Ok, so I feel like I’ve reached a life/writing epiphany over the past few days (clearly it was a slowly cultivated epiphany) and now I’m so thrilled to share it, I feel like my thoughts are totally jumbled and will just come out in a awkward explosion of words. Agh, totally frustrating for a writer… As clearly I value getting my point across through language… so sorry if it all comes out in a dyslexic looking mess… I guess that is the random beauty of stream of consciousness.
It all started with yoga homework… the longer I am in this program the more I realize that this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now. Honestly, graduate school is still at the back of my mind, but I cannot help but think of what I would have missed out on if I had been in a traditional classroom rather than being in my currant RYT program. Not only have I formed a very close bond with all of my classmates, but I am daily/ weekly going deeper into my yoga practice, and also discovering so many things about myself and gaining an entirely new perspective, and I feel that this self-knowledge can only better my writing. Anyway… so my homework this past week was to take one of the Yamas or Niyamas and essentially embrace it into not only my yoga practice but my daily life. I won’t go into the depths of the branches of yoga right now, but the Niyama I chose to integrate into my life this week was Santosha or Contentment. It seemed rather fitting as I really was struggling with restlessness towards the beginning of the year. I will not delve into a rambling play by play of all the realizations that I had about contentment, but I will give a brief summary of some of the highlights.
Though contentment doesn’t/ shouldn’t be dependent on physical surroundings or things, I really began to realize that to be content with myself and my life I needed to be an active participant in it. Yes, finding contentment regardless of your situation is important, but I also think that contentment can sometimes be a form of settling. I don’t want to be the type of person who is content to watch tv and sit on the couch all day (unless of course I’m watching all five seasons of Weeds in one week… we all need to indulge a little bit!) So for me I realized that to be content with my life, I needed to be doing things that stimulated me physically, mentally, and emotionally. And by integrating these things into a daily routine I was cultivating myself into a person that I was content being. By actively living my life, I am perfectly content in it.
The second major thing I realized about contentment is that to achieve it you cannot be attached to results, outcomes, or have expectations. It is so hard to live in the moment and appreciate things fully when you have this huge expectation of what something should be. I’ve seen it so many times when I wanted so badly for situations to end up a particular way, and when they don’t I am always disappointed. Though it is a huge challenge, I’m finding that living in the moment without being attached to results is actually really freeing. I understand that working towards a particular goal can be good, and really motivating and rewarding… and in general I am a goal oriented person. But I’m finding that being able to separate my actions from a desired outcome allows me to really attain a sense of emotional balance.
Alright back to the writing aspect of things. So I’ve been house-sitting, living in the lap of luxury (seriously, two house-keepers came in this morning and cleaned the entire house… going home is going to be a harsh reality) and I started to realize that most of the time I am sitting around waiting for a poem to find me. Is that not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard? I have been spending my time waiting for inspiration to hit me over the head, rather than actively pursuing it. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud. What was I thinking? Yes, life often gets in the way. Business happens, work happens, appointments happen, and there isn’t always time in the day to be cultivating a writing practice. That being said, if I’m not out actively pursuing writing in some fashion, then why would I expect that inspiration should be surrounding me all the time. My only real answer for that is that writing poetry is hard. It sounds like a huge cop-out, and essentially it is, because I find inspiration in all places of my life. Turning that inspiration into poetry is something that doesn’t happen on a regular basis because it is hard. By nature I am a loquacious person, I like my modifiers and complex sentences. I get inspired by something and I want to explain it in perfect detail, and more often than not, the way that it comes out of my head is in prose form. It is deliciously easy to sit down and type out full and complete sentences for thirty minutes and have everything I’m thinking and feeling be perfectly articulated on the page. Poetry requires an editing eye, and the ability to eliminate all the excess language, all the unnecessary adjectives until you get to a point where every last word is essential to the interpretation of the piece. I could spend thirty minutes pouring out my thought process, or spend twelve days trying to get the same poignancy with fewer words in shorter lines. And so I squirrel away the ideas for poems, type the prose, post it instantly, and am still able to cultivate the feeling good writer vibes because I’m putting something out there.
