Keeping things inside

I was talking with a few individuals over the weekend, and the topic of keeping things inside came up. It made me think about growing up and how we are taught to communicate. Growing up my dad always said that children were to be seen and not heard. We were not given a forum or safe place to speak up and say what we felt. Often I knew that I disagreed with my dad, but if I spoke up and said what I really felt, I would hear the wrath of my father. He always felt it was disrespectful to go against his viewpoint.

Ah, the anguish I felt to have to keep my thoughts and feelings inside. My home growing up either had thoughts and feelings put under carpets, stored in the attic, or they came out with rage and anger. I never saw the balance of real communication. However, somehow I was always fascinated with how others communicated. When I saw a man gently interact with a woman, I was fixated. When I saw a couple communicate amicably even while in a heated discussion, I was intrigued.

It was not until I was in college in my early twenties that I found my voice. I can almost remember what it felt like. I was writing a paper for a Sociology class, and in the process of writing that paper, something shifted and I knew that it was a pivotal moment in my life. I had found my voice. Ironically, the paper I was writing was on the topic of “voice” and in writing that paper, my voice had surfaced.

I no longer keep my thoughts and feelings inside. My dilemma now is to continue to work through the balance between speaking up and saying what I think needs to be said, and how that voice comes out. There is a graceful way to be bold and direct, but also to do it in a way that the other person can hear what you have to say. If you are angry while being direct, you can piss someone off, offend, and turn them away. Speaking gracefully for me is a work in progress. I do not always do it right, but I am learning along the way. The important part is that I speak, use my voice, and have it out in the open.

Do you keep things inside, or is it easy breezy for you to say what you think?

“Dear Girls Above Me”

How many times in your life have you lived in an apartment and overheard the tenants lIving above, below, or next to you? My response? Too often. As frustrating as it can sometimes be, I probably have been the culprit of other tenants wanting to scream, “Shut up, you are too loud!” It is life in much of the rental world. And yet, Charlie McDowell wittingly shares the drama and laughs, of overhearing the dimwitted interactions of the two girls that live above him in “Dear Girls Above Me.”

His book intersperses his life, recent break-up, frustration, then intrigue with his upstairs neighbors, mixed with actual comments he hears from upstairs, rolled up with interactions with his roommate and landlord. I chuckled, rolled my eyes, and laughed some more. A clever book and definite must read. I included a few of my favorites here:

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘If that bitch talks shit about me one more time, I’m gonna wear a white dress to her wedding.’ Men use fists, women use fabric.” page 27

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘Did you hear that all these kids were rescued in Chile after being trapped in some mountain?’ Miners, not minors.” page 142

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘If a car is out of gas, can you fart into it to make it drive?’ Meet you in the parking lot in 10.” page 142

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘Eww Cathy. Was that a regular fart or did you just Queefer Sutherland?’ You have 24 hours to never say that again.” page 263

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘Well if you still have diarrhea tomorrow we need to get you some of that ex-lax stuff.’ Putting out the fire with gasoline, huh?” page 264

“Dear Girls Above Me, (regarding her loud fart) ‘Exactly why I’ll never move in with a guy. Who wants to give that up?’ I guess I’m the lucky one then.” page 264

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘In getting colonics, we basically paid 75 dollars to take the biggest shits of our lives.’ Ha, mine was only 7.99 at Chili’s.” page 264

What are some of the things you have heard through the walls that were ironic or made you laugh?

An ad for having kids

Chris and I keep pondering kids and dogs, kids and dogs. Some days a dog wins and other days you find that an experience with a kid tips you over the edge towards wanting kids. Yes, we have been married 10 years, but that does not mean we do not hesitate to take that next step that we know will change everything.

So when I saw this great video by a father who took video from each day of his son’s first year of life, I was smitten. At first I thought, this video is 6 minutes there is no way I will watch it all, and then I did. Of course the music by Devochka helps the mood and thought process, because of course I imagined what it would be like if that little precious boy was mine. I love that this father interspersed all moments, the tears, screams, laughter, cuteness, crawling, and walking.

