So yo escribo completemente en espanol, lo leias? Espero que si.
Pero probablemente no.
Si mi hermano aprendo el lenguaje como El dijo, El podria leer este. Pero, no. Cobarde!
La otra cosa es, yo necesito mas puntuacion, pero yo no se como en Blogger. No te importa, yo se.
El problema es yo tengo miedo porque no estoy hablando espanol a mi trabajo nuevo. Y yo se el frase - si no lo usas, lo pierdas. Entonces yo estoy escribiendo eso. Tambien, compre un libro en espanol por Pablo Neruda. Me olvido el titulo en este momento. Pero estudie Sr. Nerudo en el colegio - es un Chileno con mucho talento. Voy a leer el libro despues de lo que estoy leyendo ahora, "Water for Elephants."
Ok, ok. Lo siento, mis amigos del ingles.
Por favor si lo entiendes ese post, digame! Podemos ser amigas de espanol.
Que tenga.... sabes el resto.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Second Visits
Last week Mom and Papa Fisher came to sunny Scottsdale for a visit. Actually, what's funny is, it wasn't so sunny. Mom didn't find that funny. (These rhymes are unintentional.) I felt terrible, because obviously, one comes to Arizona expecting rays and heat and palm trees. And that is our norm 364 days a year. Mom and Dad just happened to be here on the annual week of clouds and gloom and rain.
The horrible part: I loved it.
It made me want to curl up and read and snooze and watch movies. And actually, for a lot of their visit, that's what we did! That's what's great about Second Visits. You don't have to have the traditional "let's go see the sites" kind of time together. You can have REAL time together. As if they lived down the street, and we happened to take a Saturday to shop at Tempe Marketplace.
That's my backwards way of saying I'm trying to bamboozle them into moving down the street.
(Although I don't think that would be too hard, honestly. The excessiveness of Dad's "oohs" and "ahhs" at the scenery and his endless references to foreclosed homes was telling. AHEM.)
On an honest and more somber note, I can't describe the yuckiness of the ends of Mom-and-Dad visits. I've blogged before about how I'm not cut out to live this far from them. When they leave, all I can think about are these pretty childhood memories that I wish I could grab back.
But homesickness ain't nothing a little bitta Aaron Michael and Biggest Loser can't fix, right? At least temporarily.
So this week got off to a tear-filled start when Mom and Dad caught their return flight on Monday morning, but it's looking up now. After all, it IS the 99th anniversary of the Titanic's voyage. Coolest week of the year. What have you been up to?
The horrible part: I loved it.
It made me want to curl up and read and snooze and watch movies. And actually, for a lot of their visit, that's what we did! That's what's great about Second Visits. You don't have to have the traditional "let's go see the sites" kind of time together. You can have REAL time together. As if they lived down the street, and we happened to take a Saturday to shop at Tempe Marketplace.
That's my backwards way of saying I'm trying to bamboozle them into moving down the street.
(Although I don't think that would be too hard, honestly. The excessiveness of Dad's "oohs" and "ahhs" at the scenery and his endless references to foreclosed homes was telling. AHEM.)
On an honest and more somber note, I can't describe the yuckiness of the ends of Mom-and-Dad visits. I've blogged before about how I'm not cut out to live this far from them. When they leave, all I can think about are these pretty childhood memories that I wish I could grab back.
But homesickness ain't nothing a little bitta Aaron Michael and Biggest Loser can't fix, right? At least temporarily.
So this week got off to a tear-filled start when Mom and Dad caught their return flight on Monday morning, but it's looking up now. After all, it IS the 99th anniversary of the Titanic's voyage. Coolest week of the year. What have you been up to?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Monday Nonsense
Ok, friends. Here's the dealio, as Michael Scott would say. Due to the 'political' nature of my new job, my boss is a bit wary of me having a public blog. (They were burned in the not-too-distant past by an employee with a weak social network filter. Ahem.) However, upon hearing that, after I got over the initial devastation (not really) I researched and found a way to have an invite-only blog. So for now, you all and I share a secret. :)
That being said, I didn't start this post with a lot to say. Just wanted to be in the blog world again.
So, my sweet Mom and Dad are coming out to ol' Scottsdale tomorrow for their yearly April visit, and it feels like Christmas Eve. Aaron and I just completed the Baer Apartment Deep Clean of 2011, and that feels lovely. We blasted Mute Math, John Mayer, and Eisley. Also the vacuum joined in on the noise factor.
While I was cleaning the shower and Aaron Michael was sweeping the furniture, I had one of those existential moments where I realized I was actually having fun, and that Aaron is just the stinkin' bee's knees. Sometimes I think people imagine the 'domestic' parts of marriage to be anti-climactic. I certainly used to, before we got married. But I would trade the awkward tension of dating for the happy hum-drum of cleaning together almost any day.
We were born in different states. We literally never knew of each other for the first 18 years of our lives. Now we are inseparable and we clean our apartment together in music-filled silence. Who could've known?
That reminds me of a line in "Memoirs of a Geisha," which I just finished and have been mulling over all day. But I can't quite recall the line right now. It is about the rhythm of life and how our destiny is like a stone falling toward the earth... it's the most beautiful line and I'm butchering it. But this is where I tell you that if you really want to hear it, you'll have to go read the book. Then, of course, call me so we can chat about it!
Alright, time for my nightly glass of cranberry juice (girlfriends: jump on this train. If you'd like to know why, Google it or e-mail me.) and then a little bit of reading. Tonight I'm starting "Water for Elephants."
I have to say a thank you before I go, though. I was nervous putting myself out there to have an e-mail only blog, because I wasn't sure if I'd have any takers. But ya'll made me feel very loved and I'm so glad we can share this together. And hey - if you have a blog too, would you mind leaving it in the comments? I really really want to follow you.
Goodnight, friends.
Maria
That being said, I didn't start this post with a lot to say. Just wanted to be in the blog world again.
