Rotten Tomatoes

I don’t like tomatoes.  heirloom tomatoesBig deal.
Can anyone argue that point? Well, they can try, but it’s futile. My opinion is my opinion, and it’s made at my discretion. No amount of arguing is going to change my opinion about tomatoes – I dislike the taste and texture of tomatoes! I don’t even care for tomato-based products like ketchup, or tomato sauces (pasta sauce, pizza sauce, marinara sauce – whatever name you slap on that jar of tomato guts!), and I’d just as soon not have to deal with explaining myself further, thank you very much!

          yes, I have a point…

So, in the blatantly rude exposition about my seemingly insurmountable displeasure with tomatoes, I discovered this is the secret to my new happiness – or, more joy than happiness, but, semantics

Heart-to-Heart-Key-Ring

I’ve dealt with a lot of self-loathing over the years (decades!), and I’m trying to come to grips with that – I’m a work in progress… Despite knowing in my head the love of the Lord, and understanding, in my head, my worth because of my relationship in Him, and because of Who it is I belong to, I still struggle with self-worth, and allowing the actions of others to dictate whether or not I am worthy of, well, anything and everything: love, recognition, acceptance, rest, peace, joy, acknowledgement, success… Anything. And. Everything. I so often allowed others to define my value, and the worst of it, I failed to recognize that it was through the opinions of others that I was allowing my value and worth to be ultimately decided.
Let me put it to you this way: who should determine the worth and value of a pizza? One patron who walks into the pizzeria and orders a pie with four cheeses, pepperoni, pizzasausage, and black olives? Or another patron who requests Canadian bacon and pineapple with feta cheese? Well, neither, of course! The owner of the pizzeria determines the price – the worth and value – of the pies! Why? Because ultimately the pizzas belong to him. And although each pie may vary – with different meats and cheeses, veggies and fruits – they are all still pizzas, and their appeal is based on people’s preferences.

Now, back to tomatoes (bleh!)…

As we’ve already discussed, I do not like tomatoes. Just so we’re clear on that point. Everybody got that one? Okay, moving on…

My distaste for the fruit masquerading as a vegetable (ah, so deceptive – another reason not to like them! tsk! tsk!) does not discount their value; there are many (poorly informed, highly misguided – I kid!) individuals who have fallen prey to this devilishly plump orb and bestow upon it a place of honor within their kitchens, their gardens, and their nutrition plans. Our varied opinions do not change the value of the fruit; thebasket of tomatoestomato is still a tomato (and for the record, going back to pizzas – those that squawk and wag their fingers, with wrinkled-up noses, about pineapple on pizza, attesting to some cardinal sin being broken when one puts fruit on pizza… umm, tomatoes! I rest my case!) Some love them, others are merely fond of them, and then there are those that toss them onstage during nauseatingly poor performances of “The Taming of the Shrew” (again, I kid!) In much the same way, I should NOT be allowing some other person’s opinion of me determine my value! Someone else’s fondness for anchovies on their pizza is not going to change what I view as a delicious pizza, and in our respective opinions, each of us has perfection on a plate!

Opinions are like belly buttons: everybody’s got Beautiful Belly Dance Of The Universe 2012 (6)one, and everybody’s is as unique and personal as the person
themselves! Holy Moses, what a concept! Okay, I have a feeling there are a lot of you that learned this back in kindergarten. Yay for you! You get a gold star! (No, really, that’s awesome! I wish I were so lucky; life’s been challenging not being able to recognize my own self-worth. You are blessed; you are!) Like I said, I’m a work in progress here, and I’ve not had a lot of success with the self-love stuff… I did, however, make tremendous strides this week in two facets: I jumped on stage, with the future completely unscripted, and threw caution to the wind! (check out my previous post, Detail-Oriented, and this reference will make a ton more sense!) I discovered during a monumentally ungraceful stumble-trip-step-step-trip-stumble-fall that I was mistaken in my assumption of the previous-witnessed kindnesses being anything more than that (i.e., they were apparently not interest), and realized the second act of the play called for my swift and untimely demise. The defeat simmered for a while, but soon developed a lovely aroma and tantalizing fullness within my gut and soul until it manifested itself into the mantra I now carry with grace, dignity, and surprising victory: I don’t like tomatoes…

 

We all make decisions based on past encounters and present situations, which are heavily influenced by our personal preferences and opinions. I can’t fault someone because of their personal preferences, knowing full-well that we ALL have this internal mechanism – water or soda, wheat bread or rye bread, loafers or sneakers, the ocean or the forest, rap music or alternative jazz – and we ALL harbor opinions that play an integral part in our decision-making. If I get upset with someone for choosing a different stage performer over me, that’s akin to them being upset with me for not liking tomatoes, and that’s not right. I shouldn’t have to defend my distain for the veggie-fruit, fending off an attack by some pro-marinara advocate any sooner than a tea drinker waving off the offer of a cupCup-of-black-coffee of java with ridicule from the coffee bean brigade! Opinions are just a simple way of expressing our preferences, and do not detract from the value of the item in question. I need to understand –  to remember!! – that the personal preferences and opinions of others do not in any way diminish who I am, and do not take away from my value as a human being!

