Gratitude

I'm grateful that I didn't hurt myself when I fell off my bike yesterday, and I am grateful that I'm able to smell and see freshly cut grass.

WTF

Some days I feel like I'm speaking a different language. I can't write coherant emails, speak clearly, or communicate my ideas.

My head is fuzzy.

Lesson Learned

Today I took the bus back from campus to my office, as I often do, and found myself engaged in the most interesting conversation. There was a woman sitting on the bus, who was maybe 40 or so. First, I did something that most people do without thinking - I judged her. Quickly. She was pear-shaped and overweight and had short, oddly orange-colored hair. Her clothes were a uniformly denim blue, weird and baggy. On the seat next to her were a 90's style mini-backpack and an old canvas tote. She looked poor.

I sat down behind her and made a few phone calls. Just getting some business done on my way back to work. As I got off the phone with my dad and looked out the window this woman turns back towards me and kind of peers over the seat.

"Can I ask you something? It might seem kind of silly..."

Oh boy, I thought. Judging pays off, this lady is off her rocker. Because who talks to a stranger on the bus?

"Sure," I said. "What?" I'd like to think that I was raised well enough to be polite, even to crazies. Her voice had that characteristic wobble to it, a little high pitched, with that certain tone that is usually a reliable indicator of moderate mental instability.

"Well," she began, "I haven't dated in 20 years."

I nodded, encouraging her, but a little nervous about where this conversation was going. Narcissistically, I wondered if she was going to ask me out. A smile was stuck on my face, but my eyes probably conveyed that I thought she was nuts.

"And I reconnected with this guy from my high school on Facebook. We've been talking on the phone for the past two months, once a week. But lately, it's been twice a week, then three times, then twice a day!"

As she relayed her story, she kept putting her face in her hands, a shy smile on her face, her eyes bright, ducking down a little into the seats. It reminded me of something a 12 year old would do. Inside my mind I was a little horrified. Is she going to ask me about sex? Tell me something inappropriate?

She continued, her tone playful.

"...and last night, he said something about another girl from high school. I asked him, 'Are you chasing skirts?!' No, he said, not since we've been together. And then at the end of our conversation..."

I waited for the punchline.

"...he said, 'I love you.'"

"I don't know what to do, I've been reeling all day! I'm shocked."

So was I.

We talked about how I could imagine how she felt, because I havn't dated in awhile either, and wouldn't know how to start if I broke up with my boyfriend. She had been married for 20 years, and had no idea how to date. As she got off the bus, I thought that maybe she still could be crazy, who knows. But I sincerely hope that her story will end up a happy one, and I told her good luck and to take care of herself.

No, Jack!

Also, today I tried to buy my beloved Jack Purcells from the beloved Sam's store on Liberty, but much to my chagrin they didn't have my size. The man working there said that Converse is actually kind of a crappy company, and that when Sam's places an order it takes months to arrive and even then they only have about 30% of the original order.

I'm still going to buy them, as locally as buying a national company's shoes can be, but it makes me a little sad.

Alternative Plans

If my life plans don't work out, I'm going to be a professional handy-woman, with a sweet retro van that travels around and carries all my tools and fix-it equipment. My daily attire would be professional and smart looking; bordering on J. Crew but not too hip or preppy. As a business owned and operated by a woman, I would aim to inspire young girls and even little old ladies to learn how to change light bulbs and fix door hinges.

No job would be too small.

And I might even make cookies and pizzas to take with me to jobs.

Come on, people.

I have a very strong urge to talk about how incredibly frustrating it is for me when there are not standardized processes in place for stuff people in OUD have to get done all the time. Why are there 100 different ways to do something? Why am I not informed of even one of these 100 ways? I end up having to figure it out for myself, which means attempting to figure it out and failing, and looking like a complete inconsiderate moron.

But let's not. This is the internet, after all.

Next career = organizational consultant. Either that or I'll organize your closet/home. I already have one potential client.