I generally try not to use my blog to preach or teach or rant to others about how they live their lives. My goal, generally, is to be introspective, and hopefully the things I discover about myself and the experiences I share can be of use to others, be that for personal edification or just for a laugh. I hope, then, that you my friends will indulge me in a little rant today. Today, I go off the rails.
When did we as a society decide to jettison personal responsibility out the window? We have become as a people so greedy, so entitled, and so very whiny in almost all aspects of our lives. Life is unflinchingly unfair. Actually, let me rephrase that. There is no guarantee in life of equality. There is no quota for how good or bad things will be. We don't all start out life with the same circumstances or the same opportunities. Some of us are born with silver spoons in our mouths, while others get one of those plastic spork things that don't really work so well as either a fork or a spoon.
Take me, as an example. I have lived to see and experience a whole lot of suffering, and I would venture to say I've seen more than the average 28 year old, although arguably much less than some. However, I don't think that my lot is particularly fair or unfair. It's just the way it is. It sucks. But I have the personal responsibility to make lemonade out of lemons. I don't have the right or the option to sit around and bemoan the things which have happened to me, but instead must pull myself up by the boot straps and get on with making the best sort of life of it that I can. My crappy lot in life does not grant me permission to take from others. It does not free me from suffering in the future. They are just the cards I was dealt.
Even more offensive to me are people who make choices which complicate their lives, and they feel as if they can whine and complain about the unfairness of life. I am responsible for the choices I make, be the personal, financial, or professional. If I buy something I can't afford, I'm responsible for figuring out a way to pay for it. If I date someone who's not the best person, I'm responsible for the drama that comes my way. If I don't work hard at my job, I shouldn't be surprised at the lack of success and promotion.
As they say, you make your bed, and then you have to lie in it.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Mediocre at Best
Doubtless, I've mentioned in this blog my struggles with self-discipline. Indeed, if I happened to be more disciplined, I could probably go through the blog archives and cite individual examples, but alas, I lack the discipline. My goals for self-improvement lately have completely been focused on self-discipline. Weight loss, writing, job searches....all these require one to be a self starter. Personally, I tend to be more successful when I have defined tasks and deadlines. Justin has tried to help me with setting up a calendar, but that got poo-pooed the first week when I wasn't disciplined enough to get up at 6:00 AM and get to the gym on time. In my defense, I couldn't get back on schedule this week because I sprained my ankle, but next week when I can walk....look out world. Have I mentioned that I am a terrible procrastinator too?
I am determined to overcome my shortcomings and accomplish something great. Or at least rise slightly above mediocrity. You should be proud of me; I'm off to a good start by following the schedule and warming up by writing my daily blog post. Although I am fearful that this entry will go down in history (or be totally forgotten) as being completely unremarkable, I am determined to submit it anyways. That's another one of my flaws...that if I don't think something I do is great, I lack the desire to do it at all. So this is growth, blogging something I don't love. Not to mention cheap therapy. I mean, people pay thousands of dollars and spend hours of their lives to achieve this kind of introspection.
It's not my best work, but some days, mediocre is better than nothing.
I am determined to overcome my shortcomings and accomplish something great. Or at least rise slightly above mediocrity. You should be proud of me; I'm off to a good start by following the schedule and warming up by writing my daily blog post. Although I am fearful that this entry will go down in history (or be totally forgotten) as being completely unremarkable, I am determined to submit it anyways. That's another one of my flaws...that if I don't think something I do is great, I lack the desire to do it at all. So this is growth, blogging something I don't love. Not to mention cheap therapy. I mean, people pay thousands of dollars and spend hours of their lives to achieve this kind of introspection.
It's not my best work, but some days, mediocre is better than nothing.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Shorn on the 4th of July
Memories of Independence Day always seem to blend together, probably because they are often filled with many of the same activities, foods, and people. One 4th of July, however, stands out starkly in my memory. July 4, 2000, was the midpoint of a hellacious summer. It had begun with a diagnosis of stage 4 breast cancer for my mother, and would be soon followed by a car accident which killed my grandmother and injured my grandfather. As I remember it, we were all still somewhat shell-shocked by the cancer diagnosis and were learning how to exist in a normal way day to day in a world which felt anything but normal. My memory is punctuated by certain events that summer. For example, I remember the afternoon that my family went and saw the movie Shanghai Noon which was out in the theaters that summer. It was the first time we had really laughed since the diagnosis, and it dawned on me that from now on I would live in a world where joy and grief and fear would coexist with one another from moment to moment.
