i was in starbucks the other day, staring blankly into the goodie counter, knowing full well i wasn't going to get anything in it, and trying like hell to decide what i wanted in the way of caffineated goodness. i knew i was two people away from being served. the first option that jumped into my head was "vodka tonic with lime". i knew i was in trouble. and all this was after the trip to the gym with all the grunting and gratuitous nudity.
this week has been a little better. monday was even a day off. it was nice. momma took me to home depot to look at paint samples. she also bought be some sandpaper and lunch. it was kind of nice to have her all to myself for a whole afternoon.
tuesday has come to be my least favorite day of the week. i hate that. i was born on a tuesday, so i've always had a kind of affinity for it. lately, it's been like monday, but with more attitude and sleep deficit behind it. tuesdays are the hangover of mondays. yeck. and since today is my last day this week in the office, it's like a giant crazy friday, with a fight to the finish.
my brain feels all jelly-fied like my legs did last night when i finished biking and swimming. no matter how hard i try and psych myself up, the eliptical machine scares me. i'm afraid i'm going to fall off. it's bizarre, i know. it was fairly amazing. my endurance is creeping higher and higher, and i am suddenly amazed at how much better i feel, and how much better i am sleeping at night. granted, i don't sleep as much as i'd like to, but that's my own fault. if i could convince God to put 36 hours into a day, i'd be so stoked. i could get so much stuff done. and still have time to goof off. and take a nap.
i'm off to corpus to save the world through yet another marathon weekend meeting. woo-hoo.
mil besos--rmg
21 February 2007
15 February 2007
geeze, louise...
the best part about valentine's day 2007 (which i lovingly refer to as "the ides of february", as i cast scornful glances at any and everything to do with being happy, except for those of you i know and love, of course) is that it was the day before pay day. yipee. i'm about to make my second mortgage payment. i can actually feel the home equity building. it's fairly amazing.
this week has been interesting. everyone on staff here took a personality sorter, and we spent 5 hours digesting our diagnostics as a group on monday. what can i say about sitting in a room for 5 hours with my co-workers, while we all get emotionally naked, and the phone rings off the hook in the back ground, while i'm just wondering if you can, in fact, o.d. on church coffee...
so, i escaped to the relative safety of the gym. i say relative safety for two reasons-- i can never feel totally safe around that many muscle-bound men in very small shirts, and the fact that a lot of journey and guns-n-roses get blasted over the sound system make it hard to really relax during the work out. let me tell you more... caro and moo will have to forgive me for repeating myself...
so it's monday night, and all i want to do is decompress from being cooped up all day, and i walked into the gym, and i came face to face with a man on the butterfly machine who looked like he was either being scared half to death by invisible imps, or having the most mind-blowing orgasm known to human kind. it was a little disconcerting.
then, while i was sweating like a clydesdale on the exer-bike, which is next to the weight pit, i heard what i imagine a man delivering a baby through his pee-hole might sound like. it was this horrible, very loud, very gutteral, very disturbing series of grunts, followed by some loud muttering that i couldn't quite understand (maybe if the cave-men from the geico commercials had been there, they could have translated for me...), but probably went something like "who's yer daddy now, weight room bitches?"
said ruckus was loud and distracting enough to pull me away from reading the closed captions of the o'reilley factor(which makes me peddle faster, and which i was having to squint to read, since i left my reading glasses at home...who the hell takes their reading glasses with them to the gym, besides me?), which was playing on the big tv in front of the bikes. i expected the sound to be followed by a pool of blood seeping quietly over the floor, the screams of someone being hit in the face by exploding testicles, or the sickening thud of detached arms hitting the plastic mat. instead, the woman riding next to me gave me a raised eye brow, to which i responded (seriously, i can't believe i said this...) "Good God Almighty, what in the world is that all about?" kind of boring, huh? and then, i decided to skip swimming laps because when i got back to the locker room, and older and moderately gigantic woman was just sitting in front of my locker section totally topless, like she had nothing better to do that be topless in front of the entire free world.
the week has pretty much been on par with the monday experience, so in the interest of time and good manners, i'll spare you the rest. but i'm sure your imaginations can run wild...
mil besos--rmg
this week has been interesting. everyone on staff here took a personality sorter, and we spent 5 hours digesting our diagnostics as a group on monday. what can i say about sitting in a room for 5 hours with my co-workers, while we all get emotionally naked, and the phone rings off the hook in the back ground, while i'm just wondering if you can, in fact, o.d. on church coffee...
so, i escaped to the relative safety of the gym. i say relative safety for two reasons-- i can never feel totally safe around that many muscle-bound men in very small shirts, and the fact that a lot of journey and guns-n-roses get blasted over the sound system make it hard to really relax during the work out. let me tell you more... caro and moo will have to forgive me for repeating myself...
so it's monday night, and all i want to do is decompress from being cooped up all day, and i walked into the gym, and i came face to face with a man on the butterfly machine who looked like he was either being scared half to death by invisible imps, or having the most mind-blowing orgasm known to human kind. it was a little disconcerting.
then, while i was sweating like a clydesdale on the exer-bike, which is next to the weight pit, i heard what i imagine a man delivering a baby through his pee-hole might sound like. it was this horrible, very loud, very gutteral, very disturbing series of grunts, followed by some loud muttering that i couldn't quite understand (maybe if the cave-men from the geico commercials had been there, they could have translated for me...), but probably went something like "who's yer daddy now, weight room bitches?"
said ruckus was loud and distracting enough to pull me away from reading the closed captions of the o'reilley factor(which makes me peddle faster, and which i was having to squint to read, since i left my reading glasses at home...who the hell takes their reading glasses with them to the gym, besides me?), which was playing on the big tv in front of the bikes. i expected the sound to be followed by a pool of blood seeping quietly over the floor, the screams of someone being hit in the face by exploding testicles, or the sickening thud of detached arms hitting the plastic mat. instead, the woman riding next to me gave me a raised eye brow, to which i responded (seriously, i can't believe i said this...) "Good God Almighty, what in the world is that all about?" kind of boring, huh? and then, i decided to skip swimming laps because when i got back to the locker room, and older and moderately gigantic woman was just sitting in front of my locker section totally topless, like she had nothing better to do that be topless in front of the entire free world.
the week has pretty much been on par with the monday experience, so in the interest of time and good manners, i'll spare you the rest. but i'm sure your imaginations can run wild...
mil besos--rmg
09 February 2007
recently discovered...
1) i have been identity thieved. i know, it's awful. but the people at the bank were very nice, and i'm getting my money back. with that money, i will be buying a super shredder. let me know if you need any filler for your hampster cages, ok?
2) if given the opportunity to over-react, i may or may not take it. it depends on the day and the situation. this is a huge improvement over the last year. seriously. if you've recently been a victim of my over-reation, do please forgive me.
3) i can sweat under water. i realize this may be too much information, but i was certainly impressed by this new revelation.
4) i can be a hard-ass, when i need to be. case in point--i will kick you out of my office if you ask for rental assistance after y0u've already grifted me once. i will feel bad about the fact that you have kids, and i will be pissed that you brought your two year old in with you to play on my emotions. however, if you would just TELL THE FREAKING TRUTH, use your real name, and no be a butthole to me, we might be able to do business. and if you come in my office again, i will call CPS and the police. you don't scare me. i went to high school with guys way bigger and way scarier than you. as a side bar, God bless that child. sometimes doing what is the right thing feels very bad, indeed.
5) i have the most stellar poker face in history. i wish i could tell you the story about how i learned this, just know that it had to do with a client in the hospital, and some unexpected disclosures. HOLY CRAP. if you want the whole story, do email me. it's fairly amazing.
6) my goodwill is not bottomless. i do have a breaking point, and instead of viewing that as a personality flaw, i'm kind of excited that it's there. i hope i don't get to the point where i have to start firing people from my life because they have exceeded their goodwill points, but it's nice to know that i do have that in me. i know that sounds bizarre. but after getting walked across more times than is strictly necessary, i'm pretty excited that i've made a concerted effort to not let that happen, anymore.
7) dust could care less whether you've finished moving in. it will accumulate and you will have to dust, even though there are still boxes to be unpacked, pictures to hang, and bathrooms to scrub. guess what i'm doing this afternoon...
i think that's a good place to stop...
mil besos--rmg
2) if given the opportunity to over-react, i may or may not take it. it depends on the day and the situation. this is a huge improvement over the last year. seriously. if you've recently been a victim of my over-reation, do please forgive me.
3) i can sweat under water. i realize this may be too much information, but i was certainly impressed by this new revelation.
4) i can be a hard-ass, when i need to be. case in point--i will kick you out of my office if you ask for rental assistance after y0u've already grifted me once. i will feel bad about the fact that you have kids, and i will be pissed that you brought your two year old in with you to play on my emotions. however, if you would just TELL THE FREAKING TRUTH, use your real name, and no be a butthole to me, we might be able to do business. and if you come in my office again, i will call CPS and the police. you don't scare me. i went to high school with guys way bigger and way scarier than you. as a side bar, God bless that child. sometimes doing what is the right thing feels very bad, indeed.
5) i have the most stellar poker face in history. i wish i could tell you the story about how i learned this, just know that it had to do with a client in the hospital, and some unexpected disclosures. HOLY CRAP. if you want the whole story, do email me. it's fairly amazing.
