She is a darling little girl named Skye, who drives me mad by waking me up at quarter to four in the morning because she won't sleep. (Won't, not can't.)
In the past few weeks I have: suffered relationship drama, resolved said drama, flown across the world, become a mother, moved house and turned twenty-one. That's a lot to happen to a girl in three weeks.
I have resolved my fall class schedule and am currently on the prowl for jobs. It's an annoying process, trying to convince a company to hire me. I don't look forward to the post-uni years in which this matters even more.
My current struggle (aside from employment) is getting Miss Skye to eat. She is as picky as her mama was, sigh, and not cooperative in the least.
I also discovered, on a completely random side-note, that I enjoy bowling.
Can't follow my thoughts? I don't judge you; most days, neither can I.
WG
Showing posts with label experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label experience. Show all posts
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Life Lessons
A random collection of things I've learned over time.
#22: Not brushing your hair leads to tears.
#104: I don't have any blood.
#105: An insignificant shaving cut turns the bathroom into a scene from Saw IV.
#87: The bed doesn't make itself. Ever.
#31: Do not watch comedy shows in the library during exam time.
#182: Gingers run in packs.
#731: The battery never dies unless you're expecting a call.
#25: They can't read your mind. (Really.)
#19: The money you make yourself is harder to spend.
#1: This was a good one, but I forgot it while watching TV.
WG
#22: Not brushing your hair leads to tears.
#104: I don't have any blood.
#105: An insignificant shaving cut turns the bathroom into a scene from Saw IV.
#87: The bed doesn't make itself. Ever.
#31: Do not watch comedy shows in the library during exam time.
#182: Gingers run in packs.
#731: The battery never dies unless you're expecting a call.
#25: They can't read your mind. (Really.)
#19: The money you make yourself is harder to spend.
#1: This was a good one, but I forgot it while watching TV.
WG
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Today I Learned
Today I learned that the daughter of a family friend has anorexia. Readers with a passing acquaintance of myself will know that I, too, have faced this demon. My immediate response to the news was a crack in my heart - even the anonymous girls I see around campus tug at me when I cross their paths. To have this happen to someone I know - to a girl I watched grow up - is particularly wrenching.
There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.
I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.
Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.
I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.
We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.
Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.
Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.
Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.
Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.
Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.
The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.
Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.
Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.
I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.
I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.
Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.
I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.
I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.
Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.
WolfGrrl
There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.
I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.
Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.
I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.
We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.
Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.
Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.
Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.
Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.
Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.
The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.
Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.
Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.
I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.
I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.
Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.
I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.
I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.
Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.
WolfGrrl
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Exes and O's
It's a rather gray day to be thinking about exes and o's.
I suppose I shouldn't get annoyed when comments from an ex-friend or my ex-boyfriend filter through on Facebook, but it does annoy me. Still, these people are X-ed out of my life for a reason. I don't like remembering them, because it forces me to remember thoughts, moods and actions I want to forget. I've always been a forgetter rather than a keeper - it's easier for me to forget than it is to forgive.
As for the o's... I'm missing chocolate cheerios a lot. And we had a flat-bonding experience this morning that involved visiting a sex shop, something most eighteen year olds in the States do on or around their birthday. I think you can all ponder what I meant with my little pun.
WolfGrrl
I suppose I shouldn't get annoyed when comments from an ex-friend or my ex-boyfriend filter through on Facebook, but it does annoy me. Still, these people are X-ed out of my life for a reason. I don't like remembering them, because it forces me to remember thoughts, moods and actions I want to forget. I've always been a forgetter rather than a keeper - it's easier for me to forget than it is to forgive.
As for the o's... I'm missing chocolate cheerios a lot. And we had a flat-bonding experience this morning that involved visiting a sex shop, something most eighteen year olds in the States do on or around their birthday. I think you can all ponder what I meant with my little pun.
WolfGrrl
Friday, March 29, 2013
Happy Normal Things
Thank God for school breaks. They make me a better person.
As we approach Easter weekend and the week-long holiday associated with it, I find myself in a very zen place. I feel like a balloon: light enough to float above all my problems and fears and up high enough to see them for the molehills they are. Mountains are reserved for national parks and skiing.
I feel so...peaceful. Oh sure, minor things crop up like dropping my book while on the stationary bike or tripping over a pile of dirty clothes and (nearly) maiming myself, but since I've finished my first batch of assignments and talked to all my lovelies (both in NZ and the US), I'm happy.
One area that has contributed to my languid happiness is clothing. In the US, I have many hang-ups regarding size (I think most people will agree they do too) that make it hard to be comfortable while shopping for clothes. Here, I can't be bothered to worry about what size it says on the jeans because a) I haven't a clue what the size difference is between countries, b) I've never before bought clothes in NZ and c) it's all expensive. I find myself jettisoning (or planning to jettison) clothes I've struggled to let go of for years and replacing them with things that fit who I am now, not who I was.
A second contributing area is books. I love to read; I love it so much, I become a zombie. I disconnect from the world when I have a book in my hands. My boyfriend finds it annoying, as does anyone trying to get my attention. (I wouldn't notice if the flat burned down, to be honest. It's that bad. Or good.) Getting my local library card was like getting the keys to every toy store in the world: I have been a happy, busy bee this week as I plow through the first bag of books I hauled home.
A third area is Weather. I hate the rain. I hate being cold, I hate being damp. I hate when it's humid and I hate when it's broiling. I love sunshine and breezy air, the smell of leaf mold (JK, although I do think that's the smell we identify as 'autumn') and the crispness of fall mornings. The weather this week has been fantastically gorgeous; warm during the day and cool at night. (I sound so bipolar right now, complaining about the changeable NZ weather in one post and praising it in another. LOL.) But, really, who doesn't love gorgeous scenery set off by beautiful weather? Every time I walk from the university to my flat I see the hills rising in the distance and start humming "The Sound of Music" theme song.
I am lucky. So, so lucky. I am loved, I am pampered, I am strong and I'm smart(ish). And I get to do things that are absolutely amazing! I get to read book after book in puddles of New Zealand sunshine while calling my friends on Skype to tell them about my lack of stress (and about how much I miss them). And my beautiful boyfriend is talking to me. I love that most of all. (I'm such a romantic sap. And it takes so little effort to get me there. Sigh.)
Now I want to go to sleep. My neck has cramps.
WolfGrrl
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
20 Things Different
Hi everybody.
Now that I've been overseas for roughly three months, I thought I'd write a little post about things that I've noticed about New Zealand. If most of them are things that annoy me, well... Let's not go into that.
Right, off we go.
1. They use real sugar, not corn syrup.
2. Coins can actually be used to buy things. Like food. And books.
3. There is no turning right on red. Or more accurately, there is no right-hand-drive equivalent to turning right on red. (Primitives.)
