that girl."

The Changing Force

Yesterday's word was jodhpurs. I'm moving this announcement to wherever I think it works best... heck it might be in the middle of some paragraph next week.

If this week was a meritocracy, Wednesday would be the supreme high ruler of everything.

Today I worked for 7 hours, took a 2 hour nap, went to 2 grocery stores, ate dinner and watched a tv show while eating, read a short story, read a chapter of dense book, read a page of critisicm summary, and chatted with a friend.

Oh and I also have to read a play and write 300 words about it... and it's 2:40 AM... I wish S-bucks was open at 3 in the morning.

I am Wednesday hear me roar!

But what I wanted to talk about was a tiny bit of the conversation I had with my friend. He'd written a blog post and wanted a second opinion before posting it, so he sent it to me cause... well... it's pretty obvious why.

Before I read it he told me that the post was "long and negative."

Now this friend is rather likely to overly self-critical so I wasn't expecting it to be as bad as he said. But then I read the post... and it wasn't negative at all.  Yes, he discussed frustrations, and yes he talked about when things were difficult. But he was also talking about a triumph. He ended with a victory. So, after reading it I rejoined him, "It's not about the negative. It's about overcoming the negative."

And that got me to thinking... The negatives have to be there. In every story there is a negative. If there isn't, there isn't much of a story.

But if, in the end, the negative isn't still reigning supreme then it's not about the negative.

It's about the changing force.

Sometimes in a story the changing force is a negative.

Sometimes in the story the changing force is a positive.

And since we all know that I currently view my life in terms of a trilogy: If you look at a typical trilogy format, you see a big negative changing force and then a small positive force in the first book, and then a mainly negative changing force in the second book, and then in the third, the big positive changing force.

So my life isn't about cancer or widowhood or the bad stuff that's happened... My life is about overcoming the bad stuff, and the farther into the third book I get, the better it is.

Though I still haven't met any Ewoks, which is one of my life's greatest sadnesses.

17 of 30

List time!

17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?

This one is easy:

Sustained Spontaneous Talking (which is intelligent and coherent.)

There are so many times in my life when I wish that I could make my point or get out a coherent argument, without saying something that is the opposite of what I mean.

I want to be quick on my feet when it comes to talking. I have a pretty good wit. I can throw in one liners, but when it comes to just going on about a topic... Oy vey.

Half the time I don't even know what I think about something until days after the fact, much less am able to wax eloquently on the matter. 

And I *always* figure out what I wish I'd said hours (or days) after it's time to make my point.

But it's not like I can watch a movie and then say to my friends, "Ok, lets discuss this 3 days hence."

Or tell my professor not to get his knickers in a twist, "I'm thinking."

Knickers in a twist... Slacks in a bow... Capris in a snare... Jodhpurs in a knot... Breeches in a bunch... Dungarees in a dungeon...

Ok, now I'm just playing.

Yesterday's word was fodder.

Introverts and me

So here's the thing.

I'm an extrovert.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.

It took me until sometime in the middle of college... or maybe even after college to figure it out, because I'm not good at small talk. I'm not super gregarious. I don't have a sparkling personality that makes everyone want to stop and talk with me. I don't talk to everyone if I go to a party. I'm quiet and I'm not that outgoing.

So it's safe to say I'm not what people would call a "typical extrovert."

But I call myself an extrovert because I love people. I need to be around people. People make me happy. I crave the company of others. Now obviously this applies to all people, but there is something in me that especially loves introverts.

I'm not completely sure why, but I've developed close bonds with introverts too many times at this point to dismiss the pattern. Perhaps it's that I identify with so many of the traits that people say are normal of introverts. Perhaps it's that I love the "underdog." Perhaps it's that I love a challenge. Perhaps it's that I need balance. Perhaps it's that if an introvert wants to be my friend it feels like I've somehow won a prize or proven my worth. Perhaps it's that I just really find introverts endearing.

Yep, endearing. I love it when one of my introverted friends goes on one of their surprise rants. I love observing and figuring them out better than most people do. I love being someone they can stand to be around when they finally do need a friend. I guess that introverts take me by surprise pretty often and I really like that.

So, obviously I'm a huge fan of all the things that are posted about taking care of introverts- Instructional manuals for my friends? Yes, please! Also they are usually funny. Like this one, where the introvert lives in a hampster ball. Or this one where someone wrote an introvert "manifesto." And of course the most famous of them all: Caring for Your Introvert, which has made the facebook rounds about 4 times from what I can tell. It's not as funny, and some people find it downright offensive.