6) my goodwill is not bottomless. i do have a breaking point, and instead of viewing that as a personality flaw, i'm kind of excited that it's there. i hope i don't get to the point where i have to start firing people from my life because they have exceeded their goodwill points, but it's nice to know that i do have that in me. i know that sounds bizarre. but after getting walked across more times than is strictly necessary, i'm pretty excited that i've made a concerted effort to not let that happen, anymore.
7) dust could care less whether you've finished moving in. it will accumulate and you will have to dust, even though there are still boxes to be unpacked, pictures to hang, and bathrooms to scrub. guess what i'm doing this afternoon...
i think that's a good place to stop...
mil besos--rmg
01 February 2007
by the numbers...
i know some of you love these posts...and i shamelessly ripped this idea off from national public radio...and i'm shamelessly posting up one for the masses, yet again.
2--the number of times last week i went to the grocery store, after working out at the gym and looked like i had peed in my pants. i just didn't give a crap.
3--the number of languages i heard at one time in the steam room at my gym. i guess i could also mention that there was a chronic grunter in there the other day, as well. i made my visit a little shorter than i would have liked, because the grunting was totally harshing my endorphin buzz and freaking me out. said grunter was also quite hairy, and grunting in time to his i-pod.
12--the number of pictures i still have left to hang in my apartment because i don't get around to hanging them until about 10:30pm, and don't want to alienate the neighbors.
6--the average number of hours of sleep i've been getting
9--the average number of hours i'd be happy to be getting
10--the number of ass pounds i've lost since embarking upon my 2007 Quest For Self-Empowerment and Improvements
3--the number of pounds of organic greens i consumed in the last 2 weeks. i now officially hate radiccio
20--the average number of text messages i send in one day. it's really hard to do punctuation to my liking on the damn things, though.
17--number of times a day i think "i should just break down and get an i-pod shuffle".
3--number of times a day i plan imaginary vacations with assorted people
1--number of times a week i teach kindergarten chapel at the day school, and have to beg my ovaries to SHUT THE HELL UP BECAUSE WE ARE NOT READY TO HAVE A DATE, MUCH LESS A KID!
4--the number of kitchen implements my nephew carried into the living room of his house last week. his new favorite toy is my sister-in-law's cast iron skillet. he likes it so much that his parents had to hide it from him. he's also learned the word "no". things are about to get interesting with the petite, if you ask me.
11--the number of hours i have spent in the last 7 days in various emergency rooms, hanging out with people who go to my church
4--the number of hours i spent having coffee with sweet little grammies at my church this week. ok, i only had coffee for two of the hours, and water for the other two. i was very grateful the entire time, however, that my mother taught me decent manners.
28--the number of years i have been my mother's child. her birthday is monday. i'm glad she's my mother. happy birthday, mommy.
3.5--the number of hours i planned to work today. HA!
1--the number of adult drinks i could reasonably consume before falling asleep.
peace out,
word up,
mil besos,
rmg
2--the number of times last week i went to the grocery store, after working out at the gym and looked like i had peed in my pants. i just didn't give a crap.
3--the number of languages i heard at one time in the steam room at my gym. i guess i could also mention that there was a chronic grunter in there the other day, as well. i made my visit a little shorter than i would have liked, because the grunting was totally harshing my endorphin buzz and freaking me out. said grunter was also quite hairy, and grunting in time to his i-pod.
12--the number of pictures i still have left to hang in my apartment because i don't get around to hanging them until about 10:30pm, and don't want to alienate the neighbors.
6--the average number of hours of sleep i've been getting
9--the average number of hours i'd be happy to be getting
10--the number of ass pounds i've lost since embarking upon my 2007 Quest For Self-Empowerment and Improvements
3--the number of pounds of organic greens i consumed in the last 2 weeks. i now officially hate radiccio
20--the average number of text messages i send in one day. it's really hard to do punctuation to my liking on the damn things, though.
17--number of times a day i think "i should just break down and get an i-pod shuffle".
3--number of times a day i plan imaginary vacations with assorted people
1--number of times a week i teach kindergarten chapel at the day school, and have to beg my ovaries to SHUT THE HELL UP BECAUSE WE ARE NOT READY TO HAVE A DATE, MUCH LESS A KID!
4--the number of kitchen implements my nephew carried into the living room of his house last week. his new favorite toy is my sister-in-law's cast iron skillet. he likes it so much that his parents had to hide it from him. he's also learned the word "no". things are about to get interesting with the petite, if you ask me.
11--the number of hours i have spent in the last 7 days in various emergency rooms, hanging out with people who go to my church
4--the number of hours i spent having coffee with sweet little grammies at my church this week. ok, i only had coffee for two of the hours, and water for the other two. i was very grateful the entire time, however, that my mother taught me decent manners.
28--the number of years i have been my mother's child. her birthday is monday. i'm glad she's my mother. happy birthday, mommy.
3.5--the number of hours i planned to work today. HA!
1--the number of adult drinks i could reasonably consume before falling asleep.
peace out,
word up,
mil besos,
rmg
on extremes...
"Dear God,
Deliver me to my passion.
Deliver me to my brilliance.
Deliver me to my intelligence.
Deliver me to my depth.
Deliver me to my nobility.
Deliver me to my beauty.
Deliver me to my power to heal.
Deliver me to You."
--marianne williamson
before i read this prayer, i never thought about praying to God to deliver me to the things i was already good at, the things in which i took great pride. i always imagined a more worthy prayer would be the one to deliver me from my efficicacy, my gut reactions, my "best" intentions. but i read this prayer one day, and immediately knew that God made me with those things inside me, setting a steady pulse inside my brain that cannot be ignored. so why not deliver me to the best things inside myself? why not pray for that? why not celebrate that? why be apologetic about any of it? i liked it so much that i printed it out and pasted it into the front of my daily planner.
i've struggled with myself for a long time over my tendancy to find myself in extreme situations. i'll be the first person to admit that i am probably an adrinaline junky. i like being useful in situations. i like being the one to make the assessment and call the shots. i don't just like it. i freaking love it. and most of the time, i'm right on the money, and hit all my marks. but i know that i won't always be right. i know that even when i am right, there are situations that i can't fix. in fact, 99.9% of the situations i run across in my job, i can't fix, not with a check or a prayer, or shared tears. the best i can do is band-aid things, hold some hands, make some calls, and pray that God's grace continues to be big enough to fill in the gaps.
i feel like i'm coming to a point where i don't have to hold back anymore. a point where i can be confident, and speak with some authority, but not be cocky. i'm realizing that a) there's nothing wrong with knowing what to do and b) there's nothing wrong with NOT knowing what to do. the knowledge or ignorance of the decision comes from the same place in my heart, i think. maybe that's the increasing sleep deficit talking, but whatever.
we are products of extremes-- life and death, love and indifference, joy and pain, black/white/shades of gray, peace and fear. i feel like i'm in that mix 24/7. and even though there are days like today where i am tired in my bones, don't want to go work out or meet people for drinks, don't want to be in my office for 48 hours, i wouldn't trade it for anything. i have been delivered into my passion, into my calling, into a life i wanted, but didn't know how to ask for. my cup runneth over, and i am drinking like a bedouin after a long desert journey. thanks be to God.
mil besos--rmg
Deliver me to my passion.
Deliver me to my brilliance.
Deliver me to my intelligence.
Deliver me to my depth.
Deliver me to my nobility.
Deliver me to my beauty.
Deliver me to my power to heal.
Deliver me to You."
--marianne williamson
before i read this prayer, i never thought about praying to God to deliver me to the things i was already good at, the things in which i took great pride. i always imagined a more worthy prayer would be the one to deliver me from my efficicacy, my gut reactions, my "best" intentions. but i read this prayer one day, and immediately knew that God made me with those things inside me, setting a steady pulse inside my brain that cannot be ignored. so why not deliver me to the best things inside myself? why not pray for that? why not celebrate that? why be apologetic about any of it? i liked it so much that i printed it out and pasted it into the front of my daily planner.
i've struggled with myself for a long time over my tendancy to find myself in extreme situations. i'll be the first person to admit that i am probably an adrinaline junky. i like being useful in situations. i like being the one to make the assessment and call the shots. i don't just like it. i freaking love it. and most of the time, i'm right on the money, and hit all my marks. but i know that i won't always be right. i know that even when i am right, there are situations that i can't fix. in fact, 99.9% of the situations i run across in my job, i can't fix, not with a check or a prayer, or shared tears. the best i can do is band-aid things, hold some hands, make some calls, and pray that God's grace continues to be big enough to fill in the gaps.
i feel like i'm coming to a point where i don't have to hold back anymore. a point where i can be confident, and speak with some authority, but not be cocky. i'm realizing that a) there's nothing wrong with knowing what to do and b) there's nothing wrong with NOT knowing what to do. the knowledge or ignorance of the decision comes from the same place in my heart, i think. maybe that's the increasing sleep deficit talking, but whatever.
we are products of extremes-- life and death, love and indifference, joy and pain, black/white/shades of gray, peace and fear. i feel like i'm in that mix 24/7. and even though there are days like today where i am tired in my bones, don't want to go work out or meet people for drinks, don't want to be in my office for 48 hours, i wouldn't trade it for anything. i have been delivered into my passion, into my calling, into a life i wanted, but didn't know how to ask for. my cup runneth over, and i am drinking like a bedouin after a long desert journey. thanks be to God.
mil besos--rmg
10 January 2007
sometimes
sometimes you're the 7. sometimes you are the 11. sometimes you are snake-eyes.
sometimes you are the lightning. sometimes you are the bottle.
