Synchronise This!

Synchronicities happen all the time, all around me. I wonder sometimes, delusionally, whether I bring them on myself. I know I am not a powerful enough force in the universe to do this, but the frequency can cause small doubt in the recesses of my mind.

Usually, these small magical tidbits fascinate me. Lately, I'm kind of creeped out by it all and I hope the next day comes without any such cooincidence. This is the same way I feel about deja vu, which also strikes me (in my view) disproportionally.

There is no control over this part of the cosmos. That is likely my lesson: to realize I can't control anything, really, no matter what my illogical brain might tell me.

Some things are just not meant for my interference. How many more synchronicities until I learn?

Set It Aside

There are moments when I feel like someone smacked me upside the head and put my priorities in order. This is one of those times.

Nothing major or catastrophic happened. It's just that I woke up a few days ago and began to think about a few things differently. When I think about what stresses me out, it's usually the worry over stability: jobs, house, money, mortgage, bills, and on and on and on.

And you know what? None of that should matter as much as we make it so. Yes, we all need to live and pay the bills. But if it all fell apart one day, what is the worst that would happen? It would be rough and there would be tears and then...I bet we'd pick ourselves up and move on. If I had those things with me that should matter most, that I should worry most about losing - my family, my friends, my dogs - then I bet I could make it work in the end.

I try very much to put things in the proper order. I try to focus on what is important. Sometimes I think I am doing such a good job only to realize my energy is spent keeping all the material aspects of my world in perfect order.

From now on, that is just not going to do. For me, it's time to shove the material aside and put more time into an alternate form of currency, make sure that part of my universe is in working order.

For me, I hope to find internal peace and stability through that instead.

Holiday Horizons

Now that we officially celebrate autumn, you can feel a subtle switch in the mood. Time for sweaters and jeans and possibly a burning fireplace in the evenings. There are Santas in the stores (too soon, too soon!) and I've seen some kids in hard deliberation over Halloween costumes.

Soon, it will be Thanksgiving and then Christmas, winter and snow and Ho-Ho-Ho. When you are separated in miles from family, this time of year can bring additional travel-related stresses. Some of the family is north, some south, and everyone wants a piece of the holiday festivities.

You could be tempted to allow this pressure to get to you (particularly if you happen to be my husband in recent years!) I tend to think it's a treat to have so many folks clamor for me! Think of the people alone in the world; never could that be more exhausting than at the holidays. To have too many families spread over the east coast? How could that be bad?

Yes, there are long car trips and the dogs dislike nights at the kennel. The packages sometimes get crumpled in the move, you don't have nights in your own bed, and there's always some obligatory family tension here and there. But it's all part of it.

Someday we won't all be around to spend the holidays together. Then we'll likely sit back and miss special memories and wish we could have another holiday to overeat and laugh. I think it better to appreciate those moments now, no matter the slight inconveniences. If things go the way they should, my husband and I will have our share of holidays where we will stay right here, wake up in our own beds and not have anywhere we need to go.

Won't that be sad.

PASS IT ON!!!

You know what? I've written this little blog for some time now, posts on MySpace and on blogspot.com and I'm content with the readers I have - my friends and family. That's been great. Many of the important people in my life know I fancy myself a writer and attempt a coherent rambling on this blog (aside from my husband, who last night announced he had no idea I had a blog - go figure!)

Today, I decided I've had enough. By chance I stumbled upon a hateful blog, a gathering of rather vitriolic swill - and I became a bit hot under the collar. Tempermental and passionate I am to a fault; yet, I try to keep my emotions at bay, try to be diplomatic and respectful and, mostly, I do a juicy good job. But tonight fired me up and there's no going back from that!

I'm mad - mad that these folks spew half-truths and judgmental drither (in a poorly-written fashion, mind you) and get thousands of hits a day. I don't so much mind their opinions - they have a right to believe what they like, just as I do. I may not agree, but unlike the few passages I read on their site, I won't automatically accuse opposite-thinkers of being evil and potentially burning eternally in...well, there goes the anger again.

No, I'll just sit quietly here and wonder how many people read their little ramblings and hope that rational common sense prevails. I will try to overcome the rise they've gotten out of me. I'll shake my head and mumble under my breath and shut the site down while I vow never, EVER, to stumble upon it again.

And as I do all that, I've decided that I'll take one more proactive step: an e-mail forward to my address book contacts, a graceful request to check out my modest blog, while asking each of them to pass my blog site on to three of their friends, with the same humble request, et cetera.
Who knows? I could get some hits too. The best way to fight a perceived negative is not with a blow as low, but with an elevated positive. (Sure, call me Pollyanna. I can take it. I've seen the movie - who doesn't like Hayley Mills?) This is my idea, my notion of good karma, my vision for the way the world could work.

