Ok so two things. Both are random, have little to do with finding the gray, and one may need a mature rating.
1. I think I'm a silver liner finder. Well I know I am. I know, I know, you're all, what the hell? I thought it was gray you were looking for. Yes yes, gray, silver, they're both extremely helpful for a healthy rational peace of mind. I ALWAYS look for the silver lining in everything. It's just an immediate reaction to every single thing that happens to me. Was I born this way? Did Mama Donna and Papa John make me this way? I think a little of both.
A few days ago I was driving down Northern Parkway when someone cut me off sharply and rudely. I slammed on my brakes and this was the very first and immediate thought that popped into my head (I Swear):
Well at least that crazy driver isn't behind me anymore.
That's the thing. The silver lining. Every single situation has one. Most situations have more than one. Yeah, I know sometimes the silver lining doesn't even come close to covering the devastation of whatever said current problem is. But if it's ingrained in you to always immediately point it out to yourself, I really believe that you are setting yourself up for a life of optimism, good health and general overall happiness. Try it. For like a week. Or even a full day if you're stubbornly negative. Force yourself to see the good, no matter how small, in every single situation or bad thing that happens in your life. Make it a habit like jogging or not smoking, which are both all the rage now and I can't get myself into either one. Let me know if you try it and how it goes :-)
2. I had a hot stone massage today (courtesy of a gift card from my Aunt Ang, OMG Aunt Ang I love you so much right now!! I mean, I always love you so much, eh... you get what I'm saying). It was a 60 minute massage at Spa on the Avenue and I think I saw Jesus. He was a short girl with brown hair and small hands named Stephanie. That shit was AWESOME!! I felt high afterwards. I was so relaxed I couldn't even keep my eyes open all the way for my manicure (oh yeah, I got my first manicure EVER with my own nails!!!). My mind wandered a lot during that 60 minutes. And I came to the conclusion that I think, I may be a bit nutty. Like, actually. Off the chain as they say. Just a little. After she placed the first hot stones along my spine and I was enjoying their warmth and heaviness, I had this thought: what if I just fling myself off of this table, sending stones flying and crouch naked in the corner swiping at her and growling a little?
Why would I have this thought? Why??? I love the hot stones. I love the massage. I LOVE Stephanie. Why do weird and situationally inappropriate things like that come into my head? Is this normal? I also wonder what it's like to get a massage for a man. It's a very sensual thing. And you're naked! Do you have to practice self control for a few days before going? Could you refuse the nakedness and wear a cup?
And that is all. No gray this time. Just silver...and the sparkly deep reddish color of my fancy fingernails.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Keep on truckin'
Death is stupid. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the people I love, dying. But I can't stop death and I can't change death so what do I do? I'll write about it. That'll show death. Here's a blog making fun of you death, so take THAT! Hiiiyah!!
My boss died today. Ingrid. She's been my boss for eight years.But none of that sounds right. She's been my FRIEND for eight years. I started working part time for her in March of 2005 and quit my job to work full time for her last April. I knew she was going to die. Her doctor knew. Her nurses knew. Her friends knew. She didn't know. She wouldn't let herself know. She never gave up. She even passed away with a shout. I swear. Ingrid was diagnosed with ovarian cancer (oh btw cancer, I actually hate you more than death) ten years ago. She was given less than two years. Ten years later, death finally came for her.
Of course any time someone dies it's sad. Especially a dear friend. I'm getting good at death now (not something you can fill in as a skill on a job application but it does help your mental health). I think I grieved Ingrid during these past three weeks in hospice. I talked to her, held her hand, asked her to give Kate a hug for me. And now that she's gone, the emptiness I feel isn't that awful heart wrenching kind that makes you feel dazed and unsure if you are wearing underwear or if you turned of the stove. It's just the void I have knowing I won't be seeing her tomorrow. It's a sadness more for her than me because she never accepted her own mortality. And all I can do is know that she was completely pain free when she died, and surrounded by her favorite girls. Hopefully now she's saying, what the HELL is wrong with me? This place is awesome! I think that's what she's saying.
After she passed away I had a few minutes alone with her to say my last goodbye. Cass said I should talk to the ceiling since she had already left her body. So I held her hand and looked up and I told her this:
Thank you. Thank you for giving me the life that I've had for eight years. It's been wonderful. Thank you for teaching me about Germany and wars and money and fine things and birds and Lance Armstrong and the Iditarod and knitting and patience. Patience was my homeboy with you Ingrid. Because I don't care how fast you go over a speed bump, it will not burst your appendix, but sure I went point zero zero five miles per hour over them for you so as not to burst yours, as you insisted.
And then I had to stop to laugh through my tears.
And I kissed her on the head and told her I loved her.
I don't know what will happen now. I mean clearly I have to get a job (anyone hiring? My skills include clipping toenails, opening mail and promptly verbally abusing the credit card company for charging a yearly fee, and killing the rampant ants in your kitchen because you keep spilling your gatorade while you fall asleep in your chair). But for this day, I'll drive around aimlessly, eat some ice cream and write this blog. And I'll think of you often my sweet Ingrid. Because you were absolutely one of a kind.
My boss died today. Ingrid. She's been my boss for eight years.But none of that sounds right. She's been my FRIEND for eight years. I started working part time for her in March of 2005 and quit my job to work full time for her last April. I knew she was going to die. Her doctor knew. Her nurses knew. Her friends knew. She didn't know. She wouldn't let herself know. She never gave up. She even passed away with a shout. I swear. Ingrid was diagnosed with ovarian cancer (oh btw cancer, I actually hate you more than death) ten years ago. She was given less than two years. Ten years later, death finally came for her.
Of course any time someone dies it's sad. Especially a dear friend. I'm getting good at death now (not something you can fill in as a skill on a job application but it does help your mental health). I think I grieved Ingrid during these past three weeks in hospice. I talked to her, held her hand, asked her to give Kate a hug for me. And now that she's gone, the emptiness I feel isn't that awful heart wrenching kind that makes you feel dazed and unsure if you are wearing underwear or if you turned of the stove. It's just the void I have knowing I won't be seeing her tomorrow. It's a sadness more for her than me because she never accepted her own mortality. And all I can do is know that she was completely pain free when she died, and surrounded by her favorite girls. Hopefully now she's saying, what the HELL is wrong with me? This place is awesome! I think that's what she's saying.
After she passed away I had a few minutes alone with her to say my last goodbye. Cass said I should talk to the ceiling since she had already left her body. So I held her hand and looked up and I told her this:
Thank you. Thank you for giving me the life that I've had for eight years. It's been wonderful. Thank you for teaching me about Germany and wars and money and fine things and birds and Lance Armstrong and the Iditarod and knitting and patience. Patience was my homeboy with you Ingrid. Because I don't care how fast you go over a speed bump, it will not burst your appendix, but sure I went point zero zero five miles per hour over them for you so as not to burst yours, as you insisted.
And then I had to stop to laugh through my tears.
And I kissed her on the head and told her I loved her.
I don't know what will happen now. I mean clearly I have to get a job (anyone hiring? My skills include clipping toenails, opening mail and promptly verbally abusing the credit card company for charging a yearly fee, and killing the rampant ants in your kitchen because you keep spilling your gatorade while you fall asleep in your chair). But for this day, I'll drive around aimlessly, eat some ice cream and write this blog. And I'll think of you often my sweet Ingrid. Because you were absolutely one of a kind.
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