An Interesting Thought

Hello everyone! I've been meaning to update you for a while now about Hawaii, and I will get to that, but I just had this interesting thought and ... for some reason, I want to bring it up.
Remember when you were a kid and before you knew how the world really worked, and before your parents became real people (you know, when you suddenly see them as flawed souls), you probably thought that certain things were important.
When you're a kid, you don't care how much work your father does-but you notice every minute that he is late to your baseball game. You don't care that there are bills to be paid and that work has kept your mom away from home a little later, all you are hoping for is another hour of her time--waiting for the next time she will play with you.
These moments, precious though they are, are the moments that bring families together. We like to convince ourselves that our lives are balanced while we work three jobs to pay the bills (and keep up with the Jones's) and yet it is often our children who suffer.
But what if, for just a moment, we as a society could start placing emphasis on those things we found important as children? Family together time ... moments spent with one another. What if we started working less and giving more? How might this world be different?Anyways, just a thought. I still remember what it felt like to be a child. I still remember the joy and excitement I felt when my mother took time out of her day to play with me or my father would teach me things. As I've grown, that joy and excitement has dwindled as I've become more aware of the real world. But sometimes, it is good to take a step back and remember those things that are truly important.

No Life is Insignificant

As I was driving today, making my way up the hill toward the place I call home, I nodded toward a tree on my right, as I always do as a way to pay my respects. It is the only tree on the drive whose trunk has been colored a shade of red. On the ground, surrounding the trunk, I have seen bouquet after bouquet of fresh flowers. Sometimes, there is a ribbon placed around the tree, a reminder that the person whose life was ended at that particular spot, is still remembered.
I can still remember when my friend Crystal called me one day and told me in an anxious tone, that there was a stand-off at the bottom of the hill. There were police cars everywhere and they were trying to convince a man who had apparently barricaded himself in his car, to give up his weapon. Apparently, at some point, for whatever reason known only to him, the man decided to take his own life.
I didn't know him, know anything about him, know how old he was, or know who he left behind. All I noticed is the amount of cards, gifts, and flowers that were left when he passed from this world to the next. What saddened me was that this man, this stranger to me, had probably felt that way about everyone else. He felt he had no way out, no place to go, no reason to live. But if only he had seen all of the love and all of the people who loved him, whom he left behind.
What strikes me about that particular place is that, when you look out at that particular spot, you can see so much beauty. If you turn and look down the hill, you can't help but see the most amazing view of Saddleback Valley. It was as if he could not see the beauty, because he was trapped in his own prison of pain. If only he could see how much he must have meant to someone here that was perhaps waiting for him to return home, waiting for the man who would never arrive.
So I remind myself, each time I pass that spot, that each person is significant. Each life matters. Each person important in some way. Every life is important; he was important, even if he couldn't see it.
I don't know this person, or what he looked like, or what kind of life he led, but somehow, in some small measure, he has changed my life, and changed the way I look at things. Sometimes it's easy to become bitter and angry and tell yourself that things aren't that great. But one breath of life is always better (in my opinion) than death. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the sound of the rain as it falls on the rooftops, the feel of warm clothes upon my skin, the feel of someone's arms around you, giving you a real hug ... There are so many little things to be thankful for, and so many people who would miss you if you were gone.
Every person touches someone else's life in some way, whether or not we realize it. Each thing we do has an impact on another living thing. Don't for even a moment, underestimate yourself or the ultimate power you have in this life. Enjoy every single minute of it. Enjoy your time with other people, for one day they will be gone. Enjoy your life, because it is never insignificant.

