Month: August 2013

Problem solving isn’t as easy as it used to be.  There was a time when a rough day at school could be completely resolved with a tall glass of chocolate milk and an episode of, “Family Matters”. Halfway through the show’s opening theme  I would once again find myself pondering what happened to Judy Winslow, and before I knew it, my mind would be completely at ease.

This method of problem solving hasn’t translated so well into my adult years. Not to say I haven’t tried! I still catch myself attempting to turn my brain off with reruns of, “Saved by the Bell” and “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air”.  Kelly and Zach threw my clever plan for a loop when they decided to break up 5 minutes before the end of an episode and flash To Be Continued… up on the screen.  I didn’t appreciate that.

Have the problems gotten bigger or have I just become less equipped to deal with them? Boys STILL drive me insane… tests STILL stress me out and I STILL call for my mother when I’m sick.  A problem is defined as, “any question or matter involving doubt, uncertainty, or difficulty”. Regardless of the size, a problem requires a solution and a solution involves a choice… and that is a damn scary thing!

Shakespeare has something for everyone. I truly believe that. My favorite work of his by far is “Othello”. Iago, Shakespeare’s greatest villain in my humble opinion, makes the entire play.

I never understood the whole Romeo and Juliet intense romance…. The thought of killing myself for love definitely never resonated with me. The extreme ambition of Lady MacBeth… the murderous deeds of nearly ever King and future King….. I couldn’t relate… but Iago, is an entirely different story. Who hasn’t been so entirely motivated by jealousy that it blinded better judgement? We think we’ve discovered clarity and yet, all we’ve truly found is a feeling we feel forced to attribute to something bigger. We blame it on hate. We blame it on love. The end result is always the same; complete self-destruction.

I’ve always been a vivid dreamer. By that I mean I don’t just see images while I sleep. It’s like living out an entirely different life. I hear things, feel things, smell things and at times I swear I can even taste things. When I was younger I was convinced that whoever I dreamed of must be dreaming of me as well. Of course, as I grew up and the Backstreet Boys began starring in my dreams, I had to face the fact that my theory was entirely wrong.

My dreams still have the ability to completely rattle me. Dreams where my husband and I are fighting start me out in a horrible mood in the morning. Poor guy has to remind me that he hasn’t actually done anything to upset me!  Then there are the dreams I try to hold on to as my eyes open. There are nights where I see my father, healthy and happy, and when I wake up, just for a few brief moments, I forget that he’s been gone for years.

All dreams – good, bad, confusing as all hell- unlock a little piece of the puzzle known as life. Dreams give us exactly what we need each night. They bring to light our hopes and fears. They pull us closer to the people we miss. They promise a future and they hold on to our past.  

When my boyfriend and I got into a massive fight that ended our relationship, I remember feeling anxious every day for ages after. Every time the phone or doorbell rang, every corner I took, EVERY event I attended were all marred by the expectancy that he would be there. It was an awful trial to endure back then and I can only imagine the facebook, twitter, drunk text frenzy today’s age must face.

Would it be so horrible to say I kind of miss that anxiety now? As tiring as it all was, it was also exciting. I miss my heart pounding, my whole body tensing and my stomach turning for reasons other than a work deadline or a high utility bill.

When my apology finally came, it was years after I thought it would mean anything to me at all. Despite its drunken and pathetic form and even though I had long since moved on to a new ( and much better) relationship, my heart still pounded and my whole body reacted with the realization that no matter how little, he did still care.

I began piano lessons when I was six years old . From the moment my fingers
touched the keys I held tight to a love for music that helped carry me through
some of the worst times in my life.  One of the first little ditties I managed
to play on my own was, “Money Can’t Buy Happiness”.  I can still hum the exact
tune, complete with the appropriate halting as my tiny hands tried to extend all
the way down the scales. 

The meaning of this masterpiece isn’t so clear cut as the title implies. The first half of song details all the things that money can’t buy (ie. love) and every other sentimental cliché imaginable.  The second half of the song, however, takes a complete turn.  As the notes wind down to a slow pace, the lyrics then indicate what has become painstakingly obvious in my own life. ” But of one thing I am sure, Money doesn’t make you poor. Money doesn’t make you sad. Money can’t be ALL THAT BAD!”. Money may not be able to purchase happiness in the literal sense…but it could pay for my schooling, a hot tub for my patio and a very early retirement. Most importantly, money could buy my peace of mind, and in doing so, my own personal happiness!

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes…

Nearing the age of 30 and having already settled into married life nearly 2 years ago, the question of, “when’s the baby coming?” has been on the lips of family, friends and even coworkers. My standard reply has been that I’m not quite ready for that, which although satisfies the masses, doesn’t work so well on a select few. They go on to question which part I’m not ready for. The destruction of my body? The pain of labour? The financial burden? The sleepless nights?  The reality is while those things intimidate me, they place a distant second to my primary concern. I am far TOO SELFISH to have a child.  I look back on my childhood and all I can remember is my parents bending over backwards to get myself and my brother to where we needed to be. Piano lessons, swim class, gymnastics, dance classes, taekwondo, soccer, baseball, guitar… You name it, we did it. I can barely keep track of my own schedule let alone coordinate multiple. I don’t want to give up my dream of spending a month touring Italy… I can’t yet accept the fact that I’m not destined to be a literary genius…  So until the day I can honestly say that I’ll be half as good a parent  to my child as mine were to me, I’m just “not ready” is all I can really say!