My Favourite Pastime

I have a haircut tonight.  Since I didn't feel like wasting the gas  to go home after work and come back into town, I am killing time at Starbucks.  I know. I know.  Me in Chapters is like an alcoholic going to a bar.  You'll be happy to know that my self control is still in tact.  I didn't even cross that little track that the huge baby gate travels on when Chapters closes and Starbucks is still opened.   My back is to  the books and I am determined not to leave here purchasing anything more than my tall gingerbread latte and turkey bacon breakfast sandwich.  

I really came here to kill time people watching.  I don't find many things quite as fascinating as watching people.  There are several here that look much like I do.  Sitting with some sort of electronic device in front of them, periodically  looking up to people watch as well, I imagine.  I am listening to three conversations in different languages, none of which I recognize.  There are two guys to my left.  One is talking talking talking, and the other is just nodding his head, not able to get a word in.  Or maybe he doesn't mind just listening. There's a woman who took the comfy seat to read a book.  There's a woman in front of me who should probably be Italian, the way she's talking with her hands, but she is Asian.  Oh! The nodder got in a sentence! Now he's shaking his head.

There aren't many vacant seats left.  I'm sitting at the big wheelchair accessible table.  I wonder if anyone would have the courage to ask to  join me? I mean, I have this huge table all to myself.  Plenty of room for someone else looking to people watch.  I wonder if I would have the nerve to ask someone to share their table.  I think I would.  I'm really not shy.  People are leery of each other, though.  Oh, he's back to nodding again.  There was a time when everyone was friendly with each other.  It's sorta sad that our society has become one that keeps to themselves, too cautious to interact with one another.  

I think that people crave that, though.  They desire to share what they have inside with someone else.  There are so many lonely people out there.  People are desperate to know that someone cares.  Someone would notice if they were gone.  Someone would benefit from them being in their life.  We were created to connect with each other.  And yet so much evil has caused us to close ourselves off.  Shut down the part inside that is aching to relate to someone.  Anyone. 

I don't want to be that person with the "Closed for Business" signal emanating from me.  I want to be the one people can go to when they just want to talk.  Like that nodder.  Be quiet and listen.  That is what I am challenging myself to do.  Open up.  Be vulnerable.   Show a stranger I care.   How different would our society be if we all did that?

I got a new bluetooth keyboard for my iPad.  It is pretty awesome, I must say.  At first, I thought I wanted a case with the keyboard attached.  Since I couldn't find anything that I liked without buying online, I started looking at detached ones.  I bought a Logitech one at Staples, selected mostly because the keys are a comfortable distance apart and because it fits in my purse.  

I am not the type of person that researches things before I buy them. Except maybe books.  I do read book reviews and base my purchase on that.  It's kind of dumb that I will research a book, but blindly buy the big stuff.   I bought the Escape because I wanted a compact SUV that didn't look like a bubble. It could be the worst one on the market and I wouldn't know because I really didn't look into it.  Foolish on my part, really.  It's a lot of money. Though with the amount of them that I see on the road, they can't be that bad. I know some people that won't buy a toaster without checking out every single one online to make sure that the $20 they are spending on it is going to be a good investment. 

Can too much information be a bad thing? Can you really trust all of the reviews that you read online? I can say from experience, there have been books that I've read with great reviews, and I hated them.  Can the same be true for keyboards or cars? You can basically find any opinion online to support every angle. "This product is the greatest thing I've every purchased!" "I would not use this product if you paid me!" "For the price, this product is worth it, not worth it..." And so on. Who do you believe? Out of all of the opinions, which do you choose?  We already know that I can't handle too many choices. I mean, sometimes, I go to a restaurant and let the waiter pick for me because I can't decide what I want to eat.  Have you ever been to The Cheesecake Factory?  Their menu is like a novel!  I can't handle that many choices.  Seriously, it's a book with  coil binding and everything!  And they have like 15 different cheesecake flavours. Who can choose between 15 different flavours of cheesecake?

I supposed it all comes down to trust and taking a risk.  You either trust what other people say, and take the risk based on their opinions.  Or trust what you think, and take the risk based on your own feelings.  Why should I trust what a stranger thinks? But then why should I trust what I think when I have absolutely no idea?  I do believe there has to be a happy medium.  And I think that that medium needs to involve more responsibility on my part. Next time I buy something, I will read up online about it first. I promise.