4. You can buy alcohol everywhere. Liquor and lollies are cheap and easy to find.
5. The Weather. I change my clothes six times a day. 'Nuff said.
6. $26.00 a kilo for limes. WTF? I don't want that many limes...
7. There is no such thing as a crosswalk. Or rather, there is ALWAYS such a thing as a crosswalk.
8. The wildlife is oddly loud. And antagonistic.
9. Stupid EFTPOS machines. I spend so much time verifying that I am myself.
10. These people are too energetic for me. I feel like a slug. (I am a slug.)
11. It costs more than God can afford to pay. And that's with a decent exchange rate.
12. My friends are noticeably NOT PRESENT. Three thousand miles, pshh.
13. You can buy beer/wine at the movies. Shocking... (This should go under #4.)
14. Dan Brown is considered good literature.
15. It's called a Cashpoint, not an ATM. I fail.
16. I wear a size 3 shoe.
17. Not enough babies in my life. Except for that one party...
18. I have to convert everything.
19. I am still far away from my boyfriend.
20. Everything needs to be turned on twice. Even my computer.
Now that I've been overseas for roughly three months, I thought I'd write a little post about things that I've noticed about New Zealand. If most of them are things that annoy me, well... Let's not go into that.
Right, off we go.
1. They use real sugar, not corn syrup.
2. Coins can actually be used to buy things. Like food. And books.
3. There is no turning right on red. Or more accurately, there is no right-hand-drive equivalent to turning right on red. (Primitives.)
4. You can buy alcohol everywhere. Liquor and lollies are cheap and easy to find.
5. The Weather. I change my clothes six times a day. 'Nuff said.
6. $26.00 a kilo for limes. WTF? I don't want that many limes...
7. There is no such thing as a crosswalk. Or rather, there is ALWAYS such a thing as a crosswalk.
8. The wildlife is oddly loud. And antagonistic.
9. Stupid EFTPOS machines. I spend so much time verifying that I am myself.
10. These people are too energetic for me. I feel like a slug. (I am a slug.)
11. It costs more than God can afford to pay. And that's with a decent exchange rate.
12. My friends are noticeably NOT PRESENT. Three thousand miles, pshh.
13. You can buy beer/wine at the movies. Shocking... (This should go under #4.)
14. Dan Brown is considered good literature.
15. It's called a Cashpoint, not an ATM. I fail.
16. I wear a size 3 shoe.
17. Not enough babies in my life. Except for that one party...
18. I have to convert everything.
19. I am still far away from my boyfriend.
20. Everything needs to be turned on twice. Even my computer.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
What About Them?
What about those moments of absolute terror and despair that strike you from nowhere? What about those, huh? I know I'm not the only one that has them.
When I told my mother that I didn't want to disappoint her and my father by not going to graduate school, I thought I was going to be sick. In the US, school is considered to be of the utmost importance and a good education is seen by many as a gateway to a better life - to the "American Dream."
Folks, the American Dream has air quotes because it's a myth. It isn't the American Dream we need to be chasing, but our own.
I don't want to continue my formal education. I love to learn, but not when it comes to regimented, assessed and cemented knowledge. I like to learn from people who are passionate about what they're teaching. I like to engage with minds greater than my own. I believe that I learn all the time, whether I'm buying shoes, getting ripped off, or talking through a problem with a friend. I don't think formal education will prevent me from making mistakes: it might, in some strange way, encourage me.
American society has raised its children to be so terrified of failure that we cannot imagine a future that deviates from the most vocally advertised path. So many of my friends are beating themselves bloody trying to 'get ahead' and forge a career that will make their parents, their society, and their culture happy.
Forget them. Make yourself happy.
I suck at it too, you know. I'm completely guilty of telling myself I 'should' be this or I 'should' do that. Now I'm calling bullshit (sorry) on that technique. The rest of the world, while it has its share of societal and cultural fuckwittage, manages to produce more confident and secure individuals than the US.
Americans, don't give me crap about this; you know it's true. You see it in our economy, our military-industrial complex and our foreign relations. We chase the American Dream to the exclusion of progress, creativity, personal growth and personal happiness. We work too damn hard to be so damn miserable.
I want to be a person that makes other people happy (and makes a decent living). Is that such an impossible dream? SERIOUSLY? I want to watch my kids become happy, well-adjusted and mature individuals with a sense of communitas. Is that such an impossible dream? I want to love my husband, be there for my friends and herd my family together when we scatter.
Pooh Bear is a bear of very little brain, but often there's wisdom in that little brain. What makes his adventures so comforting is that he manages to learn and grow without losing himself. WE DON'T WANT TO LOSE OURSELVES, yet everything we do drives us further and further from who we think we are. A person can only make so many compromises before the deal loses meaning (mixing my metaphors; oops).
Listen to Christopher Robin, who, with the wisdom of childhood and the affection of an honest friend, told Pooh:
You're braver than you believe
Stronger than you seem and
Smarter than you think
So am I. So are you. So are the dreams you nurture in the shadow of the "American Dream."
Chase those dreams, dammit. Life's too short to spend time on cultural fuckwittage.
WolfGrrl
I don't want to continue my formal education. I love to learn, but not when it comes to regimented, assessed and cemented knowledge. I like to learn from people who are passionate about what they're teaching. I like to engage with minds greater than my own. I believe that I learn all the time, whether I'm buying shoes, getting ripped off, or talking through a problem with a friend. I don't think formal education will prevent me from making mistakes: it might, in some strange way, encourage me.
American society has raised its children to be so terrified of failure that we cannot imagine a future that deviates from the most vocally advertised path. So many of my friends are beating themselves bloody trying to 'get ahead' and forge a career that will make their parents, their society, and their culture happy.
Forget them. Make yourself happy.
I suck at it too, you know. I'm completely guilty of telling myself I 'should' be this or I 'should' do that. Now I'm calling bullshit (sorry) on that technique. The rest of the world, while it has its share of societal and cultural fuckwittage, manages to produce more confident and secure individuals than the US.
Americans, don't give me crap about this; you know it's true. You see it in our economy, our military-industrial complex and our foreign relations. We chase the American Dream to the exclusion of progress, creativity, personal growth and personal happiness. We work too damn hard to be so damn miserable.
I want to be a person that makes other people happy (and makes a decent living). Is that such an impossible dream? SERIOUSLY? I want to watch my kids become happy, well-adjusted and mature individuals with a sense of communitas. Is that such an impossible dream? I want to love my husband, be there for my friends and herd my family together when we scatter.
