Technology is a wonderful thing... until it takes over.
I'm reminded on a fairly regular basis that, these days, people are so attached to social networks, television and cell phones that they're beginning to lose their personal connection with everything around them. I always think "how sad that someone could be so addicted to TV that they don't spend time with their family, so connected on Facebook and Twitter that they're unable to perform a single action during their day without letting their 'friends' know what they're up to, and so in need of a constant connection to the outside world that they can't even part with their cell phone during dinner."
And then I remember... I'm one of those people.
Heaven help me if I haven't read every single post in my Facebook news feed. And there are just some shows I can't possibly miss. I pretend it's not so bad... it's not as if I stay home on a Wednesday night because I don't want to miss my favorite show... that's what a DVR is for! And think of all the time I save by fast forwarding through the commercials!
Don't get me wrong, there's no harm in watching TV, keeping up with friends and relatives online or being connected to the outside world. The problem is when Facebook feels like a lifeline. When the fate of television characters starts to feel as important as the real people in our lives. When the misplacement of a cell phone causes panic to set in, as if it's the worst possible thing that could ever happen.
Of course, I can't just deactivate my Facebook account... too many relatives rely on me to post pictures of my son and keep them apprised of the goings on in his life. It's not for me, it's for them. And as far as TV is concerned, who doesn't deserve a little down time... a little break from reality... a chance to lose yourself in the lives of nonexistent people?
Still, I find myself wondering... what would life be like if I could just disconnect for a while. Would I be more productive? Would I be bored enough to workout on a regular basis? Would it allow me to take more time to reconnect with the people I call friends? Sadly, I'm not sure I have the willpower to find out... the very idea of disconnecting makes me nervous... I break out in a cold sweat... now that I think of it, where is my cell phone? Maybe I should make sure I haven't missed a call.
As I finish this post, my cell vibrates to alert me of a new text received and I drop everything I'm doing as if this will be an earth-shattering matter that I must attend to immediately. An 'I love you' text from my husband. Sweet? Absolutely. Earth-shattering? Debatable. I may not be up for the challenge... but I'm certainly a prime example of someone who should give it a shot.
The acknowledgment of a problem is a step in the right direction... right?
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
You can't call it writer's block...
Writer's block would suggest an inability to come up with an idea, a character, a plot... a lack of inspiration. These are all things I have. My characters are intriguing, the story line interesting. I have imagined the smallest details of a New York City apartment, the meager belongings of a man on the run and the quiet surroundings of a cabin in the woods. I know the physical features of the characters... it's as if I'd known them my entire life... we'd be friends if they actually existed. Instead, they nag at me from inside my head, wanting me to share their story... or at least try.
What I have is writer's fear... apprehension... anxiety... trepidation. Of course, I'm not even sure you can call it "writer's" anything when I'm not actually a writer. I've never written before, have absolutely no education on the subject and have only made the smallest of efforts to put my thoughts to paper. Within hours of putting something down, the file is deleted, the dream stashed away for another day. And somehow I still think of myself as a writer.
I don't know where it came from... it just snuck up on me one day. The smallest seed planted deep in the back of my brain, watered sparingly and offered little light. Then suddenly there was an uncontrollable desire to be something I'd never been... my little seed has become an overgrown weed... not entirely unpleasant, but quickly taking over every thought in my head. And now it's as if I'm cheating myself in some way by not trying. Is it a fear of failure? An inability to commit to the work it would require? It's hard to say. But either way, it's anything but writer's block.
What I have is writer's fear... apprehension... anxiety... trepidation. Of course, I'm not even sure you can call it "writer's" anything when I'm not actually a writer. I've never written before, have absolutely no education on the subject and have only made the smallest of efforts to put my thoughts to paper. Within hours of putting something down, the file is deleted, the dream stashed away for another day. And somehow I still think of myself as a writer.
I don't know where it came from... it just snuck up on me one day. The smallest seed planted deep in the back of my brain, watered sparingly and offered little light. Then suddenly there was an uncontrollable desire to be something I'd never been... my little seed has become an overgrown weed... not entirely unpleasant, but quickly taking over every thought in my head. And now it's as if I'm cheating myself in some way by not trying. Is it a fear of failure? An inability to commit to the work it would require? It's hard to say. But either way, it's anything but writer's block.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Falling in love with something new
I hurt. A lot. But it's a good hurt. The kind you get when you try something new physically and it kicks your ass. The sign of a good workout. The stretching of body parts you were sure would never be flexible again. The use of muscles you weren't even sure you had. The reminder that you aren't as young as you once were. It's the kind of pain that comes from one's first yoga class. It hurts. And I love it.
