Category Archives: Personal

Good stuff.

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One thing I’ve learned about myself as time goes by…I write WAY more when I’m down and feeling crappy and bleh and stuff.  When things are going right, I don’t ..well..write.  I guess only one right/write can I handle at any moment.  But I feel kinda remiss about not writing about the rightness, or increase of rightness at least, that’s going on for me.  Especially when I’ve unloaded so much wrongness in this space!

Um…so I’m feelin good.  I smile when I look in the mirror more and more.   I’ve met some really cool people and been strangely emotionally intimate with these relative strangers, and that’s been …ok.  Good even.  I’m starting a business!  oh em gee!!  I’ll probably do a nice little plug on here for it soon, as soon as my website is closer to being done.  So yeah.  Life is good, I’m envisioning my beautiful backyard every day, and soon you will all be invited to feast on my new patio and enjoy the tranquility of it all.  Just wait until you see it, it’s awesome.  I can’t wait 😀

Quit smoking in 15 easy years

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I started smoking when I was 16.  I had a group of friends, and we would all hang out right after school and have a smoke together before we left on our respective busses back home.  As the oldest (I was a year ahead) of most of my friends, and because my last class of the day was a study class (seniors with good grades were allowed this luxury), it fell upon me to walk into town during the last class, buy smokes for everyone, and walk back.  My first cigarette, however, was my dad’s.  I found a forgotten unopened pack of marlboro lights in the back of his car one day, and quietly slipped it in my pocket to satisfy my curiosity at my convenience.  That first cigarette was hilarious; I opened the window in my bedroom and leaned waaaaay out, and smoked that puppy as best as I could.  It was nasty, but it kept giving me these really cool head rushes.  When I was done, I turned around, took one step, and fell flat on my face, totally passed out.  I woke up a few minutes later, and thought “cooool…..”  I had a fascination with altered sensation from then on.

I quit smoking about 3 years ago.  I say about, because I’m not sure of the exact date.  I know it was around thanksgiving, but I don’t remember which year, believe it or not.  That’s because for most people, quitting smoking is something that they plan, it’s a great event, a chance to wrestle control of their lives from the grip of those tiny, innocuous-seeming paper wrapped leaves.  But in my case…I had no say in the matter.  Of course, if I did have a say in the matter, or should I say my *brain* had a say in the matter, then I would’ve been all for it.  If the part of me that was my addiction had a say however…no chance.  Here’s how it happened:

Thanksgiving, 2004? 2005?  We’re at the inlaws, everyone’s making merry, my birthday is coming up which usually puts me in a good mood too, and I’m sick.  Not that big a surprise however, since I usually would get pretty sick around this time of year.  Bronchitis, pneumonia, and the flu where the usual culprits.  I remember the first time I got this kinda sick…it was in 1991 (now how do I remember *that* particular year? )  I remember doing everything in my power to continue smoking through the whole thing, and I managed.  Yay me.  I ended up at the doctor for sure that time.  Anyway, it was looking like either the big B or P.  The inlaws were feeding me lots of irish cream and coffee to soothe my throat, and that was good.  But I really just wanted a cigarette.  However, every time I stepped outside to light up, I would light the cigarette, go to take a drag, and nothing happened.  No air.  Panic!!!!  My lungs just Would.  Not.  Work.  I suspect it would be kind of the same feeling you’d get if you walked into one of those vaccuum chambers, shut the door, sucked every last big of air out of their (and you of course did not explode in the process), and then tried to take a breath.  Again, PANIC!!!  The more likely situation was that the muscles that make my lungs work said “Sorry pal, we’re not workin under these conditions any more.  Period.  So hit the road.”  Ok, I thought, that’s reasonable, I mean I am pretty sick.  And since every time I tried to smoke this happens, I’ll just give it a rest for a day.  I mean…I AM sick and all.