So what am I waiting for? The perfect inspiration? The time? The motivation? The inspiration is everywhere… the time is hidden in little pockets… the motivation is building some momentum… and the glue that holds it all together is the not being attached to the results. It is hard to write poetry, mainly because it is so easy to write bad poetry. And so rather than write bad poetry, I write good (sometimes mediocre) prose. But at the end of the day, I’m not content without writing poetry (though this blog does fulfill a large part of my composition cravings). I know, I’m rambling… and at the end of it all, I don’t even have a poem to share… But I will get there. The important thing is realizing that I’m not the kind of girl who is content to not write poetry. So I’m just letting you all know… its coming. More poetry is on the agenda. I am going to try really hard to put it out there without attachment to an end result. I am going to try to not always fall back on my ability to construct full and complete sentences. I am going to actively be in search of poems rather than letting them occasionally cross my path.
And I’m going to have a damned good time with it too.
For the next two weeks I am playing house, as my boss and her husband are on a cruise in Russia (seriously, who goes on a cruise to Russia?) I mentioned in passing a few weeks ago that I would be happy to house-sit so they wouldn’t have to put the dog in the kennel, and a few days ago they decided to take me up on it. I of course had a few ulterior motives, as their house is within walking distance of the office and event space. Two weeks here means that I will never be late for work, and more importantly, that I will be mere feet away from my bed after late-night events.
This comes at the perfect time, as it will hopefully cure my real-estate lust, at least temporarily. Upon walking into the house I immediately started to contemplate ways I could marry into the family. ( I think my options are limited as their only son is married with two kids, and happens to be my other boss… and the next closest male relative is the twelve-year-old grandson…) So here I am, trying on someone else’s life for a bit.
The house is gorgeous, with luxuries galore, but it is in no way pretentious. It is a very lived in, functional house with a country/ grandmotherly feel. There are books in every room (so many cook books, its amazing), pictures of the family scattered around, dozens of orchids, mis-matched furniature, odds and ends, and has this comforting element of randomness. My boss and I are kindred spirits in the fact that we are both a little cluttery, and I feel right at home in this house! And then there is the view, which is right out of a movie. The house is literally located in their vineyard, and you step out onto the porch and the entire Willamette Valley is spread out before you. There is a terraced porch, raised beds, intricate fountain, luscious landscaping, there are Buddha statues peaking out everywhere, giant oak trees…. Oh to wake up to this every morning!
I am utterly content here, with the functional kitchen, wireless internet, satellite TV(they have the MLBTV network… hello Red Sox Games) , access to nature, and the dog to keep me company. I’ve already established my favorite spot in the house, a gorgeous yellow leather arm chair with matching ottoman. I can curl up with Netflix here, write here, read here, nap here… it’s like sinking into a hug.
Of course there are a few awkward downsides into stepping into the life of your Boss. Firstly, the proximity to work is a blessing and a curse. I’m already wondering if my days off will really be days off, or if I will find myself walking up to the store, or if the store will come to me. Friday morning as I was getting ready, I opened up the bathroom blind, and there was my co-worker wandering through the drive-way with an armful of flowers. As it is wedding season, and she is doing most of the flowers for our weddings at work, it is really only natural to find her scavenging on the property, but I was reminded of how close to work I really was. Truth be told, I love being at work (I know I’m pathetic, but I’m so in love with my job and the people there!) and my co-worker and I hung out on the porch and drank coffee, but I’m wondering if after two weeks I will be ready to re-gain some distance. And though I am feeling quite at home here, I am constantly reminded that I am not really at home… Friday morning Paul (the Son/ my other Boss) had his daughters at work, and he brought them to the house to make breakfast at 7:50 AM. I was on my way to a networking function, so we stayed out of each other’s way, but it could have been interesting. This is of course perfectly normal, as it is a family owned business, and the grand-kids are out here often. That being said, it is still a bit awkward when you are just out of the shower and your boss is downstairs making breakfast for his children. The lines between my professional/ personal life were already quite blurry and making coffee with your boss when your hair is still wet is definitely an adjustment. Needless to say I will not be walking around in my underwear in the mornings. I also stopped over here to make lunch one afternoon, and I was planning on watching an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia while I ate. I walked in, and there was Paul, sorting the mail, doing some filing, making business calls. I’m sure it is just as awkward for him, as technically I am in his space, but you can tell we both don’t want to be in each other’s way.