Monday night was my first yoga class... thank you, Mel, for suggesting it; thanks, Jenn and Aaron, for forwarding the groupon that made it insanely inexpensive; and thank you, fine yoga instructor, for convincing us that our bodies were capable of strange positions that I'm still not sure are completely natural. Running a marathon proved I had abilities I didn't know I had. Yoga forced me back to the reality that there are still a few things my body is currently incapable of.
It was a good reminder. It's time to dust off those muscles I'd forgotten about and take advantage of 80 minutes of totally calming me time. It's time to learn something new. And it's time to make that transition from downward dog to cobra pose my bitch.
Monday night was my first yoga class... thank you, Mel, for suggesting it; thanks, Jenn and Aaron, for forwarding the groupon that made it insanely inexpensive; and thank you, fine yoga instructor, for convincing us that our bodies were capable of strange positions that I'm still not sure are completely natural. Running a marathon proved I had abilities I didn't know I had. Yoga forced me back to the reality that there are still a few things my body is currently incapable of.
It was a good reminder. It's time to dust off those muscles I'd forgotten about and take advantage of 80 minutes of totally calming me time. It's time to learn something new. And it's time to make that transition from downward dog to cobra pose my bitch.
Monday, December 31, 2012
On the 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th...
I've had so much fun over the past few weeks with my family that it's hard to narrow down all of the wonderful things that my true love has given to me... our amazing son, a wonderful home, a happy marriage and more love in my heart than I ever thought possible. There have been amazing foods, perfect Christmas presents, fun days out with the family and cozy nights in. We've shared laughs and hugs and hilarious moments. I have more than I ever could have imagined and most of them are made possible because of one amazing man! Thank you and I love you!!!
... and a partridge in a pear tree...
... and a partridge in a pear tree...
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
On the 6th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
... a lesson in paying it forward.
I've always believed in the power of karma... an action or deed creating the entire cycle of cause and effect. There's both good and bad karma, the idea of paying it forward, of course, being the action that creates good karma, starting a cycle of good deeds paid in advance instead of the repayment of favors already received.
This time of year we all hear feel good stories of those paying it forward to others... making up the difference for someone's groceries when they don't have enough to pay for what they had in the their cart, paying for the gas of a complete stranger at the gas station before they have the chance to swipe their own card, paying for a meal at a restaurant for a family who doesn't expect it. It's heartwarming and reminds us of the good in people... even in the midst of terrible heartache and trying times. But today was the first time that I felt it, saw it in action, and was a part of the good karma cycle.
Earlier today, over lunch with my husband, he shared with me an opportunity he'd had to pay it forward... a random act of kindness to a complete stranger... and we discussed what a good feeling it had given him. It wasn't huge in monetary value... just a small thing with a note to the recipient "Merry Christmas. Pay it forward." I've never been more proud to call this man my husband.
Later in the afternoon I received a call from our son's daycare. It appeared, as I suspected was a possibility earlier in the morning, that he had an ear infection. I had already put in a call to his pediatrician hoping to get him in that afternoon, but the earliest they could manage was tomorrow evening. Unwilling to let him suffer an additional 24 hours if it wasn't completely necessary, I took him to the CVS Minute Clinic. I was warned that the wait times were usually long (up to 3 hours), but my options were limited. Fortunately, there were only 3 people in line ahead of us and, somehow, our son managed to remain calm, quiet and well-behaved. As we sat on the floor of CVS (all of the chairs having been occupied), a woman asked if I was interested in switching places with her in line. She was next and obviously knew that, when it comes to toddlers, extra wait time can sometimes turn unruly. As much as I wanted to tell her that I appreciated her offer, but insist that she not give up her spot in line for us, I also knew she was right... our son is not known for his patience. I thanked her profusely as she told the nurse to take us in her place, and I couldn't help but feel that my son and I were being rewarded for my husband's good deed from the day before. I don't know if I deserved it, but you'd better believe I have plans for paying it forward! :)
I've always believed in the power of karma... an action or deed creating the entire cycle of cause and effect. There's both good and bad karma, the idea of paying it forward, of course, being the action that creates good karma, starting a cycle of good deeds paid in advance instead of the repayment of favors already received.
