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The Introspective Salon
When I was a kid, all the way up to when I was 16 or 17, I didn’t walk through doors first. It wasn’t because I was just being friendly and letting everybody go ahead of me, no, because if someone did want to let me go first I would argue with them until they relented. I didn’t want to go first. I hated uncertainty. I hated when I didn’t know what to expect. I was scared of whatever was behind those doors, even if I was walking into somewhere familiar. It didn’t matter. I didn’t go first.
Thankfully, I outgrew that and I’ll walk in doors first without thinking twice now. I’ll charge ahead if I’m walking with my family or a group of friends and not worry about it at all. I am still, however, uncomfortable with uncertainty. Even more than that, I’m afraid of the unfamiliar. I live a pretty routine life, which doesn’t bother me most days, but every now and again I get an inkling of the person I could be if I’d try new things more often. When I was younger though, and I tried new things, I either gave up quickly (guitar) or I felt embarrassed for even trying (I can’t think of a specific example that won’t require its own story here, but I know there were LOTS of times this happened. The feelings still linger). So, my brain built up an association with new things. New things = bad. If I try something new, I’ll give up. I’ll fail. If I try something new, I’ll be mortified. My past self would slather herself in negative self-talk about anything new. Why even bother? I’m not good enough. It doesn’t matter. I’ll fail anyway. No wonder I didn’t want to do anything new, it was exhausting battling those thoughts. No wait, I didn’t even battle them. I just let them live inside my head. Also exhausting. I didn’t realize that I was talking like that to myself until I got into some counseling and confronted the part of me that hates myself and is so relentless about it. Those negative thoughts still creep up on me from time to time, but I had a new experience that shed light on just how much progress I’ve made in the war against the mean voice inside my head. Besides going into doors first without even thinking about it now, I’m also more willing to try new things. I might be resistant. I will be nervous, but I will try. Most the time. Usually I’ll try if I have my sisters or my husband or some friends to try the thing with me, but this week I did something all on my own. I’ve been wanting to take some kind of work out class, and I wanted something to build not only my strength but my confidence, so I dropped in on a kickboxing class. At least, that’s what I thought it was. The class was called “Cardio Boxing,” so I thought it was just a variation of kickboxing. Nope. When I got to the gym, it was pretty immediately clear that I was in for something else, but I was trying not to get too hung up on all the tough guys boxing it out in the corner. I told the woman at the desk that I was dropping in for Cardio Boxing. I paid my $4. I went to the locker room. I sat on the bench and got a little panicky for a minute, but, there was no mean voice in my head! I didn’t even have to battle it. It just wasn’t there! Sure, I felt a little silly for my misunderstanding about what the class was and I told myself that, but the overwhelming voice was kind! I told myself I was just as worthy as those guys to be at the class. I told myself I could do it. And I did. When I left the locker room, there were still five minutes before the class started and I sat and waited near the class. Then, after watching the guys spar for a while I went and told the woman at the desk that I was feeling nervous. Was that the class? She went and told the instructor my name and got me started. My past self would have never thought to admit to being nervous. I would have been too ashamed. I would have been paralyzed with fear and I wouldn’t have even moved from my spot at the table where I was waiting. My mind would have been going crazy with negative thoughts. My past self would have been too afraid to leave, but too afraid to go into the class. My present self took charge and was all the better for it. The coach came over and introduced himself. He got me a jump rope, which is what I attempted to do for the first 15 minutes. It was rough. I’m miserably out of shape. I honestly thought about going up to the coach and saying hey, I can’t do this. This isn’t for me, but I kept at it. The voice in my head said, “I can do it.” Even when I had to stop, which was a lot, the voice in my head remained kind. After that, he fitted some gloves on me and showed me some basic moves on the bag. Then we (which at this point was just me and two boys, both related to the coach) did some bag work. Again, I felt like I wasn’t going to be able to make it. I had to sit down. My hair was a sweaty mop. There was a puddle of sweat where I sat; sweat that was both anxiety and physical exertion. My stomach was a little upset because I hadn’t eaten too well that day and because of the anxiety I’d felt going in, but I kept at it, even when I had to stop and sit down, I didn’t let myself give up. I made it all the way to the end. After the class, I joked with the coach about how I’m so out of shape and he was nothing but encouraging. The boys were encouraging. They said I better come back next week! I felt so fucking proud. I am so proud! I’m full of tremendous joy that I was kind to myself. It might seem so small, but it feels huge to me. Now that I know what my brain is like and what I’m capable of in the absence of negative self-talk I can really understand how bad it was before, how much I used to beat myself up verbally. My past self would have felt hideously stupid for not making sure I knew what the class was going to be. My past self would have tried to shift the blame and get mad at the gym for not making it clearer to their customers. My past self would have berated herself for w e e k s about it and taken the mistake and the embarrassment as proof to never do anything new ever again. Just like, at some point in my life I decided that I can walk through doors first, I can also decide that trying new things is fun. It's worth it. I know I will always have anxiety about new things, that’s normal, but I know that I can face them by being kind to myself and in turn being kind to others. I know that I can face new things, and even if they aren't what I anticipated, I can come away having learned something. I can come away feeling good about myself for trying. Today, I’m confident. I couldn’t jump rope for very long, I couldn’t keep up with a lot of the bag work, but I’ll catch up. I’ll be able to do it in time.
