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While talking on the phone, my sister says to me, “You know what’s sad?  When Alice starts to eat, she’ll probably have a more sophisticated palate than you.”

When Chris came to visit me at the beginning of November, she brought a battery operated red clock to put on the wall in our kitchen.  She spends a lot of time in the kitchen at her house, and she couldn’t fathom how we could live without a clock in ours.  I had told her before that we use the clock on the coffee maker or our cell phones which are never far from reach.  Plus, we do not spend a lot of time in the kitchen in general.  However, she doesn’t keep her cell phone near her, and she needs something which displays the time very visibly.  I don’t, because clocks taunt me.  It’s a difference of preference.

Anyway, she brought one with her.  She was quick to point out that it’s battery operated, so it doesn’t run up our electric bill.  (We are dictatorial about that sort of thing.  We only keep certain appliances plugged in constantly; everything else gets plugged and unplugged as needed.)  It made her happy, so we let her put it up in our kitchen.

This clock has the loudest tick tock ever.  Really.  It goes TICK! TOCK! TICK! TOCK!

I am pretty sure this clock was the inspiration behind The Tell-Tale Heart.  In fact, I think it may have even inspired The Raven.  The TICK! TOCK! was just too annoying to encompass in one story, so he let it carry over into another story and instead of ticking, he decided to make it tapping, and instead of a clock, he made it a raven.

And it is in my kitchen.  It has lost none of its potency.  It annoys me enough as is, but when Jessica and the cats were gone in New Jersey from Tuesday evening until yesterday afternoon?  I really thought I was going to lose it and break something, preferably that darn clock.  Now, I know the obvious solution was to take the clock down and turn it off, but I was so far from logical, I had used my passport, crossed the pond, jumped ship halfway and swam down to Antarctica to chill with the penguins.

The obvious solution to me at the time was to get out of the apartment as much as humanly possible.  I made plans every day, and when I didn’t have plans, I tried to sleep or I went for a walk.  Worst case scenario, I listened to music with my headphones on.  In my bedroom, away from the kitchen.  With my fan on.

It seemed to work.

The clock is still up, mostly because I would feel bad about taking it down.  It’s annoying, but it’s at least tolerable most of the time.  Even when Jessica isn’t here, the cats usually are, so I don’t feel so much like I’m home alone.  Now they’re all back, and the clock doesn’t make me crazy anymore.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m glad they’re all back.  I’ve sort of missed them.

Remember when I wrote about the startling absence of Quaker strawberries ‘n’ cream oatmeal and asked Quaker to remedy this matter?  Well, today my unspoken prayers were answered.  My friend Christine and I went to Wal-Mart today, and while we were walking through the cereal aisle, my eye caught “strawberries ‘n’ cream,” and I said, “REALLY?”  So, I stopped, and what did I see before me but a whole! box! of Quaker strawberries ‘n’ cream oatmeal.  So, I grabbed two boxes.  I might’ve quickly hugged them to my chest and then put them in the cart.  Christine pointed out that I would have never known they were they if we hadn’t randomly gone down that particular aisle, and she is absolutely right.  It was incredibly fortuitous.  That was easily the highlight of my day.  What can I say?  The little things make me happy.

I normally try to stay on top of my to-do list.  In general, my attitude is one of flexible inflexibility, meaning that I must have a plan, but if I do not follow it to the T then I am ok with that.  I can work with schedule changes; I just need a schedule.  I always leave room for the possibility of things not getting completed, because not everything is important.  For example, getting through my entire feed reader every day or writing a letter or tidying up my desk area are usually not tasks which rate highly on my list.  They’re the floaters; they get done when they get done, and I’ll just be happy that they do at some point.