sometimes you are the comforted. sometimes you are the comforter.
sometimes you cry. sometimes you laugh.
sometimes you forget. sometimes you remember.
sometimes you are salty. sometimes you are sweet.
all the time, you are human. all the time, you are alive.
that's been my lesson this week, every day, every minute. it's being written on my heart. and while i ponder these treasures, as i'm imagining new mothers pondering their new children, i find myself grateful, in a bittersweet kind of way.
i knew when i took this job that i was saying yes to hospital visits, funeral receptions, lots of phone conversations, lots of HEB cards given out to hungry people. i knew at some point, i would be saying yes to being with someone while they were dying. i figured that moment would come some place far in the future, when i had accumulated more wisdom, shed some more of my own bagage, become more mature, had steeled myself for the experience. silly me. silly, hopelessly optimistic, naive me. you can imagine how shocked i was to be at the foot of someone's bed on monday night as they left this side of things for whatever lays on the other side.
i knew what i was walking into about 10 minutes before i walked into it. i'm sure i was as suprised about this man dying as he was, as his family was, as my boss and our co-worker and our bible study leader were. life turns on a dime, and by the time we got to bob's room, the dime was thin and overspent. if you want to stop reading now, you can. i just need to say what i saw "out loud", and as much as i love my journal, this story doesn't fit there. i can't explain why, it just doesn't.
so i got to the room before my co-workers did. bob's wife was there, her friend, and their youngest son were there, too. as i got off the elevator, i had the morbid recollection that i was going to see someone's father die in almost the same outfit i wore the night my own father died--long sleeve blue shirt, gray shorts (even my work outs this week have seemed to co-incide with drama...), favorite socks, and tennis shoes. odd synchronicity to realize while stepping off an elevator, going to do "work" that you know will end with a bizzare mix of joy, pain, tears, and sometimes laughter. i felt like i was walking toward being able to finish something, to tie something off that had been tattered for a long time. and, in a way, i was.
hospitals are so clean, so pristine, so important, fussy, and technical. bob was hooked up to all kinds of machines telling us how fast his heart was beating, how many times per minute he breathed, blood oxygen level, the whole schmear. it was easy to quantify his life by watching those lines jump up and down and wind their way across a computer screen that probably cost more than a house payment. i found myself getting sucked into watching the screen, because it was safe, detached, sterile. the lines weren't bob, nor were the beeps, the dips in the waves, the alarms that started to ring closer and closer together. watching the screen let me pretend that maybe this wasn't happening after all.
death is such a private thing. and i had only known bob since a little before christmas, when he'd first gotten sick. we laughed a lot, and joked. monday night was only the second time i'd ever met his wife, who works outside the home. i'd go see bob every week, hoping to find him better. and better never really turned into well. it's the little things that get you--like the funky little infections or wet lungs. being with bob and his family felt perfectly natural and perfectly odd, at the same time. i was basically a stranger to them, watching them during this intimate time. but it all seemed like it was supposed to be happening this way, so i tried not to think about what was going to happen when bob actually made his big exit--was someone going to totally freak out (and dear sweet God, don't let me be the one to freak out, because i've never done this before, not even when i was supposed to because i just couldn't make myself...), was it going to be peaceful, was it going to be awful?
bob's son started telling a story about himself and his brother, and the go cart that bob made for them, at the prompting of our bible study leader. and bob opened his eyes to listen. and then, he really started to die. and no one was talking to him. i had a hard time with that. this was bob's big finish. someone needed to tell him it was ok, that he was doing a good job, not to be afraid, and that we were so proud of him. so i did. small voice at first, and louder toward the end. i remember my mother telling me that she and my grandparents and godparents did that for my dad as he was dying. i remembered. and i didn't flinch a bit. and it felt good, like in that very thin place, that place where what is beyond and what is present were colliding, i could do this thing for someone else's father that had been done for mine. and then bob was done, and it wasn't really bob in the bed, anymore. and we were relieved, and sad, and all had a laundry list of tasks to being taking care of. we said some prayers, hugged each other, and all went home. i slept like a baby.
i know that bob's death is the first one in this job, and will not be the last. and that's ok. i'm sad i only knew him when he was sick, but i am so glad that i got to know him at all. he was funny and kind, with an earnest and open face that you rarely see these days. i'm glad i got to learn with him, and that his last moments were spent teaching all of us in that room something about letting go with dignity and purpose.
digging out of this week will be hard, in some ways. in other ways, i'm already out. there are boxes to unpack, groceries to buy, carpets to vaccum, address books to update, bills to pay, and all those things that go along with being alive and being adult. but tuesday and today, the world has been in technicolor for me, water has been sweeter, words have been more gentle, food has had amazing flavor, and covnversations have been less trying. it is an amazing thing to be alive. and i am grateful and amazed.
mil besos--rmg
sometimes you are the lightning. sometimes you are the bottle.
sometimes you are the comforted. sometimes you are the comforter.
sometimes you cry. sometimes you laugh.
sometimes you forget. sometimes you remember.
sometimes you are salty. sometimes you are sweet.
all the time, you are human. all the time, you are alive.
that's been my lesson this week, every day, every minute. it's being written on my heart. and while i ponder these treasures, as i'm imagining new mothers pondering their new children, i find myself grateful, in a bittersweet kind of way.
i knew when i took this job that i was saying yes to hospital visits, funeral receptions, lots of phone conversations, lots of HEB cards given out to hungry people. i knew at some point, i would be saying yes to being with someone while they were dying. i figured that moment would come some place far in the future, when i had accumulated more wisdom, shed some more of my own bagage, become more mature, had steeled myself for the experience. silly me. silly, hopelessly optimistic, naive me. you can imagine how shocked i was to be at the foot of someone's bed on monday night as they left this side of things for whatever lays on the other side.
i knew what i was walking into about 10 minutes before i walked into it. i'm sure i was as suprised about this man dying as he was, as his family was, as my boss and our co-worker and our bible study leader were. life turns on a dime, and by the time we got to bob's room, the dime was thin and overspent. if you want to stop reading now, you can. i just need to say what i saw "out loud", and as much as i love my journal, this story doesn't fit there. i can't explain why, it just doesn't.
so i got to the room before my co-workers did. bob's wife was there, her friend, and their youngest son were there, too. as i got off the elevator, i had the morbid recollection that i was going to see someone's father die in almost the same outfit i wore the night my own father died--long sleeve blue shirt, gray shorts (even my work outs this week have seemed to co-incide with drama...), favorite socks, and tennis shoes. odd synchronicity to realize while stepping off an elevator, going to do "work" that you know will end with a bizzare mix of joy, pain, tears, and sometimes laughter. i felt like i was walking toward being able to finish something, to tie something off that had been tattered for a long time. and, in a way, i was.
hospitals are so clean, so pristine, so important, fussy, and technical. bob was hooked up to all kinds of machines telling us how fast his heart was beating, how many times per minute he breathed, blood oxygen level, the whole schmear. it was easy to quantify his life by watching those lines jump up and down and wind their way across a computer screen that probably cost more than a house payment. i found myself getting sucked into watching the screen, because it was safe, detached, sterile. the lines weren't bob, nor were the beeps, the dips in the waves, the alarms that started to ring closer and closer together. watching the screen let me pretend that maybe this wasn't happening after all.
death is such a private thing. and i had only known bob since a little before christmas, when he'd first gotten sick. we laughed a lot, and joked. monday night was only the second time i'd ever met his wife, who works outside the home. i'd go see bob every week, hoping to find him better. and better never really turned into well. it's the little things that get you--like the funky little infections or wet lungs. being with bob and his family felt perfectly natural and perfectly odd, at the same time. i was basically a stranger to them, watching them during this intimate time. but it all seemed like it was supposed to be happening this way, so i tried not to think about what was going to happen when bob actually made his big exit--was someone going to totally freak out (and dear sweet God, don't let me be the one to freak out, because i've never done this before, not even when i was supposed to because i just couldn't make myself...), was it going to be peaceful, was it going to be awful?
bob's son started telling a story about himself and his brother, and the go cart that bob made for them, at the prompting of our bible study leader. and bob opened his eyes to listen. and then, he really started to die. and no one was talking to him. i had a hard time with that. this was bob's big finish. someone needed to tell him it was ok, that he was doing a good job, not to be afraid, and that we were so proud of him. so i did. small voice at first, and louder toward the end. i remember my mother telling me that she and my grandparents and godparents did that for my dad as he was dying. i remembered. and i didn't flinch a bit. and it felt good, like in that very thin place, that place where what is beyond and what is present were colliding, i could do this thing for someone else's father that had been done for mine. and then bob was done, and it wasn't really bob in the bed, anymore. and we were relieved, and sad, and all had a laundry list of tasks to being taking care of. we said some prayers, hugged each other, and all went home. i slept like a baby.
i know that bob's death is the first one in this job, and will not be the last. and that's ok. i'm sad i only knew him when he was sick, but i am so glad that i got to know him at all. he was funny and kind, with an earnest and open face that you rarely see these days. i'm glad i got to learn with him, and that his last moments were spent teaching all of us in that room something about letting go with dignity and purpose.
digging out of this week will be hard, in some ways. in other ways, i'm already out. there are boxes to unpack, groceries to buy, carpets to vaccum, address books to update, bills to pay, and all those things that go along with being alive and being adult. but tuesday and today, the world has been in technicolor for me, water has been sweeter, words have been more gentle, food has had amazing flavor, and covnversations have been less trying. it is an amazing thing to be alive. and i am grateful and amazed.