Let's see, shall we?

No "Kidding" Around!

Earlier this evening I ordered take-out from the local Chinese joint (pineapple chicken - yum) and as I waited for my food, I noticed a table of teenage guys out for a night on the town. They looked about thirteen or so - not old enough to have driven themselves, but mature enough for a few hours of parent-less "boy time." They laughed and joked and texted and made a mess and generally seemed to have a blast.

It certainly isn't in my nature to stare at teenagers. What got to me was my realization that I could be one those kids' mothers. And it wouldn't be a "Juno" teen pregnancy situation either - I'd have had the kid at around twenty years old. Hell, that wouldn't even be scandalous really - young, yes, but hardly an eyebrow-raiser.

How strange. I thought of how different my life would be had that been my road to take. It's such that I can't even fathom it being real. I can barely wrap my head around the concept of having a kid right now, let alone having spent the past decade as someone's mom.

Right now, I sit on my quiet couch with a cold beer, smile as my two dogs scavenge the floor for fallen crumbs, and watch my 90210 Season Three DVD's in anticipation for my Tuesday night ritual of tuning into the brand new version. (Dylan just chose Kelly over Brenda - get ready for the rumble!) What the heck would I do with a kid in the house right now? How could I catch up on my crappy television, write my blogs, update my iPod, and focus on meaningless Hollywood gossip?

Sometimes I think maybe I've missed out on some things, not being a parent. Certain folks reassure me those things are dirty diapers, temper tantrums, sleeplessness, and being broke. I'm not flippant enough to think it's all negative, nor am I naive to believe it's all unicorns and rainbows. It's just a difference in what I want right now versus others - I don't think there's a right or a wrong. But you have to like whichever side of that fence you sit, or it will be a recipe for unhappiness.

I'm cozy in my own contentment. And that's the most important thing to remember: we all must "choose our choice" in the end. This is mine. For now, at least.

Rumbling Rumors

I'm not typically prone to panicky behavior due to catastrophic e-mail forwards prophesizing doom and gloom. I don't usually listen to rumors and change my behavior accordingly. With all my neurotic semi-insanity, this kind of stuff simply doesn't phase me.

Over the weekend, uncharacteristically, I fell victim to one such warning about a gas shortage and ran out at 8:00 in the evening to scour the land for petrol. Turns out, this would not be an easy task and I barely succeeded at all. A few hours later, I realized my action, coupled by similar reactions all about the area, caused the shortage in the first place and now the region is gas-less.

How easy it seemed to just heed the words of apparent wisdom. I don't fault the messengers - I chose to give in to the mob mentality, and afterward felt half guilty and half relieved, my gas tank filled as my car sat idle all weekend. Did I take the gas someone needed to get to work Saturday morning? Was someone left stranded and worried on their way somewhere because I was compelled to rush out and horde "my share?"

It's this kind of thought I attempt to avoid - the "me first" way of our society. I've heard another sort of "rumor" that certain foreigners have a somewhat evolved "we first" outlook, and I've witnessed this around me too. Just not this weekend.

I can't exactly take back my rush to the pumps. I will, however, be more careful the next time to analyze whether my actions are in defense of my personal safety and welfare, or a form of greed. In this case, it's safe to split the difference and say it's a bit of both.

That makes me feel considerably better. It doesn't neccessaily make it okay.

Fall Forward

It's still hot tamales outside, but all accounts point to fall on the horizon: the football season is in full swing, kids are back to school, and you can sense autumn in the cool night air.

Fine by me. I love summer, with the hot sunshine and frilly sundresses and lazy attitudes. I adore a dip in cool water on a hot afternoon, a canoe trip, a beach vacation. But something about fall brings me to life (and it's not only the sports so associated.) The vibrant leaves, the smell of a fire, the nip in the air - all beautiful. Some of my best memories have come in the fall, cozy in a fleece sweatshirt and jeans.

Uncannily, the most nightmarish experiences in my life have also fallen in the fall. Some years ago, I began to track whether this assumption proved true or simply a mistake in my perception, and found it wasn't revisionist history. Cooincidence? Or something more?

And why, with this knowledge, do I always look so forward to this particular change in season? Sometimes, when I acknowledge this, it does bring a chill to my insides and a quick anxiety. But, I refuse to allow it to dampen my autumn anticipation. So what if some bad things happened years ago? Lots of good things happened, too, so what do you do?

This simple attitude can be lost so easily if you allow yourself to focus on the negative, as seems so prevalent not only personally but across the board. People have one bad experience in a place, and suddenly the whole thing is tainted beyond belief.

It's much easier to do this, I know. But, in my consistent attempt to better my overall attitude, I'm not going to do it. I strive to be better than all that, and I think it wouldn't be a bad idea if everyone tried it now and then.