Last night was wonderful as I was able to drive home in two minutes after a wedding, and immediately crawl into the giant bathtub. (it was pretty decadent, as I brought home some cheesecake from the wedding. Yes, I did eat cheesecake in the tub).
Overall, once I adjusted to the noises of a new space, I am loving waking up with someone else’s view. I love the his and her sinks in the bathroom (I have naturally taken over both of them), I made my coffee this morning with a $1,200 espresso maker, and the house-keepers come at 8AM on Wednesday. A girl could get used to this…
I'm not a superstitious person (ok unless it comes to baseball) so when I realized that today was Friday the 13th, I really had no reaction. Just another Friday, get up, do some networking, drink copious amounts of coffee, tie up lose ends at work, mentally prepare for another wedding at work. Typical. Work was un-eventful, and the couple I'm working with tomorrow are an absolute dream (East coast, money is no object, super sweet, really organized) After assisting with their rehearsal dinner I had plans to take myself to happy hour at my favorite roof-top bar, soak up some sunshine, read my book, drink a pitcher of cold beer, eat a veggie burger, and relax.
Sounds nice, right? I'm sure it would have been. Sadly one of my co-workers decided to lock up before making sure I had my belongings out of the office and 5:30 found me locked out of work, my car, my apartment, and essentially my life. Thankfully I was not alone in this adventure, my other co-worker (not the one who managed to lock us both out) was in the same boat, and we both just laughed in disbelief and misery. There are eight people in the entire world who have keys for my office. Seven of said keys them unlock all the doors (including the office) and one of them unlocks only the outer doors. Five of the keys were with people who were out of town, two of them were locked in the office, and the one that was maybe on the outskirts of reach was the one that only unlocks the outside. We were one-hundred percent screwed.
On the bright side, we both had our cell-phones with us... On the down-side my entire family, and the only people with extra keys to my apartment (besides my landlord who will charge me $25 every time they have to come let me in). I had no purse, no book, no wallet (which meant no ID, No Cash, No Credit Cards) no car keys, no house keys, no chap stick... I slowly kissed my dreams of cold pitchers of beer goodbye, and devised a plan that involved breaking into my parents house... I might not have clothes or contact solution here, but at least I didn't have to break a window and there is air-conditioning. It could be worse... I found some vodka in the freezer, and I've been able to watch Weeds to my hearts content... so what if I have to do the walk to shame to work in the morning? I'm going to roll up there in my Dad's car wearing the same thing I am right now, and I will have to put on a happy face, and pray that my clients don't judge me. At least if all goes smoothly I'll have time to run home & change before the wedding. Thankfully My co-workers mother was close by, so she came and picked us up, and drove us both home. At least someone's parents were in town!
It all turned out ok(ish) but I still sort of want to punch the one co-worker in the face. Who locks up the office without double checking to make sure the two people left actually have their keys (I have a bright yellow purse sitting on the desk in our tiny tiny office... one would think she would have noticed it). I have to get up an hour early so I can go to work, get my keys (from the office that will hopefully be un-locked by then, by one of my less than thrilled bosses who had to drive home from a family reunion.... at least this didn't happen when they were out of the country) go home, change my cloths, peel the contact lenses off my eyes, power slam a venti-coffee, go back to work, finish prepping for the wedding, go pick up a CSA, grab lunch, then back to work for my marathon wedding... of all the days to be getting less sleep and running around like a crazy person, this would not have been the one I would have chosen.
I'm still clinging to visions of happy-hour, and praying that I don't get pulled over on my way to work before I have my ID back in my possession. In the meantime, I'm trying to embrace my status as a glorified squatter...