mil besos--rmg
27 December 2006
the next adventure, in which rachiepoo buys a house...
the ink is barely dry on the contract. i almost threw up on the closing table twice. the movers are coming at 8:30am tomorrow morning, and i have got to start moving boxes, so they can actually get to the furniture. for the first time since i left home to go to college, i will offically have a permanent address, and be fully unpacked. i don't really believe it, just yet. but the papers in my car with the RIDICULOUS numbers all over it say it's true, so if seeing is believing, maybe i'm on the right track. i'll put up some pictures later today, so you can see the new digs. paint will be forthcoming posthaste, or as soon as i can make up my mind and go raid home depot.
mil besos--rmg
mil besos--rmg
10 December 2006
a kind of love song
i can hear you coughing in the bedroom across the hall. i can hear your nails clicking on the floor, when you totter to the kitchen to get a drink of water. i can still walk across the hall and pet you, if i want. but i can't make you feel better. i can't make you younger. i can't even speak your language, just scratch your tummy and tell you how much i love you.
tomorrow, that will change. we will do for you what we can, and that is to help you stop being sick. mom doesn't like how it feels. i don't like how it feels. but the fact of the matter is that, like it or not, this is what we need to do for you, to respect your life, and to keep it good.
i'm glad i bought you the blue blanket for christmas last year. i'm glad that you used to push my door open and sleep on my laundry, even though it meant i had to fabreeze the whole top layer, or re-wash it altogether. i'm glad you let me take you on walks, and would bark at me when i worked on a project too late. i'm glad that you came to live at our house and be part of our family. i'm glad you didn't like to play fetch, but loved to chase deer. i'm glad that you used to eat rawhide sticks by the dozen, and gave the cat hell. i'm even glad that i caught you in the cat box, sifting out a treat, more than once.
i can't believe you've been part of our life for 15 years, and that tomorrow, you will go away. i hope that you have a good rest. i hope that on the other side, there are lots of deer to chase and no leashes to keep you from running as far and as long as you want. i hope that you see people you know, and that they walk you and love you until we can get there, and all be together, again.
you are the best dogin all the world, hands down. i know that sounds simple. and i know it's stupid to write a whole blog entry on a mutt my little brother found on the side of the road on his way to school, one day. i get that. but still and even so, i wanted to say it, write it, make it real, just the same.
we have loved you the best way we knew how. and you gave us your unfettered affection and constant companionship. thank you for keeping my mother safe at night, for being her friend when i couldn't be with her, for keeping her happy on tough days. thank you for being jealous of her love, to the point that you would move me out of the way to sit next to her on the couch, or bark at her when you thought she'd been on the phone for too long. you could have peed in every shoe i owned and chewed up all my books, and i would still love you, just for that.
there is a reason that dogs are man's best friend. they are utterly devoted, they exist to keep us company and to love us. all they ask in return is that we care for them. caring for you has been a pleasure, and even though you have to go to sleep earlier than any of us would like, i am glad that we don't have to put you through any more discomfort. you are an amazing creation. i thank God that you will always be our little black dog, with the funny smooshed face and floppy ears. and if there is a heaven for people like us, i know that you will be there, grinning from ear to ear, running free, and waiting for us to come and love you some more. so, good night, beauregard, one last time. i love you very much.
mil besos--rmg
tomorrow, that will change. we will do for you what we can, and that is to help you stop being sick. mom doesn't like how it feels. i don't like how it feels. but the fact of the matter is that, like it or not, this is what we need to do for you, to respect your life, and to keep it good.
i'm glad i bought you the blue blanket for christmas last year. i'm glad that you used to push my door open and sleep on my laundry, even though it meant i had to fabreeze the whole top layer, or re-wash it altogether. i'm glad you let me take you on walks, and would bark at me when i worked on a project too late. i'm glad that you came to live at our house and be part of our family. i'm glad you didn't like to play fetch, but loved to chase deer. i'm glad that you used to eat rawhide sticks by the dozen, and gave the cat hell. i'm even glad that i caught you in the cat box, sifting out a treat, more than once.
i can't believe you've been part of our life for 15 years, and that tomorrow, you will go away. i hope that you have a good rest. i hope that on the other side, there are lots of deer to chase and no leashes to keep you from running as far and as long as you want. i hope that you see people you know, and that they walk you and love you until we can get there, and all be together, again.
you are the best dogin all the world, hands down. i know that sounds simple. and i know it's stupid to write a whole blog entry on a mutt my little brother found on the side of the road on his way to school, one day. i get that. but still and even so, i wanted to say it, write it, make it real, just the same.
we have loved you the best way we knew how. and you gave us your unfettered affection and constant companionship. thank you for keeping my mother safe at night, for being her friend when i couldn't be with her, for keeping her happy on tough days. thank you for being jealous of her love, to the point that you would move me out of the way to sit next to her on the couch, or bark at her when you thought she'd been on the phone for too long. you could have peed in every shoe i owned and chewed up all my books, and i would still love you, just for that.
there is a reason that dogs are man's best friend. they are utterly devoted, they exist to keep us company and to love us. all they ask in return is that we care for them. caring for you has been a pleasure, and even though you have to go to sleep earlier than any of us would like, i am glad that we don't have to put you through any more discomfort. you are an amazing creation. i thank God that you will always be our little black dog, with the funny smooshed face and floppy ears. and if there is a heaven for people like us, i know that you will be there, grinning from ear to ear, running free, and waiting for us to come and love you some more. so, good night, beauregard, one last time. i love you very much.
mil besos--rmg
28 November 2006
window on the world
so it's tuesday of my first full week as a working lady. it feels like it ought to be six months into the gig, but in a good way. i'll tell you the truth, they are not throwing me any soft balls, or riding their breaks, or any of the metaphors for going easy on me. i am definitely earning my permission to speak with authority, not to mention my paycheck. i'm also learning A LOT. i have to keep a check on my ego at all times, and remind myself that just because i have fresh eyes and an outside perspective, i am not the final answer on the Right Way To Get Things Done. you can probably imagine that doing that is a hard thing for me, sometimes. since i haven't been hit over the head with a walking-aid, been drenched in ensure, mugged in my office, or outright fired, i feel ok about my job performance, to date.
yet another ray of sunshine in my merry little bonnet is that as of, or around jan. 15, i will be joining the ranks of Proud Homeowners. a two/two townhouse is in my future, and possibly yours, should you venture to the alamo city and need free lodging. i can't wait to get moved in, and rediscover all the things that have been in boxes for the last 18 months. it'll be kind of like getting all new stuff, only it's all been paid for, already, which makes it even more appealing. and except for the turquoise accent wall and the over-done stencil of climbing english ivy in the kitchen, i'm not going to have to make any real changes on the place. granted, i will have to buy an oven in the next year or so, i'm sure i can muddle through any cooking jags i may go on with my microwave (which, oddly enough, is also a convection oven) and a toaster oven. we'll keep our fingers crossed, anyway. it's bizarre to me that i'm buying a house, but in a good way.
life is good, very full, but good. like i said, i'm having to spend a lot of time in my head, calling myself back, examining what i want to say before i say it, so i make sure it's good stuff and not just my agenda. it would be very easy for me to get swallowed up by this job, to make it bigger than it is, and God knows it's already big enough. the temptation is going to be to just work all the time, not ever shut off the constant streams of needs, fixes, ideas, initiatives, ect. and that just flat can't happen. all work and no play leaves rachie dateless, childless, and in a two/two with a turquoise accent wall and 10 cats. not a pleasant picture, not at all. and even if you substitute sugar gliders for the cats, it's still not a very glamorous existence. if i learn anything from this job, outside of a greater understanding of the grace of God and greater empathy toward my brothers and sisters in the world, i hope i learn a good sense of the balance between walking with people and letting go of them, something like a marriage between the ministry of presence and the ministry of absence. and in doing so, i will have to remember a promise i made when i was 10 years old, and the church asked me if i would " seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself", and i answered, in my naivete, not knowing that 18 years on, life would look very different, " i will, with God's help". i don't regret the answer a bit, and i am still awed and daunted by the challenge, surprised by the audacity of my ten-year old self to take that kind of risk, and know a little bit of what it meant and be grateful that my life has opened itself to find out what that means for practical purposes. i still find that answer ringing in my head and my heart, and hope that i have the grace to live into that promise, and know that God's helping me is the most important part of everything.
more later.
mil besos--rmg
yet another ray of sunshine in my merry little bonnet is that as of, or around jan. 15, i will be joining the ranks of Proud Homeowners. a two/two townhouse is in my future, and possibly yours, should you venture to the alamo city and need free lodging. i can't wait to get moved in, and rediscover all the things that have been in boxes for the last 18 months. it'll be kind of like getting all new stuff, only it's all been paid for, already, which makes it even more appealing. and except for the turquoise accent wall and the over-done stencil of climbing english ivy in the kitchen, i'm not going to have to make any real changes on the place. granted, i will have to buy an oven in the next year or so, i'm sure i can muddle through any cooking jags i may go on with my microwave (which, oddly enough, is also a convection oven) and a toaster oven. we'll keep our fingers crossed, anyway. it's bizarre to me that i'm buying a house, but in a good way.