Obviously, I can't make that happen. But as for me, bring it on!

September 11, Present Day

Obviously, today is somewhat solemn in tone. Not so much as in years past, when the major news networks fell all over themselves to replay horrific shots of those planes and the towers until you just pretty much ignored it entirely to maintain your sanity. But still, if you really think about it, some sense of that day will likely flood you.

Anniversaries of all kinds have always played a part in my life. I am, perhaps overly so, constantly aware of time - what time is it now, what day is it, what happened a month ago today, a year ago, ad nauseum. This allows me the opportunity to revisit the past - something I likely also do too much - and calculate what has happened in my life since that time. The ways in which the world changes and yet seriously does not change whatsoever fascinates me.

Of course, seven years ago today, we all experienced some sense of horror. But what about in the years since? Last year, I worked in my basement on some task, all the while listening to MSNBC replay the actual coverage from 9/11/01. Don't ask why a girl prone to anxiety and panic would willingly subject herself to this for several hours because there is no semblance of sanity there. Often, it just seems I enjoy to put myself back there - whether it happens to be pleasant or unpleasant. (Good thing my health plan covers therapy, I'll say that much...)

In the year since, I don't know how much really changed. I will later today return to my basement to accomplish several tasks. Physically and emotionally, I've attempted to make positive strides, but probably look pretty much as I did then. I still live here in the mountains with my dogs and my husband, still work at the same job, still ponder the same sorts of dilemmas both big and small.

A year seems a long time when you look forward, not so much when you look back. I am sure there will be coverage of 9/11 today, though I should attempt to NOT watch or listen.
I am still the same person, though, so I can't say the chances of ignorance are good. I can say that I hope by this time next year, I am doing at least as well as I am today. I hope to be even better, to have accomplished greater things, to have more savory experiences on which to dwell.

That's about all we can really hope for anyhow.

Mystery History

Every once in a while, I take an afternoon to leisurely frolic through a thrift store. Sometimes this can be a tremendous disappointment. Other days, it's quite fulfilling.

I am always on the lookout for one of my obsessions: vintage gloves. You know, cute little old-fashioned gloves to accent modern outfits. They serve no real practical purpose but when I wear them, I feel an instant boost in my mood.

Last week, I hit paydirt in one particular second-hand treasure trove. They literally had baskets of gloves and I literally tried on every single pair. I took my sweet time, so much so that the caretaker peeked around the corner at me several times, likely to make sure I wasn't stashing anything in my considerably large handbag - or hadn't simply collapsed of some rare disorder in his establishment. Good times.

Besides the obvious love of the look, I also like to inspect each pair and daydream about the original owner, decades ago. I wonder what place she held in the world when she picked up that pair of gloves, where she may have worn them. Did she take wedding vows in those gloves? Hold a baby? Interview for a job? Fascinating to ponder a life I'll never know.

It's also a tad morbid as I imagine many pairs of gloves end up in such places when old ladies die, leaving behind a house full of such things that end up donated. I wonder whether these gloves lay discarded for years, reminders of a different era of a life.

And now, they sit in my bedroom, ready to accent this outfit or that. After my time, will someone snatch them up for a costume or play? Will a girl like me find them as intriguing?
Hard to say for sure. But every time I put them on, I'll smile out loud and carry on some myseterious bit of history.

Cheaters Never, You Know...

I have for some time now pondered whether to blog about my karmic view of the universe as it relates entirely to the sports world. This past NFL weekend gives me the perfectly ironic chance to do so.

Tom Brady injured his knee mere moments into the premiere contest and effectively knocked himself out of play for the rest of the season. It is always a sad thing to see injuries that end a player's time on the field, if only because the truest competitions are the ones where all the best people show up to make it a real game.

But really, aside from the die-hard New England fans and those poor souls who gleefully picked Tom Brady for their Fantasy Football teams (sorry Dad and Steve) I don't think too many folks cried in their icy-cold Budweisers on Sunday when it happened.

And mostly I think that's because the Patriots have sat upon their pedestal long enough. There is a lot to dislike there in my opinion - which, of course, is biased since I am a Steelers fan whose disappointments late in the playoffs have often been in direct relation to the success in Foxborough.

However, cheating allegations, "Spygate" if you will, cast a shadow down on the Pats that began to ruffle more than just those fans of rival sports clubs. Bill Belichick's blatant disregard, cloaked in a hoodie of denial, only compounded the issue as everyone pointed fingers and refused responsibility and knowledge. Such audacity to even suspect it, even with evidence!