So, my sweet Mom and Dad are coming out to ol' Scottsdale tomorrow for their yearly April visit, and it feels like Christmas Eve. Aaron and I just completed the Baer Apartment Deep Clean of 2011, and that feels lovely. We blasted Mute Math, John Mayer, and Eisley. Also the vacuum joined in on the noise factor.
While I was cleaning the shower and Aaron Michael was sweeping the furniture, I had one of those existential moments where I realized I was actually having fun, and that Aaron is just the stinkin' bee's knees. Sometimes I think people imagine the 'domestic' parts of marriage to be anti-climactic. I certainly used to, before we got married. But I would trade the awkward tension of dating for the happy hum-drum of cleaning together almost any day.
We were born in different states. We literally never knew of each other for the first 18 years of our lives. Now we are inseparable and we clean our apartment together in music-filled silence. Who could've known?
That reminds me of a line in "Memoirs of a Geisha," which I just finished and have been mulling over all day. But I can't quite recall the line right now. It is about the rhythm of life and how our destiny is like a stone falling toward the earth... it's the most beautiful line and I'm butchering it. But this is where I tell you that if you really want to hear it, you'll have to go read the book. Then, of course, call me so we can chat about it!
Alright, time for my nightly glass of cranberry juice (girlfriends: jump on this train. If you'd like to know why, Google it or e-mail me.) and then a little bit of reading. Tonight I'm starting "Water for Elephants."
I have to say a thank you before I go, though. I was nervous putting myself out there to have an e-mail only blog, because I wasn't sure if I'd have any takers. But ya'll made me feel very loved and I'm so glad we can share this together. And hey - if you have a blog too, would you mind leaving it in the comments? I really really want to follow you.
Goodnight, friends.
Maria
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Bullet Points
I haven't blogged in a while. Since before a bunch of stizz-uff went down. And not blogging was a conscious choice, because I didn't know what to say. You know, during a lot of the stizz-nuff. I've had a really interesting month and the dust is settling a bit, so I want to start up on sharing again, blog-style.
This blog calls for bullet points because of how much I want to say. You're welcome.
1. Quitting
This is why I haven't been writing. I quit my job at The Phoenician and my mind has been a storm of thoughts and doubts and smiles and frowns since then. It happened in February. All during the time from then until today, I've been wondering how I would write about it in here. And today I decided that I'm not going to tell you all about my boss. Because that's not the kind of person I want to be. Lately I keep finding myself making all these decisions about "the kind of person I want to be." I think every decision we make is that kind of decision, but lately I have been acknowledging that, and it's a lot of pressure sometimes. Like now. I'd love to vent and scream and bring you all into the ring with me on this one, but I don't want to be a person who vents on blogs about other people. Especially when other people tend to be sad and hurting so much of the time. So I won't.
I'll just say this: The Phoenician was an unhealthy place for me. I was treated with a strange, confusing, ferocious dislike, and eventually felt very threatened. I hadn't found a new job by the time I quit, but I had sat crying in the bathroom with the Lord enough times to know when my time was up. It's a shame, because I liked what I did there and I liked The Phoenician family. And I think I did a good job.
My letter of resignation was short. Because I had spent enough of me in that office. And I sacrificed my health, and I sacrificed the respect with which I know I should be treated, bottom-of-the-totem-pole though I might have been. But now I am not there anymore. And our God ushered me out with his sweet breeze of a whisper, and I haven't looked back since.
2. Since then
Since that day in February, things have been even more of a whirlwind. Literally the day before I quit, I got connected with a sweet friend of Aaron's who started her own PR Consulting firm a year or so ago. It turned out they needed some part-time work for a few weeks, organizing their 'books.' I started there the Monday after I left The Phoenician, positively wide-eyed that God provided for us like that. I had a paycheck in my wallet that Friday, like always. We never even missed a Chipotle night, friends.
I was with Serendipit for about 3 weeks, I believe. As that was a temporary gig, I spent a lot of my free time then furiously applying for jobs.
[Regarding job searching: my friend Caitlin, kind of an 'expert' in the
biz, says as long as you're serious about it, you'll find something. That's
why I love Caitlin. And that's also why I love Jesus. Also, the free market.]
Then, I found another job.
I was hired as an HR rep for an awesome little company called Dependable Health Services, Inc. They have a giant staff of nurses who provide in-home care for patients across the valley. The first day I started there, we had a 'team meeting.' One of my coworkers shared a problem they had been having with one of our clients. Problems with clients are not good. I couldn't believe how unlucky I was to have my first day be on a day where the boss was going to have to hear terrible news that there was a client problem, and then, obviously, get angry at whoever caused the problem. But do you know what happened?
He listened as my coworker described the problem, and then he said: "Listen up everybody. If [the client] ever talks to any one of you like that ever again, you just give the phone to me. You all do an incredible job, every single day, and I am so proud of you. Don't let anyone tell you different."
And you know what happened? I cried. And I couldn't believe my poor little heart had been bracing for an angry tirade. Isn't it sad that I was conditioned for that? Not anymore.
Also at Dependable, there I have found such a sweet friend. We went out to a movie after my first week. Do you know how that feels? I feel so stinkin' grateful I could do jumping jacks. She is just awesome. Although, not too great at Words with Friends. (See that? That's trash talk.)
Then.
I got a call a week and a half ago from U.S. Congressman David Schweikert's office. They had gotten my contact info from Aaron's boss (we now owe her both our incomes. Do you think a bouquet of flowers ought to do it?) and wanted to interview me. So they did. And then they offered me a job as a staff assistant. Then I told them I wanted more money than they offered me. Then they said "ok." Then I said "ok."
And now here I am, working out my last week at Dependable, ready to start my new gig in politics on Monday.
Would you like a little peek into my brain? Here we are.