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My sister reposted a quote on Pinterest a few weeks ago. While I don’t remember it word for word, it was something like: What inspires you isn’t random. Follow it. Well, I googled that quote and found the thing to the left there. Pretty much what I'd remembered. Though this quote says "things that excite you" I'm still going with "inspiration," which is maybe a bit of a buzzword lately. Many of us 20 and 30 somethings grew up with the idea that we should do what inspires us, we should follow that inspiration and do what we love. It’s become such a cliché and has been so watered down that I’m a little nervous to jump straight into writing about inspiration. So first, I want to think about my own negative ideas associated with the word. I’m not sure that these are stereotypical, but this is what I think people might associate with inspiration given its hyped status in popular discourse:
The positive thing about inspiration though, the thing that I think got it so hyped in the first place, is that when you find it, it feels amazing. Now, I don’t know how inspiration works for other people, but for me it’s not that hard to find. I feel inspired by so much in life, and as I’ve worked on being mindful I’ve come to appreciate the beauty and possibility in so much more of my surroundings, particularly nature. I’m not fighting to be inspired, but rather deciding what inspiration to follow. That’s why that quote my sister posted really reached me. Many times I’m inspired by things that I feel are outside of my capabilities, like music. If I become inspired by music I think that means I should make my own music, but I know I’m not a musician so then I just let the inspiration fade away. If what inspires us isn’t random, though, then there is something I can take away from music outside of the musical craft, like lyrics, for example. I’m a writer, after all, that’s not beyond my capabilities. Of course, not all inspiration I gather has to be inspiration for my own creations. It could be inspiration to simply be a better human or inspiration to slow down and truly appreciate whatever is inspiring me. Sometimes inspiration is a fleeting thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not valid. Maybe I hear a lyric that sits with me well for the duration of the song and reminds me to be grateful or reminds me of my own story and that’s all it does, and that’s okay. While all that kind of inspiration is great, I do often get inspiration for writing ideas. Like, I'm at the grocery store and see an eccentric person and I want to write them as a character. Or, I'm watching a documentary about something historical and I want to explore that time period in writing. Maybe I see an odd house and I want to imagine what that house is like, what are the decorations? Who lives there? How has that house shaped their lives? I never write these ideas down. I think I get too focused on my current project and I worry if I write down other ideas I'll stray from the piece I really want to get done, or maybe the piece I need to get done for school. I think that I resist what inspires me sometimes because I'm too afraid to go after it. I recently came back from Minnesota, where I was taking part in a biannual residency, which is a part of my hybrid distance/on-campus MFA program. While I was there, I had this moment where I followed my inspiration, even though it may have seemed odd to others. I noticed a dead bird outside the window. Death caught it next to a flower pot, and I wanted to take a picture of it. So I did, even though there were tons of people standing by the window, which is a situation that would often deter me from following inspiration. I don't want people to notice what I'm doing or ask questions about it, particularly if I'm taking a picture of a dead bird. I did it anyway. No one asked me anything. I didn't let my thoughts get in the way of that moment either. I didn't bog myself down with my own questions like "why would you want a picture of a dead bird? what good will that do you?" I can ask myself those questions now, and really, I don't know the answer. Maybe it's because my current writing project (sometimes it feels so daunting to say novel) is about a boy who is beginning to think about death. Maybe it's because in the last two years I have been thinking a lot more about death. Maybe the reason is terribly banal. Maybe taking the picture was simply an exercise in freely following my desire. If that's all it was, I"ll take it. I'm not entirely sure what my conclusion is. I guess I feel that I'm a bit cowardly when it comes to my own desires and interests. I'm afraid of them and what they might mean or what attention they might grant me. I'm also afraid that if I find inspiration in something but don't pursue it past "oh, that's inspiring," then that means I've given up. It means I've failed. It means I'm being lazy or quitting. When I think about inspiring things like sunsets or delicious cups of coffee, though, then that fear seems absolutely silly! What else could I do with such inspiration, other than just enjoy it? Okay, my conclusion is this: inspiration is not random, but it does not have to result in some sort of creation or product. We can learn from our inspiration, even if we don't follow it to fruition. Inspiration can be a scribble for an idea in a notebook. It can be an uplifting moment. Inspiration might be a one-time tug at our heart that we follow because we wanted to. I don't really feel like making a monthly playlist or a monthly favorites post, but I wanted to post one more thing this month to keep up the momentum, so I thought I'd do a little Thoughts On. They seem to get the most reaction, and I enjoy writing them.