This time of year we all hear feel good stories of those paying it forward to others... making up the difference for someone's groceries when they don't have enough to pay for what they had in the their cart, paying for the gas of a complete stranger at the gas station before they have the chance to swipe their own card, paying for a meal at a restaurant for a family who doesn't expect it. It's heartwarming and reminds us of the good in people... even in the midst of terrible heartache and trying times. But today was the first time that I felt it, saw it in action, and was a part of the good karma cycle.
Earlier today, over lunch with my husband, he shared with me an opportunity he'd had to pay it forward... a random act of kindness to a complete stranger... and we discussed what a good feeling it had given him. It wasn't huge in monetary value... just a small thing with a note to the recipient "Merry Christmas. Pay it forward." I've never been more proud to call this man my husband.
Later in the afternoon I received a call from our son's daycare. It appeared, as I suspected was a possibility earlier in the morning, that he had an ear infection. I had already put in a call to his pediatrician hoping to get him in that afternoon, but the earliest they could manage was tomorrow evening. Unwilling to let him suffer an additional 24 hours if it wasn't completely necessary, I took him to the CVS Minute Clinic. I was warned that the wait times were usually long (up to 3 hours), but my options were limited. Fortunately, there were only 3 people in line ahead of us and, somehow, our son managed to remain calm, quiet and well-behaved. As we sat on the floor of CVS (all of the chairs having been occupied), a woman asked if I was interested in switching places with her in line. She was next and obviously knew that, when it comes to toddlers, extra wait time can sometimes turn unruly. As much as I wanted to tell her that I appreciated her offer, but insist that she not give up her spot in line for us, I also knew she was right... our son is not known for his patience. I thanked her profusely as she told the nurse to take us in her place, and I couldn't help but feel that my son and I were being rewarded for my husband's good deed from the day before. I don't know if I deserved it, but you'd better believe I have plans for paying it forward! :)
Monday, December 17, 2012
On the 5th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Eleven hours of sleep...
7 hours of sleep is a really good night... 6 is more common... 5 happens more frequently than I would like. Sleep is just not something I get a lot of. On weekends, my husband and I take turns sleeping in. If we're lucky, we each get one day. But, with our hectic schedules these last few weeks, we're lucky if one of us gets to sleep in at all. After the busy week I'd had, I really needed it. My husband must have recognized it too... thank goodness!
Of course, it wasn't just the extra hours of sleep (which were heavenly), but what that meant for the rest of my day. When I finally rolled out of bed at 10:30, I felt good... really good... better than I had in some time. When our son took his nap, I had the energy to go for a run... a wonderful 3.7 mile run in unseasonably warm 50 degree weather. When I got back, I felt so good about myself that I didn't sit around eating junk food the rest of the afternoon like I might otherwise have done... I made myself a salad for lunch, took a shower, stretched the way you're supposed to after working out instead of the quick 30 seconds I usually give it.
Since I don't know how soon I'll have another opportunity like this, I'm glad I was able to take full advantage of the situation when I did. Five golden rings don't hold a candle to a good night's sleep!
7 hours of sleep is a really good night... 6 is more common... 5 happens more frequently than I would like. Sleep is just not something I get a lot of. On weekends, my husband and I take turns sleeping in. If we're lucky, we each get one day. But, with our hectic schedules these last few weeks, we're lucky if one of us gets to sleep in at all. After the busy week I'd had, I really needed it. My husband must have recognized it too... thank goodness!
Of course, it wasn't just the extra hours of sleep (which were heavenly), but what that meant for the rest of my day. When I finally rolled out of bed at 10:30, I felt good... really good... better than I had in some time. When our son took his nap, I had the energy to go for a run... a wonderful 3.7 mile run in unseasonably warm 50 degree weather. When I got back, I felt so good about myself that I didn't sit around eating junk food the rest of the afternoon like I might otherwise have done... I made myself a salad for lunch, took a shower, stretched the way you're supposed to after working out instead of the quick 30 seconds I usually give it.