Except it didn’t stop the next day.  Or the day after that.  I started getting better, but every time I thought I might be able to smoke again, the answer was a very loud NO.  The magic three days went by (the amount of time it generally takes for all the nicotine to leave your system) and still no luck.  Physically, my addiction is pretty gone by now, but the pyschological is 1000 times stronger, as all smokers who’ve tried to quit know.  But my lungs were persistent.  They were firm in their conviction.  They were DONE.  A week goes by, then two, and I still just can’t smoke.  It’s getting to the point where I don’t so much mind anymore, since I feel so much better (more so than just the recovery from illness), I have more money in my pocket, and I”m starting to smell what smokers smell like and I don’t like it.

It was nearly a year before my lungs let me take a drag, and only barely at that.  By that time it was pointless…it tasted bad, and I ended up just puffing on them once every six months or so at certain parties.  The mere thought of a deep drag of nicotine smoke still makes my lungs do a cautionary seize, and that combined with a habit I”ve developed of taking a deep breath …a DEEP breath…every time I think of smoking, makes it pretty much a done deal.  Those deep breaths feel glorious.

Retreat!!

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Just came back from a retreat this weekend.  It was really good.  But strangely, I don’t really feel like talking (or virtually talking) about it.  Maybe later.  I think I just need to process everything I learned, everything I took in, before I can share it.  Suffice to say that I spent the weekend working on my values; what they are, and what they mean to me.  It was …good.  There’s four weeks of followup as well, which is nice.  It would be hard to do the kind of inner work that I started this weekend, and then be sort of dumped off at the end with a ‘Good luck!’ and that’s it.  There might even be further opportunities to continue with other groups after that, which I think will be qutie helpful.  And with that … I’ll leave you to ponder exactly what sort of cult I have joined.

A funny thing happened at work today…

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…well actually yesterday.  You see, there’s this person at work.  They have been the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE for nearly two years now.  They go behind my group’s back, second guess everything we do, claim to be an “IT expert” even though they are in a totally non-IT position, and generally makes a huge nuisance of themself.  The kind of person, when they call or email everyone rolls their eyes and says “Oh, great.  It’s so-and-so.”  I’ve gotten to the point, in fact, where I will not even communicate any longer with this person, choosing to hide behind my supervisor (who lets me) and our business analysts (who think they can handle them). 

So what’s funny you ask?  Well..I’ve never met this person.  Not ever.  If I was standing next to them in the grocery line, I’d have not the faintest clue.  Until yesterday, that is.

I get sucked in to THE PROJECT.  I tried to avoid it for as long as I could, but I finally had to buckle down and do the work.  But I got it done.  On time.  Cuz I’m just that good.  Anway…the clients (one of them being this person) wanted to have A MEETING because they were confused over how to use my easy-to-use program.  I was dreading this meeting, because I knew it would be the first time I set eyes on THE NEMESIS, and I was concerned that I would not be able to keep my mouth shut, and I would say something I regretted.  Yeah, this person makes me that angry.  And then…

They were nice.  DAMMIT!!!!  I HATE THAT!!!!  They even gave me a hug and said what a great job I did.  ARGH.  I mean, that doesn’t change the fact that we were manipulated into doing this work, but still…I can’t hate them anymore.  And I’m pissed.

Ok I’m not *really* pissed…just…I knew that would happen.  I knew it.  And I mean, what does that say about our preferred methods of communication now (email, phone, email, text, IM, email)?  So much is lost in the technical translation, that what may very well be innocent or well-meaning or honest communication is so easily colored by interpretation.  It reminded me just how important, how necessary face-to-face communication is.  So next time you want to chat with a friend, or talk to a loved one…do it in person.  You’ll say so much more without saying a single word then you ever could with an email.

Jack’s Back! Well sorta.

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I went to the vet today to pick up Jack.  Jack in a box…forever.  I’d been putting it off for quite a while (see date on prior post), and not just because I still have to pay the 170 bucks that I don’t have (and totally forgot about!  ouch) and I decided I was ready to deal with this next step.  And you know what…I feel better.  It was actually kinda nice.  I mean, he’s in a white cardboard box, taped shut, and I know he’s in a plastic bag inside that box, since Jasper went the same route a year ago, but…he’s back.  He’s back, kinda hanging around the house now (well, on my counter).  I have my Jack Pot all ready to go, and I just need to find a Jack Plant that likes ashy soil (any suggestions?).  He’ll have to stay Jack in the Box until I can find the Jack Plant (this is actually getting kinda fun!) to put in the Jack Pot, but he doesn’t mind.

