Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop to look around once in awhile you could miss it.
Matthew Broderick as Ferris Buller
Posts Tagged: humor
16
Feb 10
More On Distractions…
I got distracted by these plump little fairy godmothers. Jenny set them up for Rita, and I fell in love with their sweetness.
If I hadn’t managed to get a bunch of stuff crossed off the list, I’d have walked by these little sweeties, without a second glance. Because I got some things done, my brain was clear, and open to seeing new things. I’m always telling the kids that they will more enjoy a good time, if they get the chores out of the way, first. (Plus, if they get the jobs done, they won’t have to listen to me harping at them.)
And then I was thinking about getting ‘chores’ done on a larger scale. If we attempt to really deal with the big uncomfortable stuff, the good stuff won’t be over-shadowed. We can continue to go through life, avoiding the major problems, and missing the magical little details; or we can try to deal with those issues, and free ourselves up for more of life’s sweetness. It’s one thing to be bothered by a clogged sink drain, it’s another to be weighed down by the major problems in a relationship. Can we afford to ignore those problems? How much sweetness are we missing out on, when we walk around carrying the weight of a failed relationship?
14
Feb 10
Be Your Own Valentine
I was going to work on my taxes today. I was going to try to unclog my bathroom sink. I played all day yesterday, so I’m feeling like I’m supposed to be productive and accomplish something today. (As if spending a wonderful day enjoying the company of my kids isn’t productive.)
Then I remembered, “It’s Valentine’s Day!!”
*sigh*
I don’t have anything insightful to say about Valentine’s Day. If you’d like a chuckle to go with your obligatory box of chocolates, then check out a previous post on narcissism and gift-giving.
Enjoy this quote on love, or this one, too. Continue reading →
13
Feb 10
Narcissism Pisses Me Off
Today we skied like we could be Olympic contenders – in our dreams. We laughed, inhaled fresh mountain air, and got that really good tired. Then we came home and made fajitas, sat by the fire and watched amazing athletes compete on T.V.
It was a stellar day.
Why am I so agitated?
In the last few days, I’ve gotten emails from a woman who is agonizing over the chaos in her daughter’s life. Her daughter divorced a narcissistic man five years ago, and this man is still making her daughter’s life a living hell.
I’ve gotten an email from another woman who found the courage to leave her narcissistic husband, but she doubts her decision on a daily basis, because this man continually tells her that she’s making a monumental mistake. Continue reading →
11
Feb 10
Come And Tell Me Why Yer Leavin’ Me
The first time I set foot in our little house, I got teary. Granted, I wasn’t very emotionally stable at the time. I had decided to leave my husband. I had been living at my mom’s for a couple months. I had to get my kids settled, and the weight of the transition was heavy on me. The realtor unlocked the maroon door and we stepped into the open living room/dining room area. I took one look at the wood stove, glanced at the dark red walls in the kitchen, and I knew it would be our home.
I always wanted a wood stove at Mark’s house. I’m always cold, and I wear layers, even in summer. We deal with a lot of winter, and a wood stove provides a comfort that you don’t get from an electric blanket or forced air heat, or a narcissistic husband. Besides, I love the ritualistic aspects of burning wood. There’s the physical labor of finding and cutting and hauling and stacking the wood. And there’s the continual feeding of the fire. Will and I even cleaned our chimney this year. I don’t care that it’s messy. I love the smell as much as the warmth. It’s basic to survival. It connects me to the process of life.
Mark doesn’t like burning with wood because it’s messy, smelly, and hard to control.
__________
It was our first winter here, and I jumped up to put another log in the wood stove. Without realizing I was doing it, I started singing a song from my college days. Continue reading →
10
Feb 10
Narcissism and Lack of Awareness
I am writing at the purple table. I reach for a sip of coffee and kick the cat.
I did not kick her on purpose.
I’ve already mentioned that we live with the world’s most patient cat. She is affectionate and loving, and she likes my ankles.