 

So I say, “You don’t care for me? That’s okay; I don’t like tomatoes.”

 

roasted tomatoes

Nature IS

It’s been kind of a rough week – I won’t get into the gory details… Trust me, they’re not worth the digital ink on the page – it’ll bore you to tears!

In all of it, though, I have emerged – a bit weary and scraped, and definitely (ego-) bruised, but – intact and having learned a lesson or two along the way.

Can I just say, no matter how much unbridled hope you have, no matter how much flattery you’ve stored up in the form of compliments and well-wishes from friends, family, and the sweet little old lady at the craft store who doesn’t understand that you didn’t make a mistake and put your wedding ring on the wrong hand – because it’s NOT a wedding ring (it’s just a stupid ring to not make my, umm I mean your, hands look so plain and dismally naked!)…

Ahem, sorry… where was I? Oh, yes, compliments and well-wishes…

So, with all those little love notes of hope and (bloated) confidence making you feel as if the world will bend to your delightful whims, let me reassure you – the sun will NEVER rise in the west!

Nature IS!  If nature started acting contrary to what is has always been – i.e., the sun rising in the west instead of the east – could you imagine the amount of chaos that would create?! If the waves crashed onto the shore with all the splendor and majesty we know and love – the sound of its roaring strength and the sizzle of churning foam on its peaked tips – and then receded, only to fail in its rhythmic return for hours, what then? How far from shore would the water linger before once again quenching the sandy terrain? And the moon? What if it decided to spin off on its own and hang out in the orbit of another planet for a night or two, just on the weekend, because hey, it’s the weekend, and the moon deserves a vacation too, right? While we’re at it, how about lemon trees bearing grapes and rose bushes producing acorns and blueberries? Just for fun, cheetahs residing under water, talking ladybugs, and sea stars with proper legs and feet, strolling along in Central Park?

Nature IS…

I remember a line – or rather, a scene – from a movie where one individual laments “a bird may love a fish… but where will they live?” to which another (who by all accounts should know that Nature IS and cannot be changed, altered, or drastically redirected) exclaims “then I shall have to make you wings!” (collective “awe”…) But really, even if – even if!! – a fish could be suited with proper wings, to take flight alongside the bird, their two hearts soaring through the blue vastness together, eventually the fish would perish – for lack. of. breath! Why? Because. Nature. IS!

Okay, now hold on to your over-priced lattes and tea-cakes; here’s the boomerang! As I was myself lamenting about the sad state my affairs find themselves in at the near-close of this week, I came across an unassuming email and without hesitation, opened it for a quick read. There in bold, LARGE TYPE FACE was:

For nothing is impossible with God. – Luke 1:37

Now, I’m not saying the laws of nature are going to be tossed into oncoming traffic and carried off at break-neck speeds (because, come on, let’s be real! Traffic NEVER moves that fast around here)! No. Nature (still!) IS. However, if the will of Lord is that something be different than what has previously been the “status quo” – even if that “status quo” has withstood the test of time, and even sustained a longer run time than The Simpsons, Keith Richards, or cockroaches! – then rest assured, His will is going to supersede! Because, well, “[For] nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37). And in case that wasn’t clear enough, Matthew recorded this: “Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26).

I’m not going to fill my head with ridiculous rationalizations and fanciful dreams that come from a foolishly hopeful heart – that’s what 3-year-old girls do when they exclaim that they’re going to grow up to be mermaids and fairy princesses. No. I’m going to accept that the sun will never rise in the west, and know that it has nothing to do with me – it’s just how nature IS. What I am going to do, however, is find joy in the familiarity of nature’s laws, its calming, recognizable routine – the ones that I’ve become accustomed to over the past four decades (plus or minus five or ten years…).