Wanted: A Vacation

So I'm going on vacation. I haven't been away or taken a break in a really long time. But lately, I've been frustrated for reasons that I've already told many of you. I've included an abridged version here.The truth is, I'm disappointed in myself for so many reasons and a lot of it has to do with my own sort of craziness. I don't suffer from any addictions; I have a good job; I try to do right by everyone all the time; I am hard-working, dedicated, try to be a good friend, etc. You could pretty much say I'm normal in many ways. But I just can't help but wonder why it is that after time and time again, I continue to fall into similar patters of thinking and behavior and frustration inevitably sets in.I am an over-achiever by nature; I admit it. When I set my mind on something, I just keep pushing forward no matter how difficult it becomes. But when I can't achieve that one thing, I forget all of my other successes and seem to focus on that one thing I did wrong or that thing I wish I could have done …It's a strange place to be because I am naturally an optimist in just about every aspect of my life. But sometimes I play tug-o-war with myself and end up confused and frustrated. I can't seem to figure out why I continue to find myself interested in people who have no interest in me. It would be one thing if I could understand what the problem is or why their lack of interest was clear, but it's not. That's the crazy thing; I can't seem to figure it out. I feel like the kid on the playground that nobody will play with, but no one will tell me why. One part of me wants to ask, "what is it?" I mean, am I too fat, too short, too tall, too ugly (I hope it's not the ugly thing-I can't do much about that). I want to know what it is … so maybe I could change it, or maybe, just maybe, in knowing the answer, I'd come up with a darned good reason why they would not be a good fit for me. The other part of me, the one that grew up sensibly and who knows that there's more to life than superficiality wants to SCREAM out loud that being a good person makes up for all the other stuff (being too fat, tall, ugly, etc.) and that a real man would not be daunted by those things because in 20 years, who gives a damn what we look like.But then I remember that I live in California and I can't believe what choices I made to bring me here only to help me find success in one manner (my job) but leaving me completely devastated in another. There are so many places out there where someone like me would have no problems attracting good people; when I return home, I always seem surrounded by people of value, culture, kindness, etc. I'm reluctant to date them because I know that our time together will be short. But for as long as I've lived in California, I've only ever found a handful of people like me … or who I think are pretty great, and they have no interest in me. After all, why would they? They get to see beautiful bodies, perfect makeup, and botox every day … what makes me special? Well okay, so I think I'm pretty special; I don't think I have an ego. But honestly, I can bring a lot to the table in any relationship. I think I'd be darn good at it—not because I have an ego about it—but because I know that real relationships take work and I am willing to work at it and have fun and enjoy one another and really live. I have done it in all my relationships and I feel that's why they never want to let me go … but in the end, I needed to be happy and so I left. There's only so much trying before you realize that they are the Grand Canyon and you will never be able to fill them up …So where does that leave me? Having a great job, a wonderful sense of humor, fantastic friends, only to be miserable and lonely going home to a cold, empty house? Maybe I'm too sensitive, maybe I'm a lot of things. But I just don't understand why all these crazy, selfish chicks end up getting someone while I am supposed to be happy with the single life.The single life gets old. Not wanting to be single doesn't make me desperate; that much is clear. If I were desperate, I could (and would) have gotten together with someone a lonnng time ago (or several times-depending on the way you look at it) but I don't … I don't because I have standards and because I am still holding on to some stupid idea that the right person is out there waiting for me.But at some point, I'm going to have to settle for whomever comes along and I wonder if I'll ever be truly happy? I think I'd rather be alone, not have to answer to anyone, not have to work at something I know in my heart is never going to work out … but on the other hand, I don't know.I just don't understand what is missing about me. I think that if I moved to another state, I might have the opportunity to find someone wonderful, but I'll be out of a job and probably a place to live. So do I sacrifice all of this stuff I've worked so hard for just at the opportunity to find someone wonderful to have in my life?The truth of the matter is, I don't just want someone else to make my life complete. That's not what it's about. It's about being bored … it's about the fact that I am always thinking about things… okay, well here's the deal. You know I can say that I'm not Miss Universe in looks (I'm okay) and I can say that I don't have the perfect body. But one thing I do have, for better or worse, is intelligence. I think about things all the time and if I wasn't asleep, I'd probably never get my mind to shut-up. It sucks to be intelligent I think because I don't like talking about superficial things as much as I like breaking the mind-barrier and talking about things that make us better people and make us learn more about things. For example, I want to know how things work and what people feel about the universe and God and everything. I want to know what makes a car run on gas and just how a magnifying glass is made. And how is it that hummingbirds can fly backwards? These are the things that I want and need to know and honestly, ordinary conversation (i.e. what did you do this week? What's the weather like? Etc.) will be okay for a while, but all it does it leave me wanting for more substantial conversations or waiting for someone who touches, even for a moment, on something real and thoughtful.People that think about these things intrigue me because I can't help but want to pick their brains. Anyone with intelligence is worth listening to because they probably have thought about things I haven't even begun to conceptualize and for someone who's intelligent, it helps me be a better person.That's right, I believe that it helps me be a better person when I surround myself with intelligent people. I don't learn anything by talking about the weather or about what shoes are on sale at Nordstrom. I don't grow; I am just like debris floating in the water, any movement merely at the mercy of the waves. I can't settle for that. I can't settle for a life where someone doesn't challenge me. I can't settle for a relationship where I'm always having to lift up or encourage the other person. Because I need encouragement too. I need to be challenged.But I am more intelligent than a lot of people and (I won't lie about this) I am bored to tears when we talk about things