Just Me and My Sister

Oh the happy sisters.  Every time I see this picture, I laugh.  It was like we were being tortured or something. Could there be a picture of two more miserable little girls? I’ll have to ask my mom why we were so snarly looking.

The picture got me thinking, though, of all the great times I had with my sister growing up.  We used to go to my aunts and uncles’ house to play with our cousins.  Being all pretty close in age, we’d spend hours there.  Playing in the backyard. Or my favourite place was their basement.  It was like a whole different world down there!  I remember a back corner had boxes and boxes of dress-up clothes.  We would put the costumes on and pretend to be all sorts of things. My older cousins’ room was down there too.  I remember snooping in their room one time and dropping a bowling ball on my foot.  Got in trouble for that one.

Sophia had a desk in her room.  We would crawl under it and play “store”.  We’d make our own money.   Find “merchandise” and price it. Then, we’d take turns being the cashier. I think we would play that in our basement too, where there was an old bar.  I remember we’d also play “rock star”, making up our own dance moves and singing along to songs I’m sure I no longer remember.  

It’s amazing how time flies.  When you’re a kid, you think you’ll be a kid forever and never get to grow up.  And when you grow up, you wish you could be a kid again. I wish I could remember everything about my childhood. Maybe I just remember the important stuff.  Like when my dad had gone to Italy over Christmas one year but had bought us Cabbage Patch dolls before he left for us to open while he was gone. Or maybe it was just mom that had bought them for us and said they were from dad…at any rate, it’s still a good memory. I wish I still had mine.

And now my sister is going to have a kid. The whole cycle of life is beginning again. Hopefully, she has another one too, so her kids can have the kind of memories that I have of growing up with my siblings.

But what about...

I have come to accept the fact that I can’t make decisions. An inner battle happens every time I’m at a crossroad.  Should I go left? Or right? Should I stay home? Or go out? Should I wear the brown shoes? Or the black ones? What should I have for lunch?

If the indecision issue only affected menial decisions (did I used the correct affect?), I wouldn’t even care.  My life will not be drastically altered if I eat a tuna sandwich instead of peanut butter and jam. No, it’s when it gets to the big stuff that I feel completely crippled.  What should I be doing with my life? What is my purpose here? Have I done enough with the resources I’ve been given? How can I help someone else?

I don’t think I’ve always been this wishy-washy.  I remember being confident as a child. It must have been somewhere in high school that I began doubting.  I suppose as a child, you don’t fully understand the consequences of poor choices.  Like when I snooped in my Christmas presents and my parents found out, then made me open all my gifts before Christmas so I didn’t have any to open on Christmas day. Consequence for a poor choice that was not foreseen.

The risks are more evident as an adult.  I went skiing last year.  The only other time I went skiing was when I was 21, I think.  It was fun! There was one steep moment of terror I can recall, but other than that, I loved it.  Last year, I was standing at the top of the hill, thinking-If I actually attempt this, I am going to die.  Kids that were barely up to my knees went down with no fear!  Of course, they are much closer to the ground than I am, so the damage resulting in a fall would be much more minor.  I went down, though, a couple of times.  Since I faced my fear then, I don’t feel compelled to try facing it again. It’s amazing how, the older you get, the more your mind works against you. If I do this, the potential risks are…x, y, z.  I could fall and break my leg.  I could hit a tree.  I could need to be rescued by a St. Bernard…

Being cautious is good, I think.  But for me, I need more abandon. I’m not saying I need to go and do something crazy. I just feel like it’s time to jump in with both feet.  Pick something and stick with it.  Find a career and go for it. But what do I pick!?!?!  Oh I hate this feeling of indecision. How come some people don’t struggle with this but I do?  I can’t even answer the question-If I could do anything in the world, I would…  I have no idea what I would do!  If money wasn’t an option, I would go to school for… I have no stinking clue!  I would be most happy doing… Like I know! Why can’t I answer these questions? What is holding me back? Will I ever get to the point where I have confidence in the decisions that I make?

I sure hope so.

And the award goes to...