Lately I’ve been lusting after Real-estate… it’s very odd, because I am in no way ready to settle down. The idea of picking a place and staying there for all eternity (or until the next real-estate venture comes along) is pretty much terrifying, and yet my senses always perk up when I pass a for-sale sign. My favorite thing to do while I'm running is to pass by houses and think "yes, I could totally live there."
I’ve always been the type of person who wants to have my cake and eat it too. Really what I want is all the benefits of having my own house, with all the perks of a short-term lease. I understand at the age of twenty-five that there is nothing permanent about my life right now. I love having options, and knowing that I could pick up and move at a moment’s notice is rather refreshing. If something more affordable comes along, I have options, should I get into graduate school, I have options, should a new job opportunity across the country present itself, I have options. I, in no way, shape, or form, want to be tied down with home-ownership… and yet, all I want right now is a place of my own.
I am very much torn between putting down solid roots, and staying light on my feet. I love the idea of planting a garden, getting some chickens, painting the walls…and yet I also love the flexibility of renting. Knowing that if my shower breaks it is someone else’s responsibility is pretty amazing.But, it is so disheartening to thinking that I am spending $650 a month on rent, and it is $650 dollars I will never see again. It’s not going towards anything, it’s not paying off anything, I’m not investing, but spending spending spending. When I start to think about the fact that I spend almost $8,000 a year on rent, my heart starts to sink. Because what do I have to show at the end of that year? Yes, I am paying to keep a roof over my head, and its great not having to live out of my car, but when I think about all the money that I could be putting into savings, or towards a house payment, it is almost enough to make me move back in with my parents. Almost.
In the long run, $650 a month for my independence, my own space, my own privacy is a pretty good deal. I know that I could get a roommate and start saving… but I’m not quite ready for that yet. I like knowing that if there is a mess in the kitchen, it’s one that I made, and I love having the bathroom to myself. So I try not to think about what I could be doing with $8,000 extra income a year (buy a bull dog, build up my savings account, go to Europe, pay off my credit card )
I look at my friends who are home-owners, and I totally realize that I’m not there yet. I’m not in the corporate world or on the family track. I don’t need a two-car garage, and an office, and a guest bathroom. I don’t need to accumulate any more belongings, and I certainly don’t’ need any more space. But wanting, wanting is a whole different story. I want to landscape, I want to plant, I want to paint, I want my money to go towards something, towards a future.
Of course generally speaking, I am living paycheck to paycheck, but overall I think I’m doing ok for a person my age. I don’t have any student loans, my car is paid for, and I don’t really have any debt to speak of (minus the fact that I’m still paying off my trip to Boston, and I owe my parents $475.) I have a savings account, and an IRA, I can pay my bills, and manage to save a little money every month. It still makes me cringe to think that almost a quarter of what I bring home in a year goes towards renting a place.
In general, I’m trying to become less attached to material things. I’m trying not to value possessions, and overall I know that it is not “things” that make me happy. But there is something to be said for the tangibility of an investment. I once heard that the dumbest thing a college graduate can do is buy furniture because it ties you down. Certainly a house ties you down a little bit more than a couch and a bookshelf… but at least with a house you are investing in your future.
I am several years away from that sort of investment… so I am trying to appease my desire for real-estate by taking a few house-sitting jobs. I figure if I can’t actually afford to make a down-payment, at least I can live in a fantasy-world for a few weeks and play house without having to worry about a mortgage.
