This is me. All day…every day.
The thing to remember is: you cannot change people; all you can do is show them love. We do not stop loving them because they are flawed. WE ARE ALL FLAWED. Love is absolute, people are not.
No cake this year, even though I told my co-workers they could eat a full gluten, full sugar cake (or CUPCAKES!), while I watch…not creepy at all.
Health-wise I am doing really well, my inflammation is waaay down and I can sleep for about 6 hours straight. That is a huge improvement. Of course, I was surprised with goodies on my desk when I got into work this morning. Some really thoughtful gluten-free treats and my girlfriend got me the most adorable Itty Bitty Kermit and a Kermit mug (Kermug!). I also received some very sweet text messages from family and friends. My phone battery died from responding to Facebook notifications all afternoon. My boss even chatted with me for a bit about my birthday actually being HIS half birthday. I told him I win, because I’m younger…which I know makes no sense and that’s why I said it. Today I feel very loved. Thank you to everyone for the birthday wishes and virtual hugs, and actual hugs, too (sorry for flinching, I’m not really a “hugger”).
I tend not to make a HUGE deal out of my birthdays, not because I don’t like getting older…mostly because I can only deal with SO MUCH attention at once. My face kind of hurts right now from all the smiling. THEN there is the “special food” thing, that I tend to get self conscious about. I don’t need a parade, thoughtful gestures are more than enough and I’m so thankful for the people I have in my life that care.
I could probably be coerced into a birthday bash next year when I turn forty…no kidnapping though, please…I’ll have nightmares.
Tonight I will spend time with Mac and probably watch Patch Adams. I’ve been watching Robin Williams movies since the weekend. It’s not a good movie unless I’ve cried all my makeup off!
image © Aimee McEwen
It’s hard to decide which of the Anne Street Studio’s cinemagraphs is more beautiful.
Since it’s nearly summer…I chose this one. The still images are equally stunning.
image credit: Anne Street Studio
I’ve never been great with plants. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. Last weekend I went ahead and got three separate potted plants and much to my surprise they are thriving. I bought a rose bush, impatiens and some other mix of purple and white flowers. It was a bit daunting for me to choose from all the plants at the nursery…so I just bought whatever I thought would be hardest to kill. My mom said not to be afraid of the roses…just don’t over water them. They are looking really pretty right now. The pictures show the very first bud that came out a few days ago…from bud to full bloom (and now in my living room). It didn’t occur to me until today to give it a sniff. It smells amazing!
I’m working hard at remembering to water and not overwater and also to check for BEES before reaching into the planters, moving the planters…I swear the last bee/wasp/stingy thing I saw was robotic or on steroids…it was giant and pointy and I imagine it having angry eyebrows, wearing a derby and smoking a cigar (shivers).
image credit: © Aimee McEwen
In just two months I’ll be 39. Not that it’s super exciting or anything but jeeze how fast this year has been going by, right? Not much has been accomplished on my end, I have to admit. Not because I am OLD or BURNT OUT (maybe a little tho). It’s probably more that I’m just feeling ‘alright’ with ‘now’. Life isn’t perfect, I feel alright with that because time is short. Thirty-nine years pass by much faster than one would think. Even though I am, by nature, a bit of an underachiever I’m practicing not putting extra pressure (stress) on myself to be ‘perfect’, or to wait for ‘perfect’.
Of course, I’ve been ‘on the wagon’ for about 2 weeks now. No slip ups with gluten or sugar. A few bites of mega sharp cheese here and there (no lactose) and I tried a new gluten free bread that was less gross than previous attempts (yay.). Which is probably why I feel better and dare I say…happy.
