Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The playground

Living in New York is a lot like attending a large liberal arts college. There are always new experiences, opportunities and expressions of life around you that are completely backward from how you grew up. Everywhere you turn, political protests, group meetings ripe for the attending, concerts at places that were before unheard of and the local bar hosting karaoke on Thursdays with half-price booze all clamor for our attention. Sometimes, I feel like a perpetual freshman, trying to navigate my way through a city that has a seemingly never-ending bulletin board of things to do.
In the same breath, being a perpetual freshman in New York also presents the hope of things yet unseen and experiences yet unhad. Walking down the street isn't just walking down the street here, it's an allowance for adventure. The 'unknown' caramelizes into anticipation for something we don't even know exists yet, which makes our days sweeter.
That hopeful anticipation is something we should never leave behind, because when we do, this will just be a big city rather than what it actually is: a playground for freshmen.

The point is the rebound

Have you ever wondered why sportscasters place so much value in the number of rebounds a basketball players has? It's because the rebound is necessary for the next big play to happen. The rebound is, perhaps, the most important part of the game because without it, you continue to get scored on. In order to win, you've got to rebound well.
I wish people would consider the basketball game when they are going through a rough patch. We all fall into slumps and we find ourselves feeling less-than, but there's value in the rebound. Not in an RRR (relationship-related-rebound...duh), but in a real life way. The strength and force of our rebound is what is going to propel us into position to make that next big play. It also sets us up for what's coming next.
So rebound well and win this. I know you can.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

I was still speaking

I had dinner with an interrupter.
What started as a pleasant conversation became a fight to get your words heard and I'm sorry to report that I did not win this battle. Actually, I forfeited the battle because I couldn't get past the fact that this person wouldn't stop interrupting everyone. And not just interrupting, but talking over the top of us as well.
At first, I was irritated but thought she was just trying to finish her thought. Then she did it to me. Game on.
I kept talking. Louder. And so did she. Fine, we'll call it a tie until I have something else I'd like to over to the "conversation."
That time came and this time, not only did I speak loudly, but I used emphatic arm movements to convey that it was I that was speaking and that people should pay attention to what I was saying. What did she do? She just started singing.
Are you kidding me with this? Am I not in on the joke? Is this normal behavior?
That's when I gave up. Once you've had a Celine-Dion-arms moment and nothing's come of it, it's hard to come back from that.
So I had dinner with an interrupter, and I didn't enjoy it.While the food may have been delicious, the company left a bad taste in my mouth. 

Friday, September 14, 2012

I will sell this house today

What do you do when you feel less-than?
It's not really a rhetorical question. I'm actually asking. What do you do when you feel less-than?
As much as I'm just a big ball of insecurities, I rarely feel less-than. I've got a pretty good grasp on who I am, what I like, who I want to surround myself with and where I'm headed. But it only takes that one moment of unexpected anxiety to knock the wind of our my sails completely and I end up a heap somewhere, trying to regain my composure and convince myself that I actually will 'sell this house today.'
You may not know that reference. It's from American Beauty. Annette Bening is a realtor and she's mind-over-mattering her bleak situation by telling herself she will sell this house.She doesn't.
I didn't either this week. Sadly, it's ended up like it ends in the film, slapping the hell out of my face, angry that I couldn't sell my metaphorical house. I know I'm not alone in this. We all have times when we give it all we've got and it doesn't seem to measure up. We even all have moments of surreal discouragement that take us by surprise, mostly because we think we're immune to that sort of thing. Like I said, I've got a pretty good grasp and I don't tend to let the little things screw with me. But this time, for some reason...
So I regroup. Take a minute. Stop moving forward for long enough to put what's around me currently in focus. Then we will see. I'm not less-than, no matter who or what may try to convince me otherwise. But while my mind may know that, matter hasn't caught up yet. But it will. Because unlike Carolyn, I will actually sell this house.