Here is the thing about cultivating new friendships as an adult: it often feels like dating. Maybe you meet someone when you go out with a group of similar acquaintances. You put your feelers out, wait for the glimmerings of a connection, or a common thread of conversation. Anything that signals “I could maybe get along with this person, and tolerate to spend an afternoon with them” you talk basic things, movies, music, sometimes politics. You stumble across some thread of common ground, you chat, and then you have to work up the courage to further the relationship. Do you add them as a friend on Facebook? Do you get their business card? Do you work up the nerve to awkwardly call and suggest you do something just the two of you? There is always that weird moment of wondering if this person felt the connection too, or if you are just coming off as a potential stalker. So then you get the one-on-one time, you make small talk, learn about the person, ask some basic questions, discover more, share stories, build a bond. Make plans to meet again… it’s dating without all the fringe benefits. Gone are the days of being best friends with the kids a few doors down the street, simply on the merits that they are there and you are the same age. “Everyone” always says that you make your closest friends in high school (wrong) and college, but what they neglect to tell you is that the reason for this is because it can be painfully awkward to make friends when you are in that inbetween stage between graduation and enrolling your kids in pre-school. So here I find myself in a town and a job that I love, floundering around between age groups, hoping for a kindred spirit my own age who lives in my same zip code.
I decided a long time ago that I am pretty much an old soul, so really I’m not even that picky about finding a local group of friends in my age group, but dating is an entirely different story. I’m perfectly content to gab with my slightly older colleagues, bond with the people in my yoga class, and grab coffee with my married friends while their kids are still at day-care. I can handle the fact that most of the people that I meet here are either in the college age-range, or the very post college age-range. I love hearing the advice of my past professors, love getting feedback from a wiser person with more life experience than I do, love having intelligent conversations with any person regardless of age, but when it comes to dating I try to stick to my own age-range. (a task that proves slightly difficult in my currant town).
When I first discovered that making friends as an adult is essentially like dating, I thought “this is a lot of effort, and my time is a precious commodity, I’d rather just date someone if I’m going to invest the time” But recent experiences have made me recant this statement. I forgot about all the awkward expectations and mixed messages that can accompany dating (though they can certainly accompany friendship as well, it’s much more loaded in a dating situation). When I was in college my grandmother send me a letter, and the closing line was “look out for all the jerks and weirdos out there” At the time I thought this was hilarious, and even today my mother and I still say that to each other, but the more time I spend in the adult dating world the more I think my grandmother was really on to something. There are an infinite number of jerks and weirdos out there, and for whatever reason, quite a few of them seem to be drawn to me.
I used to think that I was just being too picky, but after evaluating the things that I think are important in a partner (even if it is just a short-term one) the bottom line has to be that he gets me. I think at the end of the day, you need to be on the same page with the other person, even if it is just on a really basic level. You can have everything in common, and yet, if you are in different places, the relationship is doomed from the beginning.
Two years ago (at the ripe old age of twenty-three) I was dating a guy who was two years older. In the end it didn’t work out, and I couldn’t really fathom what the huge issue was… Though I certainly don’t claim to have my life figured out, and have everything together, I can at least identify that there is a huge difference between where I was at twenty-three and where I am now. I came upon this self-realization, when a slightly younger guy kept trying to establish a connection that just wasn’t happening for me. There is this huge part of me that just wants to call up my ex and say “wow, I get it now!” but somehow I don’t think he would appreciate the call.
There was so much awkwardness that surrounded this particular fellow that I just couldn’t fathom how he wasn’t picking up on it. Granted, dating makes us do really stupid things, and apparently ignore all normal social cues. I guess in some cases you want to believe what you want to believe, and so you interpret things differently than you normally would. This is where the major difference between cultivating a friendship and dating really exists. If a potential friend was avoiding meeting up with you, not really engaging in conversation, and in general not showing an interest in furthering the friendship, you would probably let it drop. Oh well, I guess it just won’t work out, no worries, moving on. Add even a hint of romantic interest to that situation, and suddenly avoiding you becomes “playing hard to get.”
