I've ranted about this before, y'all, but here's what's got my panties in a bunch tonight: I'm feeling small and inconsequential. Mired in mediocrity. Mind you, this isn't some existential crisis or some kind of metaphysical meltdown. Just pondering some things, is all.
I surround myself, probably entirely on purpose, with people who impress me. And here are some of the reasons why:
My parents, who redirect their empty-nest energy to make my hometown a better, safer place with happy, healthy, drug-free kids (and compliant probationers).
My brother, who knows more about more things than a lot of the people I know, and just keeps learning and trying new things and planning that year in Europe.
My friend
Karen, (this is a delightful woman, a fellow tall skinny chick, for whom I never have to dumb anything down) has promised to shave off all her hair to raise money for domestic violence survivors here in the region.
My fiance, who has made a life out of making a difference, first through military service (those battle scars, such as they are, well-earned) and then by spending his work hours on the frontlines as one of the most talented paramedics I've ever worked with. And who invariably charms everyone he meets, by genuinely being a nice guy, by knowing a lot and being able to carry on a conversation about anything. And who loves me a lot even when I'm unlovable.
My old friend
David , who thinks somebody ought to share the fascinating world of science with everybody, and who constantly enlightens the blogosphere with his Sunday Nature Photos (and he actually knows the names of the plants he posts pictures of!)
My new friend David whose heart is getting stronger every day, way faster than the books say it should after such an impressive heart attack at the ripe old age of 34.
My one-day-I'll-meet-you-friend
Kathy who always inspires me with her desire to be healthier and more eco-conscious.
My friend Sandra who just ran a marathon and who's gearing up for a century bike ride in may, and who does the Manitou Incline in 45 minutes and who doesn't take crap from anybody.
My friend Trav who is one of the most gifted unpublished writers I've ever read, even if I swear his latest heroine was crafted solely to allow him to make fun of my toes and my need to feel important.
So many others, for so many reasons... And what do I do??
Um... I get up in the mornings. More often than not, I remember to take my Adderall. On average, twice a week I remember to give my kids their vitamins (and most days remind them to brush their teeth). I do laundry and dishes, most days, and some days I'll glance at the newspaper beyond the crossword puzzle and pretend I'm interested in anything but the local news for its "hey, I took care of that guy" value. I'm a good cook but a lousy ironer, my apartment is filled with books I haven't read (but will "one day"). I waste a lot of time blogging or otherwise sitting in front of the computer... I write in my journal sometimes, and for (bargain-basement) publication sometimes, and I have an unfinished novel or two and a first draft waiting for me. I'm a good writer, I think. I drag myself to the gym once a week or so, I go to work three times a week or so, and I make to-do lists incessantly. I ran a marathon once to raise money for leukemia and lymphoma research, but it feels like cheating because I run-walked. Sure, I have a job that sounds important, but I think I can count on one hand the number of lives I've actually been instrumental in saving (though I do admit to making a positive difference at least a couple times a shift). I used to be a good wife, and I want to believe I can do it again. I have a really high IQ and am one of the dumbest smart people you will ever meet. I'm cynical and impulsive and I can be witty or passive-aggressive, and sometimes all at once (that gets me into trouble). I love blindly and sometimes stupidly, I plan meticulously, and I drive too fast most of the time. I'm independent and needy at the same time, I don't misspell, and I tend to have strong sensory memories associated with certain smells. I can recite "The Raven" from memory, and have yet to discover the social situation that this would matter in. I wanted to be a doctor once, but now I'm quite happy being a nurse. I'm a packrat and a motormouth and sometimes a scatterbrain. Sometimes I suck at balancing my checkbook, sometimes I suck at estimating how much time I'll need in the parking meter, and nearly every night I go to bed having failed to accomplish something I'd had on my mental "must do" list for the day. But I also go to bed knowing I'm a good mom - I have two great kids who tell me that one way or another every day - and that's enough for me that the rest of this stuff doesn't eat me up too much.
There, the essence of me.
While the people I love are busy being great, I'm busy just slogging through. But I'm doing the best I can, and it seems to be good enough for most of the aforementioned to still associate with me, so I consider myself lucky, if small and inconsequential.
Thank you to all of you out there who make a difference, whether to me or somebody I love.