Trying to redirect the wind and the waves has worn out my soul and my spirit, and has left me feeling defeated more times than I care to count. This time, though, I have learned that it is not my place to change nature, no matter how much bottled-up optimism I brandish in my arsenal. Instead, I am relinquishing my rebellious psyche for one of a more temperate disposition, (begrudgingly perhaps) accepting that I am right where I am supposed to be in the midst of nature and all its splendor, and banking on the promise:

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak… They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:29, 31)

And so she wrote…

blue-glass-inkwell 2

I have engaged myself in writing a nonfiction piece, investigating some autobiographical avenues and peppering them with inspirational anecdotes, sharing biblical references that helped me stay grounded during times of severe adversity, all in an effort to join up with others who may be traveling similar paths through difficult valleys.

 

There are some friends and family that know my story, and I’ve had the opportunity to share parts of my story during a women’s breakfast as an encouraging devotional a few years back; however, I’ve never bore my heart and history in as much detail all at one time, or all in one place before… It’s a little intimidating!

During the brain-storming and initial outlining phases, I was blown away at the sheer amount of content that came to mind! I guess I have stopped looking in the rear-view mirror of my life… Some issues still affect my day-to-day living – even at eight years old – and I’ve learned to take those in stride, along with new trials and triumphs (yes, I’ll be celebrating victories and exciting events as well as discussing arduous challenges and how to find peace and foster joy despite surrounding circumstances).

Green calendar icon isolated on whiteMy job consists of many time-sensitive tasks, and I work best when given specific time parameters; therefore, I’m designing a strict timeline for this – I’m a “deadline-minded” individual. Am I prone to procrastination? Is the sun hot? Of course I am! Which is why I needed to set a timeline. I appreciate your patience as I take time to work on this project. I will do all I can to keep this blog page updated, and full of entertaining content. (I have found that I miss writing the content-rich blog posts that filled my page at its onset; I hope to return to that, sooner rather than later!

(I will admit that the first quarter of the year is incredibly laborious on the job front, and there are times when, by my arrival at home, I simply lack the physical stamina and emotional energy to compose decent content. I am however working on reaching a better work-life balance…)

I wanted to end this post with a question – something I haven’t really done in the past (outside of rhetorical questions, leaving you with thoughts to chew on and concepts to wrestle with). This is a question that I found as I pondered different writing topics. I may still use this question to spawn a book in the (not-too-distant) future; however, I am sincerely curious to hear what you think about this. Leave a comment!

***

You’ve been presented with the opportunity to throw five items into an incredibly powerful fire – a fire that will consume and destroy any item tossed into its flame. Upon hurling these five items into the fire, there will be no trace of them left anywhere – no memory, no recollection, no Internet shadow, nothing; it will be as if these items never existed! What would your five items be and why? Would there be consequences or ramifications to removing these items from existence? What would those be and how would you deal with that?

Fire flames isolated on white background

***

Thanks!!

 

AHOY!

I came across a fascinating deconstruction of the notorious nursery rhyme, Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I hadn’t given it much thought prior; however, I have to admit, it’s been eye-opening!

Before writing this, I did just a bit of supporting research – chalk it up to 18 and a half years of schooling and 3 college degrees – to help substantiate what I’m going to state. Please understand that I’m also going to use a little bit of poetic license, as this is just a wild theory, taking these sing-song lyrics and injecting new life into them, and hopefully lightening the mood for one or two of you, now and again, as your mind wanders “gently down the stream”…

Outside of this being what I’ve already mentioned is a simple nursery rhyme, new information – theory, basically – points to the song’s representation as a motivational mantra. Line by line, I’ll break down the song, and show how a new and unique perspective adds a deeper dimension.

Let’s start with the lyrics themselves (I’m sure I probably don’t need to do this, but humor me!):

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,

 Life is but a dream.

 

 

Okay, let’s take this one line at a time:

Row, row, row your boat

A boat is a mode of transportation that is used when traversing a body of water, right?

What if that “body of water” is the boat itself? Revolutionary? Let me explain!

The human body is over 50% water, roughly. According to Dr. Jeffrey Utz of Allegheny University, humans, at birth, are 78% water, dropping to 65% at around age one. Adult men consist of approximately 60% water and adult females, 55%. (These percentages vary based on body fat mass, as well as other factors.) Water in the human body is necessary to facilitate digestion, it lubricates joints, it regulates body temperature, it helps deliver oxygen all over the body, it aids in the reproduction and survival of the body’s cells, and it acts as a shock absorber for the brain and spinal cord. As outlined by the Journal of Biological Chemistry, the brain and heart are composed of 73% water, the skin contains 64% water, 79% of the kidneys are water, and the lungs are over 80% water. Surprisingly, even the bones consist of 31% water.

 

So, taking this idea that “the boat” is, in fact, your own body, this song starts off by suggesting that we move through life with a certain amount of ease, in an effort to ensure a level of self-preservation:

Gently down the stream.