Pooh Bear is a bear of very little brain, but often there's wisdom in that little brain. What makes his adventures so comforting is that he manages to learn and grow without losing himself. WE DON'T WANT TO LOSE OURSELVES, yet everything we do drives us further and further from who we think we are. A person can only make so many compromises before the deal loses meaning (mixing my metaphors; oops).
Listen to Christopher Robin, who, with the wisdom of childhood and the affection of an honest friend, told Pooh:
You're braver than you believe
Stronger than you seem and
Smarter than you think
So am I. So are you. So are the dreams you nurture in the shadow of the "American Dream."
Chase those dreams, dammit. Life's too short to spend time on cultural fuckwittage.
WolfGrrl
Other than Ordinary
I've never considered myself anything other than ordinary (daydreams and revenge fantasies aside). However, as I experience more of the world and I meet more of its denizens, I've come to realise something.
I like to make people smile. And I'm pretty good at it.
Maybe that's two things.
When I was asked what superpower I want to have, I said I wanted the power to make everyone I meet happy. It seems silly, but it really is what I want to do with my life. I get so much pleasure from helping others help themselves, and from brightening other people's days. I like to give them the absolute best I can, and I like to make them laugh.
I'm selfish and morose and flawed; I'm not perfect and I don't want to be. But, there can't be this many nice people in the world. Aren't people supposed to be self-serving and judgmental? (Yeah, there are a few of those wandering around. Stay away from me, please.)
I don't love a lot of people. That's just my nature.
I love the saying "If you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours." It's a little thing to make such a big difference. I feel like a three year-old bestowing trinkets on passing adults.
"And a smile for Mommy, and a smile for Daddy. And a big smile for Max, and for my friends at home and the guys in my History tutorial who didn't seem fazed by my overly-caffinated self."
Wut.
WolfGrrl
I like to make people smile. And I'm pretty good at it.
Maybe that's two things.
When I was asked what superpower I want to have, I said I wanted the power to make everyone I meet happy. It seems silly, but it really is what I want to do with my life. I get so much pleasure from helping others help themselves, and from brightening other people's days. I like to give them the absolute best I can, and I like to make them laugh.
I'm selfish and morose and flawed; I'm not perfect and I don't want to be. But, there can't be this many nice people in the world. Aren't people supposed to be self-serving and judgmental? (Yeah, there are a few of those wandering around. Stay away from me, please.)
I don't love a lot of people. That's just my nature.
I love the saying "If you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours." It's a little thing to make such a big difference. I feel like a three year-old bestowing trinkets on passing adults.
"And a smile for Mommy, and a smile for Daddy. And a big smile for Max, and for my friends at home and the guys in my History tutorial who didn't seem fazed by my overly-caffinated self."
Wut.
WolfGrrl
Mmmm... Oops
It's been too long.
I haven't any excuses except the usual: I'm busy with classes and exploring New Zealand.
However, my flatmate and I collaborated to make a very delicious and very New Zealand dinner, so I thought I'd share the recipe with you, readers! It's very easy to make and takes a total of twenty minutes (ten if you're a person who can use a can opener properly).
Recipe for the Preparation of CORN FRITTERS and FRUIT SALAD
Corn Fritters
ingredients: 1 egg, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1 cup plain flour, 1 can (creamed) corn, a pinch of salt and pepper, 1-2 tablespoons of water to thin and some oil for frying.
preparation: in medium bowl mix egg, baking powder, flour and seasonings with water. This should form a thick paste (about the consistency of pancakes, maybe a bit thicker). Add corn and mix well.
In pan on stove heat 1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil (on low or medium heat). Add dropped spoonfuls of batter to oil. The fritters cook depending on size; for silver-dollar fritters wait 1-2 minutes before flipping them. Generally, follow the rules for making thick pancakes. Fritters should be browned on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
Eat with toppings of choice, and feel free to add extras like vegetables, bacon, or other ingredients to the batter!
Fruit Salad
Even special people like me can make fruit salad (excepting the use of a can opener). After mangling your can of peaches/pineapple/pears/whatever open, pour off juice and transfer fruit chunks to bowl. Add chopped banana, apple squares, grapes, and other fresh fruits to taste. Eat messily and with gusto.
Bon appetit, mes amis!
WolfGrrl
I haven't any excuses except the usual: I'm busy with classes and exploring New Zealand.
However, my flatmate and I collaborated to make a very delicious and very New Zealand dinner, so I thought I'd share the recipe with you, readers! It's very easy to make and takes a total of twenty minutes (ten if you're a person who can use a can opener properly).
Recipe for the Preparation of CORN FRITTERS and FRUIT SALAD
Corn Fritters
ingredients: 1 egg, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1 cup plain flour, 1 can (creamed) corn, a pinch of salt and pepper, 1-2 tablespoons of water to thin and some oil for frying.
preparation: in medium bowl mix egg, baking powder, flour and seasonings with water. This should form a thick paste (about the consistency of pancakes, maybe a bit thicker). Add corn and mix well.
In pan on stove heat 1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil (on low or medium heat). Add dropped spoonfuls of batter to oil. The fritters cook depending on size; for silver-dollar fritters wait 1-2 minutes before flipping them. Generally, follow the rules for making thick pancakes. Fritters should be browned on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
Eat with toppings of choice, and feel free to add extras like vegetables, bacon, or other ingredients to the batter!
Fruit Salad
Even special people like me can make fruit salad (excepting the use of a can opener). After mangling your can of peaches/pineapple/pears/whatever open, pour off juice and transfer fruit chunks to bowl. Add chopped banana, apple squares, grapes, and other fresh fruits to taste. Eat messily and with gusto.
Bon appetit, mes amis!
WolfGrrl
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Across the World
I've been slack, but how can one find motivation when the weather is delightful, one's boyfriend is close, and there's a whole new country to explore? I barely use the internet now that I am abroad, but now I shall check in and let those of you who follow me know that I'm alive and busy.
My boyfriend took both these photos; I am not the most competent when it comes to photography. But I shall have to learn, because in two weeks I leave him to attend school 800 kms away. And I just have to document getting into my flat and trying to find my way around a whole new city.
Ciao!
WolfGrrl
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Where Finals Go
What I should be doing right now is studying. Instead, I am trolling through the online syllabi for my current classes to figure out my approximate final grades. Needless to say, I severely underestimated my ability this semester. Even if I should bomb the finals (and I refuse to let that happen, because what happened to my GPA in that scenario made me saaaaaad) I will emerge with decent enough grades.