Independence Day, 2000, dawned sunny and warm, as it almost always does in Texas. Marla and I awoke to the sounds of my father yelling for us to get up. He yelled, "Girls! Katie! Marla! Get up and come out here! Hurry up!" Both of us, knowing that once Dad decided he wanted us awake there would be no more sleep to be had, stumbled out of bed in our pjs and grumpily made our way out to the side porch whence he yelled. As we slowly made our way the office door swung open again and he yelled, laughing as he did, "Hurry! You have to see this!"
In my groggy state, my brain scrambled to figure out what he could possibly want us for. He had been known to occasionally find and bring home various and sundry creatures, including but not limited to tarantulas, turtles, and snakes. Maybe he had run into something with the lawnmower, although, I couldn't figure out why he would be so eager for us to see that. By he time my brain had run through all these things, Marla and I had arrived at the office door and walked outside.....and the screaming began.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you see something that is so wrong, so completely out of normal context and against everything that is right and good in the world that your brain goes into meltdown mode? This was one of those moments.
My mother had started chemotherapy a couple of weeks prior to that particular morning, and her hair was beginning to fall out so, apparently, my parents had decided that it would be best for dad to just go ahead and shave her head. So they got the clippers, went outside to the porch, and dad had fired up the shears. Having his own peculiar sense of humor, he had begun the haircut by shaving off all the hair on the top of her head, leaving the rest of the hair in tact which resulted in a look similar to that of Friar Tuck. It was one of the strangest things I'd ever seen, and we were both so disturbed, that we yelled, "Oh my God! That is so sick," and turned and went back into the house as they laughed.
It was another stark reminder about how life had changed so quickly and drastically, seeing my pretty mother looking so bizarre. It was only slightly less bizarre to see her completely bald, given how she had always had a full head of thick beautiful brown hair that was often the envy of others. But upon reflection, I realize that my parents gave us a gift that day. They gave us permission to laugh, permission to find the funny in the midst of the horrific. I have often heard people say, "If I didn't laugh, I would cry," and in that moment, they chose to laugh in the face of it all instead of being sad.
The rest of the day, as we went to pool parties and watched fireworks, people asked questions and rubbed my mom's head, as she good naturedly joked about it. I know now, from my own head shaving experiences, that it couldn't have been as easy as she made it seem, but she kept her head up anyways. I've seen some incredible fireworks on the 4th of July through the years, but that was the most amazing thing I ever saw on any 4th of July. And I'm pretty sure it always will be.
Independence Day, 2000, dawned sunny and warm, as it almost always does in Texas. Marla and I awoke to the sounds of my father yelling for us to get up. He yelled, "Girls! Katie! Marla! Get up and come out here! Hurry up!" Both of us, knowing that once Dad decided he wanted us awake there would be no more sleep to be had, stumbled out of bed in our pjs and grumpily made our way out to the side porch whence he yelled. As we slowly made our way the office door swung open again and he yelled, laughing as he did, "Hurry! You have to see this!"
In my groggy state, my brain scrambled to figure out what he could possibly want us for. He had been known to occasionally find and bring home various and sundry creatures, including but not limited to tarantulas, turtles, and snakes. Maybe he had run into something with the lawnmower, although, I couldn't figure out why he would be so eager for us to see that. By he time my brain had run through all these things, Marla and I had arrived at the office door and walked outside.....and the screaming began.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you see something that is so wrong, so completely out of normal context and against everything that is right and good in the world that your brain goes into meltdown mode? This was one of those moments.
My mother had started chemotherapy a couple of weeks prior to that particular morning, and her hair was beginning to fall out so, apparently, my parents had decided that it would be best for dad to just go ahead and shave her head. So they got the clippers, went outside to the porch, and dad had fired up the shears. Having his own peculiar sense of humor, he had begun the haircut by shaving off all the hair on the top of her head, leaving the rest of the hair in tact which resulted in a look similar to that of Friar Tuck. It was one of the strangest things I'd ever seen, and we were both so disturbed, that we yelled, "Oh my God! That is so sick," and turned and went back into the house as they laughed.
It was another stark reminder about how life had changed so quickly and drastically, seeing my pretty mother looking so bizarre. It was only slightly less bizarre to see her completely bald, given how she had always had a full head of thick beautiful brown hair that was often the envy of others. But upon reflection, I realize that my parents gave us a gift that day. They gave us permission to laugh, permission to find the funny in the midst of the horrific. I have often heard people say, "If I didn't laugh, I would cry," and in that moment, they chose to laugh in the face of it all instead of being sad.
The rest of the day, as we went to pool parties and watched fireworks, people asked questions and rubbed my mom's head, as she good naturedly joked about it. I know now, from my own head shaving experiences, that it couldn't have been as easy as she made it seem, but she kept her head up anyways. I've seen some incredible fireworks on the 4th of July through the years, but that was the most amazing thing I ever saw on any 4th of July. And I'm pretty sure it always will be.
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