Now that we’ve established that this transportation vessel (i.e. the “boat”) is something of immeasurable value (our own bodies), taking caution on the journey seems to be a no-brainer! And this “stream” – what is that, exactly?

The stream of consciousness, maybe?

The voyage through life? (The mid-Nineteenth Century artist, Thomas Cole, created a series of art pieces, depicting four stages of life: childhood, youth, manhood, and old age, all taking place in a boat on a river, “the River of Life”, accompanied by a guardian angel.)

 

 

How about the idea of ‘going with the flow’… Hmmm… Let that sink in for just a minute…

Don’t fight against the current (unless, of course, you’re a salmon…), drumming up adversity and difficulties for yourself, risking possible damage and/or jeopardizing the safety of your transportation vessel. Instead, go with the flow

…moving on…
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily

Cheerfully. Gleefully. Sweetly. Vivaciously.

More to the point, though, the converse:

Not maliciously. Not angrily. Not struggling. Not anxiously.

Chronic stress has been proven to damage the structure and connectivity of the brain. Neuroscientists at the University of California, Berkeley, have presented findings that suggest that young persons exposed to chronic stress are prone to mental problems including mood disorders later in life, as well as suffering from learning difficulties. Reduction in brain white matter has also been linked to continual exposure to prolonged stress, and such matter reduction results in a change of the flow of electrical signals between neurons and brain regions. The brain’s response to both excitement and stress can, physiologically-speaking, be very similar, some studies show that different subregions of the prefrontal cortex respond differently to negative versus positive stimuli. Furthermore, far too often, excitement stimuli appears to be acute whereas stress stimuli is more often chronic. Without the ability to fight or flee, the “fight or flight” response within the adrenal system becomes torment. I believe it was Shakespeare who said “A tragedy is a comedy misunderstood”. That’s not to say that any of life’s tragedies – the loss of a job, the passing of a family member, devastation due to a natural disaster, etc. – should be viewed as a misunderstood comedy; however, often we dwell more on tragedies than we do on comedies – mulling over the circumstances of a traumatic event long after it has occurred, but allowing a joyful and light-hearted moment to escape like a wave on the shore – and perhaps we should turn this behavior around… We all need to traverse this thing called LIFE more merrily, I think…

Life is but a dream.

This brings us back to the idea of consciousness (the stream of consciousness mentioned above)…

It’s time to wake up to the reality of things – this life is temporal! None of us is going to live forever! Regardless of how meticulous you maintain your transportation vessel – and I’m not saying it’s a bad idea; I’m just saying these human bodies of ours were not designed to last forever – or how gentle and pristine the stream you’re traversing happens to be, whether by careful manipulation or sheer luck, just about the only thing we have control over in this life is our attitude! Maybe that’s why “merrily” is repeated F.O.U.R. times – emphasizing the importance of adopting the right attitude as we travel down the stream of life.

logo    logo    logo    logo

So, as you ponder these words in a new light, what will your response be?

“Good morning, God!”     or     “Good God… morning…”

Sunrise over river Val -d'Or region

Detail-Oriented

“The devil is in the details.”

I’m sure you’ve heard this phrase from time to time. Have you ever taken a moment to consider what it truly means? In truth, it depicts a situation that, on the surface, seems simple and uncomplicated, but when investigated further, the details bring to light difficulties or mysterious elements that may have been previously overlooked.
Pay attention, and you’ll catch a glimpse of subtle differences – minute details – that can tell quite a story. A wince of pain when someone thinks no one else is looking. The redness of the eyes that just cried a river of tears in solitude. Broken and bent blades of grass, hinting to soft footsteps nearby. Masked accents that creep to the forefront amid fatigue, anger, or excitement… The warmth of an item. The rate of breathing. Moisture – or lack of it. The tone of one’s voice. The questions asked, and responses given… All tell-tale signs, if we pay attention and apply basic logic.

I like to believe I have relatively sharp skills when it comes to observation. As a parent, it’s almost a requirement. As a single parent, being without the ability to survey the evidence beyond the “given” story can be quite a detriment! Of course, to err is human, right?