or go on a date. Where's the real stuff? The good stuff? Where is the person who wants similar things?Every time I find that person, or someone like that, I cling to them because I think they're amazing (you should never let a good mind go to waste) and because I need it. I need it in a way I can't even begin to understand or describe. It's like my ice cream, if that makes any sense.J (the guy I dated for two years) was like that … we'd sit and have the most amazing philosophical debates. It was like I could be myself around him, with conversations that were silly and stupid at times, or deep and meaningful, He loved Disneyland on one hand (like I do) but loved to drink coffee, listen to a local band, and talk about the universe and where it was going. He'd turn the lights low and he'd take out his favorite books and he'd read to me, and then we'd talk about it afterward. I'd share snippets of my favorite writing I'd done and he'd gently critique me. That was more fulfilling than anything I've ever known in my entire life. I can't imagine what he's going through right now with his relationship where the girl is as shallow as a 3 foot swimming pool. It's not her fault; it's just that she can't figure out why every time we get together, we have so much stuff to talk about. She always says we "go off in our own world" and leave her out of it. We don't mean to, but we're just so much alike and intelligent, that we thrive on that sort of thing. She is left behind because, bless her poor little thing, she's just not as intelligent and can't keep up.I never wanted to admit that I was more intelligent than anyone else. I didn't want to think of myself as different or better or worse or whatever. But the reality is, I am. I can't run from it or hide from it, or change it with botox. All I can do is hope that somewhere in this stupid sea of superficiality there emerges a person who wants the same things as me or at least can save me from my own mental prison of boredom.Everyone always tells me that I'm a pretty good person, but it's stopped being good enough. It's not good enough that I'm wonderful, loyal, considerate, kind, blah blah blah … it only seems to matter what I look like—and quite frankly, I could care less about that. Because I want people to remember me for the good things I did and the kind of person I was. I don't give a damn if they remember me as pretty. What I wouldn't give to make a real difference in the world or change something or change someone's life for the better …Anyways, with regards to all this, I continue to be interested in people who aren't interested back. You can't force people to be interested; you can't force people to like you or be attracted to you, and for that, in some ways, I'm glad. But on the other hand, it makes me sad too because I am painfully aware of how many guys pass me up because I don't "look like a model" or because I'm just a little whiter than everyone else. If that's even what it is. Perhaps I'm passed up because I am not interested in the mundane, try not to get caught up in drama of it all ...So I feel torn between two worlds, if that makes sense—the intelligent one and the superficial one. I am disappointed in myself because … well for obvious reasons. I can't change who I am and worse, I don't think I'd want to be dumber even if I tell myself I might be happier that way.Another reason I'm disappointed in myself is because I tell myself that everything's going to be all right. I am going to be all right. I tell myself I'm going to lose 40 pounds so that even Stupid Superficial Guy will give me a chance… but then I don't. I consciously tell myself I will go to the gym every day, but then, inevitably, something comes up. Something always seems to come up.Most importantly, I'm disappointed in myself for even caring. I should just keep on keepin' on (as someone once told me) but every so often, little reminders come up and poke me sharply. Perhaps it was my boss the other day who casually asked me when I was going to "get started on finding a man" in front of all my co-workers, or my father who made it clear he didn't want me to be a "spinster." If only he knew …But being non-desperate (and having a life!) also sometimes means I don't get to go out and look for someone. It means I go to work and come home and do my stuff and volunteer where I can and hope that someone will just magically bump into me and realize hey, she's pretty great … but they don't. And yet another year goes by … People say I'm too picky, but if it were only superficial things I was looking for, finding someone would be all too easy. If only I could pretend …So that's the deal. I'm upheld by my silly stupid morals that say "don't sleep around" and for "be a good person" and for "tutor kids" and "make a difference" and all that other nice-people-bullshit that I somehow actually believed. But real life isn't a Disney move and I guess the more time goes by, the more I realize that, and the more disappointed I become.On days when I'm not "full of sunshine" everyone asks me what's wrong. As if I'm not allowed to have a bad day? Or worse, I feel like I have to always be on my "best behavior" because I'm single. Also, I feel I could never settle for just anyone because I could never put up with someone in my life who wasn't supportive and kind … because I know myself and I know I could never do it.Anyways … I'm disappointed for even caring about it, for even wanting more than (for whatever reason I'm not getting). I want to forget about it, push it to the back of my mind and just live my life. But I can't …I can't because every time I see someone my age with a little kid, I think to myself, "I want one of those." But stupid society has made it a bad thing to actually WANT children. Oh sure, people complain and bitch about their children but always were the "best thing that's ever happened to them" but they rarely say they "planned" the birth. That's the thing, there's nothing wrong with wanting kids. But yet it's just another thing I can't have because I would never do it the wrong way (ie get pregnant out of being in a loving committed relationship) and only want a baby's daddy who wants to be there! So that's just another thing I'm not getting to have … and it sucks because I've always wanted to be a good mommy.Instead, I tutor kids and volunteer and even work with kids, and the truth is, it's still not enough. I use all the volunteer-work to fulfill the spot in my heart … but the hole is still there, ever gnawing at me and tugging me in places I don't want to admit I have.So that's the deal. I'm disappointed in myself for wanting these things, but what can I do? I'm only human. I'm not desperate, I just need more than something ordinary.
Anyways, I'm giving myself the opportunity to go to Hawaii and let it all go. Just let the ocean breeze carry my thoughts away on the wind and listen as the sounds of the ocean soothe my heart.
I think things will be okay and perhaps it will take me going away to Hawaii to remember that being picky is not a bad thing. Going to Hawaii will give me a mental chance to start over. Or perhaps what it will take to have a real chance to start over is having the courage and strength to move on and move away ...

