Vocabulary Lessons with Charlie

My nephews were here today, and since the weather was nice they spent most of their time outside. Charlie came inside briefly at one point and told us--rapidly, breathlessly--about the plan they'd hatched.

"Me and Bubby are going to have a club, and we're going to hang out in the back of Papa's truck. We're going to get some stuff and take our vehicles with us. We call these vehicles," he explained, referring to his new scooter and Talons's new rip stick.

And with that he was out the door.

don't let them take you

Don't turn away

This is our fate

And all this dreaming's just as real

As all that other shit we feel

I've felt myself starting to slip back into my old ways lately: worrying too much and getting frustrated and overwhelmed when things become challenging. Since I moved to Tulsa, I've been pretty good at letting go of worries and staying focused on positive things, but the last few weeks have been a lot more challenging than most.

I've been traveling a lot and spending time away from my cats, which I hate. I'm starting to feel my life is divided between two places again, like it was when I lived in PA--there was my life here in Tulsa with my family, and my life in PA with my job, my cats and my friends. Now my family and my cats are here, but Ryan is in OKC and I usually can't have one without being away from the other. I'm not complaining, mind you! Ryan is wonderful and totally worth the short drive between us...and since I don't have a job I have plenty of time to spend in both places.

However, I am keeping my eyes open for potential jobs in Oklahoma City. I'm just sayin'.

Most of the bullshit with my parents is legitimately infuriating, and the pressure I get from them only compounds the concerns I already have about money, a job, and my living situation. Add to that the holiday stress and some slight hormonal turmoil, and it's no wonder I got back into the old mindset of being pissed off, sick and tired, fed up and bummed out.

Other little frustrations have been piling up too, and I'm finding things seem a lot more difficult than they should be. Stuff like keeping my health insurance, getting money back from failed travel plans, dealing with creditors, refilling prescriptions and simply buying some damn Sudafed for my stuffy head...the red tape is ridiculous!

I guess between those little frustrations and my parents giving me hell, sometimes I feel like I have to fight extra hard for so much of what I need. That's not really the case, though; I have supportive friends and an amazing boyfriend who understand where I am in life and do all they can to encourage me. I have sweet kitty cats who give me love and affection every day. I have two enchanting nephews who never fail to lift my spirits. And these things just are. I don't have to fight to keep them; all I need to do is remember to appreciate them and lean on them when I get into a funk. Everything else is peripheral.

Anyway, the moodiness seems to be passing, and hopefully I'll continue finding the strength to stand firm when people ask about my job situation or my parents start trying to control me.

I know who I am, and I'm not a girl who worries; I am hopeful and grateful and ready to embrace whatever adventure tomorrow brings. I am not emotionally dysfunctional; I just live with people who are, and it will take a lot of resolve to get out of here with my peace of mind intact. I'll do it.

I know what I want, and it doesn't involve making choices based on what other people want me to do. And if I have to continue belaboring that point--in my blog and in conversations--to keep myself on track, that's what I'll do.

This song definitely helps.

Whoever said you can't go home was right.

I guess it hits all of us at some point, the disgruntlement that so easily creeps in during the holiday season. I've had my share of it this year, and I'm going to vent!

First, I missed a flight to Cincinnati on the busiest traveling day of the year and, due to major weather problems, couldn't get an alternative flight that wouldn't get me there late and leave me spending most of the weekend alone in strange cities--and then only if I managed not to get stranded in Chicago. So I missed out on seeing Over the Rhine's two-night anniversary concert with Eric and Sara, which was a bitter disappointment.

There was an upside, though...I got to spend the weekend with Ryan instead. And that Saturday night, Eric called from the concert while the band played my favorite song. I put my cell phone on speaker and laid it on the table, then closed my eyes and soaked it in: the distorted sounds coming through the phone, the lyrics I couldn't understand but knew by heart, and the gratitude for my wonderful friends who had me in their hearts. Ryan saw the tears in my eyes and moved closer, while the song itself perfectly expressed my feelings about that moment, about him and my friends, and about life in general.

Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find

Intuition, deja vu
The Holy Ghost haunting you
Whatever you got I don't mind

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear

Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be...