3. Here I Raise My Ebenezer
When I was at the Focus Institute in 07, I went on this beautiful women's retreat in the late fall, deep in the mountains behind Pike's Peak. "Deep" as in, in a town with little stores that had animal-skin rugs and cowboy jackets with leather fringes. My sweet friend Lindy gave a talk at the retreat, and she spoke so much truth to me that it hit me like a semi and I buried it deep, deep in my heart. And I kept it for times like now.
Do you know the song "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing"? Well, in it, you find one of my favorite lyrics of all time:
"Here I raise my Ebenezer: 'Hither by Thy Help I've Come.'"
Lindy taught us what this lyrics meant. Nestled way back in the old testament is a warrior of a chapter called Joshua 4. The Israelites are passing over the Jordan River, carrying the Ark of the Covenant. And when they make it safely, Joshua tells each tribe to plant a stone at their resting place for the night. Then he said:
This was their "Ebenezer." Joshua knew how precious it was to taste, to see, and to remember how the Lord has provided for you. Let's face it: the future did not hold peace and harmony for the Israelites. But if ever a doubt was to trickle into their meek hearts, they could look back on their stones and remember the God that dried a river for them.
I'll say it again - how precious it is to remember! So here is my Ebenezer: A month ago, I was completely torn up. I felt guilty, hurt, anxious, and angry. I came home from work with tears and stomach pain. I exhausted all the resources I had and tried to take the straightest path. But that only made it clearer that I had to quit my job. I didn't know if/when I'd find a new one, and what my husband and I were going to do for money until then. The next day, I had a temporary job. Then, I got a full-time job. Then, I got another full-time job that included an incredible raise.
Hither by thy help I've come.
4. New beginnings!
This bullet point is intentionally left blank. (nerd grin.)
This blog calls for bullet points because of how much I want to say. You're welcome.
1. Quitting
This is why I haven't been writing. I quit my job at The Phoenician and my mind has been a storm of thoughts and doubts and smiles and frowns since then. It happened in February. All during the time from then until today, I've been wondering how I would write about it in here. And today I decided that I'm not going to tell you all about my boss. Because that's not the kind of person I want to be. Lately I keep finding myself making all these decisions about "the kind of person I want to be." I think every decision we make is that kind of decision, but lately I have been acknowledging that, and it's a lot of pressure sometimes. Like now. I'd love to vent and scream and bring you all into the ring with me on this one, but I don't want to be a person who vents on blogs about other people. Especially when other people tend to be sad and hurting so much of the time. So I won't.
I'll just say this: The Phoenician was an unhealthy place for me. I was treated with a strange, confusing, ferocious dislike, and eventually felt very threatened. I hadn't found a new job by the time I quit, but I had sat crying in the bathroom with the Lord enough times to know when my time was up. It's a shame, because I liked what I did there and I liked The Phoenician family. And I think I did a good job.
My letter of resignation was short. Because I had spent enough of me in that office. And I sacrificed my health, and I sacrificed the respect with which I know I should be treated, bottom-of-the-totem-pole though I might have been. But now I am not there anymore. And our God ushered me out with his sweet breeze of a whisper, and I haven't looked back since.
2. Since then
Since that day in February, things have been even more of a whirlwind. Literally the day before I quit, I got connected with a sweet friend of Aaron's who started her own PR Consulting firm a year or so ago. It turned out they needed some part-time work for a few weeks, organizing their 'books.' I started there the Monday after I left The Phoenician, positively wide-eyed that God provided for us like that. I had a paycheck in my wallet that Friday, like always. We never even missed a Chipotle night, friends.
I was with Serendipit for about 3 weeks, I believe. As that was a temporary gig, I spent a lot of my free time then furiously applying for jobs.
[Regarding job searching: my friend Caitlin, kind of an 'expert' in the
biz, says as long as you're serious about it, you'll find something. That's
why I love Caitlin. And that's also why I love Jesus. Also, the free market.]
Then, I found another job.
I was hired as an HR rep for an awesome little company called Dependable Health Services, Inc. They have a giant staff of nurses who provide in-home care for patients across the valley. The first day I started there, we had a 'team meeting.' One of my coworkers shared a problem they had been having with one of our clients. Problems with clients are not good. I couldn't believe how unlucky I was to have my first day be on a day where the boss was going to have to hear terrible news that there was a client problem, and then, obviously, get angry at whoever caused the problem. But do you know what happened?
He listened as my coworker described the problem, and then he said: "Listen up everybody. If [the client] ever talks to any one of you like that ever again, you just give the phone to me. You all do an incredible job, every single day, and I am so proud of you. Don't let anyone tell you different."
And you know what happened? I cried. And I couldn't believe my poor little heart had been bracing for an angry tirade. Isn't it sad that I was conditioned for that? Not anymore.
Also at Dependable, there I have found such a sweet friend. We went out to a movie after my first week. Do you know how that feels? I feel so stinkin' grateful I could do jumping jacks. She is just awesome. Although, not too great at Words with Friends. (See that? That's trash talk.)
Then.
I got a call a week and a half ago from U.S. Congressman David Schweikert's office. They had gotten my contact info from Aaron's boss (we now owe her both our incomes. Do you think a bouquet of flowers ought to do it?) and wanted to interview me. So they did. And then they offered me a job as a staff assistant. Then I told them I wanted more money than they offered me. Then they said "ok." Then I said "ok."
And now here I am, working out my last week at Dependable, ready to start my new gig in politics on Monday.
Would you like a little peek into my brain? Here we are.
I'm sad to leave. I'm excited to go. I'm so bummed to leave my friend. I
feel guilty for leaving a company that put so much work into training me. But
everyone has been so nice about it. This is the right opportunity for me. I
can't believe this is happening. I can't wait to work in politics. I don't want
to leave. But the offices are right down the street from each other. I can still
visit for lunch. Mmm, lunch. I want a ham sandwich.
3. Here I Raise My Ebenezer
When I was at the Focus Institute in 07, I went on this beautiful women's retreat in the late fall, deep in the mountains behind Pike's Peak. "Deep" as in, in a town with little stores that had animal-skin rugs and cowboy jackets with leather fringes. My sweet friend Lindy gave a talk at the retreat, and she spoke so much truth to me that it hit me like a semi and I buried it deep, deep in my heart. And I kept it for times like now.