I have already been told by my advisor that all hopes of a 4.0 flew away my second semester. That's all right. My therapist pointed out that, hey, does it really matter what your GPA is in the real world? Obviously, one would like to have a good record for future employers, but it's entirely unnecessary to spend your entire life slaving away at school. There are so many good things that I've done this year that aren't school related; so many relationships I've grown or nurtured. I have made great strides in my personal epiphanies. I am healthy, mentally and physically. I am going abroad (OMG, OMG, OMG).
So, I say "whatever" to my academics at the moment. I will study for my finals; I will take them as seriously as I always do. I will bemoan stupid mistakes and gloat over easy triumphs. And then I will forget it all, and focus on what lies ahead. Even if what lies ahead are the rather dismal chores of vacuuming the corners of my room and compiling lists of what to do before I leave.
It's a good day. I must not be 'doing' finals' week correctly if I can find happiness and amusement where my peers find despair and gallows humor.
Meh. It's a good day (for me). Here's my secret: Blow it off when you feel despair. At that point, there's nothing you can do anyway.
Cheers!
WolfGrrl
I have already been told by my advisor that all hopes of a 4.0 flew away my second semester. That's all right. My therapist pointed out that, hey, does it really matter what your GPA is in the real world? Obviously, one would like to have a good record for future employers, but it's entirely unnecessary to spend your entire life slaving away at school. There are so many good things that I've done this year that aren't school related; so many relationships I've grown or nurtured. I have made great strides in my personal epiphanies. I am healthy, mentally and physically. I am going abroad (OMG, OMG, OMG).
So, I say "whatever" to my academics at the moment. I will study for my finals; I will take them as seriously as I always do. I will bemoan stupid mistakes and gloat over easy triumphs. And then I will forget it all, and focus on what lies ahead. Even if what lies ahead are the rather dismal chores of vacuuming the corners of my room and compiling lists of what to do before I leave.
It's a good day. I must not be 'doing' finals' week correctly if I can find happiness and amusement where my peers find despair and gallows humor.
Meh. It's a good day (for me). Here's my secret: Blow it off when you feel despair. At that point, there's nothing you can do anyway.
Cheers!
WolfGrrl
Monday, December 10, 2012
Twenty-Five Days
Oh dear God, I have twenty-five days before I leave the country. Twenty-five days to get my head wrapped around the fact that I will be living overseas for six months. On my own. Overseas. Did I mention that I'll be on my own?
Oh, dear God.
I'm watching the Chronicles of Narnia and lusting after the beautiful landscape and the wonderful people of New Zealand. Whatever niggling urge had me clicking on the link, back in March, that said 'University of Otago, New Zealand' is a blessed urge.
In twenty-five days (and some number of hours) I will be flying out from Charlotte across the country - on my own - and then flying over the Pacific - on my own. No safety net, no backups, no one there to calm me down when I can't remember my gate and flip out. (OK, so my parents will be standing by the phone, or in my mother's case, hovering, but still. I have the on the ground illusion of independence.)
Do you have any idea how phenomenal and terrifying this is? I'm a girl who went to school ten minutes from my parents' house; who has flown by herself ONCE, and that only a year and a bit ago. I have no doubts (I cannot doubt) that I'll be fine once I get going. It's just that waiting and counting down the days might kill me first.
I know that once I'm there I'll be homesick and tired and lonely (especially after my boyfriend leaves and I have to go to school in a new country, alone). I fully expect this experience to drive my personal growth through the roof. I can't wait to hike, swim, run, fly, dance, laugh, cry, sneeze, and hopefully not freeze on another continent. ANOTHER CONTINENT. I hyperventilate just thinking about it.
Plane tickets around the world are not cheap, people. I can't screw this up. My safety net takes a minimum of seventy two hours to reach me, not counting delays and domestic flight times. Obviously, I have my darling love and his family, but should I lose a limb shark tubing, or fall off a cliff or get concussed and lose my memory, I'll want my family with me. Walking your fingers from the East Coast of the United States to the little green islands of New Zealand takes some time. Flying takes more time.
I guess that's why my study abroad contract has that little clause stipulating 'repatriation of remains.' Yucky, but necessary.
Whatever. I will be bold, I will be daring. I will rock this six month adventure and come back wanting to go again, and again, and again.
And the best part of it all?
I can go. Again and again and again.
Because I can do everything I want to, damn it. (Pardon my French.)
WolfGrrl
Oh, dear God.
I'm watching the Chronicles of Narnia and lusting after the beautiful landscape and the wonderful people of New Zealand. Whatever niggling urge had me clicking on the link, back in March, that said 'University of Otago, New Zealand' is a blessed urge.
In twenty-five days (and some number of hours) I will be flying out from Charlotte across the country - on my own - and then flying over the Pacific - on my own. No safety net, no backups, no one there to calm me down when I can't remember my gate and flip out. (OK, so my parents will be standing by the phone, or in my mother's case, hovering, but still. I have the on the ground illusion of independence.)
Do you have any idea how phenomenal and terrifying this is? I'm a girl who went to school ten minutes from my parents' house; who has flown by herself ONCE, and that only a year and a bit ago. I have no doubts (I cannot doubt) that I'll be fine once I get going. It's just that waiting and counting down the days might kill me first.
I know that once I'm there I'll be homesick and tired and lonely (especially after my boyfriend leaves and I have to go to school in a new country, alone). I fully expect this experience to drive my personal growth through the roof. I can't wait to hike, swim, run, fly, dance, laugh, cry, sneeze, and hopefully not freeze on another continent. ANOTHER CONTINENT. I hyperventilate just thinking about it.
Plane tickets around the world are not cheap, people. I can't screw this up. My safety net takes a minimum of seventy two hours to reach me, not counting delays and domestic flight times. Obviously, I have my darling love and his family, but should I lose a limb shark tubing, or fall off a cliff or get concussed and lose my memory, I'll want my family with me. Walking your fingers from the East Coast of the United States to the little green islands of New Zealand takes some time. Flying takes more time.
I guess that's why my study abroad contract has that little clause stipulating 'repatriation of remains.' Yucky, but necessary.
Whatever. I will be bold, I will be daring. I will rock this six month adventure and come back wanting to go again, and again, and again.
And the best part of it all?
I can go. Again and again and again.
Because I can do everything I want to, damn it. (Pardon my French.)
WolfGrrl
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Profligate?
Sometimes I wonder whether or not I am spoiled.
No, let me rephrase.
Sometimes I wonder to what extent I am spoiled. I understand and ruefully acknolwedge that I am and always will be spoiled. Anyone growing up in a stable, loving, inclusive environment with a supportive family (and a financially solvent one) is spoiled.
But, to my parents, please rest assured that I shall probably never be one of those people who can spend large sums of money at the drop of a hat.