We spent the rest of the night drinking wine and listening to music. My weekend was salvaged, to say the least.

Alas, not everything turned out so well. The morning I missed my flight, my mom had to come back and pick me up from the airport, and that was when the bullshit began to get out of hand.

"Well, it was a hair-brained idea to go to a concert the weekend before Christmas anyway," she declared. "There, I said it!"

"You can call it hair-brained if you want," I replied with a steely sort of calm. "It wasn't my idea anyway."

She seemed relieved that I'd be home where I belonged for the weekend, but her relief turned to disapproval as soon as I told her I was going to Oklahoma City. Why not? My Christmas shopping was done, my bags were already packed, and everything was squared away for me to be gone.

This was when my mom decided to unload about how my dad rants and raves to her about everything I do. I've been out of town a lot--seeing Ryan in OKC, visiting his family in various other parts of Oklahoma, taking a well-deserved vacation, etc. Apparently my dad feels I'm neglecting my obligations and doesn't like that I leave my cats in my mom's (not his) care so often. He's also apparently very bothered by the fact that (he assumes) I'm not looking for a job and he seems to be under the impression that I'm planning to live with my parents forever, remain unemployed and continue to let my hellion cats run rampant in his house. And he doesn't like the way (he thinks) I manage my money. She doesn't mind all these things, she assured me. But she has to listen to him complain about them, and she doesn't like that.

"That is not my problem," I told her, a determined calm taking the place of what in the past might have been crippling guilt or blind fury. "If he has a problem with anything I do, he's welcome to discuss it with me. But I am not responsible for guessing how he feels or what he thinks, and I'm not going to spend my life bending over backwards trying to please him or anyone else." She seemed to find this argument fairly sound, and I continued to explain that my goal in life right now is to do what I feel is best and what makes ME happy.

I talked it over with Ryan later that day and received confirmation that my parents were being ridiculous and treating me like a child. Furthermore, my father was trying to control things that are none of his business and was showing a total lack of confidence in my ability to function as an independent adult. I was livid.

My parents were kind to let me live with them, yes. But there were no overt conditions attached...only the invisible strings of guilt and shame that can be used to manipulate me after they've pretended to love and support me unconditionally. Do they think I don't know it's a pain in the ass to have my four cats here? Do they really think I WANT to stay here with them any longer than necessary?

Fuck that!!!

I was home just a few days for Christmas before I left town again to spend a couple of days at Grand Lake with Ryan's mom and step dad. Fortunately, with all the relatives around I was shielded a bit from my parents' disapproval, at least for the holidays. But they started on me again as soon as we returned from the lake last night.

My sister had cleaned out the attic, removing numerous boxes of stuff she'd saved from childhood. I was next, my dad informed me (implying that somehow I'm crowding them out of their house by keeping a few things in their attic while I live here and that the stuff all needs to go now). Then my mom suggested that maybe I'd like to move those boxes in the hallway into the attic now that there's room. I reminded here that those boxes are transitional, that I'm gradually collecting things to either give away or take to storage eventually...just as I've explained to her before.

That was when my disgust with all of this began to really take hold. What about asking how my visit with Ryan's family went? How about making a little conversation with Ryan instead of staring at the TV? We eventually went upstairs, where my cats were shut up in their rooms while my parents' demon cat "Precious" had his turn being out of lock down. It's not like we went up to my bedroom and shut the door so we could make out or something...nor is it anyone's business what we were doing.

Still, everything seemed ridiculous and I felt like a fucking teenager.

Here's the thing: I am looking for a job at a pace that I'm comfortable with. I don't pay rent, but then no one ever asked me to. I have money, and I support myself. How much money I have and how I spend it is no one's business but mine. What I do with my free time is for me to decide, and my only obligations are to make sure my cats are cared for, and to be there for my family when they need my help (if they ask for it!). I have never made any kind of contract giving anyone the right to tell me how to live my life, or subjecting myself to an unspecified quantity of guilt to be dispensed at another person's discretion. NOTHING entitles anyone--not even my parents--to make decisions for me or to judge me for the life I choose.