However, I’m sort of at this point where most of what I have on my to-do list is minor or something done over time.  I don’t have the particular school-related tasks.  I have the whole resume thing to do, and I’m working on it, but everything else is largely, well, not of the important stuff.  Writing a post, returning overdue emails, writing overdue letters, reading, writing, &c.  So, I’ve noticed that I’ve been dragging my feet on it all.  My feed reader hasn’t been touched in days, and it’s getting to the point that I’m afraid to open it up.  I’ve been trying to get through a book, and I like the book, but I’m still just so exhausted from everything.  I’m so used to operating on the “only do what needs to be done” philosophy that I feel like all the little things have accumulated to the point of being overwhelming, and I’ve been dealing with them by putting them off even longer.  It doesn’t help that I’ve been a lot busier lately too, at least socially.  So when I’ve been home, I’ve just wanted to relax, but then that to-do list begins haunting me like a raven at my chamber door, and I do not like it.

I’m trying to again commit to the philosophy that it doesn’t matter when it gets done so long as it eventually does, but it’s difficult when faced with a schedule not containing the be-all, end-all sort of stuff.  I’m working on it, though.  Slowly but surely, I’m working on it.

1. So.  23.  Still dubious.

2. My brother is the current Vice President/President elect of the Rotary Club where he lives.  When he called me on my birthday and sang me a high-pitched, ear-bleeding rendition of “Happy Birthday” on Tuesday, he asked me what time I was getting in on 22 December.  I told him I’d be getting in at 7:45 in the evening, and he told me the Rotary Club had planned to sing Christmas carols in a nursing home (or several?) on the 22nd but that he was going to try to convince them to do it the 23 so I could participate.  I’m sure I looked like the Cheshire Cat with the smile that brought on.  He never asked me, he just knew that’d be something I’d like to do.

3. When I talked to my sister on my birthday, I asked her what my surprise was.  I then properly pointed out that it is considered rude to deny the birthday girl requests on her birthday.  My sister whined, “I know!”  I really wanted to laugh.  I could picture the exact expression on her face, the one where she’s stumped because she knows she’s hit a dead end but doesn’t like it and is struggling with admitting that.  However, I didn’t make her tell me.  I figured that’d be cheating, and while I’m ok with that in this particular instance, I’m confident that I’ll be able to weasel it out of her without her being able to claim that she had no choice.  Read: I’m arrogant.  I’m also really enjoying the effort she’s expending trying to actually keep a secret.  It makes me smile.  I’d like to prolong it for a bit longer.

4. I didn’t have any plans whatsoever for Thanksgiving a week ago.  However, two invitations fell into my lap within the past week, and I ended up attending two Thanksgivings–one yesterday and one today.  Both were lovely and enjoyable affairs.  I’m very grateful to my hosts for their hospitality and cheer.

5. For the Thanksgiving yesterday, I met up with a friend for a 9 am Mass in the city requiring me to awake and leave at Early O’Clock.  I went back to her apartment with her to help chop up food for her stuffing.  I’m no good in the kitchen, and I made sure this was abundantly clear beforehand.  I had difficulty chopping up the parsley, first with which part of the parsley to chop and then actually chopping the leaves.  She had washed the parsley, and wet parsley?  Not the easiest to chop.  I got frustrated, and I kept frantically yelling, “IT’S CLINGING.  THE PARSLEY IS CLINGY AND CODEPENDENT AND I DON’T LIKE IT.”  While she laughed.  And laughed.  Then I huffed and gave the reigns over to her, because I had had enough of that.  The apple proved to be much easier.  When asked how big to chop the pieces, my friend responded with, “Well, just think about what size of apple would be pleasing to eat.”  The wording struck me as funny.  So later, after taking a bite of stuffing, I looked at her and said quite seriously, “Why, that was one pleasing piece of apple.”