But I have noticed that people don't post things to facebook about the care and training of extroverts... And it's a little amusing because Jung (Carl Jung) defined "extroversion" as viewing the world through others first and "introversion" as viewing the world through self first. So of course there are tons of introvert-care articles, written by introverts. (Now lest you think I'm providing fodder for the "introverts are selfish" canon, let me be clear.  Introverts are not selfish. In fact, the kindest people I know are introverts. I's and E's just have different vantage points-- like introverts see the world via a mirror, and extroverts see themselves via a security cam.) (I almost deleted this paragraph but I like that metaphor too much.)

So I searched the internet and found a few things.

First there was this blog. I read it and nodded... and then frowned because there are a few things in the midst of the article that are really really not me. For instance: "we learn early on to master the expected patter about weather and jobs and how are the kids." Ha! Not me... but then again I was raised by introverts (though around them constantly) and subsequently I'm pretty darn comfortable with silence. And while I was/am wracked by insecurity about what others think of me... I've also never had any doubt that I was loved, so any love and human interaction I didn't get from my peers because I was so awkward I could always get from my family, which means that learning social skills was both slightly hard and slightly unnecessary, so I didn't achieve any sort of mastery.

Then I found these two designs-- Neither of which are angry or sarcastic, but actually work together.

This is technically written for the parents of introverts, so a few things seem a little condescending (reprimand them and teach them new skills privately), but at the same time I think they are still valid.

http://questionablylate.tumblr.com/post/17227500725/my-design-but-not-my-list-how-to-care-for

And then there is this one, written to be a companion to the first.

http://www.prettybutchlifts.com/2012/04/caring-for-extroverts.html

I read this and I was sold at #2... This happened spontaneously to me yesterday and I could barely contain my grin, though I, of course, down-played myself. I think I've written a blog just on that at some point. Someone boasting about my accomplishments to a third party (especially while I'm present) is one of the greatest things in the world...

Yeah... this was a kinda long and rambly blog... it's not very well organized but I just remembered that I have to go to the dentist in the morning, so I'm not going to go back and fix the organizational pattern. Cause I have reading that needs to happen and teeth to be checked in the morning.

Yesterday's word was tom-foolery. (I'm putting these at the bottom now so as to not start off so strangely.)

Climbing Mt. Everest

Yesterday's word was daft.

Cause I don't think blue hair is daft at all.

Too much tom-foolery this weekend... Not enough homework accomplishing.

The thing about short blogs is that there are so few words, it's nigh on guaranteed that someone will guess the word. If you spit at your computer screen, you'll probably hit it.

Go ahead... spit. I dare you.

I'm super tired... and my sickness might be coming back... either that or I just didn't take a nap today and I wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Vitamin C here I come!

And verily I shall retire unto my pallet. Which some people call a bed... and some people... mainly me- right now, call Mt Everest.

Seriously... it's so tall!

Am I Blue?

Yesterday's word was frolic.

So a few weeks ago I came up with a bit of a daft idea... I've kinda been into the crazy hair color for a while now.... and I decided I  really wanted blue hair... well not completely blue, but at least blue streaks... and I'm 29 and as we all know there are no more crazy hair colors allowed after 30. (What? That's the most arbitrary and random rule ever? Yeah, you are right it is.)

But seriously I can't have crazy hair forever. So today I went to the hair salon and the hairstylist said, "I was thinking a red ombré" (cause we talked about changing things up last time) and I said... what about blue??

And it just so happened that they had recently gotten a "permanent" blue hair dye. So new that they'd only experimented on the stylists in the salon, not any actual customers. And I'm told my hair is very healthy--enough that it can handle being bleached out on the ends... and it would have needed to be bleached out anyway for the red ombré....

So today I was a bit of a guinea pig.. So much so that all the stylists kept coming over to look at my hair/ooh and aw/clap their hands.

It's really subtle. You can't tell in low lighting and only barely in outside lighting (thought I did wash it again this evening in hopes of removing enough dye that it would lighten up/ be more noticeable... it will eventually, but I just want to hurry the process along.)

But still... I think I'm totally awesome now... I have blue hair.

This picture actually makes the blue more noticeable than it is.

PS I am feeling much better... either lots of sleep, food and Vitamin C works, or complaining about feeling sick works.