Then there's the unsolicited advice. It's part of the reason I don't attend my family's church. I'm still pretty burned up about the pastor's suggestion that I should "start getting rid of cats, get married and have some real babies." But it's more than that. I can't bear the thought of being asked several times every week where I'm working these days or how the job search is going. I don't have the mental or emotional strength to continuously decline offers for help getting jobs I don't want, or to explain how I know what I want to do with my life in general but when it comes to the specifics I'm going on blind faith.

And I cannot endure one more pessimistic warning not to wait too long to look for a job because the economy is so bad and lots of people are out of work these days. Maybe it's ignorance, or arrogance, or complete denial...I refuse to live in fear.

I refuse parental guilt trips, and I refuse to feel shame for loving my life. I refuse to speculate on the feelings and opinions of those who choose not to discuss them in a calm, rational manner--or who choose not to discuss them at all.

Something I WILL do, however, is start looking for a job in earnest as soon as I return from my New Year's trip to Philly. I will reclaim the missing pieces of my dignity and get a place of my own where I can dance naked, let my cats run rampant, drink 'till I pass out on the couch, have my boyfriend spend the night, and come and go as I please with only the cats to scold me, and then usually only if I'm late with dinner.

Katy's Holiday Shopping Tips

I've tried many ways to avoid Christmas shopping over the years:

I've made donations in my family members' names, and that was fine until the year it made my dad cry. No gift I've ever given him has been so memorable since I was three or four and he pretended to send me to my room because I naively answered him when he asked what his unwrapped Christmas gifts were. Anyway, his crying and hugging me was the pinnacle of the donation-gift era, and I decided anything after that would feel flat in comparison.

I've resolved to do all my shopping online, but that idea largely failed because I procrastinated too long and then realized I hadn't allowed enough time for shipping.

I've done the hand-made, home-made gift thing, and that was really fun but labor-intensive...not to mention expensive and eventually overwhelming.

This year I played around with all of the above ideas, but I finally decided to bite the bullet and just go out and buy some gifts. I completed most of this year's shopping in two major excursions, and while I patted myself on the back I took note of the factors that kept me from becoming hysterical or hostile and decided to write them down.

(Of course, being unemployed is a big plus at this time of year, aside from the nagging doubts about spending precious severance dollars when there's no income to replace them. But that's another topic altogether.)

Behold my brilliant advice:

1. Eat lunch. Seriously, this is no time to mess around with your blood sugar levels. When you find yourself trapped in a narrow aisle with a crazy person breathing down your neck and shopping carts coming at you from all directions, that sandwich may be the only thing that keeps you from having a crying, swearing meltdown.
2. Shop in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day. Quit your job if that's what it takes to avoid weekend shopping crowds--better yet, get laid off with severance so you'll have some money to spend on gifts.
3. Know your shortcuts. Getting stuck in stop-and-go traffic can only lead to too much time spent contemplating the futility of life, the decline of humanity and the crass commercialization of Christmas...and that's time you could spend getting a coffee or taking a nap, if only you can navigate the lesser known paths to the mega shopping centers.
4. Keep it simple. Do you really think your aunts, uncles and cousins care how much time you spend deliberating between store-bought and homemade trail mix, or agonizing over what to package it in? Just grab something and move on...if they don't like it, tough shit.
5. Make a list and have a plan. Because while you're waiting in long lines or cowering in the gift wrap aisle, terrified and confused, you'll need something to remind you what your priorities are.
6. Fuck it. Don't be afraid to walk out of a store that has exceeded its capacity for crazed, disgruntled and possibly smelly shoppers. Ask yourself if there's really anything in that store worth entering a potential mosh pit. No? Get the hell out. Yes? Go get a sandwich and come back later.

As a final thought, I believe it's worth noting (yet again) how stinking nice people in Oklahoma can be. Having "Excuse me" answered with "Excuse me, Hon!" is exactly the kind of thing that brought me home.

more mushiness

Ryan was in town over the weekend, and Friday night we went out with his dad and step mom to a dance held by their "two-steppers" club. I haven't gone country dancing in years, and it's never been Ryan's thing, but I had a blast.