life is good, very full, but good. like i said, i'm having to spend a lot of time in my head, calling myself back, examining what i want to say before i say it, so i make sure it's good stuff and not just my agenda. it would be very easy for me to get swallowed up by this job, to make it bigger than it is, and God knows it's already big enough. the temptation is going to be to just work all the time, not ever shut off the constant streams of needs, fixes, ideas, initiatives, ect. and that just flat can't happen. all work and no play leaves rachie dateless, childless, and in a two/two with a turquoise accent wall and 10 cats. not a pleasant picture, not at all. and even if you substitute sugar gliders for the cats, it's still not a very glamorous existence. if i learn anything from this job, outside of a greater understanding of the grace of God and greater empathy toward my brothers and sisters in the world, i hope i learn a good sense of the balance between walking with people and letting go of them, something like a marriage between the ministry of presence and the ministry of absence. and in doing so, i will have to remember a promise i made when i was 10 years old, and the church asked me if i would " seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself", and i answered, in my naivete, not knowing that 18 years on, life would look very different, " i will, with God's help". i don't regret the answer a bit, and i am still awed and daunted by the challenge, surprised by the audacity of my ten-year old self to take that kind of risk, and know a little bit of what it meant and be grateful that my life has opened itself to find out what that means for practical purposes. i still find that answer ringing in my head and my heart, and hope that i have the grace to live into that promise, and know that God's helping me is the most important part of everything.
more later.
mil besos--rmg
16 November 2006
bringing you up to speed...
i finished my second day EVER as pastoral care coordinator, and i'm pretty much not dead, yet. it's pretty cool. pretty much it's checking up on people who are sick at home, or in the hospital; checking in on folks in assisted living facilities; fielding phone calls and drop ins for various kinds of assistance--light bill, rent, shelter info, grocery and gas money, bus tickets, etc. basically helping people out and training other folks in the church to help me help other people, or better yet, take the bull by the horns and find a ministry of their own. the job description has gotten bigger since i applied, and probably will be added to daily, until further notice. i took a big bite of something, for sure.
i have to keep reminding myself that this job is not saving the whole world in one fell swoop--it's about helping one person save themselves one person at a time. when i tell myself that, i'm not so scared i'm going to mess this up and send my parishoners and myself to the nut hut for an extended, and unplanned vacation.
i'm going house hunting on saturday morning, which seems utterly surreal and slightly bizarre, considering the fact that i haven't a) ever even owned my own house or other fit domicile, and b) haven't even lived on my own in like a year and a half. the thought of moving my stuff and unpacking it all in the midst of learning a new town and a new job is a little daunting at the moment. but it's oddly exciting and BIG at the same time. i can hardly wait to begin.
i never thought i'd say this, but thank God and the sweet baby Jesus that my first job was working in dc for a real butthole, because everything after that has seemed like a cake-walk. and i'll be honest with you, aside from learning how to ignore the random fart during staff meetings, i also learned alot about what i'll be doing now, and made a lot of good memories that are very comforting to me, now. there were also some initiatives i worked on in dc that could bear repeating in the alamo city, as well. i'm trying to keep it all in perspective, and remembering that austing and dc were their own experiences, and not everything has to be replicated. it's a lot like packing--keeping, sorting, throwing away, reusing, regifting, etc. thank goodness i've learned something to apply, huh?
life is good. it is very full. and as i look toward next thursday with some sense of nostalgia and an insatiable hunger for pecan pie, i have many things for which to be thankful, the challenge before me among the foremost. you can be sure this is the first of many posts. you can also be sure that i will try and tell you as many funny stories about the mishaps i'm sure i'll be working on just as soon as they happen. i am on a great adventure.
mil besos--rmg
i have to keep reminding myself that this job is not saving the whole world in one fell swoop--it's about helping one person save themselves one person at a time. when i tell myself that, i'm not so scared i'm going to mess this up and send my parishoners and myself to the nut hut for an extended, and unplanned vacation.
i'm going house hunting on saturday morning, which seems utterly surreal and slightly bizarre, considering the fact that i haven't a) ever even owned my own house or other fit domicile, and b) haven't even lived on my own in like a year and a half. the thought of moving my stuff and unpacking it all in the midst of learning a new town and a new job is a little daunting at the moment. but it's oddly exciting and BIG at the same time. i can hardly wait to begin.
i never thought i'd say this, but thank God and the sweet baby Jesus that my first job was working in dc for a real butthole, because everything after that has seemed like a cake-walk. and i'll be honest with you, aside from learning how to ignore the random fart during staff meetings, i also learned alot about what i'll be doing now, and made a lot of good memories that are very comforting to me, now. there were also some initiatives i worked on in dc that could bear repeating in the alamo city, as well. i'm trying to keep it all in perspective, and remembering that austing and dc were their own experiences, and not everything has to be replicated. it's a lot like packing--keeping, sorting, throwing away, reusing, regifting, etc. thank goodness i've learned something to apply, huh?
life is good. it is very full. and as i look toward next thursday with some sense of nostalgia and an insatiable hunger for pecan pie, i have many things for which to be thankful, the challenge before me among the foremost. you can be sure this is the first of many posts. you can also be sure that i will try and tell you as many funny stories about the mishaps i'm sure i'll be working on just as soon as they happen. i am on a great adventure.
mil besos--rmg
02 November 2006
long story short
i got the job. we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief that the prayers and the twin-sets worked their mojo. i start on the 15th. and i've already started looking for houses and making plans. this is going to be the biggest job i've ever done, in scope, function, emotional investment, etc. i'm excited, hopeful, a little scared, and more than anything, ready to do something. i didn't even have to dicker on my salary package. i have slept better in the last 4 days than i have in a solid month.
i got to put my nephew to sleep last week. that was pretty spectacular. this little scrap of a boy who looks so much like my father, so much like my brother, but is entirely himself, and who loves me, just because i come see him and rock him to sleep sometimes. he's teething, and it's pretty relentless, apparently. i'm very grateful not to remember my teething days. talk about being cranky...it took me singing most of the songs on james taylor's greatest hits, and a couple of elton john songs to get the little monster to shut it down for the night. and even though the 25 pounds of need that is my little nephew didn't go to sleep for two hours, and my arms were a little sore from holding him, i wouldn't have traded that time for any job, or amount of money, or relationship...it was utterly priceless. i think that child has a mark on me, invisible, but deep and abiding, and it's amazing how i feel about him, even though i didn't grow him or bring him into the world. i start to run out of words when i try to talk about that, even in my journal. it's bigger than that, i guess.
life is so full right now, with comings and goings, adjustments, moves, hellos and goodbyes. my 15 year old dog is not doing well, and that's kind of sad. mostly i'm sad for my momma, because beau has been her fur-baby since my brother and i left home. and i know that him shuffling loose the mortal coil will be hard on her, and that makes me sad. beau is a good dog, not the fetch kind of dog, but the love on you kind of dog. beau is the kind of dog that will curl up in your lap or at your feet and watch all of the godfather movies in a row and eat popcorn with you. he's old, he smells, he has fluid around his heart, and his one joy in life is a tie between licking the cat's butt or eating out of the cat's litter box. he also likes trying to chase down deer, but he's older and slower, and mostly just tries to cover their scent when he goes for a walk. he's a mutt, through and through, and as much as he's peed on the corner of my bed and barked me out of bed in the mornings, shoved me off the couch, etc., i adore that dog. there will never be one as good as beau, again. and that's ok. life is a wheel, and we are all on it, fur friends, and otherwise.
mil besos--rmg
i got to put my nephew to sleep last week. that was pretty spectacular. this little scrap of a boy who looks so much like my father, so much like my brother, but is entirely himself, and who loves me, just because i come see him and rock him to sleep sometimes. he's teething, and it's pretty relentless, apparently. i'm very grateful not to remember my teething days. talk about being cranky...it took me singing most of the songs on james taylor's greatest hits, and a couple of elton john songs to get the little monster to shut it down for the night. and even though the 25 pounds of need that is my little nephew didn't go to sleep for two hours, and my arms were a little sore from holding him, i wouldn't have traded that time for any job, or amount of money, or relationship...it was utterly priceless. i think that child has a mark on me, invisible, but deep and abiding, and it's amazing how i feel about him, even though i didn't grow him or bring him into the world. i start to run out of words when i try to talk about that, even in my journal. it's bigger than that, i guess.
life is so full right now, with comings and goings, adjustments, moves, hellos and goodbyes. my 15 year old dog is not doing well, and that's kind of sad. mostly i'm sad for my momma, because beau has been her fur-baby since my brother and i left home. and i know that him shuffling loose the mortal coil will be hard on her, and that makes me sad. beau is a good dog, not the fetch kind of dog, but the love on you kind of dog. beau is the kind of dog that will curl up in your lap or at your feet and watch all of the godfather movies in a row and eat popcorn with you. he's old, he smells, he has fluid around his heart, and his one joy in life is a tie between licking the cat's butt or eating out of the cat's litter box. he also likes trying to chase down deer, but he's older and slower, and mostly just tries to cover their scent when he goes for a walk. he's a mutt, through and through, and as much as he's peed on the corner of my bed and barked me out of bed in the mornings, shoved me off the couch, etc., i adore that dog. there will never be one as good as beau, again. and that's ok. life is a wheel, and we are all on it, fur friends, and otherwise.
mil besos--rmg
17 October 2006
i am a drain on society
i have offically become a statistic. as of yesterday, i am unemployed. did i mention that i also don't have health insurance, at the moment? good news is that i made my car payment this month, and next month looks like it's going to make it, so i'm not worried, yet.