And here’s where I “err” most: reading people’s reactions to and perceptions of ME! Sometimes I really need subtle cues to take the form of 18-foot-wide neon-lit billboards on 20-foot-high poles or bricks being hurled in my general direction (read: at my head, basically) with colorful Post-It notes (you must understand – I’m a fiend for Post-It notes!!) taped to them, explicitly detailing one’s intent.

post-it_pinata-bluepost-it_pinata-red

Maybe it’s in an attempt to preserve a bit of mystery. Or maybe it’s because of failed attempts in the past, and a desire not to dramatically face-plant and risk public humiliation… Maybe it’s a truly broken filter when it comes to stepping beyond outlying details, inanimate objects, and observable conditions and into the vulnerability of interpersonal relationships. Maybe it’s in an effort to never again re-live the sensation of having all the mirrors within the proverbial Fun House instantaneously shattered in a blistering display of destruction, devastation, and chaos – a brief moment of exuberant light dancing off every small shard of deadly glass, rocketing through silent space, before having it all come crashing down to a final resting of irreparable carnage and utter darkness… But, I digress…

Just recently, in a rather embarrassing and hurtful scenario, the muttering “I can’t believe she can’t tell the difference between kindness and interest… That’s pretty sad!” could be heard just above the bustling of the surrounding crowd, the circulating melodies and harmonies of entertainment, and at the perfect pitch to shatter a fragile heart. Truly, it is sad when “kindness” is so rare a trait expressed that it is foreign in its exhibition among friends and strangers… So, how does one decipher the difference between “kindness” and “interest”? How deeply is the devil hidden in such details of one’s motives that those details may be so grossly misinterpreted? And is it a purposeful dance that leads some to engage, entice, prey on, and ultimately deceive others who may exhibit subtle cues of vulnerability and trust, begging that they fall victim, committing the egregious error of relinquishing their guard, throwing (social and emotional) caution to the wind, and rendering their hearts unguarded? What is to be gained except to see the anguish of another soul? Are there truly those out there so cold? So uncaring? So self-absorbed, that the carnage they leave in their wake is of no consequence?

I’m sure we can all answer – and maybe share a story or two to vilify – that question…

“The devil is in the details.”

The situation seems simple enough when first looked at. However, upon closer examination, there are elements that come to light that change the perspective and understanding. If one has encountered enough “devilish” scenarios, the factor of trust that accompany any new situation may be lacking, if it exists at all… Even if one struggles with carrying a diminishing remnant of hope – hoping beyond all desperation that, just once, there is a chance that this new-found rose will be without a thorn, and not cause impalement, pain, and some sort of soul-aching sorrow – the likelihood of acting on that glimmer of hope is so remote (the rationalization: if the rose is, indeed, without a thorn, it shouldn’t be touched, as it is most likely the only one of its kind, and therefore to steal away with it would be an act of pure selfishness).

Rose Border (Vintage)

So what is one to do when a new scenario is displayed? A new stage is set, and the play is unfolding, scene by scene, but a script is not available to outsiders – participation is voluntary, and the outcome is uncertain. Do you remain seated, near the rear of the theatre, observing the actors, the setting, the tone, the details… Do you seek out the devil? Or do you boldly walk onto the stage, secure in the knowledge that the timbers under your feet will sustain you throughout the performance, despite the unscripted nature of each scene to come? Is there a cautious approach with quiet, deliberate yet tentative steps, withholding commitment upon further inspection? The question arises: will waiting enhance or reduce the intensity of the scenario’s outcome? Will a “thornless” opportunity pass you by, or will you escape a moonlight tango with a sinister partner?
I’ve been asked to move closer to the stage, but I’m not sure if it’s an invitation to join the performance just yet… At least, I think it was a genuine calling toward the reserved seats   (I reiterate, this type of perception is where I am horrifically unskilled, inadequate, and definitely lacking in experience)! Kindness was on display; however, as not to suffer another earth-shaking, heart-shattering, and socially-awkward “face-plant”, with discernment, I’m leaving it merely as a kindness, for now – until something more concrete (like a brick thrown at my head with a Post-it note taped to it stating, “Hey You, Silly! I’m interested!”) becomes (unmistakably, painfully) apparent.

SECRETS (100-word challenge)

This week’s 100-word challenge, as hosted by @bikurgurl , includes the photo above – one of her very own (photo credit: @bikurgurl 2015)!

Here’s my submission – “SECRETS”

. . . .

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul; however, I am both in awe and perplexed at how you, my fiendish friend, with your steely glare and triumphantly narrow myopic view, manage to possess a world of wonder and beauty beyond a stare of such cold, hard permanence. Light escapes in fragments – shards and offcasts of what once was whole – only to demonstrate your unwillingness to set free any true components of measurable majesty. Why do you lock such azure brilliance away? What tortures you so, deep within your troubled soul, my fiendish friend, that you imprison the heavens?

. . . .

Short Circuit

Poison or a firing squad?

No cell service or a dead cell phone battery?

A shoebox apartment in the city near work with astronomical rent prices or room to stretch out with an hour-long commute?