6. I may have told my sister and my brother-in-law that I would babysit Alice over Christmas while I’m home.  I actually called dibs on baby duty on Christmas months ago.  Now that it’s approaching…well, I’m scared.  We’re talking only a notch or two below “CLOWN” on the fear-o-meter.  I’ve never held a baby.  I’ve never really handled a baby, but I am somewhat roused to confidence with the reminder that cavemen did it, so it can’t be that difficult.  Plus, cavemen didn’t have Google.  Or 911.  But still.  I know next to nothing about babies beyond the fact that they seem to be able to smell fear (that’s why they like me; they prey on the weak).  I told my sister I’d be fine, because I know that I’ll help save her a little money in childcare and I HAVE to be, but I’m not entirely certain that one or both of us won’t be curled up in a ball crying on the floor.  Actually, she’ll probably be rolling over and giggling and I’ll be in the corner rocking back and forth eating my hair.

7. So, in effort to man up for my duties in caring for Alice, I decided to use my friends’ baby as a guinea pig.  It was their idea, actually (Hi, Christine!).  They asked me if I wanted to change Tess’ diaper.  I just rolled with it.  I tried not to think about it.  I watched the first time, but then I did it the next two times.  That’s right, two.  I’m really proud of myself.  Granted, they weren’t messy diapers, but it’s still a huge amount of progress.  It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t leak, and I’m guessing that’s probably an important piece of criteria.  I feel ever so slightly less frightened about the whole thing.  I’m at least fairly confident that I won’t go running when someone tries to hand me my niece now.  Mostly.  I think.  I mean, I probably won’t.  I might slowly back away, but I’d probably get over it in a few seconds and then slowly approach the sleeping lion.  Possibly.  Most likely.  It’s completely normal to love someone and fear them at the same time, right?  Maybe?

Or at least she would if my sister had remembered to send me pictures this week, but being that she had a lot going on, and since I delayed Alice Thursday last week, I suppose I can let her off the hook this time.  If it’s any consolation, I heard Alice squawk, “MAH!  MEH!  MOH MAAAAAAY!”  I actually think that looks like an attempt at “HAH PEH BOH DAAAAAY!”  I like to think she was wishing me a belated happy birthday, but it could also be, “HAH PEH TOHKAAAAAAY!”  (read: happy turkey)  Clearly, this kid knows what’s up.

Anyway, I hope all of you had a fantastic Thanksgiving.  I definitely did.  And for those of you in other nations, I hope you had a good Thursday.  Uhm.  God save the Queen!

My sleep has been pretty messed up since last week.  I finally gave in and took a sleeping pill late this morning.  It’s been awhile since I’ve taken something, so it hit me pretty hard.  I’ve been really groggy since I woke up, and my limbs and my head feel disconnected from the rest of my body.  It’s a weird sensation.  It’s also coupled with intense fatigue.  I know I need to sleep more, and I will, because I need to wake up at early o’clock tomorrow anyway, but since tomorrow is going to be a very busy day and will probably only include a perfunctory “Happy Thanksgiving!,” I thought that I’d go ahead and post about all the things I’m thankful for today.

  • Alice I initially wrote family, but I feel as if Alice is deserving of her own list.  She’s the newest addition, and I couldn’t be more thankful that she is.  I’m thankful for every moment I get to hear her sweet little voice over the phone.  I’m thankful for every picture.  I’m thankful for what she’s done for my beautiful sister.  I’m thankful for every milestone, every giggle, every coo and every scream.  Mostly, though, I’m thankful for her.
  • Family I love them even when I don’t particularly like them. I am most especially thankful for my siblings and, in particular, the closeness which my sister and I have recently developed.  I’ve spent years praying for it, and I’m thankful for every day for the hurdles we’ve crossed and the distance we’ve come.  I am also thankful for my brother-in-law.  He’s also a new member of the family, and I’m looking forward to spending some time with him over Christmas.  He’s a pretty neat guy.  I think I’ll keep him.
  • Friends I am grateful for all of my friends, as well as–and, in some ways, especially–those that I have met through my blog.  I still find myself amazed by the friendships that I manage to strike up through my insignificant space in cyberspace.  The love and support from friends help make the trials and ordeals I experience infinitely more tolerable.
  • Jessica ‘Nough said.
  • Sleep I have learned to cherish what I can get, when I can get it.  I often complain about the little I get, but knowing what it can be like with none at all, I’m thankful even for that small amount.  Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’ll stop complaining anytime in the near future… (kidding!, sort of)
  • My thesis being submitted I don’t think this needs any elaboration.
  • Having a roof over my head and food in my stomach Living in a city with such a high homeless population really makes you thankful for the small things, especially in this economy.  Things could be so much worse, but at the end of the night, I have everything and more that I absolutely need.
  • My faith Sometimes I get distracted by all the little things, but at the end of the day, God is there patiently awaiting me.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout the years, it’s that no matter how many times I turn my back on God, whether it be for five hours, five days, five months or five years, God will always be waiting for me with His arms open.  Always.  That kind of constancy and love are the kind worth waking up in the morning for.

