Guess Who's Back?

Hello, fam!  After a break, I'm back.

I guess the biggest piece of news is that Bren is grown!  How does time fly by so quickly?  When we left he was little and now he's a little man.

Not all those who wander are lost ...

but maybe I am.  I'm not sure.

This past year has been one of instrospection and wandering for me.  More like chasing my tail.  Not exactly sure where I'll end up.  At 19, trying finding one's self is expected, even cute.  At 42, not so much.  I've tried so many things; not many have gained traction.  So I keep wandering - looking for the next thing.  But perhaps this is MY time to do this.  I've always been so responsible and so darn ... perfect.  Maybe it's time to revel in my mistakes, to live it up a little and not worry so much about everything and everyone.  I don't know.  I. just. don't. know.  And maybe that's okay, too.

The Year of Living Fearlessly

My year of living fearlessly is coming to an end.  Some "feats" were great (i.e. The Opinion talk show).  Others got off to a non-start (I never learned how to play an instrument).  Overall, though, I think it was worth it.  It's funny how quickly a year goes by.  Before you know it, five years have passed, then ten, then twenty.  At a minimum, I've learned to live life to the fullest.

sunset

but the sunsets are the business ...

Sunrise

There is something majestic, sacred and beautiful about watching the sun rise ...

Brendan's New Hobby

I'm so lucky (served with a heaping serving of sarcasm ...)

My little boy got his green belt in Karate

The Year of Living Fearlessly: Feat 4

Start a Talk Show!

Not sure what made me do it, but do it, I did.  :)

Please be sure to tune in to The Opinion Talk Show and let me know what you think.

The Year of Living Fearlessly (Feat 3)

Lose the Fear

Brendan was off for a few days last week, so I took him on a Mommy and Me adventure.  It was wonderful.  We laughed, we pigged out and we got to connect in a way that we don't get to do when we are rushing around trying to get to school on time, get to karate and all the other things he does.  And I discovered a few things:

(1) I genuinely LIKE Brendan.  Of course, I love him.  He's mine; if I don't love him, who will?  But I really like him as a person.  He is witty, smart, adventurous, has a great sense of humor and enjoys life.

And (2) I am not afraid anymore.  I am not afraid of being alone or of trying new things or dying or not having.  At least not in the paralyzing way that fear used to grab me.  I can live in the moment now and feel no need to project what is going to happen tomorrow, next month or ten years from now.

Strangely, losing the fear and the need to know has made me more willing to try new things and take a few more chances.  Hurray for the year of living fearlessly.

I Just Wanna Be ... Happy

I was driving to the office this morning when a realization hit me:  I was ... (gasp!) ... happy. 

I'm not normally a happy person.  I have moments when I am content, but most days, I'm just a little ho-hum.  And today, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  But the sun was shining, there was good music on the radio and the roads were uncluttered.  Maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Mommy and Me

Bren and I had an idyllic week together - just he and I.  The house was quiet.  More importantly, the house was clean!  We ate what we wanted; did what we wanted.  Am I evil for enjoying it so much?

My Brendan turned 8!

How time has flown...

The Year of Living Fearlessly -- Feat 2: Do Nothing

In the pursuit of knowledge, 

every day something is added.

In the practice of the Way, 

every day something is dropped.

Less and less do you need to force things,

until finally you arrive at non-action.

When nothing is done,

nothing is left undone.

 

 -Lao-tzu

I stopped working full-time on November 15, 2011.  When I left, I had a laundry list of things I wanted to do:  start writing my second novel; write and submit several articles to various magazines for publication; get an agent for my novel, clean out my kitchen cabinets, the list went on and on.

In the two months that have passed, however, I have found myself doing next to nothing.  When I need money, I work, but other than that, I have simply rested.  I meditate. I sleep when I need to.  I read what I feel like reading.  

Doing nothing has left me a bit conflicted.  Growing up, I was always doing something - anything - to avoid being labeled lazy, or slow or dumb.  So I was constantly doing.  Even when I felt tired, I did.  When I felt sick, I did.  I worked two jobs while going to school full-time.  I worked while pregnant.  I worked after Brendan was born.  I often worked after Bren went to bed.  I was just constantly going.  