Do you know the song "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing"? Well, in it, you find one of my favorite lyrics of all time:
"Here I raise my Ebenezer: 'Hither by Thy Help I've Come.'"
Lindy taught us what this lyrics meant. Nestled way back in the old testament is a warrior of a chapter called Joshua 4. The Israelites are passing over the Jordan River, carrying the Ark of the Covenant. And when they make it safely, Joshua tells each tribe to plant a stone at their resting place for the night. Then he said:
"In the future, when your children ask you, 'what do these stones mean?'
tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant
of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.
These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever." -Joshua
4:6-7
This was their "Ebenezer." Joshua knew how precious it was to taste, to see, and to remember how the Lord has provided for you. Let's face it: the future did not hold peace and harmony for the Israelites. But if ever a doubt was to trickle into their meek hearts, they could look back on their stones and remember the God that dried a river for them.
I'll say it again - how precious it is to remember! So here is my Ebenezer: A month ago, I was completely torn up. I felt guilty, hurt, anxious, and angry. I came home from work with tears and stomach pain. I exhausted all the resources I had and tried to take the straightest path. But that only made it clearer that I had to quit my job. I didn't know if/when I'd find a new one, and what my husband and I were going to do for money until then. The next day, I had a temporary job. Then, I got a full-time job. Then, I got another full-time job that included an incredible raise.
Hither by thy help I've come.
4. New beginnings!
This bullet point is intentionally left blank. (nerd grin.)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
She Bugs the Right People
I think one of the hardest parts about life is getting used to the fact that some people just aren't going to like you. Everyone knows that someone doesn't like them. Maybe even someONES don't like you. You might know why or you might not. But some people just don't like you, friend.
You know how psychologists say there are 5 stages of grief? I think there are 5 stages of realizing-you-annoy-the-crap-out-of-someone. And I just finished going through them. Here they are.
1. Confusion.
Negative comments at weird intervals, offering up unsolicited criticism, going bonkers over your actions whilst ignoring others' actions... these can be quite bewildering coming from a fellow human being when you've never...you know, punched them in the face or told them they have a gigantic nose or something before. This confusion can last a long, long time. Especially if you consider yourself to be quite delightful. (I am delightful, for instance.)
2. Rationalizing
When confusion spurs you to action, you may start to try to figure out exactly what you did to make this person so enraged at the sight of your delightful face. Did you talk about how totally rad the Backstreet Boys are when she camped out for two nights for 'N Sync tickets? Did you mention your loathing of of comically large hoop earrings the day before she was going to wear her gold ones? Did you step on her toe? If there's a reason, you'll find it. Or you'll invent one. ("I must remind her of a kid in grade school that gave her a gigantic wedgie," for instance. "And it appears she still has not dislodged the wedgie.")
3. The Conversation
If you're really brave, or you're really neurotic and you just can't take the tension anymore, (either one will work) you might make it to step 3. I would warn you against it, but you're going to do it anyway so I won't waste my breath. Step 3 is asking her for coffee, or stepping into her office and asking if you can close the door. (Closing the door means business.) Then you pour your heart out. "Did I step on your toe? Because I SO did not mean to!" The good part about this step is that if you really did offend her in some way, maybe she'll bring it to light and you all can put it behind you and go purse shopping. But if she is someone who dislikes you because of YOU, then this step will be frustratingly futile. She'll pour out her innocent heart and tell you how much she loves and appreciates and respects you and she just has no idea where you got the crazy notion that you make her want to punch the elderly. And you'll have gotten nowhere.
4. Anger
If step 3 doesn't go too well, you're on a very dark road, my friend. Now you're going to realize that you just can't figure this out. And it's going to make you angry. What the heck did you do to deserve such scorn? Why won't she admit that she can't stand you? And worst of all - if it's not for a rational reason, how on earth can you solve this issue between you? Step 4 is the worst. You could spend your whole life here, and I think some people do. But moving into step 5 is when you know you're growing up.
5. Acceptance
I know this is the same as step 5 for mourners, but it's not plagiarism. Because I thought of it, and THEN I realized it was the same step for mourners. (That's how you know). Anyway, step 5 is very, very important. Step 5 is when you have exhausted your investigative skills and you've strained your memory for any possible offense and you truly can't find any. You've even gone a little deeper, wondering if you have a problem with her and it's somehow coming out in your actions, unbeknownst to you. (As we say in HR - "everything communicates.") But in the end you realize something very important. She just doesn't like you. She just. doesn't. like. you. Something about the essence of you has her angry, jealous, annoyed, whatever.
This thought should be freeing to you. Because you're off the hook. But as it's freeing, it can be overwhelming as well. Why doesn't she like you? Aren't you so likeable? Didn't Mom tell you that you're the sun to her shine? You think you're pretty swell. Are you wrong? Does everyone hate you but you, and you're compounding your dumbness by missing that?
Get over that hump. Because you won't find a reason, and just like in step 2, you might invent some and start to believe them. And that's just not productive. For anyone.
Have a sigh, friends. Some people just aren't going to like you. Be OK with it. If you've searched your heart and you're living like you should be, take it as a compliment. Maybe something pure in your spirit is stirring something dark in hers, and it's uncomfortable. Maybe it's just old school jealousy. Maybe she's just old school COO-COO. (I may have some personal experience with this one. Right now.)
The other thing to appreciate when someone doesn't like you is the searching it made you do. Maybe God wanted you to take that opportunity to get to know yourself. When you take that hard proverbial look in the mirror and ask questions like "am I a snot? Am I disrespectful? Do I think I'm better than everyone else?" the answers can only help you become better. That kind of searching is a gift.
