Flower_Bed_of_Thought's Xanga

Friday, October 16, 2009

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 02:25:57 GMT

This is my new blog.
My grown up blog.
Whatever that means.

http://wokeup.wordpress.com/

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 19:09:50 GMT

"There are times when choices have to be made, or you will miss out." - Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.

This whole "career development" comes to the point where you take charge. That's what I finally GOT this morning. How could we ever expect 18 year olds to take charge of their lives. But also, how could we ever not! And maybe life is all about embracing and changing, and deciding to compromise, or stand firm, and you judge on a case by case basis. And maybe I am 24 and taking charge. And I have taken charge before, and will do so again and again and again.

So it goes.

It's almost been six years

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 01:16:29 GMT

Six years since I got this xanga. Almost anyway, in about three weeks that will be the time. I've decided to celebrate by starting a new blog. Not that I don't have many, and who doesn't these days it seems like. In my psychology class though, we discussed the emergence of "young adulthood" in the past two decades. It has emerged in much the same way that "teenage" did. Always existed but is not allowed as a luxury of Western Lifestyle.

It turns out, I'm nearly no longer a part of that "young adulthood" thing though since the cut off dates are 25. So, it's only right to curtail a blog that has carried me through young adulthood and start a blog for adulthood. It will always be here, this blog though. And it's been good to me.

Today we played soccer and I got this sense of being part of a greater picture. Someone came to play who said that he had played here five years ago, with Bill then. Or maybe some Albanians. And when I heard talk like this before earlier in the summer I dismissed it. I had my year or so of playing with my people and I never saw any talk of these other people. I still take a little credit for scheduling consistency, though I shouldn't really.

Here was this man who hadn't played in months, years with anyone there, and he was returning and there was still a group. I got this warm fuzzy, "If I move away I can always move back and play another time" feeling.

Alban continues to be nice almost, and if he keeps it up I'll get used to it and perhaps start caring again. I said to Kari this evening, "I play better than I used to, but I'm not sure if I play as hard." The problem with playing hard and caring is that a few ill conceived statements or bad plays and you're rattled. Why make a play if you'll fail at it. And I keep expecting there to be some kind of other shoe dropping.

I'm good enough to make eighty percent of my passes, but only about ten percent of my shots. I'm slower than I wish I was, and if I play to hard I worry that I won't be able to make it through two hours of this. And I'm disgusted with how "scared" I am of the ball. I also wish that I would remember to follow through, even on things where it doesn't look like a shot, pass, block, and attempt to get it will make it.

I know that I don't run as hard as I can, because even if I do I am slower than every other player, with very few exceptions. And although a great deal of the time my "femaleness" fades from my mind, there are other times (when running hard) that I am acutely aware of it. I am not sure that the loss of ten pounds, like I tell myself, would really change these facts.

Departure from the Ordinary

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 21:56:31 GMT

Alban's uncharacteristic and spontaneous evolution into a civil person yesterday had me smirking all day today. His behavior departed from the normal in that he:

a) Put his bag down with our stuff instead of sitting off at the other end of the field,
b) Didn't swear at all the entire hour and fifteen minutes I was there, and
c) Stopped and seemed generally concerned when one member of our extremely diverse team twisted/popped/pulled his ankle.

Here are my hypotheses:

a) Someone spoke to him again, (Hiller perhaps?) and he took the words to heart (finally)
b) His friends have mostly left for their colleges, and we're clearly a non-competitive bunch so he might as well stop trying to make us all believe that this thursday night game is the most important night of our lives.
c) His friends have left and he doesn't have to put up a face in front of them
d) He's clearly amongst the top three skilled players on the field now and doesn't need to be an ass about it.
e) He's too tired from being at school to be a jerk on the field, or he's now a jerk at school and doesn't need to be one here
f) He realized we were all making fun of him behind his back (or at the very least had some unpleasant things to say in regards to his attitude)
g) He's having fun and trusts us.
h) He's starry eyed over some girl (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2seAJsrtIbQ) and we're getting the benefit of it.

Regardless, I think it's funny. His ego is still off the charts however.

Also, it only took two months, but I finally am back to asking everyone who comes how their week was and what's going on in their lives. Even though these are completely different people that the original bunch I used to ask the same questions. I think having only 10-15 people is better than having 21-28.