Since I don't know how soon I'll have another opportunity like this, I'm glad I was able to take full advantage of the situation when I did. Five golden rings don't hold a candle to a good night's sleep!
On the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
A big strong shoulder to cry on...
Friday was a rough day from the start. Thursday night was a concoction of 19 wonderful ladies, Christmas Ale, delicious appetizers, champagne, a festive gift exchange, spiked hot chocolate, more snacks, then more Christmas Ale. Mixed somewhere in there were hurt feelings, the new awareness of a year-long grudge and staying up way past my bedtime. The morning brought sadness I wasn't really prepared for... and a feeling like I was in high school all over again. The hangover didn't help.
The afternoon brought news of the horrific loss of innocent lives in CT. I won't get into the politics of it all, nor will I share every sad story that I've heard over the last few days. There are no words for this kind of tragedy. Nevertheless, as a parent, it's impossible to comprehend that kind of loss. And while it probably should have put everything into perspective for me that day, I instead let it stew with my existing sadness, mixing in with the foggy remnants of a well-deserved hangover, and I found myself in a depression I couldn't get myself out of.
Super husband to the rescue.
Well, sort of. I certainly didn't think so at the time. In fact, I was quite disappointed in my husband's lack of interest in helping me sort out my sadness. Needless to say, we were completely on the same page with our feelings concerning what was going on in CT. But when it came to my own personal issue, I got a whole lot of nothing. No problem solving assistance, no insistence that it was just a misunderstanding. He just sat there... listening.
Crap! That was it! He was listening! Just like I always ask him to do. All I want is for him to be there for me, let me vent, let me know he's there for me, tell me he understands, and just let me get whatever it is I'm feeling off my chest. Damn it... he was doing exactly what I wanted... what I needed... it just took a few days for me to appreciate it.
Fact is, my problems are not his to solve. His job as my husband, is to be there for me... to listen, to comfort, to tell me it's all going to be okay. To run to the store at 11:00 at night to get me something I wanted, even though I didn't need it. Okay, so that's not really his job either, but he did it anyway :)
The point is that he did everything he was supposed to do... everything I've ever asked of him. The problem isn't solved, my sadness isn't gone... but I walk away with the knowledge that the next time I'm having a bad day, feeling sad or just need someone to listen, my husband will be just the man I need.
Friday was a rough day from the start. Thursday night was a concoction of 19 wonderful ladies, Christmas Ale, delicious appetizers, champagne, a festive gift exchange, spiked hot chocolate, more snacks, then more Christmas Ale. Mixed somewhere in there were hurt feelings, the new awareness of a year-long grudge and staying up way past my bedtime. The morning brought sadness I wasn't really prepared for... and a feeling like I was in high school all over again. The hangover didn't help.
The afternoon brought news of the horrific loss of innocent lives in CT. I won't get into the politics of it all, nor will I share every sad story that I've heard over the last few days. There are no words for this kind of tragedy. Nevertheless, as a parent, it's impossible to comprehend that kind of loss. And while it probably should have put everything into perspective for me that day, I instead let it stew with my existing sadness, mixing in with the foggy remnants of a well-deserved hangover, and I found myself in a depression I couldn't get myself out of.
Super husband to the rescue.
Well, sort of. I certainly didn't think so at the time. In fact, I was quite disappointed in my husband's lack of interest in helping me sort out my sadness. Needless to say, we were completely on the same page with our feelings concerning what was going on in CT. But when it came to my own personal issue, I got a whole lot of nothing. No problem solving assistance, no insistence that it was just a misunderstanding. He just sat there... listening.
Crap! That was it! He was listening! Just like I always ask him to do. All I want is for him to be there for me, let me vent, let me know he's there for me, tell me he understands, and just let me get whatever it is I'm feeling off my chest. Damn it... he was doing exactly what I wanted... what I needed... it just took a few days for me to appreciate it.
Fact is, my problems are not his to solve. His job as my husband, is to be there for me... to listen, to comfort, to tell me it's all going to be okay. To run to the store at 11:00 at night to get me something I wanted, even though I didn't need it. Okay, so that's not really his job either, but he did it anyway :)
The point is that he did everything he was supposed to do... everything I've ever asked of him. The problem isn't solved, my sadness isn't gone... but I walk away with the knowledge that the next time I'm having a bad day, feeling sad or just need someone to listen, my husband will be just the man I need.
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