When I was in college one of my three part-time jobs was at a bar. Cocktail waitress. It was loud and crowded. Smoky and a bit shabby…more than once I was groped by drunk patrons (gross, I know). I worked there because I could make enough $$ that I only had to work two shifts a week. Easy. There was entertainment on the nights I worked (I mean, besides me and my hilarious lack of math skills trying to make change). Once a night, Chief, the guitarist / singer would play “Amie” and I would walk around the bar with his giant tip bucket collecting tips from everyone. It was a weird job. I wasn’t even old enough to drink. My other part-time jobs were at a toy store (yes, it was wicked fun) and work-study at the college (boring, but tax free). That’s how it was. A retail job, a waitress job and work study. I also worked at a shady delicatessen (paychecks frequently bounced), Kroger, The Loop, a Mexican restaurant (serious health violations, I had to quit when the stress of possibly poisoning families gave me hives), delivered prescriptions to a retirement home (sad), and a fancy schmancy restaurant on the river (where I clearly did NOT belong and was treated like crap). Two things I learned: working more than one job is hard and I am a terrible waitress. Like, the worst. Ever.
Working with the public (huge crowds in touristy Savannah) was a major drain. I lost fifty pounds my junior year running around trying to make it to class and work and somehow my 20 year old brain thought I needed a puppy in addition to all my other responsibilities. As I look back on it now it seems mad. I knew after I graduated that I would never work that hard for so little (money) ever again. And, thankfully, I haven’t.
I still work hard, though. My work pattern is very specific, I guess you could say I’m a “details” person. I’m in my own head most of the time. It’s alright in there (up there? in here??). Which brings me to what I really want to say: I understand that people (some people) need to categorize others. We’re so threatened by the differences between us: “She doesn’t want kids, they’re gay, she’s got two baby daddies, that one’s REALLY into JESUS…weird, defective, wrong, lazy…blah blah blah”.
Yes, I’m generalizing but I know from experience that it feels pretty crappy to be placed in a box, labeled and sat up on a shelf somewhere or buried down into obscurity, if you prefer. We are not who/what people decide we are. We are what we say and do and feel…we ourselves decide what we are..or aren’t. Let the assholes be who they are and we’ll be who we are. I actually have an incredible amount of empathy for them…the egotistical…self- absorbed, narcissistic…
dickheads souls, because I believe all those traits derive from some kind of pain. The pain of feeling unworthy, invisible, unloved, ashamed…
Yeah I know…nobody gets a pass for being a jerk, Aimee. But accepting that someone is a “jerk” is simpler than wasting energy on said jerk because you can’t know what other people have gone through or are struggling with. You cannot make people “act right”. You don’t live in their head and you really can’t know what they think.
I’ve posted a picture of me with this post because it makes me uncomfortable… because posting a selfie means you are a vain, insecure, self-absorbed jerk. You can put me in that “box” if you like. Your choice. I know who I am and that’s all that matters. I am not what other people decide I am and neither are you. Who am I? I’m a “nobody”, and how you treat a “nobody” will tell you who YOU are.
WE ARE ALL MAKING MISTAKES. I saw that on pinterest or somewhere recently…it was scribbled in crayon or colored pencil or something. Being different and being a
good great person are not mutually exclusive.
I spent quality time with Mac today. He scratched his ear and hurt himself…which means Dr. Mom (hi there) had to treat his booboo and give him lots of hugs…a new pillow for his crate, an extra long walk, and a car ride with the windows down so that he could hang his head out and hopefully let some air at his battered ear.
We stopped for coffee at DD. The drive thru had a line…and there is never a line. I am least patient when not caffienated. Add to that my recently acquired hormonacidal tendencies…it was the longest 8 minutes of my life. The dog started barking during minutes 5 and 8…because the guy in the car behind me was wearing sunglasses…and Mac hates it when people do that on cloudy afternoons…apparently. I like to think the barking moved the line along…at least it broke my concentration…and interrupted the stank eye I was throwing toward the guy in front of us….”what kinda cream cheese ya got?” …”do you have a jalepeeeeeno cheese bagel?”…and I’m the weirdo looking at my dog saying: “THIS fuggin guy”…and no, they do not have jalepeeeeeno cheese bagels.