Today, as I'm kind of coming out of a slight funk, I want to reflect on the various ways I hate myself. It's going to be so much fun. I pretty actively avoid admitting to depression, a depression that stems from my active self-hatred. I talk quite a bit about anxiety and write a fair bit about it, whether it's here on this blog or in texts to friends and family, but I steer clear of depression. I think depression feels more overwhelming, in fact, I'm tearing up as I write it now because I know it's true and it makes me feel pretty shitty. Depression, for me, comes in the form of self-loathing. Now, that's another word that really gets me emotional. The littlest things can set off my deepest pits of self-hatred, like getting into a small argument with my husband about domestic duties. This is probably the hardest area for me, because I fear becoming a nagging housewife who never lets up on her husband. (Maybe I watch too many sitcoms. I think that's where I'm getting this unfair comparison. I keep hearing "Deborah!" in my head as I write this). I fear this stereotype so much that I often times won't even ask my husband for help or tell him when something he does or a mess he made is bothering me. I just let this hate fester, this hate for the part of me that wants stuff cleaned up. I get this mindset that clean dishes don't matter and I shouldn't care about it because it's so trivial and I hate the part of myself that cares, so rather than confront the problem I just clean the mess myself. I think if it's not bothering him, then why should I let it bother me? I compare myself to my husband and think I should just be as carefree as he is. Maybe if I was I could stop hating myself. If I just didn't care about the stupid dishes I could sit down in peace. (I would like to mention that my husband does do a lot of cleaning up around the house. Just like I know, logically, that I'm not the stereotypical sitcom wife, I also know that he is not the stereotypical messy and dopey sitcom husband). I go through this self-loathing, domestic-duties, self-hate spiral of a thought process at least once a week. I try and remind myself that my husband and I are different people with different domestic expectations and neither of us are right or wrong, but I still can't seem to shake the idea that I'm wrong and I just need to knock it off. I just need to be a different person with a different brain. I'm really tearing up now, because this next part is the root of all this self-loathing. I feel inadequate as a wife. Sometimes I don't think I love my husband unconditionally because I get so frustrated at stupid little messes around the house. I've gotten a lot better about this, I'll give myself that credit at least, but I used to clam up and do ye old passive aggressive maneuvers like slamming doors and being loud in the kitchen while I cleaned. I don't suppose I've forgiven myself for that. It's such petty behavior I can hardly believe I acted like that. I'm embarrassed. It feels kind of good, though, to admit to that past self, because I can really understand how far I've come knowing where I started. I'm about 85% more likely to open up a conversation about my frustrations now, rather than let them fester and burst out through slammed doors. And, actually, I haven't slammed a door since our first year of marriage. The bigger issue of inadequacy is a very personal one. I've talked about it to death, really. I've even finally talked to my mom about the fact that I can't (right now) have penetrative sex. This is the biggest bubble to burst whenever I start feeling bad about myself. It turns into a total sob fest. I just think if I can't do that "wifely duty" (seriously, I'm stuck in the 1950s with that phrase, but I really do think about it like that), then I don't deserve to be upset about anything in our marriage, because I'm a failure of a wife. I can't do the one thing that supposedly makes every argument disintegrate into nothingness, so I should do every other "wifely duty" without resentment. (Again with the sitcoms, couples bursting into passionate lovemaking to forget an argument. Like that argument doesn't just resurface later). Stupid unrealistic expectations on television. It's not like my husband and I don't enjoy each other intimately. It's not like we can't do other sexy things, but we live in a society that sees penetrative sex as the true sex. The real deal. The thing that takes away your status as a virgin. I KNOW in my head, I know logically that that is all total stupid bunk. It's absolute cultural spew. I can't seem to shake it though. Just like, for the longest time, I couldn't shake all the negative messages I got about sex when I was younger. It doesn't matter to my emotions, my emotions grab at all that malarchy and decide to turn it into fact. Facts that remind me that I'm a failure. Facts that tell me to hate myself. Due to the self-hate spiral, I've had a fair share of break downs throughout the course of our marriage, all of which built up to such a volcanic explosion because I wouldn't shut off that voice in my brain going "I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself." This happens less now, but if an argument does happen to unhinge then I just settle so easily back into that self-hatred mantra. A few posts ago, I mentioned that I was getting a lot of joy out of saying a self-love mantra, and for a month I did! It brought me so much joy and confidence, but just like any other habit, it takes a long time to build self-love. When I stopped being so faithful to the self-love mantra, I started ignoring my feelings of sadness and inadequacy and burying them deeper, only to be met with them all again. Hello little seeds of hate, I recognize your existence. You want to tell me I suck and that I'm worthless. I know your plan. Oh gosh, worthlessness has got me all teary, too. That's another big one for me. I suppose it's right in line with inadequacy, but it has less to do with my status as a woman and a wife and more to do with my existence as a human. This one gets me at work or while I'm writing or when I'm sitting around trying to enjoy myself but I feel like I should be DOING something. Just last night, I was enjoying watching some iDubbbz vidoes. I really like his Kickstarter Crap series and I only discovered them last week so there's a LOT to watch, but after awhile I started to get this sick feeling like I shouldn't watch anymore. I've watched enough. I'm such a worthless piece of crap watching all of these. What a waste of time. Yea, those words didn't feel too good. I tried closing my eyes and changing my mindset. I'm just enjoying some downtime. I find these videos funny. I deserve to enjoy myself. The more I had to TRY to relax, the more anxiety built up and the worse I ultimately felt. I got anxiety from laying in bed watching videos! All because I don't feel very good about myself. I didn't think I