Here's the thing. Someone in my world doesn't like me. I annoy her. I make her angry. She doesn't like my clothes or my eating habits or the way I talk, or my confidence. And for a good long while I have dissected myself bit by bit, looking for anything and everything that might be driving her crazy. And I can't find a single thing (that I haven't changed by now) that warrants her specialized dislike. So now I think I'm ok with it. And I figure, anyone who would be as mean and direspectful to me as she is, is not someone I really care about liking me. (Please picture a confident storm-off here.)
And I'm reminded of a quote from the fabulously handsome Dennis Miller, when asked about Sarah Palin. (She's not one of my favorites...but it's for rational reasons. :) Anyway, here's Miller re Palin: "I like her. She bugs the right people."
Maybe I do too.
You know how psychologists say there are 5 stages of grief? I think there are 5 stages of realizing-you-annoy-the-crap-out-of-someone. And I just finished going through them. Here they are.
1. Confusion.
Negative comments at weird intervals, offering up unsolicited criticism, going bonkers over your actions whilst ignoring others' actions... these can be quite bewildering coming from a fellow human being when you've never...you know, punched them in the face or told them they have a gigantic nose or something before. This confusion can last a long, long time. Especially if you consider yourself to be quite delightful. (I am delightful, for instance.)
2. Rationalizing
When confusion spurs you to action, you may start to try to figure out exactly what you did to make this person so enraged at the sight of your delightful face. Did you talk about how totally rad the Backstreet Boys are when she camped out for two nights for 'N Sync tickets? Did you mention your loathing of of comically large hoop earrings the day before she was going to wear her gold ones? Did you step on her toe? If there's a reason, you'll find it. Or you'll invent one. ("I must remind her of a kid in grade school that gave her a gigantic wedgie," for instance. "And it appears she still has not dislodged the wedgie.")
3. The Conversation
If you're really brave, or you're really neurotic and you just can't take the tension anymore, (either one will work) you might make it to step 3. I would warn you against it, but you're going to do it anyway so I won't waste my breath. Step 3 is asking her for coffee, or stepping into her office and asking if you can close the door. (Closing the door means business.) Then you pour your heart out. "Did I step on your toe? Because I SO did not mean to!" The good part about this step is that if you really did offend her in some way, maybe she'll bring it to light and you all can put it behind you and go purse shopping. But if she is someone who dislikes you because of YOU, then this step will be frustratingly futile. She'll pour out her innocent heart and tell you how much she loves and appreciates and respects you and she just has no idea where you got the crazy notion that you make her want to punch the elderly. And you'll have gotten nowhere.
4. Anger
If step 3 doesn't go too well, you're on a very dark road, my friend. Now you're going to realize that you just can't figure this out. And it's going to make you angry. What the heck did you do to deserve such scorn? Why won't she admit that she can't stand you? And worst of all - if it's not for a rational reason, how on earth can you solve this issue between you? Step 4 is the worst. You could spend your whole life here, and I think some people do. But moving into step 5 is when you know you're growing up.
5. Acceptance
I know this is the same as step 5 for mourners, but it's not plagiarism. Because I thought of it, and THEN I realized it was the same step for mourners. (That's how you know). Anyway, step 5 is very, very important. Step 5 is when you have exhausted your investigative skills and you've strained your memory for any possible offense and you truly can't find any. You've even gone a little deeper, wondering if you have a problem with her and it's somehow coming out in your actions, unbeknownst to you. (As we say in HR - "everything communicates.") But in the end you realize something very important. She just doesn't like you. She just. doesn't. like. you. Something about the essence of you has her angry, jealous, annoyed, whatever.
This thought should be freeing to you. Because you're off the hook. But as it's freeing, it can be overwhelming as well. Why doesn't she like you? Aren't you so likeable? Didn't Mom tell you that you're the sun to her shine? You think you're pretty swell. Are you wrong? Does everyone hate you but you, and you're compounding your dumbness by missing that?
Get over that hump. Because you won't find a reason, and just like in step 2, you might invent some and start to believe them. And that's just not productive. For anyone.
Have a sigh, friends. Some people just aren't going to like you. Be OK with it. If you've searched your heart and you're living like you should be, take it as a compliment. Maybe something pure in your spirit is stirring something dark in hers, and it's uncomfortable. Maybe it's just old school jealousy. Maybe she's just old school COO-COO. (I may have some personal experience with this one. Right now.)
The other thing to appreciate when someone doesn't like you is the searching it made you do. Maybe God wanted you to take that opportunity to get to know yourself. When you take that hard proverbial look in the mirror and ask questions like "am I a snot? Am I disrespectful? Do I think I'm better than everyone else?" the answers can only help you become better. That kind of searching is a gift.
Here's the thing. Someone in my world doesn't like me. I annoy her. I make her angry. She doesn't like my clothes or my eating habits or the way I talk, or my confidence. And for a good long while I have dissected myself bit by bit, looking for anything and everything that might be driving her crazy. And I can't find a single thing (that I haven't changed by now) that warrants her specialized dislike. So now I think I'm ok with it. And I figure, anyone who would be as mean and direspectful to me as she is, is not someone I really care about liking me. (Please picture a confident storm-off here.)
And I'm reminded of a quote from the fabulously handsome Dennis Miller, when asked about Sarah Palin. (She's not one of my favorites...but it's for rational reasons. :) Anyway, here's Miller re Palin: "I like her. She bugs the right people."
Maybe I do too.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Here's What's Up.
I haven't written in a while. Part of that has been that we have been insanely busy (in a good way! December is always that way, it seems.) But another part is that I feel like every time I am inspired to write, it's because I'm feeling particularly bummed or melancholy, and I don't like that. It makes it seem like my whole life is melancholy. And it so is not! Maybe those kinds of days are just the ones where I feel more poetic.
Either way, I want to write tonight. I don't have a main point in mind. Just want to write. About what's going on lately in Baer world.
1. New Years and such
This year, my resolution is not to lose weight. We can talk about the magnitude of that one day, maybe. But probably not.