But I have decided to stop listening to everyone else, to stop functioning on autopilot and start listening to me.  And I have decided to be still and do nothing.  At least for now.  So that is what I am doing.  Nothing.  And it's amazing.

The Year of Living Fearlessly - Feat #1

Hola, mi gente.  A new year is upon us.

Back in September, I told you that I was committing to living fearlessly for 1 year.  To that end, in October (on my 41st birthday, no less!), I quit my job.

Let me back up a little.  For a few weeks before that, I had a buzzing in my soul telling me it was time to move on.  I ignored it.  (Seriously, who listens to a buzzing in their gut?)  But as much as I ignored it (or tried to, anyway), the buzzing got louder and louder.  And what baffled me, is that while it was certainly not my "dream" job, work was good.  I was earning a decent salary; the people treated me well.  Granted, I was feeling a little burnt out and didn't spend as much time with Brendan as I wanted to.  Still, why the urgency to move on?

But the buzzing continued.  And I felt to my core (again, with the gut!) that I had but a small window of opportunity to make my move.  So, after many arguments with Big Bren ("Are you effing crazy??  Who the hell listens to a buzzing in their gut??") and many discussions with my friends ("Dude, you really need to think this through.  Do you know what the unemployment rate is right now?"), I decided to listen to the buzzing in my gut and I quit.

For a week after I took that huge leap of faith, I hyperventilated.  Had I lost my mind?  I visited the land of Worst Case Scenario:  my family would be homeless; my "trophy" car would be repossessed; and -- worst of all -- I would have to borrow money from my parents!

Then, a minor miracle happened.  My boss approached me about an independent contractor gig with the firm that would allow me to work from home.  I could pick and choose the assignments I wanted and work as little or as much as I wanted to.

That was exactly the work situation I have always wanted, but thought was impossible to get!  I could work on my own time (I'm a night owl) and be home when Brendan got off the bus from school.  Best of all, I could dedicate some time to my writing and focus on getting my creative projects off the ground. Talk about an answered prayer ...

So I'm happy to report that my year of living fearlessly got off to an amazing beginning.

Happy Birthday to Me!!!

The Ring Bear

My parents are approaching their 50th anniversary.  To celebrate, they are renewing their vows and throwing themselves a lavish wedding, since they never had one.

My mom has been trying to find a role for all her littlest grandchildren to play, so that they feel like a part of the festivities.  And so it came to be that Brendan became the ring bearer.

As we drove home from my parents' home yesterday, I told him the good news.  He seemed excessively happy, clapping his hands and cheering.  Then, he turned to me and said, "so when do I get my costume?"

"You don't get a costume.  You'll wear a type of suit called a tuxedo."

"But you said that I was going to be the 'ring bear'!  Don't I need to get a bear costume?!?"

And, suddenly, the happiness was explained.

Those Who Do Not Learn From Their Mistakes ...

They say that the truth peeks its head out jest.  And one of my husband's running "jokes" is that although I have multiple degrees, I often don't "get" things.  At first, I laughed along.  After all, what fun is life if you cannot laugh at yourself?  And, let's face it, oftentimes it takes me a second or two to get a joke or to figure out how to put something together and my sense of direction blows.  I am often "literal," where "abstract" is the word of the day.  I get that.  But after 10+ years of being the butt of the "she doesn't get it" jokes, my laughter has dried up.

Case in point:  my birthday is coming up, so I compiled a list of things that I need, but am too cheap to buy for myself and sent the list to Big Bren.  At the top of the list is Microsoft Office for Mac.  Within seconds, he calls me and the coversation goes like this:  "I got your list.  Didn't you buy a copy of Microsoft Office a few months ago?"  "Yes, but that was for the PC."  "But it had multiple permissions, right?  And we only used one."  "Yes, but it was for the PC."  "How many permissions did it have?  Can't you use that?"  Sigh on my end, "No."  "You don't get what I'm saying.  You can be so dense sometimes."  Click.

I looked at the phone for a good minute, trying to decide what to do.  Should I let this go?  The more I considered letting it go, the angrier I got.  Soon, a blind rage filled my mind.  I dialed his number and called him a few choice names that were a lot worse than "dense."