i have my second interview with what i am calling "el trabajo magnificante", which means "the magnificent job" in spanish. i imagine peggy hill saying that inside my head everytime. the interview is tomorrow evening, and the committee was kind enough to request that i bring questions, as well, this time. God can only know what devious script they may have up their sleeves tomorrow night. for those of you playing the at home edition of "rachel grows up", you'll need to know that i'll be wearing my brown twin set to the interview.
i never thought i would be irritated by free time. but it is really hard for me to just knock around and not do anything on any kind of a schedule. ok, wait, the sleeping until i wake up part is really, really, really nice. and yesterday, i took a nap, just because i could. other than that, it's bizarre and a little unsettling. so, since i can't have idle time, because it's a waste, and waste is a sin, i've been busy doing random things. i did laundry this morning, and i've gone to work on two carepackages for two folks who certainly seem to need them of late. btw, if you want a cd or a collage or something like that made by yours truly, now is definately the time to ask, because by november 1st, i will either have "el trabajo magnificante" or i will be making coffee drinks and bussing tables somewhere in the area.
my nephew has three teeth, now. little tiny pearls that just barely crack the surface of his pink gums. you can see them when he throws his head back. it's amazing to me how engaged he is, how intently he watches everything around him, and how easy it was to teach him "uh oh". can you imagine what i could teach the little critter if i had full access to him on a daily basis...oh the trouble i could get into...
the interview looms large, and i'm doing things to keep myself from thinking about it, trying to come up with thoughtful questions, trying to put myself in the committee situation, trying to formulate brilliant answers to questions i can't imagine. this is hard. i want this job. i want this job. i really freaking want this job. and i want all the stuff that goes with it, i think, as well. it's so hard not to pin hope to this. walking that fine line between optimism and realism has never been my forte. i always end up becoming sort of pessimistic, in an effort to steel myself for disappointment, etc. in fact, i do that with pretty much everything. guess it's kind of like that old maxim "blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall never be disappointed". hope is a good thing, but it is dangerous and wild.
i'm serious about those projects...you know how nutty i can be with too much free time...i might end up just blogging myself into insanity...
mil besos--rmg
i have my second interview with what i am calling "el trabajo magnificante", which means "the magnificent job" in spanish. i imagine peggy hill saying that inside my head everytime. the interview is tomorrow evening, and the committee was kind enough to request that i bring questions, as well, this time. God can only know what devious script they may have up their sleeves tomorrow night. for those of you playing the at home edition of "rachel grows up", you'll need to know that i'll be wearing my brown twin set to the interview.
i never thought i would be irritated by free time. but it is really hard for me to just knock around and not do anything on any kind of a schedule. ok, wait, the sleeping until i wake up part is really, really, really nice. and yesterday, i took a nap, just because i could. other than that, it's bizarre and a little unsettling. so, since i can't have idle time, because it's a waste, and waste is a sin, i've been busy doing random things. i did laundry this morning, and i've gone to work on two carepackages for two folks who certainly seem to need them of late. btw, if you want a cd or a collage or something like that made by yours truly, now is definately the time to ask, because by november 1st, i will either have "el trabajo magnificante" or i will be making coffee drinks and bussing tables somewhere in the area.
my nephew has three teeth, now. little tiny pearls that just barely crack the surface of his pink gums. you can see them when he throws his head back. it's amazing to me how engaged he is, how intently he watches everything around him, and how easy it was to teach him "uh oh". can you imagine what i could teach the little critter if i had full access to him on a daily basis...oh the trouble i could get into...
the interview looms large, and i'm doing things to keep myself from thinking about it, trying to come up with thoughtful questions, trying to put myself in the committee situation, trying to formulate brilliant answers to questions i can't imagine. this is hard. i want this job. i want this job. i really freaking want this job. and i want all the stuff that goes with it, i think, as well. it's so hard not to pin hope to this. walking that fine line between optimism and realism has never been my forte. i always end up becoming sort of pessimistic, in an effort to steel myself for disappointment, etc. in fact, i do that with pretty much everything. guess it's kind of like that old maxim "blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall never be disappointed". hope is a good thing, but it is dangerous and wild.
i'm serious about those projects...you know how nutty i can be with too much free time...i might end up just blogging myself into insanity...
mil besos--rmg
24 September 2006
rachiepoo goes to an interview...
well, i'm sure you're wondering how things went... so am i. the perspective boss man is off to his sister-in-law's wedding in mexico, so i'm assuming he's not going to be calling in the next 7-9 days. that's the short answer.
the abriviated answer isn't much more revealing. basically, i can tell you that it was either the best or worst interview i've ever done in my life. let me tell you why i think so. i'll set the stage...the interviewing committee was three older ladies and one older gentleman. two looked like pretty easy sells, the other two, not so much. and one showed up 20 minutes late, because this person forgot they were interviewing me. (did i mention the fact that i was EXACTLY on time? not too early, not too late, just right. and i was not overcaffineated or undersleeped. i know that's not a word, but i think it's pretty inventive. i get extra points. ) needless to say, i felt like i should have gotten a gimme point or three for participating in somewhat mindless chatter with the other three until the fourth interviewer arrived. all i can say is thank God and the baby Jesus i was raised in the south and can make idle chitchat with anyone for at least 20 minutes. in that time, you can discover that you actually know people in common, have had some common experience, and make a nice comment on the other parties experience or outfit, and still have it come off as being nice AND engaging. the interviewing room was horribly set up. i felt like i was selling avon, and had forgotten my flow charts. but i crossed my ankles, took a deep breath, and tried to answer their questions. did i mention they had a SCRIPT?
yes, yes, a script. and they were nuts about it. and i have to say, if i get this job, i will find out who created those questions, and pray for the salvation of their itty bitty cold hard hearts. here's my favorite question (with no preface, examples, ect.) "How do you meet people?" are you KIDDING me? thank good ness i got that problem with my inner monologue becoming my outter monologue, because i might have embarrassed myself with a totally inappropriate response, somewhere along the lines of like "You mean like in a bar?" i was terribly glad to find out that i did not have a mouth full of water, because i might have given the panel a shamu-like showering upon hearing the question.
i waited about ten second to see if the person who was rapidly becoming known as "the grand inquisitor" inside my head to finish asking the question. she didn't. that was it. it was hard, difficult, painful, almost to not rattle off the legion of smart-ass answers that begged to come tripping so easily off my tongue. i answered, in my best "please hire me, because i am a budding genius with a wonderful and compassionate heart who wants to save the world and love Jesus" voice, that the way i met people was to look them in the eye, tell them my name, shake their hand, and try to find some common ground to talk about. what a plastic answer to an impossibly plastic question. oy and vey. i have never felt more goofy in my entire adult life. seriously. not even at camp. not even with shaving cream in my hair. not even the time i got so tickled that i wet my pants in a room full of my peers.
"how do you meet people?" seriously, what did they expect me to say? "well, first i dance around like a goon, and then we open up the liquor, roll up some doobies, and see where the experience takes us. did i mention that i'm currently enrolled in a pole dancing class at SAC?" "i'm agoraphobic, so most of my relationships are based on typing speed and internet connectivity." "i was raised by a pack of wild dogs, so i'm mostly into ear nipping and unashamed ass-sniffing, followed by peeing on whatever stands still and doesn't smell familiar to me." "i already know everyone. i'm just that good. the masses flock to me. what can i say? i'm more popular than anyone you've ever met. and the only reason you haven't met me yet, is so you can meet me now, and be overawed by my personhood."
i have to say that the questions did get a little bit better. but i've never been in an all-by-the-script interview. they didn't even ask follow up questions. which either means that i answered every question perfectly, to their entire satisfaction, or i screwed the answers up so badly, they didn't care to hear more from me. i think the truth is hopefully somewhere closer to the first...at least, i hope so. i walked out feeling like i needed a stiff drink. so i went home and took a nap, instead. i'll keep you posted.
i hope like hell i got this job, because if that is what interview panels are like everywhere, now, i have got to take a class or something.
mil besos--rmg
the abriviated answer isn't much more revealing. basically, i can tell you that it was either the best or worst interview i've ever done in my life. let me tell you why i think so. i'll set the stage...the interviewing committee was three older ladies and one older gentleman. two looked like pretty easy sells, the other two, not so much. and one showed up 20 minutes late, because this person forgot they were interviewing me. (did i mention the fact that i was EXACTLY on time? not too early, not too late, just right. and i was not overcaffineated or undersleeped. i know that's not a word, but i think it's pretty inventive. i get extra points. ) needless to say, i felt like i should have gotten a gimme point or three for participating in somewhat mindless chatter with the other three until the fourth interviewer arrived. all i can say is thank God and the baby Jesus i was raised in the south and can make idle chitchat with anyone for at least 20 minutes. in that time, you can discover that you actually know people in common, have had some common experience, and make a nice comment on the other parties experience or outfit, and still have it come off as being nice AND engaging. the interviewing room was horribly set up. i felt like i was selling avon, and had forgotten my flow charts. but i crossed my ankles, took a deep breath, and tried to answer their questions. did i mention they had a SCRIPT?
yes, yes, a script. and they were nuts about it. and i have to say, if i get this job, i will find out who created those questions, and pray for the salvation of their itty bitty cold hard hearts. here's my favorite question (with no preface, examples, ect.) "How do you meet people?" are you KIDDING me? thank good ness i got that problem with my inner monologue becoming my outter monologue, because i might have embarrassed myself with a totally inappropriate response, somewhere along the lines of like "You mean like in a bar?" i was terribly glad to find out that i did not have a mouth full of water, because i might have given the panel a shamu-like showering upon hearing the question.
i waited about ten second to see if the person who was rapidly becoming known as "the grand inquisitor" inside my head to finish asking the question. she didn't. that was it. it was hard, difficult, painful, almost to not rattle off the legion of smart-ass answers that begged to come tripping so easily off my tongue. i answered, in my best "please hire me, because i am a budding genius with a wonderful and compassionate heart who wants to save the world and love Jesus" voice, that the way i met people was to look them in the eye, tell them my name, shake their hand, and try to find some common ground to talk about. what a plastic answer to an impossibly plastic question. oy and vey. i have never felt more goofy in my entire adult life. seriously. not even at camp. not even with shaving cream in my hair. not even the time i got so tickled that i wet my pants in a room full of my peers.