deserved that time to watch the videos because I hadn't done much all day. Yea, I measure my self-worth in what I do. A terrible, terrible measurement. I KNOW that logically, but my emotions have a different idea. Self-hate really permeates all areas of life. While I'm in the shower, I'm just shaving my legs but I accidentally cut myself. Spiral of self-hate. It's a small spiral that doesn't last very long, but still, it's quite intrusive when I'm showering, a time that should be relaxing! Self-hate creeps up on me when I'm driving, when I'm cooking, when I'm talking on the phone, when I'm grocery shopping, when I'm at the doctor's office. It sneaks up on me in the middle of a social interaction or event, causing me to get all antsy and just want to go home. It attacks me on days when my hair won't lay nicely or I haven't done laundry in awhile and can't find anything decent to wear. Self-hate causes me to react with strong emotions to small hiccups in life. It's an intruder of the worst kind because it knows exactly when to intrude to have the worst impact. Self-hate feeds feelings of depression and feelings of depression feed self-hate. When I start to think "what's the point? nothing matters," what I'm really thinking is "what's the point? I don't matter." It's hard. It sucks really bad some days. I get these spiraling thoughts and all I have the energy to do is lay around. I don't know how to balance that. Should I give in to that feeling and let myself rest for a day or two, or should I power through and do stuff anyway? Most the time I find that laying around only makes me feel worse, but it's hard to find the motivation to do anything when I feel worthless. I'm leaning on the side of power through and do stuff. A few weeks ago, I decided to start nipping my biggest culprit of self-hate, the inadequate wife thing, in the butt. I'm sick of ignoring that problem. I've been working on it since we got married almost three years ago now, and little has changed. So, I scheduled an appointment for pelvic floor physical therapy. I feel slightly frustrated that I didn't try something more sooner, but you know, even a year ago I probably couldn't have handled this intrusive therapy. So, there you go self-hate spiral, I'll stop you there. This past week I've been feeling quite down. I've allowed some feelings of self-hate to take hold and I've been trying that whole laying around thing. Really, that's just another way to ignore my problems. I'm good at that. I like to ignore. So today, I decided to try something else. I did some creative writing for an hour this morning, in 3 twenty minute increments to combat my propensity toward distractions, and then I sat down to work out these vulnerable thoughts. My self-hate spiral would like to tell me I haven't done enough, but I'm going to stop it by saying an hour of writing yielded over 1,000 words. 1,000 + words that I'm proud of, and that I enjoyed writing. (But, hey, future self-hate, even 100 words would be better than no words). And, now that I'm at the end of this blog post, I'm not crying anymore and I'm feeling a whole lot better and more energized. So, too bad for you self-hate spiral. Today, I'm unwinding you. We probably all know somebody who is a self proclaimed perfectionist and takes everything way too seriously and shows everyone up at everything from mini golf to making dishes for potlucks. This person has to show everyone how perfect they are, yet come across all effortless. You know who I mean? Well, actually, I don't personally know anyone like that, but it is the stereotype that comes to mind when I think perfectionist, and because this is my image of a perfectionist, I've never considered myself one. I don't care if I win or lose at mini golf and I only care about bringing palatable dishes to potlucks. Except, I'm having this horrifying memory of a potluck in college in which me and another girl were charged with bringing cookies. I just made some oatmeal cookies, but she brought these beautifully sculpted cookies shaped like leaves and covered with immaculate fondant. My cookies were, palatable, but I was horribly embarrassed and no one, of course, ate my cookies. I didn't even grab them on my way home, I just hoped that no one noticed I brought them in, then no one would know that such shameful cookies were mine! That girl, with the gorgeous cookies, was probably a perfectionist. She was the type of person I held up as a standard of perfection, too, and I couldn't see myself on that same level, but recently I've been coming to realize that I am a perfectionist and the very thought that I think I'm not is very telling that I am. I tell myself I'm not a perfectionist because I never do anything perfect. Well, how very like a perfectionist to think that nothing they do is perfect! I think there are two different types of perfectionists: those who try and try and try for perfection and wear themselves out and those that are so afraid of not being perfect that they don't even try at all. More often than not, I am the latter. And, that's pretty much how I approach all challenges in life, by ignoring them. It's a trait I've had ever since I was a child and one I've only recently started to begrudge and seek to change. The biggest area of my life that gets eaten up by perfectionism is social. This is the area where I go "wow, I really can't stand not being perfect." If I have a conversation with someone and I say something out of turn, or I say something embarrassing, or I say too much about myself, I gnaw on that forever afterwards. I think to myself how much more perfect the conversation could have gone. I think how I am so NOT perfect. If I get embarrassed by something, maybe I drop something in front of a lot of people or I make a joke that no one laughs at, I go on to blame myself and tell myself I'm stupid and why do I even bother and I'll just never try with people again! If I'm not what I deem to be perfect in my interactions with others, then I just think it's time to give up. Be the true hermit already. Hide away in my house cave and never return to the world. There is one area where I don't have this social perfectionism. When I interact with my students who I tutor. I can do the most embarrassing things and be 100% myself and have kids make fun of me and still walk out of work feeling great. The thing about kids is, while they are curious and observant and honest, I don't think they are judging me, not like adults. When I interact with adults, I always wonder what they think about me, but with my students I don't have that worry. I figure either they like me or they don't, but at the end of the day I'm providing them with a warm, welcoming atmosphere to learn. I can sing to my students and be silly with my students and make lame jokes that they sigh at and not have one care in the world about it. I can even continue to be myself when I tutor and other adults are