An inescapable bad date or no date?       bad-date

Choosing between the lesser of two “evils” – never a fun task! And truly, how often is the choice really something we get to actually make, instead of the decision being out of our hands but ours to bear regardless?

…well, I guess we can decide to stay holed up in our tiny little apartment, refusing to take chances on meeting new people for fear of encountering whiny, un(der)educated, hyper-sensitive, self-obsessed, unemployed individuals who freak out when you use the word “friend” instead of being instantly “in love” and fully committed to romantic attachments within 12 hours of making their acquaintance, but I digress…

What I’m talking about are the real-life situations we’re presented with, where neither outcome is a bed of roses, and the choice is unfortunately not yours to make.

 

kraken-antiqueResolution-making aside, ‘January’s are traditionally difficult in my line of work; this has been a particularly rough one. I’ve been battling several different illnesses since the 2nd day of 2017, which makes things challenging: a quick bout of laryngitis, followed by a sinus infection with the grip hold of the Kraken! I feel as if I’ve been walking around with my head under water for two weeks! The sweet aroma of new beginnings does not fill my nasal passages – cotton packing coated with rubber cement does! But I’ve been through wicked infections before, and survived. Even with mangled sinus cavities, narrowed by scar tissue from a previous surgery, I’ve come out the other side still intact. This week, though, it was as if every force in nature wanted to see me flat on my tookus!

So I can’t breathe properly; so what of it? Been there, done that! So I have to work 12-hour days while not being able to breathe properly – you’re talking to the girl who worked half-days while going through radiation treatment (disclaimer: NOT recommended!! I was incredibly foolish, and harbored way too much self-imposed obligation)! Bring. It. On. So when the doctor’s office calls in the middle of the day to tell you that what should have been routine laboratory blood tests came back dangerously abnormal, I should be able to keep it together, right? You bet your sweet cherry cheesecake I did! For a whole day and a half, I put on the BEST performance of my life!

That fateful day, I was instructed to go back to the lab after work, and have another test done, to verify the results of the initial “abnormal” reading. THREE blood draws later ended in THREE confirmations of the “abnormal” results. Completely stunned and suffering from a severe sucker-punch to the gut, I somehow managed to fumble my way from the lab facility to the market, blindly to the pharmacy, then home to cook dinner for the household. Eating was by rote, and I recall retiring early that evening – I felt like there was nothing more I could do; any effort otherwise would result in further damage of some sort!

The next day, I casually played the role of “hey, it’s me”, while burdened with strict “dos” and “don’ts” from the doctor, wanting desperately to scream, cry, and drown my fears and frustrations in Cake Batter frozen yogurt with rainbow sprinkles (don’t judge)! Instead, payrolls were processed, tax forms were prepared, payments were received, and invoices were issued, all without anyone being the wiser. All while inside I was frantic to know why my body was suddenly short-circuiting!

Finally, Doctor-Visit-Day! Things that morning were still pear-shaped, which baffled the doctors (yes, now more than one doctor was on-board with the treatment protocol) and led to heightened anxiety. Before cozying my toosh in the clinical environment, though, I had to be “hey, it’s me” for a few hours, and as if the Kraken sinus infection wasn’t enough to deal with, the client engagement I had that morning decided to throw me a curve ball – a nationally-recognized personnel firm making a Grand Canyon-sized mistake on the financial documents of the company’s two owners! Really? Today?! Gaw!!

tight-rope-grand-canyon

Can you say “PANIC ATTACK”? I knew you could!

Anyway, off to the doc’s…

After a long discussion (and I admit, a few tears shed in the solitude of the doctor’s office), we’ve come to the conclusion that the most viable reasons for such rapid changes and rare abnormalities are these: either my pancreas has decided to call it quits (or has been harvested by aliens while I was sleeping…) or the resident “big bully booger” (aka brain tumor I’ve been hosting rent-free since 2008) has finally awakened from its slumber to wreak havoc on my endocrine system. So which is the better option? Ummm, neither, thank you very much!