"how do you meet people?" seriously, what did they expect me to say? "well, first i dance around like a goon, and then we open up the liquor, roll up some doobies, and see where the experience takes us. did i mention that i'm currently enrolled in a pole dancing class at SAC?" "i'm agoraphobic, so most of my relationships are based on typing speed and internet connectivity." "i was raised by a pack of wild dogs, so i'm mostly into ear nipping and unashamed ass-sniffing, followed by peeing on whatever stands still and doesn't smell familiar to me." "i already know everyone. i'm just that good. the masses flock to me. what can i say? i'm more popular than anyone you've ever met. and the only reason you haven't met me yet, is so you can meet me now, and be overawed by my personhood."
i have to say that the questions did get a little bit better. but i've never been in an all-by-the-script interview. they didn't even ask follow up questions. which either means that i answered every question perfectly, to their entire satisfaction, or i screwed the answers up so badly, they didn't care to hear more from me. i think the truth is hopefully somewhere closer to the first...at least, i hope so. i walked out feeling like i needed a stiff drink. so i went home and took a nap, instead. i'll keep you posted.
i hope like hell i got this job, because if that is what interview panels are like everywhere, now, i have got to take a class or something.
mil besos--rmg
21 September 2006
*insert catchy title here*
i have a job interview on saturday morning. i know, who in his or her right mind goes to a job interview on saturday morning? well, i think we can all atest to my being a little, well, um, quirky. so saturday it is. momma bought me a new blue twinset and some black pants, so i can look like the professional i know is lurking deep inside me, somewhere. i feel like there is a lot riding on this interview. probably because there IS a lot riding on this interview. not like my whole existance as a human being, or anything like that...but i really think i want this job. i think i could do the job, and do it well, and feel like i was doing something worth while, and not just muddling along. we can hope. hope is a good thing, dangerous, but good.
i can't believe i'm almost 28. that's so bizarre to me, on many levels, not the least of which is that it seems SO OLD and SO YOUNG, at the same time. when did my life turn into a lesson in dichotomy? or is that one of those lessons we all learn as we get older? i'm rambling, again, i know...
i know that if this job doesn't pan out, others will. i know that i'm going to be ok, regardless. i know that. that doesn't make me not want to stomp my foot and demand that this thing go my way, though. so much for maturity...it's so over-rated. but i keep having visions of what this time next year might be like, and they are pretty nice. i'll spare you the details, and just fill you in later.
at least i interview well. i've even got a medal or two from high school to prove that fact. i can probably dig them out of my trunk and show you, if you don't believe me. a gold one, even. i'm that good. i just have to remember not to fidget, and hope that i don't get the giggles or slip and say something totally off color, which i will think is funny, but falls flat on the room. and i have to remember to be honest, but not spill my guts about what i really think about things. and not fidget. that's the worst. that means that i won't be allowed to wear jewlery below the neck, and should avoid painting my nails, because that will just give me something to pick at. and if they offer me coffee, not to shred the napkin into tiny little pieces. i would be a horrible poker player. i have no game. i secretly just want them to like me and think i am a genius and hire me on the spot. two out of three wouldn't be bad...
so, here's to hope. keep you fingers crossed. we need a homerun, gang.
mil besos--rmg
i can't believe i'm almost 28. that's so bizarre to me, on many levels, not the least of which is that it seems SO OLD and SO YOUNG, at the same time. when did my life turn into a lesson in dichotomy? or is that one of those lessons we all learn as we get older? i'm rambling, again, i know...
i know that if this job doesn't pan out, others will. i know that i'm going to be ok, regardless. i know that. that doesn't make me not want to stomp my foot and demand that this thing go my way, though. so much for maturity...it's so over-rated. but i keep having visions of what this time next year might be like, and they are pretty nice. i'll spare you the details, and just fill you in later.
at least i interview well. i've even got a medal or two from high school to prove that fact. i can probably dig them out of my trunk and show you, if you don't believe me. a gold one, even. i'm that good. i just have to remember not to fidget, and hope that i don't get the giggles or slip and say something totally off color, which i will think is funny, but falls flat on the room. and i have to remember to be honest, but not spill my guts about what i really think about things. and not fidget. that's the worst. that means that i won't be allowed to wear jewlery below the neck, and should avoid painting my nails, because that will just give me something to pick at. and if they offer me coffee, not to shred the napkin into tiny little pieces. i would be a horrible poker player. i have no game. i secretly just want them to like me and think i am a genius and hire me on the spot. two out of three wouldn't be bad...
so, here's to hope. keep you fingers crossed. we need a homerun, gang.
mil besos--rmg
11 September 2006
thoughts on waking
it's midnight, and i can't sleep, again. seems like my sleep cycle is all wacked out, probably from too many naps induced by two weeks on antibiotics and allergies that won't quit. and then there's the thought of that red plaid shirt, sitting under my chair, in a quiet corner of the room. i love that shirt. it's one of my favorites. but everytime i wear it, i remember the first time i wore it, and it changes everything.
i know there are a lot of people who will be blogging about september 11, today. i guess i'll just cast my lot with them, and tell you what i remember, what i learned, and what i hope it all means.
i spent the day before doing day-off kind of things. i bought my first cell phone, fixed dinner for my roommates, and stayed up watching the news. i woke up sometime around 8 or so, to the alarm clock, with the radio disc jockey mumbling something bizarre in my ear about snipers on rooftops, which i assumed was just another stupid radio escapade to boost ratings. my allergies were bothering me on that morning, too, so i decided to reset the alarm for 9:30 and see how i felt, and maybe call in to work. i think i had been asleep for maybe 5 minutes when the phone in our apartment started ringing off the hook.
i stumbled into the hallway, and grabbed the phone, right about the time my roommate caroline opened her door. celeste was on the phone, practically hysterically telling me something about planes and new york, and that i needed to turn on the tv NOW. caro had a tv in her room, and we immediately turned it on. you know what we saw. it was incredible. we stood there at the foot of her bed, watching the tv, in utter amazement. we grabbed hands, like two little girls in our pj's and cried. we didn't even know what was going on at that point. not really, anyway. i have no idea how long we stood there, but i remember watching the south tower come down, and having that feeling like i absolutely couldn't believe what i was seeing. i didn't believe my eyes. i couldn't. i didn't want to.
i called work. i was told to dress and drive as quickly and safely as i could into the office. i think i asked caroline if she wanted to go with me, but i think she said she would stay at home and wait for our other roommate chris to call home. chris's sister lived and worked in lower manhattan. it was surreal.
i drove down 183, and passed businesses who'd already lowered their flags to half-staff. i listened to the radio, understanding perfectly well what the dj's had meant when i turned them off earlier that morning. it was an otherworldly drive into work. the roads were wide open. all the radio stations had switched to their news affliates. there was no music, no morning hi-jinks, no commercials, no relief, nothing but wall to wall to wall to wall information. and even that was spotty, at best.
i got to work in my red plaid shirt, cut princess style, with three-quarter sleeves. i remember getting out of my car and thinking that this would be one of the days where i remembered everything--what i was wearing, what i did, who i saw, who i talked to and who i couldn't reach. i had been in dc a month ago, had lived there. i had friends who still lived there. i couldn't reach them. couldn't even get the phone to ring.
work, at the church, was chaotic, at best. we had a tv plugged in and rigged to get a channel or two in nancy's office. we all went to work answering phones. i finally got totally overstimulated and went to cry in my office, across the yard from the main building. i turned on the tv in there, and saw press conferences, replayed images of what became 4 crashes and crash sites. i heard body counts, etc. what i remembered was no sense of relief at all. there were no commercials, which i found oddly disconcerting. it just never stopped. i remember many phone calls to my family that day...over and over, just brief little calls, just checking in.
i got home that night, after what seemed like years at work. i canceled plans with some friends from college. i was just to strung out to be around people. chris finally heard from her sister, so we all breathed a sigh of relief. i heard from my friend hope, who was shaken up, but ok in dc. we heard from a friend of chris's that worked on capital hill that as he was driving up mass ave, after his office was evacuated, that he felt the concussion of the plane that hit the pentagon. hope said that there were machine gun turrets set up all around dc, that there were guys in camo on every street corner. that she didn't know what was happening, but that the office shut down for the day, and that never happened. i remember being glad that hope and i had gone and donated blood in august, before i moved back home. my aunt and uncle were in las vegas that weekend. they were supposed to fly out on the 11th, but their flight got cancelled. my uncle says that he saw a guy offer a cabbie $6000 to drive him all the way home to Chicago. he and my aunt waited three days to get out of vegas. caroline missed one of her best friend's wedding. we watched tv late into the night, every night, and drank a lot of hot tea.