Anyway, I have two goals this year. The first is to find a play to be in. Over Christmas break, Mom and Dad took us to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" in Lakewood (Cleveland) and it was faaaabulous. ("Could you use a slave, you hairy bunch of Ishmaelites?") It made me want to hop on stage and make everyone look at me while I do funny things. That's generally what wish every day was like, but community theater is man's way of making that socially acceptable. So I plan to partake this year.
My (our) second goal this year is to research and hopefully find a long-term trip to start planning for. One of Aaron and I's goals for our life is to spend an extended amount of time in another country, helping out. What that looks like, we have no idea. And I do hesitate to make grand plans like that too far in advance, because that's just the sort of thing God likes to mess up to teach you a lesson. (Don't take that literally, but I kind of mean it.) Anyway, we are hoping after this year to at least have a goal in mind and a savings plan for it. Then, the idea is, after another 2 or 3 years in Phoenix, we will pack up, go on an adventure for a while, then come back to the states and 'settle down' a bit closer to my parents. :) I've started researching some orphanages in Uganda for the past three weeks, because we sponsor a sweet little dude in Kampala and would love to get to meet him, too. We'll see. I'll keep you all updated on our progress.
2. Books
Now I want to talk about "Atonement" and whatnot. One of the things I love the most about Christmas and the respite it promises every year is the stories I always finally have the time to delve into. One year I got the Bourne movies as presents and spent the entire break watching the Bourne Supremacy every night. (I used to be a big movie re-watcher. I'm sure there's some clever psychoanalysis you could get from that, but let's pocket that one for now.) Another year I was given Gladiator and the Gladiator soundtrack, and when I wasn't watching Russell Crowe nobly behead armies of stunt men, I was laying on my floor listening to sad flute songs, humming along.
This year, I finally finished the Hunger Games series. It shook me through and through, and you really should expect nothing less from a book. It was happy and sad and complicated and frightening and such a striking commentary on why humans only screw things up on their own - even when they think they're doing the opposite. READ it.
I also read "Atonement" by Ian McEwan and I had to sit with it for a week or so before I finally formed my opinion. And my opinion is a bit complicated. First, parts of it were dreadfully boring. Dreadfully. But I found myself completely unable to put it down, because his way of writing through a child's stream-of-consciousness is one of the most fun things I've ever read. It almost made me mad how much he knew me. But I was Briony. I really can't describe to you how much I was her. One afternoon in my childhood, and all it sounded and felt and looked like to me, WAS worth 150 pages. Just like Briony's. Even if it bores you.
We rented the movie at Blockbuster last night and I might start it tonight. I'm not quite sure, after reading it, how they plan to make a movie out of it, so it should be interesting. I convinced Aaron to watch it by showing him that Kiera Knightly was on the cover. Thanks, Kiera.
3. Old Journals
Aaron bought us new bookshelves this weekend, as he's been inspired lately to beef up our humble apartment. (He painted our living room too - it's a fabulous orange. So southwesterny. I adore it.) As I was shifting old books, bibles, journalism textbooks and planners that I just can't make myself through away from our old shelves to our new, I came across one of my favorite journals. It's the one I had my sophomore year in college. My roommates would recognize it in a heartbeat, I guarantee. It's a big spiral hardbound thing, with a french lady on the front in a fabulous hat. It says "Chic" right next to her. I got it because I was obsessing over the Cardigans that year (and always) and I thought Nina, the lead singer, was so "chic." So that was my word of the year.
Anyway, that journal truly includes the very beginning of Aaron and I. And it was so much fun reading about some of the sweet, confusing things I had forgotten about. How he showed up to one of my shows at a coffee house in a "stupid backwards hat" and offered to buy me a coffee when I had told him to stay away from me until he decided what he wanted to do with his girlfriend back home who he was on a 'break' with. How he seemed so strangely infatuated with me and I almost counted that against him - I was such a nerd; how could I like someone who would have liked me? But what a guy he was, and is. He totally swept me away. I'm so glad I have that journal.
It was weird, reading that, then looking over and seeing this gorgeous guy put the finishing orange touches on our walls. Could he be the same guy? He's not as confusing, or mysterious to me anymore. But strangely, I don't miss that. Now he looks like home. And that's even better.
4. Limbo
Now, this is where I'm going to get melancholy, I guess. Oh well. Take it with a grain of salt.
If you don't read Kate Andre's blog, you simply must. She is so lovely. I've been reading it for a long time now. She's an Ohio kindred spirit, if she doesn't mind me calling her that. Today I read her sweet new entry and found out that she and her new husband are expecting. I'm so happy for her!
And here's where you all are going to laugh at me. Seeing that news made me feel weird. All of my friends, including Aaron, will not hesitate to describe to you how inexplicably terrified of having children I am. I can't even think about it. Now I think that one day, maybe in 10 years or so, Aaron and I will want to grow our family a bit. But right now? HECK no. Don't get me wrong - if God gives us children, we will love them and trust Him. We knew we'd have to be ok with that when we got married. But we are most definitely not trying for that just yet.
BUT. Kate's news made me sigh. And I can't figure out what that means. I almost felt a little...jealous. What a thing she's doing, being a mother. What am I doing? It made me feel like I'm in limbo a bit. Is it wrong to not have kids yet; or to not be trying to have them? Is that what you're supposed to do when you get married? Are we accomplishing anything, or are we being selfish?
Some of those questions I already know the answer to; it's just that that's what went through my mind upon hearing Kate's news. Other friends of mine have had children very recently as well - some of our best friends Kristina and Anthony had little Sophia a few months ago, a friend from home, Becca, had her sweet little Selah in December. And what am I doing? Am I doing nothing?
I said before that you'd laugh at me, and I imagine you are. Here I am, perhaps the person most terrified of children on the planet, stomping her feet because she feels left out. I don't know what that means.
Briony would.
Oh well. Just wanted to get all of that off my chest. I certainly hope God doesn't think this would be a funny time to send us a child. That joke wouldn't land, Big Guy. Come on now.