Today I purchased a computer with two-thirds of my own money (meaning I paid for two-thirds of the item and the tax). I have never spent so much. I agonized, aloud and privately, to myself for three days. Finally, as with most of my decisions, I got fed up with the two sides of my consciousness yelling back and forth and bought the darn thing to shut them up.
Gulp.
One parent (and my boyfriend) despise the kind of computer I just bought. The other parent is, dare I say, indifferent. However, it's me not them that purchased and will use this shiny new toy. And, as I have been told (and am beginning to see) I am 100% stubborn when I fix my mind on something. Oh dear.
I feel rational, and at the same time giddy with the knowledge that I just signed myself up for a year of no scones, no movies, and no books or clothes. I will be saving everything I make and am given in order to rebuild the nest egg I just diminished.
Was it worth it? I don't know. I honestly don't know. But, this is life after all. You make choices, rooted in good or bad desires, and they turn out to be good or bad choices. I take comfort in the fact that I a) got an almost $200 discount on this computer, and b) it will both significantly broaden my ability to function in the world and ease my travels in the spring. (Hopefully.)
Oh dear. The money. Ahhhhhh...
WolfGrrl
No, let me rephrase.
Sometimes I wonder to what extent I am spoiled. I understand and ruefully acknolwedge that I am and always will be spoiled. Anyone growing up in a stable, loving, inclusive environment with a supportive family (and a financially solvent one) is spoiled.
But, to my parents, please rest assured that I shall probably never be one of those people who can spend large sums of money at the drop of a hat.
Today I purchased a computer with two-thirds of my own money (meaning I paid for two-thirds of the item and the tax). I have never spent so much. I agonized, aloud and privately, to myself for three days. Finally, as with most of my decisions, I got fed up with the two sides of my consciousness yelling back and forth and bought the darn thing to shut them up.
Gulp.
One parent (and my boyfriend) despise the kind of computer I just bought. The other parent is, dare I say, indifferent. However, it's me not them that purchased and will use this shiny new toy. And, as I have been told (and am beginning to see) I am 100% stubborn when I fix my mind on something. Oh dear.
I feel rational, and at the same time giddy with the knowledge that I just signed myself up for a year of no scones, no movies, and no books or clothes. I will be saving everything I make and am given in order to rebuild the nest egg I just diminished.
Was it worth it? I don't know. I honestly don't know. But, this is life after all. You make choices, rooted in good or bad desires, and they turn out to be good or bad choices. I take comfort in the fact that I a) got an almost $200 discount on this computer, and b) it will both significantly broaden my ability to function in the world and ease my travels in the spring. (Hopefully.)
Oh dear. The money. Ahhhhhh...
WolfGrrl
Monday, October 1, 2012
A Long Way Gone
One day I will become the person others see in me.
I ascribe such negative views to others, but really, these are my views of myself. It is a habit that hurts me and only me. Or so I believe. Perhaps I hurt others by not seeing what they see.
I seek solace in things that make me feel worse, less so than in the past, but I still do. I am ever envious and ashamed. I am ever feeling weaker, more fragile, less competent than others.
My high school English teacher forwarded me a recommendation he wrote when I was applying to university. It had the same impact on me as my mother's synopsis of my life for the same applications. I am humbled, I am stunned, and I am shamed. Am I really so wonderful to others? Am I so unique?
I feel like the raindrops I kick off my umbrella before tossing it in the corner. I feel like the bread crumbs I brush into the trashcan. Perhaps it's the rain; gray skies demoralize me. Too much sleep depresses me. Falling behind on work makes me guilty and ashamed. Guilt and Shame. How tired I am of those two old, old acquaintances.
My roommate is studying Psychology. This week they are learning about Eating Disorders and Depression. I feel like the freaking Venn Diagram in her textbook: one part depression, one part anxiety, and one part disorder. Why is it that those who are the most organized on the outside are often the most dysfunctional on the inside? Why is my lens so warped?
And why is my first thought always "It's my fault."
Fault? It's not a fault. I know that, at least. There are things I can control - my grades, my sleep schedule, what foods I eat - and there are things far, far beyond my control: what others think of me. The weather. My biochemistry.
For me, writing is cathartic. It lets me exorcise the shadows and mud inside. But it cannot do everything. It cannot be everything. There is a quote I feel is particularly relevent to my mood right now. It goes like this:
I can list the skills I recognize from long repetition: kindness, laughter, wit, intelligence, silence, sympathy, righteous rage, tolerance. They all seem so...good.
Sorry. No. I will not apologize for being blue. Maybe somewhere, in all my musings, I have stumbled over something that resonates with one of you out there.
I ascribe such negative views to others, but really, these are my views of myself. It is a habit that hurts me and only me. Or so I believe. Perhaps I hurt others by not seeing what they see.
I seek solace in things that make me feel worse, less so than in the past, but I still do. I am ever envious and ashamed. I am ever feeling weaker, more fragile, less competent than others.
My high school English teacher forwarded me a recommendation he wrote when I was applying to university. It had the same impact on me as my mother's synopsis of my life for the same applications. I am humbled, I am stunned, and I am shamed. Am I really so wonderful to others? Am I so unique?
I feel like the raindrops I kick off my umbrella before tossing it in the corner. I feel like the bread crumbs I brush into the trashcan. Perhaps it's the rain; gray skies demoralize me. Too much sleep depresses me. Falling behind on work makes me guilty and ashamed. Guilt and Shame. How tired I am of those two old, old acquaintances.
My roommate is studying Psychology. This week they are learning about Eating Disorders and Depression. I feel like the freaking Venn Diagram in her textbook: one part depression, one part anxiety, and one part disorder. Why is it that those who are the most organized on the outside are often the most dysfunctional on the inside? Why is my lens so warped?
And why is my first thought always "It's my fault."
Fault? It's not a fault. I know that, at least. There are things I can control - my grades, my sleep schedule, what foods I eat - and there are things far, far beyond my control: what others think of me. The weather. My biochemistry.
For me, writing is cathartic. It lets me exorcise the shadows and mud inside. But it cannot do everything. It cannot be everything. There is a quote I feel is particularly relevent to my mood right now. It goes like this:
"the number one reason why people give up so fast
is because they tend to look at how far they still have to go
rather than how far they have come."
Yes. Yes. I always look behind me rather than ahead of me. I always see the weakness, rather than the strengths. I want to see the sunshine instead of the rain; my progress is in how much sunshine I see before the rain comes back.
I give away public pieces of myself without trusting that others will care for them. Perhaps this is what makes it such a task to get me to talk truly, and mean what I say? Maybe the rest of you know me better than I know myself. I think, therefore I am...or if I had my way sometimes, therefore I would not be.