around, but if I'm interacting with just adults, I become like a plank of wood or something. (This is with the exception of really close friends, sometimes my family, and always my husband). The other area that this perfectionism seeps into is my writing. Blog writing or short stories or poems don't suffer as much because they're short and more manageable, but when I'm working on long-form I turn toward the perfectionism that tells me to just give up because it will never be perfect anyway. An idea will form, I'll get super excited and start writing, then the idea will morph and veer of the perfect track I thought I had for it and I'll get discouraged, but I'll just keep writing with anxiety bursting out of my fingertips until I have such a big mess that it makes me even more anxious! I am working on this area constantly, though, because 1. I'm getting my Master's in Creative Writing so I kind of have to and 2. I believe that all the areas of perfectionism are related, so if I work on one then the other ones will see improvement. And 3. I truly want to be a writer, or at least a person who writes things, so I can't just run away from this challenge as easily as I've run away from others because it's tethered to my dream that I've invested my time and money in. I may not be what I see as the stereotypical perfectionist, but my fear of NOT being perfect tells me that this is an area in which I need to grow. I don't believe perfectionists can really ever be happy; they might give off the illusion of happiness, like that girl who made the freaking beautiful cookies. She sure looked happy that night showing off her skills, but I wonder how many times she failed in the making of those cookies. I wonder how difficult it would have been for her to make cookies that did not meet her expectations of perfection. I would much rather be the type of person who is willing to try and fail, and then know when it's time to stop, then be paralyzed by my own fears of not being perfect. I will continue to challenge myself in social interactions because I value having friends. I also value treating myself kindly, and beating myself up over an awkward social interaction with adults doesn't feel kind, and only pushes me further into my house cave. I will also continue to challenge myself with my writing because I value stories, and I value my dream. I couldn't think of any favorites last month, but this month I have quite a few. Or, at least I think I do. Throughout May I kept thinking "oh, this is a favorite," but I never wrote any of it down so hopefully I can remember them all. As always, all links are for your convenience only. I've been slowly accumulating reusable household items so that I can produce less waste. I'm not edging toward a zero-waste life, but a minimal-waste life because there are a lot of disposable daily items that we use everyday and it's easy to make a few switches. A few years ago, I purchased a reusable coffee filter. This is an especially easy replacement, yet one that makes a big difference. Especially if you drink coffee every day like I do. This month, I made another step toward minimal waste and purchased another everyday item, a safety razor, which has a couple of great benefits: 1. It's less ugly than a disposable razor. There's just something appealing about a sturdy, steel-made razor. 2. The blades last longer than those on disposable razors. 3. I only have to buy it once! I no longer have to add "razors" to my grocery list every month and a half. For me, this is especially great because I was so bad about buying new razors when I needed to, I would make my inefficient and dull razors last me long past the time you're supposed to. So, rather than buying new razors every month and a half as I said, it was more like every 3-5 months. Yikes. My skin did not appreciate that. So, for me, the 4th benefit is a closer shave. Along the lines of minimal waste, I also recently purchased some reusable produce bags. They're mesh bags with a drawstring and are very roomy for all the lemons! (I buy lots of lemons). I get produce every time I go to the grocery store and I get so annoyed having to use all those flimsy plastic bags. My use of the mesh produce bags is, honestly, more about being annoyed by the plastic bags than it is about minimal-waste, as I still use plastic bags to haul all my groceries home, but! I do feel better not having to just toss away all those little plastic bags. I reuse the big plastic bags as trash bags, so I feel a little less guilty with those. As I've said, I'm not trying to be zero-waste. I admire that lifestyle, but in the modern world, it requires a great deal of sacrifice. In my opinion, it's key to find a balance that reduces dissonance, but doesn't require so much sacrifice that you no longer enjoy life. Alright, onto other favorites. I have been wanting to join a subscription box for a long time. There is just something wonderful about getting things in the mail, but receiving packages once a month is a bit much for me. So, Fortune Cookie Soap Box is perfect for me because there are only 4 boxes a year, one for each season. (There is an option for a monthly box if you want that). I signed up just as their Summer box came out, filled with samples from their collection "A Pirate's Life For Me." The products I received are: face oil, exfoliating body scrub, body cream, perfume oil, lip scrub, hand sanitizer, foot scrub, and bar of soap (in the shape of a fortune cookie). Everything had a bit of a tropical smell, but not the usual floral scent that comes with tropical scented body care items. Some of the "notes," as they say, are aged bourbon, tobacco, mandarin zest, and coconut. My favorite item from the box was the Aqua De Vida face oil. It was the one thing I wanted to purchase full size, but when I went to get it, it was already sold out! So, I must not be the only one who loved it. Sometimes I feel bad about indulging in body care like this. I usually have instant buyer's remorse when I buy these kinds of things. I love stepping into Bath and Body Works, but it's also like instant anxiety if I see anything I want to buy. The Fortune Cookie Soap Box is a nice little treat because it comes so infrequently I don't have to pay a lot to enjoy it, and each item appears to be so carefully crafted that it really does feel quite special. This box is very much worth the price. I've been buying Bear Naked cereal for several months, and I was so excited when I read about their Custom Granola. I made a custom creation pretty quickly after finding out about it, and it turned out to be DELICIOUS! The only down side for me was the site's UI wasn't very intuitive, so I missed all the usual granola ingredients like fruits and nuts. I made a coffee and bourbon flavored granola that had chocolate covered coffee beans in it. When I later saw I missed all the dried fruits and nuts I was worried that my granola would