I sit at the table, right leg crossed over left, writing, answering questions, breaking up fights, sipping coffee, and writing some more. Invariably, I have to get up to fix or get or find something, and when I do, I pick up my right leg. When I lift my leg to get off the chair, my foot comes up and kicks Nina.
I usually catch her in the ribs. Continue reading →
9
Feb 10
Bedtime Tonic
A good gulp of hot whiskey at bedtime — it’s not very scientific but it helps.
Alexander Fleming
4
Feb 10
His Narcissism and Her Restlessness
She pulls up every day at about 11:30 in the morning. She parks her new car next to the park across the street from our house. She gets out and immediately lights up a cigarette. Her clothes have a kind of urban style. Maybe she’s a professional of some sort — lawyer, doctor, counselor, accountant or banker. I imagine she might be between appointments or on her way to lunch. She usually dresses in dark colors, a leather car coat and delicate, black framed glasses. She’s tall and thin with dark brown hair. She never stands still. Most of the time she’s talking on her cell, walking back and forth, beside the length of her car. She’s trying to quit smoking. She doesn’t want to smoke inside her car.
She promised her partner that she had quit, and she fools herself into believing that he won’t smell it on her, or the car.
When she talks on her cell, she seems excited and happy. She acts like someone who has something wonderful to look forward to. She barely pays any attention to the cigarette in her hand. She’s one of those interesting people who can’t seem to talk without moving their hands. I half expect her to send either her phone or the cigarette flying. Every time she makes a point in the conversation, I see her emphasize with her hand, or look up at the sky and let out a laugh, or sometimes she does all three at once.
She appears to be energized by the conversation.
The mornings when she’s not talking on her phone, she seems like a completely different person. She smokes one cigarette after another. She paces beside her car, head down, with her other hand in her pocket. It’s as if she’s waiting for the phone to ring, or contemplating her next appointment, or mentally ticking off her to-do list. Continue reading →
1
Feb 10
When Narcissists Win Grammys
We watched the Grammys last night. The Grammys might also be called, “The Music World’s Parade of Narcissists“. We watched to see the artists we like, but as the spectacle continued, we became annoyed by the display of glitz and the embarrassing acceptance speeches. The extravaganza took on all the fascination of a train wreck. We felt compelled to watch to see which Narcissist would attempt to out-do the other Narcissists.
It was painful, hilarious, disgusting, and not in the least entertaining. Just what do the Grammys have to do with music?
At the risk of sounding like I’m channeling my grandma when she watched the debut of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, I have to wonder, what do baggy pants have to do with entertainment? The station had to block the sound on half of the lyrics “sung” by Eminem and his bad-ass buddies. Is this music worthy of any awards?
At one point Jenny said, “Why don’t they wear regular clothes, stop acting so weird, and just sing?” Will noticed that the audience wasn’t clapping very enthusiastically, and said, “I think they’re only clapping to be polite.” What part of the Elton John/ Lady Gaga spectacle was entertaining? Maybe it was a fine display of marketing and packaging in an attempt to sell more CDs, but I’m not rushing out to buy anything based on what I saw, and I like Elton John.
Check out the lyrics for the Black Eyed Peas’, ‘Imma Be’. The only line missing is, “Imma Be a Narcissist.” Continue reading →
31
Jan 10
Narcissism and ROI
I had the “Finals Week Dream” last night. I used to have that one a lot. In the dream, it’s finals week and I’m looking at the printout that shows the schedule for my finals. I’m going over the schedule, thinking about how much time I’ll be able to cram for each test, and I see a final on there that makes me absolutely panic. I keep staring at the class number. My brain starts spiraling.
Crap.
I forgot to go to that class last quarter! How can I pass a final for a class I forgot to attend?
I guess it has something to do with failing to be prepared? I’ve heard of people having the “Forgot The Baby On Top of the Car Dream”. Mine is always about having to take a final for a class I never attended.