I kept the list short, because you are probably busy preparing for the holiday.  If you feel like sharing what you are thankful for, feel free.  Or, if you already made such a similar list on your blog, please feel free to drop me the link so I can take a look.  (I may have you on my feed reader, but I am majorly behind–WEEKS, actually–so unless you feel like having me comment a week or two from now when I’m finally caught up, posting a link would be good.)

I turned 23 today.  I’m still not sure how I feel about it.  I mean, I was just 22, and 22 is a great age; it’s a palindrome, so how could it not be?  Then to move to 23… well, let’s just say that I’m not too trusting of prime numbers.  Plus, Blink-182 says no one likes you when you’re 23, and that’s kind of disheartening.  (Warning: Facetiousness, Will Robinson.)  Thus far, I’m not keen on the age, but I’m going to give it the benefit of the doubt.

Once of the gifts my roommate gave me for my birthday is a gift card to B&N.  I thought I knew what book I wanted to purchase with it (still leaving money left over for another one), but after telling my brother that I was thinking of taking his advice to read a particular book, he said, “You can just read my copy when you come home.”  And I mentally huffed, because while that is a good point, that leaves me clueless as to which book(s) to buy.  There are just so. many. options.  If I don’t decide, I’ll be hiding that gift card for months trying to decide what to purchase, because I will want everything.  Also, if the book he suggested is good, then I’ll want my own copy.  I’m all about the sharing, but not so much when it comes to my books.  So, now I am torn.  Ideas, people?

I was going to post more, but I am very exhausted, and I figure that since it’s my birthday, I reserve the right to post or not post whatever I want.  If you disagree, save it for tomorrow.

Time’s on My Side

It’s something I’ve realized on a factual level, and it’s something which people have reminded me, yet I still haven’t fully grasped the meaning of my thesis being submitted.  In my mind, I immediately remind myself that I still have my oral defense on 14 December.  So, you know, I’m not in the clear yet.  I have to pass, and if I do, I am certain there will be changes they require me to make before formally submitting it to the grad school and graduate.  These are hurdles.  Yet, with all that, I’m essentially done, or I am at least as finished as I can possibly be right now.

I know that means that I’m more or less free for once.  I’m free to do the things I want to do, the things which I’ve not really done in years, the things I’ve always wanted to do but never had the opportunity to–heck–even the things I don’t really have any desire to do.  The point is this: I can do them all.

That’s overwhelming.  I mean, I’ve lived the past eight years with my eye on the prize.  Everything I’ve done was to get me to this point.  I was often a merciless dictator to myself.  I pushed myself until there was nothing left, and then I somehow extracted more.  I tightened my self-control beyond what was necessary simply because I reasoned that if I could bump my performance from “good” to “great” then it was worth it irregardless of effort expended.  I only ever cared about the end product.  So, I often denied myself personal pleasures for the greater good.

No, really.  That’s the way I think.  Tyrant, remember?

I pushed myself.  I graduated college in three years rather than four, and I went straight into a one-year graduate program.  I would’ve had my MA the day that I would have originally gotten my BA.  Of course, that didn’t happen, because my health more or less waved the white flag and told me to slow down.  So, I finished this semester instead.  All in all, though, I’m finishing way ahead of the curve.  That’s what I wanted.