Ok, now I'm sitting her in the quiet, on our comfy couch bundled in my new pajamas, with a hot chocolate surrounded by orangey, sunsetty walls. Even with limbo and travel plans and baby fear running through my heart, I can't help but be joyful.
Here's to a good week!
Either way, I want to write tonight. I don't have a main point in mind. Just want to write. About what's going on lately in Baer world.
1. New Years and such
This year, my resolution is not to lose weight. We can talk about the magnitude of that one day, maybe. But probably not.
Anyway, I have two goals this year. The first is to find a play to be in. Over Christmas break, Mom and Dad took us to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" in Lakewood (Cleveland) and it was faaaabulous. ("Could you use a slave, you hairy bunch of Ishmaelites?") It made me want to hop on stage and make everyone look at me while I do funny things. That's generally what wish every day was like, but community theater is man's way of making that socially acceptable. So I plan to partake this year.
My (our) second goal this year is to research and hopefully find a long-term trip to start planning for. One of Aaron and I's goals for our life is to spend an extended amount of time in another country, helping out. What that looks like, we have no idea. And I do hesitate to make grand plans like that too far in advance, because that's just the sort of thing God likes to mess up to teach you a lesson. (Don't take that literally, but I kind of mean it.) Anyway, we are hoping after this year to at least have a goal in mind and a savings plan for it. Then, the idea is, after another 2 or 3 years in Phoenix, we will pack up, go on an adventure for a while, then come back to the states and 'settle down' a bit closer to my parents. :) I've started researching some orphanages in Uganda for the past three weeks, because we sponsor a sweet little dude in Kampala and would love to get to meet him, too. We'll see. I'll keep you all updated on our progress.
2. Books
Now I want to talk about "Atonement" and whatnot. One of the things I love the most about Christmas and the respite it promises every year is the stories I always finally have the time to delve into. One year I got the Bourne movies as presents and spent the entire break watching the Bourne Supremacy every night. (I used to be a big movie re-watcher. I'm sure there's some clever psychoanalysis you could get from that, but let's pocket that one for now.) Another year I was given Gladiator and the Gladiator soundtrack, and when I wasn't watching Russell Crowe nobly behead armies of stunt men, I was laying on my floor listening to sad flute songs, humming along.
This year, I finally finished the Hunger Games series. It shook me through and through, and you really should expect nothing less from a book. It was happy and sad and complicated and frightening and such a striking commentary on why humans only screw things up on their own - even when they think they're doing the opposite. READ it.
I also read "Atonement" by Ian McEwan and I had to sit with it for a week or so before I finally formed my opinion. And my opinion is a bit complicated. First, parts of it were dreadfully boring. Dreadfully. But I found myself completely unable to put it down, because his way of writing through a child's stream-of-consciousness is one of the most fun things I've ever read. It almost made me mad how much he knew me. But I was Briony. I really can't describe to you how much I was her. One afternoon in my childhood, and all it sounded and felt and looked like to me, WAS worth 150 pages. Just like Briony's. Even if it bores you.
We rented the movie at Blockbuster last night and I might start it tonight. I'm not quite sure, after reading it, how they plan to make a movie out of it, so it should be interesting. I convinced Aaron to watch it by showing him that Kiera Knightly was on the cover. Thanks, Kiera.
3. Old Journals
Aaron bought us new bookshelves this weekend, as he's been inspired lately to beef up our humble apartment. (He painted our living room too - it's a fabulous orange. So southwesterny. I adore it.) As I was shifting old books, bibles, journalism textbooks and planners that I just can't make myself through away from our old shelves to our new, I came across one of my favorite journals. It's the one I had my sophomore year in college. My roommates would recognize it in a heartbeat, I guarantee. It's a big spiral hardbound thing, with a french lady on the front in a fabulous hat. It says "Chic" right next to her. I got it because I was obsessing over the Cardigans that year (and always) and I thought Nina, the lead singer, was so "chic." So that was my word of the year.
Anyway, that journal truly includes the very beginning of Aaron and I. And it was so much fun reading about some of the sweet, confusing things I had forgotten about. How he showed up to one of my shows at a coffee house in a "stupid backwards hat" and offered to buy me a coffee when I had told him to stay away from me until he decided what he wanted to do with his girlfriend back home who he was on a 'break' with. How he seemed so strangely infatuated with me and I almost counted that against him - I was such a nerd; how could I like someone who would have liked me? But what a guy he was, and is. He totally swept me away. I'm so glad I have that journal.
It was weird, reading that, then looking over and seeing this gorgeous guy put the finishing orange touches on our walls. Could he be the same guy? He's not as confusing, or mysterious to me anymore. But strangely, I don't miss that. Now he looks like home. And that's even better.
4. Limbo
Now, this is where I'm going to get melancholy, I guess. Oh well. Take it with a grain of salt.
If you don't read Kate Andre's blog, you simply must. She is so lovely. I've been reading it for a long time now. She's an Ohio kindred spirit, if she doesn't mind me calling her that. Today I read her sweet new entry and found out that she and her new husband are expecting. I'm so happy for her!
And here's where you all are going to laugh at me. Seeing that news made me feel weird. All of my friends, including Aaron, will not hesitate to describe to you how inexplicably terrified of having children I am. I can't even think about it. Now I think that one day, maybe in 10 years or so, Aaron and I will want to grow our family a bit. But right now? HECK no. Don't get me wrong - if God gives us children, we will love them and trust Him. We knew we'd have to be ok with that when we got married. But we are most definitely not trying for that just yet.
BUT. Kate's news made me sigh. And I can't figure out what that means. I almost felt a little...jealous. What a thing she's doing, being a mother. What am I doing? It made me feel like I'm in limbo a bit. Is it wrong to not have kids yet; or to not be trying to have them? Is that what you're supposed to do when you get married? Are we accomplishing anything, or are we being selfish?