After waking to that sense of relief that comes with realizing that it’s just a dream, my mind had all these accounting acronyms swimming around in it. Things like ROI (Return On Investment), LIFO (Last In First Out), and FIFO (First In First Out), that I haven’t thought about since college. Continue reading →
27
Jan 10
Diet or Divorce
I did a double-take when I saw him. Is that who I think it is? We were walking toward each other, and I could tell that he was trying to figure out who I was, too. “Hey, Jesse, is that you?” It was him. “Chris, how are you? Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
He was a lot thinner than the last time I’d seen him. He had that crooked smile that I remembered from high school. He had a spring in his step. It’d been about four years since we’d last visited. He used to come into Mark’s shop. We’d compare notes on kids, marriage, and the weather. He always looked like he was going through the motions, pretending to be happily married, saying all the right things, and enthusiastically speaking of his son’s soccer games or hunting trips. But each time I saw him, he was a little heavier, a little sadder, a little bit collapsing under the weight of the world.
“So, Jess, how come I never see you at the shop?” It always surprises me when I run into someone that doesn’t know I’m divorced. We live in a pretty small town. “I divorced the shopkeeper.” Chris said, “Hey, I’m going through the same thing right now! Never been happier. I’ve lost 65 pounds since June. I feel great!” I asked how long he’d been married, and he said he’d made it 22 years. I said, “Geez, I only made it 12.”
As we went on our separate ways, Chris said, “12 years is a long time if you aren’t with the right person.”
25
Jan 10
Why Did the Narcissist Cross the Road?
The other night I really yelled at Jenny. Yes, it is only January, and I have already managed to remove myself from contention for Mother of the Year – 2010. That didn’t take long. Truth be told, I probably committed my first infraction on January 1st.
Jenny is a selective eater. In Jenny’s case, ‘experimental eating’ means anything other than PBJ, chocolate milk, mandarin oranges and finely grated cheddar cheese. I had put a bowl of homemade soup in front of her. I will say that at least she tries what I present. She doesn’t whine. She has a couple bites and then politely asks for something that she will actually eat. This particular night, I blew a grommet. I lost my temper. I know all the psychological damage that can be caused by making an issue out of food. I have my own fond memories of sitting at the table trying to gag down ice-cold canned spinach – like it’s any better when it’s warm.
I’m not proud to tell you that she ended up in tears. I was a jerk. After I made her a peanut butter and jelly, I apologized. I really apologized. I said, “Jenny, I am sorry.” I thought of saying any one of the following:
- “I’m sorry. I’m getting my period. I wish you would eat the damn soup.”
- “I’m sorry, but you frustrate the hell out of me and I just wish you would eat what I put in front of you.”
- “I’m sorry that you are so selective about what you eat.”
- “I’m sorry I spent all day making homemade soup, only to have you turn your nose up at it.”
Instead, I admitted that I made a mistake, and I simply said, “I am sorry,” without justifications, rationalizations or explanations. Continue reading →
18
Jan 10
Take A Chance
This afternoon, on the way out the door, Jenny grabbed her giant tube of Watermelon Lip Smackers. She offered it to me. I have a thing for Watermelon Lip Smackers. I’ve had this “thing” since 7th grade. Why do you think my daughter was introduced to Lip Smackers in the first place? Watermelon Lip Smackers is slippery, sweet and slightly pink. Being an innocent teenager is all those same things. Or at least it used to be. I smeared some on my lips, and suddenly I’m wearing Hash jeans, my hair is really long and straight, I’m 13 and I’m staring at Greg Nickels.
I had a crush on Greg from 7th grade to, probably, my senior year. I have a hard time giving up — hence, the amount of time it took me to exit a crappy marriage. In 9th grade, Greg Nickels asked me to go to “The Dance”. I was beside myself. All the girls told me that he really liked me. I didn’t believe them. It was the night of “The Dance”, and he came to pick me up with this cute little corsage. We were standing on the deck of the apartment that my mom was renting at the time. I remember this vividly. There was a slight breeze, and the air smelled like a mix of carnation, watermelon, aftershave and exhaust from the refinery that wasn’t far from our apartment building. He helped me pin the flower on my sleeveless dress. High up at my shoulder, he reached beneath the strap, so as to keep the pin from piercing my skin. I remember a bit of fumbling and a lot of nerves and clumsiness, on both our parts. Then, he looked as if he might kiss me. He was actually bending toward me! No one else was around. This was it! I had been waiting for this moment since 7th grade! I panicked. Instead of leaning into the kiss, I turned my face, and his lips met with my cheek. That sent him a clear message that I was not interested, even though I had been interested since what seemed like forever.