I cannot seek the comfort of blame, for I have no one to blame for my guilt, my shame, my constant need to compare and compare and compare. I should not blame myself, but in the end, it seems fairest. I am what forms me, shapes me, holds me back or sets me free. I control me. I build me. I want to assign blame, for therein I dervice order and thus comfort. But I also want to assign blame justly. No. Not justly. I have been told too often that blaming oneself is not justice. I want to assign blame without hurting someone else. No. It hurts me. Do you see how tangled this is?
This is a very long post. My thanks to those who read it through to the end. I want to apologize, but I have been trying to push past that inclination. I don't want to be a doormat, and I know that the key to not being a doormat is not forming the habits of a doormat. (Muh.) Before I was diverted, I was thanking you, Reader, for patience. And perhaps a little understanding.
There. That's something I can be proud of. Mr. Moore, I'm doing my best. I'll keep trying.
WolfGrrl
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Advice Skills
I wish I was better at giving advice. Part of the reason I feel that I don't contribute as much to others' lives is that I'm not so good at either giving or asking for advice. I don't know if I should work to develop this skill, or not.
As I grow older I realize that everyone has problems. Everyone suffers, some more vocally or publically than others. I am a judgmental person. I don't intend to be; I don't go out into the world with the idea of comparing myself to others. It happens, less so than it used to, but it still happens. That I am working to mitigate. I don't want to derive pleasure from making others seem small, even if the shrinking process is only in my mind.
Maybe one day I'll be able to ask for advice and apply it, rather than just listening to it and then doing what I think is best. As I've said before, my best choices have occurred when I followed my instincts or asked for help.
I also have trouble following my own advice. Most of what I know I've learned through trial and error, aka personal experience. No, I've never caught and killed and eaten a fish (my sister has though). I've never been in an automobile accident, or a personal trauma. I'm ordinary, and moderately functional. Yay me! (Yes, I do celebrate little things.)
A friend of mine from overseas recently came to visit, and she had each of us write some words of advice in a book for her to keep. They could be useful, funny, bizarre, or downright disturbing bits of advice; the point was, it gave her something to connect to us. The idea made me think and now I'd like to try a slightly different version of that.
I know a lot of you don't leave comments (most of you, I believe, read, nod, laugh or frown, and move on with your lives). But if you have a moment, or you find yourself particularly inspired, please leave me a piece of advice in the comments below. I promise to read, keep, and try to apply them to my life!
In the meantime, here are some of mine:
- If you look good, you'll feel OK
- Celebrate the small things
- Always be polite and prompt(ish)
- Write your paper a week before it's due, ignore it for two days, then edit it
- If the guilt outweighs the pleasure, don't do it
- Traffic lights are perverse; you can't win against them so don't try
- Failure is a good motivator
- Driving on the wrong side of the road isn't a good idea
- You'll always make a mistake within the first three attempts
- Ask yourself what kind of person this choice/action would make you
- Have faith (the type is up to you)
- Just keep walking, no matter how cold, dark, or alone you feel
- Look at the stars sometimes
- Go for walks
- Naptime is not just for babies
- Music is good
- Factor in travel time
WolfGrrl
As I grow older I realize that everyone has problems. Everyone suffers, some more vocally or publically than others. I am a judgmental person. I don't intend to be; I don't go out into the world with the idea of comparing myself to others. It happens, less so than it used to, but it still happens. That I am working to mitigate. I don't want to derive pleasure from making others seem small, even if the shrinking process is only in my mind.
Maybe one day I'll be able to ask for advice and apply it, rather than just listening to it and then doing what I think is best. As I've said before, my best choices have occurred when I followed my instincts or asked for help.
I also have trouble following my own advice. Most of what I know I've learned through trial and error, aka personal experience. No, I've never caught and killed and eaten a fish (my sister has though). I've never been in an automobile accident, or a personal trauma. I'm ordinary, and moderately functional. Yay me! (Yes, I do celebrate little things.)
A friend of mine from overseas recently came to visit, and she had each of us write some words of advice in a book for her to keep. They could be useful, funny, bizarre, or downright disturbing bits of advice; the point was, it gave her something to connect to us. The idea made me think and now I'd like to try a slightly different version of that.
I know a lot of you don't leave comments (most of you, I believe, read, nod, laugh or frown, and move on with your lives). But if you have a moment, or you find yourself particularly inspired, please leave me a piece of advice in the comments below. I promise to read, keep, and try to apply them to my life!
In the meantime, here are some of mine:
- If you look good, you'll feel OK
- Celebrate the small things
- Always be polite and prompt(ish)
- Write your paper a week before it's due, ignore it for two days, then edit it
- If the guilt outweighs the pleasure, don't do it
- Traffic lights are perverse; you can't win against them so don't try
- Failure is a good motivator
- Driving on the wrong side of the road isn't a good idea
- You'll always make a mistake within the first three attempts
- Ask yourself what kind of person this choice/action would make you
- Have faith (the type is up to you)
- Just keep walking, no matter how cold, dark, or alone you feel
- Look at the stars sometimes
- Go for walks
- Naptime is not just for babies
- Music is good
- Factor in travel time
WolfGrrl
Saturday, September 1, 2012
The Little Engine That Did
Yesterday afternoon, as I was vegetating, I happened upon a graduation speech given by two men whose comedic work I've admired for the past year. They mentioned, among other things, the arrival of the graduates in a world called "Reality."
Their speech got me thinking and, (typically), I had an epiphany about eighteen hours later as I was lying in bed letting my thoughts wander.
I feel that I have found my place in the world. Despite my recent worry that I don't know what I'm doing (it's normal, but that doesn't make it less terrifying), I do think that I've found what most people set out into the world looking for. I have arrived.
My arrival is rooted in the love I have for my boyfriend; the laughter I share with my friends; the support I seek from all of them and the lessons we teach one another. I am more open; I share more of myself with the world. I try. Trying is 99% of arriving, folks. This little engine finally made it over the top of the mountain.
It's interesting for me as an anthropologist to be studying the social constructs of 'Self' and 'Other' and realize just how definite my thoughts on those are. I am a 'Self.' I see 'Otherness' as the interactions between selves. Bumping into others, learning from or about others, causes one to define a view of oneself as A or B or X.
I am a 'Self.' For a long time I was an 'Other' even to myself (there's a metaphysical tangle for ya). But this Little Engine chugged along, not very fast and not very smoothly, until magically it arrived at the top of the mountain and found a nice, gently curving line of track.
The hard part is over, everyone. I hope you'll celebrate with me. I have found a family that will stay with me for as long as possible. I have found people to love, who love me undeservedly and unreservedly.
I did. You can too. I hope this realization gives you as much lift as it's given me.