He’s almost as well behaved as he was before he died!  Just not quite as affectionate.  But still..welcome back Jack!

(Please do not call the local mental services to pick me up.  I’ll be alright.  No really.)

Transition time again

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I am in the middle of my personal transition time.  It comes every year, although some years are more impactful than others.  But every year, between the days of January 6th and January 9th, something, somewhere, happens that affects or will affect me.  For instance:

  • January 6th, 1990 – I get on a train in Boston with all my worldly possessions.
  • January 9th, 1990 – I arrive in Portland, Oregon for the first time.
  • January 6-9th, 1995 – My cat Jack was most likely born sometime around this date.
  • January 6th, 2001 – I met my recent ex.
  • January 9th, 2001 – We have our first date.
  • January 6th, 2006 – My dog Jessie was born.
  • January 6th, 2007 – I begin to recover from a crippling, soul numbing bout of depression.

I know there’s more, and it started with that train trip.  The pattern didn’t emerge until later, although for the first 5-6 years I would always remember on those days, that fateful train trip.  Something happened to me on that trip – I knew that within a few months – and it changed me.  I felt a shift in my psyche during that trip, I felt more grounded, more in touch, more thoughtful, more …aware.  And apparently the ripples of that experience are still…well, rippling.  Ever since I stopped consciously commemorating those few days, those days things happen to me.  Not every year, not that I can tell, but they’re usually good.

So the short version is….I’m feeling better.  Maybe it’s because I started working out a few days a week.  Maybe it’s because I’ve had good friends call me and say hey I want to hang out with you, just because, and we stole a wicked cool ash tray from a place called Chopsticks III .

Or maybe…it’s the power of those four days. 
I think it’s both.

For Jack.

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On Monday, my best friend died.  He was my best boy, my good sweet boy, and I miss him terribly.  No other friend, four footed or two, was as gentle, loving, or giving as he was, and everyone he met smiled just a bit more after spending time with him.  In honor of him, I offer these remembrances of his life.

I remember the first day we met.  You were the last kitten at the Alley Kat pet store at Jantzen Beach.  I watched you playing in the little display, just having a grand ole time all by yourself.  I handed over my 70 bucks to buy you.  They were out of pet carriers, so they put you in an empty cricket box, and you meowed the whole way out to the car.  Once we were in the car, I let you out because your crying was breaking my heart, it was so pathetic.  You proceeded to climb up to my left shoulder, and there is where you stayed whenever we drove anywhere, until you were too big to fit.  I wanted a unique, exotic name for you, but every time I tried to think of one, the name “Jack” would pop into my head.  “Jack?  Nah that’s too boring” I kept thinking, but no other name would come.  So Jack is what I named you.  It was the perfect name for you.

I remember you and Sam working together to raid the cat treats, which I kept in a closet 6 feet off the ground.  Now that was absolutely amazing.  I’m glad I could catch you in the act.

I remember you being a master at catching flying things.  Bugs, birds, it didn’t matter.  Your first effort, however, was a fly…and you missed.  I’m glad I got pictures of that.

I remember you hopping sideways like a little halloween cat, all bristling tail and arched back, when we would play.

I remember you climbing in between the blanket and the sheet while I was sleeping, and then pounce on my feet with your sharp little kitten claws..ouch!!

I remember you introducing me to all my neighbors, whether or not I wanted to, by inviting yourself into their houses.  I loved that about you.

I remember you patiently letting Tori pounce on your tail repeatedly while you where sleeping, and the only thing you did when you had enough is just stalk away somewhere where she wouldn’t see you.  You were the gentlest big brother I’ve ever seen.  You were gentle with all the little ones. 

I remember I could pick you up and drop you into anyone’s arms, and you’d give them a big purr, a head butt and a kiss on the nose (sometimes).  But you always had one for me. 