The rest of the night was uncomfortable and awkward, to say the least. In fact, I don’t remember the night with the same detail that I remember the corsage-pinning part. On Monday, everybody kept asking me why I didn’t like Greg any more. What was I going to say? I wasn’t going to admit that I didn’t have a whole lot of experience in the kissing department, let alone all the stuff in the other departments. So instead of being honest, I played it cool. He never asked me out, again.
Now it’s not like I’m 47 years old and still kicking myself for not having made out with Greg Nichols when I was 15. I’m not going to my death bed wishing I had handled things differently. (I think.) In fact, if I was 15 right now, standing in front of him, I’d turn my cheek again. And, yes, I will expect Jenny to behave the same exact way when her Greg Nickels leans in for that kiss. (Like that will make any difference to Jenny, but I can hope.) But I am less inclined to let opportunities pass me by. I’m fine making a fool of myself if it means I have a chance at something fantastic. I made the difficult decision to end a miserable marriage so as to have a chance at an authentic, happy life.
I’m finding that the older I get, the less I’m willing to put up with crap. I can’t control how others act, but I can decide whether I want to remove myself from situations where I am treated poorly. I’m also finding that, with age, I care less about making a fool of myself — much to my kids’ chagrin. I will not be on my death bed wishing I had told the people I love how much I love them. I won’t be wishing I had stayed longer in a lousy job. I won’t be feeling like I should have spent more time with my kids. And I won’t be mad at myself for having stayed in a broken marriage. I may, however, ask to borrow Jenny’s Watermelon Lip Smackers.
11
Jan 10
Noxious Narcissism
The other day Will and I were riding home from the ski hill with grandpa. The subject of “Blooming where you’re planted” came up. I don’t think I’d find many people to disagree with the premise — be happy where you are planted. I asked grandpa what he thought about the fact that there might be a lot of weeds where we are planted. He responded by saying, “The best way to deal with weeds is to make sure the plant is healthy.” He is right, of course. The healthier the plant, the less chance the weeds have to take over.
I pretend to be a gardener. I love gardening and flowers and vegies and being outside playing in the dirt with the kids and the worms. I never use any kind of chemicals. That stuff scares me. In fact, for me it is therapeutic to pull weeds.
We have a lot of bind weed where we live. Circling our little garden is a four foot fence made of chicken coop wire. It is just about impossible to uncoil bind weed from that fencing, once it has a chance to get started. And actually, bind weed is kind of pretty when it blooms. Bind weed is part of the Morning Glory family. I usually ignore the bind weed that crawls up the fencing. It looks nice when it blooms, and it’s difficult to get rid of once it takes over. But bind weed needs to be pulled before it wraps its tendrils around young seedlings. I try to get Sweet Peas to climb that same chicken coop fencing. It does well if I can keep the bind weed away from it.
So back to the ride home from the ski hill.
I was enjoying that exquisite relaxation that comes from a day of exercising outside. I didn’t have to focus on driving. My mind was thinking about blooming and weeds and toxicity and narcissism. Suddenly I envisioned Mark wrapping his arms around Will and pulling him onto his lap — the way he has done since Will was a toddler. He always seemed to be restraining Will. He’d refuse to let him run around and play. He seemed to want to pin him down in an effort to control him. And then I envisioned the way bind weed wraps around a vulnerable little Sweet Pea seedling — choking it. The Sweet Pea seedling bends under the weight of the bind weed. It is helpless until someone comes along and pulls the bind weed. I could see my own little Sweet Peas struggling to stand tall, to catch a breath, to reach the sun, to grow and bloom. Continue reading →
9
Jan 10
Formula For Happiness
The grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.
Allan K. Chalmers