It's easy to just dismiss it all with a sweep of the hand and a blithe statement about cheaters' chances of "winning" in the end. It's harder to reconcile within yourself what it means when prominent sports figures win championships, dance in confetti, rake in millions of dollars - and do it all as they allegedly bend the rules in their favor. The idea lingers unpleasantly in my palate and I try to hold onto my basic fundamentals of fairness.

Slowly, it began to come clearer. Early this year, the Patriots' perfect season ends in defeat at Eli Manning's once-shaky hands, shocking 99.9% of the media and throwing their fanboy love into question. Now, a few plays into a renewed quest for dynasty, perfection's poster boy collapses to the turf.

Is it karma -or just bad luck? Does it mean anything about behavior and consequences? Perhaps these notions simply make us feel better, the ebb and flow of what goes around and all that.

Perhaps, though, there is something to it. In my years of following sports teams, it does appear that karma plays a role in wins and losses, often to my personal dismay. In the "real world" I do believe that how I treat others eventually comes back to me. I have seen that happen when I least expect it.

Why should it be different with sports? It can take years to realize what you're due, but it usually does occur. One day you're up, the next you are not. This does not appear to be avoidable, no matter whether others hold you up as a deity, or you believe it yourself. All good things shall come to an end.

Just watch a few minutes of SportsCenter. You'll see.

Guess Who's Back?

Peg your pants and grab some hot pink spandex 'cause 90210 is back, baby! Last night, when I watched Kelly and Brenda reunite at The Peach Pit, I squealed like it was 1990 again! Only better!

Even with all the hype, I would not have predicted my own overzealous reaction. In fact, from the start I've been a bit concerned about West Beverly's legacy. Even after I knew certain all-stars would return, I've tried to keep the skepticism healthy, so as not to be overly disappointed by my wildest high expectations.

That all flew into the night faster than David Silver transformed himself from geek to, well, geek with a keyboard. About five minutes into the pilot, I knew I was hooked in a big way. Hannah Zuckerman-Vazquez does the news and Erin Silver is a bundle of broodish confusion? And did I mention Kelly AND Brenda? Where do I sign up?

Really, not much of those two hours forged new ground. Plagairism? Please, Brandon and Steve had that tussle with Mrs. Teasley years ago. Pill-poppers? Not only did Donna and David separately beat that demon, Steve got addicted to, and detoxed from, marijuana in one hour, including commercials. Illegitimate children? Hello, Gina!

To boot, it's all as preposterous this time around, too: the high-schoolers are way savvy and chic, even for a Spelling-inspired soap; the adults appear halfway brain-damaged, with hints of felonies to come, and everyone's air-brushed within an inch of their lives.

And...who cares? I ate it up and craved more. (Maybe not as much as I craved a DVD marathon with several choice girlfriends and too many cocktails, but...) Some of it certainly improved with time. I can assure you won't find porn productions or drunk grandmothers in the first go-round, though I sadly doubt this version will include a Valentine's Day 'Sex Out!' or anything comparable to "Donna Martin Graduates!"

And that's okay too. It all reminded me of my younger self, rushing home from dance class in high school to swoon over Brandon Walsh in my parents' living room. These new kids might not make such a deep impression on the current generation - there's far more from which to choose nowadays. But as for an out-and-out guilty pleasure? Nothing cheesier comes to mind.

And I'll take it. Sure, I can dream of a future where all the newbies are slowly shipped out and the old cast filters in to completely take over. But for now, I have scores of unanswered questions: Is Ethan the new Dylan sans sideburns? Are they going to move into the beach house anytime soon? Is Kelly's son Brandon's kid? Did Nat gain any social skills in the past decade?

It's cathartic to realize that as much as I've grown in eighteen years, I'll never outgrow 90210. The more things change, the more they absolutely stay the same - both in my zip code and that more famous one.

Think About It

Every so often I consider it a good idea to re-think that which I believe. Why do I adhere to this notion or that idea? For what purpose? Does it still work for me, or do I hold on for the sake of consistency, or easiness? Have I changed and grown as an individual, past and/or above my belief system?

Usually, I find myself making changes when I do this. Whether big or small, it's an integral part of our personal evolution. We don't just organically wake up one day to typify our authentic, true selves. It takes introspection, work, and often a good hard look into what lies behind our deeply-rooted thoughts.

Sometimes this scares the bejeezus out of me. I don't like looking past the obvious to focus on the issues underneath. It could potentially rattle my world and nobody wants that. But questions like this must be posed to keep me in constant self-analyzation. I don't wish to stand stagnant - I want to thrive.

If it all sounds a bit too hokey or like a bunch of hooey, that's okay too. Sometimes my thoughts are just that. But even those ridiculous notions tend to get me to a higher plane of thought eventually. It all keeps my brain churning on to the next revelation.

It could be bad to think too much, I suppose. But it sure beats the alternative.