What a cool memory and reminder this little boy will have of his first year of life. He will get to look back and watch how he grew and changed. What if this father continues to video his son each day for his son’s entire childhood? His son might find it annoying, but it would definitely be cool to look back on.

Enjoy and Happy Friday!

Eternal Searcher

I can find contentment in my life. I can appreciate what is right in front of me. Yet, I also find that I am always searching, voraciously for new information. I am a learner. I have often wondered what made me crave wanting to know and learn more. Over the weekend I finished reading: Poor Man’s Feast: A Love Story of Comfort, Desire, and the Art of Simple Cooking by Elissa Altman. It is a memoir about food and she often talks fondly about her father and how he helped shape her craving to want to learn more about food. As a child he would whisk her away to upscale restaurants while her mother would be off getting her hair and nails done.

This quote made me think about why we search in life. Altman is talking about her father’s mother leaving when he was young.

“Her leaving him at such a young age turned my father into an eternal searcher–always walking, always moving and hoping and looking for something he was never quite able to find, or to nail down.” page 219

It made me wonder do I do that? It has always been so hard for me to slow down. My days and sometimes nights are filled with work, which I love. Yet, I also squeeze in my hour run each day, and this weekday blog. It often means I crawl into bed and look over at Chris and say “Before we turn the lights out, can I just catch up with my Words with Friends game? It is the first moment I have had all day.” Then my eyes close and I am quickly off to la la land.

Do we all have a bit of wanting to be wanderers? Do we know when to stop or when enough is enough? Usually I know when I have hit my limit. It happened last week. I came home from work and essentially crawled into bed and fell right to sleep. Chris woke me up a few hours later, and I babbled nonsense to him as I woke from my nap. None of it made sense, and I think it showed just how exhausted I was from my ongoing, never-ending days.

Maybe being an eternal searcher is a good thing, as it means that you are always creatively looking freshly at the world. I would like to think that I am the eternal searcher, content with my life just as it is, but always grateful for that new idea and inspiration that comes as I pop into a boutique, finish that good book, have an aha moment during my run. What I can tell you is that the only way you will find me as a couch potato is if I cannot keep my eyes open and I have to (s)nap out of my long wandering ways.

Toilets, maps, and fizzy water

Over 12 years ago, my sister took me on a trip to Italy to belated celebrate my college graduation. Neither of us spoke Italian, but it did not matter. All I needed to know (I know I am a simple one) is: “Where is the bathroom.” Or: “dove è la toilette.” At least that is what Google translate says is correct. We flew into Milan, took a train to Florence where we spent a few days, then off to Venice for the rest of our trip. Each city was so different from the others.

Venice

Venice

I loved the food, the people, the shops, the art. I am better at reading maps and navigating than I am speaking a language I do not know, or attempting to order food I want to eat (and not receiving something I do not want to eat). My sister would order our food and I would navigate the many streets and canals. Could we get to where we wanted to go, or would the street be flooded? Somehow splitting duties worked for us.

One of the things I found so comical about eating in restaurants on our trip was ordering water. You always had to tell the server, water with or without gas. I hated water with gas. Yes, water with gas. It must have been an Italian thing. I think my sister preferred water with gas, but me, not so much. If I remember correctly I convinced her to get water without gas because it would be less expensive.

Fast forward to a few months ago, and after all these years, I have become addicted to Perrier or San Pellegrino. Over the weekend someone told me about the Sodastream that turns water into bubbly water. The higher end model has glass bottles, the lower end model uses plastic bottles. Today at work someone told me that you can make sparkling water with a simple contraption called Fizz Gizz. I am trying to decide, do I continue to purchase bottled water, go fancy with a Sodastream, or go low maintenance with the Fizz Gizz? Or are there other potential options?

I am all set for the bathroom with my Sit or Squat app, Google maps helps me find my way, but now I need help with my fizzy addiction. Any sparkling water drinkers out there that can help teach me?

#wantbubbly