What I enjoyed most (besides being with Ryan) was watching people dance. They were all older than us, and a good portion of them were senior citizens. By the way they dressed up (some of them were quite sparkly), I could tell this was an activity they really looked forward to every month. Their faces showed the joy of people doing something they loved, and that was invigorating!

I didn't dance much, and to be honest I was perfectly happy sitting at a table with Ryan's arm around me, taking in the atmosphere and talking with our heads close together so we could hear each other over the music. It's probably goofy of me to say this, but I didn't want to tear myself away from him long enough to dance with anyone else. It was just one of those times when everything felt right and nearly perfect.

I don't know why, but every time this guy says anything sweet or gives me a compliment, it takes me by surprise. It's not that I'm not used to being appreciated or treated this well...it's just that I still can't believe he thinks or feels those things about me!

And it's not that I don't feel I deserve him; I totally do! But it's hard to believe he's real, and I'm amazed at how nicely things have fallen into place, how at such a crucial time in my life (being unemployed and changing careers and all) I've met someone who gets it. His perspective is so similar to mine; he knows what I mean when I talk about following my passion and enjoying every day and living in the moment and liking/accepting myself. Hearing him talk about all that's possible in life--for him, for me, or for both of us--is absolutely thrilling.

It's like I have a motivational speaker and a muse and a boyfriend all tied up in one package.

the mystery deepens

Me: Do you still hate Scooby-Doo?

Charlie: No, not very much. I like it.

Me: What do you hate?

Charlie: Uh...(long pause)...I like Tom & Jerry...uh...I just hate something I don't like. It's...something...

He trailed off as he became transfixed by an episode of Tom & Jerry.

We're no closer to learning why the child sometimes hates Scooby-Doo, if in fact that's the case. However, it appears we can work under the assumption he has an understanding (if somewhat limited) of what it means to hate something.

The investigation continues...

in which nothing happens

There's just nothing going on this week. Nothing.

It's so bad that I actually considered posting a list of all the cold remedies I've tried in the last two weeks. And it's a long list: sore throat spray, cough drops, various nasal sprays, homeopathic remedies and aromatherapy blends. Not to mention the now closely guarded Sudafed...which is unfortunate, because I would think lately there are far more desperate cold sufferers out there looking for relief than there are actual meth-heads trying to score some supplies.

Every time I bought a new cold remedy this past weekend, a cashier or a person in line with me would nod sympathetically and say something like "Yep...it's definitely going around."

I saw the doctor between naps today, and he showed the same perplexed detachment as when I saw him just a month ago for the same problem. "Yes, I'm already taking that and it doesn't help," I found myself saying. "Yeah, I tried that, too. And that. Yes, and even that." All of which I told him a mere month ago! Dude, just hand over the prescription pad already, and I'll come up with something.

Anyway, back to how boring this week has been...

It's so bad that I found myself trying to build a blog entry around the phrase "tempura chicken tesiticles," which I heard on the Travel Channel within minutes of other intriguing phrases like "indigenous nudity" and "midget prostitutes charging half price." Unfortunately, the sinus cavities pressing on my brain seem to be hindering my creativity...and anyway, it was a stretch to begin with.

T.V. just isn't doing it for me these days, and it seems I'm not alone. According to Leah, things are so dull in Philly that Channel 10 did a news segment on itself, followed by a behind-the-scenes look at the making of said segment. And I thought things were slow here in Tulsa!

So I've just been sleeping, and sleeping. Sunshine has a cold too, and we're quite the pair, holed up in the bedroom and hiding our unwashed fur/hair from the world. Tomorrow will be more of the same, I suspect. But by Friday I'll be pumped full of enough antibiotics that I should be able to get off my ass, wash my hair and face the world again.


Oh, this just in: Buster has been heard sneezing. Apparently this cold stuff really is spreading like wildfire.

Cartoons

Charlie: Scooby-Doo's on, come look.

Me: Do you like Scooby-Doo?

Charlie: No, sometimes I hate it.

Me: Oh - why?

Charlie: Dora already came on. You missed it.


I guess some questions just don't deserve answers.