When it was obvious that my general apathy towards this particular person wasn’t being translated as such, I tried a more direct approach. I will admit I am very bad about coming right out and saying “this is so not happening” and so I tried to be delicate, but in a direct way. This also backfired because his response was simply “what gave you the idea that I was interested in more than friendship in the first place?” I could have gone off about signals, and intuition but decided against making the effort. Of course we had coffee, because in the end if two people are just claiming they want to be friends, there is really no reason not to get a cup of coffee… or at least not a reason that doesn’t make you seem like a terrible or stuck-up person. Per my expectations awkwardness ensued. (and no I don’t think it was due to intention on my part). What resulted was an encounter that lead to this conversation. “Yeah your hair usually looks pretty good… obviously it doesn’t right now” and “wow, you are kind of full of yourself” (both things every woman is clearly dying to hear on a non-date coffee date). I left feeling baffled by the entire situation. I’ve tried not to analyze the situation too much, but seriously? Date, or no date, even if cultivating a friendship was the only thing happening, I still wouldn’t open with “obviously you don’t look good right now” and following up with “you are kind of full of yourself” (even if it was in a joking context, which I’m still un-clear if it was). Is it the playground mentality of “if I’m mean to this person they won’t think I like them” or maybe trying to overly prove that he didn’t have a romantic intention? Maybe he was just nervous? Maybe he is just socially awkward? These are the questions that I have… probably I will never know the answers to them.
I left coffee feeling as though my initial intuition was correct, no connection, no kindred spirit, no prize for sweeping me off my feet. So I was surprised when I got a text from him a few minutes later, and then throughout the evening, and shortly thereafter another invite to coffee. I retraced our interactions, and tried to figure out if I had been misleading and actually been sending mixed signals. The bottom line is, I wasn’t. That is the thing about dating, or being on the verge of dating. It’s so much easier to get through the day when you have the idea of something on the horizon. Something, to keep trying for, something to fall back on, something to divert your attention. It is so painfully easy to ignore the signals when you are blindly clinging to the hope of something more. I’ve been there, so I get it… but it’s still a little annoying. It’s hard to continue to try to let someone down easy… I mean there are only so many excuses, so many times you can say no without having to just cut things off completely.
I was hoping my hectic schedule would do that for me, it didn’t. When he started talking about tickets to the symphony, and over-night trips to Seattle, I knew I had to say something. I mean I know everyone has fantasies about the future (this coming from a person who attends weddings for a living, hello!) but jumping from one awkward non-date to a trip to Seattle was a little much even for me. I was trying to figure out an exit strategy that was less abrasive than “I’m deleting your number, don’t call me” but more firm than “My life is really busy right now.” And then I was given a gift. He started hating on the Red Sox. He may have just been joking, he may have just been trying to get a rise out of me, who knows, this is the beauty of the ambiguity of communicating via text message. But it is what pushed me over the toleration line. Which is slightly sad. He can insult my hair, and call me stuck up, but what really makes me livid is hating on the Red Sox? You can only push a girl so far, and really my love of the Red Sox is not something I’m going to compromise on.
I already have enough friends who do not have a tolerance for baseball, and at that moment I knew that I really wasn’t in the market for any sort of relationship (friend or more than friend) that I couldn’t take to a baseball game. Is it shallow? Maybe. Is it an excuse? Perhaps. But the bottom line is that I’m a woman who knows what she wants, and at the end of the day I’m looking for someone who gets me, and who knows enough not to trash talk the Red Sox. Of course there is more to the story, and more things that annoyed me, and countless other reasons why I just wasn’t feeling it. But it was a good exit. I told him I would tolerate quite a bit, but dissing on the Bosox wasn’t one of them and he has pretty much sealed his own fate. Sure maybe down the line after we has established some sort of rapport and understood each other’s sense of humor, or pet peeves… but you don’t pull shit like that when you don’t know a person very well. He of course thought I was kidding, and proceeded to ask me more questions. I put my phone aside, ignored any further correspondence. It’s like saying “I hate Chihuahuas and I want to punch them in the face and then feed them to my Bulldog” only to discover that the person you are talking to owns six Chihuahuas. I digress…
So I continue my search for Mr. Right… at least all my experiences in the land of jerks and weirdos keep life interesting.
I am in desperate need of some balance in my life... Lately I feel like all I do is work, and workout... in a constant never-ending cycle. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, and I know right now I am basically defined by my job, and I might bitch and moan from time to time about the long hours, and the sometimes downfalls of being the only salaried employee in the company, but at the end of the day I am still ecstatic about where I work and who I work for, and I know that I would be miserable working anywhere else.