Of course, the irony of it was that it was he who was not getting it:  I could have purchased 10 copies of Microsoft Word with 100 applications each -- the fact is that you cannot make software formulated for a PC load onto a MAC as they have two different platforms. 

Granted, I am extremely sensitive on the intelligence issue: during alcohol-fueled rages, my father would say that we - the three girls - didn't deserve his last name because we weren't "smart enough."  He would say that it was a waste to have so many "dumb" girls.  He could never remember what he'd said once the alcohol wore off, but even now, 30+ years later, I can still remember every single word.

My dad would argue that his words, however mean, had a motivating effect, because every one of us "dumb" girls have gone on to earn multiple masters' degrees and even doctorates.  However, aspiring to something and running away from something else are two different things altogether.  When I went to school, failing was not an option, because I knew that somewhere within my father, he expected me to and would be standing by to say "I told you so."

So to hear this man, whom I have vowed to spend the rest of my life with, pull out the "smart" card is like sticking a knife in a barely healed wound.  I truly wonder what has earned me this "dumb" label with him.  I am an attorney and a productive member of several professional associations, where I am often asked to organize events and chair continuing legal education programs.  I have authored chapters in a legal treatise.  I have published articles in parenting magazines.  I am an avid reader and am always trying to find ways to better myself.  When asked to describe me, not one person who knows me would utter the word "dumb."  So what exactly is it that I am not getting?  Could what they say be true that those who do not learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them?

Occupy Wall Street

I worked from my firm's downtown Manhattan office today JUST so I could go lend some support to the Movement.  Unfortunately, I picked a rainy, miserable day, so the Movement was a sodden mess.  Even so, the protesters were out and their spirits would not be dampened.

I don't know where you stand on the issue, but I can tell you that what is being reported by Fox News and the like is mostly lies.  The park is not "smelly" or "dirty."  There was no "mob" scene there.  And the people are not littering all over or belligerent in any way.  In fact, the Occupy Wall Street "Good Neighbor Policy" is posted all over the park, as a constant reminder to protestors to clean up after themselves and treat everyone with respect.

This country was built for the people, by the people.  Yet, the few "haves" have consistently continued to amass and multiply their fortunes off the skin of the "have-nots'" backs.  Enough.  This is our generation's Civil Rights Movement.  Power to the people!

Why Me?

Ever since Bren was born, I have always had him on my computer desktop.  Some picture of him is always the background.  That way, I feel like he is with me, even when I'm at work.

The other day, I was working from home and left my laptop on while I went to cook dinner.  A few minutes later, Bren comes running into the kitchen and said, "Mommy, your computer is on!"  I continued to stir the pot of rice I was cooking, "yes, I know.  I left it on." 

"But Mommy, I'm on it!" 

I glanced over at him again.  I wasn't quite sure what the excitement was about.

"Yeessssssssss ...."

"No, seriously, Mommy.  A picture of me is on your computer."

Finally, I stopped stirring and faced him.  "Yes, you are on my computer.  You are always on my computer.  It's my way of keeping you close when I'm working."

He paused a little bit and then said, "But ... why me?"

After I finished explaining to my child that I love him so much that I never tire of seeing him, he went away, shaking his head at my silliness.  And I had to shake my head at the fact that he had to ask why him.  Funny, how the people we would give our lives for never realize how much we love them.

Sleeping with Pistachios

Despite my daddy issues, I have always found myself gravitating toward men with a sense of humor similar to my dad’s.  My dad has a rapier wit and a quick comeback to anything anyone lobs at him.  Big Bren is the exact same way.  And I am finding that my pen-pal does, too.

The other day, we were engaging in our usual incessant digital chatter.  Someone was making my life miserable and I needed someone to commiserate with me.  After I detailed everything this woman was doing that I found objectionable, he responded:  “She’s sleeping with pistachios.”

I cocked my head to the side and tried to figure that one out.  Was he even speaking to me?  Maybe he got his e-mails mixed up and this was addressed to someone else.  Who would sleep with pistachios?  And if this was someone else he knew, who the hell would call themselves -- or tolerate anyone else calling them -- “Pistachios”?

A split second later, he sent another message:  “She’s fucking nuts.”

Ah, I get it.  Way to commiserate.  J