be too plain, but it turned out to be delicious, and it tastes amazing over some vanilla yogurt. I'm looking forward to making some more with all the delicious things. Another thing I've been doing toward my goal of a minimal-waste lifestyle is purchasing more things from the bulk buy area of our local grocery store. We buy our groceries from Safeway, and they have a bulk buy area in the produce section, the coffee/tea aisle, and in the canned fruits section. So far, I've gotten coffee and walnuts from the bulk bin. Not only is this less wasteful because I can bring my own reusable bags, it's much cheaper. The bulk buy coffee at our Safeway is Boyer's brand, and it's delicious! It's also much more fresh because you pour it whole bean, then you can grind it right there in the store if you want. I think the price for this coffee is pretty comparable to the cheaper pre-packaged brands like Folger's or Maxwell's, but it's much less financially stressful getting nuts from the bulk buy because at our Safeway you can get a pound for $6 (that's for walnuts), whereas purchasing them pre-packaged is usually more like $8 for far less than a pound. Netflix finally released the third season of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt! As a person who is fascinated by cults and power-hungry religious fanatics, I really enjoy the backstory of this show. I don't always love the direction the present-day narrative goes, but this particular season was hilarious. I think I found it so funny because Kimmy goes to college in this season, and they went pretty heavy with the whole making fun of college students humor. I also really like it when the show gives insight into how Kimmy's psyche was affected by what happened to her (if you don't know, she was kidnapped by a man who tricked several women into believing it was the end of the world and he held them in a bunker, where he abused them). The show is honestly a little too light for me, given Kimmy's history I think they could have some darker themes (which they got into a bit more in Season 2), but in this new season they did return to that a little when Kimmy realizes that people can, and pretty much everyone does, Google each other so Kimmy can't keep her story secret. Though I would like to see darker themes, I enjoyed the humor more in this season than I have in any other seasons. Speaking of dark themes, this next show is a bit of a love-hate relationship, but I've been watching (or mostly listening to, rather) Occult Crimes, which is also on Netflix. I say I'm listening to it because the production quality is quite low, so I don't much care to watch it. The narration is also pretty bad, truthfully, but the stories keep me listening. It's love-hate because it's not good for me as I'm already an anxious person. Hearing about horrific murders only makes my anxiety worse, but my curious mind makes it hard for me to stop listening! The other thing is, as I mentioned with Kimmy Schmidt, I find cult activity so fascinating. Now, the occult isn't necessarily the same thing as cult activity, but the people who get involved and become leaders of occult practices operate under the same power-hungry mindset as cult leaders. Though I'm insatiably curious, I did recently have to turn off an episode that was about the Chicago Rippers. With most episodes, I'm able to calm myself through the idea that people get themselves involved in these occult rituals and put themselves in danger. It's not to say crime is the fault of the victim, but it makes the evil feel a little less random. However, the Chicago Rippers were quite random. It really freaked me out and made me feel like I have absolutely no control over steering clear from danger. I ended up returning to the Chicago Rippers episode later because, like I said, my curious mind makes it hard for me to stop listening. It's really opened up the thoughts in my head about evil and whether people are just born evil, or if they become evil. I guess that's a variation on the nature-nurture debate, which I also enjoy ruminating over. The last show I've been enjoying this month is an old one. My Name is Earl first aired back in early 2000 and I remember seeing trailers for it, but not being that interested. I decided to give it a try, and it's the exact kind of thing I need to counteract all the negative feelings I get from watching Occult Crimes. Although it's just a sitcom with 20-25 minute long episodes, it has also got me thinking about the nature of evil because Earl is battling with the idea of karma. Each episode involves him making up for something "bad" he did in his past to counteract karma. Each episode ends sentimentally, and yet, it's never sappy (my sappy threshold may be quite high, however). The last episode I watched revolved around Earl's relationship with his dad, and I'm not even ashamed to say I cried. So, clearly, I've been enjoying quite a bit of television this month. I often feel bad for indulging in television, so I think it's good to remind myself that I get quite a lot of joy from it. I just remember being a lonely kid, bored at home, and practically zoning out on TV, so I worry about becoming that kid again when I watch too much TV. Just like every pleasure in life, though, it's about balance. Okay, go forth, will you, and seek balance. Around my teenage years, I gained an interest in weird movies. It all started when my friend lent me The Royal Tenenbaums. I remember when I started dating my husband, his parents began referring to weird movies as "Trish movies." My husband likes to rag on me for not seeing classics that he grew up on, but I didn't have time for those movies. I was too busy watching "weird" movies! Now, "weird" is an incredibly subjective term. I don't think most of the movies I watch are weird as much as they are quirky. Quirky is a subjective term, too, I suppose, but it seems like a term that could be more widely agreed upon than weird, so that's what I'm going with. Enjoy these tracks from my most favorite quirky movies! all links are merely for convenience 12 Great Songs From Quirky Movies: 1. History of the Universe by Andy Hull and Robert McDowell, featuring Daniel Radcliffe - from the soundtrack of Swiss Army Man -Okay, I said I don't think most of the movies I watch are truly weird, but this one is an exception. It was weird and infuriating, however, the soundtrack was really fun. The music doesn't quite match the mood of the movie, which for me was wtf in the worst way. Although, I suppose that's what the writers were going for, and I would have let it slide had it not been for the ending. 2. From Winter to Spring by Vincent Courtois - from the soundtrack of Ernest & Celestine - This animated movie, which is based on a picture book, is such a lovely exploration of friendship. There is minimal dialogue, so it's easy to fully appreciate the beautiful art and music. And when Ernest or Celestine do talk, it's freaking adorable. 