It has taken me two and a half years to figure this out, but I've finally realized that the best way for me to be able to spend time with my friends is to hire them on weekends. I feel a little lame sometimes, but its really a win-win for everyone. I get competent help for Events, my friends get to make a little extra cash, and we get to catch up with each other while moving tables, busing wine glasses, and making sure that wedding guests aren't smoking in the building. This might not be the most ideal way to get some balance between my work and social life, but its a step in the right direction.
I am currently less than a month away from my first half-marathon. This means that when I go out for a run, its not just a quick jaunt around the block. Seriously, on a day off, by the time I sleep in a little bit, get up, go for a run, take a shower, and get ready for the day... it seems like most of the day is gone. I'm still trying to figure out why I thought training for a half-marathon was a good idea. When I signed up I was thinking I would need a good distraction from the fact that I didn't get into graduate school, and doing something active seemed like a healthy distraction. And it is... but as it turns out, I'm too busy at work to really care about the grad-school thing, and after I registered for the race I enrolled in yoga school, and so between the outside reading, the additional classes, the extra work hours, and the running, there isn't a whole lot of time for anything else. Ok, so there is, but I'm at the point where I've been working for 12 days in a row, running when I can, writing book reports, doing yoga, catching up on laundry, and in my down moments I don't want to think, I don't want to move, I don't want to read, I just want to veg. This has been made worse by the fact that I just broke down and got Netflix...
I knew this was going to be a slippery slope... I kind of can't believe it has taken me this long. It all started out innocently enough, I really just wanted to watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia (the first disk came in the mail today!) But of course somewhere between Friday evening, and right now, I became addicted to the show Weeds. The watch instantly feature is pretty dangerous, as I discovered last night at 3:22 as I was debating weather or not to watch another episode. It's pathic, and yet so so delicious.
Clearly this has been a year of polar opposites for me. I become a vegetarian only to go on a hot-dog eating binge at Fenway Park. I give up TV for a month, and at the end of it become a couch potato, I loath running and then randomly decide to pay $80 to run 13.1 miles... I'm hoping that in the next few months things begin to even out, and can find myself back in a healthy balance... A little less tv, a little less running, a little less work, and a little more productive personal time.
Lately I’ve been more and more aware of how much I value silence. I’m sure this is a direct result of deepening my yoga practice, but it all sort of came together for me at the dentist office today. My dental hygienist is a lovely woman… and yet she drives me crazy because she insists on making small talk with me the entire time I’m in the office, even when her hands are in my mouth. This could quite possibly one of my biggest pet peeves on the planet. Today I was desperately wishing that I had been allowed to fill out a questioner before my first visit that asked if I would prefer a talkative hygienist, or a less loquacious one. I would have written in “please don’t say a damn thing once I’m in the chair, thank you very much”. I honestly don’t know why they don’t have a class on this at dental school. “How not to annoy your patients 101” I mean come on… who wants to answer detailed questions (or any questions at all) when there are pointy metal instruments in your mouth? I often wonder who cleans my hygienist’s teeth, and if they ask her annoying questions when they are prodding around in her mouth, and how it makes her feel!
Ok, so maybe I am being a little sensitive about this, but I honestly don’t understand why there are some people who need to constantly fill the empty space with words. I think there are several social situations where silence is perfectly acceptable, and even preferred, (the dentist office being very high on that list) and yet inevitably there seem to be people who cannot handle the silence. Well then turn on the radio, comment on my flossing practices, but don’t ask me where I’m planning on going on my next vacation, how my summer is going, and what sort of things I like to write!
I feel like this is a pretty common feeling at the dentist office, but the more I think about it, I feel this way in a lot of situations. Maybe it is because I have to be “on” all the time at work, so when I go to appointments I really relish being able to turn off the small-talk and just be with my thoughts. I always feel a little bad because I’m not super talkative with my hairstylist. She is a really nice person, and we talk about a few things, but I’m perfectly content to sit in the chair in silence and let her do her thing. I don’t think she is as comfortable with the silence, so she makes an effort, but sometimes I think about telling her “it’s ok, you don’t have to talk to me” but of course there isn’t really a way to say that without it being completely awkward, or coming out the wrong way.