Look, I can live with knowing I have an inoperable growth inside my head. Heck, I’ve been doing that for over 8 years now! Sure, it’s a crazy thing to say: I have a brain tumor. But, I know that I’m one of the lucky ones! My tumor is non-malignant, and slow-growing. Sure, it comes with side effects: headaches, constant ringing in my ears, GH deficiency, thyroid issues, and the inability to regulate body temperature to name a few, but these are minor inconveniences once you get used to them. However, if the tumor is growing, that can be an issue! It’s precariously close to the optic nerves, and maniacally embracing the internal carotid artery (thus the reason it’s deemed “inoperable”). Additional growth is not a good thing! Blindness is not a good thing; artery strangulation is not a good thing…

On the flip side, I’m not in the mood to have yet another system in my body go caput! I don’t know too much about pancreatic function, but I’m starting to get the impression that it’s pretty darned important (and maybe a little fickle, or maybe that’s just me)! Two of my doctors consulted and decided to do a severe change-up with my medications, STAT! I’m still supposed to adhere to strict “dos” and “don’ts” until more information has been gathered about the status of the tumor (MRI has already been performed; just waiting on report now), and begin living as if my pancreas is on hiatus…

footprints-to-water

 

I don’t get to choose firing squad or poison. My choice, however, is to keep on keeping on, despite the diagnosis

in spite of the diagnosis!

 

UPDATE: MRI results – tumor is stable! Yay! So, now it’s off to investigate who authorized the vacation request for my pancreas, and check every possible travel manifest between the vocal chords, the left big toe, and Tahiti to figure out where that darned thing took off to! I need it back at its post, up and functioning properly – STAT!

Unique Boutique

I inquisitively peered beyond the façade today, and for a moment, felt my heart sink. Despite a presentable (at least I have been under the impression it was pleasing) storefront, I was awakened to disturbing details. Statistics… purely unhuman and infallibly cold calculations that do not consider ever being considerate, and stare back at the consumer, stone-faced but seemingly without malice or weapon, shattering dreams, hopes, aspirations, and tender hearts.

Twenty blog posts over the course of roughly twenty-two weeks (not counting this one). Over thirty followers now (and a most humble and sincere “thank you” to you all!!). But, in looking at my readership ratings, a most obvious and truly disheartening steady decline… My posting average still remains about 4 new blog posts per month; however, interest in what I am writing seems to have waned drastically. And I ponder if such significant lack of interest should predicate the captain’s call to abandon ship.

1425_3Now, of course, I could invoke the trusty ostrich philosophy, and bury my head in the sand, choosing to ignore the deafening silence played out in the melodic realism of the statistical evidence, as crystal clear and undisputable as any such findings. Conversely, I can fabricate rationalizations that support the finite statistics while leaving a glimmer of hope, such as: people have been busy with the timeliness of the holidays and all the effort, planning, preparation, and participation they entail, and leave blog-reading by the wayside. Another possibility is that some folks out there in the blogosphere, and beyond, suffer from the same two syndromes I too am burdened with: a reading disability that makes reading both incredibly difficult and time consuming (and after 10- to 12-hour workdays, eyes that just don’t want to focus anymore!), and simply, lack of free time to devote to pleasure reading! (I’ve been told that throughout the far reaches of the world, both ‘free time’ and ‘reading for pleasure’ are true events, and not merely works of fiction. I myself remain a skeptic; however, there is always opportunity for growth and a broadening of our understanding, right?)

Or, I can very well dim the illuminated open beckoning call, roll up the awning, shake the dust off the “welcome” mat, drop the window shades, and latch the doors secure amid a darkened dwelling place. Close up shop and proceed forward, or at least onward whatever the direction…

detour

A possible detour (as is often the case in my life)? 

I’ve been visited time and again (translation: haunted) by this quickly-spoken inspirational gem of wisdom, thinking it merely a bobble of whimsy, refusing to consciously allow it to penetrate to the inner depths of my consciousness. Why? Because it tore at my desire to be a people-pleaser, confounded my need for justification, and dispelled fallacies that acknowledgment and edification from others were the only signs of success. I was raised to believe without the praises of others, the conjoined trumpeting of the masses, one was nothing short of invisible; I’ve spent my entire life being invisible, and I was hoping that through my writing, at least one wayward beam of light would rest upon me – not fame and fortune, per se, but a hiatus from utter invisibility.

Specialty stores. (Hang on; this is the same post – I didn’t get lost!) Specialty stores: those small retailers that cater to specific needs and individualistic clientele. A vendor that specializes in offering men a wonderful shaving experience. The clothier that caters to infants and toddlers. Proprietors of anime collectibles. Comic book stores. A vegan bakery and café. A boutique that celebrates the craftsmanship and one-of-a-kind handmade goods of local artisans near high-traffic tourist venues.

I think you’ve got the idea.

But, truly, what is the point, and how does it all relate? Good question. Excellent question!