i remember the days that followed. i remember faces on tv, names of people missing, smoldering piles of buildings, and the intensity of the panic surrounding it all. i remember watching the news, not just because that was all that was on, but because that was all i wanted to watch. i remember logging onto the cnn.com website every thirty minutes, and checking the news wires. i had nightmares for a long time. still do, some nights.
i guess it was the same day the president presided at the memorial service at national cathedral that i realized things were going to be different from then on. strange how it took me a whole week. i knew (and still know) people who lost dear friends, people who lost family members, people who lost jobs, etc. i watched a city that i dearly loved and lived in and another city i idealized and dreamed about be turned upside down and cut to pieces. it seemed so surreal, like at any moment, someone would come on the tv, and say, ha ha, this national disaster drill was a test, and only a test...instead the news played on, the memorial service tied up, and all of the sudden, a seinfeld re-run picked up in mid course on the picture screen. it was so bizarre. so unsettling. but oddly perfect, in a horrible belch-out loud-at-the-dinner party-because- you're-stumbling-drunk kind of way. i looked at the screen, with george and elaine going nuts over george's tupee, and i burst into tears. i think i was most afraid that everything was going back to normal, and that nothing would ever be normal again.
september 11th is one of those benchmark days. i wasn't alive when pearl harbour was bombed, when jfk was assassinated, or when elvis died. i remember what the world was like on september 10th, and i will never be able to give that to my children. and even if it was just a mirage, even if we were never as safe and secure as we thought we were, i wish for just a minute we could hold our breaths and feel that way, again. and at the same time, i'm glad we don't harbour that illusion any longer.
the truth of the matter is that i don't think any of us are sure about what the legacy of september 11th is or will be. i think that we all have so many unanswered and unasked questions about the nature of ourselves and how we relate to the world to begin defining a legacy. (you can read more about the lives of people who were lost that day at http://www.dcroe.com/2996/. my good friend tpon has a great blog up about her and her husband's friend, christopher mello, at prolly.blogs.com.)
what i do know is that 2,996 people were killed that day. while their deaths are heartbreaking, appalling, and horribly unfair, i think the legacy we have to build is about their lives, who they were, and what they meant. and we have to start living out of an attitude of love and hope, not one of fear and pessimism. we have to start behaving that way, as well, on a personal level, with the people we see on the streets, in our offices, at school, on the bus, in traffic, in restaurants, etc. this world is reminded every day of how awful we can be to each other. we can do better. we must do better. we owe it to our brothers and sisters who died 5 years ago. and we owe it to a loving and precious savior who stretched out his arms, and loved us into wholeness, and calls us to be holy.
it's 1am. there's a little boy who knows nothing of this event, nothing of this blog, nothing of the world except what God whispers in his ear, who's waiting to see me at 6am, so i can get him ready for another day of school. but if i could tell him one thing it would be that i believe there is enough love in this world to overcome all the hate. i believe that.
mil besos--rmg
i know there are a lot of people who will be blogging about september 11, today. i guess i'll just cast my lot with them, and tell you what i remember, what i learned, and what i hope it all means.
i spent the day before doing day-off kind of things. i bought my first cell phone, fixed dinner for my roommates, and stayed up watching the news. i woke up sometime around 8 or so, to the alarm clock, with the radio disc jockey mumbling something bizarre in my ear about snipers on rooftops, which i assumed was just another stupid radio escapade to boost ratings. my allergies were bothering me on that morning, too, so i decided to reset the alarm for 9:30 and see how i felt, and maybe call in to work. i think i had been asleep for maybe 5 minutes when the phone in our apartment started ringing off the hook.
i stumbled into the hallway, and grabbed the phone, right about the time my roommate caroline opened her door. celeste was on the phone, practically hysterically telling me something about planes and new york, and that i needed to turn on the tv NOW. caro had a tv in her room, and we immediately turned it on. you know what we saw. it was incredible. we stood there at the foot of her bed, watching the tv, in utter amazement. we grabbed hands, like two little girls in our pj's and cried. we didn't even know what was going on at that point. not really, anyway. i have no idea how long we stood there, but i remember watching the south tower come down, and having that feeling like i absolutely couldn't believe what i was seeing. i didn't believe my eyes. i couldn't. i didn't want to.
i called work. i was told to dress and drive as quickly and safely as i could into the office. i think i asked caroline if she wanted to go with me, but i think she said she would stay at home and wait for our other roommate chris to call home. chris's sister lived and worked in lower manhattan. it was surreal.
i drove down 183, and passed businesses who'd already lowered their flags to half-staff. i listened to the radio, understanding perfectly well what the dj's had meant when i turned them off earlier that morning. it was an otherworldly drive into work. the roads were wide open. all the radio stations had switched to their news affliates. there was no music, no morning hi-jinks, no commercials, no relief, nothing but wall to wall to wall to wall information. and even that was spotty, at best.
i got to work in my red plaid shirt, cut princess style, with three-quarter sleeves. i remember getting out of my car and thinking that this would be one of the days where i remembered everything--what i was wearing, what i did, who i saw, who i talked to and who i couldn't reach. i had been in dc a month ago, had lived there. i had friends who still lived there. i couldn't reach them. couldn't even get the phone to ring.
work, at the church, was chaotic, at best. we had a tv plugged in and rigged to get a channel or two in nancy's office. we all went to work answering phones. i finally got totally overstimulated and went to cry in my office, across the yard from the main building. i turned on the tv in there, and saw press conferences, replayed images of what became 4 crashes and crash sites. i heard body counts, etc. what i remembered was no sense of relief at all. there were no commercials, which i found oddly disconcerting. it just never stopped. i remember many phone calls to my family that day...over and over, just brief little calls, just checking in.
i got home that night, after what seemed like years at work. i canceled plans with some friends from college. i was just to strung out to be around people. chris finally heard from her sister, so we all breathed a sigh of relief. i heard from my friend hope, who was shaken up, but ok in dc. we heard from a friend of chris's that worked on capital hill that as he was driving up mass ave, after his office was evacuated, that he felt the concussion of the plane that hit the pentagon. hope said that there were machine gun turrets set up all around dc, that there were guys in camo on every street corner. that she didn't know what was happening, but that the office shut down for the day, and that never happened. i remember being glad that hope and i had gone and donated blood in august, before i moved back home. my aunt and uncle were in las vegas that weekend. they were supposed to fly out on the 11th, but their flight got cancelled. my uncle says that he saw a guy offer a cabbie $6000 to drive him all the way home to Chicago. he and my aunt waited three days to get out of vegas. caroline missed one of her best friend's wedding. we watched tv late into the night, every night, and drank a lot of hot tea.
i remember the days that followed. i remember faces on tv, names of people missing, smoldering piles of buildings, and the intensity of the panic surrounding it all. i remember watching the news, not just because that was all that was on, but because that was all i wanted to watch. i remember logging onto the cnn.com website every thirty minutes, and checking the news wires. i had nightmares for a long time. still do, some nights.
i guess it was the same day the president presided at the memorial service at national cathedral that i realized things were going to be different from then on. strange how it took me a whole week. i knew (and still know) people who lost dear friends, people who lost family members, people who lost jobs, etc. i watched a city that i dearly loved and lived in and another city i idealized and dreamed about be turned upside down and cut to pieces. it seemed so surreal, like at any moment, someone would come on the tv, and say, ha ha, this national disaster drill was a test, and only a test...instead the news played on, the memorial service tied up, and all of the sudden, a seinfeld re-run picked up in mid course on the picture screen. it was so bizarre. so unsettling. but oddly perfect, in a horrible belch-out loud-at-the-dinner party-because- you're-stumbling-drunk kind of way. i looked at the screen, with george and elaine going nuts over george's tupee, and i burst into tears. i think i was most afraid that everything was going back to normal, and that nothing would ever be normal again.
september 11th is one of those benchmark days. i wasn't alive when pearl harbour was bombed, when jfk was assassinated, or when elvis died. i remember what the world was like on september 10th, and i will never be able to give that to my children. and even if it was just a mirage, even if we were never as safe and secure as we thought we were, i wish for just a minute we could hold our breaths and feel that way, again. and at the same time, i'm glad we don't harbour that illusion any longer.
the truth of the matter is that i don't think any of us are sure about what the legacy of september 11th is or will be. i think that we all have so many unanswered and unasked questions about the nature of ourselves and how we relate to the world to begin defining a legacy. (you can read more about the lives of people who were lost that day at http://www.dcroe.com/2996/. my good friend tpon has a great blog up about her and her husband's friend, christopher mello, at prolly.blogs.com.)
what i do know is that 2,996 people were killed that day. while their deaths are heartbreaking, appalling, and horribly unfair, i think the legacy we have to build is about their lives, who they were, and what they meant. and we have to start living out of an attitude of love and hope, not one of fear and pessimism. we have to start behaving that way, as well, on a personal level, with the people we see on the streets, in our offices, at school, on the bus, in traffic, in restaurants, etc. this world is reminded every day of how awful we can be to each other. we can do better. we must do better. we owe it to our brothers and sisters who died 5 years ago. and we owe it to a loving and precious savior who stretched out his arms, and loved us into wholeness, and calls us to be holy.
it's 1am. there's a little boy who knows nothing of this event, nothing of this blog, nothing of the world except what God whispers in his ear, who's waiting to see me at 6am, so i can get him ready for another day of school. but if i could tell him one thing it would be that i believe there is enough love in this world to overcome all the hate. i believe that.
mil besos--rmg
06 September 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)