Exciting news!!! My dog, Baxter, has won Whiney  Dog of the Year!!! I'm sorry all you parents out there. Your kids have nothing on Baxter. He has taken whining to a completely different level.  He can whine quietly. He can whine loudly. Growl whine. Whisper whine. High pitched whine. Rumble whine. Chewbacca whine. It's like he's one of those dogs on the ASPCA commercials. Looking all pathetic like he is abused and neglected. As I was listening to him this morning carry on and on and on while I was too lazy to let him out for a third time in two hours, I thought-What can this dog possibly have to whine about? He is treated like a king! We cook for him, clean up after him, take him for walks, play with him. He's got his own spot on the couch.  It's worse than having a baby really.  

And then I started thinking about all the whining I do. I'm 30 years old. I still living at home. I've got debt. I don't know what to do with my life. Single. I fell into such a depression this Christmas.  I felt like a fraud going through the motions of decorating, playing Christmas music, planning get togethers. And all the while I just wanted to say-screw it. Screw it all. Why am I pretending to be happy when I'm not? Why can't I just be honest with everyone? 

Then I remembered Judy Lypka. Judy is a friend of a girl that I work with who I met in the fall. The first thing that I noticed about her was her infectious smile and quick wit. She talked about her daughter, who is engaged. Mentioned a song that she had written. And the cancer that she was fighting. Already, the disease had taken its toll on her body. Her colour, pale. Her stomach, distended. And she joked that, at 56, she was pregnant with triplets.  Thank God for the sunglasses that hid the tears pooling in my eyes. How could this woman who is dying have such a positive attitude? The doctors didn't give her more than three months. Yet here she was, laughing. Joking. Living.  It turns out the doctors were right though. She passed away on New Years Day.  I only met her that one time and yet I can't stop thinking about her. 

How could I complain about anything? 

Getting Started

Now how does one begin writing a blog…?

It’s like I woke up this morning and decided to join the circus.  I have no idea how to go about it…what to expect…what direction to take.  Should I be a lion tamer? Can I learn to shove swords down my throat? I’m not in good enough shape to be a trapeze artist.  Perhaps, I’ll just fumble along until I figure out where I fit.

I got an iPad for Christmas.  In trying to think of ways that this new toy will be useful, I’ve discovered ebooks. Now,  I am a HUGE reader.  I should join BBA – Book Buyers Anonymous.  My bedroom is littered with books.  That being said, I’ve always been old fashioned about reading though.  When the first ereader came out, what was it?  the Kindle?, I was staunchly against it! “I don’t care about saving trees!  I want to flip pages!” I never thought I would cross over to the dark side.  At first, it was just curiosity.  What’s this? iBooks? Hmmm… Do they have the books that I like to read?  Yes. Are they cheaper than their paper counterparts? Sometimes.  Will the glare from the screen give me a headache whilst I’m staring at it for hours on end?  Probably.  So I just bought one book.  Just to try it out.  I now have four different apps and 15 books.  It was actually the ebooks that started me to thinkin’ about writing a blog.  One reviewer on Amazon said she got a free copy of the book in exchange for her honest review.  How awesome is that!  All you needed was a blog.  So this really may be only an ulterior motive to get free books.

Or maybe this will become a medium for me to express my feelings. Deal with issues.  Pass time. I can’t imagine too many people will care to read what I have to say.  Not that I think lowly of myself, but I’ve never read someone’s blog. I suppose people write a blog intending for it to be read, but I’m sure it’s more than that. Like, people who write in a journal, with actual paper and pens, don’t really intend for that to be read.  Do they?

I’ve never been much of a journaller.  At least not in the recent past. Back in high school, I went through a journaling phase.  I actually wrote in it quite often.  It fizzled out, though, after I graduated.  The journal collected dust for a few years before I went back to it.  Wow.  Bad idea.  I think I ripped out half of the pages, horrified that someone would one day read it.  Was I really that ridiculous in high school?  Was that really how I thought? Was that really what I wanted to do with my life?  It was embarrassing.  What is it about high school? Our brains must take a huge detour in their development.  They probably stop off in Brain Vegas and go gambling.  I’m sure they take a wrong turn in Albuquerque.  At any rate, it was actually hard to read. Uncomfortable. Like looking at Awkward Family Photos. What are people thinking?  At what point did you think it was a good idea to pose with your children, naked, with fig leaves strategically placed, for a Christmas card? Thank God no such photos exist with my family featured in them. I think that’s enough for today.

Now how does one end writing a blog…?