Let me explain:
One thing that these specialty shops have in common is their disregard for total and complete domination. Yes, they may strive for market position priority (that’s the three business degrees talking…); however, they are intuitive enough to not waste time and resources entertaining the masses while facilitating focused niche markets and boutiques that cater to a select clientele. They, instead, revel in those customers that enter, admire, and welcome with genuine interest the findings that adorn the shelves, baskets, racks, and display cases behind unassuming doors, foregoing the over-commercialized, mass-marketed branding that befalls the majority of retail reality. And those proprietors, those purveyors of fine-found treasures treasure those that have found them! They greet their guests, not worried about those other hurried shoppers looking for items that simply don’t exist within their havens – the vegan baker really isn’t concerned with flagging down a brood of motley teens, snacking on corn dogs and soft pretzels, because she understands her energy is better utilized baking delectable treats for her clientele, and pleasing their palates, nor will the children’s clothier aspire to make those same teenagers frequent visitors to his shop, as they, without need for children’s clothing, will be more of a distraction for the shop owner, whose attention, and heart, are with those who have come to partake in the boutique’s uniqueness, with intent.

summer-sea-glass2Point being (listen, dear inner self!): understand that I am unique. Understand that what I offer is unique. Do not waste my energy and resources (translation: my emotions) trying to please the masses, when knowing full-well it is genuinely more rewarding to celebrate and treasure those that have found me to be a treasure without any benefit of over-commercialized, mass-marketed branding.

This is all a learning process – seeing myself as good enough, without outward confirmation – that is nowhere near its completion. I hope that by sharing my heart and my thoughts, some others may come to the same conclusion about themselves (even if it may only reach 30+ wonderful, caring individuals – nay, cherished guests! – gracious enough to be following this ‘specialty blog’).

Here’s to heart-satisfying and thought-provoking “retail therapy”!

Temporarily Permanent

Perspective.

What is it exactly?

By definition, perspective is “a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view”. (It can also be defined as “the art of drawing solid objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other when viewed from a particular point”, and although it is arguable that life is art, I won’t be addressing artistic perspective, per se, today.)

I find it interesting – nay, intriguing! – how perspective influences our opinion. Much like experiences having leverage and significant impact on the dimension of our focus (see post Finding Humanity in Winter), one’s perspective in direct relation to a situation not only predicates the response given, it often monopolizes it, regardless of any previous experience to the contrary. Basically, if we’re in the dark and darkness is all we see, it is unfathomable to see anything more than darkness despite having experienced ‘light’ and ‘bright’ in the past.

Extreme? Perhaps. But nonetheless not necessarily untrue.

Illustration: Think back to the last time you had a severe cold, or the flu (or, if not yourself, a loved one that you helped care for during that time). Day Two or Day Three into the experience, the wretchedness of sinus pressure, the shredding pain of broken glass shards tumbling down your constricted, raw throat with each swallow, feverish chills forcing you deep under the tonnage of fleece and woven cotton only to be marred by the beads of sweat on your brow, and the ripping ache throughout your joints, restricting fluid movement, draining every ounce of energy out of your listless frame. Even to partake in a cup of lemon chamomile tea with honey or bowl of chicken noodle soup is a monumental chore. You lay there, tissue in hand, dabbing your swollen, chapped nose and expel the simple words illuminating your current perspective, “this flu is killing me!”

But, wait!

You’ve had the flu before. And you’ve, well, survived… And, despite that present position, deep within the recesses of snuggle blankets and menthol throat lozenge wrappers, the predominant prognostication is that you, indeed, will again escape the clutches of Death in a week or so – with plenty of rest and clear fluids – but you can’t see beyond the mounting pile of discarded tissues, drawing on faded memory, to know that you will see the light of another day. Your feet will touch ground again, gleefully participating in retail therapy. Your tongue will relish in fantastical feasts and roaring repartee. And yes, your heart will languish in the thought of wasting another breath in the living tomb which is your office cubicle… But you don’t see that; you see death. You see permanence in the temporary – darkness in the midst of residing in the dark, casting aside the lucid remembrance of healthier days…

Point made?

So, how is it that we shake off this “permanence in the temporary”, and realize things for what they are – or what they could be? How do we change our perspective even if our circumstance has not changed? If the physicality of something remains the same, how do we redefine it?

Several of my current circumstances can easily lend to melancholy and the ambiance of defeat. That’s not to say that there aren’t times when I succumb to these jesters and lose sight of things beyond the temporary; however, as the past chapter’s song floats away on the evening breeze and providence crashes upon a new calendar year (Hello, 2017! Let’s be friends, shall we?), I’m determined to remain aware of my perspective, adjusting it as one would a manual camera lens, allowing in light and clarity of focus, distilling shortsightedness, and capturing inspiration, catapulting me through – beyond! – the darkness and into the warmth of glowing hope, where once before I drew breath.