Adios,
WolfGrrl
Their speech got me thinking and, (typically), I had an epiphany about eighteen hours later as I was lying in bed letting my thoughts wander.
I feel that I have found my place in the world. Despite my recent worry that I don't know what I'm doing (it's normal, but that doesn't make it less terrifying), I do think that I've found what most people set out into the world looking for. I have arrived.
My arrival is rooted in the love I have for my boyfriend; the laughter I share with my friends; the support I seek from all of them and the lessons we teach one another. I am more open; I share more of myself with the world. I try. Trying is 99% of arriving, folks. This little engine finally made it over the top of the mountain.
It's interesting for me as an anthropologist to be studying the social constructs of 'Self' and 'Other' and realize just how definite my thoughts on those are. I am a 'Self.' I see 'Otherness' as the interactions between selves. Bumping into others, learning from or about others, causes one to define a view of oneself as A or B or X.
I am a 'Self.' For a long time I was an 'Other' even to myself (there's a metaphysical tangle for ya). But this Little Engine chugged along, not very fast and not very smoothly, until magically it arrived at the top of the mountain and found a nice, gently curving line of track.
The hard part is over, everyone. I hope you'll celebrate with me. I have found a family that will stay with me for as long as possible. I have found people to love, who love me undeservedly and unreservedly.
I did. You can too. I hope this realization gives you as much lift as it's given me.
Adios,
WolfGrrl
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Crisis Management
I always wondered if I'd inherited my mother's ability to manage a crisis. This weekend, I had my chance to find out.
I arrived home from a four day trip to DC to discover my parents at the hospital and the house a mess. Everyone is fine now, but things were pretty tense there for a while and I found myself thrown into the position of telephone operator, cook, housekeeper, and surrogate parent/caregiver.
It was an interesting 48 hours, with my sister being stricken ill in the wee hours of Monday morning and neither parent home to tend her. But I finally learned the answer to my long-unspoken question: Will I be able to cope in crisis?
Yup. Hey, I even managed to make a full meal for four in under two hours. For those of you who've never tried it, pie crust is a pain in the butt to make...but worth the inevitable cursing and crying.
Oh. And I love my boyfriend. He stayed with me all night, made sure I slept, and generally refused to let me fall apart. Thank you, darling. I try to look at everything as training for the future, and I know I can count on you to be there for me, no matter what (or where).
And think of the benefits! You get a Crisis Management team that also makes pies! Hehehe.
WolfGrrl
I arrived home from a four day trip to DC to discover my parents at the hospital and the house a mess. Everyone is fine now, but things were pretty tense there for a while and I found myself thrown into the position of telephone operator, cook, housekeeper, and surrogate parent/caregiver.
It was an interesting 48 hours, with my sister being stricken ill in the wee hours of Monday morning and neither parent home to tend her. But I finally learned the answer to my long-unspoken question: Will I be able to cope in crisis?
Yup. Hey, I even managed to make a full meal for four in under two hours. For those of you who've never tried it, pie crust is a pain in the butt to make...but worth the inevitable cursing and crying.
Oh. And I love my boyfriend. He stayed with me all night, made sure I slept, and generally refused to let me fall apart. Thank you, darling. I try to look at everything as training for the future, and I know I can count on you to be there for me, no matter what (or where).
And think of the benefits! You get a Crisis Management team that also makes pies! Hehehe.
WolfGrrl
Monday, August 6, 2012
A Life Worth Living
It's 10:30 at night and I have managed to break my keyboard and lose my chance at the bathroom. Wonderful. Maybe I should take a hint and go to sleep.
As I sit here pondering random things like cake fondant, Wacom tablets, toilets, and the color red, it occurred to me that I have a little story to share with the world.
As you all know, I spent many years being depressed and anxious (and finally anorexic) without really knowing why. The more I look into these things, the more I begin to understand that there is a physiological reason for my misery, and a chemical reason why my meds have worked so well, so quickly.
The human brain produces all kinds of chemicals that control different, vital functions. I was born lacking the chemical responsible for self-soothing. There's evidence of this (which I've only recently put together) that goes back to when I was an infant. I find Psychology and the human mind fascinating; if it weren't for Chemistry (and Biology) I'd probably be a Psych major at school. I am genetically and environmentally disposed to anxiety, but the lack of the chemical serotonin amplifies ordinary anxiety into a debilitating problem.
I can remember years where I wasn't motivated to do anything; the only reasons I did accomplish anything were routine, force of will, and guilt. It's difficult to describe being completely disengaged from the world, because I'm not sure many people understand how severe it is. Imagine viewing everyone and everything from behind a layer of glass; you can hear others, see others, and interact with others - to a point. But they lack almost all understanding of you, and you of them. Ah, my metaphors are no good tonight. Suffice to say, people who cannot self-soothe lead very rough lives due to being under constant, high levels of stress. My father is a perfect example of this, and four months ago, so was I.
I would like to take this moment to speak to people who happen to read this blog and who might be depressed. I'm sorry for you; not because you can't handle what you've been given, but because you have a long, hard road ahead of you and the work never ends. But let me mention, (lest you think I support giving in to depression), that it DOES get better. I promise it does.
There's a saying floating around in therapists' offices and groups: Build a life worth living. Overcoming depression is a choice and a fight; the first few steps are incredibly difficult, and almost impossible to take alone. I hope that you are blessed with friends and family who don't let you shove them away; I know I am. These people, so stubborn and so convinced of the good you can't see in yourself, are the true heroes of any fight against depression. They haul you up because - difficult as it is to believe - there is something good in you that you can't see; you're not worthless, not hopeless, not lost or broken.
I lack the ability to calm myself down. I'm a reluctant drug user, but sometimes there is such a thing as "better living through chemsitry." (Never thought I'd say those words, haha.) Please don't be afraid to try the medicines available to you; despite the constant propaganda about drug companies and unnecessary drug use, these medicines were developed for a reason. You are that reason. I am that reason. Anyone whose life is improved, even the tiniest bit, is the reason for all that research.
To the people who I used to be, wherever you are, whoever you are: we hear you. The world hasn't abandoned you; you aren't alone. There is something more than darkness, than sadness, than misery. You'll have to find a way to take your first step that works for you; I don't even remember mine. But the work and the fight are worth the effort...as I am reminded every single day, in thousands of ways.
Do not give up, do not give in. Build a life worth living. Find one thing you love, like, or laugh at. Just one thing.
Just keep looking.
WolfGrrl
As I sit here pondering random things like cake fondant, Wacom tablets, toilets, and the color red, it occurred to me that I have a little story to share with the world.