And now that I’m here?  I’m so clueless.  The world is my oyster and all that, and I don’t know what to do with it.  It still hasn’t hit me on a personal level.  I’ve spent so much time cultivating myself for specific purposes that I really have difficulty seeing my existence in any other light.  It’s not easy for me to think in terms of things that I want to do or could do for the fun of it that yield me nothing more than joy.  I feel as if they should serve a higher purpose.  Even when I allow myself fun now, it’s usually in terms of providing me with something–clarity, ideas, a more relaxed mind so that I can work, progress towards my dream, furthering my relationship with someone else, &c.  I can’t remember ever really doing a single thing that was merely for the sheer joy of it with no ulterior motive behind it.

That actually kind of scares me.  I don’t expect that my mindset will drastically change anytime soon.  If I can even just get to the point where I view everything as a means to a more sane and happy Lindsay who can handle the demands of everything better then I’ll be happy.  I mean, after all, if that’s the way I think, then that’s just fine; I have no issue working with what I’ve got, even if it means seeing something the same way and calling it something else.  That’s ok by me.  However, it is something I would like to work on, because I know that I would huff and puff and blow someone’s house down if I saw someone I cared about doing the things I do.  That behavior would just piss me right the heck off.  So, I figure that if I would react differently toward the situation if I wasn’t the one involved then there’s probably something wrong with the way I regard my own involvement.  Maybe.  Perhaps.  Merhaps.

The problem, though, is that I just don’t know what to do with all the time.  I know that I’m going to try to dedicate my efforts to that whole sleep thing.  That seems like a good starting place.  I’m also going to work on dedicating more time to reading and writing, because I haven’t had a chance to do either for fun in a long time, and I know that both of those are near and dear to my heart.  Beyond that?  I don’t know.  I used to enjoy art quite a bit when I was younger, and I’ve thought about maybe getting back into that.  I also like photography even though I’ve received no training on it and, in all likelihood, probably shouldn’t be allowed to touch a camera.  It could be something that’s personally rewarding, though.  I’m straining my mind trying to think of the things that I used to enjoy doing, or to make a list of things that I think I might like to try to do, and I’m coming up blank.

It’s frustrating.  I keep asking myself, “Have I always been quite so boring, or is this a recent development?”  Then I have to remind myself that it’s because, hey!, I’m the sort of brutal dictator oppressed nations fear, and, oh, fun was not put on that frighteningly detailed planner.  Maybe I would have more of an idea if I had ever let myself go.

BUT! we’re not going to go there, because I am resolved to not beat myself up over this.  If I let myself, I know I will, and that accomplishes nothing, because the past is the past.  This is an area I think being a no-nonsense tyrant might actually be a good thing.  No beating myself up over the past.

After all, now I’ve plenty of time to pursue this further.  Research for the cultivation of a happier Lindsay, if you will.

Retreating into the Truth

I was essentially awake for about eighty hours.  Last night, after the women’s retreat, it was about 8:30 and I was wide awake.  Knowing motion tends to make me sleepy, I thought that instead of going straight home I would ride the subway for a while to see if that would help matters.  I rode back and forth a few times on the red line (it’s about an hour from the beginning to the end of the line).  Unfortunately, that didn’t really seem to help matters, but it did give me a lot of time to think over the happenings of the day and time to observe a lot of people.  I happen to enjoy both activities quite a bit.

I was thinking back on the day, and my attention kept going to the last hours of the retreat, because we had eight priests come in for Confession and they also had Adoration.  While these normally occur during our weekend retreats, these are not normal occurrences for a day-long women’s retreat.  This was the first time, and I was ridiculously excited.