Also, (500) Day of Summer was really cute and I loved it.

Ineffectuality of recreating experiences

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 12:53:37 GMT

I put my finger on a thought that has been whizzing around in my head. A thing that I attempt in my bread and butter life which pays the bills and satisfies my longing for friendship is to recreate good experiences. If I find that a particular friend has revealed things to me before in conversation, when I believe that I am missing the point of life I talk to this friend. If I find that I have laughed until water falls from my eyes, I wonder how soon I can engage with this particular experience again.

This attempt at recreation though often eludes me since few people are ever in the same mood, same place, willing to do the same activity exactly again. Actually, I don't really care for that either. While I'm enjoying myself watching a movie or drinking coffee I want to say the words, "we should do this again sometime." Saying the phrase I literally mean that I want to repeat this exact time, but a better philosopher said, "you can't step in the same river twice." So perhaps what I should do, is interpret more of life's current events as being at cusp of the created universe and then once had in the past and only shared history and building blocks to future events.

Regardless, at this cusp I can feel that there are too many choices to make about next year.
They are:
1. Get a new, satisfying, challenging 40 hour job and work there for a year.
2. Hold onto my job and save as much money as possible to go on a world trip next year with my sweetie.
3. Hold onto my job for a little while, save as much money as possible, then audit $10 classes in the spring semester about sociology, communications, psychology and writing, after quitting hulking weight of a job and taking a smaller job.
4. Quit job and Get an internship, as I'm convinced I would like to learn more about technology and writing. Or health and wellness. Or environmentalism. Or social media.
5. Hold onto my job, save money, go to Kenya for a few weeks, come back to job only to quit much later in 2010 to go on a world trip/move to the Midwest.
6. Keep job, attempt to correct my dislikes about it through creating a small group of learners, taking more challenging projects, asking to write a grants, learning more online at the eacademy, asking to visit other day habs, writing more, attempting to get published, quit later next year and go on world tour.

Anyway, that's that right now.

Job Hunting

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 21:01:21 GMT

I saw a job on craigslist the other day that looked interesting. It seems to focus more on soft skills than hard skills, which is what I have an abundance of anyway. So, I tweaked (a great deal) my resume, wrote what I think is a wonderful cover letter and e-mailed it off.

I'm still wondering whether I want a new job. I do of course, but I convince myself that what I need is just to quit this job and go adventuring instead. Either way, I've come to the end of this road, even if I do stay here six to eight months longer.

There are a great deal of petty annoyances on the job, that I've done my hardest to convince myself are the REAL reasons I'm fed up. Whiny coworkers, the difficulties of a non-profit (lack of funds, or empty paper towel dispensers, or inefficient systems), client temper tantrums, the stress of answering the same questions over and over, the monotony and lack of change. Yet, I'm prepared to face that besides tantrums, these are probably the sins of most other jobs as well.

It's also the lack of creativity and the stagnated job development prospects and even greater than this I realize today, the isolation. Here, at the bottom rung of the field, I feel utterly isolated from new developments, or connections between broader trends, or innovation. There is this gap between what goes on in the world and the small bubble I call my workplace where I am "helping" people.

And I am helping people, I never doubt it. I never doubt that I have created new experiences for others, that I have provided enjoyment, stability and excitement. There have been wonderful points where my clients have provided all that for me too. But I am coming to think of this more and more as an "old" person job. One where you come because you have worked hard, and you cannot keep up with technology or quick thinking or rapid social development any more. You have reached your ability to roll with punches. Perhaps, I will enjoy this job again when I am older and have come back to appreciate stability and routine and sameness again and again and again.

// also, I keep thinking I need an "adult" blog, that this is just my child blog, and I have grown past it. I'm not sure yet though.

The fresh smell of panic

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 09:52:11 GMT

I woke up this morning twenty minutes before the alarm went off, already worried about where I would fit in my study time for classes, and the amount of money that books would cost.

It's that ten minutes right after I wake up that I hate so much, it's the utterly illogical part of my brain that kicks in, immediately preoccupied with something that has a dozen solutions, but at that moment seems insurmountable.

Nevertheless, today I'm back to school, and tomorrow I shall return my library books to the library and focus on class stuff. So long extracurriculars.

We played on into the dark.