I've ranted about this before, y'all, but here's what's got my panties in a bunch tonight: I'm feeling small and inconsequential. Mired in mediocrity. Mind you, this isn't some existential crisis or some kind of metaphysical meltdown. Just pondering some things, is all.
I surround myself, probably entirely on purpose, with people who impress me. And here are some of the reasons why:
My parents, who redirect their empty-nest energy to make my hometown a better, safer place with happy, healthy, drug-free kids (and compliant probationers).
My brother, who knows more about more things than a lot of the people I know, and just keeps learning and trying new things and planning that year in Europe.
My friend Karen, (this is a delightful woman, a fellow tall skinny chick, for whom I never have to dumb anything down) has promised to shave off all her hair to raise money for domestic violence survivors here in the region.
My fiance, who has made a life out of making a difference, first through military service (those battle scars, such as they are, well-earned) and then by spending his work hours on the frontlines as one of the most talented paramedics I've ever worked with. And who invariably charms everyone he meets, by genuinely being a nice guy, by knowing a lot and being able to carry on a conversation about anything. And who loves me a lot even when I'm unlovable.
My old friend David , who thinks somebody ought to share the fascinating world of science with everybody, and who constantly enlightens the blogosphere with his Sunday Nature Photos (and he actually knows the names of the plants he posts pictures of!)
My new friend David whose heart is getting stronger every day, way faster than the books say it should after such an impressive heart attack at the ripe old age of 34.
My one-day-I'll-meet-you-friend Kathy who always inspires me with her desire to be healthier and more eco-conscious.
My friend Sandra who just ran a marathon and who's gearing up for a century bike ride in may, and who does the Manitou Incline in 45 minutes and who doesn't take crap from anybody.
My friend Trav who is one of the most gifted unpublished writers I've ever read, even if I swear his latest heroine was crafted solely to allow him to make fun of my toes and my need to feel important.
So many others, for so many reasons... And what do I do??
Um... I get up in the mornings. More often than not, I remember to take my Adderall. On average, twice a week I remember to give my kids their vitamins (and most days remind them to brush their teeth). I do laundry and dishes, most days, and some days I'll glance at the newspaper beyond the crossword puzzle and pretend I'm interested in anything but the local news for its "hey, I took care of that guy" value. I'm a good cook but a lousy ironer, my apartment is filled with books I haven't read (but will "one day"). I waste a lot of time blogging or otherwise sitting in front of the computer... I write in my journal sometimes, and for (bargain-basement) publication sometimes, and I have an unfinished novel or two and a first draft waiting for me. I'm a good writer, I think. I drag myself to the gym once a week or so, I go to work three times a week or so, and I make to-do lists incessantly. I ran a marathon once to raise money for leukemia and lymphoma research, but it feels like cheating because I run-walked. Sure, I have a job that sounds important, but I think I can count on one hand the number of lives I've actually been instrumental in saving (though I do admit to making a positive difference at least a couple times a shift). I used to be a good wife, and I want to believe I can do it again. I have a really high IQ and am one of the dumbest smart people you will ever meet. I'm cynical and impulsive and I can be witty or passive-aggressive, and sometimes all at once (that gets me into trouble). I love blindly and sometimes stupidly, I plan meticulously, and I drive too fast most of the time. I'm independent and needy at the same time, I don't misspell, and I tend to have strong sensory memories associated with certain smells. I can recite "The Raven" from memory, and have yet to discover the social situation that this would matter in. I wanted to be a doctor once, but now I'm quite happy being a nurse. I'm a packrat and a motormouth and sometimes a scatterbrain. Sometimes I suck at balancing my checkbook, sometimes I suck at estimating how much time I'll need in the parking meter, and nearly every night I go to bed having failed to accomplish something I'd had on my mental "must do" list for the day. But I also go to bed knowing I'm a good mom - I have two great kids who tell me that one way or another every day - and that's enough for me that the rest of this stuff doesn't eat me up too much.
There, the essence of me.
While the people I love are busy being great, I'm busy just slogging through. But I'm doing the best I can, and it seems to be good enough for most of the aforementioned to still associate with me, so I consider myself lucky, if small and inconsequential.
Thank you to all of you out there who make a difference, whether to me or somebody I love.