I happen to love Confession–I mean, in what other situation can you air the very worst about yourself and have someone not only forgive you, but remind you how precious and loved you are?–and Adoration, so to say that I was looking forward to both would be an understatement.  I think I was particularly joyed over the matter because I have been dragging my feet about going to Confession since I’ve had so much going on, so it’s been much longer than I’d like since I last went.  As for Adoration, well, the Catholic Center at BU usually does Adoration on Thursday nights when RCIA is occurring, so I never get to go unless I go on a retreat or go to a different parish.  I don’t exactly have all the free time in the world to go to a different parish, though, because when I come into the city, I always come for a particular purpose.  So, I was pretty much feeling like I had won the lottery.

I thought about a music video we had watched that was particularly meaningful to me on a personal level, and I found myself tearing up over some things that I haven’t allowed myself to cry over in a very long time.  I prayed and thought while I worked on an Examination of Conscience to prepare for Confession.  After a while, the emotional dam I allowed to be opened became overwhelming for me, I think because I had only slept an hour the night before after not sleeping for two days straight.  I was in the ball room which was where the Blessed Sacrament was presented and Confession was occurring, and I just needed to get out.  I couldn’t tell you why I needed to get out, but I knew it sure as my name that I needed to get out of that room right then and there.  I needed air, I needed coffee, I needed to not lose the tight hold I kept over everything that was threatening to bubble to the surface.

I left the room and quickly walked over to the coffee and poured myself a cup.  I chugged it down and ran my hand through my hair and then over my face.  I quickly calmed myself down, by which point a girl in my small group in RCIA was walking by and came over.  She pulled me into a tight hug and thanked me for what I do.  I was completely taken aback.  I want to help people and be there for them, but I’ve never been particularly good at taking a compliment.  I get embarrassed and end up staring at my feet and turning red.  I don’t often get complimented, and I never know what to say when I am, because I often want to argue that I’m not as deserving of whatever label or praise I’m being given.  I know that to do so would be rude, though; after all, it is not easy for someone to humble themselves enough to raise someone else up, and I don’t want people thinking that I am not unbelievably flattered and grateful for their kind words.  So, I sort of stuttered my thanks and just hugged her back with everything I had, because those words meant so very much to me.

I was sidelined by three other young women, all completely accidental.

One knew that I hadn’t slept in a while and asked me if I was ok as she walked by where I was standing, and we sat down and talked about a lot of stuff–Issues, if you please.  We shared our stories, which turned out to be surprisingly similar; we talked about our pain and our coping and our healing and our continued struggles.  We talked about things we don’t normally share with people, much less someone we don’t know very well, and neither of us really knew the other but for having seen each other around a few times and knowing one another’s names.  Although, granted, she knows far more of me than I knew of her.  But still.  We talked for a long time.  At the end, we hugged and thanked each other for sharing our story, because sometimes it’s just nice to talk to someone who gets it.  That does wonders for healing, and it reminds you that you’re not alone.

One was on the floor of a bathroom stall throwing up in the toilet.  The poor thing was all alone.  Everyone else was in the ball room doing Confession or Adoration.  She was on her knees on the cold tile floor suffering all by herself.  I asked her if she was all right, got her to splash some water on her face and went to go get her a mint after she was finished.  I rubbed her back a little and gave her a gentle hug, and then we left the bathroom together to head back and join the festivities.

One was curled into herself crying.  I know her, and I would consider her a friend of mine.  I don’t know why she was crying, and I didn’t ask–that wasn’t what she needed from me–I just wrapped my arms around her and held onto her like my life depended upon it.  I wiped the tears from her cheek with my thumb and I kissed her forehead while I rubbed her back.  Then I hugged her again and held her for a few minutes.  I don’t know what was bothering her, but she came up to me later and hugged me  saying, “Thank you,” over and over again.

By the time I made it back I had missed Confession and Touching of the Garments.  The host was being put away from Adoration as I walked in.  I was crushed.  I missed the best parts of the retreat!

I thought about this while I was sitting on the subway for those hours before I went home, and in the midst of my haze of sleep deprivation, a singular surprisingly lucid thought broke through.  “You were exactly where you needed to be.  You missed nothing.”

And, you know what?  I absolutely believe that.  And I am so thankful for that.

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