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 01:06:00 GMT

I didn't go to soccer on Thursday, but I figured today all the college kids would be gone. Yet, there was Alban, who proclaimed "You all are stuck with me." Sash proceeded to call him "Alby." Maybe something was worked out on Thursday. Maybe it doesn't matter.

We played, perhaps not as hard as we could have, but with spirit and cameraderie. So much so, that I was prompted to say at the end "SAME TEAMS ON THURSDAY!" something I have never never thought to say. Not that I haven't liked my team before, but because it seemed more fair to switch it up. Sash told me I should play indoors with them in the winter, I will consider it, I ducked my head instead, and was quietly proud.

We were all so evenly evenly matched. I continue to be in the back, 'sweeping' I guess you could say, and wishing that I was a faster runner so I could play proper mid-field. I should do more running, period. (on a side, I continue to debate joining the gym or not, it might be enough for just classes. I really want to take kickboxing.)

I am also almost over my "being female" worries. And I can see that everyone has a position that they like to play and are good at. Steve continue to elude me with his toe-touches and pulling back of the ball, and Sash and all else, but I repeated to myself over and over "if they get it first, that is the end, so you must get the ball first."

I do little more than pass still, perhaps practicing my juggling really would improve holding onto the ball. Running and Juggling.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 20:16:38 GMT

Monday, the soccer was good. There was once again enough people for two simultaneous games, and this time I learned from my experience and I was in the "B-League" game. And in face, I ultimately ended up on the team with all the people I come to think of as my favorites.

It's not necessarily that I'm friends with them, Gabriel, Pepe, el Rasta, Antonio, Johnny... it's that we play together without animosity, and without trying to prove how fabulous we are. We just play. And we play okay. If anything, with not enough fervor to score, though that should be the point. Before this huge changeover, I would attempt to score an awful lot more. But in my whole soccer lifetime, I have probably scored less than 50 goals. That encompasses about 9 years of soccer. In the last year, maybe I've scored 25 of those goals, and a great deal of them indoors.

I'm also weeks away from signing up for the gym. This winter I would like to lose 10 pounds and be able to run 5 miles at once.

Here's how it went down

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 23:31:42 GMT

This is the way I saw it. I showed up at 6:15 to play soccer. I ended up on a good team. We were playing the Albanians. Alban, the loud one, the shit-talker was doing his shit talking. "Hell, we'll play like men" "We're on a different level here." "We can walk off anything" (after one of his teammates tripped over his own foot) And then... and then...

I don't know, he fell in a hole, or he twisted his ankle, or he tripped over his own foot. Regardless,

Due to his previous machissmo, and his long history or shit-talking, our volatile player, Sash, told him to "Play like a man."

Clearly, the kid was in pain. And in a decent civilized game, we all would have stopped. It's just what the newer players did, they stopped. Because in a gentleman's game, you care about your own and the others. But Alban, he's built up no cred. So Sash kept playing, ignored decency and Alban picked himself up and played on.

A few moments later, one of our own players went down. Alban was the first one to tell him to "man up and play on."

It went on like that for an hour. Each time, people got more and more callous, and more and more confused about this. People that were hurt didn't say anything, because this wasn't an environment any longer to admit that hey, a twisted ankle really fucking hurts.

And in the end, it got down to people getting angry about stupid things. Things they would have played through if we had trust amongst one another.

The other problem is that half of the people playing spoke Albanian. Of the other half, 3/4 of the rest spoke Spanish, and few of us spoke English, or Kenyan, or a mix of languages. And if you don't trust each other you don't learn to distinguish the tone of joking.

I want to sit those guys down and clearly spell it out, "look, when Alban is joking he says, "you fucking idiot, why didn't you get the ball, you guys suck. When Brionne is joking he says, "'hokay, no jewelry no hats let's play clean" when Sash is joking he lilts, he says, "look at this kid here, he thinks he is playing World Cup or something."

Alban gets louder the more he is losing, he gets to people. He gets to me. I want to take care of everyone he's wounded with words and his shit. When he's around I'm looking around for people to reassure that he's all talk and we're bigger than that. Even I can't ignore him. Normally I would just be playing hard, instead of taking care of people.

But I can't help but remember that Donald talked for the first time when he wasn't there. And some of my favorite times were when he wasn't here.

I am both glad and sad this is coming to an end. I wish I had blogged the whole thing out. I'm hoping for a month of good soccer left and then, we'll see.