The Promise

This mini story came to me one day a few weeks ago and has been swimming around my head. I'm not sure how it's going to end or what's going to happen. I don't know this little boy (now all grown up) but I think I'd like to ...
It started out with a watch. And a promise. It was just a simple watch, something his dad had probably picked up at Target or some other similar store. But to him, because it was a gift from his father, it meant everything. It had a simple black rubber strap, and there was nothing intricate or detailed about the large face and small hands. It was simple and undorned and yet, it was special.
Whenever he thought of his father, he felt a great loss. His father was a quiet man who often kept his thoughts to himself. He was a difficult person to know and yet he had a quiet strength and warm humor about him. As the years passed, memories of what he looked like and things they talked about began to fade, until he became only a whisper of someone who used to love him, who used to watch him play with his friends, who left the world far too soon. As the years passed, his mother had put away the pictures one by one and the only time he was mentioned was in passing during family gatherings or when someone suggested they should watch the old family movies they'd created. Yet he still kept inside him the memory of his father, and the constant reminder of his promise.
He had almost forgotten about the watch, hidden away in some drawer taking up a home next to large white sport socks. Yet he could not forget. It had broken years before and he had yet to get it fixed, partially because every time he picked it up, he was reminded of memories of a person he would never get to see again. He still had so many questions to ask and so many things left unsaid ...
Yet for some reason, while searching for a quarter or some other item that had fallen into the drawer, he felt it and picked it up. He looked down at it, a sense of sadness rushing into him stronger than he realized it would. He rubbed his fingers absently over the face, wiping off whatever lint had accumulated; he couldn't help but remember the last real moments he had with his father.
In those days, you didn't ask your father what kind of person he was, you watched, you observed, you emulated. For some reason, they had never been as close as he wished they had been; he took his presence for granted almost up until the end. But it was what he asked him in his last few moments with his father that he would never forget.
Whenever his father spoke, he always listened carefully for whatever words of wisdom he offered. When his father spoke, everyone listened. Now, here he was, weakened, vulnerable. He waited anxiously and his father said, in an almost whisper. "When I'm gone ... promise me that you'll take care of your mother." But he wasn't the strong one; he wasn't supposed to have to watch his father pass into the next world right in front of him. His father was supposed to be the one to take care of his mother, be there to watch him get married, watch him grow up.
"Do you promise, son?" Of course there was only one logical answer, and it escaped his lips even though he wasn't quite sure what exactly that meant. He could feel as though some powerful magic had just made him and his father closer in that moment than they'd ever been before. It was as if, in that moment, he had a glimpse of what the world was supposed to be and all of the love and hope that it contained because in that moment, he realized how much his father loved him, even though, looking back years later, he couldn't recall if his father actually said the words or that he just remembered it that way.
It was just a watch, but it was yet another reminder of the promise he'd made. He unconsciously rubbed its face again and reality snapped back into view. He set the watch aside, promising himself that he'd take the time to get it fixed. After all, it was more than just a random useless gift; it was a birthday gift from his father, his hero.
So much had changed, and yet nothing important had. His mother still lived in the same house, partially perhaps because on some level, it was still full of the memories of him, and partially because it just didn't seem fair to move on without him.
Deep down, he wondered if his father would be proud of him; would he approve of his life? What would he say if only he was there once more? He had no way of knowing whether or not he was doing the right thing, but he always tried to live right, be a good person, and love with his whole heart.
These thoughts of his father were overshadowed, as the time passed, by the complexity and ordinary business of daily life. But in the back of his mind, he always strove to be the person his father was, and be the man who never broke a promise ...