I remember you making the vet’s office your own, along with the hearts of everyone who worked there.

I remember you sleeping in the grass near that old barn, and all the barn swallows whose nest I caught you raiding were dive bombing your head to drive you away, and you slept right through it.

I remember the catnip play fighting you and Sam always had.  And you always won.

I remember taking you for walks around NW Portland.  With no leash.  You would just follow me whereever I went, and if you strayed behind I would just call you and you’d come running.

And lots of times you’d follow me when I didn’t want you to, like the time I was having lunch at the restaurant down the street from my house, and you nearly got hit by a car trying to cross the street when you saw me.  Everyone who was eating lunch outside at that restaurant yelled out when you stepped off the curb, it was that close.

I remember I would put a little black bowtie around your neck at parties, and you’d happily greet everyone as they came in.

I remember how you would always be there for me.  No matter what.  Ever.  You were always ready to snuggle and kiss my nose, even for 5 minutes.  Or 5 hours.  Even if you’d just finished eating.

I remember letting a 2 year old carry you around.  And you let her.  You didn’t have to.

I wish I could remember more.  I wish I could’ve taken better care of you.  I’m so sorry.  I hope you forgive me.  If anyone deserves to be in a better place now, it’s you.  You will always be in my heart.  I miss you, Jack, and I will always.

Now that the triptophan has worn off…

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What I’m thankful for:

1. I have the dog I always wanted.  I just didn’t realize what I was asking for! 😀

2. My friends.  I have some of the best friends on the planet, bar none.  Period.  They may not always be there, we may have our moments where we disagree, or our lives are just misfiring, but that’s why I have more than one friend.  They all seem to take up each other’s slack.

3. My job.  As much as I complain and bitch and moan about how much it sucks, it’s still a damn good job.  Far better than many people I know.

4. My house.  This has been a long time coming.  I’ve dreamed all my life of owning my own house (ok not really all my life, but mostly since I’ve been in apartments).  I finally have a place of my own, that no one can take from me as long as I make my payments.  No one, ever.  I have final say in everything that happens, and no one has the right or the place to second guess me.  That is a mixed blessing, since now no one else is responsible for this property, but it’s worth it.

5. My family.  It’s not a bad family.  There are people in it I’m proud of, and people in it I’m not.  But they’ve known me longer than anyone, and that feels kinda good when you can sit and reminisce about stuff that no one else but the group of you remembers.

6. My mind.  Not that I’m smart, or witty, or even considerate or anything.  But I always am questioning.  Always.  And while that can lead me into trouble, I don’t often find myself second guessing myself.  But I am always questioning my direction, my motives, my desires, to make sure I’m on the right path, whatever that may be.

7. The universe.  It knows what the fuck it’s doing, even if I usually don’t, and remembering that always makes everything else better.  I just may not like what the plans are for me, but this life is not about me…it’s about the universe.  I learned that we’re here for one purpose, and one purpose alone: to live and love.  Learning from your past is just a bonus.

That’s a pretty good list.  There are many things I find lacking in it, but then my standards are way high sometimes.  Most of the things I find missing are things I find missing in myself, not in my life, and only because I’m not 100% sure of those things; like integrity, honesty and compassion.  I think I could have more of those things in my character.  And about 30 pounds less fat.  But no one’s perfect 😀

Home sweet home

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I flew to Boston today to spend Thanksgiving with my family – my brother and his wife, and my mom.  It was a rough flight; a disturbing red eye from pdx to ny, layover in ny for about 2 hours and then a short hop to boston.  I was not too keen on the idea that I had to have a layover just so I could take a 45 minute flight from ny to boston, but a funny thing happened.

I landed in ny about 40 minutes late, stepped out of the plane and into JFK international, one of two airports in new york.  NYC, my hometown.  A place I haven’t been to since 1998, well before September 11th and all its insanity.  I stepped foot in my hometown, and felt my heart break.  At the same time, it felt good to be home, even tho it was in an airport I don’t remember ever stepping foot in (I think we always went to LaGuardia) and I was only there for about half an hour.

So to start off my next blog post…I’m thankful I had a layover in NY today.