As you all know, I spent many years being depressed and anxious (and finally anorexic) without really knowing why. The more I look into these things, the more I begin to understand that there is a physiological reason for my misery, and a chemical reason why my meds have worked so well, so quickly.
The human brain produces all kinds of chemicals that control different, vital functions. I was born lacking the chemical responsible for self-soothing. There's evidence of this (which I've only recently put together) that goes back to when I was an infant. I find Psychology and the human mind fascinating; if it weren't for Chemistry (and Biology) I'd probably be a Psych major at school. I am genetically and environmentally disposed to anxiety, but the lack of the chemical serotonin amplifies ordinary anxiety into a debilitating problem.
I can remember years where I wasn't motivated to do anything; the only reasons I did accomplish anything were routine, force of will, and guilt. It's difficult to describe being completely disengaged from the world, because I'm not sure many people understand how severe it is. Imagine viewing everyone and everything from behind a layer of glass; you can hear others, see others, and interact with others - to a point. But they lack almost all understanding of you, and you of them. Ah, my metaphors are no good tonight. Suffice to say, people who cannot self-soothe lead very rough lives due to being under constant, high levels of stress. My father is a perfect example of this, and four months ago, so was I.
I would like to take this moment to speak to people who happen to read this blog and who might be depressed. I'm sorry for you; not because you can't handle what you've been given, but because you have a long, hard road ahead of you and the work never ends. But let me mention, (lest you think I support giving in to depression), that it DOES get better. I promise it does.
There's a saying floating around in therapists' offices and groups: Build a life worth living. Overcoming depression is a choice and a fight; the first few steps are incredibly difficult, and almost impossible to take alone. I hope that you are blessed with friends and family who don't let you shove them away; I know I am. These people, so stubborn and so convinced of the good you can't see in yourself, are the true heroes of any fight against depression. They haul you up because - difficult as it is to believe - there is something good in you that you can't see; you're not worthless, not hopeless, not lost or broken.
I lack the ability to calm myself down. I'm a reluctant drug user, but sometimes there is such a thing as "better living through chemsitry." (Never thought I'd say those words, haha.) Please don't be afraid to try the medicines available to you; despite the constant propaganda about drug companies and unnecessary drug use, these medicines were developed for a reason. You are that reason. I am that reason. Anyone whose life is improved, even the tiniest bit, is the reason for all that research.
To the people who I used to be, wherever you are, whoever you are: we hear you. The world hasn't abandoned you; you aren't alone. There is something more than darkness, than sadness, than misery. You'll have to find a way to take your first step that works for you; I don't even remember mine. But the work and the fight are worth the effort...as I am reminded every single day, in thousands of ways.
Do not give up, do not give in. Build a life worth living. Find one thing you love, like, or laugh at. Just one thing.
Just keep looking.
WolfGrrl
Monday, July 23, 2012
Universal Mysteries
...are based in mathematics.
Yes, I realize there are math geniuses out there (or even people for whom math makes sense). I always joke that I am not a math person. It could be because (as my mother believes) I resign myself to failure and so fail. It could be because I'm used to Excellents in other subjects, and I am below my own standard in maths.
But, for whatever reason, math mystifies me.
And I'm not even taking a math class involving NUMBERS.
Logic, for those of you who have not had this experience, is a discipline where English sentences are transcribed into a symbolic language for the purpose of a) preserving the truth of the argument and b) determining the validity of the argument. It can be fun on a basic level and mind-bogglingly complex on a higher level.
I have my final this Thursday. Help!
When I apply myself and descend into a state of rigid concentration, my brain relaxes and I click along through the problems just fine. Sometimes, however, stupid things happen. I flunked my last exam because I copied a problem down wrong, flipped the parts of others, or just flat out got lost doing my derivations (think Geometric proofs).
I cannot afford for these stupid things to happen this time.
Grades and GPA aside, I want to do well in this class. Balancing that is the strong antipathy I have towards studying. Logic is a skill, not something you can memorize and regurgitate (or BS, as I usually do for my other exams). I hate studying; for years I've managed to scrape good grades without much studying (if you put me in a library cubicle, I read the graffitti others scrawl on the desk).
Logic works in odd ways for me, which heightens both my confidence and fear. I can stare at a problem for hours and be completely confused, only to figure it out in ten seconds the next morning. I can unravel complicated sentences without even thinking about it, only to get lost in simple ones. My brain has decided that, rather than be helpful and organize itself in a way that makes sense, it shall do as it's always done and cheerfully disregard order in favor of fun.
Thanks, Brain. Thanks so much. I love you too.
I don't really know what the point of this post is. Beware math? Take Logic as a throwaway course? Our brains are smarter when we don't control them? (That's a terrifying idea.)
Maybe everyone could just wish me luck on Thursday? I'd appreciate it.
WolfGrrl
Yes, I realize there are math geniuses out there (or even people for whom math makes sense). I always joke that I am not a math person. It could be because (as my mother believes) I resign myself to failure and so fail. It could be because I'm used to Excellents in other subjects, and I am below my own standard in maths.
But, for whatever reason, math mystifies me.
And I'm not even taking a math class involving NUMBERS.
Logic, for those of you who have not had this experience, is a discipline where English sentences are transcribed into a symbolic language for the purpose of a) preserving the truth of the argument and b) determining the validity of the argument. It can be fun on a basic level and mind-bogglingly complex on a higher level.
I have my final this Thursday. Help!
When I apply myself and descend into a state of rigid concentration, my brain relaxes and I click along through the problems just fine. Sometimes, however, stupid things happen. I flunked my last exam because I copied a problem down wrong, flipped the parts of others, or just flat out got lost doing my derivations (think Geometric proofs).
I cannot afford for these stupid things to happen this time.
Grades and GPA aside, I want to do well in this class. Balancing that is the strong antipathy I have towards studying. Logic is a skill, not something you can memorize and regurgitate (or BS, as I usually do for my other exams). I hate studying; for years I've managed to scrape good grades without much studying (if you put me in a library cubicle, I read the graffitti others scrawl on the desk).
Logic works in odd ways for me, which heightens both my confidence and fear. I can stare at a problem for hours and be completely confused, only to figure it out in ten seconds the next morning. I can unravel complicated sentences without even thinking about it, only to get lost in simple ones. My brain has decided that, rather than be helpful and organize itself in a way that makes sense, it shall do as it's always done and cheerfully disregard order in favor of fun.
Thanks, Brain. Thanks so much. I love you too.
I don't really know what the point of this post is. Beware math? Take Logic as a throwaway course? Our brains are smarter when we don't control them? (That's a terrifying idea.)
Maybe everyone could just wish me luck on Thursday? I'd appreciate it.
WolfGrrl
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