3. Over and Done With by The Proclaimers - from the soundtrack of Bottle Rocket - After seeing The Royal Tenenbaums I made it a mission to see all other Wes Anderson films. In High School, one of my friends had a movie marathon with me in which most of the films chosen where Wes Anderson's. I have to say, I will never do a movie marathon again, it makes it difficult to appreciate each film when you're spending hours on hours sitting on the couch. I've since watched this film outside of a movie marathon situation, and found I liked it much better in isolation. 4. Hey Jude by Friday Night at the Movies - from the soundtrack of The Royal Tenenbaums - This Beatle's cover is in the beginning of the film, and I always think of the scene where young Richie releases Mordecai and the song reaches its peak NA NA NA NA NA NA NA (that's a perfect textual representation of that song right there). 5. s'Rothe Zäuerli by Öse Schuppel - from the soundtrack of The Grand Budapest Hotel - I might as well keep all the Wes Anderson film songs together. This was the second Anderson film I got to see in theatres and I remember my friend and I were about the only people in the theatre just cracking up. I guess it takes a fan to get the humor in this one. 6. Our House by Phantom Planet - from the soundtrack of The Chumscrubber - I'm one of those people who have to read or watch things several times before I pick up on all the nuances and clever details. It's probably why I love rewatching movies and binging reruns so much! I can always find something new. Chumscrubber is a movie I've only watched once, so I don't have much to say about it. I remember it was dark, and edgy, and I liked it. I think I bought this one on sale at FYE. They had an "Indie" movie section which I loved to check out (weird to speak in the past tense, but I don't think the modern FYE stores probably have the same vast array of DVDs that they used to). 7. Amari Szi Amari by Csókolom - from the soundtrack of Everything is Illuminated - This movie, while an independent film (aka quirky) has the well known actor Elijah Wood. Like many good films, this one is based of the book of the same name by Jonathan Safran Foer. The film narrows its focus, but otherwise follows the narrative of the book quite well. What I love about this story is the search for family identity. 8. Reach by Andrew Belle - from the soundtrack of Bella - This is such a touching movie that beautifully explores the impact and importance of relationships, especially post-trauma. 9. Through the Roof 'n' Underground by Gogol Bordello - from the soundtrack of The Wristcutters - The original format of this story is in the form of a novella Kneller's Happy Campers by Etgar Keret, and this is one of the few times I can say I like the film version better. For reasons of not wanting to spoil either form of the insightful narrative, I won't say why I like the film better. Both are great, but the film has the advantage of AMAZING music. But then, the book isn't even 100 pages so it would be a quick afternoon read that you could follow up with an evening movie! 10. Close to You by Burt Bacharach - from the soundtrack of Mirrormask - This film introduced me to the ever famous Neil Gaiman who worked on the script. The movie is pretty hard-core quirky and one of the most mesmerizing movies from all angles. The film style, the narrative, and the music are all so immersive. The setting is both our world, and some bizarre place of dreams. 11. Exploration by The Piano Kid - from the soundtrack of Coraline - I love this movie so much. Neil Gaiman wrote the book that inspired the film, and was probably my first experience with Gaiman as a novelist. I have such appreciation for any story that has a strong emphasis on what family means. It just touches my heart. And my tear ducts. 12. Belleville Rendez-Vous by Beatrice Bonifassi - from the soundtrack of The Triplets of Belleville - The same friend who let me borrow The Royal Tenenbaums let me borrow this film. She was (and I hope still is!) a huge movie buff. There is no dialogue in this cute little film, just some grunts or barks from the dogs. Although there's no talking, the film is heavily focused on action, which is amplified through the up-beat music. That's it for this month's playlist! If you check it out, I'd love to know if you've seen any of these movies and what your favorite quirky film is! I really didn't come up with any favorites this month. April went by super fast. I think this is because I set a tough personal goal for myself and I largely avoided making any significant progress on it. So, because this goal went so untouched it seems like the month got away from me. I'm feeling alright about it though, because when I set the goal I knew that it would require more than a month. I'm thinking about last month as the primer, I was readying myself to approach the goal, if you will. Anyway, as I'm not going to divulge what the goal was I'm going stop rambling about that now. Since April went by so fast, I couldn't think of anything I'd want to include as a Favorite, so instead I thought I'd make a list of things I don't like. Just generally, not only from the month, but as a whole. While I'm not going to reflect on why I don't like these things here in the post, the list is not meant to be simply a bitch list. On my own, I want to consider what it is that gets me about the following items and challenge myself to overcome the irritation or distress, if need be. Ok, so obviously there are some things that get to me that are a little silly, like crumpled up pieces of paper. My husband loves to tease me with this one, when we go to restaurants he crumples up the straw wrappers and puts it in front of me. I hate looking at it. I can't explain what bothers me about it but I just know I absolutely hate it. And you know what, I have a crumpled tissue sitting in front of me right now and I'm not bothered, it's just when it's small . . . I guess? I don't even get it myself. Then, there are other things like adults who take themselves too seriously or people who are rude to waiters, those I'm not too concerned about challenging. The issue with those irritants is to ensure that I still have compassion or at least try to understand the other person's perspective. Even for the dude with spiky hair. Alright, go forth, will you, and challenge the things that cause you the utmost bother. I tend to notice coincidences, or events that feel parallel; events that are somehow connected in time. This last week at work while my coworker and I were doing after school pickup together, I asked her about how she ended up in Colorado, and she unloaded a spiritual journey that involved her taking a huge leap of faith and laying all her trust in God. She was so sure that God had led her to Colorado and so sure that she had made the right decision. I found it incredibly admirable.