In looking at my life up until now, I’m beginning to realize that my appreciation of silence has often come off as snobbery, social awkwardness (which everyone likes to blame on the homeschooling), or just plain rude. I feel a little bad about that… especially in a recent situation that actually lead to the ending of a friendship. I’ve realized that I tend to be more of an observer, and I love watching people interact, and listening to conversations, but don’t ask a lot of active questions. I interject when I feel like I have something to contribute, but I’ve realized that I get to know people by watching and observing, rather than asking. I think this is because I have such an aversion to insincerity. I detest the fake-feeling sort of friendships where people ask you all the typical polite questions that aren’t really relevant to anything of importance in your life. Like they are fishing for small talk, anything to avoid the awkward silence, and a lot of times I view those grasps at conversation to be really in-personal and just uncomfortable. I realize this is a little ridiculous, because this is essentially what small talk is, and everyone engages in it in some form or another. I think subconsciously I categorize things and my brain says “why are they asking this?” or “why do they need to know?” and I’m sure it’s because they are questions that I tend not to ask. Maybe I am really self-involved, but it would never occur to me to ask my dental hygienist where she was planning on going on vacation. I of course don’t need to ask, because she volunteers that sort of thing without any prompting, but from where I stand, I don’t need to know! It’s not that it isn’t interesting, or that I am dis-interested in her life, but to me asking that sort of thing feels a little invasive. I know it all depends on the situation and the relationship, but we aren’t close, we don’t interact outside of the dental office, we are not deeply invested in each other’s lives and well-being… maybe the bottom line is that I just don’t buy that she is that interested in my life… and so the constant questions about it just seem out of place. Especially so when my teeth are being polished. If I were to run into my hygienist at a restaurant or any social situation, I could handle the small talk. But honestly, when you are polishing my teeth let’s give the chatter a rest. The silence is ok, really!
And maybe I’m completely wrong, and my boundaries are just different than everyone else’s, but I think you can tell a lot from a person by watching them interact with people they know well. Maybe that is a cop-out, and I can understand why a lack of interacting and active questions might give people the wrong impression. But I’m just a reflective person… it takes me a long time to put my thoughts together, and I like to digest what people have said before I interject something. And I thoroughly enjoy listening to people, I can get lost in their words, and their thoughts, and rather than add, I often just take it all in and process.
I’m actually a really social person, and I love being around and having long and in-depth conversations with people that I know well… maybe I just have a low tolerance for the small-talk aspect of things… or at least the forced small talk. The best hair-cut I’ve ever had was when I was in Paris, and there was a language barrier between me and the stylist. I figured it was only hair, and it things went too awry it would grow back. So she did her thing, and I sat there in silence, and gave a reassuring smile every now and then, and delighted in the fact that we weren’t gossiping or trying too hard with forced conversation. It was an understood silence, and yes, we did not speak the same language, but it was delicious being able to sit there in silence without it being awkward. I often wonder how my dental hygienist doesn’t pick up on my body language and terse answers. Maybe she is used to this from all her clients? Maybe she is oblivious to the cues I’m sending? Maybe I’m oblivious to the cues I’m sending?
In general, I wish there was more understood silence in social situations. I wish people could understand that if I’m quiet, it’s usually from a point of reflection and not bitchiness or silent scorn. Yes, sometimes it probably stems from a tad bit of social awkwardness… because everyone can be socially awkward at times… but mostly I’m just enjoying watching how others interact. Maybe I need to be more aware of how people perceive me, and try to be more accommodating. Maybe I need to be more engaging… But frankly, I feel like watching how you react to your best friend’s joke is going to give me way more insight into who you are than if I ask you about where you went to school or what you are planning on doing on your next vacation.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars"- Jack Keroac
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