Some of those questions I already know the answer to; it's just that that's what went through my mind upon hearing Kate's news. Other friends of mine have had children very recently as well - some of our best friends Kristina and Anthony had little Sophia a few months ago, a friend from home, Becca, had her sweet little Selah in December. And what am I doing? Am I doing nothing?
I said before that you'd laugh at me, and I imagine you are. Here I am, perhaps the person most terrified of children on the planet, stomping her feet because she feels left out. I don't know what that means.
Briony would.
Oh well. Just wanted to get all of that off my chest. I certainly hope God doesn't think this would be a funny time to send us a child. That joke wouldn't land, Big Guy. Come on now.
Ok, now I'm sitting her in the quiet, on our comfy couch bundled in my new pajamas, with a hot chocolate surrounded by orangey, sunsetty walls. Even with limbo and travel plans and baby fear running through my heart, I can't help but be joyful.
Here's to a good week!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Decembering
Ayyyyeeeee mis viditas. I've been on a bit of a blog hiatus. But for good reason! Aaron Michael and I took a trip on an aeroplane back to a sweet Ohio Thanksgiving last week. It was so good for the heart and soul and taste buds. We got to see my precious puppy Jake - he is now 13! Photo below. He is quite handsome, is he not? Especially for an old geezer.
And we got to spend some time with my incredible grandparents. My Grandpa had open-heart surgery the Monday before Thanksgiving, and I was so grateful that we got to see him so soon after. He was already cracking jokes by Wednesday. What a miracle the human body is... and his courage is!
We had a marvelous time, and coming back to Phoenix didn't evoke even one tear - mostly because we'll be going right back come Christmas Eve! ;)
Since we've gotten back, I've also been a bit un-blog-available because...well, we went a little Christmas crazy here in the Baer apartment. "Christmas crazy" being a misnomer, however. Might I add.
We bought a big fat jolly new tree, premium Coldstone brand hot chocolate (did you know there was such a thing?! It is to die for) and a million and one candles. We trimmed the tree, completely replaced our mantle knick-knacks with only Christmas-related decor and surrounded our bedroom window with sparkly bulbs. We've already watched both versions of How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Dr. Seuss-ian and Jim Carrey-ian.) And Aaron would have turned on The Santa Clause tonight if he could have gotten away with it. (I think I'm too tired to sit through a movie right now but if I weren't I just might have given the go ahead!) 'Tis the season! (OOH - I also bought Dave Barnes' Christmas album...YOU MUST GET IT NOW!)
Christmas craziness aside, I wanted to share some thoughts for a moment on a beautiful book I’ve been reading. It’s called “The Return of the Prodigal Son” by Henri Nouwen, and my reaction to it has been kind of curious. It was recommended to me by a dear friend who knows me quite well, and she promised it would change me. I read the forward and the first few pages thereafter and started feeling a bit uneasy – it was boring me, if I can be honest with you. It wasn’t stirring me at all and I was worried I’d have to report back to my friend that I didn’t feel what she pictured I would.
But I’ve kept reading since then, and though I have a few passages underlined and a few pages dog-eared, there isn’t one single page or word in the book that stands out to me in particular… yet it has already changed me in a way that is going to stick. Do you know that feeling? It is such a real feeling to me… it would be like waking up one day and learning you were color-blind. (This happened to Aaron a few years ago. He was quite perplexed. He inexplicably became even more so when I couldn’t stop giggling about it…) But can you imagine yourself going through that discovery? You would have to apply it to all of your memories of things you had seen before, and you’d know you would have it in mind for the rest of your life as you took in your sights.
That’s how this feels after having read this book. There is no going back. I will know what it taught me forever. Isn’t that lovely? It’s like my heart walls have changed.
I just want to share one passage that I read tonight, because it is tearing me up in such a wonderful way. I think it reminded me too of all that I’ve been learning about mercy.
Nouwen is talking about the parable of the vineyard – where the landowner hires workers each hour throughout the day, then pays each of them the same wage at the end. Naturally the workers who had been there all day aren’t too pleased. They “grumbled.” (I would too. I may even have had a 'Blockbuster' moment, as my friend Taylor calls them. More on that later). And the landowner (God) said “Are you envious because I am generous?” (Matthew 20:15). Nouwen says that for a while he used to wonder why, in the story, the landowner decides to pay the workers who had been there the shortest amount of time first, in front of all the others. Why wouldn’t he foresee the conflict and just pay the longer workers first, hoping that they would be on their way and miss the payment of the later workers? But then he learns:
“It hadn’t occurred to me previously that the landowner might have wanted the workers of the early hours to rejoice in his generosity to the latecomers. It never crossed my mind that he might have acted on the supposition that those who had worked in the vineyard the whole day would be deeply grateful to have had the opportunity to do work for their boss, and even more grateful to see what a generous man he is. It requires an interior about-face to accept such a non-comparing way of thinking. But that is God’s way of thinking. God looks at His people as children of a family who are happy that those who have done only a little bit are as much loved as those who accomplish much.”
I don’t know that there is any ‘commentary’ I could add… I just wanted to share that passage so that maybe you could be as bewildered and awed by the kind of God we have as I was. Can you imagine if we acted like the children He envisions us as... He must feel so perplexed by our self-involved cages. That passage makes me think of what C.S. Lewis says about pride as well – that it is pure comparison. The later workers couldn’t see the beauty of the landowner’s gesture because their comparison was blinding them. How much we must miss!
Hope that beats up your heart as much as it did mine. In a great way. :)
Until next time, Happy December, friends! Both Aaron Michael and I celebrate our 24th birthdays next week, and apparently he is planning an adventurous day for us in the city…I will try to include some pictures!
[P.S. If you are an online Christmas shopper, PLEASE go to www.hughhewitt.com. Check out the banner at the top of the page that says "Good2Give." If you click through that banner to do all your normal Christmas shopping, a portion of your purchases will go to help sponsor hungry children. How can you say no to that!]
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