Then, before we left the school, a pair of Gideon men were handing out copies of the New Testament. They were completely unassuming, I only knew what they were up to because our student came in the van holding the little orange Bible. She said the men were so nice and that everyone was taking the Bibles. It was so refreshing to see such a calm display of evangelism. When I lived on a college campus evangelism was always so fierce and disheartening, but this student told me that the Gideon men were just saying, "Look to this when you're in trouble. It will tell you where to go." The coincidence here was timing, I think. That moment of back to back displays of Godly love, not hate, really got me thinking about my own experiences, and I think I needed that reflection right now. I pondered where my experiences have led me and how I've mostly hardened my heart to any notion of God because unlike my coworker, the religion I grew up with was not something I trusted. It was something that had me scared. If I looked to it when I was in trouble it was only because I feared Hell. On my drive home from work that day, after talking to my coworker and seeing the Gideons, I turned off the radio and thought about my own journey. I thought what I might tell my coworker about my relationship with God. I thought about telling her thank you for provoking the thought in me, and before I knew it, I was crying. I hadn't anticipated getting so emotional, so I tried to think where it was coming from. I pinpointed it to this: the religion I saw was not a display of love. I didn't see happy religious people. I didn't see people rejoicing in God's love. I saw people scared of the alternative, I saw unhappy people who thought that living by the book and following doctrine could fulfill them. I saw people treat that doctrine as more valuable than their communities and families. More valuable than love. As I explored this panoramic of the churches I grew up in, I started to get mad. I was mad at religion for keeping me scared. I was mad at religion for closing me up, almost literally. I really believe that religious repression played a huge role in my sexual struggles. I truly thought I was doing something wrong if I so much as hugged my boyfriend too longingly. Guilt swallowed me whole anytime we fooled around, and instead of getting to experience the joy of love, I felt shame. I felt like a horrible sinner. This provokes anger in me because the church (I only speak for the specific churches I grew up in) would rather have people abstain than love. I feel like I missed out on enjoying a pivotal experience during my development and it's hard for me not to blame the messages I got at church for that. What I saw in my coworker's face though, what I heard in her voice, was full trust and an unfaltering belief that love prevails. I think that's more where the crying on my way home came from, that there was this other, happier way to live by faith. She was able to accept a path for her life and know that she was where she needed to be. I envy the peace in that. I am at war with myself daily about whether or not I'm doing the right thing or if I'm in the right place. This feeling pours out in the fact that I'm always seeking new employment under the guise that I need more money, but really I think I don't feel settled. A new job can't fix that. A bigger paycheck won't make the ache go away. This morning, I had no desire to check anything off my To Do list and I did a little scrolling through Facebook. I try not to do this because it's a viscous loop more often than not, but I was able to stop after I saw this post from an acquaintance: Jesus said in John 5:41 that people’s approval or disapproval meant nothing to Him. That’s a powerful way to live. He was saying, “I know who I am, and nothing you do or don’t do is going to change it. You can celebrate Me or you can crucify Me, but I’m keeping My crown.” It felt like another coincidence. This passage is talking specifically about Jesus, yes, but it pointed me to the reason why I often feel so unsettled. It reminded me about the Gideons who said to look to the Bible when you're in trouble. My biggest trouble, the reason I keep wanting to find a new job and make more money and be something I'm not is that I worry too much about what others think. I even talked about that with my coworker, too, about how I'm easily embarrassed, and she said she used to be, but isn't anymore. After hearing her story, I think her embarrassment has left her because she's firm in who she is and firm in who she believes God has made her to be. She had such peace in herself and in her decisions. I never saw that peace with the religious people around me during my childhood. I didn't see trust and I didn't have it. Maybe I didn't know where to look and I'm sure it was there, but it was overshadowed by the fear I saw around me and the fear I felt. I'm so blessed my coworker shared her story with me. It reminded me of a different way I can come to peace. Through all my frustrations with religion, I've never stopped believing in a God. I know there's something bigger than ourselves that we're all living for, and I think if placing faith and trust in God can provide peace and happiness, then it's a worthwhile journey. Believing in God doesn't have to be tied to doctrine. It was the New Testament the Gideons handed out, after all. They were handing out Jesus' love. |
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